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unrefinedmusings · 2 years

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Between the Shelves

Stephen Strange x Bookstore Owner! Reader

Hi! Posted part of this earlier, so here's the full chapter. There will be more parts to this, but this whole thing is just a fun way to explore writing again so I'm planning on keeping things light and smutty.

Part 2 Part 3

Genre: Smut, fluffy and flirty, a little bit of sitcom vibes???

Background:

No Blip/No Snap, everyone is alive because I like them

Mordo reconciles with Stephen and the two of them plus Wong are the friend group of the century

America is here because she accidentally opened a portal and landed in MCU Stephen’s universe (no MoM plot points)

— — —

Strange POV

Most days, Stephen Strange is utterly grateful for Karl Mordo’s friendship. After making peace with his conflicted feelings and residual grief over the Ancient One’s death, Karl sought out Stephen and returned to Kamar-Taj. Their bond grew stronger day by day, battle by battle.

The two of them and Wong proved time and again to be an excellent team in combat and in their duties to Kamar-Taj. In their downtime, they sought out each other’s company. With the addition of America Chavez to the sorcerors’ lives, weekly dinners had even become a regular event at the New York Sanctum Sanctorum.

Most days, Stephen Strange was ecstatic to call Karl Mordo a friend…but today was two days before his dear friend’s birthday. At America’s insistence, they were having a celebration. They agreed on a small party for Karl, just the four of them. Completely acceptable to Stephen, except…he still hadn’t found a gift. Although in his defense, there wasn’t a lot of time to shop in between combatting mystical threats, working with the Avengers (and subsequently thinking of snarky comebacks to Stark), and training with his newest multiverse traveling apprentice.

Stephen finally had a day off (as long all world ending beings did too) and so far, he’d spent an hour at the mall and left with no bags. He was walking back to the Sanctum hoping the streets of New York would give him some ideas. In the middle of an internal debate over whether or not a gift card would be too impersonal, he almost missed his answer as he walked by a shop window.

A bookstore.

Duh.

While the Sanctum and Kamar-Taj’s libraries did boast a huge collection of books on all things supernatural, they did leave something to be desired in the fiction department. Mordo would love a thoughtfully chosen book.

Stephen made his way inside and shut the door behind him, hearing the tinkling of the shop bell above him.

“I’ll be out in just a minute!”, he heard a sweet voice called out from the back room. The sorcerer took a moment to close his eyes and inhale the smell of old paper and wood, taking him back to his first few months at Kamar-Taj as a student. He’d practically lived in books back then, even using his astral form to study in his sleep. As he opened his eyes, they roamed over the massive shelves and display tables full of options for Mordo’s gift. The gears started to turn in his head as he browsed the store.

What genres would Mordo even like? Mystery? Thriller? Maybe not, our jobs give us enough adrenaline. Romance is out. A sci-fi or fantasy work would feel like too much of a gag gift. Historical fiction?

“Hi! How can I help you?” rang out in that sweet voice once more, from a much closer distance this time.

Stephen turned to find the source of that sweetness and his gaze landed on you, standing just a few feet away.

You were gorgeous. The golden hour light streaming in through the front windows onto your form wasn’t helping him catch his breath as he took in your lovely face, big bright eyes meeting his. Your long hair was pulled in a loose bun barely held together by the No. 2 pencil stuck through it. And that warm smile, although it had started to falter as your brow furrowed…

Oh god you’ve been staring too long. Say something!

“Hello!”

“Hi! Can I help you with something?”

God, that voice. Goddamnit, focus Strange!

“Yes! A friend’s birthday is coming up. I was thinking something from the classics would be a good choice for him.”

“Follow me!”

———

Reader POV

You had been logging some new inventory in the back room when you heard the bell chime. After calling out to them, you finished your task and headed out to the front.

A figure stood by one of the shelves, perusing its contents with their back to you. They were tall, with a lean but muscular figure you could make out underneath the black cardigan and dark blue jeans. But what caught your attention was that thick head of hair…and maybe how nice it would be to tug on.

Stop it! You’re a business owner, you can’t ogle customers!

Snapping back into customer service mode, you let out in a slightly higher pitch than your actual voice “Hi! Can I help you with something?”, before they turned and you were met with cerulean eyes. Before you lost yourself further in those pools of deep blue, recognition hit you.

Oh fuck, it’s Doctor Strange.

While you weren’t an Avengers fanatic, not following online fan pages and Instagram accounts like @avengersinthewild, you did have a slight fixation on the doctor with the magic hands. Your crush was just big enough that when the world’s heroes did show up on the news, you caught yourself paying a bit more attention when you caught sight of those gray streaks.

Oh fuck, Doctor Strange is in my shop. Oh fuck, he’s hotter in person. Oh fuck, why is he just staring like that? Goddamnit, is there dust in my hair again?!

Your love of reading, the calming atmosphere of the shop and steady income it provided are all in the pros column of owning and managing a bookstore. The top of your list of cons was the dust your wares had a tendency to collect.

And now you look like a slob in front of a man you’ve five wet dreams and counting about…

A number that was sure to increase as he greeted you in a deep baritone voice. After learning the purpose of his shopping trip, you maintained enough professional composure to lead him to the classics section and help him browse.

———

Strange POV

As Stephen trailed behind you around the shop, he found himself locked in another internal debate.

Don’t look at her legs in that skirt.

But they look so good.

Don’t look at her legs in that skirt.

But it’s a short plaid skirt!

DON’T LOOK AT HER LEGS IN THAT SKIRT.

Fine, look at her ass in that skirt.

The sorcerer tried his best to ignore those urges. Luckily, shopping for Karl’s gift proved to be a healthy distraction. He exchanged ideas with you until deciding on Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations. Stephen chose a navy blue hard cover edition with gold detailing and gilded pages.

“This was one on my favorites when I was younger,” he remarked while flipping through the pages of the novel.

“That makes it an even better gift. It’s a special gesture to give someone a piece of work that’s impacted you. It helps them understand you better,” you commented with a small smile. He faced you while you faced the shelf, putting back the other options that were considered.

Now that the initial shock at how attractive you were had worn off, Stephen was able to turn on his signature charm in an effort to flirt with you.

“And what would I read to understand you better?”, he asked as he took a step closer to you. A small smirk graced his handsome face when he noticed you blushed at that, despite shrugging and keeping your gaze ahead.

“What are some of your favorites?”, he probed further. You turned to his direction now that you finished returning the books to their proper places. He was leaning against the shelf, which did little to bridge the gap in your height difference. He didn’t mind, especially now as you looked up at him through your long lashes. Not to mention he was quickly losing all willpower to not outright ogle you, and from his angle he could see the tops of your breasts in the black v-neck sweater you had on.

Oh come on, is that lace underneath?

“I am the owner of a bookstore so that’s a tough question. Off the top of my head, anything by Jane Austen,” you replied. Your answer forced Stephen back to the conversation at hand and away from any intrusive thoughts about all the ways he could find out exactly what you were wearing underneath your outfit.

“So you’re a fan of romance then?”, he questioned with more than a hint of flirtation in his voice.

You blushed again and replied, “I’m a fan of every genre. Jane Austen just came to mind first.”

“Or maybe you’re just feeling particularly romantic right now,” Stephen suggested with a blatant wink. He knew it was a bold move given the two of you had only just met, but was satisfied when you reacted by avoiding his eyes and biting down on your plump bottom lip.

I bet she does that when she’s getting eaten o—

“So your friend’s gift is taken care of,“ you began in a wavering voice, interrupting another wave of Stephen’s lust induced thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“No, that was all.”

“I’ll ring you up!”

———

Reader POV

He winked! He fucking winked! THE AUDACITY!

You used professionalism as a distraction from the unholy fantasies spiraling through your mind about the delectable man who just had the nerve to wink at you. You couldn’t believe that this is what an Avenger was up to on his off days! You should sell this to a tabloid.

The public deserves to know that their resident Bleecker Street magician is an absolute menace who spends his free time making local merchants uncomfortably wet. At 4 in the afternoon!

The two of you moved to the counter and settled on either side, pressed against it as close as possible. You processed the transaction in silence, but stifled a small whimper when your fingers grazed his as he handed over the cash and you felt the the scars on his hands. Imagining what those digits would feel like inside you was going to be a feature in your masturbation fantasies for at least a month.

“Thank you and have a nice day,” you said as you handed him a paper bag with his purchase and receipt.

“Thank you for all your help today, Miss…”

“L/N, Y/N L/N”

“Y/N,” Strange said in a slow drawl, rolling around the sound of you in his mouth. “I’m—”

“Doctor Strange,” you interjected, slightly too eager. He had taken notice and was smirking at how flustered you were getting. In an effort to save face, you added on, “I-I’ve seen you on the news.”

And not in my dreams during last summer’s heat wave. I definitely did not have visions of you railing me face down into my mattress, only to wake up in the middle of the night a sweaty, horny mess, and then have an orgasm that was only mildly satisfying because my body was aching for cock instead of the bright teal vibrator I keep under my bed.

On the subject of masturbation, the doctor seemed insistent on gifting you more material for your solo sessions as he had now leaned in close enough across the counter for you to smell his cologne.

“Please sweetheart, you can call me Stephen.”

It took every ounce of willpower you had not to moan aloud.

“Have a nice day, S-Stephen,” you let out in as firm a voice as you could at the moment.

He collected his bag, pushed off the counter and opened the door. You thought this hell of sexual frustration was over, until Stephen turned and gave you another outrageous wink.

A fucking menace.

Once Stephen left your shop and was out of view of the building’s windows, you let out the breath you’d been holding. You shifted slightly and took notice of just how soaked your panties were under your skirt.

You groaned aloud to the shelves, “I just know his dick is big. I know it, I know it’s big.”

— — —

Strange POV

Upon arriving back at the Sanctum, Stephen quickly made his way to the study to wrap Mordo’s gift with the aid of a little magic. Once the novel was packaged in simple brown paper and tied up with a bow, Stephen placed it in his desk drawer until the upcoming birthday dinner. He spent the rest of the night in the library researching a magical artifact, only taking a break when Wong and America popped in and forced him to eat dinner.

Thoughts of you remained at the back of his mind all night. He’d missed this feeling. For so long, he had been focused on his duties to the Avengers and Kamar-Taj that he made no time for even a little romance. Having gone without for so long, the sorcerer assumed he would be content sans a love life. However, just those few minutes of flirtation with you were enough to awaken the passion and heat in him.

As usual, Stephen decided to take a shower before bed. Completely bare and under the stream of water, he gripped his shaft and lost himself in the fantasies he had kept at bay since leaving your store. He stroked his cock and imagined you on your knees, your eyes shining up at him as you brought your pouty lips to where he was aching. You would start off slow, intimidated by the sheer size of him, and leave sloppy kisses on the tip. Inch by inch, you would take him into your mouth.

He leaned his head against the shower wall and groaned. The grip on his member grew tighter and his pace quickened. With one final tug, he finished with a vision of you gagging on his cock, your eyes filling with tears as you choked around him.

Looking down at the cum that covered his hand and shower floor, Stephen thought of how much sweeter it was going to look smeared across your face.

— — —

Reader POV

Across town in your cozy one bedroom, you were taking serious advantage of the magic man’s permission to use his first name.

“Oh god, Stephen!”, you cried out into your empty apartment. “Please Stephen, I’m so fucking close!”

In reality, your legs had a vibrator between them and were spread open on the rumpled sheets of your bed.

In the vivid daydream that was bringing you to completion, they were wrapped around your favorite Avenger’s head while you sat atop your shop counter. You imagined the doctor’s rough hands gripping your thighs tighter around his face while his gorgeous eyes would be gazing up at you, witnessing you fall apart under his tongue. At the thought of his goatee dragging roughly against your clit, you came undone.

“FUCK YES STEPHEN! I’M CUMMING!”, you screamed. After the first two orgasms of the night, you had thrown any concerns about being perceived by your neighbors as a sex crazed banshee out the window.

— — —

A/N: They're just horny idiots, that's gonna be the entire plot

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x you #stephen strange #dr strange #dr stephen strange #doctor strange #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange smut #doctor strange smut

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bandedbulbussnarfblat · 10 months

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Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies chp 9

here is the latest chapter of read it below

Daniel gets back to reading. Eventually, he has to stop. Claudia, Charlie, Lestat, the incinerator. It’s too much.

“Vivid writer, isn’t she?” It’s Louis, who crept in from resting. “A singular style.”

“Anne Frank meets Stephen King,” Daniel says, then gets ready to start recording. “Session four, Louis de Pointe du Lac, and the child vampire, Claudia.”

Daniel pulls off his glasses. “So, it begs the question, where were all these diaries in 1973?”

Louis glances at him. “Scattered. One in New Orleans, another in Paris.”

He’s lying. “Bullshit.”

Louis walks over and sits in a chair in the sand pit near the tree. He crosses his legs and closes his eyes. “Claudia was…everything.” His eyes open and he looks at Daniel. “I loved her unconditionally. All the noise, the chaos, the crisis of my former existence, silenced. The simple joy of her hand in mine.”

“You had a daughter.”

“I had a daughter.”

Daniel gets it. Daughters and fathers can be complicated things. “I’ve got two. The love is kind of…”

He doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s the all encompassing love that makes you want to get your shit together and be a better person. The kind that understands you waited too late to try. But he’s not going to think about his daughters.

“And if you were to come across their diaries and learn, in detail, how and when you failed them, would you share those failures with a brash young reporter you met at Polynesian Mary’s?”

Daniel chuckles. Louis makes a point. “It’s funny. I’ve been dreaming about old Mary’s ever since you sent me the tapes.”

Louis rises and gestures to the books. “Where have you reached?”

Was that a deflection? Interesting. Something to ponder later.

“1923-ish. Her date with Charlie.”

Something flickers in Louis’ eyes. “Ah.”

Daniel pushes his glasses back on and looks at the journal. “And his bones-”

“Cracked black and his face turned to soup,” Louis finishes. Daniel pulls his glasses back off and studies him.

“Charlie’s death ushered in one of the darkest eras of our lives,” Louis continues. “The oh-so-delicate balance of our oh-so-delicate household was shattered. The fantasy of happiness burst. Claudia was…”

“A band-aid for a shitty marriage?” Daniel supplies.

“I was going to say…” Louis starts, then turns his back to Daniel “...something else.”

Daniel waits for Louis to continue. Louis goes and sits down. “But yes…that’s almost certainly what she felt like.”

Daniel doesn’t exactly know what to say next, but Louis throws him a curveball. “Rashid will be joining us later. That won’t bother you, will it, Daniel?”

Hadn’t he started this saying no third parties? Then again, he’d also started this saying he was straight and Rashid came in and wrecked that? So why not this? “Ah, no. It’s fine.”

“Yes, I thought you might say so.”

Daniel narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Louis gives him a look too innocent to be sincere. “Nothing, Daniel.”

Daniel doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just holds up the diary. “I gotta get back to reading.”

Louis makes some small noise in reply, then stands. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Daniel watches him leave and takes a deep breath. Does Louis know? He can read minds, and Daniel has been thinking of Rashid quite a bit. A bit too much, to be honest. He’s letting himself get distracted and sloppy. And he still doesn’t know what Rashid’s end game is.

Daniel reads and takes notes on his laptop for the next hour. Then he decides to go to his room and catch a nap. His sleep schedule is fucked from interviewing a vampire. And Rashid keeping him up demanding sex hasn’t exactly helped.

He drifts off easily enough. Daniel doesn’t remember opening his eyes or leaving his room, but he’s standing in the living room now. Louis and Rashid are standing together on the balcony, Louis looking at Rashid seriously. Daniel moves a little closer, hoping to overhear something before they notice him.

“How long do you plan to keep this up, ‘Rashid’?” There’s something strange about the way he says Rashid’s name that Daniel doesn’t understand. Is it not his real name? Does Louis have him using a fake name or something?

