#seeing sentinel helpless. think about it.
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A Heart Of Steel
Assassin! Lucerys Velaryon x Targaryen! Reader
Summary: Before the incident, Lucerys and the youngest daughter of Viserys & Alicent were secretly dating. Now he has come to seek revenge upon her, thinking she was the cause of his near death.
Wordcount: 2.5k
Warnings: blood, fluff, angst, minor spoilers of Aegon & Aemond in S2 based on the book
Reader's POV
It was all a misunderstanding. I did not expose nor betray Lucerys' location to Aemond. I have no notion of how he ended up alive and the fact that he joined an assassin guild to learn the ways of killing just to take avenge for himself.
I wept for him everyday thinking that he was dead in the hands of my brother, or rather his dragon until this very moment, after nearly one year in which The Dance of the Dragons has entered into an intense stage.
This is definitely not the Lucerys Velaryon I've known. The sweet dragon prince as if straight out of the folk tales was gone. It was the hour of the wolf. I'm heading back to my bedchamber in the Red Keep when I saw a figure in a shadowy corner, another figure that I reckoned a sentinel lying on the bloodstained floor, motionless. Dead.
The hooded figure slowly approached from the shadow and abruptly I gaped in disbelief, not trusting the face I saw under the hood. "Luke." I whispered, knowing him from his scent and form although his gait has changed from stiff to seemingly nonchalant.
I wanted to run to him, embrace him until I saw a glint of iron in one hand and an impassive face. "What are you doing here?" I involuntarily backed a step. Silence. No response. His slow creeping started to turn into a walk. That's when my mind tells me to flee, so I did what it's told.
"I'm going to kill you, dārilaros (princess)!" he said without preamble. He ran after me. "What why- I don't understand!" Panting heavily, trying to find anyone in the hallway for help while trying to further the gap between Luke. "You knew exactly why! You'd told Aemond that I'm at Storm's End."
Luke acquired a throwing knife from the inside of his boots. It whistled past me, making a gash at my arm, blood trickled from it. I resorted to yelling since there was no one I could see, my sprint slowed gradually and he was increasing.
He's closing our gap! I'm about to veer around another corridor until I feel a hand clasping around my wrist firmly and another clamping over my mouth. My screams were muffled. Without thinking, I bit into the hand that covers my mouth, drawing droplets of blood.
The hand let go, the dagger releasing an audible clunk when it hits the stone floor. Lucerys hissed in frustration. The sound has drawn its attention. Voices! Footsteps! Someone is coming this way!
"HEL-" Lucerys pushed me against the wall, causing me a concussion before I could fully utter the words. Stars were forming. My head, shoulders, and back were in agony. The knife was back in his hands and immediately at my throat, drawing a thin line of blood. I struggled feebly in his grip, feeling helpless. "Please Luke, this is a mistake." I looked into his eyes one last time before the world around me went black.
Luke's POV
She slumped into me after she passed out. I carried the unconscious y/n away with me before the night patrol could investigate what had happened. For the present, they had interrupted my attempt at assassination. I searched for her chamber that we had our fun times together in the past. Seven be damned! Stop dwelling on those memories!
Winding through the familiar corridors, I finally found the quarter I am looking for. I unlatched the door with my nimble fingers, hinges creaking. After I was certain that the door was shut securely, I placed her on the bed. Binding her wrists together at one of the bedposts with hempen ropes and gagging her mouth.
I have made the decision of interrogating her when she's awake, giving her a chance. My current self may be ruthless, but there is still a tidbit of kindness in me that has been cultivated by my family, the family that thought I was dead and mourned for me.
I went to her bookshelf straight away, knowing well this is where her mind often wanders into, as well as mine. She was always intrigued by the stories of the dragonlords of Valyria before the Doom.
She once requested that I read to her more frequently from books and scrolls because she enjoys my Valyrian accent, therefore I did mostly each day just to lull her to sleep with my soothing voice. Unfortunately, that is not happening again. She broke my heart.
I skimmed through the pages, missing the smell of papers and inks. Books are barely seen in the assassin guild since weapons were the only thing we would require. After some more skimming, the groaning from the bed eventually distracted my attention. Immediately, I put the book down on the table. Walking towards her, dagger poised.
She slowly opened her eyes, examining the wounds on her throat and arm as she attempted to break free of the binding before her eyes landed upon mine. For a moment she froze like a frightened animal. My tutor taught me not to trust anyone. Told me that expressions could be a farce for sympathy. So I did not fall for that. But her feelings somehow look true to me.
"Good, you're awake. And no screaming." I took the gag off her and then sat down on the bed beside her. Knife dangerously close to her cheeks, then tracing her cheekbones with an air of disinterest as possible. She gulped.
"So tell me, how does Aemond know of my whereabouts? You're the only Green who knew I'm heading for Storm's End trying to make an alliance on my mother's behalf." I intoned, eyebrows furrowed. She began stammering for a second and eventually calmed down a little. "It was Aemond. Before I had the opportunity to take the parchment from the raven, he took it first." I frowned at her, she averted her gaze, looking at her lap and fidgeting with her fingers. "I should have locked the door. I never thought he'd sneak into my room. I'm so sorry." My heart softened without my mind's consent.
I am still hesitating about the things she confessed to me. It was just words. How could I trust mere words? At the mention of Aemond, my uncertainty was briefly replaced by an inevitable rage. I'd heard that he's come back from the raids at the Riverlands to continue his rule as regent. It was said that after the battle of Rook's Rest, following Aegon's disappearance, Aemond was named as regent of the Seven Kingdoms.
"I'll deal with you later when I finish that kinslayer." I announced, walking to the door. At the same time, I unsheathed the sword at my hip, checking the sharpness. I nodded with satisfaction.
"You can't just leave me here being tied up! You can't find Aemond without my guidance anyways." She pleaded. I stopped abruptly, knowing it was true. I needed her guidance to seek Aemond before dawn. I rolled my eyes and went back to her, loosened the ropes to the bedpost, and gripped both of her wrists, pushing her along as a signal to stride in front of me. Then we were out of the chamber.
Reader's POV
Whenever I walked slowly, Lucerys would thrust the tip of his blade into my back. I winced, not believing he would truly do this to me. I did not hesitate to go to the throne room first. Aemond may be sleeping in his bedchamber at this hour, but he's infatuated with the Iron Throne lately. Luke would stay alert and call for a halt to hide whenever he senses someone was around.
I led him down a series of spiral stairs, out of the holdfast, through a bridge, walking by courtyards, and eventually reaching the building in which the throne room was situated. "There's two sentinels in there guarding the hallway, I hope you're ready." I turned to look at him, expecting to see an anxious face. But instead, he looks prepared for the upcoming predicament. The doors were ajar so we sneaked into it.
Before the guards could take out their swords from the scabbards, Luke hurled a throwing knife into one of them. Hitting him in the ribs. The other one rushed to Luke, their blades collided together making sparks. After a few more exchanges, Luke found a chink in his armour and strike hard and fast. The guard collapsed.
"What is all the commotion?" The double doors to the throne room flew open, revealing my uncle Gwayne Hightower and the other kingsguards. How can Lucerys defeat them! He's doomed. "Uncle!" Walking to him but Lucerys pulled me back, placing me right in front of him while the sword he was holding raised to my throat defensively making me his hostage. Swords were drawn out.
"Sheathe the steel or I'll kill her." Luke said. They all gave each other apprehensive glances before taking a few steps back. But not my uncle who stood at the doorway. "Ah, aren't you Rhaenyra's boy? This is hardly an act of reverence for the princess, lad." The two of them stare intensely at each other until Luke breaks the staring contest. "It would please me if I could see the regent." For my sake, my uncle moved from his spot at the doorway and led us into the room with a high ceiling.
Luke's POV
Aemond was sitting upon the throne, legs dangled from one of its arms. A few of the council members were there discussing important matters with him. The discussion stopped when we arrived. My presence seemed to leave Aemond totally dumbstruck. Good.
"Nephew, did the Seven send you back to me? You should put that pointy thing away from my sister by the way." y/n casted me a side eye. Aemond grinned a mirthless grin, there was no true joy in it. "The gods have sent me back for vengeance, uncle." I said with an emotionless mien. "Ah yes, I hope the skills you've been honing were worthy of a vengeance. How can I assist you, my dear nephew?" Obviously teasing about my skills in arms.
"I demand a court of swords. A fight to the death." Everybody in the room tensed. "What." Aemond's face twitched. y/n shifted in my grasp uncomfortably. "You and me. No one else. If I kill you, you'll die. If you kill me, you'll get y/n." Making my point clear. Aemond stood up from his seat and started pacing back and forth, pretending to be considering my request. He stopped his pacing. "Deal." His head snapped to me, giving me a murderous look.
While he slowly walks down from the dais, away from his precious throne, one of the kingsguard escorted y/n away from me. She gave me a tight squeeze of my hand before I let go of her wrists, unsure what it meant. Good luck? Aemond is too good for you? The others walked away from the center, making space for the fight. We came face to face at the center, staring at each other from opposite sides.
"Any last words?" The regent chuckled. "Go to seven hells." I replied. I heard y/n coughed. Within a dozen heartbeats, Aemond's sword came down from above. I blocked the overhead strike that will likely deeply injure me if I didn't deflect it. After a series of attacks, Aemond scowled. Not expecting that I'm still standing. Smiling, a new surge of energy coursed through my body. I fight my way for vengeance.
Reader's POV
I stand in one corner, witnessing the scene unfolding before me. One is my brother. One is my lover. I didn't want to lose either of them. Lucerys seems to be under control, attacking and counterattacking the whole time. He suddenly slipped into Aemond's guard and a thin line formed at my brother's thigh. Blood dripped from it.
Brother looked up from his injured thigh and started bombarding a whirlwind of attacks toward Luke. Anger rose within him. Luke tried to parry all the blows but one had slashed him across his shoulder, causing him to stagger. Aemond continued his furious assaults without giving Luke a moment of respite. I can see the energy that seems to course through him was gradually seeping away.
Before he can regain his previous confidence, Aemond sliced another cut at his sword arm. He swung his sword desperately at Aemond, trying to do some damage to my brother to no avail. His sword arm was injured. He can't fight. He's faltering. I need to do something.
My brother raised his sword, ready to strike diagonally at Luke. For a second, Luke gripped his sword two-handed, trying to heft it. It lifted, but I know that it won't make it in time to deflect the upcoming blow. I am aware of the amount of force Aemond is building up for that specific attack.
Before the sword landed upon Luke, I hurtled myself towards the fighting ground. I heard my uncle yelling. And then the kingsguards and councilors. My back facing Aemond, the blade came down from above and slashed a long cut across my back. I dropped to one knee and yelped.
Three wounds in one night. Given by two people I love. The boys' eyes widened at the sight. The fighting ceased, Aemond was transfixed by the affliction he caused upon me. "Please, I beg both of you to end this feud." I said. Elsewhere I heard my uncle ordering someone to summon a maester.
The once sweet boy came to me, swords trailing behind him. He dropped to the floor beside me, putting his sword down and arms wrapping around me. "Why?" He said, his eyes brimming with tears, but he forced it not to pour out. "Se ra gaoman syt jorrāelagon (The things I do for love)" I beamed weakly.
Then tears fell from his face, dropping into mine. He pressed his forehead against mine. His curly hair prickled me, but I didn't care much about that. I miss his hugs. I can feel the wetness soaking my back. I can get a whiff of the metallic tang of blood. I am exhausted. I fell asleep in the arms of Lucerys Velaryon.
Epilogue (Reader's POV)
I opened my eyes groggily, looking around my bedchamber. Sunlight filtered through the window filling the room with warmth. Luke sat on the bed. I used my elbow to raise myself into a sitting position, he gave me some assistance. I can feel the bandages wrapped around my torso, probably done by the maester.
We stared at each other for a long moment before he smiled. He smiled! Such a wondrous thing! After that, he gave me a gentle peck on the lips, which I did not expect. A faint blush materialized on my cheeks and he indulged in that.
He told me of Arrax's sacrifice, how he was rescued by a fisher family from the shore, his life after he joined the assassin guild, and how he didn't reacquaint himself with his family and watched them from afar whenever he was at Dragonstone. He does love his family. I listened to him intently.
He told me that he would leave me soon, that this is no place for an assassin. "We could fake my death. I want to be with you, away from war and court intrigues. Kill me." I demanded. Lucerys smirked.
#lucerys velaryon x reader#lucerys velaryon x y/n#lucerys velaryon#hotd fic#hotd x reader#lucerys velaryon one shot#hotd one shot#lucerys velaryon imagine
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Addition to a previous TFA megaop post
I neglected to address that many megaop shippers, in addition to butchering Megatrons characterization, also did the same for optimus.
Bro is so heavily damselfied in this ship it's not even funny. He goes from being a humble, and decisive leader who is haunted by his past
To fuckin
UwU-soft-helpless-daddy issues- everyone hates me-and I need a big strong "Marxist" "miner" man to fuck the sad out of me pwease
Like um, was thou indulging in thy devils walter white crumbs whilst thou wast watching thee show??
TFA Optimus is for the most part: levelheaded, though a bit doubtful of himself and his ability to properly lead. He's able to think on his feet under pressure. He hates making tough decisions, but will make them anyway for the sake of either cybertron or his friends, even if it means being stern with them because in the long run, it means that they will be okay. He's willing to make peace/ put his differences aside to work with people who've personally wronged him for the greater good of others, and at the same time refuses to be a punching bag.
Tangent-----
I see those mfing headcannons talking about how Optimus would just let sentinel die or something and that is completely false
This mf wouldn't let anyone die, not if he can help it
Its a core aspect of his beliefs
That the autobots are supposed to protect all life
Its quite a shame that life includes shitheels like sentinel but it can't be helped I suppose.
Tangent end----
He can be stressed, angry, snarky and rude, and honestly I don't blame him
This motherfucker puts up with way more shit than he's ever deserved
Honestly, he's very charming for it
TFA Optimus is also canonically the most skilled autobot to ever set foot into cybertron's autobot academy
Hes more than able to handle himself in a fight, even against megatron- Perhaps not for a long while, though I can imagine the little bastard is more than capable of outmanoeuvering him.
It just really irks me when he's Babiefied cuz he's the shorter one
Its givinnnnnnngggggggggguuuuuuuhhhhhhh
9 0 ' s Y a o i b r a i n r o t
#tfa#decepticons#autobots#tfa megaop#megaop#tfa optimus prime#honestly dude#hes so fucking beautiful#i want to French him passionately
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Optimus for the ask game
Least Favorite Thing About Them: The fact that he's still got his spark firmly clenched in Blackarachnia and Sentinel's hands. What I wouldn't give to see a bit more of that storyline that culminates in a realization of his own worth.
Favorite Thing About Them: Honestly, Kup had it right when he named him "Optimus". No matter what bullshit the universe throws at him, be it the Allspark, Decepticons, the Autobot bureaucracy, you never think for one second that he's going to give up. Optimus has this utterly inextinguishable hope within him, and it's... heartening.
Fanon Pet Peeve: I don't dislike Animated MegOP (just have my fair share of ships I enjoy more), but it's mostly there where Optimus is written with a good amount of helpless-damsel-in-distress factor. This is the guy that literally died protecting the Allspark. This is the guy that led a team of four random-ass Bots to successfully defend against Decepticon High Command. Show me more confident Optimus, he's certainly fucking earned it.
