#SOMEONE SEND ME THROUGH A PORTAL PLEASE

[incomplete-ruler]

It's days like this where I wish I could be adopted into The Cat's Whiskers. Like why can't I have two dads and me and ryuu getting up to fuckass schenanigans on a daily basis?

[not-neverland06]

hi!! Given my obsession for Hugh jackman I am CRAVING for some Leopold X reader (from Kate & Leopold)! Maybe with some little angst but happy ending??

I love your blog!! Have a wonderful day 😽💐💓

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader a/n: I don’t know how controversial this is going to be and I don’t care. I could never finish the movie because I hated Meg Ryan in it so much. It’s so odd, I’ve loved her in everything else she’s been in but she made it such a hard watch. Maybe it’s because she reminds me of my grandma in the worst way lol, but I finished it for you anon sorry this was a little rushed Anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies Summary: Your neighbor went back in time and dragged someone back with him. He's irritatingly polite and far too interested in your way of life. What are you meant to do when you fall for a man who was never even supposed to meet you?

“Hello, madam, please I need your help!”

You’re used to crazies, it is New York after all. But they’re not usually shouting at you through your window. Especially not when you’re on the sixth floor. You look away from your coffee and glance towards the fire escape. 

There’s an oddly dressed man with red eyes waving at you through the dirty glass. You offer him a tentative wave back and he nods aggressively. “Yes, hello, I need your assistance.”

“Um,” you shake your head, “Sorry, I don’t have any drugs dude.”

“No,” he places his hands pathetically on the glass and shakes his head. “Please, I have been kidnapped.” Finally, you take a step closer to him. You can tell now that his eyes aren’t reddened from any medicinal fun, he probably got pepper sprayed. 

Your friend did it to you once when you tried to surprise her on her birthday and you’ll never forget just how awful you looked afterwards. You can see him a bit more clearly now. Whatever odd costume he’s got on, it looks good. Genuine and clean. 

Not like most of the street performers you see in Times Square. Besides, he doesn’t have that maddened look in his eye that makes you worry he’s going to come inside and kill you. Tentatively, you open the window. 

He’s leaping through in a second and you jump back with a yelp. He turns towards you and his eyes widen before he quickly turns away. “My good lady, where are your pants?”

“Uh,” you glance down at the oversized shirt you’re wearing and the tiny shorts underneath. Admittedly, it’s a little skimpy, but you’re not walking around naked. You’ve heard of committing to the bit, but this is a bit much. “On,” you tell him, walking around him and trying to stand close to the phone. 

“Ma’am-” He’s cut off as someone slams their fist on your front door. You keep a weary eye on the man while you unlock your door. 

“Hey,” Stuart smiles at you. His eyes drift slightly past your shoulder and he goes barging into your apartment. “Leopold! What did I say?”

You huff and glare at Stuart’s frantic back. “This is yours?” Stuart nods and rushes Leopold out the door. You don’t miss the pleading, while slightly scandalized, look he sends you. 

You slam the door closed behind them, shaking your head and going back to your morning paper. You doubt you’ll be seeing him around again. 

You know, it’s just your luck that your upstairs neighbor is a scientist, one who happens to dabble in the art of time travel. And it’s just your luck that he had to fall down a damn elevator shaft. 

Now, according to him, you have to care for someone from a different century so he can make it back to his time portal in, well, in time. This is fucking ridiculous. “I’m going to kill you, Stuart.”

“Look, they’re going to take my phone but he really cannot-”

It goes silent on the other end. You shout his name a few times but hear nothing in response. You assume the hospital staff has finally gotten sick of his shenanigans and has taken his phone. You slam your handset down with a huff and look towards the living room. Leopold hasn’t sat down since you walked in and it’s unsettling. 

“So,” you start and his attention snaps towards you. “1876, huh?”

He nods and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “Oh, this is insane. This is insane,” you mutter to yourself, walking towards Stuart’s door. Leopold gives you a concerned look before quickly following after you. There’s a part of you, and you hate that part, that actually believes some of this. 

Stuart is a brilliant, though flawed, scientist. You don’t doubt that he might have actually unlocked the secret to traveling back to the past, but it’s such an insane idea to try and wrap your head around. 

“Come on, we’re leaving.” You know that Stuart doesn’t want him out of the house. Tough. You’re not going to just stay inside and wait until he can supposedly go back to the past. You don’t give Leopold any time to process your answer, already out the door and heading towards the stairs. 

“You know,” he starts as he catches up to you. “You are quite rude.” Your first instinct is to snap back at him. But you take a breath and stop yourself. 

You’re desensitized, ridiculously used to just how awful New Yorkers can be to each other. And whether this man is truly from the past or not is up for debate. But he is polite and earnest, and you have no reason to be a bitch to him. 

“I’m,” the words are hard to come by but you force them out anyway, “I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely surprised by the apology and it only makes you feel worse. “This is just an insane idea to try and grasp.”

He chuckles softly, smiling as he glances down at his feet. “Yes, how do you think I feel?”

You’re sure it’s not his intention, but you only feel like more of an ass. If this is hard for you, whatever he's going through is a hundred times worse. You weren’t forcefully ripped out of your own time and shoved into another you don’t understand. He’s still trying to comprehend the television.

Though, you’re sure being a scientist has helped him in marginally understanding how all of this is possible. “How do you like the future?” It sounds awkward and stiff, but you haven’t had to talk to anyone in a really long time. 

Your interactions are pretty limited at the book shop considering no one ever comes in. They all order online nowadays and all you really have to worry about is organizing shelves. You’re embarrassingly rusty when it comes to conversing. 

And his propensity towards eloquence only makes you feel worse. “I must admit, some of your inventions have been quite fascinating. I’m especially fond of your showers.”

Your face scrunches slightly at the mention of hygiene and you nod, “I bet.” Before either of you can attempt to salvage this horrible attempt at conversation your phone starts ringing. “Hold on one second,” you tell him. You walk a few feet away from him but you can still feel his eyes boring into your back as you move away. 

“Hello?”

There’s a frantic shout of your name down the line and then the distinct jingling of keys. “I need you to cover the shop. Marcy just went into labor and I’ve got to go!” Paul doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he hangs up. 

Your jaw gapes and you stare down at your phone with shock. You know Paul and his wife had been expecting, but had it really already been nine months? Has your life become so monotonous and dull that nine months doesn’t even register for you?

It’s a depressing thought. One you’d rather not linger on. “What was that?”

You scream, though the people passing by don’t pay you any mind, and jump away from Leopold. “Jesus, where the hell did you come from?”

Leopold flinches away from you and his face is just as aghast as yours. “Good heavens, what is the matter with you? Do you respond to anything as a sensible woman might?”

“I resent that.” You tell him bitterly. Though, he does make a good point. You’ve been on edge constantly. You always seem to be more anxious than you are happy. It’s not a good state to perpetually exist in. “I need to go into work.”

You don’t want to outright say that he needs to go back to the apartment. It feels a little mean, but you’re hoping he’ll catch onto your tone of voice. 

His entire demeanor perks up and he smiles at you. “Wonderful, I am dreadfully curious as to what you do.”

You open your mouth to correct him, let him know he’s not coming. But he’s staring at you with such hopeful eyes that you cannot find it in yourself to turn him down. He seems so excited, you’re sure he won’t be when he gets to your cluttered little bookshop. You let out a weary sigh, “Fine. Okay.”

You walk towards the curb, hoping to hail a cab. But Leopold’s hand gently wraps around your elbow and tugs you in the opposite direction. Your eyes widen in response to his boldness. You thought touching a woman he wasn’t courting would cause someone like him to combust. Seems he didn’t mind breaking the rules sometimes. 

You make a mental note of that for later. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the information, but you find it intriguing. Maybe the modern world was rubbing off on him more than he’d like to admit. 

“We should take this,” he stops you in front of a horse-drawn carriage and you immediately begin to shake your head. 

“No, Leopold, these are just tourist traps-”

He doesn’t let you finish, opening the carriage’s door and gently nudging you inside. “Nonsense! This is far more enjoyable than those yellow monstrosities.”

“Taxi,” you correct. You turn towards the carriage driver and give him directions to your bookshop. “Ink and Tea on Fifth.” He nods and the carriage rolls forward with a lurch. You grip the cushioned seats and pray you don’t get motion sickness. 

“Ink and Tea?” Leopold inquires. “Are you a journalist?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, nothing so fancy. I just help take care of an old bookshop. They were supposed to extend the shop when it first opened. They were going to build a space for people to get pastries or drink tea, but it never happened and the owner was too lazy to change the name.”

It feels a little humiliating to be talking about your minimum-wage job to a renowned scientist. He’s invented or is going to, elevators. He doesn’t care about your stupid shop. But he doesn’t look particularly judgy of you. If anything he seems to be endeared to you the more you talk. 

Normally, you’re oblivious to these sorts of things. But it’s nearly impossible for him to hide. He’s not shy with his attraction, never taking his eyes off of you and hanging onto your every word. You’re not used to such outward attention. 

You look out of the carriage, pretending to take in views you’ve already seen a thousand times. “This city is incredible,” he wonders aloud. His awe is palpable. 

Your nose wrinkles and you shrug. “It’s dirty and the people are intolerable.”

“Must you always be so pessimistic?” You snap your mouth shut and feel embarrassment creeping around you. You’ve never had someone point out when you’re being negative, but he has a point. 

You used to view the city through the same rose-colored glasses. Something’s broken inside you in recent years that has just taken the joy out of life. Everything is grey to you now, until Leopold, nothing spectacular has ever really happened to you. 

The carriage comes to a stop outside the shop before you can respond to him. You want to deny what he says, but you can’t. Your attitude is almost always unnecessary. You think sometimes you might just be trying to see if everyone feels as miserable as you do or if there’s just something wrong with you. 

“Come on,” you tell him, getting out and paying the driver. He wanders towards the shop, eyeing the displays in the window curiously. 

“These are wonderful,” he tells you, pointing to the way you’d made the books look like they’re floating above the shelves. It was just some silly little thing you’d tried to get more people in the shop. It’d worked for about a month. 

“I did that,” you unlock the door to the shop and open it for him. But he doesn’t walk in immediately, instead, he lingers in the doorway. He offers you a soft smile and you can’t help but return it. 

“You’re more creative than you give yourself credit for.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him walk inside. He keeps making these oddly astute observations about you and it’s throwing you off your game. You barely know this man and you’ve always been good at keeping yourself aloof and vague. Yet, he seems to read you like you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

“Feel free to…” he’s already made himself comfortable somewhere in the back and you trail off. “Look around,” you finish lamely. His form is lost somewhere in stacks of books and cluttered shelves. 

You know most of the classics and history books are kept towards the back. You wonder if he’s reminiscing or getting a headstart before he gets back to his time. You smile at the thought and walk behind the counter, sitting on the stool and preparing to finish off the rest of the day.

Leopold is still somewhere lost to you an hour later. Occasionally you’ll hear a page flip or the clatter of a book being reshelved, but there are no other signs of life. Not until the bell above the door rings. 

“Clark,” you smile, sitting up straighter as your friend walks through the door. “What’re you doing here?”

He gives you a crooked grin and shrugs. Just over his shoulder, you can see Leopold’s head pop over a shelf, he looks between you both, eyes narrowing with disdain. “Paul told me you’d be here, figured you might want some company.”

“Actually-” you start, but another voice cuts you off. 

“Leopold Mountbatten,” he comes around the corner, hand outstretched as he comes in between you and Clark. “And who might you be?”

Your brows furrow in confusion at the interaction. Leopold seems oddly hostile and Clark looks strangely caught off guard. “Um, Clark. Nice to meet you, man.” He shakes Leopold’s hand but his grip is weak and it only lasts for one awkward half-second. 

It’s uncomfortable to watch them try and interact and it only gets worse when they turn towards you. Clearly, they want you to tell them who the hell the other guy is. But you feel like that might just make the situation worse. 

Besides, you were pretty content with it just being you and Leopold, you don’t need Clark coming in here and riling things up. “You know, Clark, I’m set here. You can just go home.” Your tone leaves no room for argument but you know he wants to. 

“Alright, I’ll just call you later, I guess.” He throws one last skeptical look at Leopold before finally slinking back out of the shop. 

“Neither of you should be alone without a chaperone present.” Leopold bluntly scolds you without even waiting a second before Clark is gone. It catches you off guard and you scoff. 

You motion between the two of you, “We don’t have a chaperone.” 

Leopold shrugs, “Yes, well, I’m not courting you.” It shouldn’t, because he’s right, but that stings. He is attractive, surprisingly so. You have this odd belief that anyone from his century had to be at least a little ugly. But he’s near perfect. 

Hearing him tell you so bluntly that you’re not courting hurts a little. Though, you can’t blame him. You must be dramatically different than the women he’s used to. From your manners to how you dress, you’re practically an alien. 

You stand up from behind the counter and walk towards the cart of books that need to be shelved. “Clark is a friend. Nothing more.” You’ve never once been romantically interested in your friend. He’s attractive, but he’s not really your type.

Apparently, British men from the nineteenth century are. Which does not bode well for your romantic prospects once Leopold is back home. “It is plain for anyone to see how he wants you. Don’t let yourself be blinded by naivete.”

“Naivete?” you scoff and turn around to glare at him. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me, alright? I’m not some maiden in a frilly dress who needs a chaperone.” You can see that your words affect him. He looks a little taken aback by your anger and so are you. 

It’s misplaced. You’re not mad at him, just mad that you even like him. “Just go read or something, Leopold.” You dismiss him more rudely than necessary and hide yourself behind a few shelves. The rest of your workday is spent in a tense silence that makes your stomach churn. 

You’re nearly ready for bed when something slips under your door with a slight whoosh. You turn towards it, frowning when you see a little envelope with a wax seal on the ground. You pick it up and let your finger slip under the paper, opening it to find a letter with your name on it inside. 

The handwriting is impeccable, with a gracefulness to it that you’ve never seen before. You don’t have to read for very long to know who it's from. Leopold writes poetry about the color of your eyes and the way your lips curl when you smile. And then he ends it with a vague, nearly ominous, invitation to dinner. 

You can’t help but smile to yourself, changing out of your pajamas and slipping into something a little nicer. A few minutes later you’re climbing out your window and taking the stairs up the fire escape to the roof. 

You don’t believe your ears at first, thinking the music must be coming from another apartment. But when you make it up to the roof there’s a violin player there waiting for you. He smiles happily at you as you approach. 

You spin in a slow circle, taking in the sheer amount of flowers littered around the roof. You don’t know how he managed to afford all of this. He transformed the barren and empty rooftop into your own little paradise. Candles lit and a live musician playing for you. 

You’ve never had anyone do something like this for you, ever. It’s a little hard to accept that someone would be willing to put this much effort in for you. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would come.”

You turn around and Leopold is waiting behind you, that familiar smile playing on his lips. You aren’t aware of the grin forming on your face in response. You don’t have much control over that when you’re with him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He looks like he wants to respond but at the last moment thinks better of it. He instead pulls your chair out for you, helping you into your seat. “This is nice,” that feels too underwhelming a word for such an incredible gesture. 

You sigh and frown as you try and find the right words. You don’t notice him sitting down across from you. You only look up when you feel him placing his hand on your own. “It’s alright,” he assures you. 

It’s still so odd how he can know you so well after such little time. “This is incredible,” you tell him, undeterred by his attempts to soothe you. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

He looks like he takes personal offense to that and it makes you laugh. “You deserve far more than this. Sadly, it seems Stuart’s pockets do have limits and I’m afraid I would have put him into debt if I’d gone any further.”

You have the perfect mental image of Stuart coming back from the hospital only to find his science project has robbed him. It makes you laugh and you squeeze his hand once before drawing it back into your lap. He lets his touch linger on you for a long moment, seemingly reluctant to pull away. 

“No,” you tell him, “this is perfect.” 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Conversation mostly drifting toward what his life was like as a duke. You don’t have much to say about your own life. It’s been incredibly normal and you’re a little sad to find that you don’t have one good thing to share with him. 

Nothing comes to the front of your mind. 

Inevitably, you drift into the topic you’d both been so adamantly avoiding. “Has Stuart said when you’d need to return?”

Leopold’s grip on the fork tightens and for a moment he refuses to meet your eye. “Monday, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen and you feel something burning at the back of your throat. Monday, the same Monday that’s two days away. 

“Dance with me,” the suddenness of the demand catchers you so off guard that you forget the tears. He stands, holding out his hand to you. You almost say no, you can’t remember the last time you danced and you doubt it’s going to be pretty. 

But he whispers your name and something about his tone tells you to take the chance while you have it. You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet and dance the night away. 

Instead, he holds you close and you sway together. Like moving even an inch away from each other would hurt. “You could come with me,” he tells you. And you know immediately what he’s talking about. 

You also know it could never happen. Going to the nineteenth century is insane. Even considering it should be enough to have you sent to a psych ward somewhere. Especially not for a man you’ve known for less than a month. 

You try and tell him that you can’t, but he stops you. “I know, a preposterous idea. I just wanted to think about it.” You look up at him and find that you can’t take that away from him. There’s nothing wrong with imagining what it could be like with him. Even when you know it can never happen. 

You dance like that for a little while longer, swaying against each other while the violin plays in the background. He whispers your name and when you gaze up at him this time, there’s a certain look in his eye that you know is reflected in your own. 

He dips down, lips caressing yours gently before he’s pushing more firmly against your own. The world stops. Cliche, you’re aware. For the first time in years, though, you’re alive. You feel something other than the dull monotony of life. You feel excited and terrified all at once. Because you know you can never have this feeling again. 

You will never meet another man like Leopold who ignites this spark of life and passion within you. Never has a man been able to make you doubt every decision you’ve ever made with just a kiss, but here he is. 

Your arms lift like you might try and draw him in closer. His hands come up, taking yours in his gentle hold and squeezing. He pulls away from you and reality comes crashing back down. You’re not in love, you can’t be. You’ve only just met him a few days ago. 

Yet, here you are, wondering if you might actually want to leave everything behind to be with him like the great romances authors write about. He smiles at you and there’s a bittersweetness to it, a final farewell that you know will break whatever is left of your heart. 

He lifts your knuckles to his lips, pressing his lips against them like he never wants to part. “Goodnight,” he whispers your name and backs away from you. You watch him go, watch him leave, unable to muster up any words for him. 

You can’t think of anything that would ease this gnawing ache inside of you. Nothing to soothe the pain for either of you. You let him go because you know if you asked him to stay he would. And how selfish of you would it be to let history unravel simply because you fell in love? 

Monday. It is Monday. You’ve been coming to terms with that all weekend. You don't want to think about the fact that Leopold will be gone tonight. Your time together was so brief but you feel like you’re never going to get over losing him. 

Before the night was over on Sunday, a note was slipped under your door. This handwriting was messy, it made you think someone other than Leopold had written it down, but you don’t know who it could have been. 

It was a date and time, jump off the Brooklyn Bridge at this time on Monday night. Only an idiot would jump off a bridge because of an ominous note slipped under her door. But you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of it, not since you first picked it up. 

Leopold had invited you to go with him. And while you might not have said no, the insinuation was clear. Your eyes dart to your clock. If you left now, you could still make it in time. What an absolutely ridiculous thought. 

So, why are you running out the door without locking it? Why do you not care who slips into your home now? There’s this sense of finality within you that lets you know you’re never going to see that place again and that’s okay. 

You never truly felt comfortable in your life. You always thought a part of yourself was missing. Or that you were always running late for something. You think you understand what you were feeling now. 

The thing you’ve been searching for your whole life wasn’t halfway across the world, a hundred thousand miles from you. He was on the wrong side of time, or you were, at least. 