“As long as I can,” Rashid says, though something in his posture is different now. Less deferential. He goes still and sweeps his eyes across the room, passing over Daniel as though he were invisible.

Daniel holds out a hand and he can’t see it in front of him. What is going on?

“Do you feel that?” says Rashid. “That’s the second time I’ve felt it.”

“Hm?”

Rashid ignores Louis’s questioning look and closes his eyes. Daniel feels like he’s been shoved in the chest. He wakes up, jolting up on his bed and breathing hard.

What the hell was that?

#iwtv fic

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galateagalvanized · 2 years

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Chel, I have to ask because it literally didn't let me sleep right now.

In the recent story you published that is set in Stewjon, how did you come to build the aspect of The Speaker in the culture and how much does it have to do with the planet literally being a reference to John Stewart, comedian and show host and the way that the debate Obi-Wan had was in front of a large audience that gave live reactions and also just the concept of speaking truthfully and having all statements be recorded to be later reviewed and judged.

You don't have to answer most of it, I suppose if you want to answer this in the continuation of the story as you've had insinuated but as I first mentioned, the question is keeping me up even though I have to wake up early tmr (rip me) and it's probably a connection made from nothing but tiredness

Either way, you can see how much it's haunting my mind presently

HAHAHA hello Viv!! Just as a warning: slight spoilers ahead!!

I will be honest: I didn't think anyone would piece this together until I introduced this particular nomadic tribe as being named 'Bertste', and even then, I thought maybe one person would ask if the tribe was named for Stephen Colbert ;)

One of the things that I think is really interesting about communication is how important story-telling is for people being able to understand, relate to, and believe in sets of "facts". I think John Stewart is a fascinating figure because of the way he specifically crafts news stories to make people laugh, and how he is aware that he is working to make people laugh in order to make people care. Caring about people & things because of the way a story is told--or believing certain things about the universe because of a good story!!--is an aspect of real life that I really wanted to explore in this one. (And I'll admit while probably giving away my age that I've watched MUCH more of the Colbert Report than The Daily Show, and it's going to lean in that direction.)

So yes!! A lot of this theme was inspired by the impact that comedy/show hosts--people who are EXPERTS in crafting stories to be engaging and persuasive--have on public psyche and public belief. I started there, snagged Obi-Wan's "from a certain point of view" quote, and merged those ideas with the nomadic Speaker tribes from Castlevania. Something something, "good artists steal" hahaha. I'll also add: I'm telling the story in a serial style because I think there are a lot of ways that stories influence people. Some good, some bad, some completely irrational, and some critically necessary to human progress. I wanted a chance to showcase each of those, so the story doesn't stop at representing show hosts ;)

(also, in terms of the recording, very good catch!!! It's fascinating the way people will pick apart live debates and take things completely out of context in order to argue a point, hm? ;) but no spoilers hahaha)

Also my dear I hope you got some sleep, huh!!!!! I hope this answer will help you sleep better tonight <3 !!!

#ask Chel #so the saying goes #cosmicallyhorrifying-username #this felt like a story prompt so I published it #but let me know if you want me to delete this & send privately!#unfortunately i always have these Weird Big Dreams for my stories #so if you think you see a connection #you're probably right hahaha #and i always shout with glee when someone sees it!!!!#thank you for noticing!!!!!!!#am writing

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notmrskennedy · 3 years

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Bites and Bullet Holes

(Spencer Reid x Female leaning but sorta GN! Reader)

Summary: Spencer, during college, was bitten by a dog. Working a case involving dogs brings back old memories and friends...

W/C: 3,384

Warnings: Dog bites, bullet holes, bad writing?

A/N: Guess what I found y’all? I haven’t edited it one single bit but I hope it goes over well anyway. When I was working at the kennel I kept having anxiety over one of my kids getting into a fight so I made this. Be a little extra gentle with this one.

---

As he leaned over the victim, he made the mistake of thinking about you. Spencer thought he’d gotten over it. The whole randomly thinking about you thing—the thing that’s happened too many times before. He’d chalked it up to you being best friends 15 years ago. Told himself that it’s normal to miss your friends from college.

But over a dead body? This was new.

Though he supposes the dead girl could’ve looked like you in another timeline. There’s facial structure similarities—at least to you 15 years ago at 19. She’s been strangled with her dog’s leash and there’s some unspoken quality about her that just…jerks him into nostalgia over you.

(You are probably the one that got away, but if he’s being honest, you live in DC. He could go see you right now if he wanted to.)

Morgan leans over Spencer and points at the dog leash. “It had to be someone she knew if the dog went off with our un-sub.”

Spencer nods, fidgeting with the 15 year old scars on the inside of his wrist. Whether or not Morgan noticed, he thankfully doesn’t press. Spencer is having enough trouble stamping down that knee-jerk reaction to think about you, let alone if Derek thinks to point out the magical, ‘hey weren’t you bitten by a dog?’

Spencer doesn’t remember the incidence well enough to comment. He wonders if you do.

“We’ll have to check shelters for the dog,” Spencer remarks. “3.3 million dogs enter shelters every year in the US.”

Morgan nods, pulls off a glove, pulls out his phone. Spencer looks around the park. Behind the police tape are plenty of people walking their dogs. The sorts of breeds that you’ve gushed about 15 years ago. His brain knew too much about dobermans, shepherds, mallinois—he could even hear that pretty little gasp you had when you’d point out a particularly well trained monster of a pet.

Spencer wonders if you ever did anything with your finance degree, if you even ended up finishing college at all. You’d come close to dropping out over calculus—he hadn’t been around long enough to help you through the even harder stuff. This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted Garcia to look you up, but it was the first time he’d considered it.

“Music to my ears, mama,” Morgan laughs into the phone and Spencer tunes back in.

“I’ll get that puppy BOLO out,” Garcia chirps back. Spencer can imagine her wringing a fluffy pencils through her fingers. “We’re going to find this doggie and make sure that psycho didn’t get him too.”

Spencer smiles despite himself. Penelope would’ve liked you.

JJ sets coffee down in front of his stack of files. She smiles, gracefully sits down next to him. Spencer tries his best to ignore her insistence. Tries to ignore the ever prominent eye contact screaming ‘We’re going to talk about something uncomfortable!’

“So, Spence,” she says, pausing for his attention with a sip of her own coffee. He looks up for half a glance before going back to the files. He doesn’t know why, but he’s sure there’s something in this stack of work the first victim had brought home with her. They all knew the un-sub, he had to be somewhere.

“Spencer,” she says more insistently. He makes the mistake of looking up, of letting her place a hand on his. She gently turns the wrist over and pointedly glances towards the teeth marks. “Are you doing okay?”

He opens his mouth, but decides some things are better kept to himself. He thinks about saying that no, he wasn’t alright, that being plagued by thoughts of the first-love-of-his-life is haunting him more than the dog fight.

That he can see your face in each of these victims. In their dogs. In the places they died.

Dogs didn’t like him. They never did. The dog bite wasn’t the big deal out of the altercation.

JJ won’t understand, so he offers her a truthful smile and says, “I’m okay. Seriously. More than 4.5 million people are bitten by dogs each year. I’m not special.”

JJ nods. Spencer goes back to his files. He forgets to hide his lovesick agony. JJ forgets not to notice.

It’s 4AM and he knows he’s remembering it wrong. That the dog hadn’t been that big. That the teeth hadn’t really gotten him that bad. The bright red devil eyes and thousand yards of slobber were more than grossly incorrect.

He sits up in bed and forces himself to remember the parts that were real. How real you had been. Before and after.

Your car had broken down as you were leaving for work—already late—and you’d begged him for a ride. Promised calculus homework on your boss’s couch and only having to let the dogs out. No shit. No bleaching crates. No nothing. Just you, him, and some calculus homework.

He’d caved. Now, running his hands over his eyes, he laughs at how obvious he had to have been. A skinny little 19 year old pimple of a boy majorly crushing on the first person to pick him out of a crowd and decide they’d be friends. The first friend who’d forced him to a tailgate at a football game. The only person he’d do absolutely anything for.

And it was just like you promised. Your cute little nose wrinkle. Your horribly frustrated glares. Your over dramatic ‘I’m dropping out!’s every fifteen minutes. And it’d been great until you both heard a thunderous snap of a wooden fence and the wildest, most murderous howling he’d ever heard.

You’d both bolted for the door, scrambling to get through the gates into the back. There’d been a moment of calm. Another beat. Another. And…you both had stumbled around the corner to find the next door neighbour’s dog, broken chain, trying to kill one of the kennel’s dogs.

There had been no moment’s hesitation on Spencer’s part. He’d stupidly rushed forward, lodged his hand between the neighbour’s mutt and the sweetest dog he’d ever met. He’d yanked her free from the mutt’s jaws, only to find his own wrist dragging along the teeth.

(He realised later that he’d always had a propensity to run head first into danger. No calculations needed.)

There’d been two beats for the dog to process it’s chew toy was in Spencer’s arms. To process that Spencer made a better victim. That Spencer’s throat and limbs were softer and easier to tear. Thankfully, he’d scrambled back enough that when the dog launched, it didn’t catch flesh. It chomped on air. Less than three inches from him.

Fangs. Tightened lips. Black gums. Slobber.

The mutt could be equated to Stephen King’s The Sun Dog. Always hesitant to process his trauma, it’s the one book—gifted by you during a Halloween birthday for him—that sits untouched on his bookshelves. There’s too much of you in the inscription in the cover. Too much of that horrible mutt in the pages.

The next part of the night blurred in his memories. In his near perfect memory, it blurred. Trauma, right?

You’d screamed. You were in front of him. You had the dog’s chain in your hands. He was running. The dog was heavy in his arms. His arm stung. You were screaming. He should’ve gone back.

Five god-awful minutes later, you’d come into the house. Limping. Clutching onto your arm. You’d taken one look at Spencer running his wrist under the tap and forgotten about your own injuries. Despite the blood dripping off your arm. Or the quiet yelp every time you stretched. You’d barely taken ‘I’m fine, you’re the one bleeding’ as a reason to not bandage him up first.

The only thing that calmed down the dream every time he had it was the memory of holding your hand while you got stitches. How your face pinched with the pain. How you’d said, ‘next time, it’s your turn to take the bullet.’ How he’d smiled and promised.

Spencer watches the clock tick by and decides it’s too late to go back to sleep. Hotch’ll be up in an hour. No need to delay his start. Women were dying. Women you would’ve been friends with.

“Okay, crime-fighters, I found our connection,” Garcia chirps over the speaker phone. “All of our victims attended very specialised dog training courses at a facility just outside of DC. The owner said they’d send in one of their trainers to talk to you. Should be there anytime now.”

“What kind of specialised training?” Emily asks. Spencer feels like he should be contributing, should be processing any of this, but his head is pounding. He doesn’t have a hangover, but god does it feel like it.

Garcia hums as she types. “It’s a military facility. Awww, they’ve got puppy pictures on their website!”

“Garcia—“

“Right, right. It’s a top notch facility and oh! A bunch of the FBI dogs graduate from there. I wonder if they get little caps and gowns and—“

“Hey, baby girl, the trainer’s here. We gotta run,” Morgan interrupts, though he’s all smiles to stare at whomever is plaguing his interest.

There’s another squeal of please get puppy pictures before the call cuts and Spencer finally has the self preservation to look. And god does he look.

15 years has made no difference on your skin and he can’t believe he’s not staring at you from across a lecture hall. The only indication you’ve changed is the nervous smile you’ve plastered on and the dog at your side. Every fun fact about german shepherds instantly crosses his mind and he can’t help but drop his jaw a little further.

It sinks to the floor when you spot him and wave. You wave. At him. In front of coworkers.

He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself. That easy smile reserved for movie nights falls back into place on your lips. Twinkles in your eyes. 15 years haven’t passed. Maybe he needs to check for pimples again.

“Y/n,” he croaks and the same time his name leaves your lips. The dog at your side stands and you correct the gesture with a harsh word in what he’s sure is German.

“FBI, huh?” Your eyes trail over every inch of him, crossing your arms in a relaxed, familiar kind of way. “I expected more math, Mr. I Like Derivatives.”

“The shepherd there doesn’t look like finance either, y/n,” he teases back like no time has passed. Like he doesn’t immediately feel incredibly guilty for ditching you for the academy.

“Oh come on,” you huff, “you really think that I was cut out for an office job? I lasted six months.”

And before he can warn you, even think about warning you about the team that’s slowly creeping up behind him, they are all suddenly there. Very keen on knowing the ins and outs of how you know Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, you gonna introduce us?” Morgan smirks, clapping a painful hand on Spencer’s shoulder. You busy yourself with petting the dog at your hip, looking everywhere but Morgan’s insistent gaze.

“Guys, this is my friend y/n from college.”

JJ raises an eyebrow at the lack of explanation, but plows ahead with introductions. Takes charge of guiding you to an interview room. Gets through the entire interview without once asking about your relationship with him.

Morgan watches Spencer rubbing the scars and makes the leap. “You okay, kid?”

Spencer breaks from staring at your face as you talk about getting your start in Germany—Germany—and swallows. This was fine. It’s okay to tell his friend—his brother—about the story he’s never really talked about.

“I stupidly put myself in the middle of a dog fight,” Spencer grits out, flexing and un-flexing his fingers. Every scar burns and he can’t help but stare at your smile again. “Y/n saved my life. She choked out the dog, Morgan, before he got a hold of me. Left the hospital with 12 stitches.”

“Oh,” was his all too helpful response. They both turned back to the interview. How everything jovial about your entire countenance shifted once JJ started mentioning the victims.

“Look, Agent Jareau,” you say, leaning dangerously far away from the conversation, “They are—they were really smart women with some dangerous dogs. I don’t know—I just—there’s a lot of sickos out there.”

Every profiler within a 20 mile radius can hear the change in tone, can hear the fear. Spencer knows a lot can change in 15 years, but he thought for sure you’d never become a serial killer. He doesn’t know if it’s all his years in the bureau or if he’s still too attached to you, but you don’t seem like the killer. Not like JJ seems to think so. Sure, you’re terrified, but the dog you have is nosing your arm. Giving you big ole puppy eyes. Spencer doesn’t think a serial killer can pour that much into a relationship with an animal.

“What do you mean?” JJ clocks the movement and switches to a maternal type of body language, tone. “Is there something going on?”

Your hand pauses on the dog’s head, and it noses your hand into action. “I, uh, just got a weird letter two weeks ago. It wasn’t—it was just weird. Off-putting.”

“Right before the first victim,” Spencer mutters. Weird letters indicated stalking. Victims with you as a central point meant stalking. Stalking meant you were probably next. Oh, god, you were next.

JJ stretched a hand across the table and took yours. “You’ll get through this. You’ll get through this, y/n.”

Spencer didn’t know what to do with his hands. It was so much worse than normal. Should he stand? But what should he do with his hands because crossing them seemed too defensive? Or should he just sit down? But where? And was that rude?

Instead, he just took the cup of tea you offered and followed you like a lost puppy. Granted, it was your house and he was definitely lost. He also felt vaguely at home—there were a decent amount of bookshelves by his standards and even more mismatched furniture than he had. The house was well cared for and when you sat him down on your couch, you swept away a stack of training manuals, all sporting worn covers.

Was it wrong to feel like he was settling onto your old apartment couch for movie nights?

You puff out a breath of air and lean your head dramatically into the back of the couch. “So, since you’re my FBI escort, is it wrong to ask if you still like cheesy 90s movies?”

He shakes his head. Grins. “You still have Legally Blonde?”

You just giggle as you head for a stack of movies. You strike up some conversation as you rummage and he knows he’s hooked all over again. It’s going to take weeks to get over you again. It’d taken months the last time, and he feels slightly less attached this time. But did he really think it would take more than a simple question about the latest thing he’s read? He wishes he knew you better, just as well as you seem to still know him.

