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[ironspiderfics]

hush little spider

by @iron--spider for @whimsicalethnographies

~

Tony dreams of clouds.

 No, a bubble. A bubble that’s wispy and purple and green and he’s inside it and he’s floating and it’s hard to breathe. The world outside warps and they can’t hear him. He’s high above New York and he’s a spectacle but they still can’t hear him.

 He opens his eyes just the slightest bit and sees Pepper already dressed. He groans, and she laughs in that breathy way that she does and she leans over and kisses his cheek.

 “No,” he grunts, still half-asleep. “Nope. Canceled. It’s canceled, I’m canceling it.”

 “I’ll be back tonight,” she laughs, kissing the corner of his mouth this time. 

 “Pete’s still here, right?” Tony asks, struggling to keep one eye open. 

“Yeah,” Pepper says, stuffing a few things in her purse. “He and Ned—actually fell asleep in the lower lab, something I’ve never seen anybody else do—ever—how strange…”

 Tony snorts, closing his eye again. “Only the occasional…similarity…”

 He hears her zipping her purse, and she kisses his cheek again. “Sleep in—sleep in for once in your life.”

 He turns his face into the pillow. “We’ll see,” he says, not anticipating sleeping any later than seven or eight, because the only times he does that are when he’s nearly been killed or some shit. Maimed beyond repair. Worrying about Rhodey so much he passes out, recovering from watching Spider-Man nearly die, things like that—

 But sleep is already dragging him back down again, as if it wants him, as if it’ll let him stay a while.

 And he dreams again. Dreams about almost losing his left arm, and his dream morphs reality and his false worries together like bad patchwork—arm, no arm, iron arm, half an arm, iron man, no arm, arm—he sees himself in bed he sees himself hobbling around he sees the line of suitors outside his door, all the people he knew loved him, all the ones he thought didn’t, everyone ready to start over with no qualms no teams no past mistakes, and he can hear his own voice strung up like Christmas lights saying it wasn’t just me. It wasn’t. But they’re here for him. They’re here to thank him. Here to comfort him. 

 His dream is a flipbook of that time—things that happened twisted with things that didn’t, the kid saying he wasn’t going on that Europe trip and Tony’s secret relief, Pepper scaling the side of the newly acquired tower, which was re-acquired but definitely not scaled, at least not by her—Happy starting to date May, yes, and Tony sees an array of dates he never saw but some he heard about, and the twenty-two or so pizzas feels fake, too. 

 His dreams are wacky sometimes—most of the time—and this feels like a play, almost, and he’s the only audience member, and he feels like something shuts down—

 And there is a stage. Shakespeare in the Park, and he’s standing in the rows of hard chairs and Peter is on the stage alone. 

 “Pete?” Tony calls to him. “You okay?”

 “I’m playing Hamlet,” Peter says, and he’s wearing a top hat.

 “You’re not supposed to say that in a theater,” Tony says, even though they’re not really in a theater, because he can see the sky. The stars. There’s grass under his feet.

 Is that right? Hamlet? Not allowed? Is it him that’s not allowed? Dreams are wrong. Dreams are facts that aren’t facts.

 He hears something shutting down. The wind stops and all the trees go still. 

 “Did you hear that?” Tony asks, glancing up at Peter again. 

 Like a computer shutting down the wrong way. He heard it plenty of times in college, in his many impatient moments. 

 It sounds like it’s everywhere. In his ear canals.

 “Pete, did you hear that?” Tony asks, starting to walk down the middle aisle. 

 Peter looks at him, and shakes his head, and he’s standing under a spotlight now. “I don’t hear anything,” he whispers.

 ~

 Tony startles awake, and the air feels stale.

 He can tell the power’s off immediately.

 He says Friday.

 Except he doesn’t say it.

 He looks around, eyes narrowed. The room is dark, the blackout shades still enabled, and he says Friday again, except he doesn’t say it. 

 He sits up in bed, his heart hammering. He rubs his throat a little bit, and tries to clear it. He can hear that, and he does it a few more times, and then he says Friday, but still, he doesn’t say it, the word doesn’t come out, his mouth moves and he shakes his head and tries to enunciate but still, no word, just silence.

 He sucks in a couple frustrated breaths, and he pulls himself over to the bedside table and picks up his phone. 

 It’s dead. He tries to turn it on again and it’s dead and it’s fucking plugged in, and still, dead, and he unplugs it and tries to turn it back on, two, three, four times, and then he’s tossing it onto the bed and leaning back against the pillows. 

 He stares off. He feels insane. Maybe he’s still dreaming.

 He pinches his arm and puts that to bed, and his heart starts speeding up again. 

 He closes his eyes. Tries to calm down. 

 He says Friday. 

 But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say it.

 His voice is gone.

 He can’t fucking talk, the power is out and his phone is dead. 

 And he’s not sick—he wasn’t screaming, there’s no reason for it—

 This is an attack. It has to be. 

 He runs his hands over his face, heaving a sigh, trying to—catalog things in his head. 

 Why did this happen who did it is he still here what’s been compromised how did he do it is he more than one person and if so how many can they turn on backup power without their voices can they get out of the building easily or are they trapped who is inside right now who stays here overnight who was still working who could have—

 Shit. He says it, but he doesn’t say it, because…because. 

 How the fuck—

 Peter is here. Peter and Ned.

 Tony wants to curse and shout but he gets out of bed and moves for the closet.

 ~

 Peter wakes up to someone hitting him. He narrows his eyes and sits up from his very uncomfortable sleeping position on the workbench, and Ned is hitting him and hitting him and hitting him.

 It’s dark in here, he can barely see, what is going on—

 Peter says hey but the word doesn’t come out, and Ned hits him and hits him and hits him again. He’s not hitting him with any real force but he’s like a very panicked butterfly, and Peter tries to say his name but that word doesn’t come out either.

 He clears his throat but before he knows it, Ned is grabbing his chin.

 Ned’s mouth is moving very fast, but he’s not making any words either. He points to his own mouth and then Peter’s mouth and he shakes his head. He lets go of Peter and walks over to the desk and picks up both of their phones, holds them up and wiggles them around, and puts them down again. He points to the computers and the workstations and makes an X with his arms, and Peter stares at him. 

 Peter tries to say Ned but nothing comes out of his mouth but air. 

 Ned glares at him. He points up at the ceiling and he covers his eyes, and he does that three times. It feels like a really weird game of charades.

 No lights. No power. Phones off too…

 A little bit of fear creeps into Peter’s gut, and he sucks in a breath. He tries to say hello hello, but it doesn’t work, and Ned throws his arms up and they hit his legs. 

 Peter does it back at him.

 They stare at each other in the darkness.

 This is bad. Tony is here somewhere and Pepper could be too—and a bunch of other people probably—

 He needs Tony’s help, Tony can figure this out, they can figure it out together—whatever it is—

 Peter swallows hard and puts his fingers together to mime writing with a pencil. Ned just stares at him, and Peter widens his eyes and does it again, with more dramatic flair, and he starts searching through the desk. He doesn’t know the last time he’s seen Tony actually write anything down. 

 Ned is still just standing there and staring at him, so Peter huffs a sigh and slams his arms down on the desk and makes a very exaggerated scene of pretending to write, and Ned sort of goes oh without saying it, because—they can’t, for some reason—and he starts to help him look through the drawers. 

 Ned nudges Peter with his elbow. Peter nudges him back, and they’re sort of pushing back and forth for a second like they’re five years old at the watercolor table and not two adults in a situation. 

 Who the hell could do this? What is going on? How could someone steal their voices?

 They look for five minutes before they find a stash of paper and a few pencils in the desk by the wall. The dark is starting to hurt Peter’s eyes, and Ned snatches a piece of paper out of his hand, and Peter scoffs and throws the second pencil at him.

 They both hurriedly write out their messages. 

 Peter holds his up.

 WE NEED TO FIND TONY AND WE NEED TO SEE IF WE CAN GET OUT OF THE BUILDING AND WE NEED TO SEE IF THE TECHNOLOGY SITUATION IS AFFECTING MY SUIT THE ONLY ONE I HAVE HERE IS THE NEW SCARLET SPIDER ONE TONY AND I WERE WORKING ON AND IT’S IN THE LAB ON LEVEL 14 SO WE ALSO HAVE TO CHECK OUT THE ELEVATOR SITUATION AND SEE WHAT IS GOING ON FROM THERE AND THE LIVING QUARTERS ARE ON LEVEL 42 SO WE ARE REALLY IN A SITUATION AND WE HAVE TO BE CAREFUL WHEN WE LEAVE THIS ROOM BECAUSE ANYTHING COULD BE OUT THERE SO JUST STAY BEHIND ME

 Ned stands there and squints and reads the whole thing. He steps a little closer and finally finishes, nodding, and he swallows hard.

 He holds up his paper.

 so this could be aliens

 ~

 Tony doesn’t like not being able to use his voice. His voice is his greatest weapon, and one he uses often, in every situation, whether he’s quipping at a giant purple asshole trying to bring the world to its knees or bargaining with Pepper about the need for cookie dough ice cream. 

 And he keeps forgetting he can’t use it, and he keeps almost yelling out as he surveys the halls—empty, mostly, up here, because he guesses the kid stayed down in the lab all night with his buddy. Rhodey is supposed to show up tomorrow, and Happy might have been out of the tower already before whatever the hell happened…happened…and Natasha is in Chicago with Clint and his family and Thor is still off-world and Steve is in Brooklyn for that anniversary thing—Barnes and Wilson might be here, somewhere, maybe. They’re here sometimes. Tony really needs to get better at keeping up with who’s here and when. He knows Friday knows, but Friday is out of commission, and whatever the hell is going on with his voice is keeping him from resetting her and the system.

 Purposeful. Smart. Too smart. 

 He arrives at the main stairwell and sees—it’s caved the fuck in. Like a controlled explosion, and he can’t go down or up, and he peers over what’s left of the railing and sees a few of the other stairwells look the same.

 Who the hell is blowing shit up in here and he didn’t hear it? How would he not hear that? 

 He wants to say shit and he tries but he fucking can’t and he rushes over and hits the wall next to the elevator instead. Not even hard enough to make a dent, and he sighs and presses the button a bunch of times. He knows it won’t work, but he does it anyway. 

 And then the whole building groans, like the unmistakable sound of a wounded Titanic slowly sinking, and Tony stands still, eyes cutting around manically. 

 He has a horrible thought that they’re trying to bring the building down, whoever the hell ‘they’ are, but why all the theatrics? Why the shit with his voice? Is that happening to everyone? Is that happening to Peter?

 Tony sets his jaw, the thought of the kid bringing things back into focus, and the metallic moaning and groaning stops. 

 No matter what’s going on, there are innocent people in this building, and Peter is one of them. Tony has to start making his way down, and maybe he can find a suit he can activate manually. Maybe this tech crash didn’t affect his suits, but he won’t know until he finds one, and they’re down where Peter is. Slim chance, but it’s something to shoot for.

 He feels like he can hear footsteps. On this floor, on others, and it’s underlined in the silence, in the lack of screaming for help. 

 He’s gotta get to the back stairwell and see if that’s intact, and he swallows hard and heads that way. He weaves around, and he feels like he’s thinking more now that he can’t talk out loud—

 —gotta find the kid gotta see if we can get out cover the exits try to make contact with anybody else on the team might be here gotta find the manual overrides that don’t require voice activation and that’s probably zero considering my paranoia and there has to be backdoors for that to get around it and what if we’re stuck in the building because we probably are because who would go to all this trouble just to let us walk right out and thank God Pepper isn’t here that’s one less thing to worry about and if only Rhodey was a day early even though I don’t want him trapped in here either and Jesus who else is in here, it’s a weekend, who’d be staying, Jesus, gotta get to Peter, and Ned, Ned’s here too, can’t talk, can’t talk, it must be everyone—

 —and this atrium is filled with sunshine from the long line of windows, and Tony jogs over there to see if—to see if—

 He tries to say that’s not a cloud out loud but, of course, he can’t, just tiny newborn kitten mouth movements, and he huffs at himself and rolls his eyes and he’s seconds from a tantrum that he hope they’ll watch and laugh at on the cameras three days from now oh wait the cameras are fucking off—

 —but either goddamn way the tower is surrounded by something greenish purplish nebulous…like they’re inside someone’s chemistry experiment—

 This time, when he tries to say shit he tries to say it with such force that he gets out the rush of breath that would start the ‘s’, if not anything else. 

 So he races towards the back stairwell hissing and shushing over and over to himself like an angry librarian or an oncoming train.

 ~

 Ned runs out of paper. 

 And Peter doesn’t know how the hell he did that—well he sort of does, because he’s been wasting the paper on dumb stuff, like worrying about aliens, and sure, that’s a completely normal worry, but how many times is he gonna write it? And then waste the paper? He’s gone back to pick up paper he’s dramatically thrown to the ground like eight times. As if they’re walking around in some post-apocalyptic wasteland and not Stark Tower.

 Ned is tugging on Peter’s arm for more paper, and Peter turns around and holds up one finger at him. Ned shrugs at him and Peter feels like they’re not making any progress at all—they saw the screwed up staircases, and they could maybe get around those, maybe, and they saw the weird shit outside the windows which makes him think this is some magic spell or something—well, obviously, you can’t just steal people’s voices with a special remote—but he’s gotta see—he’s gotta see if he can get outside.

 And he’s having crazy ideas about how to—do that.

 If they just would have figured out how to teleport like in Star Trek then they wouldn’t be having this problem at all. 

 Peter sighs and then he sees one of the classrooms Tony carved out for team meetings, once he re-acquired the tower, and he has an idea. He points at the classroom to Ned, ignores his immediate defensiveness, and he heads over there. 

 Ned grabs onto his shoulder, and maybe Ned is missing the sound of his voice. Peter has to remember that Ned isn’t exactly used to situations like this, and he pats his hand, but then he turns around and indicates that he’s gonna knock down the door.

 It only takes one hit, and the door slams to the ground, and Peter sees the whiteboard on the wall that he remembers Tony writing on, and Sam snickering at. 

 And within a minute or two, he’s ripped off two relatively equal squares of it, and found two dry erase markers. And when Ned catches on, they make two paperclip necklaces and hang the boards around their necks. 

 Ned immediately writes on his.

 SO SMART PETER

 Peter draws a big smiley face with a bunch of teeth. And then he writes.

 THANKS. OKAY NOW I GOTTA TRY TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW.

 Ned’s face falls.

 ~

 The building makes more noises, and Tony tries to determine if he thinks it’s actually moving. He hears banging, more footsteps, and he chalks that up to other people trying to get around, and he can’t count how many times he tries to yell out like a moron only to be met with more silence. He’s running down the stairs as fast as he can, his thoughts almost painting themselves outside of his head, in big bold read letters hanging in the air—

 And he’s breathing hard and he feels like he’s hearing things by floor 35 and is he hearing—laughter? Who’s laughing? He can’t laugh, so he’s assuming—who would be laughing in this scenario except the person who caused it?

 Here somewhere, in the shadows, lying in wait—

 And the laughter seems to echo, and it sounds like it’s getting closer, and more intense, like this person laughing is everywhere and right next to him all at once—

 And normally Tony would be shouting obscenities and trying to pump himself up with long soliloquies but he can’t do that, he can only breathe, and panic, and he thinks about the kid somewhere in this building, voiceless and in danger—

 And he nearly trips on the landing to floor 34 and someone catches him—

 And he pushes this person away and his heart is in his throat, beating and beating and choking him, and he doesn’t have a suit and he immediately drops into a defensive stance, one fist cocked by his face and the other outstretched, and Rhodey smacks his hand down and huffs at him.

 Tony stares. So many words are on the tip of his tongue, held back by brick walls, and Rhodey huffs again and gives him a little smile and Tony grabs onto his arms. Rhodey grabs Tony’s too, and for a second they’re—jumping? Up and down? And they realize they’re doing it immediately and they stop and then Tony pulls him into a hug.

 He rolls his eyes at himself, his face burning, but hey, Rhodey was doing it too. 

 They pull back, and Tony pats Rhodey’s shoulders. He points at him, throws his hands up, as if asking when the hell did you get here. Rhodey narrows his eyes at him, waves his hands through the air, backwards, as if trying to convey—who the fuck knows.

 Tony still can’t believe he’s in front of him, and they need to get somewhere with more light. He points down, tries to tug him forward, but Rhodey shakes his head. He gets close to Tony’s face, and mouths words. If it was anybody else, Tony wouldn’t be able to interpret it, but it’s him, so he can.

 CANNOT GET OUT OF BUILDING. TRAPPED.

 Tony nods—he figured as much—but he tugs on Rhodey’s wrist anyway. He mimes shooting a web, does an exaggerated version of Peter’s swinging, and points down again. Realization dawns on Rhodey’s face, and he points down with raised eyebrows, and Tony points down too. Rhodey nods at him, and he starts down the stairs, linking his arm through Tony’s.

 The silence doesn’t feel as heavy, with him here.

 And they try to pass little messages back and forth, through hand gestures and lip reading, and Tony finds out that Rhodey put a couple people from payroll in a safe room on the 20th floor, barring the door that Friday would normally seal. The front and back exits are completely blocked, and one guy from marketing tried to get through and was unceremoniously bounced back inside by some unknown force. Rhodey’s been hearing the laughter too, and the building groaning, and he’s seen the shit outside the window. He thinks someone is here, waiting to pounce, or maybe more than one someone—

 And they walk down to the 18th floor landing and Peter’s body is splayed out against the door in a mess of blood.

 ~

 Ned underlines his NO. He makes it bolder. He shoves it in Peter’s face.

 Peter sighs. He holds up his message again. 

 IF I CAN GET OUT I CAN CRAWL UP THE BUILDING—

 Ned rubs away Peter’s message with his hand. Peter sighs, and Ned writes underneath his NO.

 YOU KNOW THERE’S PURPLEGREEN JELLY OUT THERE OR WHATEVER THAT IS AND IT CAN EAT YOU AND ABSORB YOU MAYBE. AND IF YOU DO GET OUT UR LEAVING ME HERE.

 Peter sighs again. He misses his voice, he misses both of their voices. He takes a few steps away from Ned, braces his board on the wall, and writes what he hopes is the kicker.

 If I get out, I can climb down, and I will probably get my voice back, and I can connect to Friday from one of the remote facilities down the street, and I can turn her back on in the building, and then Tony will take over and save everybody and everything and find the bad guy inside. And I’ll come back and help!!!!!!

 Ned reads it. He squints at it, and he does that every time, and it makes Peter think he needs glasses. He hasn’t ever watched him read this much.

 Ned sighs.

 Ned sighs pointedly.

 Peter nods at him and hopes that’s the end of it, and they already discussed where he would go if this worked the way it’s supposed to, and it probably will, so he sighs again and hangs Peter’s board around his neck too, and grips both markers in his hands.

