#middle of nowhere nebraska and i love it

[sakizm]

why did it take me until now to realize that my ireland trip is THREE months away??

[softestqueeen]

hiii ! im a sucker for the early stages of crushing, so i was wondering if i could request a hotch fic where it's chilly out, and you forget to bring a jacket so hotch offers his suit coat to you and it's just so warm and it smells so good that you end up blurting out how much you like the way he smells and how much you appreciate him. aH idk i hope this made sense 😭 ty!! 🫶

a/n: omg anon, i'm literally OBSESSED with this!! i hope you like it <3 warnings: none, pure fluff, almost 1k words (damn)

Most people would say Nebraska is a lovely place to be. Breathtaking views, mostly nice folks and no 100-degree weather like Quantico, Virginia. But you had to disagree.

The team has been called in for a sensitive case regarding four missing children. So, the team immediately grabbed their go-bags and hopped on the jet.

Now having settled at the police station, you realised – you had forgotten to pack a jacket. The one essential for this kind of weather was currently hanging on a rack in your flat. After you had gotten blood on it at the last case, you cleaned it and hung it up so you could pack it again. Damnit, you thought to yourself, you thought you had packed it. Now you would have to try to stay somewhat warm and not catch hypothermia, while also staying sharp so you could get the children in time. Great.

You prayed that Hotch would group you with Reid, so you could stay at the station and work the geographical profile. But with your luck, of course you were chosen to check out the abduction sites – which were all not just in the middle of nowhere, but also in the open aka the cold – with no one less than the unit chief himself.

After hyping yourself up a bit, you were convinced you could do it. The car ride was nice, the heating making it enjoyable, but the moment you stepped into the cold you knew you couldn’t do it. As much as you tried to keep your teeth from clattering and your whole body from shivering, sometimes you could hear your teeth or see your hands shaking when you took them away from the warm comfort of your body.

You hoped Hotch wouldn’t notice it, but who where you fooling? He probably knew you forgot your jacket before you even noticed.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket, agent? It’s freezing. Did you forget it in the car?” to everybody else it sounded like everything else he said, stoic, emotionless but after working with him for quite some time you could make out the genuine worry in his voice.

Immediately trying to reassure him you said, “Oh, I think I forgot it at the station, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” The moment the lie left your mouth, you both could hear that that wasn’t the truth.

Of course, Aaron had already noticed your missing jacket in the jet while everybody was wrapping themselves in their thickest winter clothing, you obliviously kept reading your book.

He didn’t have to think much before shrugging off his coat and offering it to you, already holding it in the perfect way for you to just slip into it. Ever the gentleman.

“Oh, that’s really nice of you, but that’s not necessary, really,” you hoped that he would blame your reddening cheeks on the cold and not his boyfriend like behaviour. You don’t know why you were this flustered, you were sure he would do the same thing for Emily or even Reid.

“Please take it, you’ve been shivering since we arrived, and I don’t want to lose one of my best agents because of hypothermia. It really is no problem.”

He wiggled the coat a little bit and you were actually too cold to resist the promise of a nice and warm coat. Stepping forward you let your arms slip into the warm fabric before closing one of the buttons in the front.

It was easy to tell that it was way too big, but it was so warm also smelled just like Hotch’s cologne.

“Thank you, but you really didn’t have to, Hotch. I don’t want you to freeze now,” you told him in an almost scolding voice.

“I’ll live. Shall we get back to the scenes, see if there’s anything we’ve missed?” after humming in agreement the two of you fell into your usual rhythm again.

There was one problem – now that the cold wasn’t distracting you, it was his scent that lingered on the coat. And it was not just his cologne but also something that was just undeniably him. Masculine, raw and absolutely to die for.

You knew you couldn’t keep your feelings for the unit chief a secret for long. After confiding to the BAU-girls at a get together in the local bar, the rest seemed to catch on rather quickly too. The only person that was still completely oblivious was Hotchner himself. What would shock you, was that he also had feelings for you, but just genuinely didn’t think that you would like him as a friend or even a romantic partner. And you were also very oblivious to the looks he gave you and how often he smiled around you.

Suddenly his voice brought you back to reality “Is everything all right? Are you still cold? Do you want to go to the station?” Still lost in your own though you answer “Oh no, it’s all right. Your jacket smells nice by the way,” without really realising that you had just said that out loud you add more conscious now, “I think we did what we could here. We should head back to the others.”

Immediately after saying it you turn around and walk back to the car, leaving a baffled and slightly blushing Aaron Hotchner behind. In that moment he was very glad that you didn’t see him.

But now he knew, he definitely had to find a way to tell you how he feels, or else you are going to be the death of him.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBan

[sissylittlefeather]

Moonlight swim 💕

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 7: Moonlight Swim

A/N: I know I am WAY late on this, but I might just keep writing these until I finish them, even though Christmas is definitely over. Oh well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, stranger sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~2k

And bonus:

You love living in Hawaii. You don't usually love all the people who come from everywhere to make your home their escape. But, tourism is the industry and you end up working in a hotel dealing with tourists all day every day. Most of them drive you crazy, especially the middle-aged men from fly-over states who hit on you shamelessly in front of their wives.

You're locked into just such an interaction with a man from nowhere Nebraska one day when you're rescued by a knight in Hawaiian-print cotton.

“Oh, now, come on sweetheart, how are we s’posed to find a good restaurant if you won't come have a drink with us?” The balding man waggles his eyebrows, obviously hoping for more than just a drink. His wife seems curiously on-board with you joining them as she nods excitedly behind him.

“Thank you, sir, but I really shouldn't. Here is a list of restaurants around the hotel.” You hand him a flyer and try to brush him off since you've never been interested in a threesome, much less with an aging couple who came to Hawaii to let loose after their kids flew the nest.

“Sweetheart, we don't want the tourist treatment. We want to know the real good places���” As he puts his hand on top of yours, you hear another voice.

“Hiya honey! You ‘bout ready to go?” You look up at the new voice in shock. Not only is he a complete stranger talking to you like he's known you his whole life, he might be the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Then it hits you: he's Elvis fucking Presley.

“Umm… I… what?” You stumble over your words and pull your hand away from the first man.

“We're still on for this evening, right? I hope you didn't forget. I made a reservation and everything.” He knits his eyebrows together in false concern and you realize what he's doing.

“Yes! Of course!” You turn back to the bewildered couple. “You'll have to excuse me. My shift just ended and I have a date. Please enjoy any of the restaurants on the list.”

Elvis smiles and waits patiently as you grab your purse from under the desk and walk around to the front side. Luckily, it's 5pm and your shift really did just end. When you get to him, he throws his arm around your waist and kisses your temple, guiding you out of the hotel and away from the gawking couple. He walks you all the way to a car in the parking lot.