Though by the end of the movie, you’ve both returned to your college days. Practically curled into each other’s side. You still have horrible commentary about the movie, peppered in with Spencer’s annoying movie trivia. If it was anyone else, he figures, he would’ve been kicked out long ago.

You still distinctly smell of vanilla, flailing the scent around as you move closer and further and closer again. You wear enthusiasm with your whole body and if you aren’t turning rapidly between facing Spencer and the movie, how could you possibly begin to explain correctly?

Your shoulder keeps a constant pressure against his, your knees half over his thigh. There’s too many instances of hollering and laughing that you grab onto his knee to steady yourself. If this hadn’t been a protective detail, he might’ve lost his mind.

Thank god for focus. Work. Work. Work. Not your hands on his knee. Definitely not your smile as you declare your affection for scented resume stationary. Totally not how hot it’s getting under your too affectionate gaze.

“Spence, I really missed this,” you whisper, nudging your shoulder with his. “I know it’s weird to be thrown together after 15 years, but I—I missed you.”

“I—“ missed you too; fell in love with you in college; think I love you now.

But there’s no time for heartfelt declarations when someone’s incessantly banging on the door. Spencer’s got half a mind to get the door for you, holster his gun, focus on keeping you safe. The banging doesn’t soften as he calls out that he’s on his way. If anything it gets worse.

And it should’ve been the first red flag of the night.

Spencer opens the door and thinks very loudly, “why the fuck do I always run headfirst into danger?”

Their un-sub, a buzzcut that looks more Army that not, shakes a pistol at Spencer and demands to be let inside. There’s only so many ways to defuse the situation, so he back ups, tucks you behind him. Their un-sub winds a little tighter, shaking like one of those monkeys with cymbals.

“McLaggen?” you whimper behind Spencer and the Army man fires a shot into the floor. You grip tighter onto Spencer’s shirt, digging in your fingers dangerously close to his skin.

The buzzcut is red, boiling over with rage, words bubbling out of his throat. “Y/n, I just can’t stand to see you with them. You never notice me. You’re always working, so I thought I’d get your attention. Cut the competition. I just—you mean so much to me, y/n. You mean too much.”

Spencer is sure he won’t remember this day accurately as he pushes you just a little further behind him. He’s about to do something so incredibly stupid. Dear lord, why the fuck is he like this? And he lunges.

The gun’s trapped in both of their hands. There’s one more bullet fired—at the ground he’s sure. There’s a squeak of fear. Just enough of a distraction. One more ounce of weight thrown around. One more lasting punch. McLaggen lands on the floor. The gun skitters away. McLaggen groans as he’s handcuffed.

You gasp and he realises immediately that he’s bleeding. That he’s on the floor. That there is a bullet lodged in his thigh. Again.

One string of swears later, you’re on the phone with 911. Yes, he’s shot. Yes, there’s another in handcuffs. No, I’m not a whore, send the damn ambulance.

You take his hand as he lays there, much like he did in the hospital 15 years ago. Unlike then, you’ve got tears pricking at your eyes. You’re sniffling like a school girl, and he’s not sure if you’ve said that aloud.

“Spencer!” You wipe a stray tear. Squeeze his hand too tightly. “Why the hell, you freakin’ moron, did you take a bullet for me?”

He laughs, bubbling up out of his chest before he can stop it. You are too pretty to be this upset at his laughter. You are too lovely to be worried about him. To still be worried, like nothing has changed one bit.

Every inch of him is trembling. Blood loss and bullets are bitches.

“Y/n,” he wheezes through dry lungs and more leg pain than he remembers there being, “I promised.”

You blink your eyes. What the hell are you talking about, Spencer Reid, you absolute idiot?

“I promised I’d take the next bullet. In the hospital.” He grins, groans as he moves to drag you into a hug. “I’m a man of my word, y/n, and I promise that if I keep the leg, we’re going out. Properly.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you grumble into his ear and squeeze his neck tighter. If the paramedics don’t bother to pull you off, who’s to say you won’t stay like that forever? Attached to the loveable, danger prone idiot, who traded dog bites for bullet holes?

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #reid x y/n #please i beg of you be gentle

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doctorofmagic · 3 years

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What I found as I reread v4...

So, I finally gathered the energy to reread my, your, our beloved Doctor Strange v4, the same volume that I recommend to every new reader, that’s right.

And I insist: it’s one of the best Doctor Strange stories of all times. It’s a masterpiece. I really need to get this off my chest (and I’ll probably write a huuuuuuuuuuuge review at some point because, ugh, it’s so good?).

But for now I’m going to point out some details that I noticed after 5 years (that’s right, 5 years).

Note: Those details can be found in Doctor Strange v5 #1-10 (2015) by Jason Aaron and Chris Bachalo. Check out the reading guide on the pinned post in case you haven’t read it yet.

1. He can’t cook but the reason is sadder than I first assumed

I thought he couldn’t cook because he was merely a himbo. I was wrong. He probably can’t even hold a knife without getting injured or something...

2. Nightmares and precarious health conditions

The reason why Stephen has odd habits is probably because he can’t sleep properly. That’s why he’s always tired and hates mornings. He’s also under constant pain because of his health conditions. He pukes A LOT all the time in v4, even though Wong and his order take care of the cost.

3. Wanda vs. Stephen? Please.

Plus this is one more panel starring Magik and Wanda. They’re ~FRIENDS~, connected by magic. Fuck House of M. Also fuck everyone else who foments any enmity among the three of them (this includes MCU fans who keep hating on Stephen). I’m done with this.

4. One more hint about different types of magic

What can I say? I stand corrected.

5. He’s willing to die - but there’s a catch

Stephen doesn’t mind sacrificing his own life in order to save the world. But he also ~wants~ to die because he’s been hurting for SO long. Magic is quite painful in v4. He keeps saying his life is miserable. He keeps saying the pain in his organs is excruciating. However, here lies the dilemma: he’s the Sorcerer Supreme. He cannot retire and he cannot pass this burden down to an apprentice. No one deserves such pain. Maybe only Stephen does. So he endures it, hoping that death will take him soon enough, finally easing the pain. (I’m not crying haha who said that?)

6. He took archery classes with Hawkeye

And he sucks lmao

7. The beard

When Empirikul first strikes, Stephen is wearing his usual moustache in issue #7. The next issue, we see a Stephen who needs shaving. In issue #9, after a few days on the run, he displays a full beard and keeps it for the rest of the whole run.

8. Not his daughter!

V4 is awesome when it comes to exploring Stephen’s relationship with Zelma and Wong, but so little is shown about the other sorcerers. One thing that I know for sure is, Chris Bachalo loves Illyana as much as he loves Stephen (after all, he was also the penciler for Uncanny X-Men, the very volume in which Illyana becomes Stephen’s daughter apprentice). I don’t know how familiar Aaron is with the other sorcerers except for Stephen. Whether or not this panel was Bachalo’s idea, I simply adore this. The Empirikul chooses Illyana as their first victim to be burned. And Stephen would certainly react this way to anyone else in her shoes. However, it’s special, isn’t it? Because Illyana is dear to him. More than any other magic being. Because she was the only apprentice who stayed and survived. Who didn’t end up hurt by his actions. She’s a tough girl but, more than that, she’s the only bond that survived the experience. He cares about her very much. If anything happened to Illyana, he would never ever forgive himself. He already blamed himself for Empirikul and Monako’s death. But Magik? Nope. He couldn’t bear it.

9. Is this depression?

This topic here... I’ll just leave it for my very detailed and passionate review.

Until there... See ya!

#doctor strange #stephen strange #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #illyana rasputin #magik #jericho drumm #doctor voodoo #monako #wong #mr misery #jason aaron #chris bachalo #doctor strange v4 #v4 #marvel comics

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dollfaceeeeee · 3 years

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How the Avengers would react if you flinched when they tried to touch you..😭

I have been dealing with the aftermath of domestic violence for a couple years now, and with intense PTSD and panic disorder, this was so calming to think about tbh.

Tony Stark: Oh gods, he would notice, with immense distaste. He would probably hesitate to touch you afterward, but he would be gentle about talking to you about it, and would reassure you over and over that you’re safe, and that nobody will ever hurt you again. He may also ask for addresses and names, just because he’s..well, he’s Tony. He’s got the power to do crazy shit. And if he cares about you, can you imagine what he would do to someone that hurt you? My sweet man.

Steve Rogers: He would be horrified that you would ever think he would hurt you. He would probably tell anyone else in the room to get lost and sit you down and just hold you, telling you that you’re safe with him always, that nobody will ever hurt you again. He wouldn’t push you to talk about it, but if you wanted to, he would listen. He’s not one to reveal his anger as easily as Tony or Buck, but it would break his heart to hear about it, that’s for sure. He would leave the killing to Bucky and Loki tbh, but he might join in too. Maybe.

Bucky Barnes: He might be hurt, physically, that you would think he would hurt you, but he wouldn’t be surprised at the action. He was a scary guy, at one point or another, but he would gently pull you in against him and squeeze you so tight you couldn’t breathe, maybe even sway with you for a while until you felt better. And then, he’d blow up, ask who the fucker is, where they are, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He would be on a death mission with only one thing in mind, and that’s keeping you safe. That’s all he cares about.

Thor: Honestly, he might not catch on at first, because he probably doesn’t see domestic violence as much at home, but after you explain it to him or get emotional, he would want to understand what he did wrong. He doesn’t seem like the type to push you, but he does seem like the type to go in to hold you, maybe run his fingers down your back, and just kinda curl himself around you protectively. He would probably bring you to get food too, and maybe ice cream to cheer you up.

Loki: OKAY so the tough one. On one hand, he may understand why you might flinch around him, but boy would he explode once you told him it wasn’t from him, but from..someone else. Holy shit he would be a time bomb. Who is it? Where are they? Do they have a DEATH WISH? He would slide those daggers out like nothing and call Bucky to assist him. He’s out for fucking blood. He would probably leave Thor to babysit you in the meantime lol.

Bruce Banner: Soft boy would be HORRIFIED. He would get it because the green guy can scare people sometimes, but of him? Oh no. He would bring you somewhere quiet and make you a cup of tea and just kinda talk to you gently about it, rubbing your shoulder when it gets tough. He’d probably also put a movie on afterward and just hold you, just to remind you that you’re safe with him. He’s definitely a snuggler.

Natasha Romanoff: She would be joining Bucky and Loki. Someone HURT YOU? Death, on the spot. Of course she would want to understand what happened and if you’re alright, and she would probably just talk to you one on one if you needed it, but she would give you her full attention. And then afterward, she would be joining those boys on a death mission. Those three, as a group, with Wanda too? And CAROL? I mean, RIP whoever decided to lay a hand on you.

Clint Barton: Oh he would be HARDCORE concerned. What do you mean you’re gonna flinch when he raises his arm? Why? He would bring you in the kitchen and force you to talk to him about whatever the hell that was while he makes you a grilled cheese. I mean, what kinda sick fuck hurts someone like that for no singular reason? He’s such a dad, but he’s got your back, always.

Wanda Maximoff: I’d tell her literally all my deepest secrets. She would never take anything personally, but she would be upset that someone blatantly hurt you. Why would they hurt this small, ordinary human? Absolutely not alright. She would hold you for however long you wanted and then make you some good food for dinner while she made you laugh. When you went to bed, though..like I said, she would be joining the death party. Sorry.

Pietro Maximoff: PIEEEEEETRO. He would be so confused, and unsure of what to do, but he would probably blatantly ask you if you wanted the person to die like it’s a normal question, like “hey what’s for dinner?” Yeah, like that. He would make a big blanket fort with snacks and soft blankets and hold you until you fell asleep, and wouldn’t sleep a wink, keeping watch over you the entire night. He’s ✨soft✨.

Vision: He would try so hard to understand what the fuck is going on, but his mind would have a hard time processing why the fuck some idiot would ever hurt you. Why? For what purpose? Even after explaining it, he would probably just be infuriated, no matter what you say. How could they do this to you? Those assholes. He would probably offer a hug, or something to eat to make you feel better, but he would be plotting their demise. Guaranteed.

Carol Danvers: She would start a full out war, given the circumstances. How dare some scummy human being hurt you? She would show them, and make it the worst day of their lives. No matter how much you tried to calm her down, she would be out for blood. No way this woman would NOT be are you KIDDING? She’s too spicy for that.

Sam Wilson: He would also be another one I would tell literally anything to. He would be incredulous that you would ever think he would hurt you, but man would he pay attention when you told him. All that man would do is pull you into his arms, hug you as tightly as he can, and tell you everything is alright now, he would never let them hurt you again, and that he loves you. Sammy just seems like a guy that would tell you he loves you during something traumatic like that.

Doctor Stephen Strange: Another one that wouldn’t quite know how to react. He would probably be confused, at first, and then deeply concerned for you once he caught on, and would probably ask to speak to you about it whenever you were ready. He would probably mention that you can come by later to his room to talk about it when everyone else is asleep so it’s a calmer atmosphere, and would probably rub your shoulder as he passes you, but that’s it. And that’s enough.

Peter Parker: My devastated little bean. He would be WILDLY apologetic, thinking he did something wrong, and just saying he’s sorry over and over and wondering what he did wrong and how to fix it, but then when you explain, he wouldn’t be so..apologetic. Peter would probably order a pizza and pull you onto the couch with him and let you choose a movie, and just let you curl in against him. He would probably fall asleep with you, too, while Tony has to pay for the damn pizza.

T’Challa: Um..tbh I feel like he would be furious, in a plainly way to put it. That guy has venom in his eyes every time he’s on screen, and this wouldn’t make him feel any better. Of course he would move to comfort you first, but that man is a whole king. You think he wouldn’t do something about it? Say goodbye to whoever hurt you. He would take them off the map.

Scott Lang: He would probably joke about it at first and think you’re just messing around, but he would be absolutely devastated when you get upset over it. He would be HORRIFIED that he upset you, and would probably try desperately to talk to you about it, or try to make you feel better. He would probably end up getting knocked out by Sam or Bucky, but he would welcome it after that lol.

Valkyrie: She would not probably comment on it until you guys were alone, because she might think it’s a private matter for you and she would respect your boundaries, but if you got seriously upset on the spot she would probably pull you into a hug and yell for everyone to get the fuck out. She wouldn’t make you talk about it, but she would know when you needed to be alone, so she would make sure you got the time you needed. If you needed her afterward, she would be there.

Groot: I AM GROOT. That is all.

Rocket: A lot like Antman and Thor, he would probably joke about it or think you weren’t being serious at first, but after you were, man he would be upset for you. He would probably comfort you by telling you jokes to get you to laugh, or something, but in his mind he would probably be plotting the end of a pitiful human being far away.

Gamora: She wouldn’t let that shit go, no sir. She wouldn’t pester you, but man she would want to know what the hell that was about, and what stupid, God forsaken bastard decided that you were a punching bag. Not on her watch. Be prepared to tell her, because she won’t let anything like that go. I don’t make the rules.

Peter Quill: Idk if he really knows how to be serious at..serious times..maybe? Anyway, he would make sure to never move that sharply around you again, and wouldn’t say anything about it unless you wanted to talk to him about it. He might ask the others what was going on with you, but he’s not the type to show that he cares about a lot of shit. Sorry, Quill.

James Rhodes: He is such a dad lol. He would be taken back by the action, don’t get me wrong, but he also wouldn’t be one to let it go. Who is it? What happened? He might not be aggressive about it like the others, but he would want to know that they are long gone now, and he would remind you that you’re safe.

Nebula: Ah shit, what did she do wrong now? That’s it. Haha.

