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etfrin · 3 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter fourteen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, elitism | lmk if I forgot something

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 mistakes are made, apologies are given

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 chapter fourteen!!! Let's go baby <33 remember to give me your feedback

beta read by my 💘 @nowitsmissing

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The rest of the day was dull. Nothing new had happened in the games. Coriolanus made his way to his home. Tonight was the night of the gala. Tigris had informed that she had finished making his suit but didn't show him how it was. It was a surprise. All he knew was that it was approved by you.

He reached his penthouse. He is greeted by Tigris with a hug and a smile. Coriolanus smiles back at his cousin for good measure. Trying to hide his nervousness about attending this prestigious gala that could make or break Snow's reputation.

Tigris excitedly shows him the red tux she had designed for him. Coriolanus wears the suit, and can't take his eyes off himself in the mirror. He looked good, there's no doubt about it.

His cousin has magic in her eyes. He tells her so and watches her eyes brighten up. “Oh, Coryo,” she said, lovingly, “It's because it's you that it looks so good.” Snow doesn't argue.

“And what about her?” He asked, “Did you make her dress the same as mine?” Tigris won't even let him see the designs. He can only imagine his heart would stop beating when he sees you. He wondered if Tigris was fine with that.

“You'll know when you see her,” Tigris giggled.

He sighs in response.

Tigris also adds, “She's the reason we still have this place, Coryo. Be kind to her.”

Coriolanus furrows his eyes. What did Tigris mean? “What?” He asked, his tone sharp. Snow didn't need pity money. And you being the one giving him dollars was salt in the wound.

“The payment for the dresses…” Tigris begins to explain, “It's enough for this month's taxes and a few weeks of food.” Coriolanus' mouth dries, he had completely forgotten about the eviction note. With everything going on, he supposed that it was natural. But Tigris had taken the burden herself while he was no help.

“I am glad,” he mutters, feeling heavily indebted to you. He didn't like the feeling. He lets it linger in the corner of his mind. He says goodbye to grandma’am and Tigris. Then he was on his way to the presidential mansion. You had said that you'd meet him there.

He reaches the presidential mansion. The press surrounded the area with cameras. He swallows as he realizes every moment of his is being broadcast live. Much like when he was in the cage with Lucy Gray. He doesn't let the flashes bother him. He already knew his outfit would be the talk of the show and it was a great opportunity to let Tigris's name out there.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around. That's it. He's dead. His heartbeat stopped. He forgot how to breathe.

There's no other way to explain his reaction to you.

His sun and moon. You looked marvelous. Enough so that his breath was knocked out of his chest. How did people speak again?

“Hello,” he gasps out, his cheeks burning. He ignored the urge to trace his soulmate's scar. He looks away from you, unable to meet your eyes. Too pretty. Too fucking pretty.

“Hi, Coryo,” you said, wrapping your arm around his. You both walk up to the stairs of the mansion. “Is everything alright?” You asked, a bit worried as he wasn't meeting your eyes.

“Fine,” he mutters.

You hum in response, turning back to the cameras. All waves and smiles. He forgets to do the same as he has eyes on you. He watches you like a lovesick puppy. Until it's time to enter the gala.

He doesn't let his anxious thoughts take over. He counts his breaths as he walks into the mansion. The gala was filled with people. Even higher-up district officials were invited. Several army officers with high standings and even the peacekeeper heads of each district were attending. There were also his classmates.

Clemensia Dovecote. Festus Creed.

They were all present. He could see the Plinth couple, but their son was missing. Quite the idiot to miss this opportunity. More for him, he supposed. He leaves you behind to greet his friends.

“Clemmie,” he grins.

“Well, hello, Coriolanus. It's nice to see your family finally has an invitation. It was about time,” she smiles.

Coriolanus doesn't correct her assumption. He doesn't tell her that he is here as your date. He didn't deem it necessary.

“Did you bring a date?” Festus Creed asked.

Coriolanus shrugged and said your name, he also added, “Well, she was available.” Festus raised an eyebrow at Coryo’s dismissive tone.

“What about the kiss in the auditorium? Several hearts were broken, Coriolanus,” Clemmie jokes.

Coryo bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something. But the fact you're District was surely fresh in his classmates’ minds. Telling them you're something to him wouldn't be much help with his goal for the gala. So, he shrugged, “Ah… well, we're all foolish sometimes.”

His classmates let it go. And he was glad.

Coriolanus seemed to completely forget about you as Clemmie and Festus introduced him to several elitists of the Capitol. People he can never meet through simple means. Coriolanus greets them, making small talk. Every time he mentions Lucy Gray, they're impressed. Even more so when they realize he's the reason that they can make such a contribution to the games.

In the conversation, Dr. Gaul joins. “Hello, Mr. Snow,” she greets him. She turns to the circle he was chatting up. The people were both in awe and afraid of Dr. Gaul. Just like him. She easily takes control of the conversation. Coriolanus does what he does best. Let the conversation flow in the favor of Dr. Gaul. He adds to the glory of the games and how it is necessary. He thanks the elitists for their funding.

From the gleam of approval in Dr. Gauls' eyes, Coriolanus felt proud like he never had before.

He wants to tell you about this immediately! He wanted you to be proud of him too. He had acquired several business cards by now. He had made an impression on everyone he talked to. If he won the Hunger Games, he wouldn't have to worry about university. After tonight, he won't have to worry after university is over either.

It was all because of you.

He feels dread in his mind when he can't see you anywhere on the floor. He finishes his drink, and excuses himself cordially from the conversation. He searches for you before he notices the stairwell leading to the roof. He decided to take the chance of finding you there.

He turned out to be lucky.

He finds you near the metal rails. You were leaning forward, your body facing the city lights. You looked like a part of the city view. He knew he had messed up as he walked closer to you. He left you alone the moment he could. A date wasn't supposed to do that. He knew that! But he was sure you would be understanding. He needed to take advantage of this night.

That's why you brought him here, right?

“Dove,” he said, taking your attention away from the view of the bustling nightlife.

“I see you're making connections, pup.”

“Pup?” he questioned, his tone turning wary.

“Of course, a pup. A pet wagging its tail to an owner who doesn't give a shit. Dr. Gaul, she treats you like an obedient dog baiting you with treats. For her you're disposable, a dog to put down when you'll bite her hand. And here you are in the gala I bought you too, kissing her ass in front of everyone as if they can't see through her bullshit.” You take a deep breath, trying to control yourself, “She sent you to death a day before, Coriolanus! If you're gonna continue to kiss her ass like a mindless pup wanting treats, by all means go ahead.”

Coriolanus takes a deep breath despite the fact he was offended; he didn't wanna fight with you. Coriolanus opens his mouth- he's interrupted by you before he can even begin speaking. You turned to face him. Your eyes glaring at him with anger.

“Not only that! You’re not disposable, Coryo. And I hate how people treat you that way. I am the only one who thinks that way. I am the one you left behind. You ran to Clemmie the moment you saw her and did you know what Festus Creed said to me? He said that I am here as your date and it's because I was available!”

“I have done so many things for you! From rigging the assignment of tributes to proposing the destruction of District thirteen. I have damned my morals for you! I would burn the world for you. And all I get is… this! It's fucking not worth it.”

You don't let Coriolanus speak a word. You tried to walk past him in a hurry but Coryo held your arm and pulled you back. He effortlessly pushes you onto the railing and traps you in.

“Don't talk to me that way,” Coriolanus said, his eyes blazing, his mind confused and his tone dark. “I know what I did was wrong. You should be understanding. What I am doing is for my future. I don't have the time to waste this night like you.” He doesn't bring up the mention of you rigging the tributes nor the nonsense of district thirteen. He will settle this first.

He continues, “What I was doing, it was to be expected. This was too good of an opportunity to let go of. Don't act stupid, dove. Act rationally.”

You scoff at his face and he feels his anger increasing. “Rationally? If you were rational, you would have waited for me to introduce you to the people. Do you know the power I carry, Coriolanus? Yet because of your prejudice against my background, you didn't use me to your advantage. I served myself to you on a silver platter and you left me to rot. Don't talk to me about rationality, love.”

“It's not because of your-” Coriolanus shuts his mouth when he sees tears falling down your cheeks. “Real or not?”

“Don't talk to me if you have to ask,” you sob.

He pulls you in his arms. He cages you, letting you ruin the suit with your tears. Due to the deep red fabric, the tear stains wouldn't be obvious. “I am sorry,” he whispered, genuinely.

He remembered your former words.

‘It's fucking not worth it.’

He tightened his hold around you, imprisoning you. He can't believe he messed this up this bad. The worst is it was his fault. He runs a hand through your hair, trying to calm you down. He whispers sweet nothings and apologies until the rise of your chest is steady.

“It's true. I have held prejudice against your background,” it felt wrong to admit this out loud. Coriolanus repeats, “I am sorry, dove.”

“You haven't been district for a long time and it's wrong for me to hold it against you. You're Capitol, not by blood but by deeds. It's more than enough.”

You pulled back, away from his arms. He mourns the loss in his mind, he wants to pull you in again immediately. You wipe your tears away. “I'll forgive you if you publicize our romance today.”

His eyes widened in shock. He wants to yell no! But then he remembered, ‘It's fucking not worth it.’ He takes a shaky breath, steeling his mind. He can't eat his words now. “Fine, sweetheart. You can tell the public Coriolanus Snow is yours and that you are mine.”

The smile you give him reminds him of a fox. He vaguely feels like he has fallen into a trap he can't get out of. Webs after web, he can't even imagine. He shakes himself clear of these thoughts.

You held out your hand, “Then come on Coriolanus Snow, my partner let me introduce you to some people who will like you very very much.”

He takes it. In his mind, he knows he has to ask you about the rigging and about the district that ruined his life.

He dreads it.

NEXT PART

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ornii · 4 months

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Jealous? Me? No…

Illyana Rasputin X Male Reader

So I finally watched The New Mutants yesterday, and I gotta say, it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. An okay Marvel film in my opinion, however Anya Taylor-Joy absolutely killed the role as Magik. And the idea of a Reader who also had a relative in the X-Men and is believable, gave me an idea, and this was it.

The relationship you had with Illyana was particularly hard to define. You wouldn’t call her your girlfriend, but she is also more than a friend. You sensed a Kinship with her ever since your, outburst. It sounds small but it resulted in the deaths of a lot of people, I suppose that’s what happens when a Mutant tried to live a normal life. Having the same genetic system as The Wolverine, it gave you nearly all the same powers, including a deep primal rage that could erupt at any time. Thus, leading you to being hospitalized.

Dr Reyas had an interest in you particularly, it seems only one Successful clone of Wolverine exists; you. Or so they think, you know of one more, Laura. Keeping her secret, keeping her under the nose of the Government was of utmost importance. Everything with Illyana was fine, she was being her usual self, rude, condescending, and just an overall ass to you and everyone, but it didn’t bother you. Everything was fine, until Dani made her appearance. A new challenger enters Illyanas game, and she doesn’t like it.

You and Illyana were watching Dani sleep, granted you two were outside the room, watching though the faded glass. You couldn’t make out any physical differences in her. She looked like your average teenager, maybe her powers are more psionic. You rubbed your chin and Illyana spoke. “I bet Pocahontas will try to run the moment she wakes up.” She said, almost to get a rise out of you, to see your negative but passionate response but you were simply thinking, blocking her out. She noticed your lack of response and turned to you. All your attention wasn’t on her anymore, but on this new girl.

“(Y/n).” She said with that stern Russian accent, it snapped you out of your trance and you finally looked at Illyana, as much as she annoyed and overall pissed you off, her beauty was unmatched, blue Iris, long gorgeous blonde hair like a brick road to heaven, and an accent that commands respect but has such a alluring tone.

“What?” You say, “You gonna bully this one too?” You say, Illyana smirks, finally getting your attention. “Depends, you seem to be infatuated with Pocahontas.” She said, you finally responded to her obvious jab and shook your head.

“Real fucking funny.” You mutter. “A new girl winds up here and you’re already jealous?” You said, Illyana kept her smile, but deep down she was starting to get annoyed.

“I don’t get jealous.”

“Then you won’t mind me saying hello.” You reply, and reach for the door handle, and for a moment you saw a short glimpse of panic in her eyes, as you gripped the handle, the voice of God spoke to you.

“(Y/n), remove your hand from the door.” Dr Reyas said from the intercom, she was watching, always watching. You reluctantly removed your hand. “Please gather in the main foyer, our daily session begins in 10 minutes.” She says, you look at Illyana and shrug, putting your hands in your jacket, you walk off. You and Illyana enter the room to Roberto, Sam, and Rahne, the other tree stuck in this place. It seems that there were only two chairs left, oddly enough, both seats end up with you next to Illyana. Reyas sits before you all, and starts.

“Yesterday, I asked you to think about… the first time your mutation manifested. Would anyone like to share? (Y/n)? Sam? Illyana? Roberto? Rahne? Look, we can’t help each other unless we talk to each other. I’ve said this a hundred times. This program can’t help you if you refuse to participate. So, Rahne, why don’t you start?” She said, Rahne was a short girl, pixie cut and had a soft Scottish accent, she wasn’t as feminine as most girls, but she had her own charm.

“I…” she started, but Dani, the new girl walked in, sulking.

“Please join us, Dani. This is our new patient, Danielle Moonstar. Let’s do our best to make her feel at home. Go ahead, Rahne.” Reyas said, (Y/n) shrugs and stands up and takes another chair and places it further in the circle.

“Take a seat.” You say, and sit back down, Dani awkwardly sulks next to you, and Illyanas eyes dart from her Hand puppet to you.

“Right. I was 13. I remember running through the woods.” Rahne began.

“How did you feel?” Doctor Reyas asks.

“Free. Like, the most free I’d felt my whole life. But guilty, too.”

“Why feel guilty?” You ask, “You get a turn into a wolf, that’s fucking sick.”

“Because I knew it was bad. I went to Reverend Craig… to see if he could pray it out of me. He asked me to show him, so I changed.” Rahne continues..

“And what did Reverend Craig do?”

“Beat me about half to death. Said I was a witch… that I was going to hell.” Rahne looked so, hurt. You reluctantly sat up from your seat.

“Would anyone else like to share their first time?” Reyas asks, and Illyana decides to turn to heat up.

“New girl. How fucked up are you?” She said, turning the ire on Dani, you turned to the Girl.

“Illyana.” You said, a bit of a grumble.

“Drugs, I bet. Or a nympho, maybe..” she kept pestering. You then decided to raise your voice.

“Cut the shit okay?” You said, The Russian turned to you, seeing your face and found an odd sense of pleasure in it. Reyas takes hold of the situation.

“Keep behaving… exactly like you are right now… and we can all just spend the day in solitary. I want all of you to think very carefully… about how you’d like to use your time here. And how long you want that time to be. (Y/n), since you’re already up… why don’t you show Dani around?” Reyas orders. You stood up, still locking eyes with Illyana.

“Yeah, sure..” you said, and looked over to Dani. You offered your hand to help her up and she took it, she stood up and you began to walk around, showing the new Girl around, that was a mistake.

Night has crept up to you all much sooner than expected, you were preparing to turn in for the night, finishing up clothes duty, the sudden sound of a clank of metal caused you to put the towel down and then around, you half expected death, but it was much worse.. Illyana.

“Oh, it’s you… gonna keep bullying Dani for whatever reason?” You said, but she wasn’t her cocky, overbearing self. She pouted and folded her arms, and asked a single question.

“Do you like her?” She asks, the question blindsided you.

“What?” You responded, and Illyana slowly approached.

“Do you like her? You act like you do..”

“I .. I don’t get it why are you upset?” You said, which causes her to finally just spew her feelings. “You are so fucking dense! Do you not notice anything you big dumb cute plyushevyy mishka?!” She yells, it took you less than a minute to realize she’s pinned you to the wall. Her arm now armored and placed near your head, as she leaned in, her lips barely brush up against yours.

“YA lyublyu tebya, Rosomakha.” She said, your mind translated the words.. “I Love you, Wolverine.” Your hands almost instinctively wrapped around her waist, much to her shock. Your lips pressed firmly against hers and her powers almost activate due to a high sense of, emotion. And it seems you two fall together, to her happy place.

Jealousy, from what I heard it runs in the Family…

(This was just a short thing I wanted to write, Definitely want to make more New Mutant Content, we need more of it.)

#male reader #marvel #illyana rasputin x male reader #illyana rasputin #new mutants #reader x Marvel #jealousy #x men comics #xmen #magik #Magik x Reader #magik x male reader #Ornii

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months

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Just To Spite You

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty AF

Requested: Hi, I would like to request something It's for the jack Dawkins book The reader's father is throwing a party and invites a lot of people including jack , the reader's enemy. They hate each other, the thing is there is such a thick tension between them they can't deny it but it has to be a secret

I stood at the top of the staircase doing my best to hold my breath and keep out of view. I looked down at myself in my little heeled shoes too tight for my feet, my tight stockings, my endless crinoline, bird cage of wicker, petticoats, my corset on tight enough to strangle me, and my huge uncomfortable gold glittering ballgown around me, the top off my shoulders but tight to my skin so much it would truly mark me, my long sheer glittering butterfly sleeves almost to the floor, A band of teal blue ribbon around my waist, my hem and as a choker around my neck. I had skin-tight white gloves to my elbows already glimmering from the glitter that had fallen from my dress, a ring around my finger with a large blue gem attached to the bottom my dress so I would not have to hold it to move or dance, My hair had taken hours or meticulous combing and curling and now allowed to hang freely down my back. I hated to look at myself. I felt uncomfortable. Out of place. But this is what my father wants for tonight...

Tonight was my father's Grand ball he holds each year, and this year I was a grand piece of it.

I had always been a decoration for his grand balls but tonight was different I know my father is desperate to wed me off before I will begin to be labelled as an old maid or thornback, it already brought him such rage that I was even a spinster.

"If I may announce, formally. My daughter Miss Y/n Y/M/N Y/l/N!" He called out and the party began to applaud.

I sighed and stepped slowly down the stairs knowing the sort of madness if I were to trip or worse fall down the stairs. I stopped at the landing of the stairs looking out the the party, full of eligible men and a few couples of high local importance. They all looked impressed by me but I just felt awful. As soon as I could I grabbed a drink and hid myself in a corner trying to not be passed or looked at much, not easy in this glitter of a gown.

Men often came up to me to greet me so I forced a smile and a nod a drank more.

"Having fun?" A smirking voice spoke up I glanced to my side and saw a familiar sight... admittedly He'd cleaned up.

Dr Jack Dawkins leant on the wall a pair of well-shined shoes, black trousers, and his usual shirt but it was actually white. Good god I didn't know he still owned any that were still white and not an off-grey from washing blood out, a light cream waistcoat with a slight teardrop pattern to it, a white tie around his neck and a black jacket folded over his arm, his hair well fixed without its usual fluffy frizz and his hands clean... or well as clean as one can get a surgeon's hands without bathing them in acid.