 Peter hugs him, fast and tight, trying to soothe him and give himself some sort of confidence too, and he knows he can’t waffle around for too long—so he doesn’t make eye contact with Ned again, and he rushes towards the window, heading for it with his right shoulder.

 And he bursts through—and he’s blasted through plenty of windows in his life so he’s not exactly surprised he’s able to do it—and there’s glass everywhere and he shields his face and maybe he should have thought this through a little more but the tower is hard to traverse right now to find shit, and he barely has any time to even breathe the outside air or perceive the weird gelatinous cloud before some otherworldly force is launching him back inside.

 It’s like he’s in the palm of someone’s giant hand, and he can feel his voice on the other side of that purplegreen cloud, he can feel it, and it dies away as soon as he collapses back onto the floor at Ned’s feet.

 Ned’s forgotten he can’t talk. His mouth is moving rapid fire, and he bends down in front of Peter and keeps not talking and Peter just stares at him, flabbergasted. Peter has cuts from the glass all over him, and the wind is whipping around through the newly created hole, and he feels like he can hear the purplegreen cloud. Wobbling and squishing. 

 He covers Ned’s mouth with his hand, still staring out the window, and it seems to jolt Ned back into their current situation. He quickly takes off Peter’s board, puts it back around Peter’s neck, and he shoves the marker into Peter’s hand. Then he takes off his own and starts writing on it.

 OKAY it says, in shaky hand NOW I’M FOR SURE ABOUT ALIENS

 ~

 Tony feels like he’s doused in ice, frozen in his tracks, unable to breathe. And he can’t talk and if he could talk he doesn’t know if he would be screaming and shouting or just like this—aghast, horrified, and he nearly trips down the stairs trying to get to him—

 Even in the darkness Peter doesn’t look like he’s breathing—

 And Tony drops to his knees beside him and—

 He’s gone.

 Peter disappears.

 Tony stares at the empty spot, and the silence is so loud that he can hear his heart stuttering and speeding up, and he runs his hands over the spot where he was the spot the empty spot what the fuck what the fuck—

 He hears Rhodey coming down behind him, and he hauls him to his feet. Tony’s heart is still beating a mile a minute and his eyes are starry but not in the good way, and he wants to say something he wants to say something, and that’s when he hears the laughter.

 OH TONY a voice says, a fucking voice, and it’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, and Tony has a hard time not falling back against Rhodey completely. HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED? WELL THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR, TONY. MAYBE IT WILL. MAYBE I’LL TAKE RHODEY TOO. AND ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS IN THE BUILDING. AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO HELP AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SCREAM OR CRY OR ANYTHING. AND THEN I’LL KILL YOU, TONY. YOU’LL BE LAST.

 He recognizes the voice, and it laughs and laughs and the laughter fades and seems to dissipate in the air. 

 It sounds familiar—

 But he feels like he can’t fucking breathe anymore. And they haven’t found Peter yet, and Tony keeps imagining him dead, and it feels more dire than it did—

 And he shoves forward, doesn’t look at the place where Peter’s body was, or whatever the hell—

 And Rhodey follows him out of the stairwell. Tony stumbles into the main atrium of whatever the hell floor they’re on now—and it looks like Stark offices from the brief look he gets before he bends over and braces his hands on his knees. 

 He tries to breathe. Rhodey rubs his back and sighs a couple times and this is feeling more and more sadistic. Who the hell is this guy? How did he do this? Tony can still hear the laughter, even though it’s silent again.

 Silent, until he hears a banging.

 It’s not the typical bad noises he’s been hearing since this shit started, and he straightens up and looks at Rhodey. Rhodey nods, and he hears it too, and he motions towards—the railing, where they can look down and see the other floors. It’s like that, from the 38th floor down to the main lobby, and he rushes over, Rhodey on his heels.

 He tries to hold himself back, because it could be this asshole tricking him—but the banging keeps on and gets more manic.

 They very slowly peer over the edge of the railing.

 Peter and Ned leap into the air when they see them.

 And they’re wearing tinfoil hats on their heads.

 ~

 Peter can’t believe it. He can’t believe it’s him. He just so happened to be looking up right at the right time to see Tony run out and he thought he might be going crazy but then he saw Rhodey and it’s them it’s actually them, and he and Ned jump and clap and Tony looks at him like he’s never seen him before. Peter’s hands hurt from banging on the wall to get their attention, but it’s worth it. 

 The building starts to make those noises again, moaning and groaning like it’s structurally unsound, but Peter doesn’t trust it, because if it was actually collapsing, or moving somewhere at its base, he’d be able to feel it. 

 Peter points at Tony. Left stairwell? They were going up the right one. That’s so crazy. He forgets he’s got a board around his neck.

 Tony holds up both hands as if to say STOP STAY THERE and then he’s out of sight before Peter can respond. With…whatever response he would have had. Rhodey races after him, and Peter blows out a breath and turns around and looks at Ned.

 He grimaces. He saw Tony and instantly forgot about the hats they made a couple minutes ago when they found the tin foil. Ned is so concerned with aliens and now they look stupid.

 Peter snatches it off of Ned’s head, and then his own, and Ned’s mouth falls open in betrayal. Peter puts them on the ground and quickly writes out a message on his board.

 LISTEN I’VE DEALT WITH ALIENS BEFORE AND THOSE WEREN’T GONNA WORK ANYWAY.

 Ned stares at him, and then calmly claws away part of his message.

 Peter sighs, and then the stairwell door slams open.

 He turns around and Tony is striding towards him. 

 And Peter always wants to feel capable and he’s pretty confident he is, but he always feels safer when Tony’s around. Like he can…really figure things out. Like he won’t get hurt, because Tony won’t let him.

 And Tony wraps him up in a hug that Peter melts into, closing his eyes. Tony holds him tight, squeezing his shoulder, and Peter just lives in it for a second. Tony pulls back but keeps a hold of him, and Peter sees Rhodey and Ned sharing a little moment behind him. 

 Tony pats the board around Peter’s neck, nodding. Peter nods too, and he takes out the marker to write something, but Tony gently takes it out of his hand. He writes on the board, and turns it around for Peter to see. His letters are blocky and messy, and so very him.

 You alright?

 Peter nods at him. He points at him, raises his eyebrows, and Tony nods too. Tony immediately clocks the few cuts Peter sustained in the window incident, and he thumbs over one on Peter’s forehead.

 Peter shrugs.

 IT’S FINE he writes. I TRIED TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW BUT IT BLEW ME BACK.

 Tony narrows his eyes. He keeps one hand on Peter’s shoulder and knocks Rhodey on the arm, and they have a couple seconds of silent facial communication the likes of which Peter has never seen. Ned knocks Peter on the arm, and looks at him like he wants to replicate it, but he just wags his eyebrows at Peter and Peter has no clue what he wants to say.

 Peter looks across the atrium at the weird cloud through the window. He wonders how far it goes up in the sky—it can’t be too far, it’s probably just…a little taller than the building. Maybe.

 Would it cover it completely, like a bubble? Or is there an opening at the top, the roof exposed to open air because nobody’s up there? Is it worth checking out?

 Anything is. Anything that might end this.

 Now he’s thinking…

 Ned sighs at Peter, and Peter pats Tony’s shoulder. Tony turns towards him again, and somehow he feels even more fatherly in this moment, dipping his head down to give Peter his undivided attention, stepping a little closer and gripping his shoulder. He was clearly worried, and Peter never really wants to worry him, but it feels…nice. Something crazy and insane is happening and Tony Stark is worried about him. He should be used to it by now, after all these years and everything they’ve been through, but he’s not. He doesn’t know if he ever will be. 

 Peter tries to focus, starts to write.

 Is it even worth it to try and get our suits? I know yours wouldn’t work, because they’re all tech, but would mine? Probably not, right? We need to get Ned to a safe place because I have an idea

 And the tail of his ‘a’ is drawn out when the four of them are swept into the air.

 ~

 And Tony doesn’t realize it’s a fucking mini tornado inside the tower until he’s inside it, and it’s huge and big and picking up everything all around them too—chairs and computers and long tables, and one of the tables knocks Rhodey and Ned completely away from them. They’re spinning and being thrown around and Tony can barely see—like there’s suddenly Saharan dust in here—and he grabs onto Peter’s ankle before he can be tossed away from him too.

 And for a minute it’s loud rushing, flying through the air, and what feels like a fucking phone hits him in the head and he sees stars, and he lets go of Peter—

 And he wants to yell out but he can’t, he’s still silent, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on here or who is doing this or how, and he can see other people and faces and bodies and they’re all contorted in the same silent scream, and before he knows it Peter is flying at him and they’re both hitting a pillar—

 And Peter is smashed against him and Tony can tell he’s sticking to the wall, making it so they don’t get thrown around anymore—

 And he’s gritting his teeth and the forces of the fucking tornado are so strong that he can barely lift his arm, but he does, trying to shield the kid’s head—

 And then it all falls, abruptly, everything drops everywhere in loud crashes and bangs, and he can hear windows breaking and other shit breaking but still no voices.

 And then there’s the laughter.

 Tony grabs onto Peter and Peter grabs him, hauling him to his feet. Tony feels dizzy and off-kilter from how many blows he took, and the laughter is moving in and out like a warped Led Zeppelin song, and it almost hurts his ears.

 TONY TONY TONY the same voice as earlier says, as Peter grabs onto Tony’s arm and hauls him over to the railing. I’M COMING FOR YOU TONY AND EVERYONE YOU LOVE—YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY LITTLE WIFEY ISN’T HERE, BUT WE’VE GOT THE BEST FRIEND AND THE LOVE CHILD, HUH? WHICH ONE FIRST? OR SHOULD IT BE YOU? THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU STEAL SOMEONE’S WORK, TONY…SOMEONE LIKE ME, I’M NOT GOING TO BE…RATIONAL…

 Peter is breathing hard, panicking, looking all around. They’re a lot higher up now, and Tony can see other people on the lower levels—he looks up, and it seems like there’s only one level above them, so they should be on the 37th floor now. Jesus. 

 The laughter starts again, and it gets so loud that it’s almost ear-piercing, and Tony holds one of his ears and one of Peter’s, out of instinct, he doesn’t know—

 And then he sees Ned, a few floors down, at the edge of the railing. He pats Peter’s arm, and points, and Peter nearly wilts in relief. And before Tony can start worrying about Rhodey, he sees him rush over to the edge, two floors above Ned.

 They all see each other at the same time.

 And it takes a few minutes of rabid communication, wincing, and hand gestures, because neither Ned or Peter have their boards anymore, but they’re able to get Rhodey to start heading to where Ned is. And Tony is able to convey—something, to the other people who see him. Everyone is panicking, but they’re somehow soothed by his presence—something he’ll never understand, but something he takes very seriously. 

 Jesus, he has to help them—

 The laughter eventually tapers off and dies out, and the sinking ship sounds resume. Tony and Peter back up from the ledge, holding onto each other, and Peter pats Tony’s shoulder to get his attention. Tony is distracted by the new cuts, and the blood in the kid’s hair, and he hates himself for getting Peter into situations like this. If he didn’t know him, he wouldn’t be here right now, he wouldn’t have to deal with this. 

 But a world in which he doesn’t know him…well, Tony doesn’t want that either.

 Peter points up. He raises his arm, and keeps pointing, as if to indicate all the way up. 

 Tony mouths roof and Peter nods at him. He obviously has an idea, they were starting to discuss it before the bullshit, and he knows the suits they have here are way below them, and most likely out of the picture now. Probably wouldn’t have activated, anyway. No voices, no tech. Tony nods at him again, trying to imagine what he might be thinking, and they start to head up there. 

 And Tony thinks about that voice. That laugh. The things he said. 

 ~

 Peter worries.

 He worries that his plan is stupid, and it’s barely even a plan, it’s barely even an idea, and it might not even pan out if the purplegreen cloud is covering the whole building. They’re too far away from where their suits are now, and they could try to go down there but the suits probably wouldn’t work anyways. Tony’s is entirely tech, and Peter’s is voice activated. Everything is voice activated. 

 They grab a couple things from the living quarters when they get there—Peter asks for a Friday com, for his haphazard plan, and he nearly jumps for joy when they find a pair of webshooters in his bedroom that he’d forgotten were there. He practices, and they work, because they’re tech but they aren’t tech tech. But they don’t have a lot of webs loaded in, and he can’t find more and isn’t in the right place to make them, so he has to be careful. But the webshooters will make it a lot easier than trying to climb up the antenna and jump over the cloud without anything to help him. 

 And they get some more paper and pens.

 I think this guy is this jerk I fired a couple years back Tony writes, after they get some water and grapes from the fridge. He was insane then and he’s clearly insane now. But more insane. End of the world stealing voices and trying to murder people insane. Earlier he showed me a projection of your dead body and he could do shit like that back then, the tornado, the voice throwing…I’m not even sure if the main stairwell is actually destroyed, he could be faking that with projection too. Everything but the magical aspects feel like him. But we’ve got a lot of magical assholes on our tails and he could be hooking up with them to get at me.

 Peter reads it, drinking his water, and he nods, sighing once he’s drained the bottle. He leans over and writes underneath it, his letters small and close together so he has lots of space.

 MY PLAN IS TO GO UP TO THE ROOF AND HOPEFULLY THE CLOUD DOESN’T COMPLETELY COVER THE BUILDING AND I CAN LAUNCH MYSELF OUTSIDE IT AND THEN SPEAK AGAIN AND CONNECT TO FRIDAY WITH THE COM AND RESET THE BUILDING AND SET OFF SAFEGUARDS TO START FIGHTING BACK. AND IF THE CLOUD COVERS THE BUILDING THEN I HAVE NO PLAN BUT I HAVE A FEELING IT DOESN’T BECAUSE HE CLEARLY THINKS HE’S GOTTEN RID OF EVERYTHING THAT COULD GET US UP THAT HIGH YOU KNOW?

 He’s a little worried, watching Tony read, and worry feels where he lives right now. And Tony does straighten up when he’s done, giving Peter a look. There’s layers behind it—fear, uncertainty, worry, wanting to help, but he nods anyway, even though he looks like he doesn’t want to.

 Peter smiles, softly, trying to be reassuring, but probably coming off as childish and stupid, and he sighs and leans over and writes again.

 HE USED MY DEAD BODY TO UPSET YOU?

 Tony reads, and makes a face at him, widening his eyes and grimacing. He nods, holding that expression. Peter mimes saying awww, and Tony scoffs, gently pushing his face away from him. Peter laughs, and draws a heart on the paper, and Tony snatches the pen and crosses the heart out with an X. But Peter is grinning anyway. 

 It feels good, not to…feel bad. If only for a moment.

 And they head back up after that, with pens and paper and water bottles, Peter’s webshooters on his wrists. They have to keep changing stairwells, because of obstacles and shit this guy’s put in their way, and a few of them are solid and real, and a few of them are illusions, projected to confuse and reroute them. Peter decides to web up the elevator shaft for a while, holding a very irritated Tony along with him.

 They climb out at floor 90, Peter peeling the doors open. He helps Tony to his feet, and the doors slam closed behind them once they’re all the way out. 

 Tony blows out a breath, and he claps Peter on the shoulder and bends his head down a bit to look at him. That look is asking if he’s alright, and Peter nods, and Tony nods back at him, already knowing he wants to ask too. 

 Peter gestures backwards, angrily, at everything, and he puts his hands together as if he’s choking someone and shaking them back and forth. 

 Tony points at his own chest, raising his eyebrows.

 Peter brushes him off, mouths no, and he points behind them, meaning THAT GUY, and he gestures all over and throws punches and pretends to knee someone in the stomach and pretends like he’s choking and he rolls his eyes back.

 Tony stares at him for a second, and then he grins, shaking his head. He throws up his middle finger, shakes his fist in the air, and they keep silently threatening as they walk.

 They head for the stairs and Peter worries. He worries about Ned, about his half-baked plan, about his non-existent back-up plan, about May and MJ hearing about this and seeing what’s going on, and he’s worrying as they step into the stairwell to climb the final three flights for roof access. 

 He’s worrying when he gets shot in the shoulder.

 ~

 And Tony drags Peter to his feet and they’re running, they’re running up the stairs, and he doesn’t feel like he’s moved this much outside of the suit since the fucking Mandarin situation—and the sound of whatever invisible force it is following them and shooting at them is undeniably a fucking drone. Probably two, from the buzzing. 

 Very clearly a Beck production—

 And Tony holds onto Peter, and they keep running, and they zig-zag as much as they can in the narrow stairwell, and Tony hears ricochets and blasts inches from his head and he gets one in the back of the leg that takes him down—

 And Peter pulls him up again, and Tony sees him turn around and fire a bunch of webs, and one of the drones, still invisible, slams against the wall, trapped.

 They keep running, and there’s one left, and they can’t fucking see it, and they keep running and Tony is fucking hopping, and before he knows it Peter is hauling him behind a pillar.

 And the shooting stops.

 And Tony can still hear the drone, can hear it buzzing and ticking and searching for them, and Peter has his eyes closed.

 And before Tony knows it, Peter is leaping out from behind the pillar, and Tony sees him grasp his hands together and slam down into open air. But it isn’t open air, and the drone becomes visible and crashes down to the ground, spitting out sparks.

 Tony breathes hard through his mouth, and Peter stumbles back towards him, and grabs his arm again. Tony nods at him, trying to convey a good job, and Peter blows out a breath and shakes his head.

 And they stagger up one more set of stairs and bust out onto the roof. 

 And—

 The kid was right.

 They can see it right away.

 The purplegreen cloud is surrounding the building, and it goes up to just under the antenna. And that’s where it stops. Clear blue sky. 

 An opening.

 It looks easy. He’s seen Peter do harder things. But Tony stands there, frozen, staring up at where the cloud ends while Peter drags over one of the random cement blocks up here and braces it against the door.

 Tony tries to say his name, but he can’t. He still can’t, despite how close they are to the edge of the thing. 

 And Peter puts the com in his ear, ready to connect to Friday when he can. 

 And why the hell didn’t they take their phones with them maybe Tony could have hacked into them if he put his mind to it and why wasn’t he thinking properly and forming his own plans and why didn’t he just go back down and get a suit and make it like he made it in Afghanistan they could have withstood more of Beck’s bullshit if he just put his goddamn mind to it and—

 Peter blows out a breath, and takes a step forward, shaking his arms like he’s trying to get loose. Then he aims one webshooter—

 Tony grabs Peter’s arm, his heart in his throat. He feels insane, was the kid about to just go, just do it—

 Peter turns around and looks at him. And they can’t say anything, even though there’s a million things to say, and Tony can never stand letting him go if he can’t go with him, because what if it goes wrong, what if he doesn’t come back—

 And they’ve been trying to convey a million things without words since this started, and he just looks at Peter and tries to say it all with his face—I restarted the world because I couldn’t live in it without you so you better come back—and he cocks his head a little bit and really looks at him and his eyes hurt—

 And Peter rushes into a hug, a big one, and Tony clings to him and cradles the back of his head and hates this whole goddamn thing. Then Peter pulls back, nodding at him, tears shining in his eyes—

 And he steps forward, away from him, and shoots a web before Tony can say anything else—

 “Well, look at him go,” a voice says. 

