#(as I see my stephen having dark brown hair)

[mistrdctr]

@forevermuses asked: [ from vanilla!stephen ] "I'm just saying...your Sanctum is just a little underwhelming, compared to mine."

"---Excuse me?"

Blinking twice, Stephen stops mid-motion, turning around to face his other-self instead; Bright eyes rest upon the figure that has appeared here a little while ago, not only looking like him but, turns out, Stephen is... well, Stephen.

Multiverse-shit, such things. How to handle that? No idea (yet). He's been so kind as to offer himself to follow him into the Sanctum, though, just so that the guy has a place to stay for... well, the duration of his stay.

And that's what he gets in return, a comment made about his Sanctum Sanctorum. He'll never learn about some things, huh? The other Stephens he's met before were quite peculiar already, and while this one looks almost eerily similar to himself (they even share the same hairdo! Though, upon second glance, his other me seems to have darker hair... interesting.), he's still a little bit of a... ... ... of a Stephen. Dammit.

"My Sanctum is perfect the way it is, thank you very much." Brows are arched, a somewhat expectant don't-give-me-that-kind-of-shit expression lingering on his features; The sorcerer takes a breath, then makes his way up the grand staircase.

"Perhaps I'm just a little more... modest." If his Cloak could laugh, it would.

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and needs a better contract. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author's Note: Uh, I didn't mean for this chapter to be as long as it is. But here it is. I hope you guys like it. Thank you for all the love and support you have shown for this series. It truly means a lot and it keeps my creativity going. Like the other chapters, this is lightly edited. I apologize for all mistakes you will find. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass

Chapter Five: Take Me, I'm Bad

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The song of the chirping cicadas floated through your open bedroom window and settled in the warm dark of your room. Curled up beneath the covers of your bed, you held a dark green flashlight in one hand while your other hand held open the book you were reading. You had plucked this book from your sister’s bookshelf. It had been a rather easy task to accomplish considering you shared your bedroom with your sister. Your sister’s bookshelf was small but packed with books. You had made it your mission a couple months back to read every book on your sister’s bookshelf. She only kept the books she liked and donated the ones she didn’t. You thought by reading the books she spent so much time with that you could learn how to be more like your sister. Instead, all you found so far was a captivating story. 

You were just beginning the next chapter of Gerald’s Game by Stephen King when you heard the front door downstairs open and close. You switched off your flashlight and closed your book before peeking out from underneath your covers. You watched as soft yellow light filled the tiny, thin space beneath your bedroom door. You rested your head against your pillow as you listened to multiple footsteps ascending the stairs. The footsteps stopped at your door, and when the door opened, your eyes squinted against the rush of light that flooded into your room. 

Two familiar silhouettes stood in the doorway. You blinked once, then twice, and a happy calm settled over you as your siblings entered the bedroom. Your brother’s blonde hair stuck up in odd directions, and the first two buttons of the white collared shirt he wore underneath his black suit were undone. Your sister looked relatively the same as when you saw her leave earlier in the evening except her hair looked slightly windblown. You sat up as your sister came and sat on the edge of your bed. A smile broke out across your face as your brother hummed a soft tune and gracefully turned in a tight circle. 

“He got to dance with Sadie,” your sister said.

You caught the scent of alcohol on your sister’s breath. You watched as your brother continued to dance happily in place. “What was it like?” 

Your brother’s happy smile grew. “It felt like being whole.”

Your sister rolled her eyes and opened up the small bag she had brought with her. “He’s also drunk. He’s not going to make sense until the morning.” She pulled out something wrapped in a brown napkin. She held it out to you. 

You took it and unwrapped the napkin. The sight of the chocolate chip cookie made your eyes widen and a rush warmed your body. You took a giant bite out of the cookie and savored the sweet chocolate that filled your mouth. 

“First it was like lightning,” your brother said as he danced his way towards your bed. “Bright. Blinding. Loud. I swear the ground shook.” He reached for your bed and started to shake it with a smile. When you laughed, he stopped and knelt down so he was eye level with you. “Then we were connected. Tethered. It was beautiful. I wanted to cry.” 

“So overdramatic,” your sister shook her head. “They danced to one song.” 

You swallowed your second bite of the chocolate chip cookie. “What song?” 

“It’s Friday, I’m in love,” your brother sang.

You sat up listening to your siblings’ stories about their Homecoming. Occasionally you would ask a question, but mostly you just listened. You tried to imagine it. Loud music. A gymnasium filled with older students. Dancing. It sounded fun. Nothing like the long boring lessons you would listen to. You couldn’t imagine any of your classmates dressed up like your siblings were. Except for Nat. 

You curled back up into your bed once your brother left for his room. You fell asleep to the chorus of the cicadas and the deep, even breathing of your sister. When you awoke the following morning, your brother and sister were already up. There was no sign of your father when you made your way downstairs, but you would often glance at the door that led to the basement as you ate the breakfast your brother made. 

Your brother was busy trying to find something to help dull his headache and your sister was busy washing the dishes when you mentioned Nat’s invitation. Both of your siblings shared a look before continuing with what they were doing. 

“How long will Dad’s visitor be staying?” your sister asked.

Your brother grabbed a pill bottle, unscrewed the top, and frowned when he found it empty. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

Your sister handed you a plate to dry. “Just be back before the streetlights come on.”

When you left your house later in the day, you found Nat sitting on the curb outside her house. When you reached the end of your driveway and crossed the street, you saw a smile lift the corners of her lips. Your smile matched hers as she stood up. It felt weird following Nat up to her house. You have been friends for weeks but your time spent together always remained outside your homes. You didn’t know why Nat had never invited you over until today. But it had never struck you as odd. You would never bring Nat into your father’s house. That would be mean. 

The first thing you noticed upon entering was that Nat’s house was much brighter than yours. And warm. The family room looked lived in instead of staged. There were creases and marks on the furniture that only happened when it was used. The photographs that hung on the walls were of mostly Nat and her younger sister. It was such a strange sight to see photos of smiling, happy people. It reminded you of the books you have read or the movies you have seen. You thought this kind of stuff was only made up. 

The other thing about Nat’s house that was weird was how loud it was. You could hear people moving around in the kitchen. Their voices were light and devoid of any tension. You could hear Nat’s little sister laughing and a kind, older female voice spoke. A question floated through your mind that you banished quickly. You didn’t know what to do with all this new information. You felt like you had landed on a strange planet and were discovering an alien species. 

You followed Nat into the kitchen. The first thing you noticed was that the kitchen smelled good. The aroma was a complete opposite of what you were accustomed to: a strange mix of chemicals with an undercurrent of burnt food. Nat’s little sister Yelena was the first to greet you. You had met her before when you and Nat had spent your first afternoon together after school. Bits and pieces of Yelena’s happy, playful personality reminded you of your brother. It made you wonder sometimes if your brother would have turned out exactly like Yelena if all the other stuff hadn’t been crammed into him. 

After Yelena told you that she was helping her mom make cookies, your gaze shifted towards the woman. You didn’t know what to expect when you thought about meeting Nat’s mother. You had seen the woman before from afar. Her dark hair was long and pulled back into a neat ponytail. She wore an unbuttoned, soft looking navy blue shirt that hung open to reveal an equally soft looking white shirt underneath. Light blue denim jeans ran down her legs and ended at the gray converse that covered her feet. Her hazel brown eyes were warm, and your mind quickly erased the thick fog that would always accompany any of Nat’s stories that featured her mother. You memorized the look of her smiling face, and the ease you felt when she stepped closer to you. 

“You must be Y/N,” Nat’s mom said. 

You nodded. 

“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you,” her mom said. 

“Thank you for having me,” you replied after remembering a scene from a movie you had watched last year with your siblings. You wanted to say something more, but your mind drew a blank. Before you could start digging any deeper, you felt Nat’s hand take yours. She pulled you away from the kitchen. You didn’t pull your hand away as she led you up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

You don’t know how long you stayed up there. You had never been in Nat’s room before and exploring it allowed you to forget about the whole world outside this house. You were a tiny bit jealous that Nat got a whole bedroom to herself. But that jealousy died underneath the cool posters that hung on her walls, the collection of CDs and VHS tapes she kept underneath her bed, and the photos she kept around her room of her family. 

You were sitting on her bed with her, looking through her collection of CDs when Nat selected a blue CD with a picture of a baby swimming after a dollar bill. 

“This one is my favorite,” she said as she grabbed her walkman. She put the CD in and then reached over to slip the headphones over your ears. The noise of the world around you fell away as the music played. You listened and watched Nat. You thought about how often she listened to this CD. She probably knew every word like you knew all the fine, intimate details of your favorite things. 

You had just finished her favorite CD and were discussing your favorite movies when Yelena entered Nat’s room and mentioned that dinner was ready. You and Nat followed her little sister downstairs and out onto their back deck. The delicious smell of grilled meats welcomed you along with a wave from a tall man with blonde hair, glasses, and a happy grin. 

“Welcome Y/N!” Nat’s father called from his spot behind the grill. With his free hand he gestured for you to come over. You made your way over, and your gaze fell upon the array of meats cooking on the grill. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been dying to meet Nat’s new friend.” He gestured to the cooking meats. “You are in for a treat. Have you ever had reindeer before?” 

Your brow furrowed as you looked at the delirious smelling meats. “No, but is it supposed to look like rabbit meat?” 

Nat’s father’s laugh was as loud as thunder. “Looks like I’ll have to try harder to trick you. Do you eat rabbit often?” 

You shrugged and looked up at Nat’s father. “Only when we catch rabbits on the weekend.” You left her father’s side at the grill when Nat called you over. Despite what you saw cooking on the grill, Nat’s parents filled your plate with a hamburger, fresh corn, and pasta salad. The food tasted so good that you spent most of your time thinking up a clever way to sneak some of it back to your siblings while you answered easy questions from Nat’s parents. 

You had just finished cleaning your plate and Nat’s father had just launched into a story about his childhood when the doorbell rang. Nat’s mother got up to answer the door while you set your fork down. You wondered if Nat’s parents would let you take another plate full of food back to your house. You felt Nat’s hand brush against your own as her father continued on with his story. You looked down at your hands that rested on the table. You couldn’t help but think that this had been a good day. You wondered how often you could get away with spending your weekends with your friend. 

Nat’s father stopped talking, and your attention lifted when you heard Nat’s mother return to the back deck. The warm ease that had guided you through the day abandoned you at the sight of your father standing next to Nat’s mom. Your hand moved away from Nat’s and curled around your fork as your father’s steel gray eyes focused solely on you. 

You felt the first tendril of dread unfurl underneath his stare. 

Middle of Nowhere – 2010 

You glare up at the roof of the car. Your neck is sore from sleeping in a car for the last five hours. Your back isn’t too pleased with you either. You plant your feet against the smooth leather of the car’s backseat and lift your hips up. You pull a pair of green hunting fatigues up over your legs. As your hips lower back onto the backseat, you wonder if you should suggest coming up with a contract between you and your father. Draw some hard lines. Maybe make it a rule that you can’t be forced to spend more than twelve hours with him because it always leads to some terrible job that you are stuck completing. 

A number of other things quickly come to mind to add to this possible contract. Creative freedom being one of the bigger ones. You sit up and pull on a dark green, long sleeved shirt. As this contract idea becomes more tangible in your mind, you bend down and pull on a pair of brown boots. When you are done, you place your clothes from the previous night on the seat next to you. As your fingers brush against the fabric of your favorite navy blue suit jacket, her face comes to your mind. The highlight of the previous night. You can’t wait to do whatever it is your father needs you to do so you can go home. You have so much planning to do. 

You pull your fingers away and open the car door. You step out onto a dirt road that runs through the middle of nowhere. A thick forest hugs both sides of the dirt road. The morning has barely begun. You close the car door and turn towards the car’s trunk. It is open with your father standing in front of it dressed in the same tuxedo as last night. The moment he sees you, he reaches into the trunk and throws a green camo jacket towards you. You catch it. 

“We need to review our contract,” you say as you put the jacket on. 

“I do not have time today to entertain your fantasies, Y/N,” your father says as his attention returns to the trunk of the car. “You don’t have time for it either. This is an important day.” He pulls out a yellow, letter sized envelope and hands it to you. 

You take it. “When we renegotiate my contract, we are adding a clause that demands a rest period between important jobs.” You open the envelope and pull out two photographs. The first photograph is a picture of a bald man with a bushy brown mustache. He looks older, a bit older than your father, with dark brown eyes and lips pressed into a serious line. The second photograph is of a younger man with nearly the same color eyes as the first. His dark hair is cut close to his head, and you guess that he’s in his late twenties. 

“Erik and Elias Braun. Father and son. They are out hunting in these woods. Kill them,” your father says. 

You study the two photographs again before handing them back to your father. “I’m assuming that your important client wants this job done quietly too?” You move to stand in front of the trunk, next to your father. Inside the trunk of the black Lexus is a small assortment of weapons. Your eyes fall immediately on your trustworthy Beretta handgun. You pick it up. Its familiar weight is satisfying. 

“The client wants them dead,” your father replies. “It doesn’t matter how. Their retrieval team will clean up the mess.” 

You tuck the Beretta against the small of your back and drape your heavy jacket over it. “Retrieval team? Fancy.” You plant your right foot against the Lexus’ rear bumper and tuck a hunting knife into your boot. 

“Merely only the tip of the iceberg, Y/N,” your father replies. “I figured you would enjoy the freedom of this job. However, I would suggest against doing anything loud and explosive.” He watches as you fill your jacket’s inner pockets with ammunition. “Any unwanted attention will need to be dealt with swiftly.” 

You grab a hunting rifle and look over at your father. “Fine. But I’m going home after this. And I’m taking the next two weeks off.” That should be enough time to check in with your brother and sister, write up a much needed contract, and figure out how to leave her a message. Ideally, you’d love to text her. But that requires knowing her phone number. 

Your hunting rifle hangs from your shoulder as you leave the dirt road and enter the woods. The smell of the dirt and the soft sounds of wildlife tug at clouded memories. These woods are nothing like the woodlands of Ohio. You remember there being more acorns. You remember the feel of them underneath your boots. You remember the sound of their hard shells cracking. You also remember it being colder. You remember shivering as you laid in the mud. You remember the fear of your fingers going numb. You wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger fast enough. 

The fragments of your childhood are forgotten when you pick up your targets’ trail. The partial bootprints pressed into the dirt next to greenish-brown droppings point the way forward. As you walk, you can feel your night of lackluster sleep sapping at the energy you have left. It almost feels cruel that the important client has set up this job to be an open canvas. If you were in your usual mood, you would have definitely come up with something far more creative than sniping your targets from a distance. But you are tired and your body is sore. Sniping your targets will be easy and fast. 

You follow the tracks until the next dropping you come across looks shinier than the one before. A fresh dropping. Your targets’ prey is close. You break off from the trail and walk until you find a decent spot with plenty of brush to conceal your position. You bite back the curses you want to utter as you sink towards the ground. Your front presses into the firm ground as your hands wrap around your hunting rifle. You look through the scope and see nothing but more brush and trees. It’s quiet except for the steady beating of your heart. 

Chirping birdsong pecks at the settling quiet. The morning sun continues its slow ascent. The breeze that blows over your back still carries the previous night’s chill. Slowly, your one hand unwraps from the rifle and you stretch your fingers. You know your targets are close, and you wish you could will them into your line of fire. Your mind wanders to what your future holds. How to drop back into her life is what you want to focus on. For once you are anxious to see a target’s face not because you want to watch that moment when they go still. You are chasing after the same look she gave you back in Amsterdam. The surprise. The recognition. 

A dark furred rabbit jumps into your line of sight. The hand you were stretching clamps down around your rifle. The corners of your lips tug down into a frown as your finger rests against the trigger. You want to squeeze the trigger so badly. It would only take a single shot. It would also expose your position. The single gunshot would send your targets running. But you know you would feel a sliver of satisfaction. 

The rabbit darts away as a buck steps into your line of sight. Finally. As the buck’s head lowers to graze, you quietly turn your rifle to search the trees and brush. It takes a few minutes, but you spot it. Laying in the brush roughly fifty feet away was Elias. Most of the brush covers him, but you can clearly see the muzzle of his black hunting rifle. You don’t see any sign of Erik, but he can’t be too far away. In fact, you are certain that taking your shot at Elias will quickly lure your other target out. 

You line up your shot to where you know Elias’ head should be. The buck continues to graze as you stare through your scope. You can feel the beginning warmth of excitement shake off the weight of your tired, sore body. You breathe in, and then out. Your hands are steady. Your fingers aren’t numb. You still can’t see anything but the muzzle of Elias’ gun, but you know that’s where his head will be. But only for the next second or two. 

The muzzle of Elias’ gun does not move, and neither does your aim. You can picture the bullet’s impact. Every other thought drains from your mind as you stare through the scope at the brush. Your finger is warm as it rests against the trigger. Your breaths are slow and even. You feel another breeze blow across your back, and the morning light darkens for a moment. The morning sunlight has already returned as you tilt your head away from the scope. The buck is no longer grazing, and its head is lifted upwards. You follow the creature’s gaze upwards but see nothing except a clear blue sky. 

When your gaze lowers, you spot it. It’s a miracle that you even manage to spot it because the tiny red dot jumps from the bark of the tree next to you and lands on your shoulder. The dot doesn’t stop and begins a fast climb up towards your neck where you can no longer see it. The calm stillness that has wrapped around you breaks at the first quickened beat of your heart. All the thoughts you had shoved into the back of your mind comes rushing to the forefront, and the first thought to win that race was: fuck. 

You pull your hunting rifle to your chest and roll to your left just as a gunshot cracks into the morning air. You hear the bullet thud into the ground where you had been less than a second ago. Another bullet follows the first and as you roll onto your feet, you feel the second bullet slice through the fabric of your pants just below your knee. The buck darts away, and you are running too. Bullets nip at your heels as you run towards the closest tree with a trunk wide enough for cover. The bullets stop just as you reach the tree. You press your back against the rough bark and glance down at your leg. No pain. No wound. Not even a scratch. Just a tear in your pants. 

The sound of heavy, racing footsteps reaches your ears as you lift your head from examining your torn pant leg. Your eyes spot another tree wide enough for cover and you start running. You’ve only taken a few steps when the gunshots explode into the air again. Bullets pelt into the ground at your feet and slice the bark off of nearby trees. Right as you near a nice wide tree, you turn quickly and lift your hunting rifle. You fire off two quick shots and then dart behind the tree. Another bullet slams into the tree you are hiding behind. 

Something cuts through the air above you and flies towards the source of the shooting. Your head tilts back as you try to see what just flew through the air, but you see nothing but a bright, white explosion engulfing a tall tree roughly two hundred feet from your position. The heavy, racing footsteps catch up and one of your targets darts out from around a nearby tree. Elias. You mutter a curse under your breath as he lifts his rifle and fires. You race around another tree, turn, and return fire with three bullets of your own. Neither hit as Elias darts behind his own tree. You squeeze the trigger again and hear a dissatisfying click. Another curse spits from your mouth as you quickly hide behind a tree. Your hand dives into one of your pockets, and your fingers wrap tightly around a fresh magazine. 

Elias rounds the tree you are hiding behind before you can pull the magazine from your pocket. You smash the butt of your rifle into his chest, and the muzzle of his gun shifts upward just as he pulls the trigger. Your hand abandons its journey for fresh ammunition and you let go of your hunting rifle as both of your hands wrap around the long barrel of Elias’ rifle. You keep the muzzle pointed upwards as you fight to rip your target’s weapon from his grasp. You can feel Elias trying to force the muzzle of his gun downwards towards your chest. 

Two quick gunshots cut through your struggle and Elias’ body shakes before he drops. You let go of your target’s gun as he hits the ground. You see two crimson stains starting to grow in earnest from Elias’ chest. Your gaze lifts and lands on a sight that warms the last bits of the morning chill. 