"Ohh yes, Thrilling." I sighed downing the rest of my drink at the mere idea of the two of us having to... be nice to one another.

"You're father's gone all out."

"He will. He does. He's a social man."

"And you're a recluse."

"I am not a social recluse Dr Dawkins, I meer wish to spend my time socializing with people with high intellect and important things to say."

"That's why you're talking to me?" he smirked,

"No. You are neither of those things so if you could kindly take your buggery blonde butt elsewhere that would be... Marvellous." I sighed as I saw a drinks tray go past so I quickly took one and so did he,

"Pompous Old maid" he muttered

"Butcher."

"Whiner"

"Coot"

"Witch"

"Uneducated scoundrel"

"Patronizing Princess"

"irritating malevolent"

"Snobbish toffee nose"

"illiterate Phiilistine"

"exasperating Spinster"

"Crude vagabond" I complained, "will you go away!"

"I would, however, every woman here is married, courting or an utter idiot. And at least you can hold a conversation."

"Even if I'm going to insult you."

"Insult me all you want just please don't talk about bloody flowers. I can't hear anymore."

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"You're father invited me."

"Why? He knows about my... feelings towards you."

"I believe he mistakes our hatred for sexual tension," he said,

"Why would he do that?"

"At least he sees you talking to me, even if we are arguing. And let's face it most husbands and wives are like this after five years so... maybe he just thinks we are getting a head start" he said sipping his drink

"You are one of the most insufferable men I have ever met Mr Dawkins."

"Dr Dawkins. You're going to insult me you can do it correctly Sweetheart."

"Do not call me sweetheart!" I glared

"Why? Are you gonna fight me in your glittery little dress sweetheart?" He smirked moving closer and bending himself to make eye contact like you would with a child given he was a whole head taller than me "Or better yet take it off and we can go upstairs."

My response was to simply throw my drink in his face and march off elsewhere.

Unfortunately, I was found by my father who forced me to begin the usual nonsense, I now had to dance with any man who asked it of me and of course many did. I found it utterly nauseating being held and dancing with these men only interested in me for my father's money all while on display to everyone meaning if I pulled a face or acted up everyone would know. Luckily it would soon be over as most of the eligible men invited I had now danced with.

This man finished up with me kissed my gloved hand and returned to his friends, leaving me before him.

Jack stood with a wide smirk his jacket now back on he bowed and offered his hand, I did my best to hide my face but I'm sure I turned red with anger.

"Don't you dare," I whispered letting him take my hand and giving it a sweet kiss

"Ohh I will princess. Just to spite you" He smirked holding my hand in his own he grabbed my waist and forced me close enough I could feel the buttons on his jacket, I sighed and moved my hand to his shoulder,

"I am going to dispice every moment of this."

"I think I'm going to enjoy it," he smirked as we began to dance, he lead of course even if at times I did fight with him luckily many others danced too so we could speak even in hushed tones and I didn't have to be as careful hiding my emotions

"Do you have to hold me so tight my father will get angry?"

"Ohh that's the plan, I want us to be close."

"Why?"

"well half because I can make your father suspicious, and I can see down your dress."

"You just get more and more insufferable don't you Dr dawkins."

"Ohh I do, it's awfully fun." He chuckled "Christ I can feel the glitter on your dress flaking off in my hand"

"Perhaps I shall send you home glittery and sparkling,"

"You would wouldn't you."

"I would. Just to spite you."

"God even your perfume is infuriating" he whispered in a sly tone as we danced doing a good spin or two,

"Ohh I live for the moments you spin me away, Dr Dawkins,"

"Ohh why do you get a moment of peace from my arms?"

"No, because for a few brief seconds, I don't have to smell your blood-laden aftershave."

"Perhaps I smell bloody because I'm a vampire about to bite your neck sweetheart."

"You bite my neck, and I chop your dick off," I said purposely forcing him to spin me out but he quickly spun me back into his chest

"Ooohh feisty" He smirked

"At least my drink somewhat covers your aftershave."

"Well then I thank you for making me more palatable"

"Ohh you're far from palatable."

"You know, you're not a bad dancer."

"Neither are you, surprisingly." I sighed "How did you get this good?"

"So I'm good am I?"

"For a butcher."

"I was in the navy, you'd be surprised how many officer's balls you attend. You pick things up."

"I imagine all the ladies wanted to dance with you,"

"Ohh they did, but I save my skills for the pretty ones."

"so I'm pretty am I?"

"Gorgeous Sweetheart." He whispered

"Don't call me sweetheart." I glared digging my nails into his hand

"You are adorable when your are angry, like a little pixie."

"One of these days Dr. Dawkins, you're going to wake up with me over you."

"Ohh I'm betting I will" he smirked

"And I shall drive your own scalpel into your heart."

"Ohhh sweetheart, such a violent little thing you are." He smirked, "Just remember you do anything to me, I will haunt your every waking moment, I will be the face you see in your nightmares and trust me you'll be having nothing but."

"Just dance doctor." I sighed

"Why? Are you enjoying our dance? or do you just like a man having you in his arms."

"I've been dancing in men's arms all night."

"Not boys. A Man sweetheart."

"Ohh I would love too, shame I don't see any men here tonight."

"One of these days I'm going to have you tied down on my operating table."

"Ohh? Didn't know you were into that sort of thing Dr Dawkins."

"Ohhh you'd be surprised by the sorts of things I'm into."

"Ohh getting rejected by little ladies? even after you saved their lives."

"You know. I'm a doctor."

"As you keep saying."

"One of these days you'll need my help, you'll be laid on my table, and only I will be able to save you."

"Ohh? And you'll let me die I suppose out of pure spite?"

"No." he smirked as we finished our dance he took a step back and brought my hand to his lips giving it a firm kiss never breaking eye contact "I'd ensure you live. Just to spite you." He smiled "Goodnight Miss Y/l/n"

"Goodnight Dr Dawkins."

"It was a pleasure," he smiled wickedly before he headed back into the main mess of the party.

Ohh, my god... I hate that man.

why does he have to be so..... Ughhh! there isn't been a word for that man!

I fixed my dress a little before I noticed.

MY RING!

It's gone!

Ohh and I know just the slippery eel who took it.

"Miss if I may-" A man began trying to dance with me

"Not now." I snapped lifting my dress and marching through the party to find Dr Dawkins, and I spotted him leaving the main room so I rushed after him grabbed his jacket and yanked him into the music room empty for this evening

"What the hell!" He yelled

"My ring I know you stole it!"

"I haven't stolen anything."

"Liar!"

"Ohh you come to admit I've stolen your heart?"

"Give me my ring Jack! it was my mother's give it back."

He rolled his eyes and handed me my ring back

"You are... the most unendurable peacockish Lobcock of a man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!"

"You are the most horrendous upstart of a woman I have ever met!"

Both of us were red in the face from yelling, our blood boiling I wanted to kill him to throw him across the room but I grabbed his shirt and he grabbed my face and we kissed with more passion and heat than I had ever felt in a kiss, his lips soft and gentle as we slowly kissed in utter silence. It was... the most amazing kiss of my life.

We stopped and moved away from each other both of us gasping and trying to comprehend what just happened between us.

"What the hell was that..."

"I have no idea."

"Do you wanna fight me or fuck me jack!"

"I don't know!"

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know. you're a ...complicated woman and you make me feel... Complicated"

"Complicated?"

"Some days, I swear to god I could strangle you! but... I also want to hold you and kiss you"

"I...I admit I want to slap you so so badly but... I also really want to kiss you." I answered, "Did you wanna do it again?"

"God yes!" He gasped pulling me back to his lips, I happily kissed him back stroking his neck and tugging on his hair, and he backed me against the closed door "Ummm you evil little witch! all this time all you've done is wind me up, I want you. I need you. I swear to god I will tie you to my bed tonight and have my way with you kicking and screaming if I have to."

"I want you too. I need you too. I want you forced on my bed until you beg me for mercy"

"Ohh I wouldn't beg you for mercy. Just to spite you."

"Then I'd never scream just to spite you."

"Ohh I'll make you scream sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart."

"Ohh I will," he smirked

"We must stop"

"We must."

"I don't want to."

"Me either."

"But we must." I gasped moving away "We must. We... we must build a wall between us. These emotions they must... never be revealed."

"No... they mustn't" he nods

I found myself unable to not stare but he also couldn't help it, as we stood five feet from each other wanting nothing more than to be in each other's arms

"Beleive me... if your father and his party were not on the other side of that door." He said, "I would throw you on this floor and ruin you."

"As would I you." I answered "But... we cannot. People will hear. people will talk. We can never be together."

"Why not? this is a ball to find you a husband isn't it?"

"why would I ever want to be married to you!"

"Because we can't resist each other. You know it. I know it. Our anger has always been just boiling tension... take my hand. and come with me to see your father. Let me marry you. and I swear our lives will be nothing but enthralled passion and ecstasy."

"I do not wish to be married."

"And you can't avoid it. you know you can't your father will wed you to the first of those boys who ask... and you know your life could be infuriating if you were married. At least if you marry me you know it will be."

"Passion made fade in time."

"If it does... it will be too late. I will be yours. your will be mine. I do not imagine our passion fading but if it does, I will keep you in my arms, love you endlessly, and make love to you with the passion of tonight. Just to spite you."

"if we were to marry, you must understand that I will have to trust you... and if you break it Dr dawkins. I will see to it that your life is miserable and I will never ever give you peace, just to spite you."

"Understood. marry me. Be my bride. And I swear I will suffer with you all of my days." he said taking my hands

"....Marry me. Make me your bride... so we can suffer this fate together for the rest of our lives." I stroked across his face

He pulled me to his lips and we kissed with such hunger, such passion and love.

"I love you sweetheart,"

"Love you too Jack." I smiled laying my head on his chest and he rested his chin on my head

"Come on then, let's go see your father before some boy tries to snap you up, sweetheart."

"Alright jack" I smiled holding his arm as we returned to the party.

#tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagines #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins

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theredofoctober · 9 months

Text

MANNA FIC— CHAPTER ONE: PAPRIKA

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, mild Daddy kink (it'll all make sense).

Chronologically this is the first chapter in the series.

Keep reading after the cut

Later, when you reflect on your first meeting with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you will marvel at the Sybilan apprehension that had wreathed the merest detail of that night: the oppressive colours of his office, grey and vermillion from window to wall, the very choice to have you see him at an evening appointment, penning you in by way of the darkness.

Yet, as you sit across from Hannibal in a low leather chair, you contain only a spiteful rancour, one foot jouncing testily as the doctor attempts to extract answers from you beyond a penchant for grudging monosyllables.

“I understand that you have seen therapists in the past,” he says, in a neutral tone.

You stare at the curtains in their dissected oblongs of red and ash, like bloodied teeth against the wall: anything but meet the eyes that seem to have already picked you apart in the mere minutes you have been before him.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “A couple of times. CBT stuff. I hated it. Doesn’t work for me.”

Dr. Lecter offers you a smile so imperceptible that he might not have moved at all.

“Understandable. Cognitive behavioural therapy is a better fit for anxiety and negative thinking— it has its place, but for patients with deeper trauma, their illness may prove too complex for it to be effective. Dialectical behavioural therapy would perhaps be more suitable, in your case.”

Shrugging curtly, you do not ask him to elaborate. There is no therapy in the book that you would warm to; you had set out tonight only to put an end to familial begging, in its absence of dignity.

You resent the nakedness of your secrets before this stranger, before anyone, your suffering made public domain. Like a brow-beaten captive, you are moved to defend your self abuse against all those who seek to extract it from you.

Hannibal watches you with a dry intensity, his gaze rarely straying from your face. He is a lean, polished figure in an impeccable red check suit, dark hair swept back from a face of meticulous and rather interesting beauty.

His brows are low, almost invisible, his eyes small, and as dark as tree flux, the nose—straight, and as debonair as the rest of him—leading down from two furrows that suggest an earnest and curious whimsy.

His air, thus far, has been both tactful and polite, unperturbed by your close-mouthed unwillingness to yield to quizzing in even the most inoffensive line. You should like him, you suppose, yet you have already branded him an enemy.

He is a man; how could you ever be expected to open up to him?

“How long have you struggled with your eating disorder?” asks Hannibal.

You cross your arms over your chest, barring him out, a theological defence against the vampire of such dreaded questioning.

“You’ve read my records. You already know.”

“Certainly, but I would like to hear your experience in your own words. Such documents may represent only the most objective truths, and reveal very little of you, or what you are feeling at any given moment. Besides, they are as fallible as the professionals that create them. If there are any inaccuracies, your answers will bring them to light.”

The implication that you may share, with him, an honesty that you have refused previous therapists bears a quiet arrogance that might have won you over, were you not set so resolutely in your hatred.

“Fine,” you say. “I’ve had it since I was a kid.”

‘IT’; the word may as well be in baleful capitals, the introduction to some eponymous beast. You will give your ailment no other name aloud, have never done so, except in clandestine internet entry, forcing the thorn further beneath the nail.

Dr. Lecter digests your simple answer, finding flavour in its enigma.

“You have no intentions of recovery without intervention. What served you in your formative years, you will continue to savour.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get better,” you retort. “It’ll always be there, so what’s the point?”

The question had shaken previous professionals into stumbling objection; not so Hannibal Lecter, whose ambiguous calm nevertheless bears the same imperceptible threat as the night.

“Would you say the same to an alcoholic?” he asks. “Many live out their lives through a succession of losses and victories, and likewise, many emerge fulfilled and content in having struck out on the path of self-betterment. Yet, by your logic, you would condemn them all in their relationship to illness.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you object; your foot bounces so violently over the arm of the chair that Hannibal glances at it, his focus unbalanced by the distraction. “It’s different for me, okay?”

“In what regard? What prevents you from regarding your own struggles with the same grace?”

“It’s... it's not the same. I don't want to talk about it.”

Panic makes you feel almost buoyant in the room, a kite with your string cut, to be devoured by the wind.

“You have not yet reached the point that recovery seems possible, or even desirable to you,” says Hannibal, across your distress. “That is quite normal. For many individuals with eating disorders, recovery can take up to ten years to achieve— a long and difficult road, yet while there is no permanent cure, there is still reward in that destination.”

This you have heard before, in other iterations; he loses you a little, a mistake that he seems to catch in your reply.

“You don’t understand.”

“If you mean that I cannot directly empathise, that is true,” says Dr. Lecter. “I do not share your struggles. Food is a great pleasure to me. Still, I comprehend the crux of your illness— that you once seized a handhold in a rock when you were falling, and still refuse to let it go when there is earth to hold you.”

You continue to jiggle your shoe in a pattern of agitation.

“You’ll never be able to hold me.”

Hannibal leans forward and places a hand upon your foot, guiding it soundly still again.

“That remains to be seen.”

Your breath peters in your throat. It apalls you that he has touched you without asking, that his hand—so warm through the leather of your sneaker—makes you imagine it within the wet turncoat of your cunt.

Suddenly you’re standing from your seat without acknowledging the motion that led you there, like a frame scratched from an old tape.

“I’m leaving,” you say, abruptly. “I’m sorry. This just isn’t for me.”

Hannibal looks up at you, and the still, smooth planes of his features alarm you in their lack of urgency.

“Please,” he says. “Sit down. You will not be leaving here today.”

He is so slim and unassuming in his tailored suit that you feel yourself the red-capped girl of fairy tale, entering an elder’s cabin to the appetites of a wolf.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper.

Dr. Lecter leans forward, speaking with a low and graceful regret.

“I must inform you that your parents have signed a written agreement for you to enter inpatient care, overseen by myself and a colleague.”

Betrayal breaks across you in a death bed sweat: how could they? What have they done?

“No!” you say. “You're lying.”

Dr. Lecter pats a folder resting on the arm of his chair.

“I would be willing to show you the paperwork, if you insist upon it.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice a shrill of indignation. “They can’t just send me away without my permission! It’s illegal!”

“As guardians to a vulnerable adult, it is entirely so.”

You don’t believe him, although your parents evidently did, pressed by their earnest desperation to reverse the agonies of time.

“Whatever,” you say, coldly. “I’m not staying.”

Hannibal tilts his head at an angle of frosty amusement, and suddenly you grasp that this is no ordinary intervention, but incarceration, for reasons yet unknown.

Terror snarls through you like thunder, and you run for the door, wrenching at the handle to find it locked against you.

“What the fuck?” you cry, though you had known in your most basic, animal senses that this man—this room—would be your undoing.

Dr. Lecter has gotten up from his seat and is striding towards you, seizing your arms at the wrists, as firmly as a father; you turn your head in a feral reflex and attempt to bite him, stalled by the wool of his jacket in your teeth. He turns your writhing figure towards him, your skirt bunched up to your waist in the struggle, his palm a blacksmith’s tool on your bare skin, a scarring heat.

His expression is scarcely altered by the struggle, his breathing slow, even. You are no threat to him; he has surely restrained patients like this before, a necessary training.

You will not go quietly, as perhaps others have, before you. You bring your knee into his groin until you hear him grunt in the desired pain, but he does not lose his grip upon you, only drives you back against the door, his eyes churning with a wild satisfaction.

“You will learn not to disobey, little one,” he says, and before you can absorb the threat there is a needle at your neck, and chemical night.

You half-wake some hours later to the voices of two men, one of them Hannibal, the other unfamiliar, speaking in a curt and cautious rhythm.

“This is her?” asks the unknown man— through fluttering eyelids you see him, all rumpled hair and scowling good looks, an image from some obscure Brontë novel. “The patient you talked about on the phone? What have you given her? She looks out of it.”

“A mild sedative,” Hannibal replies, “with some additional compounds. It’s alright, Will. She will revive soon, likely in a confused state. This will pass.”

Will hangs back, his mouth an angle of uncertainty.

“Forgive me, Dr. Lecter, but I’m a little confused as to what I’m doing here.”

“Your role will be paramount to the healing process,” says Hannibal, touching a hand to his colleague’s flannel sleeve with familiar tenderness. “Together, we will each be whatever our subject requires from one moment to the next. A healer, a father, a lover, a friend—”

“All while crossing the boundaries of what could be considered valid treatment into an inappropriate relationship,” Will cuts in, sharply. “Surely that’s only going to make things worse.”

Dr. Lecter approaches you, adjusting a pillow behind your head; you are too out of it to object, unsure whether it is a chair or a bed you occupy in your prone state.

“What is appropriate is not always the most effective method of healing,” says Hannibal. “This patient requires complex support. Decisions to be made for her that other professionals would not be comfortable making.”

Will shakes his head, grimly amused.

“And you are.”

“Certainly. Over the years I have seen results from the most unorthodox approaches. I have an interest in observing how she will respond to mine.”

You watch the two men exchange glances, and blearily wonder if they are merely friends, or something more.

“Dr. Lecter, I have no idea how to connect with her,” says Will. “And frankly the idea of trying isn’t something I’m particularly enthusiastic about.”