 That voice.

 Tony spins around, and the man he knew was behind this is standing there. Right fucking behind him, Quentin Beck, in some goddamn jumpsuit, grinning from ear to ear.

 He punches Tony square in the face, a move that Tony would have parried or dodged if he hadn’t been so fucking shocked to see the guy standing there when nobody was there a moment before, and Beck hits him again off the shock of the first hit—

 And the pain bursts—

 “God, you were always slow, Tony,” Beck says, and Tony is able to dodge the next one he throws, which makes the asshole laugh. “Oh, there he is! There he is! A little fight left in him—”

 ~

 And Peter swings, latching onto the antenna and launching himself over the tippy top of the cloud, and the heel of his foot bumps it and that buoys him further up into the air, and he shoots another web and swings around outside of the spell, away from the building—

 And he can feel his voice in his throat, building up, ready to be used again—

 “FRIDAY!” he screams, shrill and childlike, but he doesn’t care. “FRIDAY, RESET YOURSELF IN THE TOWER ON ALL LEVELS! REBOOT THE TOWER. CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

 And he swings around, in a curved arc, and he can see—

 There’s a man, a man there with Tony on the roof, and they’re fighting, hand to hand—

 And suddenly there’s so many of him, everywhere, the same man, all over the roof, and they’re all attacking Tony, and Tony falls to the ground—

 And Peter can’t—Friday hasn’t yet—he can’t breathe he can’t think it feels like time is slowing to a halt—

 “Resetting,” Friday says, in Peter’s ear, “and responding to an attack, Peter, do you need assistance?”

 “Tony needs assistance on the roof!” Peter screams, and he shoots three more webs and swings around, and the cloud is still up but the tower comes to life inside of it, an energy blasting up and creating ripples, but the cloud doesn’t go away yet, not completely—

 And all the multiples of the man disappear until there’s just one—

 —and Peter sees him stab Tony in the stomach.

 “No!” Peter screams, his heart in his throat, and he starts swinging back that way, dipping and weaving in the air, and he can hardly see through his tears. “Tony, Tony! No!”

 And he reaches out to shoot another web, but nothing comes out—

 He’s out—

 No more webs—

 “Shit!” Peter yells, plummeting, and he swings his arms and tries to get closer to the building so he can stick and the cloud is still rippling and breaking in pieces and if he hits it just right he won’t be bounced back—

 Tony Tony Tony—

 And before he knows it something is crashing into him, and closing him up inside it—

 An Iron Man suit—

 And it comes to life quickly, the heads up display bright and shining, connecting to two other suits currently on the grid—and he’s not falling anymore—

 “Tony?” Peter yells. He tries to get acclimated, quickly changing his trajectory and heading back up to the roof. He’s only been in an Iron Man suit like, twice, and the first time was an accident. “Tony? Tony? Friday is he—Friday, where’s—”

 And just as Peter takes off, the purplegreen cloud explodes, and it knocks Peter backwards, catapulting him back onto the roof of a building a couple blocks over. He hits the wall so hard—

 And Peter dreams of clouds.

 Dreams? Dreams? Is he dreaming?

 Purplegreen—black—stars—voices—

 ~

 “Peter?”

 Beeping. Wind.

 “Peter. I am flying you back to the tower.”

 His eyes are shut. Flying?

 “Peter. The spell has been broken. Doctor Stephen Strange was locked in the lowest level of the tower by the perpetrator, former Stark Employee Quentin Beck. As soon as you reactivated me countermeasures were taken, and Doctor Strange was able to find—”

 “He took—down the spell?” Peter asks. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. He’s flying. He doesn’t wanna see, his brain isn’t working. 

 “Yes, and—”

 “No specifics,” Peter says, and he finally opens his eyes. He’s heading for the roof—the roof, the roof— “Brain hurts—Friday, Tony, is Tony—is Tony—”

 “Mr. Stark is alright, save for a concussion and a blast wound on his leg,” Friday says, and Peter doesn’t understand, he saw—he saw that guy stab him—

 And he’s heading for a landing, and he sees—Tony, and Rhodey, and Happy, and Ned is there too, and they’ve got this guy on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back. Rhodey is suited up, and Tony’s nanosuit trickles away, forming a watch on his wrist.

 Peter lands, and the suit opens to let him out, and he tumbles like Han Solo out of carbonite in Return of the Jedi. 

 Tony catches him. “Whoa whoa whoa,” he says, trying to gather him up. “There he is, took long enough—buddy, bud, hey, you okay?”

 His voice his voice—

 “He stabbed you,” Peter breathes, trying to get his feet solidly under him. “He stabbed, I saw—I saw it—”

 “See, he fell for it,” Beck says, laughing from his spot on the ground. “I knew he would. I knew it, didn’t I say? Tony!”

 “We need to gag him,” Tony says, pointing over in his direction. “He took my voice, I’ll take his, it’s only fair—Pete, I’m fine, hey—” Tony helps him stand up straighter, and geeze, he must have hit the wall really hard, even in the suit—he feels like jelly. “It was another one of his shitty tricks—when you turned Friday back on she started launching our countermeasures, we’ve got plans for magic too, she’s just gotta be on—Beck kidnapped Strange, took this shit out of one of his spell books or whatever the hell—well, Strange just—Friday helped Strange get out of the building without getting bounced back and he just—said his little spiel—”

 “Okay,” Peter breathes, nodding. “I get it. I get it.” He holds onto Tony’s arm with one hand, and points over at Beck with the other. “You’re a dickhead.”

 “You’re a dickhead,” Beck says, “and now I know who you are, Spidey Widey. Know your whole little identity and everything, what are you gonna do about that?”

 “Rhodey, Hap, get him the hell out of here,” Tony says, waving them away. 

 “Yeah!” Ned says, as the two of them haul Beck to his feet and start him towards the roof door. “Yeah, what are you—I mean, you’re getting out of here, idiot, you’re—you don’t even know what’s coming—”

 And Peter watches as Ned actually follows them out, letting the door close behind them, still in the middle of his tirade. 

 “I’m fine Ned!” Peter yells. “Thanks for asking!”

 “He’s just trying to play coy,” Tony says. “He’s been worried as hell—took you about ten minutes to get back, he was asking where you were every minute or so—”

 Peter nods. “Yeah—but what are we gonna do about Beck, you know, uh—knowing—knowing me?” he asks, looking at Tony, already worrying about May and MJ—and Ned, who Beck clearly knows personally…

 “It’s fine,” Tony says, shaking his head. “He’s done. He’s a terrorist now, like, by definition—he’s lucky nobody died, but attempted murder is on there, and there were absolutely…multiple attempts—”

 Peter nods again, trying to focus. He remembers the stabbing clear as anything, and he’s never felt so far away and so close at the same time. Too far to help, swinging through the air like a moron, but close enough to see the look on Tony’s face. 

 It was too real.

 Peter sighs, and feels dizzy again remembering it, and he straightens up and pulls Tony into a hug. Tony sounds surprised, laughing a little bit, and then he starts rubbing Peter’s back.

 “Are you okay?” Peter asks, closing his eyes.

 “I’m okay, buddy, he didn’t stab me. All good, stab-less. What about you, huh? You okay? Savior of the tower, the one voice that rose up when the others were silenced—”

 Peter snorts, squeezing him for a long moment before he pulls back. “I’m okay,” he says, tentatively. 

 “We gotta get Helen to look at you—she’s coming, she’s on her way. May too, and MJ, they were at the coffee shop across the street—they noticed the cloud before the news did. And they knew something was wrong when they didn’t get their morning Peter texts.”

 Peter shakes his head, glancing back, just to…make sure the cloud is still gone.

 And it is. Clear skies. 

 He looks at Tony. “Maybe we’re a little bit too reliant on technology.”

 Tony wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “You think? I don’t know, I don’t think it’s…unhealthy—”

 “Our entire world was just completely upended because everything needs voice commands,” Peter says, as they gingerly, half-limp to the roof access door. 

 “Listen, Strange’s ancient text also needed a voice command to break the spell,” Tony says, holding the door open and following Peter inside. “What’s that mean, huh? That’s caveman shit, and yet—”

 “Well, he should—keep his spell books, uh—more protected, I guess—”

 “That too,” Tony says. “Though I guess the kidnapping and being left in the basement is his punishment. Come on, Pete, we gotta go—get taken care of, gotta talk to the goddamn reporters, call Pep, start the cleanup, take inventory, make sure everyone’s alright—you’re alright, right? You’re alright?”

 “I’m alright,” Peter says, the last couple hours’ events feeling very strange and fake, even though they were very very real. He needs to decompress badly. But how do you decompress from someone stealing your voice and locking you in a tower with a magical spell and trying to kill you?

 Just another day for Spider-Man and Iron Man, Peter guesses.

 That’s a sentence that would have blown his eight year old self’s mind.

 “Careful on the stairs here,” Tony says, trying to help guide him down, “feel like both of us probably have stair trauma for the rest of our lives—”

 “Oh, I’m either swinging or using the elevator in the tower for at least a couple weeks,” Peter says, smiling back at him.

 Tony snorts. “Noted. Okay, tell me a story, tell me your thought process throughout this whole ordeal, tell me your…next steps, ideas…just wanna hear you talk, buddy, that was way too long of a Peter Parker silence.”

 And Peter’s face goes red, because that feels like one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him, really, especially since his bad guys tell him so often how annoying his voice is. 

 Well, Tony Stark doesn’t think so, how about that?

 And his main thought, when he realized what was going on, was that he had to find Tony, because they could figure it out together. Tony can do anything, no matter what, and he makes Peter feel like…he can do anything too. 

 “Okay, well,” Peter says, clearing his throat as they keep heading for the 90th floor, where the elevator is. “I don’t even know where to start.”

 “Start at the beginning,” Tony says. “When you woke up in the lab like a young Tony Stark might have…or an old one, couple days ago, either or—”

 Peter smiles to himself. It is so nice to be able to talk again. He doesn’t think he’s ever gonna stop talking. It’s just nice that Tony actually wants to hear it. 

 So he keeps talking. “Okay, well, right away I wake up to Ned hitting me. And he’s immediately concerned about aliens…” 

[zushigirl]

Fall (Aka The Repairman WIP)

Continuing @ninzied tag game! It took me a while to find this one in my WIPs…then I decided to finish the story 😆 Enjoy!

“It’s only eighty degrees!” Karen rolls her eyes playfully at Foggy.

“Only eighty degrees!?! Only eighty! Karen -” Foggy holds up a limp piece of paper from the copier. “It’s so hot in here the paper is molting!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll call the air conditioning guy back.” She spins on her black heels as if she can’t escape the break room fast enough.

Foggy sighs, wiping the sheen of sweat off his brow. He wishes Matt hadn’t stayed on vacation in LA after that swanky legal conference was over. He needs those super senses right now.

Something is going on with Karen and he can’t figure out what it is…

…Or why the air conditioner is such a point of contention.

When the AC went out in mid-June, Karen jumped on the task of getting it repaired.

Combed through Yelp and Google reviews like she was their office manager again - not the firm’s PI. After she’d narrowed it down to her top choice, Karen did what any self-respecting millennial would do: She made an appointment with the AC company online.

Foggy was sure he’d return from LA to a cool and comfy office - not a humid, oppressive Amazon jungle.

It was…weird. Karen’s not the type of person to let things fall by the wayside.

(Though he was impressed with the indoor plants Karen bought to decorate Nelson, Murdock, & Page in his absence. There’s a tall fiddle leaf fig tree in the waiting area, some pathos hanging from the bookshelf, and the vase of white roses on Karen’s desk is a nice touch.)

“Thank you,” he calls out to her closing office door. Silence except the sound of Karen rummaging through her purse for her cell phone. Then…

“Hey…”

He can hear her talking to someone, but the tone sounds…odd. How he wishes Matt was here to eavesdrop.

Two days later, Foggy walks into the office at 7am and practically dies of shock. Karen is already there: She’s leaning against the break room counter watering the nearby spider plant. An iced coffee and a single white rose are shielded by her purse – as though she tucked them away in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

***

He pretends not to; he has more important things to discuss…like the state-of-the-art Dyson Pure Cool fan in the corner.

“Where did that…Why…Why are you here so early?”

“The air conditioning guy came by. He needs a part to fix our unit. Left us the fan in the meantime.”

“But it’s seven in the morning.”

“He had a full schedule.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that Foggy decides to drop his interrogation. He just nods and goes over to the filing cabinet to look up the notes for his upcoming deposition. It isn’t until an hour later – as he’s basking in the blessedly cool breeze of the Dyson – that he realizes how early the repairman must have stopped by.

“Karen…?”

“Hmmm?” She’s sipping her iced coffee, scanning through a stack of files.

“Nothing.”

He returns to his case preparation. So what if his friend flirts to get the AC fixed. Who is he to judge.

***

It isn’t until later that evening – when he pops in the bodega by Marci’s apartment to get some tomatoes for the spaghetti sauce he’s making her – that Foggy begins to suspect the cause of Karen’s absentmindedness.

Whatever Happened to the Punisher?

The New York Bulletin headline glares up at Foggy from beside the register.

Suddenly he remembers that summer day Frank Castle’s face was all over the news for escaping Metro General. He remembers Karen walking into the office half a day late with no shoes on. It’s been…however long it’s been since then doesn’t matter. The day still holds significance for Karen.

***

Two nights later, he runs three blocks back to the office; he almost forgot his apartment key in his desk drawer. Foggy can feel the humidity sticking to his skin and it makes him irritable. The new silk shirt Marci bought him will need to be cleaned and not even stepping back into the office will provide relief.

When the hell is that air conditioning guy going to…

-

-

-

Foggy stops short as he opens the door to the lobby. The first thing that hits him is the cold feeling of circulating air. The second thing is the sight of tools strewn by the AC unit. The third thing…is the realization that a broad-shouldered man in a black t-shirt and jeans is cradling Karen’s hand to his cheek.

Upon hearing the door open, Karen and the man both jump up from the couch.

“Foggy! I…this…our AC is fixed!” Karen’s face is so red she might as well have been at the beach all day.

He bobs his head, eyes blinking at the air conditioning guy.

“Counselor. Good to see you.” Frank Castle’s deep voice is still as scary as ever, but the slight pink blush of his neck helps Foggy relax some.

“I…you. The papers said you’re dead. But you’re not…You’re…here…with Karen.” And now Foggy wants to die.

Castle gives a small chuckle. “I made a…big career change…couple months back. Buddy of mine who's good with tech stuff help me set up my website…And…yeah. I’m with her as long as she’ll let me be.”

Foggy doesn’t miss the hopeful look the former vigilante shoots Karen.

Karen – composure regained – smiles. “Give me a ten percent discount and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

To his surprise they both laugh. He smiles at Karen – happy to see her happy – as pulls up a chair.

There’s a story behind all this and at least Foggy has a cool, comfy spot to listen as his friend shares.

[justzoni]

Life Updates

With the U-KISS Comeback, I've had a few PMs here and on Facebook asking if I, too, will be making a comeback.

The short answer is no, I have no plans to resume writing fan fiction. That's not to say I never will, but it's not in the books right now.

For a longer answer, I'll go ahead and give you guys a life update. Under a cut, of course, to save everyone's sanity.

Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I am an incredibly laid back, happy person. I go with the flow, don't get irritated or upset, and have an easy time handling problems when they arise.

That being said, there is one thing that pisses me off like nothing else: people who try to tell me what I am or am not capable of doing. And yes, when people do that, I can also hold a grudge.

Five years ago, my ex walked out on me twelve days after I had major abdominal surgery, when I couldn't even lift a gallon of milk or take care of myself properly. Before she did, she made a few statements that really got to me. She said that autistics can only have jobs, not careers. I was told that I should be grateful that I could find retail work that paid $15 an hour, because that was all I was worth since I didn't have a college degree. And I was also told that I should count my self very lucky that I had someone to "help out" financially.

To add to this, my doctors had told me that I would never run a mile, couldn't lift weights, and would never be able to leave the house without having an inhaler in my purse or pocket because to do so would be risking death.

When I say that I hold a grudge, I think what I really mean is that when people tell me shit like that, I tend to do everything I can to prove them dead wrong.

So, over the last five years, I have built a strong and successful career. I have become a recognized expert in my field, with a great reputation. I went from making $15 an hour to making well into the six figures. I traded in my tiny rented room in New York for a big, beautiful house in an upscale neighborhood in Nashville. The junker I was driving that would occasionally die at the worst times was sold off and replaced with a new SUV with all the bells and whistles.

And to top it all off, I got myself to a point where I was running five miles every morning and didn't have a second thought about my asthma.

I fixed everything but my severe trust issues.

Two years ago, I met a guy named Mike. We had a lot in common: he works in tech, loves dogs, loves movies, and is a craft beer enthusiast. Great. But I wasn't sure I wanted a relationship at all, as I had been determinedly single and had worked hard to keep myself from getting too close to anyone.

Four months after I met Mike, I got some bad news. My doctor informed me that I needed knee surgery. The surgery was explained to me as a very simple procedure that would take an hour. I'd be able to use crutches for the first three or four days, then I'd be back to full function within two weeks. No big deal.

When I went in for the surgery, I expected Mike to help me back home and help me out the next day, as he had offered. But nothing beyond that.

And then the surgery went very wrong. The procedure that was supposed to take an hour wound up taking half a day. Instead of the minor repair I was told about, the surgeon wound up basically having to rebuild my knee. He described it as the worst damage he had ever seen that wasn't from a single, traumatic incident like machinery accidents.

The recovery I was looking at was this: fourteen weeks before I could put any weight on my left leg whatsoever, six more weeks with severe restrictions and crutches, and very extensive recovery time. My knee still isn't back to full function.

With that kind of a medical situation, I expected Mike to take me home, help me get set up, then maybe call one of my friends to come help me out. After all, he'd only been dating me for about four months, and that was not at all what he had signed up for.

When they released me from the hospital, Mike drove me home and got me settled. He then left... and drove to his house, packed up a large suitcase, grabbed his dog, and moved into my house for the duration of my recovery.

If you'd like to know how to earn someone's trust, that'll do it.

In a little over three weeks, Mike and I are flying to Charleston, where we will be exchanging vows in a public park while surrounded by family. We have a very good life, and right now it is very full with work, wedding stuff, trying to get back into running, and talk of starting a family soon.

I do still occasionally write, but it's almost entirely original fiction. When I do get hit with a wave of nostalgia, I go through and poke at old fan fiction to make some edits and wonder why I stopped writing. But I no longer feel the pleasure and enjoyment that I used to while writing.