You manage to snag a taxi to get to the bridge but there’s a traffic jam. You’re forced to jump out of the car and run through the different lanes of blocked traffic. People shout at you. Your cab driver screaming after you about your fare. You don’t care, the only thing you can think about is the note crumpled in your hands and the clock counting down how long you have to jump. 

You’ll either be on the news tomorrow as an unfortunate suicide. An idiot who accidentally threw herself off the wrong side of the bridge. Or, you’ll see Leopold again. 

You reach the ledge and you can’t hesitate. If you do, you won’t jump in time. You close your eyes, holding your breath like you’re jumping into your neighbor’s pool. Air rushes around you, whipping at your hair and skin violently. 

It’s not until you hear someone shouting down at you that you realize you’re not dead. You’re lying in the middle of a dirt road, a group of people staring down at you with concern in their eyes. 

You only have to take in the clothes they’re wearing to know you’ve made it. Before they can react you’re leaping to your feet and running off. You know you’re near the Brooklyn Bridge, or where it’s supposed to be at least. You know enough about the area to remember where Leopold’s house is supposed to be. 

You’re covered in sweat and red mud. The people you pass by in the streets hide behind their hands and whisper about you. You’re not making a good impression on your future neighbors, that’s for sure. But, honestly, all you care about is making it back to him. 

You see people congregating outside his uncle’s home. You know there’s a party inside, that he’s supposed to be announcing who his wife will be. You barrel through the people outside, shoving through the crowd and running up the steps of the house. 

You can hear Leopold’s voice as you run, “The woman I’m going to take as my wife is-”

There’s a loud gasp as you come panting into the room. You can’t catch your breath long enough to speak but it doesn’t matter. The crowd is parting around you and Leopold is smiling down at you. He says your name and there’s nothing else that matters about the world around you. Not when you finally found each other. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Kate & Leopold, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[vivwritescrappythings]

only a little crazy

miguel o'hara x f!reader

You get hurt working at the Spider-Society and your grumpy boss decides to come check on you.

a/n: thank you for such a fun request! writing Miguel has been a good stretch for my brain. Thinking about turning this into a series so let me know how y'all like it :)

tw: fem reader, reader is shorter than Miguel (everyone is), Miguel's perspective, potentially poorly written Spanish, broken bones, canon typical violence, not proofread, Miguel may be poorly written

word count: 4.8k

masterlist

--

Despite Miguel’s many attempts to assign rules and procedures to the Spider-Society, only a few had ever stuck: no messing with canon events and civilians weren’t allowed to go beyond the lobby. He couldn’t even remember how many times he’d yelled at Peter B. Parker about letting Mary Jane go wherever she wanted.

Everyone else listened well enough.

That is, until you came into Miguel’s life like a plague.

You were nothing more than a thorn in his side: the only civilian with nearly full access to the facility. He would have never hired someone who hacked into their whole system because they were bored one day, but Margo insisted that you were one of the best she’d ever seen. You had since apologized—you cited your curiosity about the large building’s purpose and had taken matters into your own hands to figure out what went on inside the society. 

In comparison to you, Peter B. Parker and Mary Jane were a cakewalk. 

It didn’t help that you were so goddamn chipper all the time. You always greeted Miguel with a bright smile and polite questions about his day, as though you had no idea just how insufferable he found you.

“Hey Miguel,” you said from behind your computer, the monitor illuminating you in tones of blue and pink. You clicked something before leaning your weight onto one elbow to look around the screen at him. “Margo left me in charge today, just so you know.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“LYLA would be in charge before I picked you,” he said, not bothering to look up from his reports. You laughed like it was a joke. Everything was a joke to you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, typing something. Miguel couldn’t help but notice the way you poked your tongue out while you concentrated, your brows furrowed. He paused, waiting for you to continue as he watched you just over the edge of the monitor. Working with you for almost a year now had taught him that you rarely were so succinct with your words.

Then you spun the monitor around, a flurry of motion as you leaned over the table to point at something on the screen. “There’s a lot of weird activity on Earth-325,” you said, tapping the screen over the amalgamation of yellow and orange. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was an anomaly, but you’re the expert on that.”

He didn’t miss the way you looked up at him expectantly, like a puppy waiting for a treat or a pat on the head for doing a trick right.

Miguel rolled his eyes as he grabbed the screen. He could feel his face contorting into a scowl as activity lit the monitor up. Another terrible part of dealing with you—you had a knack for always being right. It drove him crazy.

“I’ll get a team together,” he said, noting your pleased smile with a subtle roll of his eyes.

He was already flicking through screens on his tablet, sending Jessica the information. A portal opened in front of him, colors and shapes swirling together in a view that would’ve been awe-inspiring if he hadn’t seen it a million times.

“LYLA’s in charge,” Miguel said just before jumping into the portal. Your immediate groan of dismay followed by LYLA’s cheer made his lip twitch into a smile. 

—

His ears were ringing. 

It was still hard to wrap his head around what happened, the Spider-Society having devolved into chaos faster than he could have stopped it.

The anomaly they caught had broken loose–he blamed Peter B. Parker for being so distracted with Mayday. He could hear the distant shouts of Spider-People springing into action in the distance as he pulled himself out of a pile of freshly displaced rubble. The wide cap of his shoulder ached, not even his accelerated healing was able to chase away the sting of rebar nearly ripping through the fabric of his suit.

A clear trail of destruction followed the Venom variant, ribbons of torn webs hanging from every surface and the furniture tossed wildly across the room. Chunks of the walls were crushed into debris where bodies had crashed through them in the fight.

He picked up his pace, sprinting through Spider-Society like a force of nature. Sometimes he noticed how different he was from the others: preferring not to swing around on his webs and needing his claws to really climb anything. Not to mention he didn’t have the same irritating sense of humor that seemed to permeate every variant of Spider-Man.

A stream of shouts from the direction of the Go Home Machine made him redirect, propelling himself up the wall in a mass of sinew and muscle. Pushing himself like this felt good, the demand of a fight on his body was one of the few things that made Miguel actually feel alive.

It was a mess when he got there, girders collapsed from the ceiling and the majority of computers and desks were half-crushed. 

“Hey Miguel, I hope you have a decent insurance policy on this place,” Peter B. quipped as he approached. Miguel just rolled his eyes beneath his mask, watching the rest of the Spiders web the Venom variant enough that the Go Home Machine actually had time to work. Normally anomalies were kept around for at least a while to figure out how they broke into a different universe, but he didn’t disagree with the change of plans.

Mierda. What a fucking mess. 

He let the mask over his face flicker away as he surveyed the damage. It was enough to give him a headache, the feeling radiating from his temple and over his skull.

Peter was still running his mouth, some idiotic joke about how many Spider-People does it take to change a lightbulb spilling from his lips. Miguel could feel his temple throbbing, red seeping into his eyes as he felt a rebuke building in his chest.

“Are you a—“

“Oi, was Bug here today?” Hobie interrupted, the genuine concern in his tone giving Miguel pause.

Hobie was the first to call you Bug—something about ‘if they were all Spiders than you were a bug’—and it stuck. Miguel wasn’t sure if anyone called you by your name anymore.

“Yeah,” Miguel said, trying to find a sign of you in the undulating groups of blue and red and black suits. Too many blank stares met his gaze, anxiety making itself apparent in a cold sweat down his spine.

“LYLA?” It was more of a yell than he meant it to be. She could scan the room faster than he could take it apart.

“On it,” she answered in the same beat, yellow cones of light scanning various corners of the room. He had a hard time breathing, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Every empty scan ticked up his nerves, his jaw clenching so hard he wondered if it could crack.

It was hard not to spiral. He should have come up to protect you the moment the Venom got out. You were just a civilian, a human. How could he have been so irresponsible as to leave you on your own?

“Got something!” LYLA chirped, waving wildly to catch his attention.

Rushing to the pile of rubble was second nature, Hobie quickly falling into step to help. The sound of his own heart pounding was louder than the rubble they scrabbled through, pieces of concrete and duct piping falling away like they were made of paper beneath his hands.

“Dios mio,” Miguel sighed. You were caught beneath a girder, your leg twisted grotesquely beneath the metal. By some miracle you weren't crushed by the debris, just unconscious. You looked like a wounded baby bird, your chest rising and falling with each breath. Scrapes marred your skin, dark bruises blooming beneath the surface.

But you were alive, and mostly whole. His fingers twitched at his side as he just stared at you.

“Take her to the infirmary and then home,” Miguel said to Hobie, suddenly feeling the need to get as far away from you as breath returned to his body. He was nauseous, almost staggering under the weight of relief he had never expected to feel. 

He stepped back, head tilting up toward the ceiling for a moment as he took a breath. The girder slammed on the ground when Hobie moved it off you, lifting you with care.

Miguel nearly stepped in to take you out of Hobie’s arms. He had to physically turn away from you to resist it, surveying the extent of the damage. Thankfully no other anomalies managed to escape their confinement, most of the damage was just superficial. 

The sound of Hobie’s boots on the floor kept him composed, helped him time his breaths. He was still partially convinced that he would rip Peter B. apart if given the chance.

But instead he was just quiet, toeing a broken piece of a computer monitor on the floor. The weight of every eye in the room was on him, his skin crawling beneath his suit. He sighed, picking his head up to look at them.

“Well, start getting everything back together,” he said, voice loud enough to be an order. 

It wasn’t what everyone expected, any other day he would have at least lectured Peter B. about paying attention. No one moved, their blinking almost audible in the silence.

“Ay chingado,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “No one has anything to do? Start cleaning up!”

—

He found himself hanging on to every scrap of information about how you were doing. It had only been a week, but any mention of you in the hall or in meetings piqued his interest. It was becoming obvious that he was distracted, his thoughts preoccupied with you… if you were alright.

What did it matter to him if you were alright? You’d been nothing but a grade A pain in his ass from the moment you set foot in his life. 

But he realized he was putting together mental lists of exciting moments of his day just to tell you when you asked, he had been for months. He kept accidentally buying extra empanadas because you usually stole one from him. His step would falter at your desk, part of him expecting you to be there.

“So are you going to go visit Bug?” LYLA asked, catching Miguel off guard as she floated in front of his eyes, laying on her stomach with her feet kicking in the air.

He huffed, waving her away with a hand as he blinked at whatever he’d been trying to read on the computer monitor… just the home screen, apparently. The blue default photo mocked him before he turned away from the monitors altogether.

“Why would I do that?” Miguel asked, a feeble attempt to act casual. 

Once the idea was introduced, he couldn’t get it out of his head. He imagined himself in your space, tried to picture what your things would be like. Chaotic, no doubt. But comfortable. Colorful, certainly. He couldn’t imagine you living in a pristine beige apartment.

“Miguel, the worst part about having an AI personal assistant is that I see everything you do. Everything,” she said, walking up and down his arm. She looked up at him over her shoulder. “So don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, okay?”

He kept a straight face for a few beats, crossing his arms over his chest. But LYLA was right, if anyone would know it was her.

“I need to be here,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face. Normally he preferred to be at the Spider-Society, the distraction of work far better than his reality. But it suddenly became a chore.

LYLA huffed, rolling her eyes behind the heart-shaped glasses. Sometimes Miguel wondered why he programmed her to be so sassy. “You don’t need to actually be here,” she said, folding her arms and tapping her foot in mid air as she floated in front of him. “Jessica and I will call you if anything crazy happens.”

Handing over the reins for the day was an intriguing idea. He could let the stress go, even just until tomorrow, let someone else handle it. 

The bubble of hope rising in his chest was immediately popped by a sharp lance of anxiety. What if something happened? What if his absence got someone killed? Or worse, a universe destroyed?

LYLA must have noticed his expression shift, he could hear her sigh.

“If you don’t go, I’ll call Bug and tell her that you’ve been making googly eyes at her desk for the past week and have had to throw away like six empanadas that you bought for her,” LYLA said calmly, issuing her final threat.

“No me chingues,” Miguel hissed, his irritation on his face as he rolled his eyes. But his stomach was flipping, nerves he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager suddenly coming to life. “Fine, I’m going.”

LYLA looked pleased, blinking out of existence in front of him to appear at his computer monitors. She shifted through screens quickly, the colors flashing over her as she did. “I’ve already got the word out, so everyone knows not to bother you unless they are in dire need of assistance.”

“Great,” he breathed, getting a ping from LYLA with your address. She really spared no moment. 

“If anything happens–”

“Don’t worry! We’ll call,” LYLA interrupting him, assuring him as she waved him off. 

He sighed, still partially in disbelief that he let her strongarm him into this as he left the Spider-Society.

–

He would’ve guessed they paid you enough to have a better apartment. The underbelly of the city wasn’t somewhere he pictured you, the rest of Nueva York blocking you from the sun and the highway just outside your windows. There was a huge purple neon sign just outside your terrace–a remnant of the old New York that looked barely touched.

It hadn’t taken him long to find your building and even less time to find your apartment, the door to the terrace was left unlocked. He’d have to have a talk with you about that when you were feeling better.

The inside of your apartment was as he expected, a disorganized riot of color and trinkets and mementos that made the space so tooth-achingly cozy. He felt out of place, even in the simple civilian clothes he changed into. It was weird wearing them rather than his spidersuit, the soft fabric of the sweatpants and tee shirt had become unfamiliar.

You weren’t in the room he stood in, your bed, a couch and dining table shoved into a space smaller than his cubicle when he worked at Alchemax. He could see that you’d set up camp on your bed, pill bottles and dirty dishes piling up on your nightstand and the bed unmade. The TV was still playing some movie that had come out a few years ago, the remote tossed amongst your sheets.

He would have to clean up around here, the chaos already making him feel unmoored.

There was no time left for him to snoop, the sound of the sink in the bathroom reminding him why he was even in your apartment in the first place. The bathroom door swung open, the grumbles of you maneuvering with your crutches catching his attention.

You had a 3D-printed cast up to your mid-thigh, loose pajama pants stretched over the honeycombed plastic. He’d never seen you look so casual, an oversized, ratty shirt marked with stains and small holes covering your torso, your skin free of makeup and your hair unstyled. It took him a moment to realize he preferred you that way, a lump forming in his throat.

He was too caught up in his evaluation of you to note the way you stiffened when you realized there was another body in the room. Your eyes widened.

“What the fuck!” you shouted, your voice bringing Miguel back to reality just in time to catch the black stuffed bear flying at his face without dropping the bag of groceries he held in one hand. A throw pillow followed, bouncing harmlessly off his chest and falling to the rug.

Your mouth had dropped open, a crutch clattering to the ground as you pressed your hand to your heart. He could hear the rapid thrum of it beneath your ribs, a hummingbird caught in a cage.

“You were going to defend yourself from a burglar with a pillow and a teddy bear?” Miguel asked, looking down at the well-loved toy. One of the button eyes was missing entirely, just black bits of thread sticking out of the fabric. A red heart was stitched haphazardly into its chest.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He swore he could almost hear your thoughts buffering. “You can’t just break into my apartment, Miguel! What if I was naked?”

He made an incredulous noise, something between a laugh and a sigh. Of course that’s what you would be worried about. “Well, you’re not naked,” he said, taking another step into the room. He slipped his shoes off and left them near the terrace door–force of habit from his childhood.

“I could’ve been!” you insisted, awkwardly navigating to your bed. Miguel watched with his hear in his throat, wanting to step in and carry you rather than watch you shuffle around.

He shook his head, stepping around your small coffee table. “What are you doing up, anyways?” he asked, taking over stacking pillows to prop your leg up, adding the throw pillow you threw at him to the pile. “The doctor said it would take twelve weeks for you to bear weight on it again.”

You clicked your tongue against the back of your teeth, letting him help you get situated in your bed. “Well the doctor didn’t give me a bedpan and a private chef, so I’m hobbling,” you informed him, looking up at Miguel with a bored expression. “But, what are you doing here, Miguel? Hobie and Peter B. have been checking on me.”

He looked around your studio apartment, taking in the disarray before focusing on you again. Your toenails were painted the same shade of navy that Hobie’s were. He sat down on the end of your bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

“Yeah well, considering the state of your apartment, it seems like you need me here more than you think,” he said. 

You snorted, a grin that made his stomach turn finding its way to your face. “Aw Miggy,” there was a teasing lilt to your tone, “are you a secret softie? If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you were worried about me.”

He let out a soft breath instead of a laugh, standing abruptly so you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks. God, he felt like a bumbling idiot around you. He gathered dirty dishes to do something with his hands, sequestering them to the sink. 

“LYLA was asking about you,” he said, head bent over the sink as he started to clean. The water was warm enough to turn his hands red, the blue dish soap lathering quickly as he methodically washed each plate and set it in the rack to dry. They were charmingly mismatched, a few chipped at the edges.

“Oh, she was?” you asked, but your amused tone told Miguel that you weren’t exactly convinced. 

He nodded anyway. “She rearranged my whole day and made me come out to check on you,” he said, not entirely lying. 

The way you hummed felt like a warm finger running down each notch of his spine, a pleasant shiver radiating out to his fingertips and toes. “Well I guess I’ll have to thank her, sending the most neurotic person I know will at least get me a tidy apartment. Shocker that Peter B. and Hobie never offered to clean.”

The silence that lapsed between you was surprisingly comfortable. He made himself useful by performing menial tasks like collecting the trash and taking it out to the bins, sweeping the floors and throwing a load of clothes in the wash.

“Miguel O’Hara, Spider-Man by night, maid by day,” you murmured, sipping the ice water he’d gotten you. He watched the condensation coat your fingers, dripping to the bedspread. “Do you wear the little outfit, too? With the ruffles and the feather duster?”

“How many painkillers do they have you on?” he asked, picking up one of the little orange bottles on your nightstand. “You’re more irritating than usual.”

There was a hint of a smile, giving him away as he set the pills back where he got them from. 

You rolled your eyes at him, lounging back against the pillows he’d fluffed for you. “I must be incredibly irritating for you to want to spend your day off cleaning my apartment and making me soup,” you teased, one eyebrow lifting. He felt like he’d been caught, some color finding its way to his face as he turned away.

A pot of caldo de pollo was simmering on the stove, he had decided to bring the ingredients with him on a whim. He used to make it for Gabriella when she was feeling sick, he’d filled his basket before he even realized what he was doing, originally he was just going to get you soup from a can.

Your apartment was in a way better state than when he arrived: the small space cleaned and orderly, the smell of cleaning solution and the soup permeating the air. He felt better about it, his nerves soothed for the most part.

“Don’t mention it to anyone,” he said, fixing you with his gaze. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m getting complacent.”

You laughed, nodding. “Don’t worry, Miggy, your secret is safe with me,” you said, pantomiming zipping your lips shut and locking them with a key. He snorted, taking a step back from your bed to stir the pot on the stove.

The only sound for a few moments was a sitcom playing on the television and the caldo simmering. Miguel had sorted through your cabinet of mismatched tupperware to find a few containers. He packed it away in the fridge for you to eat later, you’d already finished a full bowl of it by the time he cleaned the rest of the dishes.

He rubbed his hands on his pants as he glanced around awkwardly. Until then it had been easy to distract himself with tasks, to pretend that he wasn’t there just to see you. Now the truth was staring him in the face, your content sigh warming him from the inside out as you settled back into your bed.

“Well, I guess I should be going,” Miguel said, taking a step toward the sliding door from which he came originally. 

Your brow furrowed as you sat up straighter, wincing a bit as you jostled your injured leg. “Already?” you asked, glancing at the clock on the stove–it was the early evening. If he was above ground the sun would still be out. “You just got to the part where we like… hang out.” 

He pretended not to notice the sheepish lilt to your voice. 

His eyebrows lifted, a chuckle getting caught in his throat. “You want to hang out?” Miguel asked, sounding incredulous. Such an innocuous request felt odd. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked to spend time with him. 