Baron Zemo: Who the fuck was it? Who the FUCK hurt you? Oh no, Zemo would be out for blood. He wouldn’t need a team, or partners in the quest, nah, he would be going alone and would scare that bastard in their beds in the night. DING DONG, it’s the boogeyman, I’m here to end you for your bullshit choices.

Hope van Dyne: This badass Queen would not back down from asking you about what was wrong. Did someone in the compound hurt you? Did she have to kill them? But when you tell her, she would be horrified for you, and offer to hurt the person that hurt you. An eye for an eye, right? Up to you.

Drax: Do they need to die? He would do it for you. No charge.

Mantis: She would read you like an open book the second you flinched, so don’t try to deny it, or say that it was just a reflex. She would probably have a detox night and make nachos with you and throw on some comedy movie she heard about from Rocket. She wouldn’t let you hurt on your own. She would be there.

Wong: UGH what a GUY. He would probably make you some soup because it’s the ultimate comfort food and talk about it together. He wouldn’t get agitated, or force you to open up too much, but he would offer his company and his attention as long as you wanted it.

Okoye: She would probably be with T’Challa tbh. Sorry. She would be out for some tucking vengeance.

Shuri: She would be the one to bring you along with her somewhere private, wrap you in a blanket, and hold your hand as she urged you to tell her what the hell that was. She would be one of the best at comforting, and afterward she would show you around her collection of inventions to make you forget about that stupid, repulsive human being.

Pepper Potts: Someone..HURT YOU? Oh no. She would go right to Tony with it and demand that the two of them do something to avenge you. There is absolutely no way that she would let that slide. She would also make you your favorite food, some warm cookies, and get a bath going for you to help soothe you.

Korg: Dude is made of rocks. ROCKS. You expect him to understand what the fuck is going on? He would probably get a video game going to let you release some anger and ask Thor for help in the meantime.

#avengers #avengers endgame #the avengers #marvel #marvel studios #avengers cast

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professional-benaddict · 3 years

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Could you do like a brain damaged Little Peter, and his daddies have to help him with a lot more than a regular little? And it starts off as him like waking up for the fist time after an accident and being scarred that he can’t talk right or something? Like forgot how to walk? Idk 😂💞

hiya sweets!💗 the story took a bit of a turn and ended up a bit different sksk i hope you still like it🥺🌸

Daddies Stephen and Tony, +18 Little Peter, Littles are Known, car accident, major injury, brain injury, angst, arguments, whump, comfort, happy ending

They should have checked. If only the daycare workers had checked that everyone had their helmets on before they headed out on the biking trip. Tony feels his heart rate pick up in his chest once again at the thought. The ups and downs have been a constant ever since the accident. Just when Tony manages to relax and maybe fall asleep, his body and mind wakes him with new worries and terrible images.

The doctors are hopeful. Peter got help quickly, and they managed to stop the swelling in his brain before he reached critical condition. But, the boy hasn’t woken up, and it has been over a week. That’s over a week that Tony and Stephen haven’t slept. And it is really starting to tear at them.

At least Peter looks comfortable and peaceful in his hospital bed, carefully and closely monitored and supported by machines. The nurses turned him onto his side in the morning, and the boy’s curls are spread out on his pillow. The bandage around his head is a constant reminder of the terribel damage to Peter’s precious brain. Luckily, the boy is breathing himself, but his cognitive abilities might have been damaged. Permanently. Meaning no speaking, and perhaps not even voluntary movement.

The medical staff have been understanding, and have kept their promise of keeping them up to date on Peter’s condition. But, even they do not have all the answers.

“Babe.” Stephen says hoarsly. His voice is too weak to catch Tony’s attention. The exhausted doctor tries once more. He actually has to think to speak louder. “Babe. Do you want to come with me to the canteen? Get some coffee?”

“No- no, I’d rather be with him. He must be so scared.” Tony says, not looking away from Peter.

Stephen doesn’t want to be the pessimist, but he is itching to point out that Peter might not wake up. And even if he does, he might not even have the capacity to be scared. And not recognise his Daddies, and not call their names...

“Tony...”

“Don’t.”

Tony’s voice is sharp, like a stab in Stephen’s gut. The man looks away, biting his lip. He can feel Tony’s angry gaze on his back.

“Don’t you dare.”

Stephen breathes shakily, trying desperately to keep himself together.

“I didn’t-”

“I know exactly what you were gonna say. Don’t you fucking dare. It has just been ten days, he is still breathing by himself. I think that’s a fucking miracle.”

“A miracle?!” Stephen cannot help but scoff. His emotions are taking over, and whatever control he usually has, is thrown out the window thanks to his exhaustion. If he cannot have the relief of Peter waking up to his usual self, then at least he can have the satisfaction of getting angry at his partner. And it looks like Tony needs that satisfaction as well, and rises from Peter’s bed.

“What if that’s all he can ever do? Breathe and sleep? That’s no miracle! That’s- that’s...”

“Don’t you dare! I’m telling you, Stephen! Don’t you say our sweetheart baby is- is-”

The word hangs heavy in the air, unspoken but crushingly present in the room. For a moment, Stephen and Tony see beyond the rage in each others’ eyes, and they remember. They temember the two of them, their love. Their shared love for their precious baby.

“Tony...” This time, Stephen’s voice is broken. He just about crumbles in front of Tony, and covers his face with his hands. Without hesitation, Tony embraces his partner, hugging him tight.

“I know- I know...” Tony replies, sounding just as broken.

As an act of truce, Stephen and Tony collect themselves and head down to the canteen for the watered down coffee they sell there. The warm drinks brings little to no comfort. The only comfort they have is each other, and so Stephen and Tony hold hands as they sit and look out the window blankly.

The Daddies are so exhausted and run down that they hardly pay attention to the people passing by, not even when a pair of hurried footsteps seem to stop right by them.

“Mister Stark and Doctor Strange?”

The Daddies lift their gazes blarily, spotting a nurse by their table. She looks familiar, although they cannot remember her name. And, she looks hopeful...

“Wha-”

“Peter-”

“Peter is asking for you.” The nurse informs with a warm smile and nod.

“He asked?!”

“For- for us?”

“He asked for ice cream too, but I think he wants you guys more.” The nurse chuckles lightly.

Stephen and Tony spring up in an instant, and break out into a run. They are in a hurry to see their baby.

#my prompts #little!peter #daddy!tony #daddy!stephen #starker #starkerstrange #ironspider #ironstrange #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark x stephen strange #peter parker x stephen strange #peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 11

CLICK HERE IF YOU ARE A FIRST TIME READER

TW for this chapter: more mild smut. more memes. more hijinks and shenanigans. coffee make the brain go skrrrt. bruce fluff & thor being a good bro™. some1 is catching ✨feelings✨. Previous chapters in the link above the cover pic.

Beta reader is @miscmarvelwritings so don't be shy, give her a read. She's the PB to my jelly.

"I don't know about you..." Taylor Swift softly sang from the speakers.

"Bitch, I hope the fuck you do!" I shouted, tumbling into the kitchen with the grace of a giraffe on acid. The smell of coffee and fresh omelettes was mouthwatering.

"You look… Good," Peter stared at me, his coffee mug frozen halfway to his mouth. The tone of his voice bore very little understanding of the situation he found himself in.

I didn't sleep that night, instead pursuing a scientific quest right after being finger-fucked by Tony Stark. I blame the suits - he had one partially disassembled not ten feet from the puddle my juices had made on the floor - and well, I never said I had a great attention span. One terrible, inappropriate joke had led us to smirking to each other from both sides of the suit as we brainstormed how to best modify it for impromptu bondage sessions. If Peter could have heard us go at it, he'd never set foot in Tony's lab ever again.

On my mighty quest to quench the thirst for knowledge, I completely neglected basic hygiene, so the me that rolled into the kitchen that morning still had yesterday's outfit consisting of fishnets and Tony's hoodie, possibly stained with cum and pussy juice. As a bonus feature, infamous raccoon eyes had made an appearance, courtesy of me rubbing my face multiple times throughout the night.

"I'm feeling my oats," I declared proudly, sitting down next to Peter, making grabby hands at the coffee machine.

"I'm tempted to ask..." Clint handed me the steaming hot dish full of holy bean juice. "But I think I'd rather not." Pointedly, he moved away from me, just enough to make it known he was wary.

"What just happened?" Stephen Strange blinked owlishly.

Boy was he a sight for sore eyes. The wizard wasn't Tony, of course, but his plain white tee left very little to imagination, pulled tight across his toned chest and lean arms. The grey sweats? Illegal. That's a bonk and a ticket to the horny jail for me.

"You didn't get to sleep? Again?" Peter asked, exasperated.

"Sleep who?" I chirped, feeling way too energetic for someone running on some illegal drugs and a single orgasm. It was easy to shrug off the concerned stares I kept getting from the adults and Pete since my already wacky attention span decided to quit it's job without notice.

"Guys, have you seen… oh, there she is!" Tony scrambled into the kitchen, holding his head. That manic look did nothing for his complexion, but then again, I'd take him even filthy and crippled. "Don't just disappear like that!" He snatched the half-empty coffee cup, downing it's remnants in one go and immediately going for a refill. "We didn't finish programming in the shibari function..." He mumbled, absentmindedly running a hand through his messy, greasy hair.

"I..." Peter was still frozen. "I'm not sure I, uh, follow."

"So, me and Tones had this absolutely BRILLIANT idea ..." I started, leaning back in my chair. "But the execution, as usual, needs more work."

"Yes, I can see you've been having ideas," Pete's sass was ignored by both me and Tony. The man was kind enough to clumsily plop a coffee cup in front of me as he was beelining for the fridge. "What are you trying to install? Shib-what?"

"You don't want to know, Pete, trust me," Clint made big eyes at me from across the room. "I'm scared of you," He added, pointing an accusative finger in my direction.

I gave him my best manic stare, probably overdid it by a wide margin. Barton shrunk back, slinking subtly behind Stephen who cleared his throat.

"So I've heard you had an incident yesterday," The doctor was looking at me with concern and pity. "Do you need to visit the medbay?"

About a dozen unsaid and very inappropriate responses later, I simply shook my head negative. My mouth was not to be trusted whilst I was so distracted. Plus, he was hot. I kind of tended to think with my vagina instead of my brain around hot people.

"Good morning," Wanda entered the room, stopping briefly at my side to give me a hug. "Ugh, finally," She muttered the words, looking first at me, then at Tony.

I raised my eyebrow in a silent question and she just smiled, reaching for her own coffee cup.

Tony mercilessly towed me back to his lab once I polished off two omelettes and another cup of coffee - what would've been my fourth was snatched out by an amused Stephen, all stern and firm and magical, meaning he simply whooshed it out of existence as I was raising it to my mouth. He didn't appreciate my choice of expletives, either, none too fondly rolling his eyes and beginning a lecture on heart attacks. Whatever, Tony was my knight in shining armour and we left the kitchen quietly plotting our mechanical plots right over the annoying doctor's mumbling.

There was quite a lot of delicate soldering involved in the gauntlets of the new suit. Having to construct and fix everything on the go proved to be harder than building a robot; even for Tony, the genius engineer himself. We had burned ourselves and nearly dislocated our wrists too many times to count. Thankfully Friday ran the calculations in the background, so we just did the manual labor part.

And coding. The pounding in my skull, the acid in my loins. My God, I hated coding during a hangover. Tony didn't fare any better and that was the best consolation, really. Despite the consumed caffeine, he passed out somewhere during the initial stage. I held out not much longer, barely catching myself as I was reclining against him on the very floor we were building on, scattered cups and tools and glowing holo-screens keeping us company.

My sleep was deep but not deep enough to miss a pair of deep male voices contemplating how to best move mine and Tony's sleeping bodies somewhere more comfortable. The engineer was a cuddler, it turns out, and refused to unwind himself from my prone body, going as far as to kick one of the men - I later learned it was Thor who got a swift punt in the shins from Tony when the Asgardian and Banner attempted to untangle our combined limbs. In the end, they settled awkwardly piling me on top of Tony and Thor single-handedly carried us all the way to Tony's penthouse, depositing us in the absolutely magnificent fluffy, enormous bed.

The bed? I wanted one as soon as I landed on it.

The fishnets? They were beginning to cut into the soft parts of my body, causing an uncomfortable stinging and itching sensation whenever I moved.

"Bwucie," I slurred with my eyes shut, feeling the man rustling around with a blanket, tucking us in. He was just the sweetest scientist.

"Sorry, we tried not to wake you up. Go back to sleep, Princess," He whispered, leaning closer to my face. His breath tickled my hair.

"M'kay, jus' wanna get these off," I weakly pulled at the offending piece of clothing.

The man chuckled. "That looks uncomfortable," Before softly sliding his hands up my legs, hooking his fingers under the stretchy waistband and pulling them down. His hands were hot and soft; my moan was softer but he heard it nonetheless, hand briefly stilling on my thigh.

I snuggled deeper into Tony, rolling onto my side and unashamedly throwing a leg over his hips, happy to find his jeans were off, too.

It appeared that Tony's teammates had already developed some sort of care protocol for their resident mad scientists. Bruce's and Thor's actions had been executed with a practiced care and gentleness. The warm fuzzy feeling in my chest blossomed fully as Bruce once more tucked the blanket around me, tenderly patting me on the back and Tony on the shoulder.

"You'nThor, y'the best," I managed to wiggle out the words out of my muddled, uncooperative brain before returning back to the dreamland.

It felt like another ten minute nap when I woke up again. The lights in the room were off, the NYC skyline providing the illumination instead. Tony was still in bed with me, his breathing even and the quiet hum of the arc reactor steady under my ear. It was the first time I'd been close enough to him to hear the sound of it.

Sleep slowly seeped out of my body, lead disappearing from my limbs. It seemed like I hadn't moved at all. Once my head cleared up, the confusion seeped in. I'd gone to second base with Tony and we did science and never spoke of it again. He didn't kiss me, didn't touch me more than usual - but didn't resist a good ole sleepy cuddle.

What now? I never thought I'd actually get this far. Some part of me - probably the same part that sent me on a romantic novel reading spree a couple of years ago - thought he'd wake up, confess his secret love and attraction for me and we'd seal it with a kiss. Yeah, no, that sounded disgustingly unrealistic even to my own ears. There was no way I would be kissing someone with this swamp I had going on in my mouth.

I wasn't actually that naïve. Why would a man like him pursue something serious with a girl like me? I was a child in his eyes. In fact, all of the Avengers minus Wanda and Bucky treated me like a child. I knew why and I still hated it. I've been taking care of myself in all the ways but financial for years, surely, they had to have noticed that. Teachers in school certainly did. Bruce did, to some extent, I had to admit begrudgingly. Even if his behaviour was really peculiar sometimes.

"Do I make a comfortable pillow, Princess?" A chuckle startled me out of my musings. Tony sounded relaxed and warm and cosy.

"Yeah," I answered honestly, tilting to see his face. He was giving me that lopsided smirk, the one he previously saved for science and Peter and Clint's baking ventures. Something within me stirred, painfully tightening my chest, and I fought against it to preserve this memory like this - happy, carefree.

His thumb found it's way around me, tracing the line of my jaw with surprising tenderness. He was looking at me like I was made of glass. Like I was the most beautiful sculpture he'd ever seen.

I scrunched my nose when his finger found my lips. "I need a shower and a toothbrush," I declared, not knowing what else to do. All of this - the atmosphere, the shared comfort, the looks - it felt too intimate somehow. Having to be on full display of his intelligent, deep brown eyes was terrifying: I felt like crying one moment and laughing the next.

"I was having a moment here," Tony snorted indignantly but relented nonetheless, slowly pushing himself up in a sitting position.

I admired his broad shoulders and the dips and valleys of his arms as he stretched; he caught me staring and winked, of course. I retaliated with skimming my fingertips under the hem of his tee, lightly scratching my nails over his defined abs, delighted with his shiver.

