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charliesradiodemon · 4 years

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Charlastor Week Day 3: Cooking

(I’m cheating here lmao sorry. This one was gonna be the Human AU fic but then I had a better idea for both prompts in terms of direction

Also is this fic about a healthy relationship? Nah.

Warning: contains blood, talking about cannibalism and murder)

Day 3 Cooking

“Alastor!“ a sharp gasp made Alastor whip his head around to the shack’s door. Blood had splattered across his wicked grin. He found the silhouette of who he recognized was Charlie standing at the door. He couldn’t see her expression due to the outside light behind her obscuring her face, but he could only imagine the delicious horror that graced her features.

The bloodthirst set in once more and the one thing he wanted to see was his lover and prey’s face twisted in horror and despair before her sweet light drained from her eyes.

It was too bad. Charlie was a special gal who was closest to his heart than anyone ever could ever get. In a way he did find a kind of love with her in their three years together. She was always lovely and interesting and the fact that she hadn’t bored him yet surprised him. It certainly was a crying shame that his favorite prey was about to meet her end now that she’d seen too much. He had no doubt that he’d miss her as he savored each delicious piece of her.

Through the obscurity, Alastor could see that she brought her clasped hands to her chest. “You...” she paused.

Alastor approached slowly, a butcher’s knife in hand. “Yes, Charlie?”

She stood in place and didn’t move. While he appreciated her thoughtfulness to not run away and just accept her fate, Alastor was partially disappointed that he couldn’t give chase to the doe. After all, they always tasted best when they desperately fought for their lives. “You’re the New Orleans Butcher...” she whispered just enough for the two of them to hear.

‘She even whispered my secret. What a lovely, thoughtful girl.’

With a wide grin, he replied with confidence. “Yes indeedy! And what are you-“ he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks unable to continue.

Once he was close enough so that the light that obscured her face dissipated, Alastor found a small smile on her lovely face. She even seemed to be suppressing a laugh even.

“And here I was worrying about that...”

His smile remained but faltered slightly at the sight. What about this situation was so funny? Did she not understand what was going on? He almost felt concerned for the strange woman. “Worrying about what my dear?” Why was this so funny to her? She was about to die by her lover’s hand!

“Alastor... I think we’ve been hiding some crazy secrets from each other.”

The man tightened his grip on the bloodied butcher’s knife in his hand. “What do you mean?”

She stepped closer with her relieved smile in place, impossibly calm as she approached slowly. “I’ve been thinking about the future a lot recently. And I know this is selfish of me, but one day I’ll have to leave. And I was thinking, when that time came I’d never see you again. I’ve always wanted to see the good in people and see them go to Heaven, but you... I-I was sure you’d go to Heaven and I’d never get to see you again. And it’s awful, but somehow... I’m relieved,” She was now in front of him, no trace of fear in her eyes. Only a soft smile full of joy and tearful relief. Alastor had no idea how to react. He couldn’t move his legs let alone lift his arm to end the odd woman.

His lover looked up at him, her brown eyes clear even under the dim light. But then she blinked and Alastor could have sworn he’d snapped. Her sclera glowed a brilliant red while the iris was a golden ring around her black pupils. The sound of something sprouting from Charlie’s head took his attention away from her eyes. Two long horns sprouted amongst rapidly growing golden hair.

“M-my word...” Alastor whispered, not knowing what else to say. His heart pounded in his chest, making him feel all sorts of emotions. But none of those emotions were negative in the slightest.

“I’m sorry if this is too much for you. I didn’t want you to see me this way.” Seeing his expression and hearing his tone, Charlie’s gaze fell to the floor in assumed dejection. She probably looked like a hideous monster to him. She acted too hastily and now she had to be ready for whatever came next.

“What are you then, my love?” The words made Charlie’s eyes widen in shock. The term of endearment truly caught her off guard and for a moment she didn’t know what to do other than look back up at him with the same shocked expression he had just a moment ago. “You can tell me Charlie.”

His expression softened back to the smile she was familiar with as if a moment ago he wasn’t planning his next meal around her. His darkened eyes were almost loving. If he was frightened at all, he was good at hiding it.

Charlie clasped her hands together, suddenly feeling awkward and shy. “I-I’m a demon. I’m from H-Hell.”

It came to Alastor as a surprise. She was the single most pure creature to exist. What had she done to earn her eternal damnation? “It can’t possibly be. You’re the sweetest little thing to grace the Earth. Tell me, how is it you ended up in Hell?”