“Your discinclination to be involved may work to her benefit,” says Hannibal, smoothly. “While my part is to provide gentle guidance and compassion, you will offer the firm hand required to leash the chaos of her disturbed mind and behaviours.”

Will scoffs in disbelief.

“The good cop, bad cop routine? That seems a little obvious for you, doctor.”

“And yet it may be precisely what she craves. Stability. Discipline.”

At this, there is a certain change in the air of the room; one day, you will know it as hunger, so many appetites contained between two men.

“Well, which one is going to come first?” asks Will, relenting. “Stability, or discipline?”

“When she is fully awake, we will know," say Hannibal. "And we will deliver it.”

#ao3 writer #dark fic #manna fic #dark!fic #hannibal lecter x reader #dark hannibal lecter #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere will graham #will graham x reader #tw eating disorders #tw noncon

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janesociety · 1 year

Text

daddy issues

tony stark x teen!reader

type: hurt/comfort (?)

summary: you get really sick and call tony dad

warnings: reader is sick, placement of an iv, allusion to painful past events (nothing described)

notes: this is very old and kinda cringy <3

pt ii

marvel masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

It started as a cold. Steve went to wake you up one morning when you didn’t come down for training and found you blowing your nose next to your trashcan that was almost overflowing. He gave you the day off, and then the next day, and then the next.

By the third day, the whole compound was concerned. Bucky had convinced you to try and get up and eat breakfast and so you did. You were so weak that he had to try and help you out of your bed.

“It’s okay, doll,” he mumbled as you apologized profusely as he helped you stand. The two of you trudge slowly into the main living space, drawing the attention of the other Avengers who had been waiting for you.

"Didn't think you'd want anything too heavy, so I made toast," Steve said, setting a plate down at the table in front of you. You smiled weakly at him, sitting down.

Natasha watched from afar. She was always concerned about you. There was never a moment she wasn’t worried. So this, this had her frantic. Not that she was showing it though.

Forcing the toast down your throat was harder than you thought, but you did it anyway to appease those around you. They had bigger problems, and you having a small case of the flu was not on par with everything else.

“Mornin’,” Tony said, stepping into the kitchen with a cold coffee mug. He dumped it in the sink before turning to the running coffee maker. “How you feeling, kiddo?” Tony asked you, waiting for the machine to fill his cup.

You dryly pushed the last of the toast down your throat and smiled up at him. “Fine,” you answered, trying to keep the croak out of your voice.

“Take it easy,” he said, exiting the kitchen with his new mug.

Everyone walked on eggshells around you for the remainder of the day. Instead of staying cooped up in your room, you instead sat on the couch in the living room. Different people made attempts throughout the day to entertain you, but for the most part they let you rest as your favorite movies played in the background.

Later in the evening, you laid on the couch between Wanda and Bucky. Your head laid in Bucky’s lap as he stroked your hair with his good arm. Wanda sat by your feet, listening to the goofy sitcoms playing on the tv when you began to shift.

“Make it stop… make it go away,” you muttered in your sleep. Both Bucky’s and Wanda’s heads snapped towards you. “Make it stop!” you yelled louder this time.

Wanda immediately went into your mind, trying to fish for what you were scared of. It came up blank.

“We need to get her to Dr. Banner,” Wanda said, standing up off the couch.

“What’s-“

“Just get her to Banner!” Wanda yelled, her eyes flashing red with anger and fear. Bucky didn’t hesitate to scoop you up quickly in his arms.

Him and Wanda raced across the compound, bursting into the lab where Tony and Bruce sat working on new tech.

“Something’s wrong!” Wanda yelled. The two men looked up, worried expressions on their face. You were still in your fitful slumber in Bucky’s arms, still mumbling nonsense under your breath.

“Bring her over here,” Bruce said, jumping up and gesturing over to the infirmary section of the lab. He had Bucky lay you down on one of the beds as he started to check your vitals. “Her fever skyrocketed and her heart rate is rising.” Tony watching from the foot of the bed as you kicked out your legs and your arms wrapped around your stomach.

“Make it stop!” you yelled. You rolled in on yourself, tucking your knees to your chest and still holding your stomach. Wanda was getting visibly more upset as time went on. Her attempts to go in your head were still coming up blank.

“What’s wrong with her, Banner?” Tony said, agitated. He hated seeing you in pain and it made him feel totally helpless.

“Not sure yet, I’m gonna give her an IV and get her hydrated in hopes it helps her fever,” he said, prepping the machine. “Can you hold her still?” he asked Bucky. Bucky nodded, moving closer to you. He pried your arms away from your stomach and pushed your legs straight. He pinned one arm against your chest and the one closest to Bruce he pushed flat against the bed.

“No! Stop!” you shrieked. Your eyes flew open and bounced around wildly. You were taking anything in. Your brain wouldn’t process anything around you, so as far as you knew. you were still in your dream. “Stop! Stop it! Let me go!” You writhed under Bucky’s hold as he did his best to keep you still without hurting you.

“This won’t work,” Bruce said. “Wanda, can you hold her?” Wanda looked up at him with teary eyes. She hated the idea of using her powers on you. “Please, I need her still.” She nodded, raising her hands up. Red ribbons of her powers flowed across your limbs as they went stiff at your sides. You screamed again.

“No! No! Please, make it stop!” you sobbed. Your voice was beginning to go hoarse from screaming. Tony finally moved from where he was standing and went up next to you. He crouched down near your head.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, gently stroaking your hair. He could feel how warm your head was. “You’re okay, everything’s okay. No one is trying to hurt you.” His gentle words seemed to calm you down even in your confused state. Your eyes still stared blankly around you and your breathing was still ragged and strained, but your screaming stopped for a moment. “That’s good, there you go.”

You flinched as Bruce put the needle in your arm after finding a vain and started to cry out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony whispered. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Your head turned to the side, looking at Tony, but not really seeing him.

“Dad?” your voice croaked out quietly. Tony stiffened. He looked into your eyes, them seemingly looking straight through him. “Dad?” you called out again. Wanda and Bucky both watched Tony for his reaction.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re okay,” he said, rubbing a small circle on your shoulder. “Everything’s okay.”

“Her oxygen levels are low,” Bruce said. “I’m gonna put her on some.” Tony brushed all the hair out of your face to make it easier for Bruce to place the tube under your nose.

“Dad, what’s going on?” you muttered, moving your head around after Bruce placed it.

“It’s nothing, kiddo,” Tony said softly. He signaled for Wanda to released you, which she did. “You’re okay now.”

“They had me again,” you mumbled. Exhaustion was starting to over take you again. “They were hurting me.”

“They can’t hurt you anymore, I promise,” he said softly. “Just go back to sleep now.”

#tony stark #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers x teen!reader #marvel #wanda x teen!reader #bucky x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader

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lovetohate001 · 2 years

Note

I was thinking about an imagine with 001 that starts with smut and the next day 002 tells dr. Brenner that reader and 001 are secretly dating and the reader says it's her fault. So she gets tortured and shit. Then Brenner decides to let her go and Peter comforts her after and takes care of her PLEASE I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!!

Never Let You Go

Peter Ballard x Female!Reader | ANGST, R-Rated sexual content

CW: spoilers for season 4, shock treatment scene

word count: 1.4k

He was never harsh. And he was never cruel. Whatever he had done to end up here was something you would never fully understand. Because how could someone so gentle and so beautiful possibly have been a monster, when he was so gently touching the parts of you that you weren’t even aware of.

“I need you to use your words,” he whispered softly into your ear, his breath against your neck sending a wave of desire through you.

“Please…” you sighed. “Please touch me.”

“Like this?” he circled your entrance with his index and middle finger, putting the lightest of pressure there. And he was almost-so close to pushing in.

You whined when he pulled back again and met your gaze.

“You look so beautiful like that,” he marvelled, his eyes sweeping over your body underneath him. “And it’s all for me.”

You held back a yelp as he pushed his fingers into you slowly, and softly. His eyes never left yours, his kiss-swollen lips parted as he watched what he could do to you, what his fingers did to that pretty face of yours, furrowing your brows and squeezing your eyes oh so tightly in pleasure.

Nights like these weren’t uncommon for the two of you. As orderlies in the Rainbow Room, the two of you spent large amounts of time together, and while you had established a beautiful friendship, the two of you grew older, and feelings blossomed into something a little bit more.

This night was special, though. Peter wanted you to escape. He wanted the two of you to have a life outside of this lab where you both could be more than this. But he needed a plan. And he needed 011 to do it.

Your nails dug into his back harshly as he left small bites down your neck, his hands still continuing their ministrations, his fingers gliding in and out of you perfectly, the other at your breast, kneading it softly. Breaths coming out in small gasps, your body went lax as warmth spread throughout you, Peter holding you close and peppering kisses across your face, muttering hushed words of praise.

“I love you so much,” you finally said, your breath caught and your eyes drooping with sleep.

“Sleep, my love.” He held you close and curled up next to you on the small bed.

You’d never felt safer in your life in a place that was crueller than the world outside.

The next morning was just as mundane as all the others before. Breakfast. Training. The Rainbow Room. Break. Training. Lunch. Academic Tests. Training. Rest. Dinner. What shocked you most was when Doctor Brenner approached you personally on the way to the dinner hall after your shift was over, his face grim and his frown etched into the crease between his brows.

“Please, come with me, there are some things we need to discuss in a more private setting.”

You did not like the sound of that. You trailed behind Brenner down the hallway, to his office on the other end. The smell of books and polished wood hit you as he opened the door and guided you in. 002 sat in one of the two chairs facing Brenner’s desk. His grey eyes shot up to meet yours quickly before going back to the ground. He threw a cocky smirk your way while Brenner’s closed the door.

“As you may know, Y/N, we have strict rules regarding fellow employees and test subjects at this facility,” Brenner started. “And with this in mind, you can confirm that you are very aware of the consequences if you are caught compromising these rules?”

“Yes, I am aware,” you answered, your gaze unwavering as you made direct eye contact with the doctor.

You could not under any circumstances let him see through your façade. Your loyalty and love for Peter ran deeper than that. Brenner couldn’t scare you into admitting a single damned thing. He’d have to kill you.

“The you are also aware that you have compromised these rules already,” Brenner said coolly, tilting his head 002’s way. “002 came to me this morning to report an incident he came across last night on his way back from the infirmary after his training. He states that you and Peter Ballard were in a rather compromising position regarding your place in this facility.”

You sat up a little straighter in your seat before replying, “I have no recollecting of such happenings, Doctor.”

“Well…it seems it is 002’s words against yours,” Brenner sighed. “It seems like we will have to take disciplinary action either way, since we have no way of confirming or denying these actions.”

“Cameras aren’t allowed in anyone’s rooms, as you clarified in our contracts, Doctor Brenner,” you confirmed, nodding your head in respect. Your sweet words tasted bitter on your tongue.

“They were together!” 002’s outburst made you and Doctor Brenner start. “I saw him go into her room. She’s lying!”

You looked at 002 with the best look of disbelief you could muster. This child. For all he was worth, you wished one of the other children would put him in his place. He was arrogant. And selfish.

“I trust that you aren’t lying, 002,” Brenner started, his voice calm and understanding, “but I am concerned as to why Y/N has decided to take the other side.”

“I am not lying. That was in my contract too.”

“I trust that 002, and all the other subjects here would never lie. But you are an outsider,” Brenner explained, his eyes cold and distant. “And I know outsiders don’t have the same amount of trust and respect that these children have. But I think you know where I’m going with this by now…”

“Take her to the therapy room,” Brenner said, waving a hand to one of the other orderlies who stood by the door.

You felt strong hands wrap around your arms and hoist you from your chair. You didn’t even fight it. If you did, he’d think you’d had something to hide. Something worth fighting for. And so, you allowed yourself to be dragged through the hallway.

You cast your eyes down to the floor when they strapped you into the chair. The hum of electricity filled your ears. an orderly placed a cap over your head. Stuck wires to your temples. Tied your hands to the armrests. A metal taste filled your mouth. You’d bitten your tongue when they’d let the current out, to run through your body, through your skull, your arms, your torso. If it weren’t for the straps, you’d have slid down onto the floor.

Your fingertips buzzed and your toes prickled with what felt like pins and needles. They asked you the same question every time: have you had any unprofessional relations with Peter Ballard? And every time you shook your head, before another current was sent through you, cutting into your bones and spiking your heart rate.

The dial went up, up, up, and so your consciousness swam down, down, down, until you allowed the darkness to swallow you whole.

“Y/N…”

It was a soft voice. A gentle voice. One you knew well, that dragged you back to the fluorescent lights of the infirmary.

“Y/N…”A calloused hand squeezed yours, harder and harder as you came back. Urging you to stay with him.

“It’s alright. I’m here. I’m here….” Those words were whispered by your ear as you felt arms lift you into a sitting position, coaxing a glass of water into your hands.

The sound of ice blocks clink clink clinking against glass. The water wet your dry lips and moistened your dry throat. You coughed. It stung to swallow. You couldn’t speak. Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Don’t cry my love. Don’t cry.” Gentle hands brushed your cheeks, wiping your tears away.

“My love.” Peter hugged you tightly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “My love, you are alright. You are here. You are alive.”

You let out a small whimper, allowing your tears to fall freely now. You thought Brenner had taken him. You’d had such horrible dreams.

“We’re getting out of here. Tomorrow,” he murmured in your ear. “011 has agreed to help me. To escape with us. Tomorrow, my love. Then this will be all over.

”You nodded and took in a shaky breath. Soon. Soon it’ll be all over. For now, you would rest.

“After tomorrow, I’m never letting you go, never letting you out of my sight again,” he said into your hair.

The world had been cruel enough. It was time he showed them what monsters they had created. Even if it meant a few deaths for their freedom. Everything had a price in life for the means of restoring balance. And he knew the cost. He knew it all. For you.

MASTERLIST

SEND AN ASK / FIC REQUEST HERE

#stranger things #001 x reader #stranger things 001 #peter ballard fanfic #peter ballard stranger things #peter ballard x reader #stranger things season 4 #001 stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #001 imagine #001 x oc #001 x you #peter ballard smut #peter ballard #vecna #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut

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monroeknoxwrites · 2 months

Note

for your valentines prompts: zzl/tlj (or zzl/sqq if you're not feeling it), cybernetic au 👀

Shen Qingqiu walked circles around him. Once, twice, stepping in to examine something up close then retreating a step to mutter behind his tablet.

"Is Dr. Shen enjoying himself?" Zhuzhi-lang asked. His vocal wires had seen better days, the words leaving his fanged mouth with a metallic hiss.

The playful tone to Zhuzhi-lang's voice hid a mounting discomfort. He hadn't allowed another organic this close to him in ages.

Shen Qingqiu was too absorbed in his work to notice either way. He typed on his tablet, fingers flying fast as he noted the small metal scales on Zhuzhi-lang's lower half.

"Immensely! These, they consist of a flexible alloy, correct? May I touch them?" Without waiting for an answer, he ran two fingers along what was essentially a robotic tail.

Zhuzhi-lang twitched under his touch but Shen Qingqiu only marveled at it.

"The interconnectivity is flawless, it moves just as a snake would. The choice to build with smaller, individual pieces to mimic scales allows for greater mobility and speed."

Shen Qingqiu glanced up at Zhuzhi-lang from where he squatted to inspect the thinner part of his tail. While he had little respect for personal boundaries, Shen Qingqiu's eyes reflected genuine wonder and appreciation.

No one had ever looked at Zhuzhi-lang like that. Like he was an undiscovered marvel of the universe and not some wretched abomination, worthless mutated skin grafted to metal, highlighting his grotesque form rather than enhancing it.

Echoing his thoughts, Shen Qingqiu spoke, so breathless in his ramblings it was almost a reverent whisper, "I have never encountered anything as unique and beautiful as you.

"Neither have I." Zhuzhi-lang's confession was lost to Shen Qingqiu racing all over his lab to grab this and that, filling the space with talk the entire time. So too did the ends of his long ponytail slipping harmlessly through outstretched metal claws as he stepped away.

#svsss #zhushen #zhuzhi lang #shen qingqiu #my writing #prompts

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ddemurezy · 1 year

Text

The Witch of Westeros

PROLOGUE - see you on the other side

-×-

disclaimer:

I don't own the Scarlet Witch and her storyline, credits to Marvel and Stan Lee.

gif not mine!! got it from pinterest!

this fanfic doesn't follow the plot of the series of HOTD nor it's books. I simply made it up. major spoilers for doctor strange: multiverse of madness.

note:

tbh, this is my first time ever writing a story in 2nd pov so if it sucks, I'm sorry😭

anyway, It's finally here! sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy!!

warnings:

mention of blood, stabbing, heads cut off, turning things to ashes. I think that's all, if there's anything I missed out, don't be afraid tell me. !! NOT EDITED !!

-×-

The sound of roaring and explosion mixed with the smell of fire, gunpowder, and the distinct, metallic tang of blood was the only thing you can comprehend at this moment. Your eyes darted from your companions to the demons you were fighting. The fight would’ve ended ages ago if you didn’t know there were thousands—no, millions, of them. Not to mention they can regenerate making your head hurt more than it already did.

Saving the multiverse became a job—a responsibility, more likely— for not only you but for Dr. Strange and surprisingly, Loki. It’s been months, years, or perhaps it has been decades since you have been saving the multiverse. Time has been a bit complicated for you, per se.

You, The Master of Mystic Arts, and the God of Mischief traveled to countless realities, defeating enemies such as demons, monsters, or even evil variants of yourselves.

Going through infinite dimensions and saving the other realities was the least idea you thought you would be doing in the future when you first joined the Avengers. Yet here you were, fighting your way through a crowd of merciless nightmarish demonic creatures who can regenerate. Your mission was to retrieve a necklace that holds much power and once belonged to a god and was now passed down to its descendants. It was stored inside the temple on the very top of the mountain that the demonic creatures were guarding. You’re meant to grab it, bring it back to the owner before anyone else can use it to their advantage, and leave without a hassle.

“Anyone care to help me here?” Dr. Strange yelled from a few miles away. He created a portal, making the group of demons from his fall down and he snapped the portal shut, cutting the heads off.

“Classic.” Loki chuckled, witnessing the action as he move to stab the demon that jumped on him, grimacing when its blood hit his face.

You smirked, blasting ten demonic creatures away from you, turning them to ashes as they tried attacking you again. “I don’t think you need anymore help from there, Stephen.” you teased and the said man groaned when another group started hitting him.

“Damn demons. Can’t you do your thing and kill them all, Wanda?” Dr. Strange asked.

“I can, but they keep coming back no matter what.” You told them.

Loki muttered under his breath before sharing his thoughts. “They just keep coming back no matter how many times we kill them. It’s impossible for this to happen.”

“Loki, we are in a different reality. I don’t think there is anything more impossible than this.” You retorted, flicking your wrist and lifting one demon and throwing it to the approaching group.

“What I mean is, there’s a possibility that something or perhaps, someone is summoning them.” Loki proclaimed his theory.