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Standing at one of the railings of the Silver Sun, Imogen wishes to whatever god can hear her that a barrage of stray bullets from the crawlers chasing them down would fly up and lay her to rest. That’s as wishful as she’ll allow her thinking to get at the moment. White-knuckled and short of breath, she peers through the clouds and searches for an answer.
Orym recognizes that tension in her jaw, the sudden way in which the mountainous presence of Imogen crumbles into the visage of a helpless young woman, a way-finder without her north star.
He doesn’t know how she knows, but she does. Before his footfalls get close enough to echo within her ears, Imogen’s head turns, falling tiredly in acknowledgement. She stands, eyes despondent, as he approaches. He reaches an assured hand out to rest upon her clammy one and she lets out a shaky, guilt-riddled sob.
“I- I’m sorry, Orym, I can’t-” Her eyes screw shut, her neck swivels away with a worrying speed he hadn’t known she possessed. Imogen grabs the side of her head and grits her teeth, fingernails digging into her skin, before she stills once again and shakes herself from her stupor. She laughs a mirthless laugh.
“I can’t do this,” she begins choking out, “I’m sorry, I can’t stand here and pretend like I don’t look at you and see her heart beating in your chest,” at that, it’s Orym’s turn to release a startled noised, guilt-ridden in turn. Before the breath fully leaves him, she’s apologizing. “No, no, no, Orym, I’m sorry, I-'' She shakes her head once more, rattling whatever thoughts she has away from the forefront of her mind. “No, I’m sorry, I’m hurting, you didn’t deserve that… I didn’t mean it.” Orym knew that, and, god, did he know more than anyone about placing blame.
“Y’know,” he starts slowly, “The day after- When we had to pick up the pieces after the attack, I lashed out at anyone I could,” Imogen’s eyes shift, almost imperceivable, to his shoulder, before traveling back to whatever spot she’d decided would keep her interest as she listened. “Every soldier who’d fought by my side, my mentors- the Tempest, my sword master- I blamed them all. For days, months, I dunno, I couldn’t look at any of them the same way… I looked at them and saw Will’s shadow… every single time.”
“A-And I love Zephrah, I love my home. I would give my life for my home… I couldn’t bear to see the streets without him traveling on them. I hated it. I hated everyone that I could blame.” Still, she doesn’t look at him. Her face would be the perfect case study on impassivity if it weren’t for the tears welling up in - and brightening - her eyes.
“And where did that hatred settle, Orym?”
“Where’d you think?” Their gazes finally meet in one contentious moment as they feel the twin flame of self-hatred in their hearts char them black as night. Imogen tears her eyes away.
“I-We know what she means to you.”
She practically wails, kneeling on the deck and clutching to the fabric atop her heart as if trying to make room for the ache wrenching it apart. “Fuck, Orym, I don’t even know what she means to me.” He follows her movements to the floor without a second thought and kneels by her side, a sentinel in wait, as waves of her grief threaten to drown her.
“Trust us- Ashton and I- trust that we’ll give you the time to figure that out, okay?” She’s unable to respond as the sobs wrack her body, shaking her frame with heaving cries he’d only heard himself make before.
“We cannot lose you right now Imogen. Make sure she has someone to return to.”
#i don't even know what this is#i'm just hurting#god i fucking miss her#let's get her back next time yes?#imodna#imogen temult#cr3#critical role cpoilers#also no beta we die like lau#too soon i'm sorry
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hi! I always read your rec fics and love them 😁 Do you know any good 1940!AU Winteriron or Stony fic?
Hello! Sorry it's taken me so long to respond to this ask. IRL life has been drowning me for a bit. It means so much to me that you're enjoying the fics I recomend and that you're here supporting this side blog.
I've been wracking my brain, but for the longest time all I could think of were stuckony fics for this ask. So I went digging through all my bookmarks on AO3 and found a couple Stony and Winteriron fics for this prompt. However, I'm also going to add in some of my favorite stuckony fics just in case you or anyone else is interested. I hope you enjoy these fics too!
Stony:
Title: you’re the universe i’m helpless in
Rating: Explicit
Main Ship: Stony
Author: @deathsweetqueen
Description: He lands in some dark, dirty alley, on his back, with a grunt of pain.
“Jesus,” he moans. “I’m getting too fucking old for this.”
He climbs to his feet, rubbing his back. He stumbles out of the alley, running his knuckles over the bond bite on his neck, which throbs insistently.
He finally comes upon two women, chatting on the corner of one of the streets.
“Excuse me?” he calls out.
The girls turn to him and give him identical looks of disdain.
“Yes?” one of them says, with a raised eyebrows that speaks volumes as to how much she doesn’t want to be talking to him.
In her defence, though, he imagines he doesn’t look like much, with his dirty workshop clothes, messy hair and bond bite in full view.
Vulgar, his mother would have said.
“Where am I?” he demands.
“Brooklyn,” she replies, coldly.
He hates the next question. “What year?”
She eyes him like he’s a complete and utter lunatic. “1938.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284268
Title: For Your Eyes Only
Rating: Explicit
Main Ship: Stony
Author: @sarahhbe
Description: Every soldier looks forward to mail call. But Alpha Steve Rogers gets a big surprise with the letter his Omega, Tony Stark, has sent him.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414874
WinterIron:
Title: ceiling stars, dreaming of mars
Rating: Explicit
Main Ship: Winteriron
Author: @deathsweetqueen
Description: Tony Stark touches the strange, glowing cube in his father’s workshop on July 17, 1990, and suddenly, his insides shrink and twist, like snakes writhing, like he’s about to throw up. It’s an awful sort of pain in his stomach, like he’s in pre-heat, and he feels like slicing open his belly and ripping his uterus out, if only to free himself of that pain, like he always does in pre-heat and he’s bleeding out between his legs.
When he opens his eyes, he’s on the cold, hard ground, gravel under his hair, and he’s blinking up at the sun that peeks out over the edge of a building. For paranoia’s sake, he checks between his legs, just to see whether he’s bleeding, because his pre-heat is always such a bitch and it always comes out of nowhere to screw him over.
He’s not, thank God, and he stumbles to his feet, thinking that it must have been some acid trip he was on to make it from his father’s workshop all the way to fucking Brooklyn, judging by the décor and the street signs.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/18929698
Stuckony:
Title: Look to the Past to Find Your Future
Rating: Explicit
Main Ship: Stuckony
Author: Stuckonstuckony (adoctoraday)
Description: Tony takes a detour to the 40’s after defeating Thanos thinking it’ll just be a quick stop before returning to the future. And then he runs into Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and everything changes.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/23016256
Title: every day waiting for you
Rating: Teen
Main Ship: Stuckony
Author: @tsuki-chibi (SailorChibi on AO3)
Description: Tony Stark was there the day that Project Rebirth turned sentinel Steve Rogers into the spitting image of a Real Sentinel. He was there the day Steve fell into the ice.
He's there the day the Winter Soldier - sentinel Bucky Barnes, the missing piece to this weird triad bond - attacks them all, because Tony's the one who gets fed up with it all.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/6842383
(btw I love this fic so freaking much! It was my first ever sentinel/guide fic and it got me HOOKED!)
Title: Scientific Heresy
Rating: Mature
Main Ship: Stuckony
Author: antigrav_vector
Description: In the process of running the particle accelerator in his basement and fixing the arc reactor, Tony finds himself flung into the past where he has to take on a fight not his own if he wants to get home to stop Vanko. At least he had a chance to replace the old rector that had been killing him with the new one before everything went sideways... But now he has no choice but to face off with family, friends, and old heroes, and none of that sounds remotely appealing. Well, okay, getting to meet them all during their glory days kinda does.
But as it turns out, they're not exactly what he imagined, and his path home is a lot longer than he'd hoped it would be.
And a lot more complicated.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664655
Title: Hanging From a Cross of Iron
Rating: Explicit
Main Ship: Stuckony
Author: the wonderful @juuls (Juulna on AO3)
Description: Toni Stark never - not even once - had a soulmark appear. Not one she can remember, at any rate. But when one finally appears, and the date of her rendezvous seems impossible to meet, does she decide to move on with her life, and forget the words written upon her skin?
Of course not. She's Toni fucking Stark. Making the impossible possible is practically her family motto.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727852
Please give these authors a lovely kudos or comment if you love and enjoy any of these fics as much as I do!
#stony#winteriron#stuckony#superhusbands#winterironshield#tony stark#steve rogers#iron man#fic rec#fanfiction#fic recs#fanfic#fic#captain america#fics#the winter soldier#bucky barnes
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Little Bones 1
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness
This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.
Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down
Note: So, I’ve made some positive changes in my life. I am working away at original work, I’m drinking more water, I’m taking my dog on big walks and being more active, and I’m doing my best. So, I was struck with an old yearning to return to Birch. I’ll be updating here and there as I feel and won’t be pushing myself like I did before because I realise how unhealthy and stressful it was on me.
Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
Chapter 1: It gets so sticky down here
A city girl in a small town. What could be sadder than that?
In the city, life went fast. In a place like Birch, the days dragged by as if to remind you of how helpless you were beneath the unyielding and inevitable tick of the clock. The hand wound around and around as you waited for what would never happen. The dreams of your childhood eroded beneath the rolling years leaving trail of crumbs you could not follow back to the beginning.
A woman just beyond her prime trapped in an antiquated career. The empty aisles between the shelves full of books bespoke of a bygone era. The forgotten library at the far end of the main street rarely saw a new face and those familiar were fewer by the day. The staff had thinned to three of you; Melissa was older than you with a daughter nearly your age and Colin was close to retirement if not well past.
You got on well enough, as well as you could given Colin’s faulty hearing aid, and Melissa’s wandering mind. They meant well but they shared the lethargy of the old small town.
You weren’t nostalgic for the smog or the flashing lights of the city, but there was no life to this place. Only the impending reach of death rattling closer in the roar of the motorcycles and the rumble of the old railroad that ran through the middle of town.
The air nipped at your cheeks as you approached the library. A morning of yawning had you craving a latte from the bakery and the quiet girl behind the counter cheerfully steamed the foam before handing it over. Everyone in this town was familiar, everyone knew everyone else, and yet, you still felt like an outsider.
You felt the heat of the cup through your glove and you looked up as you sensed two figures by one of the thick columns of the library façade. Melissa stood chatting with her daughter, hugging her sweater around her as she’d left her coat inside. You peeked up at the grey sky as snow threatened at any moment with the mid-November bite.
As you thought to pass them and leave their conversation uninterrupted, your name drew you back.
“I was just telling my daughter,” Mel began as she waved you over with a chatter of her teeth. “About that podcast you mentioned. She loves those old Hollywood stars.”
“Oh,” you blew the steam away from the lid of your drink as you neared, “It’s alright. The stories are worth the narrator’s schtick.”
“Yeah? I’ve been closing at the bar and I like to listen to something once it clears out.” Mel’s daughter said. “You wouldn’t mind giving me the name?”
You told her the title of the podcast and helped her find it on Spotify to follow for later. Mel shivered and stood closer to her daughter who was bundled up against the onslaught of Birch’s blustering winter. You knew about her too.
She was friendly but you saw in her a cynicism more common to city folk. You got along but you were weary of her associations. The local club of crass bikers were neither subtle nor savoury. In the city, it was easy enough to ignore the patch and all that came along with it. The seedy figures were distilled by the broader population but not in Birch. There, the club was the town.
“Mom, you can’t stay out here.” She poked her mother’s arm. “It’s too cold.”
“Little better in the library.” You grumbled and sipped your latte. “The radiator’s broken again.”
“You mean Colin broke it trying to fix what wasn’t broken,” Melissa shook her head, “and I’m fine, dear. I’ve spent more than fifty winters in Birch and been through worse than this.”
“Yes, but you were younger then--” Her voice dwindled as she turned her head to listen to the distant roar of exhaust.
You followed her gaze and noted the way her forehead creased at the noise. She swallowed and turned to watch as a dark rider turned onto the main road from the highway. It was the man who kept her entwined with the club, the one who marked her latent authority over all others. The only one who outranked her.
She swore and looked over her shoulder at her mother. Her mother touched her arm. It was a telling and surprising moment. Her expression read of all the disgust you felt for the bikers.
At least a dozen bikes followed the first and Bucky raised his glove hand to signal the others to slow as he pulled up to the curb just before the library steps. You backed away as his breath clouded around him and he waved Mel’s daughter closer. He craned to kiss her as she bent, her fingers picking at her jeans as she did, then he nodded his greeting to Mel.
“What are you doing?” He asked tersely.
“Can’t I see my mother?” The daughter challenged and the biker scoffed.
“Of course,” he killed his engine and the others mimicked him in fine order. “I wouldn’t keep ya from her but you didn’t tell me you were going downtown.”
“You were gone.”
You listened to the conversation as you stayed close to the column, thinking of sneaking up the steps into the library before you heard too much. Your curiosity had you searching the crowd of leather jackets as their wearers tried to conceal their impatience with their boss’ impromptu halt.
Among them, a large man sat casually in his seat, his feet planted on the cold pavement as he rolled slightly back and forth. Strands of his thick blond hair were drawn back beneath his helmet into a thick braid as the rest hung around his shoulders. His patch was different from the rest, an old Norse symbol you didn’t know the meaning of. There were several others who wore the same cut, including a dark-haired woman who chatted with another golden-haired rider.
You tasted your latte again, it cooled quickly as the cold air battered the cardboard. As you sipped and sidled around the column, your eyes were caught by another pair. The very man you’d just been watching was now focused on you. You stopped, hoping like some frightened animal that your stillness would ward off his attention.
“Barnes,” the broad blonde man spoke as he finally looked away. “You’ve not even introduced me to your woman. I assume that’s why we’ve stopped.”
Bucky shifted on his bike and sighed. You hadn’t expected the man to have an accent. His voice was deep but the subtle lilt defined his tone as unforgettable. The dark-haired biker of Birch rolled his eyes before he pointed to his girl and gave her name, then to Melissa as he explained their relation.
You sidestepped around the column to the stairs of the library and turned away. You were stopped again by the same voice.
“And that one? The quiet one?”
You spun back slowly and looked at each biker, many unconcerned with conversation, as a few stared back at you or at the viking-like rider. Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow at Melissa’s daughter. She hesitated before she gave your name coolly referred to you as just another librarian. She was trying to deflect the focus and you were thankful for it. You wondered at her own blatant spite for that breed of man.
“No one important,” Bucky grabbed his keys. “Come on, honey. I’ll give you a ride back.”
“I can walk.”
“Get on.” He said gruffly and turned the keys.
The motorcycles thrummed back to life in a cacophony. You flinched and turned back to the library doors. Your lunch was almost over as it was and the cold was starting to make your head hurt. You heard the bikes tear off as you reached the door and you turned back to watch as Melissa ran up after you.
You held the door for her and paused as you watched riders tear away. The blonde remained and watched you with a smirk. He winked as he slowly rolled after the others and pushed off. You followed Melissa inside and pulled the door shut tightly behind you.
“I’ll finish the returns,” you slipped past her, “you should try to warm up.”
“Thanks, dear,” she rubbed her hands together as she neared the curve desk you all shared, “God, that man makes my skin crawl.”
“But your daughter--”
“She handles him as well as she can,” Melissa sat and logged onto her boxy PC, “she’s stronger than me, that’s for sure.”
You sat and chewed on the thought. You just assumed her daughter leaped at the opportunity to date the most powerful man in town. What else could a girl from Birch hope for?