She stands no more than a few feet away. She is dressed in the same black catsuit she wore in Amsterdam. Her gun is drawn and aimed at Elias. This shouldn’t feel like a surprise. She’s nipping at your heels. Of course she would show up here. Wherever the hell you guys are. Still, you can’t help the joy you feel at this little twist. You can feel your smile starting to curl your lips as her attention shifts to you. 

“Hi, Nat,” you say. It doesn’t escape your notice that her gun stays aimed at Elias. 

She takes a step forward. “Y/N–”

A series of four gunshots cuts her off as you both retreat behind two thick trees. Four bullets hit the ground where you both had been standing a moment ago. Your smile falls at the unwanted space shoved between you two. With your back pressed, once again, against a tree, you look over towards the tree Nat hides behind. She lifts her hand and you see her talk into her wrist. The next two gunshots mask whatever she says as one bullet chips part of the bark of the tree you are using for cover. 

A groan drags your attention away from Nat. You look down and find Elias on his knees reaching for his gun. You see your opportunity and you go for it. Your left boot comes down your target’s gun just as he manages to grab it. Your right boot swings up and smashes into your target’s face. You hear something crunch as Elias’ head shoots back from the force of your kick. Dark drops of crimson blood decorate the brown toe of your hunting boot as you lift your left foot up and reach down for Elias’ gun. 

You feel the warm metal of the gun glide beneath the tips of your fingers as the rifle slides across the ground, kicked away from you. You watch where the gun slides to a stop before you look over at Nat. The space that had been wedged between you two earlier is gone. She stands just out of arm’s reach. The gun in her hand is lowered and pointed towards the ground. 

“We need to talk,” she says. 

“I haven’t forgotten last night’s chat,” you reply as your smile returns. “I was going to call you later.” 

“No. Not about that,” she says. Your focus hangs off that last word. It’s loaded and you are eager to know exactly what she means. “We need to talk about this.”

Your building excitement drops away almost instantly. Your smile falters. “Really?” You can’t help the small laugh that escapes when you see the seriousness in her olive green eyes. You’ve seen that look before. So many times. You shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

She takes a small step closer, and you know she’s now in arm’s reach. You can feel your heartbeat quicken. “He’s using you, Y/N.” 

Your smile falls completely when you see a hint of that sadness from last night creep into those familiar eyes. You can feel your body nearly buzzing with energy, but the warm joy from earlier freezes and turns into something else. 

“You don’t have to keep doing his dirty work.”

You need to move. You need to do something. You can feel the energy crawling beneath your skin and you need to do something to let it out. Anything. Before you wanted to just close the distance. Sink into this wonderful game you two have created. The very thing that makes you feel as alive as when you end the lives of countless targets. But now it’s becoming corrupted and you turn away. 

Her hand reaches out and you feel the warmth of her fingers close around your wrist. In an instant, you turn back to face her and yank her hand from her hold. That wasn’t when she was supposed to touch you. You have thought up dozens of scenarios for this moment, but not this. Not when your game is spoiled. 

“You did all that digging and that’s what you think?” your voice bites with an edge you hate. “I’m not being used. This is what I do, Nat. This is what I’m good at.” No. That’s not what you’re supposed to say! That is supposed to stay buried. You’re supposed to say anything else. You can feel everything starting to crack. You can see it. It’s going to fall apart. Why the fuck did you say that? Why the hell are you even talking about–

Erik rushes out from behind a tree carrying his hunting rifle in both hands while an arrow (an arrow?) sticks out from his upper arm. Nat turns when she hears his hurried approach, and your hand quickly drops back to reach for your gun tucked against the small of your back. You see Nat raise her gun towards Erik as he takes aim at you. Your fingers manage to brush against the grip of your Beretta before something collides right into you. The force sends you to the ground with a graceless thud. An exchange of gunfire is the only thing you hear as Elias appears on top of you. His angry, red face fills your vision as his hands go for your throat. You both are rolling and just before his fingers can wrap around your throat, you’ve rolled on top of him. 

Your moment of luck ends abruptly as you both roll over the edge of a hill. You no longer hear the sounds of gunfire. You only hear the sound of your body rolling over dead fallen leaves, fallen twigs and branches, and whatever else you are unlucky enough to roll over. Definitely some animal droppings. It isn’t until your shoulder slams into a tree and a crunching noise echoes in your ears that you stop rolling. The pain is sharp and reverbates down your arm. You can’t stop the single cry that slips out as the world spins. 

Don’t stop. 

You can hear Elias moving next to you. You try to move your left arm, but the sharp pain stops you. You can hear your target’s heavy breaths. Then, you can hear his laugh. You look over at him as he stumbles to his feet. Bright red blood leaks from his nose and mouth. When he smiles, his teeth are coated red. He steps towards you, and your left foot kicks out at his leg. You see his leg buckle and your right hand drops to your right boot. You sit up as your hand closes around the handle of your hunting knife. His leg gives out and Elias drops to his knee. His hands reach out towards you, and his mouth parts to let out a harsh, guttural shout. You feel warm globs of saliva and blood hit your cheeks when you drive your hunting knife into the side of Elias’ neck.  

His shout stops, and you feel his hands find your throat. His hands don’t squeeze. In fact, all his hands do is just…hang there. You watch as his dark brown eyes slowly widen. You can smell the sour stench of his sweat and body odor mixed with the heavy aroma of gunpowder. You feel his body give a short, fast shake as a choking breath escapes his bloodied mouth. You keep your hand on the handle of your knife. This is your favorite part, and usually all you feel is blissful wonderment as your targets go still. Yet you don’t feel wonderment or bliss. Your thoughts are tied up with her. How you said the wrong thing. How this whole day would now live forever in your mind with your words on repeat. 

This is what you’re good at. And you are. The delight you feel as you pull your knife from your target’s neck overrides the burning pain in your shoulder. His hands fall limp from your throat as his choked breaths become heavy and wet. More blood floods from your target’s mouth and spills down his throat. As you watch him, you wonder who he is. He’s not afraid. By now, with the writing clearly on the wall, your targets drown in their fear. Elias only chokes on his blood and holds your stare. When you feel the sting of your dislocated shoulder again, you frown and slam the heel of your booted foot into Elias’ chest. He falls backwards and continues to choke until his body goes still. 

With your bloodied hunting knife in hand, you slowly climb to your feet. You look down at Elias’ body. Blood continues to leak from the hole you created in his neck and the two holes Nat shot into his chest. One target down. Your attention shifts to your left arm. It hangs uselessly at your side. Damn tree. You look over at the tree that caused your pain. You shift your stance a bit. You’re positive that if you angle things just right you could–

You hear the crunch of fallen leaves and turn. You raise your knife and bring it down. Her hands catch yours before the tip of your knife can get close. In one fluid, graceful move, she turns you around and pulls your arm up behind your back. Your grip on your knife tightens quickly as her other arm wraps around your neck. You feel her front press against your back and that rush you felt before comes roaring back. 

“I know what it’s like to be used by other people,” her voice brushes against your ear while she pushes your arm up slightly.

You bite back your grimace at the pain. “Can’t relate.” When she pushes your arm up even higher and starts twisting your wrist, you finally let go of your knife. You hear it hit the ground by your feet. When she stops twisting your wrist, you take a step back and push back against her. You both stumble backwards until her back hits the tree behind her. The moment her hold on you slackens, you step forward, pull your Beretta free from its’ home against the small of your back, and turn to face her. 

Your smile returns when you find yourself staring down the barrel of her gun. Your grip on your gun is steady as you point it at her. Your finger hovers over the trigger. You wait for her next move. You’re pretty sure she’s not going to shoot you. Just like you know you won’t be able to pull the trigger on her. 

Something hits your leg and falls at your feet. You look down and find a black cylinder object laying at your feet with thick gray smoke leaking from it. When you look back up at Nat, you see the same question you’re thinking flash across her face. And then the gray smoke swallows you both up. You take a step back when Nat disappears completely from view. You go to turn, but thick arms quickly wrap around your body and pin your arms to your sides. A pinprick of pain presses into the side of your neck, and suddenly everything starts to spin. You hear someone shout, and you’re not quite sure if that was Nat shouting or you. But the world keeps spinning until darkness takes hold. Then, you fall. 

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

My Tweed Coat Ricochets (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: Working as an archaeologist for The Westview Institution had always been your dream. What happens when you finally get the job and have trouble getting along with one of your colleagues? Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: Hello all! Welcome to another fun Agatha AU! This is heavily inspired by Indiana Jones, my love of museums, and also…some light Mamma Mia. This is going to be a fun journey that I’m so excited to write and share with all of you. Some warnings: this is going to be major, major slow burn, but I promise the outcome will be worth it. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think! Comments, asks, and DM’s are always open.

Chapter One: Illicit Artifacts

The Westview Institution was one of the most prestigious museums in the world. Housing what felt like an infinite amount of priceless and unique exhibits, you had never experienced anything else quite like it. When you decided to study archaeology you always dreamed of getting to work there but knew it was unlikely. There was a dwindling amount of jobs available for aspiring archaeologists, and Westview only employed ten at a time. So, you focused on getting your PhD whilst working various jobs, doing anything you could to make a name for yourself. It wasn’t until you saw the job posting for an opening at Westview when you thought you had a chance to make your dream a reality. 

You immediately sent in your materials, and eventually landed an interview. Despite interviewing at countless other institutions and jobs, you forgot nearly everything the moment you entered the interview, and it felt as if you blacked out. You weren’t entirely sure what you had said, but you were almost certain you’d made a complete and utter fool of yourself. Chalking it up to an unfortunate loss, you decided to refocus your efforts on a different program, pretending the inevitable rejection wouldn’t take a huge hit to your already deflating ego. That’s why you’d nearly dropped your phone in the bathtub when you received a phone call the following week from Dr. Stephen Strange, extending an offer for you to join The Westview Institution. 

That’s how you found yourself slightly tipsy at a dive bar in the East Village with your friends. The bar was relatively empty when you arrived, and you were high on the euphoria of employment. As the hours passed the bar quickly filled, and your friends slowly left one by one. You offered to grab the next round for the two friends that remained, and struggled to make your way through the groups of people huddled together. Balancing a few drinks in your arms was challenging enough, you’d always been a tad clumsy, but paired with drunken individuals bumping into you it was inevitable that you’d spill them all over a stranger. The scene much resembled one of a horror film, as your friend’s glass of Merlot was currently painted across a rather expensive looking white blazer. 

You’d barely had time to react, when a pair of furious blue eyes met yours. The stranger in question was a striking woman who looked very out of place for the establishment you were in. Dark wavy brown hair framed her face, wildly flowing in a way that reminded you of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. Her piercing blue eyes were locked on yours, and her red lips were forming a displeased frown. She was beautiful. You noticed the untouched drink at her fingertips, a whiskey sour, and a stack of books on the table. Just as you read the title for one, a study on Classical Greece, the woman cleared her throat, and you gulped. 

Looking back up at her, you could see her look at you with mild disinterest, the frown deepening. “Do you often spill drinks on innocent strangers?”

Her voice was enticing, and you found yourself getting drawn in. You focused on her fingers curling gently around her drink, and for a brief second wondered what they would feel like gripping your inner thighs. Blushing, you cleared your mind of any and all thoughts of that possible scenario, and gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m really sorry about that. I’ve always been a bit clumsy. I didn’t mean to ruin your suit.”

The woman arched an eyebrow at you, finally raising the glass to her lips. You didn’t mean to stare at her, and tried to do so as discreetly as possible, but she was gorgeous. Lowering the glass, you noticed the stain from her painted red lips, and you imagined those lips leaving marks all over your neck and chest. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to look away. This was extremely out of character for you, and you chose to blame the multiple shots your friends encouraged you to take earlier that evening. That had to be the reason you were so attracted to this complete stranger; the alcohol. 

“Perhaps you should get your eyes checked,” The woman sarcastically quipped, clearly unamused. “I’d hate for another innocent bystander to be your next victim.” 

It was understandable that the woman was angry, you would be too if the situation was reversed, so you tried another method. “I’m very sorry. Let me pay for the dry cleaning bill?” 

The woman scoffed, looking you up and down, unimpressed by your baggy jeans and crewneck, before saying, “As if you could afford to.”

Feeling any patience or remorse leave your person, you rolled your eyes at her condescending tone. “Right, well, I’ll be going then. I’d apologize again, but I’m sure that would just make you even more of a pompous asshole.”

“I’m surprised you have a vocabulary that extends beyond half mumbled excuses,” The woman sniped as she stood up, pulling a twenty out of her wallet and setting it on the table, before grabbing her books and setting them in her bag. “If you weren’t too busy ogling me perhaps your other two brain cells could have mustered up a better apology.”

The woman stormed out of the bar before you could get another word in, and a few people winced as she slammed the door behind her. Your friends had reached you by that point, as you had been gone for a while, and they quickly asked if you were alright. Shrugging it off, you tried to forget about the pretentious, beautiful dark haired woman who was currently imprinted in your brain. You never even got her name, but after your rather heated interaction you were glad that you’d never have to see her again. 

A few days passed by and you had all but forgotten your interaction with the woman at the bar. You were far too busy preparing for your first day at work, and it had finally arrived. The Westview Institution towered over you as you stepped out of the Uber you splurged for. You normally stuck to taking public transportation to get around the city, but with it being your first day you thought it best to be early. Navigating your way through the various New Yorkers hurriedly making their way to work, you stood in front of the doors that were guarding the future you had always dreamed of having. 

Straightening your blazer, you took a deep breath to remind yourself that you deserved to be here before entering the building. It was quiet at this hour, and a quick glance at your watch confirmed why; you were a half an hour early. There were a few employees scuffling around, catching up with each other and discussing what they had done over the weekend. Taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the architecture, with its stained glass windows and sprawling ceilings covered with art, you took a step back to look further up the dome ceiling before you felt yourself walk into someone.

Great, you thought sarcastically, your first day on the job and you were already bumping into one of your colleagues. You turned around at the same time as the person behind you and as soon as you saw familiar piercing blue eyes, you couldn’t stop the exasperated sigh that escaped your lips. It was the woman from the bar, and she appeared to recognize you as she frowned again. 

“Was it not enough for you to ruin my favorite suit? Did you have to add stalking to your list of favorite pastimes?” The woman all but spat out at you, once again looking you up and down. 

“I could ask you the same question,” You fired back, trying to control your temper. “What are you even doing here?”

The woman’s expression hardened, but before she could answer your question, you saw your boss, Stephen Strange, enter the building. He nodded as he saw you, and when he noticed the woman next to you his face lit up. “Ah, wonderful. Dr. Harkness, I see you’ve met the newest addition to our team.”

Your face fell as the woman’s identity was revealed to you. Dr. Agatha Harkness was a legendarily reclusive archaeologist. You had read a few of her books and journals throughout college, and up until now she had been one of the colleagues you were most excited to meet. She was considered to be one of the brightest in the field, and now she undoubtedly did not like you. 

Agatha ignored you, turning her full attention to Stephen. “I don’t recall you mentioning any new hires, Stephen.”

“Well if you had attended any of the staff meetings for the past month, you would have been aware that we were trying to find Morgan’s replacement,” Stephen pointed out, and you wondered if Agatha was this rude to everyone. “Everyone else was on board with the decision.”

Agatha snorted, picking up the coat she dropped when you bumped into her. “Right, I’m sure they were. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Storming off, you watched her go, and Stephen sighed. “I apologize for Agatha. She’s been preparing for a new project and it’s been a bit time consuming.” He began to walk in the direction she stormed off in and motioned for you to follow him. “Westview prides itself on its plethora of exhibits from nearly every time period, and we’re currently in the midst of starting a new excavation in Greece next spring.”

Your interest piqued at that; your speciality was focused on classical archaeology. Stephen noticed your expression brighten. “I thought that would interest you. Agatha is leading the excavation, and I thought you’d be a great fit to work with her.”

You weren’t sure Agatha would agree with that, and you weren’t sure you did either. Despite her reputation as being one of the most knowledgeable and influential archaeologists, you didn’t appreciate the way she had treated you. Stephen continued to lead you down various hallways, all while explaining what your first few weeks would be like. You eventually reached a hallway filled with doors, most of which were closed. You saw different names, signifying whose office it was. Reading them, you recognized almost every single one, which shouldn’t have been a big surprise. Westview only hired a select few archaeologists, and all of the names you had seen were the best of the best. 

Passing by Agatha’s door, you heard the faint sound of classical music, and Stephen handed you a key to what you realized was for your office. As you glanced at the name on the door, your name, you realized it was right next to Agatha’s. Typical. 

“I scheduled a staff meeting for later this afternoon so you can meet the rest of our team,” Stephen explained as you opened the door to your office. “I thought I’d give you a few hours to get settled in. Let me know if you need anything.”

Closing the door behind you, you let out a sigh of relief. You made it here, and now nothing could stop you. Walking around your office you noticed the windows would provide ample natural lighting, and you went to sit at your desk when you noticed a bag on your chair. Frowning, you opened it to find Agatha’s merlot stained blazer inside, with a note attached. 

Use the dry cleaners on Ninth Avenue. I know you’ll be able to afford that one. 

The only thought on your mind was, how the hell did she even get in your locked office?

[gravedigginbbydoll]

pencil shavings and shared smiles {pt.7}

Fem! Teacher Reader x Teacher! Eddie

Previous Masterlist Next

AN: Hey y’all! Sorry this took a bit but I think I have FINALLY fleshed out how I want this to go and everything! This chapter is a little bit angst but LOADS of fluff so enjoy!!

WARNINGS AND CONTENT: Minors DNI!!!, Noncanon, Hawkins AU, Normal Hawkins, Making out and suggestive themes, Trauma, Reader is horny lol, Fem!Reader, use of nickname Tish in place of Y/N, older! Eddie, short-haired Eddie, 1995/1996 Hawkins, angsty angst.

Summary: You finally reveal some of your past to Eddie.

You enter Eddie’s little house after him, feeling the smell of him surround you. The house was small but everything radiated coziness, just like Eddie. You look around, seeing the art you recognize as Will’s up on Eddie’s walls, along with some photos of him with some friends and what appeared as family photos of him and an older and gruff looking man, some of the photos featuring a smile. Uncle Wayne.

You see the little stack of Dungeons and Dragons Adventure Paths books stacked up on his coffee table, all of them with sticky notes and worn edges of notebook paper peeking out. Behind his little TV, you spot a large hand painted white flag that said CORRODED COFFIN. On either side of the TV is an acoustic guitar and an electric one, both with as much personality as Eddie. 

This house radiates him, with little sticky notes on his books, worn out and well loved couches and a rug, some goofy mugs lined up on his kitchen counter and what seems like mismatched dishes drying on a rack. You feel your heart warm up and you forget about your nerves for a bit, smiling. 

“You want something to drink,” Eddie calls out, his head in the fridge. You glance over and swallow thickly, the nerves resurfacing. His ass is way too nice. 

“Tish?,” Eddie sits up a bit, looking over at you as you break your gaze away from his butt, your ears probably burning. 

“Oh! Uh- I think I’m good with whatever…Water. Juice. Ya know,” You joke, your voice practically cracking. 

Eddie cocks his head at you, raising a brow in confusion. “Uh…okay. Is pop okay?” He pulls out a can of Coke, looking at you inquisitively. You nod wordlessly, your eyes currently enamored with the way his fingertips basically touch around the can. 

He comes over, sitting next to you and grabbing an old paperback; what appeared to be a Stephen King novel; to place the soda on, and another for his dark stout. “Sorry,” He said, looking bashful. “I keep forgetting to buy drink coasters. But these books are old and used, so I don’t mind them getting a little ruined,” He joked, smiling that megawatt grin at you. 

