#Stephen gonna be standing there with his head in his hands

[oldguardleatherdog]

Today's Wall O'Text: We've got just under two months to get the first things done.

Timothy Snyder is an American historian whose book On Tyranny made him a household name in 2017, followed this year by On Freedom. His take on what we need to do this time around to mount an effective resistance to Trump's insane agenda is urgent and essential:

Start now. We can get a lot done between now and the Inauguration on January 20th.

Here are excerpts from Snyder's interview in the Rolling Stone article linked above where he describes ways ordinary people can take meaningful steps right now to lay the groundwork for stopping Trump's agenda in its tracks:

~~~~~

[From the article, emphasis added:]

“You can’t despair,” he tells Rolling Stone. “Because that’s what they want. They want you to think that it’s hopeless. It’s never hopeless.”

Snyder’s first rule in On Tyranny is “don’t obey in advance.” He emphasizes that Americans opposed to Trump’s designs should take stock, and action, now. “The period of November, December, January, becomes very important,” he says.

For normal people, Snyder insists the key is “to get out in protest” — now and through the inauguration. The understandable impulse of “keeping your head in,” Snyder says will only embolden Trump’s reactionary team.

“You’re giving them even more confidence that they’re gonna be able to do what they want in January.” What’s demanded of activists in this moment is to “deflate that confidence,” Snyder says, and you do that by “showing that you’re not afraid, by cooperating with your neighbors, and by organizing.”

Snyder emphasizes a lesson of the “Wall of Moms” in Portland, Oregon, in late summer 2020, who helped drive up the political cost and terrible optics for Trump’s most heavy-handed crackdown on public dissent. Launching tear gas at Black Lives Matter protesters looked different on TV when the feds were brutalizing a wall of white mothers in gold shirts, locking arms at the front of the crowd. “It’s about corporeal politics,” Snyder says. “Getting your body out where there are other bodies — with people who are maybe not like you or maybe less privileged than you.”

Here, Snyder insists, is where the American public has its most important, and perhaps most challenging role to play. “The Trump-Vance initiatives can only work by getting the population involved — and basically corrupting us,” he says. Snyder argues that even Americans who might share anger with Trump about immigration may yet be recruited to block the border camps promised by Stephen Miller. 

“That’s the kind of active thinking that folks have to do — am I going to become the kind of person who takes part in this sort of thing? Am I going to become the kind of person who denounces my neighbors because they are not documented?”

“If Their Rights Are on the Line, My Rights Are on the Line”

A key to resisting authoritarianism, Snyder says, is standing up for the rights of the least powerful first. “If protest comes down to the people who are protesting only because they have to, then you always lose,” he says. “It has to be people who are one, two, three, four, even five steps away from being directly affected who show solidarity — and who also show pragmatism and wisdom by getting out early. 

“If you’re more privileged, you should be thinking, ‘What can I do for the least privileged people?’” he says. “If their rights are on the line, my rights are on the line. That’s not just a moral position. It’s actually, politically, 100 percent correct.” 

In the meantime, Snyder advises, America’s system of federalism offers hope for democracy at the state and local level. “Many things are going to be terrible. But controlling the federal government doesn’t mean you’re controlling everything,” he says. He exhorts Americans to support the institutions closest to them that uphold democratic norms — “whether that means some civil society organization, or state government, or a local mayor” — and collectively try to strengthen those bodies.

[End article text.]

~~~~~

[v3nic3b]

𝓞𝓯𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼

CW: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, oral (f receiving), slight dacryphilia.

Summary: Like you, Stephen is used to spending most of his nights at the newspaper, and he has gotten quite used to making his way to your office.

It was past 8 p.m., and most employees — those who managed to balance their personal and professional lives — had left hours ago.

Exhausted, you rest your head on your folded arms atop the desk, your eyes stinging from staring at the computer screen for far too long.

“I brought you something.” The familiar voice makes you lift your head abruptly. Stephen places a packet of salt and vinegar chips on your desk. “Last one from the vending machine. Thought you’d like it—you’re obsessed with these.” You smile at his gesture.

Like you, Stephen is used to spending most of his nights at the newspaper, and he has gotten quite used to making his way to your office.

Making his way around your desk, Stephen stands behind your chair and leans closer, bringing his face near the back of your neck. “What are you up to?” he starts trailing kisses down your skin. “Stevie, I really need to finish this article.” “I know, angel.”

Despite his understanding tone, you two had played this game enough times for you to know he had no intention of taking your protests seriously. He knew what you truly needed and he didn’t mind manipulating you to make sure you got it.

Immediately, he holds your chin firmly and brushes a deep kiss against your mouth. “Stevie... someone might see us.” reluctantly, you thread your fingers through his hair to restrain him, but his mouth continues to trail kisses down your jaw, making you throw your head back ever so slightly. “Everyone already left, angel, I checked. C’mon, you know you want this.”

In a swift motion, Stephen moves you to your desk and immediately pulls your skirt up your legs, kneeling between your thighs and slowly pulling off your underwear. “My sweet, sweet girl...” He starts brushing off soft kisses on your inner thighs, devotion visible in his eyes. “Will you let me suck you?” You nod eagerly, feeling too surrendered to fight back anymore.

You exhale in relief when he latches his mouth onto you. His tongue swirling against your clit, the warm pressure making you groan deeply. “Mhm–you’re so wet.” He grips one of your legs and hooks over his shoulder, drawing you closer to him. One of your hands moves from the edge of your desk to grip his hair tightly, the action only making him lick you harder.

He slides a finger into you, curling it upwards and hitting the exact right spot, dragging another moan from your lips, his mouth back on your clit. “Fuck, angel.” The pure bliss in his eyes made it clear he was enjoying this just as much as you—if not more.

You are aching.

Minutes passed and you are desperate to find your release. But Stephen doesn’t seem ready to let you go anytime soon, unconsciously slowing down his pace everytime you came near your orgasm. “Stevie— Ah! it hurts.” He finally looks at you, his pants getting even tighter at the sight of you tearing up. “You’re okay, angel. I’m so sorry... gonna give you what you need now.”

Your hips jolt as he presses a second finger inside you and starts pumping in and out in a steady rhythm, his lips sucking your bud even harder now. The searing pleasure pushing you closer to your climax.

“Please cum for me, please, please.” He chanted endlessly. His pleading tone sends you over the edge and your entire soul bursts into flames as you fall apart. Stephen holds onto your hips, not letting you move an inch away, greedily lapping up every drop of it.

As you came down from your high, Stephen stood up in front of you dropping little kisses on your chin, cheeks, and the corner of your lips while adjusting your skirt. “Want to continue this at my place?”

Divider by saradika-graphics

[benevolentgodloki]

Norns if this wasn't stirring Loki's excitement. His thoughts danced as he considered the intentions behind those eyes. Truth? Trap? Test? Did she crave a little chaos as much as he did or was she here precisely to find out what he would do given the chance and so risk his apprenticeship?

He stood beside her, hands clasped at his back, his proximity as intended to intimidate as it was to flirt. His faint smirk matched hers.

"Frequently. The question is whether that fleeting pleasure would be worth the cost?"

Perhaps she had been too cruel with her words. The emotion manifested as a slight sting that penetrated the fibers of her being. She could almost hear the words, redirected towards herself, reverberating around in her head. What if she was the one Stephen didn’t trust? She caught the flicker and heard the derision which could well have been denial. Cloak tilted her head up, her smile dropping. It was a distorted reflection in the mirror, closer now. When glass shatters, it can cut. She only wondered whose heart might be bleeding by the end of this. 

“I didn’t know impatience could look like that.” Cloak held his gaze, her own implacable before she angled her body away, enough to still keep him within her sights but sufficiently hiding her own. “It is a little annoying, isn’t it? The sleep thing.” Cloak looked towards the shelves before making a show of studying her calloused fingerpads and painted nails. “Perfect opportunity for an ice bucket.” Cloak didn’t miss a chance to add with a minuscule curve of her lips. "Don't tell me you haven't considered it?"

[rafesslxt]

Road head | Stephen Glass

summary: you say sorry with your mouth around him

warnings: blowjob, whimpering stephen, driving without seatbelt on

Imagine having an argument with Stephen in the car but after a few minutes of silence you sigh and realize that you overreacted when in reality he just meant good.

You drove on a country road with no other car‘s or people in sigh so you smirk to yourself and take your hair up into a ponytail.

He looks over to you for a second and then back to the road. I unbuckle my seatbelt and and lean over the console to him. "B-babe what are you doing?" he stutters while pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"I‘m showing you how sorry I am for arguing and how much I appreciate you." i say while pulling down the zipper of his jeans. "Y/N i - i have to concentrate .. the road i -" "shhh just look at the road baby." I pull his pants down and palm him through his boxershorts.

I look up through my lashes and see him biting his lip. I slip my hand into them and pull him out, already standing up hard and throbbing.

I see a few drops of pre-cum on his tip that I lick away slowly, kissing it afterwards. "Mh baby I - I don‘t think that‘s a good – oohhhh" while he started talking and took him in my mouth, wrapping my soft lips around him and letting my head go up and down.

"Sh-shit b-ba-by.." he whimpers, gripping the wheel even harder than before.

I wrap my hand around the rest that doesn‘t fit into my mouth and start moving it up and down in the same rythm my mouth does.

His hips buckle up and I feel the car slighty moving from left to right. I hear him whimper and moan above me, i can only imagine him rolling his eyes back while he bites down on his lip.

"I-I‘m gonna c-cum y/n ngh god yes" him moaning like that aaah

I take him even deeper now, moving my hand faster and sucking harder until he steps on the brakes stopping the car before he grips my hair, pushing my head down. I gag around him when suddenly he moans out my name and bucks up his hips again, pumping his cum down my throat.

When he calms down he lets go of my head and helps me up. "Oh baby.. here wait - " he looks for a tissue but before be can find one I open my mouth and show him proudly that I swallowed everything.

He breathes out "fuck.." "Yeah we can do that at home, so start driving." I say grinning, sitting back down into the passanger seat.

my first Hayden/Stephen One Shot so let me know what you think 🫶🏻

xoxo sarah <3

[angelfoxx]

I just know Keegan looks so god damn hot in his casual clothing, going to bed in loose grey boxers and an old band shirt that rides up his stomach when he lies down, AND GOOD GOD his happy traillll😫I feel like he’s one of those guys with really bushy happy trails, doesn’t even know how sexy you find it. He’s lying in bed, one of his big arms around your shoulders while reading an old book. Raises an eyebrow when your hand starts wandering up his thigh, fingertips dipping under the waistband of his boxers..

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ NEED SOMETHING? ❞

…in which keegan entertains your perversions.

FEATURING: keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: keegan being a sexy motherfucker. also me giving him a tatted sleeve because it’s sexy and who the hell is gonna tell me no. also me drooling over his happy trail bc HAPPY TRAILS HAPPY TRAILS LOOOOOOOORD

NOTE/S: oh my god

It’s not your fault, really. Feeling like this. It’s not your fault.

It’s his.

He’s not ignoring you. His arm, slung up on your shoulders, is just a heavy, toned reminder that he’s with you. His attention is just elsewhere.

You aren’t totally sure what book he’s reading. Probably something of Stephen King’s. Last week, it had been Christine. The week prior, It. You hadn’t bothered checking; if it was a low-stress week, he’d tell you all about it once he finished it, true book-critic style. In any case, he’s got the thing casually in his lap, spread open by a splayed hand. He’s got a simple silver band on his middle finger, gnarled and twisted like barbed wire — every now and then, he taps it, just an occasional beat of sound as if to remind you that he’s right there.

You’re ogling his hand, now. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Your eyes travel upward. He’s got a pretty sleeve of black-and-white tattoos; churning ocean waves, storm-battered whitecaps, tossing ships. He’d explained it the first time you’d seen it; something about how he found peace in the chaos of an ocean storm. Just standing in a place where there was no resistance that he could give. Surrendering to the fury of nature. Something like that. It’s…um, attractive. Yeah. You swallow and resist the sudden urge to squeeze your legs together.

The top of that sleeve — thick, billowing clouds — vanishes under the edge of his tee. Charcoal-gray, emblazoned with the title of an old rock band that you’d never really heard of prior to meeting him. He’s still wearing his dog-tag, hanging on a silver chain around his neck and rising on his chest every time he breathes.

Christ, you should stop staring.

His shirt’s ridden up on his stomach, and god, you really shouldn’t look because then you won’t be able to look away. But you do look, because what are you if not a swooning idiot for the sniper sitting beside you?

Every time he breathes, his stomach sinks in and you can see the outline of his abs. God. Fucking Christ. You can see the outline of his abs but not really the middle, because along the middle he’s proudly sporting a long line of short black curls.

You’re basically salivating.

He’s just got some loose gray boxers on, sitting dangerously low on his hips. He’s left the v-line of his hips exposed; your senses are on high alert, eyes catching on every little mole spotting his waist, every little white scar, the edge of the paw-print tattoos he has just below his stomach (it’s where Riley’s front feet go when the dog stands up on his hind legs, tail wagging and tongue lolling), and it’s such a cute little tattoo but your thoughts are anything but and—

“Don’t forget to blink.”

You flinch like you’ve been shot. Your mind goes blank, and your gaze shoots upward.

Tiny smirk caught in the corner of his mouth, Keegan looks down at you with lidded, quietly humored eyes. They seem brilliantly blue, moreso than usual — though maybe that’s just the lighting in here. His hair’s a mess; short and still damp from his earlier shower, undercut scrubbing against your arm as he turns his head, just a little, one eyebrow raised. There’s a little scar through his left one; the hair splits unevenly there. You’ve told him several times that you find it sexy.

He agrees.

“What?” Your mouth feels like it’s filled with a fat wad of cotton. You feel like your thoughts are visible in your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid.” His response is honey-smooth. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t say y…you were.” You swallow. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Mm.” Keegan narrows his eyes. “Mhm.”

And then he goes back to that book.

It’s kind of ridiculous, how hard you stare at his hand holding that book open. It’s almost pathetic, actually. You’re sure he’d say the same if he knew exactly what thoughts were running through your head right now. Pinkie finger on one page, index on the other, middle and ring both resting so lightly along the inseam of the spine.

Christ.

Trying to shake yourself out of your own head, you turn yourself inwards. Keegan needs no words; his arm tightens around you, hand sliding down to your hip and tugging it over so that you’re fully facing his side, head resting against his chest and body slung down along his leg. It’s comfortable like this; it goes without saying that he’s built like a motherfucker and so his pec is a comfortable resting-place for your head. He’s warm, too, deliciously so; his body heat seeps up through his tee, prickling against your skin. He’s comfy, so comfy; on other nights, you’d fallen asleep like this, cuddled up to his side with one of his arms wrapped around you. Those nights were sweet; when time started to slow and all of your senses started to bleed together, you always heard him call your name, so quiet you wouldn’t catch it if you were awake. When you didn’t answer, he’d laugh — and then you’d hear the rustle of sheets as he stooped over and pressed a little kiss to the top of your head.

You weren’t totally sure if he knew that you knew he did that.

Tonight, though, you can’t do that. You can’t fathom it, because your hand is just itching to move. It’s just casually resting against his thigh — god, his fucking thighs, hard and thick and oh, you have to stop ogling him. You have to stop thinking about how that muscle feels, flexing so slightly under your hand as it moves up.

Moves up?

Oh.

Oops.

Keegan doesn’t say anything when your hand cups the warm spot between his legs. He lets out a short breath — it almost sounds like a laugh. There’s a curve taking shape on his lips, and his eyes glint with humor as he shifts, purposefully pushing his pelvis so slightly up into your palm.

The weight of his dick pushes between your fingers and your legs instinctively snap together. Above you, Keegan’s breath cracks into a nearly-silent laugh.

He’s onto you.

You bite your lip, risking a glance up at him as you do. He isn’t looking at you; he’s still reading, hawkish blue eyes scanning from left to right, over and over again. The hand on your hip lightly squeezes a handful of your thigh.

His hips roll so slightly up again. He’s daring you to continue.

Cocky sonofabitch. You swallow as you move your hand up, up, over the slight angular swell of his abdomen and up past the elastic of his boxers. For a moment, you rake your fingers up his abs and you shudder in response to the way his stomach flexes and his breathing oh-so-slightly breaks.

No words. Just the sound of him turning the page.

Bitch. You bite your tongue as you shift your head around. You can hear his heart thumping beneath your ear, and — god fucking dammit — it’s not beating quicker at all. It’s like you can’t disturb him. Get under his skin like he gets under yours.

You pick at the elastic of his waistband. On one hand? You’re rubbing your legs together, biting your tongue, and there’s a million and one dirty images in your head. You can practically hear Keegan’s growl in your ear: too needy to sit still, princess?

But on the other hand, he’s being mean. He’s ignoring you and all of your signs. And you kind of want to just roll over and go to sleep and maybe, just maybe, he’d been hoping for you to go further.

But you won’t. So he’ll get frustrated, and then it’ll be him slowly reaching his hand under the elastic of your waistband, fingers curving over the shape of your body and feeling for wet warmth. He’ll breathe in your ear with that stupid rasp of his and he’ll ask, voice raw, if you were really planning on hanging me out to dry like that? and you’ll say maybe I was.

Or he’ll get frustrated, but he’ll reach into his own pants. He’ll leave you alone, but you’ll wake up to the quiet sound of his muted groans and his hand stroking back and forth under the thin material of his boxers and then maybe he’ll do that thing where he tips his head back, swallows, and his eyes flutter shut and he cursed, quiet and hoarse.

Or maybe—

“Cold feet?” There he is again, short phrases and little questions. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking at his book, tilting his head as he turns the page. He raises an eyebrow to you, tongue clasped between his teeth.

“What?”

No response this time. Keegan’s eyes shift over to you; he cocks his head in your direction, and under that messy black mop of hair and those thick black lashes that you’ve always been envious of, Keegan silently asks if you’re really going to play this fucking dumb.

You’ve arrived at a stalemate. You don’t move. He doesn’t speak. You two just stare at each other, blinking back-and-forth like a tennis volley until Keegan finally sighs and looks away. His eyes return to the book.

You’re about to snap, ready to rip the godforsaken thing out of his lap, when the hand on your hip shifts. His arm lifts off of your back; it pulls around your shoulders instead, crushing you into his armpit.

His fingers clasp around your wrist, and you catch the undeniable edge of a smirk on his face before he takes your hand and pulls it into his pants.

get fucking cliffhanger’d bitches

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie only took the job because it was supposed to be fast, in and out in twenty minutes or so. He's glad that the Lord and his family are out for the evening, because the handle he'd discovered inside the vault and the secret door it triggered was far too interesting for him to not investigate. 

The half-elf is careful as he enters the room, checking for traps or alarms along the entryway, thankful that his magical heritage gives him the ability to see in the absence of light. The place seems to be full of magical items, with bookshelves and displays packed to the brim with books and artifacts. 

And on the far side of the room away from the collection, sitting on a bed and bound to the wall by a chain, is a young man who looks fucking terrified.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," Eddie says as he holds up his hands to show that they're empty, though he realizes that the other may not be able to see the way Eddie can. With a snap of his fingers several softly glowing orbs appear around the room, and the fear changes to surprise at the action. 

Eddie takes the chance to look at the boy as he blinks against the light suddenly filling the space, and woah. His heart skips a beat, because this must be the most beautiful person Eddie has ever seen in his life. 

He's around Eddie's age and clearly of Infernal descent, if the horns curling from his forehead and the tail Eddie can just see flicking behind him are any indication. But instead of the red-tone skin and near-black hair Eddie has seen on other tieflings, the young man has navy hair and powder blue skin dotted with deep blue beauty marks. He's wearing simple, loose clothing, and his eyes shine like gold coins in the light of Eddie's dancing lights, and the half-elf is instantly smitten. 

“My name is Eddie,” he says as he carefully steps closer. "Any chance you could tell me why Lord Harrington has a tiefling sealed away in a secret room?"

Golden eyes snap from the lights back to Eddie's face, and the other seems to study him for a moment before responding with a scratchy, unused voice. "Something about me being the 'physical evidence of our family's greatest shame.' Or something like that."

Eddie blinks, because- "Your family? You're… Lord Harrington's son?" 

The tiefling nods, and Eddie is absolutely bewildered. He’s lived in this town for years, and has never once heard of Lord Harrington having a son, only a daughter who is significantly younger than this person. Looking around the room, Eddie can see that it’s no better than a prison cell. 

The manacle attached to the boy’s wrist is bolted to the wall between the bed and the desk, and on the nearby surface are a pitcher and shallow basin, along with a drinking glass. A chamber pot sits on the floor, just within reach, and must either be cleaned often or enchanted because no smell comes from it.

Eddie can’t help the soft “How long have you been kept in here?” that escapes him, and the boy seems surprised by the concern in his voice. He watches as the tiefling pulls his knees to his chest, hears the chain rattle as he wraps his arms around them. A few locks of navy hair fall down into his face but he makes no move to fix it.

“Since my mother passed away. She was the one who convinced my father to let me at least roam the house, even though I wasn’t allowed outside. She died when I was twelve, and ever since, my father has kept me here.” He looks up then, gold eyes once again focusing on Eddie. “My mother called me Stephen.”

Eddie goes soft at the new information, and he moves over to stand next to the bed. “Stephen. Mind if I call you Steve?”

Stephen, Steve, shakes his head. “I don’t mind. Could you- Why are you here, Eddie?” 

And Eddie sighs. “Well, someone hired me to steal something from your father. I wasn’t expecting to find all of this,” he says, gesturing to the collection around him, then looks back at the other. “Or you.”

Steve's cheeks shift to a darker shade of blue, and Eddie is delighted to realize that the other is blushing. Steve waves his unchained hand around, motioning to the artifacts surrounding them. "Well, I’m sure the stuff in this room is valuable, father wouldn’t keep it hidden otherwise. Feel free to steal any of it as well.”

Eddie feels bold, can't help but ask “And what if I want to steal you?”

Steve's mouth opens in surprise, that blue blush going darker as he gives a soft “What?”

The half-elf moves closer and sits on the bed, just barely resisting the urge to touch the other. “You don’t deserve to be locked away, Steve. Your father is wrong to keep you here, you should be out in the world, living your life.”

He holds out a hand between them, an offering to this gorgeous stranger. "I'm a pretty good lockpick. I could have you out of that chain and this house in no time. Just say the word."

Steve takes a shaky inhale, he seems scared but curious as he asks a quiet "Where would I even go?"

Eddie shrugs a shoulder. "You can come with me, if you want. It's just me and my brother, Dustin, right now, but there's always room for one more."

Steve glances away, seeming to contemplate the offer, and Eddie would give anything to know exactly what he's thinking in this moment. He hopes that Steve says yes, that he lets Eddie take him away from this place, because Steve deserves to be free. He deserves to be in the outside world, to see the wonders of it, and more than anything, Eddie wants to be the one to show it to him.

It's not long before golden eyes snap back to chocolate brown, and Eddie's heart soars as Steve places his chained hand in Eddie's outstretched one. He aches when he sees the chafed skin of Steve's wrist, rough and raw from what's likely years of contact with the harsh metal. 

But Steve seems determined and ecstatic, his hand squeezing Eddie's as he says "Do it. Steal me, Eddie." 

And Eddie beams as he pulls out his lockpick kit. 

"With pleasure, Steve."

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

A multiversal wolverines mind and her declining sanity

Logan howlett x reader

-

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!!!

-

Warnings: major Canon divergence.

-

Cassandra's lair was made of the armoured corpse of Antman. Not exactly the most subtle lair on earth.

We stood as six before God knows how many, I knew we shouldn't have come. Logan knew it too, and secretly, I bet everyone else did too.

"Your all soooooo brave for coming back here" Nova taunted.

Her stupid fucking face pouted in faux. Stupid fucking bald headed bitch with stupid eyes and stupid clothes. Pathetic.

"I'd say your all so brave for not running away quicker" I stated.

In that moment, Logan pulled out both sets of claws and I had summoned my hand blade.

"Because we're about to fuck you all u-"

Before I could finish my sentence, I felt something protruding from my face, something like fingers. A hand crawled around my skull, invading my facial muscles.

It felt like Charles all over again.

"Your poor thing"

My memories began to zoom around my mind. Logan. Xavier. Scarlet witch. Loki. The TVA. Logan.

-

🧠

"Your not listening to me!"

I kicked and banged against the jail bars.

"LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU PATHETIC FUCK!"

They were going to find Logan. They were going to kill him.

-

'Aw, I don't think that's what we're looking for now, is it?' Nova laughed darkly ', let's look again, shall we?"

-

🧠

It was sunny today. Finally, the sun had shone. I held logans calloused hand as we watched our small dog, Felix, run around in the field. The grass was waving and emerald, the sun rays were golden and heavenly.

"You know Logan. If anything ever happens to you-"

"Ah," he put his finger on my mouth, silencing me instantly "nothing will ever happen to me"

Nothing will ever happen to me

Nothin

Nothi

Noth

Not

No

N

Will ever happen to me.

-

"AHHHHH!" I screamed as I impaled nova with my blade, holding her in the air forked through the stomach.

"You vile, vicious, pathetic little bitch!"

She could only laugh. Dark and vile.

The rest of her henchmen, or whatever the fuck she called them, gathered around us. I let novas body slide off my blade and thud on the ground.

"Youknowhowlongibeenwaitinfordis? Hooimboutamakanameformaselfere"

Again, I didn't know what the fuck gambit was saying. But oh was this gonna be fucking fun.

-

🧠

For some reason, I barely remember if i had any memories of logans memory loss. I know I was there. But what I did during it was information. Not even a mind reader could get out of me.

I remember, while working at the TVA, I met Doctor Stephen Strange. He was looking for a missing girl he said could travel across the multiverse.

Of course, no one believed him, but I remember seeing his face. Grey streaked beard. Classy red cape and blue robes. The time stone in his amulet. Something in me watched his panic, and I understood how we felt. I got it. I got that fear.

So I told him where she was.

And still to this day, no one at the TVA knows.

-

I was awake. That's all I knew. And I could move. I heard two different voices. I was lying on the grass, it was wet and cold but the air was warm.

One voice was that was of Wade.

Another of Logan

"Holy fuck balls she's awake!" Wade Gasped.

I sat up and got massive deja vu all over again. As I gained back my vision, I passed the blurriness, I first saw Logan and dare I say he looked mildly concerned.

"What the fuck happened?" I groaned loudly

"We were at bald Freaks lair and now we're in God knows where"

"Westchester," I said instantly.

I finally gained the strength to stand up and look around. "Were in fucking Westchester"

Wade looked around, while Logan looked at me and I looked at him.

"Why the fuck are we here?!" Wade threw his hands up in the air, acting defeated.

I turnt to Logan. "You alright?" He asked, not that he actually cared. "I'm fine" I replied "listen I think we've gone back into the past, in the time of the x mansion"

"Oh what the fuck?!" Logan grunted and punched the tree beside him, shattering it completely.

"So we're gonna find rolly polly here?" Wade put his hands on his hips.

Rolly polly obviously meant Charles.

"We just might yes"

-

[cosyvelvetorchid]

BuckTommy+ ducklings???

That would be cute

This was super cute. Thank you!

You can send me bucktommy, saltommy or Tommy prompts to my ask and I'll write something.