“A distraction.” You sighed out in realization, your eyes widening as you looked around for any sign of different figures in the crowd. A figure walked by miles away from you guys. They were wearing a black hood over their head, covering their face.

They must’ve felt your gaze and turn to look at you, their purple strange eyes meeting yours before they glared and ran away.

“Stay here! I’ll handle this.” You shouted to them, lifting yourself with your magic and flying toward where the figure went, ignoring the yells of protest of your two friends.

You flew away from the crowd of creatures and landed in front of the small cottage you saw them run into, placing a shield behind you so that they cannot attack you from behind. Your eyes hardened seeing it all dark with no trace of light anywhere. Hesitantly, you stepped in, summoning your magic to see a little clearer and to be ready to fight if something or someone attacks you.

The sound of footsteps approaching behind you alarmed you and you turn around, ready to blast your magic to them until you saw their faces when they got closer.

“Loki! Stephen!” You gasped in surprised, internally sighing in relief when you saw them before frowning. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you I will handle this.” you scolded.

“We can’t just leave you to walk in here with no back ups.” Loki reasoned and Dr. Strange nodded beside him.

There was no point in fighting so you just nodded and lead the way deeper into the dark cottage that seems to be bigger on the inside. As you walked in silence with all your guard up, a clashing sound was heard behind you, alarming the three of you.

“He’s right, Wanda. We know you can handle yourself but we need to make sure you’re safe.” Stephen said.

But before any of you could say a word, a figure stepped in front of you and pressed two fingers on your temples making you freeze in place.

You could hear Loki and Stephen yelling behind you, and they seem like they were struggling too but you can’t focus on them or anything but the pain you felt on your mind that’s spreading through your whole body. They leaned down and whisper in your ear before letting you go. You tried fighting it and summoning your magic but it was impossible to move. A portal started growing from under your feet and before you could grab into anything, you fell down fast in an unknown, perhaps never ending, hole.

But you remembered what they had whispered in your ear.

“Видимо се на другој страни.”

See you on the other side.

#hotd x reader #dsmom spoilers #wanda maximoff #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon

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bestworstcase · 6 months

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hi it's me again this might be too much of an ask but do you think it would be possible to do a list of all the allusions that Salem is/has? not her own personal ones (rapunzel etc.) but the role she has in other people's stories (I ask because I made a joke to someone about hansel and gretel and went "hazel and gretchen" -> "salem is the witch to hazel's hansel in a world where neither hansel nor gretel survives" which also factors into the "gretchen is the spring maiden and died during Summer's Mission" theory in which case raven would be her witch) not just all the ones where she's The Witch (archetype) but also other antagonists or roles like the wolf to ruby and summer (wherein summer is both the grandmother and the woodcutter) or the fairy godmother to cinder if that's too much to ask of you I understand in which case I'll have to make a chart with my own red string and thumbtacks

um so basically:

<- this is how the story goes.

to break it down:

CORE ALLUSIONS.

in approximate order of importance, these are: maiden-in-the-tower tales, the marvelous land of oz, cinderella, and the little prince. structurally it isn't as complex as the above diagram makes it appear because the petrosinella -> persinette -> rapunzel -> petrosinella circle and the ozian narrative are the same narrative through different eyes. cinder and oscar are the proverbial twins and summer rose is important connective tissue gluing everything together.

maiden-in-the-tower: - salem is always the maiden - ozma is always the prince - the god of light is always the captor

petrosinella: - the og divine rebellion - failed bc dark sided with light

persinette: - the ozlem kingdom - ozma Left Her to escape the curse

rapunzel: - war for the relics - ozma is the blinded prince + the pilot - both are stranded in the desert - truth will rise etc etc leading to:

petrosinella, again: - the broken fairytale to be mended - the hound is the dog - cinder is the lion - summer is the wolf - "you saved yourself" <- the girl in the tower comes due

the marvelous land of oz: - ozma is ozma - ozpin is the wizard + tippetarius --> meaning he "chose" his curse - the god of light is mombi (cursed ozma) - salem is glinda (searching for ozma) - oscar is jack pumpkinhead (tip's "son" + existential dread) - summer rose is general jinjur (holding the emerald city) - qrow is the scarecrow (ruling in the wizard's absence) --> the scarecrow and jinjur fight over the crown - ironwood is nick chopper (emperor of winkie country) - lionheart is the soldier with green whiskers (coward, traitor) - raven is the woggle bug (=maiden of knowledge) --> mutters in silver wishing pill only the bug can use - mutters about silver eyes and mombi's rose - glinda forces mombi to tell the truth, free ozma, and then relinquish her magical power. hello

cinderella: - salem is the grave of her mother / the fairy godmother - summer is the stepmother (probably) - ruby and yang are the stepsisters - the crown...?

the little prince: - ozma is the pilot, see prev re: blind in the desert - oscar is the little prince - (ruby in V9 is also the little prince) - (summer is her rose; salem is the sheep)

MINOR / CHARACTER ALLUSIONS

hansel and gretel: - hazel is hansel, gretchen is gretel - salem is the witch - ozpin is the evil mother - gretchen dies in the woods under mysterious circumstances - hansel pushes the witch into the oven because it's what gretel would have done. laugh!

sherlock holmes: - watts is dr. watson (but evil) - salem is holmes (but evil) - mumbles. cinder is adler (outmaneuvers them both)

the scorpion and the...: - tyrian is the scorpion - "f. pickerel" is a frog - qrow is also a frog - salem is the turtle

little red riding hood: - ruby is little red - the Idea Of Summer Rose is the mother - the Real Summer is the big bad wolf + the huntsman - salem is the grandmother - witches can be right giants can be good etc - the key here is that the grandmother is the goal; ruby is trying to beat salem. the wolf is the obstacle; summer joined salem. the huntsman is the resolution; summer joined salem for a good reason.

book of job conspiracy theory: - salem is job - ozma + rwbyjnor is eliphaz et al - the god of light is the satan - the god of darkness is the deity

yeah

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goldenraeofsun · 2 years

Text

Day 7: Fine Wine

“You aged like fine wine.”

Castiel chokes on his drink. He slowly turns on his barstool to see a stranger swaying slightly in place. A light sheen of grease – or cheap gel – reflects off his hair in the lights behind the bar, and twin lilac bags sag underneath each eye.

“Pardon?” Castiel says. He discreetly sniffs, but the man must have showered more recently than his appearance suggests. Either that, or he simply drank enough so the scent of alcohol masks the smell of body odor.

“You’re Cas – Castiel,” the man says as he braces himself on the bar and laboriously climbs on the stool next to Castiel. He adds, almost accusatory. “Dr. James Novak of Seattle Mercy Hospital.”

Castiel’s jaw drops.

He hasn’t gone by Dr. Novak in close to fifteen years. He was twenty-two when he got his first role on a longstanding medical soap opera (an impossible age for a doctor of his character’s reported caliber, but Castiel was assured this was normal at SMH).

When Dr. Novak was killed off for the sixth and final time, Castiel went on to play a few bit parts in CSI and Law & Order spin offs. He reached the pinnacle of his acting career a few years ago with his starring role in Hell Hazers II and a seven-line part in a Marvel movie. Afterwards, the acting jobs seemed to dry up, or maybe Castiel was tired of the constant sisyphean cycle of auditions chewed him up and spit him out a little worse than before.

Currently, he teaches high school drama in a local private school. While it doesn’t fill him creatively, he can’t say the same for his bank account.

“I, yes, I was,” Castiel fumbles. He hasn’t gotten recognized since his Dr. Sexy, MD days, and, even then, it didn’t happen frequently.

The man beams, and the smile transforms his face. He looks almost handsome. “Knew it,” he says. “’M Dean.”

“You already know my name,” Castiel replies, unsure of how to proceed. He’d come to the bar for a quiet celebratory drink – he’d finally finished all his college recommendation letters in time for early decision deadlines. On the other hand, Dean wasn’t technically bothering him as Castiel didn’t have many plans to bother.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees with a long sigh. “Figures I’d run into you today.”

Castiel has no idea what that means.

Dean points a shaking finger in Castiel’s face. “You’re the reason I became a doctor.”

Castiel’s mouth falls open. After a beat, he forces out, “You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack.” Dean chuckles, the sound grim and humorless.

“I – I’m sorry?” Castiel tries, feeling entirely off balance with the abrupt turn of their conversation.

“Don’t be,” Dean says bitterly. “Not your fault I killed a patient today.”

Castiel shoves his horror down. With a determinedly neutral expression, he says, “I’m sure it’s not your fault,” because he didn’t act in 147 episodes of a medical soap opera for nothing.

Dean shakes his head, tapping the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “A double of Jack for me, and one more of whatever my friend here is drinking.”

As the bartender moves back down the bar to prepare Dean’s order, Castiel frowns. “Are you sure you should be having another?”

Dean scowls. “’M not on call for another 48 hours.”

Castiel gives him a deliberate once-over. “I was referring to your current state of drunkenness.”

Dean waves his concern away. “’M fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

Dean exhales an explosive sigh. “You fuck up a aortic dissection repair on a twelve-year-old who just wanted to perform in her school dance recital next month, and tell me you’re all hunky dory after.”

He’s a surgeon. A pediatric cardiac surgeon.

Castiel inspired a pediatric surgeon?

He leans in, his heart twinging in sympathy for both Dean and his late patient. “I’m sure there were complications.”

Dean mutters, “High blood pressure and Type 2 diabetes.”

Castiel lays a hand on Dean’s arm. “I may not be a real doctor, but I spoke often enough with our medical experts to know those aren’t inconsequential conditions when it comes to your specialty.”

Dean harrumphs and greedily grabs the drink the bartender sets down before the pair of them. He takes a long pull of his whiskey. “But enough about me. How come you quit acting?”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s a hard life,” he says vaguely, continuing as Dean makes a go on gesture with his free hand. “I was tired of not landing parts and struggling to make my rent each month. I gave it until I turned thirty, and, well, you can guess what happened next.”

Dean snorts into his glass. “At thirty, I wasn’t even done with my residency.” He casts Castiel a surprisingly shrewd look for how much he’s had to drink. “I think you gave up too early. You were doing good stuff.”

Castiel’s biggest sore spot throbs painfully. “Forgive me for tiring of living off PB&Js and inhabiting a technically illegal bedroom according to the housing code of Los Angeles.”

But Dean just huffs a dry laugh. “You haven’t suffered until you try to convince your way too smart younger brother that fluff marshmallow mix and macaroni is exotic and not a move of pure desperation.”

Castiel chokes on his next sip. “That sounds horrendous,” he says, his temper softening.

“Yeah, well, it was food, so,” Dean shrugs, “he ate it eventually. There weren’t that many options while snowed in at the Royale Motel in Scranton.” He tips back the rest of his drink. “We moved around a lot, growing up,” he says, spinning the empty glass between his fingers. “Sometimes the only things I could rely on were the daytime soaps.”

Castiel’s heart breaks. “I would have thought you would have become an actor, in that case.”

Dean laughs. “My old man said actors made shit money, so I picked something else.”

Castiel can’t help rolling his eyes, chuckling lightly under his breath. “Your father was right.”

“Guess so,” Dean says thoughtfully. “D’you miss it?”

Castiel nods. “Every day.”

Dean leans in and lays his hand over Castiel’s. He throws a significant glance at their empty glasses. “Whaddya say we get out of here?” he asks in a suggestive voice.

Castiel blinks. “I – I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dean pulls back at once, but not before Castiel catches the hurt on his face.

“You’re drunk,” Castiel says gently. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

Dean grunts but gets to his feet without arguing. “’S fine,” he mutters. “Had to shoot my shot, right?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, not exactly sure what he’s agreeing to, but it’s evidently the right thing to say since Dean just nods and starts to walk away, reaching into his jacket. But, to Castiel’s alarm, he pulls out a set of car keys instead of his phone to call a taxi.

Castiel hurries after him. “Dean!” he calls.

Outside the bar, Dean turns around, a smirk playing across his lips. “Change your mind, big guy?”

“What? No,” Castiel says as Dean tenses. “But you can’t drive,” he says helplessly.

Dean scowls. “I’m not that drunk.”

“I’m pretty sure you are.”

Dean rolls his eyes so hard Castiel is surprised they don’t pop out of his skull. “Out of the two of us, only one has a real medical license.”

Castiel crosses his arms over chest. “If you won’t call a cab, come to my apartment. It’s just down the street.”

Dean step forward, and Castiel lets out a silent sigh of relief. “Your apartment?” he repeats.

“So you can sober up,” Castiel says resolutely.

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “Lead the way, Dr. Novak.”

* * *

Castiel wakes up with a crick in his neck and a shooting pain in his lower back. He never made it to bed after talking with Dean for hours on his sofa in his living room.

A muttered swear comes from behind him, and Castiel cranes his head around to see Dean, still wearing his clothes from last night, bent over Castiel’s finicky coffee machine.

“You have to flip the switch on the side,” he tells Dean as he gets to his feet.

“Mornin’,” Dean says with a grin. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Thanks for not throwing up on my couch and trying to make me coffee.” Castiel slides around Dean to open the cabinet with his mugs. He pulls out his favorite sky blue cup.

“C’mon, I wasn’t that bad.”

After some rooting around, Castiel finds the novelty Dr. Sexy, MD mug he received in a gift basket on his last day of filming.

Dean laughs out loud as he takes it from Castiel. “It’s even got his cowboy boots!” he exclaims as he inspects it from every angle.

Castiel nods, turning so Dean can’t see his smile. “You’re welcome to take it,” he says. “I have far more mugs than I need for one person.”

“Aw man, don’t tell me that,” Dean groans, “or else I’ll actually do it.”

“Take it,” Castiel says firmly as he pours coffee into Dean’s new mug.

Dean cradles to his chest, breathing in deeply. He inhales half of it in one go, to Castiel’s concern. “Christ, that’s the stuff.” He meets Castiel’s astounded gaze with a little grin. He polishes off his cup in the same time it takes Castiel to add enough sugar and cream to his satisfaction. “Coffee is practically a pro sport for surgeons; you have no idea. But I’ll get out of your hair after this,” Dean says, an apologetic note to his words, “but do you mind if I leave my number before I head out?”

Castiel gapes at him before he realizes Dean doesn’t see his answer as so obvious it goes without saying. “Yes, of course,” he says in a rush, half a beat too late.

Dean grins. “Awesome. You were always on my celebrity hall pass list.” At Castiel’s furrowed look of confusion, Dean’s smile broadens. “You know, that list of longshots that’ll never happen so you might as well give your girlfriend the OK to sleep with Idris Elba or Hugh Jackman or Chris Hemsworth.”

Castiel watched enough Marvel movies to prepare for his own role to know what all those actors look like. “I’m nothing like those men,” he splutters.

“Well, yeah, everyone has a weird one – my last boyfriend would’ve fucked Scar from the Lion King if given half the chance.”

“A flattering comparison,” Castiel deadpans as Dean chuckles.

Once Dean washes out his mug (he insists on it), grabs his jacket, and inputs his phone number in Castiel’s cell, there’s no reason for him to linger.

Castiel awkwardly trades goodbyes on his threshold before he shuts the door behind Dean.

He thinks about calling for the rest of the day. Dean is his first thought on Saturday morning too, but he concludes it’s too soon.

He debates reaching out on Sunday, but 48 hours have passed since their first meeting, so Dean’s probably in surgery. It’s clearly a bad time to make contact.

By Monday, Castiel talks himself out of it altogether. Dean is a pediatric surgeon at one of the most prestigious hospital systems in the county (Castiel looked him up on the off chance Dean wasn’t being truthful, but his degrees are published on the hospital website for all to see.)

Dean saves lives every day.

Castiel is a washed up actor who peaked a decade ago. The closest he got to saving a life was convincing Siobhan that getting bangs a week before school picture day would not be in her best interest.

But Castiel won’t let his strange run in with Dean mean nothing. In a fit of productivity one weekend, exactly one month after Dean stayed the night at his apartment, he stops by the local theater and marks down the day of their next auditions.

In January, he tries out for a small play written by a local playwright, and wins a part. Not the lead, but a good, meaty character part.

He mostly forgets about Dean in between classes and his own rehearsals – until the director hands out their complimentary tickets. None of Castiel’s family live in the area, and his friend, Meg, is out of town that week.

As Castiel wracks his brains for someone to invite, he can’t help but keep coming back to Dean.

He chickens out of actually calling Dean and instead sends him a picture of the tickets with the date prominently displayed and a short text, “If you’d like to come.”

Dean texts back four hours later.

Dean Winchester 5:22 Sorry surgery just ended Of course I wouldn’t miss *the* Castiel DeAngelos’s big comeback!

#suptober22 #destiel #destiel fanfic #fanfic #actor castiel #doctor dean #first meetings #celebrity au #rae writes fic

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zvdvdlvr · 2 years

Text

the witch and reality shifter

w. maximoff

warnings: choking, protective wanda, reality shifter reader (🥴), vecna gets his assed mauled lmao

summary: in some turn of events, vecna

has captured the only other teen with (unmentioned) powers. with the teen compromised, a certain hero saves them.

reader's pronouns: they/them

a/n: no MoM spoilers (i havent seen it), ST4, V2 SPIOLERS, i have not shifted, so idk if have this shit is accurate, and if this writing is uncanonly inaccurate, leave me alone, eddie dies im not okay

"okay, lets haul ass people! you know the plan, chop chop!" steve urged at the four kids leaving the camper.

y/n sighed, already know what happens, and mutters, "what crawled up his ass?"

lucas shakes his head as his friends' words, and looks up at the redhead a few steps ahead.

after giving the house another once over, max mayfield leads the way into the house where it all began.

unconsciousness was like a black wave, unrelentless and violent. beautiful and quite deadly, it is.

y/n was currently fighting that unconsciousness as vecna finally captured them and threw them into the wall. all of this violence was unscripted, but it was certain that y/n couldn't die. it was (literally) written into the fabric of the reality.

shifting realities or consciousnesses was an activity... a hobby of sorts. it helped them forget about the 'real' world, the 'real' issues. it was worse than Hel, y/n's original reality, so they resorted to shifting; a way to project your consciousness into another you, and another reality. it helped release tension between y/n and other people they talked to in their reality.

they had shifted multiple times already, with multiple methods.

marvel, harry potter, mortal instruments and keeper of the lost cities were only some of the books they've shifted to.

during their time in the marvel universe, y/n had explained what shifting was, and dr. strange had given them tips and tricks to help them shift. 18392/10, overall bestie.

wanda basically became y/n's older sister/mother figure.

vecan stopped and turned his head, eyes peering into y/n's. "you belong here... with me..." he drawled, dragging a long finger across her cheek.

"no, peter-" y/n choked out, "i really d-don't."

vines were slowly crawling up her body, tethering them to the wall behind them. keepibg her paralyzed i what they were doing.