"Behave," He sternly mouthed, following with a smile.

"Never," I smiled back, slipping into banter with comfortable familiarity.

He then led me to the huge walk-in shower, unashamedly stripping off his shirt and socks on the way. Boxers were the last, flying somewhere over my head. My hormones were a raging inferno, or, at least that's what I would have said if someone asked me why the 'loading' icon was hanging over my head as I stared at Tony's round, firm ass. I had to touch it. I absolutely had to touch it, at least once in my life.

My dignity was saved by my own yawn. Tony's hands used the opportunity to slide his hoodie (RIP) over my head, exposing me to the cold air. I shivered in my lacy bra and panties until they were gone, too. My flaws stared back at me from the wall-length mirror and with the way Tony's hands gently settled over my stomach, another hand copping a feel of my breast, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Beautiful, Princess," He simply said, having noticed the frown on my face.

"No, you," I automatically replied, smirking.

"Me? Nah," He shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing to his arc reactor. "Sexy, however... I'm definitely fucking hot," He leered, pressing his hips into mine with a knowing smirk.

I wiggled my butt, taking my time to turn around and face him. I saw right through the defenses he'd put up. The team didn't start calling me "girl version of Tony" without a reason - I knew we were quite similar in the less desirable character trait category. Impulsive, selfish. Defensive.

Angry red lines spanned across his chest, some faded, some raised. In the middle of it all, the arc reactor shone like a blue little sun in its metal framing. I traced around it, feeling the uneven skin, bumps and dips of it. "It keeps you alive. That's more than enough. For me," I placed a chaste kiss right in the middle of it.

I wished he didn't have to have the thing. I wished he'd never had to go through what he went though in Afghanistan - for me, the press release I'd read was enough to get a grasp on the fact he was tortured and hurt and fucked up in there.

Stepping into the shower, I retreated from him, retreated from my feelings getting in the way and ruining the fun. The least I wanted to do was humiliate myself by crying out of... Out of what, pity? Lovesickness?

"I'm starting to see why everybody else thinks we might be related," Tony's chuckle sounded tired and slightly forced.

"I hope not," A moment to figure out what knob to turn and hot water rained down my body. Almost instantly, the tension in me melted away. "I'm not really into incest and shit."

"Ew," He walked under the stream, sighing agreeably. "But you're into bondage, so you've got that going on for you."

"Yep. Bondage and hot old dudes," I shrugged, reaching for the shampoo.

"I definitely qualify for all three," Tony promptly snatched the bottle out of my hands, standing behind me to do the tedious task of washing me. I allowed, guiltlessly enjoying the treatment. His dexterous fingers massaged my scalp, caressed my body.

A moan slipped out of me at the glide of his hand across my nether regions.

"Tut-tut, Birdbrain is going to pitch a fit if we're late for dinner!"

"Fuck the Chicken," I announced petulantly, attempting to follow the motion of his hand with my hips. He held me firmly by my stomach, only succeeding in adding fuel to the fire within me. "Tony-y-y..."

"Nu-uh," He replied, but the smile hidden in my shoulder and the boner poking me in the hip gave him away.

"Sir?" I tried, getting a low groan in response. "Master? Owner? Daddy?"

His breath stuttered at the last syllable, teeth closing none-too-gently around a patch of my skin. I felt a bruise bloom under his mouth, the delicious pull of it making me realize I'd be marked by Tony for days. A full-body shudder erupted from me at the thought.

"You're trouble," He growled, grinding his own arousal into my ass. "Filthy, spoiled brat," Tony punctuated his words with another claiming bite on my shoulder blade.

"I'm your trouble now," I smirked, relishing in all the attention my body was getting. The fingers that granted me sweet ecstasy at night a fresh memory in my mind, I relented my own urgent need in favour of repaying the man of my dreams for his troubles.

One smirk and my knees rested comfortably on the strangely soft floor of the shower. I came face to face with Tony's hard cock. It stood proudly, the flushed tip of it dripping - with water or pre-come, I didn't know, but was eager to find out.

"Fuck," Tony gasped, gazing down at me in astonishment as I tongued the slit of his cockhead. "You dirty little thing," He seemed to gather his wits quickly enough, bracing himself against the wall with one hand.

He was just about to find out how dirty, I decided. There was something satisfying on a purely primal level, seeing a powerful man absolutely losing it with his dick in my mouth. Rapidly, I swallowed as much of him as I could. His girth throbbed.

"Ruin me?" I popped off, resting my cheek against the hardness of it, tugging on his free hand to place it in my hair. My own arousal flared in response to his bewildered hunger.

Tony wasted no time in fisting a hand in my hair, carefully but firmly putting my mouth onto his cock. Inch after inch disappeared within my mouth; I was breathing through my nose as he slowly began fucking my mouth.

"Fuck, Jesus Christ, Princess, fuck," The mantra fell from his lips, echoing in the large room, mixing in with the water still pouring onto our bodies from above. The heat of it had nothing on the smouldering fire in my belly where it coiled tight and low. Tony's musk on my tongue, the firm hold on my hair. He truly held me, in body and in mind. There was nowhere else I'd rather be than on my knees for him.

I moaned around him causing a stutter in the moderate tempo. Our eyes met: his, wide and gleaming captured my own and I couldn't look away. With a wanton moan, Tony increased the pace, it quickly became brutal and punishing. I held onto his thighs for dear life, wordlessly pleading him to use my mouth for his own pleasure.

And he took it, shamelessly, emptying himself into my mouth with a groan that nearly made me come untouched. It was beautiful and I swallowed every drop of him, refusing to let the evidence of his bliss go to waste.

"Fuck," His voice was ragged.

I rested my cheek against his thick thigh, catching my breath. "Good?" Just to quickly be pulled to my feet, trapped between his hot, wet body and the chilly tiles of the nearest wall. The shiver that ran through me was only partially caused by the sudden change in temperature.

"You did so good, you're my good girl," He mumbled against my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth without any restraint. His other hand slid between my legs, immediately toying with my clit. That and the hastily spoken praise coupled with the feverish way he was licking himself out of my mouth sent me over the edge, until I was falling, stumbling head-first into an ecstatic abyss.

"Mmm... Tony," Dreamily, I savoured the moment.

"Oh, we're back to first name basis?" He snarked, finally turning off the water.

Pliant as ever, I followed him out of the shower and into his walk-in closet where he pointed at a row of t-shirts and hoodies. I grinned mischievously as I took my pick. "Daddy?"

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ofstarsandfireflies · 3 years

Text

Okay! So, today is Mother’s Day and I decided to celebrate with one of my mum’s favourite movies.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Rhodey was getting married to Arno.

Tony was happy for them of course, why wouldn’t he be?

But then he saw who was going to be attending the wedding, more to the point who Arno had named as his best man.

It was Steve Rogers.

Tony’s ex and Rhodey’s best friend.

Well, Tony would show him.

He’d bring someone.

Someone who was better looking than Rogers, just to really rub it in.

And the only one he can think of who is willing to help him, is Stephen Strange, a relatively new friend who agrees to act as his fiancé for a fee.

While he meant it as a joke, Tony was more than willing to pay it.

He’d pay for his ticket to the wedding, he’d pay for any expenses he needed to make this plan work, just as long as Strange played along and made everyone believe they were together and madly in love and Tony wasn’t hung up on Steve at all.

So, of course when they meet, there’s already a dilemma with their chosen outfits.

They each chose a nice suit with a blue tie, and Tony doesn’t want them to match and make it seem like they’re trying too hard.

Stephen tries offering support but Tony isn’t hearing it as he looks through the few ties he’s brought, trying to find a nice one that will offset Stephen’s.

Stephen would roll eyes if it were anyone else, but this is Tony, and when he comes back out wearing a bow tie that suits him more than any tie, he can’t help but stare.

He offers a genuine compliment, one Tony wasn’t expecting, and they head to the party where the friends, family and Avengers invited to the wedding just a few days from now have gathered.

Tony introduces Stephen as his fiancé to everyone they meet and showing off the ring he’d gotten for this occasion.

At the bar, they finally find Tony’s brother and husband to be, and while he, Arno and Rhodey catch up, Stephen heads outside to get some fresh air.

It’s then a guest, staring at the trio, begins telling Stephen about how he’s in love with someone who’s here with someone else.

Stephen hadn’t been introduced to Rogers yet, but he can deduce this must be him just from their short conversation before Tony trots in and ignores him in favour of showering Stephen with his attention before acting like he’s just noticed his ex.

It’s fun, and Stephen plays along, making sure his hands are on Tony’s waist, pulling him closer into his body when Steve is looking, and soon the poor man makes his way to the bar alone.

When Tony asks him what they were talking about and Stephen confirms that Steve still has feelings for him, Tony is glad that his plan is working.

It’s only when they get to the motel everyone is staying at that they realise it only has the one bed and they need to share.

Stephen isn’t shy about sharing as Tony piles all the pillows he can find between them so no funny business can happen, and Stephen makes a flippant remark about sex costing extra, something which Tony stows away to use against him later.

Later, as it turns out, is the next morning because Tony had gone to have a shower to freshen up and hadn’t realised Stephen was already in there, naked as the day he was born and doing absolutely nothing to cover himself, giving Tony the grand view of everything before he could stop his eyes from wandering.

Tony manages to pull himself together while Stephen just chuckles to himself about the big bad playboy getting flustered, and Tony tries to turn this all back into Stephen, hoping he knows he has to keep his act up today.

Stephen knows, wrapping a towel around his waist for Tony’s benefit more so his own, and leaves the bathroom for Tony to use.

Today is a simple game of cricket, Rhodey’s team against Arno’s, and while Arno has both Tony and Stephen, Rhodey has Steve.

And, of course, Rhodey’s team is winning.

Tony can’t decide if he’d rather much lose the game for Steve, or win it to rub it in his face, Stephen making the choice for him when it’s his turn to bat, scoring a home run for their team.

Tony may enjoy Steve being a sore loser, but not as much as the feeling of jumping into Stephen’s arms to kiss him.

To make Steve jealous...of course.

And Stephen doesn’t really mind playing it up, but Tony’s starting to fall for his own game.

Not for Steve, but for Stephen.

Stephen would offer him compliments he’d never heard before.

Stephen would support him in the reason why he was here for this wedding of strangers, something Tony couldn’t turn to anyone else for.

After the game are the bachelor parties, Arno with his groomsmen and friends and Rhodey with his, only this time Stephen is dragged along with him instead of going with Tony.

Stephen keeps to himself at the party, barely noticing Steve glaring at him.

But at Arno’s party, things are a little awkward.

Not only is Tony incredibly drunk and has resolved himself to drawing out more money for Stephen afterwards for sex, but his brother is just as drunk as he is and talking about how he doesn’t deserve to get married.

When Tony asks him why not, Arno opens his mouth, seems to realise something, and quickly covers it up by saying how much he loves the song playing, making Tony chalk up the strange conversation to just being drunk and wedding insecurities.

The next day is dancing lessons, and Tony isn’t feeling up to it.

He has a killer headache from drinking so much that he can’t remember what the hell happened after the limo stopped at an atm for him to pull out the money.

The money which is still in his wallet.

The money which Stephen finds and begins an argument with Tony about because he does remember last night.

He remembers that he was more than willing to sleep with Tony without having to be paid for it, but now he’s more hurt that Tony would try to buy sex from him.

And when he relaises that Tony can’t remember their night together, that it was just a drunken hook up, the hurt just magnifies, as do their voices.

By the time they rock up to the lesson, tensions are strung high and their aeguing has settled into a cold silence, either wishing to speak to each other or look or even touch the other.

It when the two grooms are getting into their dancing positions, Tony realises Stephen has yet to make a move

So, much more aggressively than is needed, he grabs his hand and places it on his waist as the music begins to play.

Seeing this as a call to arms for another fight, Stephen lifts his leg a little too high and trips Tony up.

Tony is not having it, slamming his foot down on Stephen’s, making him push him away.

But Tony clings to his hand and pulls him back in to dance with him.

And just like that, their fight is over.

They’re laughing, actually enjoying themselves as Stephen twirls Tony around.

And once the lesson is over, Tony takes the time to stop worrying about Steve and start listening to Stephen, who tells him anything he wants to know, being more open with him than he’s ever been with anyone.

It’s at lunch later on that everything falls apart.

When they get there, Arno is missing and Stephen decides to help look for him, heading to the lake house the Starks own.

And that’s where he finds him.

Sitting on the couch, crying.

When they get back, both Rhodey and Tony are glad to see him, Arno just telling them he lost track of time.

Tony asks Stephen if he’s ok because he’s got this weird look on his face, but he just nods and smiles.

It’s nothing. And nothing that Tony should be worried about either.

Lunch can finally progress as intended with all guests accounted for, and in the middle of it, Tony decides to go to the cellar and grab some more bottles of wine.

Stephen offers to take the empty ones, heading to the cellar too to drop them off.

Then he sees Tony and Steve talking.

And he can’t help but overhear how Tony tells Steve that he’s over him and they should just enjoy themselves, smiling as he leaves.

It’s as Tony grabs the second bottle of wine to take back with him that Steve finally tells him what he’s been holding back this entire time.

That he’d cheated on Tony with his brother.

Tony stops walking.

Stops breathing.

Sways a little as he tries to register what Steve has just said.

Is still saying.

That they’d broken up because Steve wanted to be with Arno.

That Arno has been cheating on Rhodey with him.

That he couldn’t stand it when Rhodey had proposed because he was in love with Arno.

And Tony just feels sick.

He manages to get back to where his friends and family are, but one look at Tony’s face and then Steve’s makes them all realise that he’d told him.

They’d all known about it and had kept it from him.

And Arno is giving him the biggest wide eyed stare because Rhodey doesn’t know and he doesn’t want him to know the day before their wedding.

Tony immedietly finds Stephen, who wraps him up in a hug just as Arno yells at him for telling Tony the truth.

And Tony goes rigid in his arms, looking up at him as if hoping Arno is lying about Stephen knowing.

But what he sees only makes him push him away.

He knew?

He knew too and hadn’t told him?

Tony just turns around and leaves, yelling at Stephen to piss off when he tries to chase after him, to take his money and go because that’s all this was for him, that’s all Tony was to him.

And it’s not true, Stephen wants to tell him it’s not true, but Tony is not listening.

So, he does as Tony tells him.

He packs his things and calls for a flight home, Rhodey telling him to sleep on it because he and Tony have got a good thing between them and he shouldn’t give that up because they had a fight, giving him the key to the lake house to stay in for the night.

As Stephen is agreeing to stay a little longer, Arno is trying to patch things up with his brother, who is not in the mood because his lying, cheating brother is getting married tomorrow to a man who still has no idea his fiancé was cheating on him.

If Arno wants to do the right thing here, he’ll tell Rhodey the truth before they get married. But he knows he won’t, because he’d rather have Rhodey backed into a marriage with him and not spoil his special day.

And when Arno leaves in tears, Tony doesn’t care.

The day of the wedding, the day for Arno and Rhodey, Tony heads to the lake house hoping to find Stephen and apologise, and only finding an envelope filled with the money Tony had given him for this trip.

Stephen was gone.

On his way home.

And he probably would have kept going if he hadn’t seen Rhodey chasing after Steve Rogers, yelling at the top of his lungs about how he’d trusted him.

They sit and talk about the Starks in their lives, both realising they love them and head back to the wedding.

Tony goes to apologise, but Stephen gets in first, telling him exactly how he feels.

He loves him, and he’s not leaving.

He can’t, he’s the best man now.

Quotes -

“I know how important this is for you. But remember, you’re a beautiful woman and uh, you got everything in the world going for you.”

“Don’t patronise me. I feel like crap and if I’m gonna feel like crap I wanna look hot doing it.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Really? Don’t get too attached.”

Stephen seeing how good Tony looks and Tony brushing off his flirting as if he doesn’t really mean it.