I'll leave this for now. Maybe someday I'll be back. Maybe I won't.

In the meantime, if anyone needs to get a hold of me, just shoot me a note. Cheers.

[cobblerexpress-11]

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In a city where fashion is not just a trend but a way of life, Cobbler Express serves as a guardian of style and heritage. With their expert handbag and luxury shoe repair services, they breathe new life into cherished accessories, allowing them to endure the test of time.

Whether it's restoring a family heirloom or revitalizing a beloved designer piece, Cobbler Express understands the sentimental value attached to each item. Through their artistry and dedication, they ensure that every handbag repair nyc tells a story of resilience and elegance, captivating generations to come.

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[wildbeautifuldamned]

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[greatdesignerhandbag]

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[lamodacustomtailors]

Purses are a beloved accessory for many people, serving as both a practical way to carry essentials and a stylish statement piece. However, with regular use and wear, even the most well-made purses can suffer damage over time. That's where  Purse Repair in New York come in - offering a way to fix your beloved purse and extend its lifespan.

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[asirensrage]

Door Dash - Part 5 of Serendipity

Part 5 of the Serendipity series

Title: Door Dash Rating: PG Fandom: John Wick Warnings: None really for this chapter. Summary: John visits a friend and finds things aren't as separated as he thought. Also on ao3 and ffn

Staying in New York probably isn't a good idea. Not when they’re out for his blood. Still, it’s home. At least the one place he’s lived the longest. He has memories here and he knows the ground well. He doesn’t want to be driven out.

John goes to Aurelio. He doesn’t really have anyone else he can trust anymore. He shouldn’t even be here but he’s known Aurelio for years and the man told him that if he needed help, to ask. So John’s asking.

The place isn’t very busy, just enough to allow John to slip in, but people he doesn’t know leaves him on edge and there are a few here. Including a Black woman talking to Aurelio over a car. She looks like she came straight from an office, but John hasn’t survived as long as he has by making assumptions.

There’s a box on Aurelio’s desk in the same pink as Toni’s shop. He stares at it for a moment. The bakery isn’t close to this place. It reminds him of the coffee though. He hasn’t been there in weeks and none of the coffee he has had since has even come close to it.

Aurelio sees him first. He motions for the woman to wait before he strides toward him. “Heard you were dead. Didn’t think I’d see you around.”

“It wasn’t my first choice.”

“You know I’d be offended if I didn’t know you,” Aurelio says quietly. “The High Table already popped around looking for some sign you’re alive.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That I hadn’t seen you,” he says. “Not a lie. What do you need?”

“A place to lie low.”

“Get some breathing room,” Aurelio nods. He looks around for a moment. “I got nothing but…I might have an idea.” He motions for John to hold on. He walks back to the woman he had been talking to when John showed up. He brings her back to John. “This is Marietta. Marietta, John. She knows a place.”

He looks at Aurelio, unimpressed. He doesn’t know this woman.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was safe,” Aurelio tells him. “She knows a place and owes me a favour.”

“It’s not really a favour,” the woman says. “You said I wouldn’t have to pay for the repairs. It’s more like a trade.”

“I’ll owe you a favour,” Aurelio stresses, almost playfully. John has known Aurelio a long time. He can tell when the man is flirting, but it’s odd to see it in action, especially at a woman he’s never heard of before.

The woman turns to face John. “I know a place. It’s empty. There’s rumours that it’s haunted but that’s only because the people who own it don’t want anyone around. You’ll be protected.”

“Why?” John asks. “You don’t know me.”

Marietta shrugs. “No, but I know Aurelio. Besides, sometimes everyone needs a safe place to stay. No questions asked. I just need to inform them that someone will be using it. You won’t see them, they won’t see you. It’s just so that the...security measures are lowered for you.”

There’s something about the way she says it. It reminds him of Toni and her explanation of sanctuary. “You brought the box.” He nods towards the pink pastry box.

“I did,” she says. “You ever been? They have great stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“Marietta brings something every time she comes by.”

She smiles at Aurelio. “I find it’s best to bribe my mechanic. You keep them sweet and they don’t extort you.”

“When have I ever extorted you, mi tesoro?”

“Never, that’s why I keep coming back.” She looks back at John. “What do you say?”

He thinks about it. He needs a place to rest. At least for a couple of days. “Okay, fine. Where is it?”

Marietta seems to think for a moment before she holds up a finger. “Let me find out what's available. Hold on.” She pulls out a phone from her purse and steps away from them.

“How well do you know her?” John asks.

“Marietta? Years now. Met her not long after you left. Car broke down on the street and I stopped to help. She works at City Hall.”

John watches the woman as she talks to someone. He can’t make out the words but she’s smiling and nodding before she hangs up.

“It’s all good. You got something I can write the address down on?” she asks.

“Sure, hold on,” Aurelio moves over to his desk, coming back quickly with a paper and pen. “Here.”

She jots down the address and hands it to John. “They know you’re coming. You’ll be safe there. The key will be under the mat.”

He takes the address and looks at it. It’s over in Long Island. It won’t take long to get there. “Thanks.”

“You can thank Aurelio, not me,” she says with a grin. “He owes me now.”

“I can think of a few ways to pay,” Aurelio smiles at her. “If you let me.”

He takes that as his cue to leave.

The house looks inconspicuous, the vinyl siding matching every other house in the area. The key is under the mat just as Marietta said it would be. It’s almost amusing the way the mat proclaims a Welcome in cheerful yellow script. If only they knew who they were welcoming.

He locks the door behind him. The house is dark but he can make out enough from the light coming in from the windows. He’s never been here before but it feels familiar. Something eases in him the longer he stands there looking around. It’s fully furnished. Even empty, the place looks like a home, as if some family just stepped out and he’s intruding on a space that’s not meant for him. Still, no one should expect to look for him here. He should at least have a night.

The fridge is fully stocked. It reinforces the idea that he shouldn’t be here but there’s a note on the fridge in feminine writing that says “help yourself”. So he does.

He sleeps with a peace he hadn’t expected. He wakes up as fast as usual but the way he feels is different. He’s rested. John can’t remember the last time he’s actually felt rested, as if he had a good night’s sleep. His body doesn’t ache when he moves and once he showers, he notices that the injuries he’s obtained so far are somehow less. They’ve healed faster than they should have. He’s not sure why or how but his mind instantly thinks of Toni. Her wide smile as she offers him coffee and the resignation and determination in her eyes after she killed a man.

He’s not upset that he watched her murder someone. It’s the idea that there are aspects of the world that are unknown to him that he does not like. John prides himself on being prepared, on being able to survive anything - that he has survived everything - but this was something else. How do you prepare yourself or protect yourself from something you cannot sense or control? Toni told him he would not be able to tell if someone was a witch. So what happens if he pisses one off? What if the High Table has one on their side? Could he survive that? He needs more information.

He contemplates it as he makes coffee, trying to think back on anything that might give him answers. The coffee isn’t as good as Toni’s but it makes something click in the back of his mind. He knows why the place feels familiar. It feels like the bakery.

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[puppypeter]

These are all dark fics, READ THE TAGS before reading the fics. It is your responsibility to check whether what you are about to read is something that you can stomach. While most of these fics are based around trauma, recovery etc many feature triggering scenes or flashbacks as well as darker themes. Please be safe and don’t read them if they can be triggering for you! Proceed with caution! Most of them are Hydra Trash, but still not just the ugly bits as I like there to be a plot. Hiding them below the cut:

between scylla and charybdis | 21590 words

Sam Wilson has been witness to a lot of things he wishes he could unsee. Civilian families shot dead in their cars because of miscommunications at checkpoints. Riley’s body spiralling to the ground in a smoke-plumed plummet. His own face in his bathroom mirror after waking up hung-over as hell at two in the afternoon, the day after the anniversary of Riley’s death, year after year after year.

And now, in an abandoned bunker on the outskirts of Boston, a seemingly unremarkable manila folder at the bottom of a filing cabinet.

Berceuse | 10730 words

There are strange, new things Bucky needs from Steve.

Dreamers Often Lie | 11040 words

As far as Bucky remembers, sex is something that is painful and terrifying if you wake up while it's happening. As the Asset, sleeping through sex was a rare treat. When Steve lets Bucky know he's interested in a sexual relationship, what Steve doesn't know is that they have fundamentally different ideas of what that entails.

despite the threatening sky and the shuddering earth (they remained) | 71532 words

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Fire And Water For Your Love | 77084 words

When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

Give An Inch | 5070 words

The Captain has a warm smile and clear, open eyes. The Soldier knows these are tricks. He's fallen for them before and he won't do it again.

Humans As Gods | 4818 words

"HYDRA's scientists had been delighted to find their serum-reversal procedure had worked. Their jubilation was dampened by the discovery that Steve's smaller self might no longer be Captain America-sized but was still 100% Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers was now mad enough to spit nails. A minor oversight in the design of the containment area meant that smaller-Steve had simply wriggled out of the now ridiculously-oversized restraints like an angry ferret escaping a paper bag, and punched the nearest technician in the nuts.

Chaos ensued."

HYDRA scientists successfully de-serum Captain America, only to discover that they are utterly unprepared for Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier follows his instructions to the letter. This works out just great.

The Only One That Needs To Know | 6571 words

Bucky can't control his body. He can only control what secrets he keeps.

I Was Wearing My Blue Coat | 11503 words

Following exposure of his past as the Winter Soldier, anonymous postings of explicit video footage, 63 charges of murder and the wrath of the Internet, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes finally steps into the limelight and tells his story to Zenat Patel of the New York Times.

Compliance Will Be Rewarded | 4767 words

Someone told him once: "Compliance will be rewarded," and he remembers pressing his head against a man’s leg in open supplication. He remembers hands in his hair, and a gentle grip on the back of his neck. He remembers a man telling him "so good, so good for me aren't you?" And he remembers nodding his head in a desperate attempt to be exactly as good as he was supposed to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky Barnes is physically free from Hydra, but the hold on his mind lingers still. All he wants is to go home, and he'll do anything he can to get there.

To Burn Your Kingdom Down | 12370 words

The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

Worth The Wound | 7709 words

The asset knows that maintenance is better than punishment. But with Steve, maintenance becomes more pleasant, soft and gentle and everything he could dream of. It was only natural that he decided to prolong that maintenance a little longer.

The Spaces In-Between | 6971 words | Part 1 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

"Memories are like buckets of water: they weigh on the heart and the brain until the body fails. You're blessed to stay forgetful and young, Soldier."

Sometimes blessings feel like curses.

Illuminate The Scene | 7086 words | Part 2 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

The doctors had wanted to keep the Soldier. Shock him and freeze him until he was fixed, or tear him to scrap if he couldn’t be repaired so that he wouldn’t be an entirely wasted investment. Steve is the only thing stopping them.

When the Soldier can't trust his own body, how can he trust anything?

All These Riots Of Broken Sound | 83790 words | Part 1 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

When Steve and the team return to Avengers tower to find Bucky gone, they must venture into B.A.R.F. to figure out what triggered him to leave and hunt those who wronged him. Trapped in a simulation of Bucky's worst memories with rogue HYDRA agents waiting to strike, 100 years of secrets, lies, pain and love drive the team to their limit and push Steve towards a realisation that is a century in the making.

I Was Lost But Left A Trace | 3585 words | Part 2 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

Disorientated, the Asset reached up to wipe at the moisture on its cheeks and was shocked to find it clear, instead of the crimson it has been expecting. It didn’t understand why this misidentification had caused uproarious laughter from the technicians.

“It is not blood,” the Asset told him, “but it is still a malfunction.”

This sobered the technician a little, and he nodded tightly.

“Yes. It is. But we will fix you.”

I’ll Always Be Blamed For The Sun Going Down | 9907 words | Part 3 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

He knows he’s in the right place. He has heard the guys at the docks laugh and joke about the queers who come out after dark, looking to earn a little extra cash. He has seen the johns, when he’s been out late enough, skulking in the shadows like predators hunting for their next meal, looking for something in particular. Sometimes they look at him.

A small, rusty pen knife that his father had picked up in Europe during the Great War sits heavy in the breast pocket of his jacket. Just in case.

Book Of The Moon | 16019 words | Part 4 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

In 1929, Bucky Barnes falls in love for the first time and resigns himself to never telling a soul, let alone Steve, the object of his affections. In 1943, half a world away from the man he can never have and fighting for his life and his sanity, something new begins to bloom.

Habeas Corpus | 18054 words

An unexpected incident in the field leaves Steve Rogers facing the infiltration of a Hydra base and retrieval of important intelligence, all while pretending to be the Winter Soldier. Unfortunately, there are important aspects of the Soldier's past that Bucky hasn't disclosed, and Steve has no idea what he's really walking into.

Bullies | 14979 words

Written for the MCU trash meme prompt:

I wanna see Steve being messed with by his secretly-HYDRA coworker buddies. I want them generally fucking with him, "accidentally" doing terrible things to him or getting Steve into awful situations, telling jokes that aren't really jokes, gaslighting, performing sexual-assault hazing under the guise that "that's what people do now," pressuring him into other sex shit, anything, just fuck Steve up.

Steve isn't failing to fully catch on because he's dumb or oblivious: it's just that he is Steve, so he wants to believe the best of everybody, and he doesn't want to believe that he could be working for/with bullies and that (as Natasha says) he essentially died for nothing.

Not Unwanted, Not Unloved | 50320 words

They'd resigned themselves to never becoming parents - until Bucky gets pregnant and drops off the grid without even a whisper to his mate about his condition. Steve will still raze the earth to find him, but that doesn't mean he likes what he finds.

The Tones That Tremble Down Your Spine | 13889 words

Tony tells him they’re planning a party for Steve’s birthday. He knows how parties are supposed to go.

Lacuna | 62875 words

The Winter Soldier doesn't remember Steve Rogers, but he needs Rogers' help.

OR: The one where Bucky doesn't remember Steve, but falls in love with him anyway.

Not A Perfect Soldier | 93354 words

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat". Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

For Want Of Him | 103174 words

It's the twenty-first century, and Steve Rogers has never been more alone. Everything he knew, everyone he loved, is now gone, and a dark, bitter loneliness claws at him, raking bleeding gashes into his heart. And then there's Brock Rumlow. Rumlow is like salt in his wounds; vicious, and cruel. But his dark brown hair and teasing smirk reminds Steve of someone long dead, and his New York accent sounds like home...He's a soldier like him...he understands. And Steve makes the fatal mistake of trusting him.

The Same Measure | 4943 words

The Winter Soldier was never allowed to stop unless an injury was too grievous.

To Be Unmade | 5114 words | Part 1 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

For the asset, things only ever get worse. The external scars fade quickly enough. The internal ones dig deeper and deeper.

But the internal scars are called love, and doesn't that make them worth the hurt?

Do Not Put In The Icebox | 7143 words | Part 2 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

When the asset malfunctions on a mission, Rumlow and Rollins learn more than they ever wanted to know about Pierce's hobbies.

And then everyone has pancakes.

The Knowing Makes It Worse | 4130 words | Part 3 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

No is a bad word and invites punishment.

Or, Alexander Pierce is a very bad man who delights in manipulating and degrading the asset.

Love Is For Children | 5303 words | Part 4 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky understands how the game works. He can't understand why it makes Steve cry.

But Natasha and the other Avengers are there to help.

I Just Wanted To Be Sure Of You | 4461 words | Part 5 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky has Bucky Bear; it's only fair for Natasha to have something of her own.

Visiting a toy store wasn't strictly necessary, but if Tony wants to throw money around, no one's going to complain.

“Till The End Of The Line | 6069 words | Part 6 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

It's hard to take a friendship right back up when so much has changed over seventy years.

Particularly when HYDRA's conditioning resurfaces.

*if you feel that any of these fics shouldn’t be in this list please just send me a message! :) I have read them all but over the past 1+ years so some of them I might not remember all the details of :)

[smallestchances]

The Fourth Horseman (Thor x Reader)

synopsis:  thor has done everything in his power to be seen as an actual powerhouse and threat to the mobs of new york, but the council of the horsemen are in the way. knowing they could lose everything they’ve built, mor goes to the people she knows can make things happen, and strikes a deal with the apocalypse wives.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: Welcome to the first installment of the Apocalypse wives!! Buckle up for a ride and send in asks when you’re ready for more :)

warnings: cursing, slight smut, mentions of abuse & murder

MASTERLIST /// WIVES!MASTERLIST

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

 You were a lot of things to a lot of people. Some people knew you as a determined spitfire who was fierce, protective, and not afraid to get her hands dirty for the people she loved. They knew you were an amazing friend.

Others knew you were an even worse enemy.

They knew you as an unforgiving bitch who painted her nails with the blood of those who wronged her. You were an unbothered, spoiled witch who wouldn't know humility if it was beneath your red-bottomed heel.

Thor knew that you were all of those things on a good day.

You sat with him now, in the middle of SHIELD. It served as the hottest and the most dangerous club in the state, and therefore your meeting place. Thor's hand is fit snugly around your waist, the sheer panel of your body suit allowing you to feel a semblance of his touch.

He's happy at the moment--genuinely happy and it's something you haven't seen in a long time. You can only look at him fondly, the low light of the club highlighting his jaw and the laugh lines that appear. His eyes twinkle as he talks with Loki, their relationship finally repaired after the trickster was fatally wounded trying to save your husband’s life.

Though you're still skeptical of the mischief maker, you have yet  to remember the last time you saw Thor this happy. Knowing this is the only reason you've allowed Loki to build his way back into your lives, you let him know that you have a dagger with his name on it should his loyalties change again.

As they talk, your eyes can’t help but linger to the exclusive third floor of the club — the circular balconies that complement the hollow interior of the building. The people up there sneer at those below, and you feel your jaw tick. Escorts, wannabes, and the closest inner circles of the underground world are found up there, and you knew that's where Thor belonged.

Three years. Three years, you and Thor had to fight and claw your way to get anywhere in the mafia world, and still you weren't at the top. Thor has already gained throes of power, influence, and support. 

You just had to take him further. 

"He won't be a problem."

Thor's words snap you back to the brothers' conversation, realizing the tone has taken a turn.

"You've only experienced Odin's grace," Loki replies. "He knows how to keep the appearance of kindness. Don't forget that I know his wrath more than anyone else.”

Thor swallows heavily at the reminder of his father's sins. "Loki—“

"No need for pity brother,” Loki interrupts, a genuine smile creeping on his face. "Despite my past, I've finally found a way to win against certain demons. I've gained you, a home, a psychotic sister-in-law—”

You wink at him.

"I'm in a better place than before," Loki concludes. "However, Father sees you taking me in as a personal slight. That, coupled with your growing success—“

"We've become his targets,” Thor finishes.