"yes. yes, you do." he murmured. "we could do more. we could... rule-" he started.

y/n coughed. "rule what?" they spat.

a smirk pulled at the corner of vecna's lips. "everything."

his hand slowly started to rise. to kill them- to take their powers.

he stopped. "i'm disappointed." he said, resuming his movements.

it started quietly. y/n almsot wasnt sure they even heard anything, but it was there.

scarlet wisps of magick showed from behind vecna.

"hey kiddo."

the scarlet witch stepped out of her portal.

"get off of them." she murmured eerily at vecna, snapping her wrist and paralyzing him.

she worked fast. all at once, the deadly vines fell off of y/n body.

"wanda." y/n whispered, looking at her with a weak smile.

"hello, little one." she said, smiling widely.

then, after a moment, the witch and the reality shifter turned to the struggling Arch-Lich.

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twoidiotwriters1 · 10 months

Text

Copycat: Genesis —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: This was fun, but I'm stopping now! Cat's story has no end, she'll live many years next to Parker, dunno if they'll stay together forever, but I assure you Copycat will keep pushing through, and she'll be very happy. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did -Danny

Words: 1,879

Phase Six Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Listen to 'I Guess That Was Goodbye' -Lyn Lapid

XL: (Almost) Three Years Later

Darkness.

Cat woke up to the feeling of sheets restraining her from moving properly.

"What..." She pushed the tangled mess away, the noise of an alarm going off making her remember that today was the start of summer. A fluffy white cat jumped onto the bed then, purring loudly. "I'm going, Felix..."

The woman got up groggily and dragged her feet to the bathroom with Felix running between her legs. She opened the door and turned on the lights, then she looked at her reflection: Brown curls fell messily down her back. Her eyes were naturally drawn to the scars around her throat, but she didn't think much of them, her gaze caught something behind her, and her brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Peter!" Cat marched out of the room, fully awake. "I told you to put the suits near the window! They're gonna smell!"

The man looked up from his breakfast on the kitchen aisle with wide, stunned eyes. His lips pressed together in a guilty smile. "I completely forgot, I'm sorry."

The mutant sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, they're your problem now, I'm leaving today, remember?"

He got up and grabbed Cat's cup to pour coffee into it. "Yeah, and take Felix with you, I don't think he liked living in my tiny ass apartment."

Cat looked at her pet sympathetically. "I guess we can't expect him to like this place— we can't win compared to the huge garden back in the compound."

"Speak for yourself, this is a win for me," Peter snorted, handing her the coffee.

Cat glared at him. "Shut up."

"I really did try to love him, you know," he pouted. "But that little jerk can't stand me. What am I supposed to do?"

"If you had given him treats..."

"Oh, so I'm not trying hard enough?"

Cat chuckled. "No, I don't think you are, to be honest. I think you're determined to hate Felix."

He diverted his gaze to the wall and muttered. "He started it..."

The mutant pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll take him back. You two are clearly unhappy, and I bet Wanda misses him anyway..."

"What time are you leaving?" Parker checked his watch.

"Before you go to work, I already called May to remind her I won't be going to the welfare."

He looked up from his wristwatch and smiled with just a hint of sorrow. "I'll miss you."

"I'll be back. I always am," Cat walked back towards their closet and started to get dressed.

"Maybe," he sat down by the kitchen. "Last Christmas things were looking sus..."

"Well, if things get complicated, there is very little I can do to make them go faster," she replied calmly. "But I'll report back every week like I always do, still alive and well and all of that..."

"So romantic," he teased her.

"They call me Dr. Love."

"I'm the Doctor," he vaguely nodded at the degree on their living room wall. "You'll be called a teacher, in a year's time. So it's more like Miss Love..."

"Miss Jane Love," she mused.

"MJ-Love for short," Parker quipped without thinking.

They froze. Then Cat burst out laughing.

"Shut up!" She turned away from him, still shaking with giggles.

"Why?" Parker was laughing too. "You were right! I have an MJ..."

Cat finished dressing and went back to him, hugging him sideways. He tilted his head up to kiss her. "The Parker luck working miracles, no doubt..."

He looked at his watch again and frown, unable to ignore what was about to happen. "Almost time..."

Cat planted a sweet kiss on the top of his head. "Have to hurry..."

"Try to have fun," he continued as Cat walked around the apartment picking up her stuff. "Tell everyone I say hi, and tell Harley to take a break or he'll go bald before he's thirty!"

"He's thirty already, Bug, his birthday was last month," she reminded him.

"Before he's forty then, that still stings."

Cat snorted. "Any other message you want me to deliver?"

"Yes. Tell Happy I love him."

She laughed. "Will do."

Cat put Felix in his carrier, placed M.O.U.S.E. in her ear, and stood in the middle of the room with all her stuff ready. Parker grabbed his laptop bag and hung it over his shoulder, he walked up to her and Cat fixed his collar.

"All done," she cupped his face.

"Good luck," Parker pulled her close with one arm and nuzzled his nose against hers. "I'll be right here to welcome you back."

"I know," Cat pecked his lips briefly. "I love you."

The man leaned down and kissed her deeply, he pecked her lips two more times after that, shortly and sweetly. "Love you too."

Parker stepped back so Cat had enough room, then she tapped on the device on her wrist and quickly flashed out of sight.

The mutant landed with her bag and the cat carrier directly in front of the main entrance. A woman's voice came from her left.

"Identify yourself, please."

"Hi, Edith! It's C.C."

"Scan complete. Subject identified—Copycat: the first young avenger." The doors opened. "Welcome back, C.C."

Cat pressed the paw-shaped pin on her shirt, the nanosuit quickly wrapping her body. She was close to being late for the summer meeting, so she hurriedly walked into the main hall and stopped only to release Felix, who mewled loudly and ran out in the direction of the garden.

"Copy!" Kamala rushed down the stairs to meet her. "You're just in time!"

"Hi, chipmunk," she picked up the empty carrier. "Everyone here already?"

"Yeah but before you go in, there's something I need to ask you," she held onto Cat's arm, looking up at her with her best puppy eyes.

"College applications got you in a chokehold?" Cat guessed. "I told you to ask for a recommendation letter! I think Bruce is a good option, he can be bribed easily—"

"I want you to write it," Kamala interrupted her, blushing a little. "If you've got time. Please."

"Me?" Cat tilted her head. "But I'm—I'm not—"

"You're a great choice," the girl insisted. "You were the first of us, and you're still one of the best! Please?" She pouted.

Hilarious how now she was asked to write recommendation letters after she'd spent the majority of her youth making the government's work ten times harder. "Alright. Anything else?"

"The summer stuff you told me I could try, to make my curriculum look better?"

"Oh, you can ask Webs for those!" Cat said, walking towards her room. "I know he helps a welfare— he works with tons of places that are always looking for volunteers, I'm sure he can find you a spot."

"Can you also talk to Harley so he accepts Bruno at the Stark internship? I meant it when I said he'll fall apart if he doesn't get it—"

"I'll see what I can do," Cat laughed. "Go to the meeting."

Kamala hugged her. "So great to have you back."

Cat kept walking until she got to her room. She left her bag on the bed, then she approached the window and opened it so the place was fresh by the time nighttime arrived. The woman opened her closet and drew out her teal-colored cape, hanging it around her shoulders. As she walked out she shifted back to her purple eyes and light hair. She also drew out her claws.

The mutant sighed in bliss, she loved her life as Jane, but wearing Copycat's iridescent suit was something else. She still couldn't pick which world she preferred, but that was because she'd learned to love both with the same intensity.

Before entering the conference room, she stopped in the hallway to see some old friends. There, on the wall, they'd hung the pictures of fallen heroes: Nat, Steve, Tony, Pietro, T'Challa...

She lightly pressed one hand over her brother's picture. "Hi, Pi..." her gaze softened. "I'm still having fun."

"Bet he is, too," a voice said behind her. "Watching all the people in clown costumes arrive here every summer."

"Ugh! I'd missed that voice," she turned to face Harley. "Wish I could keep on missing it in silence."

He opened his arms and Cat stepped in to hug him. "Let's go, Stray, they're waiting."

She looked back at her old friends and blew them a kiss. "See you guys later!"

He nudged her arm. "How's Ben doing?"

"He's doing his best, as usual," she sighed, smiling a little. "Starting a company is no easy job."

"I wonder why he decided to use his savings for Parker Industries instead of buying a house for the two of you."

"Hey, our place is enough for the both of us! And we'll move out eventually, when the time's right."

"How's school?"

"Never thought I'd go for it, but here I am," she grinned. "Matthew did say I could pick that up at any moment so... how is he, by the way?"

"Still works for us sometimes... I think he and Karen are dating again."

Cat raised a brow. "Well, now I have to see that for myself. What will it be," she pondered. "Ten bucks?"

"Twenty. Bet that if you get them drunk enough, they'll forget you're there and they'll kiss."

Cat shook his hand laughing. "You're on!" She faced the white doors ahead and fixed her cape. "How many?"

"The regulars. Is Shuri coming?"

Cat smiled knowingly. "Why, you'll finally gather enough courage to ask her out?"

Harley blushed. "Don't you dare say anything to her without my consent!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Junior," she tilted her head in realization. "You've grown that nickname out, don't ya think? Should I start calling you 'Senior'? Ben says you'll be bald by the time you're forty because you never take breaks."

"I could say the same about him," he scoffed. "Talking about exhausted, I bet Pepper will call you on behalf of Morgan so you go out together, she's barely thirteen but she's proving to be as much of a demanding princess as his dad was."

Cat laughed. "So much to do and I just got here! I love it."

Harley pushed the doors open and Cat stepped into the Avengers meeting with a confident air. Lots of eyes turned in her direction, some were on familiar faces, others were new, some young, others old.

"Hi, Cat!" Kate was standing at the other end of the table, next to Sam. She smiled at the mutant widely. "We were waiting for you."

"Your suffering is over, I'm here!" Cat took a seat between Spider-man and the Guardians' projection.

"Welcome back, toddler," Rocket said in his raspy voice. Kurt winked and waved at her without saying anything.

Webs nudged her arm and spoke quietly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "How are you?"

"Spectacular," Cat heard the smile in his voice. "I thought you'd be a little anxious this time."

"Why?"

"The ticking," Peter tilted his head. "In a few months, it'll be three years since you left. How are you feeling?"

Cat was shocked to discover she hadn't been keeping count. Life had gone by, but she'd been so busy she'd barely felt it. The thought that things could end at any moment did show up sometimes, but it went away faster nowadays, it wasn't meaningful to her anymore.

Yes, the three-year milestone was approaching, but she'd stopped thinking of it as an ending, instead, the ticking was the sound of a path sprouting under her feet. The genesis of a new, exciting story. There she was, about to turn thirty, and with zero clues of what tomorrow would bring.

All she had was dreams, but so far, they had been enough.

"You know, Webs," Cat said at last, eyes bright with amusement. "I'm looking forward to it."

The End.

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae @ieatpanicattacksforlunch @jesuswasnotawhiteman @siriuslysirius1107 @greengarsstuff @itsyagirl01 @23victoria @espressopatronum454 @jkthinkstoomuch @slytherinnqueen

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel original character #copycat fic

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tinycoded360 · 1 month

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JoJo's Big Adventure Chapter 2

Doctor McCoy, meanwhile, took a sip of his drink, lost in his thoughts. He glanced down, his brow furrowing as he noticed something strange – a three-inch girl, desperately trying to avoid being trampled by the oblivious patrons. Intrigued, he set down his glass and stood up, his towering figure casting a shadow over the minuscule girl. Shocked by the sight, he blinked several times, wondering if it was a trick of the dim lighting or perhaps one too many drinks.

Joanna's heart raced as she saw the giant hand reaching for her. Panic set in, and she tried to run away, but her legs simply couldn't carry her fast enough. She was caught between her father's finger and thumb, and before she knew it, she was lifted toward his face. Mccoy's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't recognize Joanna as his daughter in her shrunken state.

"Gotcha," he said softly, as he stared at her dangling between his thumb and finger.

Joanna's racing heart was briefly calmed by relief at being saved from the chaos below. But this relief was soon overshadowed by a new fear. She was now eye-to-eye with her giant father, who didn't seem to recognize her. As she opened her mouth to speak, her voice came out as a shaky whisper, drowned out by the noise of the bar.

"Unbelievable," Doctor McCoy murmured, examining the tiny girl in his hand with wonder. He had no idea who she was (although she looks strangely familiar, but he couldn’t grasp why in his current intoxicated state) or where she had come from – but he knew that he couldn't just leave her there, defenseless in this world of giants.

"Extraordinary," he murmured, holding her gently despite his initial shock.

Joanna wanted so desperately to tell him everything - about the alien, the ray gun, and her perilous journey just to find him. But as she opened her mouth to speak, she found herself too scared to make a sound. Instead, she simply stared up at him with pleading eyes, praying that somehow, he would understand.

"Can you speak?" Doctor McCoy asked softly, his eyes filled with concern. Joanna hesitated before nodding her head, still unable to force her vocal cords to cooperate. As Dr. McCoy held Joanna in his hand, he couldn't help but marvel at her minuscule size. Even the lines of worry etched into her tiny face were barely discernible. He brought her closer to his face, squinting as if trying to comprehend this anomaly that had found its way into his life.

"Who are you?" he slurred, a hint of alcohol lingering in his breath. Joanna's eyes widened with fear as she squeaked out a response. "Dad, it's me, Joanna!" But her voice was no louder than a whisper, lost within the din of the bar. Dr. McCoy continued to examine the tiny girl, his fingers dwarfing her delicate limbs. Her arms were barely thicker than a matchstick, and her hand was smaller than the tip of his pinky. He gently poked at her arm, fascinated by her fragile appearance.

"Must be the damn alcohol," Dr. McCoy muttered, squinting at the tiny girl in his hand as if trying to decipher whether she was real or just a figment of his imagination. "Or an alien trick." He eyed her suspiciously, his brow furrowed with confusion.

Joanna, meanwhile, was growing increasingly fearful. She could tell by the glaze in her father's eyes that he was drunk, and with each gentle poke from his massive fingers, her heart raced faster and faster. It was bad enough that he didn't recognize her; now she worried about what might happen if she remained in his grasp while he was inebriated.

"Please, Dad, it's me!" Joanna cried out again, but her voice remained barely audible, lost amid the cacophony of the bar. Cold sweat broke out on her tiny forehead, and her heart hammered in her chest. She knew she was completely at the mercy of her colossal father, who towered above her like a skyscraper.

"Please, Dad, please," she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she reached out towards him with her tiny, trembling arms. But her words remained unheard, drowned out by the sound of laughter and clinking glasses around them.

"Aw, poor thing," Dr. McCoy said, noticing her tears. He felt a pang of guilt and brought her closer to his chest, cradling her in one massive hand. Joanna could smell the overpowering scent of alcohol on his breath, only adding to her anxiety. Was he too drunk to help her? To even recognize her?

Gently, Dr. McCoy stroked her head and back with the tip of his finger, cooing softly at her in an attempt to calm her down. "Shh, don't cry now, little one. I won't hurt ya." he cooed softly, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

Joanna clung to the fabric of her father's shirt, feeling its rough texture against her tiny fingers. With each stroke of his finger, she tried to fight back her tears and focus on the comforting sensation of being held by her father, even if he didn't recognize her. But the unsettling scent of alcohol lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the precarious position she was in.

As Doctor McCoy held the tiny girl close, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about her. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was - not yet anyway.

Joanna's heart pounded as she clung tightly to the fabric of her father's shirt, her tiny fingers gripping onto the threads for dear life. She could feel his warm breath wash over her, and each time he spoke, the vibrations sent shivers down her spine. As her tears slowly subsided and her breathing steadied, she cautiously glanced upwards at the colossal face of her father, who regarded her with a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity.

"Alright, little one," Dr. McCoy grumbled, still staring down at her. "I need to sort this out later, but for now, you're coming with me." He maneuvered his hand over his chest pocket, and Joanna felt her stomach lurch as she was unceremoniously dropped inside. The sudden darkness enveloping her only served to heighten her anxiety, and she struggled to find purchase and balance against the lining of the pocket. The sounds of the busy starbase were muffled, but the overwhelming scent of alcohol still lingered, a potent reminder of her giant father's intoxicated state. She tried to steady herself against the swaying fabric, but every step her father took sent tremors through her tiny body, making it nearly impossible to find balance.

As Doctor McCoy went about his evening, he remained acutely aware of the delicate life nestled within his pocket. He took care to move more slowly and deliberately than usual, ensuring that his precious cargo wasn't jostled too harshly. Every now and again, he would slip a finger into the pocket, stroking Joanna's back with the gentlest of touches. The sensation startled her each time, causing her to flinch and cling tighter to the fabric surrounding her. Though his intention was to offer comfort, he couldn't help but find her reaction amusing.

"Easy there, little one," he whispered, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Joanna couldn't help but flinch at the unexpected touch, her heart skipping a beat as she felt the weight of the giant finger against her back. And though she knew her father was only trying to console her; she couldn't shake the overwhelming terror that accompanied each brush of his massive hand. It was a constant reminder of just how precarious her situation had become. But with each gentle stroke of his finger, she found herself slowly succumbing to the comfort it provided.

#g/t community #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t #star trek g/t #star trek

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Infinity War I 🔥 | Dark Phoenix Series P.1

takes place during A:IW

Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Dr. Evelyn Alice Stark (OC)/Host of the Phoenix Force, Wanda Maximoff/The Scarlet Witch (platonic), Steve Rogers/ Captain America (platonic) Doctor Stephen Strange (implied romance), Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier (implied romance), Tony Stark (platonic/Newphew), Howard Stark (Platonic/brother), a lot of the marvel characters will be involved in this series.

Content Warnings: profanity, near death experience, slight canon divergence, angst, violence. | Female OC (she/her) | word count: 5k roughly

Premise: Two years after the Avengers were drawn apart due to the events of the superhero Civil War, Dr. Evelyn ‘Eve’ Stark finds herself struggling with the amount of pressure the world has put on her. Though she has the help of her nephew, Tony, Eve still fears of potential future threats. And when a glowing orange ring appears in her bedroom with a strange man telling her to go with him, Eve realizes her fears are about to become reality.

Note: So the way I have these chapters set will make them very long heads up. Which is why they may take a few days—maybe even a week to come out. This chapter is basically the first half of Infinity War (Tony’s scenes) and then in part two it will be the second half. That’s where the Phoenix Force will come in for what I have planned because like in the comics, the host of the Phoenix Force absorbs it so that is what I have planned for Eve. Make sure to let me know if you wanna be tagged in the tag list for notifications on chapters. And hopefully I don’t get shadow banned anytime soon. The past three months I was and it was a pain.

———————————-

2018

“Did you know?” Three words. Three words was all it took to shatter one’s world. To snap the already thin tightrope. While the truth was already in the air, the confession was needed. Her hand was clutching the nape of his suit, fingers trembling as the numbness already began to fill her.

“I didn’t know it was him.” Her hand tightened at the lie.

“Look me in the eyes, Steve Rogers,” the crack in her tone could not be hidden. “After everything—everything I have done for you, you don’t get to bullshit me now. Did. You Know?”