“Oh c’mon,” you huffed, your head tilting to one side. “It’s so lonely being cooped up in this apartment all day, and you hardly even talked to me.”

You pouted, your bottom lip jutting out and your eyes going wide like a puppy’s. It was enough to make him go still. He found himself considering it, settling in your cozy apartment and watching a movie with you. 

“Just one movie and then you’re free to go,” you offered, your request too hopeful for him to refuse. 

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he agreed. 

The TV was tilted to face your bed, making it hard to view from the couch even as he sat at the very edge of it. You had an orange lamp on your bedside table, the glow of it casting a glare across the screen that obscured the cheesy teen movie you put on.

He could feel you glancing at him on occasion, the two of you almost playing tag with your wandering eyes. Every time he tried to catch your gaze you were watching the movie. 

“What are you doing?” he finally asked, leaning to one side in an attempt to see around the glare on the screen. 

“You should just come sit on the bed, you can’t even see the screen.” You sounded sincere. But, you did just take another dose of painkillers. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were clouding your judgment.

There was plenty of space next to you. He could sit next to you.

It would be more comfortable at least.

“You’re crazy, you know,” Miguel said, picking himself up off the couch. LYLA would never let him live this down if she found out about it. 

Your mattress was so soft, squishing beneath him as he settled against the headboard next to you. It was like he was sixteen again, his palms clammy and his mouth dry as he tried to avoid looking at you like you were the sun. 

Had he always been this nervous around you?

You nudged him with your elbow, interrupting the horrible spiral of his thoughts. “Thanks for going through all the trouble,” you murmured, your voice soft and sincere. “I know I get on your nerves… I guess it’s just really nice that you came.” 

“Tch, you don’t get on my nerves,” he denied immediately, his eyes flickering away from yours.

He fought supervillians, stared down guns, and watched whole universes collapse. But he couldn’t quite look at you.

You laughed, yawning into your hand as you leaned even further back into the pillows. “Don’t lie,” you said with a smile, your eyes crinkling charmingly at the edges. “I know I drive you crazy, Miggy.”

It was his turn to snort, watching you out of the corner of your eye as you relaxed next to him. “Only a little,” he murmured, a genuine smile on his face.

You didn’t answer, just giggling as you yawned again. The movie you picked was horrible, the jokes painfully cheesy and outdated, but you laughed at them anyways. He found himself holding his breath after each one so he could hear your sleepy chuckle better, trying to memorize the sound of it. 

It was near the end of the movie that he heard your heartbeat slow, your cheek falling against his shoulder as your breaths evened out. Miguel stiffened for a moment, looking down to see your eyelids fluttering and your lips parted as you dreamed. 

The movie ran into the credits, autoplay putting on something he had never even heard of before. He didn’t bother reaching for the remote, scared he would wake you up by reaching across you to your nightstand. 

He let his head rest against the crown of yours, his eyelids starting to drift shut as the noise of the television faded to the background. Calmness washed over him, the tension he carried with him sloughing off his shoulders. It had been way too long since he relaxed like this.

The sound of his watch beeping startled him out of his half-sleep, a lance of panic going through him. 

LYLA formed into a hologram above the surface of it, orange and yellow beams of light fleshing her out as she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and all of her weight on one leg. “Jess and I haven’t heard from you all day, we were starting to worry that you died or som–” 

Her eyes widened behind her rose glasses, her hands clasping together in front of her. “No way! Jessica, you were right! You have to come see them cuddled together!” she shouted to Jessica. Miguel cringed, worried you’d wake from the commotion.

You didn’t seem to notice, your breathing steady.

“Cállate,” Miguel hissed, turning the volume down. “Is there even a problem?”

LYLA thought about it for a moment, tapping her finger against her chin before she shook her head no.

He rolled his eyes. Of course there wasn’t a problem. 

“Don’t bother me until tomorrow,” he said, turning off the call before she could answer. He yawned, rubbing his eyes with his hand as he let himself slump against you. 

He yawned again, finally drifting off to the rhythm of your soft breaths.

[five-rivers]

Experiment: Monochrome Maniacal

This is the first entry of the first of my two experimental audience participation fics. Participation instructions are below the fic segment.

Tags for this section: Pitch Pearl (Danny Fenton/Danny Phantom), ghost catcher

Masterpost

.

Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

That stupid aphorism ran through Danny’s head as he looked at the Ghost Catcher and clenched and unclenched his hands.  This… This was a bad idea.  He knew.  But he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t talk to someone.

He might be going crazy now, seeing as his brilliant idea was to split himself in two and talk to himself.  

But lots of people talked to themselves to work out problems, right?  As long as they didn’t think they were talking to another person it was fine.

This was just a more extreme version of that, that’s all.  

(If he stared at the Ghost Catcher anymore, he might not do it.)

Danny breathed in deeply, transformed in a flash of light, then flew through the glowing green threads of the Ghost Catcher.  

There was a moment of sharp disorientation, of vertigo, of feeling simultaneously caught on the lines, like walking through a spiderweb, and falling through them untouched, of skin pulling stickily away from skin, of looking down and up at himself at the same time, and then–

Phantom caught Danny by the wrist, and, carefully, lowered himself– him the rest of the way to the ground.  

“Wow, that– So, that worked,” said Danny.  The last time, he– they had only been separated for a few seconds.  Long enough to note it as happening and then re-merge.  He'd half expected to get sucked back together just as fast this time.  

Phantom looked up at the Ghost Catcher, then back at Danny.  He nodded.  “So… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” asked Danny.  “I mean, it’s about ghost stuff, isn’t it?”

“And lying to everyone in our human life,” said Phantom, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.  

Ugh, did Danny really look like that in ghost form?  All… upright.  And shiny.  It didn’t seem real.  Was it real?  Danny never had to interpret his body language from the outside before.  

Danny slumped.  “Maybe this isn’t going to work.  We should just… go back together.”

“What?  No!” said Phantom.  “We haven’t even tried yet.”

“Then you say something.”

They glared at each other for a second, then Phantom clicked his tongue.  “Fine,” he said, “but it's not like you don't already know.”

“Yeah, that was the point.”

Phantom didn't reply right away, instead looking around the lab with an expression of increasing distaste.  His eyes fell on the portal and he scowled before looking away.  “Can we go somewhere else?  I hate it here.”

“You do?” asked Danny, surprised.  Did… did he hate it down here?  He wasn’t sure.  

“Uh, yeah?” Phantom looked down at Danny, incredulous.  “It's full of weapons made specifically to hurt me.”

“Not specifically you,” objected Danny.  “They made a bunch of these before they even knew you existed.”

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better,” said Phantom.  “They’re just for hurting and hunting down ghosts.”

.

Thank you for reading this far! If you would like to participate, please reply to this post with what you want to happen or want to see in the fic next. This can be an event (e.g. the lab suddenly explodes), a character appearing (e.g. Wes, Sam, Undergrowth), a headcanon being added to the story (e.g. ghost hunger), a POV switch (e.g. switch to Jazz), a setting element (e.g. the year is 2104), a ship (e.g. Everlasting Trio), or something else I've forgotten to list here.

To be used in the poll, your suggestions must:

Fit in a poll option (80 charaters or less)

Not include crossover elements

Not include minor/adult ships

Be compatible with already established story elements

Other feedback is also welcome! Feel free to send me an ask!

[alexanderlightweight]

Its wednesday my people....

Here is a prompt for you if you feel so inclined.

In the AU where Imogen makes jace the HOTI could we have jace fucking it up big time to the point he gets demoted again and when the clave investigates why he was given the NYI Imogen gets sacked or something? I just have an image in my head of the clave begging Alec to take control again and he just keeps living his best life with his Magnus.

Thanks my friend.

P.S. everytime i get notifications that you posted i just speed to my apps looking for it so i can hoard it like the squirrel from Ice Age LMAO

it has been a bit but finally am getting to this! here is the last bit

<3 that poor squirrel. i hated how the poor squirrel never really got their acorn to safety because things just kept happening. so i hope you have better luck!! and i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

guided by my unchained heart

Alec finds himself at a loss, because of all things, he didn’t expect a miserable looking vampire to be on his doorstep.

“Why are you here?”

“Wow you really are living here.”

Alec blinks, because that is not an answer to his question.

“Oh, uh. Izzy asked me to? But also because someone else asked her? I don’t remember the name and Izzy didn’t repeat it. Just that I should—”

“Wait.” Alec interrupts the vampire with one palm up and rubs his face with his other hand.

Alec did not need to deal with this.

In fact, he is distinctly not dealing with this.

It’s with a memorized sequence of taps that he activates the record player and he pours himself what he knows isn’t an actually martini but sure as hell looks like one.  It also tastes like one. In that it tastes vile and mostly of the same way the sterilizing alcohol in Izzy’s lab smelled.

At the same time as he’s getting double vision from the fumes of his drink, he pens a quick fire message to Magnus.

The pillar of demon flame that parts the room with a curtain as Magnus steps through a portal before the sparks of message have fully ebbed fills Alec with relief.

Perhaps it was a little over the top to send a fire message that simply said help. However Alec is not emotionally prepared for this and therefore, he’s not going to handle it. Magnus promised him and Alec is holding him to it.

“Deal with it, please.”

Alec knows he sounds dismissive but this particular vampire means the Institute and his family and both are a stress he is not yet willing to deal with.  Alec’s rage runs cold and yet it broke.  The fury inside him is an avalanche waiting to be unleashed and bury everything in its path.  No less destructive that a wildfire or a flame vortex for all that it differs.

Magnus presses a kiss to his cheek as he passes, lips warm and possessive and the fire smolders and wanes but doesn’t completely wane as he steps closer to Simon.

—

“Who sent you.”

“Uh, does that matter more than why I’m here?”  Simon feels strangely out of place and its not even because he just had to talk directly to Alec Lightwood who happened to be wearing a chain? An ankle bracelet? A sparkly magical ankle monitor with leash?

Simon’s not sure what it is and it’s not something he was expecting but Alec is clearly more than fine since he just somehow reverse summoned Magnus Bane with metal stick and is ordering him around.

“Of course it does.” Magnus eyes him like a hungry wolf eyes a poor little newly turned vampire and then his eyes turn to the golden gaze of a predator, slitted pupils and all.

Simon nearly hyperventilates before remembering he doesn’t need to breathe, but he also wants to stay alive and unbreathing and Magnus feels decidedly more threatening than even Mr. Grouchy over there.

“Izzy asked me to come as a favor. She said your door would be more open to me than to her, which is weird. Because Alec’s living here right now, right? And why wouldn’t Izzy or Jace be allow—” Simon cuts himself off because in the background Alec has finished his drink and instead of pouring a second one, he looks like he’s trying to figure out how to best use it as a weapon.

Probably against Simon.

Magnus doesn’t look like he needs a weapon.  His gaze is strong enough and displeased enough that Simon can feel it slowly stall his senses until his body stutters without permission. 

“Alexander isn’t taking social or work calls, at the moment. He’s on something of a—” Magnus’ eyes glow like the lure of an angler fish and his mouth opens in a smile just as sharp as their maw. “Well, I suppose you could call it a sabbatical from life. Since he’s already retired.”

Simon feels as if he’s missing some very important information and is suddenly a lot more hesitant to continue asking questions.  Especially when Magnus looks so very dangerous and Alec… Alec is no longer in view. The sudden beating of his heart is a forced instinct and Simon barely manages to stammer out a goodbye and then he’s gone.

—

The door slams on Simon’s way out as he leaves and Magnus watches him go only until the wards shift around his absence. Then he hunts down Alexander.

It’s always easy to find him, the platinum tether that binds him via magic rather than mere physics ensure that Magnus will never have to wonder where his boy is. 

He finds Alexander in one of the library, sitting on the circular window-seat and drinking something with a grimace while he watches the people of New York with empty eyes.

“You don’t even like that.” Magnus means to scold but it comes out in a soft, exasperated sigh and he snaps his fingers, switching it out for something that won’t traumatize Alexander’s taste-buds.

Alexander sends him a dark scowl and Magnus raises a brow.  Sometimes he will admit, he lets Alexander get away with quite a bit, however he’s not in the mood to end up listening to Alexander complain about how disgusting Magnus’ liquor is later. Especially when Alexander only finds it disgusting because he doesn’t know how to mix drinks.

At all.

It’s only the fact that most alcohol tastes terrible to him that he remains oblivious to this rather important information.  Something Magnus has willfully kept from him, despite suffering some rather vile — if not potently strong — drinks. Because Alexander is adorable when he is making drinks and thinks he’s succeeded.  Also, eventually his boy is going to make a drink for Ragnor and Magnus will be there to enjoy the trauma of it.

The scowl melts the minute Alexander takes a sip, as if the tart and sweet drink have momentarily wiped away the complications of his night.

“Izzy sent him. The Clave through her, though nothing signed just yet. It’s still at the level of a favor, not a commission, not that he knows he’s being used. Still, he’s gone and I’ll ensure he won’t return but they’re moving already.” Magnus doesn’t like the fact that official movement is beginning to be made.  It’s only been three months, he thought he’d have longer before he needed to ensure Alexander properly tied to him.

Not just bound by physical and metaphorical chains.

“Then we’ll need to move faster. The magic is almost ready, isn’t it?”

The way Alexander cocks his head, nothing but steadfast faith, truth and expectation in his gaze has Magnus’ magic surging with delight.  The confidence in him, it’s empowering and the best thing is, Alexander is right to trust Magnus.

“I can have it ready tonight.” Magnus promises and he can, especially when he and Alexander have been feeding the ritual with magic every chance they’ve had for three uninterrupted months.

AN:

Alec is actually begging not ordering. Simon is just clueless to their context. Magnus is aware and hates the fact that Alec is feeling vulnerable in their own home. Alec opened the door because the ward signified it was a familiar downworlder and at the beginning he did handle a few pickups for magnus. This is BEFORE the clave makes the mistake of trying to steal alec back from magnus who clearly ‘kidnapped him’. Because no one wants to admit alec resigned.

simon is trying so hard 'not to think about it' (it benig the chain)

alec is trying very hard not to implode. he angy.

magnus just wants to have his alexander is peace, thank you very much. he wanted to do this consort courtship properly and they're still having to rush. he is displeased.

alec went off to try not to panic by himself until magnus could come cuddle him. because he's like 'don't kill the messenger... it would send a message... okay but would it send the right message?' and he knows he's not in the right mindframe to be making choices like that. plus, magnus promised to handle things if alec trusted to leave them to him.

he's letting go and trusting magnus to handle it. he's just also now zoning out. he does not actually people watch, for him it's like watching a line of ants not because the ants are interesting but because they are moving and caught his eye

[adams-angels]

Adam sfw/nsfw hcs? I love your work! Thanks!!

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

SFW

I'm gonna start off strong by saying socks and sandals. Thinks it's great.

Will stop listening when he's losing an argument. Stutters and minces up his words if he gets flustered or too aggravated.

Lute is his best friend

Says he has tons on friend but in reality lute is his only friend

This man thinks he's higher up in the food chain than he actually is. Which then leads to weak apologies from him

Doesn't go anywhere without his mask. Really big believer in that he doesn't like showing his face because both his wife's left him

Still absolutely bitter about that btw

Has an unhealthy coping mechanism when it comes to jealously.

For example, your an angel and some newbie starts talking with you and there's nothing really in it but he opens a portal to hell when your not looking and literally kicks the guy through it before closing the portal.

Or if your a sinner and you're telling him about someone who helped you the other day he will HUNT THEM DOWN next extermination day... If he can wait that long.

Likes getting you lil gifts, key chains, magnets, pins. He'll see a little thing and think that's perfect and wont hesitate buying it for you.

He won't give it to you though. He'll leave it somewhere obvious in his apartment for you to notice and go "oh, that's cute." For him to shrug and say "it's okay. You want it?" It took a while before you actually started accepting gifts this way

In public he will get you the biggest things. Giant teddy bear. New TV. A unicorn. But that's just to show everyone that he spoils you. That no one can treat you as well as him.

Loves lazy days

Also loves it when you preen his wings

Was the kinda guy that didn't have any kind of skin care until he met you and now you're both chilling with facemasks on.

Has panic attacks when he thinks you're going to leave him

When he's not wearing his mask he will not smile. It's really difficult to get him to smile or laugh when he's not wearing a mask.

But he's got the most beautiful smile

You managed you get him to laugh because you fell. What? He's still an asshole.

You couldn't be mad at him. He sounded so happy.

Has dumb pet names for everyone he's close to. Some are cute. Some are absolutely vulger. "Sweetness." "Babe." "Cutie" "cockwarmer." "Adam's dumpster." "Precious."

He's insecure AF baby

Loves hearing you say you love him

Will only tell you he loves you in private.

Would take a very special case for him to say it in public

If you get in a serious argument with him he'll run away in anger. He'll then come back after an hour or so begging you not to leave.

Sorry I really love pathetic Adam. fight me.

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

NSFW

Ik everyone says it's great at sex but I don't think he would be 🤷🏻‍♀️ not at the beginning anyway

I think he's a selfish lover and it takes someone he really cares about to make any changes

Would absolutely finish inside you then fall asleep soz babes

His cock is good tho. Likes it's a biggen. Length and width.

It was probably made to fit perfectly so

At least that's what he says

He won't believe it if you dont orgasm the first time you have sex with him. Everyone else has! Why wouldn't you?!

Well, Adam, they lied, sweetie.

Loves getting his cock sucked.

Asks for it constantly

If he gets in an argument with you he'll probably say "I'm sorry, it's just been so long since I got head."

He loves eating you out. Watching you squirm while his tongue is inside you really gets him going.

Likes you have you sat on his face so he can hold you down

He cried the first time he had sex with you after realising he loves you

Will beg to be loved when he's close to finishing. "Tell me you love me!"

Will get embarrassed after the fact

He was adamant he didn't like you. That you were just hot. But one day found himself jerking to the thought of you and that post nut clarity hit like a freight train.

Loves being praised ofc

Breeding kink. I mean come on. He was made to populate the earth. It was literally his job.

Loves rough sex, being in charge.

Will get possessive during sex

If he's having a bad day he'll be a lot more desperate and a hell of a lot more possessive

"mine" is his favourite word.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[sir-balderdash-the-bard]

Since he’s the one who set up the portal, Balderdash obviously included an alert that would let him know when Dr Worm returned through it. Unfortunately, when said alarm goes off he’s in the middle of treating an entire group of interns who got drunk and decided to summon the Scissors God. After puzzle-piecing someone’s arm back together, he gets a minute free to send off messages to his phone.

The first is to Dr Worm, of course. “I’m so glad you’re home. Medbay is experiencing a crisis at þe moment but if you need me let me know and I will be þere. Oþerwise I shll see yiu in some number of hiurs. I love you.”

Then another to Rismus, significantly more rushed because someone just started screaming somewhere behind him. “James is backif you are not already wiþ þem. If you happen to check uiur phone before James please tkel þem j love þem,. Good luck”

———————————

The screaming turned out to be because one of the interns had been chosen as the new avatar of the Scissors God. Which resulted in a fresh batch of victims, and also a crazed teenager with scissors for a head running around that had to be contained somehow. Many hours later, after sewing on more severed limbs than he would have predicted seeing in his entire life, he stumbles his way to his rooms. He’s about to go through the portal when he realizes he’s still extremely covered in blood, and that probably won’t be a positive thing for Dr Worm to see at the moment. After a quick shower, and also briefly falling asleep in the shower, he finally makes it through to Dr Worm’s rooms and starts looking for them.

((@exactinglywormish :) also @bitz-n-bytez although Rismus in no way has to appear in this one. He can be asleep (or whatever his equivalent is) or have left to go somewhere. This is mostly just cause he’s mentioned.))