Thanks 🩶

*******

Tommy sank into the mattress that he'd been fantasising about for the last few hours. He was just off a 48-hour shift and was exhausted. Buck was already fast asleep, mouth parted, breathing light snores into his pillow. Tommy gently pulled him into his chest, taking care not to wake him, kissed the top of his head, and closed his eyes, revelling in the silence of the night.

A few minutes later, his eyes opened as a sound cut through the silence. It was subtle, but it was there. Tommy knew it was there because he'd heard that same sound for the past 3 nights.

It was coming from outside, near to his bedroom window. At first, he'd thought he had dreamed it, then he thought his exhausted head was playing tricks on him. There had been a moment where the idea flitted across his brain that he was going crazy.

He heard it again. A tap-tap-tap-tap. It was deep sounding, almost.. wet? It was repetitive in its rhythm and travelling back and forth underneath his window.

"Babe?" He whispered to Buck, who shifted in Tommy arms. "Evan." He said a little louder. Buck woke up but didn't open his eyes.

"Mm-what?"

"Do you hear that?" The tapping continued.

"Mmm-yeah." He said sleepily. "What is it?"

"I think it's some kind of animal. I'm gonna check it out." Tommy lifted the covers to get out of bed, but Buck held him tighter.

"No. Leave it. It'll go away." He tried to snuggle back into Tommy's warmth.

"What if its a coyote? Or worse. There are kids on this block." He argued. Buck sighed.

"Okay, okay. Let's go look." Buck left the warmth of Tommy's bed, throwing one of Tommy's hoodies over his boxers, and followed Tommy to the kitchen. Tommy almost did a comedy double-take when he saw Evan standing there in tight boxers, his hoodie, with sleepy eyes and messy hair. No, he chastised himself - noise investigation first, naked Evan later. He shook the thought away, then unlocked and slid open the glass door that led to the deck that ran the entire length along the back of the house. He grabbed a flashlight from a drawer in the kitchen, and they both tentatively crept out.

"Can you see anything?" Buck asked as Tommy shone the light underneath his bedroom window.

"Footprints." He replied. "Tiny.. footprints." They were small, triangular in shape, running back and forth across the deck, sometimes criss-crossing. The tapping sound happened again, and they both turned in the direction it came from.

"I think it's coming from behind the bench." Buck said. They slowly walked across to the bench that sat at the far corner of the deck. They both slowly leaned over as Tommy shone the flash light over the top.

Under the beam of light was a pair of ducks, with 6 little ducklings.

"Aww! Baby ducks!" Buck responded with a smile. "I wanna hold one." He reached down with his hand. Tommy lightly grabbed his forarm.

"Evan, they're wild animals. You can't touch them."

"They're ducks, Tommy. Not like they're gonna have rabies." He argued.

"Still, we should call animal control or something. I don't want them on my deck." He told Buck. Buck reached down and delicately picked up one of the fuzzy babies and held it close to his face, then held it out towards Tommy.

"You look Stephen in the eye and tell him that." Buck jutted out his bottom lip and looked at Tommy.

"Ste.. wha... you named him?!"

"How can you not? He's adorable!" Buck gently grazed the little guys fluff with his knuckle.

"I.. don't look at me with that face." Tommy tried to resist Evans big blue eyes, that he was convinced Evan could make larger on cue to manipulate him into getting what he wanted. Unfortunately, it worked. Every time. Tommy sighed and walked back into the kitchen.

"Hey, where are you going?" Buck called out as he tried to resist covering the little fluff ball in his hand in kisses.

"To get some bread."

[httpscomexe]

No Way Home

Summary: After a stressful meeting with Peter Parker, you try to help Stephen Strange unwind a little.

Parings: Stephen Strange x Reader

Warnings: Spell use, language, No Way Home scenes (Actual Dialogue), Smut (Oral, p in v, unprotected, f on birth control), fingering, wound (no description), self deprecating jokes, choking, safe word, some aftercare, little fluff.

Word Count: 3989

“I’ve been practising magic for years, teaching you everything I know, and here we are.” you chuckle a little as Stephen sighs at your every comment.

“I asked Wong to cast the maintenance spell, he’s not the best listener.”

“Well Wong has more important duties as the sorcerer supreme.”

“He wouldn’t be the sorcerer supreme if I hadn’t blipped for 5 years.” The coffee machine made a bubbling sound as it filled the rest of his cup and he walked towards you. “I don’t really understand why they didn’t make you the sorcerer supreme.” He takes a sip of his coffee as he stares down at you,

“Because she tries escaping the sanctum. We all know she has very powerful that she can’t quite control yet and we need to keep her here until we know we can trust her.” Wong walks out of the kitchen, casting a portal and walking into it. “While I’m gone, you get babysitting duties.” You scoff, you know how to control your powers, you just choose not to listen to them.

“I don’t think she needs babysitting Wong.”

“Even if she doesn’t need it, she already follows you around like a puppy already anyways.”

“Yea I’ve noticed that…” He turns to look at you with his head tilted. “You have been clinging onto me like your life depends on it haven't you? Always by my side.” He smiles a little. You were surprised he’s only just now realizing it.

I only shrug.

“Well it’s cold down here, while you’re going back and forth between portals, Y/N and I are going upstairs where it's a little warmer.” He opens a portal to the upstairs, not wanting you to slip on the stairs… again…

“Alright. You keep an eye on that girl, she’s trouble.” Wong waves a finger and you smirk so he knows you’re already up to something as you all go through a portal. 

“We are all in shock at this news today!” The lady on the TV talks and talks about everything boring as Stephen goes through some papers of research. “After this video was released from the now deceased Quentin Beck, also known as ‘Mysterio’ the entire world is shocked to see a teenage face under the famous ‘spiderman’ mask, a 17 year old Midtown high student named Peter Parker.” That’s not good.

“Oh boy.” You hear Stephen mumble behind you.

“How do you think he’s feeling about all of it” you stand up from the couch and walk towards Stephen who’s now looking at the TV as a clip from the video Mysterio recorded plays behind you.

“Well I’m sure he’s gonna find a way to make things worse. He’s on his way here right now actually.” He reaches to his right and his cape flies onto his back.

“How would you know that?”

“Y/N sweetie, I know everything.” He whispers softly into your ear, sending small butterflies through your belly as he walks past you and begins down the stairs. As you always do, you begin to follow behind him.

At the bottom of the stairs you hear a high pitched voice and Wong speaking back, and you see Stephen speaking as well. As you get halfway down the stairs, you see Peter Parker.

“The most famous person in the world, I know.” Wong enters through a portal, setting down several suitcases. “Wong.” He introduces himself quickly. “Try not to slip, we don’t have liability insurance.”

“Is all this for a holiday party?” You see Peter take a few steps forward, examining the sanctorum filled with snow and ice.

“No, one of the Rotunda gateways connects to Siberia. A blizzard blasted through.” Stephen leaves your side at the center of the staircase and floats down the steps with a coffee mug in his hands, slipping a little when he lands.

“Because someone forgot to cast the monthly maintenance spell to keep the seals tight.” He speaks as he reaches the last step.

“That’s right, he did, because he forgot I now have higher duties-”

“Higher duties?”

“The sorcerer supreme has higher duties, yes.”

“Wait, I thought you were the Sorcerer Supreme-” Peter breaks their conversation and Stephen looks back at him.

“No, he got it on a technicality cause I blipped for five years.”

“Oh.” He looks at Wong. “Well, congratulations.”

Stephen starts back up. “If I’d been here, then I would have-”

“Burned the whole place down.” Wong walks in front of Stephen. “You two! No one said ‘stop shoveling’”

“So, Peter. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stephen begins to walk to the fireplace.

“Right umm… I’m really sorry to bother you, sir, but-”

“Please, we saved half the universe together, I think we’re beyond you calling me sir.” You started to walk down the stairs to them, smiling softly at Wong as he helped the two people shovel snow.

When you enter the room, you see Stephen lighting the fireplace with some magic.

“Okay, uh, Stephen-”

“That feels weird. But I’ll allow it.”

“Uh, when, um… when Mysterio revealed my identity, my entire life got screwed up.” You stood at the entrance, staring at the fireplace with Peters back to you as he spoke. “And, I was wondering… I mean, I don’t really know if this would actually work, but I was wondering if… maybe you could go back in time and make it so that he never did?”

“Peter, we tampered with the stability of spacetime to resurrect countless lives. You want to do it again now just cause yours got messy?”

“This isn’t- It’s not about me. I mean, this is really hurting a lot of people. My uh… my Aunt May. Happy. My best friend, my girlfriend… their futures are ruined. Just because they know me and they’ve… done… nothing… wrong…?” Peter pauses randomly as he finishes his sentence, you assume his spider sense is catching onto something so you use your own magic to summon some knives.

Suddenly, he quickly turns around and a string of white liquid shoots out at your left hand, sticking it to the table next to you.

“Y/N?!” Peter walks towards you when he realizes who it is. “Oh my God, I thought you were dead!” He gets closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yea, hey Pete.” He hugs you tighter and you use your free hand so gently hug him back.

“Have you been here the whole time?” He finally pulls away from you, both of his hands gently rest on your shoulders. “Sorry I shot a web at your hand, I guess my spider sense still recognizes you as Black Bee.” (Your villain name) You took a deep breath when he said that name. You haven’t been Martyr for a long time. Just as Bucky hasn’t been The Winter Soldier for a long time, but yet you both still have to be locked up in separate places.

“Well that’s unfortunate isn’t it Peter?” you mumble and Peter lets go of you, easily ripping the web fluid off my hand. “Good thing I’m not anymore, or I swear I wouldn’t be stuck in the sanctum right now.” Peter looks down at you confused. Then he looks up at Stephen.

“Why isn’t she allowed to leave?”

“Because she’s not completely safe yet. Last time we tried bringing her to the store so she could get something for her drawings, she lashed out on a random civilian because they accidentally ran into her backside with their shopping cart.” He sighs and looks at you. You were smiling, clearly proud of yourself. “You should’ve seen the look of fear on that poor womans face as Y/n-”

“Okay, I think you and Peter were talking about something more important before he almost attacked me, Strange.” you cut him off, not wanting to relive the embarrassing memory.

“Right, I am so sorry Peter, but even if I wanted to… I don’t have the Time Stone Anymore.” Strange drops the subject quickly and refocuses on Peter.

“That’s right.” He groans a little. “I’m really sorry if I wasted your time.”

“No, you didn’t-”

“Forget about it.” Behind you, Wong picks up his suitcases and joins the conversation again.

“Oh, he will. He’s very good at forgetting things.”

“Wong, you've actually generated a good idea…”

“What?”

“The Runes of Kof-Kol?” Peter looked at Strange questionably.

“The Runes of Kof-Kol?”

“Oh, it’s just a standard spell of forgetting. It won’t turn back time, but at least people will forget that you were ever Spider-Man.”

“Seriously? That would be-” Your heart beated quickly when Peter's interest rose in Kof-Kol. You and Wong both spoke at the same time.

“No, not seriously!” Wong turns from you to Strange. “That spell travels the dark borders between known and unknown reality. It’s too dangerous.”

“We’ve used it for a lot less. Do you remember the full moon party at Kamar-Taj?”

“No…?”

“Exactly.” Strange waits for a moment before speaking again. He doesn’t even bother addressing you since you weren’t anywhere near being allowed to tell him no. “Come on. Wong… hasn’t he been through enough?”

You watch as Wong's face softens, behind him, another portal opens to Kamar-Taj. “Just leave me out of this.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Wong enters the portal and it closes quickly behind him. Then Strange turns to Peter and has a friendly grin on his face.

The scene in the ancient chamber plays. Strange attempts to cast the spell, Peter keeps changing it mid spell, Strange gets mad at Peter.

Upstairs, everything starts shaking and you look over as a relic falls apart when one of the apprentices tries to hold onto it for support. You quickly make your way down to make sure everything is alright.

“Did it work?” Your voice shook as you looked around and saw Strange visibly angered.

“No. He changed my spell six times-”

“Five times.” You both looked over at Peter who now looked nervous again.

“You changed my spell! You don’t do that! I told you-” He looks at the trapped spell in the centre of the room. “And that is why!” You all look towards the orb with the tiny spell inside. “That spell was completely out of control. If I hadn’t shut it down, something catastrophic could have happened!”

“Stephen, listen, I am so sorry-”

“Call me sir”

Everything is quiet for a moment as you watch the exchange, already developing a way to talk to Strange who you felt was being way too hard on Peter.

“Sorry, sir…” Peter mumbled.

“You know, after everything we’ve been through together, somehow I always forget you’re… you’re just a kid.” You watch as Peter looks down, clearly feeling ashamed of himself. “Look, Parker.” His tone softens. “The problem is not Mysterio. It’s you.” You shoot Strange a daring look, he knows he’s already pressing too far on Peter. “Trying to live two different lives, and the longer you do that the more dangerous it becomes, believe me.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m so sorry about you and your friends not getting into college. But if they rejected you, and you tried to convince them to reconsider, there’s nothing else you can do.” We all stand in silence for a moment and we watch as Peter's face changes slightly.

“When you say “Convince them” you mean like I could have called them?”

“Yea.”

“I can do that?”

“You haven’t called the-”

“Well I mean, I got their letter and I assumed that that was-” You finally cut in.

“I’m sorry, are you telling us that you didn’t think to call and plead your case with them first before you asked Strange to brainwash the entire world?” you asked him more calmly than Strange would have.

“Well, I mean, when you put it like that, then-”

“I can’t believe that kid. He’s fought a giant purple goblin and he can’t think of calling a college and talking to them for reconsideration?” He speaks angrily and you follow him into his room.

“You know, I think I might be able to get into the college if I applied.” You watch as he sits on the edge of his bed. “I mean, I’m basically also twenty-three just like Peter, just a bit more complicated.”

“Complicated because you were frozen in ice at 12, then blipped at 17?”

“Yea complicated because of that.” You put your knees on his bed and make your way behind him. “But you’re way too hard on him, you’re hard on me too.”

“Not as hard on you as I am on him though, I could never yell at you.” You sit up on your knees and place both of your hands on his shoulders, starting to gently massage his muscles.

“You’ve yelled at me plenty of times before Mr. Strange.” you whisper close to his ear and continue to massage him.

“Yes but that was before we all fought a giant grape.” He sighs a little and tilts his head slightly to the side, taking a deep breath as your hands begin to relax his muscles. “And if I can remember clearly, you used your powers to heal Stark. And you also used your powers to find Thanos.” He leans back a little against your front. “Tell me, if it wasn’t your dad who used the glove, if it was someone else like Clint or Scott, would you still have used your powers to save them?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well because when you use your Saint, you're taking the pain out of their body and putting it into your own body, and you also move their wounds from theirs to yours.”

“Well, I still would’ve Sainted them. Maybe not you though.” You giggle a little as he turns around and grabs you by the waist.

“Oh really?” You reach down to try pulling his hands off of your waist, laying back as he presses forward on top of you.

“No of course not really.” You laugh as he lays on top of you with one of his knees between your thighs. “You should consider telling Fury that it’s safe for me to leave. I know how to control my powers…”

“Yea, you do, but the second you leave the Sanctum I won’t be able to find you again unless you come to find me for something.” He moves until he's stradling your legs, one of his hands is pressed onto your lower abdomen, and his other hand rests on his thigh as he sits back on his heels.

“Well yea, I like to have my freedom.” You sigh a little as he leans down slowly and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, making you smile softly.

“You have your freedom as long as you’re by my side.” He gently moves his hand down to the end of your shirt and slowly glides his hand carefully over your stomach. “You know.” His voice drops to a whisper as he pauses for a moment and runs his hand over your smooth skin. “You were 17 during the blip… does that make it still wrong for me to touch you? Or will you consider yourself to be twenty three for me?” He grins as he leans down again, his lips gently brushing against your cheek and gently trailing along your jaw and neck.

“I can be twenty three for now… If you want.” You feel your body heating up and you’re sure he could smell you.

“You smell so sweet…” He mumbles as he leans back to press kisses to your stomach and thighs.

Thanks to your powers and the way you were built, when you're turned on, people can smell your arousal no matter how heightened their senses are.

you could feel his tongue slowly trail wet licks between your thighs. His large hands caressing your thighs and gently moving up to grab your hips.

“You look so beautiful…” He lays one more kiss to your stomach as he leans back up and connects his lips to yours in a long kiss. You reach up to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close as he wraps one of his arms around the back of your waist to lift your body against his.

“You know you’re really pretty too…?” You whisper softly with a quiet laugh as he chuckles and lays more kisses to your neck, making you involuntarily arch your back up to get closer to him. Now you could really feel your body heating up. Your lips part slightly as you start to breathe more heavily, and he admired your breasts move slightly as your chest moved up and down. You blush when you see him lick his bottom lip like a starved lion and you were his prey.

“Are you feeling any better? Or do I still have to wait…” You look down a little as you watch him run his hand down to where you were stabbed while fighting Thanos.

“I think I’ll be fine, just be careful if you grab my waist.” With that, he wraps both arms behind your back and moves you until we’re both lying on the bed.

“Remind me of our safeword, my rose…” He speaks softly as he begins to unbutton your blouse and skirt.

“Jumanji.”

“We really need to work on your safeword…” As soon as he finishes speaking, you feel something wrap around your wrists and you look up to see a string of his orange magic attach both of your wrists to the bed.

Fuck

He admired how you looked. Strapped down on his bed as he towered over you.

“You are so fucking perfect you know that?” He growls a little as he grinds against your thigh, his hard length making you whimper a little. 

“You don’t have to sweet talk me to turn me on you know…”

“I’m just speaking the truth.”

“That’s not the truth.” He reaches up and grabs onto your chin almost painfully and forces you to look into his eyes.

“Y/N.” His voice was daring. “You’re beautiful and if you ever start to think otherwise, I swear I’ll fuck you until you can’t even comprehend what the word ugly even means. I’ll have you screaming my name and telling you how beautiful you are then when you finally believe I’ll bend you over until you apologise for ever believing you’re not.” He stares into your eyes a moment longer before pressing a rough kiss to your lips.

You kissed for what felt like hours, and honestly you wished it had never stopped.

When he felt your legs open from under him, he couldn’t resist touching you. His hand slid down until he could feel your sensitive skin. “Fuck” He mumbled as he began to rub over your clit with his fingers, making your hips buck up in response.

“Please…” She breathes quietly as his fingers spread her lips, playing with your clit as you continue to buck against his hand, a quiet moan escaping your lips as he leans down, removes your panties, and roughly brings his tongue down to lick you from your opening to your clit. Repeating the movement two more times before diving his tongue into you, tasting your sweet hole.

“You always taste so fucking good…” He begins to lean back up your body, rubbing the bulge in his pants against your thigh before running his hand down and rubbing your clit again, teasing your entrance with one of his fingers before pushing two of his fingers into your hole. “Fucking perfect…” He curls his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside of you that drives you wild while his thumb runs rough circles over your clit.

He began to plunge his two fingers in and out of you, causing you to moan in pleasure.

You began to moan more wildly as his movements became more urgent and you felt a familiar heat rise inside of your lower stomach.

The more you moved, the more he struggled to keep you still. He leans up a little, placing his free hand on your hip to hold you down as he adds a finger to your tight hole. “Cum for me little rose… cum on my fingers like a good girl…” His voice makes your head go foggy and your eyes flutter. You throbbed as you felt the pleasure course through you, rushing through you like a waterfall, and you whined at the feeling of his fingers leaving your hole. Making you lay there in breathy moans.

You watch as he brings his finger up to his lips and licks your arousal off his fingers, then he leans his face over yours, pressing a gently kiss to your temple, then pulling back and resting his hand over your throat before pressing down with his weight onto your throat, making you gasp. “Open.” He demands.

As you open your mouth, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your bottom lip, then leans back to spit into your mouth, moving a little with one of his hands still circling your throat and his other hand gently resting on your waist. “Swallow.”

And you did.

As much as you hated it when people saw you as vulnerable and weak, you swallow his spit. “Good girl..” He growls as he finally positions himself between your legs and you whine as you feel the tip of his cock against your hole, before slowly pushing himself inside of you. Stay quiet, he doesn’t like it when you’re loud during the day.

“Stay quiet…” He growls quietly into your ear before beginning to slowly move inside of you, easily brushing himself against your G-spot everytime he moves, making you arch your back off the bed, begging for more movement as you moan quietly.

“Shhh… M’not goin n’y faster n’til I know y’can take me slow…” He mumbles, continuing to move slowly inside of you, being careful not to grip your waist where you had been hurt.

After you stayed quiet for a few moments, he began to move more quickly, pulling out before slamming back into you.

“Fuck you’re so perfect…” He gently grabbed onto your hip with one hand, and squeezed your throat tighten with his other hand, making your moans become more desperate.

Suddenly you feel warm, and your body starts to shake as you feel yourself come close to another orgasm.

“Fuck, rosey, you feel so good… cum on my cock…” He squeezes your throat tighter, making you gasp a little for air. “Fuck, please tell me you’re still on birth control…” He leans up a little, releasing your throat and pressing both of his hands flat onto your waist, causing a wave of pain to shoot through your body as he accidentally presses his palm onto your wound, but it quickly numbs as it’s mixed with the next orgasm that tears through your body and you feel a warm liquid fill your hole as he carefully pulls out.

“Fuck I’m sorry if that hurt…” He gently runs his hand over the large bandage covering your wound.

“M’ okay…” You mumble. “M’ okay…”

“Okay.” He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, then he stands up off the bed and walks into the bathroom, coming back out with a warm towel.

With the wave of his hand, the magic that was restraining your wrists disappears and he kneels next to you on the bed, gently cleaning both of your liquids off your thighs.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go Y/N” He finishes cleaning the mess and watches as you sit up.

“I don’t mind never leaving…” You mumble. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on your lips, you smile and kiss him back.

“I love you, rose bud…”

“Love you too…”

[moonstruck-poet]

Survive pt.3

Pairing - Carlos Sainz x wife!reader

Summary - Because of your job as a crime officer, a particularly dangerous mission has both you and your husband on the edge.

Warnings - breakdown, trauma, mentions of harassment, blood, injury

"No absolutely not," Elijah shook his head firmly, "No way in hell am I gonna let you drive yourself home. You can barely stand for Christ's sake!"

"Elijah," you began but were cut off immediately.

"He's right," Stephen crossed his arms, shooting you a look of finality and you sighed, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. "Good work then team," he said after a moment's pause.

Chris snorted, grabbing his coat and pulling it on, not even wincing as the fabric grazed against his bandaged wounds, "That's an understatement".

"I'll have you know that your names have been given to this year's award ceremony".

"Holy shit," Jess voiced everyone's feelings, her eyes wide with excitement. The award ceremony hosted by the country every year was a dream for the militant force like you. Earning the badges given was always the biggest source of pride.

"Should we go then?" Elijah asked making you roll your eyes. You two were going home together in your car while Jess and Chris were in hers, her and Eli being the less harmed ones.

"Bye everyone, take a well deserved break," you muttered, grabbing Jess and pulling her into a tight hug, both of you grimacing at the pain which only amplified as the boys joined it.

"Goodbye Cap, looking forward to the team dinner," Chris grinned, throwing you a wink and you laughed, accepting his request.

The pair of you walked downstairs to the parking lot, your steps guided and slow, unlike your usual confident, quick strides.

"Here," you held your key to him, watching as his mouth opened in slight shock.

"You sure?" He bit his lip, trying his hardest to not snatch the key of his favourite car.

"Yes. You're dropping me off, that's the least I can do for you," you replied, smiling at the way his face lit up like a child's as he ran towards the door, getting into your sleek black Aston Martin. "Take it home, keep it for a day or two. I'll pick it up".

His lips could've split his face with how wide they seemed to stretch. Buckling in the seatbelts, you began the drive home.

It didn't take long considering it was quite late and you didn't live far off. Opening the door you cautiously got out, groaning as your extremely sore legs bore your body weight making you lean against the car.

"Should I come up?" He asked, getting out too but certainly not wanting to overstep any boundaries at all. "You'll be fine by yourself?"

You nodded, "You've helped me enough already, 'lijah. Go home now, your mum must be waiting".

He pursed his lips before gently giving you a side hug, his eyes tearing up a little as the terrific day came rushing through.

"I know," you rubbed his shoulder, "It's okay".

He exhaled heavily before drying his eyes and giving you a smile, "Also can you congratulate Carlos on his podium? The race was simply amazing," he slightly bounced on his feet, his inner Ferrari fanboy peeking out making you grin.

Bidding your crazy but loving friend goodbye, at long last you walked towards the elevator, your strength slowly deteriorating but your determination was strong. The lift seemed teasingly slow, as though wanting to keep you away from your husband for as long as it could.

Alas it stopped at your floor and you stepped out immediately, almost jogging to the door and ringing the bell, not bothering to find the keys because you knew he was waiting on the other side.

A second later the door opened, revealing your Carlos and you didn't even have the time to properly look at him before you were whisked in his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly as he held you close, breathing heavily and unconsciously gripping you tighter. His face was pressed into your neck, and for the love of god the love that emitted from him made all the pain fade away.

He simply held you there, your hands turning into fists as you grasped his shirt, finally inhaling his soft scent and as though your body had had enough, as though a switch had flickered on, tears fell down your cheeks. Silent at first, before transforming into sobs that tugged at your husband's heartstrings. Hu pulled away from your shoulder, allowing you to copy his position as your arms wound around his neck, face buried in the crook as you cried.

Every horrible scene that happened today was running through your mind like a movie, and relieving it again made the horrors even more real.

"C- Carlos," you stuttered before letting out another shout, filled with such an ounce of pain that tears were quick to well up in his eyes.

"I'm here, my love," he whispered desperately, clutching at your body, pulling you impossibly closer as he provided you with comfort that seemed useless. "You're home, you're safe now. Everything's okay, cariño". [Darling]

Cariño.

Cariño.

The nickname just somehow poked at your emotions again, reminding you of the moment when you had been lying helplessly on the ground, eyes almost closing as you were being beaten mercilessly. Your mind had gone numb, the only thing echoing in it was your husband's soft, gentle voice as he called you his darling, his cariño.

"I- I'm sorry- I can't- I can't breathe-" you managed in between the cries, trying your best to take in the air but you didn't want to lift your head up, afraid that you would be transported back to that hotel.

"Amor," he said softly, shutting his eyes furiously to stop the incoming emotions because right now he had to be strong. For you. You had been through hell and back, emerging victorious with a smile of confidence. But now? You were merely a human, having had enough for a day. It was his priority, you were his priority. He must be strong. For you. [Love]

He controlled himself, driven by the spirit to bring you back to him. With one hand still wrapped protectively around you, he closed the door with the other. Then he slightly lifted you up, walking backwards to the couch and settling you down, but making sure to not distance him at all.

Knowing that you needed him more than anything, anyone else in the world. And he was going to be there for every second of it.

"I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere," he reassured you but felt the way your hands pulled him closer and he swallowed, placing his palm on the back of your head, trying to soothe you.

"It's okay," he murmured in your ear. His deep, low yet tender voice steadily penetrating through the darkness plaguing your mind. "You're okay, mi corazõn. Everything is okay". [My heart]

"Shhh," he repeated, now starting to rub slow circles on your back as you quietened down, not speaking anything and instead turning your head sideways, allowing your nose to inhale some air.