Steve could no longer stray away from the truth. Staring into Evelyn Stark’s eyes, his best friend since 1942, he muttered the one word that would shred the final bit of trust she ever had in him. “Yes.”

The endless nightmare rolled on like it always did. The feeling of disbelief and betrayal, before fury as Eve hurdles her fist across Steves face while Tony preoccupies himself with Bucky. The 2v2 battle is brutal and bloody. Three super soldier—each equipped with their specialty: A vibranium shield, a steel metal arm, carbon fiber wings, and a man with a billion dollar suit.

“How could you!?” Eve’s voice carried through the facility, throwing everything she got at the man as he countered each attack. “After everything—a-after all we’ve been through—THAT I’VE DONE FOR YOU STEVE—-.”

“Eve please—.”

“I TRUSTED YOU!!!”

Emotion took over logic—no room for peace and surly no room for forgiveness.

Any excuse or explanation was out of the picture for Steve. Neither Tony nor Eve would hear it. To them, all they saw was a man who kept the truth of what happened to their family hidden for two years.

“He’s my friend.”

“So were we.”

The vision always ended the same. It flashed quickly giving no time to see what preceded or followed. First a bright light as Tony’s arc blasted Bucky’s arm off. Then Steve on top of Eve as he wrenched the wings from the pack. And finally Eve shooting a bullet into Steves side before he could bring the shield down once more on Tony.

Eve awoke with a choked gasp, moisture coating her forehead and immediately reached for the glass of water on her nightstand to quench the feeling of her dry throat. After taking a few sips, she let out a sigh while wiping away the sweat before placing the glass back on the stand.

Two years. Two years and the same nightmare took over Eve’s mind each time she slept. Then the days followed the same routine which involved barely eating while trying to keep the peace between the government and the world. Ross was like a flea, always checking in and making sure none of the remaining Avengers were stepping out of place.

Like they even would if they could. The threat of life in prison was enough for them to stay behind the line the U.N drew and not even think about crossing.

Although that didn’t stop Tony from mentoring the kid vigilante known as Spider-Man. And when Tony does something, usually Eve is there to clean up the mess if need be. But the scientist would be lying if she said she didn’t have a soft spot for the boy—despite the chaos he’s caused in New York the past year.

“Ms. Stark?” H.O.W.I.E, her A.I system’s voice rang out causing Eve to sit up straight with a ‘yes?’ “Tony is on the line asking for you. Shall I patch him through?”

Throwing the covers off, Eve picks up the earpiece on the nightstand as she makes her way to the closet. “Yeah put him through.” The moment the earpiece is inserted, Eve hears Tony’s voice through the com.

“Are you decent?” She makes a face although he can’t see her.

“I literally just woke up Tony, I’m still in my night clothes—what is it?”

“How fast can you get dressed?”

The woman scoffs, pulling down a random Henley shirt with pair of black jeans. “That depends. Are you going to tell me why the hell you need me to rush?” She could hear arguing in the background, voices she couldn’t recognize. “Who are you with?”

“Some wizards and Banner.” Her hands freeze while pulling the jeans up her legs.

“Come again? Did you just say ‘some wizards and Banner?’ Bruce Banner?”

“Yes the one and only,” Tony sighs in her ear. As Eve secures her belt before removing her nightshirt to put on her bra and Henley, she hears a voice on the other end say to Tony, ‘we don’t have any more time to wait.’ “Just one more minute—Eve I need you to double time before this wizard ends up making an unexpected visit.”

The clip of her bra snaps into place, “What the hell do you—.”

“That’s it, time’s up,” the other voice cuts in just as Eve begins to hear a strange noise coming from her bedroom. On the com she heard Tony shouting, “no-no-no, wait-wait!” Eve throws open the door, Henley in hand only to drop it as a gasp escapes when she spots a bright glowing orange ring in the middle of her bedroom. A man in a blue tunic and red cloak steps through, eyes going wide and spinning around with a ‘ah!’

“I told you she was getting dressed!” Tony yells causing Eve to spot him in the room behind the ring with his hand up to cover his eyes. That’s when she notices Bruce Banner in the flesh beside Tony, also with his hand up and blush coating his cheeks. Another man, dressed in a tunic like the cloaked man, turned around with his back toward her.

“Who the fuck are you!?” Eve screams, reaching down for the shirt and pulling it over her head in a hurry. “Ever heard of knocking?” She turns back to the closet to retrieve her leather jacket and boots, returning to the room to put them on. “You can turn around now.” All four men do so, the one in the clock visibly red with embarrassment and refusing to make eye contact with the Avenger.

“I’m sorry,” he breaths out, but Eve waves a hand with a roll of the eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, wizard,” she rises from the bed to take her wrist cuffs from the opposite nightstand, securing them on before walking up to the man. “Shall we then,” her hand gestures to the glowing ring. ‘Whatever this is must be important—otherwise you would have magically teleported her in a hurry.” The unknown man raises a hand, gesturing to Eve through the portal in an ‘after you.’

The moment the two enter, the portal closes causing her to jump back. “To think some things still surprise me,” she mutters, adjusting her jacket. When she turns back, the first person she makes eye contact with is Bruce. “Lord have mercy,” Eve breaths out, moving to the man and embracing him in a hug that he returns immediately. “Where the hell have you been?”

“It’s a long story—.”

“And one we don’t have time for,” the cloaked man interrupts, moving past the two to the middle of the room. Eve sends daggers into his back, glancing briefly at Bruce as if to say ‘we’ll continue this later,’ which he nods back in agreement. Eve then looks at Tony for answered, but he just shrugs back. That’s when she sees the giant hole in the staircase and raises a brow, “What in the hell?”

They all look to the man waiting for him to begin. “My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. This is Wong,” he motions to the other man in a tunic, who bows to them in greeting. The name sparks familiarity in Eve.

“You’re Stephen Strange?” She asks, stepping forward. “The neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange?” This makes Stephen look taken aback.

“You know me?”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, nearly glaring at him. “I do. When our friend, Colonel James Rhodes, became paralyzed I hoped you would look at his case. You refused before seeing it.” Stephen clenches his jaw, glancing at the ground briefly.

“Yeah well, I’m no longer equipped for the field. And as you can see,” he gestures to the room around them, “this in the New York Sanctum Santorum of the Masters of Mystic Arts. Your friend, Dr. Banner here, happened to crash land through our roof this morning with some vital information of an impeding threat heading our way.”

“Impending threat?” Eve’s ears perk up, momentarily forgetting about the animosity she had for the former doctor.

“What do you know of the infinity stones?”

The two Starks share a look, neither finding the name familiar. “Never heard of them.”

“Oh you have,” Stephen says causing Eve to tilt her head. He continues before she could say anything, “You’re actually quite familiar with a couple of them. Wong.” All eyes go to the man standing on the opposite side. His hands were behind his back as he moved closer.

“In the dawn of the universe, there was nothing,” Wong thrusted a hand and out shined an image resembling a Big Bang, “then boom. Big Bang sent six elemental crystals hurdling across the virgin universe. These infinity stones each control an essential aspect of existence.” Eve’s breath catches in her throat when she sees the colors of the gems, realizing Stephen was right about her being familiar with some.

“Space,” Stephen calls out as the blue stone shines, followed by the red, “Reality. Power. Soul. Mind. And Time.” Bringing his hands in front of his chest, the symbol pendant opens to show a glowing green stone in its possession.

Eve and Tony share a look ridden with unease, Eve’s hand coming up to her chin as Tony says, “tell me his name again.”

“Thanos,” Bruce answers, approaching the two. “He’s a plague, Tony. He invades planets, he takes what he wants—he wipes out half of the population. He sent Loki. The attack on New York—that’s him.”

“This is him,” Tony whispered to himself while Eve closed her eyes as the hand covering her mouth began to tremble. “What’s our timeline?”

“No telling. He has the power and space stones—that already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands on all six stones, Tony,—.”

Stephen finishes the sentence, “He could destroy life on a scale hither to undreamt of.”

“Did you seriously just say ‘hither to undreamt of’?”

“Are you seriously leaning on the cauldron of the cosmos?”

“Is that what it is—?” The billionaire is cut off when the cloak around Stephen smacks his shoulder causing Tony to jump back. Offense takes over his face, “I’m going to allow that. If Thanos needs all six why don’t we just stick this one down the garbage disposal?” Even Eve has to face palm at the idea.

“That’s not how it works, Tony.”

“No can do,” Stephen agrees.

“We swore an oath to protect the time stone with our lives,” Wong looks at Tony like he’s mad for suggesting such a thing.

“And I swore off dairy—,” Tony interjects, “but then Ben n Jerry’s named a flavor after me, so?”

“Stark Raving Hazelnut,” Stephen looks down with an unimpressed tone.”

“It’s not bad.”

“a bit chalky.” Eve stifles a giggle, trying to hide her smirk at Tony’s offended expression when Wong adds, “A hunka-hulka burning fudge is our favorite.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Also Eagle Eve’s toffee crunch,” Stephen points out causing Eve to lightly blush when they make eye contact.

“Whatever. Point is, things change,” Tony cuts in annoyed.

“Our oath to protect the time stone cannot change,” Stephens eyes narrows. “This stone may be the best chance we have against Thanos.”

“Yeah so conversely, may be his best chance against us.”

“So if we don’t do our jobs—.”

“What is your job exactly, besides making balloon animals?”

“Tony,” Eve snaps, but he ignores her and continues his stare of with Stephen.

“Protecting your reality, douchebag.”

“Okay guys,” by now Bruce has had enough with the two, moving forward to grab their attention. “Could-could we table this discussion right now? The fact is, is that we have this stone—we know where it is. Vision is out there somewhere with the mind stone and we have to find him now.”

Eve drops her shoulders with defeat as Tony looks down. Neither of them want to break it to Bruce about all that happened in the past two years he was missing, but it was inevitable. “Yeah, that’s the thing….”

“What do you mean?” Bruce looks between the two.

“Two weeks ago Vision turned off his transponder,” Eve tells him, scratching the back of her neck. “He’s offline.”

“What?!” He turns to Tony, seeing the confirmation of the billionaires face. “Tony, you lost another super bot?”

“I didn’t lose him, he’s more than that!” He defends. “He’s evolving.” Stephen steps around behind him asking, “who could find Vision then?” The question once again has the Starks glance at one another. Eve shakes her head, already refusing the idea despite knowing it was the only chance they had.

Only one man on the planet could locate Vision. And it was the last person she ever wanted to see.

“Probably Steve Rogers,” Tony finally answers and Eve turns away to avoid the inevitable discussion about to happen. The Sorcerers, knowing what took place in 2016 with Avengers, curse under their breath. “Maybe.”

Bruce, oblivious to the tension, walks up to Tony. “Call him.”

“It’s not that easy. God, we haven’t caught up in a spell have we?” Tony moves closer to the scientist, looking to see Eve has moved further away to stare at the walls of the room. “The Avengers broke up. We’re toast.”

“Broke up?” Bruce tilts his head. “Like a band? Like-like The Beatles?” If it wasn’t such a sore topic, Eve would’ve laughed at Bruce’s analogy.

“Cap and I fell out hard,” Tony looks away before adding, “Him and Eve even harder. We’re not on speaking terms.”

On any other day, Bruce would sympathize and understand the situation for the Starks. He wouldn’t expect them to drop everything and call Steve right away if they weren’t ready.

But today was not like any other day.

Time was not on their side. Thanos loomed over the horizon and was on the move. They had no way to know if he already possessed the two other stones in space or if Thor made it out alive. If they didn’t work now then the fate of the universe would be forever altered. “Tony, listen to me,” Bruce takes a step forward, voice going low to emphasize the message. “Thor’s gone. Thanos is coming it doesn’t matter who you’re talking to or not.”

“He’s right,” Eve finally says after being silent for so long. The whole time she was thinking, wondering if she could come up with a plan to track Vision instead of calling Steve. But with time at an essence and not knowing what Thanos’s next move was they needed to act quick. They all turn to her, watching her bring her arms to chest as she slowly moves back to face them. “He’s right, Tony. Believe me the last thing I want is to see Steve, but we need to act fast and if Vision is with Wanda then chances are Steve knows where they are. He can get to them faster than us.”

It goes quiet. Tony thinks for a moment before eventually sighing, stepping away to remove a small flip phone from his pocket. Flipping it open, Tony locates the only number listed on the contacts, ‘Steve Rogers,’ with the digits right below. As his thumb hovers over the call button, his attention is drawn up at a sudden sound.

Eve unfolds her arms, glancing around as it reaches her ears. It was almost like the wind, more so like a plane, but devious. It sounded a far yet drawing closer—closer with each second.

When Eve turns back to face the group of men, that’s when her attention catches Stephens. And she notices the loose strands of his hair moving side to side. “You wouldn’t happen to be moving your hair would you, Stephen?”

His hair moves faster, “not at the moment. No.”

Eve gulps, glancing up to the hole in the ceiling, “I think someone found us.” They all follow her gaze, the flicker of paper and leaves moving rapidly in the sky as the sound grows louder. Slowly, they face the door.

Silhouettes of people running on the streets skid past the stained glass. Muffled shouts of distress are heard as they approach the door, Tony leading the way and he opens it to reveal the scene before them. There’s dust in the air making it hard to see, frantic pedestrians running down the streets.

Tony heads toward the direction they are running from. As they rush past him a young lady trips, falling to the ground and he rushes to help her up. “Are you okay?” She shrieks in response, pushing him away to run. Eve feels her nerves heighten as she watches after her, gasping when a car collides with the street pole right next to her. “Help him!”

“Go, go!” Bruce waves to him as he and Wong assist the man. “We got it.” Tony quickly removes his glasses from his pocket to place them on, “F.R.I.D.A.Y, what am I looking at?” “Not sure, I’m working on it.” Tony glances back at Strange, “Hey! You might wanna put that time stone in your back pocket, doc!”

Stephen waves his hands and orange rings encase his wrists, “Might want to use it.”

Eve taps the com in her ear, “H.O.W.I.E, call for an emergency evacuation in the three mile vicinity around Bleeker Street and have emergency services en route.” “I’m on it, boss. Stand by.” Picking up the pace Eve moves beside Tony, the two walking across the street to see the source of the chaos unfolding in New York. “Is that a flying donut?”

It sure as hell looked like it. The large red spaceship was circular with a gaping hole in the middle. As it lowered down onto the city, dust gathered in the air and sent paper flying.

The five moved directly in the middle of the intersection so they were head on with the spaceship. Tony relayed the same info to F.R.I.D.A.Y that Eve said early while Strange began doing some movements with this hands. When he thrusted him forward, the dust flew back until it disparate beyond the ship, making it visibly clear to the eye.

Taken aback, Tony looked to Strange only to receive a cocky wink from the sorcerer. He rolled his eyes, missing the smirk was trying to fight, and turned back just in time to see a blue light cast down from the ship. When it touched the ground, two figures were standing in it’s wake.

“Here me,” the shorter one, Ebony Maw, called out. “And rejoice, you are about to die at the hands of the children of Thanos.” Eve felt her jaw clench, eyes narrowing as the man went on. “Be thankful that your meaningless lives are now contributing to—.”

“I’m sorry! Earth is closed today,” Tony interrupted the speech, making everyone look at him. “You better pack it up, and get out of here.”

“Stone keeper,” Maw addressed Stephen, who raised a brow in return. “Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not, I speak for myself” he stepped forward, clapping his hands together to form shields. “You’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.” Wong repeated the action, forming his own shields.

“That means get lost Squidward!”

“He exhausts me,” Maw sighed to his companion, Cull Obsidian, who grunted. “Bring me the stone.” Cull grips his weapon and begins moving toward the group.

Eve straightens, reading to tap her bracelets to unleash her suit when Tony says to Bruce, “Banner, you want a piece?” Sweating, Bruce fumbles with his blazer, “mmm, no. Not really. But then again when do I ever really get what I want.”

“Been awhile,” Tony cranks his neck, not seeing how Bruce was beginning to struggle transforming to Hulk. “Good to have you buddy.”

Eve glances to Bruce, wondering what was taking so long and sees the green veins poking out, but not taking full control. “Bruce you okay?” She realizes Hulk isn’t wanting to come out and becomes concerned.

“I have to concentrate one second.” Meanwhile Cull is inching closer to them, looking menacing as ever. Bruce bends his knees, trying to will Hulk out but failing all the less.

“Where’s your guy?”

“I don’t know—we’re sorta having a thing,” he sighs.

“There’s no time for a thing,” Tony pats his chest and points to Cull. “That’s the thing right there—let’s go.” Bruce leans back, green taking over his neck and groans out while leaning back. Stephen, Tony, and Eve all share a look—Stephen not looking impressed at all. “Dude you’re embarrassing us in front of the wizards.”

“I’m sorry—I can’t—or he won’t.”

Tony places his hands on Bruce’s shoulders, drawing him back a few steps beside Wong. “Okay, stand down. Keep an eye on him. Thank you.” He moves back to Eve, the two connecting eyes, “You ready?”

“When am I not?” She zips up her jacket while he tightens his just as Cull begins to run toward them. Eve taps twice on each bracelet, while Tony taps his chest, and together they unveil their new and improved suits. Golden armor runs up Eve’s arms until it’s around her whole body—wing pack and helmet to form the Iron Eagle.

It was the first time she was using the suit after completing it with Tony, so Eve prayed it did it’s job.

Tony’s Mark L fully took over just in time for Cull to bring down his hammer like weapon. Thrusting a shield out, he deflected the attack and sent Cull flying with his energy blasters. Maw then waved a hand to direct Cull into a car before he could hit him.

“Were’d that come from?” Bruce said in amazement, glancing at Eve’s golden form as well.

“It’s nanotech. You like it? A little something—,” Tony went airborne as Maw raised his hand upward, causing Eve to shout, “Tony!”Maw then three two trees at the four and Wong stepped forward while circling his hand to deflect.

“Dr. Banner, since the rest of your green friend won’t be joining us,” Stephen opened a portal beneath Bruce to the nearby park. Bruce shouted in surprise, grunting when he landed on the ground only to move quickly so he wouldn’t get crushed by the taxi that also fell through.

Together Wong and Strange used their magic to bring a car toward them, which Eve then used the blaster under hand to send it flying back towards Maw—who only lifted a finger to cut the vehicle in half. Tony landed beside Eve, letting out a frustrated huff. “You gotta get that stone out of here, now.”

“It stays with me,” Stephen says annoyed for the fifth time.

“Exactly. Bye!” Eve unleashes her wings and the two fly toward Maw, weaving through debris he sends their way. What they didn’t expect was Cull to fling his hammerhead. It trapped Tony and with Eve distracted Maw threw her into the nearby building, the glass shattering as she went through a window.

For Tony, he collides with a tree a the park, the park Bruce just so happened to be at. “Tony! You okay? How we doing—good?”

“Really-really good. Are you planning on helping out?”

