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jujutsu-headcanons · 3 years

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Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong.

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle.

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out.

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art"

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

#jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

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COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 5 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

📝: you have... NO IDEA how long i have been sitting on this one. Just... wow okay. And this is just the beginning, wait till you see the cabin scene 👀 Edit: tell me why I had the main chorus of Timber Feat. Ke$ha in my head on infinite loop while writing the fight scene 🤦‍♀️ LMAO

⚠️: asphyxiation [aka suffocation], several mentions of blood, and graphic (?) depictions of violence throughout. Also, long chapter

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"MAX! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Everyone watched stilled, with pounding hearts as Billy's billowing cries echoed out across the weight room. No one more so than Max. He had barely taken his eyes off of her and his voice fell into a weakened plea.

"Let me out,"

And then it was gone. Replaced with a malice-filled hiss that was beginning to feel a little too familiar for their liking. One by one his eyes flicker between the party members with a twitch in his eye as he began to shift, eyes darting past their shoulders and sweeping the room before his next glare.

"You kids," he pants, each breath like swallowing smoke. "you think..." he was swallowing embers. "this is funny?"

Mike and Lucas share a nervous glance.

Another heaving breath, the flames now licking his lungs.

"You kids think this is some kind of sick prank, huh?" With a snarl, he rears his head back and spits on the glass. "YOU LITTLE SHITS THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!"

Anxiously, Max eyes Will from where he stands beside El and he meets her gaze. The two seem to share the same thought. It was working.

But the sauna's prisoner had caught on, and as the fire was rekindled in his veins, he shifted nervously again; eyes darting once more around the room before landing on the two.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" They all flinch when he throws himself against the window in a fury. He was growing more frantic. And he wasn't stopping. "OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!" He pressed his nose against the glass, showcasing his darkening eyes. "OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!"

The fire was now ablaze, the blood in his veins felt as if it was actually boiling, cooking him from the inside out and he finally collapsed on the sauna floor with a groan. Will took that as his cue and raced to the thermometer on the wall where the needle rested at the end.

"We're at two-twenty,"

When he returned to El's side, a great wail reverberates from within the sauna followed by a great many thumps.

"It's not my fault," he weeps, catching them all by surprise. "It's not my fault, it's not my fault, Max. I promise it's not my fault."

With a pounding and aching heart, Max crept towards the sauna door. Many eyes darted after her, fearfully, dealing between her and the only barrier protecting her from what lay inside.

"What's not your fault, Billy?" She asks.

When she peers behind the foggy glass, her heart threatens to split in two; he sits before her on the tile floor, beads of sweat blending with his tears and his hands glued together in plea as he looks up at her.

"I've done things, Max," he sobs, his voice threatening to break. "Really b... bad things and I didn't mean to."

As Billy peers up at his sister now, he can feel himself slipping again. He tries so hard to hold onto that sliver of himself, drifting away into the dark. His hands wring together as he pleads, his nails raking into his skin to stop himself - to stop Him - from winning.

His sanity was slipping and everything in him was screaming for him to do violent, inhumane things to the girl before him but he fought it. Billy knew he didn't have much time, and it was getting harder to think. And Billy spat the words from his tongue before he considers the repercussions from the shadow.

"He made me do it,"

Max was certain she knew the answer now. She knew it even as she stood in the living room facing her brother just twenty-four hours ago. But she had let herself believe the tempting lie over the bitter truth that the Shadow Monster had not gotten Billy. But she knew she had to. And so she asked.

"Who made you do it?"

Fear flashed in his eyes as he wept. He looked as something was trying to stop him, and Max knew very well something was, but he managed the words anyway; unknown to all, his final warning. The words that confirmed all their darkest fears and chilled their bones.

"I don't know, it was like a shadow. A giant shadow,"

Y/n's heart leaps into her throat, and her brows knit together in a curious frown when she sees El and Will meet eyes in matching grave expressions. They share a knowing look and nod, and silently they form a wall, herding Y/n behind them. It was likely they had made a prior agreement, she realizes, but her worries still remained on her other best friend inches from the glass.

"Please, Max," Billy weeps.

"What did he make you do?" Max asks through a wavering voice.

"It's not my fault," He cries suddenly, sinking into the sauna bench. "okay, Max?! Please! Please!"

At the sound of his broken cries, Max's eyes squeeze shut, and hot tears slide down her cheeks as she faces the small window. Her heart is torn, but she tries to remain strong.

"Please, believe me, Max! I tried to stop him, okay? I did."

He's trying even now, but the darkness is closing in. Her tearful face is blurring from his vision and he's losing the grip on his body without realizing it. He can already feel the shadow breaking free from his hold when his arm creeps across the tile floor without his permission.

"Please, believe me, Max. Please believe me,"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reaches out to Billy; her hand on the glass and speaks through her breaking voice.

"Billy, it's gonna be okay,"

The darkness was spreading to his vision, closing in on his sister and he knew he had only moments. They had only moments. There was no telling when the shadow would let him resurface. As Billy disappeared, he spoke what little warning he could before the shadow stole his voice.

"Max please..." -get away, his mind screams. But the words didn't come. Go away. Get out while you can.

She hadn't heard him. It was too late. The hand that lied hidden beneath the sauna bench, had already found a weapon.

"It's gonna be okay, we want to help you," Max swears through stinging tears.

His fingers curl around the broken and jagged tile.

"We want to help you. You just have to talk to us, okay? You have to talk us."

All too well indeed. He felt it even now.

Will's eyes had never left the sauna door, drilling holes through the glass even when the man had collapsed to the ground. Billy's haunted cries had reached Will in a way it never could the others. He knew the feeling all too well.

An unnatural chill zapped the air despite the muggy atmosphere and his whole body seized up. His hair stood on end and the skin over his body tightened, goosebumps breaking out out all over his skin.

He's activated.

-"What?"

Will has little time to look at Mike and Y/n and realize he had uttered the words aloud before looking back to Max.

"Max, get away from the door," he cautions.

Taken by surprise at his sudden request, Max hesitates. "What?"

"GET AWAY FROM FROM THE DOOR! NOW!"

Max had barely heeded Will's warning when the glass burst inches from her face as Billy hurled his arm through the window. El jumped back, sweeping both her arms in an effort to protect her friends. And with miraculous timing, Max had dove to the left just in time to escape the confetti of glass shards but her arm had not been so lucky.

While he had dropped his tile shard his hand had caught her bandaged forearm in his iron grasp and yanked. She yelped in pain, using the traction of her shoes against the linoleum to keep herself away.

"LET ME OUT, YOU BITCH!" He howls, tugging her arm as she attempts to pry and claw her way free. "I'LL FUCKING GUT YOU!"

"NO!" Came the sudden angered cry of Y/n Henderson as she forcibly broke free from the wall El and Will had created. She pushed their shoulders aside and sprinted forward, throwing her hand out before her. "LET HER GO!"

A powerful blasts burst forth from her palm and Billy cried out, yanking his hand back. He withered for only a moment, a loud hissing breath sucked in from between his clenched teeth as he visibly shook in anger. His hair was still dripping and it hung like a dark curtain over his eyes, but she could see it - they all could. The whites of his eyes were harder and harder to see as he looked upon his festering arm.

Max had scrambled away from the wall, back into the safety of El and Y/n's protection but Y/n didn't flinch.

He was pissed, but so was she.

In an instant, he throws his head up to look at her, his drenched curls landing on top of his head and draping over his seething face. His darkened eyes locked on her, his gritted teeth clenched so hard his entire body shook with fury. His expression finally matched his eyes from the previous night and confirmed to Y/n it had been the Mind Flayer to have spoken to her at Heather's. Never Billy.

What followed next, had unfolded all at once.

His screams return and he bangs his fist against the door once before yanking out the lead pipe and chucking it at Y/n.

She ducks just in time, and El swipes it out of the way, sending it flying into the wall with the flick of her head before it could hurt any of the others. And Lucas releases the pull on his wrist rocket he had trained on the man since he scrambled to load it when the glass first broke.

With an audible snap, the ammo was released and sent flying into its target; crashing into Billy's forehead.

A second time he was sent tumbling to the sauna floor, disappearing from their view with an even louder thump.

"Y/n, come on!" Lucas cried.

She wasted no time, scurrying back to the safety of her friends who engulfed her into their surrounding figures. Their heads all snap towards the ceilings when the hum of the lights grow stronger and everything begins to flicker.

Billy's insides churn with a disgruntled choke, his mouth spitting out fluids as he comes to. With a groan, his body spits and writhes on the floor. The icy storm in his veins spreading. And festering.

Joined shoulder to shoulder, the huddled party backed up in one circle. Each of them faced away from one another, looking around worriedly as the rows of florescent lights flicker violently above them. They all close in on Y/n in a protective stance.

Billy's body twisted and thrashed on the tile floor as he attempted to heave himself up to his feet. The grip of the Mind Flayer had broken free from the barriers of his mind and was coursing all throughout his body, the dark mass staining the very blood in his veins and poisoning his system. Dark lesions broke out all over his back and arms, and black veins rippled out under his skin, all across his body as he clutched the wall. Throwing back his head, Billy released an inhuman, agonized wail before charging for the door.

A second time they all jumped, and a second time El's arms swept out to protect her friends - finally including her Max. Their horror-stricken eyes were fixed on the door as Will inched closer to Y/n, and Max spoke through a fearful waver.

"He can't get out, can he?" She frets as he barrels into the door a second time, the chains testing the pipe anchored to the wall.

Fear gripped his heart and Lucas shook his head, voice filled with doubt in his own words. "No way. No. Way,"

"Y/n, get back," El orders in a flat voice, her tilted head unblinking on the door. "Go with Will."

Y/n gawked over El's shoulder, frantically looking between the door, her best friend, and a pleading Will who grabbed for her hand.

"What? No! No, bullshit! We agreed!"

"Y/n, come on," Will urged, tugging a little harder on her hand.

It grew hot under his touch and she ripped it from his grasp. "No. I need to do this," Y/n cried, her head whipping back and forth between her boyfriend and the fraying thread that was the bowing sauna pipe; the last defense holding back the Mind Flayer's newest host.

The door stopped moving and one split, heart-stopping moment a thunderous cry barreled out deep from within Billy's chest.

The door was thrown open, the pipe bursting from the wall and expelling puffs of steam as Billy tumbled through the open door. The Party jumped back in shrieks, El on the front lines pushing everyone behind her, even still.

With a lumbering breath, the fluorescents still flickering madly above them, Billy rose to his feet to meet eye to eye with the wrong girl. With a fear-inducing glare and an overpowering sense of protectiveness, El had forcibly barricaded herself in between the Mind Flayer and her best friend.

He curled back his teeth, a growl growing in the back of his throat. He was ready to wring her neck but she simply rose a single hand in the air, and the nearest barbell rose with it. In the blink of an eye, Billy was pinned against the brick wall by his neck, gasping for breath.

Everyone watched on in a mixture of shock and awe as El threw another arm up, and the weights sunk deeper into the brick, crumbling them near his head. She was panting for breath, nose dripping with blood but she was determined.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Y/n-!"

But she ignored the Party's cries, as well as the pleas in her gut screaming for her to turn tail and run. But she couldn't stand by and do nothing as El faced it all alone - nor could she sit still when she saw the very monster she had faced the prior year, wearing the very face that plagued her dreams in her last sleep. Y/n Henderson didn't walk away. She couldn't.

Y/n stormed to El's side, throwing her arms up in sync with two large and billowing waves of heat that filled the entire room. Billy howled as the heat consumed him completely, the black veins festering underneath his skin. Across the sauna, Mike and Will watch on in a mixture of awe and worry as El and Y/n stand side by side, their arms extended as they fight with great strain and their guttural cries begin to blend.

Tears pricked Will's eyes as he watched the scene unfold, frightened not only for Y/n's life but El's. He truly feared what the Mind Flayer might be capable of in someone like Billy Hargrove. And already he had every right to be.

What came next stole the breath right out of his chest.

With a husky grunt and a terrifying spur of adrenaline, Billy heaved and broke El's telepathic hold, sending the barbell flying for their heads. With matching screams, they throw themselves to the floor, avoiding the otherwise inevitable blunt force trauma by a hair's width. He stormed to their bodies piled together on the floor. Learning his lesson and counting every precious second, Billy grabs a fist full of El's hair and drags her to her feet and off of Y/n's body. She yelps out in pain, clawing to get free but he had already thrown her into the wall she had just pinned him to. Her head collided with the brick and she sunk to the floor, fighting to keep her eyes open and vision clear but she was losing her battle.

Mike and the others cried out to her, unable to reach her but her blurring vision was fixed on the sight of Billy closing in on Y/n's body. She threw her arms up with a vengeful grunt, her skin beginning to glow. The ground begins to shake and all their hopes rise with Y/n as pulls herself onto one wobbly knee. The spidery veins adorned her eyes, lips, and ears, heat pulsing from her palms as her light began to illuminate the weight room.

And like a candle's flame, it was extinguished under Billy's hand.

Her grunts died in her throat when his hand encircled her throat, cutting off all her air. What strength he possessed as Billy Hargrove had doubled with the Mind Flayer and lifted the young girl above his head with ease.

Y/n tried crying for help but her voice was lodged in her throat with the rest of her breath, leaving her no choice but to claw at Billy's arms as she fought for air and freedom. Her legs were finally listening to her brain's signals, kicking and squirming as she tried to reach him or even the ground but they never did, no matter how close she got. Just as she had foreseen.

"Y/N!" The others cried.

She gasped and choked for breath, any whisp of air she could possibly manage between his fingers as she tried to conjure a fight, but she was losing concentration. She was losing air.

All she saw beside the white spots swallowing her vision were the seething eyes of the Mind Flayer peering up at her. And as he watched the life drain from her eyes, he hissed to the one he had been waiting in agony for all these months his final greeting.

"You."

Y/n could barely hear him over the cries of her frantic friends, nor could she barely register the repetitive snap of Lucas's wrist rocket as he sent rocks flying into Billy. But this time, Billy resisted. Out of spite, or with the aid of the Mind Flayer's mutation, none of them knew but with El out cold on the floor and unreachable without crossing through Billy, little options were left.

And Lucas was already running low.

Y/n's hands latched onto Billy's wrist, at first, seemingly trying to pry herself away as she sucked in as much air as she could capture. And as her bulging eyes began to flutter, she manages to speak through choking, gasping breaths.

"Fuck... you."

Latched hands had locked on and began to glow and Billy's eyes fell to her grip. The skin beneath her palms began to sizzle and a agonized cry grew deep within Billy at her searing touch. And yet still he held, but the same could not be said for Y/n. Like El, she was fighting to remain conscious.

And Lucas had run out of ammo.

Lucas and Will seemed to share the same thought as everything had unfolded within an instant. And with an angered cry, Will charged forward just as Lucas chucked his metal wrist rocket at Billy's head.

His grip still iron clad over Y/n's throat, Billy's head whipped to the party as fast as his other hand stopped in front of his face, catching the wrist rocket mid-air. And just in time for Will to reach him. Billy reared his arm back and smacked the butt end of the wrist rocket into the boy's head, knocking him to the ground without ever blinking.

"Will!"

Those that remained stood back, watching terror-stricken as Y/n begins to grow limp, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Tears prick Mike's eyes as the sights surrounding him become too much; one of his best friends dying before his eyes, and the two people he had probably loved most in the world, fading on the floor. And he snaps into action.

He looks around wildly, thanking whatever force was out there that the burst pipe from the sauna was near his feet. He picked it up in an instant, charging forward with a sudden surge of adrenaline, and crashed it into Billy's skull.

Y/n dropped to the floor, gasping for breath as she rolled away from Billy's fallen body. Mike towered over the man as Y/n came to, a vengeful look in his eyes as he swung the pipe back above his head.

"GO TO HELL YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

With all the force he could possibly muster, Mike threw the pipe down at Billy's back but it had stopped inches from his face. In the blink of an eye, Billy had turned, catching it in his single fist with as much ease as the wrist rocket.

Mike gasped in horror as Billy seethes up at him, much too frightened to even flicker to the sight of Y/n wobbling up onto her hands and knees and risk giving her away. She was coughing on every wheezing breath, her lungs and throat burning but she still felt a spark big enough to hold onto.

Will had just started to come to, the sideways vision of the weight room floor showing to him two things: Billy chucking the pipe against the wall with an earsplitting clang and Y/n's heaving chest swallowing desperate, gulping breaths, the blood steadily draining from her face.

He tried to move to her, but his limbs were heavy. All he managed to do was hoist himself up onto his arms as tears fell from his eyes, slowly pulling himself along as the world began to steady. But he never reaches her in time. Billy had begun to rise, and yet the beginnings of a smug smile curled Will's lips as his eyes trailed her across the room.

Anger battled impatience within the Mind Flayer at the unrelenting children, but killing this one - the Wheeler boy - would be easy. At least, it would have been had it not been for the young girl emerging with the two hot blasts of searing heat raining down upon his exposed chest as Y/n unleashed her fury upon him.

A primal scream grew from deep within her belly, ripping up her throat as she circled back around to face him, arms outstretched before her in two taut claws. What little space he had created from himself and the weight room floor had vanished as the blasts intensified with her screams.

The fluorescent lights about their heads were flashing violently now, enunciating the matching veins each opponent bore. The buzzing of the lights was nearly as loud as the rumble of the shaking room and the cracking of the tile that sounded eerily like thunder. The two blurring bursts of energy were pouring from her palms and pinning Billy into the tile so hard the tile floor cracked beneath him.

His screams blended with hers, the light pouring from her skin illuminating his agonized face and she pushed harder. her arms dug closer to his chest and the deep and inhuman voice returned; the voice of the Mind Flayer cried out in pain.

Y/n felt the sudden force of Billy's untouched leg sweep under her own, knocking her off her feet. The Mind Flayer coughed and hacked once more, and threw himself over her as she lied on her back. His hands were around her throat again, yanking her up before slamming her back into the ground.

With the strobing, flickering lights disorienting their already obscured vision the others could barely make out Billy hunched over something on the floor. His haunched, vein painted back nearly in ribbons as blood drizzled down his back like rain on a window. It didn't take them long to put together the pieces, Y/n's name on their weeping tongues as Billy repeatedly threw her back into the tile until she steadily lost consciousness. Finally, after one last gust of power, he thrust her into the tile and releasing her throat. But only to raise one darkening, blistering fist into the air, ready to strike...

Horrified screams tore from their throats, each of them prepared to tackle Billy. Will had finally stumbled to his feet for the first time without falling, ready to do just that but something had stopped him.

Billy froze, growing horrified as he himself began to choke.

A body hidden away in the shadows that had finally fought her way back into consciousness for the sake of her loved ones

There she was in all her glory.

El, rising to her wobbling knees; the sound of Y/n's broken cries and gasping pleas for help that broke through her subconscious mind had been the final push of adrenaline she needed.

Like Y/n, El's grew from deep within as she pulled herself to her feet, arms outstretched. Steadily, Billy's body was pulled off of Y/n's until even his toes had left the ground. He was pulled far away from the young girl's body as El circled him, once again placing herself in between the Mind Flayer and the girl she couldn't lose.

Will took the advantage El had bought for them and closed the remaining gap, collapsing at Y/n's side. He breathed a sigh at unimaginable relief when he saw her chest moving with labored breaths. She was alive. Hoisting Y/n's bloodied head into his folded legs, he returned his worried sights to El just in time to see her give a great roar, hurling her clawed hands to the side and watching as Billy was thrown through the brick wall in an explosion of dust.

El's knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion beside Y/n's limp body. Mike rushed to her side, steadying her arms and looking on with pooling eyes at his waking friend.

Y/n lays in Will's arms on the grounds of the cracked and broken sauna floor, her bloodshot eyes popping out of her skull as she coughs and chokes on what air she hopes to regain. Strenuous marks circle her throat from where she was previously held captive, and specks of blood drip from the back of her skull onto Will's leg. The others begin to crowd around in worry and fear as they jump in to help.

Will cradles her head softly, brushing away the stray hairs from her face as he weeps, desperately wanting to ease her pain though he does not know how. He's doomed to watch her lay suffering, her wails of anguish are strained and hoarse from the Mind Flayer's grip. A similar, deathly grip squeezed the hearts of the rest as they watched her suffer.

With flooded eyes, Will leans down and plants a shaky kiss on her forehead before resting his own against it. Her left hand comes to wrap around his wrist as it still holds her head in place. He breaks away to examine her once more, the puffiness of her swollen cheeks had already subsided a great deal but it was clear she was still in pain. Trembling, she looks out to each of them, her eyes watery and thankful. Reaching out her other hand, it finds El's, and they both let out a sob knowing the other was okay. Each sniffle tore right through his heart, and as if asking for help he looks up at his friends hoping for answers.

But they all stare at her, glassy-eyed and frozen, and that's when it dawns on them; Billy. Each of them, Will included, look frantically to the broken brick wall through which he was thrown. Everyone apart from the young couple on the ground rushed to see the young man, singed and bleeding making his escape into the trees far across the field and into the squalling storm.

Will's gaze is torn back to his lap when he feels Y/n begin to rise. Eagerly, and without hesitation, he helps Y/n to sit up. Tracks of thick tears stream down her face, cleaning her bloodied and dirtied cheeks in their path. His hand finds a home on her back, reflexively trying to run soothing circles into her muscles but she immediately whimpers, flinching. Her back had taken most of the damage, which he realized was preferable to her skull. But still, a plethora of apologies spilled from his lips, his eyes are filled with nothing but worry and heartbreak.

Y/n takes a moment to steady herself, the blood rushing to her head combined with the powerful forces inside her still hard at work as they desperately try to repair the gash in her head. She tries to smile, silently telling him it was okay, but it hardly showed. But Will still knew.

As she attempts to stand - one arm hooked around his shoulder, the other over Lucas's - the energy drains from her quicker than anything she had felt in a long while and when she blinks she realises she is resting her head on Will's shoulder.

Her sobs are weak and drawn out in her taxed state, yet they still demand to be heard even buried in Will's chest. The pain of seeing her this way makes him feel as if he has been torn in two, and yet worse, he knows it's dwarfed in comparison to whatever she is enduring. All he can do is hold her close, and hold her gently, assuring her safety.

Will wishes more than anything to take her pain away, and how cruel of fate to deprive him of this.

With the aid of Will and Lucas, Y/n hobbled to the gaping hole in the brick where Billy had disappeared. Her shoulders rose and fell as she attempted even know to even her breathing, her haunted glare stretching out across the dark and stormy night where the Mind Flayer had made his second escape.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The girl, was it her?"

Heather's voice cuts through the silence is Brimborne as she sat opposite Billy.

"Yes," he answers with a hiss, eyes darting to the handprints seared into his skin. "Yes it was her, and she knows now. She knows about me. They both do."

Heather's hand and the cool wet handkerchief it holds reaches for his blistered wrists but finds her own entrapped in an instant but neither of them blink.

"She could have killed me." He asserted.

"Yes," she says. "But not us."

She looks out onto the darkened sea of the warehouse, where the very rot of the Mind Flayer had seeded and spread and multiplied. And the numbers were still climbing. Waiting, out in the shadows for their noble sacrifice to the monster of flesh bone known as the Mind Flayer.

Or more specifically, the Mind Flayer's army.

"Not us."

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strawberrysoup · 4 years

Text

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong. You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners.

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment. Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #clint barton x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!thor #dark!bucky barnes #dark!tony stark #dark!natasha romanoff #wow i give up its too many #posies chapter 1 #will reblog w tags in just a sec

2K notes · View notes

inforapound · 3 years

Text

The Devil Inside - Part 5

Thanks for reading. I’m going with a couple of shorter chapters instead of one long finale. Hope you like it.

Pairing - Ivar and reader

Warnings - dark Ivar, explicit smut, bad relationship, toxic love

By the following night without a word from Ivar, not a single call or text, and no sign of the black Camaro, you were no longer laughing. It felt like your world had collapsed to the ground. And, that alone was confusing as he was the one who had been such a prick. Right? Hadn’t he? Still, it was impossible to escape the feeling of guilt and some hard-to-define panic.

Your Ivar! Your beautiful, intense, complicated Ivar; his only fault being how much he loved you.

Was it actually over, you wondered for the zillionth time? Could the two of you work it out or would you never speak again? Would he ghost you? Ah yes, that was the fear creating the panic; you were worried he would write you off as though you had never existed. Just that idea, despite his display of rage, made your blood run cold and your heart straight-up rejected the notion that you were better off without him.

After months of the two of you cocooning away and blowing off the world, you were grateful, grateful, that your two best friends had your back. One look at your pale, despondent face the previous day, walking into class, and they flew into BBF mode.

God, they were great but you questioned their thinking. How would going out, within 24 hours of your love story ending, possibly help you?

But… there you sat in your room wearing a one-shouldered purple dress and strappy heels while Amanda carefully lined your lips and Kim flat ironed your hair. They yattered away as if to distract you, talking about what an asshole Ivar was, a complete psycho, and thank god you hadn’t slept with him. Eeeek, all that solidarity, and you had given them a watered-down version of what had happened during the fight.

Barely taking in their words, you thought over and over all that had been said in his car, questioning if it had truly been that bad. It felt awful at the time, but things seemed different after such a long time without hearing from him. Did it mean you had forgiven him? Definitely not but you still felt like a balloon bouncing in the wind without your Ivar.

Under it all, he just needed you and the thought of you with another guy was more than he could process. How can that be a bad thing? And it had been you, YOU, who desecrated his most treasured possession, his beloved mother’s necklace, a necklace he had imparted so lovingly. Wasn’t your behaviour as bad or even worse? Could he forgive you?

Tears rose in your eyes making the girls stop and stare, looking like a pair of barn owls.

“Oh babe,” Kim whispered squeezing your shoulder and Amanda leaned in, looking as if she was pitying a dog.

“Tonight is exactly what you need,” she nodded. “The dance will take your mind off of everything. Trust me.”

WELL, THAT WAS A FUCKING LIE.

The school gymnasium was dark and stuffy, the music pounding and the strobes seemed to flash all the way into your brain. It was the last place you needed to be! God! Every guy wearing a leather jacket made you do a double-take and Ivar’s absence screamed louder than the noise. Just twenty feet away your friends were dancing and yet you had never felt so alone. That must have been how Ivar felt, that day on the road, watching you run away from him. Your poor, love….. Where was he?

“Is it really you? Are you honestly here?” asked Mark Hasting as he, all-of-sudden, appeared at your side, reeking of weed and smiling one of his squinty-eyed smiles. “Mr. Lothbrok let you out of his grasp for a night. I almost don’t believe it.”

Not a word came out of your mouth and you looked from Mark back to the dance floor unable to tell him that the two of you had broken up. And….. that it was all your fault. Instead of easing Ivar’s fears, you had doused gasoline on his pain. Should you tell Mark that? What a horrible person you were? Oh god, what had you done?

Taking a deep breath, a gasp really, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Mark?” you cried out and it turned into a sob.

“Yea, heeey, what’s wrong?” he scrunched his forehead with concern and stepped closer.

“Can you give me a lift home? I can’t be here right now.”

----

Waving your thanks to Mark, you watched him reverse out of the driveway and closed the front door. Not taking the time to remove your coat or turn on the lights, you riffled through your purse looking for your phone. You had to find Ivar.

Would you call or text? Call! Yes, calling would be better and if he didn’t answer, you’d go straight over to his house. Oh god, that was a nerve-wracking thought, driving over and just walking in. What if he wasn’t alone...what if some chic was there? Your mind began to spin as your insecurities played tricks despite knowing, in your heart-of-hearts, how unlikely that was.

Bringing his number up on our phone, you headed through your dark kitchen toward your room, your ears still humming from the music at the dance. Staring at his number, you slowed to a stop and leaned against the hallway wall, sliding down to sit on the carpet. It was time.... and it felt scary as you had no idea where to start and Ivar was not a guy to make things easy. It was no stretch of the imagination to envision him picking up and not saying a word, just listening on the other end as you stuttered on. Regardless, there were things that needed to be said and for your part in the horrible mess, you wouldn’t keep score. Honestly, how could any girl keep score who dated Ivar Lothbrok?