Your eyes were locked on his lips and you had to tear them away, your thighs pressing together as you suddenly regret wearing a dress to school that day, your imagination on the fritz with how easy your inner thigh is to access. 

“Okay, that’s it. Spill,” Eddie says sternly, turning his body towards you on the couch. 

You feel your throat tighten up and your palms start to sweat, laughing nervously while playing with the edge of the skirt of your dress. “Spill what?” 

Eddie sighs, his brown eyes pinning you to the spot. “Tish, you’ve been so weird for the past two weeks. First, you were absolutely a zombie, and now you’ve been avoiding me as much as possible. Did I do something?,” His brows are furrowed a bit, tugging at your heart strings. 

You can’t lie to Eddie. He has been nothing but kind. He’s held your hand gently for a while and felt the spark between you, but never pushed you further. You sigh, feeling your stomach twist and turn but knowing you needed to get the weight off your chest. Sure, you would rather dig your own grave then tell him about the recent uptick in your body yearning for him, but you could reveal the other part. 

“It’s not you, really. It’s just… I started having these nightmares last week. They were all about my ex…my ex-fiancé. And they were silly and made me lose sleep,” You say, your voice shaky as you feel your eyes mist over, the tears blurring your vision. You’d been holding back for so long that you almost expected to get through this story like a robot. Guess your emotions had other ideas. “He’s the reason I came to Hawkins. I wanted to get far away from him and disappear.” You hold yourself, trying to keep your composure despite the dam of emotions threatening to break, looking at Eddie’s hands in his lap instead of his eyes. You can see them clench, the veins prominent as they shake softly in anger. You don’t feel fear despite it, knowing that he’s angry for you. 

“Did he ever, I mean…,” Eddie tries to choke out. You knew what he was asking, it was the question you expected. You shook your head. 

“No, no, he just…knew how to tear me down. Nothing direct, necessarily, but always round about ways of letting me know I was lucky to have him. How I should dress or act or look. What I should fix. I left because it was the second time he had cheated. For months. With someone he swore I could trust him to be with alone, someone he let believe that we were breaking it off. And I couldn’t…couldn’t break up with him in person because I knew what he would do.” You swallow, your throat thick as the tears begin to overflow, your voice cracking with raw emotion. 

“He would cry and say how all he would do is hurt me, he would beg me to stay, say he couldn’t live without me. Promise to be better. And I know if I hadn’t left, I would’ve let him. I would’ve forgiven him. Even though he distanced me and manipulated me to grow away from all my friends, leaving him as my only person.” You got out, your body shaking. 

Eddie reached over gingerly, a soft brush of his hand against your shoulder. “Can I-” 

You cut him off by falling into his arms, burying your face in his chest and letting him rub your back, softly soothing you by holding you. You were probably staining his shirt with tears and could feel your nose running as they continued to pour. Eddie rocked you softly, letting you cry into him without complaint. He gently pressed his lips to the top of your head, humming between kisses. 

He smelled like tobacco, vanilla, cloves and cinnamon. Like always. You were convinced that Eddie was a smooth and gentle stream, a collection of comforting constants that warmed your insides. Always looking out for his friends. He always offered to pay at dinners, always drank warm apple cider when it rained, always seemed extra creaky and full of popping bones when it was extra chilly. He always stayed after on Thursdays so the Dungeons and Dragons Club could meet, and always took every other Thursday to have the older members run one shots in rotation so if they wanted to start their own club they could. 

You sniffled, pulling away slowly, wiping at your eyes while laughing softly. “Sorry,” You apologized. You could feel the tears slow down, your breathing steadying. It felt like a relief to let someone know your past. You had lost friends, years worth of them, due to him.

Eddie shook his head, leaning his head down to meet your eyes, his own brown eyes raw and full of emotion. “No. Don’t you dare apologize. Okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m grateful that you trusted me with that. That was heavy, Tish. I can’t imagine carrying that all on my own,” He said sincerely. 

You feel a tug at your heart at his words. It had been a lot. Everyday you sat in fear of seeing his car, answering the phone to him…You had been on edge. You nod wordlessly, staring down at your hands, scared to say something to break this bubble you two are in. 

Eddie grabs your face, tilting your chin up towards him and his sincere brown eyes exploring your face while pouring everything into you. His admiration, his anger, his sadness… and is that…No…It couldn’t be. His love. Maybe it was just platonic. Maybe it was just a spark, a small flame to be cherished and hidden. But nonetheless, you felt your own heart practically burst from your chest, your hands shaking in your lap. Your heart beat is in your throat, your eyes trying to hold back tears. Eddie Munson cared for you. 

“Look, that asshole didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your patience or smiles or laugh or…fuck…even your anger. He didn’t deserve to see you every morning or know how you take your coffee. He didn’t deserve to hold you in your sleep and wake up knowing you’d still be there. I mean, shit, Tish, I don’t know that anyone does. I don’t know if anyone deserves to see the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about your favorite books, if anyone should get to see the way you get a little crease between your brows when you’re stressed. If anyone should know how amazing you are at cooking, and how doting you are despite neglecting yourself.” 

You feel your breath catch in your throat, Eddie’s eyes flickering between your eyes to your parted lips, his thumb stroking your cheek. You want to let Eddie know you felt that way about him. No one deserved to see his dimples, or deserved to know he had a tendency to bite his lip and chew on his nails when he was distracted. No one deserved to know how he jokingly would eat candy first before a meal if he had it, claiming ‘you never know when you’ll die, wouldn’t you want to know you had chocolate before that?’. Your voice was caught in your throat and you looked at Eddie, hoping the words made it through in your gaze. 

“But,” He continued, his voice hoarse with emotion, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “I hope I can earn those things. I selfishly want them.” He laughed lightly, leaning his forehead against your own, smiling that blinding grin, his eyes still staring into your own. “God, I want them, Tish. Even the smallest amount.” You laughed softly, soft tears falling, your chest feeling like it was bursting with blooming flowers, painful but oh so sweet at the same time.

“Take them,” You whispered. “They’re yours.” Your voice was shaky, scared to cross the line but feeling like your oxygen would be cut off without it. 

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed, closing the distance, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. You felt soft tears flow down both your cheeks, your heart beating wildly within its cage. His lips were soft but slightly chapped and he tasted like cinnamon and chocolate from a hot chocolate he probably snagged in the teacher’s lounge. You melted into his touch, your hands grabbing at his shirt, sighing into the kiss. Eddie’s hands caressed your face like you were a treasure to behold, capturing your bottom lip in a kiss over and over, occasionally tilting his head a different way. Eddie gave out small moans into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, allowing your light gasp to let his tongue enter your mouth.

You felt your thighs rub together, your skin hot to the touch, sparks ignited beneath your flesh. Your ex never made you feel this way. Sure you kissed. But he never made you feel like the act of affection was another way of oxygen, something so raw and intimate.

Eddie’s hands traveled to your hips, easily tugging you into his lap, pushing your hips into his own. You moan softly, feeling his hard length against his core. He keeps his bruising grip at your hips, continuing to give you open mouth kisses, taking his time with his tongue to explore you. When you pull away for air, both of you are panting. His lips are a pretty dark pink, swollen. His pupils are blown, his eyes dark and his hands still at your hips as he tries to breathe, his eyes searching you. 

You feel the heat still under your skin but try to take it slow, leaning in slowly to press a peck to his lips. You feel him gently squeeze your hips at the action before sighing, smiling in a drunken way up at you, leaning back into the couch. You can still feel his hard length against your core which flutters in response, your thighs squirming. 

“Jesus, Tish. What’re you trying to do here? Kill me?,” He jokes, his dimples out on full display, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that you love. 

You're about to open your mouth to answer when you hear a knock at the door, Jeff’s voice coming through, lined with impatience. “Eddie, we’re here! Let’s go, please!”

You scramble off Eddie’s lap as he stands, sticking a hand down his pants to readjust himself, causing you to giggle. He playfully glares at you, pointing a finger before scolding. “Not a word, missy.” He heads towards his sink, smacking your ass softly as he passes by, “Let ‘em in, please.” You yelp a bit in response, the action driving more desire to build up in you, your underwear probably sticking to you at this point. 

You open the door, smiling politely, hoping that your face doesn’t give away anything that happened earlier. Jeff comes in first, the rest of the band tailing behind him. 

Eddie looks at you, drying his hands off with a towel as Jeff rants about the stress of planning a wedding, explaining how everything has to be planned and paid for. He winks at you, his grin boyish and eyes twinkling. 

You can’t wait to get him alone. 

taglist:@bebe07011@corrodedcoffincumslut@kurdtbean@nerdflash@kimmi-kat@aheadfullofsteverogers @rustboxstarr @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @be-the-spark-bitch

[braveclementine]

Chapter 8

Warnings: 18+ readers only, smut, pet names

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC: Elizabeth Y/L/N (created so you don't get Y/N and Y/S/N consistently mixed up. I do not condone any copying of this.

YOU HADN'T HEARD FROM ELIZABETH. You wondered just how long she was going to put off answering her. You desperately wanted to text your parents, but you figured it would be better until you got some sort of response from your sister.

Meanwhile, you were getting to know the rest of your soulmates. Tony and Stephen weren't good at getting sleep. Stephen would stay up in the library for only God knew how many hours. Tony was the same, but in his lab.

Loki was somewhat distant, though when he was around you, he had your undivided attention and returned it in great measure. But he was mostly quiet, allowing his lovely brother Thor to do most of the talking.

Thor was boisterous, his voice loud but pleasant. He was a sweetheart and you were always thrilled whenever you hugged you- which was often. He was a snuggle bunny and the two of you were curled up all of the time.

Clint was hilarious and extremely kind. He had a pleasant relationship with Natasha, which allowed you to develop a nice relationship with the famous Black Widow. Apparently they had saved each others' lives. You thought it was sweet and liked their strong friendship.

Clint, you could tell, was a huge family man. This made him very similar to Steve, who also liked the idea of having a very large family, but had never thought he should adopt. Steve didn't like the idea of leaving an already once abandoned kid for his series of missions was just wrong. He'd prefer to have his own kids.

Steve, besides this family fact, was incredibly sweet. He was the perfect gentleman, always asking for permission and letting you take the lead for the most part. This contrasted greatly to Bucky's dominate behavior towards you.

Bucky wasn't anything like you'd thought he'd be. For an ex- assassin, he was humorous, light-hearted, and when paired with Clint and Sam, he was like an overgrown man child. His long brown hair curved his features handsomely, giving his jaw a squared shape to it. His metal arm was dark black with hints of gold.

Sam on the other hand was more reserved with you. When you hung with him, Steve, and Bucky, he was the quietest one, a far away look on his face like he was somewhere else.

After two more weeks had passed, the tattoos were slowly starting to colour. Thor's was the most coloured in, Loki's was last.

Despite these differences with the boys, the ups and downs of trying to get to know all of them at once, and the disappointment of the lack of response from Elizabeth, life was great.

You had just gotten in from hanging out with Ivy at the bar. You hadn't drunk much, only three or four bottles. You headed down to Tony's first to see what he was up to. You were one of the few people allowed in the lab and Kaylee said this was a great privilege.

Personally- perhaps because you didn't understand any of it- you didn't see what was that great about the lab. Nor did you see any reason that it was better than coming to bed with you and Stephen. But, you probably needed engineering blood to understand it.

"Hey sweetheart." Tony grinned as he watched you walk into the lab. Bruce wasn't there, making Tony the only person in there. He was working on some new fancy robot. "How was your evening?"

"It was great, thanks." You said with a grin, sitting yourself down on the edge of the table, crossing your legs at the ankle. "What are you working on?"

You got lost in all of the scientific details and words that Tony was talking about, nodding along like you had a clue what he was talking about. Tony droned on and on, gesturing to different parts of the robot. You looked at them, though you had no idea what they were supposed to do.

"I'll be honest," You said with a small smile. "I don't really know what's going on here. But you look happy when you're explaining it so keep going."

Tony chuckled, turning away from the robot. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to him so that he could press his lips to yours. His other hand came up to push through your short hair to hold your head to him.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pressing yourself into him. God you loved this man.

Tony pulled back breathless. You carded your fingers through his hair, regaining breath yourself.

"Maybe. . ." Tony said, moving his lips down against your neck, nipping lightly at your skin, "We can go on upstairs, drag Stephen out of the library, and have an early night, what do you say?"

"I say that's an amazing idea." You said, feeling excitement bubble up under your skin. You hadn't actually been to bed with any of them yet- not in an intimate romantic way anyways.

Tony beamed, "C'mon then."

You let him lead you up to the twenty-sixth floor where you found Stephen pouring over another book.

"Steph?" Tony murmured, sliding his hands down the front of his chest while standing behind him. "You want to come to bed with us?"

Stephen closed his eyes, leaning back into Tony's embrace. He smiled and replied lightly, "What a bad boy for interrupting my work."

Tony chuckled, though he shifted where he stood. "C'mon."

Stephen closed the book and stood up, turning so that he could lean down and kiss Tony passionately. Then he put the book away in the library shelf, striding over to you, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

He nipped your bottom lip, sucking at it, leaving it swollen before he pulled back. Then, you were suddenly falling before you landed on a soft bed.

"Wha-" You looked around in a panic.

"Magic." Stephen said simply, his cloak floating away from you guys. He set his golden ring down on the side table.

You blink, realizing that he must have teleported you here. It was still weird to you, knowing that magic existed.

Tony chuckles, coming up behind you to lift your shirt up over your head, kissing down the base of your neck before he unhooks your bra next. He flings it to the side and Stephen moves forward now, his hands on your hips, his mouth on your lips.

He tastes like cinnamon surprisingly, not a taste that you would have thought would be on his lips. There's also a hint of peppermint, and you're starting to wonder if perhaps he'd made himself a cup of tea.

His stubble scrapes against your cheek as he tilts his head to press soft kisses to the base of your neck while Tony pulls your skirt down. You kicked off the shoes that you were wearing so that they fall with soft thunks to the floor.

Once you're bare, Stephen moves so that you're laying on your back, while he leans over you, his lips suckling your breasts. The hard perks stick up in Tony's line of sight and he joins Stephen in tugging and pinching your nipples between his teeth.

Stephen pulls back to undress himself and Tony follows suit, before the three of you are bare and on the bed together.

"C'mere sweetheart." Tony whispered, motioning for you to come over to him. You do so, straddling him as he pulls you down for another kiss.

Stephen moves behind you and you can feel his lips licking your pussy, his hands reaching up to hold your hips down.

"Stephen!" You whimper out as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Tony kisses you again and you card your fingers through his hair, the brown spiking up between your digits.

"Ready darling?" Stephen asks behind you, pressing kisses against your back.

"Yes." You breathe out. He flips you over onto your back, pulling you onto his cock.

You both groan, clutching each other desperately. Stephen's eyes are closed, looking like he's in pure bliss. You slide your hands up his rock hard chest to hold onto his firm shoulders. One hand snakes upwards into his hair, the peppery black threads parting like silk.

He thrusts up into you, as Tony massages your breasts with one hand, his other teasing your clit. He pinches and rubs and rolls your sensitive buttons, pulling noises of ecstasy from both you and Stephen.

"Stephen, I'm gonna-" You murmur, before he nips your bottom lip and whispers, "Let go for me darling."

You do let go, letting the release wash over you like a bout of electricity. When Stephen shoots up into you, you both still and then Tony is pulling you away, pressing you down flat into the bed before he thrusts into you with a tight groan.

You moan, the remnants of your last release slicking him greatly as he pounds into you. Tony grunts when Stephen pushes two fingers into his ass, twisting his knuckles gently as Tony moans again.

"Fuck." You whimper as Tony thrusts particularly hard into you. Everything feels amazing, more amazing than anything had ever felt before. You'd been with your fair share of men before them, before you'd found your soulmates, but nothing compared to their expertise.

"Tony please." You whispered desperately.

"There we go sweetheart." Tony murmured, both of you cumming at the same time. When you both slowed and pulled away, you all laid there for a moment in the bed.

Stephen was the first to move, coming back with washcloths, cleaning the two of you with care and love. He eventually tossed them, before climbing back into bed.

You rolled over, curling up against him while Tony spooned you from behind. "Love you Y/N." Tony muttered softly into your ear. "Love you Steph."

"Love you Tony. Love you Stephen." You whispered, feeling that pleasure creeping through your body when he said he loved you.

"Love you both too." Stephen muttered sleepily.

Both of them were out almost immediately after, mouths slack, snores light. You smiled as you traced light patterns into Stephen's chest. What an amazing life you had.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"YOU ALRIGHT SAM?" STEVE ASKED as thethree of them were getting ready for bed. Bucky was already half asleep, barely listening to a word they were saying. Steve was close to joining him, already in his blue and white striped boxers, pausing to climb under the covers.

Sam looked nowhere near ready for bed. He was on his phone in the corner of the room on the couch. He had been hoping to scroll through Y/N's Instagram page and find out what Elizabeth looked like. But Y/N hadn't posted any pictures with her sister. Never mentioned her, had her tagged in nothing. He couldn't even find any Elizabeth's under Y/N's Instagram.

"Hmm?" Sam asked, not having heard what Steve had asked the first time.

"Are you alright, you look lost in thought." Steve commented, standing away from the bed now.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Sam nodded, swiping off the phone and turning it off, getting ready for bed. He had noticed that neither Steve nor Buck had seemed as worried about meeting Elizabeth. They were more interested in getting to know Y/N. Not that he didn't want to get to know Y/N- he liked you very much. You were his soulmate after all. . . but so was Elizabeth and he wished he could have gotten to know both of them at the same time.

Sam got dressed slowly in his boxers. He could just go and visit Elizabeth on the farm. . . but that seemed presumptuous.

"Seriously, what's bothering you?" Steve asked sternly.

"Just wondered when we're going to meet Elizabeth." Sam commented with a shrug.

"Oh, was that all?" Steve asked with a furrowed brow. "Y/N will let us know when her sister is ready to meet us. You know that."

"Yeah." Sam said, heart sinking a little. He felt bad about the whole situation, almost like something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Yeah, I know."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

ELIZABETH WAS THRILLED. ONLY TWO days after the conversation with her parents- almost two weeks before you would have sex with Tony and Stephen- a beam of rainbow light came down from the sky.

Elizabeth had stood there, shocked for a moment. The sheep had scattered, the dogs chasing after them.

Standing there was an Asian man. His black hair was pulled back into a spiky man bun. He was at least 5' 10". He was wearing some sort of fancy black and silver armor, the barest of dark blue clothing could be seen underneath. He was equipped with a medieval like sword at the hip and was looking around the farm in interest.

Elizabeth blinked for a moment, looking down at her own clothes to see if perhaps she had been transported into a favorite book of hers. Nope, she was still wearing her blue skinny jeans, tucked into cowboy books. She was wearing a blue plaid open shirt with a white T-shirt underneath. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she'd done the bare minimum with her makeup. In one hand was an empty basket and in the other was chicken feed.

"Are you Elizabeth?" The man finally asked when he noticed her.

She swallowed, finding her voice, "Yes, who the heck are you?"

"I'm Hogun the Grim. Thor sent for me." He replied.

The words made little sense to Elizabeth. She knew who Thor was, of course, but didn't understand why he would have sent for this man, or why this man was here.

She watched his eyes drift down to her arm, the Cherry Blossoms surrounding the Japanese sword seemed to almost glow- though it wasn't actually.

"Oh." Elizabeth blinked. "Pardon, but how did you know. . .?"

"My friend Thor is soulmated to your sister I believe." Hogun said with the slightest of frowns. "Your sister said that I was your soulmate. I would think that one is it?" He pointed to the sword.

Elizabeth could think of no reason why it wouldn't be and when Hogun held out his hand, she put the basket and feed down, stepping forward to accept his hand.

The colours bleached from her skin and she felt a warmth sweep through her and she grew surprised. It wasn't anything like she had expected. . . she hadn't expected to feel happy. To feel accepted already.