“Thank you. I wasn't sure how I was going to get away from those two.” He smiles genially.

“You're welcome, honey. I'm Elvis.”

“Yeah.” You tell him your name and he shakes your hand like he's nobody at all. After a beat of awkwardness, you turn to walk to your own car but he calls after you.

“Hey, listen. I know that was a rescue operation, but I really would like to have dinner with you, if ya want?” Your mouth pops open before you can stop it.

“Wait, really? You wanna have dinner with me?”

“Yeah! I just got here and I don't really know anyone. If you want to?” You try to hide the fact that you're completely caught off guard by the most famous man on the planet asking you to dinner.

“Sure. I mean, yes! I'd love to have dinner with you.” He smiles and you almost faint.

“Okay then. You pick the place.” He opens the car door for you and you slide into the seat as he runs around and gets into the driver’s side. You take him to one of your favorite restaurants, a little hole-in-the-wall place that no one would ever expect, and he loves it. He's surprisingly easy to talk to and before you know it, it's dark. You talk even more and the restaurant owners start to eye you because they need to close.

“This has been really great, but we should get out of here.” You giggle shyly. He nods and you head back to his car. Once you get to the hotel, though, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“I'm not quite ready for bed. You know of somewhere we can go to keep talking?” He looks at you with his eyes so innocent and pleading that you couldn't say no if you wanted to. You wrack your brain for somewhere you could take him that might be private.

“I have an idea.” He smiles and kisses your fingers again. Then, you guide him to the place. When you get there, his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“A beach?” He asks as you get out of the car.

“Why not? Nobody knows about this place. We'll have it to ourselves.” You've come here since you were a kid, so you know it's pretty secluded. You get down to the water and sure enough, it's completely deserted.

“It's pretty.” He comments, coming up behind you and sliding his arms around your waist. You look out at the almost-full moon on the water, the soft sound of waves filling the night air.

“This is my favorite spot on the island.” You whisper, enjoying the feeling of having him wrapped around you.

“I can see why.” The only sound is the water as you stand there for a bit in silence. “Let's go for a swim.”

“I don't have a swimsuit?” He pulls away from you and you notice he has started taking his clothes off.

“Do ya need one?” You look at him standing there with just his linen pants on and shrug.

“No, I suppose I don't.” He smiles as you start to strip too. When you get down to your bra and panties, you realize he still has on his pants. “Hey, now, if I'm in my underwear it's only fair that you are too.”

“I'm not wearin’ any.” He grins. “If I take these pants off you gotta be naked with me.”

Without another thought, you unclasp your bra and drop your panties, taking off for the water before he can get a good look. He laughs and follows you, his pants left behind on the beach. In the water, he finds your waist with his hands and pulls you in close to him.

“I haven't had this much fun in a long time.” He teases your nose with his own.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“No, really. My life is one big set up. This is the most freedom I've experienced in years. Makes a guy wish he could run away.” You look into his eyes and see the vulnerability of truth there. Then, you lean forward and press your lips against his softly. He moans quietly and then kisses you again, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip, begging for access. Opening your mouth, you deepen the kiss and press your body against him. His hands start to roam over your skin, first pulling your hips in tight and then skimming up to your breasts to squeeze them gently. You feel your body respond as he rolls your nipples in his fingers. He kisses down your neck, pulling on your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. The sensation of his lips pressing against your neck elicits a soft whimper from you and the heat between you builds. You feel his hard cock where it presses against your center and moan into his mouth. He starts to carry you towards the beach, the waves lapping at his legs.

“Need to be inside you, doll.” He whispers as he carries you and you nod frantically. When he gets back up to the sand, he moves to his knees, rearranging you so that you're on your knees on top of him. The tip of his dick is pressed against your clit, weeping precum onto you, adding to your own natural wetness. He holds your ass with one hand and uses the other to rub himself in your wet folds. “You want it, baby?”

“So bad… please…”

“Such a good girl, begging for this cock.” His voice is low and sultry in your ear as he teases you. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

“You…”

“More specific.” His breath is hot on your neck and ear and you need him so badly you could scream, your empty pussy clenching around nothing.

“I want your cock inside me.” You feel him smile against your neck as he pushes the tip into you.

“Good girl. I'm gonna give you what you want.” He moves both hands to your ass cheeks and pushes you down, filling you up slowly. You feel yourself stretching around him and your head falls back. “No baby, look at me.”

He lifts your head to look into your eyes as he bottoms out inside you, groaning.

“I want to see your pretty face when you cum for me.” You moan softly and then he begins to pick you up and drop you on his dick. “Like that, princess. Let me fuck you until you can't stand it. I want you to scream my name so loud the moon can hear you.”

You clutch his shoulders, your nails digging into his soft flesh as he continues lifting and dropping you onto his cock. He's the perfect length and shape to brush your g-spot with every thrust and you feel your climax getting closer and closer. Your pussy begins to tighten around him and he groans loudly.

“Gonna… cum… soon…” You whine and he grabs the back of your hair and presses his forehead to yours.

“Good girl. Cum on this dick, princess.” The sweat cuts salty paths on both of your flesh as you feel the edges of your orgasm closing in. His own release is gathered in his balls as he tries desperately to hold on for you to finish first.

“Oh God, Elvis! YES!” You scream into the darkness as you cum deep and hard on him, your pussy squeezing and pulsing around him. He buries his face in your neck and groans loudly. You feel his stomach tense and then he leans his head back and moans out loud. His face is so beautiful in the throes of pleasure, lips parted slightly and eyes closed.

“Fuck yeah, baby!” He whispers, biting his bottom lip as his cock twitches and throbs and spills inside of you. You tremble as he holds your body close and presses soft kisses to every inch of skin he can reach. Eventually, you both come down from your combined high and he lays back on the sand with you on top of him. His hand tangles in the back of your hair as he massages your scalp with one hand and drags his fingertips up and down your arm with the other. You can tell he needs the contact, so you let him touch you however he wants. His chest rumbles under your ear as he starts to hum.

“What's that song?” You ask, your voice light and airy after feeling so satisfied.

“One from the new movie. I don't know the words but the melody is catchy. Might be a hit.” You lay there on the beach together as he hums and strokes you gently.

The next day, the rest of his posse arrives and he spends his time being told what to do and when to do it. He promises to see you again, but he never finds the time. In reality, his manager doesn't like the idea of him with you– you are too much freedom– so he makes sure to keep Elvis away. You catch glimpses of him in passing in the hotel and his eyes always linger just a little too long, like he's trying to apologize. But you know it's not his fault. You don't hold it against him.