You didn't know how long you stayed in the position, but your legs had started throbbing, a dull ache spreading through your body, lighting every part but you ignored it, as it was all physical.

Right now, your mental health was way more important and you owed it to yourself to pay attention and give it what it needs.

You had calmed down completely, just enjoying the feel of him as you played with the ends of his hair when a thought struck your mind. Carlos hadn't even seen you properly, even though your wounds were bandaged, your bloodied shirt was enough to give him a scare. You grimaced at that, cursing yourself for not having brought a change of clothes. You had your jacket over it but that didn't actually make it any better, as the sleeves were ripped.

So praying that you wouldn't give him another heart attack, you deliberately pulled away, before giving yourself the chance to look at his face that you had been deprived of for so long.

His eyes met yours, and as they scanned every cut on your face itself, they widened. Worry immediately seeping through those brown irises as he looked at you incredulously.

"Oh my god," was all he managed to utter as he took your hands, his trembling after noticing every cut and bruise that marked your body. Then his gaze fell down to your once light blue shirt which had stained crimson and he felt his stomach churn.

"What the hell-" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence as his eyes moved around wildly. His heart burning with pain, discomfort, rage, on seeing the condition of his wife.

"Qué te hicieron, mi amor..." He trailed off, a lone tear falling down his cheek as his heart ached uncontrollably. An everlasting torment infecting his soul as he looked at you, a sight that he would never be able to forget. [What did they do to you, my love]

"Hey," you called him, hesitatingly raising your hands to cup his face, and his eyes fluttered close, leaning against your touch as though it were muscle memory for him.

"Sé que esto pinta mal, créeme. Pero te prometo que saldré de esta". [I know this looks bad, believe me. But I promise you that I will get out of this]

"No estoy preocupado por eso," he chuckled, his voice hollow as he looked at you, your pain being reflected in his expressions. "I know you'll get through this, you always do. But I can't help the pain that I feel on seeing you hurt, mi vida". [I'm not worried about that] [My life]

You could only give him a sad smile as he covered your hand with his, not failing to notice the way your face had contorted ever the slightest.

He gently pulled them away from his face, before turning them around and seeing your bruised knuckles. Some were still raw while others had turned dark blue.

"You get a small paper cut and I can feel my pulse racing like anything. Every time you tell me you're going to visit a site, or- or have a small mission my insides freeze with fear. I feel so afraid over the smallest of stuff," he sighed, ghosting his thumb over your skin.

"I'm so sorry," you apologised sincerely, knowing how bad it must be for him to constantly worry about your well being. You understood it all too well, as you always held your breath during his races, not taking your eyes off of the track, worried that something bad may happen if you did so.

You couldn't imagine him being alone, farther away from you, not even knowing your exact location. The only thing in his hands was to pray.

"No no," he shook his head and now smiled more genuinely. "I knew what I was signing up for, but I actually didn't have a choice as you had to be my only best friend since childhood".

You laughed at that, "Having second thoughts now are we, Sainz?"

"Never," he muttered, giving you a crooked smile and you leaned closer, snaking your arms around his neck to bring him in a kiss and he sighed at the feeling, not wasting any time as he joined you, hands on your waist as he kissed back. Love, worry, longing were the major emotions you felt from his side as he closed the gap again before moving back, resting his forehead to yours.

"Oh Dios, te quiero tanto," he spoke, eyes opening as he placed a lingering kiss on your forehead and your heart swelled at his action. [Oh God, I love you so much]

There was just something about these types of kisses that made you feel so, so loved. Maybe it was because you felt secure, or the feeling on his soft lips against your temple, or maybe it was the way he looked at you after, his eyes tender but burning with a flame of protectiveness.

"I should take a shower," you mumbled, "And I'm also very hungry".

"I knew you would be, I've made your favourite. Come on up you get," he stood up making you frown at the warmth disappearing but you followed his lead, momentarily forgetting about your heavy injuries and as a result you stumbled a little, his arm around you instinctively making you smile.

He helped you enter the bathroom, taking off your jacket for you and removing fresh, comfortable clothes from your wardrobe. The shower felt incredible after the long day, the warm water rinsing off every bit of dirt and grime that had remained on your body.

And you walked into the kitchen, wearing his hoodie and sweatpants, the delicious smell of pasta greeting you as you entered.

Dinner was a rather interesting affair as you filled Carlos in with the incidents of today. Trying not to laugh on seeing his expressions that changed every second as you told him the story.

"I'm glad the others are safe too," he frowned, having heard everything at last. "Also happy that you managed to get all the children out".

"They were so happy, you know," you told him, your heart clenching as he took your hand in his. "So happy to get back to their parents".

He smiled, though feeling your sadness, "I can't even imagine what they had gone through".

A hiss from you broke his thoughts as you rubbed your shin that had bumped against the table in your eagerness to stand up.

"Love," he scolded you, going over to your side and helping you out. "You have to be more careful".

"I can do it by myself," you grumbled, but obliged anyways as he shot you the look, similar to the one your mother used to give you when you refused to listen to her.

"Let's patch you up," he brought you to the bedroom and you laid down, a satisfactory groan escaping your lips as your body rested. But your back had also bore many beatings, which were now aching.

"Can you take it off?" He asked, tugging at your hoodie as you crossed your arms to lift it over your head, your lips turning downwards as your muscles throbbed harshly.

"Hey wait- I'll do it," he stepped it rather gladly, cautiously pulling it off of you and on seeing your torso, his heart had once again broken into tiny fragments.

Your stomach was spotted with yellowing bruises, and he forced himself to swallow the lump hurting his throat.

"Oh baby," he said sadly, seeing the long, red scar on your neck. Involuntarily his fingers touched the area around it, caressing the skin. His touch travelled down to your collar bone, where again lay a long, but slightly deeper scar.

"How did you handle so much," he asked, not expecting an answer but he was too overwhelmed on seeing the marks on your body.

"I'm just a little strong I guess," you replied anyways, squeezing his hand as it circled the gashes on your arms, applying the antiseptic cream.

"I wish I could've hit that bastard myself," he growled, anger taking over his features as his emotions heightened.

"He's dead, Carlos. He got what he deserved".

"He harassed you!" Carlos said, clearly agitated and grabbed his hair in frustration. Tears threatened to fall and he offered no resistance, shutting his eyes as he cried silently. Internally feeling like a failure, a failure of a husband who couldn't even protect his wife. Logically he knew that there was absolutely nothing that was in his hands, but his emotional part had his soul trapped in guilt.

"Darling," you placed your hand on his shoulder, while the other gently removed his hands tangled in his own hair. You took his face in your palms, wiping away his moist cheeks and shooting him with a small smile. "I know it hurts you to see me like this, believe me I do. But you should know that there's nothing you could've done!"

"I just feel bad," he frowned, his cheeks puffing out a little as he pouted making you chuckle softly as you caressed his cheekbones.

"Carlitos, Sí, no estuviste durante la misión, pero sé que estarás ahí para ayudarme a recuperarme". [Carlitos, Yes, you weren't there during the mission, but I know you'll be there to help me recover.]

"Siempre, lo prometo. Te ayudaré en todo, mi amor. Por siempre y para siempre". [Always, I promise. I will help you in everything, my love. Forever and always]

And you couldn't help but smile again at the love and adoration visible in his eyes, feeling your heart starting to fall for this man. Again.

"Y eso significa mucho para mí," you grinned softly, pulling him by his shirt for a deep, passionate kiss and he obliged. "Te amo, mi corazón". [And that means a lot to me] [I love you, my heart]

"Yo también te quiero, mi vida," he replied, sealing his sentence with another gentle, reassuring peck on your forehead, which then travelled to your nose, then to both of your cheeks making you start giggling a little as his stubble started tickling you. [I love you too, my life]

He didn't stop, feeling nothing but encouraged at the sounds of your laughs as he continued his tender assault on your neck, being mindful of the scars and you arched back, your fingers tangling up in his soft hair, something you could never get enough of.

"I'll always be your number one supporter, sweetheart," he kissed your knuckles, his touch as light as a feather.

"Not more than me being your number one fan," you retorted, gesturing towards the mini model of his racing car that rested proudly on the side table.

====================================

After a week, your body had begun healing quite well. The deeper injuries closing up while the smaller ones already starting to fade away. You were sitting in the passenger seat, donned in a black shirt paired with blue jeans and staring outside the window.

Carlos was your driver tonight, well almost every time since you came back from the mission. He had used his break to his maximum advantage, always helping you in every way possible.

You two were on the way to your office, they had called you to collect some documents and had also informed you about something important that was to be given. And since you had been out already, Carlos agreed to tag along.

"I've always wanted to see your office," he said, pulling up in the parking lot and getting out, holding a finger up, signalling you to not move and you rolled your eyes though a smile broke free. He ran over to your side before opening your door and offering you his hand, his eyes full of nothing but pure devotion as he intertwined your fingers.

"It's not that interesting," you laughed, knowing he was probably thinking about what they always showed in the movies.

But he didn't take no for an answer and followed your lead, a curious expression on his face which transformed into delight as you entered the building and some of the officers immediately saluted you. You nodded, accepting their respects as their senior officer walked past them.

"Morning ma'am!" A group of new interns greeted you excitedly, almost fangirling as you wished them back and smiled.

"I think I have competition," Carlos murmured in your ear with a teasing smirk, nodding to all of the admirers you had.

You merely shook your head at his antics and led him to your cabin. He let go of your hand and did a slow spin, taking everything in. The interior was quite simple and comfortable, various frames lining the walls, some being photos and others being certificates, quotes. He studied the pictures carefully, they ranged from your rookie years to your current position. What caught his eye was the frame lying on your desk, it was a gorgeous picture of you two smiling at the camera.

"Like it?"

He nodded enthusiastically, about to say something when a knock was heard. The door opened to reveal a flustered Elijah, who turned even redder on seeing Carlos Sainz standing feet away, Jess poked her head under his and Chris was seen above him.

You chuckled at their shenanigans, the three musketeers as you called them. "I doubt you've ever asked my permission for coming in, until now," you raised a suspicious eyebrow.

Chris scoffed, "We've always knocked".

"Carlos, this is my team that I was telling you about. That's Chris, Jess, and Elijah".

The second you took his name and Carlos' attention turned to him, Elijah could almost feel an incoming heart attack. He smiled nervously, his hand on his neck as he tried to not do anything stupid.

"Elijah here is quite the fan," you added making the said person shoot you a small glare.

"Oh are you?" Carlos asked genuinely, stepping closer to shake his hand and his awful team snickered at the way he seemed to hyperventilate. "That's great".

"T- Thank you," he fumbled, staring at someone whom he had watched on nothing but a screen for years, and that someone had just shaken his hand. "I love you so much," he blurted out, regretting his entire existence instantly.

The room burst into laughter and cackles from Chris as Carlos smiled good naturedly, pulling the already flustered boy in a side hug.

"Alright alright you'll make his heart stop," Elijah's best friend grinned teasingly, already having recorded this moment.

"Planning to steal my husband are you, Eli?" You questioned playfully, crossing your arms as he shook his head frantically.

"Of course not," he muttered, flushing pink again.

"Come on then, sir is calling us all," Jess reminded them all when the chuckles ceased. "Oh it's okay if you come too, there's nothing confidential," she addressed Carlos who was about to sit on the chair.

You looked at his expectantly and he nodded, having the intense urge to place his arm around your waist but he resisted, knowing this was your workplace, a lot more strict and formal than the rest. So he settled on being close to you so your fingers kept on brushing against each other.

"Ah there you are," Stephen brightened visibly as you walked in followed by the rest, the four of you gave him a proper salute while Carlos bowed, a hint of nervousness on his face.

"And this must be your husband," he looked at you for confirmation before shaking hands, "Good to see you, Mr Sainz".

"The pleasure is all mine, sir," he replied respectfully, keeping his head bowed as they shook hands.

"Really sorry to have called you on such short notice, but I felt it appropriate to hand this to you in person instead of on the phone," he said and you furrowed your eyebrows as he handed you an envelope.

You opened it, scanning the letter and a smile quickly spread across your face. "We've been invited??"

"Yess!" Jess nodded in excitement, "Which means we have a potential chance to earn a badge".

"You all deserve it," Stephen said, pride filling his chest as he looked at the future standing before him. "Make sure to turn up in your best uniform".

"Thank you," you muttered, nothing but gratitude in your voice as he nodded kindly and you bid your team goodbye before exiting the office.

"What's this about?" Carlos asked you curiously as you walked in the hallway.

"It's an award ceremony that the government holds every year, to award deserving candidates from the special forces," you explained.

"And you are nominated?"

"So it seems".

"This is great," he whispered, looking at you with newfound admiration. His arm was quick to rest on your hip, the gesture casual but also loving and he kissed the side of your head.

You leaned into him, always finding solace in his touch. Your husband was someone who could make your heart both race and calm down.

You were talking, when suddenly you heard the pattering of feet as they ran and someone had hugged your waist. You both halted as you looked down, seeing a familiar, young face as she grinned at you widely, her eyes shining so bright.

"Ana," you smiled, letting out a laugh before wrapping your arms around her too while Carlos watched the exchange with slight confusion but a grin was seen on his face too.

"See I saw you again!" She giggled happily and you kneeled down, nodding at her happiness as you brushed stray hair from her forehead.

"You did huh," you responded before picking her up and twirling her around, your insides swelling with joy on hearing her loud shouts.

When you stopped she rested her head on your shoulder, feeling slightly dizzy when her eyes spotted Carlos standing beside you.

"Who's he?" She questioned immediately, her curious eyes looking at his face.

"His name is Carlos," you answered and he stepped closer with a warm smile, "He's my husband".

Ana's eyes widened as her head danced back and forth between you two. "You're married!" She exclaimed, giggling again as another thought struck her. "He looks handsome".

You smirked at that, looking at him to see a bashful grin on his face as he pushed his hair back, "Am I?"

"Yes," she said solemnly. "You look like Prince Eric from Ariel".

He laughed at that, taking her small hand in his and pressing a kiss on it, "And how are you this morning, princess?" He asked with a posh accent.

Ana giggled uncontrollably at the nickname and threw her hands around his neck, hugging him tightly from your arms before pulling back.

Your heart warmed up seeing the wholesome interaction, Carlos had always been good with kids which made your thoughts run wild sometimes.

Ana's parents greeted you too, thanking you non-stop for your help. Her mother almost cried as she kept on expressing her gratitude, and that they owed you forever.

You were both now outside, on the way to your car when your husband grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, his lips twitching slightly as he held you close, relishing in the feeling.

While you too mirrored his actions, your eyes roaming from his fluffy hair, to those gorgeous melted honey eyes, to the curve of his long, sculpted nose and down to his beautiful lips. He truly was a sight to behold.

"¿He mencionado lo mucho que te quiero?" He asked, trying to be serious but of course he couldn't. [Have I mentioned how much I love you]

"Probablemente lo mencionaste una o dos veces," you played along, pretending to think deeply. "Pero me gustaría que me lo recordaran otra vez". [You probably mentioned it once or twice] [But I wish you would remind me again]

His mouth stretched wide as he was but centimetres away from you, looking deep in your eyes as he joined your lips before answering, "Te amo profundamente, cariño". [I love you deeply, darling]

You felt the rush of your pulse before it steadied underneath his comforting gaze, "Te quiero, mi corazõn. Más que a nadie en el mundo". [I love you, my heart. More than anyone in the world]

====================================

Part 1

Part 2

We're finally done with the mini series! Thank you so much for all the love, everybody <33

[peachiemilkytea]

ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʙᴏʏ

pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

Summary: Henry has been talking to your dad about his co-boss a lot lately, enough to invite him over for dinner knowing that he is your boss too. Now you have to deal with a dumb teenage boy you don't like.

Paring: Teen!Michael Afton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: use of Y/n, third and first person pov, your parents embarrassing you, flirting?? romance??? enemies to friends

W/c: 5K

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Flipping the pages in between my fingers of a romance story. Seventeenth Summer by Maureen Daly. It was in my top ten favorites, my first favorite was IT by Stephen King. The one I'm reading now is about two teenagers, Angie Morrow, and Jack Duluth, being a couple and going out together in June for the first time. Their dates would be them getting cokes with friends, riding in Jack's car, going to movies, and taking the boat out. They grew closer than they could ever be together. It gave it a whole new point of view on the world. Rose-tinted glasses.

"Dottie! Come down here!"

Uh oh, am I in trouble? I put my book down on my bedside and walked downstairs. Mom was leaning on the kitchen counter talking to my dad who was smoking a cigarette. My mother hates the smell of cigarettes. Her nose scrunched at the intoxicating smell. I took a seat at the table.

"Whatever happened, Daniel did it!" I accused my little brother without hesitance. Holding my hands together, my shoulders become tense. Dad snickered out smoke holding onto the sink, biting his lip to hold back a big smile. Mom rolled her eyes at the smoke he let out.

"You're not in trouble (Y/n), we're having the Aftons over for dinner." Mom explained, breathy chuckling.

"Henry and I had lunch with him the other day, he's something else. I had to use everything to stop myself from making fun of his accent. Anyway, his family will be here by six twenty so get ready." Dad explained twiddling the cigarette in between his fingers.

"Alright, whew, you scared me! I thought I was gonna be in trouble! Where's Daniel? Does he know?" I asked, looking around.

"Yes, he knows, he walked in on us talking about it. The Aftons have a boy your age. We'll leave Daniel to suffer with the little ones." Mom said getting off of the counter. I let out a "Yes!" pumping my arm up and running upstairs.

Now that I think about it, William never really talks about his family. He'll bring up his daughter Elizabeth but that's really about it. I had to find out that Michael was Will's kid myself, he never talked about him and whenever I try to bring him up Will shuts it down. He's a jerk to me, I swear it's like he hates me! One time when I was working he spilled soda all over my head with a sarcastic 'whoops.' Poor Henry had to give me a towel and wash it out of my hair and face.

While with Henry he'll talk about his kids all the time, I would hear all the stories about Sammy and Charlie. All the cute things they did and all the tantrums. Henry would have a picture of his wife in his pocket, Nancy Emily, they've been high school sweethearts. She's a sweet woman who got me into Seventeenth Summer. I usually hang out in her garden with her taking care of the plants or sunbathing. I cleaned up my room, picked up the clothes on the floor, and fixed my plants, stacking my books into the shelf, tidying up my desk. I think I looked okay. It was presentable enough. Daniel was standing at my door.

"Come on, hurry up! They're at our door." Daniel said repeatedly knocking on my doorway. I rubbed his hair walking past the kid. Downstairs there was William with a gingered-haired woman, his daughter Elizabeth, a smaller boy holding a golden Fredbear plushie, and... Michael? Ohhh that would make sense now, that's why he looks like William. I didn't pay attention when Mom was talking about us. He perked up surprised but then waved at me with a smile.

"This is Daniel and (Y/n), my kids," Mom said putting her hands on her hip. That stance always gave off 'I'm a tired mom.'

"Kids, this is the Aftons. William, Clara, Elizabeth, Evan, and Michael." Mom introduced us, pointing to each one of them.

"Hey boss," I said, looking towards William. He smirked at my remark. I looked over to my dad and saw the gears in his head turning, Mom gave out a silent 'oh.' Clara looked between me and William.

"But you work for Henry?" Dad asked more like a question.

"William is Henry's co-boss, I work for both of them," I said putting my hand on my hip, then going back to the family and flashing them a smile before going up to my room.

I heard Dad and mom talking to William and Clara talking more about work and what's for dinner, telling Daniel to take the little ones. Then They were talking about boring adult stuff, the only thing I found interesting that they were talking about is all the butterflies Clara's been finding and keeping. Maybe the book my dad was reading, The Color Purple. A book about a teenage African American, Cecilie. Raised in rural isolation in Georgia. She resists the self-paralyzing concept forced on her by others. He's the one who introduced the book to me, it was hard to read because of the writing. But that's the fun of it. Like I did with The Great Gatsby, I took notes on it and broke down the language to understand it then burned the chapters into my head of what happened in a modern way.

Grabbing one of my types of vinyl, I always liked the vinyls more than the cassettes, mixtapes, and walkmans. They played it so much better than the others. Putting on Highway To Hell by AC/DC, it was one of my all-time favorites. Nodding to the beat and mouthing the lyrics.

"Good pick! I didn't expect a good girl like you to be into rock." Michael said, leaning against my doorway with a smug look. I looked back at him and rolled my eyes. I took my vinyls out of the packages and wrote what songs they were on the middle-colored part before putting them on my green flowered walls. Michael was staring at my pictures on my bulletin board.

"Did you take these?" He asked, pointing towards them.

"Yeah, I did. It's still-life photography. What? You like them?" I spat out walking to his side. He was looking at a picture with a book that had cursive letters on the pages, a jar of flowers and the other side is a jar of ink, an old pen sitting next to it, and circled glasses on the other side. Maps and drawings of herbs under the book.

"It's not my style but I like it. It's like something really old and adventurous. Like those old guys you see in the history books." Michael read the photo perfectly. He captured it in his way but still expressed what I was trying to get. I was surprised he was being so nice right now.

"I think this one might be more of your style," I said pointing to a different picture above the one he was looking at.

A bluish-whitish tinted photo, concrete stairs with yellow lines at the end going down. The white walls were covered in graffiti, paint, posters, photos, and drawings. There were marker drawings on the walls and messy paint splattered onto the railings. Graffiti symbols and phrases are marked onto the floor. Some vinyl and cassettes were glued to the wall. Boy bands and magazine covers on the wall with famous faces and logos. The pen drawings on the side made planets and black stars. Drawings made by people saying "runaway" or lists of things or missing pet beetles people found off of the street. A large rectangular mirror on the left side reflects the turn to further downstairs on the right.

Michael's brows raised and his mouth fell slightly. His hand tucked a strand of his hair back behind his ear then covered his mouth with his hand. He blinked a couple of times through his eyelashes. I chuckled and picked it off of the bulletin board and flipped it over on my desk, writing 'To Michael' and handing it to him. He furrowed his brows and stepped back pulling his hand away from his mouth.

"Take it if you like it so much. I know you don't like me very much and I'm okay with that. I'm still your friend." I said being left hanging and still holding the photo.

"I hate you. I hate your '70s haircut. I hate how your teeth are yellow. I hate how your loud laugh echoes in a room. I hate the way you read knockoff comic books. I hate how you smile so big when you lie. I hate you. But I don't, I tried. Something about you is keeping me around. I want to be your friend." Michael admitted. That was a turn of events... He took the picture out of my hands and pressed his lips together. Holding it with two hands he stared at it. I chuckled, and a smile tugged my lips.

"So the soda thing-" I said pointing to the floor lazily. He quickly looked up bug-eyed.

"Ahhh!! Ahh!! We don't talk about that!" Michael yelled jumping on my bed. He got off of his stomach and laid on his back looking at her picture. I sighed going back to my bulletin board of pictures. I put up some new ones I took a few days ago. From the corner of my eye, I saw him put the picture on the bedside desk, and he picked up the book from my desk.

"What is this? It's so cheesy? The guy on the cover looks like me!" Michael asked, reading through the pages.

"It's what girls feel when they're in love, you wouldn't know." I joked. Hearing him scoff.

"Girls fall in love with me. Women get with me." Michael protested moving on his side to look at me with a cocky look, his tongue on the corner of his lips while biting down on it with his teeth. I let out a long 'sure.' He went back to reading. Genuinely Michael seemed invested in the story. Maybe I should show him Sixteen Candles one time. He might like that more because it's a movie. God, I love Molly Ringwald, she's such a great actor and in so many films I love. I have an undying love for her! She reminds me so much of Cheryl. Soon the vinyl stopped playing, so I grabbed another record. Metallica, Ride The Lightning. Putting it in and turning up the volume. Michael's head lifted quickly.

"No way! Metallica! Wait wait I know this one. Ride The Lighting, right?" Michael fanboyed over the vinyl. I nodded lazily. Grabbing a few covers I handed them to him. Dr Feelgood Mötley Crüe, Sweet Child O' Mine Guns N' Roses, Detroit Rock City KISS, Cherry Bomb the Runaways, Bad Reputation Joan Jett, Pet Sematary Ramones, and so many others. Rolling Stones, Judas Priest, you name it. Michael looked like a kid in a candy store flipping through the record covers. He was stuttering his words.

"Oh my god." Michael managed to get out of his excited stutters. Holding up one of them records.

"You can pick the next song." I gave a small smile sitting at the end of my bed. I lie on my stomach further it and swing my feet back and forth. Bopping my head to the beat of the metal music. I felt my imagination running wild, anything with music made me daydream. It was like scenes in a movie or a cartoon show. Michael was mimicking the strings of a guitar that the song was playing.

"Is this all you do?" Michael asked, looking up at the ceiling. His hand was up pointing and tracing the cracks.

"Yeah. I mean sometimes I'll go out if it's with my best friend or if it's because of work. My room beats going outside any day." I said, swinging my feet back and forth while leaning my cheek on my pointer finger. I like to be introverted, my mother always called me a homebody who needs to get out more. The most I would do is hang out with my dad on the porch at dawn talking about our days while he was smoking a cigarette.

"You have a friend that isn't Henry? That's hard to believe." Michael playfully insulted. I grabbed one of my pillows and smacked him with it. He yelled and put his hands up laughing.

"Yes, I do! Jeez. How do you even know I'm friends with Henry? Will doesn't like to talk a lot." I asked sitting up and hugging the same pillow I assaulted him with.

"I know Henry too, you know! You're not the only one. Father will bring me and my brother and sister to work sometimes and that's how I know Henry. He talks about you too much. It's like you're some star student. It's always (Y/n) this and (Y/n) that and oh did you know what (Y/n) did? All the time, it's so annoying!" Michael groaned into the pillow.

"Boo hoo, oh poor you." I mocked sticking my tongue out. Michael lifted his head from the pillow and spotted something. Should I be worried? He looks so curious. He grabbed a book on the floor next to my bed that read 'The 48 laws of Power' which was about Niccolo Machiavelli's philosophy.

"Where did you get something like this?" Michael asked, skipping through the pages.

"It's a philosophy book, about the philosopher Niccolo Machiavelli. He lived in Florence during the Renaissance period. But then a prince came to the city and kicked anyone he didn't like out. Machiavelli was one of them. He would think while he was homeless. He would put on his fanciest clothes and talk about philosophy. Machiavelli has the theory that to get power you need to be feared to be loved. He wrote a letter to the prince on why he should come back to Florence. The prince read the letter and let him back into the city. He gave Machiavelli his spot. To have power you need to cheat, manipulate, and have confidence. It's used in politics and elections." I explained talking through my hands, never leaving his eyes.

Funny story, when I was out for a walk one day I found a kid in a tree reading it and I asked him how he knew that book. We had the best talk about being manipulative. It takes a true philosopher to understand and with that, you need to change your mindset. Philosophy is the love of wisdom, or in Greek Philosophia. It's pursuing your lover, pursuing Sophia. I love doing philosophy but I don't have anyone to do it with.

"This is deep," Michael said he was gapping like a fish. I could tell it wasn't really his thing and it's probably something you look at and forget the next day. I only nodded with a small smile.