She didn't dare get her hopes up about the others, but about Hogun perhaps there was hope. Perhaps she would have a chance to be happy with her soulmate.

"I'm afraid I didn't come with much." Hogun said, a slight blush to his cheeks. "And I realize that you have no word ahead of time. But perhaps you could assist me? I'm afraid I don't know much about Midgardian culture."

Elizabeth smiled gently. "Of course. Please, let me show you around."

She had spent the rest of the day showing him the farm first. He had watched her interact with the animals, watched how happily she completed the chores. His favorite was with the horses, an animal he knew something about and even offered his help with.

She accepted the help and the two of them headed back up to her house with gallons of milk and chicken eggs.

Once they had put the food items away, Elizabeth had entered the backdoor. Hogun had lingered in the doorway as Elizabeth had awkwardly gotten her parents attention, introducing them to Hogun.

Your guys' mother was thrilled, greeting him with excitement and joy. Elizabeth quickly explained who he was and where he was from. Your mother immediately offered to get him some normal clothes.

That gave your father time to interact with him. Hogun treated your father with a great deal of respect while Elizabeth lingered about nervously, watching the two of them interact for a moment before leaving to cook dinner.

By the time she had returned, Hogun was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, looking slightly awkward about his. His clothes had been put in the small guest bedroom, though he kept his sword on him. He and your father also seemed to be on good terms.

Dinner was a pleasant affair on all accounts and Hogun and Elizabeth had stayed up on the porch watching the fire flies flit around. They traded stories and anecdotes and Elizabeth found herself laughing for the first time in a long time. Hogun felt his tough, grim, hard façade slowly melting away into a softer one.

By the time the both of them went to bed, both were feeling wonderfully about their new acquaintance.

Hogun had waited a long time for his soulmate, longer than Thor, longer than Loki. Thor had found Sif at a young age and Hogun was older than Loki. Now that he had found Elizabeth, he seemed almost complete. He hoped that things worked out for the best between the two of them.

Elizabeth meanwhile, was rethinking everything she'd previously thought about soulmates. She found him exceedingly nice and familiar with animals. He seemed to enjoy the farm and had even inquired more about the farm and the way it was run.

However, Elizabeth argued as she rolled over onto her side to face the door, he wasn't Y/N's soulmate either. He was solely hers. How the others would treat her would be a different story, she assumed.

She decided to give it some more time before she gave you any clear indications about what she was going to do.

⬅️➡️

[fuckinuhhh]

Architectural Finds, 06/24/2023

My walk today was a brief 20 minutes, I was meeting up with a friend from upstate for some chai who had come down the night before to stay with some other friends. We met up at the Chai Spot on Mott St. (which I definitely now recommend) and we relaxed in their backroom lounge with our chai's for 45 min or so. She eventually had to leave to catch her bus back upstate & I walked her to the subway stairs hugged her and said goodbye. Feeling the warm weather on my skin and the caffeine in my veins I decided to walk up Broadway, here were some of the architectural highlights.

This cute turret room on the top of the building on the NE corner of Bleecker & Broadway. Doing the smallest ammount of googling I am finding out this was Peter Venkman's (Bill Murray) apartment in Ghostbusters 2???? ok.

It just looks like it would be such a whimsical little tower to hang your hair from, idk.

Building Facts: Built in 1891 as the Manhattan Savings Institution, also known as Bleecker Tower. Architect Stephen Decatur Hatch.

Built in the Romanesque Revival style with arches and ornaments, as well as the red sandstone and signature rough cut stone of this style on the base of the building (definitely why it caught my eye, I love Richardson Romanesque/romanesque revival).

The tower on top eludes my brief internet search, but if anyone has pictures of the inside please direct them to me.

Next up we have this lil copper cutie who looks like it just got a face lift judging by the shiny copper facade on top. It is currently a FootLocker so hopefully they're treating her nice.

Building Facts: (obv) Built in 1889 by Architect Alfred Zucker.

The menacing gargoyles are cute.

(maybe more of an opinion than a fact, but) there used to be a bookstore called Shakepeare's on the bottom floor and the top floors were 1-per-floor studio spaces for artists to live/work in, & I wish that was the case today, not footlocker and high rent.

MOVING ON, we've got this pair of cuties. Don't they look like the best of friends holding hands ready to face the world side by side? These guys are 734 (left) and 732 (right) Broadway.

734: Built in 1872 by Architects David & John Jardine in Cast-Iron Neo-Grec style. Until ~2015, the facade had become a rusted brown/black mess until they cleaned and repainted it.

732: Built in 1854 by unknown.

This little building has a complicated past but ill try and summarize the small dig I just did on it. Originally it was a 3.5 peaked-roof building as a set of 3 houses for wealthy sisters (daughters of John Mason) from 732-736 designed by an undocumented architect. It underwent large renovations twice in its life, and one small renovation adding the Treffurth's sign on the roof cornice. The first renovation happened in 1885 by Henry Janeway Hardenbergh (god write a romance novel already would you) and allowed the introduction of E. A. Mac's bookstore to take the place of the earlier saloon on the bottom floor. It was then renovated in 1900 by Bruno W. Berger to the Cast-Iron more or less Renaissance Revival facade we see today.

-

Im going to keep these next ones brief because I'm beginning to lose steam :)

1 Astor Place

Built in 1883 by Architects Starkweather & Gibbs (they also designed the Potter Building). Brick & Terracotta above Cast-Iron ground floor facade.

Originally it was used as a hotel and boarding house with ground floor stores. The harsh vertical motifs on the exterior caught my eye, and I was drawn in even more by the harmony of the design elements and color choices.

10 Astor Place aka 444 Lafayette St

Built in 1876 by Architect Griffith Thomas to the same owner as the above building, Orlando B. Potter, who seemed to have impeccable taste in architecture.

I love the ornate implementation of the painted white Cast-Iron in the arches and pillar ornaments on this one. As well as the eye-popping contrast of the white paint on dark red brick, kind of a juxtaposed take on themes seen in the building above with the way the red and black elements seem to blend in together in harmony.

21 Astor Place aka Clinton Hall

Built in 1891 by George E. Harney.

Originally a Library for the New York Mercantile Library. I love the classic industrial look its such a strong look while they still tried to give elements of the facade some artistic nuance like in the arched windows and dark banding.

Only Caught the side of this Collonade building but doing more research on it, it's owned by the Blue Man Group????

Built 1831 by Seth Greer and historically home to family member's of the Astor & Vanderbilt families, it is the oldest building I took note of today.

And of course, how could I not be drawn into the Cooper Union Foundation building's charm. It stands seemingly so alone in the heart of Manhattan, close to a modern miracle.

Built in 1859 by Frederick A. Peterson in the (what I'm finding now to be called) Rundbogenstil German neo-Romanesque style.

I didn't realize it at the time but this picture also seems to be the back of the building. Still just such ornate and well-balanced design!

HONORABLE MENTIONS: This house on top of this building and the cute lil mansard moment next to it, which I searched and searched for but I cant seem to remember where it is.

Edit: I found it, there were street signs in the picture whoops. The one with the cottage is 203 E 13th Street also known as Pear Tree Place. And the little guy with the mansard roof is 109 3rd ave, both of them resting above Kiehls 3rd ave.

DISHONORABLE MENTIONS: This NYU Alumni building. Who designed you, they should be ashamed. What is going on with your offset, unbalanced terraces in the back? Awful. What was the point of all of these different colored brick patches?? Uncomfortable, awful. It looks like a neutral-toned Duplo set.

Built in 1986 and I cant even find the architect so you know they weren't very proud of it.

[blxckdragonfly]

In Your Room (Darkness Finds You Universe #8)

(Song: "In Your Room" by Halestorm.

Pairing: Chris Motionless & Lycia Winters "Pronunciation: Lai-shuh"(Played by Ana De Armas)

Warning: Slight mention of death, other than that just plain old fluff.

Word Count: 5,621

Synopsis: After a wonderful dream and a wonderful romantic evening before, Chris opens up to Lycia about the confrontation that happened at Furnace Festival with Ash Costello.

And we're back! This is a pretty long one but it's also vulnerable for Chris. I loved how it turned out though! Co-written with @blackrose-92! Enjoy. x Tiger)

Set of “Thoughts and Prayers” Music Video– July 24th, 2021. 

Chris and I have been seeing each other for a few months now and I’m currently on my way to go see him as he’s filming with his band, Motionless In White, the music video for their song “Thoughts & Prayers”. I’d been asked to come along to the shoot and take a few photos of the music video shoot for Outburn. The concept of the video was of Chris being in a white suit, his makeup giving the feel of The Joker and performing some kind of ritual– while the other scenes were of him with the band, and then he as well as the band would be drenched in fake blood. 

When the cameras were off and it was just me and Chris on set, he walked up to me while still covered in the red liquid. 

“Hey! Don’t get me bloody!” I say as I see the mischievous gleam in his eye. I try to run away but he follows me with a smirk on his face. I squeal. “No! Get away from me, Carrie.” 

He catches me and his arms close around me, making me freeze as the thought of when my cocaine dealer’s friend tried touching me and I told him no, but he refused to listen to me. I tried to get away from him but it led to me being assaulted. 

“Christopher! I told you not to touch me or get blood on me!” I said, sternly. I see his once playful brown eyes look hurt, he lets go of me and his face looks wounded. 

“I’m sorry, Lycia,” His voice is small as he steps back from me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It won’t happen again.” 

I take a deep breath, my heart racing with mixed emotions– feeling bad that I yelled at him. I walk up to him, wiping away the blood off his face and helping him see me better, forcing him to look into my hazel eyes. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you… You look kind of hot.” 

His head lifted up and he met my eyes with a seductive glimmer in his chocolate brown eyes. "I do?" I shook my head, but I was also smiling. I stepped close to him and reached for his hand from him, touching it lightly. He turned his wrist up to pull me closer. “Mm. How about you come over here and do something about it?” 

“You know, I think I might,” I murmured as we embraced, the blood smeared onto my hair and face. He closed the gap between us and kisses me passionately, pressing his body to mine and deepening our kiss. His lips parted from mine, leaving soft kisses on my neck as a moan of pleasure escaped my lips. He feels my warm breath against his neck. 

“Oh, I want you so much right now,” He presses his lips to mine again, kissing me gentler this time. “But this isn’t the right time or place.” I hear him sigh as he reluctantly pulls away from me, gazing into my hazel eyes– seeing the green and yellow illuminated by a consuming passion that I felt. He looks at me in admiration, even with the blood splattered in my hair and on my face. 

“That’s true,” I said as he set me back down on my feet, feeling his fingers wrap around mine. I hear a chuckle from him and I look up into his eyes again. 

“Did you really call me Carrie?” Chris says and I look him up and down, seeing him covered in blood did remind me of the remake of the classic Stephen King movie. 

“Have you not looked in the mirror?” I said as I gestured to one of the vanity mirrors. He lets go of my hand and walks over to the mirror, finally seeing himself covered in blood and he laughed. 

“You have a point.” He smiled at me as I laughed. “I suppose we should get cleaned up, huh?” 

I nod in agreement. “Good thing you told me to bring an extra set of clothes,” I replied. We start getting cleaned up as he smiles and on the tip of my tongue were the three words I wanted to say to him, which were ‘I love you’ but the memory of losing Marcus held me back. 

Chris and Lycia’s Home: Scranton, Pennsylvania. November 13th, 2022. 

My body twitches involuntarily as I felt Chris wrap his arms around me while he laid behind me. I stir and open my eyes, the memory of the dream is still fresh in my mind. As I wipe away the tears that escaped my closed eyelids, Chris nuzzles his face into the side of my neck and holds me tightly to his chest. His warm breath on my skin and the soft embrace gives me a sense of security. 

“Lycia? Hey,” Chris whispers gently as he looks into my tired gaze. “Shh. What is it? Are you having a nightmare?” 

I sniffle softly and shift onto my back, staring up at Chris’s strong calm brown eyes. “It was a dream,” I explain, keeping my voice steady as memories of the dream flooded back to me. “It was a wonderful dream.” 

He exhales sharply, a mixture of hope and worry creasing his face. “It’s alright,” He murmured softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you were dreaming about.” 

I hug him, drawing him close to me. “It wasn’t just an ordinary flashback. Do you remember when you brought me to the set of the ‘Thoughts and Prayers’ music video?” He nods. “That was because something bad had happened with one of my dealers’ friends. When I realized where I was, I saw your face. It reminded me that I wasn’t in that place anymore, but it made me feel guilty for yelling at you.” 

Tears run down my cheeks as I look at him. “I still do. I never told you why.” 

Chris enfolds my body in his arms and rests my head on top of his chest, he gently strokes the back of my hair as he speaks, “Sh. You don’t have to apologize for feeling upset. Everyone has their own triggers and I accidentally hit yours that day.” His voice is soft and soothing as he speaks to me. “I’m not mad at you for that, babe. I love you too much to be angry with you.” 

I smile, feeling a little bit more at ease now that I have shared my dream with Chris. He listens patiently and without a sliver of judgment, which made me feel even more safe in his arms and less guilty for lashing out at him. 

“I almost said that I loved you that day,” I confess quietly. His eyes widened in surprise, disbelief evident on his face. 

“What?!” He exclaims and I start to giggle at his reaction as I repeat myself. 

“I almost did,” I say again, nodding my head as I spoke. “But it was the outburst that I said at the time that made me reconsider saying it.” 

Chris sighs heavily and shakes his head in disbelief. “Wait, seriously? What?!” He asks again, still amazed by this new development. I giggle again and blush slightly. 

He looks at me thoughtfully before speaking again. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He mutters under his breath as realization dawns on him. “I screwed that up, didn’t I?” 

His gaze held a mixture of guilt and regret as he looks into my eyes, clearly feeling responsible for the scenario we had found ourselves in back at the music video shoot. 

“Babe, you haven’t done anything wrong,” I say. “It wasn’t until Ash Costello made an attempt to intervene in our relationship that I finally said I loved you. Remember?” 

Let me in your room

I've seen the rest of you

But I know there's something more in your room

I'm right outside your door

Show me things you've never shown before…

Chris grinned fondly as I spoke of the day that I confronted Ash and expressed my feelings for him, he tenderly sweeps a lock of my hair from my face and looks into my eyes. He takes a deep breath and lets out a shuddering sigh as he remembers the moment. 

“Yeah, I remember,” He says, reverently, his voice thick with emotions. “You were so brave and strong to stand up to Ash like you did and you expressed your love for me in such a powerful way.” His face lit up with joy and affection as he continued. “It was honestly one of the most incredible displays of affection I’ve ever witnessed and it will stay with me forever.” 

A few pictures from your past

And those walls you painted black

And the secrets that you keep under your bed

All you have to do is let me in your room

I smile widely as I embrace him and kiss him tenderly. I was overwhelmed with emotions I hadn’t expected to feel. When we break apart, I admire him with my eyes. 

“I’m so glad I told you how I felt; I had kept it inside for far too long. You mean more to me than anything else in the world.” I say. 

Gently, Chris caresses my back and watches as I close my eyes at his touch and breathe in the smell of his skin. I look up at him, my lips draw into a smile as I exhale and kiss him softly on the cheek. 

He leans in closer and meets my lips in a soft kiss, when we pull away, he looks into my eyes once more, his voice taking on a quieter tone. “I love you, my Lycia. I love you more than anything in this world.” 

I look at Chris with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t believe that I’d found someone who loved me like he did and felt so lucky that I had him. I reach to cup his face in both of my hands and smile lovingly at him. 

“I love you too,” I say softly before leaning in to kiss him again. This time our kiss was passionate and full of tenderness, it was clear how much we loved each other at that moment. 

“You’re perfect, Christopher Cerulli.” I notice that his eyes took on a look of sadness as he pulled away from me and he sits up in bed, sighing. “Hey. What’s wrong?” 

I can see that he was holding something back, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I sit up in bed too, resting my hand on his shoulder, making him look over at me. I move my fingers to his cheek, my thumb tracing comforting circles on his skin. He was hesitant for a moment. 

“I know that we just spoke about Ash Costello trying to destroy our relationship back in 2021,” Chris begins, his voice low and serious. “But there’s something else I need to share with you.” 

I nod encouragingly, concern etched onto my face as I wait for him to continue. My eyes never left his, as if my gaze had been enough to will him to find the words he needed to tell me what was weighing so heavily on his heart as I rest my cheek on his shoulder. 

“Baby,” I say. “What is it?” 

With another deep breath, he speaks. “Ash has actually tried this before, when I was seeing somebody else; Gaia. The only thing that made you different from Gaia is that she actually listened to what Ash said and cut off the connection between her and I.” 

So this wasn’t a one time thing with her. I thought as my eyes flew open with surprise, finding out that Ash indeed had a history of being involved in Chris’s life and manipulating his relationships. I think back to the argument that I had with Ash at Furnace Festival. It wasn’t an isolated incident after all. 

“Ash shouldn’t have done that to you,” I say through gritted teeth. “It isn’t right to meddle in someone’s love life, regardless of who you are.” 

Chris sadly shakes his head at me. “I just wished she stayed out of it. I don’t regret ever being with Gaia, but it felt like Ash was interfering too much.” He was silent for a few minutes. “You can hear it when I play Eternally Yours when we’re on tour.” 

My heart shatters as I hear the same sadness in Chris’s voice as I’ve heard many times before. I’d watch him perform when he was on the Trinity of Terror tour and towards the end of Eternally Yours, his vocals would change.

Pain, sadness, and a sense of distance were all conveyed in his voice, like he was on the brink of tears but he couldn’t let them go. He scoffs at himself bitterly, making me raise a brow at him in confusion. 

“Ash has it all in her head that I had feelings for her which was never true,” Chris explains, his voice edged with anger. “Yeah, sure, I've worked closely with her– I've collaborated with her band, New Years Day on a song and been in the music video. But that doesn't mean that I've ever felt anything more than just friendship and professional admiration for her. Ever since then, she's tried to stick her nose in my personal life and relationships. It's not right.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” My tone was quiet, struggling to remain emotionless. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was too early in our relationship,” Chris admits. “The thought of me mentioning this to you might have pushed you away from me.” 

You can be yourself

You don't have to hide from me, I won't tell

I know everyone you've ever trusted has let you down

And you don't want to come out

And show me, show me

I run my red tipped fingernails across his tattooed jawline, tracing the lyric to Saturday Night by the Misfits as I give him a kind smile. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be scared of telling me anything,” I say warmly. “It’s okay for you to let it out. I’m here for you, no matter what. As long as we’re on the same page.” 

He gazes into my eyes, his face takes on a look of comfort and security that he hadn’t felt in a while, he lets out a soft exhale and nods in agreement, a small smile crossing his face. 

“No, you’re right,” He murmurs as he turns to me, taking my hand and sinking back into the cozy sheets of our bed. “I shouldn’t have been scared to tell you what happened with Ash before. I was just petrified that I’d lose you the way I had with Gaia.” 

I smile, tears forming in the corner of my eyes. “Hey,” I whisper gently, fingers reaching up to the roots of his short black hair. “You don’t ever have to worry about that. I told you before, you can tell me anything. Unless I say so, it won’t bother me.” 

“Perhaps I should let Lyra mentally beat that into my head,” Chris says with amusement in his voice. 

I pull back from him and give him a quizzical look, tears gone and I giggle. “That’s not necessary.” 

“I mean, it worked the first time,” Chris chuckles softly. “Do you remember when we were in Cleveland for the Trinity of Terror tour and I had that talk with Lyra?” 

I nod, thinking back to when I’d left to go talk to his bandmates and had noticed him talking to Lyra when we arrived at the venue that day. 

"Yes, I remember," I say. 