And when the movie comes out and you hear Can't Help Falling in Love, your heart skips a little with the memory of laying on the beach, waves crashing softly in the background, as he hummed it to you in the afterglow of the best night of your life.

******

The End

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

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

A House in Nebraska

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natalia Romanova was not sculpted for love. But out in the middle of nowhere, safe in the place where time stops, she thinks she knows why the world is obsessed with capturing it.

Based on the song by Ethel Cain.

Warnings: Red Room.

A/N: Pretty sure I haven’t written in like a year and a half. Don’t be surprised if this post disappears in the next twelve hours. BUT... i would much rather this be the start of the revival of this blog. Stay cool.

Natalia shivered and pressed herself closer into your warm embrace. In this place, in your arms was the only place she felt safe. There she breathed easier. The beat of your strong heart against her back always made her eyes grow heavy. 

The winter had been long this year, too long. An extra few weeks of dark days and nights accompanied by breath stealing wind had almost frozen the Red Room in time, and had made trips outside unthinkable. The instructors even kept the younger girls inside in lieu of elemental training; a luxury Natalia herself was not afforded. But time moved as time seemed to do and as soon as the last late snow had begun to melt away you’d shaken her awake and dragged her out here.

She let herself fall onto her back when you got up. Wind gusts pushed through the hole in the wall and blew loose strands of hair against the back of her neck. She wished you’d come back to block it out.

“We need to go back,” you said. She couldn’t see well, dawn hadn’t yet broken, but she knew you were putting your shirt back on.

“Five more minutes,” she protested. She didn’t want to face what horrors would confront her for the day, and the day after that. She wanted to stay here. To rot away in the place she’d begrudgingly learned to dream. “The sun won’t be up for another couple of hours at least.”

“Yeah. And we have an hour’s walk back to the Red Room. Unless you want to start the day off with a shoeless run we have to leave now.” The floorboards creaked in protest as you slid back down onto the floor next to Natalia. You ran a hand through her hair and she swore she could touch the sun. She kissed your cheek, then your chin and your neck before you abruptly pulled away and threw her shirt at her. “Get up.” Your tone had taken on a sharp edge.

Her feet ached from a particularly grueling rehearsal as she trudged down the stairs, skipping the ones with missing or rotting planks. You stood in the doorway staring up at the night sky. A half moon struggled to bring light to the black horizon. The small farmhouse was nothing but a hulking shadow behind her. She still hadn’t seen it without the midnight blanketing its entirety. Old fencing guarded it on two sides and a plot of land lay abandoned on the westside. Grass had never managed to regrow there, when she walked over it she could feel the crumbles of dirt underfoot. Beyond you and the house and the dried land was a yawning expanse of field. The void called to her sometimes, begging her to run into it until she was no more. To set foot where no man had gone before. Freedom. True freedom is what it promised. 

Instead she tore her gaze away from the false promise and nestled into your side. She intertwined her fingers with yours and held tight to what was real.

“We can’t come out here anymore,” you said.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Natalia’s mind raced. Had the two of you been found out? This would mark the third spring you’ve made your way out to this little house that felt more like home than the Red Room ever had. The things she would do to protect it.

“No. No nothing like that.” Your voice was quiet as if the day was ending instead of beginning. “But it will. If we keep doing this, I mean. I’ve been thinking real hard about it all winter and–” You went silent then. “You know we have graduation soon and things will change. This,” you gestured in a sweeping motion back toward the farmhouse and toward Natalia. “This is a weakness that won’t be tolerated. It’ll kill us both if we don’t stop.” You started to walk in the direction of the Red Room. 

“I’d rather die than live the rest of my life for them,” she said, catching up with you.

“Don’t say that Natalia.”

“Well it’s true.” She remembered a time when she’d been the one begging to go back for fear of getting caught. You’d said that even if you were killed right there that she would die yours. That thought had comforted her everytime death whispered in her ear since. Where had that girl gone?

“Why now? I know it’s not because you’re scared of the ceremony,” she said, calling your bluff. You ignored her, apparently determined to get back quickly. “Oh, come on. Don’t do this. You can’t just leave me out here and not tell me the reason why.” She shoved you against your chest, halting you but failing to stagger you backward.

“Just drop it.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. You don’t get to give me this place, give me you, and then take it all back because you decide to. You don’t think I understand exactly what you’re going through? Things have gotten harder every single day of our lives but that didn’t stop you from sneaking out here. Then you decided to make this place ours. Ours,” she stressed. “So you tell me what the hell is going on. How can you turn your back on me?”

“Because I am scared!” She was taken aback by the outburst. “Everytime they hit you or look at you the wrong way I want to crush their skulls in. I would burn this entire country down if you asked me to and I don’t know why. It’s against everything I should be and I’m terrified. I shouldn’t even be allowed to see you, much less have you under me all night.” You shouldered past her and doubled your pace. “That’s why we have to forget this place ever existed.”

“Maybe having feelings isn’t such a bad thing,” she said. 

“It is if you want to survive. The new girls they bring in. The ones they can’t wean off from crying.” Natalia felt the weight of a five year old body in her arms. Damn you. And you weren’t done. “Remember when you got back from that mission in Ohio?” Oh she remembered. “When you wouldn’t stop lashing out at the guards?” She shuddered at the thought, even if she didn’t consciously remember much. Reassimilation after three years in America had been rough to say the least. The only clear event from ages twelve to fifteen (more or less) was from the first time you brought her out here. Your hands on her face had woken her up after years of sleeping upright.

“Enough. I get it. You’re giving up.” It was her turn to stalk away. “Go ahead. See if I care.”

“I’m not giving up. Tell me you understand,” you said. “I’d rather lose this place than lose you.”

But you were the one who didn’t understand. Out here all alone with no one but the stars to bear witness was the only place Natalia felt like half a person. The farmhouse, haunted and filthy as it was, had never been just a place to her. It was where she was able to cling to what humanity she had left.  Inside the Red Room the Widow took over and guided her actions with silken webbing. Every night it became harder and harder to untangle herself. She was beginning to question if there was a difference between her and the monster anymore. 

The rest of the walk back was silent save for the crickets chirping their night calls in the grassy sea. Natalia thought about her first trip out to the farmhouse. You’d woken her up the very first night you’d been moved into a two-person room instead of being housed in the dorm with thirty beds crammed into neat rows. She let herself be led outside without protest even as she was convinced you’d brought her away with orders to execute her. She had no place in the world.

Then the house loomed over her and you sat her on a mattress on the second floor that seemed more like an attic and showed her the stars.

“One day I’m leaving here and going to America,” you had proclaimed.

“No,” she murmured.  It was the first word she’d spoken in a very long while. She hadn’t truly been listening but she knew America was no place to go. The West was the enemy.