Deep breath in, you steadied your nerves and hit dial, your ear pressed to the phone as it began to ring. Waiting, listening, holding your breath, you didn’t at first hear the faint buzzing sound. It was when you lowered the phone that it captured your attention. Ending the call, you sat straining to identify it but all was quiet in the house; the sound was gone. Tapping his number again, you redialed, keeping the phone in your lap, your eyes fixed on the screen. The ringing began again along with that same buzzing.

Holy shit! Ivar was there! Somewhere in the house with his phone!

Ending the call, you weren’t sure what to do but panic hit your chest, and as if on autopilot, you silently pushed yourself up to stand. You didn’t call out his name, instead, walked, tiptoed, to your bedroom door hesitating when your hand touched the handle. Why weren’t you calling out to him? Why was your door closed?

A thousand thoughts and feelings swirled in your head but none you could name. Snap out of it, you blasted yourself! It’s Ivar, your boyfriend, your true love; the guy you had been pining for all day. Not some intruder on the other side of the door ready to do horrible things. Right? Of course not…. Of course not….you repeated to yourself.

Carefully you turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. Your room was dark and at the end of your bed sat a hooded figure... waiting. The light was too dim to see his face and his hood concealed his outline. It was the tension in the air and the way his head suddenly tilted to one side, looking in your direction, that confirmed it was him.

“Oh my god!” you finally cried, and swiped the wall, hitting the light-switch on; both of you instantly recoiling and squinting from the brightness. “Ivar! You terrified me!”

Making no move to stand, he kept looking at you, his eyes skipping over your face and down your body, clearly analyzing the details of your appearance. It was his forced, joyless laugh that made every muscle in your body tense. Steadying himself, he fell silent before sighing in a way that gave no indication of his state of mind. Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers, beckoning you closer, his wicked blue eyes conveying that all was not well.

Placing your phone on your dresser, you removed your coat, throwing it to the floor, and stepped out of your shoes. Walking toward him, you lowered to the carpet and stood on your knees, pushing in between his legs. He never took his eyes off yours and your mouth went dry from the intensity.

So fast it made you flinch, he brought his hands up and cupped your cheeks. Normally it would have melted your heart but his steeliness strummed all your nerves.

“Ivar?” you peered up into his bottomless eyes, his brows furrowed. “Babe, I was just calling you. All-day, I.…”

“Where are your parents?” he cut you off. “They’ve been gone all day.”

“Oh...” you hesitated, ignoring how he knew that, “They’re away. My mom is gone until Tuesday, my dad was supposed to be back tonight but his flight got messed up. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

It was hard to know what answer he was looking for, but that didn’t seem it as his face remained unchanged.

“They leave you alone over-night? A teenage girl with a bedroom on the ground floor and her fucking window unlocked. Any creep could get in.”

The irony was lost on him and pointing it out was not the thing to do. Instead, you waited for him to finish, knowing he didn’t actually want you to answer.

Not taking his eyes off you, he seemed to grimace as he, again, scanned your cheeks, and eyes and mouth, his eyelids narrowing further.

“And who are you so dressed up for, hmm? Mark?”

“No!” you rushed. “He just gave me a ride home from the dance. I asked him to. I was crying.”

That admission made his face flicker but only slightly.

“I was upset about our fight and missing you,” you explained.

Using your courage, you raised your hands and finally touched him, resting them on his thighs.

Instantly, he turned and you thought for a moment he was moving away but instead, he leaned back and grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand.

“It's okay, I’m not upset anymore. Thank you,” your eyes flitted down to the yellow box he held up for you.

“No,” his face tightened, “Wipe your face. Take that stuff off.”

“Wha?”

“That lipstick,” he quipped, lifting his eyebrows and glancing at the box, urging you on. “And that crap on your cheeks.”

Slowly, you grabbed a tissue, pulling it from the box, another withdrawing behind. As you wiped the pink gloss from your mouth, and blush from your skin, he reached up and pushed his hood back, exposing the extent of his exhaustion; his pale face and dark ringed eyes and messy hair that for the first time had no product in it. Seeing his weariness, you wondered what kind of sleepless and heart-broken roller-coaster he, himself, had been on since your fight.

Grabbing the dirty Kleenex from you, he tossed it onto the floor and took your chin in his hand making you wish he would just break the tension and kiss you.

“You know I don’t like you wearing make-up.”

“I know, it's just...”

“It’s just what?”

“I don’t know,” you tried to look down, but he held your face in place, forcing you to look at him. You felt as if you were being scolded

“You don’t need that shit. You are so beautiful.” Shaking his head, his eyes lowered for a second and he sighed your name, his body and defenses softening and you jumped at the opening.

“Ivar,” you whispered, rubbing your hands over his jeans. “Babe,” you cooed softly making him close his eyes, frowning as if your affection pained him.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he said quietly, opening his eyes and glaring. “What am I going to do?”

“Kiss me,” you replied despite his harsh look, thinking of the first day he picked you up at lunch. “Kiss me, and everything else will come,” you whispered and his face began to blur as tears rose in your eyes.

And like that, his mouth was on you, his hands holding your face, his breath revealing his relief and his whimper giving away his desperation. Your sweetheart was aching for you, all this time, but he had no idea what to do. His tongue pushed inside your mouth, his lips demanding more and you lifted your hands and gripped his hoodie, bracing yourself from the force of his emotions. Your beautiful Ivar had been adrift without you. Utterly lost!

Pulling back, he stared at you, his face filled with agony. “I love you so much,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears.

“I love you too,” you murmured back.

“Never. Reject. Me. Again,” he articulated as his nostrils flared, his threat easy to hear but you could see past it. “From this moment on, this second on, we belong to each other. Even more than we did before. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine.”

“I was always yours, Ivar,” you sounded like you were pleading for him to believe you. “And I always, always, will be. I need you,” you whispered.

“I need you,” he repeated back as if swearing a vow. “Now,” he let go of your face and straightened. “Show me,” he jerked his chin and the slightest wave of arrogance came over him. “Show me,” he said again, raising his dark eyebrows expectantly. “With your mouth.”

What?

Was this a test, you wondered, wishing he’d continue touching you with the same love and need you felt just an instant ago. But of course his defenses were still up; he was searching for reassurance. The same reassurance you didn’t give the day before making the situation explode. Your poor Ivar, you would not let him down twice.

Nodding, you looked down at his lap, running your hands over the bulge in his jeans. If this was what he needed to feel your devotion, you would indulge him. In a flash, your quick hands had his jeans open, his beautiful cock upright in your grasp. It always amazed you how smooth his skin looked, his head a shade darker than the rest but all flawless with the slightest sheen.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth, loving how it felt and his hand grabbed the back of your neck, not pushing but letting you know that he could. God, he tasted amazing; salty and clean and you tightened your fingers around his base and started to move.

Oh how you loved the way he hissed when you bobbed your mouth up and down, his hips jerking and his grip on your neck getting tight. Each time you took him into the back of your throat, it triggered that reflex and like some submissive craving pain, you were instantly turned on. What was wrong with you that the idea of suffocating on him made you wet? Picking up your pace made him moan and you began to slam down a little harder and a touch further each time, making yourself gag.

“Fuck!” he snarled in response clearly loving the sounds of it. “You want to choke on my dick, baby? Hmm?” he grunted out into the room. “Aw fuck I missed you. Last night and all fucking day, I missed you....so much.”

On you moved, and sucked and slurped, your lips sliding down his shaft, your throat getting used to the roughness.

“I’m so lucky to be with you. Fuck!” he growled, rolling his hips up toward your mouth. “I don’t give a shit about that other guy anymore. None of that matters. I just want to be with you. I love you.”

That was the closest you knew he‘d ever come to apologizing.

“Yea, baby, suck it,” he groaned again, “Suck my cock. You’re so beautiful. But don’t get greedy, I have plans for you tonight.”

Reaching down he yanked up the skirt of your purple dress, shimmying it higher until it was above your waist and you were kneeling in your thong. He obviously liked it as he growled and slapped your ass hard before pulling you off of him, his eyes staring at your mouth which must have looked red and puffy and totally wrecked.

“Get on the bed and open your legs.”

“Pardon?” your eyes flashed wide.

“I’m going to make you mine.”

@blonddnamedhandz @whenimaunicorn @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @youbloodymadgenius @geekandbooknerd @ivarsgoddess @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart @lordsexmachine @fuchsiagrasshopper @wilhelmyna @heavenly1927 @cececolbert @peachyboneless @xbellaxcarolinax

#ivar #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #vikings ivar #Ivar Lothbrok #ivar fanfic #ivar and reader #ivar smut #ivar romance #ivar loth #ivar in highschool #vikings fanfiction #ivar love story #ivar and sarah

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freckledmountain · 3 years

Text

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

#Writing #The friendly neighborhood exchange #WHOOO #irondad and spiderson #I love them #platonic soulmates

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Home Sweet Home: Catch ‘Em

Summary- 3.9k Andy Barber x You. You and Andy almost have it all, married and with a jointed family consisting of Andy’s teenage son Jacob, as well as your two younger children John and Cassidy. Looking to add another member, your family is in need of a bigger house, a forever home. You find just the place, 112 Ocean Avenue in Amityville Long Island. Home Sweet Home

Written for @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho Spooky Scary Stories challenge. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- Child Endangerment, Hints of Smut (nothing graphic) Swears.

A/N- I chose Amityville Horror for the challenge because its one of my favorite Spook Stories growing up. When reading you will find a lot of similarities to the 2005 Movie, some of the scenarios and dialogue are specifically from that film. Other parts of it are from the book itself. The family name was changed for my own personal reasons. Happy Haunting! 🎃

A/N 2- We’re halfway through!

Chapter 2 / Masterlist

The family settled and a few weeks later, morning started out normal for the rest of the household , but didn't start that way for Andy. His coughing never seemed to break and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. You were already up to make breakfast for everyone, and Andy came down the stairs, rubbing at his chest.

“Coffee Andy?” You ask while holding the coffee pot over his mug but he shook his head.

“No, I actually came down hoping to find some cough syrup? Or pain medicine? Anything really. We don't have any upstairs.”

“Oh I tossed out the old stuff. But I will pick some up when I go out today. I told Jacob that I would drop him off at the high school today after I got John on the bus.”

Just as you were saying this, a stampede of footsteps came down the stairs making Andy wince a bit and all three kids came around the corner into the kitchen. Andy barked out a bit sharply, which even surprised you. “Y’all don’t need to be running on the stairs.” He coughed again and shivered. “Fuck its cold… I'm going down to check on the heater. If you could get that stuff, that would be great.”

He snapped the door open and disappeared from sight while you were staring after him in surprise. Even all three of the kids seem to be in shock. Jacob just shrugged at his father's weird behavior and went to sit on a stool at the kitchen bar, the other two following him while you set plates with some scrambled eggs on them in front of them. Jacob just took toast nibbling on the edge of it a bit.

“My phone cant keep any kind of charge whatsoever! I just got this thing to.” Jacob flipped it around to show you, and you saw it was already at 50 percent. You frowned at that, because of course he had one of the better styles of phones. Much better than anything you've ever had.

“Your charging cord is working and everything?” You question and he nods, slipping it in his pocket.

“Works just fine. It charges it to one hundred percent, twenty minutes later it is back down to fifty.”

You shrug at Jacob at a loss and happen to glance at a small clock on the kitchen windowsill. “Shit.” you hiss out and down the last of your coffee. “Come on, time for the bus before we're late. Jake, meet you in the car.” You grab your car keys and open the door to call down to Andy. “I'm taking the kids to school.”

You heard nothing more than a resounding deep cough and frowned reminding yourself to pick up that cough medicine for Andy on your way home. “Got your backpack John? Alright, lets go.” The whole pack of kids ushered out the door, leaving Andy all alone.

Andy is pacing downstairs, waiting for the heater to kick on, cursing it out.

“Spent all this money and the damn thing wont work.” he mutters while pulling the chair from his desk to it to sit in front of it, messing with the buttons on the front till a groaning protest came from the heater, and it clicked on to blast a bit of cool air, and quickly switched to warm. Rolling his chair back to his desk, he pulled out files from the bottom drawer to contact his clients and inform them that he was back in business at his new location.

He was so tired though, having felt like he was up half the night feeling ill, and within a few moments he simply closed his eyes to rest them, he would use as an excuse to himself. Within moments he nodded off, and the creeping shadow came out of hiding, solidifying in front of his desk. Sharp clicking steps echoed against the cement floor and claws seared when they touched the wood of Andy's desk. It leaned forward to loom over the desk, over Andy whose chin rested against his chest. Forked tongue slithered along Andy's face, making him twitch in his sleep, whispering “Catch ‘em, Kill ‘em” Red eyes watched his victim for a moment, seemingly at peace in this state. It flexed its hands, claws scratching into the wood before giving a hard shake, sending papers and pens flying, Andy’s laptop skidding across the surface and a picture that you had set on there yesterday crashing loudly to the floor. Cracking the glass into shattering pieces across the floor to glint wickedly. Andy’s eyes sprang open and he tipped forward to grab his shaking desk in surprise to see glowing red eyes and the scream of “Catch ‘em!”

Then it all stopped, and he shoved back from his desk, pressing his heels to his eyes thinking he was seeing things. “What the fuck, what the fuck.” when he lifted his head, his breathing shaky to look at his desk, it was all normal. His papers were still exactly where he had set them before, his laptop in sleep mode ready to be used, pens all neatly lined up how he liked, and his family looking at him with wide happy smiles and laughs at the beach, the glass shining slightly in the light.

“Jesus Christ Andy, get it together.” he shivered, cold once more and started coughing again. The door at the top of the stairs opened and your soft footsteps brought you down, Andy glanced up to see you carrying a steaming mug with the string of a tea bag wrapped around the handle and a paper bag that he assumed must have been the med’s he asked for. You reached the bottom and started approaching him, seeing his flushed face, the way he was heavy breathing with the rise of his chest, and you frowned while sitting the mug in front of him.

“Baby, you don't look so good.” Your hand brushed against the side of his face, and it felt ice cold to him. Jerking out of your touch a bit, he wrapped his hands around the mug and sipped from it, scowling at the taste.

“Don't talk to me like one of the kids Y/N.” he bit out of nowhere and he could see your face flash in a bit of hurt. “Sorry- sorry… I don't know what's wrong. Just a head cold is all. Are those the med’s?”

“I got you a bit of everything.” your voice was colder towards him now, turned off from his offhand comment, and you set those down to, Andy knew he had to make it up to you, that was twice in the same morning he had been short, completely out of character for him. His hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his lap, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I have been an ass this morning.” He said, hoping you would ease up a bit. Which you did, he felt you relax on his thigh and your hand lifted to brush through his hair, tilting your head.

“I know you're not feeling good. Come up soon and lay back down though? I am worried about you.” you confess, and he nods. “I gotta go back up and check on Cassidy.”

You leave him at his work, and going up the stairs, you leave the door open to let the kitchen's sunshine at least shine down the dark stairs. Maybe it will remind Andy to come back up you think to yourself as you leave the kitchen.

As soon as you do, the door eases shut, closing him back down in the dark belly of the house. Up the stairs, you walk the long hallway towards Cassidy’s room, gazing along the walls, imagining the photos you wanted to hang along the way when you heard Cassidy’s soft voice seemingly talking to someone.

“No Jody, I cant. Mommy wouldn't like that, and neither would Andy.” You tilt your head curiously hearing this now, recalling her mentioning someone by that name a few times now since moving in.

“Well, okay Jody, that doesn't sound too bad. And it is really cool. He took me out on it a few times. Even let me drive it once.”

You eased her door open to see her standing in the middle of her room, and she jumped when she saw you.

“Oh mommy! You scared me.” She giggled, and you poked your head around the door to see what she was talking to. Nothing, there was nothing there.

“Who are you talking to, Babygirl?” You ask, and Cassidy looks once more where she had been talking before answering.

“Jody, but they are gone now.” she hummed and turned towards her box of toys to dig through it. You come into the room and go to sit on the edge of her bed, watching as she pulled out a few of her dolls and brought out her tea set.

You wiggle your nose a bit, knowing imaginary friends were not uncommon. You pull up to a stand as she is setting up her dolls around a small table. “Do you want me to have tea with you?”

“No Mommy, I wanna just play by myself.” She said happily and you lean down to kiss the top of her head. Walking out, Cassidy followed behind you, peeking out to see you heading off to go back down the stairs.

“Okay Jody, she's gone. You still wanna go down to see the boat?” Cassidy looked over her shoulder to see the closet door easing open on its own. Cassidy giggled, and raced out of her bedroom, one goal in mind. Going to the boathouse.

You're in the kitchen, unpacking the last few boxes when you hear Cassidy’s feet thumping down the stairs. Luckily Andy is still down in the basement and hopefully can't hear the thumps that seemed to bother him. You were surprised in finding the door, but figured he must have had to shut it if he was talking to a client. Opening it back up to hear Andy was still downstairs, typing away on his laptop now with the clicking noise that worked its way up the stairs. Humming you lift another box on the table and start to unpack the contents. Turning your back from the fridge, you hop up to sit on the edge of the counter so you could fit the dishes together and put them on the upper shelf you couldn't reach. Unnoticed by you, the alphabet letters on the fridge start shifting around, letters coming together to fit together in a couple words.

When you finish, you hop off the counter and turn back to catch sight of the refrigerator door, your eyes widening at the horrible words spelled on the door.

Katch ‘em Kill ‘em

You gasp in shock at them, wondering who would have possibly written that. Thumps on the stairs distracted you half a second and Andy appeared with his mug for a refill. “Andy, did you write that on the fridge?” you say in a slightly accusing voice, and he frowns while glancing at you as he heads to put the kettle on the stove.

“What are you talking about Y/N?”

“The magnets on the fridge.” You answer and you both turn to the fridge door to see the letters scattered all over the place, not spelling anything. You scowl in frustration, because you know what you saw and Andy gives you a strange look.

“What words?” he asks while he's at the sink, filling up the kettle with water and you just shake your head.

“Nothing, I thought I saw something, but I didn't.” you brush it off, now unsure of what you saw. While you're unwrapping more dishes, you suddenly hear Andy utter. “Oh shit, Cassidy!” and the tin sound of the kettle crashing in the sink while Andy is sprinting to the back door and outside. You drop what you're doing and follow him out, right on his heels as he's running down the wooden deck steps and headed straight for the boat house. “ANDY?” You shout from behind him as he's running full out across the deck. “What's wrong?!” your panicked, unsure what is going on while Andy is trying to wrench the door open.

“Cassidy, I saw her go in here.” He rushed out as he wrenched on the handle, trying to get it to unclasp. You start pounding on the door now in a frantic way, Cassidy couldn't swim, and the boat house was stretched over the lake, should she slip in, there was a good chance she would drown. Your fear builds as Andy continues trying to get the door open. “What the fuck. CASS! OPEN THE DOOR.” he yells while trying to push it open.

“Oh god Andy, get it open, get it open.” tears start to well up in your eyes as you picture your daughter slipping under the water out of sight.

Andy growls out and pushes you aside to slam against the door, hoping to wrench it open. “I'm trying Y/N, get out of the way.”

Your just about to jump in to swim around to the other side of the boat house when the door sprang open and you both race in, looking around the dim interior to see Cassidy standing on the nose of the motor boat just staring out over the lake, you gasp in surprise seeing her like that as Andy made his way carefully along the edge of the deck not to startle her.

“Cass, Babygirl, look at me.” Andy says softly as he makes his way towards her. Your right behind him.

“Cassidy, look at Andy.” you whimper out, watching as she gets closer to the edge of the boat, and her gaze was so far away out over the lake, like she never noticed you or Andy trying to get to her.

“Cass!” He says more urgently, and she jumps to look at him, slipping a bit as the boat rocks from her movements. “Take my hand baby.” He stretches his hand out and she shakes her head a bit.

“I can’t, I gotta go.” Cass say’s with certainty, tilting her head like she was listening to someone else. “Jody want’s to take me to play.”

“Take his hand Cass!” your panic rushing your voice and Andy stretches out further over the water, his voice turning hard and authoritative.

“Cassidy I’m not asking again. Take my hand.” When Cassidy heard him this time, she snapped her head to look at him and her eyes grew wide with surprise. She stretched for his hand, her fingers trying to reach for his. Andy is quick to snatch her and pull her off the boat to safety, falling back against the wall from the momentum. You gather your daughter in your arms, giving a sob.

“Cassidy what were you doing, you could have drowned.”

Now the girl is caught up in Andy's and yours fear, giving her own sob as tears burst from her eyes while you and Andy rush out of the boat house with her strongly clutched in your arms, stopping just outside as she wails out. “Jody wanted to see the boat Mommy! Jody wanted me to go with them.”

“Cass, there is no Jody!” your nerves shook so you shout at her in anger and fear, and Andy reaches to take Cassidy from your arms.

“She's scared Y/N and didn't know any better, yelling isn't going to help.” He turns the little girl in his arms as she sobs into his shoulder, his hand smoothing along her back to calm her down. “Hey Kiddo, it's going to be okay.” He tried calming Cassidy who’s sobs wracked her body in Andy’s arms, and you walked away a bit to take a shuddering inhale. You know he's right, you're just upsetting her more, but your fear outweighed that right now.

“Just lock that damn door Andy, so this doesn't happen again.” you look back at the door and he nods.

“I will go pick up a lock at the hardware store, I promise.” He assured you and you nodded, wiping away your tears. Now your daughters crying in Andy’s shoulder upset you, made you feel guilty for yelling at her. You move to press your hand against her back and say her name. She tilts her head to look at you through teary eyes and you try giving her a shaky smile.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn't mean to yell. You just really scared me and Andy.”

She gave a sniffle and Andy eased her back so she could wipe her face dry and look at both of them.

“I’m-i’m sorry. Next time I will ask.” She said, and you nodded. Andy shifted her once more to rest on his hip.

“Cassidy, the boathouse is dangerous and you know off limits to you and John. If Jody tells you to do something you're not supposed to, what do you tell Jody?” he asked and the little girl lifted her arm to wipe her face again, hiccuping as she tried to catch her breath.

“I tell Jody no Andy.” she said, his hand still rubbing against her back.

“That's right, if you're not sure if you're allowed, you come ask Mommy, Me, or Jacob if it's okay.” he smiled at her to reassure her that it was all okay.

She gave a nod and he held up a pinkie finger, which she hooked her finger around and Andy kissed her forehead. “Pinky promise I swear Andy.”

“Can't break a pinky promise. You know… I think I have some cookies up at the house.” He said, his hand coming up to brush the last tears away with his thumb on her cheeks. “You wanna get a snack before I have to go back to work?”

Cassidy seemed to consider it. “Oreos?”

“Of course they are oreos!” Andy winked as you all headed back up to the house. “Best cookie there is, right?”

Cassidy gave a firm nod, and you let out a relieved breath. Crisis averted.

Later that afternoon, Andy came back out of the basement just as you were finishing the kitchen, Cassidy coloring at the table while he grabbed his keys.

“I will go pick up Jacob and stop at the hardware store.” He pecked a kiss on your cheek, and you looked at him.

“You sure you're feeling up for it?”

Andy nodded and flashed a smile. “I feel much better Love, those meds kicked in and some fresh air will do me good.”

You happen to agree since he's been in that basement most of the day, and you wave a goodbye, deciding you should probably figure out what's gonna be for dinner later in the day. “How about tacos tonight Cass?”

She cheers and you double check to make sure there was enough ingredients, which there was. No need to send Andy a text to pick up anything. “Come on kiddo, lets go pick John up from the bus stop.” you snap the door shut, bluntly ignoring the letters scattered over the fridge.

Heading down the driveway, the house groaned, all alone once again. There was a shattering through the kitchen, your finest dishes being flung from the cupboard and against the wall, fine china dust settling in the air as the scattered pieces spread across the linoleum for you to find later. The basement door wrenched open and the yawning darkness going down the stairs turned darker, more ominous.

When you came back, you stared in shock, stopping both John and Cassidy from going in to save them from stepping on shattered broken shards. “How about you two go on up to your rooms to play while I clean this up?”

Both children went upstairs, and you grabbed a broom to start sweeping, as you passed the basement door, you slammed it shut in frustration and anger.

Night fell and you got the kids settled in. Settling in bed yourself to lean against the headboard, massaging your temples while Andy was in the bathroom getting ready for bed.

You were beat after having to help John with his homework and Cassidy suddenly changed her mind and just hated tacos. Andy seemed to be feeling better, helping where he could. Offering to take over the dishes when John called you back to the kitchen table, and afterwards he hugged you from behind, kissing your neck while whispering in your ear that he couldn't wait to put a baby in you before he went back down to the basement to finish up with a few things.

Thinking back on his idea made you warm up and when Andy came back in the bedroom and stretched out next to you, you looked at him, biting your lip while looking at him.

“You really wanna tonight?” you asked hopeful, since moving your and Andy’s sexual escapades had diminished a bit and you put it all to the stress of moving a whole family to a new house.

“Make you a baby momma? Of course, come on over Pretty Girl.” He reached up to click off the lights and bathe the room in the moonlight when you gently eased into his lap, the two of you starting with gentle affectionate kisses before they turned deeper and needier. Andy's hands slid up and down your back through your tank top, and you would sigh against his lips at how good it felt. Andy chained kisses from your mouth to your jaw and you tilted your head back to let him chain those kisses of his down your neck. He pulled you in closer to feel more of you when his glance lifted to look in the mirror just behind you at the end of the bed.

At first Andy had no idea what he was actually looking at, a grotesque face appeared above him in the mirror, like it was balancing on the headboard behind him. Crouching in place, its clawed hands dug into the wood, its muscled body flexing as it swayed slightly on the head board. Up to its face, a forked tongue slithered out and red eyes glared at him in the mirror. How could something from a nightmare be here right now? He wasn't asleep, he was just about to make love to his wife. His head jerked back in shock, banging against the headboard with a loud crack as he looked up to see nothing above him. “Fuck!”

You yanked up in surprise, running your hands down his chest. “Handsome, what's wrong?” your head tilted and you looked where he was staring, feeling his heart starting to race under your hands.

“You didn't see that?” He grasped your hips, making you go still as you frowned.

“See what Andy?” his gaze fell back to ours and then back up.

“There was something there, fuck I saw it in the mirror. I don’t even know what it was. It looked like a- ” He grasped your hips and sat up to look around, your hands grabbing onto the front of his tee shirt in surprise. Looking back to the mirror and then to Andy who was still trying to figure it out.

“Like what Andy?” You are studying him trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“Fuck it I know Y/N.” His hold tightened on you a moment, like whatever was going to rip you away while he still looked around the room.

“Hey hey, Andy.” you cup his face and make him look at you, kissing his forehead and down till you leaned your forehead against his. “It's okay, there is nothing there, I promise.” Your lips brushed against his. His breathing slowly started to settle back down, and your hands rubbed against his shoulders and the back of his neck as he started to sink back against the pillows, rubbing at his face.

“It was so real though Y/N. These past few weeks, I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

You tilt your head and brace your hands against his chest. “Stress Andy, we’ve had a lot going on. It will get better, I promise.”

His blue eyes shined up at yours and softened seeing you looking down at him, his hands going back to tracing your thighs clasped at his sides. “You know I love you right Pretty Girl?”

You nodded and he twisted you two around till you were underneath him, and tilted your head up to kiss you deeply. “I think I was just about to put a baby in you.”

You giggled against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering. “Yes you were Andy.”

#home sweet home #DinoScaryStories2020 #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber au #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween #halloween 2020 #writing challenge #amityville horror

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amintyworld · 3 years

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Candles - Dream SMP Star Wars AU

A/N: Welcome to - Another piece that’s wayyy too long to submit. I spent two days straight writing this between writing the next chapter of Beginnings. I sent this as an ask but then I think Tumblr ate it so anyway here’s a fic based on the concept. This is from @dreamsmp-au-ideas‘s Star Wars AU. I’m a sucker for father/son Wilbur and Fundy, okay? Anyway, hope you enjoy! - Minty

TW: Major Character Death, drinking(?), kidnapping, fighting, cursing. (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

Summary: Wilbur still has hope of finding his missing son, and has a special way of remembering him. Fundy gets a renewed sense of hope for finding his own parents and grows closer with Wilbur.