“She doesn’t…”
“He keeps her safe, I guess,” Melissa muttered, “I don’t say nothing against it. I won’t, for her sake as much as mine.”
You lowered your lashes and turned to the stack of unscanned books. You took the first and opened the cover.
“I didn’t mean to-- I don’t really know anything about the… bikers.”
“Hope you never do, dear,” she said listlessly. “Those men, if you can call them that, are the lowest form of humanity.”
💀
You always took the same route home. It wasn’t very far. You lived in the studio apartment above Tammy’s, the clothes shop where all the local seniors got their outdated outfits. The store itself smelled like a retirement home but you were not often disturbed by the activity below. Like everything in Birch, it wasn’t very exciting.
Your walk took you past the diner and along the stretch across the street from the town’s sentinel, The Asp. The bar was the only place in town which always seemed to be bursting with life. You had an old Chevrolet parked behind the building but you never drove to work, only on your odd trip to the city to get away from the suffocation malaise of main street.
That day as you fumbled to get your earbud back in, you heard a whistle. You got a few comments now and again about your habit of blocking out the townsfolk and the town itself with your music. In the city, you didn’t just say hi to every person you walked by and you had little inclination to change that habit.
You kept going and the whistle came louder. You heard boots hammer across the street and you stopped as the earbud once more fell out of your ear.
“Eh, kitten,” you turned to the long-haired biker. A golden hammer hung from a chain and peaked out from the open collar of his jacket. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you faced him with blatant irritation. “We didn’t get to meet properly, did we?”
You stared at him and let out a foggy breath. You leaned on your left heel and shook your head with a scoff.
“No.” You said and turned back along your path.
“No?” He repeated and his footsteps followed closely. “I’m only being friendly, kitten. I’m not from around here and I’m just tryn’ ta make a few friends.”
“I’m not interested,” you march onward and stop short.
You realised if you went any further, you’d lead him straight to your door. You didn’t need him knowing where you lived. You veered off and crossed the street, he stayed close just like your shadow. You’d stop by the liquor store and wait him out there.
“Where are you going, kitten?”
“Can’t you take a hint?” You nearly tangled your own legs as you pivoted sharply. “I’m sorry for your luck that you’ve ended up in Birch but I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.” You grasped the handle of the liquor store door. “Oh, and my name isn’t kitten.”
“I know your name. I remember it.” He grinned and you swung open the door. He caught it behind you and you let out a frustrated sigh as he trailed you inside. “It’s almost as gorgeous as you.”
“Do those work on the women where you’re from?”
You stared at the shelf of fruit wines and tried to ignore him. You were starting to build a real thirst for the bottles.
“I don’t meet a lot of women like you, kitten.”
“Would you stop it--” You blinked and stomped further down the aisle.
“Thor. My name’s Thor.” He offered gallantly. “But you can call me whatever you wish.”
“I could think of a few things.” You bent down to read the label of a wine from the Maritimes.
“Mmm, my thoughts run wild, kitten.” He purred and you looked up at him in confusion.
You swiped the bottle from the shelf and stood straight. His eyes clung to your ass and as you turned, they swiftly found your chest. Neither were well-hidden by your jacket, even as thick as it was. Your weight often deterred the whistles and the leers, but not this time.
“How many ways can I tell you to go away?” You hissed and move to step around him. He turned and watched you pass. He shivered as you brushed against him unwillingly in the narrow aisle.
“So, you got a man?” He questioned as again he tailed you to the counter. You grabbed a small bottle of Vodka from the rack beside it and dug out your wallet.
“Does it matter?”
He bent and leaned on the counter beside you and you ignored his attempt to look you in the face. You paid and took your change as the clerk bagged your purchase.
“To me, everything about you matters, kitten.”
You shot him a sharp look and took your paper bag. You hugged it close and glared at him as he straightened. “Stop calling me that.”
“Here,” he gripped the top of the bag, “I’ll help.”
“I’ll smash this bottle over your head,” you threatened. “Now I’ve told you to leave me alone.”
He chuckled and dipped his head. His hair slid down the leather and he scratched his thick beard.
“Don’t worry, kitten, I like to play.”
He looked at you again, his blue eyes twinkling. You were startled as suddenly he ‘woofed’’ at you. You backed away and he kept close as is to chase you, ready to salivate like the dog he mimicked.
“Get away!” You shouted and raced for the door.
His barks turned to laughter and the bell announced your stagger out onto the street. You didn’t look back as you charged across the street and narrowly missed being mowed down by Linda Karling. You reached the other side as you heard the liquor store door clatter a second time. You sensed his shadow as you turned down a side street.
You walked until you were certain he wasn’t following. The cold blew up your jacket as you mapped out your way back. You could sneak around the back of the clothes shop and sneak up the metal escape. You peered back and forth, the old house just at the town limits nearly faded into the dimming sky and main street shrouded by brick walls.
“Hey,” a small voice surprised you as a woman neared, walking the same route as you. “Whatcha doing all the way up here?”
You stared at her dumbly. It was the woman who worked at the bakery. She hung out with the club too.
“Nothing, I…” You grabbed your earbuds and put them back in your ears. “I was listening to my music and got carried away.”
“Oh?” she chittered like a mouse. “No one comes this way. Only me to see my ma.”
You nodded at her and gave an awkward smile. “Mmhmm. Well, thanks. I probably would’ve wandered right out of town.”
“I wouldn’t blame you,” she said forlornly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“For your latte. And you always get the banana loaf when it’s on special and tomorrow’s Tuesday.”
You sniffed and rubbed your neck. You hated that. You hated that everyone knew you, that everyone knew what you did, and that they assumed they knew everything else. But she was sweet and you couldn’t hate her for never being freed from the prison of Birch.
“Oh yeah,” you squeezed the paper bag so it crinkled and pulled out your phone with your free hand, “tomorrow.”
#thor#dark thor#dark!thor#thor x reader#chubby!reader#dark fic#dark!fic#fic#series#little bones#biker AU#biker!thor#biker thor#biker!au#au#marvel#mcu#birch#bucky barnes#sequel#threequel
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Hi, I love your writings 💜 and wanted to suggest a prompt, but if it won't hit you or if your requests are closed than feel free to ignore.
What if MC will forget the brother and that they are in relationship (it can be as side effect of some spell /potion etc, but it will last for quite some time, no one knows how long). How brothers will react on that? What they will do to make MC fall in love again, or will they do anything at all? Or they decide that it's the chance to change everything? What if MC won't love them again? I don't know if that can be angsty (I want some angst), or you can do whatever style you find appropriate. Anyway, if you don't feel like doing for 7 brothers you can do only for brothers of your choice (who you feel comfortable to write about, but maybe Lucifer, Mammon and Beel?? ).
Thank you! And have a good day or night!
A/N: 80000 years and a day later I post lol ;.;. Sorry for the wait! I tried something new with this, hope you like :)
So I was going to drop all three at the same time but it turned into 20+ pages of work. So I will post in 3 separate parts since they all turned into beefy boys... Much like their counterparts >:)
Hope you like it!!!
Part One of Three: Lucifer
Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.
Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.
The crackle of energy and the acrid taste of sour magic on his tongue are his only warnings before things went south. He reaches for you, strong arms moving to shield you from the blowback of energy discharging around you both. Lucifer crouches, turning his back to the explosion to cover you from the debris and dust raining down. The rebound of the failed spell washes over him for a moment turning his stomach on impact. A heavy miasma coats the room. It weighs down his wings momentarily before disappearing as quickly as it had come.
Once the dust settles, the room fills with light-hearted teasing and jabs at the inept caster. Whatever chastising remark he had stuck to his tongue. When he looks down at you the air seizes his lungs in horror. You were heavy and unresponsive in his arms, eyes closed and face slack. Physically, he could see nothing wrong with you, no hair unkempt or dust on your uniform. He shakes you trying in vain to rouse you.
He doesn’t remember fleeing the room with you clutched tight to his chest nor the shouts of his confused brothers all he could focus on was your limp body cradled in his. You weren’t waking up. None of his magic was working, and you were still sleeping. It was like looking down at his brothers all over again. The feeling of dread, of helplessness, had him staggering. You were like his little Lilith all over again, another failure in his unending life span.
The healer's answers do nothing but anger him. Diavolo’s weak speculations drive him into a frenzy. Wait, they want him to wait. For how long was anyone's guess. They say that you just need rest, the human body is unaccustomed to such stresses. That though your body is weak, a human’s spirit is strong. You’ll recover-he had to trust that you would heal on your own. Trust… he had so little of that left to begin with, but he had he gave to you.
He couldn’t lose you. Couldn’t lose this small flicker of hope you brought into his life, of happiness. He didn’t want to be alone again.
So he waits, a permanent sentinel by your bedside. He sits in silence stuck with his sins. His rough hewn palms cover your small hand to warm your cooling finger tips. He strokes them with callused fingers. He contemplates all the little things he could have done differently while he waits. Hells, what he should have done differently. Spells at the best of times were unruly and dangerous and in the hands of a novice? He shakes his head squeezing your hand. He was so stupid to have let you take that course. Why hadn’t he told that weak pissant of a demon off for trying such an incantation? Or at least to take it outside. Was he that bad of a protector? Of a lover? Deep down he wants to be angry at you. That this somehow was all your fault, with your puny human constitution and defenses. He wants to blame you but the moment passes with a gut-twisting sense of guilt and almost shame.
The days move on unceasingly, the clock on your wall mocking him with every steady tick and turn of the hand. With each moon that passes his simmering anger and wounded pride cools to an ice cold fear in his veins. The healers stopped showing up daily, they were at a loss like the rest of them.
No one would say it, least of all around him, but he heard it travel down the halls like an unwelcome guest. The whispered sympathy, the soft admissions of acceptance. He blocks them out, his world narrowing down to nothing but your icy hand and weak pulse. Your room begins to turn into his. His paperwork fills your desk, while he holds meeting over the phone. One hand clutching his phone to his ear and his other always touching you. No one but him is going to take care of you. He refuses help, turning down Diavolo’s increasing offers and pleas of support.
He turns them down each and every time. He will take care of you.
Yet, no matter how much he tends to you and researches you remain inert.
It’s maddening, he was suffocating under the weight. Finally he tips. One night drunk and desperate in his destroyed room he does the last thing he could think of.
The hardwood of his bedroom is unforgiving under his knees. The cold of it soaks through his pants and the harsh grain digs into his skin. But he doesn’t care, he wasn’t looking for absolution anymore, he was begging for your salvation.
It burns him bowing like this. His pride lashes out, roaring like the untamed beast it was as he dives deep searching within himself to find the tattered remains of his former self. Each second with his eyes closed and head bent was tortuous as his pleas fill the oppressive silence of the room. No matter the discomfort of the moment he can only think of you. No cost was too steep to have you open your eyes again.
Lucifer should have known going back to his father would be a mistake. Nothing was ever simple with them, everything was by their rules and their way. Not even being the once most favored son could fix that. Your eyes open, sure. They are hazy with confusion, but also bright and full of life. You were back.
Papers forgotten Lucifer approaches you like he would a wounded animal. He stares in disbelief for a moment before succumbing to his need to hold you. “Amata-” He breathes out in relief into your neck squeezing you closer to him. Lucifer pulls away when he notices you not embracing him back. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. You just took me by surprise is all.” You rub your eyes and smile wearily. “What did I do to deserve such a good morning hug?”
His smile fades, hearts sinking. “Do you not remember?”
“Remember?” Hmmm. You look around you at the clutter of your room. “I- remember being in class, then you over me.” Something must have happened, but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. He fills you in leaving small blanks hoping to see some recognition in your bewitching eyes. But you sit, nodding along taking his word as gospel truth. “Wow.” You lean back on your pillows. To be asleep for so long, you had so much work to catch up on. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
There was an odd look in his eyes before he nods, rising to his feet. “Of course… for you, anything.” He flees then, choking back a sea of emotions to go fetch a healer to look you over. It was as he expected. You were whole and healthy again, back to your old wonderful self. Except for him. Did you truly remember none of him? Have you really forgotten how he held you at night when you were able to tear him from his works.
How could you forget the words he would whisper to you as you drifted off long after the candles had been snuffled out, the sweat had cooled on your skin, and your limbs loose and tangled with his? Would you ever remember the way he would watch you at school? How he would search for you and watch you with vigilante and hungry eyes. You were not his little lamb anymore. Even after everything he had lost you.
It was what he bargained for with his father it seemed.
He calls a meeting soon after informing his brothers and the Prince of your condition without telling them of his speculations as to why. “We will say nothing.” He speaks standing rigidly while the room erupts with confusion around him.
“Why not tell them?” Beelzebub asked brows drawn low in concern.
“And say what?” Lucifer rubs at his nose pinching the bridge tightly already feeling a dull throbbing growing underneath. “What would it change?” He leaves it at that and retreats to his room. He looks at his dusty chambers and broken furniture from his explosive temper. It is so cold again without you there. This is how it must be. The thought brings a broken whine from his lips. Tt soaks through his leather gloved hand, refusing to be shoved down. He didn’t want to believe he was so forgettable, that something as intimate as his trust and love was so weak in your soul. He had thought surely he had ingrained himself deeper than that. You were in his mind.
He turns to his private libraries that night, looking for any scrap of information he could find. Perhaps the threads of him were there within you, maybe they just needed to be mended. He often forgot how malleable the human mind was, how easily things can just slip from them. Each book on the topic started promisingly enough before piddling off to a dead-end or debunked hypothesis.
He hunts down the student that had fired the spell. If he knew the original purpose of the spell maybe he could recreate the reaction? No, yet another dead end.
He comes to realize one night sitting hunched over on the grimy floor that either your mixed blood had altered the spell's intentions or the fact that since you were not in your original timeline it had changed something deeper within you that none of them had taken into consideration. Or, perhaps-just maybe he truly did make a deal with Father.
Devil below, he hoped that wasn’t true. How ironic it would be that the first time they had heard his pleas to only answer it with more pain and punishment. Either way, he must accept this...eventually.
“You know, if you keep frowning like that it’ll leave permit winkles.” Lucifer ignores his brother, not glancing up from his journals to entertain him. He had recently found more old tomes deep in his studies. “Luci.” Multi-colored nails block his view of his documents.
“Move Asmodeus. I will not ask again.”
Asmo frowns but moves his hand back to his hip. “You need to breathe brother. Take a minute for yourself.” Lucifer snorts dismissively, flipping to the next page. Asmo sighs deeply, his old bones rattling with the heavy gust of air. “You know you won’t find anything in there. We’ve all tried, you know? Read up on fruitless leads and scoured the depths of the catacombs too. Satan’s hands are a mess from rummaging through his books.” He swallows thickly. “Perhaps it is time.”
“Time for what?” Lucifer rises to his impressive height towering over his smaller brethren. “I do not like what you are implying Sakhr.” Asmo flinches, he hates that damn name. He calms the simmering rage underneath his well kept skin. Lucifer was hurting, he lashes out blindly when he is. He always suffers alone.
“I’m not implying anything. We just want-” Lucifer laughs, the hollow sound pulls at the emptiness within Lust’s heart.
“What would you know of my wants?” His ruby eyes lock with Asmo’s. It was a mistake. Lucifer’s presence was imposing at the best of times, but as mad as he was now it was a knee jerk reaction from Asmo to put his guard up. It was a strong defensive mechanism that Asmo took special care not to let slip, but as Lucifer approaches him shoulder hunching and chest puffing up in anger. It took only a moment for his defenses to take over, eyes locking Lucifer saw exactly what he wanted reflected back at him.