“She speaks,” you said, looking over at her moon-bathed profile. You tried nudging her with your shoulder but she slid farther away in response. “You want to know how I found this place?” When she didn’t deny the question you continued on. “Well, it’s actually not a very good story, I’m sorry. But, maybe it could be.” She could still feel your eyes on her. Oddly enough she didn’t mind. It was refreshing in a way. To be watched without being scrutinized.

“Well I had to go to the pit to burn some trash and other things,” you said, picking fuzz out of a small hole in the mattress. “And I got my directions mixed up on the way back. I found this place and sat up here for a few days. I thought maybe everything from before was a bad dream and there was no Red Room at all. That maybe I really lived here and some nice people would come back and take me to a real town.” She had thought you were a fool. “But no one came,” you said softly. “I was cold and lonely and hungry. There’s nothing out here, you know. So I went back just cause there was nowhere else to go. But I still come here sometimes, only for the night though. I like the loneliness in small parts.”

Rain had begun to pelt the already beaten roof. Natalia hadn’t noticed the clouds. Water seeped through the rotten wood, landing on the two kids grasping for shelter. A cold raindrop landed on her cheek and she jumped. Beside her, you layed across the mattress and watched the rain through a hole in the wall. It came in a steady drizzle. Pit, pat, pit at a spot near her foot. A sleepy symphony outside with no drumming thunder or cracking lightning. 

After some time, she spoke again. She had missed the intimacy of just sitting alone with another person without outside expectations. She always had to be mindful of herself. Where she looked, the position of her hands, the bend in her knees, her breathing. She brought her knees to her chest and asked. “You said you wanted to see America. Do you want to go to New York?”

 You startled slightly before lifting your head and looking lazily over at her. She supposed you had fallen asleep. “What?” You asked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said. All she seemed capable of doing was messing things up.

“I wasn’t even sleeping,” you protested even though you clearly had been. “I just missed what you said.”

“When you get to America, where will you go? New York City is the most populated city there.”

You smiled and a broken part of Natalia fixed itself. No one had smiled around her since Ohio. Only Dreykov smiled. Except when he showed his teeth her stomach would twist itself into knots and bile would burn her throat. That didn’t count, she decided. 

“Not New York. It’s too busy there. I will go further west.”

Natalia raised an eyebrow. “California is awfully crowded too, you know.”

“No, not that far, smartass.” You flicked water off your hand in her direction. “Like in the middle. Like, hmm.” You thought for a moment. “Just, in the middle. Someplace where I can live like it is here.” You gestured about the attic and its half missing roof. “Except it’s not so cold and everything isn’t dead. I’ll have a dog and a horse and some cows.”

“Somewhere in the middle?”

“Yeah.”

“Nebraska is pretty close to the middle.”

“Nebraska,” you said, ennunciating the syllables slowly. “Sounds made up.”

“Well, it’s not.” She had studied all fifty American states in her class. Natasha could identify them all on a blank map. She knew the capitals too. Too bad Natalia could not recall even a quarter of them now.

“Alright. Nebraska it is then. Although,” you trailed off. “I don’t want to go alone. It’d be better if there were two of us. You and me. We could both go. We should.”

“I don’t want to wreck your fantasy.” A voice nagged at the back of her mind. She had no place in the world. She had no business running off. The Red Room had given her so much. The thought of turning her back on it made her heart pound against her ribcage.

“You wouldn’t. I’m offering. You’re not so bad. I always thought you were kind of weird. You just show up one day and you don’t talk. You sit away from the rest of us and you’re perfect at everything you do.” Natalia opened her mouth to defend herself but you were quicker. “But I like your hair. And you haven’t killed me yet so everything’s alright. I know at least half of them back there would have tried the moment we got out of sight from the big house. So you can come with me. In fact, I won’t go without you.”

Natalia didn’t ask if you had a plan or tell you off for being ludicrous. She found herself content with the world you had made for yourself and shared with her. That night she had closed her eyes and dreamt of a small house in rural America. Where Dreykov couldn’t touch her and Madame B couldn’t chastise her. She’d wake up and watch the sunrise and forget that she had ever been a killer.

Now, three years later she still saw that picture when she closed her eyes. It was faded and the edges were blood tinged but it was enough. The two of you were now only a half mile from the Red Room, pulled back each night by some invisible rope around your necks.

Suddenly, a flash of light caught Natalia’s attention. A sweeping pinprick off in the distance. A second and a third joined it until there was a line of searching light waving in her direction. You, a dozen paces ahead of her, ducked down and flattened yourself in the tall grass. She followed, not a second behind you and began crawling up toward where you had stopped.

“No. It can’t be,” you whispered. Disbelief stained the words.

“What are we going to do?” Natalia asked. She wracked her mind for ideas. There was nothing out here. No dense wood or deep valley to duck into and hide. No village to seek refuge. They’d never looked before. They couldn’t. The night had been an invisibility cloak the pair of you had hidden under for so long. You’d forgotten that no armor was impenetrable forever.

“When they get closer I’ll run and bait them back northeast,” you said, jerking your head back over your right shoulder. “If you stay down and circle around the westside of the building you can get back in without them noticing.”

“No. I won’t leave you. We can face them. We can fight and then–” For once Natalia didn’t know what came next. “I won’t let you go.”

“Natalia, look at me,” you hissed. She did, paying more attention to the way your lips moved than the words you spoke. “This isn’t up for discussion.” The way your hair fell around your face when it was down. “It doesn’t make sense for both of us to be caught out here.” The moonlight reflected in your eyes. “And you’re— I’m the reason you’re here. I brought you into this and I made you break the rules. I knew the risk and kept taking it anyway.” Your breath fanning across her face. “Now I have to pay the price. I’m sorry.”

Natalia looked back at the pin pricked horizon and the silhouettes now about three hundred yards off. A half dozen people and something else. Smaller shadows moving quicker and closer to the ground than their handlers. One stopped, lifted its head, and howled. Sweat lined her palms then and she became more acutely aware of every rise and fall of her chest. They’d brought the dogs out. And one had caught your scents.

“Oh god,” you said, grabbing Natalia’s hand. “Come on!”

You yanked her up from the ground and took off sprinting straight away from the hound. She stole a glance back but realized she had lost the dog to the shadows of the barren countryside. With a sharp pinch of dread she realized you were rabbits without a burrow. Running only because adrenaline told you to.

At some point you had let go of her and she pumped her arms as fast as she could. Her heavy breaths mixed with yours as you ran side by side. She swept the expanse for something, anything that wasn’t desolate yellow grass or winking starlight that taunted from above. I see you. It seemed to say. And I know how this ends.