My door creaked, I expected it to be one of the kids or my dad telling me to come downstairs for dinner. Cujo came running and jumped on Michael. He grunted putting the book on the nightstand on top of Seventeenth Summer. Cujo jumped on top of him and soaked his face in dog slobber, drool coming down and hitting Michael's cheek. He pushed the dog off of him and wiped the grossness off of his face. Gagging and scowling. I let out a fit of laughter.

"Good boy! Good boy Cujo." I patted his head.

"You named him after the murder dog?!" Michael shrieked scouting up on my pillows trying to get Cujo out of his lap.

"Yeah." I held Cujo's chin up to me and kissed his forehead.

"He almost killed me!" Michael complained, crossing his arms and glaring at me.

"Stop being a baby. Cujo's a sweetheart, he would never hurt anybody unless I tell him to, Isn't that right?" I coo'ed to my puppy. He barked in response. I swear it's like he understands me. We don't deserve dogs, they are too good for us.

"Never thought I would hear that..." Michael mumbled and slowly came off of my pillows. He hesitantly held his hand out to the dog, taking it back quickly when Cujo turned around to sniff his palm. Michael tried again shaking but moved his hand away too quickly again. Cujo barked at him. I grabbed his wrist and held it up to Cujo, finally, he smelt his palm and declared Michael his friend. He put his head into the boy's hand making him pet him. Michael loosened up and pet Cujo's head. A genuine smile tugged at his lips. Scaredy cat.

"KIDS ATTACK!" Uh oh- Elizabeth jumped on her brother and tackled Michael on the bed, hitting him. Telling his face it hurt. Evan was timidly hiding behind Daniel.

"What? Evan! You're supposed to be beating up your brother and my sister!" Daniel said, lifting his arm and looking behind him. Evan was shaking behind him, shutting his eyes so hard you could see the wrinkles on the side. I got up from my spot while Elizabeth and Michael were beating each other up. I went up to the two boys and squatted down to the little one's height. He opened his eyes slowly. They were glossy, you could see every sparkle in the blue. His cheeks were a rosy red. A golden bear was in his arms, looking like Fredbear. William must've given it to him.

"Hey little buddy, it's okay. You don't gotta be me up. Daniel was just joking. Uh... Do you want a hug or something?" I asked, holding out my arms. Evan calmed down a little bit. He left Daniel's side and came up to me laying against me. I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back softly. Evan's crying calmed down and only had little sniffles and shaky gasps of air.

"I like your plushie, what's his name?" I asked, trying to relax him.

"Goldie," Evan mumbled lying on my chest. I stroked his hair.

"That's a nice name," I said softly, looking down at him. Something about this kid melts my heart. He's so delicate, fragile. If he was a box being shipped overseas he would have the fragile label on him.

"Wh-What's your name?" he stuttered looking up at me.

"I'm (Y/n), Daniel's sister. You're daddy's friend. What's your name?" I asked, sitting down on my knees.

"I'm Evan, sometimes my sister calls me Ev," he explained. Isn't that sweet? It's his sister's nickname. Daniel looked confused, glaring at us. I shot him a glare. He stuck out his tongue and pulled down his eyelid.

"IZZY! Get the hell off of me!" Michael yelled fighting his sister. I forgot that was happening. To be fair, Elizabeth was winning the fight. She was laughing at him and sitting on his stomach punching him, Michael's hands covered his face. As much as I'm enjoying seeing Michael getting his ass whooped by his little sister it can't go on forever.

"Alright! How about we play hide and seek?" I asked standing up. It caught Elizabeth perked up, she stopped fighting Michael and looked at me with a bright grin. That kid is a little devil but at least she's cute with her bow. She got off of Michael jumping off my bed and running towards me.

"Hide and seek! Hide and seek! Hide and seek!" Elizabeth chanted jumping up and down. Evan on the other hand shook his head no.

"Come on Evan, pleaseee! Pleaseeee! I'll beat up Michael if he scares you! Daniel's sister will make sure he won't scare you!" Elizabeth begged and pointed to me.

"It's true, I won't let him scare you, I'll even make a pinky promise." I held up my pinky. Evan's foot moved in circles and his body turned to the side, his head down looking up at me with doe eyes. Seriously, this kid is adorable. If Michael does anything I'll have Cujo eat him.

"Okay..." Evan held up his pinky. Interlocking it with mines. We pinky promised to stop Michael from scaring Evan. Speaking of the boy, his hair was disheveled and he was leaning on his elbow lifting himself. He held the back of his head, rubbing it while one of his eyes closed. My covers were a mess! My pillows were everywhere! Elizabeth probably used one to hit him. Kids...

"Daniel's it! Run kids! Count!" I yelled pointing to my brother and running away with the kids. Michael hurried soon after.

I don't know where the other two are, but I ended up with Evan. His small hand was trying to hold mine despite it being bigger. I pointed to Daniel's room under his bed. Evan and I hid under there. He was freaking out a bit. Looking around and shaking. I played with his hair and drew soft slow circles on top of his head. He looked like he could fall asleep. I heard Michael screaming like a girl. Daniel must have found him. What a wuss! There were footsteps and sounds of them arguing. They're like Dumb And Dumber. Elizabeth was found, she was whining and complaining about being found. They were looking for Evan and I. Their footsteps were so sloppy. I snickered a little too loudly, Michael was right about my laugh. How did he even pay attention to it?

"Wait..." I heard Daniel's moment of realization. He beelined for his room. It was weirdly suspenseful. Evan didn't like it at all. Seeing his socks roam the room he looked for us cautiously. Suddenly, fingers grabbed the bottom of the blankets and lifted them. Daniel was squatting there with the smugest look on his face.

"Found ya." He said slyly.

"You little buttmuncher." I jokingly insulted. He dramatically grabbed his heart and gasped offendedly. Evan sighed and crawled out from under the bed. I grabbed Daniel's ankles and pulled him to me. He shrieked and yelled at me. Hitting my hand. We got out from under the bed in a laughing fit.

We spent an hour laughing and scaring each other. Besides Evan, I was always paired with the little boy and he seemed a lot less scared when I was around. Daniel even ran downstairs and hid behind the couch till Elizabeth found him by getting a hint from William. She's a daddy's girl.

Michael was it, for the first time. He refused to do it for all the other times. He only agreed to do it if I did it with him. Pulling me away from Evan. I mean I hope the kid will be okay. Mike is kinda a dickhead. The kids ran off and hid, while we counted. Though he stopped counting.

"Why did you stop?" I asked. He stood there arms crossed with a smirk and one of his brows raised.

"They won't notice," Michael said, leaning up a little.

"Ookaay?" I said confused leaning against the wall. There was an awkward silence like Michael wanted to say something but didn't know how to phrase it. I can tell because I can see the cogs turning in his head.

"Whatever, let's go look for the little dweebs." Michael walked off.

"Hey! I'm the only one who can call Daniel a dweeb!" I ran after him.

We looked around the house. The bathroom, in the shower, the hallway closet, under my bed, under Daniel's bed. These kids were too good. It's like they disappeared. Michael and I went into my room. He put his finger to his lips and tiptoed to the closet. He paused for a moment. I shook my head no quickly, pressing my lips together. What if Evan was in there? Grabbing his shoulder and tugging it. He pushed me off. Michael slammed open the closet and put his arms up with a yell. Turns out... Evan was in there. And now he was having a sobfest thanks to Michael. I pushed past him and squatted down in front of the little boy who was clinging onto his Fredbear stuffie for dear life.

"Hey hey honey, it's okay. Come here. Oh man, I'm so sorry I broke our pinky promise." I said hugging him. Evan clung to me. I picked him up grunting at the sudden weight. He sobbed into my shirt. I glared at Michael, annoyed. For once he looks guilty. I kind of felt bad. Dropping my glare with a neutral smile. I rubbed Evan's back.

"Go find the others, Mike I'm sure dinner is almost ready." I nodded my head towards the door. He just nodded and walked off. Evan slowly calmed down still with leftover tears in the corner of his eyes.

"Do you want to go downstairs and hang out with the parents?" I asked him. He slowly nodded, not moving from my neck. I exited my cozy room and walked downstairs. The adults saw me with a crying Evan in my arms and eyed me confused and worried.

"Oh uh, hide and seek is a little too scary for him," I explained. Mrs. Afton showed understanding like this has happened before or the normal but mixed with guilt for her baby. William looked a little phased by it, his smile fading but going back to talking with my mother.

"Oh uhm here Mrs Afton." I tried handing Evan to his mother but he clung to me like a koala bear. It surprised the Aftons and my parents.

"That's very new, well I suppose he likes you a lot. That means a lot to a little child. And please call me Clara. No need to be so formal!" Mrs-... er Clara said. I nodded and took a seat at the table motioning her to sit next to me.

"I'm (Y/n), I'm sorry this is just so new to me. I wish I had heard about you more. You seem nice." I tried to make conversation. As you can tell it's going poorly.

"Awh, you're sweet. William isn't one to talk about personal stuff that much. Why I didn't even know that you two were coworkers! You work with Henry too?" Clara asked with a heartwarming smile.

"Yeah I do, Henry is my best friend. He's really how I got the job in the first place. I'm the head engineer. The bosses are the ones who are in charge of the whole engineering stuff. I'm just here if they need a little extra help or repairs." I explained she seemed to listen to every word. Her eyes softened too. Something about her makes me so comfortable like I can forget every problem I have. Dammit, William's lucky.

"I uhm.. I like your hair, my friend Cheryl Jo, her hair is red like yours too. Except hers is a little shorter." I said awkwardly, I think Evan is asleep or something. He's really quiet and not moving. His breath is a little shorter.

"You flatter me. So you're an engineer for robots? That must be interesting, you don't hear about that every day. What is it like?" Clara asked me.

"Are you going to let me geek out to you about robots? Because if you get me going I won't stop." I grinned brightly.

"I'm married to William, that already says a lot. I would love to hear you geek out about robots." Clara giggled, her nose scrunched up. If Evan wasn't laying on me I would be bouncing in my seat right now. I went on to rant to her about almost everything I learned about robots and what they could do, what's in them, how they are made, and what I think I could do for the future. I was talking so fast that I almost forgot to breathe.

"Dottie, can you get the kids and tell them dinner's ready." My mom said, wiping her hands together. I nodded, giving Evan back to Clara. He woke up instantly mind you. I got up from my seat and went upstairs.

They can't be far, so I check my room first... What the fuck. Michael was on my floor half-naked with Elizabeth and Daniel trying to shove my yellow floral white sundress over his head. He was yelling at them and trying to push them off but Daniel held down his arms and Elizabeth was solving his head through the dress. Daniel moved Michael's arms through the straps. I cleared my throat and leaned against the door. All of their heads turned towards me, surprised. Michael was beet red.

"Uh... Dinners ready."

I walked downstairs and waited for them to... stop whatever that was. I sat down in my seat with no comment. I want to unsee whatever I just saw immediately. William set the table with plates and asked what drinks we wanted. It feels weird to see him act so casually with my family, it feels weird to even see him in my home. To think my family and his never knew each other all this time. It was only him and I. He's so secretive I wonder why. He never told me about Clara or his kids. It could've been like Henry and I with Elle and the twins. Well, they're an odd bunch but still a presentable family those Aftons.

Speaking of which, Michael, Elizabeth, and Daniel came downstairs. The poor boy couldn't even make eye contact with me. Daniel took his seat next to me. Michael sat across from me. Clara was on my right and in front of her was William. Across from Daniel was Elizabeth, Evan sat next to his sister, Mom sat next to Daniel, and Dad sat in front of Mom.

My parents and the Aftons were telling stories or talking about what happened the other day that seemed so crazy. Evan was trying to get Elizabeth to eat her vegetables, he even held it to her mouth. She was stubborn, crossing her arms and pouting. Daniel was listening in on the parents' conversation. felt my foot get nudged. Fucking Michael. He was looking away listening to the parents talk. I stomped on his foot. His eyes became the sizes of dinner plates, he hit his chest with his fist and coughed violently.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Clara asked, leaning over the table.

"Yeah yeah... just went down the wrong pipe." Michael sipped his water awkwardly. Mom snickered at him and shook her head.

When he looked up he made eye contact with me and gave me a death glare. I smirked picking through my food. His foot hit mine again, I hit his shin with my leg. We were battling playing footsies under the table. Staring at each other and not breaking it. Daniel nudged my shoulder. I stopped. The parents were questioning why the table was moving. Michael kicked my ankle. I nodded my head towards the parents. We both looked at them, they were looking back at us. Michael and I quickly awkwardly took sips of our water not looking up.

---------

The loud and lively became cozy and quiet. Clara walked out with a sleeping Evan in her arms. Putting him in his car seat.

"Daniel! Come down here and say goodbye!"

"Bye!"

"That's not what I meant..." (Y/n) said, pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt her shoulder get lightly punched. Michael standing there with a smile. The annoyance of her little brother wore off.

"You leaving? I mean... you are leaving why wouldn't you be because your mom and little brother are in the car and-... I'm not making this better for myself." (Y/n) said, scratching the back of her neck shyly.

"Don't worry it's cute, I'm about to head off. I'll see you soon, right?" Michael asked looking away then back at her for a moment.

"Yeah.. yeah! Anytime besides when I'm working. Then again Will's the boss so maybe you can come when I'm working? I don't know, I'm bad at goodbyes." (Y/n) stammered awkwardly.

"Cool, cool" Michael laughed awkwardly. There was this tension between them. Vivian swung her arm around her daughter.

"We'll see you again, right Michael? You are welcome here anytime. You see... (Y/n)'s a bit of a loner-" Vivian whispered the last part behind her hand.

"Mom!" (Y/n) yelled, embarrassed pushing her mother off of her.

"I'm going to be bothering you guys all the time now, you sure you want that Mrs (L/n)?" Michael teased.

"Bring it on kid! And call me Vivian. Mrs. (L/n) makes me feel old." She said,

"Okay, well uh I should go to the car now. Bye and thank you!" Michael walked off waving a bit. Goodbyes were shared. Vivian went back to the kitchen to clean. (Y/n) sighed enjoying the moment of silence. William comes around with a sleeping Elizabeth in his arms. Stopping next to (Y/n) with a smile. She looked up at him surprised.

"I'll see you at work, I would love to hear about your new redesign for Trickster. We have a lot to go over, love." William said in his sultry accent.

"I can't wait, I have so much to talk about. I may need help to work on the blueprints and measurements. I'll see you till then, Will." (Y/n) said gently patting the sleeping girl in his arms. He nodded and took his leave.

Stephen (L/n), was in the backyard lighting a cigarette while the Aftons were leaving. Something was odd to him. Something didn't feel right about William. His guy screamed an icky feeling near him. He didn't like it, but he knew it was a move of a fool to find out what was wrong with William. He needs to know when is the right time to act and how to act. A puff of smoke soared up into the dark sky.

Cujo follows (Y/n) upstairs lazily through her night routine. She grabbed the phone and dialed a number. Cujo lay on her bed huffing and puffing.

"ʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴇʀʏʟ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ. ʜᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴀᴅ."

[burrrows]

Okay I had a thought. Joe x reader fluff with the song “Until I Found You” by Stephen Sanchez.

until i found you

ask and you shall receive... more loosely inspired than completely derived from the song?? which i hope you still like :p no warnings just a fluffy lil blurb, maybe a lil smidge of angst but that's all!

A warm breeze whips your hair across your face and you don't notice it, but Joe is watching across the yard with a small smile on his face as you laugh lightly and pick the loose strands out of your lip gloss. You seem so in your element, surrounded by your mutual friends and his teammates, laughing at someone's lame punch line, cheeks flushed pink from the heat and maybe one too many champagne flutes.

He gets this strange feeling in his chest, in his stomach, like he could scream or cry or collapse in the best way – this feeling that he always get just looking at you. Like he loves you so much that it could take him apart from the inside out.

In moments like these he always takes himself back to the start of his rookie year, that one cold night with the biggest snowstorm of the season when he let the chill in the air turn him cold, too. When he'd taken your sweet little heart into his hands and squeezed a little too tight, cracked it a little under too much pressure. He remembers exactly what he said to you that night.

"Date nights and holidays will be here. You will be here. My career won't."

He didn't mean it. And you'd never known your Joe to be malicious, conniving, or to hurt anything or anyone intentionally. But his implication that your relationship, that you weren't important to him at the time felt purposeful, like he was truly trying to hurt you.

He had let you slip out of his fingers, the stupidest fumble he'd made in the entirety of his football career, in the entirety of his life. He'd let you go, but he'd quickly found out how impossible it was for him to even function knowing he wouldn't be coming home to texts and calls and your touch.

The following month he'd show up at your doorstep equipped with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and an extensive apology alongside a thought-through pitch for you to take him back, a request to let him love you again.

Letting you go then, to this day, was the stupidest decision he'd ever made, and he never let himself forget it. Especially now, watching the way you threw your head back with that smile on your face at something Hubbard said (and it couldn't have been that funny).

A firm hand comes down on his shoulder and startles him out of his thoughts, pulls him into attention at the rest of his surroundings again. He recognizes the hand as Ja'Marr's when he takes a glance, and he's handed a glass of his own.

"You already got the girl, brother. You gonna stand and watch over here like a creep or you gonna go enjoy what you got?"

Joe scoffs a laugh at his best friend, knocking back his champagne and handing the glass back to a cheeky Ja'Marr, who stalks back over to the team to snicker about how whipped their quarterback is.

You feel his arms around your waist before you feel his chest hit your back and his scent flood your senses. It's barely audible, but he lets out this little sigh, so chock full of content and comfort that your body melts into his on instinct.

He gets a whiff of your shampoo as you soften to his touch, and he feels so lovesick that he can't stop himself from turning you away from your friends to face him.

"Hey hotshot," you tease when your eyes meet his, toothy grin lighting up your face.

"Hello beautiful," he hums, leaning towards you to nudge the tip of your nose with his, hands firm on your waist as yours come to rest up on his broad shoulders.

He could let his eyes flutter closed and stand here with you, just like this, for the rest of his goddamn life. He could say fuck it to the team, fuck it to the NFL, to the entire sport of football to stand here with you.

But instead he feels you tip toe to press your lips to his and he feels his heart start to hammer in his chest when you pull him a little closer. His hands bunch up your cute little dress when he lets his grip tighten and he can feel his head swimming, thoughts getting lost as you move your lips with his.

He's ripped out of his state of grace when you detach your mouth from his, startled by a teammate, probably Ja'Marr, wolf whistling in the distance.

"Get a room!"

"Y'all gonna go at it right here?"

The boys won't stop hollering at the two of you, and you're laughing it off, this joyous little sound that Joe would almost be willing to let his team keep eliciting from you if it didn't mean he was missing out on kissing you silly.

He shoots them a pointed glare before shifting his gaze back to you, where your eyes meet and both of you soften to one another once again.

It's just a mumble, words spoken under his breath for only the two of you to hear, but the message rings as clear as if he was screaming it to the skyline, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"You know, even if we had met twenty years later, I wouldn't haven fallen in love until I met you."

[ilguna]

☼ when the dead rise pt2 (Stephen Strange) ☼

summary; five years pass, and you come to terms with the fact that you may never see Stephen again. when Tony calls you, telling you that there may be a way to change everything, you decide to take one more chance.

warnings; swearing, willing starvation, needle mention, weapon usage, death, blood, ehh gore, suicide mention, weight gain/loss, kinda cringe if you think about it, happy ending!

wc; 18.7k

notes; the entirety of endgame, haha, i'm not kidding. with nonsensical talk of time traveling, more angst, some fluff, tony and y/n get along, and stephen is there at the end.

part one.

—

The galaxy that you’re floating in is beautiful. It’s perfect, and if you weren’t here right now, sitting in front of the window, you’d say that it’s not real. There’s a mix of the rainbow out there, the brightest hue being aquamarine. Which paints everything in the spaceship the same shade.

You’ve been sitting here for hours, just staring at the stars. They don’t change, captured at their best times. It’ll be millions of years before they burn out, by then they’ll have fulfilled their purpose. There will be no regrets.

You wish you could say the same.

“(Y/n), are you going to come over and eat?” Tony asks from behind you.

He’s sitting at the table with Nebula, they’ve been going back and forth playing their games, trying to keep entertained. You heard him talking about eating, but you never bothered to join the conversation. You don’t have the energy to get up and go over there.

“No, I’m fine.” You murmur, leaning into your knees, arms wrapped around the back of your thighs. “Go ahead and have the rest.”

It’s quiet for a moment, then you can hear him sigh. “You haven’t eaten anything today.”

“I know.” You tell him. “I’m not hungry.”

The sound of a chair scraping against the metal flooring fills the air. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. His footsteps echo through the ship, shuffling to a stop behind you.

“You haven’t been hungry for the past couple of days.” He says, voice surprisingly gentle. “You can’t do this to yourself. It won’t change things.”

With gritted teeth, you swallow thickly, and let out an uneven breath. “I know that too, Tony.” 

He moves to stand right next to you, letting out a grunt. When you open your eyes, looking over, you see that he’s sitting beside you, legs crossed. The shiny silver bag is in his hand, he shakes it, looking inside.

“It’s some sort of mix. It doesn’t taste good at first, but it’ll grow on you.” He says, holding it out for you.

You stare at him, pressure building behind your eyes again. Your lips begin to tremble first, face twisting as the tears take over. Tony frowns, setting the bag down, and reaches to pull you in a hug. As you begin to cry into his shoulder, he squeezes you tightly, causing the ache in your ribs to surface.

“I just want him back.” You sob, “Is that too much to ask for?”

DAY TWENTY-THREE

“It’s been twenty-three days since Thanos came to Earth.” Rhodes says, he’s standing at the wooden table where a holographic projection displays out of a cylindrical device in the middle.

In the air, you’re able to see the faces and names of those you lost that day. It’s constantly rotating, a few of them being Nick Fury, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Peter, and Stephen. There’s more, of course, faces you don’t recognize because you cut ties with the Avengers a couple years ago.

“World governments are in pieces,” Natasha begins. “The parts that are still working are trying to take a census and it looks like he did…” She trails off for a moment, Tony pushes up his glasses, hand covering his face when Peter appears in front of him. “He did exactly what he said he was gonna do. Thanos wiped out,” She sighs, “Fifty percent of all living creatures.” 

There’s a moment of silence across the table, you play with one of your rings, twisting it between your fingers. 

Tony moves his hand, lifting his head. “Where is he now? Where?” He’s currently in a wheelchair, hooked up to an IV. He’s looked better, but to be fair, so have you. You’re two peas in one miserable pod. 

While you came out with bruised ribs and a gnarly scar from where Thanos had ripped out a chunk of your skin—which Tony tried his best to repair while on the spaceship. He had to fight through an infection from being stabbed by his own nanotech, which Nebula had the pleasure of healing.

In the end, there was only so much food to pass around on the ship. Even though you’d gone days without eating, it didn’t help the supply any. However, your weightloss is nothing compared to Tony’s, because he’s sick at the moment.

“We don’t know.” Steve says, his arms are crossed over his chest. He’s leaning against a table nearby. “He just opened a portal and walked through.”

Tony wheels forward, sighing, looking off to the side. “What’s wrong with him?” He asks, motioning to Thor. He’s sitting in a separate room, leaned forward on his knees, a hard expression on his face, moving his thumbs.

“Oh, he’s pissed.” Rocket says. He’s a talking raccoon that was part of Quill’s group, you met him after you landed back on Earth. Which only happened because Tony and Nebula set off a distress signal, and a woman named Carol Danvers came to save you. “He thinks he failed.” Tony’s hand falls. “Which, of course, he did, but there’s a lot of that going around, ain’t there?” 

“Honestly, until this exact second I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.” Tony says.

“Maybe I am.”

“We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks now.” Steve says. “Deep space scans and satellites and we got nothing.” He pauses, looking up at the table. “(Y/n), Tony, you fought him.”

“Who told you that?” Tony asks. “I didn’t fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street magician—” You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows drawing in. “Gave away the store. That’s what happened.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.” You snap, suddenly getting up from your chair. When it begins to fall back, you catch it with one hand, slamming it against the floorboards. “Prick.”

“There was no fight, ‘cause he’s not beatable.” Tony finishes, unbothered by you. 

“Okay,” Steve nods. “Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”

Tony makes a noise, saluting Steve. “I saw this coming a few years back.” He sinks into the wheelchair. “I had a vision. I didn’t wanna believe it. Thought I was dreaming.”

Steve stands. “Tony, I’m gonna need you to focus.”

“And I need you.” Tony says, it’s muffled because of the hand in front of his mouth. He drops it. “As in, past tense. That trumps what you need. It’s too late, buddy.” He shakes his head. “Sorry.”

You run a hand through your hair, and then settle into crossing your arms.

Tony sniffs. “You know what I need?” He slaps a bowl away from him, the spoon clattering against the table. He gets to his feet, one hand on it as he leans forward. “I need a shave. And I believe I remember telling all youse…” 

He begins to pull at the IV needle, Rhodes steps toward him. “Tony, Tony!”

“...alive and otherwise, that what we needed,” He does a circular motion. “Was a suit of armour around the world. Remember that?” His voice is raising. “Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not. That’s what we needed.”

“Well, that didn’t work out, did it?” Steve asks.

“I said we’d lose.” Tony points to himself. “You said, ‘We’ll do that together, too’. And guess what, Cap? We lost. And you weren’t there.” Steve sighs. “But that’s what we do, right? Our best work after the fact?” Rhodes grabs Tony by the arms to steady him. “We’re the ‘Avengers’. We’re the ‘Avengers’, not the ‘Pre-vengers’.”

He looks at Rhodes, who nods. “Okay.”

“Right?” Tony asks.

“You made your point. Just sit down, okay?” 

“Okay.” Tony says, looking away. “No, no, here’s my point. You know what?” He points at Carol. She’s unamused, “She’s great by the way.”

“Tony, you’re sick. Sit down.” Rhodes tries to push him down.

“We need you. You’re new blood.” He pushes off of Rhodes. “Bunch of tired old mules. I got nothing for you, Cap.” He walks to stand a foot away from Steve. “I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust, liar.” He whispers.

You watch as he reaches up to grab the arc reactor, ripping it from his chest. Tony’s breathing becomes uneven, as he grabs Steve’s hand, and slaps the reactor into it. “Here, take this. You find him, put that on, you hide.” He falls to his knees.

You, Steve and Rhodes move forward at the same moment.

“Tony!” Steve reaches for him.

“I’m fine.” He says. “Let me…”

His eyes roll back, collapsing.

—

Tony lays on a reclined bed, unconscious, with Pepper beside him, holding his hand. Rhodes drops off his glasses on the bedside table, and then leaves the room, coming to join you, Natasha, Steve and Carol.

“What about you, (Y/n)? You never said anything.” Steve says, several eyes land on you.

You twist the ring, looking at the engraving on the inside for the hundredth time today. Always with you, it says. You found it in Stephen’s room one afternoon, after he’d asked you to clean if you had time. You couldn’t say no, and though he liked to make sure he looked neat, his bedroom could be a mess at times.

When you asked about it, he smiled and told you to keep it. You tried to resist it, hiding it in places all throughout the Sanctum to ensure that it wouldn’t end up back in your possession. He always knew where to find it, and at the end of the day, he’d give it back to you. A gift.