Those simple words cause the bass of the club music to become white noise. Blinking rapidly, you sit up quickly, leaning forward into Thor's space. "Your father now has you both on a hit list?” The disgust can’t help but drip from your voice. Loki only nods. Your eyes fall to the floor, tracing the patterned tiles as you process the information. "What does Frigga know about this?”

Thor makes a noise at the back of his throat. "Mother was the one who warned us."

You nod, chewing on your lip. "So we take him down first.”

Both men clear their throat sharply, Loki looking around cautiously. “Odin is the oldest living patriarch of the New York’s...companies. He has the support of the Horsemen— taking him down will not be simple."

"Nor should we announce it so blatantly my love," Thor shifts, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, and his arms never leaving your sides.

"Your coward of a father wants to assassinate his sons because of the power they've gained,” is all you can grit out. “Something has to be done—”

“If we move too quickly, then we risk losing everything,” Loki interrupts. “Odin will declare us as enemies, and per his requests, he'll have the arsenal of Conquest, the men of Famine, and the tactics of Pestilence at his fingertips. Right now, we don't stand a chance.”

You bite the inside of your cheek harder, going through what you know of the Horsemen and their capabilities. You yourself have had little interaction with the infamous mobster, once before you married Thor and once to get Loki out of his clutches of abuse. He’s well known for being the first Horseman to retire instead of die, but his seat of War hasn’t been empty for long.

Frigga, his wife, was the one you knew well and respected. You knew her as a woman who did the best in every circumstance she found herself in, and fell in love with a man who changed too much before she realized what happened. Frigga had one of the largest hearts you knew, and you were certain she was the only reason the Asgardians were still standing as a viable threat.

"Without the council, we can defeat him," Thor mumbles.

Loki answers with a sarcastic laugh, downing the last shot on the table. "Turning the Council on a veteran member is impossible; especially since we don't have an insight into their ranks.” He gestures to the third floor of SHIELD. "We either lay low and build an army...or surrender while we still can."

You scoff at the two suggestions, rolling your eyes only to balk at the fact that Thor has yet to answer. "You can't seriously be considering this,"  you spit at him. At the answering silence, you slide off his lap to the far end of the couch. If we build an army, we’ll be  forced to outsource outside of New York— and that means making the horseman an even bigger enemy for after the war. Don't even get me started on what these potential ‘allies’ will want.”

"And surrendering is not an option,” is all Thor mumbles, his jaw ticking as he rubs his palms together nervously. "Do we strike a deal?”

You stand abruptly, avoiding Thor’s sorrowful stare as you barely announce that  you’re going to grab more drinks. You don’t want to hear another word of their conversation, but their words echo through your head as you descend the stairs to the first floor. Pushing past bodies, your mind barely registers that you pick up the pace when the bar is within eye-distance.

After ordering your drink of choice, you scrub a hand over your face in an attempt to clear all the thoughts in your head. You have half a mind to try to take out Odin yourself and with your bare hands, but you know everything Loki said was right.

Thor was so close to the finish line. He’d tried so hard to establish his reign separate from his father’s, trying to do better for the people and the misfits that found their way to him. Odin had started to spit on the values of being a Horseman, even towards the end of his reign. He allowed his community to fall and even hung Frigga out to deal with his coming consequences, and Thor got tired of it when it got too close to the people he loved.

Just thinking about the night everything came to a head, and how far you all have come, your eyes unconsciously float to the third floor.

There.

There, you find a glimpse of the very men Thor & Loki spoke about. Tony Stark, Conquest; Steve Rogers, Famine; & Bucky Barnes, Pestilence.To the left of them, you find another group that everyone else in the club seems to have looked over.

Stunning under the multicolored lights, their skin tones are radiant as their tailor made attire fit their body types marvelously. They seem to be keeping to themselves, talking to each other in low tones, while holding themselves differently than the escorts around them.

The Wives.

You take a thoughtful sip of your drink as a glimpse of a thought passes through your brain...and you lie in wait to prove your theory. You don’t have to wait long as a commotion brings your attention back to the Horsemen, and you find Conquest and Pestilence unusually close to each other, tempers flaring.

Pestilence gets shoved back by Famine, and just as things comes to a head, faster than lightning, the Wives are there. Sekhmet Stark’s arms have wrapped around Conquest, Hecate Barnes has the attention of Pestilence solely on her, and Kali Rogers has found Famine’s lips on hers.

And that’s the moment that you knew the solution to your problem--well Thor’s problem. You’re almost vibrating in joy as you down the rest of your drink before going back up to the stairs.

Its surprisingly easy to get up to the third floor--just until you make it to the glass doors that separate the landing from the exclusive section.

Straight ahead, on a raised dias, you see that the Wives have returned to their place, with Sekhmet in the center, Kali to her left, and Cate to her right.

Taking a deep breath, you hold your head high and push the glass doors aside--just to be stopped by a bouncer.

“No walk-ins. Exclusive VIP only.”

You simply raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Exclusive Personnel only,” he repeats.

You flash him a wicked smile and tilt your head to the side, trying to give him as much of a condescending look as you can muster. Satisfaction fills you as the bouncer deflates just slightly. You try your luck as you step forward again, but stopped again. 

“Who are you,” he asks, but the waver in his voice gives him away.

You see your window, and cross your arms while pursing your lips. “I’m going to pretend you didn't ask that and let you go this time around.”

He doesn’t move. “I cant let you in.”

“Really? Fine,” you shrug. “Explain to the Wives why you’re keeping them waiting.”

When the bouncer looks back at the women you mentioned, you know he’s exactly where you want him. “I’m going to have to loop back to you--”

You snap your name impatiently, and he mumbles it back with a nod before walking away. You wait with baited breath, knowing that with this stunt you could either end up with a bullet in your skull or the world at your feet.

Your throat tightens when you catch Sekhmet’s gaze.

When the bouncer makes his way back to you, he looks pale and motions with his head for you to follow him. “I’m so sorry (Y/N),” he says. “Right this way.”

You don’t allow yourself to breathe, even as you walk the short path to where you want to be. You feel curious eyes on you, but you don’t shy away from either of them, and instead hold your head higher as if you’re meant to be there--because you were.

Sekhmet stands when you both reach the Wives, a sharp, gleeful smile on her face as she opens her arms up in expectation. “Darling! Hello, so nice to see you again!” 

The pleasantries continue with all the wives until you’ve sat in the middle of them,  and you know it’s the most dangerous place to be.

When the bouncer walks away, the smiles drop. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Is what Sekhmet demands, her eyes focused solely on you. 

You don’t put down your guard, but you cooly reach for one of the full glasses of drinks on the table before all of you. You take your time taking a sip. “I’m someone who knows who you all are,” you say when you’re ready. 

Hecate simply hums in unamusement. “Are we supposed to be impressed?”

“As if the wives of the most powerful men in new york are a secret,” Kali giggles.

You don’t let their words phase you. You hum back in response. “See I know that you’re the very people who keep New York from burning to the ground.”

A surprised silence follow your statement, before Sekhmet picks up the next words quickly and carefully. “I don’t think I know what you mean,” she smiles. 

You roll your eyes. “Mind you, this is coming from someone who understands just what you hold within your palms.”

The next silence stands longer. Hecate leans in, her hands gripping the couch beneath, her eyes intense as they pour into you. “How do you know you’re right?”

You let a small smile slip, and take another sip before gesturing down to where you can see your husband and Loki still speaking intensely. “Thor. I love him to death,  I really do, and there’s not a heart out there that I wouldn’t rip out for him. He has power, a lot of it, and he's starting to develop quite a hold on New York.”

Kali nods. “Thor Odinson. I’ve heard of him.” She tilts her head to the side, looking out into space. “That New Jersey border deal was ingenious, I’m disappointed a Horseman didn’t execute it.”

Her words get grunts of agreement, and pride swells in your chest, 

“You & I both know that Thor didn’t have a hand in that deal until he showed up the day he needed to,” you giggled, and they stare at you openly. 

“Well shit,” Sekhmet laughs out loud, picking up her own glass.

Before you know it, you’re toasting with the most powerful women in New York, laughing with them and even exchanging high fives.

“I told  y’all a man couldn’t pull that off!” Sekhmet cackles. 

Hecate nods. “It was too good to be true.” 

“We didn’t know he had a wife,” Kali winks. 

Smiling with them, the anxiety in your chest lessens. 

“So what do you need?”

Sekhmet’s words bring back the somber mood, and you laugh nervously.  “What do you mean?

Kali speaks up seamlessly. “Thor is the eldest son of Odin. Odin, the retired horseman of War, who controls the upper parts of New York as the Asgardians. If Thor’s wife has enough pussy to show up uninvited to confront us, you can’t expect us to believe you don't want anything.”

Looking at them all, you decide to lay all your cards out on the table. “Odin is going after Thor.”

No one replies, so you continue.

“Loki & Thor have made amends and their father now sees them as a threat to his empire. He’s going to call on the Horsemen to wage War…” you trail off, cursing internally as they exchange looks. “But by the look on your faces I’m guessing he already has.”

Kali only nods.  “He approached them with a meeting this morning. The old dick had the audacity to pull rank and get me thrown out of the room when I spoke against him.” She takes a deep gulp of her drink, her jaw clenching at the memory.

The hope that allowed you to strut your way into the third floor comes back tenfold. “So you aren’t on his side?”  

“Fuck no,`” Hecate snorts.  “I’ve unfortunately seen every side of that man when he and Brock were on the council together and…” she trails off, her eyes distant. “New York has never seen a darker time. How Frigga stays with him, I’ll never understand.” 

“Even with all the power as she has, he won’t let her leave,” you mumble. The conversation comes at a standstill, but a tense once that allows all of you to look in upon your own relationships--and just how bad it could get. Clearing your throat, you go in. “Don’t support him.”

No one answers you, but you see curiosity glint within the eyes of the Wives.

“Talk to the Horsemen,” you continue, sliding to the edge of your seat. “I know you have more sway than I ever could if I talked to them. Don’t allow them to back Odin, let him hang to dry and I’ll take care of the rest with Thor & Loki.”

Kali is the one who answers you. “Unfortunately, they’re not allowed to just sit this one out. If The Horsemen stand aside when something as big as this happens we’ll look like we’re going soft.”

 “And I swear to you,” you promise lowly. “That any retaliation you face will be borne by Thor & I. On the blood of my heart, I will do anything for you if you step back for this and let us take him down.”

Your heart has crawled into your throat, pulsing so strongly you don’t know if you can breathe. They haven’t said no outright, and you could practically taste the possibilities, taste exactly what you & your husband can achieve--

“On your heart?” Hecate repeats.

You nod sternly. “On my heart.”

Hecate and Kali merely look at Sekhmet. She gives you a thoughtful look, and blinks slowly, tipping her head down slightly. “Seems we have a lot to talk about. Will you give us some space?”

The last question is directed at you, and you can’t help but nod vehemently and stand up. “Of course,” you breathe, walking away.

You bite your lip hard enough to force yourself not to look back.

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

Sekhi’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she leans back heavily onto the bathroom mirror. Gripping the edge of the counter tightly, a strangled moan rips out of her throat as her husband’s lips wrapped around her clit, sucking at just the right pressure.  Wetness drips down the junction of her thighs, and still Tony takes it all in stride, moaning vulgarly at her sounds. He lets up only slightly to grab Sekhi’s hand to shove it into his hair, and it gives her enough space to remember that she had another objective when she got him alone.

“We--” She moans when his lips reattach and tug his face away from her core. He lets her breath, only to lap at her cum on her inner thighs. “We have to drop Odin,” She finally breathes out.

He only sighs, pausing to give her a quick peck on the skin he was worshipping. “That is not the name I want on your lips right now.” 

“We cant—Tony!--we can’t endorse him for his war.”

With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly gets up and places both his hands on either side of his wife. He leans in and she automatically reciprocates, lips meeting to exchange tastes. When they finally pull away, Tony speaks. “Since you won’t let it go...why the sudden interest in Odin, and betraying him.”

His words unconsciously allow a memory to flash behind Sekhi’s eyes, and she shakes it away just as quickly as it’s come. “You don't…” She tries to find the words before restarting. “I know he welcomed you into the Horsemen and helped you build your empire...but that man who sat in as War is not the same man today. He’s  an ass, too much of a risk, volatile—”

Tony shrugs. “People say the same about me.”

“Tony, you can’t imagine the things he’s done,” is all she snaps back.  “Since he’s retired he’s—”

Her lips run dry as the memory scratches again. Warm palms cup her chin and bring her gaze to meet warm brown eyes flooded with concern. “He’s what? Baby, has he done something?”

Even though his words are soft, you hear the threat behind it. The underlying danger that follows Conquest. Sekhi reaches up and holds his hands in hers, kissing his palm softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me—”

“Tony.”

After a moment he backs down and nods solemnly. He drops his hands back to their previous position on the counter. “Okay. Say we don’t back him. You know we have to choose a side in this or we’ll look vulnerable.”

“So choose Thor’s.”

Tony stills in thought before stepping closer to his wife. “I’m listening.”

——-

“If we back Thor, Odin doesn’t stand a chance.”

Steve turns over Kali’s words in his head, rubbing her calf that’s been thrown over his lap. He ignores the bustle of the club around him, the quiet corner they’ve found the perfect setting for their conversation.

“He’d be decimated without too much of a fight,” he mumbles.

“Exactly.” Kali leans closer into him, lacing his fingers with hers at her ankles. “We support Thor, and gain his loyalty now...I’ve heard things. Things stirring in the air about him and how powerful he’s becoming. We show that he’s not a threat, that he's on our side—”

“And he immediately isn’t a threat any more. He becomes an ally.”

“Bingo,” Kali smiles brightly. “And, he’s just reconciled with Loki, meaning he’s got one of the biggest minds in the game on his team.”

Steve nods, turning his head to look her in the eyes. “So what you’re saying is we take him into one of our sectors.”

Kali shakes her head. “I’m saying more than that my love.”

——-

Bucky downs his shot before scrubbing a rough hand down his face. “You’re suggesting he becomes a Horseman.”

Hecate nods. 

Bucky can only sigh while pointing his eyes to heaven. “Doll—”

His wife only groans, wrapping her arms around his waist so that he can’t help but absorb him into her. “You’ve never said no to me before, don’t you dare start now.”

Bucky laughs nervously. “I’m not. But think about it, if we turn against Odin, we’re deliberately breaking the laws that say he’s under our constant protection after he’s left the table. If we break them now, there’s no turning back.”

“You won’t be breaking it! You’ll be bending it.” Hecate shines an innocent smile at him, trying to press her nose into his as their foreheads lie together. “The title is merely passing down onto his son--as it should have, had Odin kept his actions honourable. Thor’ll have the loyalty of  Asgard, Frigga, and the men he has now. No one will fault you.”

Bucky doesn’t answer.

 “Bucky!”

He groans. “I get it doll, I do. I’m as fond of that man as you are, but we’d have to have hard evidence that he’s broken our bylaws before we do. And even if we did, swearing in a new horseman is not a decision only I get to make…” Bucky trails off, sighing with a short laugh. “By the look on your face I’m guessing the girls are already on it.”

“Maybe.” Hecate gives her husband a quick peck on his lips, once, twice, until he melts into her. “Just tell me you’re on my side. You’re with me, aren’t you Buck?”

“Yea doll...I’m with you.”

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

When the bouncer comes down to meet you on the second floor, it takes everything in you to prevent yourself from smiling. You just know. 

As he escorts the three of you onto the third floor of SHIELD, you feel the men beside you tense even as you relax. When the bouncer called you by name, Thor’s eyes haven’t left you. 

“My love,” his deep timber resonates deep within you, caution in his voice. “What’ve you done.”

You meet his gaze levelly. “What needed to be done.”

Your husband doesn’t answer you before staring straight ahead again, the hallways you all turn becoming less and less populated until you find yourself within black marble halls.

“You work quickly,” Loki chuckles lowly in your ear.

“Enough to keep the title of psychotic sister in law?”

He smirks at you. “Seems so.”

The bouncer stops abruptly in front of a heavily bolted door, and after typing in a code it swings open. You lead the way in, but then hang back to grasp onto Thor’s forearm. He allows you to, but he’s tense and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t respond immediately to your touch.

But the way he angles himself between you and the most powerful mobsters in the room, with the way his fingers flex towards his gun--you know he’s not directly angry at you. 

Sekhmet, Kali and Hecate sit on the opposite side of the room, in a similar set up to the one you infiltrated merely half an hour before. Their faces are nonchalant, but when Sekhemet winks at you, no words can describe the relief and the pure joy that passes through you.

Tony, Steve, & Bucky stand between you and the Wives, and you know you all will fit perfectly.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Tony says cordially, gesturing towards the couches in front of them. Bucky goes off to the side to pour a drink, and Thor’s eyes trail him carefully. “How do you feel about hypotheticals?” 

Loki takes it upon himself to sit first, and you follow, tugging your husband along. Only when you’re both sitting does he reply. 

“I find them fun to indulge in…” He trails off, grasping the glass that Bucky hands him, not even bothering to take a sip before he sets it down.

“Then indulge with us.” Bucky smiles, and within a blink of an eye everyone has guns pulled out on you. 

The tension in the room is palpable, and Thor stands defensively in front of both you and Loki. The latter presses a small knife into your hand, before standing beside his brother. 

“Let’s say you come in here,” Steve smiles, shrugging casually, his grip on his weapon firm. “As an invited guest of the Horsemen. You have the audacity to not drink the wonderful poison Pestilence has poured for you, so things have to get a little messier than intended.”

Tony is the one who continues. “We’re feeling creative, so we shoot you in the kneecaps, to make you helpless. We shoot your wife between the eyes to make it quick. Your brother, however, we make it slow. “ Thor’s whole body clenches tightly. “We get all the information out of him, about your home base, your arsenal, your men--”

“And then we kill him,” Bucky takes it up. “We let you go. You’re no threat, your empire belongs to us, and the most important people in your life are dead.”

“What would you do about it?” Steve finishes.

Thor stays quiet for a really long time. No one takes their eyes off of him, and he takes his time to look Tony, Steve, and Bucky straight in the eye. You wait with baited breath on just exactly he might do, ready to  fight your way out if needed--if he wanted you to.

It’s when he presses his chest directly against the barrel of Tony’s gun that your breath hitches, and you scoot slightly towards him. 

“I’d leave, and thank you for sparing my life,” Thor answers. “A year down the road, I’d have enough physical therapy to start walking again, with a cane most likely. I’d make it a nice one, lightweight but made of vibranium to give it leverage, with the names of who I lost engraved on the stem. Two years down the road, I have all of your whereabouts, your routines, your dealings, your accounts, all under the sole of my shoe.