A rustling sound was close on her heels. She looked back again and saw it, a hulking beast born from night not fifty yards away. They’d made the girls go down to the kennels once and watch the dogs at feeding time. The handlers threw down whole animal parts. Natalia could never forget the smell of recently slaughtered pig. A leg, a bucket of intestines, an entire lamb head were thrown carelessly down where the dogs paced. There were ten of them, giant monsters with sleek black fur and lolling tongues. A fight had broken out between two of them and chunks of fur went flying as they snarled and tore at each other’s throats. She’d never been told what exactly they were kept around for. Now she knew. 

Natalia prayed as it got closer and closer. For what besides something impossible she didn’t know. The hellhound seemed to gain multiple yards on her with each stride. She could hear its claws tearing up the earth behind her, its gnashing teeth desperate for the taste of blood. Five, four, three, two. She counted but she didn’t get to one. A strong hand found her lower back. She flinched as it shoved her forward, propelling her an extra few steps.

A ferocious growl that tore through the air as a torpedo cuts through water. A scream like none she had ever heard before. She dug her heels, skidding in the brittle dirt as she whipped around. 

There you were on the ground struggling against the black wolf that had finally caught up to its prey. “Get off!” You yelled, smacking the thing with your left hand, hoping to jab an eye or a soft spot on its throat. Natalia cringed as she heard flesh tearing and the squelch of fluid between teeth.

Crack. She knew the sound of a bone snapping well. It was disgusting and wrong but quickly drowned out by waves of growls and agonized screams. The dog threw its head from side to side in pursuit of destroying its prize to the fullest. Splatters of gore flew into the night air like tiny bugs taking flight.

Natalia ran forward to tackle the hound, trying to ignore the awful finality of meat being torn from bone. She and the creature went tumbling away from you. Natalia wrestled with all her strength to maneuver herself on top with the dog belly-up and vulnerable beneath her, but it was stronger. She rolled onto her back in the cold grass, spit and bloody bits flecking her face. Sharp teeth bared and eyes glowing the color of flame hearts loomed over her. She stared back into death’s blazing hand. I will not die a coward, she thought.

Just as the beast snarled for her throat a sharp whistle flew through the air. High and strong it sang the song of purgatory. At once the dog leapt off of her and padded away, following the whistle. For a moment she watched it go, devoured by the night from which it came.

“Natalia.” You groaned. She scrambled to get up and kneel in the dirt by your side.

She checked you over, fearing the worst. Your right forearm was mangled, blood gushing from it and staining her hands. Other than that you seemed to be alright, if she ignored how pale you’d become. “Come on. Get up,” she said, grabbing you under your armpits and hauling you to your feet. What was left of your arm swung limply and smacked against her shirt, painting it a shade darker.

“No, no,” you protested. You cradled the strings of sinew and branches of bone hanging from your elbow as best you could. She wasn’t one to let the sight of blood deter her but looking at you made her stomach turn. “Natalia.” Your gaze burned into her. “You need to get out of here.” Your breath pushed through in ragged little puffs. “There’s still time.”

She grabbed at your good wrist. She’d drag you to the end of the earth if she had to. Shouts rang out, searchlights mounted on automatic rifles lighting the sides of your faces. Natalia was scared in the way she hadn’t been since she’d been hauled back to the Red Room nearly seven years ago. That night she had lost Yelena. Her kid sister’s tiny hand pulled from her own desperate grasp. She squeezed your hand a little harder and you held on because it was all you could do. She memorized your face. In the next life, maybe. When you caught her staring, the tight grimace you wore evaporated into a painful grin.

The yelling was loud now, mere tens of yards away but Natalia refused to give them her attention. They commanded she get to her knees and put her hands behind her head. But didn’t they know it was doomsday? Didn’t they know Natalia Romanova would die with her chest high?

Sweaty and shaky you began to sway in your place next to her. She draped your arm around her shoulder, feeling somewhat comforted being blanketed by your body. She looked up at you even if you could no longer meet her eyes. The guards were on top of the two of you now, lights bright enough to blind and overlapping shouts all clamoring for attention. The sound crashed and broke against Natalia’s crumbling fortress in one big wave. She could not separate the individual commands.

Prick. A tiny dart found its home in her neck. She turned away from the light and buried her face in your shirt. Breathe in. A modest house in the American state of Nebraska. Breathe out. You on top of her in your own bed. Breathe in. Warm sunlight peeking through window slats and bathing her golden. She let herself fall into you.

—

Natalia woke, startled. She felt she had been dreaming of something important, but heavy sleep clouded the memory in fog. Cautious dawn light dribbled in through the windows. They’d be coming for wake up call soon. She looked over at you, still fast asleep in the bed up against the opposite wall. Your arm was handcuffed and chained to the bedpost as usual. Nausea pooled in Natalia’s stomach. She shut her eyes and tried to remember her dream but found it had winked away for the time being. 

Soon enough the door opened and a guard walked in to grant her freedom. She rubbed her sore wrist and began to change into a fresh set of clothes. “Good morning,” she said. It was a small habit the two of you started years ago. Conversation beyond a greeting was too dangerous. Anything less than machine-like obedience during the daytime earned some creative punishment. So this little exchange had to be enough.

When there was no response she looked up at you. She blinked and her stomach plummeted like it had turned to stone. The girl tying her hair up across the room from her was not you. She stared back at Natalia like she had an extra limb and ignored the previous exchange.

In a dizzying rush she realized her dream had not been a dream at all. It had not even been a nightmare. Her fingers hitched as she was tying a shoe. Panicked, she tugged at the knot she’d created and started again. Ghostly shrieks and a growl that hungered for death rang in her ears. Her shirt stank with the mirage of hot blood. 

She looked around the room, searching. It was empty and quiet now, the door left ajar. She knew if she didn’t hurry she’d be late.

Through the old hallway that smelled more like blood and bleach than whatever wood it had originally been. Down the stairs that poured out into the foyer. Taking her place at the end, she swept the line of girls waiting at the front door to be dismissed for the morning run. You weren’t there. Fifteen Widows where there were usually sixteen. No matter how many times she counted, the number did not budge.

“Romanova.” Natalia looked back at the nasally voice of Ivan Petrovich. The man in charge of strength and conditioning grinned. Yellowed teeth heralded a rotten surprise. He laid a bony hand on her shoulder. “Welcome back,” he said.

Natalia wanted to scream. How long had it been since that night? What had they done to you? Instead she kept her mask of neutrality firmly in place and dipped her head in reverence. 

He hummed in that inspective way of his and clapped his hands. “Fiften minutes. Two miles, then report to the dining hall.” Natalia turned away from him and tried to ignore the way her stomach ate at itself. “Oh, and I almost forgot. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, a member has been removed from your class.” Her heart stuttered against her ribs. “Due to unusual circumstances she has been terminated from the program. There will be a tournament among the 18-B class the day following the next as well as a test among 18-A for you. I trust none of you will slip this time.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now go.”

