#avengers real world au

[loopsisloops]

Ursus_minor deleted their Ao3 account…

The Devil Inside and The Devil’s Grace you will be missed severely

No fic has hurt me more in the span of 72 hours like that one

It is the reason ‘The Night Shift’ by Lucy Dacus was my top song of 2022 on my Spotify wrapped…I had it on repeat for 2 hours whilst I got through the angstiest parts

This is my burning of the library of Alexandria

The worst part is…

It was never finished 🧎🏻‍♀️

[sunderwight]

A fun prospect for Superhero-themed SV AU's that I don't often see is genre dissonance. Like, Luo Binghe as this edgy 90's style antihero who just straight up kills his enemies and sleeps around and is driven by selfish motives (revenge, ambition, etc) rather than altruistic morality, vs Shen Qingqiu as this kid-friendly supervillain who is "evil" mostly in terms of aesthetics and his ability to make inconvenient problems that are reasonably safe for child heroes to solve. Something like Punisher vs Team Rocket in terms of vibes.

Maybe the reason they meet is because some big publishing house akin to Marvel or DC just bought up the rights to whole bunch of older, discontinued comics titles, and decided to do a Justice League/Avengers style mash-up with a bunch of nostalgia properties and their most recognizable heroes and villains. Which means lots of crossovers condensing several titles into a handful of series.

Luo Binghe's origin always features him as a teenager, so he reboots as the youngest Avenger-equivalent team member in the new continuity. Even in this reboot, however, the writers still mostly go the gritty and dark route with his plots and stick to the same key developments -- his abandonment as an infant, his adoptive mother's tragic death, his tough life on the streets, abusive mentors and backstabbing "allies", and so on.

But Luo Binghe's life suddenly starts experiencing periods of dramatic change in his life when he's brought in for appearances in the lighter, friendlier world of the Junior Heroes continuity. After all, he's a natural choice for tying the two continuities together thanks to his youthfulness. Luo Binghe isn't consciously aware of the fact that he's moving between different titles and different writers. All he knows is that sometimes, when he hangs out with the bright and talented Ning Yingying, he's drawn into "conflicts" with Shen Qingqiu -- the kind of "villain" who will call for tea breaks, never actually hits anyone when he shoots his ray gun, leaves clues for all of his crimes, and can't seem to stop from imparting genuinely helpful advice in between his witty quips and taunts.

When Luo Binghe fights Shen Qingqiu, somehow he never actually gets hurt. Neither do any of his friends. The world in general seems brighter and lighter, as if there is some secret barrier protecting everyone from all the evils Binghe knows only too well exist in the rest of his life. Luo Binghe is increasingly convinced that Shen Qingqiu is the source of this mystical safety net. After all, for an allegedly powerful genius who is able to fool half the world about his wicked aims, he's never won a single fight against a kindhearted but somewhat ditzy teenager and her ragtag bunch of friends!

So what's he spending his actual energy on?

Luo Binghe is pretty sure it's keeping the real evils at bay. Making himself the biggest bad in town, and in doing that, making it so that the "biggest bad" is nothing worse than a slightly judgmental teacher in a pretty costume.

It's not long before Luo Binghe doesn't want to go back to the Justice League equivalent, to his world of misery and strife, even after his visits with Ning Yingying are supposed to be over. Especially as the global stakes of various heroic activities start getting higher, and it becomes clear that the boundary between Shen Qingqiu's safe world and the grimdark reality of Binghe's usual life are getting thinner...

[artbyblastweave]

So for those of you who don't read twenty-year-old marvel comics a lot, the 2005 Marvel Crisis Crossover was called House of M. The basic premise of this was that this was smack dab in the middle of the Scarlet-Witch-is-Having-a-Normal-one arc that was very, very loosely adapted into Wandavision; in her initial breakdown, she'd killed several of the Avengers, wound up in the protective custody of Magneto, and the recently reformed team was debating whether or not they were going to have to kill her before she deleted reality on accident or some such thing. But when they're on their way to Magneto's stronghold to have a "talk" with her, the world is enveloped in white, and Wolverine (the initial POV character) wakes up in a world where Mutants are 98% of the human population and have been for decades, and Magneto and his family (the titular House of M) are leaders of the global political order, and Wolverine is one of the only people in this realigned world who remembers that it was ever different.

Wolverine initially is operating under the assumption that Magneto cajoled Wanda into rewriting reality in his family's favor, but after rounding up and waking up several of his allies, he realizes that what actually happened is that Wanda rewrote reality so that everyone she knew would get everything they wanted- Magneto being in charge with a 98 percent global mutation rate is just the inevitable byproduct of that. The resulting world is an amalgamation that has to accommodate the conscious or subconscious "perfect life" of every superhero on earth, in a way that acts as a fascinating characterization tool, often with a monkey's-paw angle. Spider-Man is a beloved celebrity wrestler, and Uncle Ben and Gwen are both alive, but he attained that status by pretending to be a Mutant and he lives in constant fear of being exposed. Mystique, Rogue, Nightcrawler and several of their associates are the tight-knit family unit they were always kept from being.... as the elite jackboot of Magneto's regime. Luke Cage and Hawkeye lead the human resistance, standing in perpetual principled opposition to the powers that be, but with no real hope of accomplishing anything. Captain America didn't lose years of his life to the ice, but he had to live through a global authoritarian takeover he ultimately couldn't do anything about. Wolverine gets to remember his entire life, but that includes remembering that his current ideal circumstances were manufactured to keep him placated. And on and on and on. Lot of really interesting character takes packed up in there, paired with the equally interesting project of packing as many of them as possible into the same timeline without contradicting each other- after all, from the word go you have to contort everyone's happiness around the basic conceit that Magneto rules the world.

Anyway. House of M AU for Worm. Discuss.

[elixirfromthestars]

key: angst ☽ | fluff ☼ | 18+ ♡ | 500+ notes ✧ | 1,000+ notes ୨୧

─ ⊹ ⊱ Series ⊰ ⊹ ─

The Biker's Tulip ☼ ୨୧

biker!bucky x florist!reader

A small town. A biker and a florist, each one carrying the burdens of their past, and yet despite that, finding solace in one another along the way...

─ ⊹ ⊱ Two Parts ⊰ ⊹ ─

Conflict of Interest ☼ ☽ ✧

detective!bucky x lawyer!reader

After the many failed dates Natasha set you up on, you decide to give up on the dating scene all together. That is until Bucky makes it his mission to change your mind, but will he be enough to change it?

Part II ☼ ☽

After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

A Night Of Frights and Delights ☼ ୨୧

athlete!bucky x artist!reader - college au

It's Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can't stand is also there?

Part II ♡ ☼ ✧

You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

─ ⊹ ⊱ Oneshots ⊰ ⊹ ─

One Call Away ☼

agent!bucky x journalist!reader

You’re a journalist in the late 1950s working for a gossip magazine. You write an article about the actor Steve Rogers, and his agent Bucky Barnes is not happy about it. He confronts you and offers you a deal.

In Five Years ☽

bucky x enhanced!reader

Bucky was having a hard time expressing his feelings about finally being free from the Winter Soldier program. To help him out, you suggested writing a letter to his future self and burying it in a time capsule to visit this moment again in the future. The plan was to open the time capsule five years from now. That was until Thanos showed up.

My Dearest ☼ ✧ ☽

duke!bucky x lady!reader

On the night of Lady Maximoff’s ball you find yourself in the gardens, troubled by your emotions. As if by fate, the rain pours down reuniting you with the one who is the very object of your troubles.

Written in the Stars ☼

bucky x avenger!reader - established relationship

Your boyfriend, Bucky, takes you on a date full of surprises under the stars.

Boulevard Confessions ☼ ✧

40s!bucky x nurse!reader

Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

─ ⊹ ⊱ Drabbles ⊰ ⊹ ─

Together ☼ ✧

bucky x wife!reader

It’s been a month since you had a baby with your husband, Bucky. On the first day he went back to work, however, you can’t get her to stop crying—that is until Bucky comes home.

Fieldwork ☼ ☽

detective!bucky x lawyer!reader

You end up getting hurt while out in the field questioning a suspect. Thankfully, Detective Barnes is there to help. 

Lucky Day ☼

bucky x reader - college au

Bucky, your childhood best friend, takes you to a baseball game to thank you for helping him with his chemistry class. However, between bets and kiss cams, luck seems to be the real game being played.

Tranquility ☼

bucky x avenger!reader - established relationship

On your day off from saving the world, you decide to have a date in the park with your boyfriend Bucky.

⌞‼⌝ I do not give consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. 

⌞‼⌝ All images/gifs used are not mine, and come from google unless specifically stated otherwise.​

⌞‼⌝ Heart divider by @/enchanthings

[anonymous-dentist]

As promised, at long last!!, here's the Spiderbit Spideypool au!! :D

-

The sun sets over Quesadilla City, breathing its last for the day.

Similarly, the guy at Cellbit's feet is also breathing his last. He's got a machete stuck through his windpipe cutting off his air, and that's probably what's making him choke. It's either that, or it's the gloved hand choking him right beneath his chin, or it's the thumb- his own- lodged in the back of his throat.

Once upon a time, this dude was one of the Federation's finest insurance sales representatives. He, just like every other disgusting piece of shit on the Federation's payroll, made a living off of scamming widows and orphans and puppies and whoever into selling their souls for mediocre insurance policies that just so happen to never apply. He has a list on his Notes app filled with all the people he's fucked over, and there's one name right at the bottom of the list that single-handedly made him a target.

Sometimes Cellbit really loves his job.

"What?" Cellbit taunts, leaning in real close to the asshole's face. He removes his hand from the man's throat and slowly moves it up to the man's mouth. He pries the man's lips open and pinches his slimy, blood-covered tongue between his pointer finger and thumb.

Smiling beneath his mask, Cellbit tilts his head just slightly- just enough to be noticeable in the dying light of the sunset- and he asks in a low, mocking voice, "Cat got your tongue?"

He laughs at the way the man's eyes widen in sheer terror.

The asshole's hand twitches; his phone, with the Notes app open, is just inches away from his trembling, spindly fingers. It's focused at the bottom of the list, and the name there:

Roier Brown

Roier is a very wealthy man with a dead son and a good-for-nothing husband. Well. He used to be a wealthy man, but then the Avengers smashed his house in with his son in it and he lost everything in the lawsuits that followed. Hence the cheap, terrible, scam insurance. It's all he can afford.

Personally speaking, Cellbit is of the opinion that Roier deserves better. But since he can't afford better on his crummy journalist salary, Cellbit torturing and murdering the man that scammed Roier out of his hard-earned money is just going to have to do.

Cellbit clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "You should know better than to try that."

'WOW, WHAT AN IDIOT!!' Voice A laughs.

'show him who's in charge around here' Voice B orders, and Cellbit lives to serve.

He twists his machete, slow.

The man gurgles at him, pale in the face and very much on death's door.

(Unfortunately for him, Cellbit has met Death himself, and She's a very nice woman. This man won't get a chance to see the Other Side, not if She has anything to say about it.)

They're on top of the roof of an abandoned gas station somewhere towards the Favela, so it really isn't surprising when there's a very annoyed whoosh of air and the soft thumping of someone landing on the roof behind Cellbit's back and tripping over his own webbing.

'SPIDER-MAN!!!' Voice A exclaims.

'my hero <3' says Voice B with all the adoration in the world.

"Shut up," Cellbit annoyedly mutters; this is his conversation with Spider-Man, thank you!

The man's eyes brighten, hopeful. Hah! As if Spider-Man would help someone like him.

On cue, a sticky thread of webbing attaches itself to the handle of Cellbit's machete just above his fingers. A tug, and the machete is yanked from the man's throat, finishing him off with one last bloodthirsty shink!!!