“Year three, I let you know I’m co ming. But I make it slow. I take out the men around you, so you know I’m on my way, and when I finally get to you?” Thor steps closer, but Tony keeps his gun steady. “I incapacitate you with the head of my cane, just in the right spots of your kneecaps to make it irreversible. I shoot your girls in between the eyes to make it quick, and I kill Rhodey, Sam & Natasha slowly. For them to give me information I already know. When I’m done with them, I kill you all myself, but make sure to watch the life leave your eyes as your blood pools around my feet. The last bullet I’ll leave for myself.”

The standstill is unbearable. Thor’s confessions hang heavily within the air, and it doesn’t dissipate when Tony puts his gun away, the others following suit. 

“Gosh, you’re morbid,” he chuckles. “And three years? Seems a little tedious.”

Everyone goes back to casual stances around the room, but Thor stays clenched in the same spot. Loki looks at him warily, and you notice the way the others see that he hasn’t calmed down.

You get up from your spot on the couch, dragging your hand across the back of his waist leisurely. That simply action causes him to deflate, and he watches you walk over to the Wives, who have a drink ready for you. 

“Personally, I think their smartest plan was getting rid of me,” you declare, and laughs that resonate through the room.

“Getting rid of you? I was the one that they kept around for information,” Loki challenges.

“Mmm, maybe. But obviously they killed the biggest threat first.”

Thor looks at you fondly as everyone laughs again, watching you toast with Sekhmet, Kali & Hecate. 

“As pleasant as this exchange has been,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Is there a reason you brought me here besides to threaten my wife and my brother?”

Kali nudges you on the shoulder, and you take the sign to walk up to him slowly. He presses you into him immediately, and watches as Tony approaches him with a glass of gin. 

When Thor gives it a side glance, he merely rolls his eyes and takes a sip before handing it over. Your husband takes it gladly, but just before he’s about to take a sip, Tony’s words stop him. 

“How do you feel about becoming a Horseman?”

 -----------------

Tags: @angelmashelle​ @fuckinglittlekitten​ @youngdreamer3214​ @rose-bliss​ @amethyst09​ 

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[missmonsters2]

Between the Lines || XI

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Hiatus is over hopefully and we’re on the last arc! Shit is gon’ happen so strap yourselves in and enjoy the ride 👏🏻👏🏻

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII || PART IX || PART X

PART XI of XX

Count: 5,532

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Hot. 

Your body felt hot, and there was something deliciously thick going down your throat.

Blood. 

You could taste it so very clearly. 

You could feel your body healing, the bullet holes mending themselves until there was nothing left, and your body in pristine condition. 

Thumping.

You could hear a pounding in your ears and then a soft, breathy moan. 

You wanted to be closer. 

Your hand presses against the wall as your other hand presses the warmth closer to you.

God, you could get lost in this forever as you swallow a mouthful of blood. 

"Ah..."

The sound is both melodic and also a warning bell to you. 

You need to stop.

You have to stop.

Your hand presses against the wall harshly as you feel it break as you curl your hand in an attempt to pull yourself away. 

The tight grip of Wanda's legs around your waist starts to loosen as you pull your mouth away from her neck. She's still holding you close, and you don't move your head too far from her neck. 

The thumping of her heart feels weaker, and you purse your lips, disappointed with yourself. You clean the drip of blood trailing down her throat, ignoring the way Wanda's breath still hitches before your lick at the bite wounds at her neck. 

Soon enough, the bite marks begin to disappear, leaving Wanda's neck bare and unblemished, but a slight red overtone stain from her blood. 

When you pull back enough to see her face, Wanda looks drowsy.

"I'm sorry," you swallow. "I went overboard."

Wanda shakes her head lightly, feeling dizzy from just the motion. 

"It's fine," she says, "I didn't mind."

Wanda tries to stand up, but it's too much as her legs give way, and she falls. You catch her before her knees hit the ground. 

You purse your lips before you hook your arm under the back of Wanda's legs, pulling her up to carry her.

Wanda rests her head against your shoulder as you carry her out. When the door opens, you're met with everyone waiting outside to see if you were okay.

You see Natasha standing there, looking at the two of you, and you feel like you've been punched in the stomach. But you don't get much time to dwell on it when Pietro comes up to you, worry all over his face when he looks at his sister.

He squints his eyes at you, and it doesn't faze you as you are to blame for her state.

"She's okay," you tell him quietly. "She just needs some rest and lots of fluids."

"I'll get her some juice. We should be landing soon, so I'll whip up something for her to help," David offers as he takes off. 

Pietro looks like he wants to take Wanda from your arms, but you cock your brow at him.

"You'll drop her in your state if you try to carry her," you tell him, looking at his bullet wound specifically and how he was hunched over slightly. 

Pietro scowls but relents as he follows you to the room next door as you set Wanda down gently. Your hand moves to gently get her to let go of your jacket, and you set the blanket over her.

As you get up to leave, Pietro stops you.

He presses his lips together, frowning initially before he lets out a sigh. "Thank you."

You merely nod, patting his shoulder gently before you leave him alone with his sister. 

When you leave, you're on a one-track mission to talk to Natasha, but before you can even reach her, Maria intercepts. It seemed Fury was looking for you to get some details regarding the mission and had some questions. 

You scrunch your nose as you look at Natasha. 

"We can talk later," Natasha says quietly so only you can hear as she nods. 

You sigh, looking at her forlornly before you follow Maria.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's a wave of peace when you arrive back in New York. You never thought you would feel this way about a place. A part of you thinks that maybe it's not the place, but the fact that you're here with all the people you care about.

Your family.

Talking with Fury had taken longer than you wanted, giving you no chance to speak with Natasha. 

Everyone heads back to the Stark Tower. At first, you were going to follow along with them, but Natasha holds your hand, drawing you back while shaking her head.

"Let's head back to your place," Natasha says quietly.

You gulp.

"Okay."

You feel it must be a good sign still with Natasha holding your hand as she leads you away to her car, though she's quiet the entire ride, making no move to talk. So, you also sit quietly as you watch the scenery out the window. 

Natasha walks herself straight to your bathroom when she enters your home. You feel grimy yourself and head to a different washroom yourself to clean up. 

You finish before Natasha, and you head over to the kitchen to make her a drink. Unsure of what Natasha wanted to say or how she would react, you didn't think it would hurt to try to bribe her with a drink. It has turned quite late into the night, so you decide to make her a tea instead of coffee.

You go to sit on the sofa, quietly putting soft music in the background in an attempt to soothe yourself as you idly feel the soft fabric underneath your fingers. 

Soon enough, you hear the water turn off in the washroom, and Natasha comes out, fresh and clean, with a towel around her neck as she dries her hair. 

Warmth spreads over your chest as Natasha comes to sit on the sofa, right next to you. You hand her the drink, and she quirks her brow at you with a slight curve in her lip as she takes it.

Humming after she takes a sip, she sets the drink down, towel discarded to the side as she looks at you. 

You purse your lips.

"I--"

You're cut off when Natasha launches herself at you, her lips hitting yours roughly as she slides her fingers across your jaws. 

Surprise takes over you as you automatically reach over to wrap your arms around Natasha's waist. She bites your lower lip, rather hard, and you wonder if this is a punishment. 

When she pulls back, the two of you are a little breathless. 

"Are you...upset?" You ask slowly, scrunching your brow and licking your bottom lip to soothe the pain Natasha inflicted.

Natasha leans back, settling to rest her head between your shoulder and neck as she sighs deeply and heavily. 

"Yes, and no," she answers after moments of silence. Your arms are still wrapped around her as your fingers slide down her arm. You place your hand gently atop of Natasha's. 

You don't say anything because it seems like Natasha is still putting her thoughts together. 

"I'm not mad," Natasha decides. "I know that what you did was out of necessity. You were severely injured, and the only person who could help you was Wanda."

You could sense the lingering at the end of her sentence. 

"But...I don't know. Seeing you with her, so...lost within her...it was different. I understand it, I really do, and on top of that, Wanda is a beautiful girl," Natasha sighs.

You nod, knowing Natasha could feel it. 

"I'm not mad," Natasha repeats.

"Then?" You lick your bottom lip.

Natasha turns her hand around to lace her fingers with yours, pursing her lips, annoyed by how she's unable to describe how she feels.

"I don't know."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You were miffed.

With David specifically.

The offender was aware since you've ignored him for a couple days now and haven't looked once in his direction.

You stood with everyone at the Stark Towers as they talked casually. The place is currently being repaired right now after all the damage done by Ultron, but it was still standing for the most part.

Tony talked about how he wanted to build a new compound for the Avengers and was considering either selling the Stark Tower or just taking it back for his company. 

You were standing at the side, between Steve and Natasha, as you tap your foot idly. 

David stood across from you, staring at you while you pointedly didn't look at him, mouth pressed in a firm line. 

A part of you wanted to be rational.

It's not like you were unaware of the circumstances. Drink from Wanda or risk killing everyone on the helicarrier, and also killing yourself in the process. 

And by God knows, no one would've been able to stop you.  

But...you were still so angry.

David knew the consequences of this, and he took it, and you could not blame him for it.

"You can't ignore me forever," David says quietly, moving his mouth so quickly, no one can hear but you. 

You don't say anything.

"Ignoring me isn't going to solve anything, and you know it," David continues on. "We need to talk now, and I'll make a scene if I have to."

You pause for a moment, eyes flittering over to Wanda, who is standing next to David along with Pietro. She's got her brow raised as if she could hear the conversation between the two of you. You don't doubt the possibility that she could.

You look at David, who is staring at you challengingly. Making a scene would be awkward, but you felt childish, wanting to ignore David a little more.

So, you called his bluff. 

And he proved you wrong. 

David barrels into you, tackling you into the empty space as everyone gasps, tensing as they want to break up the fight but knowing they physically would be unable to do so. 

"Stop being so stubborn!" David yells at you, atop of you, and you bare your teeth at him.

Being older brings advantages; David knows that as you flip him over, toppling him underneath you.

"You know exactly why I'm pissed at you!" You snarl at him.

David goes limp in your hold, sighing as he does so.

"I know," he says quietly, "and I'm sorry, but there wasn't any other choice."

Hearing David apologize to you even though you knew it wasn't really his fault made you grimace.  

God, you were such an ass sometimes. 

You sigh, loosening your grip on David as you stand up, pulling him up with you. 

"What...the hell was that?" Tony says, staring in disbelief at you two. 

"Just a disagreement," you mutter as you rotate your shoulder to relocate it back into place. 

Natasha purses her lip at you as you walk back up to her.

You shrug at her, not really wanting to get into it again.

"We've got some things we have to discuss first, we'll meet up with you guys later," David announces, pulling you with him as you frown.

Everyone just blinks at the two of you exist the room, and head to the rooftop. Once up there, you feel a slight breeze and can smell how fall is approaching. 

"Are you done being pissed at me?" David asks as the two of you look over the railing at the city. 

You exhale heavily through your nose.

"I know it's not your fault," you tell David, "but I would have preferred it more if you took me and jumped off the helicarrier and have our bodies be obliterated when we hit the ground."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time we encounter this problem," David smiles wryly.

"You put me in a horribly awkward situation, David, nevermind the consequences of it," you sighed, pressing your temples with your hand before rubbing your face. 

"How did Natasha take it?" David asked. 

You shrug. "She didn't really take it any way at all. She said she doesn't know how she felt about it. She's neither upset nor okay with it, but she understands."

"That must be better than her being pissed at you," David shrugs. 

"I don't know," you say, "I know how to deal with pissed, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do when even she doesn't know how she feels."

"And Wanda?" David probes.

You tense up immediately at her name, David catching it immediately.

"That bad or that good?" 

You turn to glare at him.

"Sorry."

You turn back to the city skyline. 

"I don't know," you tell him honestly, blinking slowly. "She looks incredibly so much like Tatyana, and yet, I know distinctly it's not her. She's both familiar and new to me. A part of me understands I'm the only link to explaining her family's past, but I feel like I need to keep my distance as well, even though I can't now."

"Why? Did you feel something for her?" David asks.

"A little too much,"  you wryly admit. "It was terrifying, honestly."

"But?" David probes some more.

You look at him. "But I am in love with Natasha."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You and David stay on the rooftop for a while just to enjoy the quiet while you can before you head back to have the real serious talk.

When you come down, you see that everyone had still stayed in the room, loitering as if they weren't waiting for the two of you to go back.  

Natasha looks at you, and you nod, telling her that you and David were okay. David looks at Natasha and gives her his dashing smile that she returns in small. 

"We need to talk," you say in a sobering tone, looking at Wanda, while you make a move to grab Natasha's hand. 

Wanda stares at you, not saying anything as she tilts her head.

"About what?" Pietro cuts in, looking at you with a frown. 

"Пьетро," Wanda says, accent thick as she grabs his arm to calm him down. "About what?" Wanda asks as she turns her head back to you. 

You look around the room as if to tell everyone else this is a private matter.

"Oh no," Tony says, leaning against a counter. "We're all in this together now. Share with the class."

Steve was the only other person in the room, and he nodded his head firmly at you in more of a supportive way than Tony. 

You let out a long sigh as you turn back to Wanda.

"It's about...what happened when I fed on you," you say slowly and rather awkwardly, feeling Natasha's hand tighten around yours. 

Wanda licks her lips. 

"You've probably figured out by now that I know an ancestor of your guys'," you say.

"That woman I've seen in your head..." Wanda brings up, and you grimace.

"Yeah, her," you confirm. 

"Wait, what?" Pietro says, swerving back to look at his sister. "She knows someone in our family tree, and you didn't say anything?"

"I didn't know for sure," Wanda shrugs. 

"How did you know her? Was that why you were looking for us?" Pietro asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

"Her name was Tatyana. She was..." you clear your throat. "She was...my lover. But yes, she was partly why I was looking for the two of you. But the truth is, every time there is a new descendant, I always look for them. Although somewhere along the way, I lost track because your great-great-grandfather decided to have multiple children in secret."

"So, we actually have a big family we don't know about?" Pietro scrunches his eyebrows together.

You shake your head. "No, you two are the sole surviving people left in your family. Everyone else has rather lived short lives or died due to an accident or illness."

Pietro continues to stare at you suspiciously but moves on. "You say this Tatyana woman was our ancestor, but how did we come to be if she was your lover."

"Tatyana had a life before me," you shrug. "She never really talked about it, but she was in an arranged marriage when she was younger and had a child. Of course, her husband took on a second wife since it was common back in the day. It wasn't the life she wanted, and she had never been inclined to children. Leaving was easy for her."

"She was...a witch," Wanda says slowly as if to confirm with you.

"Yes," you nodded stiffly. "Her...powers is genetic."

"But I didn't have any powers when I was born. I was given it through the scepter," Wanda argued. 

You lick your lips. "Over the years, your bloodline was diluted. The powers are genetic, but with Tatyana, but since no one in the family ever married another witch or warlock, the powers became weaker and weaker every time until there was basically nothing. In this day and age, you would be so lucky to even find a true witch or warlock by blood because they're all in hiding, though the stake burning has stopped."

"Then...the scepter..." Wanda pondered.

"You may not have had obvious powers, but you probably experienced smaller things as a child. A feeling you couldn't ignore, a dream that came true, something buzzing at your fingertips, but you just couldn't explain it. The scepter unlocked that gene within you. It jumpstarted the powers you had inside all along," you theorize. 

Wanda looked at you in shock, confirming that she experienced those things in her youth. 

"Why didn't I get the same gift as Wanda then if I have the gene too?" Pietro asked.

You shrug. "I'm only guessing. I've never actually seen any males in your family tree display any inkling of a gift. I'm assuming the scepter had more of play in powers for you."

Pietro hums, looking at his sister before shrugging and moving on. 

"Well, a great history lesson. You slept with my ancestor, is that what you wanted to tell us?" Pietro cocked his brow with a smirk, and you roll your eyes.

"No, I wish it were just that," you sigh inaudibly, feeling your stomach drop as you looked back at Wanda.

"The day I fed from you...did you feel anything happen to your body after?"

Wanda cocked her brow at you, and you felt your cheeks warm and forced it down before it could physically show on your face.

"I mean, like, a burning...no, I mean...did you feel any pain afterward?" You stumbled over your words, not even daring to look at Natasha as you kept holding her hand. "Specifically, did any of your bones hurt?"

Wanda stares at you a moment longer before nodding slowly. "I did," she says. "I felt something here like it was on fire...I assumed it was because too much blood was taken." She points to her sternum.

You pursed your lips, feeling suspicion rise higher inside.

You turn to Tony. "Do you have an x-ray machine here?"

"I do," Tony raises one of his brows. 

"Why do you need an x-ray?" Pietro asked, mildly alarmed.

You didn't answer as Tony led everyone out of the room into the medical bay area where there were multiple body x-ray scanning machines, though many of the devices but two were crushed when Ultron attacked the tower. 

You had to let go of Natasha's hand as you walk up to Wanda, who is looking at your own sternum for a moment before looking back at you.

"I need to confirm if what I believe is true," you tell her softly, asking her to get onto the machine.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Wanda says with a slight raise of her brow and a tiny quirk in her lips like she knows you're hiding something underneath. 

You purse your lips, not really wanting everyone to see what is in your body, but you know it's only fair if you're asking Wanda.

"Alright," you agree with a nod. 

"Are you serious?" David blinks in disbelief, and Natasha turns to him with curious eyes. 

You shrug.

"It was bound to come out at some point...I wanted to show Nat sometime anyways," you look over at your girlfriend with a smile, feeling slightly guilty about hiding things still. 

Both you and Wanda get onto the machine while Tony operates it to get a CT scan of the bones. 

The scan is over relatively quickly, doing the front and back as you both make it out of the room to join the crowd around the monitor. 

The images slowly load.

"Jesus Christ," Steve exclaims under his breath.

"What the fuck," Tony squints his eyes as if he doesn't believe what he's seeing. 

Though both pictures showed up, yours drew all the attention.

Marks and drawings were engraved into your bones everywhere on the front and back of your ribs like they were tattoos. 

"What are these?" Natasha asked as she leans in to take a closer look at the images. 

"They're searings from a priest," you tell them, turning your attention to Natasha.

"Leo?" She asks quietly. 

You nod your head, blinking languidly as you look at her face.

"What's it for?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes slightly.

You stand straighter as you readjust your jacket.  

"They're markings that allow me to go into the sun without being burnt alive," you say, watching as everyone just blink at you. "David has the same ones, though not done by the same priest."

"So, something does happen if you go into the sun!" Tony exclaims as if he was right all along.

"...Yes, but I don't sparkle. It's quite the opposite. It burns and rips at the flesh and smells exactly like what you think it would smell like," you tell him. Tony made a gagging face at the thought. 

"Wait, what is that?" Pietro says as he looked at Wanda's image, finding a scrawling in red burned into her sternum.

Everyone draws their attention over before looking back at yours.

You had an identical one in the same place. 

The searings on your rib were in black, while the one on your sternum was red in color.

"Oh, shit," David says, breaking the silence. "We activated the second part of your curse."