He didn’t know what Lucifer saw but he could see the absolute agony etching into his older brother's glassy eyes with each second. Asmo steps back breaking eye contact with a gasp, the trance between them breaking. “I-I’m sorry!” He trembles.
Lucifer says nothing but raises a shaking finger while he collects himself. Finally, he looks up, face impassive once more. He shakes his head and points to the two chairs in front of his desk. A wordless order that Asmo takes. Asmodeus watches Lucifer busy himself with a decanter, broad back turned to him. “You meant no harm,” Lucifer says, voice tight. He turns back with two glasses in hand. “ I-my aggression was unnecessary.” He offers Asmo a glass before sitting back in his throne-like chair with a grunt. They drink in silence.
Asmo swirls the spicy drink around his tongue thinking hard. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He thought he could make things better by offering a shoulder or ear, perhaps tell Lucifer that you were doing well. You didn't seem to notice the hole at the table or in the classroom where Lucifer used to join you and the rest of them to eat or study. They had missed seeing him look so at peace around them. Everything had reverted back to like it was when you first arrived between the two of you, and it was affecting everyone. “Talk to me?” Lucifer blinks.
“And say what?” He peers at his empty glass before grabbing the decanter. “I’m fine? I have meetings piling up and I frankly don’t give a damn anymore. Or the fact that I have yet to cancel the table I had reserved for our anniversary dinner?” His last words waver dangerously before he burns them away with a large gulp of his drink. He sees the look in Asmo’s honey-colored eyes when he looks up. “I don’t need pity.”
Asmodous sniffs, waving away the thought. “Please. We all know better than that. I just want to check on you, and perhaps give you an idea?”
“What idea could you have that I have not thought of?” He asks curiously. Asmo lights up leaning in.
“What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way? We’ve been looking at magic to solve this when the answer was in front of us the whole time. Humans aren’t used to magic, so why look to it for the solution?”
“I don’t follow.” Lucifer puts his glass down leaning back in his chair. Was science what he needed to look at? He had tried that, had talked to human doctors and surgeons that owed him “favors”. They were as unhelpful as the rest.
“We are thinking like demons! We have to think like a human, woo them again. You did it once, surely their attraction wasn’t wiped out, just their memories.” Ahh. Lucifer shakes his head. He had thought of that, staring at himself in the mirror. Many nights were filled with the nagging fears of defeat. If his father had a hand in your recovery could he even be allowed to try again? Lucifer looks back at all the things he said those nights kneeling by your side. It was foolish, what even contract he might have accidentally made had too many open ends, too many half wishes, and clauses.
“I’m afraid I have already thought of that my brother.”
“Then why haven’t you tried? Have you given up?” Asmo is met with silence. “Does that mean the rest of us have a chance?” He gets the reaction he was looking for then. Lucifer’s form shutters, a full body twitch as his body blurs around the edges in warning. “Seems to me like you haven’t given up yet. So what is stopping you.”
Lucifer crumbles under his brother’s worried gaze. Perhaps he could divulge his worry, just this once. “I asked father Az.”
Asmo gasps in surprise, eyes wide in disbelief, then dawning realization. “You think They did this?” Lucifer shrugged, running a hand through his disheveled locks. “They wouldn’t-they couldn’t...could they?” None of the brothers knew what their father was up to anymore, nor if They were even still able to track them. It was an ever present cloud of stress over all of them. While they trusted Diavolo and his protection, the nagging fear was never-ending.
“This is perfect!” Asmo claps his hands together. Lucifer stares at him in confusion. Lust’s smile grew toothy and dangerous. “Do you know what this means?”
“No.” His younger brother snorts looking down at his nails. His mind was running a mile a minute. For as organized and crafty as Lucifer is, he sure had his moments.
“Think about it. If Father did meddle then you have to try courting them again. Defying Father is a talent!” Asmo claps his hands in giddy delight. “Wouldn’t it just chafe their linens if you got back together?”
“And what if They didn’t meddle?”
“Then what do you have to lose?” Lucifer laughs. It was breathy and lifeless at the start but grew in intensity as Asmo’s words sunk in. Why was it when he said it it made sense?
“As devious as ever Az.” Lucifer smiles. Yes, he could win you back easily and reclaim his pride all in one fell swoop. “Thank you for reminding me of who I am.” They were troublemakers, the lot of them and it was time for him to prove it once more that he was the worst of them.
He starts the next day dressing down for once in his long life. He wears an outfit you always complement tucked neatly into a pair of dress slacks you bought him after a date gone awry. He smirked, remembering the tight squeeze of your hand on him on the drive home. The friction of your palm on the smooth material...he tipped his dry cleaner extra that night. “Good morning.” He purrs out in greeting taking his seat at the head of the table. The few brothers around the table freeze for a moment, keen eyes darting from him to where you sat still eating as if nothing had changed. Asmodeus shot him a wink.
“Morning.” You chirp back around your spoon. “It’s good to see you back at the table. Finally got a break from work?” The demons hold their collective breath.
“Yes, you can say that I came to a revelation of sorts.” He hums into his mug.
From that point on no matter what corner you turn on Lucifer was there. A pleasant smile on his lips and an offer of aid. “Thank you for the help!” You drop the large stack of books on your desk with a satisfied grunt. “You know- even though our pack is still somewhat new, if you need help with your work I’d be glad to give you a hand too!”
“Would you?” He hides his predatory grin under his hand. “ Some of the matters I have to attend to will require some long, hard work. It may take up some of your nights.” The flush that graces your cheeks and the warm buzz from his pact mark make him giddy.
“I’m willing.”
Slowly he begins to pull you back into his world. He leaves well placed hints of your past together scattered around his workspace. Your favorite Devildom blooms and treats always seem to be around when you come to offer your help in the evening. He slips old pet names into daily conversations as you scribble notes and transcribe letters for him by the soft light of his desk lamp. Pacing himself was never so hard before in his life. Was he finally cracking through? Or were you falling for him again? It was a heady rush to be sure, the mix of anticipation and thrill of such earthly courting made him realize many things he didn’t see the first time around. He learns all over again just what he loved about you.
He had forgotten how patient you were around him and with his siblings. Your keen eye and attention to detail reminded him just why he trusted you. You flitted about him picking up things he missed and settling brotherly disputes without him having to waste his breath. It was almost like things were going back to normal, minus the cold sheets beside him at night. But he sticks to his plan, finding pleasure in simply learning about you all over again.
It came to an end sooner than he had expected.
“Enter.” Lucifer calls from his overflowing desk. It was finals time once again and the damages done to school property were picking up dramatically. He heard your fluttering heartbeat before you even entered his domicile. It picks up as you approach.
“Am I interrupting?
Lucifer looks up from his work, a grin growing on his tired face. “For you, never.” You smile back, coming closer. You held a mug of coffee in your hands. The beast within him wanted to raise its hackles in triumph and howl. His life must be a divine comedy. This night is playing out just like it did nearly a year ago. Did you remember too? Or was this just how it always was meant to be?
“I haven’t seen you in a bit, and got concerned.” You fiddle with the handle of the copper mug. Lucifer nods, it was true. He regrettably had to put his plans with you on hold, he had spent so much time scheming he had let a few things build up. “Asmo told me you were hold up in here working, and I thought you could use a pick me up. He-he helped me make you some coffee.”
Ah. It wasn’t the same as the first time, but it was a matter of time before his sibling started meddling again. He takes the cup from your outstretched hand. “Thank you, this is much appreciated.” You glow under his praise taking a seat by his side.
“Need any help?” You eye the stack of papers with interest. “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the fine print.”
“Have you now?” He pushes a small stack of papers towards you. “Very well, I would love your company again.” You take the work with a nod eager to spend time with him again. He watches you work, unable to contain his growing smile before looking down at the cup by his side. The tar-black coffee looks back at him. Oh, how he wished to commend his brother and berate him all at once. It is putrid and stomach-churning but he savors it all the same.
“Is it alright?” You pause watching him drink in. You have never seen him so enraptured by a drink before.
“Yes.” It will be.
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would you ever share the background you created for kai leng? i'd be so interested in hearing it!
Hehe, yes! Thank you for waiting anon. I wanted to really think this through and make sure I was working with all the possible details of his character.
Okay, so my goal with fleshing out Kai was not to excuse him as a villain or to necessarily redeem him, but to humanize him and hopefully incur sympathy because I find his depiction as a mysterious lackey boogeyman to be 🙄 one dimensional and playing on racist tropes like the yellow peril ✨ (also bioware making him predominantly chinese + a lil russian. extrapolate what u will lol)
So here is my background for Kai :) Lots of childhood headcanoning and then some general talk about his character/why I chose certain elements as I did (such as dumping that dumb phantom blade for butterfly swords AEORHIG)
Childhood:
According to the wiki, Kai is Earthborn, and from his general heritage we can assume that he grew up in Northern China (omg that's where my ancestors are from). The most populous city there is Beijing, which, if there was a spaceport or alliance recruitment anywhere, it would be there.
I headcanon that he was born to a bit of an unsteady family, where it was likely there was estrangement and unsafe conditions between the mother and father that may have created a sense of helplessness and neglect from a young age.
In my canon, Dan Hyun's mom, Hannah Shepard was the head of an agricultural research facility on Trident, and was an old friend of Kai's mom (From University, possibly).
As conditions worsened throughout Kai's childhood, his mom decided to take a chance and flee with Kai (age 10 at the time) to Hannah Shepard's science facility on Trident (Sentinel Agricultural Research Facility), where she and Kai would stay for about two years as his mom worked to save enough money for their own place .
Since Dan Hyun was already being homeschooled, it was easy enough for Kai to join up alongside her.
Dan Hyun (12 at the time) was extremely happy to have a friend since life on the facility could be really lonely-- but with all these changes Kai was having a difficult time adjusting, especially when Dan Hyun felt put off by his competitive attitude. After so long feeling neglected and growing in a tumultuous home environment, he craved external validation: homeschool provided an avenue for that. They developed their own academic-based competitive rivalry that counted towards friendship, but grew distant when he moved out with his mom about two years later.
When Dan Hyun was 18 (Kai at 16), she managed to apply to an Alliance Research Training program and receive admission-- something that was considered highly prestigious, despite her parents' reluctance. Kai had already begun to build resentment towards her due to the way her parents treated her (very preciously, sheltered, and without exposing her to the difficult parts of life) in contrast with what he lacked in family and world kindness, creating a drive to supersede her and compete with her once again, if only to have tangible proof that just because he began in a lower place didn't mean he couldn't surpass the vision of success.
After this event, they would strike up a still somewhat friendly rivalry again that continued until Kai enlisted in the Alliance at the age of 18 (his attempts to join directly at 16 failed in my canon lol, but he sure tried )
Alliance Service:
Kai took the combat-driven route while Dan Hyun was receiving training for her eventual research establishment in Akuze, meaning that in their line of work, they never crossed paths-- Though they maintained occasional communication and met up here and there whenever Kai was back from his tours.
This is where I believe his decline truly began.
Some habits, like his desire for tangible proof of success and seeking external validation, manifested more heavily in this time. Collecting badges off of dead soldiers (To remember his skill first hand) is a notable one, but I speculate he relied heavily on the word of his commanding officers to counter his self-esteem. Titles were incredibly important because they were proof. When he began to feel a loss of control which led to emotional outbursts and breakdowns, he would fall back on these bits of evidence that he had done something, anything.
The weight and violence of service combined to break away his mental strength and conditioned him to that of a soldier.
Famously, he was discharged in 2186 after his N7 designation. In a bar fight on shore leave, he murdered a Krogan (OKAY. Listen. The wiki says "first-degree murder" but first degree requires premeditation and bar fight implies heat of the moment. So IDK I think the details around this one are a little fishy. He was on leave but he was a soldier, so ? he probably just had a weapon on him? Okay, I'm not excusing him but premeditation is a bit different from manslaughter so just something I've pondered. It separates intentional killers from accidental murders).
At this point, he is formally incarcerated and set to serve a twenty-year sentence.
Cerberus Contact:
The year is 2177, and Kai has lost everything he's ever worked for. His prestige is gone, he is at the worst place he has ever been, his mom won't talk to him, and he has no one. He had even stopped hearing from Dan Hyun, the only person he could have considered a friend once.
Through a small TV in the prison, he is able to hear about the attack on Akuze, and its one survivor: Alliance Scientist Dan Hyun Shepard. In the attack her biotic abilities (Which she had kept secret for many years) were revealed, prompting immediate recruitment into the N7 Program and a contract for ten years of service. This drove Kai into rock bottom-- while he had nothing, Dan Hyun was steadily on track to uprooting the only thing he had ever felt like he had accomplished.
This is when Cerberus intervened, promising him a home, freedom, belonging, and success.
So of course Kai agreed. Why wouldn't he? He had nothing left in his miserable life and there would never again be a place for him.
Cerberus Intervention:
It's my belief that Kai wasn't necessarily "alienphobic" in the beginning. Instead, I think The Illusive Man saw a very clear opportunity to recruit and nurture a broken man into a pawn of service. TIM is incredibly smart-- everyone who works for Cerberus is. He knew what Kai needed was validation, the promise of success held directly on the tip of his tongue to drive him into tenacity and action.
Organizations like Cerberus, even in real life, prey on people at weak points, fulfill their needs and drape their ideology on top like icing on a cake. That's not to say that Kai is completely innocent-- he ate the sweets and readily threw the world to the side in order to attain more-- but it does give some perspective.
Kai in Cerberus:
In ME2 we know there is some apprehension on Kai's part about the role Shepard will play. He is already starting to feel slighted from failures with Rasa and takes even the possibility of rejection from TIM extremely hard and with violent emotional outburst. This evidences how much TIM has whittled him away over the decade of service. Kai feels as though he owes everything to TIM, that TIM saw something in him-- failing him is disproving that and accepting what Kai has feared all along: that he truly is a worthless and incapable person.
Kai and Shepard:
Kai is best known for his direct antagonism towards Shepard in the events of ME3, directly killing their allies and potential love interests in a way that is extremely personal. Yes, it is part of the job, but at the same time, it's clear Shepard gets under his skin. It's because in the end, after all that setup, Shepard is the one person who can take it all away from him.
They can replace him as TIM's prodigy/ They can bring an end to the organization that gave him everything (From his cybernetic enhancements (uh indoctrination cough couch) ) to his purpose in life. Kai threw it all in with them because he didn't see another choice.
My Canon: The End
So how do things end for Kai in my canon?
As you're aware, you can unalive him, violently. But Dan Hyun is very emotional and due to their shared childhood, I like to believe that there was still a grand feeling of kinship between them, a recognition of the other due to shared insecurities. I don't think there was ever a time Dan Hyun looked at Kai and saw anything other than her slighted friend (which is very romanticized, but SHE is very romanticized), it was just about getting Kai to see that too.
She locked him down the best she could, yelled, cried, and beat the shit out of him, but ultimately, preserved his life. After the crucible had been fired and Thane (alive ofc) attended to, she sought to right things between her and Kai: whatever form that takes. Who knows if he'll ever be able to live comfortably in society again-- but at least here, he has the chance.
Random Tidbits:
Some notes! At his best, I like that Kai is portrayed as Loyal, Hard Working, Methodical, Clever, Tenacious, and Factual. I think sometimes he can be written off unfairly as wimpy or scared, but in truth, he's very sure of his abilities and able to calculate his chances extremely well. He's smarter than fandom gives him credit for.