'finally'

Cellbit stands up and twirls dramatically, hands flying to his cheeks. His eyes, and the white eyeholes of his mask, widen in put-on shock and horror.

"Spider-Man!" he gasps. "You just killed that man!"

Spider-Man, of course, is not amused. His eyeholes narrow. Arms crossed, hip cocked... oh, he's angry.

'UH-OH!!!'

Cellbit tries not to wince at Voice A's terrified screech. Instead, he clears his throat and drops his hands to his sides, swinging them until they end up behind his back. He clasps his hands together, shrinking into himself even though he really knows that this won't work.

"Deadpool," Spider-Man coolly says.

"Spider-Man."

"What did I say about murdering people."

"...Not to do it without you?"

"Then what the fuck is this, culero?"

Spider-Man gestures towards the corpse with both of his hands... and with the machete, still loosely held in his webs over by the body. It scrapes across the roof, scuffing it up and kicking sparks up and making Cellbit actually visibly flinch.

'our baby...'

'HE NEEDS TO PAY!!!!!'

Choked, Cellbit says, "He's- it's fine."

Spider-Man, of course, knows that Cellbit isn't talking to him, so he continues his angry rant, slipping into Spanish that Cellbit only halfway pays attention to. But can you blame him? Spider-Man's suit is skin-tight, and Cellbit is a very weak man.

'HE IS FORGIVEN!!'

'our angel...'

"Muy guapo," Cellbit agrees. He sighs dreamily as Spider-Man paces around the rooftop ranting at the top of his lungs, uncaring of prying eyes. Why should he care? Anybody stupid enough to spy on Deadpool is as good as dead, everybody knows this.

Suddenly, Spider-Man rounds on him and points an accusing finger.

"And!" he snaps, back in English for the sake of poor Voice B. "You missed dinner, you piece of shit!"

Okay, this Cellbit does feel sorry about.

His eyeholes droop sadly. His shoulders sag, and he scuffs the toe of his boot against the roof.

"Desculpe, guapito," he says, and he really means it.

Spider-Man points for just a second longer before relaxing and slumping to the ground by the dead man. He picks up the man's phone, sees the name at the bottom of the list, and lets out a long, drawn-out sigh before groaning loudly and flopping onto his back on the rooftop. He holds the phone above his face, scrolling up through the list.

Cellbit takes a seat opposite him. Out of respect for the deceased, he takes one of the man's hands and covers the gaping, bleeding, rotting hole in his neck with it.

'that should make the reporters happy' Voice B comments.

'BUT IT'LL MAKE CUCURUCHO PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSED!!!' Voice A cackles, way too excited over something that's probably actually going to give Cellbit a bigger headache than he already has thanks to his voices being annoying little shits today.

"Cucurucho won't find this guy until it's too late," he tells the voices.

A pause.

"It's already too late," he adds. "So they'll just find him later."

"If they find him," Spider-Man counters. He carelessly tosses the phone to the side and drops his hands onto his chest, watching the sun set above him. "Man, I wanted to kill this guy."

Cellbit frowns. "I didn't think you'd mind..."

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's fine. Just let me get the next one, okay?"

There are countless Federation employees. Some are agents, like the mysterious new "Agent Jabberjaw" wreaking havoc by the docks. Others are white collars, like the dead man by Cellbit's knee. And others are heroes, like the Avengers.

'i hate those guys...'

'THEY LITERALLY SUCK'

'i miss bobby...'

Voice B breaks down into sobs, and Voice A starts shouting for them to shut up and stop crying because crying can't bring the dead back to life but revenge will so they're going to get revenge obviously and Roier's gonna be right there with them and he's gonna get to choke Cucurucho with-

"Gatinho," Spider-Man says, pulling Cellbit out of his head, "help me clean up the body before the cops get here. You're supposed to be retired, remember, pendejo?"

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "I'm doing them a favor."

And Spider-Man rolls his own eyes: "I know, but they don't."

Of course they don't. The Avengers, under Cucurucho's instructions no doubt, labeled Deadpool a villain years ago back when Cellbit was more active. And then he met the love of his life and he retired from mercenary-ing to try and build a real home life for the first time in his (memorable) life.

And then Bobby died, and not even a superhuman healing factor could keep Cellbit's then-boyfriend from almost dying in the ambulance.

"Maybe we should do it out of costume," Cellbit muses.

He looks down at his costume with a small, thoughtful frown. He designed it years ago for easy movement and easier repair, but he's also gotten older. He can stab a guy, sure, but it's a little too hard to raise his arms above the shoulders for Cellbit's tastes.

Spider-Man raises a teasing eyebrow; Cellbit can't see his face, but he knows him enough to know exactly what his face is doing at all times.

"You know that I'm naked under here, right?" he asks.

The voices stop shouting at each other long enough to start giving very detailed descriptions of what they think Spider-Man looks like under his suit.

Very detailed descriptions.

"Uh," Cellbit says, voice cracking, "or we can just do it now!"

"What, you don't want to see me naked?"

'is he offering????'

'I HOPE HE IS!!'

"We get to see him naked all the time," Cellbit says, though he also knows that Spider-Man has never seen him naked. (As it turns out, Spider-Man sleeps naked, and he chose not to mention this until the honeymoon.)

Spider-Man's eyeholes crinkle in amusement. "Well, if they want to see me naked..."

He makes a grand motion with his arms before reaching for the hidden zipper on the back of his costume.

'yes!!!!'

'OH MY GOD YESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

Cellbit flushes the same shade of red as his costume and covers his eyes with his hands. He likes Spider-Man's body, but he does not want him stripping on a roof for just anybody to see.

Spider-Man laughs. "Calma, calma, I'm teasing you, gatinho! Una broma!"

Cellbit peeks out between his fingers and sees, indeed, a fully-clothed Spider-Man.

"I knew that," he tells him. The voices call him an idiot, and so he repeats it louder: "I knew that! I knew it was a joke!"

"Ah-huh," Spider-Man says, not believing him whatsoever.

He stretches his arms above his head, groans, and hops to his feet. He stretches again, cracking his neck and shoulders.

"Guess dinner tonight is takeout," he comments.

Cellbit wrinkles his nose. "He tastes bad."

"You haven't bitten him yet, have you?"

Spider-Man sounds mildly disappointed; if anyone heard him talking like this, he'd be labeled as a villain by the end of the week. But, then again, he and Deadpool have been known for their... unique relationship since before Deadpool's retirement. They tease. They joke.

Cellbit shifts uncomfortably. "Well... no."

They have dinner together every night.

"Then how do you know he tastes bad, eh?"

Spider-Man reaches across the corpse and lightly baps Cellbit on the back of the head disapprovingly.

"We're taking him," Spider-Man tells him. Of course, Cellbit doesn't argue. How could he?

So Cellbit stands, and he goes to get the man's phone from where Spider-Man had thrown it earlier. Behind him, Spider-Man picks the man up from off of the roof and slings him over his shoulder.

God, he's strong...

'STRONG AND SMART AND HANDSOME AND BEAUTIFUL AND KIND AND'

'and generous and muscular and sweet and caring and'

...and perfect.

If Cellbit didn't know any better, he'd say that he may, in fact, have a bit of a crush on Spider-Man.

And isn't that funny?

(Roier slips into bed shortly after Cellbit does. Fresh out of the shower, he smells like Cellbit's body wash: vaguely mango-y.

He curls around Cellbit's body like a quotation mark, slotting in behind him perfectly. He holds Cellbit close, eyelashes fluttering against the back of Cellbit's head.

"You were right," he admits, words muttered into Cellbit's hair. "He tasted horrible. I brushed my teeth, like, a million times, what the fuck?"

"I told you," Cellbit says. He squeaks as he gets a pinch to his side for his troubles, ouch. "Hey!"

'do it again...'

'DUDE WHAT THE FUCK?'

"Let me pick next time," Roier says. "My turn."

"Fine."

As if Cellbit could ever tell his husband no. He deserves everything and more... though all Cellbit can offer is killings in his honor. That's all he can give, but Roier deserves more. But it's what Cellbit can provide, and so it will be what he gives him.

Cellbit can't die. He's tried, and Death has sent him back to the world of the living with a tired sigh every time. Immortality is cool and all, but...

But Roier almost died in that ambulance. Bobby did die in the house. Richarlyson could die in the next great Avengers battle. Pepito...

Once upon a time, Spider-Man was a hero. But then his son died, not that anybody outside of a select few knew that, and he stopped working with the Avengers entirely.

Blood is crusted on Spider-Man's suit, hung in the secret panel in the bedroom closet right next to Deadpool's suit.

Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, yeah, but his home life is something entirely different.

"Stop thinking," Roier orders. "I'm trying to sleep."

Cellbit smiles into his pillow. "I'll try."

It's the least he can do.)

[ginnsbaker]

loving an avenger

Summary: The last installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to it's just dinner;

Vision tilts his head slightly, a gesture you've come to recognize as him deep in thought. “If that's a prerequisite for you,” he states presumptuously, like the answer to your prerogative is so startlingly obvious yet you failed to catch them. “Then may I suggest you sleep with her and then ask her to marry you?”

Word count: 3.2k | Tags: Fluff, Marriage Proposals gone wrong , 'Efficent' is Wanda's middle name according to her

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: And that concludes our Dentist AU! All fluff, no tears.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

No matter how many times you repeat it to yourself, you’re never going to get used to the fact that Wanda Maximoff is your girlfriend.

And dating this particular Avenger is both your greatest source of comfort and anxiety.

On the days when it's peaceful, when the weight of the world isn't pressing down on either of you, the indescribable comfort comes from the simplicity of your relationship with Wanda. Those are the days when her protector-of-the-world persona fades into the background, and you get to be with simply Wanda, the woman.

Grocery shopping, for instance, becomes something you look forward to on weekends. Walking down the aisles, hand in hand, you spend more time discussing the virtues of one brand of pasta over another, or debating whether to indulge in a tub of ice cream, than any imminent world threat. Sometimes, Wanda playfully levitates a grape or two, making them dance in the air before popping them into your mouth, her laughter ringing in the quiet corners of the store.

Strolls in the park are as romantic as the candlelight dinners you frequently organize at various fine dining spots in the city, especially after learning that Wanda rarely goes out. You both love laying down on the grass, feeling the sun warming your skin, and the world around fades as you listen to her recount stories from Sokovia, her voice soft and nostalgic. Some days, you carry a little music player, and with wired earbuds shared between the two of you.

And then there are the quiet afternoons at home. The beautiful monotony of those moments is the real magic. With you engrossed in a book and Wanda laughing at sitcom reruns, or the two of you attempting to bake. Baking sessions usually end with more flour on both of you than in the bowl, dough fights, and running around the kitchen before tackling Wanda onto your bed and kissing her silly. Even if the cookies turn out a bit burnt, the warmth is always just right.

On the flip side, when the world demands its due from her, it's pure torment. The darker undertones of dating an Avenger are impossible to ignore. An ever-present undercurrent of anxiety runs deep within you. The unpredictability of her life means that any moment could be the last time you see her smile, hear her laugh, or feel her touch.

The agony of days, sometimes even weeks, without contact from her is torture. Every second feels like an hour, every hour like a day. The silence, the not knowing, is the worst part. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Each time the news reports another battle or threat, your heart clenches, waiting for a hint that she is alright. But more often than not, there's no word, no sign. Just the excruciating wait.

And then there are the times she returns, not as the invincible hero, but as a wounded Wanda. A cut on her lips, a gash across her forehead, or bruises marring her porcelain skin. You often nurse her wounds, fighting back tears and the urge to plead with her to stay, to give it all up.

One evening, in a moment of weakness and sheer fear, you do suggest it.

“Why can't you just leave it all behind? There are other, stronger heroes who can step in,” you murmur to her, both of you teetering on the edge of sleep.