The ease of his questions only surprised Charlie further. It was as if this was just a normal occurrence and he was asking her about her day. “I was born there.” She replied truthfully, attempting to sound natural about it.

Alastor, butcher knife still in hand, placed his free hand on her shoulder and continued, “So when you said you had to go home one day, did you mean that you were going back to Hell?”

Charlie nodded and suddenly she was drawn into his arms. “You silly, sweet girl.” Charlie felt the handle of the butcher’s knife pressing against her back, but she wasn’t worried. She trusted her Alastor, not like the cleaver would harm her anyway. She reciprocated the hug with a small smile until she realized something.

She peered up at him with a questioning look. “And what about you? How long has this been going on?”

Alastor hummed as he thought for a moment. “About seven years or so,” he said casually as if he were just speaking about the weather. It nearly unnerved Charlie that he was so casual and calm about this. Then again, she wasn’t any better with her own secret.

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing you in Hell one day.” He chuckled, pulling away slightly to look her down.

He failed to mention what exactly he did with those he slaughtered. He also failed to mention that Charlie herself would have eventually ended up as another source of food for him once he felt she outlived her entertainment.

“I’ve been here for three. Wow... I never would have suspected!” She pulled out of his embrace, not realizing that she was now covered in blood.

“Yes that is the point, darling. If everyone suspected, well I just wouldn’t be here now would I?” He laughed with a shrug. To his surprise, Charlie let out a closed-mouthed giggle. Then again she was a demon, murder must not mean much to her.

Alastor raised his eyebrows and grinned widely. “So as a demon would you approve?”

“I mean as a demon I’m supposed to. I’m supposed to “tempt” people to sin. But I also don’t necessarily like it. I... really don’t actually.” she said hesitantly as she turned her gaze to the bloodied workbench in the corner. It still held the fresh corpse of a man Charlie couldn’t recognize.

‘What was he going to do with the man? None of the bodies of his victims have ever been found... The only thing the New Orleans Slasher would leave behind were splatters of blood and bits of his victims.’

Alastor belted a hearty chuckle. “You’re not a very good demon, dear.”

“Ah yeah...” she huffed an awkward chuckle as she turned her attention back to her lover in front of her. “My dad’s reminded me of that for a while now...”

“I bet. Now as much as I’d love to continue this conversation, this isn’t the place for that my love,” he nodded to the door and shot her a reassuring grin. “Why don’t you head back in the house and once I’m done out here we can talk.”

Charlie smiled half relieved and half gratefully. She leaned up and kissed the part of his cheek that was free of blood. “Sounds good. Do you want me to make you anything?” Her demonic form dissipated with another blink of an eye, which Alastor watched with full interest before walking back to the workbench.

“Coffee would be nice sweetheart. Oh and I must apologize. It seems I’ve left a mess on you.” he gestured toward her front and Charlie immediately looked down. She jumped in surprise and then sighed.

Charlie pouted and inspected her dress. “Al, you need to be more careful! I’m really not supposed to do this but...” she paused and snapped her fingers. A rush of hellfire consumed her for a split second before revealing a spotless dress on the slasher’s cleaned lover. He was at a loss for words at the spectacle. Charlie let out a content breath and continued, “This is my favorite dress!” She turned and made it back to the threshold before turning back to Alastor, who looked dumbfounded. “Please make sure to wash up before you come back in please? Blood isn’t fun to wash up you know.”

Alastor awoke from his daze. He nearly burst out laughing, but merely chuckled at the odd request. “Yes dear.”

Once the door closed, Alastor went back to work feeling a strange sense of ease, excitement and intrigue all in one sensation. Who was once his prey and simple ingredient was now his confidant. It almost felt good keeping someone who knew of his hobby around strangely enough. Maybe it was the sudden rush of adrenaline?

Or maybe it was because he’d realized that he’d taken a demon for a lover. And while he did genuinely love Charlie in a strange way, knowing now that she was a demon only seemed to spark a new feeling of excitement that he refused to extinguish. “A demon...” he muttered as he cut away at the bone of his latest kill. “The little dear is just full of surprises.”

He made quick work of his preparations. Once he packed and stored his future meal in a natural underground freezer, he wiped off the excess blood from his person, per Charlie’s request. The underground storage was at the peak temperature to store meats now that the first snowfall coated the ground. Properly packed, the human flesh would hold up longer. He’d make a fine meal later, but first he needed to chat with his lovely demon waiting for him.