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“Sir, you need to let us in.”

“The fuck I will!” Wilbur shouted angrily from the other side of the locked door. “We don’t want any part of- We’re not with the Rebellion, we’ve done nothing to you or the Empire. Leave us alone.”

“Sir, you need to open the door.”

“I know you’re taking kids, and I’m not letting you take him. You’ll have to get through me first, and I don’t go down so fucking easily.”

“Sir, please calm down and open the door.”

The house was humid and dim from the hot day, the windows shut and every entrance locked. The only way in was through the front door, which Wilbur trained his blaster at, ready to shoot whoever was stupid enough to enter. Sally sat behind him, her blaster on the ground as she held the small baby in her arms, trying her best to keep him quiet. Wilbur could hear screaming children and sobs from across the silent town, as the stormtroopers marched down the road, children grabbing back for their parents as the parents desperately rushed after their children only to be knocked down with the blunt of the blasters, a few bleeding out, writhing on the ground in agony with their skulls cracked open, a few dead bodies scattering the ground. He noticed a hysterical woman shaking the body of her husband, a bleeding wound in his chest, and a sizable dent in his head that looked like a bruised watermelon. He wasn’t moving. A sizable knot formed in Wilbur’s throat at the sight.

This was sick.

Wilbur’s body shook with anger and adrenaline as he heard the click of the stormtrooper’s gun. A tense moment of silence passed before the door flew open so quickly that it almost fell off its hinges as three stormtroopers rushed in. Wilbur gunned down the first in the chest, Sally managed to blow the second one’s head clean off from her position on the floor, leading the third scrambling for cover, not realizing exactly who he was messing with. “B-backup, I repeat we need backup in Section 10 House 23, two soldiers down, I repeat, two soldiers down!” Looking over to Sally with a nod, they moved deeper into the house for cover as they heard more stormtroopers approaching quickly, flooding into the house. “Shit, they’re Mandalorians!” A commander shouted from outside the house. “Surround the house, send a widespread barrage!”

From the sounds of it and the blasts whizzing by, there were at least twenty stormtroopers around the house, maybe thirty - it was hard to get an accurate count from where they were. Sally cupped his cheek as she gave him a reassuring smile. “You take the left, I’ll take the right?”

“As always.” Wilbur’s face brightened as the two shared a soft kiss. The small baby made grabby hands toward Wilbur as Sally gently put the child in his arms.

“Hm, looks like someone wants his Dad.” Wilbur loved how much Sally was always so confident, so relaxed when it came to times like this. At least, more relaxed than he was. She moved out of cover to begin to shoot back, and Wilbur kissed Fundy’s forehead.

“You’ve gotta be quiet as a mouse, alright? Stay right there for now and stay quiet, Dad’s gonna be right back.” Gently as he could, he placed the baby in a small steel cabinet to keep him safe from any stray fire. Fundy looked up at Wilbur with wide curious eyes, a hand in his mouth. Wilbur’s heart melted at the sight as he securely closed the cabinet, grabbing his second blaster and moving toward the window to aim.

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“Oh, uh… I didn’t mean to interrupt anything-” Fundy asked awkwardly from the doorway as Wilbur kneeled in front of a table, a single candle sat on it. The glowing flame was the only thing otherwise lighting up the dark room. Wilbur moved around quickly, slightly startled when he saw Fundy, and rushed to put his helmet back on. Though Wilbur couldn’t see Fundy’s face through his own helmet, he could see how the kid awkwardly shifted in the doorway, looking away quickly in embarrassment. “Wait, I’m not supposed to-! I’m so so sorry-!”

“No, no. It’s fine, Fundy.” Wilbur breathed, not exactly expecting any company. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, uhm… well Eret wanted to go over the plans with you for the attack, and…”

Wilbur sucked in a breath as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Tell him I’ll look it all over with him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow…?”

Fuck, they didn’t know. He was so used to being left alone today that he forgot he wasn’t living on the ship anymore. They didn’t know. Wilbur mentally kicked himself. “Right. Uh… why is this so hard to explain…”

“Is this another Mandalorian thing?”

“Well, uh… not- not exactly.” Wilbur managed. “Kind of. It’s a long story.”

Fundy moved to sit down a bit behind Wilbur on the floor, smiling behind his helmet. “I’m all ears.”

“Heh.” Wilbur smiled behind his mask. “Well, you know how I lost my son to the Empire when he was a baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, in Mandalorian culture, we keep the memories alive of those who aren’t with us anymore, but we don’t really have any way to keep the memory alive for something like that. I know that he’s alive and out there somewhere, so any of the normal ceremonies just don’t feel right. I needed to do something to keep his memory alive in me, so I won’t forget him, and I can find him again.” Wilbur said, turning to gently take the candle in his hands, careful of the wax. “So, I light a candle on his birthday every year.”

“Every year?”

“Of course.”

Fundy’s eyebrows furrowed. “How are you so sure he’s still alive?” His eyes flicked down toward the ground in thought. “So much could have happened, I mean, it’s been so long...the Empire’s not exactly merciful.”

Wilbur slowly took Fundy’s hand in his, placing the candle down next to them. “I dunno, it’s like… there’s some kind of feeling in the air, like a connection. No matter how far away he is, I just have this feeling that I can’t ignore when it comes to him. As long as it’s there, I know he’s alive - out there, somewhere, and I’m gonna find him.”

Fundy stared up at him in awe, not finding any words. After this long, after everything that’s happened, Wilbur still had hope. He lit candles and sat and loved and remembered. Despite odds, despite logic, all because of a hunch. It was more than admirable, and Fundy moved to pick up the candle, watching the flame flicker. Something about all of this felt right. “Could I… maybe… light candles too? For my parents.”

Wilbur placed a comforting hand on Fundy’s shoulder and Fundy looked up to see Wilbur’s helmet framed and lit from the flame. “Of course.”

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“Drop your weapons.”

They were surrounded, several stormtroopers pointed their blasters at them. Even if they shot two of them down now they’d be dead within seconds. Sally looked over to him, her confident smile gone and replaced with worry. Wilbur swallowed the knot in his throat as he slowly raised his hands in surrender, dropping his blaster to the floor.

“I said drop ‘em, missy.” A stormtrooper growled at Sally, who reluctantly tossed her blaster to the ground and slowly raised her hands. The Commander looked around the small house for a moment before angrily pressing his blaster to Wilbur’s forehead. “Where’s the kid?!”

Wilbur took a shaky breath as he kept his calm. Quiet as a mouse, Fundy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Within seconds, Wilbur was hit across his face with the blunt of the blaster as the Commander kicked in him the stomach, leaving Wilbur sputtering for breath. “Does that jog your memory?!”

“Babies go missing, sir. The galaxy’s an imperfect place.” Wilbur huffed from his place on the ground, gaining confidence at the Commander’s growing frustration. More pain suddenly as the Commander’s boot collided with his face, each kick making his vision more blurry as blood dripped to the floor. He struggled to breathe in as he heard Sally yell, pure emotion in her outburst.

“Leave him alone, fuckface!” Tears welled up in her eyes as she began to stand, ready to charge at him and tear him to shreds. Her arms were quickly pulled behind her back, and she struggled against their grip. Wilbur coughed a bit of blood, trying to stand, as the Commander slowly walked over toward Sally. He tilted her head up to face his.

“Such a rebellious spirit...stupid, reckless, pointless rebellion. You do know how the Empire treats rebellion, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck you.” Quickly, Sally was thrown against the wall, pictures and furniture fell to the floor with a loud crash. Scratches and blood littered Sally’s skin as she struggled to move or even speak as the room spun like a top. “Ugh…”

“It’s time you learned to hold your tongue.” The Commander spat as he aimed his blaster at Sally.

“NO!” Wilbur leaped, helplessly, across the room only to be punched down once more. “Leave her alone, I told you the baby’s not even here-!”

Wilbur’s heart dropped as a baby’s cry rang throughout the room. The Commander stared down at him coldly. “Not even here, huh?”

Wilbur’s eyes grew wide. “I-” Another strike across Wilbur’s face and he went down, shaking as he tried to crawl and stop the Commander who was walking toward the cabinet swiftly. No, no no no Fundy-

Suddenly, Sally gripped the Commander’s blaster as tears streamed down her face, fighting for control. The Commander pushed her up against the wall with his blaster with ease, shoving her to the floor. The sound of a shot rang through the air as blood poured down from Sally’s head. Her body dropped to the floor in a heap.

No.

Tears welled up in Wilbur’s eyes as he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her lifeless body. Nothing about this seemed right, nothing seemed real. She was just there, she was just alive and moving and talking, and the next moment she’s just… gone. Wilbur screamed as he rushed over to Sally’s body, tears streaming down his face as he shook her. Words tumbled out of his mouth like a waterfall, so fast he had no idea what he was even saying. His heart felt like it shattered as he held her cold hand in his, a pool of blood beginning to form that stained his clothes, but he didn’t even care. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as blood dripped down from her forehead across her limp body. Wilbur’s shaking hands ran through her hair for the last time.

Fundy’s cries quickly pulled his attention away from Sally toward the Commander, who looked down at the child making grabby hands toward Wilbur, hysterical. “Aw, what a cute kid.” Wilbur stumbled to his feet, pain coursing through his body. Blood seeped down his skin, and his head throbbed uncomfortably. He raised his fists in a sort of fighting stance.

“Get the fuck away from him.”

Another shot rang out as he rang down and saw crimson blood spill down to the floor from his chest. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He fell to the floor, crimson spilling onto the floor as he fought to stay awake. He curled into himself, all he could feel was pain, pain, pain…

Tears blurred his vision as his body shook. The stormtroopers and the Commander looked down at him with almost pity. You’re weak. Weak weak weak weak...

He could practically hear the smile in the Commander’s voice. “The Empire thanks you for your sacrifice.”

------------------------------------------------

Fundy’s eyes lit up in wonder as Wilbur handed him the matches, and moved to go grab something. The two candles are old - one shorter than the other, each with varying fruity smells compared to Wilbur’s vanilla one. He leaned over, lighting up the tall yellow candle then the smaller pink one. He turned, blowing out the match then turning to stare at the flames. Warmth spread in his chest as he whispered to himself, head bowed. “I’ll find you, Mom and Dad. I promise.”

“Guess what I found!” Wilbur smiled as he brought over a large corked bottle and two steel cups.

“What’s that?”

“Phil found Tihaar, I haven’t seen this stuff in years!” Wilbur smiled, and Fundy looked toward him confused. “It’s a Mandalorian drink, nothing too heavy, I promise.” Wilbur laughed a bit as he poured out the cups. “You can’t find any of the good stuff anymore anyway.”

Fundy took the cup and sniffed it curiously. “It smells like syrup.”

“Tastes a bit like it too. Much more sweet than alcoholic.” Wilbur said, raising his cup. “Now then - a toast.” Fundy raised his cup as well with a smile. “To all those we’ve lost along the way. We keep you in our thoughts always, and may we reunite again.”

“We will find each other again,” Fundy added, looking to the sky, more hopeful than he’s felt in months.

Wilbur looked over toward him, nodding in agreement. “We will find them again.”

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out-of-jams · 4 years

Text

Enfer || kth

↠ Enfer ↞ Enfer, the ironically named club, was well known for helping to bring together those of the living with the dead, well, undead. And your best friend had convinced you to try it out, to potentially find a partner amongst the sophisticated group of the otherworldly elite. You’d been open to it.

But never would you have imagined meeting him.

Warnings/Genre: Supernatural. Drabble. Sugar daddy!Taehyung. Vampire!Taehyung. Human!Reader. References to blood drinking. Light fluff. Strangers to lovers (hinted at).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is dedicated to the lovely @kimtaehyunq Happy birthday hoe. I wanted to keep this as a surprise, but I suck. And don’t know how to hit “anon” in an ask box lmfao. Either way, congrats on becoming one year closer to death!

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

| | Masterlist | |

The multicolored lights flashing above your head covered your silver hued dress with a curtain of mystery. And thankfully, the music blasting from the expensive speakers in the establishment wasn’t too loud--just enough to urge you to let loose. To swing your hips to the enticing beat pounding through your bones.

But you weren’t dancing, it wasn’t your thing. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you were bad at it. So there you stood, at the blue lit bar with a glass of long island iced tea clutched between your hands. You were still on your first drink since entering the club twenty minutes ago, if that was what you could even call the establishment.

The interior was fancy, sophisticated in a way that made you feel slightly out of place. That, paired with the numerous amounts of incredibly attractive people twisting on the dance floor and occupying the bar, or sitting in the plush booths lining the back wall. And if you squinted into the artificial fog filtering through the tiny holes in the dance floor, you’d just be able to make out your best friend.

Lisa moved like she was attempting to entice the gods themselves. With her blonde hair sticking to her sweat drenched face and black dress practically a second skin, she may as well have been Aphrodite in the flesh. Attracting the eyes of those who moved their bodies around her like magnets. The only thing that stopped any one of them from striking up a conversation with her was the luminescent red choker that she’d received at the door, tied into a ribbon around her neck.

Your hand came up to absentmindedly twist your fingers around your own choker, though yours was a bright green. And you looked away from your best friend just in time to catch the lingering gaze from a woman seated at one of the booths on the far side of the room. Even in the dim lighting you could see the deep seated red that left a ring around her iris’. They glowed, reflecting in the darkness like a cat.

You hastily looked away, cheeks heating in a deep flush. The ribbon around her neck had been colored a baby pink.

“Can I get you another one?”

Head snapping towards the direction of the bar, you glanced back at your empty glass and slid it onto the surface. The man standing on the opposite side leaned his elbows against the bar and raised a playful eyebrow at you. “Sure.”

His plump lips twitched into an eye-squinting smile and pulled a cute dimple into existence on his right cheek. The lights flashing above illuminated his soft looking face and silver hair in a way that suited him. And the red embroidered name tag pinned through his blue dress shirt read: Jimin. Made him stand out despite the black ribbon strung around his petite neck like an accessory. Which did nothing to hide the two permanent puncture wounds at the junction between his neck and shoulder. But he left them uncovered, showed them off proudly.

“First time?” Even his voice was sweet, like nectar. It was a good thing that Jimin was already spoken for, claimed, because you probably wouldn’t have been able to string together a coherent sentence with those knowing eyes of his weighing heavily on you.

“How could you tell?” You were grateful for the fact that the upbeat track starting up wasn’t loud enough to drown out your words. Force you to shout at the man who stood less than three feet away from you.

Jimin grinned, lips pulling back to reveal bright white teeth and a crooked front tooth. And one of his hands fluttered through the air nonchalantly as he set to making your new drink. “You have this innocent, scared look on your face. Like you’re just waiting for someone to come up and eat you or something.”

His last words were punctuated by a wink thrown in your direction, emphasized by the sound of clinking ice when he shook the cocktail mixer. You couldn’t help the pout that overtook your lips. “I’m not scared. I’ve just never...my best friend told me about this place and I figured that I might as well check it out.”

With a barely audible clank, your newly made drink was settled atop a napkin on the bar in front of you. Jimin leaned back onto the surface and nodded his head at the green ribbon tied comfortably around your neck. The one you’d been given at the door to symbolize what it was that you were looking for. “So you’re interested in finding a partner, then?”

Again, your hand lifted to play with the silk accessory without realizing it. It was brightly colored so that even the poorest-sighted humans that crowded the establishment could see it. And it sent up an even brighter beacon to the immortal beings that floated around like well dressed specters. Catching the eyes of every mundane within ten feet of them, what with their otherworldly beauty and magnetizing presence.

Enfer, the ironically named club, was well known for helping to bring together those of the living with the dead, well, undead. Vampires. They’d roamed the earth for longer than what was recorded and only as recently as ten years ago had they come to the light. Revealed themselves to the world. It’d been a shock at first. Had awoken mobs of churchgoers and those who were too afraid of the unknown to take to the streets in protest. To attempt to kill what was already dead.

Peace hadn’t settled until celebrities, world leaders, and those with power showed who they truly were. And it was still a work in progress, maintaining that balance between humans and vampires, but it was a lot better than it’d been years ago.

“I’m...open to the idea.” You cleared your dry throat with a sip from the sweet tasting alcoholic drink.

“Mm.” Jimin hummed around a grin, wiggling his eyebrows. “There’s nothing wrong with that. The life of a Bloodfeed isn’t for everyone, but those who embrace it, love it. Speaking from experience, of course.”

The word Bloodfeed brought another blush to your cheeks that you couldn’t blame on the alcohol. It was a topic that wasn’t commonly spoken of. Was frowned upon by human society. Because in the eyes of the mundane, to be a willing partner for a vampire to feed from was ‘disgusting.’ Viewed to be nothing other than a human willing to give up their blood in exchange for money.

But you knew that wasn’t the case. Lisa was one to more than a single vampire, unwilling to settle with just one of them. There were two types of Bloodfeed: those who chose to settle down with one vampire for the rest of their existence as partners, to be marked as theirs and to claim them in return. And those who refused to commit to just one, who bounced from vampire to vampire in order to chase the rush that being fed on brought.

Lisa liked the thrill, the freedom to flirt with whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. To bathe in the riches and gifts that those who she gave herself to gifted her. But she wasn’t just in it for the money. She truly cared about them, saw them as lifelong friends.

You’d never been fed from. Hell, you’d only met two vampires in your entire life. But the way Lisa’s eyes lit up when she spoke of her two favorite partners, the happiness that overtook her spoke volumes.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hold an interest, a curiosity towards those who were both alive and not. To wonder what it felt like to have fangs pierce your skin. But you weren’t in it for the money, despite the fact that your ignored pile of bills and red numbers in your bank account may have stated otherwise.

Not all Bloodfeed to vampire relationships were romantic. Some were platonic even when they pledged themselves to the other for life. You weren’t sure which end of the spectrum you were looking for, but you knew that you wouldn’t settle for just anyone.

“That’ll be eighteen, sweetheart.” Jimin nodded at the alcoholic beverage that you absentmindedly brushed your fingertips against.

Your eyes widened at having almost forgotten that you had to pay for things. And your small handbag was placed against the bar as you rummaged through it for your wallet, squinting in the dim lighting.

“Put it on my tab, Jimin.” The voice, deep and melodic and beautiful, had your head snapping to your left in surprise.

How you hadn’t noticed him appearing into the empty space next to you was astounding. Your eyes were blown open and you knew that your mouth was parted in awe at the man towering above you, but you couldn’t help it. Because he was completely and utterly breathtaking.

Golden skin covered by a black turtleneck and matching blazer practically screamed money. His wavy dark hair was just long enough to messily cover his forehead, but short in the back. And when he tilted his head down to meet your eyes, you noticed the mole in the middle of his left cheek and another on the bottom of his nose.

His blinked down at you, irises ringed red with one monolid and one double. You must have looked stupid with the dazed way you gaped at him because his rose hued, cupid-bow shaped lips pulled up into a knowing smile. And the gold hoop earrings pierced through each of his lobes caught the flash of the overhead lights. Bathed him in a dim glow of blue.

“Hello.” His greeting passed his lips like liquid honey. A soul-wrenching baritone that caught and enticed you. Left you craving more. Especially when the scent of his subtle, husky cologne shortwired your senses.

The ribbon tied around his neck, like it belonged there, glimmered a soft pink.

“H-hi.” You mentally cursed yourself for stammering around your returned greeting. But it wasn’t your fault, not when he looked like that. Like he’d just stepped off a runway. With the magnetizing aura that surrounded his presence.

He smiled again, wider that time, enough to show off a cute box-shaped grin. To reveal his perfect white teeth and amusement-creased eyes. “What’s your name, little one?”

Either it was the petname that fell from his mouth, or the way he leaned an arm onto the bar and closer into your space that had you swallowing. Hard. Your tongue nervously wet your lips with a flash of pink. “Y/n.”

The man’s eyes glanced down at the green standing out against your skin before slowly catching your gaze again. His red eyes drew you in and refused to let go. Hypnotized you with the pure gentleness that shone in them. And his lips tasted your name upon them, murmured the syllables into the simmering air around you.

“I’m Taehyung.” His hand hung between you like an offering. Of what, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t hesitate to take it.

The warmth of his palm surprised you as his larger fingers enclosed around your smaller ones. And just when you thought he’d shake it and let go, he surprised you by lifting your hand to his lips to press a soft kiss on your skin. Taehyung’s eyes held yours, glittered with pleased amusement when you flushed for the umteenth time that night.

“Pleasure.” His breath fanned across the back of your hand.

“Same here.” If your words came out in a breathless whisper, he didn’t mention it. Just mesmerized you with that smile of his.

“Tell me about yourself, Y/n.” Taehyung didn’t drop your hand from his.

Just held onto it as he listened to the words that left your lips.

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #magicshopnet #taehyung #taehyung fic #jimin #bts fic

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Twenty-Six)

Peter dives further into research, so this chapter contains the same generic TW as the last one for mentions of the Holocaust and mistreatment/torture of mutants. I had a blast writing some of the history for this verse, and I’m not saying I want to write a Stucky centric spin off based on what I’ve written in here, but like also, I sort of want to write a Stucky centric spin off.

Also, it ends with a line to make you scream, you’re welcome.

MTW MASTERLIST HERE

****************

“Pete?” Harry had to put his shoulder against the apartment door and shove to get it open. “Pete? What the heck is blocking your door? Where are you?”

“I’m here.” Peter hurried towards the front door and pushed boxes out of the way to let the Alpha through. “Sorry, I got busy and all my reading sort of expanded--” he gestured to the entire living room. “--everywhere. Did you bring me the movies?”

“I brought movies and I brought food.” Harry held up a to go box and then a stack of movies. “But I think you owe me for all the weird looks I got picking out all these titles.”

“Why were people looking at you weird?” Peter was starving, and he snatched at the food before Harry had even made it to the kitchen, throwing back the lid and exclaiming in delight over the chimichanga inside. “That video store is known for having obscure movies and random documentaries, I feel like these ones aren’t half as crazy as most of the stuff on the shelves.”

“The Rise of the Squatch.” Harry read out loud. “The Girl from Lava Island. The Creature from the Mines. This one is called ‘What Lurks Within’ and I dunno what that could possibly be about. What’s with all the cheesy monster movies and faux documentaries?”

“Every crazy story as a little bit of truth somewhere along the way.” the Omega mumbled through a big bite. “The stories that get told over and over had to be true at some point, right?”

“Uh huh.” Harry said skeptically. “Which is why you had me rent ‘It Came From the Manhole’, right? Because ‘It Came in the Manhole’ was right next to this one and that’s just straight up porn, Pete. It was just porn and I’ll give you a guess which movie case I grabbed for the first time around.”

“...well was it interesting porn?”

“It had MANHOLE on the cover, Peter!”

Peter almost choked when he tried to laugh around a too big mouthful of tortilla and Harry threw his hands in the air in frustration. “I didn’t even realize I grabbed the wrong one until I got to the front and the kid behind the desk asked to see my ID! He wanted to know if I’d need the coordinating magazine!”

“There’s a manhole magazine?” the Omega asked innocently, and Harry huffed, “If I wasn’t so happy to see you smiling again I’d bite you for that. I had to stand there while some high school senior asked if I wanted to rent a nudie mag to go with my manhole porn. It was the worst three minutes of my life.”

“But--”

“Quickly superseded by the look I got from the same kid when I handed him--” Harry checked another title. “--Bagging Your BigFoot: How to Catch the Monster of Your Dreams. Cos that doesn’t make me sound horny for Sasquatch at all.”

“It’s not my fault monster documentaries are always titled to sound vaguely pornographic.” Peter offered his friend a conciliatory piece of chimichanga and smiled when Harry grumbled through the entire bite. “And thank you for getting them all for me. I’ve been so busy lately I’ve hardly left the house at all.”

“M’just glad you called me, Pete.” Harry leaned in to wipe at the side of Peter’s mouth, and when the Omega didn’t move away, he leaned in closer and placed a very soft, very chaste kiss on Peter’s cheek. “We’ve all been real worried about you lately. I mean we’ve been worried about you anyway but after the other night--”

“I called you guys to tell you I was okay.” Peter went back to eating so the Alpha wouldn’t see him frown. “You didn’t believe me?”

“You got so sad so quick Johnny actually threw up.” Harry pointed out and Peter grimaced apologetically. “Calling us two days later to say you’re fine and busy and not to worry wasn’t very reassuring.”

“Harry--”

“You’ve said you’re fine every day since you got home from the hospital.” the Alpha continued stubbornly. “And every single time you’ve been lying, Pete. You’re my best friend, we’ve been through everything together. Heats and ruts, AP Chemistry and physics, you were there when my Dad went off his medication for a while and I had to call the cops. What makes you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“...right.”

“And what makes you think I can’t handle you telling me what's going on?” Harry pressed. “I know Mary Jane is an Omega so you guys do that crazy intimate Omega bonding thing. And Gwen believes in forced cuddles and being there whether you want it or not, and I’m glad you and Johnny figured out what’s going on but Pete-- this is me.”

The Alpha put a hand to his chest and held the other out to Peter. “This is me and you don’t gotta lie to me anymore. Tell me what happened or-- or tell me why you can’t tell me what happened. Where did you go the other day? What’s with all these monster hunting books and movies? Talk to me, I’m here for you honey. I am.”

Peter tried to smile and Harry cajoled, “At least tell me why I had to go to the super creepy video store and convince an eighteen year old I grabbed the porn by accident. At least tell me that, I think I deserve to know.”

“You do deserve to know.” Tears pinpricked behind the Omega’s eyes, and Harry rumbled at him comfortingly. “And I’m sorry I’ve been lying to you lately. And keeping you out of things. I’m sorry.”

“No one’s mad about it.” Harry pulled him in for a hug, holding Peter steady with a hand at the base of his neck and another low on the Omega’s hips. “We aren’t mad, Pete. But we’re worried. And May is worried. And I dunno what to do about it, but I think I’d figure a few things out if you’d just talk to me.”

Peter was quiet and Harry added, “At least about the Bigfoot thing. Minimum.”

“Okay.” he nodded into Harry’s shoulder. “Okay I’ll - I’ll tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

“...what do you know about mutants?”

*************

The boxes had arrived the morning after Peter’s heat, appearing in his living room with the same abruptness that Cable used to bump in and out of his life. The Omega had tripped right over the first one on his way out of his bedroom, banged his knee on a second one and by the time the third caught him in the shins, Peter forced himself to stop walking, wake up all the way, and actually look to see what the hell was happening.

Boxes. Everywhere. Stuffed full to the brim and straining their seams with stacks and stack of paperwork, folders worth of redacted information, books about mythology and epic beasts and folk tales about shape shifters and early gods.��

On top of an an ancient German book of fairy tales was a note:

Find your answers but keep them to yourself. -- C

And then scribbled along the bottom: This should free me from having to answer any questions. I don't give a damn about your curiosity, don't bother me anymore.

Peter laughed softly and carried the book with him to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Of course the cranky Alpha didn’t want to stick around and answer questions, and while it was thoughtful to the point of being caring that Cable had taken the time to gather this information and apparently drop it through a wormhole into Peter’s apartment, the Omega was more excited by the prospect of reading through files that had so obviously been taken from somewhere secret. .

The amount of redaction in the few papers he’d glimpsed in a box on his kitchen table was exhilarating, and the publication dates on some of the books meant the stories and legends inside had been accepted as truth for hundreds of years, perhaps even told as fact for thousands of years before that. Cable would have had to snatch the files from secure storage facilities, maybe the mutant had even gone back in time to find the correct information before it had been incinerated like most sensitive documents were.

The idea of boxes and boxes of dated and perhaps even classified information just piling up in his living room waiting to be read through-- well there was a reason Peter had become a journalist, and it had less to do with working to better humanity and more to do with everything he absolutely had to know.

And he absolutely had to know all of this, so Peter had brewed another pot of coffee and went right to work.

It was some point near the end of the first day when the Omega dragged himself away from a file about the LA riots and into a shower. He’d gone to push his hair out of his face and ew his fingers had snagged and pulled hard enough to hurt, the sudden pain made Peter jerk and then oh no he’d gotten a whiff of himself and immediately went to wash.