“I’m trying. He won’t come out.” Cull breaks through the building across with a grunt, flinging his hammerhead again. Tony pushes Bruce out of the way and into the grass before flying back to Cull. He sends an energy beam, but Cull holds a shield causing it to hit a tree which nearly falls on Bruce.

The two circle each other, Tony blasting Cull until he’s thrown to the ground. He’s pursued by Cull, who raises his weapon to bring down on Tony only to stop midair. “Hey man,” a voice greets, clad in a red and blue suit holding back the metal from hitting Tony. “What’s up, Mr. Stark?”

“Kid, where’d you come from?” He asks Peter.

“A field trip—ahh!” Peter is cut off when Cull yanks him away. Eve shows up in the nick of time to catch the vigilante before he could smack the ground. “Oh hey, Miss. Eve!”

“Hey, kid,” She greets, setting him down. “You shouldn’t be here,” she then flies off before he could protest. Peter huffs, flinging out webs to assist the heroes, “Uh what is this guys problem, Mr. Stark?”

“Uh he’s from space. He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard.” Eve rolled her eyes beneath her mask, sending blasts to Cull while flying high to dodge his attacks. Peter goes for a shot only to get in Culls hold once more and tossed to the side. Together, the three go neck and neck with Cull. At some point Peter flutings the half taxi cab at Cull to knock him down and Eve sticks her feet out to send him flying across the grass.

A few moments later a figure skids past them. “Kid, that’s the wizard. Get on it.”

“I’m on it!“ Peter swings off with a shout. Distracted, Eve grunts when Cull wacks her full on with the hammer. The impact has her skidding several yards away and she quickly recovers to her feet.

“Uh, Mr. Stark, I’m being beamed up!” Eve curses to herself when she hears Peter’s frantic voice.

“Hang on kid,” Tony says as he fights Cull. “Eve, go!” Wings at the ready, Eve takes to the skies. Already the flying donut is airborne and moving fast towards the atmosphere.

“H.O.W.I.E, I need more power,” she says and the thrusters on her wings and feet extended before firing her up. The new suit was equipped to make her travel as fast as an F-18, faster than Sam’s wing pack and even Tony’s suit. Now Eve was reaching full speed and Tony was not too far behind her.

“unlock seventeen-A,” he said to F.R.I.D.A.Y. Knowing what it entailed, Eve looked to her right in the direction of the Avengers compound. A little trail of smoke pin pointed the object in question. “Pete, you gotta let go. I’m gonna catch you.”

“But you said save the wizard!” The boy removed his mask, “ugh I can’t breath.”

“We’re too high up, kid,” Eve tells him, the distance between her and the ship closing rapidly. “You’re running out of air. You need to let go now.”

“Oh yeah,” she heard him pant. “That makes sense.” His body fell back in time for 17-A to fly past Eve, hitting his back to allow the nanotech to unveil. Before he could collide with the ship and fall, Eve caught him in her arms. “Woah!” He shouted when she set him down. “Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!”

“Happy trails, kid,” Tony came up from the side. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, send him home.” “Yep.” Before Peter could react, a parachute deployed from his back and he was off the ground, “Oh come on!” Eve shook her head, sighing as she flew up to Tony. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved the boy was gone—this was far beyond Peter and she wanted him safe.

“Kid’s got heart and guts,” she held her wrist up to the wall of the ship, “I’ll give him that.” A beam hit the surface, Eve moving her wrist in a rectangular shape until it gave way and allowed an opening for the two.

Tony entered first just as F.R.I.D.A.Y said, “Boss, incoming call from Ms. Potts,” before Peppers voice filled his ears. “Tony? Oh my God, are you alright? What’s going on?” “Yeah Im fine,” he tells her, “I just think we’re going to have to push our eight-thirty res.” “Why?” “Just cause I’ll probably not make it back for awhile.”

Eve lets her helmet retract, frowning as she listens in to the conversation. “Tell me you’re not on that ship.” Tony’s helmet also retracts, his expression full of distress and regret. “Yeah.” “God—no, please tell me you’re not—.” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—I don’t understand—.” “Come back, Tony! I swear to God.”

Pepper continues to plead to Tony, but the reception begins to give out as they draw further away from Earth. “Boss, we’re loosing her.” Eve glances to the ground, unable to see the pain in her nephews face. The call eventually cuts out, and Tony is left standing still. It’s silent between the two for a moment. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

There was nothing they could currently do. They were on a spaceship going God knows where and the only person they were aware on it were Maw and Strange. A jolt forward, nearly sending them to the ground, confirmed their suspicious they were now far away from Earth. They had to have been traveling faster than the speed of light.

“We need to find the wizard,” Tony leans against the wall when it’s finally stable again. “Then go from there.”

“Agreed,” Eve nods and the two make their way to the nearest exit. “You think he’ll break? Give up the stone?” She asks when they find a door leading to a platform.

“The wizard?” Tony scoffs, “not a chance. He wouldn’t even leave the stone some place safe. I doubt magic squidward’s gonna crack him.”

“Let’s hope not,” she sighs following behind him closely. They walk for a few minutes, climbing up platforms and railings until they finally reach an open area. It doesn’t take long for them to figure out it’s the heart of the ship. There’s a large screen-like projection taking up wall to floor and Tony leans over the edge to find Strange trapped in some needles while Maw looks on.

“Found them,” he mutters to Eve, who glances over to see the scene below. Neither notice the familiar red cloak sneak behind them until it pats Tony on the shoulder. Instantly, Tony raises his hand ready to send the threat blasting. When he realizes it’s the cloak he relaxes, “Wow, you are a seriously loyal piece of outerwear aren’t you.”

“Yeah speaking of loyalty….” Eve’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she sees Peter hanging upside down. Tony matches her expression, “What the—.”

“I know what you’re going to say—.”

“You should not be here.” Eve cuts in angrily, before Peter begins to ramble.

“I was gonna go home—.” “I don’t want to hear it.” “—but it was such a long way down and I just thought about you two and—.” “And now I gotta hear it.” “—I got stuck to the side of the ship— and this suit…is ridiculously intuitive by the way so if anything it’s kinda your fault I’m here.”

Tony’s eyes brows go straight to his hairline, “What did you just say.” Even the cloak was shook, glancing between the two. Peter starts to stutter, his cheeks going red from his mess up, “I-I-I I take that back. And now I’m here in space.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, moving toward him. “Right where I didn’t want you to be. This isn’t Coney Island or some field trip—this is a one way ticket. You hear me? Don’t pretend you thought this through.”

“I did think this through,” he defends. “I did think this through! You can’t be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if there’s no neighborhood.” Eve wanted to facepalm at Peter’s naiveness, but decided against it. The kid was there and with now way to get him home, he was stuck with them whether they liked it or not. “Okay that doesn’t really make sense, but you know what I’m trying to say.”

The stress on Tony’s face spoke a thousand words. Eventually he just gives up. “C’mon we got a situation.” Tony points over the edge to where Maw currently has Strange trapped. “See him down there? He’s in trouble, what’s your plan? Go.” Eve crosses her arms, moving to stand on Peter’s right as he crouches down to get a better look.

“Umm,” he hums, “Okay-okay umm.” Another second ticks by before he stands up. “Okay, ever see this really old movie, ‘Aliens’?”

“‘Aliens’?” Eve repeats with concern, seeing the look on Tony’s face. She wasn’t really keen on trusting the kid if his plan was based off a movie. Especially one she hasn’t seen. “Tony, you trust this?”

The man thinks for a moment shrugging, “He hasn’t failed me yet.” For a few minutes, they work together on who does what until they finally set it in motion. Tony flies directly above and behind Maw, which accordingly catches Strange’s attention and therefore causes Maw to turn around. It gives Peter, the cloak, and Eve time to get in position.

“I could end your friend’s life in an instant,” the alien threatens.

“I gotta tell you he’s not really my friend. Saving his life is more of a professional curtesy.” Eve rolls her eyes at Tony’s words but finds no surprise in them.

“You save nothing. Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine.”

“Yeah, but the kid’s seen more movies.” With that a rocket launches from the side, catching Maw off guard as it blasts a hole into the ships wall. The winds vortex pulls him in into the cold, dark world that is outer space and Strange also finds himself being pulled. The cloak catches his hand first, but the wind is too powerful and loses his grasp.

“I got him!” Eve springs into action, her wings ejecting out as she falls off the platform. Her hands wrap around Stephen tightly, colliding into him from the side so they’re not pulled into the vortex. She flies them away from the hole so Tony could seal it and sets Stephen gently down on the platform by the controls.

“Thanks,” he says to her with a huff, feeling a little dazed from what just happened. She gives him a nod, “No problem, doc. Glad to see you still have the gem causing all the trouble.” She walks away before he could answer, missing how the man watches her and focuses her attention on the large screen.

“Hey, we never officially met,” Peter drops down beside the cloak, extending a hand. The relic ignores him, moving toward Stephen and Peter drops his hand. “Cool.”

Tony lands on the platform, passing Stephen as he retracts his suit. Eve does the same by tapping her bracelets, letting the golden armor disappear. “We gotta turn this ship around,” Stephen says as Tony walks up to Eve, moving past to get a good look at what they were dealing with.

The billionaire scoffs, “Yeah. Now he wants to run. Great.”

“I want to protect the stone,” Stephen argues, but Tony isn’t having it.

“And I want you to thank me now. Go ahead I’m listening.”

“For what? Nearly blasting me into space?”

Tony spins around so fast, Eve has to step back. “Who just saved your magical ass? Me.”

“I seriously don’t know how you fit your head into that helmet.”

“Neither do I sometimes,” Eve mutters, turning away to not deal with the two going at it again.

“Admit it,” Tony continues, either not hearing his aunt or downright ignoring her. “You should’ve dubbed out when I told you to. I tried to bench you and you refused.”

“Unlike everyone else in your life, I don’t work for you,” Stephens rebuttals has Eve turning around, offense in her expression.

“Excuse me?”

Stephen raises an apologetic hand, “Okay except you—I know that.” She huffs, crossing her arms. ‘Damn right he better take that back,’ she thinks to herself.

“And due to that fact,” Tony get’s their attention once more. “We’re now on a flying donut, billions of miles from Earth with no backup.”

“I’m backup,” Peter offers, which has the Starks immediate refusal.

“No, you’re a stowaway,” Tony motions a finger between him, Strange and Eve. “The adults are talking.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m confused as is to the relationship here. Wh-what is he? Is he your ward?” Eve couldn’t help but laugh at the assumption, “That’s a new one.”

“No,” Peter answered and goes to introduce himself. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Doctor Strange.”

“Oh you’re using your made up names. Um, i’m Spider-Man then.” The look on Stephen’s face nearly sent Eve into hysterics if the situation wasn’t so serious. The man looked so offended, she wondered what was going on in his head. Eventually he just walks away from the boy.

“This ship is self correcting it’s course,” Eve voices to the group. “It’s on autopilot.”

“Can we control it?” He asks. “Fly us home?”

“It’s possible…..” Eve starts and eventually trails off when she notices Tony’s expression. It’s a look she’s seen all too well. A look when he’s planning something. “What are you thinking, Tony?” The sorcerer follows her gaze at the question, noticing Tony had been quiet for awhile.

“Stark,” Stephen snaps him out of his thoughts. “Can you get us home?”

“Yeah I heard you,” his hands cross in front of him, brows furrowing as he thinks. “I think I’m not so sure we should.” Stephen’s refusal is eminent.

“Under no circumstances can we bring the time stone to Thanos. I don’t thin you quite understand what’s at stake here.”

“No—,” Tony walks up to him, clenching his fist. “It’s you, who doesn’t understand that Thanos has been inside my head for six years since he sent an army to New York and now he’s back! And I don’t know what to do. So I’m not so sure if it’s a better plan to fight him on our turf or his, but you saw what they did-what they can do. At least on his turf he’s not expecting it. So I say, we take the fight to him, doctor.”

Eve, having been silent to let Tony make his point, strokes her jaw lightly. It was a good plan. Thanos would think the ship being there was Maw with the stone as he planned, but having them there would catch the Titan off guard. “We don’t have many options here boys. At frankly I’m tired of watching you two compete on who has the biggest ego. Time isn’t on our side and I’m gonna have to agree with Tony on this one. Going to wherever this ship is heading is our best bet—and if we’re lucky, maybe we can buy time before Thanos gets more stones.”

Tony holds back a smirk, feeling triumph that his aunt agrees with him. Which is something she rarely does nowadays after the Ultron fiasco. “So, do we concur?”

“Alright, Stark,” Stephen finally says. “We go to him. But you have to understand if it comes to saving you two or the kid, or the time stone, I will not hesitate to let any of you die.” Though not surprising, it still makes the Starks clench their jaws. “I can’t because the universe depends on it.”

“Nice,” Tony pats his shoulder. “Good, moral compass. We’re straight.” He walks away, trying not to let his emotion show. Both Tony and Eve accepted this was a one-way trip, but hearing Strange say it puts it into perspective.

As he looks on after Tony, Stephen ends up connecting eyes with Eve. The super-soldier appeared stoic, doing her best to not look affected like Tony, but Stephen could pick up on her distress. Something in his chest tightens at the way her chocolate eyes stare back at him. They were piercing into his soul and part of him regretted how he spoke earlier about not hesitating to sacrifice her. She quickly looked away, pushing off the consul she was leaning against to turn her back on the sorcerer in time to see Tony approach Peter.

“Kid,” Tony says when he stands before him. The boy perks up, watching Tony’s arm go up to make the shape of an ‘A’ across the boys chest. “You’re an Avenger now.”

All Evelyn Stark could do now was hope and pray the mission goes as planned. Get to wherever it was the ship was going, have Thanos find them and defeat him before any more stones could be collected. Earth was far from their grasp, their only hope being the remaining heroes that assembled.

The fate of the universe was in their hands.

And chaos is sure to follow if the odds don’t fall in their favor.

…………………………….

Tag list: @todaywasafairytale07

#doctor strange imagine #doctor strange #tony stark imagine #tony stark #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #spider-man imagine #the Phoenix #phoenix force #dark phoenix #avengers imagine #original character #avengers au #iron man imagine #stark!reader #avengers!reader #doctor strange x reader #tony stark x reader

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pagesoflauren · 2 years

Text

The Riveter Ch. 13

Steve Rogers x mechanic!reader

Summary: After escaping Hydra, you assist Dr. Erskine in helping Steve Rogers become Captain America. When Erskine is assassinated, you think your WWII career is over. Unfortunately, the SSR and Hydra are not done with you yet.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of death, canon-typical violence (use of guns as a means of killing, blood loss, serious injury, physical altercations), mentions of trauma, slow burn, dialogue-heavy chapters, comic book science, torture, forced experimentation

A/N: Hope whoever reads this enjoys it. The dividers aren’t mine, they were created by@firefly-graphics and the Marvel blog formerly known as @writeyourmindaway. And a HUGE thank you to @eightcevanscentral for beta-ing

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

You never thought you’d enjoy the smell of smoke.

The memories you recall of it tell your brain that it should be unappealing and acrid, something that should make you want to get away from it as quickly as possible.

But here, with Steve, in the spring air of rural New York, it smells good.

He stands near the grill as he minds the steaks that he’s cooking for the two of you, covered with premade seasoning from a bottle that Steve grabbed on a second trip to a grocery store.

You slept for twenty-four hours, he had told you when you woke up. Before that, your last memory was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich–with Steve’s perfected peanut butter-to-jelly ratio–and going to bed.

On the second day at the cabin, you woke up to the smell of something sweet and the sound of sizzling from the kitchen. Steve kissed you breathless, relieved to see you.

“Bruce had told me you’d wake up eventually, but…” he shrugged, “I got worried. He said your body was probably just recovering from everything that happened in the past week.”

“Bruce?” you inquired. You knew somewhere in your mind you should know that name, but it didn’t ring any bells in the haze of sleep that still lingered.

“Dr. Banner,” he elaborated, pouring coffee into a mug, “You met him in Tony’s lab.”

His face came to mind then; graying hair and small stature, a white lab coat, and wireframe glasses.

“Oh, right,” you nodded in recognition. “I wish my body had found a different way to recover,” you muttered, taking the mug of coffee he hands you. “I think I’ve done enough sleeping.”

You took a sip and he smiled at you, a strange fond look in his eye.

You loved it when he looked at you that way, but you also find it so damn sappy.

“What?” you asked, half annoyed and half endeared.

“Nothing, I just…” Steve shrugged again, “I said something similar when someone asked me about sleep.”

He turned back to the stove and you sat at the table, smiling secretly to yourself as you continued to drink your coffee.

In the days that you’ve been at the cabin, Steve has used it as an opportunity to show you some of the new things this era had to offer. Shortly after waking up, Steve had you sit on the couch while he closed the curtains.

“What are you doing?” you laughed as he scrambled around, setting down different snacks and placing a large bowl of popcorn in your lap.

“I’m giving you the whole movie theater experience,” he explained.

He had told you about movie theaters before; large, dark rooms with screens as big as walls showing a film as the sound surrounds you.

“This is better, though. We can pause and talk as much as we want.”

With the volume turned all the way up, you watched as blue text showed across the screen, then a loud crescendo of music startled you. The bowl shook in your lap, sending some pieces of popcorn onto the floor by your feet.

You read the opening crawl, understanding the underlying theme of war and a battle between good and evil occurring. Then, you saw a large vessel glide across the screen, shooting lasers while a smaller ship tried to escape.

Enthralled in the film, you mindlessly started grabbing pieces of popcorn to eat as you watched the story unfold. There was the occasional need to pause to get more food, go to the bathroom, or stretch, but whenever Steve asked if you wanted to stop, you refused.

“I have to know what happens!”

He smiled at you and scooted closer, draping an arm over your shoulder.

During the second film, he took the bowl off your lap, much to your protest.

“Shh, just watch,” he told you.

You huffed, annoyed that he would tempt you with food then take it away.

Not even a minute later, you understood as you jumped up and gasped, your hands covering your face as you tried to hide your shock.

“Pause it!”

Steve complied.

“Are you kidding me?”

He laughed and shook his head. “It’s true, sweetheart.”

“This whole time?! This whole time Darth Vader–oh my god, I’m such an idiot! Vater, that’s literally father in German!”

Steve laughed and laughed, a hand on his chest as his eyes shut from how much he was enjoying your reaction.

As you were still reeling from the reveal, shifting your weight from one foot to another, he reached for you, pulling you into his lap.

“I love you,” he said gently, pressing his face close to yours and kissing your cheek.

Your skin went aflame and you turned your head to peck his lips once. When he tried to lean in for more, you turned your attention back to the screen.

“Play the movie.”

He showed the world of sports the following day, having you tune in to your first baseball game. You witnessed the sports fan side of Steve come out as he whined about bad calls and cheered loudly when his team–the Yankees–won in the 10th inning.

“I used to be a Dodger fan,” he explained to you, “But I woke up and they told me the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles. I was pissed.”

“Why are they called the Dodgers?” you wondered, “Shouldn’t they, you know, not dodge the ball?”