[hannahmanderr]

First Contact

My initial fic for the @infiniterealms event! Please feel free to take it and remix it however you'd like! I only have two requests if you do:

Tag me in the fic or send me a message about it so I can read it!

Please do not turn this into a crossover, include strong gore/violence, or write it as Bad Parents Jack and Maddie!

(AO3) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Approaching coordinates.”

The words, spoken by a smooth, androgynous voice, echo in the tiny cockpit of the Specter Speeder. They don’t quite reach Maddie’s ears, however. She is too engrossed contemplating the invitation in her hands.

It arrived four days ago. They’re not sure how; it was simply sitting there, taped to the closed doors of the Portal when they entered the lab that morning. That alone was unsettling - someone or something would have had to enter the house unnoticed, go to the basement to leave the envelope, and then leave without detection - but it was the invitation itself that was even more unsettling.

She runs a finger across the small, single piece of heavy parchment. The envelope, left behind in a containment unit in the lab, had been made of the same material. Durable as it appears to be, it feels oddly fragile under her fingertip, as if it is struggling to materialize itself for her to be able to touch in the first place. Even through her jumpsuit, she can feel the bitter cold radiating off of the shimmery black parchment. If she tilts it just right, she can almost see the twinkle of frost.

The invitation itself is embossed on the parchment, written in loopy cursive in ectoplasmic green:

By order of the Office of the High King of the Infinite Realms,

His Majesty formally requests the presence of Dr. and Dr. Fenton of Amity Park this Saturday the Seventeenth at 4 o’clock PM, EST (Earth-based) at the Royal Residence.

Refreshments will be provided. Weapons welcome.

Cordially,

Glinforblimph, Scribe to His Majesty

Below the scribe’s nearly illegible signature is what Maddie assumes to be the king’s seal - a complicated arrangement of stars that form a spiral - and below that is the strangest part of the invitation.

A set of coordinates, hastily handwritten on what seems to be a very average, very human Post-it note, taped to the bottom of the parchment, as if they were added as an afterthought.

Maddie thumbs the Post-it note. Why the coordinates weren’t included in the original invitation is beyond her, and she’s not sure whether to feel appreciative that the king and his staff at least remembered to include them at all or offended that they hadn’t been included in the first place. 

Part of her still wonders if the whole thing is a ruse, if the coordinates lead to some trap. It’s a possibility that she and Jack had debated heatedly for days. She had been far more inclined to see it as a trap, but Jack had reasoned that any ghost calling himself a High King would probably just attack them outright rather than going through an elaborate charade such as this. Ghosts are far from primitive creatures, they know, but Jack too pointed out that with how important power (real or perceived) is to a ghost’s social standing, any ghost worth their salt is far more likely to make a public display of attacking them if that is what he wants, simply for the free advertisement of his power.

Maddie can’t really argue with that logic.

Plus, she can’t deny her rabid curiosity about the whole ordeal. An invitation such as this is a far cry from the M.O. of the ghost that kidnapped Amity Park to the Ghost Zone once, the one who also called himself a king. This is clearly someone else’s work, and though she’ll never admit it out loud, she’s dying to know whose it is. Not to mention the intrigue surrounding the whole concept of the Ghost Zone having a High King. Is it a true king? Merely a figurehead? A ghost who has simply declared themselves king with no real political power? Is it a title handed down or won?

Her mind drifts to Vlad. In college, she, Jack, and Vlad had balanced each other out well when it came to their studies on ghosts. She was the biochemist. Jack was the engineer. Vlad was, for lack of a better term, the anthropologist. He’d always been fascinated with the history and culture of ghosts, the side of ecto-science she and Jack had never taken as much interest in. She wonders if he still holds that interest, or if he happens to know anything about the apparent ghost political hierarchy.

Maybe she should’ve asked. 

“Mads, look.”

Jack’s warm voice startles her out of her thoughts. She glances up to where he’s sitting beside her in the pilot’s seat, navigating them through the Zone with a grin on his face. A burst of affection floods her chest. He’s worn that grin ever since they got up this morning; his excitement over entering the Ghost Zone for the first time (aside from the aforementioned mass kidnapping) is not easily contained, and something about it reminds Maddie of why she fell in love with him in the first place.

He catches her watching him, and the grin widens into a laugh. “No, not at me, look out there,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.

She looks out the front window, where he’s pointed with his head, and her stomach does a funny little swoop as she spots a large palace looming ahead of them. 

Even if they hadn’t had the coordinates, Maddie knows she would’ve been able to instantly peg this palace as the Ghost King’s. Inexplicably, she can feel its presence, even from within the Specter Speeder. Cold and commanding, like a glacier, broadcasting far and wide that this is the lair of a truly powerful ghost, every bit befitting a king. She wonders what it must feel like to an average ghost, if its aura is strong enough to be perceived by a human like herself.

Strangely, though, as her eyes rove over the black stone adorned in something that sparkles in the light - glass? Ice? - she also gets a sense of security, of ease. Like entering her house after fighting through the snow and cold. The idea itself unsettles her, the fact that a ghost’s lair’s aura can have this sort of profound effect, but the effect itself is too overwhelming for the anxiety to dominate.

It’s a bizarre feeling to have to sit with, nonetheless.

“Huh,” Jack says as he begins their descent.

“What’s that?”

“Do you think they know we’re coming?”

Maddie hums. “I would expect so. Why?”

“There’s only one guard.”

Maddie blinks, then adjusts her gaze. Sure enough, the entrance to the castle is staffed by a single guard. Not that she had been expecting a welcoming parade, of course, but she can’t wrap her head around why a king would leave his castle so defenseless, especially if he really is expecting them.

“Maybe they’re all on their lunch?” Jack cracks a grin at his own joke, and Maddie can hear the echo of her kids’ groans in her head. 

“They could be hiding,” Maddie points out. “Or invisible.”

“Radar’s only picking up the one.”

The guard has noticed their approach. She takes some solace in the fact that it doesn’t immediately prepare an attack, or that hundreds of other guards don’t suddenly appear out of the woodwork.

“Just take us in gently, sweetie,” she says. Her fists begin to tighten until she remembers that she’s still holding the king’s invitation. Swallowing, she smooths it out and stares at the king’s seal. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s nearly fifteen minutes after they land that they finally exit the Specter Speeder. Putting on the safety gear they had brought in such a tiny space proved to be more difficult than they’d expected, but it was necessary. The arrival of the king’s invitation had left them little time to determine if the atmosphere of the Ghost Zone was habitable for humans (how they had neglected to do this research for nearly three years, Maddie couldn’t fathom), and so precautions had to be taken. 

Oxygen masks and tanks, of course. Bulkier HAZMAT suits over their standard ecto-resistant jumpsuits. Special goggles, jetpacks for potential low-gravity travel, a body cam for each of them to record everything. Oddly enough, it had been Jack who had wanted to bring more equipment for data collection, but Maddie had nixed it due to how difficult it already was to wear everything. 

And then, last but not least, their weapons. Maddie had been unsure why she felt such trepidation as she attached her staff and two ecto-blasters to her hip, but it was enough to cause her to nearly drop the staff.

Maybe she was simply hoping she won’t have to use them.

Now, though, as she and Jack near the castle, she eyes the spear strapped to the guard’s back. The tip glints wickedly, and even though it’s a ghost’s weapon, she somehow knows it can hurt her just as easily as a ghost.

Being prepared against these threats is just good practice, she tells herself.

“State your name and your business,” the guard says the moment they’re within hearing range.

Maddie breathes in deeply. The artificial air in her mask leaves her nose feeling dry. “I am Maddie Fenton,” she says. She tries to keep her voice confident, but she’s unsure if it’s coming across. “This is my husband, Jack Fenton. We were invited by your king to come here today.”

The guard glances over each of them in turn. “You will remove your equipment and surrender all weapons before entering the palace,” they say, a haughty air to their voice.

Although she can’t see it, Maddie can sense Jack opening his mouth to respond. She cuts him off with a raise of her hand, quick and gentle. She loves Jack to the ends of the Earth and back - boisterousness and all - but these are uncharted waters. One misspoken word could potentially spell out disaster for humankind.

“We were told our weapons were welcome,” Maddie says to the guard, careful to keep her voice as even as possible. “It said so in the invitation.” Slowly, purposefully, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the parchment, extending it to the guard.

The guard snatches it out of her hand, regarding her with a disdainful look before examining it. She has half a mind to snatch it back. Who is this ghost to go around treating her like scum of the earth?

Instead, she curls her hand into a tight fist and forces herself to even her breath. This isn’t even close to being the same as confronting the ghosts in Amity Park. For all intents and purposes, she and Jack are in enemy territory, on the turf of supposedly the most powerful ghost of them all. The two of them may have a reputation for being trigger-happy, but she’s not so stupid as to pick a fight she knows she’ll lose.

As much as it sickens her to admit that she knows she’ll lose against even someone like the Ghost King.

The guard’s frown deepens as they run a finger over the king’s seal. Maddie watches in wonder as a tiny aurora shimmers to life above the seal before evaporating into the ambient ectoplasm. The guard looks nearly as surprised.

“This does appear to be authentic,” they murmur to themselves. Glancing back up at her and Jack, their expression darkens again. “Still, I cannot in good conscience allow you into the palace with potential threats. I am the captain of the royal guard. The safety of His Majesty, his palace, and all who reside within it are my utmost priority. I will not allow anything to endanger them.”

“But surely you’re bound to follow your king’s orders,” Maddie argues. “You said so yourself that the invitation is authentic. That means he’s already said that we can bring our weapons in. You wouldn’t want to disobey him, would you?”

“The scribe wrote that your weapons were permitted. That fool couldn’t even be bothered to remember to include directions.” The guard flicks the Post-it note. “I trust his words far less than His Majesty’s.”

“It still had to have come from the king! Please, we’re not trying to be difficult. We just don’t understand why we’d be lied to like this.” Because you’re all ghosts, the enraged part of her wants to add, but she bites her tongue.

For the briefest of moments, the guard’s expression seems to soften the slightest bit, but the moment is so fleeting, Maddie is left wondering if she imagined it.

“If it is His Majesty’s prerogative,” the guard begins slowly, “then he may choose to allow you your weapons. However, it will only be after I receive his explicit instructions, and after I and my staff have been able to conduct a thorough examination of the weapons and ensure they will not pose a significant threat.”

Maddie exhales slowly. “Fine,” she bites out. “We can surrender most of our weapons.” At this point, as much as her instincts are screaming at her, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t feel like wasting her time arguing with some ghost that was never going to listen to her in the first place. A twinge of annoyance burns through her chest, wondering if all of the king’s guests get treated like second-class citizens.

Besides, as loath as she is to make the concession, they were never going to be allowed in with guns blazing - invitation or no - and while she would much prefer the security of a blaster on her hip, she’s too intelligent of a woman to ignore the politics of it.

Because that’s really what this boils down to, doesn’t it? A political meeting.

Distantly, she wonders why the king chose to summon her and Jack. Surely, an actual leader in the human world would’ve been a better choice. As much as she doesn’t like the man, Vlad would’ve been much more ideal, having both the political power as mayor of Amity Park and the expertise on ghosts necessary to tangle with the ghost monarchy of all things.

So why choose them?

“We can’t remove all of our weapons, though,” she continues, trying to bring her voice back to something less hostile. “We have some built into our jumpsuits. And we can’t remove our other equipment. It keeps us alive.” She tries not to cringe at her poor word choice. “We haven’t had the chance to determine if the Ghost Zone’s environment and atmosphere are hospitable for humans or not.”

The ghost glares down at them, their tail lashing back and forth. “I assure you, you are not the first humans to enter the Realms and live to tell the tale,” they say with a sniff, “and even if you were, His Majesty would not allow you to perish so easily.”

“Wait,” Jack says before Maddie can stop him. “Does that mean he can alter the Ghost Zone’s environment at will? Or just the environment around the palace? Does he -”

“Jack,” Maddie says at the same time the guard says, “Perhaps these questions are best left to His Majesty himself.”

Maddie can picture Jack’s crestfallen face. He has always been the more outwardly inquisitive between them, though Maddie can’t deny her own fascination with the concept of the Ghost King’s abilities. 

A time and a place, Maddie, she reminds herself.

She tries not to think about how if the king can make the environment safe for them, he can just as easily turn and make it deadly.

“At any rate,” she says, cutting into the tense silence that has settled over them all, “how can we be sure we won’t suffocate the minute we take off these masks? Even if you say other humans have been here…” She lets her sentence hang unfinished. She’s not exactly sure how she would have ended it anyway.

The guard sighs heavily, and a spark of interest flits through Maddie’s head as she wonders how they are able to do so without lungs. “You will simply have to take His Majesty’s word for it.”

His word. Not the guard’s.

She finds the distinction interesting.

“Well…” She shrugs helplessly. “What are we supposed to do then? We’ll have to surrender our jumpsuits to meet your terms, but we can’t exactly meet the king without any clothes.”

Beside her, Jack chokes on a laugh, but thankfully doesn’t say anything.

The guard seems to consider this for a moment. “I believe we can accommodate for that.”

____________________________________________________________

Nearly an hour later, Maddie finds herself pacing back and forth in the sitting room she and Jack have been brought to. The palace staff had provided them with simple linen garments to wear in lieu of their jumpsuits. “Garments” might be too generous of a term; it’s clear they were thrown together on an extremely short notice, held together with haphazard stitches and maybe just the barest hint of ghost magic. Maddie feels more like she’s been wrapped in a bundle of fabric than actually dressed.

Her humiliation is not helped in the slightest by how the king’s staff treated her and Jack as they helped them and brought them to the room. There was, of course, the guard, who continued to treat them like scum of the Earth. The seamstress who brought them the clothes, however, had regarded them with enormously wide, unblinking eyes and only spoken to them in a series of squeaks and whimpers, giving Maddie the impression that maybe the girl had been a mouse in life. And then there had been the servants all throughout the halls, gasping at them and leaning in to whisper to each other heatedly, as if she and Jack were celebrities. 

Or, perhaps more accurately, exotic creatures. She doesn’t imagine that these ghosts see humans too often.

Most frustratingly about the whole situation, though, is that none of this - the invitation, the unpreparedness, the staff’s treatment of them, even the halls of the palace itself - has given her any sort of indication as to who the Ghost King is, or what kind of ghost he will be when they meet him. It’s like trying to put together a puzzle, she thinks, but the pieces are all from different puzzles. For someone like Maddie, who prefers concrete data to the unknown, it’s a nightmare.

Not to mention the idea of going blindly into a potentially hostile situation terrifies her.

Not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

The door bangs open, startling Maddie out of her thoughts and Jack out of his seat. The guard who greeted them floats in the doorway. Without their helmet on, she can see that they have a third, milky eye in the center of their forehead. Distantly, she wonders why there’s no opening for it in the helmet.

“His Majesty will see you now,” the guard says curtly, gesturing for them to follow.

The trip to the throne room is short, but somehow they still encounter a trio of what Maddie assumes to be maids. She rolls her eyes as they too watch them with wide eyes before bending in close to each other, whispering hurriedly.

“I can’t believe he actually…” one says.

“... think they’ll attack their own…” another is saying.

“... fleshier than he is,” the third adds rather unhelpfully.

Maddie’s not sure what to make of the conversation. Their own what?

“Mads.”

Too late, she realizes she’s stopped in the middle of the hallway and is staring at the maids. Jack and the guard are ahead of her, watching her expectantly. Jack looks like he wants to ask her something, but strangely enough, he stays quiet.

Blushing furiously and pushing the conversation out of her head, Maddie scurries back to Jack’s side.

____________________________________________________________

The throne room looks as if it had been plucked right from a fairytale. It’s done in a dark, ashy marble, complete with a long carpet and thick curtains in deep blue, trimmed with silver. Tall pillars line the sides of the room, each wrapped in a spiraling pattern of frost and decorated with a black banner stamped with the king’s seal. A stained glass window at the back of the room, behind the throne, filters light through its panes, throwing prismatic blues, greens, and purples around the room.

The throne itself sits on a short dais, and even Maddie can appreciate the workmanship that has clearly gone into it. The entire throne is made of crystalline ice, almost as if it was carved straight from a glacier. Threads of bright green ectoplasm are embedded within it, creating intricate, abstract patterns and giving it the illusion of a glow. A plush pillow rests on the seat, done in the same blue and silver fabric as the curtains.

“Maddie,” Jack whispers with a nudge, “look up.”

She does, and an involuntary gasp tears itself from her throat. Where she had expected a ceiling, perhaps like she’d find in an old cathedral, there is only the expanse of a night sky. Stars twinkle back at her, and she’s easily able to identify some of the constellations. The Big Dipper, of course, with Polaris in its glory, and over there she spots Orion. It’s only thanks to Danny and his love for the stars that she’s able to realize that she’d be able to see these same constellations above her roof this time of the year. 

It’s a fascinating decorating choice, she thinks, for the Ghost King to recreate Earth’s night sky in his throne room. Is it a deliberate choice? Is it a memory of the life he left behind? Is it simply just an appreciation for a sky that’s not ectoplasm?

A chill runs down her spine, and not just because she can feel the cold radiating off the throne. A realization has just hit her.

How powerful of a ghost must the king be to create such a perfect replica? To make her doubt for even a second that she never left Earth?

The stars above sway as a wave of dizziness overcomes her.

It’s only when Jack reaches out and gently pulls her back onto the long carpet that she looks away. Her face burns in embarrassment as she realizes she had been so lost in thought that she’d begun to wander aimlessly. Thankfully, if the guard notices, they don’t say anything about it.

Still though, she berates herself. She can’t afford to lose her focus. Not here. Not this deep in enemy territory. Not in the middle of the lair of the most powerful ghost in existence.

Oh God, she thinks as her stomach drops. Suddenly, the guard leading them down to the throne feels more like an executioner dragging them to the gallows. How could she have allowed them to give up their weapons so easily? How could she have let them be stripped of their defenses and led like lambs to a slaughter? This is the Ghost King. She and Jack have threatened and hunted his subjects time and again. Any self-respecting leader isn’t going to let that slide so easily.

Let alone a ghost.

“Hey.” Jack’s broad hand slips around hers, and she instinctively grips it tightly. “You’re overthinking things,” he chides quietly, but there’s still a light air to his voice.

“We shouldn’t have come.” It’s hard to keep her voice from shaking, especially as the air begins to grow bitingly cold as they near the throne. “He’s going to kill us. Or-or throw us in the dungeons. Or something. We’ll never get out of here. We’ll never see Jazz and Danny again. We -”

“Maddie. Look at me.”

She turns her head to look into his eyes, and despite her rampaging anxiety, the sight of the pure warmth and trust in his deep blue eyes grounds her, even if just a bit. Jack has always been the steadfast one between them. She knows that to an outsider, it seems as if she’s the one always pulling him back down into reality, but she thinks that he’s pulled her back up into reality just as often, if not more. It’s just one of the reasons she fell in love with him, one of the reasons she thinks they’re as strong as they are.

“We went through this,” Jack is saying, his tone devoid of any exasperation. He squeezes her hand. “If he wanted to hurt us, he would’ve just come and done it. He wouldn’t have sent an invitation saying that we could bring our weapons. I’m sure whatever he wants us here for can’t be that bad.” Ahead, the guard grunts, but doesn’t say anything.

“We still don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Maddie says. They come to a stop in front of the dais, and somewhere from the side of the room, an attendant flits over to the guard. The two begin speaking in hushed tones, in a language she can’t understand. Still, she watches them warily as she continues speaking. “We shouldn’t have come into this so blind.”

Jack’s brows furrow just the slightest bit. The attendant gives the guard a quick bow - nothing more than a dip - and flits back from where she came.

“It’ll be okay,” Jack says. He squeezes her hand again. “We’ll figure it out together. I know we will.”