You never really liked wearing jewelry on your hands and wrists. It interferes with the whole ‘raising-the-dead’ thing. You can’t remember the amount of times you broke a bracelet or scratched a ring at the beginning. But when you finally accepted the gift and stopped trying to give it back, you promised Stephen that you’d wear it everyday.

Now you can’t keep it on, as if the gold burns your skin each time it settles into place. Always with you. It feels like a taunt, a joke, something you can’t get away from. 

Where is he?

“No offense, Steve.” Your voice is colder than you mean it to be. “But if I knew anything, don’t you think I would’ve said something?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but Rhodes doesn’t give him a chance. “Bruce gave him a sedative. He’s gonna probably be out for the rest of the day.”

“That’s for the best.” You mutter, sliding the ring into your pocket.

“You guys take care of him, and I’ll bring him a Xorrian elixir when I come back.” Carol says, arms crossed over her chest as she begins to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

“To kill Thanos.” She says simply. 

The four of you follow after her quickly, because her pace isn’t slowing down. “Hey.” Natasha calls, Carol stops and turns around. “You know, we usually work as a team here and, uh, between you and I, morale’s a little fragile.”

Rhodes leans against the doorway.

“We realize up there is more your territory, but this is our fight, too.” Steve says.

“You even know where he is?” Rhodes asks, looking up from the tile.

“I know people who might.” She says.

“Don’t bother.” Nebula cuts in, standing across the room. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”

“Well, let’s hear it.” You say, going down the steps to join her in the sitting room. 

When you get inside, you see that Rocket is in here, too. Nebula moves to stand next to the window, waiting for the others to join you. You twist a chair around, sitting in it, and sinking into the navy blue cushions. Bruce and Thor roundup to join you.

“Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me.” She says, once everyone has come inside the room. “And when he worked, he talked about his Great Plan. Even disassembled, I wanted to please him. I’d ask…” She pauses. “Where would we go once his plan was complete?” She turns her head. “And his answer was always the same.” She joins them at the table. “‘To the Garden’.”

Rhodes makes a face, tilting his head. “That’s cute. Thanos has a retirement plan.”

“So, where is he?” Steve asks, moving around the table.

Rocket pulls up a projection of the Earth. “When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power surge of ridiculously cosmic proportions.” The projection sends off a blast to emphasize this. “No one’s ever seen anything like it. Until two days ago…” 

He messes with the projection to show a different galaxy, zooming in until you’re met with a planet with rings around it. When you lean forward to see it, the name tag above reads, ‘PLANET 0259-S’. 

“On this planet.” Rocket finishes. 

“Thanos is there.” Nebula says. 

Natasha leans in close. “He used the stones again.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bruce nervously chuckles, he’s standing at the doorway. “We’d be going in shorthanded, you know.”

“Look, he’s still got the stones, so—”

“So, let’s get ‘em.” Carol’s eyes are locked on the planet. “Use them to bring everyone back.”

“Just like that?” Bruce asks. 

“Yeah. Just like that.” Steve says.

You sit up on the chair at the sound of this.

“Even if there’s a small chance that we can undo this, I mean, we owe it to everyone who’s not in this room to try.” Natasha says, shaking her head.

“If we do this, how do we know it’s gonna end any differently than it did before?” Bruce asks. 

“Because before you didn’t have me.” Carol says, hands on her hips. 

“Hey, new girl?” Rhodes looks at her. “Everybody in this room is about that superhero life.” She tilts her head slightly. “And if you don’t mind my asking, where the hell have you been all this time?”

“There are a lot of other planets in the universe. And unfortunately, they didn’t have you guys.”

Rhodes and Steve make the same face at each other—fair enough.

Thor pushes up from where he’s sitting at the dining room table, still chewing his food. He walks up behind Carol, and she faces him. He holds his hand out over her shoulder, Stormbreaker—the axe that was made on Nidavellir—goes to him, narrowly missing her head, blowing her hair into her face. She doesn’t flinch.

He sighs, squinting, and then nods. “I like this one.”

There’s a moment of silence, you get to your feet, wandering over to stand at the table. Steve looks at you, “Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

—

The planet that Thanos has chosen to inhabit is, unfortunately, gorgeous. It’s a peaceful place, quiet, with thriving nature and wildlife. The group of you walk in silence, allowing you to enjoy the sounds of the animals chittering around you. 

It doesn’t take long before you come up to the wood shack that Carol had noticed when she came through the atmosphere about ten minutes ago. She went in first, while the rest of you waited in space, wanting to make sure that there wasn’t anything waiting for you on the planet. 

She’d come back, happy to report that there wasn’t a single living being beside Thanos. No satellites, ships, armies. There weren’t even ground defenses. Which would’ve had you excited, if it weren’t for what happened last time you fought him. You practically had the advantage then, too. There were so many people with different abilities.

Bruce positions himself underneath the shack, wearing his iron suit to supplement the fact that Hulk is still out of commission. You watch as Steve waves his arm in a circle, giving Carol the signal. A bright and fiery beam goes right through the shack, and seconds later, she follows.

There’s the sound of Carol fighting Thanos, getting him into position. Bruce breaks through the floor first, with Rhodes and Thor coming through the ceiling. It isn’t until you hear Thanos screaming, do you concur that the gauntlet must be off, done in the most aggressive way possible.

Steve goes up the stairs first, you and Natasha following close behind. Carol has Thanos in a headlock, Rhodes holding his right arm, Bruce holding the left. On the floor lies Thanos’s hand, the gauntlet still attached to it.

Thanos is groaning, face twisted. Rocket makes his way around to the handle, flipping over the gold gauntlet. “Oh, no.”

You look over, expecting to see that everything is fine, besides his mangled arm. You’re met with empty slots, not a single one of the stones is attached to the gauntlet. You sigh, pressing your lips together.

Natasha and Steve share a look before he speaks, “Where are they?”

Thanos groans, Carol pulls her arm tighter, “Answer the question.”

Half of his face is scarred, as if he’s recently been in a fire. Your eyes trail down to what’s left of his arm, finding it in the same condition. In this moment, you can feel the little hope you have leaving your body. 

“The universe required correction.” Thanos says. “After that, the stones served no purpose, beyond temptation.”

“You murdered trillions!” Bruce shouts, shoving Thanos back.

“You should be grateful.”

Bruce punches him.

Natasha takes a breath. “Where are the stones?”

“Gone.” He tells her. “Reduced to atoms.”

“You used them two days ago!” Bruce exclaims.

“I used the stones to destroy the stones.” Thanos says. “It nearly killed me.”

You shake your head, corners of your lips turning down. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” His eyes land on you. “But the work is done. It always will be. I am inevitable.”

“We have to tear this place apart. He has to be lying!” Rhodes says. 

“My father is many things.” Nebula murmurs. “A liar is not one of them.”

“Ah.” Thanos breaths. “Thank you, daughter. Perhaps I treated you too harshly.”

Thor swings his axe up without notice, shouting as he cuts off Thanos’s head. It hits the ground with a thud, purple blood splattering against the wall, on Nebula's face. His body falls back.

“What?” Bruce breathes.

“What did you do?” Rocket asks.

“I went for the head.” Thor mumbles, turning to walk out of the hut.

The rest of you stand in silence, watching as Nebula walks over to his body, kneeling down to shut his eyes. You take in deep breaths through your nose to calm the rising anger. Various thoughts on how you could torture him, even though he’s dead, begin to come to you. You could drag his pathetic body back to Earth, conjure it everyday, make him work his fingers to the bone, never let him rest.

He took Stephen, you think. 

You grit your teeth. “All due respect, Nebula, but we better burn his body.” You tell her, Natasha and Carol glance at you. You squeeze your hands into fists. “Or else I’m going to make sure he never rests. I could find thousands of ways to make the afterlife miserable, trust me.”

She nods at you, and then turns back to him.

You move to follow after Thor, who’s already down the stairs, traveling toward the spaceship. “If you need me, I’ll be by the ship.”

The hero suit fades away, falling back to your regular clothes. Your fingers dip into your jean pocket, coming into contact with the ring you’d stored earlier. You pull it out, holding it in your palm for a long moment. Then, you sigh, sliding it back into its place on your thumb.

ONE YEAR LATER

The dark clouds swirl above the field, acting as a warning that you don’t have much time to practice today. It rains often in New York, so this wouldn’t be your first time having to experience it while testing your abilities. However, it’s happened enough for you to say that you hate the feeling of it.

Lately, you’ve been feeling heavier whenever you come out here, like the ground is one giant blackhole and you’re constantly fighting against flying inside of it. The rain will only make it worse, and you can’t stand it when your clothes are waterlogged. It makes the seats of your car soggy.

Despite this, you take your time walking to the middle, not that you’re able to go faster than this, anyway. You haven’t been yourself for quite a few days, you think a cold might be coming on. Wong has begun to notice too, it was a struggle to convince him to let you leave the Sanctum. Which was done on the promise that you wouldn’t come out here to do this today.

Well, unfortunately for him, you can’t afford to lose time. Every day you spend on your ass, you take a step back from what you’re working towards—a breakthrough. It’s got to be right around the corner, this whole week, you’ve repeatedly felt yourself come to the ledge, but you were too afraid to jump.

You know now that this is how you grow to be stronger, to have a better understanding of your abilities. You can’t become a better hero if you don’t know how to sacrifice yourself sometimes, too.

There’s something under there, beneath the grass. It’s more than just the dead that you’re used to bringing to life. You get a feel for it each time you try, but it’s like uprooting a tree that’s been standing for hundreds of years. It’s resistant. 

You haven’t told any of the Avengers yet, afraid to get their hopes up. You think that it’s those who were killed in the blip. The reason why it’s so hard to bring them back is because they don’t have physical bodies, so what happens if you try to put them back together?

It sounds ridiculous at first, but it’s not that heinous when you map it out. When you tried to explain it to Wong, he shut you down within the first thirty minutes, telling you that this isn’t how it works. You told him that it’s fine if he doesn’t want to have hope, you won’t let him drag you down. 

It goes like this—it’s very simple—their bodies are everywhere. Those who were killed outdoors have been spread through nature. They were in the air at one point, but now they’re in the grass, the dirt, the Earth. They’re here, half the job is already done for you. What you need to do is focus on one person to bring back in the area, and work from there.

And it’s not even that ridiculous of an idea! When you were on Titan last year, directly after you’d lost Stephen, you tried that exact method. It’s where your inspiration came from. The ground shook, trying to listen to your direction. The issue is that you weren’t strong enough, you didn’t have enough practice to be doing something like that.

Now, you do. It’s what you’ve been working toward for the past few months, day in and day out, no breaks, absolutely no days off.

You slowly lower yourself to the ground, joints aching. You breathe heavily, sitting sideways on your legs, because your knees hurt from sitting on them for hours at a time. You place your hands in front of you, palms flat in the grass.

When you close your eyes, the ticklish feeling in your stomach rises. You focus on that, what it means, how long it’ll take for it to build before it becomes the dark energy that is necromancy. It isn’t until you feel the pressure beginning in your palms, as if you’re being sucked downward, do you switch to that.

You don’t allow it to bring you down, in fact, you pull back with ten times as much force. You’re coming to me, you think, not the other way around. It doesn’t want to, though, so you sort through the mass. Eyes bouncing from side to side behind your lids, looking for the weakest link.

You find it, and yank. The first few times, it doesn’t budge, it’s coming from several directions, exactly what you’re looking for. With this excitement, you beckon it toward you. The body isn’t fighting anymore, it’s like reeling in a dead fish. Which wouldn’t be appetizing to others, but it’s what you’re looking for.

The worry sets in when you realize that it’s not slowing down. You’ve just lifted your right hand off of the ground, when the matter surges through your body—your head whipping back so fast that you’ll be feeling it for weeks. 

A scream tears through your vocal chords, fire eating you up inside. 

It explodes.

You’re thrown into the air, body twisting at an awkward angle as you come into contact with the ground. You land on your bad shoulder, sending a spike of electricity through your torso and down your legs. 

There’s an unbearable ringing in your ears when you roll onto your back, struggling to breathe through the cloud of black smoke that comes to choke you. Your head rolls off to your right side, fingers reaching to touch the scorched grass that you’ve landed on top of. 

The moment you come into contact, it crumbles, turning to dust.

And so do you.

—

The consistent beeping of the heart monitor next to you is what you hear first. A moment of relief floods you, because this means that your hearing isn’t permanently damaged, but it’s fleeting when you realize what that means. Your eyebrows draw in, squeezing your eyes before you try to open them.

The hospital room is dark, the entire afternoon has been wasted away. You look to the window a few feet away, and find a lovely shade of blue and grey, blurred because of the raindrops that cling to the other side. It’s raining, of course, which means that you won’t be able to go out and try again tonight.

You roll your eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh, which you instantly regret when the pain seizes your entire body. You let out a grunt, pressing the back of your head into the pillow, teeth grit while you wait for it to pass.

You remind yourself that this is only a temporary setback. As soon as it’s not muddy out there anymore, you’ll try again. So, maybe not tomorrow, but the following day. You’ll do it again, and you’ll do it right.

A knock on the hospital room door makes you look over. It swings open without you granting entrance, making it a courtesy knock, and when you see who it is, there’s no explanation needed.

Tony Stark strolls into your room as if he owns the entire hospital. His eyes are on you, jaw set. You know this look, it’s the same one he gives right before he lectures you. The look on his face is the least of your worries when you see that his lip is busted and swollen. There’s also a cut across his forehead, blood leaking from it.

“What happened?” It hurts you speak, you wince, scooting to sit up higher on the bed. “How do you know I’m here?”

He shuts the door behind him, there’s no vase of flowers, not even a get well soon card in his hand. This is not a visit he’s making to check on your wellbeing, he doesn’t want to comfort you.

“I’m your emergency contact.” He tells you, stopping at the end of your bed. He sticks his hands into his pockets, eyebrows raised. “I got a call from the nurse because she thought you needed some support.”

You press your lips together, eyes drifting away from his face and to the door he just came through. Stephen is supposed to be your emergency contact, you did it when you got extremely sick during your first year of dating. He was worried you wound up dead somewhere when you hadn’t seen or talked to him for three days straight. He called every hospital in New York to find you.

Tony’s your backup, actually. You know that if anything were to happen to you, and if there’s no one else to make the decisions, he’d do what’s right and in your best interest. The two of you are very close, but you know he’d never let emotion get in the way if he knew you were suffering.

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “Just had an accident, that's all.”

“An accident?” Tony repeats. “That’s what you call raising a monster from hell?”

You blink, face twisting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean, I think something exploded but there was no monster.”

“You weren’t awake for that part.” He tells you. “I just spent the last hour fighting it and your wizard buddy had to contain it.”

You stare at him, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not. A part of the evidence is his face, you suppose. You didn’t see anything, though. Just the smoke… which very well could’ve hidden it.

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” He asks.

“I’m working on something.” You adjust in the bed, settling back. “I’ve almost got it. As soon as I get out here, I’ll try again.”

“Try what again?”

You smile, “To bring them back, of course.” Tony’s face falls, he closes his eyes, shaking his head at you. “You have to hear me out first—”

“See, when Wong told me what you were up to, I didn’t believe him.” Tony reaches up, rubbing his face. “I thought that you couldn’t possibly be naive enough to—”

“Oh,” You groan out, waving your hand dismissively, “Don’t listen to Wong, he says I can’t do it. I’m so close though, I can feel it. I almost had it this afternoon, I think I just… chose the wrong thing, you know?”

“(Y/n),” Tony warns.

“See, this is one of the reasons why I didn’t want to tell you so soon. Either it’d get your hopes up, or you’d fall with Wong. Ignore him, he doesn’t know anything.”

You look out the window again. You’re not sure why he’s shutting you down like this. Out of everyone, you thought that he’d be the one that’d jump on your side. It wouldn’t be the first time he bet on something so outlandish. With him on your side, you think you have a better chance at succeeding.

Besides, you can bring back the dead, anyway. How is this that big of a stretch? And if you did pull a monster out of the ground—it’s even more the reason to believe you.

“I can bring them back, Tony.” You say.

“(Y/n), you can’t.” He says, “You tried, remember? You couldn’t then, and you can’t now.”

“Yeah, because I haven’t had my breakthrough yet.” You laugh, which dissolves into you grimacing. “I’m not strong enough. Just a couple more times, and I’ll have it.”

“No.” Tony waves his hand, as if he’s cutting off your plan. “You do any more of this, and you’ll get yourself killed.”

“That���s not true.” You shake your head. “We both don’t know if I can even die.” 

“At the pace you’re going, it doesn’t even matter!” He holds his hand out. “In the end, if you die, all you would’ve been doing to yourself this entire time is torture.”

You tilt your head at him. “I know you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it. I’m fine, though, look at me.”

“I am, and I feel like I’m talking to a corpse. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“I’m sick, Tony. It’s just the flu.” You say.

“No, (Y/n), your body is wasting away because this,” He motions aggressively to the window. “Is all you do. Wong has been contacting me for weeks, afraid that you’re going to drop dead any minute.”

“Fine,” You sigh. “If you two are so worried, I’ll take a break, but I’m not giving this up. It’s a hiccup, as soon as I get it down—”

He cuts you off, “What would Stephen think of this?” 

You stare, “Don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” He tells you. “I know we don’t have the best relationship at times, but I sure as hell won’t watch you kill yourself.”

“Then walk away.” You point to the door. “No one asked you to be here, to come in here talking about what Stephen would or wouldn’t want. You don’t know anything about him!”

“That doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t take a genius to know that he cared about you.”

“Get out.” You tell him. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He starts toward the door, not saying anything until he’s halfway out, turning to look at you. “If I catch wind that you’re doing this again, I’ll have you locked in a padded room for the rest of your life.”

Tony pulls the door shut tightly behind him.

THREE YEARS LATER

The clothes in the closet have lost their scent. After three years of picking them out to hold against your nose, there’s nothing left of him. Which means that your reasoning to stay in the Sanctum has finally expired. You have to move on.

This is by your own choice, not anyone else’s. Wong has made it explicitly clear that if you want to stay here, he will not say otherwise. He doesn’t mind it. In fact, you keep him company, even if your presence is mostly done in silence. What matters is that you’re in the room.

You took this offer, but told yourself that you couldn’t stay here forever. If you were going to be hung up on Stephen, you’d have to do it privately. So, you made a deal; the moment his room stopped feeling like it belonged to him, it was time to go. 

You noticed it a few weeks ago, when you came back from the Avengers Compound to collect the last of your belongings. The team was falling apart, again, and as much as you wish you could say that you were going to stay this time, you weren’t. You were already planning on leaving for good, this was just the perfect excuse to use.

The moment you stepped foot into the bedroom, you knew there was no coming back. It felt like you were walking into a foreign planet, a place you didn’t recognize, despite being there hours earlier. Six years of living in this room, gone.

Since, you’ve spent your time trying to find an apartment you like for a decent price, that’s also close to the Sanctum. You almost cried when you got offered a perfect one a few streets away, ready for you to move in. However, your initial excitement has worn off. You’ve been dragging your feet the entire week when it comes to packing, because they had to finalize the paperwork anyway.

Which left you to do it all today.

For the past two hours, you’ve packed everything you own back into boxes and bins, stacking them by the bedroom door. You decided early on that it would be easier if you worked in phases. The hardest part would be detaching yourself from this place, which proved itself to be true. 

You’ve cried a few times throughout the process, but it’s done now. The only thing left to do is bring the boxes down to your car, that’s waiting for you parked in front of the Sanctum.

You drag your feet, stopping in front of the first stack. A sigh leaves you when you reach to pull a box into your arms. When you realize it’s not heavy, you adjust to grab the one that was beneath it, too. You’re not entirely looking forward to going up and down the stairs a hundred times.

A sickness rises in your stomach when you leave the bedroom, beginning to go down the hallway. This feels wrong, like a one-sided breakup, leaving before the other person can get home. Your feet pause briefly, shoe squeaking against the freshly waxed floor.

That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? 

No, you think harshly, this is different. Stephen is never coming home. He’s lost, just like the trillions of other lives that were taken when Thanos snapped his fingers. This isn’t a breakup.  A part of you wishes it were, because at least then, you’d still have a chance to see him around New York, even if it weren’t on good terms or romantically.

You suck in a deep breath, holding it as you begin your way down the stairs, the first trip of many. You drop these boxes next to the front door, wanting to pack your car all at once. That way, if there’s an issue, it’ll be easier to take it apart. You head back upstairs to repeat this process, it only takes a good fifteen minutes before you’re done. 

When you go back to Stephen’s room one last time to retrieve the engraved, golden ring, your heart skips a few beats in your chest. You shuffle toward the dresser, eyes searching the surface, thinking that it might be blending in. You run your fingers over it, and come back with nothing.

You turn around to look into the room, face twisting, eyebrows pushing in as you struggle to remember if you had moved it or not. You walk to his nightstand, opening the drawers, rummaging through them, even though you could’ve sworn you never put it in here.

It’s not there. So, you move to your nightstand, where you’ve kept your jewelry in the past, especially the ring. Except, when you open the first drawer, you’re met with emptiness. You’ve already taken everything out of it, because it’s packed into one of the boxes downstairs.

You sweep the floor with your eyes, but it’s too dark in here. You throw the curtains open, flooding the room with sunlight. When you go back to looking, hoping that the ring will reflect the light, you can’t find it.

You switch to the closet, opening the doors to reveal that it’s half empty now. The only clothes left hanging are the ones that Stephen thought were too important to fold, and to keep them from wrinkling. There’s nothing here, not even in the darkest corner.

Did it fall under the bed?

On your knees, you press the side of your face to the floor, but the only thing under here are the dust bunnies. You make sure of this, too, when you grab a broom to bring it all out.

The panic begins to settle in, spreading through your body. How did you manage to misplace the ring? It’s the most valuable thing to you. You’d think you’d be more careful with something as sentimental as that—a ring from your dead boyfriend.

“Maybe it’s in a box.” You murmur to yourself to calm down, reel in the insanity that’s beginning to rise. 

You head out of the bedroom, looking at the boxes over the railing. Once you’re down the stairs and in the foyer, you pull the first box off of the stack, opening the cardboard flaps, and pulling all of its contents out. There is no ring, so you push the objects away, off to the side, not bothering to repack it.

The further you get through the pile, the more hysterical you grow. The box that you’d packed with your jewelry doesn’t have it. The neatly folded clothes, now tossed on the floor, don’t have it caught in the cloth. It’s not stuck between the books, you didn’t accidentally throw it with the rest of your trinkets, it’s not with your electronics.

Everything you own is strewn across the foyer, as you continue to tear them apart.

It’s not here.

You get back to your feet, struggling to breathe, the tears starting.

The front door suddenly opens, you look over to see that it’s Wong. He gives you a wide smile at first, which slowly begins to fall when he sees the expression and the state the foyer is in.

“What’s the matter?” He asks.

“I lost the ring.” You whisper. “I don’t—I don’t know where it is. I’ve looked everywhere.” You turn around to motion to the mess you’ve made. “I don’t have it here, I even checked my car. I set it aside so I wouldn’t lose it and it’s not here. The one thing I carry with me and I’m stupid enough—”

“(Y/n),” Wong says, coming to grab your shoulders. You can feel his fingers pressing into the metal that makes up your left shoulder. A replacement that Tony made for you, covering the entire cost. “(Y/n), stop.”

You press your lips together, face contorting as you nod, trying to focus.

“I told you I was taking it to get cleaned, remember?” He asks, face twisted. He removes his hands, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out the small silk bag.

“Oh.” You breathe, feeling your body relax.

You cup your hands, watching as he carefully shakes the ring out of the bag. It’s polished, smooth. When you tilt it to see the inside, the engraving is there, untouched.

“Okay.” You say.

“You’re okay?” He confirms.

You nod, pushing it back to where it belongs on your thumb. “I’m sorry, Wong.”

“Don’t apologize.” He tells you, turning to face the foyer. “Do you need help repacking?”

“Will you?” You ask.

“Of course.”

FIVE YEARS LATER

The sound of a distantly familiar ringtone begins from the coffee table in your living room, again. 

Your eyebrows draw in, turning your head to the side to listen through the first few notes. As you reach for the towel on the counter to dry your hands, you try to remember who it could belong to. It’s garish, dramatic. Whoever the person is, they must resemble the noise.

The bell finally rings.

It’s Stark.

You toss the towel back on the counter when you leave the kitchen. There’s a faint sense of urgency in your steps, considering that you’ve let him call you twice already, figuring that whoever it was would leave you a voicemail. 

In fairness, it’s been a long time since you and Tony talked to each other, muchless on the phone. If you remember correctly, the last conversation you had with him happened right before you left the Avengers. Since then, there hasn’t really been a need to keep up-to-date with him.

All of his life updates are posted on social media, anyway. The only thing you’re obligated to do each year is send his daughter presents when the holidays come around. After all, it’s the least you can do after he saved your life and set you straight.

Sure enough, Tony’s face lights up your screen, a sigh escapes you. You pull the phone into your hand, swiping across the glass to accept the call. You press it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Do you ever answer your phone?” Tony’s voice comes through. “I mean, seriously, it took me three tries for you to pick up? What if I were dying?”

You roll your eyes, letting out a light laugh. “I would hope you’d call Pepper before me, considering we haven’t spoken to each other in almost three years.”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, Tony. Is everything okay?” You ask, walking back to the kitchen.

“I’m fine, (Y/n). Listen, something’s happened.”

You put the call on speaker, setting your phone next to the sink so you can resume doing the dishes. “Good or bad?”

“Both.” He answers. You pull a plate out of the soapy water, scrubbing at it with a sponge. “You remember that fight between me and Cap, right? The one in Germany? There was the guy who could go from big to small?”

You hum, “Scott Lang?”

The sound of him snapping fills the air. “Yes, that guy. Well, he, Natasha and Cap showed up at my house the other day.”

He pauses, not going on any further. You wonder if there’s a point to this story, or if he’s just calling to tell you it’s weird that Scott flew from Los Angeles all the way to New York. Which you guess it is, considering…

Your hands freeze on the plate, eyebrows drawing in. “That’s not possible, Scott Lang was killed in the blip.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, but he’s here. They came over talking about quantum jumping, and how he got stuck in the middle of it when Thanos snapped his fingers. Five years felt like five hours to him.”

“And he’s alive?” You ask.

“Yes.” He sighs into the phone. “You know I wouldn’t be calling you if I thought I was just getting your hopes up.”

This is true. When you were parting ways with the Avengers, you and Tony had a long discussion about the future, and where both of you stood on the matter. You told him that you wanted to retire your suit for good. With there being so many heroes in New York again, there wasn’t a reason for all of you to be active anymore.

This set up the idea that this could be the last time you came face to face with them, because it was partially your plan. You can’t be sucked in if you refuse to be involved. He respected your wishes on this, and told you that if anything were to happen to you, he’d be there in a second if you needed him to be.

And before you left, you came to an agreement; if there was a way that either of you could turn back time and fix everything in a reasonable way, you’d be there, no questions asked.

“Okay…” You prompt him.

“(Y/n), I figured it out.” He tells you. “I figured out how to time travel. It’s taken me…” You can picture him shaking his head. “But I think we can go back and fix this. I think we can bring them back.”