He found her in the sitting room, reading a book peacefully with a pair of steaming cups beside her. When she heard his footsteps, she looked to the door and smiled. “Your coffee’s waiting for you.”

Alastor took the cup closest to his unoccupied chair and took a sip. “Thank you darling. Now, I hope you know I have plenty of questions. And I’m sure you do too.” he walked to the sofa and set his coffee cup down on the coffee table. He pat the seat next to him, to which Charlie smiled and obliged. He took her hand in her’s and let their clasped hands rest on the cushion between them.

The little demoness turned to face him, looking like she was ready to burst. “Alastor, I actually only have one question for you.”

“Go on.” he replied calmly.

She tensed. Alastor detected this sign of distress but remained unmoved. “Did you... ever feed me human...?” Charlie asked shyly. She prayed that her thoughts were wrong. She pieced together that he probably ate his victims seeing how he put so much care into the butchering of his victims.

“Oh no dear, I would never,” he replied promptly. He felt Charlie relax as soon as he said it. She wouldn’t know how to feel if she found out that she ate human meat. She’d had so many meals at Alastor’s house that once the idea entered her mind, she feared for the worst. “Not only would it be rude to feed it to someone who would not appreciate the taste of human flesh, I am also selfish. I don’t have it often, but I’m willing to share with you if you-“

Once her question was answered satisfactorily, she cut him off. “Nope! No no no thank you!” She shook her head wildly and crossed her arms into an ‘X’. “You can have all of it.” once she finished speaking, she placed her hand back into his grasp and plopped her head onto his shoulders with a sigh.

Alastor chuckled and took another sip of coffee while it still steamed in its cup. “How generous of you, dearest. You’re a demon are you not? I’m surprised that you have an aversion for human flesh!”

“Haha... yeah... I’m just not the biggest fan...”

They spoke for a bit longer before the grandfather clock reminded the pair of the time.

“Oh! I haven’t prepared dinner yet!” Charlie cried. She let go of Alastor’s hand and stood. She made her way toward the kitchen before turning to Alastor. “What would you like for dinner? We still have venison.”

Alastor stood as well and grinned. “Allow me to assist you my love. I’m sure my talents with flesh will help you greatly.”

Charlie scoffed and nodded. “Alright come on funny guy.”

It didn’t feel right, but she was happy. Sure he committed heinous actions, and he probably intended to turn on her one day, but Alastor was still the same Alastor she knew. It was awful but she wasn’t fazed by his hobby for murder and consumption of other humans. Once she was gone, it was inevitable that he’d one day find himself in the fiery pits of Hell and reunite with her. It didn’t matter what he did at this point. As long as he stayed by her side, she’d be content.

#charlastorweek #charlastorweek2020 #charlastor #charlastor fic #day 3

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ofimpala · 3 years

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@fcllencngel starter because hashtag the finale never happened, 18 eps sure is a weird number for a season, what a shame covid stopped them before they could make 40 solid minutes of reciprocation lmao

His phone is vibrating again. It keeps doing that, Sam’s name keeps popping up on the screen. It’s the seventh time now. Dean’s sure that, in a minute, it’ll be eight.

He just can’t bring himself to answer. Can’t bring himself to do anything other than stare at the empty spot in the room where Cas was and now isn’t. He’s felt this before. This deep howling void of absolute shell-shock where all he can hear is roaring in his ears and his own panicked heartbeat. It had happened after Mary had died, once when he didn’t speak for six months afterward, once again over her empty shell. Sam; stabbed in the back, fallen into the Cage, torn apart by vamps. Charlie’s bloody lifeless corpse in a bathtub. John in that hospital bed, soul torn out. And Cas-- god, so many times. More times than he wants to remember.

Dean thinks, maybe, that he should be used to this. Should be used to getting the people he loves torn away from him.

But this is different. This is Cas telling him about a deal he’d never fucking mentioned before. This is Cas smiling so wide, tears in his eyes as he tells Dean things that nobody’s ever been kind enough to say about him. This is Cas looking at peace while he’s swallowed by the Empty.

This is Cas saying I love you.

This is Cas sacrificing himself yet again, this time explicitly for Dean. This is Cas dying because he loves Dean.

His phone starts up again, the shorter buzzes of incoming texts.