Maddie opens her mouth to respond, but the guard begins speaking before she can.

“Presenting His Majesty,” they begin in a booming voice that reverberates against the marble, throughout the entire room, “the Keeper of Gateways, Pariah’s Bane, the Twice-Born -”

A door opens from the side wing, interrupting the guard. “Rowan, chill out,” a new voice says with a light laugh. “I’ve told you, you really don’t have to do this every time you introduce me.”

Maddie’s blood runs colder than the ice on the throne.

“Danny?” The name spills from her mouth before she can stop it. She claps a hand over her mouth as the guard, presumably Rowan, fixes her with a heated glare.

To be fair, she’s not sure if she would’ve been able to stop herself if she’d tried. A scientist and huntress she may be, but before that, she is a mother, and a mother always recognizes her own children.

And that voice was undeniably her son’s.

Her mind reels. It makes no sense. How is he here? In the Ghost Zone? In the Ghost King’s throne room? Why is he here? Addressing a ghost like an old friend? What does -

The flurry of confusion screeches to a halt, though, when a figure steps out from behind a curtain, and the rug is pulled out from under her a second time.

A thick mop of snow white hair. Electric green eyes that betray a bewilderment similar to her own. An insignia emblazoned proudly across his chest.

Maddie relaxes, but only marginally. In the midst of a world of unfamiliarity, the sight of Phantom, someone she knows all too well, is begrudgingly soothing. She’s not happy to see him, not by a long shot, but she feels a little less out of her depth. Even if things involving Phantom tend to veer towards disaster, and even if his presence in the Ghost King’s throne room is unsettling at best.

The minimal relief is short-lived, however, as she registers more in regards to his appearance. Namely the ring on his middle finger with a stone that matches the ice of the throne. And the cape draped around his shoulders with a collar of fluff and an adornment of stars. And the crown nestled in his hair, also seemingly made of ice but shimmering with the ever-shifting lights of the borealis.

Her stomach drops to her feet. 

Maybe she’s much more out of her depth than she originally thought.

[the-universal-sun]

little stan crying for his mom and ford/fidds having to try and comfort him 🤞🤞🤞🤞

Nonny, I had a hard time deciding on whether I wanted to do Ford or Fidds as Stan’s caregiver, but I decided there wasn’t enough Stan and Fidds! Forewarning, there is mention of death of a loved one and some minor cursing! So, please don’t read if this is sensitive, uncomfortable, or triggering for you!

Stanley’s had a rough day. No scratch that, he’s had a rough week. No, scratch that, he’s had a rough life. But he thinks today might just take the cake for how damn shitty his life is. He got a call from Shermie today, technically Ford did because he, Stanley, is literally dead to his family. And now normally he likes his calls with Shermie, the updates on his nephew and his eldest brother's life are a nice reprieve from the tourists and the portal work, but he wishes he never picked up the phone today. Shermie didn’t call to update him on his son's college life or how California is. He called to tell him that mom passed. Their mom. His mom. She’s gone, going into the ground and he’ll never see her again. Hug her again, never talk to her again. Or taste her Latkes, she’s never going to send him Sufganiyots every holiday season.  He’s never going to be around his Ma’ ever again. He hasn’t been around her since the fake funeral, and now he’ll never get the chance to again.

He slid down the wall he balanced himself on when he first heard the news, the telephone hanging by the cord, he didn’t even realize he dropped it, were his hands shaking? He’s on the floor, but his knees still feel so weak, why? He lifts his shaking hands up to his face, wiping off the tears that keep streaming down his face, his white shirt already darkening where the missed tears hit. His chest hurt and his head felt tight, or was that the other way around? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t think. He doesn’t want to think. He can’t think. He just wants his mama, to be held in her arms again like he used to, before he got too big and grown up to be held and rocked, with her stories and lullabies. He can’t even stifle his sobs, and he hates himself for it because he’s a man and men don’t cry. He didn’t cry when Flbrick passed. Hell, he didn’t even show up to the funeral, so why is he sobbing like a baby now?

“Stanford? Stanford are you there? I-I know this is a lot to process, but I need your help planning her funeral. Can you-” At Shermie’s mention of a funeral, Stan let out a wail before he clasped his hands over his mouth, not wanting to alert Fidds or Shermie to his aching chest and furthering fuzzy head. He’s so in his head that he doesn’t hear Fiddleford’s footsteps or register his voice.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Stanley, are you alright? I heard a noise an’ I-” Fiddleford stops short at the scene in the kitchen. He takes a moment to process what he’s seeing. Stanley’s sobbing on the floor with the phone off the hook. He can hear someone’s tinny voice coming through the hanging phone. He walks over to Stan, kneeling down and trying to see his face.

           “Stan? Hon, are you alright? What happened?” He asks quietly, voice panicked. Is Stan hurt? He doesn’t see anything indicating that, and Stan’s usually so strong against pain, he’s only seen him cry when regressed….Oh dear. Oh this isn’t good. Stan was having a good day, a really good one, until he briefly stepped away from dinner to take a phone call and now he’s on the floor sobbing and most likely regressed. Fiddleford pulls at his hair, not as hard as he used to before Stan but still hard enough to get him to focus. Focus and be calm is what he needs to do. He’s a Father, a Big Brother, and a Caregiver, he can deal with tears. He can do this. He takes a deep breath in, exhales it out, and stands up, grabbing the phone on his way. He’s going to see who and what just upset his baby.

“Stanford! C’mon man! I need you to talk to me here-” Fiddleford heard from the telephone receiver as he brought it up to his ear.

“Dr. McGucket, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” He asked coldly, not liking the angry tone of the man on the other end. This is the one who probably upset his Pumpkin, and he will not stand for that yelling or anything as such directed towards his family. It doesn’t matter who the man on the other end is, he will shut down any and all attempts to strong arm or deride Stanley.

“Dr. Mc-What it? Listen, I need to speak with Stanford right now, so just-put him back on the phone. It’s important family stuff, so, none-ya-business-” came the irritated reply from the man steadily making an enemy out of a one Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.

“I’m Stan’s research partner, Dr. Fiddleford McGucket, and Stanford is currently-” he looks down at his boy, still sobbing, but now wrapped around his legs, and his eyes softened, “-indisposed at the moment. I assure you, Sir, that I’ll be sure to relay any messages back to him. Now, I ask again, who are you and what’s your business with Stan?”

“It’s Shermie, his big brother. Listen, I’ll call back whenever he’s not uh- “indisposed”-” Fiddleford can just hear the air quotes, “and all. Just let him know that I need help with Ma’s funeral, okay, Dr. Whatever? Bye.” Fiddleford hears that dial tone and his heart feels heavy in his chest. Oh no, oh his poor, poor baby. He loved his mama so much, always smiled for hours after talking to her, and now she’s-

Fiddleford lowers himself to kneel beside Stan, whose arms are still wrapped around his leg, and gently lifts his face to look at him. He sees Stan’s tear stained face, his lips in the biggest and wobbliest frown he’s ever seen on his boy's face and he finds himself at a loss for words.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry about your Ma’.” Is the only thing he can think to say at the moment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hearing those words, Stan feels the ache in his tummy get worse, his throat burns, and he can’t stop the new tears as they go down his face. He wasn’t dreaming it or thinking wrong, if Fidds’ is saying that, then Mama must really be gone, but he doesn't want her to be gone! He wants to hug his Mama now!

He buries his head in Fidds’ chest, sobbing so hard he finds it hard to breathe. He knows he’s gettin’ tears an’ snot on Fidds’ nice white shirt, but he doesn’t say anything. He just rocks them and rocks them, and pats his back and talks to him. Stan can’t hear what he’s saying, but he always likes to hear his voice, Stan’s always found it so nice to listen to his Fidd speak to him, even though he can’t understand what he says.

He feels Fidds chest rise and fall in a big way, and matches it because Fidds taught him that to calm him down when he’s feeling these big emotions, when he can’t swallow and his tummy hurts like it does now. He looks up at Fidds, and he can’t say what the look on his face is, but it makes Stan's tummy ache worse, so he just buries his face in the shirt again.

He feels himself being lifted up and walked somewhere. He doesn’t want to walk anywhere, but his knees were hurting sitting down, so he guesses this is fine. He blinks when a bright light turns on and he’s sat down. They’re in the bathroom? He sniffles, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes and looks around, he’s confused on why they’re here, he doesn’t want to take a bath. He doesn’t want to do anything but lay down with Poindexter and cry and miss Mama. Except he doesn’t want to do that either because it hurts to cry and miss her, it always does, but there’s no more calling her when he misses her any more because she’s gone! His lips wobble and he can feel the tears in his eyes again, but he doesn’t want to cry again, he’s a big boy and big boys don’t cry! Stan startles when he feels a warm and wet washcloth gently touch his face, wiping away his snot and tears. He looks at Fidds, who’s kneeling in front of him with a serious look on his face.

“Now, Stanley, I know what you’re going through is hard. It’s the toughest thing anyone can go through, so it’s alright to cry. Ah!” Fidds cuts off when Stan shakes his head, “None o’ that, Love Bug, crying is healthy and good for the soul. Lord knows I’ve done enough crying to know how it can feel like a release. So it’s okay to cry, you loved your Ma’, and it’s a painful feeling, that loss. I lost my momma when I was about to graduate high school, and it was the hardest thing I’ve been through. I cried like a baby every day for weeks. Does that make me less of a man?” Stan quickly shook his head, feeling dizzy from the force of it. Fidds was one of the manliest people he knows (excluding the entire Corduroy family), he’s super duper smart, and he can cook, and he can chop woods, and Stan saw him tackle a Deer once! Fidds is so cool, smart, and manly!

“Exactly, crying is nothing but a human emotion, and you’re a human, you can let yourself feel your emotions, Stanley. I promise you, I will not make fun of you, no teasing, no nothing of the sort, ya’hear?” Stan nods his head, “Good. It’s okay to grieve, I want you to grieve, I want you to remember your Ma’, all the good she’s brought in your life and how much love she filled it with, I want you to always remember her, okay?” Stan feels more tears fall down his face, his Fidds is so wise. He knows how to help Stanley, what to say and do, even when Stanley doesn’t know why he’s feeling a sort of way, or can’t find himself to speak or think. He loves his Fidds, he wishes he had him as a dad instead of him, then life would’ve been super better, probably great even!

“But, don’t get stuck in your feelings, you can remember and love your Ma’ all you want and need, but you need to remember there’s other people that care about you. I care about you so much, so many people in town care about you. So when you find yourself feeling too much about your Ma’ or your past, remember your present and the people here that love you. Remember me, Stanley, remember how I love you as much as I love to breathe. Remember that you’re my baby, that I love taking care of you, that I love being here, in the now, with you. Can you do that for me, Sweetpea?” Stan sniffles and throws his arms around Fidds’ neck sobbing into him. He also loves his Fidds! He loves how he cuts his sandwiches just right, how he does the voices when he reads to him, he loves how Fidds doesn’t call him stupid or girly. He loves how he can just be small around him, that he’s allowed to cry. Fidds would be such a good Pa’.

Stan feels Fidds softly pat his back as he cries again, for what feels like forever this time. When he feels his tears stop, he sniffles and leans back, wiping his nose on his hand. He giggles as he feels Fidds swipe at his face with the cloth again, covering his face from the ticklish feeling of the cold water. He softly pushes Fidds’ hands away with a soft spoken “stop”, breathy from his giggling. 

“There’s my boy! Now, I think we both need an early bedtime, hmm? What do ya’ about getting in your comfiest pajamas-I’m thinking your Whale long johns-and getting cozy in bed with Poindexter and “Goodnight Moon”? How ‘bout it?” Stan nods his head slower this time, crying always makes his head hurt. He doesn’t want to think anymore right now, he just wants to cuddle his Fidds, Poindexter too of course, he couldn’t leave out his bestest friend, and fall asleep under a warm blankie. Fidds helps him off the toilet seat and into their room, helping him step into his fuzzy whale pajamas and tucking him tight into bed. All the way up from his feet to his neck, just how he likes, and finishing with a forehead kiss that has scrunching his nose up into an adorable smile before settling under the covers with the book open. 

“In the great green room there was a telephone and a red balloon…” Fiddleford began reading.

And, as he drifts off to sleep surrounded by warmth and love, he lets out a whispered “G’night, papa”, which squeezes Fiddleford’s heart, which in turn means he squeezes his boy even tighter, resting his head on top of his Stanley’s. Promising, to both himself and the little nestled right here in his arms, that he’ll never waver in love and devotion to his little family.

[arrow-guy]

Within the Ashes (6/??)

Summary: You’ve spent your life working for someone else. You watch their back, you protect them, but you’re left feeling empty and unfulfilled at the end of the day. What happens when a freak accident transports you to a different dimension, very nearly identical to your own?

A/N: We're starting off this chapter wtih Doctor Strange and more of his terrible bedside manner and even more of Steve and Reader bantering. Sounds like fun to me tbh. Anyway, please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: StevexReader, background Spideytorch

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Feelings talks

Part 5

“Okay, so I’m unique in this reality?”

“Correct.”

“And clearly being here isn’t a threat to the space time continuum or whatever.”

Strange pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not how it works.”

“You really just don’t have any sense of humor.”

“Not in this instance, no.”

(Y/N) sighs and scrubs her hands over her face. “Okay, so where do we go from here? Are you able to send me back?”

“No, that’s not within my power.”

“Alright.” She sighs once more and nods to herself. “Okay.”

Steve places one hand on (Y/N)’s elbow. He softly asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, not much I can do about it, right?”

“Well, no…”

(Y/N) pastes on her best smile and looks around at the gathered Avengers. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

“Ah, don’t say that,” Tony waves her off. “It’s a pleasure to have you.”

“Besides,” Natasha says. “You’ve just barely started training. It’d be a shame if you left now.”

“Ah, well, clearly I can’t leave now. I’d lose all my progress.”

Strange clears his throat and, when all eyes are once again on him, says, “Seeing as I am no longer needed, I’ll be leaving.”

As Tony opens his mouth to offer to show him out, Strange opens a portal and disappears through it as soon as he steps through.

(Y/N) frowns and shakes her head. “What a weirdo.”

Steve nods. “Agreed.”

“Do you guys have to work with him often?”

“No we do not,” Stark says.

“Hmm. Well I think I’m going to go lay down and process this information for a bit.” She presses her lips together for a moment. “Yeah, I think that sounds like a good idea.”

(Y/N) nods to everyone and excuses herself. She walks through the hallways, more than a little numb and confused because she already knew the chances of Strange being able to magically send her home were slim to begin with. Still, she can’t help the disappointment that slowly settles over her.

She sighs and steps into the elevator, absentmindedly scrubbing her hands first over her stubby hair and then her face. She leans against the back wall and, just before the doors close, someone sticks their hand in the small gap, forcing them to slowly reopen. Steve steps into the elevator as soon as the gap is large enough and leans against the wall beside (Y/N).

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks.

(Y/N) nods. “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s an answer, isn’t it?”

“It’s part of one.”

“Man, you’re persistent, aren’t you?”

“I think most people would call it stubborn. Or annoying.” She huffs out a laugh and Steve smiles. “I’m serious. Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. I’m alright.”

“You’re disappointed.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No. You’re usually more talkative though.”

“Mm. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You just got some pretty heavy news. All things considered, you’re handling things pretty well.”

“Dissociating in the elevator is handling it well?”

“Well you’re not rocking back and forth in a dark corner. I’d say you’re handling it better than most would.”

“Ah yes, the full mental breakdown. A classic.” She spares him a glance and sees him crack a smile. “Yeah, no, I don’t think I’m really the mental breakdown kind. Spent too much time compartmentalizing shit over the last fifteen years. Too many walls, too much barbed wire. Nothing leaks out of these ears.”

“God, that sounds terrible.”

“Have you ever seen something leak from someone’s ears?”

“No, should I have?”

“No. Be glad you haven’t, it’s horrific.”

“Wait, have you seen something leak from someone’s ears?”

“How do you think I know it’s horrific?”

“I don’t think I want to know more.”

“A wise decision. All I’ll say on the subject is that aliens were involved and they weren’t the peaceful E.T. kind.”

“That makes sense.” The elevator stops and Steve holds his hand out as the door opens. “I guess this is you.”

“It sure is.”

As (Y/N) steps out into the hall he asks, “You sure you’re good on your own?”

“Yeah, I think I just need some time to myself. I process better when it’s quiet.”

“Alright.”

“Plus a nap couldn’t hurt. I’m still a little sore from that last training session with Natasha.” (Y/N) massages the back of her neck. “She really doesn’t pull any punches.”

“I think she believes we learn through pain.” Steve shakes his head. “I’d argue with her, but her methods seem to work.”

“You’d argue with her, but she could totally kick your ass.”

Steve chuckles. “That too.”

(Y/N) smiles. “Thank you, Steve.”

“For what?”

“Just existing.”

Steve’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, but his smile doesn’t waver. “That’s it?”

She nods. “Mhm, that’s it.”

“Oh. Well that’s not much, is it?”

“It’s everything. Honest.”

Steve attempts to respond, but his mouth just moves soundlessly. (Y/N) smiles and heads to her room.

“I thought you weren’t going to flirt.”

Steve sighs and closes the fridge. “I’m not flirting.”

“You’re absolutely flirting.”

“How is any of that flirting?”

Natasha folds her arms and leans back against the counter. “The little smiles, the jokes? That’s flirting, Steve.”

“It’s banter, Nat. Conversation.” Natasha raises her eyebrows. “It’s not flirting!”

“Okay. then explain what it is, then.”

“It’s friendly conversation. Banter, at most.”

“That sounds like flirting, Steve.” He scowls. “I’m only saying this so you’re not heartbroken when she leaves.”

“You think I’m not thinking about that? Of course it’ll suck when she goes back, but I won’t be sad because I’m losing a potential lover. I’d be sad because I’m losing a friend who I genuinely care about.”

Natasha sighs. “God, that’s sappy.”

“I’m allowed.”

“Never said you weren’t.” Steve rolls his eyes and Natasha smiles. “You really like her.”

“Nat-”

“No, you actually like her.” He scowls. “This is serious.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Well shit.”

“No, not shit. (Y/N) is great.”

“Never said she wasn’t. Teaching her has actually been fun.”

“Really?”

She nods. “She’s picking things up much faster than I thought she would. She’d honestly make a formidable member of the team.”

“(Y/N) doesn’t want that.”

“Sometimes what we want doesn’t matter.”

“What she wants matters. She doesn’t want to be a hero. Based on what she’s told me, I don’t blame her. Hell, looking at what we’ve been through, I wouldn’t want her to be like us.”

“Commendable.”

“Nat-”

“No, really. She’s lucky to have someone looking after her. Especially you.” Natasha shakes her head. “This isn’t her reality. This is only a mirror of her home. She’s friendly with the rest of us, but she’s close with you. And you’re not really close with anyone.”

“Hey! I’m close with you, aren’t I?”

“I’m a spy, I don’t count.”

“I think you do.”

“Fine. But I’m still right. About all of it. And I’m glad you have her.”

“For now.”

“It’s not like you’ll lose the ways she changed you when she leaves.” Natasha pats Steve on the arm before she leaves the kitchen. “And if losing her is too much to bear, you could always ask Wanda to put all your memories of her in a box and hide it somewhere in your mind where you’ll never find it.”

“Very reassuring, thanks.”

She waves as she disappears around the corner and calls out, “It’s what I’m here for Steve.”

“Okay, what am I looking at here?”

“We’re trying to recreate whatever it is Richards threw together to get you here,” Tony says. “Not that I know for sure what he did. Your descriptions weren’t all that helpful.”

(Y/N) grimaces. “Sorry. Can’t really say I’m any more helpful back home. I mostly just make sure Reed doesn’t blow himself up.”