"Lyra told me that I had nothing to worry about when it comes to you and I," Chris murmurs, taking my hand in his own, kissing the backs of my knuckles. "She believes that you're the one for me, she knew it in her heart."

Chris ran his fingers through my caramel brown hair and began to massage my scalp, the metal of his silver and black coffin ring giving my skin a slight chill. His touch was tender and calming, causing my heart to swell with adoration for him. I lifted my hand to cover his, wearing the matching gold coffin ring that signified our connection.

"You know," Chris speaks in a lower voice, making every cell in my body tingle with joy. "I think Lyra has been right about you all along. I do believe that you're the one."

I smile as I look into Chris's eyes and squeeze his hand. "Maybe we should both thank Lyra then." I reply softly, my voice full of emotion.

Chris chuckles and leans in to place a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Maybe we should. I think Lyra definitely knows how to be a matchmaker."

I giggle as I envelop him in my arms and rest my head against his chest. A satisfied sigh escaped from my lips as I realized just how safe and secured he made me feel on top of being loved and I also realized that I never thanked him for when I opened up to him about Marcus and how his death still affects me. 

A few pictures from your past

And those walls you painted black

And the secrets that you keep under your bed

All you have to do is let me in your room

"I never told you thank you for being so understanding of all the things I had to tell you," I murmured softly, tracing little circles on the back of Chris's neck with my fingers. "The nightmares, my past with substance abuse that nearly took my life, everything."

Chris looks down, not wanting to meet the yellow-green of my hazel gaze but feeling my words touch him deeply. He brings his hand to cover mine and pulls it away from his neck before bringing it up to his lips and kissing it.

"Honey, I may not have been in the same position as you were when Marcus died," Chris says. He remembered everything I told him, how he had been burned alive by his own hand and watched it happen, how it continues to haunt me to this day. "But, I can understand the pain of losing the one that you loved the most."

I nod in agreement and then hug him tightly, taking in his warmth and comfort. I could feel tears begin to prick in my eyes again as I thought about Marcus but I kept them back, pushing them away with the knowledge that Chris was here and he understood me and my grief. His grip tightens on me a little bit as he kisses the top of my head. He lifts his head, looking into my eyes which glimmered with unshed tears, hands caressing my face tenderly as a soft sigh escaped from his lips. 

“You know, I can never fully take away your pain or make it go away,” He says softly. “But I can promise you this– I will always be here for you, no matter how hard it gets.” 

He takes my hand in his and runs his fingers over my knuckles gently before leaning in to place kisses along each of my fingertips. I stare into his brown eyes and smile at him. I’ve never felt more understood or supported– until this wonderful man came into my life. He has come into my life and has done more than I ever thought possible. 

“I love you,” I whisper as I lean in to kiss him gently. 

“I love you too,” He replies, voice raw with emotion. I see the warmth and love that he had for me in his warm brown gaze. “You will never be alone in this, babe.” 

I nod as tears of joy run down my face, ever since that fateful day that we met– I’ve never felt love like this. I never ever wanted to let go of how perfect this feeling is between us.

I wrap my arms around his neck and I kiss him again, pouring all of the emotion I felt in the kiss. I wanted him to know how much he means to me, how I’ve appreciated everything he’s done for me. 

You know every part of me

I let you in, I let you see

All the dark and every color of my room

As our lips part, I felt my heart swell. His chest begins to rise and fall rapidly against mine as I melt into his embrace. His deep brown eyes glistened with emotions in his gaze– I could see happiness, love, a bit of fear. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my forehead before pressing his own against mine. 

“I've been carrying so much since Marcus died three years ago,” I whisper. “But you always seem to know when I need you most, It's not just that you listen– it's that you make me feel safe to share these things. Your love means so much to me.” 

I lean in to press a light kiss on Chris’s lips, thanking him silently for being there when I needed him to be, listening to my struggles, and supporting me with so much compassion and understanding. A single tear ran down my cheek. 

“I’m so grateful for you,” I whisper softly as I lean into his lips. “Thank you for being there through my pain and sorrow.” 

Chris pulls me close in his arms, kissing the top of my caramel brown hair tenderly as he covers my bare skin with his fingers, tracing my tattoos on my sides. “Of course. I’ll always be by your side, baby.” He whispered huskily into my ear. 

I smile into him, feeling warmth come over my body at hearing those words come out of his mouth so easily. I lift my head and capture his lips with mine in a fiery kiss, pouring all of the emotion I had been feeling and holding onto since Marcus left this world into it.

His hands explore my back and hips, his tongue invades my mouth, teasing and stroking until I gasp in delight. I let out a breathless whimper of pleasure as our lips met in a passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever. 

When the need for breath finally broke us apart, my gaze traces over his handsome face and his strong jawline as he beams at me, his eyes serene and affectionate as he places tender kisses into the side of my neck.

His fingers curve over a thin strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear and revealing the curve of my jawline. He moves in slowly, placing a light kiss onto the tip of my nose before pulling back to look into my eyes once more. 

“You will always be my Lycia Rose,” Chris whispers softly against my lips, breathing into my skin. 

I smile and kiss him again, slower this time as I meet the depths of his brown eyes. “And you will always be my Christopher Cerulli.” 

Let me do that for you

And tell me all about your past

Why you painted those walls black

Baby it's all right, you're safe in here with me

Open up so I can see

I hear a soft chuckle from him as his fingertips move along my skin. “Let’s try to lighten up the conversation a little bit,” He says. “When I was a teenager, before Motionless In White got big, I used to work at the toy department at Walmart.” 

I gaze up at him, amused by the concept of someone with black hair, brown eyes, and tattoos almost all over their body working at that kind of store. I burst into laughter again as Chris trails his fingers up and down my bare sides. “What’s so funny?” He laughs. 

"Just imagining you like that," I say between giggles. I sigh softly. “That was better than my teenage years.” 

I can see him take on a look of sympathy as he remembers what I had told him after that morning from Furnace Festival, being sexually assaulted at fourteen and having parents who verbally abused and tormented me. He strokes my hair with his fingers in understanding. 

"Your first job sounds so much better than what I had," I say as I shake my head, thinking of the summers of my teenage years. "Every summer, I'd have to go out and help my aunt, who was a crime scene cleaner. She was the one who was called in when there was any type of death or hoarding that needed to be taken care of."

Chris nods, trying to picture what it must have been like for me. He couldn't even imagine having the courage to walk in and help take care of a scene like that and clean it up for the families like I had as a teenager.

"That's really tough," he said softly, his heart hurting for me as he pulled me closer into his embrace.

I looked down at our intertwined hands, my own thumb tracing the jack o' lantern he had tattooed on his left hand as well as the first half of his "Scranton" tattoo along his fingers before sighing gently in response.

"It was definitely difficult at times," I said quietly. "But it gave me a different perspective on life, you know? It made me realize how precious life is and how quickly it can easily be taken away from you."

"Do you remember anything from that experience?" Chris asks as he looks at me with curiosity. "You don't have to go into the details if you don't want to."

I sigh and run my fingers through his black hair before looking at him, meeting his warm chocolate brown eyes. 

"Well, I didn't mind it so much– the bodies were long gone by the time we arrived. There was something satisfying about making a home look better after the experience of a tragedy." I murmured as my lips quirked up as I recalled the feeling of accomplishment I'd get after handling such tough cleaning jobs. "I felt like I was making a difference in some kind of way."

Chris smiled at my words, heartwarming to see how much strength has gone into me helping others. I could see that it made him love me even more for being so selfless and compassionate towards others. 

"That's really amazing," he said softly, squeezing my hand in admiration. "You have such a good heart, Lycia."

I blush slightly and snuggle closer to Chris, grateful for the comforting warmth of his body next to mine. "You’re sweet. Thank you, babe." I murmured.

A few pictures from your past

And those walls you painted black

And the secrets that you keep under your bed

"So when we were done cleaning up, my aunt would take us out for lunch or for ice cream," I continued with a fond smile on my face. "It felt nice to have something sweet to counterbalance the sadness of what we had just seen."

Chris laughed and nodded in agreement. "I'm sure it did. I can't even imagine what that would have been like." he said, shaking his head in disbelief at how brave I was to do that kind of work.

"It wasn't easy," I admit as I look away pensively, thinking back on all the gruesome scenes I'd experienced as a teenager, seeing the blood and maggots that lined the floors in some of the places that I'd been assigned to clean. I take a deep breath before I look back into Chris's eyes again and smile sadly. "But it was rewarding too and that was how I became unaffected by horror movies nor did seeing you covered in blood we were on set of the Thoughts and Prayers music video."

Chris nods, understanding the difficult situations that I had been in and me not being afraid of blood, he was humbled by my strength and courage to help those in need despite the horror and heartbreaking experiences that I had been through at such a young age.

"I'm sure it did," He says with a gentle tone of his voice, taking both of my hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "You're such an incredible woman for doing those kinds of selfless things, Lycia."

I blush slightly at his kind words and smile shyly at him. "Thank you," I murmured. "You're not so bad yourself." before leaning in to give Chris a soft peck onto his lips.

Chris grins at my response, feeling his own cheeks heat up a little. He leaned in, capturing my lips in an affectionate kiss before pulling away and looking into the hazel of my eyes, the yellow-green shimmering bright. "The kind of person that you are makes me love you even more."

I smile back at him, touched by his words and the sincerity behind them. I could feel my heart flutter with emotion as I looked into his loving gaze and couldn't help but reach up to cup his face in my hands.

"I love you too, Chris," I say softly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before laying back against him for support. Chris smiled as he drapes his arms around me and holds me close, brushing a soft kiss against the top of my head.

"Thank you for sharing your stories with me," he said gently. "It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," I reply, tilting my head back to gaze into his face, a small smile tugging at the edge of my lips as I meet his warm chocolate brown eyes, feeling a wave of warmth run through my body as he kisses me softly.

An unopened letter from your dad

A poster of your favorite band

Chris pulled away from the kiss before laying his forehead against mine, our noses lightly touching as he gave me a soft peck on the lips with a smile before pulling away once more and I curled into his arms, closing my eyes. 

“Meu anjo amoroso." I whisper into the air around us. 

"Mm. What was that?" He whispers into the skin of my shoulder, making my eyes shoot open as I realize that I’ve never spoken a single word of Portuguese in front of him before. Usually to my three brothers is when I speak my native tongue that came from my father, or I speak Greek because of my mother's side of the family.

I blush as I realize that Chris had heard me whisper those words in Portuguese. I look up at him, feeling a little embarrassed, but he just smiles down at me with a small twinkle in his eye.

"What did you say, baby?" He asked with curiosity lacing his voice.

I sigh and look away sheepishly. "It's something my papa used to tell me when I was little," I explained shyly. "It means 'my loving angel'."

Chris stares at me for a moment before his eyes soften. He cups my face gently in both of his hands, leaning forward to press his forehead against mine and I close my eyes, feeling his warmth as he whispers softly into my ear, "Honey, you are my loving angel."

I open my eyes and look into his warm gaze. I feel so much love for him that it almost brought tears back in my eyes. I smiled through them before moving to capture Chris's lips from him in a long and passionate kiss.

"The way you speak Portuguese is beautiful, Lycia," Chris murmured as we broke our kiss.

I blush at the compliment and look away shyly, my heart swelling with love for him. I move my head to rest back on his chest as I listen to the steady beat of his heart and feel the warmth of his embrace. My blush deepens and I let out a small laugh, burying my head in his chest. “Thank you, baby,” I whisper. 

Chris met my eyes before closing the gap between us and pressing a light kiss on my lips, wanting to express the gratitude he felt for me opening up to him.

He kisses me deeply, reveling in the warmth that he felt radiating from me as his lips moved against mine. He brushes away the strands of my caramel brown hair from my face lovingly before tracing circles on the small of my back soothingly while we lay together in each other's embrace.

I tremble under Chris's touch, feeling my heart race as our lips stay connected. I have never felt so safe and loved in someone's arms before. As we break apart, I look at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, his finger moving to trace my jawline tenderly.

Chris kisses the top of my head, his eyes close as he takes in the feeling of me in his arms. He smiles, feeling happier than he had ever been before. He slid an arm around my back and cuddles me close to him as he glances at the clock, seeing that it was almost two in the morning.

"I think we should get some sleep, don't you agree?" Chris says softly, running his fingers through my hair soothingly.

I nod my agreement before snuggling even closer to Chris and placing a soft kiss on the haunted house that he had tattooed on his chest. I close my eyes, allowing myself to relax in his embrace of him as I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart beating under my ear.

It don't matter I'll take every part of you

All you have to do is let me in your room

Let me in your room….

[witchthewriter]

Hi there lovely! Here’s my information for the Sons of Anarchy Ship/Match-up

Features: I’m a female, standing at 5’6, I possess long light brown hair with a tint of redness in the sunlight. My hazel eyes change each day from green/brown to brown/gold. I have the sun and moon tattoos on my thighs, a shark up my side torso on my ribs, half an arm sleeve and a neck tattoo revealing my zodiac sign – Gemini (which I often hide) I’m slender with curves.

Hobbies: I am a workaholic; it becomes my hobby at times. I work in the funeral home, removing the deceased from the POD. I enjoy my free time spent with my dogs, my fierce Doberman and my lovable, motivating exercise collie partner. I enjoy reading all things Stephen King and James Patterson and playing any horror related video games. You guessed it, I’m a strong advocate for the horror genre, and Freddy Krueger will always have my heart. I watch SOA and SPN religiously whenever I tilly tally around the house.

Personality: Often seen as an outgoing, happy go lucky, eccentric lady (This is from first judgement from people I know) When really, I’m rather introverted and possess way too dark humour. I collect knives, different types ranging from a replica of the SPN demon blade, to a jungle machete. These are all encases in a glass shelf, only used for display. I love to make others laugh, and I’m incredibly loyal to those I care for. I don’t practice religion (I support others who do) as the only thing I believe in, is the reaper.

Aesthetics: Not sure if this is a term but my house is very much cabin like. Wooden beams, brown features, brown clocks with black accents. I love this kind of theme, heavily decorated with green plants and fish tanks.  

Likes: Lover of being at home, with my man and the dogs. Also a lover of all things spooky. I enjoy long hot showers with my candles lit in the shower itself, It’s so peaceful. I love to read, whether it be books in my hand or online. Sadly, I am a smoker, so my time alone on my patio having a cig is therapeutic to me. I adore time spent with my little family or my close friends whether it be going to the pub for a beer or shopping at Walmart for new bedding 😊 Coffee is my best friend.

Dislikes: My biggest dislike in this world, is seeing animals mistreated. I am that person that buys the near dead betta fish at the pet store and brings it home to treat and watch thrive. I dislike SNAKES. They just scare me, but don’t wish any ill will on them. Hypocrites are my triggers, can’t stand someone who preaches to the choir about wrong doings when they’re actively just as guilty. Own your shit is my motto.             

Brief fun facts about me!

Used to train canines for search work, in areas such as narcotics and explosives. My closest friend is my grandma. I love to wear black. My go to perfume is good girl. I play COD often – I’m competitive in nature. I wear the SONS rings as I got them custom made, and it’s my favourite accessory!

I put way too much into this post, but hopefully it’ll help lots with finding my best ship! Thanks for taking the time to do this 😊  

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋🌈

You LITERALLY sound like a character from Supernatural?!?! Are you sure you aren't Bobby's long-lost daughter or something?

Also being a canine trainer?! Um... are you the coolest person in the goddamn world? I think so.

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝑰 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑶𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏! I think you guys would be such a perfect match. In a way, you remind me of a cool-ass version of Donna? You seem very strong - emotionally, mentally and physically. Opie is a quiet guy, very loyal and genuine. You don't have to worry about him being manipulative or having underlying motives. He practically wears his heart on his sleeve but does his best not to show it.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

・You’d both be very level-headed and know you can trust the other. Opie is incredibly loyal, and if you showed to him the same loyalty, then nothing could come between you. 

・I think Opie would put on a brave face to watch horror movies, and he finds some scenes funny. Although he gets tight-lipped when there’s a lot of gore (feels a bit guilty?)

・He’d actually like one of your favourite horror movies, and love getting themed gifts from you

・Opie would love staying at home with you - you two would move in together and make your home a paradise. You both have a similar aesthetic. Cabin, rustic, and cosy, Opie would absolutely adore your dogs. 

・I think you would fit in with the club very easily. Gemma would be wary of you at first, but realise you aren't someone that's easily pushed around. You would definitely grow on her without realising it.

[frankenkyle19]

Hi, I love your writing, not sure if you have time to do this since it’s kinktober and you’re probably busy so no pressure!!

I’m 5’6, female. hourglass figure, slim/athletic build. wavy dark hair, brown eyes, full lips, fair skin, heart shaped face. permanent resting b!tch face. I dress casually, mostly t-shirts, hoodies, flannel, jeans, converse.

I’m extremely sarcastic and blunt, im academically gifted, very competitive and a perfectionist. I like horror/psychological thriller movies, music (MCR, Måneskin, P!atd, Lana del rey, Eminem), jogging and reading (favorite authors are Stephen King and Neil Gaiman ). Knows a lot of random facts. My favorite season is winter, I play the piano, an ambivert, likes to play Nintendo and chess.

My love language would be acts of service, not a big fan of physical touch overall (but tolerant)

If you find the time to do mine, thank you in advance! If not, it is completely understandable and i look forward to your other kinktober works! 🖤

ooo I had a hard time picking for this one!

but I ended up going with Jimmy Darling!

Loves you. All of you, even your resting grumpy face. He finds it endearing. Always tries to get you to smile though by poking fun at it.

He’d always offer you his clothes to wear because you have similar styles and seeing you in his clothes does things to the boy. He’ll always be throwing flannels and his t-shirts at you, practically begging you to wear them.

enjoys your sarcasm. Sometimes it’s hard to find someone you can actually joke around with so he’d be super happy to be able to do so with you.

he’d probably try to break the perfectionist in you or at least make it ‘better’ but if he didn’t succeed in it he’d just try and do things right the first time to not stress you out. Never judges you.

might have a hard time with horror movies just because of what he went through but as long as theirs no nuns or asylums he’ll be alright.

Would love to go on walks with you and listen to all your favorites artists together. Music is the way to Kit’s old soul. Loves loves loves music more than life itself.

would always love when you come up to him to tell him another random fact. He literally wouldn’t even care what it was, it could be the dumbest thing ever and he’d still be so happy that you taught him something new.

would beg you to play piano for him. He would literally melt when he hears it. Would buy you a super nice piano just to have and play whenever you want.

his love language is either acts of service or gift giving. He likes physical touch but shows his love in other ways most of the time.

[dreaminonao3]

I'm a day early but I have the time and I don't have the patience, so...

Day 7 -- Use the words: small town, bar, jukebox

Starstruck (AO3)

Puente Antiguo, 2011

Darcy Lewis looked over the list of songs on the jukebox at the one and only bar in town. Almost all of them were older than she was, but she always did like oldies. She settled on “The Last Time I Felt Like This.” Growing up with a Johnny Mathis fan rubbed off on me, she thought as the familiar song started.

“Care for a dance?” a male voice asked from behind her.

Darcy turned to see a man she didn’t recognize smiling at her. With the town being so small, she knew all the locals by face, if not name, but this one was a stranger to her and she immediately had her guard up. “Sorry, I don’t dance with strange men.”

The man chuckled. She had to admit he was good-looking – tall, thick dark brown hair with bangs falling lazily over his forehead and gray streaks at his temples, a mustache and a short beard that came to a point, and cheekbones any supermodel would kill for. His pale blue eyes held a hint of sadness alongside the mirth that went with his killer half-smile. With his pale skin and all-black clothes, he looked like a handsome modern goth.

“Oh, we’re not strangers, though I’m definitely Strange,” he said.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “We know each other? I find it hard to believe – Puente Antiguo isn’t known for its goth scene.”

“Right,” he said, chuckling again. “Let’s just say we don’t know each other yet, but we will.”