“Oh, god. It’s just...well, there’s this girl that...I care for...well, I suppose you could say I love her. Bugger is of course she’s here with some other guy.”

“Here you are!”

“Hey Kat!...Hey Kat!”

“Oh! Hey yourself. I see you’ve met my ex!”

“I was just telling him how we met.”

Stephen playing along to make Steve jealous

“Close your eyes. You’re safe, you can relax. I’m not gonna kiss you. He’s gonna be sorry he lost you, so, stop worrying. Forget the past. Forget the pain. And remember what an incredible woman you are. You do that, and he’ll realise what he lost.”

“Holy crap. You’re worth every penny.”

Stephen needing to drill into Tony’s head that he’s amazing and his plan will work

“I didn’t deserve her back then.”

“And you do now?”

Steve and Rhodey talking about the wrong people

“You know what pisses me off? I’ve been spilling my guts all weekend and I don’t know anything about you.”

“I’m allergic to fabric softener. And I majored in comparative literature at Brown. I hate anchovies...and I think I’d miss you, even if we never met.”

Tony and Stephen bonding

“Listen when we were fighting, I thought this was over. And I was gonna leave you alone and just...take off but...then I realised. I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else.”

Stephen when he realises just how badly he’s fallen for Tony.

Plus One

Tony and Stephen have to pretend to be in a relationship so Tony’s ex can see he’s moved on.

Only...the acting starts to become more than just simple pretending.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8

#ironstrange #strangeiron #osaf’s movie night

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the-mighty-jellybean · 4 years

Text

Crown of Thorns

“What will I be when I grow up, Lady Mother?” Y/N asked, the bed sheets wrapped high under her chin, arms clutching her knees.

“You will be Queen, my darling,” she cupped her face, and she leaned into her touch, “and a warrior.”

Series Summary: After the need for their alliance during the Battle of Titan, King Stephen asked in return for his services, that King Anthony of the Iron Islands’, first born daughter would be given in marriage, to his sons, Prince Steven and Prince James of the Kingdom of Kamar-Taj. Despite King Anthony’s other offers, King Stephen would only agree to one, or there would be war between their two Kingdoms. Leaving King Anthony with no choice, he sacrificed his first born daughter, in hopes of sparing his people of anymore suffering. Anthony prayed that the men would care for his daughter, and love her as he did, but a sparkly crown can hide a thousand secrets.

Pairing: Prince!Steve x Princess!Reader x Prince!Bucky

Series Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Angst, Fluff (There will be some fluffy stuff I promise, I can't resist), Smut: This series will include some aspects of Dub-con/Non-con: Steve and Bucky aren't going to be Prince Charmings. More Warnings will be posted on Chapters.

Masterlist

Part Four: Gifted

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Thought I’d put some visuals in this chapter, just look for the links in the text.

Y/N’s night sleep was far from good.

All night she tossed and turned; first it was just the sound of the wind that began to whip up during the night. The whistling through the panes, caused Y/N to stir, but she quickly settled. She hadn’t long been asleep, as there was still some wax left on the candle, that Lady Maria had left burning before she had gone to bed.

Y/N managed to fall back to sleep, but only for a moment. The Kamar-Taj castle was old, every shift of the bricks, and creaking of the floorboards, had Y/N’s eyes jumping open. When her mind grew tired of waking so abruptly, the next few times her sleep was disturb, she only opened her eyes marginally, to peer round the room, to find it just as she left it.

However, an echoing creak had Y/N’s eyes, slowly peeling open. They were clouded with sleep, and the room was gloomily dark, the candle at her bedside, well and truly extinguished. A lazy scan of the room had Y/N’s eyes drawing shut once again, but then they snapped open.

There.

A figure. No. Two figures.

Luring in the dark.

Y/N sat bolt right up, reaching for her nightstand, to grab at her tinder box, desperately she tried to strike the tinder, in an attempt to light the splint. She cursed at the way her fingers fumbled with the box, eventually she gained traction, lighting one of the spare splints, transferring the faint and flickering flame to a candle.

The larger light source touched the corners of the once dark room with a golden glow.

Nothing. But she had been so sure. Y/N scanned the room with her light, stepping out of the warm bed, her toes twitching as they graced the cold floor.

Wandering to the first wooden door, she twisted the handle, pulling slightly.

Locked. Just like it had been, when she checked just before she had gone to bed for the night.

Pacing to the other door, she tried that handle too, only to find that it was in the same predicament as the first. Locked.

Shaking her head, Y/N returned to her bed, leaving the candle burning on her bedside. Before she closed her eyes, she watched the way the candle’s flame flickered and danced, to the tune of the wind. The white centre transfixing her gaze, hypnotising her. There was something about the way it moved so freely, it reminded her of her sister Morgan, the freedom and innocence with which it carried itself.

Y/N turned away from the candle, it hurt to much to think of Morgan, to think of her home at all. Deciding she would just watch the shadows instead.

~~~~

The next morning it was the rain that woke Y/N, the pounding of the drops splattering against the panes, quickly roused her.

Rolling onto her back, she looked up at the mural that was painted on the roof of her four-poster bed. In the darkness of last night, she had not seen it, however; from the grey light that was cast through the window, she could now see the bloody battle that was depicted on the ceiling.

The gold flecks of paint, that shaded the chariots, and the heavy-handed use of the blood, that seemed to flow through the painting, the sound of the rain, giving it a dripping sound effect.

The picture frightened her; it was gruesome and vile.

Y/N wasn’t alone for long, there was a subtle knock on her door.

“Who is it?” Y/N called, drawing her sheets back, and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, much like during the night, the floor was cold, making her toes curl.

“Lady Maria and Lady Wanda.” A soft female voice replied, the voice muted by the heavy wood.

“Come in.”

The latch was lifted, and the door was pushed open, the two handmaidens scurried into the room, carrying a few boxes that Y/N recognised from the ship, that had brought her to this miserable place.

“Happy birthday.” The two of them chorused, and Y/N had to pause for a moment, she had completely forgotten that today was a celebration, instead of one for mourning.

“I had almost forgotten.” She admitted, looking to the horrid weather, that still raged outside, “It never rains on my birthday.”

“You’ve never had a birthday here.” Wanda pointed out, smiling sadly.

“That is true.” Y/N nodded, watching as the two women moved around the room, drawing the curtains all of the way, the grey light only expanding marginally.

“Did you sleep well, your Highness?” Maria asked Y/N, filling a small tin tub with steaming water.

“Not really.” Y/N spoke honestly, stepping behind the screens, Wanda following her to undo the ties of her night gown.

“Did you have any…visitors?” Maria worded carefully, her eyes flickered between the two locked doors, and Y/N’s bare figure.

Y/N didn’t answer instantly, she slid into the water, allowing the steaming water to swallow her chilled body.

“Your Highness…” Wanda prodded, combing through Y/N’s wet hair.

“No…no I didn’t.” Y/N tried to answer honestly, but in truth she didn’t know if she was lying or not. What she saw last night, could have easily been the manipulated dreams of a child. There was no room for that anymore; she was a woman now. She was of age now.

And her stomach and head burned, at the thought of what that might bring.

~~~~~

The day was spent with Y/N being led round the castle by Wong, as he showed her random rooms and corridors. The point of the tour was simply to brag. The castle was in fact bigger than her old home in the Iron Islands. Despite the frightful artwork that plastered most of the walls, the fortress was impressive.

Although, the most intriguing aspect was the black forest that surrounded the stone walls.

Y/N thought it was only dark, because of the nightly arrival time, however; the passing glances that she was able to catch as Wong led her through the open hallways, revealed that the leaves on the trees, were as black as the branches that they sat on.

The forest was deep, and seemed to stretch for miles in every direction, a heavy fog which had settled during the night, even hid the dock that couldn’t have been more than a mile away.

“What time will the celebrations begin?” Y/N asked, as Wong led her back to her room, Maria and Wanda waited for her.

“One of our pages will come and collect you when the sun sets.” Wong instructed, before turning on his heels, and leaving the princess with her handmaids.

“I wasn’t aware that the sun had come up.” Y/N whispered, referring to the way that the sky’s gloominess had not lifted all day.

“Come, your Highness, there are some gifts waiting for you.” Wanda and Maria pulled Y/N inside the room, she was greeted by piles of boxes, and Peter, who gave her small smile.

“When did these get here?” Y/N gasped seeing the gifts stacked practically to the ceiling, each wrapped beautifully, and varying in size.

“We had to stow them on the ship, believe me it was hard to keep you from seeing them.” Peter chuckled, watching the way Y/N’s fingers glided over the packaging and ribbons.

Y/N’s fingers stopped on some larger presents that had been wrapped in a darker shade of wrapping compared to the others.

“However, some were already here.” Peter jutted his head to the two doors that were behind him, Y/N retracted her hands like the parcels scorned her fingers.

“Well…I won’t worry about them for now.” Y/N pushed those boxes to one side and selected a small box.

“That is from me, your Highness.” Wanda lifted her hand, claiming the package.

Y/N smiled, tearing the paper off, and lifting the lid.

Inside laid a book.

Y/N smiled, her fingers running over the worn leather, the cartoonish pictures a lot more welcoming than the drawing on the walls and ceilings of her room.

“Where did you find this?” Y/N smiled, lifting the tattered child’s book out of the box, delicately flicking though the pages, the drawings inside eliciting memories that Y/N had long forgotten.

“I know that this birthday marks you becoming a woman, but I thought you would appreciate the sentimental value.” Wanda beamed, and Y/N felt her heart flutter, “It was just in your old bookshelf, I’m sorry that I couldn’t afford a more lavish gift.”

Y/N’s face dropped, looking at her maid sadly.

“Don’t be silly, I love it. Thank you.” Y/N kissed Wanda on the cheek.

“I’m so happy that you do.” Wanda nearly croaked.

“This one is from me.” Peter couldn’t keep his excitement contained, handing Y/N a long and thin box, the only wrapping was a loosely tied ribbon.

“Thank you.” Y/N took the box, pulling the badly tied bow apart, folding the ribbon next to the box, before popping the lid.

Y/N took a sharp intake of breath, the glint of the metal inside made her squint slightly, when it flashed.

“Peter…” Y/N sighed, placing the box on the table, and lifting the beautifully decorated dagger.

Uncovering the blade from its sheaf, Y/N held the well-balanced knife on the point of her finger.

“This is beautiful Peter.” Y/N gazed at the dagger in awe of its workmanship.

“I thought you would appreciate the blade as I saw.” Peter grinned, watching the way Y/N twiddled it in her hand.

“A dagger is no gift for a young lady.” Maria tutted.

“I’m far from a lady.” Y/N jested, placing the dagger back in its holding, and in the box, Y/N embraced Peter.

Peter tucked his head into Y/N’s neck, subtly smelling the sweet gloss of her hair that tickled his nose, the moment was too short as Y/N was pulled away from him, Maria holding out another box to Y/N.

“I think you will want to open this one, your Highness.” Maria handed Y/N the box, and she sat down on the edge of her bed, slowly peeling the paper.

On the tag of the box it read.

To my darling daughter,

At first Y/N believed that the parcel had come from her father, however; a wave of perfume hit Y/N’s nose, immediately transporting her to a memory.

***

She is a little girl sitting on her mother’s lap, whilst she watches her Ladies-in-waiting gathering around her, prepping her for the ball.

“Momma, what’s dat?” Y/N asked, her little voice squeaking, as she pointed to the large velvet box that sat on the dresser.

“It is my crown, my little one.” The woman smiled warmly, placing the silver tiara on her daughter’s head, the metal slipping down her face, the crown too big for her head.

“It’s pretty, momma.” Y/N smiled, turning to look at herself in the mirror.

“Well, when you are old enough it will belong to you.” The woman promised, lifting the back of the crown so that it sat on her daughter’s head more fittingly.

The young girl’s eyes sparkled in the mirror as she gazed at her reflection, in the background she could faintly hear the sound of the woman coughing.

Y/N returns to the real world, admiring her reflection in the silver of the tiara, that she had uncovered from the velvet rags. Her fingers glided across the cool metal that wove into silver vines, breaking off into silver flowers and buds.

“It’s from my mother.” Y/N finally broke the heavy silence that had fallen in the room.

Nobody spoke the moment too sensitive to be disturbed.

Under the tiara laid a letter, Y/N set the crown down in the box, but pulled the letter free, her eyes scanning the words etched into the parchment.

‘ To my darling daughter,

I know that I do not have long left, the physician tells me that my weeks have now turned to days. They have separated you from me, your cries of pain I still hear, whenever I close my eyes. The only thing that stops me from breaking at the thought, is knowing you are safe from me and this sickness.

Your father has loved me as long as he could, and even with my approaching absence I know he still has hope I will return to my normal health, but we both know that will not be the case. I have been lucky in my life, allowed to marry the man that I love, and live a life full of romance, happiness and joy. Most of which was brought about by your birth, my little one.

I’m sorry I must leave you. I’m sorry that I cannot be with you, and watch you as you grow, but I have a solution, that your father is not aware of. Lady Virginia, she has been my lady in waiting for many years, and she has been like a second mother to you. I have seen the way that she looks upon your father, and the emotion of jealousy I used to feel, I now feel relief, as I know my passing will be eased on your father, at the hand of Lady Virginia. She will guide you, in a way that I wish I could, but death is not kind, and waits for no one.

I write this letter, and have given instructions to Lady Virginia to give it to you upon your eighteenth birthday, along with this crown, I know that you loved it as a child, and only hope you can still see the beauty in it, once you have become a woman.

I treasure you, my love. You are the greatest gift I could have been given, you’re my legacy and strength.

All my love, always,

Momma ’

Tears were dripping down Y/N’s face by the end of the letter, a heavy sob makes Peter heart break, and he quickly sits next to the girl, circling his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest.

“It’s from my mother.” Y/N cried into the ward’s chest, and he held her tightly, happy to have a reason to cuddle her close, but his heart clenched at the sound of her cries.

“She loved you, Y/N. She loved you more than you could realise.” Peter whispered into her ear, “She would be so proud of you.”

~~~~

The other gifts that were given weren’t as comparative as the one from her mother, after all the boxes had been opened, Y/N’s eyes drifted to the tiara that was preciously placed on her bed.

The Princes had given her numbers of dresses, and more jewellery. One particularly box had Y/N’s cheeks burning, and it made Peter clench his jaw, as it contained a set of very lacy and racy nightwear, with the simple note that read:

“For the wedding night,

Love your Princes.”

Peter wanted to rip it up, but Maria simply placed it in a box, hiding it in the wardrobe, out of sight out of mind.

The sun appeared to begin to set, Maria and Wanda shooed Peter away so that they could prepare Y/N for the ball.

Tightening Y/N’s corset, before placing her blood red gown. Y/N admired herself in the mirror, the way the dressed hugged her curves, and the sleeves laid off her shoulder. This dress was not what she had worn before, this dress was more revealing, provocative. Y/N liked it, it symbolised her becoming a woman, but she couldn’t help be pained by the reason behind wearing the dress.

“You look delightful.” Wanda smiled, brushing out the bottom of the dress so it was no longer crumpled, and brushed the bottom of the floor.

“Standing yes,” Y/N flashed a smile, “But I fear that the illusion will be shattered, when I try to walk in these shoes.”

Y/N joked, but there was a seriousness behind her tone, as she slipped the blush coloured heels onto her feet.

“You’ll have my arm to hold.” A male voice came from behind.

“Peter! No.” Y/N shrieked, trying to hide her dress, “I’m not ready yet.”

“What are you talking about, you look beautiful.” Peter grinned like a little boy.

“How did you get in here, wait outside.” Wanda yelled, throwing a hairbrush at him, which he narrowly avoided, laughing as he left the room.

“How do I look?” Y/N whispered, looking at herself in the mirror once again.

“Absolutely stunning.” Maria praised.

A knock at the door, made all the women turn around, before it was pushed open to reveal a young steward boy.

“Your highness, I am here to escort you to the ball.” The boy squeaked; Peter loomed behind him with a scowl etched onto his face.

“Thank you.” Y/N turned to her handmaids, kissing their cheeks, before following the adolescent boy out of the room, taking Peter by the arm.