“I caused so much darkness for a long time,” she says, her fingers coming up to trace your cheek and ease the creases on your forehead. “I need to pay my dues. I need to make things right.”

You find it hard to believe, considering the Wanda you know is nothing but a beacon of light. The thought of her having a dark past seems so distant, so unfathomable. Yet, her commitment to redemption is undeniable.

“Until when?” you ask softly, eyes locked onto hers, searching for answers. “When will it be enough?”

Wanda hesitates, her gaze drifting to the ceiling, as if searching for the answers there. “I don't know,” she whispers. “But every day, I try to be better than I was the day before, hoping that one day the scales will balance.”

You turn to face her fully, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Wanda, you've done so much good. You've helped countless people. At some point, you need to forgive yourself too.”

She chuckles lightly, the corners of her mouth turning up. “You know, sometimes I think that maybe it won't be for too long.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because,” she begins, her fingers playfully tracing patterns on your arm, “If I have you by my side, maybe I'm doing something right. I like to think of you as my little reward for turning things around.”

You can't help but laugh at that, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Your 'little' reward? Are you calling me short?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I'm just saying that for all the vastness of the universe, it's the small, unexpected joys that matter the most.”

“Well, in that case,” you grin, your heart swelling in your chest, “I'm honored to be your 'little' joy.”

It always ends up like this. She sneaks in a flirty comment during your serious talks, and somehow, just for a moment, you forget about the worries that'll come back later.

But this is also how you eventually realize that you love her.

No matter what she chooses to do, you swear—even if it kills you, even if it disrupts your peace and turns your world upside down—you'll never leave her side unless she asks you to.

-

Within a week, you're back at the Avengers compound, not to visit Wanda, but to meet with a different Avenger.

Vision.

Wanda is on a small mission with Natasha, and you specifically timed your visit so that she wouldn't be around. You've come with a purpose, one that you're unsure of how it'll be received. 

Finding Vision is no easy task, but after inquiring discreetly, you're directed to a chamber that seems more like a serene meditation space than a room in a superhero compound.

“Vision?” you call out tentatively as you step into the dimly lit room. The chill in the air is so intense it feels like walking into a server room, almost expecting to find rows of computers thrumming in the cold. Instinctively, you pull your doctor's coat tighter around your body.

Vision appears almost instantly. “How may I assist you?”

You exhale slowly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Okay, this is going to sound weird, but... I need some advice about Wanda.” It feels a bit ridiculous as the thought crosses your mind—asking a synthezoid about relationship matters. But he's close to Wanda, and honestly, you're at a loss for who else to ask.

Vision's gaze sharpens a touch, “Go on.”

“I love her,” the words tumble out before you can rein them in. “Every time she's out on a mission, I'm a wreck. I'm always scared something might happen to her. I wish she'd... I don't know, think about retiring? Or at least find some way to be safer. But I have no idea how to even bring it up.”

Vision remains silent for a beat, then replies, “It's not uncommon for those close to Avengers to feel this way. But Wanda's commitment to this role is profound. Asking her to retire would be  asking her to change a fundamental part of who she is.”

“But what about her safety?” you press on rather desperately.

Vision takes a moment, as if deliberating if the term ‘safety’ should even apply to the likes of them, before saying, “In our line of work, there are no certainties. Every mission, every decision carries inherent risks. It's a reality we've all accepted. It's the price of our commitment to a greater good.”

You nod defeatedly. Maybe you were hoping for a different answer. But like the rest, he too prioritizes the greater good above himself. 

“I just wish there was something more I could do,” you say.

Vision steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder in a gesture that's surprisingly comforting coming from a synthetic being. You’re beginning to understand why Wanda considers him her best friend. 

“Your presence in her life, the love you offer, it's more than you realize. Hold onto that,” he says. Then, he looks at you with an unexpected sparkle in his surprisingly soulful eyes. “Have you considered making a lifelong commitment to Wanda?”

You gulp, taken aback. “You mean... marriage?”

The suggestion from Vision was so unexpected, so left-field. But thinking about it, there were times—like when you'd make Wanda laugh and her nose would scrunch up all cute—where the idea did, fleetingly, cross your mind.

(You’re so embarrassed to admit it, but it’s just how your brain works around Wanda Maximoff.)

“Yes,” Vision nods. “Sometimes, offering stability and a promise of forever can provide an emotional security that transcends physical safety.”

For a moment, it strikes you—for someone who isn't even human, he sure has a knack for relationship advice. What Vision is suggesting does make sense: If you can't keep her safe, you'll keep her happy. Sometimes that's the only thing you can do. 

But there’s just one problem.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to say this, but…we haven't even... I mean, we're taking things slow,” you stumble over your words, your cheeks burning at the thought of being with Wanda that way. It's also not the sort of detail you’d anticipated sharing with Vision, of all beings, but it's out now.

Vision tilts his head slightly, a gesture you've come to recognize as him deep in thought. “If that's a prerequisite for you,” he states presumptuously, like the answer to your prerogative is so startlingly obvious yet you failed to catch them. “Then may I suggest you sleep with her and then ask her to marry you?”

Your jaw drops slightly, and you blink a few times, attempting to find words. “Vision, that's...easier said than done,” you manage to say, your voice faltering a bit towards the end. You quickly clear your throat, wondering if the temperature in the room could drop any further, because despite the chill, you're suddenly feeling quite warm in your civilian clothes.

“What do you mean by ‘easier said than done’?” Vision asks, rubbing his chin, no doubt a conscious effort to display his human side. “Do you need me to teach you how to—”

“No!” you blurt out, hands shooting up in a frantic 'stop right there' motion. Your mind races with the myriad of things Vision might've been about to suggest. “I've got a pretty good grasp on...human basics, thanks.” 

“Ah. Noted. I simply meant to offer guidance in whatever form you might need. Perhaps I could download a helpful guide or recommend books?” he asks.

You snort, the image of Vision giving sex education a new meaning now firmly planted in your mind. “No, thanks. I think I'll stick to the old-fashioned way of figuring things out. You know, trial and error, preferably without any downloadable guides.”

He nods, making an exaggerated display of understanding, “Ah, the human way of fumbling through experiences. Intriguing. And very inefficient.”

“Well, humans fumbled their way through evolution, so…”

“An interesting perspective. Still, if ever you need a recommended reading list…”

“No reading lists,” you say with a grin. “Just... help keep her safe. That's all the help I need from you.”

Vision’s lips curl into a slight smile. “Very well. That, I can promise.”

-

Despite your initial reaction to Vision's advice—of sleeping with Wanda and then asking her to marry you—as being ridiculous, it’s all you can think about.

You only realize what you've done after stepping out of the jewelry store, having just purchased an engagement ring with a central ruby stone encircled by tiny diamonds.

-

Tonight is the night.

You’ve set the mood—candles, soft music, the whole shebang. After weeks, maybe even months of hinting and hoping, you’re ready to take the next step with Wanda. Well, at least you think you are. There are two things in particular that are making your palms sweat and your heart race tonight. Firstly, the intimate step you’re trying to take with Wanda. And secondly, the engagement ring you impulsively bought, still tucked inside your back pocket, silently judging you for your timidity.

The two of you are cuddled up on the couch, the distance between you almost non-existent. The movie, 50 First Dates, plays in the background, but neither of you are paying it much attention.

The kissing has been going on for a good two minutes (not that you're counting or anything, but you just so happen to be facing the wall clock), and so, you make your move, your hand finding its way to her back, fingers fumbling clumsily as you try to find the clasp of her bra.

She stiffens and you hold your breath. Oh no. Did you move too fast? Just as a bead of panic-induced sweat is about to roll down your forehead, Wanda turns to you with a knowing look. “Looking for something?”

You stammer, trying to form a coherent sentence, “I just thought—”

She grins, cutting you off, “You do realize I'm wearing a sports bra, right?”

Right. You forgot she just came in from yet another mission. 

Your face turns a shade of red that could give her usual Avenger attire a run for its money. “I didn't... I mean, I couldn’t…”

Wanda laughs, a hearty, genuine laugh, putting you somewhat at ease. “You could've just asked me, you know.”

And before you can process that, with a flick of her wrist and a sparkle of magic, you feel the fabric disappear, replaced by the warmth of her skin. Your fingers freeze in place, feeling the soft flush beneath them.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. “You okay there?”

This. This is how you die—getting a heart attack with your hand under Wanda’s shirt.

Trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity, you manage a wobbly smile, words stumbling over themselves in a race to get out. “I was just... I mean, I thought... I didn't expect you to be so... efficient.”

Her laugh is soft, a touch husky, doing nothing to help calm the racing of your heart. “Darling, 'Efficient' is my middle name.”

You want to point out the countless times her middle was anything but ‘Efficient’ but that would definitely ruin the mood.

“Good to know. Any other magic tricks you're planning to pull tonight?” you ask with a smirk.

She leans in close, her lips grazing your ear. “Guess you'll have to stick around to find out.”

You both shift, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch. In the process, the velvet box containing the ring slips from your back pocket and falls to the floor. As you bend down to pick it up, Wanda gets there first, snatching the box away with her powers just as your fingers graze it.

“What's this?” she asks, her eyes widening in surprise.

For a moment, you're caught in an invisible stasis. “I, uh... it's not what it looks like?” you stutter out, though it's clear by her expression she doesn’t buy it for a second.

With a smirk, she slowly opens the box, revealing the delicate ring inside. Her eyes flit between the ring and your flushed face, her playful smile replaced with an expression of tender surprise. “Is this…”

You swallow hard. “Yes, it is. I was... I was going to ask you. Later. After, well, after other things.”

Wanda laughs, a hint of tears in her eyes. “You were planning on proposing after we...?”

Hearing your idea echoed back by Wanda makes you feel slightly foolish. Darn it, Vision.

“Well, the cat's out of the bag now,” you sigh, looking directly into Wanda's eyes, a surge of bravery taking hold. “And honestly, I don't think I can wait any longer to ask you. I really, truly love you. So, Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?”

Wanda looks down at the ring, then back to your eyes, searching for answers and confirming truths. After losing her entire family, right in front of her is the possibility of starting a new one. A tear escapes from the corner of her eye.

“You had a whole plan, didn't you?” she murmurs, her voice quivering.

“An extremely convoluted and very poorly executed plan, yes,” you admit sheepishly.

Her laugh is light and airy and causes her nose to do that thing you’re so crazy about. “Oh, you...” she trails off, leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss. When she pulls back, she’s beaming. “Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. But maybe let’s deal with one thing at a time tonight, okay?”

“Of course, one thing at a time,” you quickly agree. But then, a wave of insecurity washes over you. “But, just so you know, if after we...you know...if you don't find it... satisfying or if I don't live up to your expectations or anything, you can totally change your mind about the proposal. No pressure or anything.”

Wanda looks amused for a moment, then her expression turns sultry. “Darling, trust me when I say that's not going to be an issue,” she purrs.

You open your mouth to respond but are momentarily derailed when Wanda, with one fluid motion, removes her shirt, rendering you speechless.

Leaning in so that her lips hover just inches from your ear, she murmurs, “I want you so bad, you're really going to have to work hard to change my mind.”

Her fingers trace a lazy path up your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. 

“By the way,” Wanda whispers as you struggle to focus on her words through your half-lidded eyes. “I really, truly love you too.”

After that, words become superfluous. The need to be closer, to feel her against you, overpowers every sense and sensation. And as the seconds and minutes melt away, you find that with Wanda, everything falls perfectly into place.

-

“Just so we’re clear,” you pant out moments later, catching your breath and gazing at the ceiling, “It’s still a ‘yes’, right?”

Wanda's body trembles with laughter next to you, making you grin ear to ear. Before long, you're rolling back on top of her again, ready for round two.