He has an interesting conflict between arrogance based on title and humbleness. He knows he wants to be the best but he never airs it-- like when Rasa suggests that he wants to be the leader for Humanity but he grows quiet and says to just focus on where things are at right now.
His time as a soldier absolutely affected him in ways I think sharpened him to the killer he became. It instilled values that remained with him in Cerberus, such as when he berates Bates for abandoning his squad and calls him a traitor. Kai doesn't betray-- he's quite literally ride or die.
Also? The ninja sword is super dumb because Kai is Chinese and the swords and Phantom's themselves are designed to appear Japanese in aesthetic. Ninjas= Japanese, but China did have their own sect of Assassins which I believe gave birth to Wu Ching as a type of Martial Arts? Or was drawn from it hmm
To keep to accuracy, Kai would have trained more towards their martial art techniques which focuses on close combat and quick movements, as well as the use of dual blades called butterfly swords (You'd likely recognize them as a set of rogue daggers).
That's all for that meta! Phew. If anyone actually read to the end, hey wassup, hope you enjoyed, and take most of this with a grain of salt since it's my headcanons and background work :) Thank you again for reading!
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... I'm in the mood for angst and shenanigans.
And I want Maven to be happy, and see Elara get her just desserts😈
Thomaven Headcanons FT. The Happy Ending AU.
Elara is LIVID that Thomas is alive, because it distracts Maven more than Mare ever did.
She has him thrown in a dungeon in Silent Stone in it. Maven goes to visit a couple hours later to find Thomas breathing lightly and not moving, cold and eyes fluttering shut.
Maven pulls him out if there and gets him to his room, and Thomas is right as rain, though he is a little annoyed.
Thomas asks if Maven's going to snitch to his mother and try decapitation, and Maven gawks at him, asking why Thomas is being so hostile.
Thomas snaps that Maven's not the same, something that breaks the younger Calore prince, and calls him a monster and a spitting image of what Silvers are, cold, ruthless, and crueler than false hope in Hell. When Maven remains silent, save for a whispered, "How?" Thomas spells it out for him: He killed his father. He ruined his brother's life. He ruined Mare's life. He tried to kill them both, even after all the time he'd spent with them. He tortured and branded Mare. He killed innocent people just for Mare, one of them being a helpless infant. And, to top it off, he has the balls to try running back to Thomas after trying and failing with a girl he'd manipulated and lied to; ran to something new and shiny when the old model didn't satisfy, anymore.
Maven remains absolutely silent, fighting back the urges to scream, to slap Thomas, and to just cry because his head hurts, but only manages, "Get out."
Thomas, still pissed, folds his arms and asks, "Should I ask for an escort or should I show myself the way out?"
They remain silent and Thomas goes to leave.
Maven races to the door and closes it, holding it shut, even when Thomas asks him if he's changing his mind, or if his mother's piloting. Maven asks why he's asking, and how he knows that, and Thomas scoffs that Cal's more observant than Maven and Elara give him credit for.
Thomas tries again to leave, but Maven still holds the door shut and then lunges, wrapping his arms around Thomas, shoulders shaking and breathing ragged.
"I'm so sorry."
Even after everything he did, and with everything he's possibly going to do, Thomas still hugs back, glad to have the boy he fell head over heels for back.
The sentinels find them, but Maven orders them to lock Thomasin in a cell closer to the one Mare was in in King's Cage and that Samos guards be put on watch rather than Arvens.
Maven visits him whenever he's got free time, and Thomas only wants time with him if he stops hunting Newbloods and steps everyone in Corros free, Silvers and Newbloods. Maven tells him it's too much of a political risk, and Thomas replies that he'd better look for a new toy, because this one has a higher price than Mare.
The Scarlet Guard causes so much more headaches for Maven, which are relieved by Thomas, who gets more open when there aren't more Newbloods being captured and killed.
Thomas becomes Maven's anchor, and it's funny to Thomas, in an ironic way, to see a Silver king cry; he's never seen a Silver cry.
Elara sees Thomas as a pure hinderence and wants to kill him.
She ordered an Arven to beat the living daylights out of him, which Maven had no idea of until she had him sit next to her and watch on the cameras.
He kept his composure, but when he met up with a slightly bloodied and bruised Thomas later, he took Thomas in the bathroom and the two broke down, Maven apologizing because he didn't know and Thomas just done with the fact he's like this; he should be dead, but he isn't, Maven's on the throne and not his brother or father, Elara's a bitch with a capital B, and they can't even leave because Elara with kill them both, he's sure of it.
It's here Maven comes up with a plan.
Elara plans and tries locking him in Corros, but no one can find him, not even Maven.
She does look around in his head and finds nothing, but Samson, not convinced, decides to rummage around instead while Maven sleeps; he makes him remember, but forces him to stay asleep.
Turns out he was half lying because Samson finds a memory of Maven leading Thomas through a servant passage and let him run free from there.
And it turns out they kissed, as well.
You would not BELIEVE how angry Elara was when Samson told her.
Maven locked himself in a silent stone cell and held the keys on him so no one could let him out, or get inside his mind and make him kill Thomas.
Samson does order guards to drag Maven out, but Elara tells him to take a hike so she can be alone with her son.
She knealt on the ground by the cell door and watches as Maven lies on his side, his hands over his ears, and his back to her as he's curled up as tightly as he can be.
She asks him to talk to her, and Maven asks her why she did it, why she screwed him up so badly. Tiberias loved Cal as much as Elara loved Maven, but he never scrambled Cal's brain to make him who he was, so why did she do it if she loved him so much? Elara reiterates that she does love him, as he's her only son, thank goodness, and wanted to make him the best person he could be.
Maven snaps and turns to face her on his knees so they're at eye level. Is love hating who your child is so much you have to literally change them from the inside out? Is love taking every chance they had at happiness to better suit your desires? Is love making you hate the few people you were close with so they never leave your side? Maven doesn't know a lot about love, but he knows that NONE of that counts as it.
Elara barks that he's being a child, that he's forgetting everything she did for him to get him where he is now; he's the King of Norta, what greater honor is that?
Maven asks what honor that is for Elara, to know that her son, Maven of House Merandus, is the one on the throne. It could have been anyone in House Merandus, but it was her son that had the throne, so that was something to rub in her family's face, and it must've felt even better to know she got the throne even after cheating and murdering her way through Queenstrial and to Tibe's side.
Elara shouts, "SILENCE!" and the two fall silent, Maven resting against the wall, his side to her, as he murmurs brokenly that she made him a murderer. The infant and boy he killed were children, innocents that never deserved to be hunted for existing. He chuckles that in a way, he's just like Elara. He's killed, he lied his way to the throne, and he destroyed anyone and everyone in his path.
Elara is silent, only staring at him, before reachimg a hand through the bars and asking him to come out so they can talk face to face, and then he can have whatever he wants.
Maven only wants one thing and he's not leaving until she gives it to him:
He wants his memories and feelings back. He wants his love for Cal back, he wants his dreams back, even if it results in his nightmares returning as well, he wants his love for Tibe back, whatever sliver there was so he can feel a fraction of what Cal's feeling, he wants to care about Mare without the urge to keep her locked up and chained to his side, because she loves Cal, and he wants his memories of Thomas back, the ones from before the fire that made him think he killed the first person he ever unconditionally loved, the person he helped run so Elara wouldn't take him away, too.
He wants off the throne, too. He wants to disappear without a trace and not strings attached. He wants to leave, and doesn't want his mother to follow him; she's done enough for and to him.
Elara, trying to stifle a chuckle, asks if he thinks disappearing is possible for him. If he tells the truth, they'll both be executed, and it'll be an arm's race for someone to take the throne. Norta needs a King, and Maven can't leave until there's another worthy successor for the throne, which won't happen anytime soon because Cal's gone and Anabel's not coming within a mile radius of Elara. Maven snarks that Volo Samos can have the throne, seeing as he wants it almost as badly as Elara does(now that I think about it, they'd make a great and terrible couple). Elara raises an eyebrow and gives a bitter laugh and smile, asking Maven if he really wants Volo Samos, the one person who was hell bent on getting Evangeline to be Queen, who is so set in his own Silver beliefs that he's planning on abdicating, if Maven doesn't prove to ne worth backing.
When Maven remains silent, Elara's smile drops and she holds her hands and forehead against the cell bars, practically begging him to think about what he'll do next, so she doesn't lose him; regardless of how Maven feels about her, Elara loves her son to Hell and back. She's not exactly close to her family, so Maven's all she really has. If he dies, she has nothing.
This sentiment is left with silence, even as Elara takes the hint and stands, walking away to leave.
At least until Maven stands up and walks up to the bars, which fills Elara's twisted, fucked up cavity where her heart should be with joy.
It goes away when she sees the glare Maven gives her, colder than ice and more pissed off than Ptolemus protecting Evangeline.
"Stay away from all of them, Mother. Cal, Mare, Thomas, and every Newblood from here to Montfort. If you hurt them, any of them, I'll leave this palace, and Norta. I'll disappear and make sure you will never see me again."
Elara, out of pure parental instinct, calls his bluff; he cares about that Newblood rat he cooked extra crispy too much. Maven pulls out a gun he's been hiding in his coat and shoots at the ceiling before holding it against his temple; "Try me."
There are tears in Maven's eyes, and they roll down his cheeks. Elara may be evil and a bitch, but she's still his mother and he will always live her.
She leaves for real and neither see each other for a few days. At all. Maven's ordered the servants to say he's nowhere to be found, when asked and it drives Samson crazy and further breaks Elara's heart(GOOD!).
She 'finds' Maven at the breakfast table about a week later, and he's so reserved he won't even let her hug him or come near him. He won't let her in his mind either because he's wearing a silent stone manacle on his wrist. They eat, making little small talk, until they're both done and sit in silence for a long time, still affected by the last conversation they had.
Maven concedes to staying on the throne, but only until there's another candidate who can take his place, and as long as Elara puts back the pieces she took from him, even what he asked for her to cut out. Elara hates that, but agrees, noting that Maven is hiding a weapon; he's never been such a loose canon, so she'd best be careful.
Hypothetically speaking, the series plays out with Elara 'fixing' Maven before leaving for Corros and never returning(Mare's fault), Thomas realizing Maven's a goner without his psychopath mother to shield him, and the gang at a pure shock and awe loss for what to do when Maven not only revokes his father's measures, but also bans anyone from harming any Newbloods or Ardents, lest they end up dying instead.
Samson does try ruling through Maven, but Mavey wears a silent stone manacle to keep him out.
Time jump to after everything goes crazy and calms down, and Maven and Thomas meet back up and hug, glad the other is alive.
FLUFF TIME!!!!
They find a place Thomas discovered and that becomes their home.
They share a bed, and thank goodness because Maven cannot sleep alone after what's happened.
Thomas has to teach Maven how to cook and clean.
He often calls Maven a child or a baby, both because he doesn't know how to cook and clean and because he's younger than Thomas.
Maven doesn't wear his flamemakers as much, because he doesn't want to burn Thomas again.
Thomas once found Maven napping on the couch and carefully moved so he could sleep next to him.
Roomates? Don't make either of them laugh. Thomas just knew a place and Maven followed.
Thank goodness Thomas isn't allergic to fur, or can't react to it, because Dagger and Violet fall in love with him so fast.
Violet, being the cat brat she is, loves being on Thomas's shoulders.
For all you that need the juicy details, you can usually find Maven on Thomas's lap; it's Maven's guilty pleasure favorite spot and Thomas's best view of Maven, both in and outside of the bed😉
Maven, after getting fixed by his mother(the ONLY good thing she did), can't fall asleep unless he's either holding something or in Thomas's arms.
Cute, friendly, just for fun wrestling matches, either over who has to get up to do chores or who has the remote, that ends with Thomas on top of Maven and the two kissing, because love.
Dagger breaks it up for Violet's sake.
Maven REFUSES to be carried places.
Thomas often pulls a 'Cal' mlve and holds things over Maven's head, just to see angry puppy Maven. It's so adorable.
Things they NEVER joke about: food that's as burnt as Thomas, things that are as broken as Maven(the pieces are put together, but the cracks are still there), who'd be a better ruler, murder, marriage and betrothal, and just all the negative things that they went through.
They DO talk about those negative things, and try to argue as little as possible; neither can stand the sound of yelling, period.
They can stand recovered reruns of Game of Thrones, surprisingly.
Cal's more than happy to have his brother back and see him happy as can be with Thomas at his side.
Maven's so surprised Cal, Evangeline, and Ptolemus abdicate the throne.
After holding Thomas's hand, he has no regrets or fears.
Super private wedding. Only Cal, Mare, and a handful of people are invited, and that's it.
Maven finds his mother's grave and tells her he's happier than he can remember. He thanks her for helping him, and for helping him be with Thomas, who he can't imagine living without.
He apologizes for everything he said to her and hopes her well enough, wherever she is(we ALL know she ain't doing well😈.).
You know that meme with the dog sitting around a bunch of plants and saying, "This is fine?" Imagine that, but with Maven staring out a window as it rains with Thomas behind him, Dagger next to Maven and getting back pets, Violet snuggled up in Thomas's neck, and Thomas and Maven enjoying some tea; this is not fine, this is perfect.
#red queen#happy ending#maven calore#red queen thomas#new blood!thomas#thomaven#elara merandus#samson merandus#angst#fluff#I'm gonna go die from all this serotonin now
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Danger Room Level 1
Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O
https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680
Wrote a little story to go along with it.
Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.
*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol)
"Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes.
Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.
These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different.
"No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"
Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man.
"Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."
"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something."
Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace.
"Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck.
"Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down."
Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did.
"Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."
"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now."
They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity.
A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.
"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in.
Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head.
The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.
"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.
Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him.
This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made.
"Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way.
Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in.
It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks.
Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing.
In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position.
"See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared."
Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room.
"Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!"
Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself.
Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later.
His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back.
"No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?"
Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this.
"Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use.
"Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee.
No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.
"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!"
Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously.
With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.
He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.
"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots.
Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose.
"Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity.
He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic.
"HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!"
Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks.
He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'.
This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out.
"NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!"
Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.
"Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."
And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough.
Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.
Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body.
"Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"
The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.
#tickling#tickletorture#tickle#ticklish!wolverine#ticklish!logan#wolverine#loganhowlett#xtas#dangerroom#ticklefic#scottsummers#cyclops#marvel#tickleart
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So despite my vow not to give Marauders any more attention something popped in my head bugging me and I have to get it out and you’re like one of very few people I’ve got for that—in Duggan’s retelling, I think taking vengeance on Buckman and his lot becomes Emma’s idea instead of Shaw’s? I refuse to reread that garbage but I swear after Shaw’s now-illusory last kiss with Lourdes, Emma says something that prompts Shaw to yell (in a way drawn to make him look ridiculous and stupid ofc) that SHE MUST BE AVENGED so the takeover was now her idea too (and yet she also says “and all it cost was human blood” AS IF SHE HAD A PROBLEM WITH THAT) like. At this rate I expect Duggan to say actually she time traveled and started the Hellfire Club and also the X-Men. Or I could be wrong but I think I’m right.
You are right!
In the Duggan retcon, Emma is the one who says something about how Buckman must pay, and Sebastian just echoes her. In the original, Sebastian is the one calling for vengeance.