The perfunctory post heat shower hadn’t been enough to wash away months of depression, so Peter stayed beneath the water until it ran cold, soaping and resoaping his hair, scrubbing the lather down his body until his skin was pink from the loofah. Then it was his fingernails that needed clipped and filed down a little bit since anxiety had led the Omega to bite them too raged and pick his cuticles to bleeding and if he was going to do that, he supposed he should maybe comb his hair extra well and maybe shave the little bit of scruff he’d managed to grow in the last few months.

Showered and scenting clean again, Peter went right back to the couch to cross reference some of the information with what he could find online but then fuck he was suddenly starving, when was the last time he’d eaten at all?

Food was ordered and inhaled while the Omega kept one eye on the computer screen and the other flipping through page after page in the file and jotting down every note that came to mind--

--and somewhere along the way, clean and comfortable in his favorite pajamas and stuffed full on delicious food, his mind running a thousand miles a minute on something other than heartbreak--

--Peter fell right the hell asleep, no medication needed, and didn’t wake up again until morning.

And maybe he wasn’t better but for the first time since waking up in Haven Mercy Hospital, Peter felt like himself. He felt real and he felt normal so he got a cup of coffee and settled back in with a new notebook and pen, opened up a new file and got right back to work.

That had been five whole days ago, and the Omega had escalated from just reading files and comparing them to online articles to requesting books from the Central library and having them delivered, downloading full texts and printing out hundreds of pages so he could light up the words with neon highlighters so he wouldn’t lose a single bit of information.

It was hard to sleep with so much to process, but most nights Peter dropped off from sheer exhaustion and slept dreamless for eight merciful hours. His mind came back online razor sharp in the morning, his energy levels rising after a few days of solid sleep and consistent food and even though Peter wouldn’t let himself obsess about the mentions of time travel, he found relief for all his other questions in the hours and hours and hours worth of tracking mutant activity across the last century and a half.

The Omega was almost positive he’d found evidence of Logan in both World Wars and then shockingly, again in Vietnam. There just couldn’t be too many people with that signature fuck off scowl and the unnerving habit of coming back from seemingly any injury no matter how ruinous. The oldest records were sparse and hard to follow but Peter put the stories together as best he could until he could write the profile of a man-- of a hero-- who seemed to sign up for every fight only to disappear the moment it was over, usually after turning the tide of the battle with some feat that couldn’t possibly be anything other than supernatural.

There were a few instances that could have been Eddie, could have been the black that existed beneath the mutants skin and dug deep down into his soul. Stories of man eating shadows, of villages terrorized by something that came from the darkest nights, of blood curdling roars and the click clack of too many teeth, of hiss and the sound of liquid as something unknown slinked by filled more than a few books and Peter devoured every word.

He couldn’t stop himself from looking for signs of Wade, reading and rereading the texts he thought could be about Logan hoping for a peek at a story about someone else immortal, someone scarred, someone they would have thought was a monster with the way his eyes went red and his fangs ran long.

Not that Wade was a monster, no no no, Peter screwed his eyes shut tight and whimpered into his palm even thinking about people calling his mate a monster but he would read thousands of reports like that if only it meant Wade was still around.

Five days of intense research had uncovered more information than Peter could have hoped to find in an entire lifetime of searching, but he’d still only barely broke into half the boxes Cable had inexplicably gifted him. The movies were a way to ease the strain on his eyes, to give his brain a break while still staying immersed in the subject of mutants. There were too many parallels between the horrors film makers insisted could be lurking just out of view, and the lists of confirmed mutant powers Peter had either seen firsthand in Haven or found records of in the books and files from the war and the riots. The movies would all be outlandish but they would have a bit of truth somewhere in the hours and minutes of terrible graphics and B-list actors and maybe-- maybe even if there hadn’t been sign of Wade in the files, maybe someone like him would show up in the older films.

It was worth a try and it was worth the time and when Harry asked Peter to just talk to him, everything Peter had learned in the past several days leapt to the tip of his tongue and damn near spilled out.

But the information was Peter’s to have, the answers his alone to hoard, so the Omega couldn’t tell Harry everything, he could hardly tell him anything at all, so instead of blurting it all out and waving his hands wildly while spilling his guts, Peter took a deep breath and backed up a step and smiled, “Okay, but this is going to get a little crazy, okay?”

“I’ve known you forever, Pete.” The Alpha said confidently. “I can handle your crazy.”

“If you think you’re up for it.” Peter teased gently. “Try and keep up, okay?”

He couldn’t tell Harry everything, but he told the Alpha enough to explain the piles of books, the reams of paper downloaded and printed off of archives both national and conspiracy theorist-owned, the still growing collection of movies ranging from Men in Black and the Shape of Water clear through to low budget horror films and documentaries lacking any shred of scientific basis.

Peter showed Harry the wall-size map of the contiguous states he’d pieced together and pointed out the red stars as ‘credible, repeated sites of monsters’ instead of naming them as Havens for the mutant community. He held up vintage comic books about Captain America and the Red Skull and compared it to the very few files he’d managed to dig up on Project Rebirth, showed Harry highly redacted pages and pages of coordinates where Captain Rogers’ plane might have gone down.

The Omega flipped through no less than a dozen texts that all insisted Van Helsing had been a real life priest turned monster hunter, and another dozen that collectively agreed Big Foot wasn’t actually brown but was somehow bright blue and had definitely been seen wearing glasses on more than one occasion, and one beautifully inscribed religious text that spoke of an African goddess that controlled the weather.

Peter talked and talked and talked, put in different DVD’s and paused them at specific moments to show Harry where the film makers had seemed to draw their inspiration from these specific stories, and look this one goes back to before white men even came to the continent and don’t you think it could be true if the stories are older than we can document?

“You’re talking about dragons, Pete.” Harry stared down at a brilliantly colored photo and ran his fingers along the delicate script. “This is-- I mean, no way I speak Chinese but--”

“It’s Cantonese.” the Omega corrected, hurrying over with another book to show off. “Saying every language that looks like that is Chinese is like saying all the indigenous people are from the same tribe. Different languages, different um-- you know, there’s different tones to the way it’s spoken? And I’m pretty sure I read that they use a different style of characters. More traditional versus a simpler style.”

“...why would you know that?” the Alpha only blinked at him. “Pete, why do you know that?”

“Because I need to know.” Peter said quietly, as if that answered any questions at all. “I’ve got to know, Harry. I have so many questions and there’s so much information out there and I have to know.”

“Alright.” Harry went back to the book again. “So. Cantonese. Why does that matter for dragons?”

“Because it's older than Mandarin by a couple thousand years, which means this is an older story and I want the oldest ones I can find.” Peter found the page he was looking for and tapped at it triumphantly. “And because it says in your book and again right here, that these-- these monks. Or religious… people. I’m not actually sure if monk is the right word. But right here. A legend about one of them that turned to a dragon to protect the temple and his village. A dragon, Harry. Do you know what that means?”

“It’s an old story, Pete--”

“It means that at some point someone saw this guy breathe fire.” Peter stated. “Or call fire. Summon it. Whatever you want to call it. This story is thousands of years old and it’s talking about a mutant.”

“Okay but--”

“Right here.” The Omega got another book. “Skinwalkers. Yes, it’s probably some beautiful spiritual bond that we could never hope to understand or whatever, maybe you think it’s hallucinations or whatever But what if it’s a shapeshifter, Harry? What if they are a mutant and there’s been a record of their existence for centuries?”

“What if they are?” Harry didn’t know if he was intrigued by all the data the Omega was throwing his way, or worried that Peter was so clearly obsessing about something that couldn’t end well. People’s careers had been ruined chasing after mutant-related things, professors barred from universities, law enforcement imprisoned for less-than-responsible actions, chapters about riots and ethnic cleansing pulled from history books. Chasing stories about mutants couldn’t end well, and Harry didn’t know if the trouble it would bring was worth the way Peter’s eyes were lit for the first time months and the way his softly sweet honeysuckle and lavender scent had started to fill the air between them.

“What if they are mutants, and that kind of--of person has been around for thousands of years?” he asked again. “What does that matter Pete? Why are you so hooked on it right now?”

“Look at this.” Peter dragged a chart out from beneath an encyclopedia. “Look at this. Back in the forties there was this Project Rebirth and it's rumoured to have created Captain America. Captain America, Harry. And the way they did it was mapping of mutant genes. Tracking people through generations. Hundreds of thousands of hours of work put into this project and after the war ended they just scrapped it, pushed it all away and piled it somewhere in the dark.”

“Wait so the guy with the shield and the tights from the comic books? He was a real person?”

The Omega held up a copy the Captain America vs The Red Skull excitedly. “They both were! Captain Rogers and this guy here? The Red Skull? Real people, and they weren’t mutants, they were the product of experimentation with mutants!”

“The American government doesn’t experiment on people, Pete.”

“Oh.” Peter’s smile dimmed around the edges. “Of course you still think that.”

“What?!”

But Peter was off again, shifting from talking about Project Rebirth to rambling about the riots in the seventies and a lab explosion that hadn’t been an explosion at all and the way storms increased in frequency along the Eastern Seaboard in a schedule that fit oddly in with a traditional school semester and sure, that could be coincidence but what if it was young mutants coming into their weather control powers and they were practicing during school hours and oh Harry! What if--

“Pete. Hey hey hey.” Harry grabbed at Peter when the Omega darted past again, framed Peter’s face with both his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “M’not gonna lecture you about how dangerous it can be to look too deep into what happened to the mutants, and m’not gonna tell you how damn crazy you sound talking about schedules and patterns and conspiracy theories about comic book heroes, alright?”

“You said you wanted me to tell you--”

“I did.” the Alpha interrupted. “And I’m glad you’re talking with me Pete, I am. But you gotta tell me, does this have anything to do with what happened to you? Or are you just hyper fixating to keep your mind off everything else, like you did switching from physics to journalism after Ben passed away. Is that what this is? Distraction?”

“Would that be okay?” Peter squeezed at Harry’s wrist and tried not to let the utter dejection show on his face. “Is it okay if I’m obsessing because I need to focus on something besides what happened to me?”

“It’s totally fine.” Harry left another one of those sweet, chaste kisses on the Omega’s cheek. “However you need to cope, honey. I’ll sit here and watch bad sci fi films and listen to you draw wild conclusions all day. It’s fine. I’m here for you, I’m willing to listen.”

“You’re a good Alpha.” Peter swallowed back the immediate protests and the always present threat of tears and smiled up at his friend. “Thank you. Sorry I’m all crazy right now, but this is helping me cope. And it’s better than pills and sleeping all the time, right?”

“So much better than pills.” Harry agreed instantly. “I’ll turn on some music and order in some more food for later and we can spend a few more hours working this out and then I’ll stay over, make sure you sleep instead of writing books full of theories. I know how you get when you’re like this, you’ll go crazy just trying to get all your thoughts out on paper.”

“You know how I am.” Another smile, and Peter turned around before Harry saw it fall. “This is definitely not-- not anything real. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry.

It wasn’t Harry’s fault he couldn't grasp the enormity of Peter’s project. The Alpha had been subjected to the same history classes they’d all sat through-- ones that talked about uprisings and violence as if a minority demanding rights was something worth deploying the army to crush. Ones that conveniently dialed down the Holocaust to a few paragraphs talking about the religious groups persecuted but not the mutants, never the mutants. Ones that presented Manifest Destiny and ‘made in God’s image’ as a valid reason to exterminate anyone who didn’t fit the mold or stood in your way.

It wasn’t Harry’s fault he didn’t understand why Peter was so passionate about it all. The Omega was only telling him half truths after all, changing the names of the Havens to make them just be paranormal sightings, downplaying the significance of Project Rebirth and skipping over the experiments and concentration camps and torture the mutants were subjected to just for a few vials of super soldier serum.

And of course, the Alpha had no way of knowing Peter cared so much because of Wade, because of Haven, because of Cable and time travel and the ring that never left his finger.

Harry had no idea, no way of knowing and Peter couldn’t possibly hold that over him, couldn’t possibly be irritated his friend assumed this was all coping-by-obsessing and didn’t mean anything solid and real.

It wasn’t Harry’s fault, so Peter tucked away his disappointment and decided to just try to have a decent night in with the Alpha. He felt better after heat, after talking with Cable and putting some truth to the emotions building painful behind his heart so maybe he could make it through an evening without breaking down or running away and maybe everyone would believe him when he said he was fine.

It's fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine.

And tomorrow after Harry left, Peter would gather up some of his notes and go ask for answers from a man whose family name had been all over the Project Rebirth files, scribbled in margins next to blacked out test results, signed on the bottom of medical release forms and typed at the top as letterhead for some of the most horrifying information.

Stark.

Cable had made him swear to only use his answers for himself and not to cause a fuss but Tony Stark had to know something about all of this. The richest man in the city and one of the most influential men in the world had to have some answers and Peter could only hope his previous interactions with the powerful Omega would make Tony more receptive to answering a few questions.

How involved had Howard been with the soldiers and was Captain Rogers really buried above the arctic circle somewhere?

...and why were there blacked out test results and bloodwork from May of 1970 stuck between the pages of Howard Stark’s notes?

****************

“Peter Parker.” Tony Stark was the sort of Omega that commanded the attention of every person in any every he entered. It might have his perfectly styled hair and shockingly expensive suits, it might have been the mega watt smile and boisterous laugh, it might have been the weight of money and power around his shoulders or the intrigue of mystery and addiction that scented stronger at the hollow of his throat and curve of his neck.

Either way, Tony Stark walked into a room and every head turned and Peter was no exception, scrambling to his feet and awkwardly smoothing his clothes down when the intimidating Omega came towards him.

“Peter, how are you? Heard these last few months have been rough.” Tony clasped both his hands over Peter’s and squeezed lightly. “I’m glad to see you up and around again, ready to write another world changing article? I have all sorts of dirt on Justin Hammer just waiting to be printed.”

“All sorts of dirt, huh?” Tony had the unnerving habit of wearing sunglasses everywhere, even inside, even in more intimate settings and one on one meetings and today was no exception. Peter blinked a few times trying to see past the blue tinted glass to the other Omega’s eyes but was given only the sight of raised eyebrows and a half expectant smile. “Oh uh, well maybe we can print scandalous exposes later. I’m actually here to ask a favor.”

“Well, I’m still going to hold you to the scandalous exposes.” Tony motioned Peter towards a chair and sat down opposite him. “What else can I do for--” his voice trailed off when he caught sight of Peter’s notebook and the hastily scribbled questions, and when the other Omega leaned in closer to scent Peter, the mood in the room shifted abruptly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Parker?” Tony asked again, cooler this time. “And why don’t you tell me why you’ve had a recent run in with Mr. Summers?”

“Mr. Summers?” Peter ducked his head to discreetly sniff at his shirt. “It’s been most of a week, I didn’t realize I still smell burnt. Is it really obvious?”

“It is more obvious to people who don't realize what they are smelling.” The other Omega pulled off his sunglasses and tilted his head, looking Peter over closely. “You aren’t surprised I knew about Mr. Summers.”

“No I’m-- I’m surprised.” Peter admitted self consciously, “I was more worried about smelling gross in front of Tony Stark. Um. Sorry about that. How-- how do you know Mr. Summers?”

“You could say we run in a few of the same circles.” the air seemed to ripple, and Peter’s gaze darted to the left when a stainless steel tumbler rattled at the bar. “You don’t become one of the most influential men in the country without knowing a few key players in the game. Why are you here?”

“I was hoping to ask you a few questions.” Peter settled a notebook and pen on his lap and hesitated, “About Project Rebirth and the role your father played in the experiments. But now I’d also really like to ask you just how much you know about Mr. Summers.”

“Project Rebirth.”The metal sculpture on the nearby end table slid a few inches forward and Peter took a deep breath in when the other Omega’s vanilla and clove scent flattened towards disapproving “Why are you asking questions about defunct science attempts from the forties?”

“Because I know it wasn’t just an attempt?” he said carefully. “I know Captain Rogers wasn’t just a good ol’ boy who joined the army and bulked up and went off to fight before selflessly sacrificing himself to save the world. I know there was a -- a process and that it's been scrubbed from history books because it’s considered a failure. But your father--”

“--was a bastard and a bully, but even he drew the line at the sort of shit they were doing back then.” The pendulum inside the grandfather clock at the wall snapped forward and cracked the glass casing when Tony gripped at the arms of his chair and Peter had the distinct, sudden notion that he could be in danger.

“Um, Mr. Stark--”

“Enough.” The Alpha Pepper Potts was every bit as beautiful as her Omega mate and somehow infinitely terrifying despite her sweet smile and slender frame. Her voice was soft but razor sharp all at the same time, and when she put a hand on Tony’s shoulder the noise in the room stopped immediately, the clock settling and silverware stilling and sculpture returning to its original place. “Darling, that’s quite enough.”

“Ms. Potts.” Tony tipped his head back and trilled at his mate, and Pepper gave him an indulgent smile in return. “I was only going to scare him a little. Just to be funny.”

“Well no one other than you thinks that little display is funny.”

Peter stared between them with wide eyes then gaped over at the broken clock and score marks at the table. “What-- what--? Sorry, was that supposed to be funny?”

“Tony thinks it's hilarious to mess with people who are aware of his mutation but haven’t quite figured out where his talents lie.” the Alpha said blandly. “Though judging from your expression, I think you haven’t figured out that Tony has abilities and he’s being ridiculous for no reason at all?”

“Oh my god, that’s why you know Cable.” It all made sense in a matter of seconds, and Peter swung from feeling foolish and maybe even a little afraid to suddenly intrigued, and then slightly hysterical at the thought of Tony Stark being a mutant. Tony Stark of all people. Mutant. “You run in the same circles because you both are mutant.”

“Can’t see any other reason to spend time with the guy.” Tony grunted. “You still aren’t are surprised as I’d thought you’d be.”

“No, my brain is--” Peter made a gesture around his temples. “But I’ve read so many things in the last few days this is just another insane truth I’ll have to come to terms with later. So um, it’s metal then? Your ability?”

“Metal and then some. You don’t think I build all those computers and tech by hand, do you?” ” Tony slipped an arm around Pepper’s tiny waist and tugged the Alpha down onto the edge of his chair, turning his head to push his nose into her shoulder for a moment. Pepper kissed his hair immediately, then his cheek and when Tony looked up, his nose as well. It was sweet to see such open affection between a mated pair, and Peter’s hand went to his scarred bonding spot unconsciously when Pepper nuzzled into Tony’s ear and murmured something adoring at her mate.

I miss you, Alpha my Alpha.

“How are you then, little love?” Pepper asked softly, and Peter jumped, snatching his hand back to his lap when he realized the Alpha was watching him again. “You don’t just scent like Cable, you scent mate sick. Are you alright?”

“I um--”

“Not real often a mutant mates a human.” Tony interrupted, his dark eyes flickering electric blue for a split second. “I can scent that on you too. Where’s your mate, Peter?”

“Tony.” Pepper murmured. “Easy on the child, look at him, he’s miserable.”

Miserable? Peter tried to smooth down his hair again, sitting up straighter in the chair. He thought he’d been doing better with everything lately, so being told he stank like Cable and still smelled mate sick and miserable stung a little.

“I don’t want to talk about my mate.” he said softly. “Could we-- could we not do that, please?”

“Very well, Mr. Parker.” Pepper kept running light fingers through Tony’s hair, but her green gaze never left Peter as she said, “But you know, there are only a handful of reasons why you would be researching Project Rebirth, and within those reasons there is only the slimmest chance you’d come across Howard Stark’s name. You need to tell us immediately what sort of questions you are here to ask, and what sort of answers you are trying to find.”

“I’m not asking questions with the intention of hurting anyone.” the Omega reached up to press at his bonding spot again. “And the answers are only for myself. I swear it. I just want to know. Just want to understand.”

“Because of your mate.” Tony prompted, and Peter nodded slowly. “What does your mate have to do with Project Rebirth?”

“Nothing, I don’t think, but I don’t want to talk about it.” the Omega couldn’t seem to stop staring between the pair, taking in Tony’s startlingly blue eyes and the way every bit of metal in the room seemed to tilt to face him. Pepper didn’t seem perturbed by the show at all, and Peter put his questions about Rebirth aside to ask, “Mutants don’t usually mate humans?”

“Hardly ever.” Tony confirmed with a slight smile. “In fact, I don’t know a mixed mated pair at all, do you, my love?”

“Not at all.” Pepper’s skin shimmered and shifted across her face and down her neck, along her arms to her fingertips. Scaled pieces clicked together lightly, shining iridescent in the warm lights before melding back to perfectly smooth, there and gone before Peter even had the time to properly gauge. “Peter, you might be the first human I’ve ever met with a mutant Alpha.”

Peter couldn’t have formed a proper response if his life depended on it, struck silent by the display from the formidable pair, stunned speechless by the way Pepper’s gaze swirled fiery orange before settling back to green.

“See there, now he’s broken.” Tony scolded his mate teasingly. “All I did was rattle a few silverware, you’ve got him worrying you’ll get scaly and burn him to a crisp!”

“Hush you.” Pepper warned playfully just as Peter managed a squeaky, “You’re a dragon!?!”

“Most people assume I’m a snake.” the Alpha’s eyes flickered orange again. “Thank you for choosing something much more beautiful to compare me to.”

“That-- that wasn’t a yes?”

“Well it wasn’t a no either.” Tony waved his hand as if dismissing the topic entirely-- as if the topic of dragon mutants could be dismissed-- and leaned forward in his chair to pin Peter with a measuring look. “Now listen, kid. I’m going to be upfront and honest with you, only because you scent like Cable and have an entire notebook full of questions which means you probably know most of the answers I’m going to give you, and simply want confirmation.”

“Uh, yes sir?”

“Smart Omega.” Pepper said approvingly, and bent to give her mate one last kiss. “Be nice to him, Tony. He might be brilliant but he is still mate sick, do you understand? Gentle with your words.”

“You say that as if I am ever anything but thoroughly patient and whole heartedly kind.” The Omega made an affronted sort of noise and Pepper only laughed at him, waved at Peter over her shoulder, and closed the door to the living room as she went.

“Alright then.” the moment his Alpha had gone Tony straightened in his chair and squared his shoulders, commanding the room again with barely any effort. “Project Rebirth. You know about our frosty friend lost somewhere beneath the ice?”

“Yes.” Peter checked his notes. “Yes, Captain Rogers. His plane was put down over the Arctic circle.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Tony pursed his lips in thought and Peter waited only somewhat impatiently for the other Omega to choose his words. “Alright listen. Project Rebirth wasn’t the patriotic endeavor they tried to make it out to be, do you understand? They took in poor kids from the street, mostly mutants but some just human and turned them into lab rats. Took what they needed from one boy, pumped it into another and more often than not, killed both when nothing worked the way it was supposed to. Mixing DNA isn’t a real thing we can do now, there was no way a bunch of hack-job scientists working out of a basement could do it without mass casualties.”

“...Captain Rogers?”

“He was the first attempt that worked.” A glimmer of regret sliced through Tony’s vanilla clove scent. “My Dad used to say Steve never would’a signed up for that project if he’d known what was really in the so called super soldier serum. But he didn’t know because no one would ever say and he went from a sickly kid who could barely climb stairs to someone who could lift cars over his head within an hour. An hour. Even by today’s standards those sort of results are amazing, back then it was a goddamn miracle. Steve Rogers was a walking miracle, bought and paid for with the blood of a hundred different innocents and when they realized they’d created a literal god among men--”

“--they put him in the ice.”

“Dad stormed off the project when they realized they planned to crash the Valkyrie.” Tony said quietly. “Then he spent the next forty odd years searching for the crash site to try and rescue Rogers. Didn’t ever find him, so he spent any extra time he had searching for the cyborg they’d created after losing Rogers. Not as much is known about that one, but rumours are it was another kid from Steve’s neighborhood. Bright eyed and gung ho about serving and got himself turned into a monster.”

Peter grimaced as he circled the word ‘cyborg’ in his notes and Tony clicked his tongue sympathetically. “They tried it all over again in the seventies, even came to my Dad to help with it but he had his hands full with me so he turned them down. Some bloodthirsty bastard named Striker kidnapped and tortured and killed dozens of mutants trying to find the right amount of powers that could co exist in a body without self destructing. He wanted another Captain America but less along the lines of national hero and more along the lines of personal assassin. He was shut down after a few years, but by that time the damage had been done and all the mutants pretty much went underground. It was easier to hide than it was to stay public and go through all that in another twenty or thirty years.”

“I found mostly redacted paperwork from May of 1970.” Peter held up a copy of the page. “Is that-- is this you?”

“It’s probably me.” Tony started forward like he wanted to take the page, but then shook his head and sat back again. “My Dad had my blood tested when I was kid to try and confirm a theory.”

“What was the theory?”

The other Omega watched Peter for a long minute before finally saying, “That it skips a generation in males, but the Omegas are always carriers whether the family has a history of mutation or not.”

“Wait. What?”

“The mutant gene.” The corner of Tony’s mouth lifted in a half smile when Peter started scribbling notes just as fast as he could. “When present in a bloodline, it skips generations between presenting in males, but not females. Pepper’s mom was a mutant along the same talents, so was her grandma and so was Great Granny Potts. My dad wasn’t a mutant, and as far as we know, neither was Grandapa Stark. But male Omegas carry the gene no matter what so--”

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers and Peter jumped when the metal sculpture closest to him abruptly melted, liquefying into a shiny puddle of silver right there in the center of the table.

Oh holy shit.

“So I carry the gene.” Peter pointed at himself, swallowing around a little burble of hysteria. “I carry the gene?”

“Whether you have anyone in your family mutant or not.” Tony confirmed. “You’re not mutant but you’ll still pass it on to any kids you have.”

Oh ho ho holy shit.

“My mate and I won’t ever have kids.” Tony said then, and he sounded sad about it. “We always want to think the world has changed and attitudes towards mutants has changed but the fact is, it will never be safe to be us. Pepper and I are on the cover of every magazine, on television for interviews and always at one social event or another. Our kids would be so widely watched that they’d never have a chance to be normal anyway, and when you add in the absolute guarantee of mutant abilities--” he shrugged. “--it's not an option. We won’t do it to them.”

Peter tapped his pen on the paper a few times then asked quietly, “Could I ask you what happened when you-- when you came into your powers? Is that alright?”

“I was fourteen.” Tony launched right into the story, visibly relieved to be talking about something other than all the horrors his kind had been subject to for decades. “I had just gotten accepted to MIT and met my roommate, James Rhodes. The first night I had a nightmare about being trapped and overwhelmed and nervous about starting college and my powers surged while I was asleep. I ended up warping the bunk beds, twisting the metal into pretzels and trapping myself and Rhodey inside the mess.”

“I woke up screaming.” The Omega’s scent swelled with fondness. “And Rhodey talked me right out of the panic, right through undoing it all, then climbed up into my bed and hugged me tight. I could have killed him when my abilities spiked like that, and by all accounts he should have ran for his life, but he took the time to comfort me instead. He’s an actual saint. A literal angel for putting up with my shit all these years.”

“James Rhodes.” Peter thought back to the ceremony several months ago when he’d received the grant money from Stark Industries, to the Alpha in full military dress that had been standing next to Tony. “Colonel James Rhodes?”

“One and the same.”

“Is he--!”

“No.” Tony shook his head, adoration coloring his scent warm. “James is wholly human, which is why I’m sure he’s a saint. No one else could possibly put up with me.”

Peter was quiet, thoughtful as he wrote down a few more things, careful to leave names out of his notes in case anyone came across them later.

“Your mate is mutant and you smell like Cable.” Tony broke the silence again. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Yes.” Peter said shortly. “But uh-- it’s not the one you’re thinking.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

“Okay but I promise?” he laughed a little. “I promise that whatever you are thinking about me and Cable, the truth is even stranger. He is not my mate, no way.”

“Well thank god for small mercies.” Tony nodded. “Be careful down this path, Peter. Not everyone will be willing to talk like I am and most will be angry you’re asking questions at all.”

“I just want the answers for myself.” Peter repeated softly. “I just need to know, I have to know. I can’t explain it but--”

“--Do you believe in soulmates, Pete?”

“Yes.”