“No, I understand. This is new territory for us. It’s not every day we need to travel between dimensions.”

“I know. I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to help at all.”

Tony leans against his work table, arms folded. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “I fell into your lap. There’s nothing saying you needed to take me in and make sure I get back home.”’

“It’s what any decent human being would do. Or should do, at least.”

“Regardless, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now-” Tony rubs his hands together- "what can you tell us about Richards' monstrosity?"

"Not much. As long as you avoid overheating and loose wiring, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"That's your criteria for a good machine?"

"Well, the last one kind of fell apart and blew me up, so yeah. If anyone can circumnavigate that, you probably can."

"We really need to put you in therapy."

"Eh, I think I'm doing fine, all things considered."

“Those things you’re considering are being blown up by your employer and getting sucked into a different reality. Sure, you’re handling it great. But, speaking from experience, you could always be handling it better.”

“Ah, an idealist in every reality, I see.”

“Not sure I like the sound of that.”

“You’ll get used to it. Maybe.”

Tony sighs, and shakes his head. “Do you have much going on these days?”

“Steve and I have lunch most days. Natasha and I just started training too. So not really, I guess.”

“Training with Natasha is impressive. How’s that going?”

“Well enough. I have these powers, but I don’t really know how to use them outside of my regular day to day activities.”

“You want something more to do?”

“Why, you have something you need?”

“Well, I know you’re traumatized from your time with Richards, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to muscle around some equipment for Banner and me.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“Well we have a few things that need moving, but we don’t trust the big guy to help and Steve is usually otherwise occupied. You’re our last resort.”

“What about your suits?”

Tony grimaces. “They’re in the shop for repairs, at the moment.”

“No shit?”

“Not joking. It’s incredibly embarrassing.”

(Y/N) laughs. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“So you’ll help?”

She shrugs. “Sure, why not? It’s not like I’m doing much else.”

Tony’s shoulders sag with the release of tension. “Thank you.”

“If I tell you I think something’s gonna blow up, you listen to me though. I’m not getting burned again.”

“Agreed. None of us are desperate for a repeat.”

(Y/N) holds her hand out to Tony and he shakes it. “Then I do believe we have a deal.”

-----

Part 7

At last, we have our answers about the Reader character's place in this reality with a side of existential crisis. I'm excited to get deeper into the story and have them settle in a little more in the tower.

But! As always, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Do you think they'll be able to get the Reader home? Is working with Tony and Bruce a good idea? Is Natasha a little too invested in Steve's relationship wtih the Reader? Be sure to reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

Tag List:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @buckysendoftheline, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhite', @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @feelmyroarrrr, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @hermionie-is-my-queen, @darling-loki, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @lemonadeorange73, @sad-darksoul, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark, @avengerscompound, @patzammit, @otterlycanadian

This Fic:

@brattymum96, @vicmc624

[mindless-existence1]

Rottmnt brothers Sick Fics

Im making a new serise! This is where reader take care of their boyfriend while they are sick but make is rottmnt! This will be four chapters starting with Leo!

REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND! REQUESTS OPEN FOR FLUFF AND KINKTOBER AS WELL!!

Aythors note: Thank you my boo boo bear for making this prompt for me! This is gn reader and Leo and all the brothers are aged up slightly so they are older teens/newly adults.

🍊: Y/n!

🍊: Y/n!

You: MIKEY! Why are you spaming me?

🍊: Leo's sick! And insufferable please come pick him up so we don't have to deal with him anymore 🙏🙏🙏

You: Why does he have to be my problem?????

🍊: Well he's asking for you?

🍊: Plus I'm almost 1000% sure Donnies about to throw him in the sewers for being annoying

You: Fine I'll be there soon

🍊: THANK YOU 🙏🙏!

You set down your phone onto your chest, you were peacefully laying on your bed when Mikey started texting you. With a groan you slowly start to get up and make your way to the lair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Guys?" You call through the lair while walking through the living room. Through the ceiling a swirl of blues pops up and drops out your boyfriend. He face plants on the ground and stays up before falling slack.

"Leo!" You rush towards him to help him sit up straight. "Babe! You're here! They're being so mean to me-" He drags out the last syllable of 'me'. Leo sniffles before giving you a hug and putting his face in the crook of your neck.

"Ew gross. I'm happy to see you to but get your sicko self away from me." You lightly push at his shoulders and he's weak enough in his sick state that it effectively gets him off of you.

He let's out a disgruntled whine but let's himself be pushed away. You slowly start to help him up off the floor as Donnie comes out of his lab, most likely to check out all the commotion. "Oh thank Galileo." He says with a please sigh. "Finally he's someone else's problem."

You finally get Leo off the floor and one arm swung over your shoulder, he's basically leaning all of his weight onto you. He seems to be out of it, probably drugged up on too many meds since all the human ones don't work well on him.

You look up towards his brother, "Is he really that bad?" You ask hopeful that the brother is over reacting. Donnie nods his head and and calls out "Good luck!" while walking back into his lab.

You sigh and watch him leave, putting your focus back on Leo when he starts to cough. Once his fit calms down you ask if he's ok. All he let's out his a hum and a sniffle.

"Alright, do you want to stay here or go back to my place?" Leo doesn't raise his head from where it's resting on on you. "You sound like you're trying to pick me up at a bar." He mumbles against your skin.

You laugh slightly and shake your head, "Do you want my help or not?" Your words lack any weight but he still whines at the idea of you leaving. "Your place." The mumble is quiet and you could only hear it since he was close to your ear.

"I'm assuming you can't use your sword right now so we'll have to somehow get to my car." You take a few steps forward but quickly realize holding up the terrapin while walking was extremely difficult. Especially when Leo refuses to take steps.

"I can still use my sword! Just watch." Before you can stop him Leo grabs his sword and makes a portal beneath you. For a second all you hear is a whooshing sound, it fades off as you fall into your apartments living room.

"Leo what the hell." You groan and push yourself off the floor and start to help Leo up as well. "I got us to your house didn't I?" He starts to cough as he says the last word.

"Yeah but you probably gave us both concussions." He groans when he has to stand and open his eyes to see the bright lights of your house. Leo mumbles "headache." So you move to turn them off after laying him down on your couch.

"What medicine have you had?" You ask your half asleep boyfriend. "I don't know, whatever Raph made me take." He speaks into the cushion making every word muffled.

"So I'm assuming I shouldn't give you any, want any tea or soup?" Your voice is soft so you don't hurt Leo's head more than it already is. "Tea would be nice." You give him a kiss on the part of his head that's not planted into the couch.

"I'll be back soon, try to get comfy." He mumbles something into the pillow as he starts to reach around for a blanket. After a few minutes of making Leo's favorite tea you head back to the living room.

You find a very comfortable looking Leo curled up in a hoard of blankets. "I got your tea, you want to watch anything?" You ask while setting his mug infront of him of the coffee table. "Jupiter Jim, I need him to save me." He coughs in-between his words but you understand and put in one of his favorites.

"Can do drama queen." You laugh at his tone. "You know what would really save me?" He asks with a teasing tone. You roll your eyes, already assuming it will be something dramatic. "If you came over and cuddled me."

You walk back towards him while shaking your head. "I don't want to get sick Leo." Your voice is whiney, although cuddling your boyfriend is one of your favorite things. Right now he seems very yucky.

"Please-" He drags out the last syllable time he's out of breath. He gives you puppy dog eyes that melt your heart a little. "Fine-" You hardly get the words out before he's yanking you into his blanket nest.

After getting comfortable and starting the movie you can tell Leo's starting to fall asleep. You are laying on your back against the arm rest of your couch, Leo is laying atop you with his head on your chest and arms wrapped around your waist.

"I love you y/n." His voiced is slurred with sleep and slightly muffled from how he's laying but it doesn't lose sentiment. Your hand that was lightly scratching his shell pauses as you look down at the now past out turtle.

"I love you to Leo." You give him a kiss on the forehead and pause the movie. After getting a bit more comfortable you resume your scratches and start to lull off into sleep.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Can you write a Percy de Rolo one shot where the gender neutral reader has to be revived after taking an arrow for Percy and the aftermath

Thank you so much for sending something for Percy in. I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you like it as well, anon.<3

On the romantic side

pairing: Percival de Rolo x gn!Reader

synopsis: “Come on, stay with me. Open your eyes. Fuck, Pike!” You recognize Percy´s voice calling out for help and hold onto his arm with all the strength that is left in you.

warnings: lethal injury, mentions of blood and fighting, angst, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.5k

“Noooo!” His voice echoes through the hall and rings in your ears. Followed by the piercing pain of something sharp  puncturing your neck.

The breath get knocked out of you instantly. You barely even feel the pain of crashing to the floor, dragged down by the sheer force with which the arrow was shot. You try to call out to someone. Percy, Pike, Keyleth, just anyone, but the only sounds that come out are some gurgling ones as blood enters your mouth. It spills over and runs down your chin, further sullying your clothes. You feel your strength fading fast, yet even if it weren´t your mind wouldn´t be clear enough to heal yourself. You feel someone carrying you away, but through closed eyes you can´t see who it is. A deep, frustrated grunt comes from above.

“Come on, stay with me. Open your eyes. Fuck, Pike!” You recognize Percy´s voice calling out for help and hold onto his arm with all the strength that is left in you. “Please, I…”

Something wet falls onto your cheek, but you can´t hear the rest of what he says as your body begins to shut down. Everything that once weighed you down is lifted from you, by some divine power. It´s peaceful and warm and safe. The glowing figure of your sister takes you by the hand, leading you towards a comforting light. When you try to ask her what all this means and how she could be here when she had died already, no sound leaves your lips.

Yet just as you are about to give in and follow the woman that had raised you so selflessly for most of your life, an indescribable force pulls you back from her. All the way back into a cold world full of pain. Your eyes open once more and you try to sit up with a gasp but a gentle hand pushes you back down.

“Whoa. Take it easy.” You recognize Vax as the source of the softly spoken words. Pike sits on the other side of your bed. Giving you a tight lipped but glad smile.

“What happened?” You ask them. Coughing up a storm as your throat scratches with every word.

“Well, um, you kinda got hit by an arrow back there.” Pike bashfully scratches her cheek.

“Wh-What?” This time Vax can´t keep you from sitting up. You look around with heavy bursts of breath escaping your lungs.

As you look around your room you remember everything. The battle, seeing Percy about to get shot and jumping in front of him to save him as the only solution you saw.

“Where is Percy, is he…?”

“He´s been in his workshop all day.” Vax grumbles.

“Was he here ever since we came back?” You are unsure why you even ask that question, but something tells you, that you need to know.

The lack of answer that you get in return is all the answer you need.

“Can I go see him?” You turn again to Pike. Looking for her go ahead. Which doesn´t come.

“I may have been able to bring you back, but it was a close call. You need to rest now.”

Wordlessly you let yourself fall back onto the pillow and huff a breath. “Okay.”

The two of them leave you alone after that. Telling you to sleep and that they would look after you again tomorrow.

But no matter how much you toss and turn, sleep won´t find you anymore. So, despite the warning you stand up and make your way down the hall. Sneaking past several rooms until you stand in front of his workshop. Underneath the door you can see the flickering light of candles and hear the muffled sounds of tinkering. For a moment your hand hovers inches away from the wooden portal. Debating with yourself if it would be smart to interrupt him. If he was avoiding you, there must be a reason and who are you to just burst in on him like this. Then again something deep inside you tells you, that you need to see him and you need to talk to him.

Before you can stop yourself to think again, you have already knocked at the door. It takes a moment to open, but once it does, Percy stands in front of you with an unreadable look on his face.

“You´re awake again. Good.” Is all the acknowledgement you get from him.

“May I come in?” You scratch the back of your neck at a loss for any more words.

The door opens the slightest bit further and he takes a step back, making barely enough space for you to pass through.

“What have you been working on?” You murmur as you sit on one of the stools, but Percy only stands there. His back turned towards you, shoulders tense.

“Pike said I shouldn´t come here tonight…” You continue in a soft voice. As loud as your aching throat will allow you.

“Then why are you here?” He grips the workbench so hard his knuckles must be turning even paler than usual under the leather gloves.

“I´m sorry… I just… I needed to see you…” You are taken aback by his reaction.

“Well, you saw me now.” His tone is clipped and so icy you almost think it drew all the warmth from the room.

“Percy, I don´t understand. I was just trying to protect you…”

“No, of course you don´t understand.” His shoulders tense even further and from the looks of it he pinches the bridge of his nose. Not that you could really tell from your place behind him.

You stand up and reach a hand out, desperate to touch him, to have him believe you and stop being so cold.

In the same moment he turns around and gives you a glare, prompting you to retract your hand and sit back down. “So why don´t you just explain it to me? We are both reasonable adults. You can talk to me.”

“Would you leave it if I said I can´t do that yet…” His voice and face turn surprisingly soft all of a sudden.

“Not if you plan on continuing to be like this.” You meet his eyes again.

“Like what?” He asks, clearly becoming frustrated with god knows what or who.

“Cold and irritable, when all I did was trying to help.”

He sighs and sits down beside you, before he speaks in an apologetic tone. “You may just wanted to help, but I almost lost you. I already lost one of my families. I can´t lose another.”

“Oh…” You are unsure what to say. Your heart aches. For his loss and for the fact that he did not see you the way you saw him. “I´m sorry. It´s late and I interrupted your work. I should go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

The conversation doesn´t help you sleep that night at all. Or the ones to come, as a result you pull away from him. Until you find yourself in front of his workshop again. Wandering up and down the hall in uncertainty. Right when you want to walk away again.

“I can see your feet under the door. Come in.” He says with a blank face.

You follow his instructions and sit down in the same spot you sat in a few days back.

“Can I… Can I ask you a question?” You murmur hesitantly.

“What is it?” He answers.

“Do you really see me as your family?” You look at your hands, fingers playing with each other uneasily.

“Well, all of you, as much as you may steal my last nerves sometimes. Why?” He questioned.

“Hm?”

“Why are you asking that? There surely must be a reason for this trouble late at night. I know you.” He inquires further.

“I… I just…” You pause. Weighing the cleverness of speaking the following words. “I found that the nature of my feelings towards you to be a little less on the familiar side.”

“What side are they on instead?”

“The romantic side… But now that I see you do not feel the same I am starting to think it may have been a mistake to confess that. So, please ignore my foolishness.”

“No.”

“No?” Once again you are taken aback by his persistence.

“No. I will not ignore you and you are not foolish. In fact, I… I feel the same for you.” He takes a step towards you.

“Then why did you…” It´s becoming harder to come up with words.

“Because I was afraid and you were just brought back from the dead. I did not know how to behave towards you or what to say. It was my fault you did what you did. I could never apologize enough for that. I…” You interrupt his rambling by pressing your lips to his for a moment.

“It was not your fault. It was my choice and I would do it again any day over having to live with the knowledge that I could have done something to prevent your death and I didn´t.”

[nowimjustastranger]

StCMO Lore | Part 3

I also tweaked the Bill era and his motivations for taking Ford under his wing.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

And, once he stocks up on supplies for his travels, Stanford returns to the parallel dimension and Fiddleford closes the portal behind him. Stanford officially starts his search for a Stanley that is identical to his own to bring home with him. He travels through pre-existing wormholes using the tracker in his wrist gauntlet, charting his course through the multiverse in the first of many journals.

Soon after, he meets one Bill Cipher, who presents himself as an ally. Stanford accepts his offer to teach him languages, help him build a translator for alien languages that Ford physically couldn't speak, getting him out of rough spots while he was still getting the hang of traveling, and also showing him how to get around faster.

Bill helps Stanford build a gun that can produce wormholes at will, with the added bonus of plugging in which dimension Stanford wants to enter. This perceived display of trust and goodwill lowers Stanford’s guard, leading him to befriend Bill, who encourages Stanford to keep searching for the perfect Stan when he becomes disheartened.

Although, when Stanford manages to come across a Stanley that is nearly identical to his own, he hesitates. He watches from a distance for days as doubt begins to creep in, guilt following soon after. Who was he to try and replace his brother? If he did this, he would be defiling Stanley’s memory with a cheap imitation. But even still, he couldn’t just leave and condemn this Stanley that reminded him so much of his brother to such a miserable existence.

Before Stanfrod can formulate a plan to help Stanley, the man heads to a payphone and calls someone, the phone held in a white-knuckle grip. Stanford turns up his sound processors to hear the conversation over the pouring rain, his heart dropping to the asphalt when he recognizes the voice on the other end as his own. His counterpart doesn't seem to know who is calling him and Stanley doesn't speak, slumping against the side of the phone booth as he listens to his brother demand that the ‘prank calls’ cease.

This was the moment that Stanford realized all those silent calls that had mysteriously stopped after Stanley’s final voicemail were his brother reaching out to him.

Stanford tears his helmet off to throw up what little was in his stomach and then cries for a long time, his tears lost to the rain. Shaking hands pull the helmet back over his head some time later only to discover that Stanley is talking. And not only that, but Stanley is crying. Stanley hadn’t cried in the voicemail left for Stanford, he had just sounded tired and sad.

“Please, Ford, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault." Staley sobs, his knees threatening to give out under the weight of his exhaustion. “But please, please help me. Ford I– I can’t, please.”

As his counterpart’s silence drags on, Stanford silently wills him to answer. Hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t make the same mistake that Stanford had. And, when his counterpart does speak, it’s to give Stanley an address. Stanley’s legs finally fail him, folding to send him crashing to his knees as he openly weeps, babbling words of gratitude that stab into Stanford like knives.

Stanley shouldn’t thank Stanford for simply doing what a brother damn well ought to.

Stanford sticks around a little longer, making sure that Stanley gets to his destination in one piece. As soon as the door to the Shack opens, Stanley is collapsing into his brother, crushing him into a desperate hug that is tentatively returned. Stanford can see the moment that his counterpart realizes that his brother is in rough shape, his touch becoming firm yet still gentle as he leads Stanley inside.

The door shuts and Stanford lurks.

[fandomzwriterk]

This my first time ever requesting anything on this site, so please bear with me 💀 I have a request for any of the Mortal Kombat 1 characters (preferably Lin Kuei and/or earthrealmers) with a special other that ats like either Deadpool or Wolverine? I've been hyperfixated on both, and would interested to see how you portray it!! Thanks 💚💚 (also, love your content btw.)

A/N: yes absolutely yes! I act like Deadpool a lot so this is gonna be fun for me😂😂 Also reader with be based off of both Wolverine and Deadpool🤣🤣😂😂 Brought to you by: Ashes by Nathan Sharp

Bi Han

-> When he first met you, which was a mission to bring you back alive, your first words to him were “come at me daddy” as you pulled out a pistol

-> Confused the man right then and there, making him freeze

-> Answered back with “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

-> As you pulled the trigger, Bi Han straight up froze it with a wall of ice

-> Of course, after you shot, you came running up with your claws unsheathed, stabbing right through the ice almost hitting him

-> “There’s a lot of things wrong with me! Where should I begin? I got tortured… A LOT. Oh I was basically a lab rat for a guy, may he rest in peace, that shot me up full of drugs to stop my cancer and now I can self heal which means I can’t die which means I’m forced to live the rest of my life knowing someone took my humanity away.”

-> Bi Han is just fighting you with his mouth wide open

-> He has no idea what to even say to you

-> “Come on bub, I’m not gonna waste my time fighting you. After all I just told you I can’t die.”

-> “Can you… suffer from other things?”

-> You answered with “yes but I grow anything back that gets cut off”

-> You pulled out a katana as he came to strike down on you with an ice blade

-> There is a lot of back forth… mostly you just trauma dumping on him

-> Bi Han is just thinking to himself “I swear to the Elder gods if she doesn’t shut up I’m gonna kill her- Crap.”