[Sam]: Everybody vanished [Sam]: Jack’s still here with me [Sam]: Dean answer your fucking phone [Sam]: At least let me know if you’re alive

Dean thinks of Sam earlier, pale and drawn as he’d frantically texted Eileen, how the texts had just stopped. His thumb hovers over the reply button, because he doesn’t want Sam to worry, he really doesn’t, but a glint out of the corner of his eye stops him.

Death’s ring, lying small and so harmless looking on the concrete floor between the shelves. Her scythe, fallen awkwardly against some books. They must not have gone with her to the Empty, remaining on earth for the next Death to assume the mantle. Maybe they’ll just pop over to the next reaper that dies, but he doesn’t know how many reapers are even left. Earth might be without a Death for a while, but it’s not his fucking problem. Not right now.

He opens up a text to Sam, and pauses. His gaze goes right back to that ring.

He thinks about Jack saying Billie had been there when he’d woken up in the Empty. How the original Death had traveled anywhere he’d damned well pleased. He remembers the deal he made for Sam’s soul, slipping that ring on, graveyard-cold and heavy, touching the almost-dead and helping them pass on -- and he’s sure that Tessa did most of the work ferrying him around, he’s sure he didn’t get Death’s full powers. Maybe humans just can’t. Maybe it’s a time thing. Maybe he would have if he’d worn it for longer. Maybe he just hadn’t known how. Maybe maybe maybe.

Maybe he can...

There’s a mission at hand here, and at stake is everything. Life, free will, the entire fucking universe. Chuck needs to die; every single one of Dean’s nerve endings have been screaming that for months now, blinded with fury and loss of control. But Cas is gone, and Dean doesn’t know if they can kill Chuck without him. Doesn’t think he can grieve Cas again, not again, not when the last time had gone the way it had, at the bottom of too many bottles and nearly dead on the stairs of an abandoned house full of restless ghosts. It’d be easier if he could tell himself it’s because Cas is an important piece on the board, but it’s not just that, it’s something he’s been feeling for years and never could manage to be brave enough to face up to it--

Before Dean can even really think or plan ahead or contemplate how immensely fucking stupid and dangerous this is, his hands are moving. First, to his phone.

[Dean]: brb

And then to the ring. It’s cold, sending a chill right down his spine when he slips it on, but he doesn’t suddenly sprout wings or manifest knowledge of the entire fucking cosmos. For a long minute, he’s pretty sure he just looks like a goddamn idiot waiting for something to happen. It’s only when he picks up the scythe that he spots it against the far wall: a ripple in the air like a loose thread, a weak spot between realities where the Empty had ripped it open and hadn’t bothered to patch it up quite right after.

There’s no other course of action he can contemplate right now.

He steps through.

And, god, it’s-- Dean’s pretty sure a human mind was never meant to comprehend the Empty. Humans aren’t meant to be here. There’s nothingness and towering dim pillars of light and darkness, what must be angels and demons, and the noise is ear-splitting, rumbles and high-pitched whines, he doesn’t know how to find Cas or how to even begin looking, but he’s Dean Fucking Winchester so he marches forward. He spends a minute, or maybe an eternity, looking, running, hoping his brain doesn’t melt out his fucking ears before he catches a glimpse, a half-formed note of a familiar noise, and then--

Everything shifts. He tumbles down through flashes of memory like Alice down the hole to Wonderland, flashes of angel wings burned into a field and Lucifer’s burning red eyes, and Dean thinks he spends time there calling Cas’ name, but he can’t say for sure. There’s a house, then, and Cas-- no, it’s Jimmy, the lines of his face are softer, and something’s circling.

Something enormous and bright, something that, much like the Empty, Dean can’t comprehend. He sees it in dizzying half-glimpses, churning grace and twisting animal heads and gleaming ink-dark feathers.

It’s Cas. He knows it. Knows it deep in his soul and his fucking bones.

Dean will never be able to explain how he reaches out and grabs that celestial entity, skyscraper-massive and millions of years old, but he does it. He grabs Cas like he’s an errant puppy, tangles his fingers in what might be a feathered wing or a zebra’s mane or a spinning wheel or maybe all of them at once, and yanks.

And proceeds to bounce right off the bunker’s warding -- maybe he’s a little bit other than Dean with the ring on, different enough that his energy signature’s changed -- and into the gravel and trees outside. He thinks his eyes might be bleeding from those tiny glimpses of true form, knows his impact into a tree scraped him up, but it’s nothing compared to the agonizing jolt of relief (he did it) and fear (oh fuck what if he did it wrong) he feels when he sees Cas sprawled out on the bunker’s winding driveway.