“Well, since you’re the first person I’ve ever known who was human and had a mutant mate.” The Omega shrugged, but his eyes were kind. “Maybe soulmates is the only explanation you need for why you need to know everything about your Alpha’s people. Hm?”

Peter left a few minutes later, stepping out the door with a firm handshake and a smile and the reassurance that he could come back any time, and so long as he was keeping the answers for himself Tony would be happy to talk with him some more.

“He’s so sad.” Pepper curled close into Tony’s arms and kissed her mate on the cheek. “It breaks my heart to see anyone sad from mate sickness, but it’s worse when they are so young. Mid twenties is too early to know that sort of grief.”

“Mmm.” Tony hummed in agreement and soaked in his Alpha’s scent for a minute. “I know someone who might know what happened to Peter, or at least why he’s been around Cable of all people.”

“Who’s that?”

“Well.” The Omega pulled out his phone and scrolled through contacts until he found a number he only called on the rarest occasions. “There’s only one person Cable trusts with his business in this particular timeline, even though I’ll never figure out why. The guy is a literal quack.”

Pepper chuckled under her breath when Tony dialed the number labelled “Neighborhood Quack” and then laughed louder when the phone answered on the first ring and the initial outburst from the other line was all swearing and various threats about what would happen the next time a Stark called his phone.

“Always good to hear from you, pal.” Tony said blandly, and on the other line Hank Pym screeched, “Don’t you call me pal, kid. I was teaching doctorate level university classes while you were still shittin’ in your diapers. What in the hell do you want?”

“Been spending much time with Cable lately?” It took a considerable amount of self control for Tony to not insist he could have taught Hank’s doctorate level classes while in diapers, and his moment of maturity was rewarded by a sweet kiss from his Alpha.

“I hardly think that’s any of your business!”

“No?” Tony challenged. “Cos I’ve got an Omega in here stinking like Cable and mate sickness while asking me about mutants and Project Rebirth. You’re the only one that grouch talks to in these parts, so I figured you’d know something!”

“Well if I knew something I wouldn’t tell a Stark. You’d sell the secrets for petty cash!”

“Old man, your secrets aren’t even worth the pettiest of cash--”

“Alright.” Pepper snatched the phone away. “Doctor Pym, this is Pepper Potts.”

“...oh hell.”

“Yes, that’s right. I understand you and my mate have some history, but I’d very much appreciate it if you helped me, do you understand?”

“...yes Ms. Potts.”

“Thank you very much, Doctor Pym. I’m looking forward to talking with you again later this evening.”

“...yes Ms. Potts.”

Pepper hung up and her mate whistled appreciatively. “How on earth did you manage that, my love?”

“I’m fairly certain my mother breathed fire on him at one point or another.” the pretty redhead said demurely, far too innocent for the way her eyes were sparkling. “Turns out you only have to do that once to put the fear of God into a man.”

“I love you.” Tony said seriously and the Alpha patted at his cheek and crooned, “I know you do, darling. I know.”

*****************

“Harry says you’ve got a thousand books in your apartment.” Gwen shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, then offered Peter a bite as well. “Oh, and he was bitching about you making him rent porn? What’s that about?”

“For the last time.” Peter took a tiny bite of the heart attack Gwen called dessert and shook his head. “It’s not my fault the video store rents sketchy documentaries right next to the porn. Also not my fault that Harry grabbed the wrong one.”

“I’m just saying, if there was an Alpha you wanted to pick out porn with, I’m definitely the better option.”

“GWEN!”

“I’M JUST SAYING!” The Alpha darted close for a kiss and then held up another bite for Peter. “Eat, pretty Omega. You’re practically skin and bones these days and I miss your butt. Fatten them cheeks up again, kiddo.”

“You’re being terrible tonight.” Peter informed her. “Honestly just terrible. What’s going on?”

“Seriously, I’m just happy you called me for ice cream.” Gwen admitted. “Just glad you’re out and around and being yourself again. Sorry if I’m being terrible but I’ve got three months worth of shenanigans to get up to with you, you ready for all this?”

“Yeah Gwen.” Peter squeezed at the blonds hand affectionately. “I am ready for some shenanigans with--”

--he stopped mid step, froze halfway between one stair and the next, skin crawling with goosebumps and hair standing on end, breath constricting in his chest and throat closing up until he was seeing spots in front of his eyes.

“Oh woof.” Gwen inhaled and made a face. “What smells like over ripe Alpha? One of your neighbors in rut, Pete? Or newly mated? No one stays off suppressants long enough to scent that strong unless they are honeymooning. Don’t they know there’s hotels for that? Wow.”

The Omega didn’t answer, and Gwen snapped her fingers in front of Peter’s face to try and get him to blink. “Pete? Hey, what’s wrong? Alpha scent bugging you? You okay?”

“I--I--” Peter peeled his tongue off the roof of his mouth and tried again. “I um-- Gwen, you need to go.”

“I need to go?” she asked in confusion. “You aren’t gonna invite me in? We’re like three feet from your apartment and--”

“You need to go.” Nothing more than a whisper, but Peter’s dark eyes flashed in determination even as he shoved the Alpha away. “Leave me alone. Please. I’ll call you but you need to go now.”

“Pete--”

“I’m fine.” he pushed harder, forcing her down the hall. “Gwen, I’m fine I promise but I need you to leave right now. I’ll call you, I promise. I’ll call you but you have to leave. Leave!”

Gwen grumbled all the way back down the stairs but Peter tuned it all out. His fingers were shaking as he tried to get the door unlocked, his keys failing once and then twice before sticking into the slot and turning the knob to open.

His apartment was dark, every light off and every curtain drawn and that wasn’t how he had left it, but Peter didn’t care about that right now, he didn’t care about anything right now.

He shut the door behind him and then leaned back against the wood, shut his eyes tight and opened his mouth to inhale a scent so potent he could nearly taste it on his tongue, feel it rushing in his veins and settling low into his soul.

My mate.

“....Al-- Alpha?”

And a hoarse voice from across the room, deep and smooth and so so beautiful the Omega’s knees nearly gave out right there--

“I’m here, Pete.”

*************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER! (and thank you for all the great comments last chapter! They were all so good and I loved them!)

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#ncts fics #spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson #time travel au #soulmate au #abo dynamics #tony stark #pepper potts #nathan summers

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missnmikaelson-main · 4 years

Text

A Year to Eternity? - Chapter 7

Serena squalled, indignant in her current position and intent on making sure everyone within a mile heard about it. She batted at the floor with short arms for good measure, just in case anybody missed the screeching.

“I know, I know baby,” Elena sighed, shaking a toy near her ear. The distraction failed; her limbs extended outwards as she kept crying. “I know you don’t like tummy time, but you have to have tummy time.”

She pulled the toy away so it resided in Serena’s line of sight.

“Do you like the whale?” She gently pressed Serena’s cheek with the blue toy. “You liked it yesterday…” slowly the indignation tapered off. “Yeah?”

Serena snuffed, considering the pink swirls in the whale’s cheeks.

“There you go,” Elena exhaled a sigh of relief, “we just needed something fun.”

It had taken weeks to work Serena up to five minute stints of tummy time. They went through the ritual together three times a day, and three times a day her heart broke to the sound of her baby girl’s tears.

“Do you know what today is?” She moved the whale aside; Serena’s head turned with it. “Today you’re three weeks old, and your belly button is all healed up, yes it is,” she cooed. “And that’s a little strange because the cord just fell off yesterday, so I need you to tell me the truth, little lady,” her smile wrinkled her nose. “Did Elijah give you blood?”

Serena reached out, clumsy and slow, for her nose and banged Elena’s chin instead. She liked Elijah. She liked Elijah a lot. The first time she had enjoyed tummy time was when the first time he visited. She spent the time on his chest.

She would treasure the candid photo of Elijah Mikaelson wearing a three-piece suit laying flat on his back with her tiny pink baby on his chest for the rest of eternity.

Literally.

Serena liked tummy time when she spent it on Elena’s chest too, but since she couldn’t do that every time they were both subjected to the upset of the floor.

“I’ll call him later and get an answer.”

The timer on her phone went off.

She sat up and lifted Serena, fitting her in the sling that had become a constant part of her post pregnancy wardrobe; Serena loved it, going so far as to happily coo when she was snuggled up close.

“Now we can do something you like.” She got to her feet and snatched her heavy cardigan from the chair, carefully putting it on. “That’s right, we’re going for a little walk.”

She went downstairs, adding the support of her arms to the sling, and out the glass door where a blast of fresh air hit her in the face.

“Cool, cool, cool,” she sang.

Her arms closed the sides of her cardigan, trapping warmth around the baby. Then she took a small path into the woods, going twenty-odd yards to circle around a tree.

“I used to play here with uncle Jeremy,” her eyes flicked upwards, “you can’t see it, but there is a tree house up there. Maybe when you’re bigger we can climb up. There’s a really pretty view of the lake.

She started back and paced the length of the dock, giving Serena what she liked. Elena didn’t understand what it was, but once Serena was fed and freshly diapered she enjoyed a turn by the lake; she loved something about the peaty smell of algae in the fresh air.

The gentle lap of water began to lull her to sleep.

“When you wake up from your nap we are gonna try something new, okay?” She stopped and kissed her cheek. “I, for one, am crossing my fingers that you like it so we don’t have another tummy time fiasco.”

“I love you,” she breathed, pressing another kiss to her brow.

~oOo~

“Alright, Serena,” Elena gently removed the onesie, “here’s the deal: if anybody asks you mommy did not extensively google ‘baby’s first bath’. Got it?”

Her mouth quirked up in a reflex smile when Elena stroked her belly.

She got Serena down to her diaper and did one final check, making sure she had everything within arms reach. She tested the water twice and once satisfied with the temperature reached to remove the diaper.

Her phone, luckily in reach, lit up; she pressed two buttons in quick succession.

“Elijah,” she greeted, seeing the caller ID.

“Elena,” she heard the smile in his voice. “I thought you might enjoy some conversation.”

“Lucky, then, that you’re just the vampire I wanted to talk to.” She cradled her daughter, supporting her head as she lowered her into the infant tub. “I’ve got an adorable little girl here with a healed belly button. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

“Babies are remarkably resilient.” His throat cleared.

“And this one had a little help from an Original,” she teased, keeping her tone light so he knew she wasn’t mad; at least not entirely. “You can’t heal everything. Mommy and the pediatric ward frown on that.”

“I will only intervene when she is in pain. Is that agreeable?” He chuckled.

“What’s your excuse this time?” She paused an inch above the water, panicking for a second when she saw Serena’s eyes close, but she was merely looking down.

“The injury was causing immense discomfort when she laid on her stomach. The little darling kept crying.”

“E for effort,” she finally got Serena in the inch of water, “but she hates tummy time, though, apparently, not the bath.”

“She’s not afraid of the water then?”

Serena’s lashes kissed her cheek.

“Nope,” she sighed. “I even got a reflex smile.” She dipped a cloth in the water and gently wrung it out, dribbling warm water on Serena’s belly. “Do you like the water, baby girl?”

Serena’s eyes ceased their search for the source of Elijah’s voice, focusing instead on her mother. Her eyes, normally the deepest of blues, glowed electric.

A scream ripped from Elena’s throat.

Serena’s face screwed up in response to the sound; her wails joined in the shriek.

The door flew inwards and swung, knocked off one hinge; it banged, denting the wall.

“Elena?” Strong hands gripped her shoulders.

She cut off her scream, clamping her hand over her open mouth. Words stuck in her throat. It was all she could do to grab onto his tie and dart bright eyes to her squalling newborn.

Elijah reigned in his breathing. As an Original his speed could only be rivalled by Klaus. It was no problem to cross the twenty-five miles that separated the lake house from the recently reopened mansion in moments, but seconds had been pushing it.

His ears sought any form of danger as he lifted the wet newborn, but beyond her cries he caught only the sound of crickets.

“What the bloody hell is going on over there?” Klaus’ voice rose from the speaker. Kol’s followed suit, reminding Elijah of the phone he had dropped.

Elena managed to stutter out two words.

“Her eyes.”

Elijah paused in wrapping the towel around a slowly calming Serena. He lifted a brow, signalling Elena to continue. The phone remained silent; he could practically see both brothers staring at the device miles away.

“Th-they gl-glowed.”

He cradled Serena and slammed the end call button.

Pulling out a kitchen chair, he sat and spoke slowly.

“What do you mean they glowed?” He looked down into Serena’s normal, if somewhat wet, eyes as he instigated the transfer; for a single beat he feared she might reject her daughter, but there was no hesitation in her movement when she took the baby, desperation obvious in the gentle hold.

She pressed her to her breast, kissing and smelling the top of her head; a hint of terror shadowed her gaze.

“Elena?”

“Bright blue,” she muttered, “electric blue; it scared me, and I… I scared her.”

She stammered apology after apology meant for the baby. In between she added ‘I love you’ and head kisses, tapering off when Elijah pulled her into a hug.

“You didn’t mean to scare her,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

“Why would her eyes do that?” She breathed fast, gazing down at the baby. Serena gazed right back with an expression that suggested Elena was crazy.

“I don’t know. I’ve only heard of the Hollow having that effect on eyes.” He recognized the mistake when she stiffened and pressed a comforting kiss to her forehead. “It’s not that; remember that the Hollow is dealt with. Are you sure about what you saw?”

“I’m not crazy.” Her phone buzzed, flashing Elijah’s name.

“I would never suggest that you are,” he held her face, tenderly wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “You do have a newborn, however, and sleep deprivation can inspire hallucinations.”

“I know what I saw,” she shook her head. “I put her in the water and her eyes glowed. You took her out and they stopped.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rolling up his sleeves. He removed his watch and the silver bracelet from his right wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing bath time,” he tested the water. “It will be easier to find out what happened if I see it myself.”

“Right,” she breathed. Steeling her nerves, and reminding herself not to scream, she unwrapped her gurgling baby and carefully placed her back in the infant tub. She stayed close so she could hold Serena’s gaze and waited; the water swirled around her lower body.

With the baby’s eyes open she saw the takeover, spreading in a circle from her pupils until the irises glowed.

Elena could admit it was king of pretty when she expected it, like bioluminescent plankton underwater, but that didn’t make it less scary.

“I told you so,” she leaned back, giving him room to see, but when she looked she found his gaze focused on the water.

“Did you happen to notice her feet?” His brows drew together as if working out a particularly challenging puzzle.

She followed his gaze, swallowing. His large hand cupped a tiny foot beneath the water for her inspection. The same blue that flooded her eyes danced between her toes in lines so thin she could barely see them; they disappeared when he lifted her foot above water, reappearing when he dropped it.

Serena gurgled, happy as a clam in her bath.

“Elijah, what’s happening to her?” Anxiety crept up her throat.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “it doesn’t seem to be hurting her. Could it be genetic?”

“Obviously not from me,” she shook her head. Her hands went through the cleaning motions to remain busy. “And I don’t know the other way. What if it can hurt her?”

“We’ll do everything we can to keep her safe, and as far as knowing goes there may be a way.”

Her eyes snapped to his face.

“I know a witch who has had success in dealing with the mind,” he explained, “lifting compulsion and removing memories. If she can remove them then she might be able to find lost memories trapped in your mind.”

“What’s the catch?” She wrung out the wet cloth.

“I have no method of contacting her. If we desire her aid the request must go through Kol, and Kol will not help without a good reason.” He kept one hand in the water and used the other to hold her wrist. “I might have to reveal some of the situation to him, and as that is information you told me in confidence I will not repeat it without your permission. Know, however, that once it reaches Kol is likely to spread to Niklaus and onward to Caroline.”

“How likely?” She pressed her lips together.

“It might take time, but eventually the information will slip. Kol struggles with secrets,” he chuckled. “If its not Niklaus then its Rebekah, and it reaches him regardless, and he’s always struggled to keep information from Caroline.”

She nodded slowly, considering as a plan formed in her mind.

“I want to tell Caroline and Bonnie myself,” she exhaled. “Jer and Ric too. He’s back in town tomorrow.”

She dried one hand and reached for her phone, declining the incoming call. Her thumb clicked out a quick message to the four important people in her life.

Lunch 2PM @ Grille? N2T

“Ask him please,” her phone pinged with responses. “Tell him what you need to.”

“As you wish,” he nodded, making her flush.

~oOo~

“Okay,” Elena leaned over, peering into the car seat, “first outing. You and I are going to get through this with minimal tears and no tantrums.”

The bell jingled over the door, signalling the arrival of several deputies. A few students from the high school came in behind them. The teenagers were followed by Hope Mikaelson.

The tribrid broke off from the crowd, glancing after them as they approached the pool tables. Her analytical gaze left the group and swivelled to the bar, but paused when they caught Elena.

She straightened up and offered the girl a wave. The motion of her hand sent Hope into action, weaving through the tables until she stood behind an empty chair by Elena’s empty table; determination flashed in her blue eyes.

“Hello,” Elena smiled. “You look better,” her fingers twisted in the loose sling. “I mean, Elijah told me you were better, and now I can see that you look it.”

“Yeah,” she brought her fingers to her lips, “no more creepy black veins sucking the life out of me.”

“You feel better?” She tilted her head.

“Yeah,” Hope nodded. “Thank you. I know how much you hate my dad.”

“I don’t hate your dad,” she frowned.

“I read the journals in the library,” she stared hard at the table. “I know what he did to you… that he was the big bad wolf.”

“That might be true,” Elena nodded. She lifted Serena when she started to fuss, holding her so she could snuggle against her neck. “Actually it is true, but there’s one account missing from the archive because I burned it to ashes before you were born. I don’t like your dad, and I’m on the fence when it comes to trusting him, but I don’t hate him. And even if I did, you’re not him, and I would never take my dislike out on you.”

“You don’t?” Hope pulled out the chair and sank into it. “Isn’t he supposed to be the irredeemable villain of your story?”

“Maybe,” she rubbed Serena’s back, “but hatred takes up too much energy, and nobody is irredeemable. ‘Anyone capable of love can be saved’.” She quoted words Caroline had said years ago. “Your dad’s had a weird way of showing it over the years, but he loves fiercely.”

“He was going to die to save me,” she blinked rapidly, eyes glistening. “Uncle Kol found white oak and got dad to admit it; because ‘no ocean was deep enough’.”

Words stuck in her throat.

“My mom died,” she sniffled. “She sacrificed herself to save me and…”

“You nearly lost your dad too,” Elena finished. She adjusted Serena into the sling so she could reach out and cover the girls hands. “I’ve been there Hope. I lost almost every parental figure I had. It took me a long time to realize this, but it wasn’t my fault,” she squeezed her hands, “and it’s not your fault either.”

“I’m sorry about your mom; she seemed pretty cool the one time I met her.”

“She was,” Hope rubbed her lips together. “It still feels like my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” she exhaled, “and whenever you need to hear that your uncle Elijah has my number.”

“I don’t want to bug you.”

“You’re not bugging me, I promise.” She saw Hope’s eyes fall to the sling. “Do you want to hold her?”

She hesitated a moment before nodding and moving to a closer chair. She held out her arms, following Elena’s quiet instructions to support the head.

“She’s so tiny,” Hope smiled softly.

“Elijah told me you were smaller.” Her head snapped up when a flash went off.

“Sorry,” Caroline grinned, “I couldn’t resist Klaus tormenting material.” Her eyes flickered to Alaric as she sat. “Come on grandpa, don’t stand on ceremony.”

“Step-grandpa,” he rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here Hope?”

“Landon’s shift ends in a few minutes,” she wiggled her finger in Serena’s grip. “I was gonna walk back to school with him and run more tests.”

“Still no idea what he is?” Elena frowned, glancing at the baby. “Other than that, how’s he adjusting?”

Bonnie and Jeremy strode into the Grille.

“He’s doing fine,” Caroline tucked hair behind her ear.

“He likes it better than the high school,” Hope looked up, catching Landon’s eyes when he clocked out. “I should get going; I’m in somebody’s seat.”

“And I’m taking someone’s baby,” Jeremy stopped at the chair, carefully lifting the baby into his arms. “Hello Serena, I’m your uncle Jeremy: that voice you’ve been hearing on the phone.”

Hope said a quick goodbye and caught Landon’s hand as they left.

“Klaus know about that?” Elena jerked her head towards the door.

“He hates it,” Caroline smirked. “Rebekah’s planning a June wedding.”

“What did you want to talk about Elena?” Bonnie folded her arms on the table. “Is this about the… you know?”

“No,” she shook her head, looking down into her daughter’s face. “It’s about Serena. There’s something I haven’t told you guys.”

~oOo~

Unsurprisingly he found Kol in the library.

His baby brother would spend his eternity surrounded by tomes, spurred by his unquenchable thirst for knowledge. He had claimed happiness at the time to have a second chance and die a witch as he should have the first time around, and never a day went by that he didn’t miss being a witch, but Kol loved his vampirism.

One lifetime was simply not enough to learn everything, so he would take as many as he could get.

“Have you ever considered putting what’s in your head to use?” Elijah flipped over a book, examining the embossed spine. “I’m sure Caroline could use more teachers.”

“I’d make a terrible teacher,” he flipped a page without looking up.

“You taught Henrik,” he turned the book over in his hands, fiddling with the cover. “You’ve taught spells to Hope, and, though I’m not a fan of your motivations, you taught Mary Alice Claire and Astrid Malchance.”

“Are you trying to get me out of the house, brother?” He shut his book with a sigh, sending up a fine cloud of dust from the weathered pages.

“It was just a thought that you could have taken as a compliment.”

Kol rose from the leather sofa and crossed to the drinks cart, pouring two fingers of whiskey into a tumbler.

“You want something from me,” he spun, raising the glass to his lips. “Out with it.”

“Very well,” he placed the book on a low table. “I need you to call Davina.”

Kol scoffed, breath fogging the glass. “Why would I call my ex-girlfriend?”

“Because she has a spell that help Elena…” Kol’s laughter cut him off.

“In that case it’s a resounding no.” He slammed down his glass.

“Kol…”

“Not happening,” he shook his head and strode for the door.

Elijah grabbed his arm. He pulled away, rounding on his brother.

“I wouldn’t ask if…”

“No, Elijah,” he pushed a finger over his heart. “That woman killed me, and the only reason I haven’t returned the favour is because of your involvement with her. There is literally nothing you could say that would make me want to help her.”

He moved to leave again, got halfway to the door, and stopped up short at the sound of Elijah’s quiet voice.

“Luta Flosadóttir.” He allowed the name a moment to sink in and conjure the right images. He saw her as he suspected Kol saw her: golden hair stained with mud, once cheerful eyes haunted. She had been meant to be his wife before her ruin and the fear that settled in her bones.

Her attacker fell to Kol’s sword; Luta to his teeth.

Kol turned to face him, the ghost of his first love in his eyes. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Ten months ago she lost time, a handful of hours,” Elijah slipped his hands into his pockets. He had instantly regretted the low blow, but it had achieved the desired outcome. “Not much in the grand scheme of things, but those missing hours resulted in Serena.”

“And now she wants to remember it?” His eyes narrowed. “Luta would have given anything to forget.”

“Personally, I think she would love to put it behind her, but last night Serena demonstrated a supernatural ability that makes finding the man imperative,” he tilted his head, pursing his lips. “And once she understands her daughter’s needs, I would like to know who was responsible, it would be a shame to castrate the wrong man.”

“Davina hates you,” Kol clenched his teeth.

“She doesn’t hate you,” he lifted his chin. “Bonnie could do the spell; she just needs to know the spell, and you can get it. And,” he added, “if it helps, Elena does regret her part in killing you.”

“I know,” Kol snorted.

“You know?”

“She apologized,” he rolled his eyes, “however, since she was under the influence of heavy painkillers I have elected no to accept it.”

Realization lifted Elijah’s brows. “You were in the delivery room.”

“For a moment,” he sighed. After a beat he reached into his back pocket for his phone. “What is she? The baby?”

“I don’t know.” Glowing eyes flashed in his mind. “I’m hoping Elena’s memory will shed light on that.”

Kol turned over his phone, considering the screen before clicking the name.

She answered on the third ring.

“Bonnie,” he greeted, “are you up for a little road trip. I have a spell you might be interested in… yes… I’ll pick you up at four.”

He hung up and met his brother’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for her.”

~oOo~

She waved a soft toy around, brushing a hand and tickling an ear. The repaired door swung open. She spared it a glance.

“You might consider locking your door. There are dangerous people in the world.” Elijah hung his jacket in the closet.

She pushed up to sit and brought Serena, pleasantly warm and lethargic from tummy near the fire, into her arms. Her face tucked under Elena’s chin.

“Arguably the most dangerous people in the world have an invitation that no lock could keep out, but I will start locking the door on one condition.”

He crossed the open concept and sank down, folding his legs to sit comfortably in front of the fire.

“Are you negotiating with me?” He tilted his head, amusement showing in the corner of his mouth.

The question brought a warm smile to her lips.

“Isn’t that our thing?” The fire cast orange light over his features.

“I suppose it is,” he nodded slowly. “What would you ask of me tonight?”

She shifted her weight on her hip, kept one hand firmly on Serena’s head, and slipped her fingers into her pocket. Warm metal touched her skin.

The fire cast a glowing reflection on the ceiling.

“A key?” He lifted an eyebrow, eyes flickering from it to her.

Her thigh brushed his leg, sending a jolt of electricity through him; nothing compared to the fire of her fingers placing the key in his palm.

“You know,” she shrugged, meeting his eyes. “In case she scares me again, and I scream, you won’t have to knock my door down.”

“In theory your idea is sound,” he huffed a soft laugh, dropping his eyes to the key, “but if you’re screaming I’m still…”

His eyes snapped up at the feel of her soft lips against his mouth. The key fell, muffled by the baby blanket, as he raised his hand to her cheek and slid his fingers into her hair. Every gentle movement felt familiar and new, lasting an eternity and ending far too soon; she went for second, quick, peck and leaned back to breathe.

For a long moment his gaze remained locked on her parted lips, mesmerized by the soft gasp of air that made his head spin. Until then he hadn’t realized how much he had longed for the kiss, and to see how differently she would react with emotion in place.

Only he couldn’t concentrate on her emotions for the spin of his.

Saying he could and taking the initiative herself were different things.

“Elena,” he breathed, longing to see into her thoughts. “Why?”

“I missed you,” she echoed his words from a lifetime ago in a teasing voice that earned a chuckle. The amusement turned serious, coupled with dark searching eyes. “And I wanted to.”

“And you’re doing what you want these days?” A few strands of hair tickled his wrist.

“As long as it’s not harmful to my health,” her lashes fluttered, lingering against her cheekbone, “or anyone else’s health.”

“I see,” his fingers slid to her throat, skimming her hammering pulse. “And what would you like to do now?”

“About a million and one things,” she breathed, inching closer, “but right now I’d like to do that again.”

His lips were on hers before she stopped talking, cutting off her words with a slow kiss. His tongue traced the softness of her mouth and coaxed shivers from her body. A short squall brought him crashing back to earth.

He broke away, lips swollen, to cast his eyes upon her breast.

“I think something wants your attention,” his voice came out low.

Serena’s squall morphed into a full-blown ‘I’m-hungry-feed-me-now-please’ cry. He had learned to differentiate during the first week when he began his daily visits to the lake house; he knew the sounds that indicated hunger and a dirty diaper, as well as indignation and a need for immediate comfort.

So far only Kol had mocked him.

“Like clockwork,” she smiled, glancing at his watch.

Elijah shifted back, giving her some room to adjust her hold. While she unfastened the buttons on her shirt he pocketed the key and lifted the soft blanket, offering the cotton to Elena.

She draped it over her shoulder; Serena squirmed until it fell away.

“How did lunch go?” He asked, watching the fire to afford her some privacy.

“Well, she didn’t try to expose me to the Grille when she was hungry,” she frowned when Serena squirmed, more focused on the too warm blanket than feeding.

Elena tossed it aside.

“Does that make your first outing a success?” He looked to find Elena watch Serena eat.

She ran a finger over her cheek.

“In terms of baby’s first outing, yes. Mommy’s first outing, on the other hand…” she chewed her bottom lip. For a moment the only sound was Serena’s greedy suckle. “I told them… I told them what I told you.”