You set the clean plate off to the side, placing the sponge back where it belongs in the ceramic dish. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

You lean over the sink, nodding slowly. “What did they say about it?”

“I haven’t told them yet. I thought you should be the first to know, that’s the deal we made, right?”

“Right.” You agree. “How soon are we doing this?”

“Today.” He says. “I’ll pick you up. We’ll sort it out with them when we get to the Avengers Facility.’

Your eyes land on the gold ring that’s currently sitting on the window sill. “I’ll be ready.” You murmur. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

—

“I remember why I stopped letting you drive me around.” You say, watching as the Facility grows closer. “Cause you’ve got a lead foot.”

“Shut up.” Tony tells you, taking a turn. “We’re almost there.”

“Try not to send us through the windshield before then.” You mutter, being thrown into the door, tires squealing against the asphalt.

As you near the front, you can see that Steve is standing outside of it, hands on his hips. Tony pulls up right before him, putting the car in park when it’s come to a complete stop. He rolls the window down, lazily moving his head to look at Steve.

“Why the long face?” He asks after a moment of silence. “Let me guess, he turned into a baby.”

Steve nods, looking away. “Among other things, yeah. What are you two doing here?”

You throw the car door open to get out before he can start driving again. 

“It’s the EPR Paradox.” Tony gets out, too. “Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up pushing time through Lang. It’s tricky, dangerous. Somebody could have cautioned you against it.”

You shut the door, walking around the car to join them. 

“You did.” Steve says.

“Oh, did I?” Tony mocks being shocked. “Well, thank god I’m here. Regardless, I fixed it.” He holds up his hand, which has the time traveling cuff—or whatever it is, you stopped trying to understand it after he explained it the second time. “A fully functioning time-space GPS.”

Steve smiles.

“I just want peace.” Tony holds up two fingers. “Turns out resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.”

“Me, too.” Steve says, looking at you. “What are you doing?”

“I’m here to help, obviously.” You give him a bright smile. “I can be useful, sometimes.”

“We got one shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities.” Tony says. “Bring back what we lost, I hope, yes. Keep what I found, I have to, at all costs. And maybe not die trying, would be nice.”

Steve nods again, holding out his hand. “Sounds like a deal.”

Tony takes it, they shake on it. You let out air through your nose, shaking your head as you wander away, staying close to watch Tony open the trunk of the car. He pulls out Steve’s shield, dumping the blanket and stuffed animal back into the car. 

“Tony, I don’t know.” Steve mutters.

“Why? He made it for you.” He flips it around. “Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.”

Steve takes it, holding it across his arm. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn’t bring one for the whole team.” He pulls out a red case, reaching up with his other hand to press the button that closes the trunk for him. “We are getting the whole team, yeah?”

“We’re working on that right now.” Steve says. 

“Cool.” You turn around to walk to the doors. “Until we have everyone here, I will be sitting on my ass and doing exactly nothing.”

“Not very different from what you usually do, right?” Tony asks behind you.

You give him a sarcastic smile.

—

“Okay, so the how works.” Steve begins. “Now we gotta figure out the when and the where.”

There’s a set of three screens he’s standing by, each one showing two stones. It’s sorted into detail by what they look like, what they can be contained in, what building they were originally found in, and who might have them in their possession. 

Your eyes are set on the most obvious one, the Time Stone. You and the others already pretty much agreed that you’ll be going after it. You know the most about it, after spending years of being around Stephen.

“Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones.”

“Or substitute the word ‘encounter’ for ‘damn near been killed’ by one of the six Infinity Stones.” Tony says, standing on the other side. There’s a coffee cup in one of his hands. 

“Well, I haven’t, but I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.” Scott says.

“Regardless, we only have enough Pym Particles for one round-trip each.” Bruce tells you, walking around the back of Scott’s chair. “And these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

“Our history.” Tony emphasizes. “So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in, yeah?”

“Which means we have to pick our targets.” Clint’s got his eyes on the ground. 

“Correct.”

“So, let’s start with the Aether.” Steve says, eyes set on a specific target. “Thor, what do you know?” 

Thor, who has since gained weight, forgotten how to shower, and grown a beard, sits in the corner of the room, slouched as deeply as possible in the chair. There’s a beer in one of his hands, the other rests on his stomach. The pair of sunglasses on his face prohibits you from seeing where his eyes are.

Everyone turns to look at him, waiting.

“Is he asleep?” Natasha asks.

“No, no. I”m pretty sure he’s dead.” Rhodes says.

Tony lets out a sigh, shaking his head. He slaps a hand on his shoulder, which jumpstarts Thor. “Rise and shine, buddy. What do you know about the Aether?”

Thor groans, “I was just about to get up.”

“Right.” 

He gets to his feet, wanting to the front. “Uh, where to start?” He pulls off the sunglasses, holding them in his hand. “Um… The Aether, firstly, is not a stone. Someone called it a stone before.” He points at Steve briefly. “Um, it’s more of an angry sludge sort of a thing… so someone’s gonna need to amend that and stop saying that.” He tilts his head back to squirt eye drops into his eyes.

Your mouth falls open slightly, watching him do this. Is this what you looked like to everyone else when you freaked out that first year? Of course, you were the opposite of whatever Thor is representing, but still. His coping mechanisms are a hell of a lot worse than yours were… you think.

Clint comes beside you, pulling a chair out to sit down.

“Here’s an interesting story, though, about the Aether. My grandfather, many years ago, had to hide the stone from the Dark Elves.” He makes a ghostly sound, laughing in the middle. “Scary beings. So, Jane, actually—” The middle screen changes to show her face. “Oh, there she is. Yeah, so Jane was a—was an old flame of mine.”

You rub your face, letting out a sigh while you tilt your head back to look at the ceiling. These past few days already have been long, while you waited for them to design the time traveling suits, build the platform, and send Clint into the future as a test run. You can’t imagine what today and tomorrow are going to be like, if this is how it’s starting.

“You know, she stuck her hand inside a rock this one time and then the Aether stuck itself inside her and she became very, very sick. And so I had to take her to Asgard, which is where I’m from and we had to try and fix her.” Thor continues.

You swivel in your chair, facing Natasha. She raises her eyebrows, and you grab her notepad, dragging it in front of you. Clint offers up a pen on the other side, you take it, writing down that Jane Foster has the Aether in Asgard. 

“We were dating at the time, you see and I got to introduce her to my mother,” He’s waving around the sunglasses. “Who’s dead and, um… Oh, you know, Jane and I aren’t even dating anymore, so.” He sniffs. “Yes, these things happen, though. You know? Nothing lasts forever. The only thing that—”

Tony goes up to Thor, grabbing him. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

“I’m not done yet.” He pushes Tony away. “The only thing that is permanent in life is impermanence.”

Tony claps twice. “Awesome. Eggs? Breakfast?”

“No. I’d like a Bloody Mary.” Thor smiles.

You take in a deep breath, “Can I get one, too, then?”

Tony looks at you, “Don’t encourage this.”

“Just something to get me through the rest of the day.” You reason, a teasing smile hinting at your lips.

He squints at you, directing Thor to sit back down in one of the chairs. “Let’s take a break, we’ll regroup at dinner.”

The group breaks apart, eager to get out of this room and away from Thor. You stay where you’re seated, and Tony doesn’t move, either. Thor seems disinterested, turning the can of beer on the table. Once the door has shut, you can’t contain your laughter.

They look at you, waiting for you to let them in on what you find so funny. You wave your hand, turning around in the chair to bury your face in your hands. You forget just how ridiculous this team can be at times. It’s more than just crime fighting, it’s camaraderie. 

“Okay,” You breathe, facing them again. “Thor, can you give me a year where Jane was in Asgard when she was infected with the Aether?”

“Oh, sure.” Thor says, he’s composed himself. “It was twenty-thirteen. It won’t mean anything unless it’s in the Stone form, though.”

You hum, flipping the page over, writing down everyone that is planning to help. Next to Thor’s name, you put ‘R’ for the Reality Stone, making him in charge of that. He’ll need someone to go with him, of course, because he’s in no state to have this big of a responsibility, but you’ll figure that out later on. The point is that Asgard was his home, he’ll know how to navigate it.

Beside your name, you write ‘T’ for the time stone. No matter what the others say, you won’t let them take this one from you. If they want to help you, you’ll drag someone along. As far as you’re concerned, this will be under control.

“What are you doing?” Tony asks, coming around the table.

“Sorting this out.” You murmur, flipping back to the original page. You begin to write what you know about the Time Stone, which is more than what Thor could give you about the Reality. “Those who know the most about the stones should be in charge of them, I figured you don’t really think otherwise.”

You look at him, he makes a face, nodding to agree with you. 

“What are you thinking about for dinner? Takeout will be on me.” Tony says, crossing his arms.

“Burgers.” Thor says, “A nice juicy burger.”

You make a face, “I’ve been craving Chinese lately.”

A few hours later, after everyone has finished what they were doing with the suits or the portal, you find yourself back in the room. Your suggestion on Chinese food was fairly popular with the others, so Tony took the order and had the food delivered to the Facility.

“All right, Ratchet, go for it.” Tony motions once everyone is settled in their seats.

“Rocket.” He corrects, giving him a look. “Quill said he stole the Power Stone from Morag.” The screen lights up purple, you set your fork down to write what he says into the notepad.

“Is that a person?” Bruce asks, smacking on his ice cream.

“No, Morag’s a planet.” Rocket says, standing on the table. “Quill was a person.”

“Like a planet? Like in outer space?” Scott asks from the other end of the table.

“Oh, look.” Rocket places his hand on Scott’s head, beginning to give him a head rub. “It’s like a little puppy, all happy and everything. Do you wanna go to space? You wanna go to space, puppy?” Scott pulls his head away, unamused. “I’ll take you to space.”

“Have you been to Morag?” You ask, looking up from the paper. “You or Nebula?”

“No.” Rocket says, turning around to face you.

“I haven’t, either.” She shakes her head. “I believe it’s kept in a temple.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face. “Okay…”

You flip the page, finding her name on the list, writing ‘P’. You chew on the inside of your lip, thinking. When you look at Tony, you find his eyes on you. 

“What’s the problem?”

“We’re going to have to go in pairs, anyway, right?” You ask, “What if…”

You write ‘R’ next to Rocket, knowing that he and Thor have worked together in the past, during the first fight with Thanos. They went together to Nidavellir, where Thor got Stormbreaker. They clearly get along fine. As for Nebula, lately she’s been working with Rhodes. That’s why you decide to pair them together.

Tony tilts his head, “I don’t see why not.”

It’s the following day when you finally get time to talk about the Stones again, since the conversation on Morag was thrown out the window when technicalities came into play. The group of you called it a night when Thor started talking about Jane again.

“Thanos found the Soul Stone on Vormir.” Nebula murmurs from the front. 

“What is Vormir?” Natasha asks, holding the notepad. She’s been up all night writing notes, building off of what you’ve already got in there. When she offered to take it from you, you didn’t argue. 

“A dominion of death at the very center of celestial existence.” She says, voice lowering. “It’s where Thanos murdered my sister.”

There’s a moment of silence between the few of you. Not everyone could make it to this time around. Tony opted out because he decided off the bat that he didn’t want to be involved with anything other than the Space Stone—the tesseract—because he believes that’ll be an easy grab, too.

Steve sighs.

“Not it.” Scott mutters.

This causes several people to look at him.

The meeting room is trashed two days later, there’s papers scattered across the room, as well as folders. There’s books opened to certain pages, laying open on the floor to be easily picked up and resumed when needed. Tony and Natasha lay on the table, with Bruce being on the floor, considering he’s permanently part-Hulk now.

You sit in the recliner in the corner, reading through all the notes you’ve gathered thus far, trying to put together a fairly decent timeline. 

“That Time Stone guy.” Natasha finally breaks the silence.

“Doctor Strange.” Bruce says, you look up from your notes, clicking the pen.

“Stephen Strange.” You murmur.

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?” She asks.

“Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit-from-hat.” Tony says, he’s turned on his side, rubbing his face.

“He was a neurosurgeon, that’s why he likes being called Doctor.” You tell her. “He worked at the Metro-General hospital.”

“Nice place in the Village, though.” Bruce says.

“Yeah, on Sullivan Street?” Tony says back.

Bruce hums. “No…”

“Bleecker Street.” You correct.

“Wait, he lived in New York?” Natasha asks, no longer spinning the pen in her hand.

“Yeah—”

“No, he lived in Toronto.” Tony says.

“Uh, yeah, on Bleecker and Sullivan.” Bruce says.

“Have you been listening to anything?” Tony asks Natasha.

She holds her hand up. “Guys, if you pick the right year, there are three stones in New York.”

Bruce sits up, “Shut the front door.”

You nod, forcing the recliner back to its original position. “Space, Mind and Time, huh?”

“Yeah.” She says. “All we need to do is figure out who’s getting which one.”

An emergency team meeting is called. The four of you move to a different room to be in, because the last one is trashed. The others begin to trickle in steadily, all asking questions on what happened.

It isn’t until the last person comes inside, do you begin. “Everyone, this has gotten a whole lot easier.”

Tony nods, walking up to the projection. At the top, it’s titled ‘Time Heist’, courtesy of Scott, who’s attached to the idea of it. The sections below are broken into three. The first one being New York, which has Time, Space and Mind. The second one is Asgard, which obviously holds the Reality Stone. The third one is Morag / Vormir, for the Power and Soul Stones.

“We have divided the teams.” Tony says. “For team Asgard, we have Thor and Rocket,  Morag will be Nebula and Rhodes, and Vormir is Natasha and Clint. As for New York, it will be the rest of us.” He turns around to face you. “(Y/n) has volunteered to grab the Time Stone, Bruce will go with her. Which leaves Scott, Steve and I to get the Space and Mind Stone, because it’ll be in the same buildings at the same time.”

“All right. We have a plan.” Steve says, crossing the room to stand in front of the projection. “Six stones, three teams, one shot.”

You stand up, walking to stand next to Steve. You grab his shoulder, making him turn to you. “Now we can get this son of a bitch.”

—

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us.” Steve begins. “We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. 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 os uf are going somewhere we know. That doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. 

“Be careful.” He says. “Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives, and we’re gonna win. Whatever it takes. Good luck.” He backs off.

“He’s pretty good at that.” Rocket says.

“Right?” Scott looks at him.

“All right. You heard the man. Stroke those keys, Jolly Green.” Tony tells Bruce. 

“Trackers engaged.”

Clint holds out his hand, looking at the Milano—Rocket’s spaceship—which has been shrunk to make for easier transportation.

“You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?” Rocket asks.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Clint dismisses him. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“As promises go, that was pretty lame.” Rocket crosses his arms.

“It’s Clint, everything about him is lame.” You say, and when Clint looks at you, you give him our sweetest smile. “Isn’t that right?”

“Be quiet.” He tells you.

Bruce comes up the stairs to the platform, stopping to stand right next to you. He slaps his wrist, causing the platform to begin beeping. You take in a deep breath, tilting your head from side to side.

“See ya in a minute.” Natasha smiles.

The helmet comes over your face, you look down, finding that the ground has opened up, sucking you inside. You travel through… you’re not entirely sure how to describe it. At first, it’s a bright tunnel of color that quickly submerges you in blue, traveling through a molecule and into a white light.

You land on your feet in an alleyway, the street in front of you is covered in debris and overturned cars. The time traveling suit disappears, leaving you in a pair of relatively normal clothes for this time. The sound of screaming, sirens and the alien beings moving around and shooting is slightly overwhelming for a couple seconds.

Steve marches forward. “All right, we all have our assignments. Two stones uptown, one stone down.” He must decide the coast is clear, turning around to come back your way. “Stay low. Keep an eye on the clock.”

Hulk roars, you look around Steve to watch as he lifts a car, smashing it into the alien, clearly killing him. Another one comes to save his comrade, but turns around and runs at the sight of past Hulk plucking a tire off the car and throwing it at a streetlight. Unsatisfied with his original smash, he jumps on the dismembered car a couple times, before stomping away.

Bruce covers his face, embarrassed.

“Maybe smash a few things along the way.” Steve suggests.

“I think it’s gratuitous, but whatever.” Bruce says, ripping off his tank top, walking to the street. 

You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes. You begin to walk away, backwards. “This shouldn’t take long. Are you sure you don’t want my help with the other two stones?”

“We’ve got it covered, (Y/n).” Steve gives you a hard nod. 

“If you say so.” You tilt your head, before following after Bruce, who’s lazily punching cars.

You walk behind him, amused at the way he tries to mimic how he was in the past. He was incredibly, unnecessarily destructive, wasn’t he? You can’t imagine the amount of things he tore apart or broke solely because he could.

“I think we’ll travel faster if we take the roofs.” He finally says, stopping.

“Why do you think that?” You ask, catching up with him. 

He opens his mouth, letting out a sigh. “I don’t want to do this the entire way.”

“Well, unfortunately, you don’t have a baby carrier on you, so you don’t really have an option.” You shrug, “Just enjoy the walk.”

“I can’t.”

“Then don’t break shit, I don’t care.” You laugh, “It’s only a few minutes from here.”

He looks disappointed at your indifference, but he admits that you’re right. Bleecker Street and Sullivan isn’t that far when he’s listening to your directions on the quickest shortcuts. However, you have a problem when the front door to the Sanctum doesn’t open.

Your mouth pops open, tongue clicking. You place your hands on your hips, tilting your head back to see the roof of the building. Your face smooths over when you see orange magic shoot at an alien, causing it to explode.

“Get us up there.” You tell Bruce, it’s a command.

“Sure.” He says.

You allow him to pick you up, setting you on his shoulder. You struggle to balance while he scales the building, but it’s worth it the second you reach the top. He starts for the door that’ll lead you inside of the Sanctum, you don’t move from where you stand, eyes on the lady standing feet away.

A sinking feeling of disappointment hits.

“I’d be careful going that way. We just had the floors waxed.” She tells Bruce before he can open the door.

She’s British, she has an accent, and she’s bald. The robes she’s wearing is a shade of mustard yellow. And she has the Eye of Agamotto around her neck, the same thing that Stephen had in his possession. The Time Stone is right here.

The longer you stare at her, the more you believe you’ve seen her before, or at least heard of her. You go down the three steps, going to join her. You refuse to take your eyes off of her.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Doctor Strange.” Bruce says.

The lady lifts her head slightly. “You’re about five years too early.” She steps away, toward the edge of the roof. “Stephen Strange is currently performing surgery—” she lifts her hand to motion, “about twenty blocks that way.” She stops walking. “What do you want from him?”

“The Time Stone.” You tell her. 

“Ah!” She looks down at the Eye. “I’m afraid not.”

“Sorry, but I wasn’t asking.” Bruce says, stepping over the metal bar to walk toward her.

“You don’t want to do this.” She warns him.

“Bruce, I think we should listen to her.” You tell him.

“Ah, you’re right, I don’t. But I need that stone and I don’t have time to debate it.” He says, hand reaching to grab it.

She slams the heel of her hand into his chest, Bruce falls to the ground, unconscious. You stare with an open mouth for a brief second, and then you snap it shut, looking at her.

Her eyes are already on you, head tilted. “Are you going to take it by force, too?”

“No.”

She smiles. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

It hits you after this, you squint at her. “You’re the one that Stephen and Wong talked about all the time. What is it—?” You wonder aloud, eyes drifting as you think. “Ancient One, isn’t that what they called you?” When you look at her again, she’s got her eyebrows raised. “You’re the Sorcerer Supreme.”

“You’re wise.” She says. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).” You tell her, she begins to think about it. “I’m not a student of yours, I’m just dating one. We need the Time Stone, it’s urgent.”

“For what, exactly?”

“We need it so we can bring back half of the population of every living being.” The words are grave, her facial expression changes. “We’re from eleven years in the future. And this is the only solution we have left. We have teams gathering the other five Infinity Stones, and when we bring them together in our time, we’ll be able to fix the damage that was done.”

“You want me to hand it over?” She asks you. “No.”

She begins to walk away, heading for the door. You follow after her. “Please, you don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you, (Y/n).” Her pace doesn’t slow. “If I give up the Time Stone to help your reality, I’m dooming my own.”

“With all due respect, all right…” Bruce’s voice echoes, you turn to look behind you, finding him in his original body, not the half-Hulk, half-Bruce one. Except, he’s see-through, a phantom, a ghost. He joins you two up the stairs, jogging in front of her to make her stop. “I’m not sure the science really supports that.”

With him standing between her and the door, she humors you. She reaches forward, yanking out an orange line right in the middle of them. It stretches far between the blocks of New York on both sides. 

“The Infinity Stones create what you experience as the flow of time.” The stones create a ring around the orange. She reaches forward to flick the Time Stone. “Remove one of the stones and that flow splits.” You watch as a black line branches off from where the ring of stones is, creating its own path through the air. “Now, this may benefit your reality but my new one, not so much.

“In this new branch reality without our chief weapon against the forces of darkness our world would be overrun. Millions will suffer. So, tell me, Doctor. Can your science prevent all that?” 

Bruce is rubbing his hands together, “No, but we can erase it. Because once we’re done with the stones we can return each one to its own timeline at the moment it was taken. So, chronologically—” he pulls the Time Stone out of the air, placing it back in the ring, remedifying the split timeline. “In that reality, it never left.”

She turns around, walking away. “Yes, but you’re leaving out the most important part.” She stops at the end of the roof. “In order to return the stones, you have to survive.”

“We will.” You tell her. “I promise.”

“I can’t risk this reality on a promise. It’s the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to protect the Time Stone.”

“I know.” You murmur. “But Stephen had no choice but to give it to Thanos.” 

She stares at you, ��What did you say?”

“Stephen gave the stone to Thanos.”

“Willingly?” She asks.

“Yes.” Bruce says behind you.

“Why?” 

“We lost the battle so that we could win the war.” You tell her. “It’s what had to be done.”

“I see.” She murmurs after a long moment of silence. She reaches over Bruce’s shoulder, summoning his body. 

Bruce returns, back to being giant and green. You watch as she bends her fingers, moving her hands apart, unlocking the Eye. Inside sits the stone, she pulls it out, you cup your hand.

She doesn’t drop it quite yet. “Strange is meant to be the best of us.”

“He is.” You assure her. “He handed it over for a reason.”

“I fear you might be right.” She places the stone in your hand.

You’ve only held it one time before, when Stephen had to fix the Eye of Agamotto. It’s meant to be unbreakable with his spells, but there’s always an exception. He saw how much it bothered you, seeing the Time Stone out of place, and elected you to hold it while he repaired the Eye. 

When you told him you were afraid you’d break it, he said that provides more comfort to him, because it means that you’ll be careful with it.

“Thank you.” Bruce says.

She steps forward, hands over yours. “I’m counting on you, (Y/n). We all are.”

“I’ll bring it back.” You tell her. 

She lets you and Bruce go through the Sanctum to get to the street, not wanting you to crawl back down the building. As soon as you’ve stepped foot back on the sidewalk, you pass the Time Stone over to Bruce, “Here, you take it back.”

His face twists. “We’re going back together. Don’t you want to hold onto it?”

You shake your head. “No, there’s someone I have to see first.”

“You can’t, (Y/n), if you see Stephen, you’ll ruin the timeline.”

“That’s not who I’m going to.” You wave him off. “I won’t talk to her. It’ll be a few minutes.”

He nods, holding out his arm to type in the present day’s date. You watch as he warps into the air, disappearing. You begin to walk away, reaching up to touch your earpiece, “This is (Y/n) to Tony, Bruce has taken the stone back. How are we looking for the other two?”

Tony sighs in your ear. “There’s been an issue, Loki took the Tesseract and disappeared.”

Your feet pause, but quickly go back to walking, because you don’t have much time to be out here. “Okay, what’s the plan? You don’t have enough particles.”

“Cap and I are going back further in time, we’ll be able to get particles and the stone in the same place. We’re sending Scott back to the present. What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna visit someone. You two be careful.”

“We will.” Steve’s voice comes over. “Remember the plan, don’t interact with anyone.”

“I know.” You tell him.

It isn’t that hard for you to find young (Y/n), mostly because of the shredded asphalt and the decomposing bodies that lay on top of it. You follow this careless path, and divert from it to go through an alleyway, where it leads you right to where she is, standing a few feet away.

There’s a smile on her face, that dissolves into concentration, as she gets on the ground, hunching over to pull more of the dead out of the Earth. You remember this, it’s moments after Tony found you and told you to draw in as many of the Chitauri as you possibly could—as long as you could handle it.

You were so young back then, you had absolutely no idea what you were doing. Or that this would eventually lead you to becoming a hero, yourself. That day, you took a leap of faith, and it completely changed the trajectory of your life.

If you hadn’t done this, who knows where you’d be right now. If life would have treated you any differently. If you still would’ve joined the Avengers, just a few years later down the line. Or if you’d ever even get to meet Stephen.

It doesn’t matter, because you don’t think you’d ever tell your past self to change her mind. 

“You’ve got this.” You say to her, eyes flickering between the time system and her, where she’s fighting. “Just keep pushing, you’re on the right path.”

As you type the date in, you watch as she looks up from the ground, eyes landing on you. You submit the time, and just before you leave, you hold a hand up to wave at her. 

You’re sucked through the warp, as you travel backwards through the tunnel you took to get here. And despite leaving at different times, it joins you with the rest of your group. You arrive at the Avengers Facility at the same time.

The helmet falls back at the same time it does for everyone else, the suit following directly after.

“Did we get ‘em all?” Bruce asks.

Rhodes laughs. “Are you telling me this actually worked?”

Clint falls to his knees, staring off in front of him. You know this look, something’s happened. Your eyes try to switch to Natasha, hoping that she’ll offer an explanation, but she’s absent.

“Oh, Clint.” You murmur.

“Clint, where’s Nat?” Bruce asks.

Clint’s eyes are watery, his lips turning further down. There’s a long moment of silence between all of you, as the news settles in. You were warned by Nebula that the way Thanos got the stone was through losing his daughter. You were all hoping that she was being difficult and her actions got her killed, not… this.

Bruce falls to his knees, slamming his fist into the platform.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Shit.”

—

“All right, the glove’s ready.” Rocket says, adjusting the fingers. “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freakin’ fingers?”

“I’ll do it.” Thor says, coming over.

“Excuse me?” Tony asks, turning around.

“It’s okay.” He steps closer to the glove.

“Stop, stop.” Tony reaches to grab Thor at the same time Steve does. “Slow down.”

“Thor. Just wait.” Steve tells him. “We haven’t decided who’s gonna put that on yet.”

“I’m sorry. WHat, we’re all just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?”

“We should at least discuss it.” Scott says.

“Look, sitting here staring at the thing is not gonna bring everybody back.” He brings his fingers to his thumbs on both hands. “I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So, this responsibility falls upon me. It’s my duty.”

“Normally, you’re right.” Tony steps in front of him. “It’s not about that.”

“It’s not that.” He shushes him. “Stop it! Just let me. Just let me do it.” He whispers. “JUst let me do something good. Something right.”

“Look, it’s not just the fact that that glove is channeling enough energy to light up a continent. I’m telling you. You’re in no condition.” Tony tells him.

“What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?” His hands are on Tony’s shoulders.