"Curse? What curse? What did you do to my sister?" Pietro pushes past everyone until he's standing in front of you, gripping the lapels of your jacket. 

"Пьетро!" Wanda calls after him, putting her hand on his arm to pull him back, but he doesn't budge.

You swallow.

"As I said," you put your hands around Pietro's, forcing him to let go. "I was involved with Tatyana, your ancestor, and it didn't end well."

"She cursed you because of a quarrel or a breakup?" Pietro snorted as if he didn't believe you.

You quirked your brow at him. "No, she cursed me because I killed her."

"You killed her?" Tony says in incredulity. "You killed your girlfriend." 

"I had to," you shift uncomfortably, the guilt rising up as Natasha moves to hold your hand. "She turned. Upset with how villages were hunting witches along with other horrible things, she was trying to create vampires using her magic to destroy the villages. She was murdering innocent people, and nothing I said reached her anymore. When I begged her to stop, she didn't. I did what I had to."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tony blinked. "You know, I'm surprised you didn't become a villain; your origin story would've been so good."

You roll your eyes.

"What was the curse, and what does that have to do with my sister?" Pietro demanded.

"The curse was that I could never feed from a human being other than her. But because you are descendants from her, you share the same blood, which creates somewhat of a loophole." You sigh, pressing your lips together as you look at Wanda. "The reason I was actually looking for the two of you is that I always keep track of the descendants of Tatyana's. I do that so I know who I cannot ever risk of drinking their blood, even if you donated blood by chance, I wouldn't take your blood bag."

You look at Natasha, "I'm sorry, but I didn't tell you everything that night," you say softly. 

Natasha bit her tongue, "You said that you didn't want to find a cure to this curse...but you've actually had already tried to find one, haven't you?

You nodded, biting your bottom lip.

"Yes...Leo and I spent years trying to find the cure at first. At one point, I encountered one of Tatyana's grandchildren. I could smell the same blood of Tatyana's in her. At that time, I was living off of animal blood," you sighed. "I don't know, something came over me, and I jumped at her. I realized that I could drink from her...but that's when I realized the second part of this curse." 

You looked at Wanda apologetically. "I inflict this curse back on them."

"What?" Pietro bellowed.

"What happened to Tatyana's granddaughter?" Steve asked with arms crossed as he processed the information.

"Another vampire tried to feed on her and she died instantly," you frowned. "When Leo and I realized the intricacies of this, I stopped looking for the cure because it was clear there wasn't one without Tatyana being the one to remove it. On top of that, it kept my bloodlust in check. I had to be more conscious about it unless I wanted to die."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Natasha asked quietly. 

"Because I'm not proud of it. Worse than killing Tatyana because I had to was awful. But then I went and tried to remove her curse," you frowned slightly. "I'm not like you, Nat. You deal with your ledger every day proudly and without hesitation."

You look away, ashamed of what you're admitting. "I couldn't. I wanted to get rid of the curse because even though it was what I deserved, it was just a daily reminder of Tatyana, and I didn't want to remember what I had done to her."

Fingers grip your chin, pulling you back, and you face Natasha.

"Hey, you are the bravest person I know," she says softly, and the words linger like she wants to say something else, but there's a crowd here. "We'll talk more later."

Natasha lifts your fingers to her lips and presses a soft kiss to them. The action brings a deep pit feeling in your stomach, and you feel something threatening to spill over, but you swallow it because now isn't the time. 

"So, what do we do now?" Pietro asks, bringing everyone back to the matter at hand.

You look solemnly at Pietro. "There's nothing I can do. I have to keep feeding from her regularly. Otherwise, she'll die."

"Why?" Pietro demanded, stress clear on his face. 

"This curse is a catch 22 situation. On the one hand, Wanda is the only person I can feed from. But on the other hand, now I'm the only vampire who can feed on her. If any other vampire tries to feed on her, it will react badly with my venom and kill her. If I don't regularly feed on her and inject new venom, her cells will slowly deteriorate and kill her. My venom is both a poison and a cure for her." Your expression was grim, and you looked over to Wanda, but the girl seemed to have no reaction at all to what you were saying, so you were unable to gauge how she was feeling. 

"And what?" Pietro pressed. "You'll do this to her forever? Because there's no fucking cure?"

You didn't really have an answer to that because it's not like you've encountered this situation. The last descendant you drank from died due to another vampire getting to her. You were sure as hell not going to let that happen this time, but you had a feeling Wanda could handle her own if someone tried to attack her. 

"No," you decided, exhaling softly. "I'm...going to try to find the cure again. If it was just me, that's one thing, but you're right; I can't let Wanda be affected forever too."

Natasha squeezed your hand, and you turned slightly to look at her, finding her giving you a small smile.

"How are you going to find a cure? I thought the only cure to this was if Tatyana reversed what she did, and she's no longer here," Steve asked.

You lick your lips as you lock eyes with David.

"It's been a while, but we're going to find Leo's descendent."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The day comes to a quiet end, and you find yourself looking out the window. The city is still bustling, and it's a reminder that New York is a city that never sleeps, and you kind of miss the atmosphere out in the countryside where Clint lived.

Natasha left with David to help him try to track down Leo's descendent. Though, you know it will be relatively easy.

Steve had pulled you aside after asking you seriously if you wanted him to stay to help you with this matter, but you shook your head.

"You need to find Bucky," you tell him. "He's out there, waiting for you unconsciously, I bet."

Steve seems like he wants to stay still, but you smile as you pat his broad shoulder.

"David found a tip on Bucky for you, so you need to go because it's not looking hot for him," you pass him a folded piece of paper.

"What if you need me?" Steve frowned.

"You'll be the first I'll call, solider," you wink.

"I better be," he smiles back, pulling you into a hug before he left. 

A part of you wonders how things will play out like how you saw when you touched Tony's hand. Regardless, if you could get Tony to think the Accords was a horrible idea, then things would change.

But changing Tony's mind or trying to influence him was like trying to move a mountain.

"Hey."

You turn to see Wanda standing at the door, far from you. When you turn, she takes it as a sign to enter the room and approach you.

"Hey," you reply, feeling your body going stiff, the conversation with David fresh in your mind. 

Wanda stands next to you before turning her head to look at the view outside.

"The view is very different than what I'm used to," she tells you quietly. 

"Better or worse?" You ask in return.

"Both. On the one hand, this is not the view of my homeland, but I suppose this is better than watching my country collapse."

You purse your lips at that, feeling sympathy for the girl before you.

"They will rebuild," you tell her softly, "and when you return, it will be a beautiful view once more."

Wanda gives you a small smile as she turns to face you. No one says anything, and the quiet settles over the two of you as you stare at each other. 

"I feel like you were meant to be in my life, and I'm meant to be in yours," Wanda tells you, blinking as if she's unsure if she should be saying so. 

"You feel something for me," Wanda states, and you immediately rush to deny it.

"Don't," Wanda warns you, and you press your lips together to hold the words back. "You do, and you can't lie to me about it. I...I feel confused around you. You and Natasha. I don't know what to make of any of it."

"There's so much history tied between us...I worry that your feelings are because of my ancestor--because you mistake me for her."

"I don't," you tell her immediately, not wanting her to feel like she was some replacement. "I admit you two are similar...in more ways than you know...but I know that you're not her."

"How?" Wanda smiles sardonically.

"Easiest explanation? Scent. Vampires are extremely sensitive to scent, and you have your own distinct smell. Long explanation? There's no one that could ever replace Tatyana to me, and I don't want anyone to. You are your own person, just as Natasha is. In my heart, Natasha is something new and cannot also ever be replaced," you say, wanting Wanda to understand, but also to draw a line. 

"And me?" Wanda pushes. "Where do you want me to stand in your heart?"

You clench your jaw, just about to answer when Natasha and David enter the room.

"We've found the descendent. He lives in Texas," David tells you. 

You take a step back from Wanda, clearing your throat quietly as you nod. 

Your girlfriend stares at you, her eyes shifting to Wanda for a microsecond before she looks back at you as if Natasha could tell she just walked into a tense moment.

"Good," you say. "We'll leave tomorrow morning. Everyone should get some rest."

You walk towards Natasha, grabbing her hand as you lead her out the room, only looking back once at Wanda, who stood there with her arms crossed over her chest as she looks at you with an expression you find yourself unable to decipher.

Nor forget.

PART XII

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Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

[dccomicsimagines]

Looks Don’t Mean Everything - Cyborg x Reader

Requested by Anon -  Do u think u could make an imagine with yj s3 for cyborg/victor stone where he thinks because of how he looks now reader won’t love him anymore?? Xxx btw love your work really is the best ❤️❤️❤️💯💯💯💋

Author’s Note - spoilers for first part of young justice season 3

***

Victor glanced down at his phone. His finger hovered over the call button. He willed himself to press it.

“Damn it,” he hissed before pushing the phone away.

“Victor Stone stares at Victor Stone’s phone as much as Brion Markov does with Brion Markov’s. What is Victor Stone trying to achieve?” Forager asked, looking up from his homework. The two were sitting on the patio at M’gann and Conner’s house. It had been three days since Victor’s life had changed forever.

“Nothing.” Victor laid his head on his arm. His hand slid down to his sweatshirt pocket to play with the broken ring. He was surprised to find he still had it. The computer in him buzzed, reminding him why he could never press that call button. You couldn’t see him like this. He was a monster now. You wouldn’t be safe around him if you could even accept him.

***

You clung to the ring that hung around your neck as you slipped past Star Labs guards and made your way toward Silas Stone’s lab. It took everything in you to keep calm. Vic probably was just busy or upset by his father and didn’t text you back. It was probably nothing.

However, the two of you hadn’t went a day without contact ever since you started dating. It had been three days. He wasn’t at his house or with his friends. You knew something was wrong, you could feel it in your gut. 

Dr. Stone was sitting at his desk, working away. You noticed how the lab seemed under construction. Clear plastic covered the windows and the doors. Maybe they remodeled recently? You knocked on the door frame. Silas looked up with a hopeful gaze before frowning when he saw you. There was no recognition in his face. You had only met him once since you started dating Vic three years ago.

“Who are you? And how did you get passed security?” Silas demanded once you stepped inside. 

“I’m (Y/N). Vic and I have been dating for three years.” You gave him an eye roll when he looked surprised. “And security let me in once I told them who I was and that I had to speak to you.” You walked up to his desk, glaring at him. “Where’s Victor?” 

Silas bit his lip, not meeting your eye. “I don’t know.” 

You had to purse your lips to keep from snarling in disgust. “He was coming to see you when you didn’t show up for his game. Now I haven’t heard from him in three days and nobody else has. So I ask again, where is Victor?” 

“You don’t understand. I don’t know where Victor is.” Silas looked pained. He pushed away from his computer to put his face in his hands. “I was working on something for the Justice League and there was an accident.” 

All the breath left your lungs. “Please don’t tell me he died and you didn’t inform anyone.” 

Silas dropped his hands from his face. His mouth twitched. “He did, but then I saved him.” Your mind immediately went to the worst. Vic as a zombie or maybe more like a Frankenstein. Silas kept talking about a Father Box and how it used technology to repair Victor’s body. You struggled to keep up with everything Silas explained. “He lost control, then some girl came through a boom tube and rebooted him.” Your eyes widened. “Victor went with her.” 

You rubbed your temples. A sour feeling settled in your stomach. “Okay, so there was an explosion and Vic was fatally injured. You then decided to use alien technology that even the Justice League doesn’t know enough about to heal him and you made him into this cyborg who almost killed you.” You frowned at Silas. He flinched. “Then you let Vic leave with some girl who came through a portal and haven’t heard from him since!” 

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Silas snapped. You glared at him and he sighed. The life seemed to drain out of him. You could see the love he had for Vic. Too bad Vic wasn’t here to see it. “I failed my son.” 

“Okay.” You held up your hands. Silas turned away from you to sit back down at his desk. “Let’s just focus on finding Vic. Do you have any idea where he is?” 

Silas shook his head. “I do not know.” He buried his face in his hands. You felt a wave of viciousness creep up inside. You wanted to scream at him for giving up. Vic had to be in so much pain, so confused. Your eyes burned with tears. You needed to find him and help him in anyway he needed you to.

“Well, ‘I don’t know’ doesn’t get us anywhere.” You stormed out of the room. Silas let you leave, wallowing in his self pity. You stopped in the hallway, leaning against the wall to gather your thoughts. Taking several deep breaths, you held in your fears, calming yourself until you figured out what to do next. 

***

“And here is the hallway to the UN Ambassadors’ offices,” the tour guide said, leading the group passed the high security corridor. You studied the area. Dread settled in your stomach. This was probably the craziness thing you had ever done, but for Vic, it was worth it. 

After you gathered yourself, you went back into Silas’ office and demanded he get in touch with the Justice League. He refused, saying he no longer had a relationship with them due to the accident with Victor. It was frustrating, but you didn’t give up. 

You figured the Justice League would know of the portal girl or at least could help you find Vic. Besides, it was the alien technology that they gave to Star Labs that caused all this. If anything, you might get a clue about Vic’s location at the very least. 

Thus, you pooled your savings and took a bus to New York City. Not getting any luck with the Justice League’s hotline or email, you decided to do the next best thing, find the Amazon or Atlantean ambassadors. The Justice League was headed by Wonder Woman and Aquaman. They could at least pass a message to them. Which was why you were at the UN.

The tour started back to the lobby. You slowed, dropping to the back of the group. They turned a corner and you stopped, waiting until they were down by the elevator. You peeked around the corner and only moved when the elevator doors were shut. 

Doing your best to stay calm and act like you belonged, you went back to the corridor where the offices were. Eventually, you found the Atlantean ambassador’s office at the end across from the Amazon ambassador’s. The door was shut and locked for the Amazon’s, but the Atlantean’s was slightly ajar.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You grabbed the ring on the chain around your neck for support. 

“Garth, you must tread carefully. Luthor will just tighten the restrictions he has over the League if you are not careful,” a voice said from inside. You peeked through the crack in the door to see two men inside. 

“Kaldur, trust me. I have been in this position long enough to understand the risks.” The other man moved in the room. You held your breath. “These surface dwellers are very complicated. I never thought they would be more political than Atlantis.” 

You raised your hand to knock, but stopped. Ice cold terror flowed through your veins, but you thought of Vic. He must be so scared, so confused. You needed to be there for him. 

However, before you could knock, the door swung open. You quickly put your hand down as both Atlanteans stared at you in surprise. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw one of the men was Aquaman. “Hi,” you squeaked. Blood rushed to your face.

“May I help you with something?” Garth asked. You recognized him as the Atlantean ambassador. 

“I...” You had to clear your throat. Suddenly, you didn’t know how to start. You rubbed the back of your head. “I need help finding my boyfriend, Victor Stone.” Both Atlanteans stared at you blankly. Your face threatened to burst into flames. “Let me explain.” And you did. To their credit, both of them listened without interrupting. 

“I am sorry for what happened,” Aquaman said softly after you finished. He closed the door behind you. “Currently, I do not know about Victor Stone’s whereabouts, but I have suspicions from what you told me.” 

You grinned at him, heart threatening to burst out of your chest. “Can you find him for me? Make sure he’s okay?” Studying Aquaman’s face, you swore you saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. Suspicion soured your stomach. Your smile fell slightly.

“Although with the accident he had, are you sure he wants to see you?” Garth asked, raising an eyebrow. “It seems like you both are very close. Why would he not contact you?”

The rest of your joy drained out of you like someone pulled the plug. “I don’t...maybe they wouldn’t let him or maybe he’s scared?” You bit your lip. It didn’t occur to you that Vic wouldn’t want you to see him. “Maybe he’s afraid his father would find him through me? I don’t know, but I just want to make sure he’s okay.” 

Aquaman nodded, not meeting your eye. You knew he wasn’t telling you something. “I will see what I can do.” He placed his hand on your shoulder as knock sounded on the door. Garth got to his feet and answered it, having a rather tense conversation with who was on the other side. “I will escort you out of the building.”

“Can I give you my number or something? You can let me know if you find out about Vic.” You stepped to the side to make him look you in the eye. 

“Of course.” He gave you a tight smile. You saw the hesitation in his eyes. However, you reached down to write down your information on a notepad on Garth’s desk. You handed it him. He took it rather nervously.

“Yes, our visitor is leaving now. I apologize for the misunderstanding,” Garth said, opening the door to reveal several security guards. You gave them a cheeky wave. They all glared you at the same time. You wondered if they were robots. 

Aquaman led you out of the office. You nodded to Garth, giving him a smile in thanks. He smiled back before arguing with the security guards. Aquaman was silent on the way out of the building. He left you at the entrance and you sat down on a bench outside to think. You knew he wasn’t telling you something, but what could that be? Your mind jumped to worse conclusions, but you calmed yourself. If the Justice League didn’t get back to you in a few days, you’ll just have to take drastic measures.

***

“Victor, can I talk to you?” M’gann asked as she appeared around the apple tree Victor was sitting against. He sighed. The computer in his head beeped. He tensed, fearing the Father Box would take control again. It didn’t and he relaxed. M’gann stopped beside him before sitting down.

He rested his head back against the tree to look up at the stars. His hand went into his pocket to play with his broken ring again. He missed you so much, he physically ached. 

“I received word that someone named (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is looking for you quite passionately.” M’gann crossed her arms, watching Victor’s reaction. Victor tensed. A wave of hope and horror washed over him.

“No, they can’t find me. They won’t understand what I’ve...what I’ve become.” His hands shook. “I’m this freak. They’ll see me and won’t love me anymore.” He closed his eyes. “They’ll give me back the ring.” 

“Ring?” M’gann blinked in surprise. Victor sighed, taking out his broken ring. “Oh.”

“Promise ring.” He smiled sadly. “Though, I would probably marry (Y/N) eventually, but we wanted to finish high school and college first. Of course, that doesn’t matter now. I won’t be able to do any of that looking like this.” 

M’gann cleared her throat, taking the broken ring from Victor. “(Y/N) called the Justice League hotline over a hundred times about you. They also broke into the UN building in New York City to try to get in contact with the Justice League.” M’gann smiled. “It worked. They want to know if you’re okay.”

Victor jumped to his feet. temper flaring. “No, I’m not! I’m a freak! This cyborg! I can’t ever see them again! They’ll think I’m a freak and I might hurt them!” He shook his head. “Tell them I died.” He walked off, shaking. The computer beeped dangerously in his head, reacting to his fast heartbeat. “Leave me alone.” 

M’gann watched him go helplessly. She looked down at Victor’s broken ring in her hand. “Alright then.” She got up and walked back to the house.

***

It took a week before you got a letter in the mail. You wondered how the Justice League had your address, but opened it regardless. Inside was Victor’s broken ring. 

Tears filled your eyes, but not of sorrow, only of rage. How dare they just send this to you? What does this even mean? Is Victor dead or did he just didn’t want to see you? 