“Cas.” It comes out a whisper, a croak, because what if he did something wrong, what if he brought back an empty shell like Mary was, what if Cas wanted to stay in the Empty. “Fuck, Cas--”

Dean scrambles, dropping to his knees beside Cas’ prone form, curling a hand underneath the lax curve of his neck to lift his head, the other hand on a too-still shoulder, shaking him. “C’mon, come on, wake the fuck up.” The words want to be an authoritative bark; they come out far too wobbly for that. “You have to be alright or I’ll kill you myself for pulling that shit, Cas.”

#.fcllencngel

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lilyswritings · 7 years

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Hold On To Me

Author’s note: Okay so this fic spawned from a few different requests I got, but in the end I kind of ignored the requests and did my own thing?? Sorry guys. But anyway, ever since I saw Wonder Woman (the day it came out lmao) and then the two other times since then (bc I’m trash) I’ve been developing this idea and yeah. Hope you guys enjoy! Also! Please listen to ‘Heart’ by Sleeping At Last, as that’s the song I listened to while writing and it kind of fits!

Summary: You joined this godawful war alongside your brother and his best friend. As a female pilot, already under stress due to your gender, the war became too much, ripping away everything you loved - but Steve was always by your side. Then he disappeared, and you had nothing left. So when he turns up out of nowhere with a stunning warrior goddess by his side, there are mixed feelings that arise. But you cannot let yourself get distracted by feelings that may or may not be reciprocated - there is still a war to be won.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Steve Trevor x Reader

The first time you met Steve Trevor was back in 1916, the year you’d been assigned to British forces. You were waiting for your brother to return from a flight, so that the two of you could celebrate the fact that you’d finally been assigned a mission, and your pilot’s license - an incredibly difficult feat, due to the fact that you’re a woman. You were stood in the middle of the large hangar when something hurtled into you.

The two of you were sent sprawling, your flight suit barely giving much protection from the concrete floor of the hangar. Groaning, you sat up, pulling off your helmet in order to be able to think properly, your eyes catching sight of the blonde man scrambling to pick up some of his papers - your eyes also caught sight of the small Captain badge on the lapel of his jacket.

“I’m sorry I-” The man started, but stopped when he saw your face. “Oh.” His comment simply made you roll your eyes - since you’d gotten your pilot’s license, men seemed to always have the same reaction to you; incredulity and amusement at the thought of a female pilot.

“Here.” You replied, holding back a snarky comeback (this man was your superior, technically), while handing him some of the papers he’d dropped. It was then that you took in his appearance - handsome face, boyish blond hair, bright blue eyes...

Nevermind that. He took back the papers, still staring at you, and you rolled your eyes and took the bait. “Can I help you with something?” You tried desperately to sound polite.

“Nothing, just - have we met?” He asked, and you furrowed your brow. “You remind me of someone.” You opened your mouth to reply but stopped when you spotted someone jogging towards the two of you.

“Andrew!” You shouted, heart swelling at the sight of your brother who promptly barreled into you, pulling you into a smothering hug and lifting you off the ground.

“How was the first day of official flying?” Your brother asked, finally letting go of you and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He then paused as he noticed the man besides him, glancing between the man and you. “So you’ve met Steve, then.” When his words were followed by silence he laughed, gesturing to the blonde man.

“Steve, this is my little sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is Steve Trevor, a good friend of mine.” Although you rolled your eyes at the use of ‘little sister’ rather than just ‘sister’, you nodded at him.

Your eyebrows raised as you remembered the letters your brother had written you about his previous missions. “So this is Steve, as in ‘saved your life from the Germans’ Steve?” You asked, and your brother nodded and clapped his friend on the back.

“The one and the same.” He said, and you noticed the admiration in his eyes as he looked down at Steve.

“Well then, glad to finally meet you. Thanks for keeping an eye on my flyboy of a brother.” You said, outstretching your hand to shake Steve’s.

“It was my pleasure.”