“Cheez Whiz?” Rhodes suggests, you snort.

Thor is unamused, holding out a finger to quiet him. “Lightning.”

“Yeah.”

“Lightning.” Thor repeats.

“LIghtning won’t help you, pal.” Bruce says, finally going forward. “It’s gotta be me.” Thor looks at the ground, Tony moves away. “You saw what those stones did to Thanos. They almost killed him. None of you could survive.” He stops in front of the glove.

“How do we know you will?” Steve asks.

“We don’t. But the radiation’s mostly gamma. It’s like… uh, I was made for this.”

“If this is what you want.” You say, backing away.

Bruce nods, reaching into the case to pull out the glove. 

“Good to go, yeah?” Tony asks.

“Let’s do it.”

“Okay, remember, everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago, you’re just bringing them back to now, today. Don’t change anything from the last five years.” Tony says.

“Got it.”

Your suit comes to cover your body, preparing for the worst. You shuffle behind Tony and Clint, where Tony brings up a shield as another form of protection. 

“Friday, do me a favor and activate Barn Door Protocol, will ya?”

You watch as the skylight slowly covers with metal, as well as all exits, including doors and windows. That way, if anything goes wrong, the only people that’ll be affected are those who are standing in this room.

“Everybody comes home.” Bruce mutters, slowly pulling the glove on. The machinery adjusts to fit his hand, rather than Tony’s. When it secures, it sends a visible shock up his arm, all six Infinity Stones begin to glow.

Bruce drops to his knee, groaning, veins popping out of his forehead. He grabs the glove with his free hand, watching as it transforms. 

“Take it off. Take it off!” Thor shouts.

“No, wait.” Steve holds out his hand. “Bruce, are you okay?”

Bruce throws his head back, the fabric on his arm begins to burn up, the colors of the stones are beneath his skin, traveling up the underside of his jaw. He’s in pain.

“Talk to me, Banner.” Tony says.

“I’m okay.” He breathes, as the stones begin to settle. “I’m okay.” He pants heavily, slowly lifting his hand. His green skin is now charred, black, glowing red underneath. Like bubbling lava.

He screams, preparing his fingers, and then snaps.

The glove falls off in an instant, Bruce unconscious on the floor, arm is sizzling.

“Bruce!” Steve crouches down next to him.

Clint kicks the glove away, Tony joins Steve. “Don’t move him.” The healing solution comes from his fingers, coating Bruce’s arm in white. 

“Did it work?” Bruce asks, grabbing Steve’s arm.

“We’re not sure.” Thor says. “It—it’s okay.”

The metal sheets begin to lift, doors opening, allowing you to leave. Scott wanders away, and so does Clint a second later.

“Can you feel anything, (Y/n)?” Steve asks, looking at you.

You suck in a breath, closing your eyes, concentrating hard. You discovered a couple years ago that there wasn’t a need for the dramatics if you actually put some of your own energy in to pull some out. You sacrifice a little of yourself, digging deep, feeling around for the same heavy weight that there’s been for years.

“I don’t…” You murmur, head turning to the side, eyebrows drawing in. “I can’t say for sure.” You open your eyes. “It might be the building, it works better when I’m outside. I could go out—”

“Don’t bother.” Clint murmurs, picking up his vibrating phone, pressing it to his ear. “Honey.”

“Guys…” Scott breathes. “I think it worked.”

A smile breaks through when you make eye contact with Tony, finding your happiness mirrored onto him. 

You did it.

You touch the ring on your thumb.

A blast of hot air throws you across the room, slamming you into the cement wall, head cracking against it. An explosion shakes the ground. A wave of dizziness hits you as you reach to touch the spot on your forehead, fingers coated in blood.

One second, you’re staring at your friends, and the next, the building is collapsing. The ground gives way beneath you, a scream leaves your mouth as you begin to slide, knowing full well that the Facility goes hundreds of feet underground.

The suit comes to cover your body as your fingers slip from the cement. Your stomach flies to your throat, lodging itself there as you begin to fall with the chunks of rock and debris.

Another rocket hits nearby, as your body is engulfed in fire. 

When you wake, a sharp stabbing feeling flies through your abdomen. You reach to grab it, hands coming in contact with a steel rod. It’s wet, but not from your blood. The water from the plumbing system and the lake nearby rain down on you, causing sparks from severed electric wires to zap.

“(Y/n)?” You hear Bruce ask. “Are you with us?”

You struggle to breathe, hearing every breath enter and leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, head resting back. “I’m stuck.”

“I know, we’ll get Rhodey and Rocket over there to help you.” He says.

“No, Bruce.” You gasp, wincing. “I’ve been impaled.”

The sound of rushing water fills the air. You lift your head, eyes searching from the direction it’s coming from. It sweeps through the rubble, beginning to fill the hole you’re in.

“Guys!” The panic in your voice alerts Rhodes, “Help!”

Rocket gets to his feet, coming in your direction. “Oh, no.”

“Mayday, Mayday! Does anybody copy? We’re on the lower level. It’s flooding!” Rhodes says into the earpiece. “We are drowning! Does anybody copy? Mayday!”

“I don’t think we can get you out of this one.” Rocket says once he sees you. “Bruce, any chance you can come over here?”

“Not really.” He grunts.

You take careful breaths, trying to relax. “If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to drown.”

Rocket shakes his head, hands up. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“You don’t have any tools?” You ask, “To cut the bar in half?” He doesn’t respond, you close your eyes. “Fuck.”

“It’s filling up fast!” Rhodes shouts.

“Move back.” You tell him, he listens.

You grip onto the steel bar, “Come to me.” You murmur, the ground begins to shake under you, causing the pain to heighten. You grit your teeth, wanting to stop. “Come here.” You order.

The ground splits somewhere, the cement you’re laying on dips to the side, making you move. You resist the urge to throw your head back, trying to avoid a concussion.

“Oh, what the—” Rocket lets out, “What is that?”

Through half-open lids, you watch as a few of the dead come to crawl out of the rubble. They get to their feet, and without any other word, come to rescue you from where you are. The issue is that they aren’t so gentle, when they grab you by your shoulders and hips, pulling you free. 

The insides of your body burns, as you bite back a scream. They drop you on your feet, and with the weight all falling onto your wound, you stumble forward and onto your knees, hand wrapped around the area.

“If you could do that—have them take the rubble.” Rocket motions to Bruce. “So he can get us out of here.”

“They’ll crumble beneath the weight.” You tell him, the dead grab your elbows, forcing you to your feet. “They’re not good for much besides fighting.”

“You can’t tell them to find a way out and we follow them?” Rocket suggests.

“We can’t leave Bruce behind.” You shake your head. “And it’s not guaranteed that it’ll work. They can lead us to a dead-end. They aren’t all-knowing.”

The roof is beginning to fall, Bruce shuddering beneath it. The water is coming through faster, you shuffle to stand with Rhodes, Rocket climbs up as far as he can. You tilt your head back, water creeping up your chest. The dead that were with you are now floating on their backs, no longer alive.

“See you on the other side, man.” Rhodes says.

Rocket whimpers, not liking the idea of dying. You pant, tears in your eyes. You’re going to die before you’re able to see Stephen again. For the past five years, you’ve held onto the idea that it could be possible. And now he’s back, somewhere, but not here.

“(Y/n), stop.” Rhodes warns you.

You cry, the water reaching the back of your head. “Get me out of here!”

“You need to breathe, you can’t hyperventilate under the water.” He says, it’s flooding your ears.

“I know.” You gasp. “I know.”

You take a deep breath in right as the water covers your face. For the first few seconds, you think that it’s fine. And then you reach out, grabbing onto Rhodes’s arm, squeezing tightly. You feel his hand over yours, trying to provide comfort.

The burning in your lungs begins in the second minute, pressure tight in your skull, adding to the lightheadedness. You want to open your mouth and suck in, despite knowing that you’ll fill your lungs with water. It’ll be quicker than fighting this, right?

An object surrounds you, bumping you to the side. Your eyes open suddenly, struggling to see through the murky water on what’s moved you. For a second, you think that it’s Bruce, until you find him joining you. The water current from the other side brings the four of you closer together, as what you assume to be the roof closes in on you.

But then the ground comes up, uneven, and you’re lifted into the air, water running. You gasp, desperate for air, coughing out the water. You drop to your knees, pushing your hair out of your face.

“It’s Scott!” Rhodes shouts.

He must grow through the Facility, because all you can hear is the concrete breaking to pieces around you. He opens his hand when it’s safe, the others jumping off, while you carefully take your time, eyes adjusting to the situation in front of you.

Thanos is here. There’s a giant ship in the air off to the left, with the Chitauri and the Leviathan’s coming out of it. Just like they had eleven years ago when Loki came to New York. 

On the right side, is where you find several armies coming together to help. The army from Wakanda, led by T’Challa, the Asgardians, following Valkyrie and sorcerers, preparing behind Wong. And more, ones you don’t recognize, coming through the portals.

With one hand over your side, you hobble out to solid ground, eyes on Thanos. Your upper lip begins to twitch into a snarl, but it’s more for the laughter that catches in your throat.

When you come to a stop, you level your breathing as much as possible. You’ve brought back large armies in the past, but those will compare nothing to what you’re able to do.

The dark energy comes through your feet, snaking its way up your legs. You roll your shoulders back, feeling it wrap around your chest, alleviating the pain in your abdomen enough for you to remove your hand.

“Let’s play.” You smile, swirling your hand in the air. At first slowly, but growing faster, rock trembling, Earth reacting to what you’re demanding.

A hole appears, ground caving in on itself, creating a pit with no visible bottom. You shuffle to stand over it, peering inside. A cold gust of air blows your wet hair out of your face, goosebumps covering your arms.

“Come to me.” You demand, “All of you.”

There’s whispering, and sounds of hissing overlapping each other from deep below. They grow louder as they rise to the top. At the sight of the first undead climbing the walls, you back up to give them room. This is a trick you’ve been practicing for years, hoping you’d get the chance to use it here.

“Got anything for us, (Y/n)?” You hear in your earpiece, it’s Tony.

“They’re coming.” You tell him. “And mine will make the others seem like a joke.”

They crawl out, coming to their feet, walking forward. At first, a few at a time, not wanting to overwhelm the area, or anything. Then they begin to come in crowds, eager to get out of where they’ve been hiding this entire time. You walk away, watching as they come out of every direction they can.

As the numbers multiply and grow, Steve steps forward. “Avengers!” He holds out his hand, Mjolnir flying to it. “Assemble.”

Thor shouts first, the armies following as they rush forward. Yours, not quite yet, waiting for a command. The fun thing about the dead is that there’s so many of them, people will never stop dying. Which means that when you send the ones standing off, more will continue. A never-ending supply.

“Kill them!” You shout, pointing at Thanos’s army.

This is when they move at a steady pace, not feeling the need to run. You stay where you stand, supervising the hole to ensure that a great amount comes from it, before you point straight down the middle. 

“Come here, Arzorath.” The flow of dead stops to let this creature come out, five times the size of you, built like a monster. As soon as he’s out, the dead begin again. You grab his grey skin, looking up at him. “You stay here, and you make sure this doesn’t stop.”

He grunts, giving you a solid nod.

With that, you turn to walk into the fight, to the center, where Thanos is going to be. You should be afraid of walking through this crowd, but with the amount of undead that are spread throughout, they jump to protect you if any danger arises. 

There’s explosions, the sounds of weapons clashing against one another. You see several laser beams shoot through the air to hit their target. There’s billows of black smoke, indicating several fires.

“Cap!” You hear Clint’s voice in your ear. “What do you want me to do with this damn thing?”

Steve grunts. “Get those stones as far away as possible!”

“No!” Bruce shouts. “We need to get ‘em back where they came from.”

“I made a promise to the Sorcerer Supreme that I’d get it back. I intend on keeping it.” You tell them.

“No way to get ‘em back. Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.” Tony says.

“Hold on!” You watch as Scott disappears, likely shrunken back to his regular size. “That wasn’t our only time machine.”

The sound of a horn playing Spanish music makes you turn your head. 

“Anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Steve asks.

“Yes! But you’re not gonna like where it’s parked!” Valkyrie shouts, she’s in the air, riding on a pegasus. 

“Scott, how long you need to get that thing working?” Tony asks.

“Uh, maybe ten minutes.”

“Get it started. We’ll get the stones to you.” Steve says.

“We’re on it, Cap.” Hope says—Scott’s partner.

“Do you need me to clear a path for you?” You ask, “Because it won’t be that hard.”

“No, I can fly him there.” Hope tells you.

You continue through the battle, coming upon a patch where there is no one. You climb a pile of rocks, surveying the area to find Thanos, fighting Wanda. She’s got him stuck in the air, squeezing him with her magic.

That’s when the first blue light hits the ground, causing a blast, killing a dozen of your dead. It’s not only one, though, as more following, firing straight into the crowd without any prior aim. Thanos doesn’t care who he hits, as long as he doesn’t lose this fight.

You watch as the sorcerers cast shields, holding them above their heads, working together to cover a small part of the field. You don’t move for shelter, holding your stance. You glance over your shoulder to find Arzorath, still guarding the hole as you instructed him to.

“Help, somebody help!” Peter shouts.

“Hey, Queens, heads up!” Steve says back. 

Mjolnir flies through the air, you can see it from where you are. You reach up, pressing the ear piece. “Anyone have eyes on Thanos?”

“He’s by the van!” Scott shouts back, “I need backup!”

You sigh out your nose, jumping down from the rocks, heading straight into the fight once again. “Arzorath!” You shout, looking over your shoulder. He raises his head. “More!”

He raises his arms, throwing them down as he grabs a chunk from the ground, ripping it out and throwing it into the crowd of Thanos’s troops. By widening the hole, it creates a bigger flow. In seconds, you see the difference, as they rush to follow you, and then past you to create a path.

The blasts from the sky become more frequent, like hail. At least half of the dead come to jump at you to protect you, bringing you to the ground. They hold you there, refusing to let you move, until it suddenly stops. 

In the silence that comes after, you’re pulled to your feet. When you walk, they do too. The ship above suddenly changes its target, firing into the clouds in the distance. 

“What the hell is this?” Sam asks.

It doesn’t matter, you’re able to make it halfway to the van by the time the object from the atmosphere finally makes an appearance, slamming directly through the spaceship, and coming out on the other side. It must destroy the inside, setting off explosions, as the blasters power down, and the ship begins to fall, heading for the lake.

The object in question is Carol, as she does a loop, and flies up through the bottom, coming out of the top. She lands somewhere in the field, presumably where the gauntlet must be, not too far away.

Your concern switches when Thanos’s army begins to run at you. For a moment, you think that it was a stupid choice to run out here this far. Then the sound of bones rattling, and the groaning begins behind you. You turn halfway, finding that your people have followed you all the way out here.

“Destroy them.” You say. With a layer of an undead shield in front of you, you continue forward, watching as Wanda flies past you, followed by some of the other girls. You throw your hand out, pointing their way. “They don’t get hurt!”

Valkyrie and Wanda work together to take down the two leviathans above, while you use Carol’s path of destruction as a way to get to the van faster. When the fire rises, smoke hovering like fog, you cover your mouth, refusing to slow down. But when you come out on the other side, you watch as Carol makes a dive for the van, only for Thanos’s weapon to hit the portal at the same time. 

This causes a blast, throwing the weightless dead back. You fight to stay on your feet, leaning into the wind. The gauntlet glove goes flying, landing a few feet away. Thanos runs at it, causing you to jerk forward, too. Tony runs right into him, throwing him to the ground.

Thor lands, Stormbreaker glowing bright blue as he swings at Thanos. When he spins around, intending for a hard hit, Thanos grabs the handle, stopping him. He raises his free hand, and Mjolnir flies to it, acting as a block. Thor’s eyes are bright white, using the power of lightning. Steve runs up behind Thanos, jumping on his back.

Thanos headbutts Thor, reaching back to grab a hold of Steve, and somersaulting forward. When he lands on top, he punches Steve across the face, knocking him unconscious. He crawls the few feet to the glove, getting it in his hands, before Carol kicks the back of his knee, hitting his jaw,

When Thanos fights back, she dodges. She makes the mistake of trying to grab the glove, leaving an opening for Thanos to grab her. He twists, chucking her into the rock and rubble. Once again, reaching to put the gauntlet on his hand, this time succeeding.

Your stomach flies at the sight of the power coursing through his arm, as he raises his hand to snap his fingers. He almost does, until Carol gets her hand between, dragging him down to her height, trying to pull it off. He tries to punch her, but her power creates a shield that he can’t penetrate. When she flies above him, now pushing his hand toward his face, he reaches up, pulling the Power Stone free, and transferring it to his other hand.

She can’t catch herself in time, as he shouts, punching her away. She disappears, leaving a trail of kicked up dirt. 

You find Tony, laying on his stomach, dirt and blood smeared across his skin. He’s not looking at you, but to a different part of the field. When you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of him. 

It’s Stephen, in the same condition that all of you seem to be, too caught up in trying to hold the lake water at bay. Still, he manages to hold up his index finger, telling Tony one.

The confusion lasts less than a second, when you remember one of the last conversations you had together before Thanos showed up on Titan. Out of fourteen million timelines that he lived through, there was only one where you won. 

You don’t want to take your eyes off of him, lips parted. The urge to call his name is on the tip of your tongue. He’s right there. He’s so close.

You’re forced to when Thanos puts the Power Stone back on the gauntlet.

You stomp your foot, hard, the dirt around you shakes. “Arzorath, come!” Pain slices through your wound at the sudden movement. “The rest of you, get him!”

They’re faster than you thought they’d be, adjusted to their worn down bodies. They begin to throw themselves at Thanos. In the beginning, he’s able to swing them off, but as the dead come out of the shadows, far through the field, the number is overwhelming. He’s just about to use the gauntlet to swing them away, when a black mist surrounds him. The screams of pain begin, as the poisonous cloud corrodes his skin.

Arzorath appears beside you, materializing out of the air. You cup your hands, watching as he dumps the stones into yours carelessly, since they have no real value to him. 

The stones begin to slide over your palms without an order, adjusting to sit in their rightful places over your knuckles. You pull the Time Stone out, holding it in your free hand, not ready for the pain it’s about to inflict. You take a few deep breaths, releasing the power you hold over your army.

They fall into a useless heap of bones and rotten flesh. Thanos bursts out of it, raises his hand, still assuming the stones are on it. You look over, watching as Arzorath crumples to the ground, the life leaving him, too. You can’t afford to have any of them around. Not if you plan to do this.

“I am inevitable.” Thanos says, snapping his finger. 

It doesn’t react, there is no flash of white light, the people don’t begin to fall, he fails.

You turn your head, meeting Tony’s eyes, which begin to widen when he realizes why Thanos’s snap didn’t work. “(Y/n), don’t!” He shouts. “You have Stephen! He’s here!”

“You have Morgan!” You tell him. “And I have something a lot nastier than just myself.”

Thanos’s head whips in your direction. You get down to your knees, to the ground, the same way you had to in the past. With the hand that isn’t holding the Time Stone, you press it into the dirt, leaning forward, pulling. You reach through, searching for that miserable monster that had come out four years ago when you’d done this. 

This is your only chance—your only trick. It rests, slumbering, refusing to rise at your will. It isn’t until you give a little of yourself, what little dark energy you have left from conjuring so many of the dead, does it wake. And when you pull, it flies up at you, not slowing down.

You can hear Thanos running at you, shouting.

You open your eyes, slapping the Time Stone into its place on your knuckle. The energy that flows through you is different, brighter. This is not the same dark force that you’re used to. You’re able to feel the burning pain up your arm and stabbing into your neck, before it’s gone. 

The beast travels through your feet and up your body, heading straight for your mouth. It sets you on fire inside, and you’re barely able to lift your hand in time to snap your fingers, when he takes over, doing it for you. You’re weightless, flying through the air, wind caressing your skin, cradling you like a newborn. 

And then you hit the ground.

You roll several feet, arms blocking your face, until you stop on your back. You can see a leviathan coming right at you. And when you manage to finally get your eyes open after blinking, you find that it’s gone, nothing but dust in the wind. You let out a breath.

“(Y/n)!” Stephen’s voice is close, coming toward you.

The ground feels like it’s spinning under your body, creating a whirlpool, sucking you down with it. That would be nice, to join the ones that have kept you safe throughout this fight. Maybe you could give them a proper thank you.

There’s mechanical footsteps coming your way, when you look over, it’s Tony. His mouth is open, hands reaching for you. He’s cut off by someone else, dropping to their knees beside you.

It’s Stephen, your Stephen, as he pulls you into an upright position by your shoulders. You let out a cry, abdomen screaming in reaction. He’s got your face pulled against his chest, one arm across the back of your shoulders to keep you from moving.

“(Y/n), stay with me.” He tells you. “Stark—!”

You can’t see much through the haze, like a film over your eyes. But with Stephen’s face so close to yours, it doesn’t even matter. You throw your head back to get a proper look at him, something you’ve been waiting to do for five years. Of course, there’s a mess across his skin, a few strands of hair out of place.

You reach up with the hand that doesn’t have the stones, wiping a patch of blood away. “I’m fine.” You murmur, eyelids drooping. You begin to fall back, but Stephen catches you, pulling you back against his chest.

When you shakily breathe in, you’re hit with his cologne, a smell you’d thought you’d lost forever. You wrap your fingers around his blue robes, staring at the side of his face.

“What can we do?” He demands.

Stephen’s so beautiful, even in a state like this, especially when he’s angry. You remember that being the first thing you thought about him when he stepped out of his car, the second time he almost hit you. He’s handsome, and he’s yours, in front of you. He hasn’t aged a day. Still as perfect as he was the day he was taken from you.

“I’m okay.” You whisper, but your voice is drowned out by Friday, listing your vitals out loud. 

You’re so, so tired.

Stephen jerks you, your eyes fly open. “Don’t close your eyes, (Y/n). You have to stay with me.”

You hum, trying to listen. The worried look on his face has only deepened since learning about your heart rate and blood pressure. You think you can hear Tony making suggestions, all of which Stephen shuts down.

“I just…” You close your eyes, wanting to rest. As you settle, ignoring Stephen’s demands for you to stay awake, a voice from below calls.

Brace yourself.

All you can do is twitch your eyebrows, before a sharp gasp comes through your mouth, eyes opening. Your hand grips at his robes, knuckles turning pale to keep him from going anywhere. The energy resurfaces, bouncing to your temples, a headache slams in after.

You grit your teeth, toes curled as the needles press into every inch of your skin, reminding you that you’re alive. Telling you that you’re not allowed to die. Stephen’s hand is cupping your face, leaning over you.

“I told you;” You breathe carefully, feeling it begin to subside, “I’m fine.”

Stephen smashes his lips into yours, rough and demanding. He holds you there for a long minute, feeling you on him, until he decides when to pull away. You touch the side of his face, a light laugh escaping you.

“I missed you.” You tell him, tears in your eyes. “I can’t live without you.”

“So this is what you do?” He asks, bewildered. “You sacrifice yourself?”

“It’s been a rough five years.” You sniff, reaching over to pluck the stones from your suit. “But this is what had to be done, right?”

“Right.” He says, voice sad, getting to his feet. He helps you up, and catches you when you stumble a step. When you take one toward Tony, he shakes his head. “Are you sure…?”

“Yeah.” You mumble, pulling his hand up to give him the stones. “Here.”

Tony’s standing a foot or two away, staring at you. When you stop, slightly hunched over, he closes his eyes. “You’ve got to be the dumbest person on our team. I could’ve done that.”

“And survived?” You ask.

He doesn’t say anything at first, “Probably not, but it would’ve been more thought out than that.”

“You’re telling me that wasn’t thought out?” You ask, looking back at Stephen. A smile appears on your face first, and when you begin to laugh, you have to force yourself to stop. “I think that went pretty fuckin’ well, don’t you?”

“I would’ve changed a few things.” Stephen comes over to you, “But you’re right.”

“You shouldn’t have…” Tony’s shaking his head, eyes drifting away.

“You saved my life, remember?” You ask him, voice wavering, “That day I told you I was working on a different way to bring them back? I owe you for that.”

“You didn’t.”

“I never—not even in my nightmares—would have let you take the Infinity Stones. Even if it meant that it killed me.” You press your finger to his chest. “We’re even.”

“We always have been.” He tells you.

Stephen reaches to grab you when you sway, not being able to stabilize yourself. “Let’s sit down, (Y/n).”

“Sure.” You don’t resist, letting him lead you to a slab of concrete that’s flat enough to sit down. When you do, the aches in your body leave, you take in a deep breath. “Stephen?”

“Yes, my love?” His eyes are already on you.

You take his hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “I love you.”

He smiles, tilting his head slightly. “I love you too, (Y/n).”

[ghastlyfilters]

ain’t that somethin’ | al capone x fem!reader

pairing; al capone x fem!reader

warnings; mentions of facial scarring, a little angst

a/n; this version of al is entirely based on stephen graham’s portrayal of him in boardwalk empire! (also yo i’ve been fucking dying to write about boardwalk empire for AGES)

plot; imagine al deep down feeling insecure about his scars, and his girlfriend telling him how truly beautiful she finds him with them.

(au where al isn’t married to mae ofc)

MASTERLIST

gif by fancykraken!

Al fiddled with his pen as he sat in his office within the walls of the Four Deuces. Johnny wasn’t around today. He was taking care of some business elsewhere. Thank fuck. Al didn’t exactly miss any of his demands or shitty remarks.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing to himself. Al was never really the type to often feel emotionally drained. And when he did, he hid it rather well. But today he was in no mood for putting on a false smile.

“Al?” Said that same old sweet voice. He lifted his head, now staring at the beautiful woman smiling at him from the doorway.

“What?!” He barked, wanting to curse at himself for sounding so harsh. But it seemed that he really couldn’t help it.

Y/n didn’t look too bothered. She was quite used to his outbursts and mood swings. In fact, she was the only one who put up with them. And Al secretly appreciated that.

“I’m sorry,” Al admitted. “What’s the matter?”

Y/n gave another soft smile. “Nothing it’s just.. well it’s getting a late.. that’s all. We should probably head home.”

“It ain’t late. You’ll last another half hour.” Al said, clutching the pen in his hand.

She glanced at the clock above him, ticking relentlessly. “Al, it’s almost ten at night..”

Al sighed again, rubbing his tired eyes. “I gotta sort out these checks for Johnny, doll..”

Y/n walked over to him, closing the door behind her. Her heels clicked on the hard flooring. A sound that irritated most, but soothed Al knowing it was her presence.

“You gonna tell me what’s the matter?” She asked, brushing his hair back with her fingers.

“Huh?”

“Al.”

He knew that stern look meant she sensed something was up. But he still didn’t feel like talking. He put some of the papers away, beginning to finish up.

“Just.. just gimme fifteen minutes, huh? I’ll get my coat and hat from Billy. I Left it at the bar. Then i’ll bring the car around. After that, you can meet me out front.” Al’s eyes looked as though they were practically pleading for dismissal on the conversation.

She slowly nodded, walking away and closing the door once again. Al just sheepishly rubbed his nose and closed his eyes, knowing she’d somehow get this outta him when they got back.

Jesus.