~~~~~

The party was loud.

The string orchestra echoed around the largely hollow room. Despite it being Y/N’s party, she could hardly recognise anybody there. A few faces leapt out at her from the crowd, she recognised as guests from her betrothal eight years ago.

Thankfully, the two people Y/N wasn’t keen on running into hadn’t arrived yet, so she was enjoying dancing with Peter, his warm hand sat on her waist, whilst their other hands locked together, as they glided across the floor.

“I didn’t know that you could dance so well.” Y/N giggled, as Peter twirled her in a circle.

“There are many things that you don’t know about me,” Peter winked, “I am truly a man of great mystery.”

Y/N shook her head, continuing to laugh at her friend’s jesting.

If it weren’t for the copious eyes upon them both, it would have felt as though they were alone on the dancefloor, the only two people in the world was him and her.

Their fun was short lived, when a cold hand was placed upon Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N spun round to be met by the King of Kamar-Taj, her and Peter immediately dropped into a bow and curtsey.

“Your Grace, I was not aware of your arrival.” Y/N spluttered, worried she had offended her future father-in-law, because she didn’t not greet him, when he appeared.

“That isn’t a problem, your Highness. I have simply come to inform you that my sons wish to see you, they have missed you greatly.” Stephen smirked, and despite the chill that stretched down her spin, Y/N nodded taking him by the arm, but not before she looked back upon Peter’s sad face.

Stephen led her to a corner.

‘Wow, there was a surprise, the two Princes lurking in a dark corner.’

Y/N couldn’t help but see the resemblance to her nightmare last night.

“Boys, come see your betrothed.” Stephen announced Y/N’s presence, and the two princes turned in their spots, drinks in their grasps, glasses looking tiny in their large hands.

When their cold eyes landed on Y/N’s delicate body; she shivered, when Prince James licked his lips, and Prince Steve seemed to puff his chest out a little further.

“Princess Y/N, we have missed you.” Y/N stood stunned as Prince Steve wrapped his arms around her pulling her into a tight hug. If it weren’t for the corset that was limiting Y/N breathing capacity, she would have sworn that he was cuddling a little too tightly.

Prince James opted for a light kiss on her cheek. A kiss that Y/N had to stop herself from rubbing away.

“I shall leave you to talk.” King Stephen kissed Y/N’s hand, before he left the Princes’ layer.

“Would you like a drink, Lady Y/N?” James snapped his finger, a young man similar to the age of the steward that had fetched Y/N from her room, came running to the small group carrying a tray of crystal champagne.

“I’m afraid I have never drank before.” Y/N replied, eyeing the alcohol with great amounts of suspicion.

“Well, you are eighteen now, why not try a sip of mine, see if you like it?” Steve offers her the glass, she stares at it momentarily, before shaking her head.

“Er…I couldn’t.” Y/N held her hands up, pushing the glass back to the man.

“I insist, we had the champagne shipped from the Iron Islands especially, so you could have a little taste of home on your special day.” Steve insisted, keeping the glass extended.

Feeling trapped, Y/N took the glass, raising it to her lips, the bubbles tickle her nose, as she slowly sipped the fruity liquid. When she swallowed the syrup tingled her throat, leaving a slight burn as it travelled through her body. Y/N managed to stop herself from coughing, giving Steve the glass back.

“Well, what do you think?” Steve smiled, but it wasn’t warming, it frightened Y/N still.

“I’d prefer some punch, if that would be okay?” Y/N turned to the waiter, who nodded, scurrying away to fetch the beverage. Y/N watched him leave, wishing it was her running away instead of him.

“I wouldn’t worry about her having a taste of home, Steve. She brought that herself.” James spoke coldly, Y/N looked confused, following his piercing gaze, that had been fixed upon Peter, since the two had been separated.

“What is that supposed to me?” Y/N spat, catching herself and biting her tongue when she saw the glare that James gave her.

“Tell me, why is it that your father sent you over here with his young ward, when you have already been betrothed to us?” James accused, taking a heavy drink of his glass. It was then Y/N noticed the slight sway that the Prince had to him, both the Princes had, realising that the two were either drunk or at least tipsy.

“You’re drunk.” Y/N identified, stepping away from them slightly.

“Does he still fancy you like he did when you were nothing but babes?” James ignored her comment, “Does he get excited when he’s pressed up against you when you dance?”

Y/N started to walk away feeling uncomfortable under their gaze and listening to their words, but she was stopped, by a harsh tug on her wrist.

“What I’d give to have you pressed against me like that?” James pulled Y/N into him, his head went against her neck, she felt his lips brush against her skin. Y/N wanted to scream, but she had a feeling that even if she did call out, the only response that she would get would be strange glares or completely ignored altogether. She wasn’t at home anymore; she wasn’t with friends.

Her breathing heightened and she tried to wriggle free, but she appeared to be saved by an initial unknown source, pulling her from James’ wandered hands, and behind their protective back.

Y/N would recognise that head of light brown curls anywhere.

“Peter, what are you doing?” Y/N breathed, clutching at his hand behind his back.

“Get your hands off her.” Peter barked, spit flying from his mouth, as he grits his teeth.

“Aw and here he is, the little puppy dog, desperate to get his rut with the pretty princess. Why don’t you go home, little street rat?” James puffed his chest up, the Princes standing side by side, towering over Peter, but he didn’t even flinch, keeping a protective hand on your arm.

“Back off.” Peter growled.

“You want to be the hero, little man,” Steve teased, “As much as you hate it, she belongs to us, as soon as she’s married there won’t be anything you can do to stop us from having what is ours.”

“I will send a hawk to her father.” Peter tried.

“It will be too late,” James leant in close so that only Peter would hear him, “Once that wedding rings on her finger, she’ll never leave that bed. We’ll just fuck her over and over, and there won’t be anything that you can do to stop us, little knight.”

Before Y/N knew what was happening, Peter raised his fist and then threw a punch striking James in the cheek, momentarily stunning the surrounding crowd, who had finally taken notice in what was happening in the dark corner.

“Peter, no!” Y/N yelled trying to pull the young man away from the Prince.

But it was useless the damage was already done.

“Seize him.”

Before Y/N could say anything, guards had seized Peter by the arms and were dragging him away, Y/N yelled after them, but she was bundled into her room by Lady Wanda and Maria, who held her crying body.

Taglist

@readermia @this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru @bbywtchh @liakrichards@nisha-misha97 @waywardwifey @xxblueslothxx @randomtails @emma-is-a-nerd @hhxppyyy @viviennebloom @in-a-constant-daydream6 @actualhobbitjenny @sexyvixen7 @roleplay-multifandom @sassysaltyrat @sebastianstansqueen @cltex84 @kmuir1 @lemonadygirl @supernaturalwintersoldier @jbarness @kaithezaftig @superhero-missouri @dance-dreamer

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prophetparadox · 3 years

Text

DMC OC Week Day 4: Likes/Dislikes

(No image because I couldn’t find one that’s relevant sorry)

Midnight again, so here’s another @dmc-oc-week prompt! This one is just a bullet point list since I didn’t have time to make a fic for it. Plus it’s pretty simple. Don’t have much else to say for this one. Enjoy!

Likes:

Since Kay is usually stuck at the Devil May Cry office, she’s had to find ways to kill time. This has led her to binge watch a lot of movies/tv shows since she missed out on them while growing up. Sometimes she just puts things on as background noise while she’s doing something else, but she likes watching things and will proceed to talk about her favorite ones to whoever walks in. Her tastes are eclectic, but she tends to prefer musicals, sci-fi, fantasy, and animation. She loves Tim Burton movies the best though.

She also tends to binge read. She tends to frequent the local library and check out a couple of books at a time depending on what she’s reading. Any books she really likes she proceeds to buy for herself. She tends to check out classics and books she’s heard a lot about, but sometimes she’ll pick something up just because it catches her eye. Usually if she’s not watching movies or something, she’s reading books. She enjoys the works of Stephen King and Edgar Allen Poe the best, though she also enjoys fantasy stories and stuff with vampires and werewolves in it.

Her music tastes are also a bit eclectic, as she enjoys a little bit of almost everything. Whenever Dante’s out, she usually starts playing her favorites on the jukebox. She likes pop, various kinds of rock, and of course musicals. She also has a tendency to sing along to what she’s listening to when she thinks no one’s around to hear her.

A hobby she managed to pick up was baking. She likes to try her hands at making sweets in the hope that she’ll improve with practice. Though she usually has to hide them from Dante so he doesn’t eat them all at once. Her specialty is salted caramel brownies.

Since she can’t go out on demon hunting missions, she tries to get some sparring sessions in with Trish and Lady when they’re around so she doesn’t get rusty. While she wishes she could go out on the field more, she greatly enjoys their sessions.

Nero got her into video games, to the chagrin of Dante’s wallet. She tends to prefer longer games with a lot of content so she can go longer without needing a new one, and tends to gravitate towards RPGs.

Kay loves animals, and will happily pet any dog she comes across while out of the office. She wants a pet herself, but knows she probably can’t have any. So she dreams of the day when she can have one. Once V enters her life, she quickly bonds with Shadow and he ends up being the demon shapeshifting cat she didn’t know she wanted.

Dislikes

Boredom is the bane of her existence. She’s always trying to find something to do, just to stave off the feeling of boredom. She’d rather take unpleasant tasks over nothing at all.

Unfortunately, living with Dante means living with his messes. Which means cleaning up said messes. She hates cleaning, and would rather go on not needing to do it so often.

She hates thunder. Thunder brings her back to unpleasant memories she’d rather never revisit, and the louder the thunder the worse it is for her. She tends to hide herself away during storms, too worried about the potential questions others might ask.

She hates what her “job” amounts to. She’d rather be fighting demons over getting Dante’s pizzas and takeout and coffee. She wants to do more than just intern work.

She is very tired of Dante treating her as his daughter. She appreciates that he cares about her, but she’s not his kid and she doesn’t want to be treated like one. Sure, Dante’s older than her, but she’s an adult now and can handle herself.

Do not try to wake her up early, you will regret it. She enjoys having a full night's sleep and unless there’s a damn good reason to be waking her up early, you shouldn’t. You will incur her wrath and you will be sorry.

#Prophet posts #dmcocweek #Devil May Cry

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

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F is for friends who do stuff together - the awake at 2 AM remix

Joan needs a swear jar, Talyn's a lightbulb, Valerie is tired and valid, and Thomas+Sides are very confused)

Summary- Thomas has had his sides around for... a long time. That's for sure. And he knows that nobody else can see them (except maybe Lilly, but she has sides too, so).

Pairings- Pintroverts, Thomas and friends, Thomas and Sides

Read on AO3

Word count- 2666

Warnings- It has character!everyone, and NOT their real life counterparts. Please remember this.

Other notes- AU where instead of Vine, c!Thomas left chemical engineering for signing with a really dope theatre company with his friends. He still meets Nico at the mall, but Nico's a new writer for the company! All the sides are friends too! Enjoy!

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Look, the first time was an accident, okay? Joan was tired and a bit incoherent and what was Thomas supposed to do?!! Leave them be? No! So Joan ended up staying the night.

Except, the next morning was when everyone had entered the courtroom together and they'd gotten WAY too dramatic over whether to lie to them about a text they'd made like… two days ago and that Thomas had only seen after combing through a barrage of memes and that Joan probably wouldn't remember, come to think about it. But that was hindsight and after the utter nightmare that was a whole day (A whole day!!) with Aunt Patty the day before, Virgil and Patton were absolutely freaking out, probably giving Deceit (Who, in hindsight, Thomas knows as Janus) a little extra leeway into the conversation that day.

Either way, Joan had stayed the night in order to recover from the utter sleep-deprivation that they'd been going through, and Thomas had forgotten about the fact that Joan was even there for most of the morning, only seeing them after the entire courtroom spectacle (and a suspiciously dire warning from Virgil) at breakfast, and them leaving to see Talyn a little after (with plenty of hugs involved, duh).

Then Thomas told Joan the truth over the call, and Joan had said The Line (as Roman, Virgil and Janus call it with an oddly cryptid-like voice) and Thomas felt himself go frigid.

Since when did Joan know that Thomas talked to his sides?! Had they learned their names? Figured out that Thomas might just have a few extra screws loose than they might have initially thought?

"Maybe they even hate us now because we got so crazed over one little text and--”

“Virgil. Not helping!” Thomas yelps, and Virgil catches himself in his spiel of worst case scenarios, looking a bit sheepish. Patton and Thomas smile at him reassuringly (he hopes) and Logan clears his throat, causing everyone to turn to him.

“Well, Joan seems to be aware enough of the fact that you speak to us, but mostly considers it as you, as they had said, ‘talking to yourself’, and besides, you didn’t name-drop us too many times, anyways. And while it’s not really...ideal, that Joan thinks you talk to yourself for this long-”

“You can say that again, Stephen Hawk-Nerd”, murmured Roman. Logan winces, and Thomas kind of wants to hug him, so he does.

“Yes, Roman, and as bad as that nickname is, note that this is not, in fact a worst-case scenario. This can be put down to the fact that Thomas has some strange personality quirks-”

“Did you just do some wordplay there, kiddo?” Patton beams at the implication, while Logan, currently being shared by Thomas and Virgil, just groans and descends further into the contact.

“No, I did not, Patton, but what I am saying, is that this is not too bad. We can talk about it as a general personality quirk. This is fine.” Logan finishes, and becomes a heap in the total hug-pile of Thomas and Virgil, flopping over. Huh, he (as usual) has a point. Maybe this can work.

The second time was a pretty near miss, but once again, it was unexpected! He and the sides were just watching Mulan together as usual! They were piled up together, blankets in hand, and yeah, it might look weird to anyone who can’t see the sides, he guesses, with the blankets stretched out in places that have nothing to stretch onto, but once again, he wasn't expecting someone to come over! But anyways- whatever happens, happens. He's trying to be better about it.

It really doesn't stop Janus from pulling out all the stops (teaming up with Virgil, even!) when it comes to having to come up with an alibi to Terrence over why the blankets are arranged so strangely, even though there is literally nothing keeping it afloat. In the end, it's not the most believable lie, but Terrence is busy with Valerie just after, so he probably doesn't really think about it too hard. Besides, Thomas has always been a pretty quirky guy! ("Which could be an insul--" "Jack and Sullen, we love you very very much, but please, for the love of all things Disney, please breathe and take out your fidget cube..") So hey, what was a new quirk when added to everything else?

Meanwhile, Terrence is trying to figure out what the fuck he just saw, because he's pretty sure that there were more than one Thomas there, and Thomas only has two other brothers. Also none of them dress like twenties mobsters or are semi-transparent.

Nico was having a good day. In fact, he still is!

He and his (amazing) boyfriend were sitting on the couch- though more draped on top of each other than anything while binge watching ELITE and Tiny Pretty Things, while also being pleasantly high (as opposed to stoned).

Things only entered strange territory when during one of the flashback murder-y scenes in Tiny pretty Things, a strange man who looked like an even more chaotic Thomas with some grey hair on him entered the room from seemingly nowhere, and proceeded to occupy the sparse space on Thomas’s lap with his head, essntially just napping on his boyfriend’s lap while also being kind of see-through (???!!!???AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH). Thomas noticed, waved a small wave and started playing with this weird guy’s hair.