Natalia tried to grab at the pieces of her shattered soul. The line of girls streamed outside, fanning out two by two. A perfect unit, each individual capable of single-handedly crippling an entire government. Except at the tail end where one piece had been defective and was removed. In a few days time a replacement would appear, but for now the girl with crimson hair ran alone.

Silently but for the sound of her lungs pumping the morning air, Natalia Romanova stopped fighting.

The Widow cheered as it was finally allowed to complete its web. 

An abandoned farmhouse in northern Russia, approximately halfway between Igarka and Vilyuysk waited for wayward visitors that would never return. A ghost was all that remained, guarding its home. If one were to happen upon the house and pick their way up the dusty, dilapidated stairs they’d find an attic. Cobwebs and a holey mattress were all that seemed to stick around. And, if they hadn’t become disinterested or thoroughly disturbed, on the wall, just above the floor they might notice a crude little carving. Jagged as they were, a pair of initials had been stamped there, meaningless but to the artists themselves. Neither had believed in love. Both believed in the other infinitely more than they believed in themselves.

The wind blew. The grass stirred. And time would come to steal this memory like water dissolved stone.

[sunflowercider]

Speaking of getting used to new worlds, here's a handful of dumb things I think about when I think about Suho!Lloyd getting used to being in Lorasia:

There's no plumbing in your faux fantasy medieval world buddy. I imagine he stares grimly at the room's chamberpot the first day, and he tries not to think about the servants handling it other than making sure to compensate them WELL

Another no plumbing thing - no showers in Lorasia. Lloyd probably has no problem taking only baths for the rest of his life, but feels for the servants who have to draw up the water for him and then heat it up. When he learns how to make ice with the orcs I bet he immediately realizes he could also heat up his own water now too. One less task to make the servants do.

The novel actually briefly touches on this a few times but everything being horse powered mustve taking some getting used to. For one, everything is MUCH slower. It takes 15 days to get to Cremo, the city that used to technically preside over the Frontera barony. Lloyd loves getting things done quickly (though safely) so I bet he was pulling his hair out when he first realized that 30 miles would take a full day of travel. Additionally, it's much bumpier. Whether you're on a horse or in a carriage, there's not much cushioning.

It's much much quieter in Lorasia than Seoul. There's no cars or planes going by, there are far less people, and there's no background hum of electricity. I once drove across the US and pulled over in field in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. The silence was startling, but then became very soothing. And I grew up somewhere far smaller than Seoul. I imagine it probably felt the same for Lloyd - weird, then really nice.

Wanna work late? No electricity dude. You know our chronic all-nighter Lloyd would be SO irritated working by candlelight. Yall, candles are not that bright.

It wouldn't be difficult, but I bet it was odd getting used to the clothing. I don't mean the style, I mean that things like elastic and zippers would not be a thing. His pants are probably laced or buttoned together, tailored exactly to his size or with a belt. His shirt has those strings for the Style, but also because that's how you tighten the collar to fit. The underwear, my friends, is probably old school long undies.

Lloyd canonically misses the internet. Fair dude.

Thank goodness Lloyd gets a Title preventing anyone in Frontera from catching disease because I imagine the medicine in Lorasia at the time is. Bad. -thinks about cpsm-

Music is strictly live. No helpful tunes to listen to while you work - if you want music, you need to ask another human to play it for you. Lloyd can't sing worth a damn obviously, but he canonically hums quite a lot when he's pleased or working, so I bet he's a bit bummed there's nothing to hum along with.

I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting, but I just love thinking about the small ways that life is completely different for him, good and bad.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 8: Rain Run—The Prophecy (BoB Fanfiction)

A/N: Admittedly, I don't think you're going to like this chapter very much (oops). That being said, please be aware that there is some harassment that goes down in this chapter that aligns with the tags! Thank you so much and as always, please let me know what you think! Happy December! The moodboard is Winnie and her youngest brother Charlie!

Late Spring

Dear Roo (that is how you start letters, right? With a dear?), 

Texas is so damn hot! I know that you’re probably shakin’ your head about me swearin’ in the first line of the letter, but it’s the truth!  They’re lookin’ at transferrin’ us over to Nebraska in a few weeks for further processing.  I knew that the military would be tough (Richie said as much), but I didn’t think it was going to be THIS hard. 

I’m definitely one of the youngest here, but I’m making friends fast, I promise!  I know you said that I should find myself the most skilled pilots and stick close with them, so that’s what I’m trying to do.  There’s this guy here, Bucky—and he’s somethin’ straight out of New York.  I think you’d probably not like him very much, but he’s a damn good pilot. 

Have you heard from Cindy much at all?  I know she said that she’d write me, but I haven’t gotten any of her letters yet.  Maybe I’m just impatient, but that girl is sweeter than a damn peach and I miss her and her curls.  I won’t write too much about her—I know you’re not the sentimental type. 

Don’t worry, I go to church services every Sunday with you in mind.  I know you’d find a way to find me and wring my neck if I missed services.  Though I wonder, the more I hear about what’s going on in Europe and in the Pacific—if any of it really means anything.  Don’t go gettin’ mad at me for expressing it.  I’m just curious, that’s all. 

Anyways, I hope that you’re doing well in Toccoa (even if it is in the middle of nowhere, Georgia).  Please tell me that you’ve managed to make at least one friend?  And if not, that you’ve broken someone’s nose?  That sounds like something my fearless Roo would do.  Anyways, let me know!  Hope to hear from you soon—and maybe when we get leave, I can drop back and see you.  But I’d probably go and see Cindy first if that doesn’t bother you too much.  I’m running out of space and time on this line, so I’ll just end it here!

Love, 

Charlie 

P.S.—their cooking is WAY worse than yours is.  I’d take your burnt meatloaf any day, sis. 

Winnie just chuckled at the letter, a rare show of emotion on her face.  Charlie could ramble when he wanted to.  He was always the most vivacious little kid, stealing blueberry pies right off of people’s windowsills and cutting flowers from people’s yards just for her. He was sweet and that sweetness had a violent edge to it.  He got in more fights than anyone in the family, despite her and Richie’s best interventions.  And that also included Nate—who thought that fighting was fun to an extent. 

But he was still just a kid.  Barely 18 and now gone off to fight in a war—or at least, be trained to fight in one.  It would still be another year, minimum, until he’d be out in England.  And she’d take that any day over losing him right now. 

Setting the letter down, Winnie glanced at the clock.  She still had some time before breakfast would start and she needed to be up. She could start penning her letter back to him.  Briefly, her mind wandered to Charlie’s girlfriend, Cindy. Cindy had been a local girl when they moved from downtown Buford to the richer neighborhoods.  She was a sweet girl, really—

But Winnie didn’t think that sweet equated to faithful or loyal. 