-

The soft lapping of water against the shore serves as nature's own version of wedding bells. Your father's lakehouse, usually a place of quiet reflection and family gatherings, is now adorned with delicate white drapes and soft pastel flowers, transforming it into an intimate wedding venue. 

Steve Rogers, wearing a suit that accentuates his otherworldly physique, gives you a supportive pat on the back. “Nervous?”

“About the wedding or the fact that half the guests could snap me in half with their pinky?” you reply with a nervous chuckle.

“You’ve got this,” he assures you, seeing past your attempt at a lighthearted joke.

As for Wanda, she had never anticipated that half the attendees at her wedding would be dentists, including your parents and a slew of your colleagues. It was a running joke between the two of you; her slight dental phobia up against your chosen profession. But life has a funny way of turning things around. 

Sometimes what we fear the most becomes our strength, and that strength becomes an anchor. And you are hers, as much as she is yours.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

What if... too much time has passed?

Instead of running into her in 2007, Natasha doesn't see Katya again until 2018, when she and Yelena manage to break free from the Red Room's brainwashing. Katya isn't as eager to see Natasha again.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 3.4k • Warnings: angst, mentions of unaliving (not detailed) •A/N: I'm calling all my AU stories the 'What if...' series. Very original, I know. This takes place in the BW movie. Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Natasha felt anxious and tense as she followed Yelena around the Budapest apartment, staring at the intricate braids on the back of her sister's head as they argued over the mind control antidote she accidentally brought with her from Norway.

It was hard to process the last twenty-four hours. It felt like it had been a week. The car crash, the suited robot assassin, the glowing vials and the pictures slipped between them, and then standing face to face with her "sister", the one she thought had died years ago.

Mentally and physically, Natasha felt drained. Her body ached with muscle pains and bruises. But the tension in her body kept her sharp, on edge. Always. She had to be. 

This apartment brought her nothing but bad memories, chills running down her spine as she remembered the horrible minutes spent here with Clint. It had changed since then. So had she. Being on the run for two years, constantly hunted by the American government, had put a paranoia in her that she couldn't shake. And now it seemed she'd fallen into new danger. Whatever it was had Yelena rushing around to gather runaway supplies.

"Why don't you take it to one of your super-scientist friends? They can explain it to you," Yelena snapped impatiently after Natasha didn't understand her original explanation of the purpose of the antidote. "Tony Stark, maybe?"

Natasha legged after her through the long hallway. "Oh, yeah. We're not exactly talking right now, so…" She trailed off, hiding the pain and loneliness in her voice with a simple shrug. Instinctively, she glanced into the rooms they passed.

Yelena scoffed. "Great. Perfect timing. Where's an Avenger when you need one?" She said dryly, her Russian accent thick, but her sarcastic question fell onto deaf ears.

For Natasha, the world had stilled. She heard nothing but the ringing in her ears and the air flowing in and out of her lungs at a quickening pace.

She stood frozen in the doorway of the master bedroom, halfway down the hall. With a trembling hand, she had pushed the door open further, trying to make sense of what her sharp eyes had seen as she passed the half-open door. It had been only a glimpse, but that brief glimpse of the figure in the bed was enough to halt her dead in her tracks. 

Her head spun as she watched the sleeping woman on top of the covers, the edges of her vision flickering with her pounding heart. The woman lay curled up on her side, wearing jeans and shoes like she'd collapsed suddenly for a nap. Her long blonde hair—tied up into a messy ponytail—was fanned out over the pillow she gripped tightly, her toned arm muscles prominent in the black short sleeve that covered her upper body. A large scar ran along her arm.

Natasha felt disconnected from her mind. It didn't want to accept what her eyes saw correctly.

It couldn't be real. This couldn't be true.

Through the shock, she didn't want to believe it, but she'd never forget the curve of her lips, of her nose, the shape of her jaw and the most transparent blue eyes she'd ever seen, now covered by her twitching eyelids. 

It couldn't be. She was dead.

Memories of another life came flooding back. Memories she'd shoved into the deepest, darkest drawer in her mind and pretended didn't exist. Ones filled with torture, with hardship and pain. 

But also memories filled with light, with warmth and careful laughs, all centered around one golden-haired girl, like she'd been the sun in Natasha's difficult existence. Those were the ones flooding her brain now, nearly making her lips curve up into a smile despite her shock.

It couldn't be. But it was truly her. 

Katariina Petrova.

Looking back, she was Natasha's first and only love. Nobody had managed to make her feel emotions so intensely as Katya had, and they were only teenagers at the time, seventeen when Katya suddenly disappeared and Dreykov had told her the girl had died on a mission. 

Natasha genuinely thought about giving up then. A piece of herself died with Katya that day. The highest highs of her early life had been because of her, showing her warmth during the barren winter that lasted all year long in Russia.

Natasha nearly crumbled to the ground, swaying as she grasped the doorframe with one hand to keep herself upright. Then the questions started.

How? When? What? Who? 

The words tumbled over each other in her brain. Nothing made sense. For eighteen years—eighteen, which is longer than the time Natasha knew her—she believed Katariina was dead. Gone. That she had left Natasha to deal with this cruel world on her own.

But maybe she'd never been on her own, after all.

''Oh, yeah, turned out Katya wasn't dead like they told us.''

Natasha wanted to look at Yelena, who had stopped and watched her from a distance, but she was scared that if she looked away, Katariina—Katya—would disappear into thin air.

Swallowing to grease her dry throat, Natasha's voice came out in a pathetic croak. ''What is she doing here?''

''Long story, but she's seriously messed up.'' 

Now, that caught Natasha's attention. Reluctantly, she ripped her gaze away from the bed and turned it to a bit-too-casual Yelena, frowning. ''Messed up?''

Yelena tapped the side of her head. ''Something broke her.'' Natasha's heart clenched painfully. Katya was always the stronger one. Where Natasha felt insecure at times, was afraid, Katya never was. ''She was the one who freed me, but she was under mind control twice as long as any of us. You can try and wake her, but this is the first time she's slept in three days.''

That explains why the fight in the kitchen and living room didn't wake her up. Any good spy would have woken up right when Natasha opened the front door, but Katya slept through it all. She didn't even stir with a set of intense green eyes drilling into her.

But then the bedroom window flew open. It slammed against the wall with a gust of wind, throwing over multiple things in the room with loud commotion. 

Within the blink of an eye, Katya sat up in bed, the gun in her hand pointed at the noise. All the muscles in her body were tense, ready to shoot, reminding Natasha strongly of a panther ready to jump its prey. The adrenaline had flushed the sleep out of her system in seconds.

When she saw that it was just the window, Katya relaxed, lowering her gun. But then she caught sight of the two people in the doorway, and Natasha found herself in a spot she never expected to be; on the other side of Katya's gun barrel. 

Yelena lazily raised her hands. ''Hey, don't shoot the host.''

Natasha would have done the same, but she couldn't move a muscle. Her eyes had locked with Katya's, and she got sucked into those deep blues for the first time in nearly twenty years. They were nothing like she remembered. 

Twenty years ago, when they were still living in that hellhole, one glance at Katya's eyes would have been enough to calm her in any situation. They were always confident, in control, serene. They had saved Natasha in countless situations when they couldn't talk out loud or give each other physical comfort when she was so close to falling apart. 

But things had changed. Life had managed to affect Katya in a way Natasha never expected. Her once assuring eyes were now filled with panic and fear, and something irreplaceably broken. They flickered with anger when Katya finally recognized the woman in the doorway.

''Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now.''

Natasha was too flabbergasted and confused to enjoy hearing Katya's voice for the first time in so long. The harsh reality of her words clashed too brutally with her inner joy. She hadn't expected a warm reunion, but the hatred that came off her childhood friend was unexpected, to say the least.

Slowly, Katya moved off the bed, her gaze and gun never moving away from Natasha's frozen figure. She tried to hide it, but it took her great effort to move fluently, like a weakness had settled deep into her bones. Once her legs had to carry her weight, she stumbled backwards. 

In a reflex, Natasha shot forward to catch her, but Katya tightened the grip on her gun and scowled warningly, pushing herself upright with help of the bed. 

All the joy had faded from Natasha's body. Worry made her head spin as Yelena's earlier words bounced around in it. She's seriously messed up. The Katya she knew never stumbled. She could shoot six guys straight in the head while doing a pirouette on one foot.

''I-'' 

Natasha would never know what words her own brain managed to find, because a loud explosion in the apartment whipped them all into action. 

~~Cue BW movie events~~

With a pounding heart, Natasha turned away from her limited view on the metro station below and settled into the rusty vents. Their escape from the half robot assassin had been a close call, with her nudging Yelena and Katya into a space she'd occupied with Clint years ago, but the assassin had followed their false trail into the basement, which gave them a moment of safety. For now.

She looked at Katya. The adrenaline must have kicked in while they were running for their lives, because she had managed to keep up in the way Natasha expected of her. Not a scratch on her. But she could feel the hostility. Katya snapped at her a few times in the heat of the moment, and even now, as Yelena formed a welcome barricade between them, Natasha saw her look everywhere but at her. 

The redhead clenched her jaw, exhausted and fed up. ''Okay, you need to tell me why you're mad at me, because I don't know what I did wrong.''

An annoyed frown creased Katya's brows. ''Forget about it," she said sharply.

''No, I don't want to forget about it," Natasha snapped, her anger boiling over. "I spent my whole life thinking you were dead! I mourned you! I thought about you on your birthday!''

An intense silence followed as her words settled in, Yelena awkwardly staring at the ceiling. She'd never admitted that to anyone. She'd never even told anyone about Katya. What they'd had was too special, too intimate to put into words. It belonged in her heart only.

''Or maybe you just wanted me dead.''

Natasha blinked, taken aback by that ridiculous accusation. The way Katya said it so calmly too, like she'd fully convinced herself and accepted that it was the truth. ''Why would you say that?''

Katya finally looked at her, squinting accusingly. ''What do you remember of that day? My last mission?''

''I don't know!" Natasha exclaimed helplessly. Her mind was in too many scrambles to correctly recall it, and she was tired of Katya twisting around the answer. "You left in a jet and you never came back, then Dreykov told everyone you died.''

Katya ignored the waver in Natasha's voice on the last word. ''I nearly did, because you never showed up. You were my backup, and you never came!'' she snarled.

Natasha gaped at her. ''I was–" She confidently shook her head. "No, I wasn't even on that mission.''

''Because of you, I was captured," Katya continued. "Spent years getting tortured by the KGB until they dropped me off on Dreykov's doorstep again. By then, you were gone. Escaped." Her dark chuckle stabbed Natasha right in her aching heart. Katya, tortured? Because of her? "Convenient, isn't it? Got rid of your competition.''

''I was never on that mission!" Natasha hissed quietly, realizing they were being too loud for three people hiding. "I don't know what lies they told you, but it sounds like you were sent into a trap.''

Katya looked away, clenching and unclenching her jaw. Natasha wanted her to believe her so badly, but she also knew that changing her mind didn't happen in one day. For twenty years, she thought Natasha had betrayed her that night. And now she was trapped in a vent with her worst enemy. ''Yeah, because I can trust your word on that. I've fallen for your lies before.''

''Nothing I ever told you was a lie! I loved you!''

The words echoed painfully in the vents, lingering in the silence that followed. A truth, spoken twenty years too late.

Heat clawed up Natasha's cheeks. She couldn't believe she admitted that. Right in front of Yelena too. But she couldn't care about that right now. She needed to reach Katya somehow, convince her. And if that meant pouring her heart out then so be it.

Katya didn't answer. She kept scowling at the wall, keeping her face perfectly unreadable and the look in her eyes hidden. 