Nico is now a little high from the bong that he and Thomas had shared, but not enough to hallucinate, especially since, when the high was pretty much gone, the guy was STILL THERE. MIERDA. At this point, he’s just going to call it ghosts. Thomas doesn’t seem to mind too much anyways, so they must not be harmful. Nico decides to table this for another day and go back to binge watching crazy maniacs with his very soft and warm boyfriend, and let the remainder of the high coast along.

"We have to talk about the Thomas thing." Is the first thing Joan says without any bullshit, as soon as everyone except Thomas himself, Gavin (because it's two AM) and Quil are packed together in Thomas's living room, where he just binged Parks and Rec with everyone. They've all finally managed to shove Thomas and Quil back to their respective areas of sleep after 42 hours without said sleep, and nobody was allowed to talk loud enough for them to wake up.

"The… Thomas thing?" Asks Valerie. Oh that sweet summer child. Joan once again quietly calls everyone's attention by asking Talyn to shake their hair around like a neon-coloured alarm bell. This was especially effective in the otherwise dark kitchen where they were trying out glow in the dark hair dye.

"Well, as of lately, we've been seeing a lot, and I mean a lot of really weird shit coming from Thomas. Everyone, recount your experiences." Joan says in the most serious voice they've got. "I'll go first."

They wave their hands like Matt Mercer, as if they were setting up a dope DND campaign. Quietly, of course.

"Well, about a month ago now, I was cleaning here, at Thomas's, because I was sleep-deprived and would have crashed and died if I'd tried to go back to mine and Talyn's. So most of the night goes normally, as one would expect, but when I wake up in the morning…" Joan readjusts their beanie. "I hear Thomas in the living room, talking to people called Logan, Roman, someone called Pat, Virgil and 'deceit'. And this debate becomes an ordeal, alright? He re-enacts a whole entire ace-attorney style courtroom scene with these imaginary people? I called him out on it over the phone when he apologized for some random thing- I don't remember, and he kind of just… admitted that he talks to himself? And moved on.

Everyone absorbs this new information. Camden keeps braiding Talyn's hair.

"But that's not too big of a deal, right Joan?" Whispers Camden, tying up the elaborate mini fishtail plait in Talyn's hair. "I mean, thanks Thomas we're talking about. He could have been rehearsing or something- isn't he JD in the next production of Heathers?"

Terrence speaks up next. "Yes, this would have been all well and good, had the Blanket Incident ™ not occured."

Valerie shakes her head. Why are her friends like this? Oh wait. They’re all theatre nerds, queer and D&D players.

"In the blanket incident ™, I was walking past Thomas's room, as one does. HOWEVER, while he was watching Mulan, I noticed something wrong with his blanket pile!"

"What, that they don't have any Vetal Miking references on them? Because that's the true tragedy here."

"Nope, sorry Tal, the weirdness here was not about Vetal Miking references, but the fact that parts of the blanket were freaking floating, in thin air! I have discreet pictures!"

"What the fuck, Terrence." whispered everyone in a strange, haunting unison that could only be possible at two AM as they saw the very strange pictures.

"And that's not it!" Pipes up Talyn, who is now realising that they are very close to becoming too loud for 2 AM kitchen chats, and makes an effort to quiet down.

"At breakfast today, Thomas's waffles were making themselves- Thomas can't cook, y'all. And he can't even use is fucking waffle iron. And he was on the other side of the room! Talking to Quil!" After Quil left, he told the waffle creator to chill out because the stack was getting too tall!"

"Is this about Thomas's ghosts, guys?" Asks Nico, the new cute boyfriend and new theatre company writer as he plops down in Quil's usual spot. Nico's nice- everyone likes Nico except maybe Nico, to which, well, mood. ALSO- ghosts?!!

"Nico what the fuck do you mean by ghosts, you serial killer in training?"

"One, just because I have to write a serial killer in this new script and I'm enjoying it, it doesn't mean I'm gonna be a serial killer, you tonte. Two: yeah, the ghosts that follow him around and look just like him? They seem nice enough." At everyone's super unspoken request to elaborate, for fuck's sake, he takes the hint and does.

“Oh! So the first time I saw them, I was at the mall. You know, where Thomas and I met?” everyone nods, and Talyn readjusts their braces.

“So there was this guy in a hoodie- Virgil, as you said, and the Disney prince. Roman, I think. And they were just kind of… there? Roman was holding Virgil’s shoulder affectionately, and that’s about it. They were only really visible after about three or four hours of us talking, though.” Some of the people hum.

“Then, we were watching a movie and these two guys who also look a lot like Thomas just kind of lounged? On the couch? They were pretty faint, like if their brightness was decreased to about thirty percent in Photoshop.”

“Hey, same!” says Terrence.

“Yeah, so those guys- the one in the green t-shirt that has the legs on the bus meme- so weird- kind of just stretches onto Thomas’s lap and stays there, while the twenties mobster just… curls up to his side? And thomas is probably like, used to this because he kind of just lets it be and curls the meme shirt-”

“I think it’s Remus.”

“-Remus’s hair absentmindedly and moves on.”

“Fuck.” Whispered Joan very softly, but with great feeling.

“So what do we do about it?” asks Camden. There, finally, someone asks the real questions.

“Well,” puts forward Talyn. “They’re not harming him, right? And he’s had them around for a long enough time, right? So what’s the harm? Thomas is just haunted and will probably be on Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural at some point when he dies but hey, if he’s cool with it, we are too.”

Everyone seems to agree with that, and they’re in comfortable silence, until Valerie asks everyone to go the fuck to sleep, we’re still doing the Heather’s costume rehersals and Death Week starts in two days. With groans and cracked joints from Talyn, everyone hobbles off to their respective rooms in the duplex.

Meanwhile, a certain white-streaked side and his hoodied companion are listening through the wall, far away from what anyone can see, and they both visibly sigh in relief. That didn’t go too badly. The question remains: what do we do now?

“They KNOW????” exclaims Thomas, the next day in the (thankfully empty) breakroom, in between rehearsals- Candy Store is being run through and that means that everyone else is outside.

“Yes, Thomas, they know. Or they somewhat know, I suppose.”

“Yeah, because they think we’re-Thomas is being HAUNTED!!’

“Are you not haunted, then?” comes a voice, and Thomas turns around, forgetting to let the sides dissipate in his surprise. It’s Nico, with Talyn and Valerie close behind, who are clearly taking in the six other guys in the breakroom. Well, fuck. The cat’s out of the bag for good, he guesses.

“Could you get everyone else during lunch break? I’ll explain then.” Talyn nods and leaves with a smile, telling him that they’re not mad at him, while Nico asks, voice farther away “So are you haunted or not?”.

“So they’re… aspects of your personality that you’ve been able to manifest since you were a kid?” Camden asks, a bit disbelieving, even as Logan, Roman, Patton and Janus drape themselves over Thomas on one of the beanbags in the breakroom, filled with other nerdy gay young adults. Logan pushes up his glasses, ready to go on another tangent. Go wild, you funky little dude.

“Well yes, that’s exactly what we're saying. I myself am the embodiment of Logic- every fact that Thomas has ever learned, and his, and these are his words, not mine, ‘the only braincell’. He makes the air quotes to go with the expression, but is also smiling fondly.

“Classic Thomas.”

“Yes, Valerie, I am inclined to agree. However, this is not specific to Thomas. Other people can, in fact, do what Thomas is. Lilly Singh is one of them- the reason that she and Thomas are even friends is because in high school Thomas caught her talking to one of her sides in the art room.”

“So wait-- we can summon sides too?!” asks Nico, and he and Camden look genuinely excited, but Thomas knows the answer to that question.

“Unfortunately no, not really. You have to have an extremely active imagination, and also be ‘innocent’, as society would put it. I’d say näive.”

“For example, I couldn’t make any more sides after i was fourteen, because I watched the news by then.” pipes in Thomas. Joan seems to process this first, nodding and grinning sardonically. “Ah yes, the news. Wrecking childhoods since forever.” everyone nods in gay syncing, because gay minds think at the same time.

Valerie suddenly speaks up; “So how many sides do you have, Thomas?”

Thomas perks up, because his sides are possibly his favourite metaphysical beings (as narcissistic as that might sound) “I have six! My logic, morality, both creativities- Kids and Family and PG13-and-up, anxiety and deceit! I have two creativities because of catholic guilt and my mind’s inherent need to cause chaos, I guess.”

“Valid” replied Valerie.

The rest of break passed by pretty smoothly, with questions being passed back-and-forth about what the sides truly were, considering they clearly were not just Thomas, and Virgil even felt okay enough to come in later! So that was good. Though he kind of wishes Remus had made fewer Heathers jokes- Camden was starting to look squeamish, even as Nico frantically took notes of gorey facts to use in his script.

Honestly, Thomas thought to himself. What was I scared of?

Irrational things. And rejection, replies Virgil in his head. He laughs and pulls him in for a hug, and tries as he might to deny it, Virgil is looking pretty chuffed.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #character thomas #nico flores #nico flores x thomas sanders #pintroverts #not rpf #do not repost #ts virgil #ts logan #ts remus #vee's writing #2021 #f is for friends verse

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dragonnan · 3 years

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Sharing Saturday - a List of Fic Recs

I haven’t restricted this to a number but I’m also doing my best to keep it from going out of control, too. I pretty much just have 2 consistent fandoms that I read/write so if you like either the MCU or Sherlock then this is the post for you!

MCU:

Adventures Throughout the Multiverse (Series) by Aelaer Jumping into different dimensions always involves risk. Sometimes you never know what sort of troubles you will run into until you have arrived. Thankfully, alongside these dangers a sorcerer is sometimes lucky enough to come upon unexpected allies.

In which Stephen encounters characters from characters from JRR Tolkien to even his own doppelgänger in Sherlock Holmes. I LOVE these!! Not only supremely clever and lovingly researched but just straight up entertaining as fuck! @aelaer writes some of the best Doctor Strange fic that I’ve read on on top of all that is a spectacular artist besides!

Omertà by HanukoYoukai After chasing down the criminal that took Uncle Ben's life, Peter is found by James Wesley, the right-hand man of Wilson Fisk--a wealthy businessman trying to clean up Hell's Kitchen. Having left a strong impression on the man, soon Peter finds himself working for Fisk, doing an internship for his business projects by day, and catching bad guys at night. If Mr. Fisk wants a few specific criminals delivered to him personally, who is Peter to object? All his boss wants to do is talk, after all, and ever since this internship began, things were finally looking up for the Parkers. Then Peter hears the whispers in the underworld about the elusive and terrifying Kingpin, and somehow there are rumors that Spider-Man is on the Crime Lord's payroll. When he decides to use his own judgement and go against Mr. Fisk's wishes, Peter suddenly finds himself neck deep in mob activity with no means to get himself out. To make matters worse, now Iron Man has Peter in his sights.....

I LOVE her writing - the interpretations of Peter Parker and fantastic and do right by him in a big way. Peter is actually the teenager I expect to encounter - with all of the nuance and emotion that I want to see! On top of that THIS is some top notch Tony Stark - again, very true to canon with his Stark snark intact!

Identity Saga (Series) by KitCat992 An organically developed, platonic slow-burn of Avengers-fam dynamic with a heavy hand of Irondad & Spiderson. Throw in an overdose of whump, a couple of cunning villains and a big-bad hiding in the shadows, and you got yourself this hot mess.

Another stunning Peter Parker writer and OH my gosh if you are an IronDad fan and haven’t read this yet like what in THE hell are you doing?? Strap that seatbelt tight and paste your eyeballs to this series you will NOT be disappointed!

A Twisted Upheaval (WIP) by silentsaebyeok “I’m afraid, Harrison, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant.” Wilson said. “Tony Stark will do anything and everything to protect those he loves. And with your carelessness, it is inevitable that my criminal empire will be brought to its knees. This is your last opportunity, your last chance to get this right. He is on our radar now.” -- The Kingpin runs the criminal underworld. He is the mastermind and the puppeteer. Tony Stark has been trying to find the elusive gangster for years, but with no luck. But then Peter Parker is kidnapped by an agent of the Kingpin’s, revealing the cracks in an otherwise unshakeable organization. Unlikely alliances form and friendships are made as the criminal underworld begins to unravel.

*Smacks my desktop* THIS story!! It isn’t even completed yet but this fic is top level epic! This one, along with Omertà, got me totally hooked on Wilson Fisk interfering with both Peter and Tony and boy does it deliver on those dynamics!!

Sherlock:

Got My Eye on You (Series) by 7PercentSolution These stories cover just about everything from Greg's POV, from the first day they met when Sherlock was 17 through the pre-John years, John's arrival, their work together, the fall and the reunion, covering events in broadcast series 1-3 (and 4 eventually). If you ever wondered why Greg Lestrade was one of the three people Moriarty targeted, this is your answer.

Frankly I love everything I’ve read so far - the stories are incredible and deep and not afraid to dig into hard subjects. There is a wealth of backstory and Sherlock’s younger years and all the hardships he dealt with. I’m especially in love with the OC, Sam - what a treasured character!

It takes John Watson to save your life. by Sparkypip A series of One shots where John saves Sherlock's life in so many ways. Will be updated sporadically as and when I get any time to write. As always I like my characters hurt, so plenty of angst, H/C, whump and bromance (no slash) will ensue. Please comment if you can.

These were some of the first Sherlock fics I ever read and I have been hooked on this writer to this day! SO satisfyingly whumpy and on top of that many of the stories have their own comfort follow up story!!

A Sharp, Dressed Man 'verse (Series) by sgam76

I just love this series to bits and while the author considers is a break from heavier subjects, don’t for one second think that means it can’t take a deep dive into its own mythology nor deliver a freaking spectacular tale! I have loved vampire AU for a long time and this series is pure delight and hits every damn button for me! You want a cool interpretation of vampires? BAM! You want family dynamics to the extreme? BAM AGAIN! You want exploration of creature angst? BAM BAM BAAAAM!!! I’ve already read through these three or five times and I can promise I will do so again!

The Chemist by TheGracefulBlueCat Sherlock returns to Baker Street and faces detox. But he feels too exhausted and bad to go through it fully conscious, so he - once more - uses his mind palace to distract him with an old case. But due to his drug issues and the tension between him and John things don't work as smoothly as everyone hoped they would, confronting Sherlock and all his friends with more of their demons than they would have liked to.

This writer is absolutely on-point with the writing of these characters - especially Sherlock. It was primarily through this writing that I felt I got such a good view of why the interpretation of Sherlock as autistic makes sense - but that it is the only truly logical conclusion. Not to mention the fanart @ceruleanmindpalace (same person) creates will leave you breathless!!

Who You Really Are (Series) by EnglandsGray So very like her, to take something he would otherwise find inconsequential – boring – and transform it into something he couldn’t live without...For Sherlock, after Sherrinford, none of the worlds he inhabits will ever be the same again. He can see a way to rebuild, but he is terrified. For Molly Hooper, strength is something she feels she is losing by the day, but the time has come for her to stand her ground.

Ohhhh my gosh like deep dive right into the pit of angst! And yet so soft and precious. This first story of the series is one that I’m still going through and it is unbelievably rich and welling with delicious plot stuff and relationship and hurt/comfort and just - you gotta read iiit!!!

He Is Different, This One by ASilvergirl How would the Serbian "interrogation" go if his captors knew that Sherlock was neuroatypical and had synaesthesia? This is an alternate version of the scene from "The Empty Hearse."

I mean, how could I not love this fic? For the record I’m still not even a little bit tired of fics that explore what may have happened in Serbia. It is just one of the most unresolved moments in the series - going from that damn beating to him walking in on John like I NEED MOOORE!!! And this fic gives me SO much more than I could have expected! Plus I’m always doubly onboard with a story that depicts Sherlock as neuroatypical.

There are sooooo many more fics I could link!! As it is I’ve been at this for about 3 hours and I’m dropping to the floor. But to see the rest of the stories I’ve loved please check out my bookmarks!

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