The pub is already a mess. You have never been a heavy drinker - far from it, actually - but due to the harrowing letter you’d received, telling you to assume the man that meant the most to you in the world was dead... A few drinks couldn’t hurt. Besides, it gives you an excuse to look after- Oh Christ, where’s he gone now-

"CHARLIE!” You shout over the noise filling the bar, watching the Scotsman be picked up by the shirt and punched repeatedly. You shove your way through the crowd, planting yourself firmly in between Charlie and the fist that was hurtling towards him. Instantly, the owner of said fist stops, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Out of the way, girlie." He growls, finally letting go of Charlie's shirt. You roll your eyes, lacking the energy or willpower to fight this man and turn to tug your friend over to your table - when the brute reaches for your arm. You respond by whipping around and kneeing him in the groin, watching him fall to the ground with a clenched jaw as a hush falls over the bar.

“Didn’t think so.” You mutter, pushing your drunk friend over to the table where Sameer was sitting a few minutes ago, only to stop dead in your tracks. Your eyes widen, face turning white - and ironically, once could say it looks like you’ve seen a ghost. It takes a couple seconds for you to realize your feet have started moving, but when you do you’re hurtling towards the American man standing next to Sameer.

“STEVE!” You shout, abandoning Charlie and engulfing Steve in your arms, breathing him in. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly, and you barely hold back a sob at how real and alive he is. “You were dead.” You mutter, your eyes blurred slightly by unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry, I would have contacted you if I could have.” He mutters into the crook of your neck, squeezing you once more before letting you go. “Y/N, this is Diana Prince. She pulled me from my sinking plane.” You turn and widen your eyes immediately, taking in the definitely-not-British woman standing by Steve.

“Diana, this is Y/N, the best damn pilot around.” You shake your head despite the small smile on your lips, glancing back at Steve, who you still can’t believe is alive.

“He’s exaggerating, but hi. Y/N Y/L/N, at your service.” You hold out your hand and she shakes it, her grasp incredibly strong, and you watch as a twinge of confusion passes through her expression as she glances between you and Steve. “What?” You ask, and she pauses.

“Why are you not out fighting right now?” She asks, her accent continuing to mesmerize you, and you frown slightly.

“I, uh... I’m no longer in the forces.” You state, your gaze falling to the floor, but Diana persists.

“If you are such a great pilot why would you leave?”

You sigh, glancing at Steve who has a solemn expression on his face. “I guess... It wasn’t meant to be.” You reply, deciding to leave it at that. “So, Diana, what brings you to jolly old-” You’re cut off by the butt of a gun being shoved in your face.

“Not so tough now, are you?” The man slurs, and out of the corner of your eye you see Steve lunge forwards, but stop when Diana steps in front of him. With amazing speed, she shoves the man back, pulling the gun out of his hand and kicking him, sending him flying across the bar and into a pile of chairs. Then she hands the gun to Steve. Silence, and then-

“Steve, can I borrow you?” You don’t wait for an answer, grabbing the arm of his jacket and tugging him to the side. “Okay, I need answers,” You start. “First, you go undercover as a German pilot, which I found out because Etta told me, not you; then every single person you work for tells me you’ve gone M.I.A. and that I should just assume you’ve died - which I do;”

You watch his expression turn solemn but continue. “Then, you show up with a really oblivious foreign woman who looks like she fell from heaven, and can disarm a man in about four seconds flat, with absolutely ZERO explanation!” You shout, and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, it’s a long story-” His reply makes you scoff, jaw clenching.

“Steven Rockwell Trevor don’t you ‘long story’ me after making me think you’re dead.” He rolls his eyes, glancing back at the group, where Sameer is very obviously flirting with Diana and Charlie is nursing yet another drink.

“Fine, okay? Her name is Diana, she pulled me out of my sinking plane after I crash landed on her hidden island full of Amazonian warrior women where she happens to be the princess, and she came with me because she believes can end the war by killing the Greek god Ares.” He explains, and you narrow your eyes.

“Hm. Okay.” Is all you say, and he raises an eyebrow.

"What, that’s it? You believe me?” He sounds incredulous and you smile slightly.

“You promised me you’d never lie to me. I trust you, Steve. I don’t fully believe it, but I believe you’re telling me the truth.” You state, expression softening as you look up at him and meet his cerulean eyes. “If anything I’m just happy you’re alive.”

He chuckles lowly. “Yeah, me too.” Steve mutters, pulling you into another small hug and turning back to the table. You sit next to the newcomer, eyes darting over Sami and Charlie, and turn to her.

“Diana Prince, huh?” You ask, and she nods. “Welcome to the gang.”

#steve trevor #steve trevor imagine #wonder woman imagine #Wonder Woman #Diana Prince #diana prince imagine #dceu #dc imagine #dceu imagine

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