Your hand squeezed the ring in your palm enough to leave an imprint. Drastic measures it was then.

***

A week after Halloween, Victor found himself out by the apple trees again. The vicious side of the Father Box gone for good. He wanted to see you, knowing at least he wouldn’t accidentally kill you, but he was still a freak.

Out of his misery, the computer in him picked up your voice coming from the house. He was on his feet in an instant. You couldn’t be here? How?

“Where is Victor Stone?” your voice echoed throughout the orchard. Victor found himself running toward your voice, stopping when he got to the back of the garage. He peeked around to see you and some man with no face wearing blue trench coat standing up to M’gann, Conner, Dick, and Artemis. His jaw dropped to the ground.

“Listen, I understand you are upset, but Victor Stone is not here,” Dick insisted, stepping closer to you. You backed away. The man with no face stepped in front of you.

“I think he is, Nightwing formerly Robin,” the man with no face said rather smugly. He turned to M’gann, Conner, and Artemis. “Miss Martian, Superboy, and Tigress formerly Artemis. By the way, it’s dumb to have your hero name be the same as your real one.” Artemis flinched. The man turned back to Dick. “Who are you kidding here?” 

Victor hid back behind the garage before you could see him. His heart threatened to burst. The computer analyzed the situation for the best plan of attack. He quickly shut it down. “Why is Victor Stone hiding? Victor Stone’s partner clearly wants to see Victor Stone.” Victor almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed Forager was suddenly beside him. Forager laughed at Victor’s surprise.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the intense confrontation caught his attention again. “I didn’t know you worked for money, Question,” Dick snapped. Victor peeked around the corner again with Forager. 

“I wasn’t hired for this,” the Question said calmly, looking at his fingernails even through he was wearing gloves. “I was contacted by this lovely young person who’s soulmate was taken from them by some hideous act caused the Justice League.” He rubbed his chin. “It made me wonder why the Justice League was trying to keep it quiet.” 

Suddenly, Victor found himself being pushed out into the open by Forager. “No, don’t...” His protest died when his eyes met yours. 

“Vic?” You pushed past the heroes to run to him. He flinched, but you crashed into him with a breath stealing hug. “It’s really you.” You kissed his lips passionately. Victor froze before melting into the kiss. 

Forager laughed. You pulled away from Victor to look at him. Your jaw dropped slightly. “Wow, you really did join a strange crowd, didn’t you?” You turned back to Victor, pulling down his hood to get a good look at him. Victor closed his eyes, preparing for your rejection.

Instead your hand traced the metal side of his face. “Please don’t.” He grabbed your wrist with his robotic arm. You hissed in pain. “Sorry.” He loosened his grip, opening his eyes. However, he was met with your accepting gaze. 

“You know I thought you would be more like Robotman from the Doom Patrol or something.” A laugh escaped your lips. Victor smiled, not realizing how much he missed your laugh. “But this is very cool.” Worry filled your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m working on it.” He drank in your face. You looked tired. He probably caused that. “Better that you’re here. I’m sorry I didn’t call.” 

You slapped his arm. “Yeah, that sucked.” You hugged him again. “You scared me to death, you know.” 

“I know.” Guilt made his stomach twist dangerously. He noticed the ring was still on a chain around your neck. “You still have your ring?”

“Of course.” You pulled away to glare at him. “But you don’t have yours.” You pulled it out of your pocket. He stared at it, confused.

The Question and Dick were still arguing while the others watched. Forager clapped his hands, enjoying the show. 

“How do you have that? I gave it to M’g...” Victor looked over at M’gann. She glanced over to meet his gaze before quickly looking away. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You put your hand on Victor’s cheek, bringing his eyes back to you. A smile pulled at your lips. “I’ll yell at them for you. You know it scared me to death to get an envelope with just your ring inside.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t know they would do that.” Victor turned to kiss your palm. He took the ring from you. His eyes widened when he saw it was on a chain similar to yours. “You put it on a chain?” 

“Yeah, I figured you won’t lose it around your neck.” You laughed. “I mean it works for me.” You helped him put it on. 

“Aww, love,” Forager chuckled. “Forager likes Victor Stone’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

You eyed Forager curiously. Victor laughed for the first time since his accident. “I’ll introduce you.” You looked back at Victor with a big smile.

“I hope so.” You kissed his lips sweetly and Victor no longer felt like such a freak. If you could see him and love him still, he could do anything. 

[solarwonux]

In Another Life || Jeonghan

Jeonghan x !reader

w.c: 3.6k

warning: some cursing, angst, mentions of alcohol 

summary: soulmates come in different ways.

note: it’s laura again, i’m starting over for funsies so here you are enjoy and let me know your thoughts, hehe.xx

The morning you were taken off your first big case at the firm. You had walked in after another sleepless night, prominent bags underneath your eyes, your body slouching from exhaustion. You had willingly stayed up looking over pages and pages of notes, frustrated because you were close to solving it. Though you had missed an important piece of evidence and you couldn’t figure out what it was. But you weren’t going to give up not on yourself and not on the girls that had been kidnapped and sold. So you stayed up and read everything you had over and over until you finally found what was missing, your alarm clock blaring, scaring you, feeling like you were about to burst into tears knowing you were going to help bring justice to girls that had been wrong for years.

Though when you arrived at that firm that morning, running into Joshua’s office to let him know that you had finally solved the case. Your heart dropped when your eyes landed on Jeonghan casually leaning against the far wall of Joshua’s office.

“What’s going on?” You gripped the strap of your purse, bringing it in front of you and holding it close to your body. “I’m taking you off the case.” Joshua sighed leaning his body against the back of his chair.

“W-What no you can’t do that, I solved it…I found what was missing, there was a man in each of the sites where the girls were dropped off, I can only assume he was undercover cause he always had a camera with him. I just need his name…I’ll find his name and contact him; I can only imagine how much evidence he has that can help us with this.” You spoke, setting down your folders on his desk, opening them up and pointing to the pictures you had had on you for months and always overlooked the man in a black coat with a camera in the corner.

Joshua sighed, gripping the back of his chair. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back before pushing himself away from his chair. “It’s final, you're off the case, Jeonghan will be taking over, I expect you to give him all the evidence you have gathered by the end of the day.” He stated walking past you, his hands stuffed deep into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Joshua you can’t do this…I’ll work with him.” You exclaimed. “But please don’t take me off this case.” You pleaded grabbing onto his wrist making him stop dead in his tracks. “I can’t have you overworking yourself like this…I know this case is important to you but not important enough to kill yourself the way you are. I’ve made my decision, you’re off the case.” He stated firmly He pulled his arm from your grip opening his office door, giving you one saddened look before exiting his office, mumbling underneath his breath.

“You should go home and sleep, I promise I’ll do everything in my power and help put these men in jail.” Jeonghan whispered, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. The anger rising in you as you heard his smooth voice fill your ears. You hated how caring he sounded, hated how comfortable he made you feel. Hated how unapologetic he was for taking this opportunity to finally prove yourself away from you.

“Fuck you Jeonghan.” You spat out shoving his arm away, sending him a glare before angrily exiting Joshua’s office.

“Boss man wants to see us in his office,” Jeonghan said slamming down a stack of papers and folders on his desk making you jump.

“For what?” You said rolling your eyes, putting your highlighter down and closing the folder that contained the current case you were reading up on.

“No idea…Hoshi just told me, when I walked past.” He shrugged off his coat jacket, draping it on the back of his chair. “I think he just finished giving Soonyoung an earful for almost losing the drug case last week.” He stated, bring a hand up to his hair. “So, I rather not keep him waiting.” He nodded hitting the back of your chair softly signaling for you to get moving. You sighed closing the highlighter and standing up, taking a few deep breaths before following Jeonghan to Joshua’s office.

The atmosphere thick the minute the two of you walked into his office. His back facing both you and Jeonghan as he stared out the window taking in the grey city skyline. His anger surrounding his toned body, engulfing both you and Jeonghan in the process. “The two of you…sit.” He ordered. Your hands starting to shake at your sides as you thought of all the things the two of you could’ve done to make your boss as upset as he was. Assuming Joshua had finally had enough of all the petty arguments that would happen between the two of you daily. 

Jeonghan and you shared a confused look, glaring at each other in the process and you knew he was thinking the same thing as you. “Whatever is happening it’s all her fault,” Jeonghan spoke up, a childish tone laced behind his smooth velvet voice. You rolled your eyes taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Joshua’s wooden desk. “Grow up, it’s always your fault.” You fought back, crossing your legs and arms. 

“Really...should I remind you who spilled coffee on my computer last week, claiming it was an accident. I was pushed back a week’s worth of work as it got repaired.” He scoffed, taking a seat next to you, crossing his arms in front of his torso like a kid. 

“I wouldn’t have spilled coffee on your computer if you hadn’t come up behind me to scare me.” You retorted sending him a glare before turning to face Joshua’s tense back. You watched as he looked up at the ceiling mumbling underneath his breath shaking his head before turning to face the two of you. His harsh gaze falling between the two of you making you feel smaller than usual. 

“I wish the two of you would shut up for once in your lives, I don’t give a shit about what the issue between the two of you is today...I didn’t call you in here to listen to you guys bicker because frankly, I stopped caring years ago.” Joshua pushed his chair out from under his desk and sat down. He placed his hands on top of it folding them together, milking out the situation, keeping you and Jeonghan on edge as you wondered why the hell you were in his office if it wasn’t to be scolded.

“Then why are we her?.” 

“I’m taking you off the cases the two of you have been assigned to.” 

“You can’t be serious, I’m supposed to be meeting with my client today, I can’t just stop now.” Jeonghan sat up, resting his forearms on his knees, leaning forward. 

“Well then meet with your client and tell them you won’t be representing them anymore Jeonghan, I’m not up to argue with you about this. Not today.” Joshua leaned forward, widening his eyes as a warning.

“Fine, whatever, are you giving us new cases then?” You spoke, sitting up straight, smoothing out your blouse. 

“No, I’m sending the two of you to the New York office to work on the Pledis Inc. embezzlement case. Vernon suspects there’s more to the story than they’re being led on and asked for the two of you.” Joshua nodded, leaning back in his seat, finally letting out the breath he had been unknowingly holding in. 

“What, Joshua no, you can’t do that. I can’t work with him, he’s insufferable, always getting under my skin, or are you forgetting all the times I come to you begging to move my desk away from his so I can finally get some peace.” You stood up, frustration running through your veins at the thought of working with your mortal enemy raced through your head. 

“Please it’s an honor to work with me, I can’t say the same thing for you though.” Jeonghan scoffed standing up, fixing his pale pink slacks. “I’ll work with anyone except her, I can’t stand listening to the sound of her voice for more than eight hours a day.” Jeonghan pleaded, throwing his hands in the air pointing an accusing finger at you making you roll your eyes. 

“I can say the same thing for you, every time you talk, I feel like I’m losing brain cells and it drives me insane.” You exclaimed, digging your nails into the palm of your hands forming small crescent moons in the process. 

“Enough the two of you, my decision is final. You’ll leave on Friday, the plane ticket and hotel have already been paid.” Joshua finalized, opening the manila folder he had in front of him. “Maybe the two of you can finally work on your differences on this trip.” He grinned knowingly, grabbing a pen and turning his attention to the papers in the folder.

You let out a frustrated groan and exited his office as fast as you could. Your anger rising to depths you had never once witnessed in your life. You needed to get away, at least for a little while because you knew if you stayed you would’ve said something you weren’t supposed to. Something that would cost you your job and Jeonghan or Joshua weren’t worth losing the one thing that you knew you could confidently do without hesitation. The only thing that would be there for you in life, the only thing you could truly consider as yours. 

“Listen to me Jeonghan, stop talking, and listen to me for once.” You yelled out as you paced back and forth in the small office Vernon forced the two of you to share. Claiming it would help with teamwork or some shit like that. Jeonghan sighed, shutting his mouth, taking his glasses off, running a frustrated hand down his face. “We meet with the judge tomorrow afternoon and I still feel like we’re missing something.” He confessed standing up from his chair walking towards the small window. New York’s nightlife below the skyscrapers breathing with life making the two of you wish you could at least enjoy one night out in the city.

“We have everything, we’ve checked out the bases more than once, checked our alibis more than once everything is going to go as planned tomorrow. Trust me or at least trust yourself.” You said putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, feeling his muscles tense underneath your touch. 

For a month and a half the two of you had closely been working together day and night. He was the last person you saw before bed and the first person you saw when you awoke the next day. The bickering between the two of you continued as usual, but you found yourself trusting him more and more as the days went by. He always knew what to say whenever you had started to doubt yourself and your abilities. He was always there to lend a comforting hand whenever you found yourself plagued with overwhelming waves of anxiety. And slowly he had started to grow on you, your personal vendetta against him fading into the background each time he gave you a tender smile. 

“How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?” He whispered, turning his attention to the floor. A tiny smile adorning his flawless face as he let out an airy laugh. “Maybe it’s my hidden talent.” You grinned removing your hand from his arm, itching to touch him again. 

“Let’s go back to the hotel, we deserve a good night's sleep.” You said gathering your things from the desk, making sure everything went into its rightful place. 

“You sure you’re not trying to get into my pants.” He joked as he walked to stand by your side, gathering the papers he had thrown on the desk out of frustration earlier that day. His body heat overwhelmed your senses, and you fought yourself to keep your emotions in check. Knowing that whatever was stirring inside of you was just due to the stress you had been put under for the last few months. You lightly shook your head trying to get your mind out of the gutter, telling yourself that Jeonghan was your enemy, a co-worker at most. And that once things were settled, once the case was over and the two of you were back home you’d go back to hating each other again. 

“In your dreams Hanie.” You said putting your purse over your shoulder. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.” You nodded, exiting the room with your heart in your throat.

To your surprise, the bar across the street from the court house was empty and the reason why you and Jeonghan had chosen it to go and celebrate after winning your case. You felt giddy, the kind of giddy you would feel whenever you made eye contact with the cute guy from math class back in high school. You also felt unstoppable, the kind of unstoppable you could only assume superheroes felt in movies. And you felt nervous, the kind of nervous you had started to feel whenever Jeonghan sent a sly smile in your direction. A feeling you had been ignoring since the day Jeonghan decided to make your life a living hell. And you felt stupid. 

“We make a pretty good team,” Jeonghan spoke, clinking his beer bottle with yours distracting you from your thoughts. You grinned wrapping your hand over your bottle and clinking yours with him. “Who would’ve thought?” You giggled bringing your bottle up to your lips, gulping down a large amount. Jeonghan watches you closely raising a brow before letting out a soft laugh. 

“I can’t wait to get home and just sleep, I’m planning on ignoring Joshua’s calls for at least a week.” He confessed looking around the room, taking in the musty aesthetic before making an unsatisfied face. “This place is awful no wonder no one comes in here.” He commented. 

“Ahh, you win one case and now you feel like a hotshot, can’t wait for Joshua to set you in your place once we’re home.” You playfully roll your eyes, running your index finger around the rim of your beer bottle. 

“False, I’ve won many cases, though this is the second one I’ve won with your help so...thank you.” He nodded giving you the smile you had grown so accustomed too, one you hoped he only reserved for you. “What other case?” You cocked your head to the side confusion written across your feature. 

“The sex trafficking one I took over years ago.” He reassured, his grip on his beer bottle getting tighter. “If I knew Joshua was going to take you off it when I went and told him how worried I was for you, I would’ve kept my mouth shut, especially knowing how much it meant to you.” He finished, your heart feeling like it was about to burst. You always suspected Jeonghan was the reason why you were taken off the case, but you always assumed it was out of mal intent. Never once taking a step back and thinking that he might’ve done it out of the goodness of his heart. 

“You were worried about me?” You said mentally slapping yourself for focusing on that piece of information instead of his gratitude. He let out a loud laugh, escaping your intense stare, deciding to focus his attention on the dusty bullhead on the wall behind you. 

“Mhm...to be frank I used to have feelings for you, it’s like the world stopped when I saw you walk in through the double doors of the building for the first time.” He assured, his body itching to look down at you again. Your mind running in circles as you tried to process every single word that came out of his lips. “And when you first talked to me it was as if I had known you for years, so, when I saw you neglecting yourself I got worried. I spoke with Joshua that morning and just thought he would let me work on the case with you, to lighten up the load. I never expected him to take you off it completely.” Jeonghan finished, finally getting the courage to look at you again, his smile reaching his eyes when he took in your blushing cheeks and wide eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you still...um, do you still have feelings for me?” You choked out, his words resonating deep inside of you closing over your heart tightly. For years you had felt this strange gut feeling the minute your eyes first met his. It was one you could only describe as familiar. When he first came over to welcome you to the office your hands undoubtedly were shaking at your sides. He had greeted you with a large smile, one you were sure you had once seen before. He made you feel at home, comfortable to the point where you forgot about all your worries. And maybe you did harbor those same feelings he had harbored for you once, which is why it hurt like hell when Joshua announced he was the one to take over your case.

“I’m engaged.” He blurted out, his palms feeling sweaty and your knees felt like they were so weak to the point you could fall out of your chair. “I mean...no yeah...I’m engaged, but I think no matter what the feelings I had for you will never die down.” He visibly gulped, bringing his beer bottle up to his lips gulping down the rest of it before setting it down in front of him. 

“W-Why’s that?” You whispered the water droplets off your bottle coating your fingers. Something inside of your stirred subconsciously knowing his answer to your question. “The universe has its way of working, and I can’t shake off this feeling that maybe if things weren’t the way they were we’d be together now, but I love Mei so much, she makes me happy and I abandon her to chase after my own selfish fantasy...What I mean is what if this isn’t the life we’re supposed to end up together. What if I screw it up with the one person I know loves me more than anything in this world because there’s a voice in the back of my mind, pressuring me to follow it, instead of following my heart.” He breathed out, bringing his hand up to his forehead shaking his head lightly. “I care about you so much, but I know I’m not the one for you, and if we are meant to be with one another then we will find our way back to each other again.” 

“Jeonghan.” You smiled, placing a hand on top of his trying to use your warmth as a means to calm him down. His eyes meet yours once again, taking in every single one of your features before letting a small smile take over his face. An unspoken promise lingering in the air between the two of you. Your heart finally settling down as you felt yourself retreating away from him, letting him go. Realizing you had kept him close to you because you had once felt the same thing he had felt. You looked around blinking back tears, leaving your feelings for him etched into the walls of the musty dim-lit bar, and finally, you looked at him one last time. Looked at him with all the love you had for him one last time, knowing very well that if you had been brought together in this life, you would be brought together in another one. 

“It’s not our time, don’t beat yourself up over it, surprisingly I’m not heartbroken Jeonghan...and who knows--.” You shrugged, cutting yourself off. Feeling a laugh bubble up inside of you and escaping your lungs. ”maybe in another life, we’d finally get the chance to be unstoppable together.”