“Uh huh,” she muttered, rolling her eyes at his pick-up line. “In what universe?”

“This one, of course,” he said, obviously enjoying himself. “One dance, Darcy. That’s all I ask.”

“The song’s almost over.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” He held out a hand. “Please?”

Oh, what can it hurt? “Fine,” she sighed then she took his hand.

He led her onto the small dance floor and pulled her close enough to place his hands at her waist as she placed hers on his shoulders. They started to slow dance shortly before the song ended only for it to start over again.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Did you pay for more plays?”

The man chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Uh huh. What’s your name?”

“Stephen.”

“Just ‘Stephen?’ No last name?”

“Strange.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not strange to ask someone for their last name.”

He sighed heavily. “No, my name is Stephen Strange.”

“Oh. You must’ve been teased mercilessly when you were a kid.”

Stephen smiled a bit and she had to admit she liked his crooked smile. “My nickname in high school was ‘Odd,’ my classmates thought themselves hilarious.”

She had to admit it was funny. “Okay, Stephen, what’s your deal? You’re not from here.”

“Just passing through.”

“Uh huh, so you decided to just chat up the first single girl you see at the bar?” She wasn’t annoyed, not really, just curious.

Stephen chuckled. “I told you, Darcy Lewis, we will know each other well.”

She stared at him. “I never told you my last name. Come to think of it, I didn’t tell you my first name either.” She lowered her voice. “Are you stalking me?”

“If I was, I certainly wouldn’t admit it,” he said, his voice just as low and frankly, a lot sexier. “In all honesty, we’re going to be everything to each other in a few short years.”

“Should I be calling you ‘Nostradamus?’ I doubt you’re any more accurate than he was.”

Stephen grinned at her, a full grin, and her stomach did a little flip. “I don’t need a prophetic vision to know what will happen between us.” The song ended and didn’t start up again, which Stephen seemed to take as a cue. Taking her hand, he led her out of the small bar and into the relative privacy of the parking lot.

As always, Darcy gazed up at a sky full of more stars than she had ever seen in her life before turning back to him. “If you want to kiss me, you’re gonna have to wait until Date Number Two.”

Stephen chuckled, the sound doing something nice to her nervous system. “Actually, this is Date Number 58, but who’s counting?”

“You’re making no damn sense, you know,” she said, her tone almost fond.

He smiled a bit. “I know, but you’ll understand in time. I should go back.” He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Until next time, Darcy Olivia Lewis.”

She stared at him for a heartbeat then sighed. “Oh, fuck it. C’mere.” She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss, which he was happy to give.

~

New York, 2022

Dr. Darcy Lewis looked up from her e-reader as her fiancé appeared in the room. The grin he gave her was contagious. “I take it it worked?”

“You tell me,” Stephen said as he sat down beside her on the couch and took her free hand. “Do you remember running into me in New Mexico?”

Her eyes widened with realization. “Yes! We danced to ‘The Last Time I Felt Like This’ then you kissed me.”

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Your memory is faulty if you think that’s what happened – you kissed me.”

“You started it, showing up looking all sexy then asking me to dance and kissing my cheek.” She moved to straddle his lap. “That was risky, you know. You could’ve gotten stuck in the past.”

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. “I wanted to see you as you were back then, at the start of your love for the stars.”

“And if you couldn’t come back?”

Stephen smiled a bit. “Then we’d be married for at least nine years by now, if not more.”

Darcy smirked. “You think you’re that irresistible, do you?”

“I know I am, at least to you.”

He was right, of course, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, she simply murmured, “Kiss me.”

“With pleasure.”

[missygoesmeow]

Azalea, bluebell (I know you have a cat but any excuse to talk about them right? 😊) & tulip

azalea— what is the most recent song you listened to? how do you feel about it?

evangeline by stephen sanchez it is a lovely song but I mostly like it because it reminds me of ghost choir haha idk if it is a theremin but it sounds like one and my spooky arse likes that

bluebell— do you have any pets? if so, what are their names? hehe true! but yes I have two cats - Toulouse and Hermione.

tulip— do you wear makeup? if so, how do you like to wear/style it? yes I do. every day is pretty basic - just concealer under my eyes so I don't look dead and fill in my brows a little to match my hair better. I also use brown eyeshadow as eyeliner - it just makes me look more awake. if I am going out I do winged eyeliner, mascara, dark brown eyeshadow at the corners and red lip. I can't see very well without my glasses on plus I have hooded eyes so I don't do anything super fancy. I use one of those eyeliner stamps for my wings haha

flowers asks

[mydarkdevotion]

Chapter 2

Curiosity killed the cat

Stephen was overthinking.

He was also pacing his room about an hour after the castle had settled and fallen asleep. Hearing Robin and Murray's voices in his head thinking about ‘maybe this wasn't such a smart idea’ his hand would touch the knob of his bedroom door and fly right off as if it had burned him. It was that first disobedient thinking that made him feel brave and eager to disobey his parents, go outside, and have some fun under the cover of night.

It's going to be fine. This time is different. This time he knew he wanted out. Get to know his kingdom before he was forced to reign from within its walls and with a familiar face. A face that would keep him from indulging in these moments.

"Come on Stephen. Thomas is waiting and if you don't leave, you'll never hear this down. And the regret you'll feel will be too much.’ He made his way back over to the door, his hands taking the knob once more. 'Shit-just go.’ He yanked the door open so fast that the guard who was standing outside his door shot so high and in his heavy armor.

“Sorry, My Prince. Did you require anything?” Stow. He was a knight under Powell, a likable fellow but not very bright. He was also one of the men that Murray and he was talking about that might have gotten that girl pregnant. This could work in his favor for tonight tell him the news, give him some assurance that he’d be alright by the Prince.

"Um, no, well yes! I didn’t eat much at dinner and well, I thought I'd go down to the kitchen to get a quick bite.”

Stephen straightened his dress jacket that concealed the loose tunic and vest Murray gave him underneath. He closed the door softly and started past the guard down the hall hearing the clanking of metal follow behind.

“I could call one the serfs for you?”

“Oh no!” He said, raising a hand. “I have no problem going down and taking a look. No need to wake anyone.” The guard said nothing more and continued to follow.

The halls were quiet and they were lucky enough not to pass any other guards or any of the staff. Once they made it to the doors of the dining hall Stephen grabbed the handle before the man and half turned toward him. Holding the view inside the dark to keep the guard from falling to him within.

“Listen, um, you really don't need to stay here with me,” The man gave him a puzzled look. “You see there’s this pretty new Kitchen maid, and well,” Stephen smiled while he pushed his hair back from his face. This seemed to make the man slightly uncomfortable and he wouldn’t question the Prince’s action and would never question things that his Prince did in his free time.

“And I know about,” he leaned in close. “ May, Right? the pregnancy.” The man’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat clearly, more uncomfortable from the fact the Prince knew of his activities in the castle. “ hey listen it's alright. Don't fear, I'm not going to say anything about it. I just…well thought you would be understanding with me wanting to have some fun.” Stephen added leaning on the door frame. The man looked back up and a sense of relief came over him.

So he took a step back and bowed slightly. “I'll just be wondering, Sir.” And with that, he walked down the opposite hall. Once out of sight, Stephen left from the door closing softly to run toward the stairs to the kitchen. It was dark but still slightly warm from the evening dinner. He tiptoed in looking to see that Benny’s door was shut meaning he was asleep at least he hoped so. But he did ask for Murray to make sure that he didn't get locked out later.

His hand touched the latch and slowly pulled it only for it to make a little noise but not enough to wake the cook. Once it was unlocked he turned his head and saw a brown cloak hanging on the wall beside the door. Stephen took off his dress jacket and adjusted the tunic to come out from being tucked in his trousers falling mid-thigh. He pulled off the cloak and tied it to himself and placed his dress jacket behind a sack of potatoes by the sink.

He looked behind him once more and turned the knob. It grinded, making him turn it a bit slower till it opened. His head popped out to see if any guards were patrolling, not seeing any lantern light moving from any corner, he closed the door behind him quietly and crouched slightly toward one of the bushes by the high wall. It was a bit of a distance from the end of the castle to the other but he could make it. All he had to do was look for the soft orange glow of light. Easy peasy. And so far his night has been really lucky.

He was almost to the courtyard when he saw the light of a lantern coming out from within. He ducked into a rose bush feeling the thorns scraping his hands and pulled at his clothes but he was well hidden from the guards moving past. One of them yawned loudly and the other went on in a nearly silent conversation about armor. Once they reached the arch that was covered in vines, Stephen made a break for the back of the courtyard for the stables.

When Stephen wasn't training with Hopper or being dulled down by his tutors. The stables were the next comforting place as a kid. The horses and other animals were better company than that of old men. It was where he’d meet Thomas for the first time, helping to clean the stalls. His father wasn't a military man but a horse trainer who was also an auctioneer for the best in horses and cattle. Every day Stephen would peek in and watch whatever task Thomas was doing that day. Feeding the horses or brushing them.

“What are you staring at?” Thomas said one day, making Stephen jump in surprise and enter the stables but keeping close to the doors.

“Nothing. I was just watching the animals. Is that ok?” he asked shyly.

Thomas shrugged. “Did you-did you want to feed Marybay?” Stephen smiled wide and nodded. Thomas handed him some oats and told him everything. What they could eat, what they couldn't. And even told him which of the king's 13 horses were picky eaters. Which liked oats. Which liked apples and so on. It soon became a habit for the Prince to come to the stables around noon most times bringing his lunch and share with Thomas.

“I don't want to take care of horses forever,” Thomas said at 12. Munching on some crackers and jam that Stephen handed him. “I want to do something more. My old man said I should try out for the city watch or something.”

“City watch? That's terrible. Why not- come join the kingsguard! You can come and train with me. I can talk to Hopper.”

“Wow, is the prince putting in a special word for me?” Thomas said looking up.

“Well yeah, you're my best friend,” Stephen said stuffing his mouth with his own cracker but with cheese. “We can stick together and win wars! Battle monsters!”

Thomas grinned and nodded. “Yeah, I like that. Best friends. I like that too.”

The door was slightly ajar making Stephen slip through keeping quiet to not disturb the horses. He could hear some whispering toward the back and found Thomas sitting with Jason and Patrick around a small lantern. He’d only met them a few times at the ring but knew that they were nobles. Once Stephen came into view Thomas stood and grinned. “You actually made it.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” Stephen said, looking over everyone. They were all dressed like him in simple wear. Look normal, act normal.

“Alright let's go.” Jason blew out the lantern. And Thomas led the way out the back of the stable toward the rear end of the stable. He tapped on one of the boards and it popped open to the outside of the gate that was locked. Each boy followed out waiting for Thomas to snap that it was clear to go and then practically jogged over the bridge toward the upper city. Once inside that gate they went right following Thomas he knew where they were going. Stephen threw on his hood to cover his face because the upper city was bright with light and the oil was affordable to those who lived there. They had to stay in the dark as best as they could, needing to make it past the first ring of the more wealthy classes toward the second and lower classes because no one would recognize them there. They moved fast through the street and onward for a good few minutes.

Stephen was surprised at how lively it could be this late at night. People moved to and fro as if it were daytime and the festival was days away. He could only imagine what it would be like then. People were laughing and even arguing joyfully. Holding wear from under decorated tents. Jewelry, clothes, or other oddities from faraway lands. Even the food smelled amazing. He pulled his hood away a bit to take in a deep inhale. A strong sweet and buttery fragrance turned his head to a little carriage with its back open, with an elder lady mixing something in a bowl. She must have felt his stare because she looked up at him with a warm smile. He took a step toward it-

“Stephen, this way Let’s get a drink.” Thomas pulled his arm toward one of the open taverns across the way where most people seemed to be gathering.

He and Jason sat at one of the tables closest to the end while Thomas and Patrick got the pints. The building had double doors opened wide so those inside could look out into the square. It had another layer where few were leaning over the rail looking down at people or talking at side tables. The bar was covered in glass bottles of different shapes holding different colored drinks. The bartender was an older gentleman with a long brown mustache talking to Thomas at the counter. A large fire kept the room warm. People were happy here. People from his city and travelers dance together. Stephen smiled and looked over at Jason who was also looking about the room but didn't seem as interested in the place as Stephen was. Actually, he looked bored as he tapped his finger on the table.

Thomas dropped the cup in front of him climbing onto the bench beside him. The foam told the prince that it was a simple ale that he told about before by Thomas. He wasn’t allowed to indulge in these things at the castle, only wine sometimes. It smelt earthy, once on his lips he could taste the bitter malt. With oatmeal sweetness aftertaste. It wasn’t too bad. It quenches his thirst so he keeps drinking.

Stephen looked up to see Jason had lightened up a bit as they began to drink. They all seemed to loosen up.

“Tommy look at her.” Patrick casually whispered Tommy's nickname. that was something Stephen was never able to do because he was raised to be formal. Patrick was nodding in the direction of a table with a few women we're sitting at each leaning into one another and looking over toward their table. The boys talked about the prettiest one or who they would take for themselves. Stephen agreed nodding as they would ask him to. And the women were beautiful but he knew from listening to his mother that they were the women that would never be allowed near the castle. His eyes lifted back up to her giggling followed by them standing to make their way over to their table. Stephen turned away slightly but listened as he could hear them say that they were from the east and here for the festival this made the boys grin. feeling hopeful that maybe they could have more than just a drink tonight.

In fact, as Stephan continued to listen he heard that most of the people coming in were from either the east or the north. West was experiencing storms making them unable to travel. North was faced towards where war was brewing set in between they would never make it alive. they continued to talk and laugh but it made Stefan wish Robin was there too or maybe even Nancy. he turned in his seat, setting his almost empty cup down.

“I'll be back.” He said as he saw a woman starting to make her way toward him. Thomas looked up toward him with a confused look but nodded. He just didn't feel like indulging in the flesh. He wanted to find the carriage again feeling hungry now after his drink. All he had to do was follow the smell.

The kind woman saw him approach, already smiling at his returning presence.

“Hello, My dear.” She spoke, with an accent he couldn’t decipher.

“Hello. Um- one please.” He said holding out a few silver pieces for her.

She walked around toward him moving to the table where the freshly baked bread lay, taking two and placing it in his other hand. Not taking the silver.

“Please keep it.” He said holding it back out to her again.

“It is alright my boy, think of it as a taste test. please eat.”

Stephen took another inhale before sinking his teeth into the buttery confection. He moaned at the taste, flakey and filled with the sweetness of what tasted like fresh wild raspberries.

“This is delicious.”

She grinned with acknowledgment. As if she knew that was already correct. “Thank you, it was a recipe I learned from my mother and her mother before her.”

“Are you from around here?” he asked taking another bite.

She shook her head. “I like to travel. But I have been here many times through the years. May I ask, What is your name?”

“Um-“ he grumbled between another bite. “Buck- Buckley.” It was the only thing he could think of off the spot. He swallowed the rest of his confection and put the other in his pocket. “Why, um, did you want to know?”

“You just look familiar.” Stephen blanched. “Maybe my eyes are playing tricks but you look a lot like the king-“

“Oh, I get that a lot.” He laughed uncomfortably. His arm raised above his head to scratch at his scalp. “But I am no one really.”

Her eyes grew smaller as if she was trying to read his mind. He broke the stare by looking at a young-looking couple walking up to look at the baked goods. It gave Stephen a chance to step back. “I must be going back to my friends. Thank you again, ma’am.” The old woman patted his arm and went to help the customers. Stephen turned back as she was distracted to drop the coins back on top of her table. More than he’d offered before.

It was getting late and he needed to get back to Thomas to return to the castle. He walked down one of the alleys that he thought was the same one he had come from. they all looked the same to him. He could just turn and head back toward the small square since they had passed it, just head back to the castle on his own. He stopped and turned to go as he bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry-" he looked over to see that the person didn't even stop as they kept walking up another alley. It was a bit strange. It looked like they had red on their back. Well, their whole wear was pitch black, like some kind of costume, Ignoring him still as they moved with stealth and speed to what sounded like music.

The Prince's sudden curiosity got the best of him and decided to take a small detour.

“Just a quick look.” He whispered to himself. It might be his only night of freedom might as well make enough of it.

He spotted them again. And Red was right, from their hair braided down their back. Something that stuck out in the night against their black attire. Stephen snuck up behind in the dark following but kept back behind corners and boxes. A clash of glass made them both stop Stephen quickly ducked around to hide as the person turned their head in his direction.

Their face was covered with a mask. He’d seen masks before at masquerade balls, but those were normal and sometimes funny even. This one Was almost terrifying. It was a deeper red than their hair. The way it stretched unrealistically of anger in its face. The eyes are deep, dark, and expressionless. And with Horns curved up to the sky.

When the person felt that they were clear to continue on they moved. Stephen peeked around just in time to see them turn around a corner.

“Shit,” he muttered. Moving fast up to the end was a two-way road, one went deeper into the lower city while the other seemed to lead to a larger gathering of people in another square, closer to the upper city.

“Hm.” He followed the sounds of music and laughter. That must have been where they went. He pulled his hood in closer, coming into the crowd. To keep anyone from accidentally discovering that the Prince was standing with them now. However, everyone's attention was on the band.

3 males From what Stephen could tell more masks and the shapes of animals. Eye holes were wider in order to see the instruments they were playing. A Wolf played the drums, tapping lightly to the rhythm of the Deer playing the loot beside him. Last was a round Bear playing the recorder moving whimsically despite their size.

Stefan stood in the back, Back up against the wall arms crossed listening but eyes also drifting around to try and spot Red.

Then came the strings of a violin.

Stephen’s head turned toward the center to the figure standing atop a table for everyone’s attention. Wearing a puffy navy shirt, underneath a black vest of swirls of embroidery. Their black pants were tucked into long laced boots of what could have been brown, but from the many years of wear have turned a muddied dark brown.

Stephen's eyes went to the gloved hands of the person, bow moving rapidly. The person spun and was now turned toward him. Wearing a mask entirely of black, in the shape of a skull. Eyes drew him in tears of red as if crying blood. And with a wide devilish smile. Their thick dark brown curls moved with them. It reminded him of Nancy, except where hers were at her shoulders theirs was almost at the middle of their back. The way they arched and moved cat-like reminded him of a woman. Having seen many dances at court from many ladies and some men, it was still hard to tell dew from all the dark wear and flowing garments.

Stephen was so drawn in, didn't even notice that he’d made his way through the crowd to the table looking up at the figure. Stephen was enticed, attention captivated by this person. As they moved closer to him to his end of the table they dropped gracefully down to one knee in front of him. Big brown eyes peeking through the mask seemed to look into his soul and gave him a wink. It made heat rise to his cheeks. The person grinned and straightened, moving back to the other end. It snapped Stephen out of whatever had happened and stepped back bumping into someone, giving him an apology. The man ignored him. Moving out of the way to show across the way, a quick movement from a person in a red mask. Dipping into the crowd with now two other masked persons coming from the alley also in black.

Three different directions they went and Stephen watched Red stopping behind a couple. The drunk man pulled onto his wife as he swayed. She looked displeased with him but kept her attention on the music. The young person crept up and reached in behind to grab a small pouch, quickly putting it in their own pocket.

Stephen stood frozen watching this happen, eyes trailing till another loses their belongings not even noticing. All three of them were moving through the people who were only focused on the music. Stealing is still unnoticed. One mask, in particular, moved in his direction from his right. Unlike the angry red mask, this one was blue and sad. Pulling a long mouth as if you could hear its sorrows cry out. Still pickpocketing as they moved toward him next. Stephen straightened facing back to the band as if not noticing when a slight breeze came up beside him and the rope of his coin purse was suddenly being tugged. Anyone who hadn’t been paying attention like himself would have never felt its pull. Before the pouch was completely lifted, Stephen quickly grabbed the wrist of said person. Now clearly spooked and trembling.