She hoped that for Charlie’s sake, he would get a letter from her soon.  But Winnie wasn’t holding out any hope for that kinda thing.  Still, it was easier to deal with Cindy than it was to deal with a whole string of brokenhearted strumpets that Nate had left behind—

Not that they were actually strumpets, Winnie just knew that they had one thing on their minds. And she hadn’t raised her boys to be like that. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Winnie fully sat up, ready to head out for breakfast.  The rain outside pattered against the windows and left everyone in a particularly glum mood for the day. It continued well past breakfast and into the afternoon, when lunch was being served.  Upon Winnie’s arrival into the mess hall, her suspicions of the day were immediately confirmed by the look of distaste on both Reba and Eileen’s faces, the fact that Dick Winters was in the kitchen, and the fact that there was a spaghetti meal being served. 

Sliding into the table with the nurses, Winnie glanced at their small portions.  “Not eating much today either?” 

Reba just sniffed in annoyance.  “You didn’t hear?” 

“Hear what?” 

“They did a contraband bust on the nurses this morning after you left for breakfast.  If Sobel’s gonna make the men run, we’re sure as hell gonna be running with them,” Eileen stated evenly.  “So no, we’re not eating very much.” 

Winnie just let out a slight breath.  “Figures,” she mumbled in slight annoyance.  “What did they get the nurses for anyway?” 

“Unsanctioned lipstick tubes and nylons.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Winnie deadpanned. “What do they expect you to be?  Nuns?” 

“Don’t give them the idea, thank you,” Reba retorted, giving Winnie a light kick to the shin. 

Winnie glanced at the other nurses plates, eying the hue of the noodles.  “My gramps was Italian but I don’t think it’s supposed to be that color.” 

“Well I don’t think the army is trying to imitate the Italians, Doc,” Eileen said with a small smile.  

“Well they’re currently under a fascist regime, so I don’t blame them,” Winnie said, flashing a smirk. 

Just then, Sobel came storming in and blowing a whistle—the men would be running Currahee and the nurses, for their part in contraband, would be running another hill.  “Dividing and conquering, huh?” Reba’s brow ticked ever so slightly. 

The group of nurses—about fifteen of them or so, and Winnie—trudged through the mud and back to the barracks.  They changed into the exercise gear that they had been allowed, and then trudged their way through Camp Toccoa towards one of the smaller hills.  Waiting there was another one of the captains—though Winnie didn’t recognize the man.  

At least this way, there weren’t men staring at their legs or their asses or their chests.  This was a win in every sense of the word—even if the run in the rain was going to be a treacherous slope.  Winnie kept a steady pace in the front, encouraging Reba and Eileen as they went. If they could just keep going right now, then they’d be done for the rest of the day. 

As they jogged up the hill, Reba glanced her way, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.  “You got a letter earlier—you don’t usually get letters.” 

Winnie nearly grinned at that, keeping pace.  “I get plenty of letters, I just usually don’t leave them out where you can see them.” 

“A boyfriend?  A husband?” Eileen questioned on her other side. 

“Baby brother.” 

“Oh that’s kinda boring—unless he’s cute,” Eileen added, eyes flashing in Winnie’s direction hopefully. 

“He’s 18, you’d be bored out of your mind.” 

Reba gave a roll of her eyes.  “That wouldn’t stop Eileen and you know it.  Besides, Eil, you’re only 21—that’s not too much older.” 

“Over my dead body,” Winnie said, pumping her legs up the next stretch of steep hill.  

“Oh don’t be funny—” Eileen insisted, nearly slipping. 

Winnie realized she was slipping at the last second possible—and Winnie caught Eileen by the elbow. If the weather had been dry and there wasn’t a ridiculous amount of mud, Winnie was certain they would have stuck the landing. Unfortunately for the two of them, the mud would not allow for a smooth landing. 

Eileen’s grip sent them both crashing into the mud, nearly slipping into the rest of the nurses.  The rest of the nurses stopped at the sight of the two of them taking a spill into the mud–and for a moment, Winnie and Eileen just sat there, caked in mud and staring at each other with wide eyes.  And then Eileen burst into a clear laugh, smashing mud on Winnie’s face. 

“Hey!” Winnie exclaimed, letting a laugh spill from her lips.  She flung mud right back on Eileen and for just a shining moment, this was not a war. 

This was just two little girls who were forced to grow up too fast.  And they were having fun. 

And then Reba was urging them to get up, eyes wide.  “We’ve got a Captain coming!  Get up, get up!” She exclaimed. 

At that, Winnie shot to her feet, immediately helping Eileen up.  She didn’t mind the fact that mud was caked down her long legs or sticking from her hair.  They had slipped and it was an honest mistake in this rain and mud.  “Let’s finish the run and then we’ll get to a shower,” she said, nudging Eileen. 

Eileen just gave a grin.  “You do have a fun side,” she decided, flipping her braids at Winnie dramatically. 

“Getting down and dirty in the mud isn’t exactly what I’d qualify as fun,” Winnie replied evenly, but the grin on her face remained.  “But I do have a fun side.  Occasionally.  Let’s keep that on wraps for right now.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had waited until every last man from Easy Company was done with the showers before making their way in there.  Given the fact that they had more hair and a little bit more flexibility in their schedules, it was also just the logical move to make. And this way, men didn’t get any ideas of waiting around to sneak a peek at them.  

The water was lukewarm, almost cold by the time that they finally got into the showers.  Winnie’s nails scraped against her scalp quickly, focusing on getting clean as quickly as possible.  After all—they only had fifteen minutes before they were set to be back in the medical huts and teaching another class to the medics. 

Winnie didn’t mind the temperature of the water.  Back home, most of her showers had been ice cold—she had always insisted on her brothers showering first before she got her turn.  That hadn’t changed until she had gotten a divorce—at which point, Richie had put up a good argument and started advocating that she get the shower first.  It was a noble gesture, but that was just who her brother was. 

Turning off the water, Winnie spared a glance in Eileen’s direction.  “You almost done?” 

“Just about.” 

“I’ll go grab our clothes, then,” Winnie replied, shivering slightly as she wrapped a towel around her and set out for where they had left their clothes, just beyond the row of lockers.  She turned the corner, eyes landing on the empty bench that sat in the middle of the lockers—no clothing to be seen. 

For a moment, she just stared at it, jaw ticking. 

And then one Captain Sobel stepped forward, a bundle of clothing in hand and an unreadable expression on his face. “Looking for these?” 

Oh so that’s how he wanted to play things. 