Duggan also conveniently eliminates Tessa's line about "How much she loved him, how little he knew it...." because God forbid we have any depiction of Sebastian in a potentially positive or sympathetic light. Maybe we're supposed to believe Emma faked that line, too, even though Sebastian is clearly focused on Lourdes in the original and probably didn't even hear what Tessa said.
So Duggan takes one of the most important moments in Sebastian's life, if not THE most important moment, and makes it all about Emma's trickery. And the mutants of the Hellfire Club overthrowing the human members like Buckman? All Emma's idea, apparently, although the story pays lip service to Lourdes being the one who recognized the dangers of humans. Never mind about Sebastian or Leland having their own agency, it was all Emma pulling the strings, and having the mental quickness to see an opportunity to not only "save" Lourdes but also push Sebastian to take over the Hellfire club, all in an instant.
And once again, I'm coming off as really anti-Emma here, so I promise, I really do like Emma. But must everything be retconned to white-wash her past, and also show her as constantly running circles around the other Hellfire Club guys? Can she not ever be shown as vulnerable, scared, or cruelly flawed? In the original story, she was in very real danger from the Sentinel, and Sebastian was rushing to her and Leland's rescue. In the retcon, the Sentinel is taken care of almost as an afterthought, and Emma treats it like no big deal. I actually find the Emma in the original, who is caught in a vulnerable position and who is probably genuinely shaken by the whole incident to be a lot more compelling than the retcon Emma who reacts coolly to everything.
And again, the absolute lack of agency from Lourdes herself. I can understand Duggan thinking that it's "feminist" to save Lourdes from being, basically, a "fridged" woman who is killed for Sebastian's character development. But in the retcon, she is only saved for Emma's character development, and STILL doesn't have any real agency of her own. She wants to stay in the US (in the same city where Sebastian lives and operates, even!) instead of going home to Spain? She needs Emma to set her up with money and a new life via the Kingpin instead of Emma just pulling a few mind tricks to give Lourdes access to the very real fortune that she has? Why? I can maybe understand Lourdes being afraid of the retconned abusive Sebastian, but also Lourdes is a fucking teleporter. Like she can't just dip out if Sebastian gets too close to her. But no, she is utterly helpless, and only wants to know if the new man taking care of her is "a nice man."
In all this, it kind of feels like Duggan is trying to have it both ways. The retcon of Emma being abused by Shaw seemed like it was supposed to make her more sympathetic and absolve her of some of the Hellfire club's crimes by suggesting that she didn't have full agency, she was afraid of big, bad, Sebastian. But Duggan also wants her to be a clever badass, so we see her manipulating Sebastian and Leland to not only let Lourdes escape, but also pushing them into the Hellfire club takeover. So which is it? Is she a sad victim or the real power behind the Black King? (Of course, it is possible to be some combination of both, but that would require a better writer than Duggan.) If Emma is clever enough to manipulate the guys to this extent, why doesn't she DO something about the abuse that she is supposedly enduring? Why doesn't she psychically give Sebastian a stroke and arrange for him to be replaced by someone easier to control? Is Sebastian a terrifying enemy who is powerful, intelligent and ruthless, or is he an easily manipulated idiot that Emma is always one step ahead of? You can't have it both ways. There's a middle ground, but it requires some actual complexity and nuance.
Anyway, I look forward to the next issue of Marauders, in which Tempo will take Emma on a time-traveling adventure, in which Emma will found the original Hellfire club (but somehow not be responsible for the greed and corruption associated with the club), then travel to Bishop's future and fix everything there while Bishop just stands there in awed appreciation. And while she's at it, she'll meet a young Pyro and inspire all of his romance novels.
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Reflections
Chapters 1 to 3 here: Also available on AO3 & FFNet.
Thank you to @janetm74 for the beta.
Chapter 4: Alan.
‘Damn,’ Alan muttered, flipping back to the previous page on the Digi-Pad when he realised that he’d yet again not taken in the information before him. Truthfully, he wasn’t surprised. For the last seven days his head had been crammed with chaotic thoughts, all of them running at one hundred miles per hour. He had desperately hoped that ploughing through these tedious files for his father would help slow them down or alleviate them entirely, then he could forget what had happened. Yet there would never be any forgetting because Virgil had nearly died.
His forehead slumped onto the pad… He had nearly lost one of his brothers all because the Sentinel had seen Two as a threat and had decided to shoot first, ask questions later. Thankfully, the third missile was destroyed before it made an impact. He shuddered at the thought of what it would have done if it had hit home. The repercussions of the first two were bad enough. Thunderbird Two was a wreck and would take a while to be returned to her former glory. As for his brother, the extent of his injuries meant he was still tucked away in his room and would be there for at least another week, especially if his father had his way.
“Hello sweetheart.”
Alan jolted, managing to grasp the pad before it dropped on the floor. “Tin, how long have you been there?”
“Long enough!” she retorted, depositing an empty plate into the dishwasher before sitting in the chair next to him.
“Any updates on the rescue?”
“Gordon’s about to be dropped off by the Sentinel.” Tin-Tin offered him a reassuring smile when Alan scrunched his nose. “I don’t think he was happy either, but at least those two guys will be rescued soon. So,” she queried with a nod towards the pad, “are you still on the same bit you were an hour ago?”
“Yeah.”
“How about a coffee break?” She queried making her way over to the machine.
“Yes” Alan pulled himself up, “please.”
“Good, I’ll do one for Virgil as well, that way you can take his in and see him at the same time.”
“What, now?”
“He’s been asking for you.”
“He’s noticed?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Alan slumped deeper into his chair: Since the incident, both Scott and Gordon had been frequent visitors to Virgil’s bedside. John, who was up on five, had spoken several times to him and was desperate to come home so he could physically check on Virgil himself. Unfortunately, their father had rescheduled his upcoming return due to time constraints with Thunderbird Two being fixed. This of course meant that his own trip to Thunderbird Five had been delayed. Normally this would be a good thing, but right now he would have switched with John without any hesitation. Not to get away from the work that needed doing on Two, listening in to the rescue feed, or covering for his father when he needed some down time. No. The reason he wanted to get away was to avoid Virgil and so far, apart from occasionally popping his head in he had managed to prevent a ‘proper’ visit.
“It’s okay to be frightened.”
“I’m not…” Alan immediately stopped when she shot him one of her rare glares. There was no point arguing with her, especially when deep down he knew that she was right. From the very moment their father had summoned him and Gordon and told them what had happened, the fear of losing someone he loved had swamped him. Memories of his mother’s passing were vague. Yes, it still hurt not having her around and not remembering her as much as his elder brothers did. Nearly losing Gordon in the hydrofoil crash had come close to the vicious nauseousness he felt. However, this heart spluttering, stomach-churning sensation that heaved through him upon seeing Twos descent from the sky was dissimilar to anything he had previously experienced.
Tin-Tin’s hand rested gently on his shoulder. “He’s going to be okay.”
“Will he?”
“Of course, he’s staying awake longer, and eating more every day.”
“I don’t blame him,” Alan chuckled, “your father’s food is always too good to pass up. It’s actually a good job Grandma’s not currently on the island or Virg would be fed twice the amount.
“Yes, I can imagine he would. So, are you going to go and see him?
He knew he should just get it over and done with. However, seeing Virgil lying helpless in Thunderbird Two, then catching glimpses of him recuperating in his own room hadn’t alleviated any of his anxieties. His middle brother filled their home with his deep resonating laugh, creative soul, and boundless compassion. He was always active and never sick. When he was a kid and scared of the monsters under the bed, Virgil was always the one ready with a warm hug, while Scott chased them away. The one who wrapped him in blankets and helped him feel better when he was unwell. Like all of his brothers Virgil always protected him, and because of that he’d naively believed him to be indestructible. Now he’d discovered that wasn’t the case, it terrified him to his core. No, he couldn’t do it… “I need to finish these.”
“So far today you’ve helped out with Thunderbird Two, been for a five-mile run around the island, followed by lunch, and currently you’re failing to do some work for your father which isn’t even urgent. Now, I know seeing him like this isn’t nice, but he could really do with some company, he’s going crazy holed up in that room, especially since Scott and Gordon left for New York. Plus, he’s starting to worry about you.”
“What, why?”
“Because you’re his kid brother, and he knows that it would have been really difficult when you had to get him out. Alan, you need to see him. Now, stop procrastinating and go and see your brother!”
…
Alan stood still at the closed doorway. Tin-Tin just behind him, had insisted she carried the coffees, obviously to double check that he actually went in.
“Go on then.”
He reached out and knocked softly. Receiving no answer, he went to turn away.
“Try again,” she insisted blocking his way.
“He must be asleep.”
“Alan, I could barely hear that knock, now try again!”
“Yes ma’am!”
This time a gruff ‘come in’ greeted him.
“There you go,” she passed him the coffees, then opened the door for him. “Enjoy.”
Alan watched her saunter away, then looked back at Virgil who was sitting himself up, “I, er, I thought you could use some company.”
“Yes, I’d love that.”
“You would?”
“Of course.”
Alan stepped forwards. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
Alan passed one over, before taking the seat next to the bed. Tin-Tin had been right, he did need this. The contagious smile plastered across Virgil’s face expressed how much his big brother had obviously needed it too.
#Thunderbirds Fanfiction#Thunderbirds Original Series#Terror In New York City#Thunderbirds#Alan Tracy#Virgil Tracy#Tin Tin Kyrano#Thunderfam
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for your drabble warmups, if you're feeling it: remember the scene in IM3 when where tony has a nightmare and the suit starts attacking pepper to protect him? that scene, but with peter. --readysetstarker
Thank you dev <3
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It wakes him: that creeping sense of dread, the swoop in his stomach of missing a step on the stairs, the hairs on his arms and legs standing on end to tell him something is wrong. The darkness on the other side of his eyelids tells him nothing. It’s night. Early morning maybe. No sounds he can hear, no shuffle of steps that might alert him to an intruder. He takes in one long, slow breath, senses reaching out, stay still, Peter, don’t let the danger know you’re awake -
Beside him in the bed, Tony makes a noise: a muffled, unhappy sound. The sensation of wrongness widens, opens like a gaping chasm in his chest, dark as their bedroom when he opens his eyes and threatening to suck him and Tony down. Tony makes another sound that chills Peter to the bone. The man should never sound so wounded, so helpless, so afraid.
Peter shifts, rolling towards the far edge of the bed where Tony is curled, body twitching in the throes of a nightmare. What Peter wouldn’t give to be there inside the older man’s head, to stand between him and the things he fears, the things that have hurt him. But this is all he can do: lay a hand on Tony’s shoulder to feel the chill of his clammy skin, coaxing him to unfold and leave behind whatever he’s dreaming of.
And then - something moves in the corner of the room. Peter feels the air rustle as it moves, the only warning he’s given.
He meets the suit's punch with an open, flat palm that makes the bones in his arm shiver. The crunch of the metal under his hand as he accidentally crushes the suit’s metallic hand is loud, dragging Tony from sleep.
“Whoa buddy,” Peter says to the suit, rolling out of the way as it tries to pin him flat to the mattress. “Just waking him up - you really need to work on your bedside service.”
“Jesus,” Tony gasps, voice raspy with sleep. He barks at the suit: “Power down!”
Its glowing eyes and the reactor in its chest plate fade into darkness, and Peter can’t help but shiver at the sight. He’ll never like it, seeing the arc reactors shut off that way. But the one beside him glows faint blue through Tony’s undershirt. Beside him, the man struggles for air, hands smoothing over Peter’s brow, across his shoulders, down his arms. Looking for damage.
“I’m sorry,” Tony says. Peter doesn’t need enhanced vision to know there are tears in his red, exhausted eyes. He can hear it, the agony in Tony’s voice. He can feel it, the horror in his frantic touch. “I must have called for it in my sleep. That’s, that’s not supposed to happen.”
Peter wraps his arms around Tony and drags the man forward until they’re chest to chest, hearts pounding against each other. Peter’s hands don’t shake, one of them burying itself in the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck. “It’s okay,” Peter says. “Are you okay? You can’t seem to catch your breath. Should I, should I call for somebody?”
Tony shakes his head where it’s buried between the juncture of Peter’s neck and shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”
Tony takes ten minutes, give or take. When they part, both of them turn to the slack suit that stands at the foot of their bed.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tony asks. “I know the thrusters weren’t activated, not in close quarters like this, but there’s still a lot of damage it can do.”
“I think I did more damage to it,” Peter admits sheepishly. When he opens his hand, there are bits of broken glass and metal resting on his palm from where he had blocked the suit’s punch. “I definitely broke something. I hope it’s an easy fix.”
“Easy fix - yeah it will be an easy fix. Easiest fix in my life,” Tony sighs. He leans his head until his forehead rests on the bony knob of Peter’s shoulder. “Me? Can’t be fixed. You? If I, if it had hurt you - I wouldn’t, I couldn’t -”
“It didn’t,” Peter soothes. “And I don’t even think it could. My senses woke me - Tony if there’s anyone in the world you don’t have to worry about, it’s me. I can hold my own. And I can hold you, too.”
“All the people in the world, and I worry about you most, kid,” Tony admits, voice broken. He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away exhaustion that goes deeper than his eyes. Slipping free from the blankets, he says, “Go back to sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to go and take care of this,” he says, waving a hand towards the silent sentinel. “Recalibrate something. Everything. Sleep. Really, okay? One of us should.”
But neither of them do. After Tony has disappeared down into the workshop, Peter pads on silent feet into the kitchen and starts coffee, adds way too much sugar and cream (the way they both like) and slips downstairs to leave one steaming mug by Tony’s elbow. There’s a table full of Peter’s own projects, textbooks from his college classes, and he sits down without a word to occupy himself, taking comfort in the sounds of Tony working.
Neither of them sleep - but neither of them mind.
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middle of it the avengers alarm goes off. The argument spills over during the battle (and of course everyone can hear them and is trying to ignore it) and it ends with one of them saying they should just break up. Then something happens and they make up lmao
So there seems to be a part missing to your ask, but I pretty much got the gist! I hope this is okay, and that you enjoy! Ages are ambiguous so let your imagination run free. Its mostly angst but at the end there’s hopefulness for a brighter future. Tony is kind of portrayed as a bit of an ass in this, but we all know he just struggles with relationships and emotions so I hope you won’t judge him too harshly.
TW: Angst | Fighting | Temporary break up | Very brief note of minor injury.
Tony’s words still ring like Church bells through his head, even hours after they’d been spoken. That harsh spitfire tone, the broken fury in his eyes as he spat the words in the midst of battle, launching that anger against their enemies. Tony’s eyes, normally rich brandy that made him think of warm nights in front of a fire, had been been inferno and rage all day.
“We’re better off without each other”.
He flinched at the echo memory, staring dully off into space as he held the pack of cooling gel against his bruised side, the taste of copper drying on his tongue. His bruised sides were his own fault; his blind rage and anguish at their fighting had transgressed into the battle. His hits had been sloppy, unkempt, and it had fallen to the rest of the team to try and hold together their splintered edges.
Even now, the rest of the team are as sullen and awkwardly tense as the seething, newly un-coupled pair. Even Steve, normally so brazen and uncowed, sits grim in the pilot seat, jaw set and gaze on the miles of clouds before them. Clint, nursing a leg and his checked pride, is a comforting but ever silent presence at his side. No warm jokes, no lopsided smiles.
Tony is the worst. Cold and impassive at the rear of the jet, working on his Gauntlet with silent fury. Peter wondered what would happen when they got back; he’d more or less moved into the penthouse with Tony by this point, their lives entangled. Peter had no idea about post-breakup protocol. Tony had been his first real relationship, the first one to have any true weight and meaning.