He lifted an arm over her shoulders; she leaned into his side, accepting the kiss to the top of her head.

“As predicted Caroline wants to hop a plane back to Brazil and burn the village down for answers.” She pressed her cheek to his chest. “Ric doesn’t know what to say, but he was furious. I spent twenty minutes convincing Jer that what happened has no bearing on how I feel about Serena. And Bonnie went off somewhere with Kol after promising answers.”

Her finger moved up and down the baby’s cheek.

“Does her skin feel dry to you?”

The question took him by surprise and he looked down. His eyes found the spot in question, dull and red beneath Elena’s hovering finger.

“That wasn’t there a moment ago,” he skimmed the dry patch. “It feels dehydrated.”

Serena turned away from his finger, losing her latch.

“She shouldn’t be dehydrated,” Elena licked her lip. She cupped Serena’s cheek and attempted to help her reattach, but she refused to cooperate.

“Why is she dehydrated?” Hysteria laced her voice.

“I don’t know, Elena,” he found her chin, coaxing her face up to meet his eyes. “Breathe, lovely; I’ll get the baby oil.”

She sucked in a deep breath and felt some of her tension ease.

“It’s in my bag,” she nodded towards the couch.

Serena wailed suddenly. The new sound made Elena’s heart pound.

“I don’t understand; babies don’t dry out like this.”

She cuddled her close, offering comfort while she waited.

“Don’t some have dry skin?” He reached into the diaper bag, closing his fingers around the bottle. “Could it be eczema?”

“Doesn’t happen this fast,” she shook her head, lowering Serena to the floor.

She took the oil, spreading it on the widening patch; it soaked in with no visible effect.

Serena’s limbs flailed; she cried harder.

“It’s okay baby, shh…”

Panic settled beneath her breast when her eyes followed a dry patch down her neck.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled the zipper all the way down to Serena’s foot. Dry spots in various stages of dehydration dotted her belly and exposed legs.

“Oh God,” she slapped a hand over her mouth. She looked up; tears leaked from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He could only shake his head.

Elena worked her tiny limbs free as gently as possible. Her eyes dropped to Serena’s feet; spots of blue glowed and vanished rapidly as they had the previous night.

Her brain scrambled, connecting the dots from the scant information.

“Shh, sweetie, shh,” she tried to pick her up without touching dry skin, but she seemed to be composed of nothing but dry skin. “Did anything like this happen to Hope?”

“No, but Hope has vampire blood,” fear glittered in his eyes, “she’s never been sick except for when the Hollow was in her. Do you want me to heal her?”

She struggled to hold the tenuous grasp she had on self-control as a desperate idea took shape in her mind.

“I want to try something first,” she murmured, climbing to her feet.

She felt him on her heels as she hurried into the kitchen. She twisted the taps, forcing herself to wait until the temperature was right before putting in the plug and removing the dry diaper.

Her hands supported Serena in the sink. The few inches of water absorbed into her skin, halting the level from rising.

The screeching turned to tears and finally sniffles before stopping.

“She needed a bath?” Elijah frowned, scooping water over Serena’s torso. “Why does she need to soak in water?”

“I don’t know.” Her stomach trembled. She kept a firm grip on the baby as she curled her little arms over her belly. “Does this mean I’m supposed to bathe her everyday? All of the books say that dries babies out.”

“I think Serena’s a special case.”

Glowing blue eyes watched him carefully. It took several passes of water before the blotches vanished, more to return her skin to a healthy pink.

“Are you sure you’ve never seen this before? Anything like it?” Elena spread water up the baby’s back, breathing slow as he shook his head. “What about one of your siblings?”

“It’s possible,” he nodded, frowning, “maybe. I could take some pictures and ask them.”

“Use my phone,” she nodded to the living room, “I can print them and delete the digital copies.”

“Are you certain?” He dried his hands. Water dripped from his cuffs.

“She’s something,” her teeth sank into her bottom lip, “and maybe whatever spell Kol brings back doesn’t work. Maybe I never remember. And maybe that’s better; I don’t know. All I do know is that she was in pain and a lucky guess made her better. What if next time I’m not lucky, and you’re not here to heal her?”

“Maybe I’ll never leave,” he held the button down to open her camera.

“If you never leave you might get sick of us,” she tried to smile.

“I will never ‘get sick’ of you Elena,” he swore, kissing her temple, “or her.”

Serena turned her head from side to side, following the conversation with her eyes.

He zoomed in and captured an image of her eyes then took one of her toes.

Serena looked towards the slow stream of water where it flowed into the adjoining sink.

The water bent at an angle, hitting her belly and hands.

Elena gaped, wide eyes staring at the impossibility before them. Thin blue lines glowed between Serena’s tiny fingers.

She gurgled happily.

“You might wanna get that too,” she breathed out, turning to see the camera already raised.

@elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @naughtynecromancer @ethanjwillis @cry-btch@geekofmanyfandoms@morsmornte@xanderling@bellemorte180@iw1shiknew@blndbandt@petrova-banz @bulldozed88@njeancastro316

#Elena gilbert #Elijah mikaelson #elejah #Caroline forbes #kol mikaelson #bonnie bennett #Jeremy gilbert #Alaric saltzman #hope mikaelson #legacies #the vampire diaries #the originals

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swanqueeneverafter · 3 years

Text

The Once & Future Queen Pt.34

The Dochraid's Sacred Cave. (The Dochraid pulls herself to her feet, chanting.) Dochraid: "Gehaele thisne lichaman. Gestrangeme nu mihtig hie to forwarniene; yfel is on ofost. (While the Dochraid chants, she attaches a message to a crow’s leg:) Fleoge thu swa swa se windraesgrimsath.” (When she finishes her chant, the crow flies out of the cave.) The Cauldron of Arianrhod. (A small group has gathered for what promises to be the site of Morgana’s cleansing.) Emma: “Can the Dochraid be trusted? Is there really a remedy?” Regina: “If Morgana has suffered what I suspect then no, I don’t think so.” Emma: “You know what happened to her?” Regina: “Just because Rumplestiltskin refused to venture into the realm of the High Priestesses, doesn’t mean I never looked into them. After some research and books borrowed from Maleficent, I read about an ancient ritual of the Old Religion called the Teine Diaga.” Emma: “Teine Diaga?” Regina: “The sacred fire. The ritual used the mandrake root to bring unimaginable terror to the victim. Their screams could be heard twenty leagues away. When it was finally over, their will was no longer their own. They were slaves of the High Priestesses for eternity.” Emma: “Do you think Morgause performed this ritual on Morgana?” Regina: “It’s possible. Such mysteries were revealed only to a handful of female initiates." Emma: “Well, either way, the Dochraid told Guinevere that Morgana needs to be conscious when she enters the Cauldron. She must do so of her own free will or the spell will not be broken.” Regina: “Hm, that part, I fear, may not be within even our powers.” Emma: “Then the rest is futile.” Regina: “But there is someone for whom it is possible.” Emma: “Who? (Regina merely stares at her:) Guinevere?” Regina: (Nods:) “Only she can reach the part of Morgana that remains true.” Emma: “It won’t work. Morgana turned Guinevere into a deer for crying out loud!” Regina: “And I put a sleeping curse on Snow White and now I’m married to her daughter. Surely after everything we’ve been through you don’t underestimate the power of love, Emma? Guinevere is the only one who knew Morgana from before. She’s the key.” Emma: “Well, we’re about to find out.” (They turn to see Morgana, surrounded by knights, being led towards the Cauldron.)

(The sound of footsteps cause Emma and Regina to turn stare at an ancient looking woman as she steps out from behind some large rocks.) Dolma: “Who are you? What business have you in this sacred place?” Guinevere: “Are you the Dolma, ancient sorceress of the Cauldron of Arianrhod?” (The Dolma extends her hands and inclines her head.) Dolma: “Who else would I be?” Guinevere: (To Lancelot:) “Does she look familiar to you?” Lancelot: “There is something…” Dolma: “What say you? Why do you mutter?” Lancelot: “You look familiar, sorceress.” Dolma: (Raises a hand to touch her hair:) “Oh. Is that so?” Lancelot: “It is.” Dolma: “Perhaps our paths have crossed before, Tall, dark stranger. (She bats her eyes at him:) My memory is not what it once was, but I swear I would have remembered you.” (Lancelot looks to the Dolma with suspicion, preparing to unsheath his sword as she moves closer to him. Guinevere stifles her giggles at the look on Lancelot’s face and steps between them.) Guinevere: “Apologies, Dolma, but I’m afraid Lancelot is spoken for.” Dolma: “Shame. I am an old woman, it’s true, but I would have given you the thrill of your young life, Sir Lancelot.” (The knights begin to snigger while Lancelot looks bemused.) Guinevere: “You know why we’re here.” Dolma: “Nothing is hidden from… the Dolma. Come, we shall stand by the pool. (The party follows the Dolma towards the edge of the body of water. Approaching Morgana, the Dolma places her hands on Morgana’s face, looking into her eyes:) The magic which has ensnared you is strong indeed. It can be fought. It can be broken, but it may also prevail. Do you understand this?” (Morgana says nothing, her attention caught by the arrival of Xena and Gabrielle.) Guinevere: “I do.” Dolma: “What we attempt will not be easy. If we fail, Morgana will be lost forever.” Guinevere: “I understand.”

Dolma: “Very well. In order for this to work, Morgana must walk into the Cauldron of Arianrhod of her own will. Only then will the spell be broken. But be warned, all the magic that binds her will fight against it. You must reach her, Guinevere. Reach that part which has remained untouched by evil.” Lancelot: “Is there such a part?” Dolma: (To Guinevere:) “You must believe there is. Prepare yourself.” (Guinevere nods, then motions to Regina to remove the cuff from Morgana’s wrist. At the very moment she can feel her powers return, Morgana smiles.) Morgana: “Fools.” (Raising her arms, Morgana emits a pulse of magic that sends Emma, Regina and the knights flying. The Dolma runs behind Lancelot clutching onto him for dear life. Turning her attention to Xena and Gabrielle, Morgana uses her powers to blast some rocks in their path and cause a rock slide to crash towards them. Ducking between some large boulders, Xena and Gabrielle find shelter from the deluge.) Gabrielle: “I think we may have arrived a little early.” Xena: “Nah, we’re right on time.” (Brandishing her chakram, Xena steps out from their hiding spot and spins through the air to land mere feet from the vengeful sorceress. Raising her hand once more, Morgana is about to strike when Guinevere stands before her.) Morgana: “Move out of my way, Guinevere.” Guinevere: “Never. You wear the uniform of a callous sorceress well but we both know what lies beneath.” Morgana: “Your naïveté would be charming if it wasn’t so dangerous. You brought me here to strip me of my powers, to make me weak?” Guinevere: “I seek only to save the woman I knew all those years ago. To finally repay she who fought with everything in her power to see that I was rescued.” Forest. Past. (Morgana and Guinevere run along the forest path but Guinevere's ankle will not support her any longer.) Guinevere: "It’s no use! I’ll get us both captured. You must leave me." Morgana: "I will not!" Guinevere: "Morgana, go! Please! You must get help!" (Morgana sees the men catching up to them and hands Guinevere the sword.) Morgana: “Take this.” Guinevere: “Go!” (Morgana runs. Guinevere hides behind a tree, then jumps out and takes down the man pursuing them. Morgana stops when she hears the man’s scream, then continues running.)

Camelot. Council Chamber. (Morgana enters with Arthur.) Uther: (Rising from the throne:) “It’s such a relief to see you safe. (Cups her face:) I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone harming you.” Morgana: “The bandits still have Guin.” Arthur: “I believe they were Mercian. We’ve received reports that Hengist has crossed the border.” Uther: “Hengist?” Morgana: “You must send a rescue party.” Uther: “If Hengist is holding her, it would take a small army to rescue your maid.” Morgana: “We can’t abandon her!” Uther: “How many men would you have me sacrifice to save a servant?” Morgana: “As many as it takes! Guin gave herself up so that I might escape. I owe her my life.” Uther: “She did so willingly, and she will be honoured for it.” (Uther turns back towards the throne but Morgana pursues him.) Morgana: (Grabbing his arm:) “I don’t want her honoured, I want her rescued! She is more than just my maid. She’s my friend.” Uther: (Takes a breath:) “A servant is of no value to these bandits. (Puts his hands on her shoulders:) I fear she’s dead already.” Morgana: “No! (Shrugs out of his grasp:) We cannot give up hope! (Turns to Arthur, beseechingly:) Arthur? I’m begging you. You have to do something.” Arthur: “Your father’s right, Milady. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.” Morgana: “How can you say that?! (Looks around the room:) How can you live with yourselves?! All of you!” Arthur’s Chambers. Night. (Morgana bursts in.) Morgana: “How can you be so heartless?! Guin is the most kind, loyal person that you would ever meet, and she has been more than a friend to all of us! And you would leave her at the mercy of those animals!” Arthur: “Morgana…” Morgana: “Have you no shame? Do you think of no one but yourself?” Arthur: “Morgana…” Morgana: “I knew you were many things, Arthur, but I didn’t know you were a gutless coward!” Arthur: “Morgana! Perhaps if you would stop shouting at me for one second, you would notice that I am packing.” Morgana: (Calms and looks down:) “You’re going after Guin.” Arthur: “Of course I’m going after her. What do you take me for? I couldn’t disagree with the King in public.” (Arthur puts his saddlebags over his shoulder and walks towards the door.) Morgana: (Calling after him:) “Arthur? (He turns:) Bring her home.” Camelot. Staircase. Two Days Later. (Morgana stands on the Griffin landing staring worriedly out the window. Arthur walks up the stairs.) Arthur: “Morgana. There’s someone here to see you.” (Arthur steps aside and Guinevere runs into Morgana’s arms.) Morgana: “Guin! I thought I’d never see you again.” (Arthur gives Guinevere a knowing look as she hugs Morgana. He gives them their space and returns down the steps.) The Cauldron of Arianrhod. Present. (Morgana stands listening to Guinevere while she continues their journey down memory lane.) Guinevere: “Then, when I returned to work after my father’s death, I saw further evidence of the kind of person you truly are, Morgana.” Morgana’s Chambers. Past. (Morgana enters her chambers, where Guinevere sits waiting. She goes to Morgana quickly.) Guinevere: “My Lady!” Morgana: “Guin. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Guinevere: “What happened to you?!” Morgana: “Nothing. Well, nothing a hot bath wouldn’t fix. (Guinevere sees the sores on Morgana’s arms where the manacles bit into her flesh:) I spent the night in the dungeon.” Guinevere: “Uther.” Morgana: “He doesn’t like to be challenged.” Guinevere: “It wasn’t about my father, was it?” Morgana: “You have enough to deal with without worrying about such things.” Guinevere: “You shouldn’t have done that! Not on my behalf. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.” Morgana: “You need to go home, Guin. Get some rest. Please.” Guinevere: “I’m fine, My Lady.” Morgana: “I insist. (Guinevere walks past Morgana with her head bowed, picking up a hair brush:) Guin? (Guin stops, her back to Morgana, trying not to cry:) Guin?” Guinevere: “I can’t go home!” Morgana: (Placing her hand on her shoulder:) “It’s understandable to feel so alone.” Guinevere: (Walks away:) “Tauren…” Morgana: “Tauren?!” Guinevere: “He attacked me. He threatened me. He was looking for some kind of stone.” Morgana: “Stone?” Guinevere: “He said if I didn’t bring it to him, he’d kill me. He’s waiting for me in the Darkling Woods. I have to do something. If I don’t get this stone to him by dawn tomorrow… (Morgana begins walking off purposefully:) What are you going to do? Morgana?!”

The Cauldron of Arianrhod. Present. (Taking Morgana’s hand, Guinevere begins leading her to the water’s edge.) Guinevere: “Morgana. My Morgana.” Morgana: “Your Morgana? I was never yours and never will be. You chose Arthur and now Lancelot.” Dolma: “You must reach her, Guinevere. Reach out or all is lost.” Morgana: (Glancing at the Dolma:) “Who’s this old crone?” Guinevere: “We loved each other once.” Morgana: (Tersely:) “You are easily fooled, Guin.” Guinevere: “And still do.” Morgana: “You were my handmaiden, nothing more.” Guinevere: “I don’t believe that.” (Morgana struggles to free herself from Guinevere’s grasp, but the Queen will not release her.) Morgana: “Believe what you like. The fact remains.” (Guinevere begins to pull Morgana towards the pool as she struggles.) Dolma: “No! It must be of her own will!” (Guinevere pulls Morgana close until they are face to face.) Guinevere: “Look at me. Tell me you don’t love me.” Morgana: “Let me go!” Dolma: “Guinevere!” Guinevere: “Do you remember when I asked you why you fought so fiercely to free me or stood up to your father on my behalf all those times? Do you remember what you said? You said that we were more than friends and that you loved me ‘With all of my heart.’ That’s what you said, Morgana. That was no subterfuge. No trickery. (Morgana stops struggling and stares at Guinevere:) With all my heart. (Guinevere walks slowly backwards towards the lake:) With all my heart.” (Morgana’s breath hitches as Guinevere steps into the lake.) Morgana: (Softly:) “With all my heart…” (Guinevere extends a hand to Morgana and she follows her towards the lake.) Guinevere: “Come.” (Morgana places her hand in Guinevere’s and steps into the water.) Dolma: “Yfel gaest, ga thu fram thisselichaman. Bith hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofonutungol sceal thurhswithan.” (The Dolma’s eyes glow golden and Morgana is surrounded by a brilliant white light. When the light dissipates, she turns to smile at Guinevere, extending her hand to her. Guinevere wades towards her and embraces Morgana. The Dolma smiles, exhaling in relief.)

(Stepping out to join Xena, Gabrielle watches the two women embrace in the water. Looking to Xena, they share a smile, surprised and invigorated by what they’ve just witnessed.) Morgana: (Parting from their hug, looks into Guinevere's eyes, softly:) "Thank you, Guin." (Guinevere gives her a teary smile and takes Morgana's hand, leading her out of the water towards shore.) Regina: (As they step out of the water:) "Here." (Regina waves her hand and both women disappear and reappear in a cloud of smoke, their clothes now completely dry. Morgana looks around at all that have gathered and is about to say something when she is knocked backwards through the air. Morgana is rendered unconscious by the impact of her fall.)

(Everyone turns to see Mordred lower his hand. Guinevere rushes to Morgana’s side and Emma and Regina prepare to use their magic against him when a voice rings out across the valley.) Xena: “Hey!” (Mordred turns his attention to her and is barely able to move out of the path of Xena’s weapon as it barrels towards him. Realising that he is outnumbered, Mordred vanishes while Xena catches her chakram.) A Short Time Later. (By the Cauldron of Arianrhod, Lancelot and Guinevere stand before the Dolma.) Guinevere: “I owe you a great debt. We both do. If there’s ever anything I can do in return…” Lancelot: “Perhaps a new dress?” Guinevere: (Outraged:) “Lancelot!” Lancelot: “Just a thought.” Dolma: (Looks down for a moment before answering:) “There is one thing.” Guinevere: “Name it.” Dolma: “Remember what saved your friend. Magic and sorcery.” Lancelot: “It was also sorcery that bewitched her.” Dolma: “There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men. My request is that you remember this.” Guinevere: “You have my word.” (The Dolma gives Guinevere a small smile, bowing her head slightly. They begin to walk away when the Dolma calls out.) Dolma: “Oh, and Lancelot? (Lancelot turns back:) Don’t be a stranger.” (She gives him a broad smile and a wave. Lancelot returns the smile uneasily and looks to Guinevere who is doing her very best not to laugh.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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myarmsaretoolong · 4 years

Text

@whumptober2020 Prompt #17: “You Didn’t See That Coming” - Presumed Dead

Word Count: 5283

Warnings: Blood (Minor) | Mentions of Death | Kidnapping | Serious Injury | Hospital Scenes

Synopsis: When the mission goes south, and Peter is kidnapped right under Tony’s nose, the only thing he has left is hope to someday be reunited

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

The mission wasn’t going well.

Herman Schultz, Shocker, The-Guy-Who-Peter-Webbed-to-a-Bus-and-Sent-to-Prison, whatever you wanted to call him, decided to cause havoc on a quiet Queens evening; Tony and Peter went out to put a stop to it. Naively confident he’d pose a weak threat.

It started okay, the superhero duo came this close to taking Shocker down when he’d hit them with a powerful EMP blast. Not only did it knock out all power within a ten-block radius, but it disabled both of their suits, too. Peter fared better out of the two, using the momentum from his swing to land on the side of an apartment block, but Tony took a five-story shortcut to the ground.

He landed hard, rattling around inside the suit as it bounced and rolled across the tarmac, safe in the knowledge he’d be nursing bruises for days. “Fri?” he called, breathless from shock and trying to piece together why he now lay in a mysterious puddle in the street gutter. Of course, Friday didn’t respond. Looking out of the eye slits, Tony saw Shocker stalking towards him and fumbled for the manual suit releases.

The suit sprung open and Tony shot to his feet, leaping over to the pavement while trying to form a plan.

Peter landed on Shocker’s head; he may be lacking his web-shooters, but still had super-strength. They fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs and, after a short scuffle in which Tony couldn’t quite make out who’s arms were who’s, Peter jumped to his feet and looked down at the unmoving Shocker by his feet.

Satisfied he wasn’t getting up, Peter ran over to Tony, glancing at the still open suit as he passed. “Mister Stark, are you alright?”

Tony wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think.”

“I’m okay, kid. Really.” Tony walked back to his suit and crouched down, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t suppose you’re there, Fri?”

After a long pause, Peter answered for her. “I think that might be a ‘no’.”

Tony nodded slowly. “I’m starting to think the same.” He straightened up and turned to Peter. “Is it bad form for a couple of Avengers to call an Uber?”

“Probably,” Peter shrugged, “but I also don’t want to lug that thing back to the compound. ‘Cause we both know who’ll be carrying it.” He muttered the last part.

“What was that?” Tony raised an eyebrow, his head tilted slightly to the side. “I dragged it through the snow in Tennessee once I’ll have you know."

“Yes, I know. We all know.” Peter rolled his eyes as he spoke. “You’ve told that story a thousand times.”

Tony stared at Peter for a long moment. “I’m choosing to ignore that comment. Now,” he held out his hand, palm up. “give me your phone, I’m going to call… Someone.”

“What about your phone?” Peter said, stepping back indignantly.

“Don’t have pockets in the suit, kid. Just hand it ov-AAAA!” One of Shocker’s blasts hit Tony in the side, sending him twenty feet in the air and smacking into the side of an apartment building before falling back to the floor.

Peter lunged after Shocker, but the latter got there first and caught Peter in the chest with an electric bolt, knocking the air from his lungs as he tumbled backwards head over heels. He managed to push himself up to his knees, unaware of Shocker sneaking up behind him.

“Kid, look out!” Tony yelled. Or at least, hoped he did, everything sounded muffled, and the world swam in front of his eyes. He touched a hand to the back of his head, and it came away crimson.

He watched helplessly as Peter turned around, too late to avoid Shocker’s punch that connected with the side of his head. The kid crumpled to the floor, out cold. Tony managed to drag himself up to sit against the side of the apartment block as Shocker paced towards him, a maniacal grin on his face. “Oh, I’m going to have fun doing this, Stark.”

Tony spat out a wad of blood and met Shocker’s eyes with evil intent. “Do your worst.” Shocker raised his gauntlet. Tony prayed for a miracle.

But this was the real world. And in the real world, miracles didn’t happen.

Electricity coursed through Tony’s body, setting off every nerve ending across every inch of his skin. He screamed out the pain through gritted teeth, unable to open his mouth as the electricity tensed his muscles. Shocker didn’t let up. Tony could feel his insides twisting and turning to mush as darkness crept in the edges of his vision. Blood dripped from his nose and ears, pooling with that already staining the ground.

The last thing he remembered before succumbing to the darkness, was Shocker’s crazed laugh.

* * *

Rhodey sat by Tony’s bedside, still in the same uncomfortable armchair he’d left maybe a handful of times since they brought him back to the compound. The chair’s scratchy material almost began to feel normal against his skin.

He’d been monitoring their mission back at the Avengers Facility, trying to convince Tony to accept backup. He’d refused, of course, saying him and the kid had everything under control. When Friday lost connection to both of their suits, Rhodey assembled the team and had them suited in the Quinjet within minutes.

The flight to Queens hadn’t taken long, but the sight that greeted them… Rhodey would never be able to forget it. The first thing he saw - or rather, didn’t see - was the dark patch on the horizon. No streetlights, no glow bleeding out of apartment windows, not even the garish red and blue flicker from a neon sign in a bodega window. Next, he saw Tony’s suit, the front folded open, abandoned in a gutter.

Then his stomach turned over. Tony lay at the bottom of an apartment building in a pool of blood. That blood, too, stained his undershirt and oozed down his face from a gallery of slashes through his skin. Rhodey rushed to his side as soon as the Quinjet door opened, checking over his vitals and shouting orders at the others to get him and the suit safely aboard the jet.

The last thing he only noticed as they carried Tony from the pavement. Tire marks, freshly lain on the road, as if someone made a quick getaway.

That was three days ago.

Bruce popped his head around the door to the medbay, startling Rhodey back to the present, and nodded his head backwards, gesturing for Rhodey to follow him. He stood from the chair, suppressing a groan as his muscles protested from being still for so long - not because he was quickly approaching his mid-fifties, definitely not that - and padded over to Bruce in the doorway.

“Any change?” Bruce asked, his eyes falling sadly on Tony’s prone form. He almost looked peaceful, carefully tucked under a blanket and head resting on only the softest of pillows. But the still healing cuts on his face and splints holding various broken bones still ruined that. Instead, he looked like a man haunted by a past he wished he’d forget.

Rhodey shook his head, arms folded across his chest. “But no news is good news, right?” He spoke in a whisper, as if making too much noise would disturb Tony’s rest. “It means he’s not getting any worse.”

“Shocker really did a number on him. Doctor Cho said it’d take time for him to recover.” Bruce squeezed Rhodey’s forearm sympathetically. He smiled gratefully at the other man, knowing seeing Tony this way hurt Bruce just as much as him. “Besides, he’s finally getting a good night’s sleep.”

“Not even Pepper could manage that,” Rhodey chuckled, dropping his chin to his chest. “You know Tony, he’s a fighter. He’ll pull through.”

A grave expression fell across Bruce’s face, his eyes returning to Tony in the bed. “I don’t want to be the one to tell him the news.”

Rhodey sighed and looked to the floor, leaning against the door frame. “My turn to ask if you have an update.”

Bruce didn’t reply straight away, but eventually spoke up. “Yeah.”

“I’m guessing it’s bad news.”

“Yeah.”

Rhodey raked a hand over his face, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “How bad?”

Voices sounded from around the corner, too far away to make out but mostly likely Pepper and Morgan coming to visit Tony. “We should talk somewhere else,” Bruce said, turning his head towards the sound.

“Yeah,” Rhodey looked down the corridor as they rounded the corner, nodding a greeting to Pepper. He turned back to Bruce, “Go ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute.” Bruce nodded and left, giving a wave to Pepper and pulling a silly face at Morgan to make her giggle before he headed towards the command center.

Pepper held Morgan on her hip, bouncing her playfully as they walked up to Rhodey. The whole team silently decided that, with her dad laid up in a hospital bed, it was best to stay cheerful around Morgan. They obviously hadn’t told her the full story, just that Tony had been hurt while working and needed to sleep for a while until he felt better - which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Hey there, Squirt,” Rhodey beamed, reaching out to take Morgan. Truth be told, Morgan was such a light in all of their lives that he didn’t have to pretend to be happy. “How was school today?”

“Good!” Morgan squeaked. She proudly held up a piece of paper in front of Rhodey’s face, slightly crinkled from where she’d been holding it. “I drew this for Daddy in art class. It’s all of us together at home!”

Rhodey took the piece in his spare hand and examined it. Himself, Pepper, Tony, Peter, and Morgan stood in the forefront - none of whom were wearing their suits - while in the back, various other Avengers, along with May, Ned, and MJ. At the top, the title ‘My Heroes’ was printed in funky bubble letters, which Morgan had coloured in with a crayon. “Wow, you could be a professional artist someday.”