“Well, what do we have here?” Stephen said softly, holding tight to the person's wrist as they panicked trying to pull away, and started to make a scene. Stephen grimaced as people turned to see what was happening. “Stop pulling or-“

Violin strings had stopped suddenly and it seemed like the light grew dim with its disappearance. People whispered amongst each other probably thinking it was over. But then bright sparks of blue light burst toward the middle and within its center a woman.

The rhythm of the music changed into a fast tempo. Blonde hair spun around as she started to dance. Her bright green dress flowed with her. She exposed her arms, shoulders, and partially the top of her chest. Revealing that she was indeed a woman. Wearing yet another mask, one more feminine. White vines with leaves sparkled in the light to show more of her face but not her full identity. She took the stage of the table where the violinist had been but was nowhere in sight.

The thief pulled Stephen’s lax hand from the distraction and made a run for the alley taking Stephen's pouch with them. Stephen made chase.

The thief booked it but Stephen closed in behind, catching them by the back of the shirt.

“Let me go!” Said the voice of a young male. Swinging toward Stephen and missing, tripping sideways and falling to the floor. His mask slid off to Stephen’s feet. Stephen bent to pick it up, turning it to look at it up close, taking in its fine details. Hand crafted and hand painted. Whoever worked on them was of true talent.

Stephen looked back down to see that the boy had moved against the wall, face turned down, legs curled into himself. At first, the Prince thought this could be a game to scare the young thief into messing around with him. Then Tell him that stealing was wrong and if he really needed help that he could help him. But now hearing the boy sniffle made the Prince frown suddenly feeling piteous.

“hey. It's fine. I don't wanna fight.” Stephen spoke softly, bending over to hold the mask close to the boy. whose eyes side glanced at it hesitantly reaching out to take the mask.

“I Just want to talk-“

Pain.

Pain erupted on the back of his head. And his hand reached behind to feel the wetness. He looked at his fingers with a bit of blood on the tips. Stephen swayed looking back at the boy who was staring past him at the assailant who hit him. The prince's eyes blurred as he went straight to the floor into darkness.

[shelleylovesloki]

Warped Reality

Summary: Being a student at the Sanctum Sanctorum is never easy, especially when there is a group of rogue sorcerers led by a mad man on the lose. Rose (Michelle) and Rachel never thought their lives could become any more chaotic. But when Rachel is given an assignment to hunt down Amadeus Rainer, a rogue sorcerer from the Sanctum, their lives both take a drastic turn. Besides a band of evil sorcerers, they are pulled into the mission to retrieve an infinity stone with the potential to open other realms. But while on this mission, past traumas are reopened, powers rediscovered, and realities reshaped in ways that both women never could have imagined. And with the help of a certain God of Mischief, the three sorcerers run into an ancient prophecy that could open up their universe to a villain that reshapes the understanding of magic itself.

Chapter 1: Nightlight

Rachel walked slowly down the New York streets as she followed him from a distance. Her task was simple, wait until he’s isolated, apprehend him, and take him back to the Sanctum. The lights from the buildings lit up the asphalt. Traffic packed the streets, but the sidewalks were oddly clear though. The cold breeze blew through her black coat, making her shiver. 

She focused back on her target. He didn’t seem dangerous. Then again, many of them didn’t. However, this one did feel off. She hadn’t had a good look at his face yet, but the way he walked and his overcoat made him unmistakable.

A few blocks down the street, the man broke off into an alleyway. Rachel didn’t like this. She needed him isolated, but something felt wrong. Going against her better judgement, she continued to follow him. She turned the corner to see him nowhere in sight. He was gone! At least that’s how it seemed. The dagger to her neck proved otherwise.

“I’m insulted.” The man said. His voice was calm, confident, and almost menacing. “Does Stephen really think I’d be overpowered so easily?”

The cold steel rested gently against her skin. She quickly grabbed the man’s wrist and slipped under his arm. She quickly moved back, summoning two circular orange shields from her fists. The man only chuckled. “How adorable! You’re still using default.”

Without another word, the man scaled the wall in several strides. Rachel’s eyes widened at his confidence. She began to climb the wall as fast as she could. How did he just run up the wall so fast?

As she got to the top, the man was already leaping to the next rooftop. She took off after him. Rachel’s breathing grew heavy as she cleared the gap to the third rooftop. Again, he was gone. It was as if he just disappeared from thin air. How could I lose him? She thought to herself.

Suddenly, two black chains shot out from behind her, twisting around her wrists and digging into the roof she was standing on. There was something odd about the chains. A black mist seemed to float and swirl around them. She tried to pull at the chains, but they wouldn’t move. 

Then, footsteps sounded behind her followed by a voice. “Students of the mystic arts have a tendency to forget that they aren’t the only ones that use sling rings.” Now, standing in front of her was the man she was chasing. Finally, she could see her target’s face. His jaw was rounded and clean shaven. His gray eyes pierced her own as his dark brown hair swooped down near his right eye. He was dressed as if he were going to some sort of meeting. A black trench coat was worn over black slacks and a cool gray button down shirt.

Gently, he grabbed her chin and turned her head side to side as if he were looking for something. “Such a delicate flower. Stephen truly is an idiot.” The man paused. He released Rachel’s chin and took a step back. “I’m so sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Amadeus. Amadeus Rainer. And you are?” Rachel glared at him. “Oh come now. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“Rachel.” she said coldly. He stood staring, waiting for a more complete answer. “Rachel Dawn.”

Amadeus smiled. “There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it, Rachel?” He took another step back and began to pace across the roof. “Now, normally if someone were following me to bring me to that doctor you so blindly follow, I’d kill them without hesitation.” Rachel began to pull frantically at the chains. “Oh I wouldn’t bother with those. They won’t budge.” A beat “As I was saying. I would normally kill them, but there’s something about you.” Amadeus looked at her again as if he were searching for a response.  “However,I would much rather plunge myself into the dark realm than to harm such a beautiful creature as yourself.”

She stood in fear as he took out a syringe and plunged it into her neck. Slowly her vision went black.

                                                           ***

Amadeus caught Rachel as her body went limp. He slowly lowered her down so that she wouldn’t bash her head on the concrete. He took a closer look at his assailant. She had a fire that not many had. His eyes moved to her shoulder length hair. Within her brown hair held a small tint of a red hue.

“It’s cold outside, Rachel.” He said, taking off his overcoat and placing it over Rachel. “I’d hate for anything to happen to you. Let’s see if I can remember how to do this.”

He waved his hands over Rachel causing a protective orange lining to surround her small frame. Then, he knelt to the rooftop and put his palm to it until a white light formed under his hand. He pulled his hand away, releasing a beam of white light into the sky.

He sighed as he admired his work. “Doctor Strange should be able to lift the enchantment when he finds you. Until then, sweet dreams, Rachel Dawn.”

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

My Tweed Coat Ricochets (Agatha Harkness x Reader) Chapter 2

Summary: After a disastrous first encounter with your new colleague, you try to settle into your new job as an archaeologist at The Westview Institution.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: Hi besties, here’s chapter two! We’re going for a sort of Indiana Jones and eventually Mamma Mia-ish romcom vibe. Disclaimer- I am not a historian or archaeologist. I’m a violinist. I’m just typing this up as I go along, haha. But I hope you enjoy this next chapter! I should hopefully be updating weekly, I have a pretty busy job so if there’s ever a delay that’s why :) Thank you for reading!

Chapter Two: The Last Great Archaeology Dig

There was nothing more peaceful than aimlessly wandering through a museum. With the abundance of exhibits and the stream of visitors flowing in and out, it felt as if the ancient worlds were coming to life before your very eyes. Growing up you had always looked forward to the occasional school trip to the museum, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d end up working for one of the best institutions in the world. You’d spent most of your morning getting settled in your office, making note of how you wanted to fill the space over the coming weeks.

There was an underlying sense of dread thinking about the staff meeting Stephen had scheduled. It wasn’t because you weren’t looking forward to meeting your new colleagues- you were. A crumpled white blazer you angrily tossed on the ground caught your eye, reminding you of the real reason you didn’t want to go. The mere thought of Agatha Harkness had you seeing red- and it wasn’t just the wine stain. You had encountered plenty of strong personalities over the course of your career, but none had infuriated you as much as this woman managed to within a day. You normally prided yourself on your calm disposition, but there was something about her that had you feeling emotions you never thought were possible.

You weren’t sure what it was about her, as your brain replayed your two brief, but memorable interactions. Perhaps it was her arrogance, with the way she wasted no time snobbishly judging you based on your appearance. Or maybe it had something to do with the conceited idea that you were following her, as if you would ever do something like that. The way her eyes had narrowed at you, the striking blue color seemingly darkened like an impending storm rolling into the wine dark sea. You could get lost in those eyes, and- wait a second. What were you even saying?

Pushing any and all thoughts of Agatha out of your brain, a quick glance at your watch left you alarmed to find the staff meeting was starting in a few minutes and you had no idea where it was. Stephen had sent a rather lengthy email you only half read, and you mentally slapped yourself for not paying more attention. The corridors all appeared to blend together in a rather confusing labyrinth, and you rounded yet another corner when you heard a light hearted chuckle from behind you.

Turning around, you found a woman staring at you, amusement twinkling in her blue eyes. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she looked at you with some sympathy. “You must be the new hire?” As you nodded she continued. “I thought so. Y/N, right? I remember Stephen mentioning you were joining us. I’m Maria Hill, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She held her hand out, and you quickly shook it, pleasantly surprised at how friendly she was. Although, you guessed most people here were nicer than Agatha. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sorry, I don’t really know where I’m going.”

Maria gave you a sympathetic glance. “I remember my first few weeks here. It gets better, trust me.” She guided you down another hallway before adding, “How has your first day been?”

Shrugging, you thought of the whole amount of nothing you had accomplished so far. “I’m still getting settled in. To be honest, I can’t believe I’m here.”

Nodding along, Maria led you down another long hallway, and you wondered just how large this place was. “It can be a lot to take in at once, but most of the team is great. You’ll fit right in.”

You wanted to inquire what she meant by saying most of the team was great, but you’d reached the end of the long corridor which held an open doorway holding a spacious conference room. Maria entered first, leaving you to follow suit, trying to swallow the nerves building up in your throat. The room housed a large rectangular table in the center, and there were already a few people there. Each of the walls housed a variety of pictures; upon closer examination you realized they must be a collection of various excavations the team had done over the years.

Turning back to the table, your eyes scanned the room and you let out an internal sigh of relief upon seeing that Agatha had not arrived yet. Besides Maria and Stephen, with the latter setting up at the head of the table, there were three other chairs occupied. A brooding man with long black hair sat alone in the corner. He was scribbling in a brown leather journal, and gave you a brief, disinterested look when he caught you staring. The other two, a man and a woman, were sitting across from Maria and engaged in quiet conversation. The woman had long auburn hair that was braided, whilst the man wore a pair of silver glasses and had strawberry blonde hair.

Glancing around at the empty chairs, you were mentally choosing a seat when Maria waved you over to join her. Taking the seat to her right, you set your belongings down before saying, “Thanks, I wasn’t sure where to sit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Maria reassured you. “Have you met Wanda Maximoff and Victor Shade?”

The two people sitting across from you ended their conversation, giving you their full attention. The woman, Wanda, gave you a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Y/N, right?”

You nodded, pleased at how they also appeared to be friendly. “Yes, it’s lovely to meet you both.”

“Well you certainly don’t look like a clumsy baboon,” Victor commented lightly, and your eyes narrowed in confusion, while Wanda whacked his arm. Clearing his throat, he held out his hand to shake yours. “Ah, right, my apologies. Haven’t had my afternoon coffee. It’s nice to meet you.”

Maria appeared to be just as confused as you, but before you could ask for clarification Wanda and Victor returned to their previous conversation. A few moments later, Agatha came trudging in, looking as unpleasant as ever, followed closely by another woman you didn’t recognize. The woman had straight jet black hair, and bright green eyes that shone like emeralds. They sat towards the end of the table, near the man with the long black hair, and you swore you could feel Agatha glaring daggers into your back. Stephen appeared pleased with the turnout as he stood up, clapping his hands together once.

“Thank you all for joining us this afternoon. I’ll try to keep things brief. First, I’d like to welcome the newest member of our team.” Stephen motioned at you, and you offered a strained smile, feeling the muscles in your lower back tighten from the anxiety. “Y/N will be an excellent addition, and I hope all of you make her feel welcome.” It appeared that his last words were directed towards one person in particular, as it appeared everyone in the room seemingly glanced at a bored looking Agatha.

Clearing his throat, Stephen continued. “Onto the last bit of business, everyone but Y/N should be familiar with our new project, being fielded by Dr. Shade and Dr. Stark, yes?” Mostly everyone, excluding Agatha, nodded. “Victor, would you like to give an update?”

“Of course,” Victor opened a large binder that was in front of him. “Tony has been overseas for the past few weeks getting the rest of our findings in order. As many of you know, my research over the past decade has been solely dedicated to locating the Tesseract.”

You were fairly familiar with Victor Shade, but had never read any of his journal articles over the years. You had, however, read more on Tony Stark. His research and findings on ancient civilizations along the Nile were groundbreaking. Victor had taken a brief moment to look over his notes before continuing. “The Tesseract was rumored to have been a sought after relic. The carvings we found appear to depict it having some sort of legendary power. Unfortunately, there is no last known location, and up until last month it was thought to be a myth.”

“In the past we always assumed the Tesseract was the only relic of its kind, but during our latest excavation we uncovered what appears to be a writing tablet with six engravings etched on it.”

Pulling an iPad out of his bag, he fidgeted with it for a moment before the flat screen tv on the far wall turned on, and pulled up a picture of the carving. Everyone peered at the screen with intrigue, even Agatha appeared to be paying attention. “Now, with all of the findings and research Tony and I have conducted since we uncovered this, we’ve stumbled across a few other clues to their locations.”

The screen changed to a 3D model of the Earth, with six glowing circles around it. “With everything we’ve put together, as well as notes from previous journals, we’ve concluded that the six relics are located within the red circles. I was made aware that Agatha is going to be leading a team in Delos next month, and since we are fairly certain that is the location of one of the relics, we thought it would be imperative to begin there.”

“You are not allowed to hijack my excavation, you high tech toaster,” Agatha snarled from her seat, and as you rolled your eyes, you swore you heard Wanda sigh from her seat. Of course.

“Agatha, no one is going to be hijacking your research,” Stephen interjected, clearly trying to diffuse whatever was going to happen next. “But bringing a few extra sets of hands to widen the search is a good idea.”

“This could very well change the way we view almost every ancient civilization throughout all of history,” Victor added, seeming unphased by Agatha.

“Thank you, Victor. Now, I know some of our team is already in Greece preparing for Agatha excavation, however with the new timeline I thought sending a few more people would be beneficial,” Stephen explained. “In addition to Agatha and Victor, I’d like to send Y/N.”

Your eyes met Agatha’s simultaneously, and you both glared at each other. Great. Agatha shook her head. “I’d rather be working with someone I know, like Hela or Loki.”

The man with the long black hair, Loki, shook his head. “I’m going to be in South America until October. Unless you’d like to trade places?”

Stephen sighed, rubbing his temple. “Agatha, you cannot pick and choose which colleagues will be accompanying you to Greece. As long as there’s nothing else, why don’t we wrap things up for today. I’ll have more information regarding the excavation later in the week. Thank you everyone.”

Everyone took their time filing out, and you noticed Stephen and Agatha quietly arguing, mostly likely about you. Returning to your office, you packed up your belongings for the day until your gaze once again fell onto the Merlot stained blazer and you suddenly had an idea. Packing the blazer in your bag, you left and passed a vexed Agatha, and you pretended not to notice how nice she smelled.

Later that afternoon you found yourself in one of your favorite coffee shops in the city. Nestled one block away from your apartment, it was the perfect stop you needed on your way home from a slightly stressful first day. Ordering your usual, you sat at a table in the corner and thought about the excavation in Greece. You still had to look over Victor’s notes, but the dig and research sounded exciting. The only downside is that Agatha was leading the excavation and sounded less than pleased at the prospect of you joining her. Your brain also went back to what Victor had said before the meeting started, something about you being a clumsy baboon? You had a sinking suspicion that Agatha had been behind that.

“Iced chai with oat milk for Y/N?” The barista called out, and you walked up the counter to grab your beverage when you saw familiar blue eyes glaring at you.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You mumbled to yourself as Agatha came up to you.

“It really feels like you’re following me,” Agatha said in a cold tone, eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“I left work before you did,” You pointed out, not in the mood to argue with her. “And if you must know this is my favorite coffee shop in the city. I come here all the time.”

Agatha gave you an unreadable look before turning around and walking away. Nice to see she was warming up to you. Taking your drink back to your table, you watched the archaeologist settle in at a table near yours. The two of you ignored each other for the entirety of your visit, but once you finished your drink, you opened your bag and looked at Agatha’s blazer while a new plan brewed in your mind. Eventually she got up to get more coffee, and you discreetly dropped the blazer off on her chair with a note before leaving.

I’ll have to save up my money to buy that plane ticket to Greece

[nicsnort]

The Bookworm and the Beast [part 2]

A dark Scarecrow/Fem!OC romance fanfic

Intro First

"Good day, Mr. Warren."

"You! I'm doing what you want, why are you calling?"

"Oh, just a friendly little reminder to keep up the good work, after all, you do not want anything to happen to your daughter do you?"

"But you said-! No! You can't please."

"Does she take after her mother? She must, that long dark hair, rich brown eyes, quite beautiful, I must say I cannot really see the resemblance between you two."

"You bastard, if you harm her—."

"Do not worry Mr. Warren I will take good care of every hair on her pretty little head."

Isabel found Mr. Irving a block and a half down the street. He was just hanging up as she approached.

"Usually a person skips out before they pay."

"Well, I'm not a normal person."

"Obviously, should we move the books then?"

"Of course, I'll bring my car around while you box up the books?"

"Sure thing." They walked back to the library together diverging when they reached the alley that led to the back car lot. Once inside Isabel hurriedly made her way to the boiler room and packed the books into two crates. Isabel lifted one of the boxes and nearly dropped it, setting it down quickly she frowned at the box.

"That's heavier than I thought it would be…ok, let's try this again." This time Isabel was successful and made it all the way to the front desk before setting it down with a relieved sigh. At that moment the library door opened and Mr. Irving came in.

"The other box is still back there if you could grab it."

"Of course."

"It's quite heavy, careful," Isabel said as he walked down the aisle. Half a minute later Isabel had to hold in a giggle as she heard a grunt, the cry of "shit", and then the thump of the box landing back onto the table. There was a sigh another grunt and soon Mr. Irving was coming around the corner. Although he was trying to make it appear as if the box was nothing Isabel could see a line of sweat starting on his brow. She lifted her own box to her chest so her eyes were just peeking out from over the top and they cautiously made their way out the door and down the steps. Isabel was almost to Mr. Irving's old brown sedan when the weight of the box disappeared from her arms.

"I got that for you, Isabel," said the familiar voice of Gus. "No need for a woman to do all this lifting."

"Oh um, thank you, Gus. It's just going to that car though."

"Okay, open the trunk then."

"The backseat actually," Mr. Irving said from behind his box, "it's already unlocked." Gus started as though seeing the other man for the first time, which considering how dense Gus was, it might have been true. Isabel opened the car door and Gus slid the box inside with Mr. Irving following suit.

"So Isabel who's this?" Gus said trying to seem more intimidating by crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

"Gus this is Stephen Irving, he just bought the library's vintage book collection."

"Why are you selling books?"

"Well as I've said, at every town meeting and fundraising event that I've held, our library is in desperate need of money. These books are very valuable and by selling them we'll be able to do a few renovations and get some newer books to bring in more people."