The aching tiredness of war had settled in. His body felt leaden and tender, and on any other day he would have curled up against Tony’s side and napped the journey home away. Now, he leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes, focusing on keeping his breathing measured and even. The battle he’d just fought seemed nothing in comparison to the fight that had began this morning and had broken like a storm on the battlefield.
“You’re unseasoned! You’re a child. Our worlds have been nothing alike and neither are we!”
“You’re half a lifetime behind me, Peter. Sometimes, I think that’s how it should be. Apart.”
“If you hadn’t been bitten by that spider, me and you? We wouldn’t ever be in the same circle”.
When he opened his eyes again they were wet and they stung, and they were home.
No. Not home. Not for him, anymore. Peter accepted the hand that Steve offered him, and followed the rest out in stony silence. He wondered if this would be the end of it; the legacy of his time as an Avenger. His entire relationship put on blast over the comms, his friends and childhood heroes unable to look him in the eye.
Medical cleared him with two cracked ribs and his own teeth imprints on his tongue. Two painkillers and a glass of water later, and he itched to be out of the suit, to be clean and to curl up in a soft bed. His only clothes were in the penthouse, however, and he reluctantly shuffled to the elevator, head low and arms wrapped around himself for comfort more than to relieve the pain.
He crept cautiously into the open space, ears perked and eyes alert. He couldn’t see Tony anywhere, though, and by the time he reached the small staircase that led up to the balcony-style second floor, he was relaxed.
A fool’s act. No sooner had he rounded the corner, light-footed on the plush carpet, he stopped. Perched on the edge of the bed, with one smartly dressed Pepper Potts between his splayed thighs, was Tony. He had his head tucked down against her stomach, arms loose around her waist, and though he could see only her back, he could tell she was running her fingers through his hair.
Heart clenching, Peter turned away and fled before they could notice him, taking the elevator down to the foyer. It was easy enough to ask for a car to drive him home, the wide eyed receptionist sympathetic and astounded by his presence. The driver who pulled up was not Happy, but he was soft and cheerful, and roused Peter gently from where he’d fallen asleep against the window on the ride home.
His bed was cold and empty, a sore trade-off from where he would normally be. But the shower was warm and a balm to his aching muscles where the painkillers had stemmed the pain but not cut it off completely. When he was dressed and beneath the sheets he turned his cheek to his pillow, and let his mind wander.
“I’m - Not - Helpless!” He snarled, kicking furiously at the robotic figure that tried to swing for his jaw. He obliterated it, pieces flying in all directions as he waded through the outburst and onto the next, his partner’s bitter tone a soundtrack to the splintering of metal before him. He lashed out again, ducked, used a web to throw the sentient steel away from him.
“You’re untrained! You’re green! You’re a fucking colt amongst stallions and I won't stand by and watch you get hurt!” Tony’s eyes were wildfire like his voice, and any other moment his appetite for war would have made Peter’s thighs squeeze together and his teeth catch his tongue. Then, it terrified him, enraged him, and saddened him. They spat fire at each other and used it to fuel their defence, and they both steadfastly ignored the pleading protests of their colleagues over the comms, tuned in to their every word. The shame had only made Peter angrier.
He awoke with it burning inside him, smothered quickly by the sight of the bare pillow before him. No sleep-warm brown eyes looking back at him, just the residual stiffness from his injuries and the bitter taste of loneliness. Peter shifted and pushed himself to his feet, forcing his morning routine. He dreaded the text that would ask him to pick up his things, or the call that would tell him Happy was on his way with his stuff.
It never came. But neither did any other call. His phone was silent from any Avenger, none of the usual post-mission calls to fill in paperwork or check-ins from the others. No Steve asking if he wanted to jog together on Wednesday, no Tony asking him to come to the lab with sexual emojis.
Only Ned, MJ, Aunt May, even Flash. Though the latter was just another request for Tony's attention. No matter how many times Peter secretly prayed each time he picked up his phone, it was never the name he wanted. By the 6th day, he'd well and truly come to realise that was it.
It was over.
They were over.
He sniffled into his ice cream. The past six days had melted into scrolling through his old messages, bawling, and watching Elle Woods get her happily ever after. He'd taken her example in the first film and had stomped silently to the grocery market to buy several litre tubs of ice cream in varying flavours. He'd put the Spidersuit under his bed and hadn't looked at it since.
Except by the next Saturday he'd run out of emotions to cycle through and messages to cry over and the itch to be out in the nightlife, sailing between the stars took over.
Putting on the suit felt like a punch to the gut and a glass of cold water at the end of a desert.
He stood on the roof of the apartment complex, swept his gaze slowly over the cityscape, then stepped off the ledge. The drop made his heart skip a beat and the adrenaline crash through his veins, and flicking his wrist with a web at the next building felt like salvation. He dropped, swung, pulled and sailed until he was panting behind the mask, arms quivering as he roamed steadily from the lower city level to the skyscrapers and business buildings, towering above the rest like sentinels and watchmen.
He ignored the nagging memories of doing this with Tony. The two of them laughing through the comms, of clinging to each other above the clouds where nobody could see them. He focused on the ache of his muscles as he climbed higher, higher. The Stark Tower was the tallest building in New York, but the Reach Building was a close second, and empty at this hour.
He threw a web and let the momentum take him, swinging a steep arc and letting go so that it tossed him high into the empty darkness, the cool breeze buffering him as he raced in the sky, baring his stomach to the stars above, arms spread and head tipped back on a delighted, breathless sigh.
One moment, he was gazing at stars, twinkling and careless above him. The next he was rolling backwards, over, and what should have been cityscape became two slats of neon blue, surrounded by peony red and rich gold. He startled, jerked, and they fell in graceful tandem. Peter's heart thumped behind the bars of his chest, and he was left breathless as he stared, the fall ignored for the jarring reality that Tony was here.
The cityscape rushed up towards them and solid arms slid around his waist, driving the breath from his lungs. The firm press of metal was something Peter had resigned himself to feel only in his memories and dreams, and he couldn't remember how to breathe in at the feel of plated fingertips digging into his hips.
They free-fell down, plummeting fast. A shift of Tony's leg and they tipped, rolling gracefully until they were upright and then Peter's entire body tingled as he heard the thrusters of the suit engage. Falling became flying upwards, held safely against warm, solid metal, though he didn't dare to lay his cheek against Tony's chest as he might've before.
He did turn his head away and close his eyes though, relishing in the feel of their bodies together last he suddenly wake up and realise, not for the first time, that it had all been a dream. It was only a cluster of seconds, but it felt like an eternity before he was being set down as gently as if he were glass, held tight by an arm around his waist as Tony's reached up, tugging off the mask as his own faceplate flipped up.
"I can't ". Tony's voice broke over the word, breathless and agonised as he clung to Peter, holding him tight. Shock rendered him speechless and he simply stood lax in Tony's grip, on his tip-toes and leaning back into the solid arm around him. Tony's eyes were dark and red, glossy like he'd been crying mere moments before they landed. He looked sleepless, exhausted.
"I can't do it" he repeated, slower, weaker. "I can't be without you. I hate myself for it, because you deserve better. Because being with you automatically means risking losing you. But I can't lose you like that". He slumped at the end of it, defeated, and Peter finally managed to swallow the knife that had lodged itself in his throat, robbing him of his words and leaving tight pain in its wake.
“You don’t get to dictate what I am and aren’t capable of doing anymore. You don’t get to keep comparing me as weak or useless against the rest of you” he breathed, tears stinging at his eyes and turning Tony into a large, red blob. A red blob that hesitated, before nodding. “And you don’t get to break up with me because you’re being a selfish ass” he added after a pause wherein both of them were too afraid to say or do anything else.
“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I’m undoubtedly gonna fuck up again at some point. But... Fuck, I want us to be able to fight about it, and stay together. I want you to tell me I’m wrong and I want to fall asleep next to you in the same night, because I haven’t slept since you left. And-”
Peter sucked in a breath on a sound between a laugh and a sob, wiping heavily at his eyes before he reached up and pressed his palm over Tony’s mouth, muffling whatever tangent he was about to spiel off into. The prickle of Tony’s signature stubble against his palm was a sensation he wouldn’t trade for the world in that moment.
Tony stopped, breathed in a puff of warm air, and watched him with docile hope as he leaned forwards, slowly and carefully, ducking his head out of the way of the faceplate. Tony’s eyes shone with broken adoration as he removed his palm and tipped his head, pressing a brief, weak kiss against Tony’s mouth. His legs felt weak for it and he moved his hands to Tony’s shoulders, clinging to the burnished metal.
“Come home” Tony whispered against his mouth, fingers flexing into Peter’s sides, and he nodded immediately, ducked his head down to Tony’s chest as the faceplate snicked shut and they soared towards the stars.
It wouldn’t be perfect. But that was okay, because they’d work through it and keep loving each other anyway.
#fanfic#starker#starker fanfiction#starker cu#starker cc#ironspider#ironspider fanfiction#ironspider fanfic#starker fanfic#starker angst#ironspider angst#tony stark/peter parker#peter parker/tony stark#sie fics
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Notes from tie-in MCU comics:
Part 1:
[DISCLAIMER: I was making those notes without actually writing down from which comic they come from, so now I am... well... confused about the proper placement of them, but I tried to discern them anyway.]
CAPTAIN AMERICA THE FIRST AVENGER:
Lol, Zola was developing exo-skeleton looking like Iron Man suit and Vanko's suit in 1934. I kind of think part of Steve's dislike of Iron Man was because of that exo-suit. Also, Steve just saved the guy in a suit.
"The chain is only as strong as its weakest link" said twice to Steve, once by military doctor and second by Schmidt.
Poor Erskine, his family was taken as hostages.
Howards says "carefully open the casing". Steve does smash instead.
Oh no, Red Skull said that weapon can always be taken from you so you have to become the weapon. It echoes the sentiment behind the creation of Iron Man too closely.
Lol, Roosevelt ASKED for Howard PERSONALLY.
"Car is bulletproof!" "and a convertible!" is a funny joke xD
Lol he has bulletproof car because of cigarette's girls angry boyfriends.
Ok, so Howard joined SSR because he HAD BEST FUN IN MONTHS.
Howard has rockets in car and "leaves best toys for himself".
First Steve saves a Nazi from a tank, now he obliterates them with said tank. Pick a side, Steve. I know guy in the armor was helpless, but c'mon. You either don't kill or kill. You cannot just willy nilly choose. BTW does it echo saving Iron Man or smth?
Call back to floating car by a joke about floating tank.
Aw, no, Erskine's family died in concentration camp from typhus. (Those camps were awful, but are not shown in the comics. You better believe that they weren’t very nice places to live even without being overworked and killed by the Nazis).
Oh no, Bucky was nearly killed by SSman! But Howling Commandos stopped him.
Bucky doesn't like his name lol. Also no Jimmy nickname for this guy.
Ok so Howard Stark was based on Hughes and Tony was based on someone Howard hated - Oppenheimer.
Ok, now Phillips made a foreshadowing for Cradle in the AoU. It even looks similar to Project Rebirth.
Oho my theory that Erskine heard Bucky talk to Steve and that doctor knew Steve lied is proved in this comics. They knew, they had a file on him and Erskine just picked him, saving his stupid ass from consequences.
Cap just threw a knife.
IRON MAN 2:
In the comics it looks more as if Obadiah sold Vanko instead of Howard, because Howard looks so surprised at what Vanko did, that it is impossible to assume that he was the one who sent the agents after Vanko. He looks surprised at the whole incident, Vanko betraying him and agents being there to apprehend him. One agent acts as if it was Howard's idea all along, but that line could be also read as just informing a bystander that they will deal with the issue instead.
Tony projected a drone which could clean whole desert full of mines with 100% accuracy and 0% detonation.
Also comics confirm that Tony cannot even have 12h break without Howard coming at him and demanding him to work when he is just a goddamn teenager.
Tony was just fighting for 19h, got a shower and has to go out again.
"If I hear of another innocent being put in a harm's way just to advance some pointless military agenda... there will be consequences" sounds like call back to Hulk.
Hm, Tony made 12 people work on one job? Also Natasha hates being called Nat and she drugged Samantha (the actual PA which applied for Stark Industries) to take her place.
[As of now those comics confirmed to me that Captain America joined army out of selfish reasons and that Tony was overworking himself as Iron Man and when he wasn't he was either partying, probably to relax in that way, or making new tech which saves lives.]
Lol, Coulson was so excited to look for Captain. Nick even made a joke about finding his fav action figure.
Lol, World Security Council wanted to get Tony's weapons and nearly fired Fury for trying to make Avengers.
Fury is like Tony. He hates his superiors. He will do as they say but won't stop doing what he does.
Lol, Fury got a call Tony will be dead and he jumped out of his goddamn bed asap.
Fury was actively stopping Stern from getting Iron Man by scheduling his meeting with Department of Defense "when Stern is busy" xD
Lol Fury says no to Ross before he hears what he wants. This is so funny.
Ok, so Fury got Lithium Dioxide for Tony, asked if it could be made into permanent cure, how sweet of him, but also learned that it could INSTANTLY KILL HIM instead and still made Natasha basically inject Tony with it WITHOUT CONSENT! So I dunno if he really cared about him when he asked about permanent cure or it was just more optimal for his plans. Also he got the cure during Tony's and Rhodey's battle at the mansion, so we cannot say he had a cure and didn't give it right away when he could.
"Don't blow your cover unless Stark is going to kill himself". Hm. So he wants him alive.
And yeah, he ordered Natasha to stick him with lithium dioxide when he distracted him.
Lol, Fury yelled at Coulson for letting Tony leave the mansion xD
THOR??? (I got lost in my notes, I didn’t write which comic was which)
LOL CLINT CANNOT EVEN TAKE VACATION. Also the speed with which he responded to possible alien crashsite, epic. He jumped and went as if it was Christmas, aww Clint.
Why Clint is giving money back to some store which suffered due to their operation? I mean it was nice and all, but who will give the money back to Clint? Fury?
So it was Hawkeye's idea to let Thor loose.
In the meantime Loki was on scene and tried to get Mjolnir but it didn't respond.
AVENGERS PRELUDE:
Oho, poor Fury, didn't sleep in a few days.
Oho, Fury yelled at Natasha.
"Do not let Ross take Banner, dead or alive". How cute of you, Nick, to confirm that you do not care.
Blonsky is suicidal. Going at Hulk and kicking him in the face? That's a death wish.
Ah so Blonsky is enhanced.
Hahaha, joke about lifting a hammer but applied to the Asgardian sentinel, lol.
Ross literally accessed SHIELD databases.
Natasha was raised in Stalingrad lol.
After seeing Hulk, Abomination and The Leader Natasha finally says it is too much to handle for SHIELD.
Oho, so making Tony finish Howard's project was an objective, not saving his life. He wanted it for Tesseract.
I dunno if he is lying or really was doing this whole shit for the Tesseract. Also points for sticking in WSC's face that Ross nearly destroyed New York thanks to them.
Shield has whiplash suit and it's arc reactor!
THEY ACTIVATED THE SENTINEL AND THEN THEY WANT TO DISMANTLE IT AND MAKE DOZENS SMALL ONES!
Huh, implication that Natasha may beat the whole bunker of SHIELD agents up, because they're men, lol.