Morgan giggled, burying her face in Rhodey’s shoulder.

“Sweetie, did you want to go and show Daddy?” Pepper asked. Morgan nodded, and Rhodey set her down, handing her the paper. They watched as she ran up to Tony’s bedside and climbed up on there with him, using the armchair as a makeshift step ladder. She laid down, snuggled up against his chest, and began describing the drawing for him - they’d told her that though he looked asleep, Tony could hear what they were all saying. Pepper turned away first, looking to Rhodey. “How’s he doing?”

“Good, all things considered. Vitals have held steady all day. It’s a really good sign, Cho said.”

Pepper nodded slowly, returning to watch Morgan. “He’s always been too stubborn for his own good.”

“You’re not getting an argument from me.”

Pepper laughed warmly, resting her hand on Rhodey’s arm. “Go, catch up to Bruce. I saw you two talking when we arrived, it looked important.”

“Thanks,” Rhodey smiled. “I’ll be back soon.” He took one last look at Morgan and Tony before heading for the command center.

They called it the command center because it was the main base of operations for monitoring both potential threats and active missions. Since the return of the dusted Avengers, there were more than enough people to have multiple missions running at the same time, so it seemed best to have a central room where everyone and everything could be monitored with ease.

Rhodey paused outside the door, preparing himself for whatever news Bruce had, before walking inside. Seeing the room caused his stomach to turn over. The sense of dread he felt when Friday lost connection to their suits returning tenfold each time he entered. Still, he pushed it down. He had a job to do.

Bruce leaned on the corner of the desk, a dozen holo-screens filling its surface and all showing different information. May sat in the chair, slouched over with her head in her hands and eyes closed. Rhodey shot Bruce a questioning look; Bruce only shook his head.

With a sigh, Rhodey walked up to May and gently rested his hands on her shoulders, startling her awake. “Hey,” he said softly, she turned to face him, “Maybe you should think about heading home. Catch up on some sleep, get a decent meal.”

May shook her head furiously, eyes welling with tears. “I can’t- I can’t leave not knowing.”

“I’ll update you the second we find anything. Happy’s just about to head home, I’m sure he’ll give you a lift.” When May still didn’t move, Rhodey leaned back against the desk, not taking his eyes from hers. “We’ve got people out there searching, there’s not much we can do from here. Peter would want you to look after yourself.”

At the mention of Peter, May looked up. Slowly, she nodded and rose to her feet. “Yeah,” she whispered, “Yeah, he would. See you.” She drifted from the room with barely a backwards glance at either of the occupants.

Once she’d made it a safe distance down the corridor, Bruce spoke up. “I’m worried about her. She’s hardly left this room in days.”

Rhodey nodded, his expression solemn. “I’ve talked to Happy, asked him to keep an eye out for her if we ever managed to get her back home. You know how close they’ve gotten recently.”

Bruce laughed. “I have. And I didn’t see it coming.”

“Neither did the kid,” Rhodey chuckled, alleviating some of the heavy atmosphere shrouding the room. “So,” he stood straight and moved around to face the holo-screens, arms folded protectively across his chest, “What’s the lastest?”

Bruce moved to stand beside Rhodey. Grabbing the projection of a map of the US and enlarging it, pushing the other holograms to the side in the process. On one of which, the same three-second CCTV clip of a white van speeding down the street replayed over and over, Shocker just visible in the driver’s seat. Across the map, a series of dots linked together by a continuous line - all the locations they’d tracked Shocker’s van to, spread wildly and never going in the same direction twice.

“Last we know, Shocker holed up in Denver for a couple of hours. I sent Sam and Steve out as soon as we got a licence plate hit, but he’d vanished by the time they arrived.”

“Vanished?”

“Yeah,” Bruce stepped back, revealing the end of the line just south of Denver on the I-25. “He turned off the Interstate not long after ten this morning, we’ve usually had another hit by now. But this time, nothing.”

“Are you saying we’ve lost him? We’ve lost the kid?”

Bruce nodded, forlorn. He gestured at the hologram, and a circle appeared, centred around Denver and reaching as far as the California border. “They could be anywhere within this area given the time since we lost them.”

“Great!” Rhodey threw his arms in the air, shaking his head. “So we only have to search half of the Western States.”

“And the area get’s bigger the longer they’re missing.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Then I guess I shouldn’t mention the possibility they’ve visited an airport.”

“Can’t do,” Rhodey said quickly, “There’s no way airport security would let a known super-criminal leave the country with a minor he’s not related to.”

Bruce shrugged. “I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s been to a lot of cities, who knows what contacts he has.” Rhodey fell into the chair, rubbing his hands vigorously over his face. “Hey,” Bruce pulled up a second chair and squeezed Rhodey’s shoulder. “Are you alright? Besides the obvious, I mean. You look kinda rough.”

“Thanks, man.”

“I just meant you need to look after yourself, too, as well as everyone else.”

Rhodey smiled warmly, “I know. I am, just a little tired. Not been sleeping well.”

“I can get you something to help with that if you want. Just let me know.”

Rhodey didn’t answer, instead looking up to the map. Specifically, the small triangles that represented the on-mission Avengers’ current locations. He nodded generally towards them. “Who’s out there?”

Bruce pointed to the closest triangle to Denver. “That’s Sam and Steve, still running reconnaissance.” Next, he gestured to one somewhere over Missouri, “Wanda and Vision flew out from Edinburgh this morning - they wanted to help the search - and are headed to Oklahoma City. See if they can find anything there. These other two in Mississippi are Nat and Bucky, and Clint and Scott.”

“And they’re…?”

“Looking for one of Shocker’s known contacts. We think he might have stayed with one of Vulture’s old crew, Phineas Mason. ‘The Tinkerer’-”

“That’s got to be one of the worst nicknames out there.”

“Yeah,” Bruce chuckled, “We’re hoping he might give us something on Shocker. Or… Nat can convince him to give us something.”

“Let’s hope he does.” Rhodey got to his feet. “I’m going to grab a coffee for Pepper, you want anything?”

Bruce shook his head, “Thanks, though.”

“No problem,” Rhodey smiled and left the room, hanging around in the doorway. “You’re doing a good job here, man. We’ll find them.” Bruce nodded once, his expression one of determination, and Rhodey started down the corridor.

He thought as he walked towards the kitchen. With everything going on, he maybe hadn’t been giving himself quite the love he deserved, instead worrying about Tony, or helping Bruce co-ordinate missions, or babysitting Morgan when Pepper’s meetings dragged late into the night. With a yawn, he considered taking up Bruce’s offer. Imagining the good a decent night’s sleep could do him.

“May?” he asked incredulously, striding over to the breakfast bar where she sat. A cup of coffee cradled between her hands. “I thought you were going home.”

May sighed, looking defeated. Permanent worry lines etched into her forehead, her hair in the same messy bun it had been for days and fingernails bitten to the skin. “I couldn’t do it. Sent Happy without me.”

“I get it,” Rhodey sat on the stool beside her. “When Tony went missing in Afghanistan, I didn’t stop for months. I couldn’t. Because it was my duty to find him.” May nodded absentmindedly. “Finding Peter isn’t your duty; we’re all here for him. All looking-”

“That’s just the thing.” May lifted her head, tears in her eyes. “You’re all out there searching for my kid, and I’m sat here like a piece of furniture.”

Rhodey was taken aback, frowning as she spoke. “May-”

“And I know, I know, I can’t go out there and help. Not in the same way, at least. So it’s all I can do to be here when you get him back.” She dropped her head again, staring at her coffee like it would give her the answer. “That’s all I have.”

“Take my room,” Rhodey offered, “I’ve been sleeping in the medbay, so my bed’s going spare. Plus, no one will disturb you in there.

“I couldn’t-”

“I insist.”

After a brief pause, May leant into Rhodey’s side and hugged him. “Thank you.” She got to her feet, still holding the coffee.

“There are spare clothes in the cupboard at the end of the hall. I’m sure you can find some pyjamas in there. Make yourself at home. And I don’t want to see you up before seven tomorrow morning.”

May laughed gently. “Yes, Colonel.” With a mock salute, she left the room. Rhodey stood and grabbed two cups of coffee, plus a juice box from the fridge, and started back to the medbay.

* * *

Tony woke early the next morning, greeted by a relieved Rhodey, tearful Pepper, and Morgan diving into the bed next to him and snuggling up to his chest. The pair soon had to leave for school and work, leaving just Rhodey and Tony alone.

Tony looked up at Rhodey, a dopey grin on his face. “What’s up, Sourpatch? You look like someone sucker-punched you.”

“Look, I’m not going to sugar-coat this-”

“Oh?” Tony’s smile turned to a frown, his lips turned downwards and brow furrowed.

“Shocker, he took Pete. We’ve been tracking him for days, but lost the trail yesterday morning.”

Tony stared at the end of his bed, every muscle in his body tensed and a dangerous expression on his face. Without warning, he sat forward and flung back the duvet, intent of swinging his legs over the edge and standing. “Woah,” Rhodey caught him, stopping his progress. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Finding Pete. What does it look like?”

“So what, you’re just going to search the entire country?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“No, Tones. You’re nowhere near ready to go out in the field.”

“I don’t care about that,” Tony growled. “That bastard took my kid. And I’m going to find him.” He made another attempt to dodge Rhodey and stand, but in his weakened state, it proved impossible.

Gently, Rhodey pushed Tony’s shoulder back down. “You’re staying in this bed until Cho clears you. Bruce has the whole rest of the team out there, even Wanda and Vision came in. There’s nothing you can add right now. It sucks, but you’ll have to wait.”

Tony laid back. “Sometimes I hate having a voice of reason who’s quite so reasonable.”

“Sometimes I hate having a friend who refuses back up and ends up comatose for days.”

“Hey,” Tony threw his arms out, “You can’t be mean to me, I’m sick! Look,” he held up his hand with an IV and heartbeat monitor attached, “I’m hooked up to all sorts of machines in a hospital bed! Being mean to sick people is a no-no.”

Rhodey threw his head back, laughing his most genuine laugh in days.

* * *

Bruce sprinted into the medbay, skidding to a stop in the doorway and panting hard. A hint of a smile on his face. Rhodey jumped to his feet, Tony sat up straighter, wincing slightly at the pain movement caused.

“Mason talked.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up, and he cast a confused glance Rhodey’s way. “I thought you said they did find him and came home days ago?”

“Clint and Scott came home,” Bruce corrected, “what with Cassie and all. Nat and Bucky stayed out there. Just commed in to say Mason gave them a potential location on Shocker, some shack he mentioned while running with Vulture. They’re headed there now.”

Tony pushed back his bedsheet back and wobbled to his feet, having hardly stood in the week since the attack.

“Woah!” Rhodey rushed around the bed to steady Tony, only for the man to push him away.

“I’m not a child, Rhodey.”

“You sound a bit like one.”

“Get in your suit, let’s go.” Tony started towards the door.

Bruce blocked his path and looked worriedly to Rhodey over Tony’s shoulder. “Uh, I’m not sure-”

“You aren’t? Well, I am. The suits are quicker than a Quinjet, and Rhodey’s coming because of the insane buddy system you’ve got going.”

“Hey! That buddy system saved your life-”

“It also got my kid captured by a homicidal maniac,” Tony countered, “So move out of my way.”

Bruce’s eyes found Rhodey again, the other man nodded. “Doctor Cho was going to clear him this afternoon anyway. And our suits are quicker. If Mason warned Shocker, he could already be running again.”

“Fine,” Bruce stepped aside and let Tony pass, but caught Rhodey’s arm before he could leave. “I’ll send Friday the location. Keep an eye on him.”

“I know,” Rhodey nodded sincerely before chasing after Tony.

Within a few minutes, they were in the air and hurtling towards south-west Colorado. Most of the flight passed in silence, Tony busy worrying about Peter, and Rhodey busy worrying about Tony.

Their target turned out to be a half-collapsed, wooden shack surrounded by trees with a singular, dusty, dirt road winding away for miles. Shocker’s van lazily parked up by the house. Nothing else within sight. The shack itself looked like a gentle breeze would knock it over, the wooden panels so rotten in places that you could see inside and the door swinging on its hinges.

Tony landed first, Rhodey a second behind him, and marched forward, kicking the door with enough force to level it to the ground. “Schultz!” He bellowed, lighting the room inside with the glow from his palm repulsor, “You’d best hand over my kid else you won’t live to regret it.” He scanned the room, quickly realising it to be empty, and motioned for Rhodey to head for the door to his left while he strode further inside.

Dust filled the air, and covered the floor for that matter, though clearly it had been recently disturbed. A ratty, moth-eaten sofa sat in the centre of the room with a threadbare rug underneath it. Apart from that, the room was empty.

“It’s clear!” Rhodey called from the side room, reappearing through the door.

Tony poked his head through a doorframe, though the door itself was lacking. The metal frame of a bed was shoved up against one wall, a stained duvet balled up atop it. No Shocker. No Peter. “Clear.”

“Tones, I think you should see this.”

Tony tapped his chest, his nano-suit dematerialising as he jogged back to Rhodey. The room he’d cleared turned out to be a bathroom, a grubby sink, toilet, and bath-shower combo taking up practically all of the space. Rhodey stood by the sink, looking down at the grime covered floor.

“What is it?” Tony asked, moving closer. “Oh…” In the dirt, someone had drawn two letters with a slender finger. PP.

“They were here, and they can’t be long gone,” Rhodey said.

“Then let’s find them.” Tony started back towards the front door and shot into the air, following the dirt path away from the shack with Rhodey close on his heel.

“They didn’t take the van,” Rhodey pointed out. “Could’ve walked, could’ve had a backup car here already.”

“Friday, are any other vehicles registered to Herman Schultz.”

“Only the van, Boss.”

“Shit. CCTV?”

“Not within a ten-mile radius.”

“That’s just great. Rhodey, split up, cover as much ground as possible. They could be anywhere.” The pair peeled apart, eyes scanning the ground for any sign of life.

Despite an increasingly desperate search lasting well into the next morning, Rhodey would reluctantly drag Tony home empty-handed.

* * *

A year passed. Shocker didn’t slip up, never gave away his position, never once asked for ransom money. Slowly, everyone came to the same conclusion. What would Shocker gain from dragging a superpowered kid around the country if he didn’t want money? Nothing was the obvious answer. So everyone, however reluctantly, agreed.

Peter was dead.

So soon after they got him back.

Over the year, the Avengers had chased down every lead, followed up on every clue, acted on even the vaguest of whispers. Even Ross joined the search, every police precinct on the lookout for him. All lead to dead ends. Quite simply, it was over. Shocker had murdered the kid and got away with it.

Tony fed the press a line about Spider-Man joining the Guardians on an outer space mission, which prompted a new line of space-themed Spider-Man toys. It hurt every time he saw one, but sometimes pretending was easier than facing the truth.

May spent more time at the Facility, wanting out of the apartment that only reminded her of her kid. She trained to work with Cho and her medical team, learning the ins and outs of each Avengers medical needs. Even single-handedly saving Steve’s life after a particularly lousy mission and no one else was around. Quickly becoming a valued member of the team. Tony knew what she was doing, making up for losing Peter by saving the others.

The atmosphere at the Facility never quite recovered, it improved, sure. But would never be the same, not with the gaping hole Peter left behind.

“Tony?”

Tony started awake, almost dropping the coffee clutched in his hands. “Oh, Bruce, hey,” he mumbled, trying to regain his composure. “What are you doing up?”

Bruce shrugged, falling heavily into the seat next to Tony. “Couldn’t sleep. You get it.”

Nodding, Tony replied. “Yeah, anniversaries suck, huh?”

“That they do.”

Tony sighed. “After Thanos took them away, I thought we’d never get to see everyone again. The world had already gone to shit by the time Captain Sparkle Hands brought me home, and this time Pete’s gone, and the world doesn’t care. I’m never going to stop looking for him, Bruce. Not until I know either way.”

“Me either. These last few months have felt so… felt so wrong, y’know? Not hearing anything, or having anyone out there looking for Peter. I feel useless.”

“Hey,” Tony turned and clapped his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “Out of all of us, you’ve probably done the most - and certainly the hardest - work. We’d never have got to that shack without you.”

“Didn’t pan out though, did it. Peter’s not here.”

“We were close, Bruce. So close.”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse,” Bruce sighed. A pair of voices drifted towards them, drawing both pairs of quizzical eyes. Rhodey and May walked into the lounge, quietly talking to each other.

“Let me guess, can’t sleep?” Tony asked. Rhodey nodded, a sad smile on his face. “Come,” he gestured to the empty sofa opposite, “join the club.”

They sat together until morning, reminiscing on their time with Peter, telling stories of his heroics - or funny things he’d done - and taking turns brewing another pot of coffee. They laughed, cried, talked, never feeling the need to hide their emotions from each other, just feeling them: the grief, the confusion, the heartache.

“Boss,” something about Friday’s tone made Tony feel odd, but the word passed so quickly that he couldn’t put his finger on why. Or even what exactly he felt.

“Yeah, Fri?” He asked sleepily - the sun had begun to rise after all.

“Peter Parker just walked into the foyer.”

Everyone froze, sharing looks of utter confusion.

“What?”

“Peter Parker just walked into the foyer.”

Tony jumped to his feet, following May who’d already run from the room. All four of them skidded into the foyer where, sure enough, Peter stood. Blood covering his face and dripping to the tiles below, clothes ripped and covered with dirt, but as soon as he saw them, a smile lit his whole face. “May! Mister Stark!”

May reached him first, wrapping her arms around him with fierce love. Peter clung to her like his life depended on it. He reached out a hand and grabbed the front of Tony’s shirt, pulling him into the embrace. “Get in here, Mister Stark.”

“Oh-” Tony locked his arms around the pair, tears slipping over his cheeks. “Hey, Pete.”

“I missed you guys so much!” Peter said between sobs.

May tightened her grip. “We missed you too.”

“I-I can’t believe you’re here, kid.”

“Me either, it wasn’t easiest to get away.”

Tony pulled away, wiping his tears on the back of his hand, and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Peter looked over to Rhodey and Bruce, too. “All of you.”

“Glad you’re back, kid,” Rhodey beamed. “It wasn’t the same without you.”

Bruce stared, wide-eyed, as if trying to figure out whether or not he was dreaming. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Well,” Peter skipped over, the group walking further into the facility. “That’s a long story…

#whumptober2020 #no.17 #i did not see that coming #altprompt #presumed dead #mcu #irondad #fic #kidnapping tw #serious injury tw #hospital scenes tw

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mymymadeline · 4 years

Text

• Someone New

pairing: Hallmark Christmas Movie Au! Poe Dameron x Reader

word count: 2.7k words

summary: He’s instantly beautiful in an almost familiar way, like you could call his features home.

warnings: none! :)

notes: look... isn’t this what we all want? big shoutouts to my sun and stars Cat for making this fic baby with me, couldnt have done it without you love. Enjoy!

Adore You series: 01, 02, 03, 04, ... - AO3

“Well I don’t care how it gets done, it just needs to get done! As long as it’s legal, I'm fine with it, and if it’s illegal, well I'm sure we can find a way to work around that.”

If you hadn’t already kicked off your heels behind your desk twenty minutes ago, you’re sure your feet would be aching from the frantic pacing that’s now ruining your office carpet. The curtains are open to the bustling concrete metropolis outside, the massive height of the building giving you all the privacy you need. Uncertain sunshine slips from massive clouds and tentative rays rest on your carpet.

“Enjoying your final day at work, I see.” Kylo smiles mockingly at you from the doorway of your office. Your frantic strides come to an irritated halt and you squeeze the phone next to your ear a little tighter.

“Just text me when it’s done. Don’t even call, I don’t care.” Hanging up before they can answer with a firm, unsatisfying press of your finger, you level your gaze with Kylo’s irritatingly smug face.

“What could you possibly want right now, Kylo?” You have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes. Letting him onto your annoyance would only spur him on and you really don’t need that right now.

He crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe, carefully crafting the picture of power. “It just seems to me like leaving town is causing you so much stress. It might just be easier to stay.” He shrugs.

“Ha. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You raise your brow at him, putting as much taunting venom in your voice, hopefully without devolving into an actual argument. “Me giving up my first real vacation in years to stay and do more busywork, while you gallivant around with some… hmm more models, will it be this year?”

Kylo scoffs, obviously enjoying this sparring much more than you. But a rare softness takes over his tone. “You know, you could always come with me.”

This catches you off guard. You haven’t seen this kind of tone from him in a long time. Not since before everything went down in burning wreckage between you two.

You level your gaze with his meaningfully, keeping your voice smooth but unemotional.

“I think that would be a bad idea.”

Any sincerity in Kylo’s features goes as quickly as it came, he shrugs it off like it disturbed him to even know it still exists within him. His petulant yet teasing smugness takes over as natural as the clouds over the sun.

“Yeah, well, don’t say I didn’t try. Anyway, hardly a vacation, spending a month in that pathetic, run-down rat-hole. I forgot, did they get wifi there yet?”

Moving away from Kylo, you pace back over to your desk, turning your phone meditatively between your hands. “You act like you didn’t grow up there too.”

Echo Basin was not a major town by any means. In fact, both you and Kylo spent all of graduate school telling people you were from Yavin just to spare the confused looks and odd questions. But while Kylo only ever pulled further away from your hometown and the people in it, you often pondered what life would have been like if you’d stayed. But it was never more than a thought, as the business at hand was always more pressing and besides, you were successful here. What more could you ask for?

“We lived there for the first 18 years of our lives. We grew up at Imperial U.” Kylo snaps you out of your brief reverie and brings your attention back to his now clearly disinterested demeanor, as he scrolls through his phone. “Whatever, it’s your ‘vacation.’ As long as you don’t end up like that traitor.” He pauses, about to elaborate before he shakes his head and continues scrolling. “Still, we have a meeting with Hux approximately... four minutes ago. So, whenever you’re ready, princess.”

You turn away from him, to the window and look out among the bustling streets and impassive skyscrapers of the city. The few rays of sunshine in your office have taken off, leaving the room colder than usual. Dark clouds look to be rolling in from the east. You faintly recall the weatherman standing next to a big snowflake on the TV this morning. You didn’t believe him before.

“Sure. I’ll meet you there.”

_____________

You give your best death glare to the array of lights flashing at you from the dashboard. They blink meaningfully, as if you have a clue what any of them mean, as snow continues to pelt the windows of the car. The hours long drive has exhausted your vision and the windshield is slowly becoming a wall of white. Maybe you should have invested in those 5 Hour Energies after all. Your assistant had offered to buy you an array of energy supplements or drinks for the trip, but in a foolish attempt to not show any weakness in front of employees and peers, you refused. Ah, hubris.

Still, you drive on, heat blasting to offset the nearly year-round chill of your hometown and do your best to keep a positive attitude. But that attitude only proves more difficult to keep as the wheels of your precious TIE give an unpleasant bump and the sleet lined road is finally starting to make you chew your lip.

“Come on. Only a few more miles to go.” You gently goad your car, pointedly ignoring the GPS and its remaining 80 miles.

The car answers only with another lurching screech. Then a sputter. Then a whine.

The noises pause, as if waiting for a reply.

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper. But your threat only comes out as a plea.

Without your permission and seemingly out of spite, the car sputters and begins to slow, your frantic attempts on the gas giving no support. Continuing forward with only your momentum, you manage to gently steer your beloved, stupid car off towards the snowy treeline purely on instinct.

Out in the snow, on this one-lane highway, as the sun sets at 4:00 PM on a Friday, your car stops moving.

You sit in the stalled vehicle, as frozen as the miles of nothingness around you. You’re going to die here. Your shaking hands clutch the steering wheel in a white knuckle grip and you let out an angered scream worthy of an Academy Award. You just wish you were acting.

You manage to scream yourself out of breath, but the stupid thought won’t go away. You’re going to die here. What a stupid childish thought. You’ll be fine, just act like an adult.

“Ok, ok. Calm down. You’re not far from town. Grow up and find out what’s wrong with your car like a reasonable car owner.” You reach for the door handle and are met with only another gust of wind, pushing all of the snow it can carry in your direction and your body shivers at the mere idea.

“Ok, maybe just call someone.”

Your phone is a lot of things. You’ve spent countless hours with it scrolling through stocks, shouting at people, being shouted at, scoffing at idiotic articles that don’t know the first thing about you. In fact, it's probably your only friend. And now, in the middle of nowhere, it feels like a lifeline.

Your brain briefly recalls the fuzzy image of the old auto shop you would sometimes pass while getting groceries all those years ago, but whatever name was on the sign escapes you. So you’re left with dialing the first place that shows up on Google and crossing your fingers.

Ring

“Pick up.”

Ring

“Please.”

Click.

“Rebel Auto, this is Rose. How can I help you?”

A cheerful woman’s voice answers at the end of a laugh, as if joking around had kept her from picking up. You sigh in relief, but are quietly alarmed as the fact that you can see your breath already. The car is cooling quickly.

Without a second thought, you put on the ‘phone call voice’ you’ve mastered for over a decade and get straight to the point.

“Yes, Hi. My car has just broken down on the main highway, just after mile...” you turn around try to note the mile marker, but the fog on the inside and the snow on the outside are doing everything they can to make your job impossible. “77? I believe? Anyway, I need a tow into town and a repair as soon as possible. Thank you.”

“Oh.” The woman seems caught off guard at your brusk and smooth tone. There’s a sound of shuffling papers and she clears her throat. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll send someone out immediately. I-In the meantime can you identify your make and model?”

Immediately. Perfect, at least if you freeze, there will be someone close enough to find your body. With another breath of relief, you allow yourself to actually relax, even examine your nails. Damn, when did you get that chip on the thumb?

“Yes, it’s a 2021 TIE Striker. And if you’re going to ask me what the problem is, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about cars. It was driving and then it wasn’t.”

“A… TIE Striker? Wow… Uhm-” Rose seems at a momentary loss for words, you’re not quite sure why. “Not often people drive TIEs and not know anything about cars.” She laughs. You don’t.

“Well, Rose if that’s all I-” Something about the name coming out of your mouth gives you pause. Dots that you didn’t know were there start to connect.

“Wait, Rose? Rose... Tico?”

“Uhm…” her gulp is audible through the phone. “Yes?”

Now is when you laugh. You almost feel dumb enough to smack yourself on the forehead. Almost.

You clear your throat and put on your best impression of Ms. Holdo.

“Ms. Tico this is Honors English, not shop class. If you could please put away your… creation. ”

You wait with bated breath. You’re not even really sure if you remember how to make jokes anymore but you do remember this one from so long ago. Don’t make me look crazy.

You get the reaction you were looking for and then some.

“ NO WAY ! ”

It’s your only warning before something your pretty sure is your name is squealed out on the other end of the line, so loudly in fact that you have to hold your phone a good distance away to avoid permanent ear damage.

A grin, half pleased, half cringing, spreads across your face as the squealing continues.

“Yes, it’s me,” you laugh.

“Oh my god. Are you back? Does this mean your back? I saw you on the cover of Wired! You looked hot !”

“Rose, one question at a time!” The bombardment usually irks you, interviewers or paparazzi stumbling over themselves just to get some dirt. But this kind feels oddly… nice? It feels genuine. Like she’s asking because she likes you. But… that can’t be the case, can it?

“Sorry, sorry!” You can practically hear her calming herself down. “Ugh, it’s just so cool to have you back in town. You are back in town right? That’s why you’re stuck on the highway?”

“Yeah. It’s my parents' thirty-fifth anniversary and I haven’t been back in about fifteen years… I thought it might be time.”

“Oh man, I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be so fun.” The heartfelt warmth of her tone makes the chilling air around you just that more bearable. But a sound cuts through from wherever she is and she turns back to friendly business. “Anyway, I’ll let you go, but I’ll see you at the shop soon! Poe left about five minutes ago, so he’s on his way. Bye!”

“Oh, alright. Uhm, bye.”

You hear a few excited giggles before the beep cuts them off, leaving you in the silent car once again, with a strange hollowness sitting sickly in your chest. It wouldn’t have been so bad to just talk a little longer. But, that was odd, wasn’t it? Maybe it only felt odd because... you couldn’t remember the last time a friend had called. When was the last time you spoke to someone who seemed to actually care about you?