"These old things can't be that pricey I mean come on," Gus picked up one of the books from the crates and paged through it. "The pages are all yellow; it smells funny, and the print is off-center, besides who reads books anyways?"

"I do." Isabel and Mr. Irving said at the same time.

"And given the dullness in your eyes, you would do well to read some. Perhaps at your local library, I happened to see they have a good selection, might I suggest 'Winnie the Pooh'?" Isabel gasped and hid her smile with a hand while Gus simply stood there with his mouth hanging open slightly. She looked at Mr. Irving who was smirking with a condescending glint in his eyes. Then before Isabel could react Mr. Irving was on the ground his nose bleeding.

"Gus!" She cried in shock as he grabbed Mr. Irving by the collar of his sweater vest and pulled him to his feet before slamming him against his car.

"Nobody talks to me like that, got it, nerd!" Gus shook the taller man but Mr. Irving never lost his smirk.

"Gus! Stop that or I'm calling the cops on you," Isabel said sternly taking out her cell phone. Gus stopped and slowly let go of Mr. Irving. "Good now get out of here and don't you even think about coming back."

Gus stormed away hitting a nearby tree in anger as he left.

"Are you alright?" Isabel asked rushing up to Mr. Irving very concerned.

"Yes, just a bloody nose."

"Thank goodness, I would hate for something to happen to you because of his stupid behavior." Mr. Irving wasn't really paying attention as he was focused on trying to get the blood to stop flowing. "There's a bathroom in the library you can use to clean up."

"Thank you." Isabel led him inside guiding him by the arm as he had his face up in the air.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to hold your head forward not back," Isabel said as she opened the doors to the library.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it has something to do with the drainage of blood."

"Okay then, I'll take your advice." Mr. Irving tilted his head forward as he went inside the small unisex bathroom. From outside Isabel heard the tap water run and a few minutes later Mr. Irving stepped back outside with only a couple of smudged drops of blood on his sweater vest to show that the incident had even taken place.

"All better?"

"Yes, thank you." They walked back to Mr. Irving's car in silence and Isabel was rather disappointed that their time together was ending. She had very much enjoyed Mr. Irving's company he was wonderfully intelligent and well-read, Isabel couldn't remember a time when had such an in-depth conversation about literature.

"It was lovely meeting you Stephen, thank you, for what you have done."

"Of course, it was wonderful meeting you as well. Perhaps you would like to keep in contact? I know I would enjoy talking to you some more about the classic authors."

"I would enjoy that very much, Stephen."

"Excellent, goodbye, Isabel."

"Bye." Isabel waved Stephen off before heading back into the library.

That night Isabel sat on her couch with a steaming cup of tea and the television tuned to the local news. She took a sip of the Earl Grey and smiled thinking about the day. It had been a good day by all accounts, it had been completely different than her usual day and that, she believed, was a very good thing. Isabel wished she could have more different days especially if they involved Stephen. She blushed slightly at the thought of the man it would be an understatement if Isabel said she had enjoyed the man's company.

Her eyes wandered to her desktop computer that sat in the corner of the living room. Maybe he had emailed her? Maybe she should email him? Ask him how the drive back was; apologize again for Gus, anything to keep up a conversation. Isabel was halfway to her computer when she froze. This wasn't like her. She was never this forward or pushy. What was happening to her? Was one different day so much of an upheaval that she had this sudden shift in personality? No, Isabel never did anything bold, she just kept her nose in a book. She should wait for him to contact her. After all, she didn't want to seem desperate.

Isabel sat back on the couch and drank some more of her tea. She would let him contact her first. After all, she had a comfortable everyday life and there was no need to have it thrown out of whack by a man. Even if that man was incredibly intelligent, witty, and rather good-looking. Her life was fine as it currently was. She lived in the same house her entire life surrounded by books and cornfields.

The house had been her father's, well technically it still was as his name was on the deed, but he had left it to her when he had moved to Gotham City in the hope of selling some of his inventions. It was several months since she had seen him and when she thought about it he hadn't called her in almost two weeks. Deciding she might as well do one thing differently tonight she picked up her phone and dialed her father's number.

It rang several times before her father answered. "Hello?" His voice was shaking as though he was scared of who might be calling.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Isabel! Thank goodness you're alright!"

"Of course, are you Dad? You sound shaken."

"No, no I'm fine; I just had a rough day."

"Okay, I'm glad it's nothing…we haven't talked in a while how's business? Have you found any buyers yet?"

"A couple, I was commissioned by someone a few weeks ago, that's why I haven't called I've been too busy."

"That's great Dad!"

"Yeah. So how are you? Library still keeping afloat?"

"I'm doing great actually, today was really nice. I finally sold some of those vintage books the library has to a guy who gave me a really good price on all of them."

"That's good."

"I know he was a great guy too, we had lunch together and a wonderful conversation about novels, mainly horror genre but we enjoyed it so much we're going to stay in contact."

"Horror genre?" Her father's voice quaked again.

"Yeah, Stephen is well-read, we talked about the differences between Lovecraft and King, it was wonderful…" Isabel trailed off at the sound of the doorbell. "Hang on Dad there's someone at the door." She went over to the window and peered outside. "Must have been a prank there's no one there."

"Isabel listen to me you have to get out of there now!" Her father's voice was suddenly panicky, "Leave just leave, get in your car and drive, go to the city or something. Just get out of town."

"What? Why? Dad, you're making no sense."

"Please, sweetheart, just listen to me. This is all my fault, please, just—" Her father's voice was cut off as the phone line went dead. It wasn't just the phone Isabel quickly realized the lights and the air conditioning had died as well. Her power had gone out; it wasn't unusual this time of year as the old generator could only take so much. Isabel hung up the phone and went to slip on her shoes but then a noise caused her to freeze. There was a slight scratching on the patio door. Isabel turned around quickly but nothing was there. Then suddenly another scratch but this time the sound was so much clearer coming from the kitchen.

"Get out of there now!" Her father's words echoed back to her. Isabel's heart was pounding in her chest now. Breath coming in panicked bursts Isabel slipped on her shoes hurriedly.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Isabel screamed as the force of the knocking shook the old wooden door. Grabbing the umbrella she kept by the door she threw open the door swinging her makeshift weapon wildly. There was no one out there though. Isabel looked around seeing nothing besides knee-high corn and the flickering lights of Mr. Keller's farmhouse down the road. The umbrella in her hands shook violently as she peeked around the corner of her house to see if anyone was there.

"Gus! Is this you? Show yourself you coward!" Nothing but the light summer breeze making her skirt brush against her legs. "That's it I'm calling the police!"

Isabel turned around to go back inside and ran into a tall hard something. She went to pull away but the something wrapped its arms around her body pressing her close to it. Screaming Isabel pounded her hands against its chest but it did not flinch; she looked up and was greeted by a horrible visage. A twisted gaping maw turned up in a cruel mockery of a smile and mad piercing eyes whose gaze shook her to the core petrifying her. The beast's breath came out in long rattles, it loosened its grip on her but Isabel was too terrified to move. A raspy chuckle issued somewhere from its core jolting Isabel into motion. She went to run but the monster grabbed her arm and pulled her against it again this time her back was against its chest. Its tall lean form seemed to envelop her as one of its claws clamped something over her mouth and nose. Isabel began to struggle as drawing breath became difficult.

"Shh, shh," the creature hissed, "just relax and breathe." Isabel's head was starting to spin and her eyes were growing heavy. If the beast hadn't been holding her she would have fallen to the ground but with its arms wrapped around her, she fell against its chest unconscious.

~~~~~~~

Karloff Warren stood in the middle of his apartment his hand clenched tightly around the phone. Isabel was in danger and it was entirely his fault. He had taken the contract without knowing who his sponsor was and now his daughter was in peril. What would Scarecrow do to his little Bell? He could only imagine the terror she would experience. Would he just scare his daughter? Kill her? Or, god forbid, follow through on his original threat and bring her to Gotham?

No, his little girl wasn't prepared for the city, not for a city like Gotham. She'd never been to a big city before, the state capital of their forgotten mid-west state didn't count Des Moines wasn't a city like Gotham. His innocent naïve Isabel couldn't survive in this world especially with a man—no—monster like Scarecrow.

The phone rang in his hands causing him to drop it in shock. "Isabel!?" He asked picking up the phone quickly.

"Try again."

"You bastard! What have you done to my daughter!?"

"Your daughter? Oh yes, you mean the luggage in the trunk. Well, I would not worry too much about her right now unless someone rear-ends me of course." Mr. Warren's mouth opened several times like a fish, unable to say anything. "I see I must have caught you at a bad time. Do not worry Mr. Warren you will be seeing your daughter soon." The phone went dead and the distraught father fell against the wall in horror.

_____

Next

Masterlist

[braveclementine]

Returning Home

Warnings: Angst and fluff

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

This one was a little better. It's much darker blue than I was hoping and I would actually switch the colours. Replace the gold with ice blue and the dark blue with gold. But other than that, I mean it looks a lot better than the other one it originally made. 

🌝😯 𝐒𝓣ᵒ𝐑𝕐 🏇🌛

They stayed for a while, until Steve and Bucky walked in on Elizabeth and Loki sleeping in a bath of ice together to stay cold, and it was decided that they should return to the states and back to the Avengers Tower.

Besides the weird tracking dinosaurs, there was nothing else that had troubled them on their vacation and Penny was excited to get back to work. She had missed the Avengers that had stayed behind like Scott, Hope, and her parents. As well as T'Challa and the Asgardians.

She was also missing Heimdall, who hadn't been down to see them in a long while. Loki had explained privately that Heimdall didn't want to see Elizabeth, because he loved her to much to see her looking at him without love.

Penny wasn't sure that was the smartest move on the all-seeing Gods' part. She felt it would be better for him to establish a connection with her soon. Especially with Mateo growing up without his father.

But Penny didn't say anything. She remembered what Elijah had said about a powerful memory could bring Elizabeth's memories back. Maybe. . . just maybe, Heimdall knew something they didn't.

She collapsed on top of her bed on her face, groaning. She barely got two seconds of peace before Natasha had thrown the door wide open and was collapsing on her bed as well.

"Cuddle me." Natasha demanded, laying on her side, her stomach protruding largely.

Penny rolled over on her back and then let Natasha lay in her arms. "What's up sweetheart?"

"I have jet lag and I want you to hold me." Natasha demanded, not opening her eyes.

Penny chuckled at that. "Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite. I love you"

🧘‍♀️🫰 ＴⒾ𝓶ε ŜкⒾⓟ 🚿🤟

"Hey," Violetta said softly as Penny walked into the Italian Black Widow's bedroom. She was curled up on the bed, watching Bones on her laptop, eating Cherry Cordial Ice-cream. She was wearing a purple tube top so that nothing was covering her large baby bump, and her hair was pulled back in a loose bun. She looked tired as well.

Penny was holding Chamber in her arms and smiled at the girl, coming over and gently easing herself onto the bed. "Hey."

She felt Violetta rest her head on her shoulder, snuggling into the albino woman. Penny gently placed Chamber on the bed so that she could help Violetta get comfortable in her lap, and then picked Chamber up once more.

"How are you feeling sweetie?" Penny asked softly, using her free hand to rub soothing circles on Violetta's back.

"Mmm, okay." Violetta hummed, putting the ice-cream aside and snuggling into her more. "I'm a little worried though. There's still roughly three months, but I think I'm getting contractions. I- I don't. . ." Her voice wobbled. "I don't want to lose my baby."

"Vi. . ." Penny said softly, looking down to capture the worried, almost panicked look in her brown eyes.

"I mean. . . I don't know how to do this." Violetta's voice sounded choked. "Like, Bruce has never had a kid. We don't know what the Hulk gene is going to do. What if. . . I can't lose this baby Penny. I can't."

"It's okay." Penny said, letting her hand rub Vi's shoulders again. "They're just Braxton Hicks contractions. You can get them up to 20 weeks before you're due. You're okay Vi. And if you're still worried, let's go down to the lab and ask Stephen or Dr. Cho or Bruce to run tests. You don't have to be scared alone."

Vi nodded, fingers tightening a little on Penny's shirt. "I'm sorry."

Penny giggled, "There's nothing to be sorry for silly. I'm happy you confided in me. Now, what do you want to do?"

"Let's. . . I want a professional to tell me everythings okay." Violetta breathed out. "I just need to know for sure, one hundred percent, that I'm not losing this baby."

"Okay." Penny said softly, picking Chamber up in one arm again, sliding her fingers through Vi's. "Come on. I'll go with you."

"Thanks." Violetta said sniffing. "Give me a second."

Penny smiled endearingly, watching Violetta wiped under her eyes, checking her face in the mirror.

"You don't have to hide your emotions." Penny whispered softly.

"Natasha can." Violetta said simply, patting under her eyes with a tissue. "And I want to be just like her."

"She's your role model?" Penny asked softly.

"Always has been, even when I was in the red room. She was famous, amongst us. The best Black Widow that the KBG had. I dreamed that I could be just like her. I. . ." Violetta sighed. "I performed my missions perfectly, killed so easily, because I hoped they would put me on a team with her. I climbed ranks faster at the age of thirteen than anyone ever had in the Italian red room. I was the prized assassin."

Penny stood up now, coming up behind the Italian and hugging her from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder, letting her talk.

"I took countless lives and for what? Good people, bad people, it doesn't matter anymore. I've killed so many people. . ." Tears leaked from Violetta's eyes again and she buried her face in her hands. "For what? Simply so I could meet someone. For selfish gain. I don't know anything about the people. Wives, Husbands, soulmates, children, families, pets. . ."

"Vi." Penny said firmly, coming around to the front now, cupping her face with her free hand. "It's in the past now. All you can do now is continue to move forward. Just keep walking. Now, you work to save lives." Penny kissed her gently on the lips. "Now, come."

Penny took Violetta's hand once more, this time not waiting for her to dry her face. Violetta went with her easily and the two of them went down to the lab.

"Hey Penny, Vi." Tony greeted them, barely looking up for a second before back down on his robot. Trang was fast asleep on the couch in the corner of the room, a blanket over her body, her glasses on the side table. Bruce immediately looked up from where he was working, walking around the table to approach them.

"Vi?" Bruce asked in concern and Penny let Bruce fold Violetta into his arms, "What's wrong honey?"

Vi sniffed and Penny said, "We just want to check and make sure the baby is healthy. She said she's getting painful contractions and she's worried. I think their just Braxton Hicks, but we want a professional opinion."

Tony was paying attention now, leaning on the box, a wrench still in his hand. "Trangs got the same thing going on. I thought maybe it was a side-effect from the magical pregnancy stuff. I talked to Thor about it and he said they're Braxton Hicks. But I can still call Stephen up and he can give you a check up?"

Violetta just nodded and it didn't take long for the Wizard to show up and ease Violetta's concerns in under ten minutes.

Violetta surprised Penny by bursting into tears and immediately hiding her face in her hands, even turning her shoulders towards the guys as though to hide from them.

"Ah Vi." Bruce said softly, hugging her from behind, resting his lips on the top of her head. Trang was starting to stir on the couch now as well.

"Hey." Penny said softly, taking Vi's hand into her own.

"Sorry. Hold on. One second." Violetta muttered, mopping furiously at her face.

"Miele!" Natasha's voice suddenly sounded through the room and Penny looked up to see the red head near sprinting- as best she could while pregnant- over to Violetta's side. Penny smiled to herself, noting that Natasha had spoken Italian in her concern, not Russian.

"Wait, no." Violetta hiccupped, trying to hide her face from Natasha now, rubbing under her eyes furiously. "I'm sorry."

"Stupida." Natasha said fondly, sitting on the other side of Violetta. Tony and Stephen both retreated to Trang's side, whispering quietly to her. Penny sat at the foot of the examination table. "You don't have to hide your emotions."

"I'm not weak." Violetta muttered, wiping her eyes once more, looking frustrated.

Natasha brushed her fizzy brown hair back from Violetta's face. "No, you're not weak Мед." Nat slipped back into her Russian nickname fondly. "Showing emotions is never weak."

"You don't." Violetta huffed, covering her eyes with her hands now, since the tears wouldn't stop.

Natasha was silently for a long time and then finally whispered. "It's not a sign of strength that I don't show emotions. It's a sign of fear. Fear to show my emotions because. . . I mean I don't have to tell you what they do in the red room." Nat pulled Violetta into her arms.

Penny felt hands on her shoulders and looked up to see Stephen behind her. He kissed the top of her head. She tilted back a little to kiss his cheek and then motioned to Chamber, who he took silently in his arms.

"I want to show my emotions." The Russian said to the Italian. "You're so much stronger than me, to be able to do so."

Bruce very slowly wrapped Violetta in his arms, pulling her into him from behind, while Natasha hugged her from the front. Stephen slipped his hand into Penny's and she allowed him to lead her from the room, the two of them heading upstairs on the elevator.

"You okay?" Stephen asked softly, raising her hand to kiss the back of it.

Penny looked up at him and smiled gently. "I love watching everyone make progress. I don't know, something about seeing Violetta and Natasha open up to each other little by little excites me."

Stephen chuckled then as the doors opened. He lifted Chamber a little more in his other arm and then said jokingly. "No wonder you and Elijah get along so well."

Penny giggled, the two of them settling on the couch. She leaned on the arm of the couch and watched as Stephen cooed softly into Chamber's ear, making orange butterflies dance on his fingers while Chamber giggled.

Penny felt eyes and looked up to see the God of mischief leaning against the wall, a small, secret smile hidden behind his fingers as he watched his soulmate with the little boy. Loki looked up, meeting Penny's eyes and winked, but stayed quiet.

"Are you going to join us or watch from the kitchen?" Stephen chuckled without looking over. Penny glanced between the two, slightly surprised, as she hadn't seen Stephen look at Loki.

Loki sauntered over, rolling his eyes playfully, scooping Chamber out of Stephen's arms, settling on the floor by Stephens' feet with him. "One day I'll sneak up on you."

Stephen chuckled, reaching down so that he could place his hand on his head. He reached his other arm over, placing his hand on Penny's upper thigh. His fingers rubbed the inside of her thigh slowly. Penny shivered a little at the sensation.

Penny rested against the couch, watching Loki cradle Chamber in his arms. There was a tenderness to which he held the child and Penny tilted her head a little. "Lokes? Are you. . . okay?"

Loki sighed and Stephen ran his fingers through the long black locks again in a comforting way. "I had a daughter once."

Penny blinked in surprise, but said nothing. Loki got up off the floor, sitting down on the couch, keeping his eyes only on Chamber.

"It was many, many years ago. She would be. . . thirty-seven I believe in human years. She wasn't actually mine, but I raised her. I. . ." Loki drifted off again. "I never wanted to raise her. I just. . ." Loki shook his head, looking off at the wall.

Penny reached over, squeezing his hand, "It's okay Loki."

"I just wish I had done better." Loki sighed, now meeting her eyes. "I swear I will do right by all of our children Penny. I will be the best father possible, I promise."

Penny smiled and Stephen smiled affectionately at him. "Just be yourself with the kids Lokes." Penny whispered softly. "That's the best you and the best father version of you. Being yourself. You can't do anything about the past, but you can do right by the future."

She leaned up and kissed him on the lips.

"Now then," She whispered softly, wanting to help him forget. "How about we head on upstairs, lay Chamber down for a nap, and then fool around in the bed?"

Loki cupped her face softly, seeming to be looking into her soul. "I'm not saying no but. . . " He hesitated, looking anxious.

"Bubs." Stephen said softly, "What do you want?"

"I kind've. . ." Loki looked away, blushing furiously as though embarrassed, "Kind've just want to lay in bed with you two and Chamber. I kind've just want to watch him for a little bit. And just. . ."

"Cuddle." Stephen finished, kissing his cheek. "Then that's what we do. Penny?"

Penny smiled, kissing Loki again. "I love it."