-> The fight ends with him plunging an ice blade through your chest and up making you fall to your knees, pinning you there

-> “Oh I’m not new to this. I like where this is going”

-> Bi Han just crossed his arms in front of him, standing proud as a fiery portal opened up

-> “Oh great thanks dude now I’m apparently going to hell.”

-> You tried to cut the ice with adamantium claws, still stuck in your chest considering how fucking cold it was

Kuai Liang

-> Met you on accident… really! On accident!

-> He had been walking through town when he saw you flip a 6 foot dude onto his back while the rest of the bar was going wild

-> He saw your steel like claws, cutting through everything in its path

-> He HAD to meet you

-> But you were gone as soon as he went to track you

-> “Not my first time being stalked but I will say, you my friend are terrible at it.” You answered sitting on the balcony above his head jumping for him

-> He pulled out his weapon, lighting it on fire as he swung towards you, pulling onto the rope that was holding it

-> You backflipped over his head, making his back get turned to you

-> “Ooh… kinky. Not my first rodeo with that though.”

-> Just stopped in his tracks as he turned to fight you, confusing the hell outta him

-> “I You are very strange”

-> “Eh. I’ve heard that one a few times.”

-> “From who may I ask?”

-> You showed him your bloody claws that had been retracted back into your skin previously

-> You lunged at him, making him roll to the side

-> “Oh come on I hate it when the fun is-“

-> He had cut you, seeing your blood light aflame as it spew from your arm

-> But instantly, it healed, sending Kuai into a state of worry

-> You still felt the skin slowly close

-> You did have no intention to fight or kill him

-> You were mad your sleeve had been cut

-> “Oh come on this was my favorite one!”

-> Your mood changed instantly, seeming to forget he was there as you pulled off the sleeve

-> “I uh… I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to attack you. I wanted to-“

-> “No need to apologize, I just fight everyone I come across. After all I don’t know if you were trying to kill me there. Speaking of which how in gods name did you light that on fire? I’ve been trying for years and never understood.”

-> He put away his weapons upon hearing you start to ramble about random things

-> That fight ended but he asked you to accompany him to his home base

-> And of course… you agreed. Why not have fun all the time since you can live forever?

Tomas Vrbada

-> Weirdest place he met you?

-> At Johnnys house where you had been training him in weapon combat

-> Tomas had an immediate liking to you

-> You were even stronger than Raiden, who had been there with Kung Lao

-> He was entranced by your adamantium claws, your precise aim when it came to guns, and your incredible healing

-> Not gonna lie, when he first trained with you, he was so scared when he cut you deep on your arm

-> You being chill about it and going on about your day like it was nothing freaked him out

-> “You can heal yourself?”

-> “Umm… yeah? Thought Mr Playboy Billionaire would’ve told you that.”

-> “Johnny is-“

-> “Unreliable? Difficult? Stubborn? Ignoring all my advice? Yep that’s the Johnny Cage I’ve always known.”

-> You walked off with no worry, just cleaning your katanas with a soft cloth as you went to sit down next to a small pool of water

-> It took him some time, but Tomas eventually found out who you were

-> Surprise surprise, Tomas found out you’re the legend herself, the great and mighty Wolverine

-> Johnny told him that they wouldn’t allow a female to play a dominant role even though he fought against it, making some male actor the lead and changing some of the story

-> All this time thought you were maybe Wolverine’s daughter

-> But… your personality was more like Wade’s, a friend of Johnny’s who played your other “crude” half Deadpool that was actually really you as well

-> You could be two different people, and he liked that

-> So you were real, and Tomas wanted to always have his eyes on the legend herself

-> Soon enough, about some months later and after visiting the Shirai Ryu enough times, you talked to him about your trauma

-> He told you he knew about it, but he’s not one to judge what you went through

-> After all, he lost family too

-> Secretly wants to find out what exactly you can live through

All Brothers

-> Tomas is protective of you, Bi Han wants to push you to your limits, and Kuai is the one who makes sure you do the right thing, even if you feel like a bad person

-> Tomas very much admires you and I’m sure he, Johnny, and Raiden have made a fan club about you

-> Bi Han is the one who punishes you for wrongdoings, even going as far as to hurt you to make you listen

-> Kuai Liang is the one who takes care of you on your rougher days

-> All three understand they have no place try and understand the torture and pain you went through

-> All three have thought about you fighting them in a 3v1

-> You become the most important person to them for various reasons

-> Bi Han makes you important by telling you and reminding you of all the things you’ve fought so far, how strong you are to still be alive

-> Tomas always has your back through anything, specially missions or when it’s just him and you

-> Kuai always reassures you that even if you’ve done some bad things in the past, that’s not what you always will be defined as

-> However, they know you’re technically immortal and that even if you are and they aren’t, they’ll still treat you like a normal person

-> If you ever have nightmares, each brother does a different thing depending on who’s around

-> If it’s just you and Bi Han alone, he’ll immediately come to find you if you’re having a panic attack or a flashback of awful things you’ve done and said before

-> He chills you down when you’re thrashing in your sleep and burning up

-> He knows you’re not a shitty person like everyone said you were, you’re just a broken “hero” who’s been screwed over so many times

-> If it’s you and Kuai, Kuai always stays nearby with anything you need and if you need alone time, he’s still around with food or comfort

-> Always enforces that you will always be a “hero” even if you don’t feel worthy

-> Is the one who will watch your “movies” with you

-> If it’s Tomas, he’s always by your side, never wavering or leaving

-> He’s the one who’s protecting you, making sure your bad days will be good ones in any way he can

-> He’s the one you talk about your past “transgressions” with

-> Tomas always has some sort comfort thing for you wether it be a blanket or a food you like

-> When they’re all there and you’re having a breakdown or nightmare, they’ll each find a spot to be near you with all three of them cuddled against you like you’re a child

-> You’re all snuggled together like a family even if you’re all different

-> They’ll all stay till you’re comfortable, focused, and ready to keep fighting ahead

A/N: as you can see, I’m very partial to Tomas I’m sorry🤣🤣🤣 Anyways I’m back from vacation now (my bf and I went on a trip)

[nessieart]

The Way Back. XIII

WC: 5.6k

Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere.

Bucky x reader(past) || Steve x reader

AN: there's a lot of dialog in this one, I didn't want to screw around too much with making Endgame different. Please enjoy and leave some feedback!

Masterlist

Previously:

"Yeah. Doesn't mean I still won't worry. It's in the job description," he smiles when you playfully shove him away. "Come by tomorrow, yeah?"

You hum, "We'll see." It's something you've both been saying since you got back. But you always see him the next day, even if it's for a little while.

Tony pecks you on the forehead before he bids you goodnight. "Love ya, kiddo."

"Night, love you, too," and then you portal back to Steve's and your apartment.

It's dim, the only light on is the stove light. It's quiet here, too.

You call out for him, the only answer is your heavy sigh as you make your way to the bedroom. It's empty. Maybe he needed space. Or he's out running to let off steam.

There's no note where he usually leaves one, so you send him a text saying you're home, and crawl into bed.

Steve isn't home the next day, either. The text you sent him last night goes unanswered. You send a message to Nat, asking if she's heard from him. You wait, and wait, and she doesn't respond either. You huff, before you portal to Steve. Wherever it takes you, he better have a good reason for avoiding you.

**

"I'm sorry - wait," your hands fly up and try to stop everyone from talking all at once. "One at a time. I- ok…" You pinch the bridge of your noise and let out a sigh.

"Let Scott explain. Again," Nat says. Suffice it to say, you found Steve. Natasha and Scott Lang - who everyone thought died in the Snap - arguing in the conference room at the compound.

Scott was - apparently - in the Quantum Realm, for the last 5 years. But he said time passed so differently where he was. It only felt like 5 minutes. He's on his 4th sandwich.

"No, I get the Quantum Realm and the time differences. It's not that hard to comprehend. The fact you survived and came out the other end is a miracle," you glance around, and everyone's giving you an odd look. You roll your eyes, "Please don't tell me you all forgot I majored in this stuff? I had an internship at SI because of my thesis?"

"Didn't you lose that internship -"

"Not important!"

"No - yeah, totally. I get that all the time," Scott says. "People assume I don't know basic physics or relativistic effects all because I'm a felon." He stops for a beat. "I - I'm not now…though…"

"What he's saying is that we can fix this," Nat waves her hand around, "fix everything. Like the last 5 years never happened."

"You want to travel back in time to stop Thanos?" You gawk at them. Then turn your eyes to Steve. He hasn't said a word to you since you arrived. You shake your head. "That's not how Quantum Physics works!"

"Then we go back and get the Stones before he can," Steve finally speaks up. "You went back. Do you think you made things worse?" He squares his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I- I didn't know I was going -" Your voice is small when you respond. Does he really think that? "I thought I was going to - I would rather have died than let Thanos get that Time Stone. I thought I was dead!"

Steve's eyes soften, his shoulders deflate, and his lips part. Before he can speak up, you continue. "I don't know what you went through on Earth back then. But you have no idea what we went through on Titan."

Steve scoffs, "Of course this is about Tony -"

"It's not about Tony! It's about you. It's always been you, Steve. Maybe one day you'll actually believe that."

You look at Nat and Scott, "the last 5 years did happen. And hey, maybe your idea for time travel will work. But you can't erase these last 5 years like they were nothing -"

"We ask Tony then -" Nat interrupts you, and you shake your head.

"You can't ask him to give up his family! The life he's had. He got out, and he's happy! Don't take that away from him," you're begging, pleading with them to understand. You need them to understand.

"What if -" Scott starts, "if we get the Stones, bring them here, and just -" he snaps his fingers. "Just bring the people back we lost?"

Nat nods and looks at you, "That could work, right? Y/N, please, we need Tony's help. Your help."

You sigh, pacing in a circle with your hands clasped around your neck as you hang your head, "If you can convince Tony…then I'm in. But if you can't…" you shake your head.

**

Nat and Scott were out the door headed for the car, and before Steve could follow, you grab his elbow.

"Can we talk?" You ask him. And when he just stands there, staring down at you, you pull him to the side. Steve puts his hands on his hips as he waits. He steps closer to you when you hesitate, brows scrunching and eyes searching your face. He sighs out of his nose, "Listen sweetheart -"

"Wait, please. I- I need to say this," Steve clamps his mouth shut and nods. "I love you, Steve," he goes to open his mouth but you continue before he can, "I do, and whatever this thing between us the last few days, whatever we've said and done, I want to just forget about. Can we do that? At least for now?"

You don't realize you're giving the best puppy dog eyes to Steve. Eyes a little glassy as you plead for him to listen, give this a do-over.

He swallows thickly, exhaling sharply from his nose, "Okay," he deflates, his fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach out for you. You step up to him, and when he doesn't move, you wrap your arms around his torso, resting your chin on his chest. Steve leans into you, arms circling your shoulders as he places a long, lingering kiss on your forehead.

After a long moment of holding each other, Steve hums, squeezing you once more, "C'mon, or Natasha will skin us where we stand."

**

The drive to Tony's was silent. Well, except for Scott filling said silence with random questions, answers to those questions, and random facts about his life. His kid, who was 5 years older since the last time he saw her. His girlfriend, whom he loves so much, was snapped.

The long gravel road leading towards the cabin finally comes into view, and when Steve pulls to a stop, Tony was already waiting on the porch - Morgan perched on his hip (you may have texted him a 'heads up, inc' text).

When you step out of the back of the car, Morgan waves at you, and you smile back.

"Hey, munchkin," you greet her as Tony sets her down. Morgan grabs your hand and goes to lead you inside. You glance over your shoulder to give Steve an apologetic look, but he isn't watching. His jaw clenched, and brows furrowed as he looks everywhere else, but you or Tony.

Before you could get inside, you pull Morgan to a stop, "I need to talk to your daddy for a while, okay, honey?" Morgan gives you her best pout and puppy eyes, but relents when you raise an eyebrow and goes inside to find Pepper.

**

Scott does most of the talking - okay, a lot of the talking. Hands flying about, trying to get his point across. Trying to get Tony to listen.

Tony responds with a lot of the points you made. Most importantly, "That's not how Quantum Physics works." And, "Back to the Future is a bunch of bullshit."

"You're telling me, that you won't even -"

"That's right, Scott. I won't even."

You're on the far side of the porch, away from everyone else, the three of them crowding around Tony. When there's finally a break in conversation, Tony turns to look at you. Eyes scrutinizing in only the way Tony can. Trying to piece together an equation when he always knows the answer.

"Y/N…" and the group turns to you. Hopeful eyes silently begging you to try. To help. Anything.

"Anthony." He inhales a deep breath, eyes scanning your face, then nods. The silent conversation doesn't go unnoticed by Steve.

"Right. You tried to convince her, and she said no, huh? Yeah…"

"Said I would if you did."

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. Before anyone else can say something, Morgan appears and crawls into Tony's lap.

"Mommy said to come and save you," you smile. Of course Pepper did.

"Good job, I'm saved," Tony hugs her, resting his head on hers. He stands and looks around the small group. "I wish you were coming here to ask me something else. Anything else. I'm honestly happy to see you - oh, the table is set for 7-"

Steve grabs Tony by the elbow as he passes, his brows low and eyes searching, "Tony. I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am." He spares you a sideways glance before he continues, "But this is a second chance."

"I got my second chance right here, Cap," Tony looks at you with a sad smile. "You do, too. Can't roll the dice on it," he looks back at Steve and raises an eyebrow. Tony turns to make his way toward you, Morgan leaning over so you can take her.

"Hi, Princess Charlie," she says as she loops her arms around your neck and rests her head on your shoulder.

You kiss her temple, looking back at your friends, "Hi, munchkin."

"If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch," Tony calls. He leads you inside with a hand between your shoulder blades.

"You're staying?" Steve says as you're about to enter the cabin. You turn to him, Tony stops next to you and waits.

"It's just lunch, guys. Don't be rude," you roll your eyes at them.

"We need to do this. We have to do this, Y/N. With or without you and Tony."

"Go, it's okay, kid," Tony says next to you. "Come by tomorrow," he takes Morgan from you and goes inside.

"We'll see," you say through the screen door. You turn on your heel and head for the car. Steve, Nat, and Scott are following.

"He's scared," Nat says as they near you.

Steve sighs, "He's not wrong."

"We need him. What, are we gonna stop?" Scott stutters out.

"No, I wanna do it right."

**

You're sitting next to Scott in a booth at the diner. He can't seem to take his eyes off Bruce. Big, green, and fully clothed, Hulk-sized Bruce.

Across from you, you meet Steve's eye. There's a smirk on his face, and he nudges your foot with his. You smile at him around the straw of your milkshake. You bring a foot to rest on his knee, and he wraps a hand around your ankle. His palm is warm on your skin, and he squeezes as he focuses back into the conversation.

"Bruce," Steve interrupts, "about what we were saying."

Bruce nods, thoughtfully, "The whole, time travel do-over? Eh, it's outside of my area of expertise," he looks at you, an eyebrow raised.

You put your hands up, "Don't look at me."

Bruce chuckles, "Tony said no, so you did, too. Yeah, I figured. Why else come to me?"

You see Steve's nostrils flare. He rubs a thumb across your ankle a little before he stops.

"Tony has more to lose, I'm not going to pretend that I don't want to do this. I do. But Tony, Pepper," you shake your head, "Morgan? They're the closest thing I have to family. I won't do this without him, but I won't not help you either."

**

It takes most of the night, but you and Bruce finish the set up - per Scott's vague instructions - and had a haphazard machine connected to his really ugly van with the Quantum machine in the back.

"I think we're missing something," you grumble. There's so many cables that you aren't sure this is even the right type of machine you should have built. "Is that cable connected to anything? Is this?"

"Ah, it's fine," Bruce waves off. But he does double-check anyway. You make an uneasy noise in your throat, spinning around to do one last check.

"This is a terrible idea…" you mutter. "Time travel, whose idea was this -"

"Says the last who literally traveled through time."

"It was an accident!"

"Okay! Here we go, Time Travel test number one!"

It was not time travel. Not in the slightest.

"We pushed time through Scott, not the other way 'round!" You smash a fist on the console, a big groan leaving you as Bruce pats your back.

"I see this as an absolute win!" He grins. You and Nat share another groan, Steve walks out with his head hanging low. You decide to follow him outside.

He's standing next to a pillar when you catch up to him, a heavy sigh filling his chest.

"Penny for your thoughts, Tough Guy?" You stop next to him. His hands fall from his hips as he reaches for you, pulling you into his chest, and you go willingly. You hug him back and just revel in the silence.

"This has to work," he mumbles into your hair.

"It will," you squeeze him tighter. "It's just going to take some time." He pulls back to look down at you, eyebrows scrunching as he searches your face. His hand comes up to frame the right side of your face, thumb running along your bottom lip. You kiss the pad of this thumb and smile up at him. "And all we have is time."

In the distance, you hear tires screeching, the roar of an engine, more tires squealing around the bend. You and Steve follow the car as it speeds up to the building, passing you by then reversing to a stop in front of you. The tinted window rolls down, but you already have a feeling who it could be. The only person who it could be.

Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders as you both turn to face the car, "Tony," Steve nods.

"Hi, Tony," you smile at him.

"Cap, Auntie," he raises an eyebrow. He smirks as he gets out of the car. Your stomach does a flip. You know that glint in his eye, and you grin wide. His smirk grows when he glances at you. "Why the long face, Cap? Let me guess, he turned into a baby?" He leans back against the car.

"Yeah…Among other things. What are you doing here?-"

"Instead of pushing Lang through time, you pushed Time through Lang. The EPR Paradox. Somebody shoulda cautioned you against it."

"You did," Steve nods. You're just smiling at him. Because you know.

Tony looks at you over his glasses, "Oh did I? Well, thank god I'm here," he looks up at Steve. "Regardless. I fixed it." Tony says casually, showing the back of his hand. It looks like a watch, but it's around his hand. "I'm sure you would've figured it out, kid. Eventually." He winks at you.

"A fully functioning time-space GPS," he continues. Steve's face breaks out into a smile. "I just want peace," Tony holds up two fingers. He leans back again, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Turns out resentment's corrosive, and I hate it. And you're kinda dating my aunt, so…" he shrugs.

You groan and throw your head back, "Ugh, Tony!" Steve hooks his arm around you more, bringing your head into the crook of his elbow and more into his chest.

"We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell ya my priorities," Tony says more seriously.

"Bring back what we lost," you say, you can read him just as well as you could Howard.

"I hope, yes," Tony nods. "Keep what I found. I have to, at all costs. And maybe not die trying," he shrugs again. "Would be nice."

Steve hums. You wrap an arm around his waist as he sticks his hand out for Tony to shake, "Sounds like a deal."

You giggle, "Finally! Both the men in my life can get along!"

Tony pulls your arm, and Steve lets you go so he can crush you with a hug.

"What changed your mind?" you mumble into Tony's chest.

He hums, "A really good friend of mine. Oh, and," Tony lets you go to open the trunk, shoving aside a bunch of Morgan's things to reveal the shield.

Steve inhales sharply, "Tony, I don't know…" he looks at you out the corner of his eye and then back to Tony.

"Why… He made it for you," Tony tells him, then flips it around and places it on Steve's arm. "And, honestly. I gotta move it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding." When it's placed back on Steve's arm, you can see Tony tense for a second, hands clenching and releasing. You give him a small smile.

"Thank you, Tony," Steve says quietly.

Tony hushes him, "I didn't bring one for the whole team. We are getting the whole team, yeah?"

You let out an annoyed hum, "We're workin' on it."

**

You are sitting next to Rocket as he works on the - well, time machine - your brows furrow as you tilt your head. "But how…?" You squint your eyes again.