Natasha wanted to cry and scream. This was not how she imagined seeing Katya again. Yes, even though she thought she was dead, she dreamed of this day in fleeting moments of weakness. After a heartbreaking mission that took a toll on her, or a really long day at HQ, when all she wanted was to be held by someone and disappear into their comfort.

It was faint at first—Natasha only noticed it because she was already looking at Katya;  Her body started to shake. It started in her hands and then slowly spread over her whole body. A tremble. Like a dog that had been outside for too long in the cold rain.

''You're shaking again," Yelena said bluntly.

''Yes, Yelena, I can see that," Katya bit back, tightening her arms around her legs to try and hide it. "It will wear off in a bit.''

Natasha frowned, her worry flaring up again. ''Why is it doing that?''

Yelena shrugged. ''It's a trauma response after an adrenaline rush, or something like that.''

''Yeah, jeez, why don't you tell her?'' Katya glared at her friend, trying to put up a tough front, but she was softly rocking back and forth as a self-soothing motion.

''Hey! I'm not the enemy here," Natasha snapped, unable to contain herself as her worry grew.

Katya rolled her eyes. ''Still haven't decided.''

''Where are your pills?" Yelena asked her.

"I ran out."

"Pills?" Natasha frowned, but the conversation carried on without her.

"We have to get you new ones then."

"I haven't exactly had time to steal some," Katya reminded Yelena.

"There's an apothecary on the next street over."

"Okay, why are we robbing an apothecary for drugs?" Natasha interrupted, annoyed with being left out. 

"To stop…that." Yelena waved her hand in Katya's general direction.

"It's just a temporary fix," Katya said, tiredness seeping into her every word. "Eventually they'll run out and I still won't be any better. Might as well take em all at once and be done with it."

"I won't be digging the hole. Too much work." Yelena said casually as she checked on the cut in her arm.

"Yeah, thanks," Katya responded dryly.

"No one is dying or killing themselves." Natasha said sternly, her heart pounding loudly at the thought of losing Katya again after just finding her. "We'll get your pills and get you help after all of this is over."

"Help?" Katya raised her eyebrow.

"Doctors, therapists."

Katya chuckled humorlessly, for the first time somewhat of a smile appearing on her lips. "A shrink? No thanks."

Natasha didn't take offense. She wasn't fond of therapists herself, but until her own dying breath, she would help prevent Katya taking hers prematurely. "I'm not giving up on you."

"You did before."

Instead of fighting her on the lie, Natasha shook her head. "And I'm not going to do it again."

"We'll see."

~~ 2 years later ~~

Natasha waited impatiently outside the therapist's office building, checking her watch every few seconds. She was driving herself wild with worst-case scenario thinking, but sending Katya in there could only result in two things: succes, or absolute failure. In the last case, Natasha would never be able to get Katya inside an office again. A lot depended on this appointment.

She swung her head around when she heard the door swing open, a brunette head popping out—Katya had dyed her hair shortly after the both of them had freed the jailed Avengers and everyone was granted a full pardon by the government. The two of them had been living in an apartment in New York City ever since.

"So?" Natasha asked impatiently when Katya walked up to her. Her face was, once again, hard to read.

Katya blew out a deep breath, tightening the belt of her long fake fur coat. "Fucking hell, they really don't hold back on the invasive questions."

The tension fell off her shoulders like a blanket as Natasha laughed, reaching for Katya's gloved hand. The brunette let her intertwine their fingers, a joyful glint in her blue eyes. "I knew you'd like it."

Katya playfully rolled her eyes, letting Natasha pull her away. "It's like being interrogated but without the fun part. Can't play mind games on the therapist."

"You can, but that would defeat the purpose." Natasha gave her hand a squeeze, beyond proud of her girlfriend for giving this therapist a chance. "It'll take some time before you feel more comfortable opening up to her."

Katya turned to look at her, something unreadable yet incredibly vulnerable on her face. "Mhm." She hummed, smiling softly.

Natasha eyed her suspiciously. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What?" Natasha laughed.

Katya glanced down at the toes of her black heeled boots. Natasha was pleasantly surprised to see that Katya leaned more towards a Russian style of clothing when she bought casual civilian clothes for the first time. It suited her. Especially with the Russian accent she didn't bother getting rid of.

"I wouldn't be here without you," Katya said softly. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Natasha's smile widened. These moments of vulnerability were still rare for Katya, who learned to give more of herself to her girlfriend every day. She didn't take any of them for granted. "I promised."

"Yeah, well, when you made that promise you weren't really in the right state of mind," Katya chuckled.

"You mean your sudden appearance threw my whole world upside down?" Natasha smirked.

"Something like that."

The bell above the door of the small café jingled when Natasha pushed it open, letting Katya step into the inviting warmth of the cozy space first. She did promise her chocolate cake after her session, and she wasn't about to forget that.

"Actually, I think everything was made right that day. We just…" she trailed off, glancing at their intertwined hands. Katya smiled, catching on to what her girlfriend wanted to say. Nothing had ever felt right. Nothing but this. Them, together. That's when everything felt right.

"We have twenty years of lost time to make up for," Katya noted playfully.

"Hmm, you're right. What else did we miss out on?"

"Chocolate cake. Imagine how much chocolate cake I could have eaten if I wasn't enslaved by an evil organization who used me as a puppet." Katya grinned, turning to Natasha when she stayed silent, her eyebrows raised. "Too soon?"

The redhead shook her head with a light laugh. "Yes, but I got the hint." She stepped up to the barista behind the counter, whose eyes grew two twice as big at the sight of an Avenger. "Three pieces of chocolate cake, please."

"Three? You know how to spoil a woman," Katya mused, wrapping her arm around Natasha's waist when she had to let her hand go to grab her wallet.

"They're all for me actually," Natasha smirked as she grabbed a twenty, Katya watching along over her shoulder.

"Is that a picture of me?"

Natasha's heart skipped a beat. "What? No," she scoffed, quickly closing her wallet. But Katya snatched it out of her hands and opened it, her face lighting up at the small polaroid of herself, stuck in the transparent compartment of Natasha's wallet.

"Aww, it is! You have a picture of me in your wallet!"

Natasha snatched it back just as quickly as it was stolen from her, her ears burning. "Give that back. Before I cut off your fingers and put those in my wallet instead."

Katya laughed, resting her chin on Natasha's shoulder. "Empty threats."

[elsa-fogen]

I really like your Artificial Demon AU, it just makes so much sense

Why would he kill overlords? Cause that's what he was trained to do How come he was so powerful when he first fell? Cause he was made to be that powerful by Sera And why would a person who died in the 1930s New Orleans have a name like Alastor? Cause that isn't true, he was never human, so why would he have a human name?

Like, something that has been bugging me a bit is that apparently in the canon show 'Alastor' is his original name, it's not an alias like with Angel (who's real name is Anthony). Which just seems so weird, it really doesn't feel like it should be his human name. Like, what kind of loving mother would name their son bloody "Avenger"? And where/how did she even come up with or find a name like that?

But in your AU, the name makes so much more sense! He's a ruthless killing machine who is 'avenging' Sera for the simple fact that she wasn't allowed to have exterminations. He's her retaliation, her revenge against them, and they had to pay quite dearly indeed.

Like read this and tell me it doesn't fit,

:Exerb from "The Encyclopedia of Spirits: The Ultimate Guide to the Magic of Fairies, Genies, Demons, Ghosts, Gods, and Goddesses" by Judika Illes

The only odd thing might be that the origin is Greek, when the show itself hasn't really shown to have any conections with that mythology, but like, it's still his name in the canon show

i mean, name Alastor is a normal real name, and back in 1900s they didn't have internet to look up the meaning of the name. And even so, i've seen different readings of the name, also with positive subtext like avenger for the weak and something like that, which is kinda fits for canon Alastor (remember that pre-canon comic yeah)

But yeah, thank you! I also like that this AU origin of Al fits so well to his canon self.

Btw that text on screenshot it actually made me think of Artificer from Rain World Downpour (spoilers don't read) she's a mother who lost her children to the local tribe of another species, and she's now avenging them, by killing every single member of that species, no even the specific tribe, she just started a goddamn genocide. She went so far, that she found and killed the king of that species who didn't even know her and didn't want to fight. And it backfires in the end, because she forever loses a chance to ascend and escape the cycle.

(end of spoilers)

is there a female counterpart for name Alastor btw? Because it would fit her.

[auroralwriting]

illicit affairs

chapter three

biker!bucky barnes x stark!reader (turf war au)

tony's mad, bucky's curious, you're questioning where you belong

warnings: violence, language, small age gap (6~ years), angst, arguing, drinking, overall crime and gang stuff, sort of enemies to lovers

series masterlist

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tony spat as he angrily paced around the room. "Some moron paid off Quill and his gang to not fuck up The Avengers!"

"I knew we should've gone Hydra," Rhodey clicked his tongue as he looked up from scrolling on his phone.

Tony shook his head, "When I find the person who did this, I'll fuck them up myself."

Your brother's words made you increasingly nervous. It was you who paid off Quill. At least he didn't snitch that it was you. It still didn't help your nerves to see how upset Tony was.

"It was a bad idea anyways," Clint interrupted. He quickly retracted his words as Tony grabbed his collar, "Only because we should've done it ourselves!"

Bruce sighed, "We can't do anything too rash, otherwise The Asgardians won't help us."

"He's right," Vision confirmed, "They like peace until they're the ones to disrupt it. The minute we cross any lines, they're out of the picure. Bye-bye, Brooklyn."

"Kiddo, what're you thinking?" Tony called to you. You just noticed how you were picking at your skin.

With a shrug, you answered. "I'm just not a fan of all of this."

"Well they're all lying, pompous, pieces of shit." Tony scoffed. "They deserve all of this."

"But why?" You asked. The silence in the room was so much, you could've heard the dust flying around.

Tony pointed to the door, "Get out. Go home."

"But-"

"No! Go the fuck home," Tony yelled as you grabbed your bag and left the small HQ to head back to your apartment, wondering what you's said to make him that angry.

"What's on your mind, Buck?" Steve asked his friend as the two of them sat in the bar. It was always pretty empty during the day. It was the two of them, a couple in the cafe, and Coulson cleaning up.

Bucky shrugged, "Nothin',"

"I know that look, it's not nothing. Come on, I won't judge you." Steve pushed. "Is it about the Stark girl?"

"I just.. don't know how to place her," Bucky admitted. "Stark's such an ass, but she's just-"

"Sweet?" Steve offered.

Bucky nodded, "Yeah, real fuckin' sweet. I mean, she could've got her ass kicked for us last night. I just don't get why she's bein' so nice when Tony's over there brainwashing her."

"I highly doubt he's doing that," Steve mused. "She wasn't around during the fallout. There's a good chance she doesn't even know what all of this is about, or you." Bucky felt his heart drop just a little when Steve added that last part. Truly, he'd never meant for Howard and Maria to get killed. He didn't know it was them transporting millions of dollars in art, otherwise he would've kept his mouth shut. "She really does seem to have a good brain in that head of hers."

"What are you thinking?" Bucky asked, watching as Steve's face twisted into that look he got when he got some brilliant idea.

Steve shrugged, "Maybe we invite her for drinks as a thank you."

"You think Stark-"

"I don't give a damn what he thinks," Steve cut Bucky off abruptly. "She's not his property. Let's give her a choice."

Bucky gave a soft sigh knowing Steve wasn't going to back off his idea. "Ask the others, let's see what they think."

"Already on it, Buck."

How could Tony just kick you out like that?

What could you have said that was so bad that your own brother would kick you out?

The thoughts spiraled in your mind as you sprawled out on your couch, a long, deep sigh pouring from your lips. It was only six and it felt like the longest day in the world. Not to mention your sub-group chat without Tony was blowing up your phone. You had to mute it to shut them up. All they were rambling about was if The Guardians idea was really the right one.