So Selvig used the element Stark invented to kick-start the Tesseract after all.
"Good for a laugh from time to time" lol. Clint the comedian.
Why that machine holding a Tesseract looks like Arc Reactor?
Huh so Selvig was Loki and he made a comment about Tony being strange for "badassium".
BLACK WIDOW BACKGROUND IN ONE OF THE COMICS, DUNNO WHICH:
Natasha talks about her cover personalities like vtubers about their avatars.
Fjodorov knows something about stolen bootleg technology of Tony Stark which he managed to acquire?
Natasha really likes narrating her story. Time slows when you have a training? Like roller coaster on first ridge?
"With some small regret, I bid farewell to Tatiana. She's outlived her usefulness" thinks Natasha after she took off her wig and no longer plays Tatiana. "If she were real. She'd be dead". "It's nice though, to pretend while it lasts... that I was ever as innocent as her".
Natasha really likes playing those roles.
Haha, Natasha holds one mission over Coulson's head forever even though he never failed as her control again.
"Part of the reason why I am so good at the undercover work is that I actually like being other people. There is a lot I've done that I regret. When I leave that other identity behind, whether I slip out from underneath it voluntarily or it's ripped away from my grasp, it always hits me like a shock. Like being awakened from a deep sleep, back to who I really am". "It's good to be home". Is she speaking about her slip into Black Widow again as home or is she referring to Russia?
Natasha left a guy dangling from a building and said it could be worse, he could be naked.
"Good man" says Natasha as if she was training guys to obey her will.
Oho, Natasha is interested in someone who wants to be her.
Also she is narrating that police in Russia would not suspect Tatiana to be so resourceful.
Natasha wants to save that girl from herself, because nobody did that for her when she was in the same position.
I mean, Natasha killed some people that day already so I don't get the point of her not killing those guys and saying that she changed, when in the club she killed a few of the goons already and later too. Where is the point of her change if she kills anyway? What is this change about Black Widow - Natasha Romanoff if she kills people but just not always? She cannot claim to change for the better just because she didn't kill two goons. And Sofia should see that not killing all of them doesn't mean she doesn't kill at all. But I guess leaving so many alive still counts for Sofia as Natasha going soft.
Coulson, you idiot, I am happy you came to save Natasha, but Sofia thought those guys were Natasha's back up. It all wouldn't happen if not for you making them appear there. You fucked up everything for Natasha, Coulson.
Uh, Natasha has the same weird shtick Tony does. She blames herself for the decision of her superior? Yeah, she enabled him to make that decision, but it was still his decision to send those men to find Natasha, so their death is on him, not on Natasha.
Huh, so Natasha's model persona Konn feels empty when nobody looks at her, because her whole life was being the centre of attention? It's kind of sexist cover.
She is a hand model and this guy is disgusting. Natasha I agree with those YUCK.
Natasha doing tehee is so weird.
Also playing a "he sent me here so hours would fly by" is so gross, but inner Natasha voice says nothing yet.
Lol the guy just assumed she is stupid, because she made tehee sounds. Like, goddammit, men are so easy to fool. Condescending little creep indeed.
Ok, so Natasha doesn't have any computer knowledge to say what those lines of code are, but she knows Stark can.
Ugh, Natasha, that line about telling his friends that they did something he imagines is so not feminist of you. It just enables creeps like that to objectify women more and treat them like idiots and fucktoys.
Sofia killed the agent even when Natasha gave her what she wanted.
Natasha wants to save lives and often fails at it too.
She jumped off the yacht to save the guy even though she knew he is dead? I mean shot in the head usually means instant death.
She doesn't get lines of code but can upload tracking device on it. Good. Also she wanna kill Sofia now.
"When I go in for the kill, there's no one I'd rather be than who I really am".
Ah so they had a targeting software for the copy of the Jericho missile manufactured by Hammer.
So they were moving Jericho in parts around the world. They should be happy Tony didn't notice. (Because then they would all just go boom and be dead lol).
"Berserk bots a girl's best friends!"
Frampton wants to have space tourism.
Ten Rings again.
Why Frampton wants to strike Korean DMZ?
Aha, global destabilisation for Ten Rings, gotcha.
Oho, so the info about Natasha busting the trafficking ring comes back. It turns out she accidentally trapped the girls inside when she busted the place. She basically says she didn't know they were there but even if she did she wasn't nice back then.
So Natasha says that Sofia was more her than she ever was, meaning the Black Widow, meaning that Natasha always had softness in her which Sofia didn't have and that Sofia got her just reward for wanting to be the perfect Black Widow.
Still sexist move to make a victim of sex trafficking ring become a morally corrupt murderer who would destabilise world for free if she could, but does that for money, because money is nice addition to her new hobby of fucking humanity up.
"Some people are not worth saving" Not so long ago plenty would say that about me".
AVENGERS:
Oho Stark Tower is the first fully clean-energy powered skyscraper.
Pepper thinks inside the box and Tony thinks outside the box.
Oh, so Tony still says that Rhodey had stolen the suit, but then he admits that it could give him heart attack, because it was not calibrated for him, so I wonder if he really wanted Rhodey to have it or never wanted Rhodey to have it at all.
"I got them to agree that all starktech remains proprietary to you as long as War Machine is on loan to the department of defense".
Lol wow, War Machine was an insult? Anyway he means that Rhodey won't be using Mark II because Tony has new suit for him.
"I am not Iron Man" people yell Iron Man at Rhodey "Ah, forget it" xD
How is Tony saying that he couldn't find anything to go after Gulmira when he was literally busting Ten Rings in Iron Man 2 tie-in comic?
Hahaha, Rhodey wanna get a publicist so people would recognise he is War Machine, not Iron Man.
Rhodey is so vicious. "I could have taken your hand with it but not doing it is more fun".
Oho so Tony THREE MONTHS after Tony was putting S on Stark Tower there is Battle of New York and Rhodey is in Hong Kong.
Incoming call: Martini, seriously? You call Tony MARTINI?
Also for some reason this Tony has blue eyes.
Rhodey is so cocky lol. "I haven't seen anything that can take me down".
"When am i gonna learn to keep my mouth shut?" xDDD Rhodey cursed himself.
So after Iron Man 2 Tony realised that he couldn't be iron solder alone anymore and made Rhodey an armor? Still, trust was a huge factor here.
Lol did he just make a joke about being so beat up as after clubbing with Tony to a commanding officer? Rhodey, you vicious little shit lol xD
"Battle tank that's about to make me street pizza! But only if I stand and take it, which I have never done in my life". That's useful info. It gives me some insight into who was protecting who at MIT. Rhodey never was taking a crap of other people, so he probably was used to fighting bullies. And I can imagine him standing up to bullies who targeted a kid - Tony Stark.
Rhodey chooses to fight smarts with smarts.
DID HE JUST MAKE HIS WAY OF LANDING A FRIGGIN MISSILE STYLE? XD
His commander asks if he is crazy. He definitely friggin is lol.
Rhodey just gave his superior a scare when he let a tank run him over. They thought he died.
OMG Ten Rings assumed War Machine is easier target to get tech from and Rhodey feels offended, but happy they know who he is.
Rings had stark tech in that tank, oh no. Tony will be pissed even if those are old black market stuff.
AWWW RHODEY WAS WORRIED ABOUT TONY WHEN HE DIDN'T RESPOND!
"Don't do this to me, man". "Holy...! That was SOME situation" says Rhodey when he saw chitauri flying whale dead. Ok so Avengers met Rhodey in that shawarma place.
Pepper decorates according to feng shui?
So Ten Rings scanned Rhodey's armor with any scanner available and collected a lot of data on the armor anyway.
#mcu critical#mcu#steve rogers critical#mcu comics#tony stark#steve rogers#natasha romanoff#thor#rhodey#hawkeye#avengers
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ൠ - random headcanon
If the kitchen is the heart of a household, Monty wonders sometimes what the one in Endine’s Headquarters says about any of them. There’s a memory that rests against the bottom cupboards, his back pressed against the wood and Athena resting against his shoulders, a bottle half finished between them and talking about dreams that feel just a little too far out of reach. He aches to think about it now, because he thinks he’s getting everything he wanted and she’s gotten none of it. And he doesn’t know what to thank or what to blame for that, if it’s the product of all of those quietly held ambitions or an absence of hers, or maybe he just got lucky, but it leaves him faintly guilty for it.
He finds too many shelves bare when he returns from Italy, so the second day back sees him in the kitchen with bags of groceries on the counter, restocking boxes of cereal that they always seem to burn through fastest when there are so many children under their roof. Enough of their pictures pinned to the refrigerator with alphabet magnets, crayon drawing of the building he stands in, stick drawings of friends or family, of mythical creatures that several of them can craft just out of will and illusion. It’s the same kind of magic that he’s sure makes Osun and Frankie such a popular subject, but he’s sure their personalities have just as much to do with it, because the picture he can find of himself, he’s a tall, stiff figure next to Athena.
It’s there that two of the younger kids find him, still putting away milk and eggs on the middle shelf. Selina isn’t quite a teenager yet, still a few months away, and the little brother who trails at her heels is behind her by a few years and more than a foot of height. It’s still for his sake that she asks Monty to hold out a wrist. The bracelet is gray and blue and black, colors twined together and framing the tacky white beads that spell out his name. It still makes Monty smile warmly, trying to catch the wide and hopeful gaze of the boy hiding just behind her. A familiar shyness that he’s been slow to step past the bounds of. He’s a telekinetic and she’s a telepath, both of their parents dead, and Endine HQ is the most stable home they’ve had since.
“He wanted to give it to you before you left, but...” She shrugs, and he can fill the rest in for himself; he came over later and left earlier than he has in years past.
“Thank you, Kyle,” he says. “I love it.” A smile to match the wealth of gratitude in his voice, and he holds his hand out to shake in a mockery of formality, something more playful to skim past how much he can relate to the discomfort of having someone touch him without permission. But it surprises him when he pushes forward to hug one of his legs instead.
It leaves Monty hesitating for a brief moment before his hand settles on the top of his head, smiling at the words even if it’s his fault they’re a week delayed. “Merry Christmas Dr. Monty.”
Often enough the kitchen smells like coffee, even if he thinks it’s rarely the kind that Emil would approve of. The steady drip of it filling a pot that might help keep him going through all the work he still has to get through, up too late and here too early, half the morning already spent in his office trying to sort out where Sentinels would be best placed when he isn’t sure exactly what the Institute’s next move is. Only that a single threat seems enough of a reason to ask Dietrich for a favor when he comes down for breakfast. Stealing a familiar seat next to him before asking if he wouldn’t mind spending a little more time at the Voodoo on its busier nights. It isn’t anything official because it can’t be, not without overstepping in two directions.
But at some point he gave Monty his loyalty and sometime he wonders if he’s walking a familiar line between utilizing and using him for that. It still gives him pause when there’s only a single detail he clarifies, still looking down at his cereal and his face a familiar, unreadable mask that some days he still struggles to see past. “That’s where Emil Pavone works, right?”
If it cuts right to the heart of it, he doesn’t feel the intrusive press of someone else’s thoughts so he doesn’t really know what to make of it. “Yes?”
He nods his head, but whatever mystery that solves for him, he doesn’t share, and Monty feels a sinking in his stomach. “So mostly weekends?”
“Yes,” Monty tells him. “Thank you.” And there’s little that follows, but it’s only after he takes his coffee and walks away that he feels the warm flush spreading through his frame, the kind he imagines would absolutely thrill Emil. Feeling his skin turning red from his ears down, and for a moment all he can feel is mortified, remembering a library in Valerian’s Headquarters and he drinks his coffee a little more quickly like it’s ever served him at all in erasing embarrassment.
Another week finds him in a similar position if not a different hour of the day, a game promised to Dev that’s slipped through the cracks, and she’s been quick to remind him of. Aware how quickly she can turn petty when she feels like she’s being ignored, but he doesn’t think that’s what follows the words she drops while she waits at the kitchen counter with him. “You don’t sleep here anymore,” she says, and Monty imagines it’s just as much to fill the silence when patience has never been one of her virtues. He leans his lower back against the counter, lifting a brow at her and waiting for anything else to follow, but it never does.
They’re words he honestly expected long before now, a shift in habits that he was sure didn’t go unnoticed. And he knows there’s a question in there somewhere, but he doesn’t volunteer the answer, and that shouldn’t be surprising to any of them by now. “No, I don’t.”
Her lips press together into a thin line, some measure of frustration looking back at him that he would find funnier if he weren’t always wary about anyone getting too close to something personal. And there is little that’s more personal than where he’s been sleeping and who he’s been sleeping with, but if that’s the question she’s trying to circle around to, it’s not the one she finally gives. “With the timing, I thought it might be because of... you know...”
It doesn’t surprise him that she doesn’t find it easy to say. It surprises him more than he does. “The Institute?”
“Yes, that.” There is a noticeable tension the second the word is out in the open, and he can’t blame her for it, but he does regret the discomfort it causes her. It’s a strange sort of guilt, all of Emil’s reminders that there are people around him who would understand suddenly left front and center in his thoughts. And if he still feels certain it wouldn’t help him any to keep talking through it, he wonders if it wouldn’t have helped her or her brother. “You know Dom thinks it’s about him? That we’re too much for you to deal with on top of everything else. I think you’re just off playing the stoic hero.” She pauses briefly, looking down at the counter. “I had... dreams. After. Is that what’s happening to you?”
For a moment he feels colder, he feels worse, because she’s worried, and if she’s not entirely wrong, she’s far from right. He had those dreams, he had those moments where he woke up and couldn’t remember where he was, but he doesn’t think he’s had any since he told Emil he forgave him. Either way he doesn’t want to admit any of it, but he wants to leave her alone in this even less. “I had a few,” he admits after a long moment before clarifying what he thinks is more important. “But that’s not why. And it’s not any of you either. What did you dream about?”
She rolls her eyes, breath escaping in a small huff. “I was asking about you, Monty.”
“And I was asking about you.” He offers a tight smile before the coffee goes off, and if there is more he could offer, that’s the only thing that he does. A warm cup that he presses into her hands before following her out of the room with an easy dismissal of her concerns. “Thank you. But you don’t need to.” And if he stops short of saying I’m fine, he thinks right now, he is.
A few nights later leaves him and Dom at the island counter, the younger man looking a familiar mixture of stubborn and penitent, pained and frustrated, wincing against the cold compress Monty presses against his face and taking refuge in the open carton of ice cream in front of him. “You said you would stop,” he chastises. His voice not quite as gentle as he’d like it to be when his own frustration is too close to the surface, pulling him away from a quiet and comfortable evening at home and back out to the Pit to pick up the child who swore he’d stop going.
“I know, I just-” He frowns down at his ice cream like it might have answers for him, and Monty isn’t sure if he’s grateful or annoyed that he eventually skips over familiar excuses. “Are you going to tell Athena?”
“I don’t know,” Monty tells him honestly. And maybe he should, maybe it was what he should have done the first time, but he softens slightly at the hope that looks up at him, a violence he knows better than anyone is born from something lost, something helpless. “Not tonight.” A sigh escapes him afterwards, gaze skimming over Dom and all of his fresh bruises before it skates past him to the fridge where children’s pictures hang, his coffee maker sitting on the counter. The half empty bottle that’s been stashed away higher out of reach and thinking briefly that they’re running low on cereal again before his attention returns to the man in front of him. And if he still can’t tell what their kitchen says about the heart of Endine, he hopes it’s some version of family.
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