Shaking your thoughts from the uneasy turn of conscious, you turned out to the sunset that has been steadily falling for the past half hour. Blinking tiredly, you hope that whoever is coming for you is quick. You attempt to recall the name she gave but it has already fallen to the back of your mind. Closing your eyes, you think it might not be a bad idea to get a tiny nap in meanwhile. Just a tiny one. Not a big -

______________

A rumbling that shakes the car jerks you out of your peaceful rest, and you shiver, the car much colder than you remember. Looking around, it’s quickly apparent your nap was much longer than the ‘tiny’ one you had so stupidly planned. It’s pitch black, the forest completely dark around you, and the only light comes from the bright headlights heading straight your way. Blinking groggily, you shield your eyes to the approaching vehicle, but the lights begin turning away, as the large truck appears to pull a U-turn, pulling in front of your car.

Oh, thank god. Your savior has arrived.

A figure steps out of what you can now see is a tow truck. A flashlight leads their way in the treacherous snow as they approach, and you step out to greet them. The bitter chill hits you instantly causing a visceral shiver to overtake your body.

“You alright there?” A warm, slightly scratched voice cuts across the wind, and your assuring smile only comes out as a grimace.

“It’s just freezing is all.”

“We’ll see if we can get you warmed up then.”

You and the man meet halfway, only a few feet apart, and with your eyes steadily adjusting and the bright moonlight above, you can now make out his features.

Dashing is the only word that comes to mind as your brain short circuits. He is handsome. He’s instantly beautiful in an almost familiar way, like you could call his features home. Warm and gorgeous dark eyes blink back in their own caught-off-guard way, as you finally come back into the moment at hand and the man standing before you.

“Wow.” He speaks in something close to a whisper, and it’s almost lost to the wind. But he clears his throat before you can ask what has him so thrown.

“You -uh- called the auto shop right?” He drags his eyes away from you and over to your sad, slumped over TIE behind you. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and drop your gaze, nodding.

“Yes. That was me. Sorry for all the trouble.”

You suddenly feel very foolish and very embarrassed. You had expected some no one townie, not this heartthrob that could have easily replaced Errol Flynn in any of his biggest features. Having him drive all the way out in this weather just to take care of your stupid car feels very rude, and you suddenly wish you knew more about cars.

“Why don’t you get situated up front and I’ll get this set up back here?”

Sneaking a glance back up, you meet his eyes and quickly look away again, nodding once more.

“Sure.”

You go to move past him, making a good few feet of footprints in the snow when a thought shoots through your brain at light speed and you’re jogging back to your car as fast as your designer boots will take you. You should have invested in a better pair of boots for the snow it seems because you don't make it very far before your front foot slips out from under you and your arms fly out looking for anything to grasp onto.

But Poe’s are quicker, instantly their firm grasp has a hold around you and your fall is cut short as you are held tightly against him.

His breath comes out as a chuckle and he looks down at you, “What’s the hurry?”

You laugh slightly too, quickly righting yourself and trying to purge the memory of his arms around you and how nice it felt.

“I forgot my bags is all.”

Without a second glance, you march, much more carefully this time, towards the back of your car.

Poe runs a hand through his curly snow-flecked hair, smirking to himself.

Ok, this could be interesting.

notes: thanks for reading!

Chapter 2 should be up soon, though I can't guarantee a strict schedule. I have this whole fic plotted out though, so we ain't winging it! We'll finish this thing!

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #hallmark au #reader insert #star wars #poe dameron imagine #mads fics #fic: Adore You

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whumpsblog · 4 years

Note

for another command, I want to see Connor allow Hanna to leave if she wants to and treat her like a normal person, but at the same time I want Hanna to not be able to leave as a command and watch her freak out that she can’t take the opportunity to leave like she wants to >:)

A prompt from @eatyourdamnpears. Man, talk about an emotionally brutal prompt! Thanks Carly for the continuing support and the wonderfull prompt! Please, keep ‘em comming! The events in this prompt DO NOT occurs in the actual plot.

Tag List: @bloodandbandages, @broken-horn, @eatyourdamnpears, @butwhatifyouwrite, @justplainwhump. If anyone wants to be added to the list or removed, contact me.

>> CW: panic attacks<<

Guards collected Hanna from her room and imediatly she assumed they were taking her to the basement for another . . . disciplinary session. She fought back, thrashing and kicking and biting and bucking, but their grasps on her arms held tight.

“Can you stop fighting us!” The guard protested. “Please! Just calm down! We’re not going to hurt you.”

Hanna refused and continued to fight back harder. With an anguished scream her hands started glowing. In truth it didn’t matter if they were taking her to the dungeon or not. Conner was more that willing to torture or humiluate her in any of the rooms in the mansion, be it the kitchen, living room, garden, or master bedroom.

She could feel her hands as they glowed brighter and warmer, and as they did so the guards vocallize their concerns.

“Her hands!” Said the one guard panicked.

“I know! I see!”

“Can we knock her out?”

“Conner said not to hurt her!”

‘He probably told them that beacause he wants me in prime torturing condition.’ She thinks to herself.

Behind her back she shoots a beam of light and hears the lound sound of shattering glass behind her. She releases another and this time, it’s followed by the sound of splintering wood and heavy falling objects. She keeps going.

“SHE’S DESTROYING THE ROOM!"

“Just shut the hell up and do your job! We’re almost --”

Hanna releases a blast from her left hand and it catches the guard on her left in the stomach. He gets blasted away from Hanna, and she uses her free hand to blast away the guard on her right. It wasn’t her strongest attack, but it managed to push them both back about ten yards. It doen’t give her much time, but it would have to do.

She sends it down the hallway, not knowing where she’s going, but running none the less. At the end of the hall she gets to the elevator and once inside she punches the button with a “G”. Impatiently, she yells at the doors when they don’t close fast enough, and then blasts both of guards back again to ensure that their arms don’t prevent the doors from closing. The the doors finally close with a chime she hits the floor breathing hard and out of breath. On the other side of the elevator door the two guards can be heard yelling and pounding on the metal with their fists.

She sighs. She did it. She got away from the guards. Now all she had to do was get out of the elevator and run. She was fast and nimble and if she booked it to the woods she could probably disappear and find a town nearby. There had to be a town nearby, right? She shook her head. It didn’t matter if there was a town nearby or not. She would walk until she stumbled across something, and from there get situated. First thing on the list was food, then money, followed by proper cloths. Currently she wearing gym shorts and a white tank top. She’s illlprepared for the woods and she knows that she’s going to be spending the next couple days cold, wet, covered in scratches, and hungery.

The elevator hits the ground level floor and she stops moving. She picks herself up off of the floor and when the doors open and she peaks outside cautiously. Apparently the “G” button didn’t stand for ground, but instead garage, because she finds herself standing in an empty three car garage. It was dead silent in the garage, and from the looks of it there weren’t any cameras either.

‘Change of plans. Steal a car and fuck walking in the woods.’

Hanna jumps into the blue Jaguar and inspects the steering colum. With most old cars one could rip open the steering column and expose the wires underneath. But newer cars posed a small challenge, and required screwdriver and some dismantling. She checked and found that she indeed needed a screwdriver.

‘Shit.’ She hated wasting time but risking three minutes now could save her massivley in the long run. Jumping out of the car she starts searching the garage quickly and frantically for a flathead. She finds an old toolbox and digs though it loud enough and long enough to not notice the elevator as they open.

Screwdriver in hadn Hanna turn and jumps when she sees Conner. She drops the screwdriver and it clangs to the ground, and she aims two glowing hands his way. So far every time Hanna attempted to escape Conner managed to stop her. But this time would be different. This time she was well rested, fed, and had plenty of light in the room to form several decent attack.

Her hands start glowing and she drops to body defensivley. “You’re not going to stop me this time.” She growls. “My time here, is over.”

Conner frowns and though her desperatly wants to retort with some cheeky comment, he refrains. Instead, he extracts the keys to the blue Jauguar from his coat pocket and gives them a tight squeeze to steady his trembling rage. He looks down to the ground and closes his eyes. Everything his parents ever taught him goes against what he’s about to do.

With angry and forlon expression he averted gaze from Hanna and walks to the driver’s side of the car. He sticks the key in the ignition and starts the engine.

“The nearest town from here is south about fifty miles, so when you pull out of here take a left and keep going straight.” He stands up and watches her watching him with her glowing hands still raised. She didn’t trust him at all, and she was right to. He had held her against her will, humiluated her, tortured her, and starved her. And though he knew he couldn’t make up for his actions, he hoped giving her freedome would help offset some of his sin. “If you open up the engine you should be able to get there in twenty minutes, and from there its another two hours to the closest large city.”

He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. “This baby gets seventy miles to the gallon because its half electric, and it only takes about forty dollars to fill the tank. Here’s all of the cash I have on me. It’s not a lot but it should be enough for you to buy a one way plane ticket to anywhere within the states.” He places three hundred dollars in cash in the glove compartment and then walks to the front of the car. “I would give you my card but then I’ll have to report you for stealing it, and then the police will get involved. Which I’m assuming isn’t something you want.”

Hanna watches and listens to him, but she can't seem to comprehend his actions and words. “What - what are you doing?” She asks.

His brown eyes meet hers and Hanna is startled by the pain and anger within them. “I’m helping you.” He says.

Hanna powers down and her arms drop to her sides. She’s still on guard, but she feels that his confession is genuine. A horrible feeling bubbles in her chest and stomach and she fights against it.

"You're free.” He continues. “Go. Find your friends. Get your family back. It's over. I’m letting you go." He hits a button on the side of the wall and the garage door behind the Jauguar rolls back loundly.

She still doesn’t understand. ‘Her captor had bought her. He liked torturing her. So why in the world, after only a week of possessing her, was he letting her go.’ Hanna continues to stand there stunned. She’s never seen this part of him before and for some reason it’s making her. ‘Was this a trap?’

“Go!”

Hanna jumps like a startled dog being scolded, but instead of moving towards the vehicle, she takes a step away from it. The bubbling feeling in her belly builds, rises to her chest, and squeezes at her heart. The feeling is all to familular and she realizes with horror that she’s having a panic attack. Just like when she was a little girl and a prisoner at Syrtex.

‘But, why on earth was she panicking? This was it! This was her moment. She was so close! All she had to do was jump in the car and drive. So why was she panicking? What triggered her?’ She takes another step backwards and when she bumps into the toolbox it clanks loudly, which startles her even more.

“Hanna?” says Conner with concern in his voice.

Hanna laces her fingers behind her neck and tucks her head into her chest in a desperate attempt to calm herseld down. Closing her eyes, she tries to determine the trigger so that she can stop the attack.

“Hanna?” Conner slowly advances on Hanna and though he’s multiple feet away and not threatening her, she backs away. She breaths harder and harder, unable to draw air, and unable to calm her racing heart. Hanna wraps her arms around her head and slides down the face of the tool chest. Small whimpers escape through her weazy shaky breaths.

Conner’s kneels before her alarmed and with wide brown eyes that are looking for her face. He’s never seen her like this before, not even during their disciplinary sessions. This side of her was completely new to him. “Hanna what is it?” He reaches out to rub her back. “What’s wrong?” His hand touches her and the physical contact causes Hanna to snap.

A sudden burst of light explodes outwards from Hanna’s core and the force it knocks Conner several feet backwards and onto his back. The lights in the room flicker as her rolls onto his side and looks up at her. He still has no idea whats going on.

With her head still pressed into her knees Hanna’s claws and pulls and her hair. Her whole body is glowing faintly and the sight is something Conner has never seen before.

“You need to get away from me.” she moans.

Conner doesn’t get any closer to Hanna, but he fixes himself so he’s sitting upright. “No. Hanna, I’m not -- ”

She cries and releases another surge of uncontrollable power. This one pushes Conner, who had been kneeling infront of her, backwards again violently. On the ground he flips over so he’s on his stomach and looking up at Hanna.

She’s looking down at him with green teary eyes that are wide and terrified. “Please. Just. Go.” She begs with a broken voice.

The desperation in her voice convinces him to move back and give her more space. He moves to the elevator and remains sitting there patiently until it’s over, refusing to leave her alone in this condition.

>>Master List for The Story of Hanna Light<<

#TSOHL #command prompt #way to go pears #you scared Hanna so bad that she passed out #way to go #this was honestly the HARDEST thing I've ever written before #hands down

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

Text

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter One

A/N thank you for the few lovely notes so far :) here’s chapter one for your reading enjoyment!

Thursday, August 29th, 2019

"So, you're here by yourself again?"

The colourful carpet was soft under Florence's hands as she picked absentmindedly at the pattern. She looked up to concerned glances from the lady in front of her. The leader of the group stared expectantly.

"Yeah. Matt’s busy." Florence cleared her throat awkwardly, looking back down at the eight-month-old baby in front of her. Clementine looked back up at her, a plastic toy held in her mouth by her two tiny fists. The rest of the group was across the room with their significant others, preparing to leave from the day's meeting, talking happily together.

"Does he know we have Mommy and Daddy group once a month?" the lady's voice was nothing but pity and concern and it made Florence hold back tears. The leader of their little group was a recent graduate of university with a degree Child and Youth Care at the mere age of twenty-five. Cameron was patient and gentle and Florence found comfort in her presence and within her educated advice.

Florence pulled Clementine onto her lap, wrapping her arms around the baby as a way to comfort herself. "Yes. He knows." Florence said, an edge to her voice.

"He’s busy a lot, huh?"

"It’s fine. Honestly." Florence forced a small chuckle. "He’s the one who brings in the money, so I can’t really complain when he’s busy."

"But this is something that's important to you, so shouldn't he make an effort?" Cameron frowned lightly, watching as Florence focused on the carpet. The young mother sniffled, her tired mind reeling. Cameron continued, "I don't want you to think I'm prying; I just hear the stories and see how it effects you and I want to make sure you're happy."

"I'm happy." Florence said stiffly, finally looking up at her.

"Yeah?" Cameron asked, worry set in her features.

"Yeah." Florence nodded once. "I love him more than anything."

"Well let me know if you need anything. Even if you need a babysitter for a night off or something." Cameron said, touching her arm comfortingly.

"Thanks." Florence smiled softly.

"I have little brothers I don't mind shipping off for hire for a night." Cameron winked. "They need to be kept busy."

"Alright." Florence chuckled, "I might take you up on that offer."

"You have my number."

"Sure do."

The girls stood up from the carpet, the room now empty except for the two of them. Cameron held the baby as Florence got her shoes on and gathered her things. Clementine was strapped into her seat as Florence pulled on her jacket. With a quick hug goodbye, Florence left the small daycare and headed for the subway.

Halfway across the city stood an old Victorian in the heart of downtown. Florence was heading there to meet up her friends at their new house before the school year started. It was arguably a fraternity, in all sense of the word, except they didn’t have a name and the house wasn't registered with the university. What would have been Florence's second year of university was about to start the following week, meaning all of her friends, except her, were preparing their back to school things.

Florence knocked on the front door of the three-story house.

Aidan answered it with a soft smile, "Hey. Come on in."

Florence made her way into the house with the small stroller, awkwardly navigating her way past the boxes that lined the hallway. Loud music was playing throughout the house and the place was filled with chatter. Michael and Luke, Aidan's fathers, were busy putting things away in the kitchen cupboards.

Michael and Luke were like a second family to Florence; the closest to a family that showed her that they loved her at least. Once her family moved back to LA and she flew back to Canada alone in order to hide her pregnancy from her borderline abusive parents, Michael and Luke took her in and helped her get on her feet while she was pregnant. They were there for her through everything and she really owed them so much.

"There's our girl!" Michael beamed when he saw Florence approach. He walked around the island and hugged her tightly.

"How are you feeling today?" Luke asked as he folded up an empty box and set it to the side.

"We're fine.” Florence sighed. She looked around the main floor of the house, taking in the grey walls and neutral modern tones. "Nice place you got here, Ai."

A small shriek from the direction of the stairs made Florence turn. A line of boys who were all around Aidan's age were peering over the railing at them. The one who screamed was the one who ran ahead, stopping in front of the stroller that was placed next to Florence.

"Can I hold her?" he asked, his soft voice quiet compared to the loud music that was playing the floor above.

"You know you don't have to ask, Dani." Florence chuckled. He bent down and unbuckled the baby, lifting her to his hip.

"Good afternoon, little one." The boy pressed a gentle kiss to the baby's cheek, holding her securely in his arms.

Daniel was Florence's closest friend in the city. They met not long after she started living with the Clifford's; as Florence insisted on leaving the house to accompany Aidan to a party – even if she was seven months pregnant – and there she was introduced to Daniel. Daniel was the best musician Florence had ever met; being able to play almost any instrument he picked up. Along with his raw talent, he was a soft-spoken boy – an absolute sweetheart in Florence's books – and the single most gentle person she had ever met.

Between his friendship with Aidan and flourishing best friendship with Florence, Daniel was around Clementine a lot. Not that he complained; he absolutely adored children, and he offered to babysit as much as he could. It was difficult, however, as bringing a baby into the dormitories of the university was not easily done.

Now living out on their own for their second year, Aidan, Daniel, and their other four friends were free to do as they pleased. It was an important step and Florence was just as excited as the boys were.

The other guys gathered around Daniel, swooning over the eight-month-old that was in his arms. Clementine held on to the collar of his light blue button up, shrieking with giggles as Jack's tight curls tickled her nose.

"What went down at mom group this morning?" Michael asked the young mother who had a second to herself now that her baby was distracted. She sat down at the island.

"It was fine. It was couples’ group today. Everyone else had their boyfriends and husbands there and I was by myself, so Cameron talked to me about it, yet again."

"Why didn't Matt go?" Michael asked.

"He's working until 5 and then we're going out with Daniel." Florence shrugged.

"My treat." Daniel nodded excitedly.

"Have fun third-wheeling." Zach laughed at his friend.

"I got my date right here." Daniel pressed a kiss to the baby's cheek.

"That sounds nice and all, but I could have sworn I saw him at one of the frats down the street." Corbyn spoke up, looking over at them as Clementine clung onto his index finger.

"What?" Aidan frowned, looking between them.

"Yeah. He said he was pre-drinking before the move-in parties tonight." Corbyn said slowly.

"Wanna bet he forgot about dinner?" Florence scoffed under her breath.

"Did he tell you he was going to work?" Jonah asked her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He was always the most mature one.

"Yeah." Florence shrugged. "But whatever. This isn't the FBI. We don't have to read into everything."

The boys exchanged glances but dropped the conversation anyway.

"Anyway, I should text him. We should be leaving soon. It's almost 5."

"I’ll grab my keys.” Daniel said, passing the baby back to her mother before heading for the stairs.

“I need a turn before you go!” Jack gently took the baby back from Florence, cuddling her to his chest. Clementine easily curled into him. The rest of the boys said their goodbyes and headed back upstairs to continue unpacking, leaving Florence, Jack, and Michael and Luke alone.

"You’ll call if you need anything?” Luke said to Florence as she slung her purse back over her shoulder.

"As usual." Florence smiled at him. She then turned to Jack, “I need her back now.”

Jack frowned but gently placed Clementine back in her stroller, stopping to leave kisses all over her face which made her giggle, tiny fingers latching onto his curls.

"Let's get a move on!" Daniel called, skipping down the stairs and opening the front door. Florence said her last goodbye and followed him outside.

The late summer air was sticky and she was thankful for the sudden blast air conditioning in Daniel's silver Acura. The baby was strapped into the backseat; the stroller being able to detach into a car seat. The drive was filled with gentle conversation and quiet music, the eight-month old in the backseat falling asleep quickly. Matt had texted Florence to say he would meet them at home so Daniel headed towards the condo. Once they arrived at Florence's condo, they parked in one of her two underground parking spots. The place came with two spaces but Matt had the only car between them. This made it perfect for when guests came over. Regardless, it was unofficially claimed as Daniel's spot as he was so often over at their place.

The entire 25th floor apartment was very modern and framed in ceiling height windows that overlooked the city, a luxury the young couple was lucky to afford. With funds being sent in from Florence's twin brother in LA – without their parents’ knowledge of course – she was able to keep the condo as their own. Their dynamic worked well as Florence stayed home with the baby and Matt worked to keep his car and the food on the table while still attending university. Florence was anxious to have a job of her own but she knew when the time was right that it would happen.

Time ticked by slowly as Daniel and Florence waited for Matt to arrive home so they could leave. They waited on the couch, watching early evening TV, with Clementine sat between them. Florence’s eyes kept drifting to the clock as 5:00 passed quickly. Daniel could sense her uneasiness but he didn’t speak about it, not wanting her to make a bigger deal of Matt’s tardiness than it should have been. It wasn’t until quarter to six that Matt finally walked through the door. He exhaled deeply as the door closed, dropping his backpack on the floor.

“Hey.” he said, his classic crooked smile playing at his lips. His light brown hair was messily pushed back from his face and yet he still ran a hand through it, making his way over to the couch to press a kiss to Florence’s cheek.

“Hi.” she spoke quietly.

“Hey, Matt.” Daniel spoke finally.

“Hey, man.” Matt smiled, his gum smacking between his teeth. “We ready to go?”

“We have been for 45 minutes.” Florence narrowed her eyes up at him.

“You’re so tense, babe.” Matt laughed, walking into the bedroom to grab a sweater.

“I’m not tense. I’m kinda pissed that you told me you were working but when out and got buzzed instead.” Florence said plainly, arms crossed over her chest. Daniel shifted awkwardly beside her, scooping Clementine into his arms. It wasn’t the first time he had seen them do that.

“I finished early.” Matt shrugged, pulling his grey hoodie over his head as he came back into the living room. He turned to Daniel, a goofy smile back on his face, “Can you drive, bud? Getting here was a challenge enough.”

Florence shook her head in disbelief and got up to put her shoes on.

“Yeah, I guess I can drive.” Daniel agreed and got up from the couch as well. The drive to the restaurant was awkward; silence filling the car except for Clementine’s babbles and Matt’s phone buzzing in his hand as he typed away in the backseat.

Since they missed their reservation time, they had to wait in the lobby for a few minutes while the hostess found them a new table. Matt let himself drape his arm around Florence’s shoulders, whispering a small apology about being late, the light coat of alcohol fresh on his breath, and she forgave him with a quick kiss.

The hostess finally sat them at a table for four near the middle of the restaurant. Daniel and Florence sat across from each other with Matt between them and Clementine in the highchair on the other side. Matt drummed his fingers on the table as they looked over their menus, humming lightly to himself. Florence set her hand over his, stopping the noise.

The waitress came over to take their orders, beginning with Florence. Before she could even open her mouth, Matt butted in with, “I would love a Corona.”

“Are you sure?” Florence asked him under her breath.

“Very sure.” Matt narrowed his eyes momentarily at her before looking back to the waitress and smiling.

“I’ll have a water please.” Daniel spoke quietly to the waitress, breaking the slight tension. Florence smiled softly at him, shaking her head.

The group fell into silence for a few minutes. Florence took that time to bend down next to her chair and unzip the diaper bag, pulling out a jar for Clementine and an orange plastic spoon.

“I can do that if you want.” Daniel offered.

“You sure?” Florence held the baby food out to him.

“I’m sure she can do it herself.” Matt spoke without looking up from his phone, reaching with his other hand to sip his drink. Florence pulled her hands back and unscrewed the jar herself.

“Really, Flora, I can do it.” Daniel whispered.

“It’s fine.” Florence smiled gently, offering a spoonful to the baby who gladly opened her mouth. Daniel frowned, looking between the two young parents. Matt smiled at something on his phone, the glass bottle resting against his lips. Florence gently wiped the corner of the baby’s mouth with a napkin. How different they appeared.

Clementine smacked her tiny hands on the table, babbling happily through a mouthful of pureed peaches. When she reached for Daniel, he offered his hand to her, the light glinting off his rings and being an instant attraction to the eight month old. Florence held out another spoon but Clementine was uninterested, staring with an open mouth at Daniel. He leaned down to be eye level with the baby and stuck his tongue out. Clementine giggled, reaching for his face.

“You’re such a distraction.” Florence laughed to her friend.

“Sorry.” Daniel bit back a smile as Clementine held her tiny hand to his cheek.

The waitress came back and set their plates down. Matt looked up from his phone to eye the waitress as she walked away.

“I get it, the waitress is pretty, but at least make your gawking less obvious.” Florence grumbled into the air. Daniel picked up his glass with the hand that wasn’t claimed by the baby.

“I will when you two over there stop eye fucking each other all the damn time.” Matt waved his fork between the two friends.

Daniel choked on his water at that statement.

“Matthew.” Florence glared towards him.

Matt only shrugged, focussing at his plate, “Just saying. You two spend a lot of time together.”

“Just saying, you’re never home.” Florence retaliated. “I’m allowed to have friends.”

“Yeah. Try finding some girls to be friends with instead of clinging onto any attractive male you find.”

“Can you not be a jerk for once in your life?” Florence spat.

“I’m only saying what I feel. Isn’t that what you want? Open communication?”

Florence fell into silence, defeated by that statement, and focussed on her dinner.

“That’s what I thought.” Matt scoffed. Florence aggressively speared a piece of broccoli with her fork and popped it in her mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Matt grumbled.

“Like what?!” Florence glared at him.

“Acting like a brat now.”

Florence took a breath to keep herself calm, “Well I’m obviously upset because you insulted my literal only friend and when he’s sitting right there of all things.”

“I didn’t insult him.”

“Might as well have.”

“God, why are you always like this? No wonder your family left you here.”

A small gasp left Florence’s lips and she directed her stare to her plate. Daniel was taken back by that statement too, glancing between them with wide eyes. Florence felt tears forming but swallowed them back, not wanting to give Matt the satisfaction of getting to her. Hardly anyone spoke for the remainder of the meal.

“You can drop me off at the frat houses on your way back.” Matt told Daniel as he climbed in the backseat of his car once dinner ended.

“As you wish.” Daniel said under his breath, slowly pulling out of the parking lot. Once Matt was dropped off - leaving with barely a goodbye - Daniel headed for the condo.

“Well tonight was...interesting.” he spoke softly through the quiet car, Clementine fast asleep in the back.

“Yeah. Sorry about all that.” Florence said.

“Don’t apologize. He’s the one who was out of line.”

“I mean not really.”

“What do you mean? He was snapping at you and walking all over you all night.”

“He was not. I was being testy. I deserved whatever came back at me.”

“Flora, you can’t be serious.” Daniel let out a light, humourless laugh. “He treated you like crap tonight. Enough said.”

“He’s just stressed.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“Daniel, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Florence rarely called him by his full first name so he knew to back off then. But he really didn’t want to, he was worried about her.

Florence stared out the window at the passing buildings and cars. She just wanted to go home and sleep it off.

“Every time I’m with you guys there’s always an argument going on.” Daniel whispered.

“No, there’s not.”

“I know you love him, and Clementine loves him, but you need to think about if this - all his parties and his constant bad attitude and his drinking - is what you want to deal with for the rest of your life.”

“How can you say that to me?” Florence turned to look at him.

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed and he snuck a glance over to her before looking back to the road.

“You don’t understand how hard it is to do what Matt and I do. Being teenage parents. He has to work all the time and still go to school and still be a teenager and a father. I have to raise a child and...and...and do everything around the house. You can’t say that I should give up on this because Matt’s stressed. No. I’ve wanted this for too long. I’ve worked too hard to get here.”

Daniel sighed, leaning his arm on the door and rubbing his temple.

“Where do you think this conversation is going to get you?”

“Me? This isn’t for me.” Daniel retorted, pulling into the underground parking of the condominium. “I’ve known you during the time he was gone and then now that he’s suddenly back. After all the crap he put you through I’m just surprised that you still can’t see it. You two are so incredibly different and it’s bordering on toxic. You don’t want to feel alone so you let him back in your life no matter what he could or does do to you. Even ask your brother and he’ll tell you the same thing. You deserve someone who treats you so much better than Matt does.”

“You can think that all you want,” Florence scoffed, “But he’s my boyfriend. The father of my child. And if you can’t accept that then maybe you should leave.”

Florence climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind her. She took Clementine from the backseat, mumbling a thank you to Daniel for dinner, and stalked off towards the elevator.

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