Clint had texted you as well. He asked if you knew who called off Quill. It was clear by his tone he already knew it was you. Clint always knew the sneaky things you did without Tony knowing. He kept things quiet. You liked Clint the most.

A strong knock shook you from your thoughts. You weren't expecting anyone, unless maybe Clint came over to question you further since you didn't respond to his texts.

You walked up to the door and opened it, shock filling your body when you saw Steve standing there.

"Steve," You breathed, unsure of what else to say.

"Hey, Stark." Steve gave a soft smile. He looked behind you and into your apartment, reminding you to let him in. You opened the door further and scooted out of his way so he could walk in. "Small place," He commented as he looked around.

"Big enough for one person," You countered, a smile playing at your lips. Steve wasn't here for trouble. "I would ask how you know where I live, but.."

Steve chuckled, "Yeah, we've all got our connections." He took a seat at the small bar-stool you had at your counter. "Pretty early to be sitting around at home."

You looked at your clothes, glancing down to realize you were in full sweats. "Yeah, Tony and I got in a disagreement today. Kinda spoiled the mood."

"What about?" Steve asked, genuine curiosity on his face.

"It's always something, I don't even know what this one's about." You sighed as you leaned against your wall. "You here to just chat?"

Steve shook his head, "Go get dressed, you're coming out with us tonight."

"Am I?" You asked curiously. "What for?"

"A thank you," Steve explained, "For the other night with Quill and his buddies."

If it was anyone else, you'd think you were getting played. Steve was different, though. He was genuine, he didn't bullshit with his kindness. Maybe your actions had bought you a one-way ticket to Steve's friendship. If that was even what you wanted. Tony would kill you.

"I'll go get dressed." Fuck what Tony thinks.

Steve waited on the stool as you changed in your room. "Where are we going?" You called out to Steve.

"The Grove," Steve replied, his voice loud so you could hear. "It's where we always go." Second time at The Grove, how exciting. "What do you want to drink? I can let Coulson know ahead of time."

You thought for a moment, "I'll do a cosmopolitan!"

You quickly touched up your makeup and walked out of your room, back to Steve who was waiting patiently. "A cosmopolitan, good choice." Steve smiled. "You all ready?"

"Yeah, let me grab a jacket." You said, looking at the muted news on your tv. "Never mind, it's going to be eighty. I won't need that."

"Especially with alcohol in you," Steve joked, opening your door for you. "My bike's outside, you can just ride with me."

You'd actually only ridden on a bike a small amount. Clint had one, but everyone else in the Syndicates had nice cars. It felt thrilling to be on a bike again. It made you feel even better when Steve handed you a helmet to wear. Thrilling but safe!

The Avengers and yourself were definitely a little bit tipsy at this point.

You were sat right in between Wanda and Natasha, who's head was currently on your shoulder to keep her upright as she laughed so hard she was shaking.

"And then he screamed louder than anyone," Natasha paused to wheeze in a breath. "I've ever heard!"

The table erupted in laugher, all besides Sam, who's face was heated while he scoffed. "It isn't that funny."

"No, it really is." Wanda waved him off as she hiccuped in laughter.

The only person not laughing besides Sam was Bucky. He was just oddly smiling to himself, unable to look up from his lap. Clearly the story had made him amused, but he couldn't look up at you.

"I would give all the money in the world to hear that." You admitted as you sipped your drink.

Natasha sat up quickly, "Here, let me try and replicate it for you." She falsettoed her voice and gave the most feminine, soft screech you'd ever heard, causing everyone to laugh once more.

"It did not sound like that," Sam muttered. "I'm too sober for this shit." He waved down Coulson for another one of his drinks.

"Okay, Stark. Give us something, you basically are surrounded by half-men all day. You have to have some funny story." Wanda asked as she set her attention on you.

You felt uneasy with the spotlight now on you. "Uhm," You hesitated. Honestly, you couldn't remember a time that was really funny. You were never invited to those sorts of hangouts. "I don't know."

"What?" Natasha was still smiling, but it was slightly falling as she shook her head. "You have to have something."

"I actually want to circle back to when Sam tried to flirt with that stripper who immediately tried to make him her toddler's daddy." You hoped the reference would side-track the table, which it immediately did as Wanda and Natasha cackled.

The look on Steve's face was telling; he knew exactly what was going on inside your head, and that was scary. You were quick to notice that was the first time Bucky had laid eyes on you, too. You turned your head to Wanda as she told the story, Sam trying his best to shut her up as she spoke.

Steve's face turned to stone, but inside, he was going over a thousand different thoughts. The first step to his new plan was getting Bucky and yourself acquainted.

"Bucky, do you think you could take Stark home for me?"

[ishipallthings]

Cap Iron Man Rec Week 2024 (Wed)

Early in Canon Wednesday - July 24th for @cap-ironman Rec Week

Fics set early in canon as the boys are getting to know each other :D

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

To Be With You (Is Easy) by Carsonian @carsonian (MCU)

Tony doesn't know what prompted him to visit the recently defrosted Captain America, and he certainly hadn't given much thought to the little confessionals he's given the comatose Capsicle. But when Steve Rogers wakes up and seeks him out, he finds there's an attraction between them that can't be denied.

No Return, No Return by Carsonian @carsonian (MCU)

In many ways, Tony Stark has spent his whole life waiting to meet something real enough to test himself against. He hadn't planned on it being Steve Rogers.

Wish You Were Here by One and Five Nines (MCU)

Steve starts sending Tony postcards.

tear these old walls down by susiecarter @susiecarter (MCU)

Steve didn't like Tony Stark. Stark probably didn't like Steve, either. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and that was putting it mildly. And having to pretend to be a civilian Stark was dating, as cover for trying to save Stark's life while Iron Man was busy with a SHIELD mission, obviously wasn't going to help.

when you're gone by talktothesky @thatbuddie (MCU)

Steve's had to get used to many things in the 21st century but falling in love with Tony Stark might be the weirdest one yet. Especially because the man's dead.

not a lot, just forever by Thahire @thahiree (MCU)

A few months after the Battle of New York, Tony invites Steve over to see the apartment he has built for him. Steve, of course, is totally normal about this and not panicking at all.

Handheld by talesofsuspense (MCU)

When Steve starts stopping for lunch at Shawarma Palace he isn't expecting Tony to show up and to keep showing up. And he definitely isn't expecting a guide to the 21st century.

posing up a storm by picturecat @snoozingcat (MCU, alt 2012)

“I have an idea. Can we just pretend the day ended with that really badass Superfriends pose we did?”

Machines and Marvels by rainbowninja167 (MCU, alt 2012)

Or: In an alternate timeline where the Avengers never formed, Steve and Tony need a crash course in team bonding. Stephen Strange just had to take that literally.

choke on me by imperialstark @persephonesfill (MCU, WIP)

After fending off an alien invasion, Tony Stark has one more obstacle to face; Steve Rogers. Steve believes that they have a connection which Tony is trying hard to ignore. After a moment of passion aboard the helicarrier, Tony can't seem to stay away from Steve as their lives grow ever more intertwined.

and two self-recs!

I'll Be (Good To You) by ishipallthings (MCU, soulmate AU)

Steve Rogers wakes up seventy years out of time to a new world and a soulmate. It’s an adjustment. What he doesn’t expect is Tony Stark, a brilliant futurist who is equal parts fascinating and frustrating, and has just as many demons as Steve. He also doesn’t expect to find a family with a ragtag team of superheroes, or to fall in love. Luckily, Steve is nothing if not adaptable.

An Armored Heart by ishipallthings (AA)

In which Red Skull goes after Steve Rogers, and Tony realizes just how much he has to lose.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned! Please mind the tags before reading. Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

[deathbyathousandspiders]

𝕸𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝕷𝐈𝐒𝐓 & 𝕹𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

a guide to me and my page <3

!!! QUICK CREDIT !!!

all of my dividers are from @firefly-graphics & the gifs as of rn are from other tumblr users until i can finish the ones im making :,)

🕊️ — content masterlist ;

here’s everything i’ve written so far !!

• 𝕴𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒.

REQUEST! a sign or something: mcu!peter parker, deaf!reader | genre: fluff | IN WHICH you and peter become an unlikely pair at midtown when he shows interest in learning some sign language.

REQUEST! boy in the bubble: mcu!peter parker, stark!daughter!reader | genre: angst, light fluff | IN WHICH your walk back from school goes wrong when peter parker doesn’t walk with you, & your father has a thing or two to say about it.

REQUEST!BLURB! catching cold: mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff | IN WHICH you cuddle peter back to warmth after he returns from patrol in the midst of a blizzard.

REQUEST! daddy issues: mcu!peter parker, stark!reader | genre: angst, fluff | IN WHICH it feels like your father has more love for his protégé than you nowadays, and you’ve reached a breaking point.

REQUEST! dusted: mcu!peter parker, stark!reader | genre: angst | IN WHICH you lose your battle to thanos and your dad and peter watch you dissipate.

dusted (part two): mcu!peter parker, stark!reader | genre: hardcore angst | IN WHICH you may have won the war against thanos, but you witnessed the loss of something much greater. the loss of your father.

REQUEST! geeky tangents; mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff, ?smut? | IN WHICH you find it important to prove how sweet & adorable your boyfriend is.

guilty as sin: jj maybank | genre: ?angst?, ?smut? | IN WHICH you & JJ finally face each other after he drunkenly confessed to you, but what will your boyfriend think?

REQUEST! meet–cute: mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff | IN WHICH a knock on the sanctum door interrupts your task of housesitting for dr. strange.

REQUEST! security system: mcu!peter parker, stark!reader | genre: fluff, ?smut? | IN WHICH peter & you avoid telling your father, tony stark, about your relationship, only to find out that he’s known for longer than you’d thought.

twenty–bucks: mcu!peter parker | genre: angst, fluff | IN WHICH the avengers had their theories about you & peter’s secret pining, but they never realized just how serious it was until a mission went south.

• 𝕾𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

REQUEST! cuddle–bugs; mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff | IN WHICH you & your best friend fall asleep on the couch together, & the avengers can’t let go of the obvious chemistry.

| part one | part two | part three | part four | final part |

hell–bound; mcu!peter parker au | genre: angst, thriller, drama (some smut, some gore) | IN WHICH you are the last hope for saving the world from HYDRA & their zombie apocalypse.

| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six |

🐚 — request boundaries ;

i’m fairly comfortable w anything! i’ll explicitly say if something makes me uncomfortable, like this:

i’m not comfortable writing about real people (actors, influencers, etc) or specific characters/types of characters (psychotic, psychopathic, serial killer, hobie brown, dark!characters, etc). i will not write pedophilia, incest, or any social issues.

i am comfortable writing headcanons, scenarios, imagines, angst, fluff, smut, au’s, and any kind of pairing!

leave a request here !!

🥥 — characters & fandoms ;

marvel | peter parker, steve rogers, yelena belova, gwen stacy, miles morales, loki laufeyson.

outer banks | jj maybank, john b routledge, topper thornton.

harry potter | cedric diggory, draco malfoy, harry potter, ?james potter, remus lupin, serius black?.

stranger things | steve harrington, robin buckley, ?eddie mudson, billy hargrove?

twilight | edward cullen, jasper hale, alice cullen, rosalie cullen, charlie swan.

leave a request here !!

🪷 — about me ;

my name is elle :) [ pronouns: she/they] i’m a college student who finds comfort in writing 🫶. my favorite color’s green, i’m in love w tom holland, and my favorite band is the neighborhood !!! i also have three cats!!

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster 8

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Master list

Chapter Warnings: SMUT A/N: So... I did a sneaky in this chapter. First one to guess correctly gets a 500 word Sandman drabble (you can give me a prompt or let me go wild - your choice). This is the biggest tender!fuck I've ever seen. Like damn. It's an important beat between chapter arcs, and there are some themes/hints ya'll should really take note of. For reasons. All I want for my birthday are comments, my dears! <3 Thank you for your ongoing support.