Rocket scoffs, "Well, when you lose basically everything, miss your shot to kill Thanos before he snaps half the universe into nonexistence, then when they think there might be a chance to get the Stones back," Rocket shrugs, soldering a piece of metal. "He kills Thanos, and it doesn't even mean anythin' cause the Stones were gone."

You hum sadly.

"And he thinks his people hate him, so. There's that, too."

"Maybe he just needs a hug? Depression is serious. It doesn't just, y'know, go away."

Rocket grumbles, "Yeah, well. Whatever keeps him here until we finish this, is fine by me."

You shuffle out from under the platform, "I'll be right back," you tell Rocket. He just waves you off with another grumble and annoyed side remark.

"Hey, Thor," you call out to him as you get closer. He pulls the sunglasses low so they sit on the tip of his nose, his mismatched eyes shine as he looks at you. He sways a little on his feet, his arms out stretched as he saunters towards you.

"My Starlight!" he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up. He audibly sniffles back tears. "I thought you were dead! Gods, what a relief. I am so glad to see you alive and well!" Thor waddles with you in his arms. You can see the beer on his breath, his beard and hair. Hell, maybe it's just coming out of his pores.

"Missed you, Big Guy," you pat his back.

"You're drifting left," Tony calls out as he passes the two of you. "One side there, Lebowski."

Thor puts you down and chugs heavily from the beer can in his hand, then belches. He puts his hands up when you and Tony share looks at him.

**

It's another few days of nonstop working on a literal time machine until it's ready for a test run. There are tendrils of anxiety that crawl up your sides for the five seconds Clint is gone. He comes back with a gasping breath of his daughter's name on his lips and a baseball mitt.

"It worked," he breaths out.

Before you know it, the plan to locate all the stones in the past is divided into groups:

Rhodey, Nebula, Clint, and Natasha go to space in 2014. Nebula and Rhodey are getting the Power Stone, while Clint and Nat fly to Vormir to get the Soul Stone.

Thor and Rocket are going to Asgard in 2013 for the Reality Stone, or the Aether, as Thor calls it.

Meanwhile, Steve, you, Tony, Scott, and Bruce are going to New York City in 2012. Loki's Scepter and the Tesseract are at the Tower, and Bruce is going to the Sanctum to retrieve the Time Stone.

You pull Bruce aside before you join the others on the platform, "Stephen isn't the Sorcerer Supreme in 2012," you watch his brows scrunch. "It's the Ancient One. And she won't give you the stone."

"What? We need that stone, Y/N," he whisper yells.

You put your hands up, "Convince her. She'll listen, trust me. You just need a good reason for her to trust you, and she'll agree."

The tendrils are back as you join the rest of your team on the platform. Steve grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezes. He gives you a reassuring smile. He doesn't let your hand go as he looks around the room at everyone.

"Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends…We lost family…We lost a part of ourselves," he squeezes our hand again. "Today, we have a chance to take it all back.

"You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the Stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect.

"Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win."

Steve looks over at Tony, a small nod and another squeeze to your fingers. "Whatever it takes. Good luck."

"All right, you heard the man. Stroke those keys, Jolly Green," Tony gives you a wink.

"Tractors engaged," Bruce calls out.

Natasha smiles, bouncing on her feet as her eyes meet yours. Bright green eyes gleam in the sunlight, streaming in from outside. It catches on her red and blonde hair, and you smile back at her. "See you in a minute," she winks at you.

**

New York City - 2012

It's loud, was your first thought arriving back in time. And then, it actually worked, was your second. "I forgot how loud the city could be," you say absentmindedly. Steve and Scott look back at you, "What?"

Tony chuckles out a breath, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

"Alright, we all have our assignments. Two stones uptown, one stone down. Stay low, and keep an eye on the clock."

A car flies through the air, and 2012 Hulk comes smashing down on a Chitauri soldier, jumping repeatedly on the car. Then, he runs away with a roar.

You turn and raise an eyebrow at Bruce, his cheeks dusting a dark shade of green.

You follow Steve through the back entrance of the Tower. The two of you were to secure the scepter, since your past selves wouldn't be anywhere around.

You both wait in the back stairwell, between floors 20 and 21. You'd portal to the floor you needed when Tony gives the all-clear.

Tony takes Scott up to the penthouse with him to keep the Tesseract in sight. You can feel it, even all the way down there.

"Is that cube supposed to glow like…" Scott starts.

"Like its breathing?" Tony finishes in a hushed voice. He sees 2012 you, huddled in on yourself near the bar away from everyone else in the room. You look wary, uncertainty floating in your eyes. You grip at the new scar on your chest with an iron grip. Your eyes never leave the Tesseract.

2012 you used powers you had no idea you could. Portaling to save Tony from falling out of that wormhole certainly scared you half to death. 2012 Tony approaches you quietly, offering you a drink. You take it with shaky hands, nodding once in thanks before you drain it dry.

"I forgot how unsure you used to be, Y/N," Tony says quietly in your comms. "But now look at you," you can hear the pride and the smile in his voice. Then he scoffs, "Mr. Rogers, I almost forgot that suit did nothing for your ass."

"No one asked you to look, Tony -" Steve rolls his eyes as you chuckle.

"It's ridiculous."

"I think you look great, Cap," Scott says. "As far as I'm concerned, that's America's Ass."

You burst out laughing then, your voice echoing up the stairwell. Steve bumps your shoulder with his hand, but he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face.

There's a loud bang from above, then the telltale roar and thundering stomp from Hulk.

"Okay, Cap, Stargate. I got your scepter. Just passing the 80th floor."

"On it," Steve grabs your hand and squeezes. You smile, then portal the two of you up to 75. Steve shakes his limbs out with a small shudder before he presses the button for the elevator.

"Head to the lobby," Steve tells Tony.

"Alright, see you there."

Steve stands tall, shield on his arm, and you beside him when the elevator opens. The two of you glance around the compact space. The men inside seem to hold their breath. Steve steps in first. He holds his hand out to stop you after he pushes a floor on the lift.

"C-Captain," Sitwell stutters. "I thought you were coordinating search and rescue."

"Change of plans," Steve says. "Meet me at the rendezvous, Agent Y/N," he lowers his hand and gives you a nod, his brows pulled low over his eyes.

"Sure thing, Cap," you give him a two-finger salute. "Rollins, Sitwell," your eyes land on the next man, you try to hide a sneer. "Brock." Then the doors close. You portal down to floor 14, the bridge to the R&D labs is where you're supposed to link back up with Steve.

You lean back against the wall and wait. There's a lot of commotion in your ear about the cube. Scuffling and whisper yelling. You feel the moment the case opens, you jolt off the wall just as Steve rounds the corner.

Then the Tesseract is gone, and you sag and hang your head.

"Tony, what's going on? Tell me you found that cube."

You rub your temples as you follow behind Steve. He comes to an abrupt stop, and you almost run into him.

"Oh, you gotta be shitting me," Steve mumbles. You peak around him, and your eyes go wide.

2012 Steve stands in your path, he brings a hand to his helmet, "I found Loki. 14th floor."

"I'm not Loki," your Steve says as he sets the scepter case down slowly. "I don't wanna hurt you."

They run at each other, shields clashing, past Steve does a fancy flip and kicks your Steve back, he lands on the ground.

Steve huffs, slowly climbing to his feet. "We don't have time for this, Cap…"

"I can do this all day," 2012 Steve smirks, bringing his arms up in defense.

"Yeah, yeah. I know," your Steve rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet.

They clash again, one of the Steves knocking the case with the scepter off the bridge, breaking glass as it goes over. They wrestle and roll off the side next, smashing through more glass and down a flight of stairs until they land on the bridge where the scepter stopped.

Ouch, that's a long way down.

You portal down next to your Steve, helping him stand. "You okay?" He huffs, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders.

2012 Steve stands fast, his fist waving in the air, "Where did you get this?" He grits out, half yelling. When you look closely, it's an old black and white photograph of Peggy Carter inside an old compass. You inhale sharply, your Steve tenses next to you.

Before they start fighting again, you step around your Steve, hands out stretched to stop their advance. "Whoa, hey, hold on, Tough Guy..s?.. Uh - Steve?" You block your Steve from view, stepping in between them to face 2012 Steve. You aren't wearing what your past self is. The new cat suit you have on is reminiscent to the one Howard made you. It's black, with blue streaks along the sides, there's a shooting star on your chest over the scar. It glows a bright blue, letting the Tesseract power shine through it. Almost like Tony's Arc Reactor.

2012 Steve accesses you with a critical eye, his arms raised high, ready to fight as he grips the compass tight.

You give him a smile, putting one hand on your chest, "It's me, Stevie. It's Charlie," there's a flash of recognition that appears on his face, then hurt, his brows scrunch. Head slowly shaking no. You hear Steve's sharp inhale behind you, then a low warning of your name from his lips.

You ignore him and take another step closer to 2012 Steve. He tenses, "It's true. Ask me anything," his eyes scan your face, then down your body.

"This is another one of Loki's tricks. I won't fall for it," his shoulders lift like he's bracing for a fight, but you take another step closer anyway.

"I-I found you in an alley," you take another step, one hand out stretched toward him. "You were so small I thought you were a kid," you breathe out a laugh. "And then you rolled over, and it was you, before the serum, and the war," you're inches from him now. He lowers his hands, his eyes slowly glass over. "It was always you, Steve." He lets out a shuddering breath, your fingers graze his jaw lightly, then your palm cups his cheek. His eyes slip closed as he leans into your touch. You take the compass from his lip fingers.

"H-How?" He looks down at you, his hand wraps around your wrist to keep you tethered to him. "The- the other you, with Stark, she-"

You shake your head, "It's complicated. Give her time. She won't know for a while," you swipe your thumb along his helmet under his eye.

"You're not from here, are you?" His hand squeezes your wrist, to ground him maybe, to make sure you're real - probably. You just smile up at him.

"Y/N," your Steve calls from behind you. "We gotta go." You nod, but don't take your eyes off This Steve. You can tell he's torn. There's a storm of emotion raging behind his eyes.

You pull him down towards you, lips pressing to the corner of his mouth, "Tell her. She'll listen," you say against his skin. "Goodbye, Stevie." You step away from him and back to your Steve. He puts a hand on your shoulder, and you portal the two of you back to the alley you arrived in.

You step away from Steve, letting out a heavy breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he murmurs. You nod and hold out your hand, Steve hesitates, fingers twitching to take the compass in your hand. You don't look him in the eye.

"Just take it, Cap."

"I-" you shove it in his chest, and his hands fly out to catch it as you turn on your heel and march towards Tony and Scott.

They're camped out inside a debris covered car, and the windows rolled down. They look glum, pensive faces as they avoid your eye.

Tony glances up to look at Steve, then you and back again. "Sorry, buddy, we uh - got a problem."

Scott scoffs, "Yeah we do."

You take a deep breath, nodding, "Yeah, I figured. Tesseract is gone."

You sit on a large concrete slab, arms crossed over your knees as you look around the wreckage of the city.

"Well, now what are we gonna do?" Steve asks. Scott is pacing in circles, Tony leaning out of the car as Steve stands with his hands on his hips.

"Give me a break, Steve, I just got hit in the head with the Hulk."

Scott whirls around, arms flailing, pointing toward Steve, "You said that we had one shot. One shot. This was our shot! Six stones, or nothing. Six stones, or nothing!"

"You're repeating yourself, y'know that?" Tony glares. The two of them start bickering back and forth.

Steve shakes his head and sighs. He looks over at you, but you ignore him, ignore Tony and Scott. Ignore the looks Steve's trying to send you. "Are there any other options with the Tesseract?"

"No! There's no other options, no do-overs. There's one particle left. Each! We use that? Bye-bye, you're not going home."

You scrunch your brows as Scott talks, glancing over to Tony as his head lifts. He thought of something, maybe the same something you have. He looks over at you, getting out of the car. You stand and meet him halfway.

"I got it," Tony says. You nod, he grips your shoulders, his eyes wide, searching yours. "You got it?" He asks, you smile and nod again.

"What? What is it?" Scott and Steve seem to ask at the same time.

"More particles?" you ask Tony.

"Yep. There's a way to retake the Tesseract and acquire new particles. Little stroll down memory lane," he looks over at Steve then, "Military Instillation. Garden State." Tony squeezes your shoulders as he steps over to Steve, you follow.

It dawns on Steve then, "When were they both there?"

Tony stutters, fumbling over words as he thinks, "I have a vaguely exact idea…"

"It's a strong possibility," you say. "More yes, than no."

You can see Steve fighting with the idea, a yes over no warring on his face as he tries to agree. Scott's constant asking what's going on in the background of Tony trying to convince Steve more.

Steve sighs, "Well, looks like we're improvising. Scott, get this back to the compound," Steve moves to give him the scepter. Tony stops next to you, bumping his shoulder with yours.

"Wait! What's in New Jersey?"

"Put these coordinates in," Tony says as Steve joins you. "0-4, 0-7, 1-9-7-0," Tony swallows thickly.

"Are you sure?" Steve asks. He looks at you, "You don't have to go, Sweetheart." You ignore him as you put the date in your wristband.

Scott is still trying to get everyone's attention. You shrug, "Of course I'm going."

"Cap? Captain!…Steve, sorry - America. Rogers…" Tony and Steve look over to Scott. "You do this, and it doesn't work. You're not coming back."

"Thanks for the pep talk, piss ant. You trust me?" Tony looks at Steve. Steve looks at you, then back to Tony.

"I do."

"Your call."

"Here we go."

**

Next>>

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tags: @valckenaux ; @yunloyal ; @otterlycanadian ; @frickin-bats ;

[alexanderlightweight]

Greetings and loves lumine! I'm so happy you’re feeling better!

For writing wednesday: tethers of fate is my favourite, can you write more about Arawn and the unseelie court, please? Or anything about the mafia Au or possessive Magnus

Thank you!

thank you! Im so happy to be feeling better too that i'm writing even though I was supposed to try and sleep an hour ago, I had fun so it was worth it

this is for tethers of fate and a bit of a mix of things in that universe. kind of a tiered view of where things are at. I hope you enjoy and sending love back!

<3 lumine

tethers of fate

“Isn’t it getting more dangerous in the above?” 

“It’s more dangerous everywhere, tad.” Alec keeps his hands steady, carefully extracting the thin, delicate roots of the plant he’s digging up. His tad’s arrival is a surprise but not an unexpected or completely unwelcome one. “Magnus is powerful enough that I’m safer than most.”

“Most isn’t completely.” 

Arawn’s voice is snide and Alec can hear the rustle of leaves against his tad’s antlers, the way his hooves dig angrily into the ground.  Around him the plants surge in angry hunger and Alec sighs as roots and leaves cling to his fingers and wrist. 

“If I need sanctuary I’ll come here first. Always.  Even Magnus has agreed to such a pact.”  

“Oh, and here I thought he’d try to stash away in one of his dear warlock's lairs?”

Alec carefully digs his fingers into the earth again, feeling out to see which plant is most receptive to transplant.  

“Well he did suggest that, yes. I just pointed out that if he really wants me safe, a place that Valentine and his rogues have never heard of is far safer than the lair of someone he’s actively hunting.”  

“That easily? I’ve never known him to give in so easily.” His tad is testing now, seeing where the current coils and where the deep undisturbed waters lay.

“I leveraged it with sex, tad.  Just like you always tell us to.” While it's true enough that Alec used sex to convince Magnus, it didn’t happen quite the way he’s implying it.

However Arawn seems pleased, which was Alec’s goal and now that he’s reached it, Alec wonders yet again just how exactly he’s supposed to balance the two great extremes in his life.  

His family and his lover.

—

The moon is high when Alexander’s message arrives.  

Instead of fire it appears in a scattering of petals, a simple request for a portal that Magnus fulfills immediately.  The magic shimmers as Alexander steps through, arms filled with boxes of plants and for a moment images overlap — a bony hand with nails like talons clinging to his arm — before it blurs from existing as the portal erases.  

Alexander smiles at him, soft and sweet, as if nothing has happened and Magnus smiles back, fury flickering up his spine even as he welcomes a kiss to soothe his rage.  It’s over far quicker than he’d like and then Alexander is instead setting the plants down.  Realizing it will be a while before he can greet his lover properly, Magnus follows him, studying his bounty.

“You know darling, I’m surprised Arawn let you bring so many, these are rare even for a prince of the realm.” Magnus truly is surprised.  Arawn is petty and just knowing Magnus might benefit from these plants would normally be enough for him to revoke Alexander's permission to take them.

“Yes, well I distracted him by telling him I leveraged sex to get you to agree to my taking sanctuary if something goes wrong up here.” Alexander already has three of the plants in the ground, working quickly and efficiently as he keeps an eye on the height of the moon.

“He thinks you needed sex to get me to agree to something that keeps you from harm?” 

Magnus is outraged.

So what if he only agreed because against this particular enemy, Arawn’s kingdom is the safest for his love. There’s nothing wrong in being careful when protecting ones heart and Alexander is his heart.

“I did need to use sex to get you to agree.” Alexander is smiling up at him, smug as if assured of his own victory and Magnus can’t help but laugh as he runs his thumb over a streak of dirt on Alexander’s cheek.

 “I was always going to agree, darling.  I just wanted to see how far you’d go in your efforts to convince me.”

—

“He’s growing too close to him.” Arawn truly hates admitting that any of his children have fallen in love but it’s worse now that it’s Alec.  The only one of his children not born of his seed and blood — though claimed by his magic, word and deed — has fallen for someone outside of Arawn’s control.  

It would have been so much easier if Alexander had just fallen for one of Arawn’s steadfast guards or knights, or even one of the wild artists that perform for his court.  

“Magnus Bane isn’t a weed we can easily pluck, tad.” Auraline’s voice cuts through his daydreams of handpicking Alexander’s future faerie spouse and brings him back to dismal reality.   

“Even the seelie queen is leery of him.”Keiran takes a honeycake and breaks it in half, “and right now he has the upper hand.  He holds both Alec’s affection and interest.”

Arawn’s current youngest groans, Iolanthe’s riot of curls bouncing as she smacks her small fists into the table, “why isn’t he bored already?”

“Later, Iolanthe.” Keiran offers her half of his honeycake as the first of Arawn’s court join them. “Quietly watch the proceedings and I’ll let you ride my fastest warhorse at dawn.”

Arawn leans towards his youngest as the seats fill and murmurs, “neither are bored yet because your brother is immune to that kind of magic and Bane has protections against such things.” Arawn taps Iolanthe's nose fondly as her face falls, “I already attempted it at the beginning.”

-

Alec is politically neutral. He’s the safe zone in a game where there are no rules. His siblings are already very fond of him and the fact that there is no maternal family/faction behind/backing him up is a huge bonus because any debts incurred stay in arawn’s court which is what’s safest. He’s also great because he’s arawn’s favorite.  None of arawn’s kids want to be his favorite, not even alec. Mostly because the meddling happens and not just how he usually is it’s times 5000. So yeah, alec is the safest sibling and also the mediator etc.  he’s also the only one who doesn’t even have to give up his claim to the throne, he just doesn’t have one.  Alec meanwhile has a lot of siblings. thankfully all he needs to do for these siblings is give them affection, a little advice sometimes (which is generally just common sense nothing complicated) and sometimes stop them from trying to kill each other.

if Alec seems more obviously sly in this, then good. he's meant to because he was raised by unseelie. all that political strategy got melded into unseelie plottwisting loophole mannerisms. he and Magnus are constantly playing little word and power games with each other. Alec is also trying to play chess with his dad and Magnus while his dad and Magnus are playing checkers with each other

alec: I just want to live with my boyfriend five nights a week and spend weekends with my family. is that too much to ask?

the unseelie court and Magnus: yes

alec is calling arawn tad which is Welsh for father