Steve laughed and kissed you, a smug look on his face.

You huffed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He looked taken aback at your accusing tone, the idiot. “Like what?”

“Like I said something funny. I wasn’t joking, I’m actually serious, why are they Dodgers if you’re supposed to catch the ball?”

He laughed even harder, clearing his throat when he saw your unamused look.

“I know you’re not joking, sweetheart,” he soothed, taking your hands in his. “It was just a cute question,” he explained, then answered your question properly, “They used to be called the Trolley Dodgers, then it was shortened to Dodgers.”

You hummed. “Okay. So why did they leave Brooklyn?”

“I don’t know,” he rolled his eyes. “Some bullshit move by the guy who runs the team. And I hate the Yankees.”

You snickered.

His head whips around to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“It’s just baseball,” you shrugged. “But…it’s cute. You know, seeing you like this.”

Ever patient, Steve answered all the questions you had about baseball. You understood why it was engaging; it was a slow-moving game that required precision and tactic. That game in particular ended at around two in the morning, though it was easy to stay awake.

Having super-soldier metabolism meant you got hungry more often and needed food beyond the typical three meals a day. During the war, it was easy to forget your hunger–especially when you were always working and food was strictly rationed.

Now, with so much food at your disposal, you and Steve needed to have a constant rotation of snacks between bigger meals. Every day, the two of you have woken up in the middle of the night to quell your grumbling stomachs. Sometimes you opted for eating out of an ice cream tub, other times you ate instant foods like ramen and macaroni and cheese.

One night, at 4 AM, when your eyes were beginning to drop shut after finishing some leftover pizza, Steve rattled your brain awake.

“This is nice.”

A simple sentence, but somewhat strange.

“What do you mean?” you asked, rubbing your eyes to try and keep yourself alert to hear what he had to say.

“It’s nice that you’re here,” he clarified. “I’ve been doing this alone for the past two years.”

You imagined him at his apartment in D.C., conjuring up a scene in your mind since you never actually got to see what it looked like: Steve alone with only the light above the kitchen table on as he ate a meal surrounded by empty chairs, in a silent room.

Did he play music while he ate to make himself feel less alone? Or maybe he turned on the TV?

“Hey,” he said, cupping your cheek and wiping away a tear there with his thumb.

You didn’t even realize you were crying.

“Better late than never, right?” he offered in a cheerful tone, but his eyes gave away his own sadness.

For the most part, it was nice to catch up with him. You grew accustomed to his habits and preferences as a New Yorker while teaching him about your home. The two of you learned about your upbringings and who he was before you encountered his file during Project Rebirth.

In a way, he became more tangible to you. The images of his childhood changed from medical records and a candidate report to moving images conjured up in your mind.

Being in the cabin also allowed you some space to catch up with the modern age at your own pace. Tony had plenty of books on different topics of science and state-of-the-art technology all over the property, which you loved tinkering with. You got up in the guts of the car he gave you and Steve for the week and reveled in the way things have evolved in the automobile industry.

You found yourself looking forward to going back to Stark Tower to talk more tech with Tony, but you weren’t eager to leave quite yet.

“Sweetheart, can you get me a plate?” Steve asks, pressing his tongs into the steaks. “I think these are about ready.”

Snapping out of your dreamy, reflective state, you stand and go into the kitchen to rummage through the cupboard with the flatware.

After you step out to hand him the plate, you begin to take out some of the leftovers from lunch: mashed potatoes and a spring salad made from the vegetables you picked from the farmer’s market. Steve comes in and sets the steaks on the dining table and washes his hands before helping you set up, grabbing the pitcher of water and some bottles of beer.

There’s a comfortable silence as the two of you eat, the simple pleasure of each other’s company not requiring either of you to talk.

To Steve, this is paradise.

It’s what he’s wanted for as long as he could remember–though in his 1940s imagination, things weren’t nearly as high-tech, and this would’ve all happened in an apartment in Brooklyn.

And Bucky would have been there, too.

He remembers while in the hospital after Sam told him about your detainment, he asked about Bucky’s whereabouts.

“He disappeared, there’s no trace of him.”

Closing his eyes, Steve sighs.

“What are you thinking about?”

“They’re the two most important people in my life,” he answers right away.

Sam is quiet, then he speaks, “You know…you don’t always come home with the whole squad. You lose a man, you lose two, there’s always a part of you that feels empty or incomplete. But sometimes that makes your bond with your other squad members all the more meaningful.”

Steve opens his eyes and looks at his friend, understanding.

You were here. That matters just as much as losing Bucky.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not again.

He cherishes every single moment with you and dotes on you to no end. He has a hand on you at every possible moment or remains as close as your comfort will allow.

You were a lifeline to him, the source of his peace and baseline for sanity. He was in mourning from the moment he woke up to the moment he saw you again.

If something were to take you away from him now, he would go berserk.

Nights prior to you were spent restlessly, staring at his ceilings as car lights passed by his window and the projection of moonlight slowly moved before the sun rose. He supposes he would get three hours of sleep at most.

In bed, he holds you tightly, akin to a child clinging to a teddy bear. It’s the only way he can feel secure now, the only way to keep the nightmares at bay.

They haven’t occurred since the two of you arrived at the cabin. He had to do a double-take when he checked the time—he had slept for twelve hours. When his shock subsided, he looked down at you and smiled, pressing a kiss into your temple and squeezing you once before making breakfast.

You’re wrapped up in his arms again now, trailing your fingers over his hand and up and down his arm as he kisses your shoulder, eyes dropping closed and body settling against the mattress. Comfortable.

Secure.

Happy.

Then…cold.

He blindly searches for you, rousing when he reaches as far as he can and his fingers wrap around the edge of the mattress instead of your body. His heart jumps and he blinks urgently to try and get his bearings.

Where are you?

His whole body electrifies as he sits up, looking at the bedroom door and finding it closed.

The wind blows and the hinge of the balcony door squeaks as it’s nudged open. Steve feels a chill then looks toward the noise and source of the cold.

Throwing the blankets off his legs, he gets up and pads his way to the door, opening it further and finding you sitting on the little bench there, looking over the lake and at the clear, starry sky.

Stepping around the side of the bench, he sits next to you, lip quirking up at one corner to smile when you look at him.

“Are you okay?” he checks.

“Mhmm,” you nod.

He doesn’t want to pry, but he wants you to know he’s here to listen. If there’s anyone who could understand exactly what you’re going through, it’s him.

Reaching over to take your hand, he squeezes it. “You’re not alone.”

You look down and squeeze back. “Not anymore.”

When your eyes meet his again, they water suddenly, and tears spill over your eyelids. He’s quick to cup your face, wiping away every tear as fast as he can.

He doesn’t want you to cry.

“That woman,” you say in between sobs. “The Black Widow.”

“Nat?” he wonders. “What about her?”

“I know her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know her,” you say again, breathing in slowly to try and even out your voice. “Not well, but…I know her. I worked with her in the past, in the Red Room, where she was trained.”

Steve doesn’t know much about Natasha’s past, only what is in her SHIELD file. “Red Room” rings a bell; an extremely intensive, regimented facility where she and hundreds of other women train to become the world’s most deadly assassins, just like their namesake.

You were there?

“I saw her face, I couldn’t quite place it. Then she gave me the suit and I knew. And the Widows, they’re so intelligent, only the best of them all. She had to have known me.”

He had a feeling once he saw that you were connected to Bucky; Natasha had known of the Winter Soldier the minute she heard Steve’s description of him. There must have been some connection between the three of you, but he never would have thought that you trained her.

“I’m sure I terrified her as a little girl,” you continue, sobbing again. “And she helped me…she’s helping me now, Tony gave me her clothes.”

Steve realizes you’re speaking out of guilt. It becomes more apparent when you add on to what you had just said.

“And Bucky…I’m sorry.” You place your hands on his wrists before sliding them up and grasping his palms. “I’m so sorry, I know I’m responsible for what happened to him. I just don’t know what I did.”

You’re pleading with him; begging for forgiveness that you don’t need to ask for.

“I should’ve known, I should’ve stopped it and helped him, I–”

Heart breaking, Steve shushes you and pulls you into his chest.

“Stop,” he says, voice catching as he begins to cry himself. “It’s not your fault. I know you wouldn’t have if you had known–”

“It’s my fault, I know it is.”

“No, shh,” he tries to soothe you with a hand cupping the back of your head. “Sweetheart, it’s…”

It’s not okay. But he can’t put the blame on you.

He settles on telling you that he understands. “I know you would’ve stopped it if you had known.”

Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he closes his eyes, silent tears falling as his chest constricts. He supposes it was foolish of him to think things would automatically go back to how they were before, only the trauma of the war plaguing the two of you as you try to piece your lives together.

As he holds you now, it dawns on him that there are demons living in your mind that disappear in your consciousness; they sneak up on you and attack, they break you and hurt you and leave you crying, riddled with guilt and fright.

He wants to get rid of them. Of course, he does. What kind of person is okay with the love of their life struggling on their own with the pain of the past?

How could he even begin to help when neither of you have all the pieces of the puzzle?

Could Tony do something? Could he call in a favor?

Maybe.

The next question chills Steve to the bone: Could he handle the truth of it all? If someone could unlock those corners of your memory and they all came flooding out, could he reconcile his love for you with the reality of what you may have done against your will?

Yes.

- - - - -

“Do you want to go for a swim?” Steve asks.

Peering over the top of your book, you see he’s looking straight ahead from where you sit on the porch bench. Your legs were draped across his lap, facing toward him as you read as the morning air warmed into the afternoon.

You turn your head, blinded by the sunlight as it reflects against the surface of the lake. It’s a beautiful day, warm but not uncomfortable or sticky.

“I can see if Tony packed a swimsuit in that luggage he gave me.”

Steve gives you a crooked smile and moves your legs so your feet land flat on the wooden deck. He stands, stripping off his shirt and providing you with a generous view of his physique.

It occurs to you then that beyond kissing and holding, the two of you hadn’t reconnected in other ways.

“I’ll meet you in the water,” he tells you, throwing a wink your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, only to bite your lip as you watch him walk across the lawn to the end of the small dock and dive into the water.

Ignoring the heat in your face, you get up and scurry upstairs to rifle through your luggage. When you stumble upon an article of clothing with a unique texture, you think you’ve found it–or…what appears to be left of it.

Growing up, you never saw a swimsuit; nobody in your town had one. But you had seen more modest ones in a British magazine that Peggy showed you during the war. It was something she had kept tucked away most of the time, but she took it out when she wanted to reminisce on simpler times.

You still remember the image: three beautiful girls with their hair perfectly curled and styled; one with a ponytail, one with pigtails, and the third with her hair kept back with a headband. The photo was taken as they were laughing, mouths open and hands pressed to chests or raised delicately in joy. They lounged on towels with an umbrella propped behind them to give shade. The suits flattered their figures and covered nearly everything, only exposing their arms and legs.

While those suits were pretty skimpy for the 1940s, this one makes your eyes go wide. It’s practically a pair of undergarments–and those too have gotten skimpier in their own regard.

Undressing yourself, you struggle with the top and heave a sigh of relief when you finally get it tied properly. You shimmy into the bottoms, which you scowl at in the mirror. They barely cover your bottom, though there is a high waistline.

As you look at your reflection, you trace your fingers over the dark, jagged scars that litter your body. You’re self-conscious for a moment; you don’t remember how you got most of them. There are a few exceptions: ones on your arm from repairs that went poorly and distinct circular ones from when the serum was injected into you.

You take a deep breath, shaking whatever apprehension you feel out of your head and going down the stairs to the back door and onto the porch.

From here, you can see Steve floating on his back, looking up at the sky. Eager to join him, you jog over the grass, feeling the blades tickle the soles of your feet. The wooden planks of the deck squeak gently underneath the weight of your steps and you sit at the edge when you reach the end.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your question jars him and you giggle as he flails for a moment before beginning to tread the water as he turns to look at you.

He smiles for a moment, then his eyes glide down over your body. His face falls as he stares, no doubt at the blemishes littering your skin.

Your chest squeezes, heat rising underneath your skin that makes your muscles tighten as you curl into yourself to hide. You feel your lungs inflate with a strange combination of embarrassment and pride–you feel humiliated that he’s staring but refuse to sit there and subject yourself to it.

Getting up with a huff, you march back up the dock, ignoring Steve calling after you. As you walk over the lake, you hear him splashing and becoming a little more breathless as he keeps urging you not to leave.

The screen door slams behind you and your feet slap against the stairs as you retreat into the bedroom. The hot air of your emotions escapes through your nostrils with every breath, especially when you struggle to untie the top of the bikini. In your rage, you throw it across the room and the bottoms follow after.

You find yourself walking to the shower, your brain directing your feet before you can really think about your movements. Shutting the glass door, you turn on the hot water and stand under the spray as it strikes your skin.

The heat makes your scalp tingle, giving you something to think about to banish the thoughts of the way Steve looked at you. Your head feels heavy, bowing as your eyes close. A breath echoes against the tiles–your breath, you realize–coming in short gasps and sobs while your hands wrap around yourself to make your body as small as possible.

A short time later, your eyes open when you hear the door click and then shut again. You wait for Steve to say something, but his voice never comes. Cold air invades the shower cubicle as he opens the glass door and then shuts it.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I…I didn’t mean to…”

He lapses into silence and you close your eyes. You can feel his body, close to you but not crammed in the rather spacious area.

“Can I touch you?”

Your spine straightens a little. You don’t refuse him, but you don’t nod either.

You feel his skin on yours; a fingertip, tracing a line down your shoulder. Your muscles stiffen for a moment, then relax.

His touch trails down until both hands hold your waist on either side. When his lips press into your shoulder, your legs nearly buckle, your body melting into his hold.

He doesn’t stop, holding you up as he traces down your back, mouth ghosting over the scars he sees there. Steve takes his time, not only savoring the taste of your skin and the smell of your body but also reacquainting himself with you. Making up for lost time.

There’s a swelling in his chest, a fierce fire that blazes and spreads throughout his body; he knows it well. He first felt it in 1944 in the backseat of a Jeep, in a garage in London. You, illuminated by dim lights coming in through the windows while the canopy of the Jeep kept the two of you concealed.

Your coveralls and his dress greens on the floor, taken off in a flurry of desperation and desire.

He wanted you then; he’d be damned if he made you believe he didn’t want you now.

He commits the image of your back to memory, a new map of who you are, even if neither of you may ever find out how you got them. On his knees, as water runs down your skin, he doesn’t care about the lack of knowledge. He doesn’t think he ever will.

His hands move to your hips. “Turn.”

It’s almost a command, but his voice moves up as he says it, making it sound like a question.

You tremble as you move, facing him. His heart sinks when he sees your face, eyes red and slightly swollen.

“What is it?” He rises to his feet, cupping your face but not before tracing up your figure as much as he can. His thumbs swipe your cheeks, attempting to remove tears he can’t see because of the water falling over both of you.

You gasp, a broken sob coming from your throat as you reach for him, hands framing his face as you look at him almost in disbelief.

“I missed you.” Your words are choppy as you cry. “Steve, I–”

He cuts you off, covering your mouth with his as he presses you into the tiled wall. He feels warm and dizzy and knotted in the stomach, butterflies erupting in every cell of his body. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

Your lips part, giving his tongue space to dart into your mouth and brush against yours. His hand cups your thigh and brings it up to wrap around his hip, opening you up for him.

Reaching between your bodies, his fingers blindly graze over the wet, needy flesh between your legs. Your hips roll forward and you bite his lower lip, making him groan against you.

Rubbing your pussy with more pressure, Steve enjoys the sounds that spill from you, the impulsive touches and scratches you lay on his skin as he builds an orgasm for you and keeps himself at bay. He adjusts his hand, seeking out your clit.

Unable to prevent it, he chuckles to himself.

“Why the hell are you laughing?” He doesn’t need to see your face, he knows how you’re looking at him from the tone of your voice.

Opening his eyes, he smiles, giddy like a schoolboy. “Remember the first time you showed me how to do this?” He laughs again, “You said I was looking at your pussy like it was a novelty.”

Your eyes are distant for a moment and then they light up. You smile too, seeming unable to stop it as you look at him. “And you said it was.”

“And then you laughed at me.”

“Shut up, Rogers, I told you back then that I was laughing because it was cute.”

Rolling his eyes, he kisses you once, soft like the breeze lifting a flower petal. “You were my first.”

You run your fingers through his hair, pushing back the pieces that fall forward. His fingers begin to move against your nub, making your eyes close and your head roll back in bliss. “I like being your first.”

He presses his forehead to yours, “I’m glad I found you.”

He stops his movements, hand pulling back to wrap around his length and giving himself a few tugs. When he’s ready, everything goes still in anticipation of the feeling of being connected to you again; loving you, pleasing you, being yours.

You sigh and say his name as he pushes in, pulling back and looking into his face while he slowly fills you up. He knows it’s familiar, that he’s been here with you before plenty of times, but there’s something new about this now. Something that makes him relish this moment with you, fills him with hope for everything that lies ahead for both of you.

He loves you, and he tells you and shows you as he fills you up and mingles his breath with yours and kisses you in desperation. There are no words to express what he feels; he’s on Cloud 9 and he never wants to come down.

He wants to stay with you, anywhere you go, and never part from you. He wants the promise that he will never lose you again, no matter how irrational and unattainable it is.

Your moans come more frequently, your nails clawing at his skin, wounds stinging under the hot water. He curses, thrusting into you faster and harder to bring you over the edge.

His name echoes in your voice against the tiles, reaching his ears and bringing on his own orgasm. Knees nearly buckling, he summons all his strength to keep both of you upright through the paralyzing pleasure.

Fuck, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he remains within you, nosing at your neck while you graze your fingertips over his shoulder and through his hair.

“Steve,” you mumble against his shoulder.

He hums.

“I want to lie down with you.”

- - - - -

Bundled in blankets and one of his long sleeves, you cuddle into Steve as you watch an animated film on TV, lying on your side with his body right behind you.

It takes place in China and follows the story of a girl who joins the army in place of her father. She’s determined to succeed, crafty in her execution to establish her place among male soldiers.

“I like this one,” you tell him, watching a training montage as the captain of the unit sings a song about his expectations for his soldiers.

“It’s a good one,” Steve agrees, hand trailing up your side before wrapping his arm around your middle.

You entwine your fingers with his, bringing his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

As the song ends and the scene changes, Steve squeezes you closer to him. Pressing a kiss into your temple, he smiles when you giggle, then kisses you again and again.

“When we get back to New York, I’m gonna marry you,” he swears, echoing his sentiments from his private quarters in the London SSR headquarters when he first asked you to come back with him.

You hum a laugh. “Sounds like a plan, Rogers.”

Your neck cranes to look at him and receive a kiss on your lips. When you turn back, he buries his face in your hair.

For a moment, he lets it sink in that you’re here, you’re real, he has you back. The two of you can finally be together.

Now, he just has to find Bucky.

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