8. Seal

What happened?

Creeping out of the fog, she swept together the distant pieces of her waking mind, looking for a thought, or a plan, or…

What happened?

She’d had a wonderful dream. Safe. Warm. Happy. If she could fall back asleep and drop back into that place – those arms – she would, but a sleeping mind never followed the same course. She was waking, and it was over.

But she didn’t remember going to bed.

That was all right. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten drunk or collapsed after days without sleep. Not a problem.

But –

She hadn’t set her wards.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hand sprang out, reaching for the bag of black salt she always kept near her bed in the van. Anything could come, anything could already be there. As she jerked to consciousness, full of half-remembered terror – the mirror, the unseelie, her skin, the dress – long fingers caught her flailing hand. They wove seamlessly between her own, pulling her attention down to starry eyes. Soft lips pressed to her knuckles, calling her back from the brink of delirium.

“All is well.” Morpheus’ thumb rubbed along her throbbing pulse, distracting her from her panic with tactile affection. He read the beat as her memory settled, as she recalled where she was and what they’d shared. He must have felt the spiking rhythm, too, judging by his smirk.

He was beautiful. And definitely naked under the grey silk sheets that gathered over his waist.

She licked her lips, at a loss for words as the butterflies she thought she’d banished sprang back to life in her stomach.

“Hello.”

Yes. Excellent. Definitely the most romantic greeting after waking up for the first time in a lover’s bed. In her fucking eldritch soulmate’s apparent love nest, actually. So far as she could tell, they weren’t even in a room. She could see him easily, but beyond the place where they were lying, she could only see vague, bushy shapes that could’ve been clouds or trees. Lights flickered in them. Maybe stars. Possibly fireflies.

No visible exits. Not even a floor, in fact.

Though it wasn’t like she was in a rush to leave.

“Hello.”

Following his gentle tug, she sank back to rest on her side, facing him.

He was so beautiful. She’d already thought it, but damn if it wasn’t worth thinking twice. With his disheveled raven hair and self-satisfied expression, he looked at least half as debauched as she felt.

Which reminded her.

Oh shit.

She was naked, too.

Her free hand moved towards the sheets that had fallen all the way to her thighs when she sat up, but his disapproving pout made her second guess herself.

Covering bare skin was instinctual. Especially after everything she’d suffered in –

No, no. Not thinking of that. She physically shook her head to banish the flashes of pain and fear trying to manifest.

She was safe. She was happy. Her Dream was real, and she could be vulnerable with him in this world apart. Nothing would hunt her here. Nothing would dare. He would avenge and protect her.

Carefully, consciously, she let her hand drift from the sheets, and Morpheus smiled in the wake of her decision.

“My love,” he purred, looping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, “I want you.”

He nuzzled into her neck, kissing under her ear and finding new places her blood pounded under her skin. She found herself trying to remember language, how to speak in anything but sighs. Prince of Stories. Right. Whatever. Prince of Carnal Brainmelt more like. He made it impossible to think, working little bites over her flesh as he continued his eager assault, leaving her squirming, and desperate, and tongue-tied.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt them burning far below her skin. Below flesh and bone. Stars were only cold because of their distance, and she was much too close to see them as anything but suns. She knew it was reckless to look, to stare back and let the heat blind her, but…

She couldn’t pull away now, even if she wanted to. He didn’t need prison bars and pansies to trap her.

Panting, she finally strung together an answer. “I want you, too.”

Her words brought him back to her lips, and he wasted no time licking into her mouth, sharing his heated groans. One hand slipped around to cradle her head. The one he’d used to reel her in crept down, brushing along her waist, squeezing her hip, and settling on her thigh. Strong fingers pulled her leg over his hip, and she groaned back into their kiss as his clear desire brushed her clit.

He didn’t press, only dragging himself through her folds as he explored her mouth. When she stopped for breath, he kissed under her chin, palm flexing just over her knee. She writhed with his slow strokes, enjoying the moment but far from satisfied.

“I need you.” Kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, she sang her yearning. “I need you, Morpheus.”

Her words found him and burned the way his eyes flamed in her soul. She saw them kindling in his gaze as he pulled away to watch her face, swallowing every flicker of expression as he teased her entrance. And pushed inside.

The world hummed.

It was all beginnings and endings and discoveries. Dream was himself, and she was with him.

He moved so slowly, and she clung tight, shaking as the pleasure built with the inexorable pace of sunrise. Clutching his shoulder, his back, she fought to keep breathing, to keep her head above water as he pushed and pulled inside. Gods. He’d drown her, and she’d gladly find death here in his arms.

“You asked what I want.” He wasn’t as helpless to his physical manifestation as she was to her human body, but his rough voice proved how she affected him, and a sunburst of pride glowed in her breast. “Perhaps I was dishonest with myself. I want the measure of your dreams and your waking hours, too.”

He hunted for her fear, waiting for the golden moment to snap under the weight of his confession. His searching eyes flicked over hers, desperate but guarded. She didn’t know what to say. If she could say anything. But she wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t threatening her – this was an invitation. And she could only invite him back, let him feel the truths she couldn’t name yet.

Her hands settled on his face, trying to soothe the needles of anxiety, his anticipated despair. She offered more kisses, pulling at his lips, welcoming and reciprocating each touch in an effort to reach deeper. Too feel even more.

His grip on her thigh tightened, and he rolled half over her, leaving his sedate, almost drowsy lovemaking behind. Still tender, but openly needy, he picked up speed, using the new angle to his advantage.

She thought she’d been breathless before – fuck.

“I want… a life. A story. You.” He was begging. Commanding. On the cusp of claiming his own dream.

He didn’t take. He shared. They gave and met in true union, tasting elements beyond bodies to melt through time embrace destiny. A snare of their wyrds. A welcome loss wrapped in discovery.

Her heart would burst. There wasn’t enough of her to hold the love for something so vast as her monster, her Morpheus, and as he hiked her leg even higher on his waist, she grabbed him by the hair. She needed him. She needed his kiss, his breath, or she’d fall apart. He obliged, but she knew she’d go to pieces regardless.

As his thrusts grew more erratic, she broke.

The most exquisite destruction.

He pushed as deep as he could reach as she pulled out his own end, but he didn’t give her space to breathe. Rolling again so she was half draped – entirely boneless – over his chest, he kept his defiantly hard length inside. She’d have rest, but no peace.

Stroking her hair, he murmured into the crown of her head, “Stay, my love. I’m not ready to let you go.”

[irondadfics]

Hello! I was wondering if anyone knows any fics of Peter being a bit of a dick? I love the stories where he is rude to people, normally as a way to push them away so they can’t see how bad his life is. Any examples of rude/sassy Peter would be greatly appreciated!

here are some for you! Happy reading

Wake up and smell the coffee by Bergen

The Avengers find themselves in need of Spider-Man’s help to improve their reputation. Peter Parker, however, doesn't exactly have the best reputation: he has been dabbling in a life of crime. Tony really doesn't care about picking up after some degenerate teen. Peter really doesn't care about some dumb adults telling him what to do. And nothing will ever, ever change their minds.

100 Hours (Community Service is for the Turtles) by orphan_account

“Hey there, Parker. I’ve got some exciting news about your community service sentencing,” the bright voice from the other line says. "It looks like you've been reassigned." “Oh, yeah?” Peter asks, warily. His social worker sounds excited, but he's been burned a few too many times to take any "good news" at face value. Peter listens to her explain with a furrowed brow, and when the call is over, he opens the web browser on his cracked Android and quickly types the words september foundation into the search bar. His eyes narrow as he peruses the top result. Oh, he is going to kill that Stark bastard. - All Peter Parker wants to do is fly under the radar. He wants to go to school, work off his sentence by picking up trash at the stupid park, and avoid going home for as long as possible each night. Unfortunately for him, Tony Stark has never been one to see untapped potential and not do something about it.

The seventh escape by Bergen

Tony and Pepper snatched Peter up only a few weeks after the first Spider-Man video went viral. Real fucking coincidence, right? Suddenly, Tony Stark rocked right up at his group home, strewing business cards around like he was Oprah. If Oprah were an ugly white dude with a goatee. “Big fan,” he told Peter, fasting forward through a video of Spider-Man catching a bus before it crashed through a road block. “In and out of foster care your whole life, am I right? I believe my wife and I could provide a very fitting home for you.” “Pass,” Peter said.

Paradigm shift by Bergen

Peter got a Stark phone when he was ten. Adrian took him to a big store with lots of TV screens that all played the same video of Tony Stark declaring to the world that he was Iron Man. They ducked behind the microwaves, both of them giggling as Adrian stuffed the phone under Peter’s sweater. They walked right out the door without tripping the alarm, and Adrian bought him ice cream to celebrate. — After his parents die, Peter is taken in by the Toomes family. Things slowly, then quickly spiral out of control. All Adrian wants is to take revenge on Tony Stark. All Peter wants is to do the right thing. Why is that so much harder than expected?

the long game by niniblack

“Your prints were a match for a missing persons case from ten years ago. A little boy who was kidnapped.” The officer pulls out a picture that she turns toward Peter. It’s a little boy around four years old, with curly brown hair. “That’s you,” she says. Peter shakes his head. “Do you remember how you got to that park? Who left you there?” “Lady, I don’t remember jack shit,” Peter says. “I was like four. No one remembers shit from when they were four.” --- Or: the biodad au where Peter gets arrested for selling drugs, and that actually improves his life.

[running-with-the-feels]

To add more onto the Tomàš remembers au! I definitely think if he remembered everything from the get-go, he'd be a lot more angry at the world.

Kuai Liang, pulling Tomàš off an enemy: He's dead, Smoke. He's dead. Breathe.

Tomàš, looking down at hands stained in blood realizing he went too far: Oh..

Furthermore, I feel like he wouldn't tell anyone his real name for like trauma/vulnerability reasons? Like him refraining from telling people his real name because that's the name of the boy who was burned alive. He is Smoke, and no one will hurt him like that ever again.

- ok my smoke brainrot has been typed out of my system (for now)

ooooooo I like this a lot

Like, Lin Kuei and names are always a fun mix and Tomàš as a character has a lot of potential in that regard.

But then also imagine him telling Kuai Liang his name before they head to the tournament to avenge Bi-Han, like, they both know that this quest is going to kill them. If not at the tournament then by the Lin Kuei afterwards, so what has he got to lose?

And Kuai Liang understands how painful it is for Tomàš so to ease that pain he keeps calling him Smoke.

Right up until he sees Sindel kill Tomàš and Kuai Liang shouts his real name, which is the last thing Tomàš hears

[oranjeleeuw]

hows the pacific rim au going ???? its such a neat idea and i need ppl to draw concept art for it

DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU MY FRIEND

First of all, life happened and happened for good, I couldn't write much before but Now. NOW is the time.

I planned and plotted a lot during the whole year I first came up with the idea and I have a kind of strong base for the AU. I also have a brilliant beta by my side, my dear friend Frog (@faramircaptainofgender), so hopefully during this summer this idea will be shared with you all outside our little friend group.

I'll take this opportunity and shamelessly turn my answer into a main post for the AU.

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the title:

Human within the Machine

[brief synopsis]

The Nations of the world developed a simulation where future Jaeger pilots can practice for in-action cases. Max Verstappen outshines every other contestants in the history of drifting, there's only one problem - he's no team player.

Charles Leclerc is determined to stop the Kaijus and end their reign, once and for all. He lost his parents due to kaiju attacks, now he feels responsible not only to avenge their deaths, but to bring a brighter future to his brothers.

Jaeger engineering is living its golden age, there is money in it and many enthusiastic contestants who are not entirely aware of the horror that awaits them out at the ocean.