The drive home wasn’t as bad as he expected. She’d managed to take his mind off a lot of the things that had been pestering him lately. She never failed to do so.

Just this one damn thing.

The one thing that he was scared to admit in case she thought any less of a man about him after he’d spoke up on it. Al knew she was constantly understanding, but it was more the burning feeling of embarrassment he couldn’t stand.

They skipped dinner that night. No wonder seeing as it was even later now. He didn’t want her to bother cooking at this time. Not when the reason they were home so late was his fault. Johnny easily wouldn’t have minded if Al got up early the next morning to come in and sort the shit that needed done. But Al was trying to do anything to distract himself from the confrontation he’d soon face at home.

As the two lay in bed, Y/n turned to him, and he knew the questions would soon start dropping.

“You gonna tell me what’s the matter now?” She blurted out, nestling herself closer into his chest.

Al rolled his eyes. “It’s nothin’.”

“Sure, sure. So there isn’t a particular reason why you’ve chose to be Gloomy Gus all day?” Y/n pushed further.

He sat up a little, trying to avoid eye contact. “Cmon, doll. Lay off a bit, huh?”

Y/n wasn’t amused with his answer. “Alphonse, per favore aprimi.”

His eyes widened a little as she spoke to him in Italian, knowing she was now getting serious. But alas, he had no interest in opening up.

“Non voglio.” Al replied, closing his eyes.

She was getting frustrated, feeling unsettled by the awkward atmosphere. “Al, per favore!”

“Fine! You wanna know so bad? It’s these fuckin’ scars!”

The room fell silent, and the corners of her lips twitched downward into a small frown. She wasn’t expecting that answer.

“What?”

“The scars,” Al said. “They’ve just.. I dunno.. been botherin’ me lately..”

Y/n raised a brow, trying to understand but was still very confused. “Are they.. um.. hurting?”

“No!” He spat. It was clear he himself was also getting frustrated, not knowing what to say next. “They’ve healed by now. They’re fine. It’s just.. I-I don’t like em as much as people think I do.”

She blinked. “You mean when people think you always take pride in the nickname Scarface?” 

“Yeah.” Al replied, fidgeting with his vest.

Y/n sat up to his level, gently pulling away from his touch. “Who said what.”

“Eh?”

“Who said what.” She repeated. “You never usually care about them. What’s got you so upset like this?”

Al huffed, feeling that same old feeling of his cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. “Couple a’ guys on the business thing with Johnny. Smug little fucks. Ain’t ever got under my skin as bad as this..”

She gave him a gentle smile, wrapping an arm around him. “You’re still beautiful, Al.”

“I know.” He joked, giving a slight smirk, which soon fell back into a frown. Even right now he wasn’t in the mood to be as sarky as he always was.

“I mean it,” Y/n told him, taking him by the hand.

He looked up at her, those chocolate brown eyes sparkling with adoration. Something that never failed to make her melt.

“Your scars aren’t a weakness, Al. Neither are your feelings. Only you can be your own enemy here and treat them like they are. I’ve known you for fuckin’ years. With and without them,” she smiled, gesturing to the scars down the left side of his face. “They aren’t a flaw. Some may see them as hauntingly beautiful. But me? I just see the beauty part. Nothing else.”

Al began to chuckle, and that chuckle soon turned into a giggle, then his classic booming laughter that was practically music to her ears.

“Ain’t that somethin’..” He grinned, still laughing.

Al put his hand on her cheek, caressing it. “Is this the part where I say you’re the best little fuckin’ beauty i’ve seen in my life?”

She giggled, laughing along with him now. “I don’t think you’d be opposed to it.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, inhaling her sweet scent. She had always been his little doll. And perhaps him being her Scarface wasn’t the end of the world. Atleast it meant he was hers.

“I love you, doll.”

“And I love you, my Scarface in shinin’ armour.”

Al kissed her again. “Some pair a’ cheesy fucks we are.”

man this has motivated me to write a shit ton for al in boardwalk empire now. if you have requests for him, SEND EM IN!!

[winterspiderpurrs]

platonic best friends ironstrange, both rich as fuck, sets their eye on Pepper's brother, Peter. They've both met Peter before, back when he was eleven when Pepper brought him to work, now the two men meet Peter again, only he's twenty three and Engineer, has an MD and three PhDs.

" And don't forget, Happy is dropping Peter off soon. He is going to wait in my office til my meeting is done then Christine and I are taking him out to dinner"

" Who?" Says Tony.

Stephen rolls his eyes and sets his tea down.

" Her brother, Peter. It's all Christine can talk about. Visiting from college?"

Pepper smiles and nods her head, picking up the stack of paper work she just gotten Tony to sign.

" Yes! He has been so busy with his work and schooling I was surprised his schedule freed up"

She goes to the elevator " And Tony don't take him to the lab to show off. We have reservations for dinner. No distractions."

Tony puts his hand on his chest with an expression on his face like 'who me' Pepper shakes her head before the doors close.

Stephen snickers a little " It has been years... 10? 12? Since Peter was last here and last time you both were in the lab for hours."

Tony laughs " Yeah Pepper was so pissed because we got busy and forgot dinner and Peter fell asleep"

Sipping his coffee, Tony leans back against the counter top in the lounge area of the private office floor.

" Can't believe it's been that long since we have since the little guy"

Stephen nods and was about to speak when the elevator door opened.

" Thanks for picking me up again Mr. Hogan!"

" Sure kid. "

Out walking in pale yellow, bouncy brown curls, bright smile. A ray of sunshine.

" Hey Mr. Stark! Hey, Dr. Strange! I'm just gonna wait in Pep's office til her and Tine come get me. " he gives a wave and a wink.

Stephen recalls how much Christine swooned at the fact that Pepper's little brother at the time had a lisp cause of a missing tooth. Instead of calling her Christine, he just said Tine since he had such a hard time with it.

" We are going to Del Frisco's once Pep is done, if it won't be to akward for ya you both are more then welcome to join us"

With that one Peter Parker walks into Pepper's office and closes the door.

Stephen and Tony stare at the door and then turn to look at each other. How could this handsome guy be the akward little kid they met over 12 years ago?

You see about 12 years ago Stephen and Tony were on a double date. What they didn't expect is for their dates to hit it off with the other instead of them. Hence how Pepper and Christine got to together.

But back to Peter. There was something about him that drew them in. Both men were intrigued. But they would have to play this delicately.

Peter was important to Pepper and Christine. Tony and Stephen stand and walk toward Pepper's office. They stop at the door and face each other. They shake hands and nod.

They were on the same page.

Now may the best man win.

They haven't competed for anything in a while.

This time, the prize seemed so much sweet.

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Of Dreams and Dances

Holland March x Reader

Part 2 of a collab with the absolutely stunning @ken-dom after a freaky coincidence about a dream and a movie we both love... about coincidences

Read her beautiful fic and Part 1 Come Back To Me to truly understand our emotional roller coaster we hopped on together ❤️

Just a heads up, it's a tad angsty, and mentions of death, alcohol, and loss.

He wasn’t typically a bouncing ray of sunshine on a regular day, but the last week or so he had been particularly quiet.

You let out a heavy sigh standing at the kitchen sink, staring out into the dismal day that presented itself before you; it had been raining on and off for three days, today it was just overcast, but the dreary weather had been doing nothing for Holland’s solemn mood you had noticed.

You glanced into the living room drying your hands on a towel, music playing softly over your shoulder as you hung it back in place.

Holly, Holland’s daughter from his first (and only) marriage sat with her feet tucked under her, curled in the big armchair engrossed in her book, a Stephen King novel you had recommended to her a few weeks ago you noted; she had a bit of a spooky streak in her like you did…this made you smile.

You grabbed one of the plates with a grilled cheese sandwich off the counter and took it in to her; it took her a minute to realize you had been standing there offering her the plate. You chuckled to yourself when she jumped a little, finally seeing you.

“Good book?”

She nodded taking the plate “Thanks”

You smiled “Just remember, vampires aren’t real”

She scoffed as you turned back toward the kitchen to finish cleaning up “Neither are mermaids” she muttered under her breath burying her nose back in the pages.

“Don’t tell your dad” you call over your shoulder

“Tell her dad what?” Holland asks, barging through the front door like only he can.

“Mermaids aren’t real” she says from her spot on the chair, not bothering to glance up from her book until Holland snatches half of her uneaten sandwich off the plate resting on the arm “Hey!”

He makes a face at her as you come out of the kitchen with a second plate “I made you one too, you don’t have to steal from your daughter”

Before Holland can take the plate, Holly reaches up replacing the missing half of her sandwich; Holland takes the plate in one hand, the other arm locking itself firmly around your waist, the half sandwich he’d stolen off Holly’s plate already gone.

“Jesus Christ Holland, chew” you look at him as he kisses your temple swallowing the last of his mouthful.

He waves a hand dismissively releasing you from his hold as he heads towards the bedroom, plate in hand. “Gonna take a nap”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as he disappears “Love you!” you call after him

A long pause. “Sure thing, sweetheart!” comes his response from somewhere in the bedroom

You sigh, flopping on the couch, turning on the television and flipping channels waiting for something to catch your attention.

“He loves you too, y’know”

“Hmm?” You turn your attention to Holly, her legs draped over the arm of the chair now, empty plate on the floor

“He’s just afraid to say so” she continues, thumb keeping her place in her book “Because of Mom and stuff”

You give her a look and she just nods “I know, don’t say, and stuff” she mimics Holland as she rolls her eyes

You laugh lightly acknowledging her statement with a nod “I know he does”

It’s quiet for a minute before Holly speaks again, this time her voice is a little softer, a little quieter. “It’s her birthday tomorrow”

She’s dropped her head, she’s not looking at you anymore; she doesn’t want to see your reaction, doesn’t want to make eye contact; so much like her dad.

All at once Holland’s recent behavior makes sense, he never coped with his emotions well.

You knew when you met him he had been married before; Holly had very snidely pointed out the fact when you had first met her, you were quite certain she was convinced you were there to do nothing more but ruin Holland’s life.

She has since warmed up to you, confided in you even.

You never asked about his wife, but you knew tidbits,

You knew she had died, tragically, something Holland blamed himself for with a gut wrenching guilt that made your chest hurt.

Holly had told you late one night when you found her in an abandoned lot in their old neighbourhood, their old house it had turned out….

There had been a gas leak, and a fire. “Dad had his nose thing, so he couldn't smell the gas” Holly had said, before quickly changing the subject.

You had found out later, on a night when Holland had been completely consumed with guilt, drunk, and inconsolable, that he had only had time to get Holly out of the house.

***

Your mouth dropped open, hearing him tearfully recount that night that lived so vividly in his mind; you sat with him on the dingy bathroom floor as he sobbed, his body fighting the urge to throw up a second time as sobs echoed against the walls around you, his entire form shaking with grief.

You held him against your chest, rocking gently as he spoke.

“She yelled at me, told me-” his voice catching in his throat as he sniffed “T-told me to get Hol-Holly out”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your own cheeks as he continued.

“She was asleep and I-” he paused taking a breath hiccuping “I carried her outside and someone…someone took her from me. I tried to go back…but, the house it was….the flames were so….”

He trailed off lost in the memory and it was quiet for a long time before he spoke again

“Then it exploded” he said so softly you’d barely heard him “I would have….it should have been me”

****

As time wore on, you learned just how racked with guilt Holland had been, you gathered Holly hadn’t had any idea that he had only fulfilled her mom’s dying wish; for her, Holland just hadn’t learned how to move on, and she had been left to pick up his broken pieces and be the adult, make sure he ate, and slept…or passed out…kept a job. At twelve.

He wore their wedding ring around his neck, even after you had moved in together, you made a point of reassuring him that it was okay, he didn’t have to take it off, you understood.

It had come out on one of these drunken nights, which at first were frequent, and really the only time Holland would really talk to you in his drunken stupor; that he had slept in the tub, filled with water, because he passed out so often with a half finished cigarette that he had been afraid of history repeating itself.

Now, only after many nights of reassurance and many more mornings waking up on your own, only to find him propped up in the porcelain tub, an empty bourbon bottle on the bathroom floor, he slept next to you almost nightly, only having fallen asleep on the couch on occasion after a late night on a case.

It had taken a long time to get here; for all three of you; you hadn’t signed up for a pathetic broken man to fix; who didn’t want to be fixed. A man who would rather numb the emotion and night terrors with bottle after bottle and who chained smoked like no one you had ever seen.

Yet, you found yourself put in his path over and over again for weeks straight and only after what you assumed had to be at least his tenth (you had lost count) attempt at very clumsily asking you out on a date you agreed.

He had told Holly, Healy, and anyone else who would listen that you hadn’t been able to resist his charm; you had never told him, and never would, but truthfully it was out of pity, you felt sorry for this man in front of you who had barely been able to stand on his own two feet, who so obviously craved human contact that you agreed to one date, assuming you would never see him again.

To this day, it had been the strangest date you had been on; it had started off normal enough, you had met him at a bar in the city, not completely surprised that this was his location of choice, it was only after you had found out that Holly had tagged along, much to Holland’s annoyance.

***

“You left your daughter in the trunk?!” You asked, completely shocked as you stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, Holly stood next to you with her arms folded looking irritated with him and untrustworthy of you.

“She was supposed to be a Janet’s” he said gesturing to Holly swaying on his feet, who had just rolled her eyes

“JESSICA’S!” she yelled, her nose almost touching his before she scoffed with disgust

He ignored her, holding his hand out in what you assumed he thought was her general direction “Keys”

Holly held them out and before Holland could reach for them you intercepted taking them from her “Absolutely fucking not”

“I can just drive” she glared at you and your mouth dropped open in shock

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrows watching to make sure Holland didn’t stumble into the busy street as he leaned against the front of the car. “You don’t have a license!”

“You’re joking right?” She turned her attention towards you

You shook your head “I am not, you are a child”

She pointed towards Holland “And he’s a fuck up! He drinks, he lies to people and stuff, and people hate you!” She had fully rounded on her heel, hurling her insults at him.

“Sweetheart, don’t say and stuff, just-”

“I hate you!” She had yelled loud enough to turn heads of passer’s by

“Oh, kay” you pressed your lips together ushering her in the backseat “In the car; I’ll drive”

Holland had gotten himself in the passenger seat, only after somehow managing to nearly slam his fingers in the door first.

The ride back had been quiet, Holland had laid back in the seat and you thought for sure he would pass out; Holly sat behind him in back seemingly completely unfazed by the exchange that had happened on the sidewalk. You assumed that hadn’t been the first time she had told Holland she hated him.

You had pulled into the driveway of the house and without a word Holly stomped off into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Holland had asked you to stay, and against your better judgment, something in your gut had told you to.

You pitied this man, but something about him made you feel like he hadn’t stumbled (literally) into your path by coincidence.

You sat on the front step of the house, playing with the car keys, looking at your shoes as Holland lit another cigarette.

“She doesn’t actually hate me y’know” he said, dropping his lighter back in his pocket.

You laughed a little “I hope not"

He scrunched his nose shaking his head, plucking his cigarette from between his lips “She’s a kid”

You found it odd he could say something so matter of factly and yet he treated her like someone well beyond her years.

You felt sorry for her too, knowing she probably felt she didn’t have a choice, it was clear that it had been the two of them against the world for a long time. She took care of him because she needed to be cared for, and at the end of the day, he was her dad.

“Hey,” Holland’s voice had snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head almost colliding with his; he was leaning significantly closer than he had been a minute ago.

Before you could protest, his nose bumped against yours; his large, overheated hands cupped your face as he kissed you, his lips pressed firmly against yours, his body leaning forward more and more as he had started to lose his balance.

Before he could topple over on you completely, you pushed him back gently and he looked sheepishly at his lap like he had done something wrong.

“Sorry,” he muttered “I just been thinkin’ about that for a while”

For as drunk as he had been, you were surprised he wasn’t slurring his words. You were a little taken aback by his confession and you felt heat flush your cheeks despite the cool night air.

“You have?” you asked, really looking at him for the first time; studying him.

He was an absolute mess of a man, that much was clear, a drinking problem, questionable parenting tactics, questionable ethics, some serious baggage. He wore his wedding band around his neck, and he had just kissed you, after a disaster of a date, if you could even call it that and yet…

He was handsome, almost to a fault, as disheveled as he was sitting next to you on that step. There was something oddly charming about his wrinkled suit pants, his shoes laid on the sidewalk where he had kicked them off, announcing that they were painful and unnecessary and he now sat barefoot. His hair had been windswept and messy, but not unclean. His suit jacket laid next to him on his other side forgotten, his shirt askew, the first couple of buttons undone. His facial features were surprisingly boyish for a man his age, a slender pointed nose and blue eyes that you realized were studying you with an intensity that made you pull your bottom lip against your teeth

He had nodded in response to your question, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink and you immediately found yourself closing the small gap between you, a hand cupping his face, pulling him closer as you kissed him a second time, deeper this time. Your heart fluttered in your chest in a way that you hadn’t felt in too long as his soft lips moved with an expertise even given his current state.

Your lips parted and he accepted your silent invitation, his tongue slipping past your lips hesitantly with a small noise in the back of his throat.

Your body flooded with a deep heat that immediately stopped as the porch light had been flicked on, illuminating the darkness.

Holland had jumped, pulling back but not before biting your lip. You touched a hand to your lips with a small laugh as you looked over your shoulder, Holly standing in the doorway, arms folded with a scowl on her face. Holland looked like a busted teenager and it almost made you laugh out loud.

“You can go now” she sneered and Holland hadn’t really noticed as you both got to your feet

You couldn’t really blame her, she was protecting them, him.

“But you should-” Holland stopped searching his brain for the lost words “You should stay”

You shook your head “I don’t think so” you bent to hand him his jacket and shoes so he didn’t absolutely face plant on the cement.

“Then come back,” he reasoned “Tomorrow”

You sighed running your tongue between your lips “Okay, sure” you shrugged; he was too drunk to remember anyway

“Pinky promise?” He offered a pinky and Holly huffed from her place on the step

You had hesitated simply because of her reaction, this obviously was something special between them. You nodded, but didn’t take his pinky, glancing at Holly whose shoulders had dropped slightly as she relaxed before turning back to Holland “I promise”

Much to your surprise, Holland did remember, and you had kept your promise and come back the next day, and every day since.

***

“He used to sing”

Holly’s soft spoken words pull you out of your memory from a not so distant past. The book she had been reading sits closed in her lap as she stares out the window lost in thought herself.

“Did he?” you ask, slightly surprised, you didn’t take Holland to be the type.

She nods slowly “And dance too; sometimes he’d sing really bad just to make Mom laugh” she scrunched her nose like Holland did when he was confused about something before she continued “He has this weird thing about sweet potatoes too; he used to eat them all the time, he doesn’t anymore”

You smiled, watching her reminisce but your heart broke for her; she had lost both her parents that night and she had never really grieved either of them.

You pulled yourself up from the couch and walked over, wrapping her in a hug as she sat sideways on the chair; both her arms wrapped around your forearm, pinning it to her chest, chin tucked against it and you rested your chin on top of her head.

You looked up catching a glance from Holland who had made his way from the bedroom; you traded a look as he took his dirty dish into the kitchen. You stood with Holly, quiet, holding her until she let go.

She sniffed quietly, a hand quickly wiping away what you were certain were fresh tears before she picked up the book in her lap, busying herself with the words on the page.

You didn’t say anything, just rubbed her back gently before taking your own dirty dishes into the kitchen where Holland stood just out of view.

Setting the plates on the counter, you wrapped yourself around Holland’s slim frame, burying your face in his chest with a deep sigh, breathing in his scent.

After a minute of silence, you pulled back and his blue eyes searched your face;

“Go dance with your daughter” you spoke quietly and his brow furrowed slightly

“What?”

“Go dance with Holly” you repeated “Like you used to”

You watched the realization wash over his features as he put the pieces together about what he had walked in on a few minutes ago and he shook his head

“I-I can’t”

“Holland,” you kept your voice low as your reached to touch his face, his eyes slipping closed as your fingertips made contact with his cheek, his hands still on your waist “She needs this, she needs her dad; especially now”

A single tear slipped down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb as he opened his eyes with a deep breath through his nose.

He didn’t say anything else, just walked around you out into the living room; you turned and watched as he made his way over to the chair where Holly sat, she glanced up from her book as he offered her a hand.

She looked at him slightly confused before he took her hand himself, pulling her to her feet and into the middle of the room, the book forgotten in the chair. She was tall for her age, but not quite tall enough to reach Holland’s shoulders until she stood on the tops of his feet.

After a couple of steps, Holland’s voice floated through the otherwise silent house, humming softly. You watched as Holly’s shoulders started to shake and her head dropped; Holland picked her up under the arms like you would with a small child, lifting her into his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck properly, burying her face in his neck; one of his hands stroking her blonde hair as she cried openly.

You could tell from your spot in the kitchen, he had been crying too. A lump forming in your own throat as you watched the two of them consumed by a moment neither of them thought they would have again; Holland, getting the chance to be the dad he had wanted, the dad he had intended to be for her. Holly, able to be the little girl she should have been before she had to grow up too quickly. His little girl.

Holland had sank to his knees on the carpeted floor, still holding Holly tightly to his chest; both of them letting the grief and loss they had kept bottled between them for so long finally be felt; You leaned back against the kitchen counter, giving them their private moment. Eyes closed as you listened to the heart wrenching sobs coming from the two of them, tears streaming down your own cheeks as you felt for them, grieving yourself for a woman you had never met but had unintentionally become such a huge part of your own life.

Later that night, you laid in the bed you shared with Holland; Holly had asked him to tuck her in and you could hear the soft murmurs of their conversation across the hall before you heard her bedroom door being pulled shut and Holland appeared in the doorway and he looked tired.

You watched him get undressed, pulling the covers back and climbing between the sheets; most nights you snuggled against him, your head resting on his chest, but tonight roles were reversed.

His head lying on your chest, you played with pieces of his dirty blonde hair, his arm draped around your midsection, his wedding band cool against your collarbone as he laid on his side, breathing softly.

He spoke and you almost jumped, startled by the noise “Does it bother you that I don’t-” he hesitated for a beat “That I can’t-.....that I can’t…y’know?”

You frowned trying hard to piece together what he was asking “Can’t what, babe?”

“That I can’t say it” he sighed defeated

Then you understood rubbing his bare arm slowly “No” you shook your head slowly “No, Holland it doesn’t”

He relaxed into your chest as you kissed the top of his head, watching the shadows dance on the wall in the dark.

The house was quiet, Holland’s head heavy on your chest as he breathed steadily.

“God I miss her” he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep

You thought about letting him think you had just fallen asleep, but decided against it “Tell me about her?” you asked, your fingers moving slowly through his hair again

A long pause.

“She was beautiful” he whispered “Holly looks just fucking like her”

You stayed quiet as he continued “She named her after me….”

Another pregnant pause as he lost himself in a long forgotten memory.

“And she loved tea”

You nodded “Tea’s good” you smiled

“American’s do it wrong” he shrugged against you “I still don’t fucking know what ‘the English way’ means”

You couldn’t help laughing then

“Don’t know how you can fuck up a cup of tea” he muttered, very obviously drifting off as he spoke.

You had drifted off yourself at some point but woke with a start, the weight of Holland’s head on your chest was gone; you turned over and the bed was empty.

You sighed pulling yourself up out of bed, the sky still dark out the window. You grabbed Holland’s housecoat off the back of the bedroom door, wrapping it around yourself as you tiptoed through the dark house.

You poked your head into Holly’s bedroom and she slept soundly. You assumed Holland had made his way back to his old comforts, but frowned when you found the tub also empty.

“Alright,” you muttered softly to yourself, “Where did you go?”

You answered your own question fairly quickly, finding the dark figure you could only assume was Holland, sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, shoulders hunched, moonlight reflecting off the glass of a mostly empty bottle in his hand resting on the table.

“Holland?” you whispered, not wanting to startle him in the dark.

When he didn’t answer or move you let out a slow breath pressing your lips together in a hard line before you tried again.Your heartbeat thudded in your ears as you spoke, muffling your own voice.

“Holland?” you said again, a little louder

He shifted in his chair then and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank God” you whispered.

Just the way he had shifted so unsteadily in his chair you could tell he was drunk, very drunk.

“You came back” he slurred, getting to his feet, catching himself on the back of the chair as you took a tentative step forward.

“What?” you asked, as he was across the room in a flash, nearly toppling you both to the floor as he drunkenly smashed his lips against yours, his arms wrapping around you with a bruising strength.

He pulled back, taking your face in his hands, his eyes were glazed and bloodshot, he had been crying. Hard.

“You came back” he whispered before crushing you against him a second time, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“I didn’t go anywhere” you strained against his chest trying to make the least bit of sense about his drunken ramblings.

“Happy Birthday, Baby” He muttered into your hair and you closed your eyes wrapping your arms around him as it clicked.

You stood in the dark kitchen, silently holding each other for a few minutes before he spoke again, his lips pressed against your ear as he leaned into your shoulder.

“God damn it I miss you”

You could smell the alcohol heavy, but wanted to help him hold on to this memory as long as he needed; or as long as you could.

“Dance with me” you whispered; your hand slipping up the back of his head resting in his hair, the other snaking under his arm hooking around the back of his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. You rocked slowly on your feet, but stayed in one spot for fear that too much movement and Holland would either lose his balance or throw up ... .or both.

He had been too lost in the memory to realize you hadn’t been moving much; your neck and shoulder were wet with tears.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him gently, rubbing your hand up and down his back

“I can’t do this without you” he slurred “We were supposed to do it together…a team”

“You’re doing just fine” you soothe

“I’m not” he shook his head a little too aggressively, making himself dizzy “I’m a failure”

You lifted his head off your shoulder then, forcing him to look at you; he was far too gone to differentiate the person standing in front of him at this point. You had your hands on either side of his face, his forehead leaning against yours.

“You are not a failure, Holland March, do you hear me?”

He didn’t answer and you patted his cheek gently “Hey, do you understand?” you asked again “You have a beautiful daughter-”

He just scrunched his face shaking his head “She hates me, she thinks I’m a fuck up”

“She doesn’t hate you,” you said softly. "She loves you so much"

You realized if you let it, this conversation was going to keep going in circles.

“Come on,” You wrapped an arm around his waist keeping him upright “We’re going back to bed”

“Gonna give me those twins?” he asked, leaning on you heavily.

You closed your mouth realizing it had dropped open, as you led him down the hallway not sure what to say. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice.

He flopped heavily on the bed and you pulled the blanket up around him before shedding the housecoat and climbing in next to him.

He turned over none too gracefully to face you as you laid on your side, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “You were supposed to give me a hundred babies” His voice was soft

You reached to push his hair off his forehead; the same softness to your own words “I’m sorry”

He just hummed, his eyes slipping closed briefly as his fingers interlaced with yours between you.

You leaned forward, kissing him gently and he hummed again, slipping deeper into sleep.

You closed your own eyes, pushing your free hand through his hair

“I love you” he muttered, barely understandable

You opened your eyes and watched him lying next to you, one hand’s fingers entwined with yours, his other arm lazily draped over your hip, his eyes closed.

“I love you too, Holland” You whispered watching as a smile touched the corner of his lips before he started to snore softly, living blissfully in a world he could only reach in a dream.