[disclaimer]

There’s no main plot (as in: I am not planning on detailed world-building neither to save the world from kaijus, I am smaller than that), the endgame is to get Max into an active combat where he drifts with Charles and they’re in the Il Predestinato (the legendary Jaeger that has been out of service for a decade, waiting for the right co-pilots). Everything before and in between are just themes I desire to explore within the possibilities of this AU.

 ╔════════════════╗

I have a playlist that helps me to stay inspired, songs are not in order yet though, but as I said earlier, chapters are meant to be kind-of standalone scenes, existing in their own moods and settings.

Each chapter will have its own chosen background music linked to them. I also added many symphonic songs just to get in the mood for some combat scenes.

 ╔════════════════╗

[good to know]

Roles: In the case of HwtM we have active and passive characters in this story. Due to the fact that many scenes are set in drift-memories, where not everything is factual and we are in the mix of memories and feelings, some characters will only appear and speak through these moments. Therefore they fall into the passive category - they are the legends. I will talk about them in their own post but the gist of it is what I wrote above, they cannot speak for themselves so we will only see them through tilted lenses: idolised, villanised, or the mix of both.

Which also means another thing - everyone is an unreliable narrator.

Teams and Jaegers: Since this is the golden age of Jaeger engineering, we will have many-many Jaegers. So far I named only a few, but to stay true to the source material, I'm trying to make them just as cheesy yet compelling as the ones were in the movies. The constructor teams from real life are not so different from what they represent in HwtM, but I altered some of their names to fit more into the world (older names or older sounding names of some teams since the future that Pacific Rim has is basically our present. I was aiming for some retro-vibe).

Here, they are different detachments under the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, in the Jaeger Academy division. I’m planning on working with Merc, Ferrari, McLaren, Williams and of course Redbull.

Mercedes is called Benz

Ferrari is called Alfa Romeo

Red Bull is Toro Rosso

The other two stay under the same name.

Ships to look out for: it is a Lestappen-centered story (if I am really honest with you, it’s Max-centered first of all) but on the side-lines we will look into some depths of Carlando, Galex and Maxiel in…some way. Please-please keep in mind, that these won’t be fully developed romantic relationships in the fic, I’m reporting from the minds and souls of these boys, objectively perceived scenes between them will be rare and much more comrade-like.

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That is all I planned to share for starters. Feel free to ask about the process or anything really, that is related to this project, it’s my beloved child and can’t wait to share it all with others!

[mgnifique-tion]

— human reaction.

summary || ``you’re starting to wonder if attending work after your day-off was a mistake.``

pairing: 2012!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: tesseract - cix (p.s. check out seunghun on build-up rn!) lowercase is intended… part: 1/?

— themes and warning/s: open-ended, enemies to potential lovers (for sure, they will be lovers soon), NOT a stand-alone one shot ;) wink wink, bossy loki, y/n being somewhat a dumb human being (heroism)

— a/n: hi! back with another loki au this march and guys, this is not a phase– IT’S NOT A PHASE, MOM! (corny? i graduated with that course in the university of the cornyology – i’m not even done with g12 lmfao wtf am i saying) anywho, i miss him. i literally rewatched the avengers for him and i'm not even active w the mcu anymore. i actually have a lot of other pending drafts from my main acc (@mgnifiqueyoo - follow me there :3) and so many unfinished IMPORTANT work from real life but like i thought of a line and now, i just HAVE to write it or it's outta my head so here u go. lmao. enjoy!

[ total words: 1.9k ]

support me on ko-fi! ☕

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“... oh my god.”

that was all you could mutter under your breath the moment you saw the rest of your co-workers controlled by that thing the alien held in his palm. you didn’t show up to work yesterday since you were just taking the final steps in finishing that project of yours.

what was the project? the hypercryogenic station.

and now, after a long day of ignoring your texts and calls, you ended up going to work, which happened to be a terrible idea. better yet, a horrible mistake. “... excuse me?” you took small steps, nearing the towering male as he just stood still, not facing you. all of your friends were doing his commands without any questions and you knew that clint barton would never do any of this!

but he did anyway. and you had to know why.

“what did you do with them?” you asked, demanding for answers as you heard him let out an almost inaudible chuckle only to be followed by a deep, low snicker. the alien slowly turned around and looked you straight in the eye, sweat pouring down his face with a sharp glare while his teeth ground against each other.

he was just terrifying, how else could you leave the facility without getting killed?

“oh, is that supposed to matter?” the alien mocked, later glancing at the staff he held before looking back at you, his smirk disappearing little by little. “... you must be horrified, aren’t you?”

of course you were, who wouldn’t be horrified when they see something like this? 

but before he could even get closer to you, he suddenly stumbled. that wasn’t something you expected since you assumed that he was a powerful being out of this world after seeing that wardrobe choice but he showed… weakness? it’s hard not to take note of it for future purposes.

you then cleared your throat and asked, “are you okay?”

but he said nothing in return, tense and trembling with every step. he had a maniacal look on his face as if he couldn’t control his actions; he seemed like he was enduring something that was hurting him inside.

and that got you thinking what else was happening with the man in front of you. “so, that’s a no?” 

“you’re the expert,” he said, “you’re the one blessed with knowledge over what it is that’s happening to me now.”

you frowned. you definitely had no idea what was going on with him and you were planning on leaving him to himself when he surprisingly grabbed your wrist. “heal me,” he pleaded, breathing in and out rapidly as you felt the burning heat that surrounded his palm, which led to that moment of realization.

“i… i don’t know how–,” you were then cut-off by him tilting his head to the project: the hypercryogenic station. if you ever had a scanner around you, his heat signature would be all over the place because of how high his temperature was. “but the station hasn’t even been tested yet and it could be dangerous for you and for all of us!”

the alien shook his head frantically, not letting any excuses get into his way. “if you don’t help me right now…” his breath hitched as the tip of the scepter was pointed at your chest, right at your heart. “you won’t be living for long.”

and that made you take so many steps, assisting him in the station as you closed the door. “you can’t be in there for more than a minute, it’s highly dangerous and i’m telling you, we haven’t done any tests yet–”

“just begin with the process.” his voice had gotten lower, hoarser with every moment that passed as you felt your heart race quicker. you knew that if you made a mistake, somebody like barton would kill you; there was no way out.

so the gears started running and you watched how the glass windows of the station had fogged up. your life’s work was being used by an unknown entity who took over the minds of your co-workers. your friends.

you couldn’t help but cry silently, biting your nails while you stood a meter away from the finished project. how could a five-year plan get wasted? to this unreadable, tyrannic humanoid? you can’t even breathe well.

and once the process was done, the station’s doors slid apart, creating a path for the man inside. when he stepped out of it, he didn’t even seem affected by it. all normal and human-like as if he had only bathed himself in some snow and not in an actual blizzard.

but colder than his skin was his gaze toward you, the scepter staring back at you as well, watching the way you took a few steps away from him.

“who are you?” you asked, your eyes glued to the scepter rather than his face, which caused him to get agitated.

in return, the tip of the scepter’s blade touched your chin, tilting your head up so that you could look at him. “i am loki of asgard,” he introduced with a deranged grin as you heard the way his breath hitched, overwhelmed and proud with how he spoke to you. 

that was enough to make you take another step back but his hand grabbed your arm like a lock, fastened so tightly that it made everything worse for you. “what did you do with them?” you tilted your head to the blue-eyed agents now circling the entire room, which made loki laugh.

he truly was out of his mind. 

“i simply used them for a greater purpose,” he said back, letting out another chuckle as the scepter gleamed in response. it was in his complete control… they were all under his control.

how in the world can you run from this?

“let them go.” “oh, we’re getting heroic now, aren’t we?”

he mocked you shamelessly as if it wasn’t your invention that saved him from his visible misery – whatever it was that hurt him earlier.

“... well, i did save you.” you just had to let a bit of sass come out because it was true. however, loki didn’t seem to be fond of that and had read that as entitlement rather than a reminder of who did save him.

nonetheless, he lowered his weapon and laughed once more. “your little saving was merely necessary, mortal. i could’ve used that machine myself.” of course, he disregarded that tiny, little favour you did for him and decided that it’d be best to not even give out a little thank you.

but then, again, what do you expect from an aspiring alien tyrant?

“but you couldn’t because i programmed it for my access only,” you continued the conversation, stating the truth right in front of him. that was your life’s work… you still couldn't believe that it was firstly used by some tall man with a scepter and emerald drapes. “besides, that thing you used wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.”

there was long silence once again… perhaps, even longer than moments of silence you had earlier when your eyes scanned over the rest of the place.

almost the entirety of the facility was led by loki. horrifyingly brainwashed by that scepter.

“fair enough,” he admitted, “but you wouldn’t be breathing if i hadn’t given you the chance.”

“... do you want me to thank you? for this?” “giving thanks means nothing. i need something much more than that.”

you crossed your arms, gulping as you still tried to make yourself seem as if you had the upper hand. an imaginary upper hand, perhaps? although you had put on that mask, loki knew you were afraid of what he could do to you. 

if this is only a preview of the damage he’s capable of causing, just how could you survive while being opposed to him?

“i could…” he trailed off, smirking to himself as he circled the station, his palm touching its painted and carved surface while the scepter glowed in his other hand. “hm… i could do the same to you. put your talent to use like the others.”

and you readied yourself, closing your eyes as your once crossed arms dropped to your sides, hopeless and left without a sign of help. “but you have not attacked me once,” he said with a tone of interest, diverting his attention from the opportunity of just controlling you like a mindless servant and rather feeling positive about a different, riskier path. “and you’ve saved me. willingly. no control needed.”

he walked towards you, breathing heavily and letting out a low chuckle. “do you know what gift you have, dr. l/n?” he questioned, expecting you to know the answer as he tilted your head upwards again with the end of the scepter. one wrong push and you could bleed to death; he was being careful with you still.

after all, you were a great addition to his plans.

“humanity, l/n.” he proudly stated, now lowering his weapon as your heart raced. never did you fear death until now, especially when your life would fade to grey without the knowledge of what’ll happen next. to the world and the people around you. “you’ve got so much humanity in you that your best choice was to save a dying god. it’s foolish, l/n. how could you be so brilliant but foolish?–”

“are you done?” you had enough of it, still staring at one corner as you saw how your friend’s eyes still gleamed in blue, manipulated by the god standing right in front of you while the remaining lights of the facility shone over his prepped quiver, ready to attack whenever, however.

and of course, the god of mischief was indeed offended by that. “... you’re so brave, it’s idiotic.” he laughed, shaking his head as if you both had been joking with one another and you felt the heat rush up your head; you didn’t want this. you just wanted your friends to be set free – your world to be set free from this being. 

“what do you desire in return?” “for you to stop whatever you’re planning here, my lord.”

even though loki knew you were being sarcastic, he just admired the way it rolled off your tongue. “you do know that does not equate to what you’ve done for me and you might want to do something more for me if you’d want that to happen,” he said, denying your request with a snicker. “but of course, i still appreciated your service earlier so how about i offer you something else?”

he’s cheating, you thought.

“in exchange of your little saving, it’ll be guaranteed that not one of us would lay a finger on you…” he paused, hiding the scepter behind his back as you tilted your head to the side. were you even hearing this correctly? that was too low. “and you would be shielded from any harm as well.”

but can you do anything about it? no. “is that good enough for you, my little savior?”

you had to think about it for longer than a second. why only a second, you may ask? well, does it look like you still have enough time to decide perfectly? the world is at stake; you had to give an answer now or worse destruction could happen.

“fine,” you uttered, firmly extending your hand towards him as he only stared back at your empty, shaking palm. “i’ll do whatever it takes to free this world from you.”

“that’s laughable.” “we’ll see, your majesty.”