Winnie kept an even expression, jaw tightening at the sight of him holding the clothing that she and Eileen needed.  “Yes, sir.” 

His gaze trained on her like some sort of predatory thing and her blood curdled at the sensation.  “Rather careless of you to just leave them sitting here.” 

“That’s where they’re supposed to go while one showers,” Winnie retorted.  She didn’t fail to notice the way that his gaze swept over her legs and up onto her shoulders and chest. 

Sobel just gave a nod.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll give them back.  I just want you to answer a few questions.  For every question you answer, I’ll give you an article of clothing back.” 

Winnie had half a mind to punch him—though that certainly wouldn’t have ended well for her.  She didn’t though.  She just stood there for a moment—and the thought of being humiliated and degraded like this, it wasn’t something that she could bear.  And she wouldn’t subject Eileen to that either. 

“Eat shit,” Winnie retorted.  “Sir.” 

Sobel’s face tightened at the words.  “Fine.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked away with the clothing articles in hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reba had waited a whole five minutes after the class was supposed to have started before losing her patience.  It was one thing for Eileen to be late—it had happened a few times and Eileen always turned up.  But for Winnie to also be late?  Now that wasn’t something that was possible.  Winnie was a hard-ass about being places on time and getting the job done effectively and efficiently. 

So for both of them to be missing meant that there must have been a reason behind it.  And God forgive her, but Reba worried what it meant.  Her gaze trained onto the medics, patiently waiting for Winnie and Eileen to make their appearance. 

Her foot tapped impatiently and then Reba rose, gaze sweeping over them.  “Roe‚ you’re with me.  The rest of you, get working on tourniquets.” 

Roe was quick to rise to his feet, following after her.  “What is it, Nurse Garrett?” He questioned curiously. 

Reba’s gaze locked onto him, annoyance shooting through her.  Truth be told, she’d rather handle the entire thing on her own.  But she also knew that Doc Allen—Winnie—happened to like Roe better than the other medics, even if she wouldn’t admit it.  There was something to be said for his candor and quiet loyalty.  

“We’re gonna go find Doc and Eileen,” Reba retorted.  “I’d go alone, but I could use another set of eyes.” 

At that, Roe gave a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

It took them a whole fifteen minutes of scouring the camp before Reba had a thought occur to her that she didn’t altogether like.  She led the way towards the showers, nearly grumbling under her breath the entire time.  The annoyance and frustration was not missed by Roe, who wisely kept his mouth shut.  

Coming to a stop in front of the showers, Reba considered her options. If there were, in fact, naked men inside the showers—Reba would survive.  She had administered shots to a good number of men anyway and seeing men in that state of undress wasn’t unheard of.  However—if Winnie and Eileen were indeed in the showers, she didn’t want Roe going in there and making them uncomfortable. 

“Alright, I’m going in.  Can you just—wait here for a minute?” Reba questioned, gaze falling on him again. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Reba gave a dry smile and set into the shower hut, tapping lightly on the lockers as she walked forward.  “Hey, Doc?” 

“Oh thank God,” came Eileen’s voice from the other side. “Our clothes got stolen!” She exclaimed. 

Almost immediately, Reba felt a flash of fury rise up in her.  “Those sons of bitches—” She mumbled out.  “Alright, I’m gonna have Roe guard the door.  I’ll get you some clothes.” 

“Just be quick,” Winnie commanded in an annoyed tone. 

By the time that Reba returned with the clothes in hand, it was clear that Roe had a clear idea of what had gone on.  And by the time that Winnie and Eileen exited the showers—with Eileen’s cheeks still tinged pink, Winnie was ready to raise some sort of hell.  Winnie stepped outside, wondering how the hell she was supposed to get those articles of clothing back from Sobel. 

Her gaze immediately dropped onto Roe, who stood there patiently, jaw and fists clenched.  “Thank you for the assistance, Roe,” Winnie stated curtly.  “You’ll keep this little interaction to yourself.” 

“Ma’am?” He asked in surprise. 

“I”ll handle it.  I always do,” Winnie said.  “Now let’s get you back to medic training.  Eileen’s taking the rest of the afternoon off.” 

Roe just stared at Doc Allen for a moment, wondering how she could be so calm and collected under the circumstances.  He had sisters—and if this had happened to them, he would have pitched a fit and thrown a few fists around.  They would have been crying.  But not Doc Allen—she was a cold woman with the focus that only God could give.  He admired the fact that she could pull herself together so quickly and not get emotional about the situation.  

“I’ll follow your lead, ma’am,” Roe finally stated. 

“Good.” 

[vajazzly]

Because Remus "has to climb something" Lupin seems to travel quite a bit, what happens if he ends up at a city/town that doesn't have a climbing gym or any reasonable natural alternatives? Sick parkour moves downtown because the brick wall outside the public library is still technically a rock wall?

i would love to say that he does sick parkour but unfortunately i think the answer is that he simply withers away. whines constantly. leaves as soon as possible. if he is going to be forced to spend time in a city (no one is forcing him hes literally just broke) he needs somewhere to climb rocks or he will act like a consumptive victorian orphan. one time he ran out of money somewhere in like. idk. nebraska. surrounded by corn. middle of nowhere, no rock climbing gyms, looked around and said nope and probably like idk siphoned gas from someones car in the middle of the night so he could make it out of the state.

[toastydoll]

Since rainbow high is getting extremely worrisome w the new line I’ve coped by making my own wave 6 (drumroll please):

Scarlet, Pumpkin, Mustard, Moss, Cornflower, Royal Purple!

Tbh I was just listing off colors I wished we had gotten in a gc and then realized a) they made a rainbow and b) they were all autumnal themed so I made an inadvertent autumnal wave! All with two outfits bc I’m allowed to dream. I want to make them eventually too bc hello my New Year’s resolution is to make more customs than last year.

Scarlett Connell (scarlet red/orange): a multimedia artist with a passion for eco-friendly graffiti, Scarlett Connell hails from the Pacific Northwest. Growing up on the Oregon coast, Scarlett fell in love with thrifting materials from old logging camps and cargo railroads. Her main outfit is a scarlet beanie, a scarlet plaid scarf, a white tank top, a pair of patchwork scarlet overalls, and graffitied scarlet doc martens. Her second outfit is a scarlet oversized flannel, faded rainbow dream t shirt, torn/cuffed scarlet jeans, and short scarlet rain boots. She keeps her makeup subtle save for a bold detail (scarlet tinged lip, blush, natural brows, graphic scarlet eyeliner) and her scarlet hair straight and chin length. Y’all…she’s the red/orange butch doll we’ve all been waiting for.

Paloma Gordon (pumpkin orange): a sweet-as-can-be baking and pastry major from Salem, Massachusetts. Growing up in such an autumnal region made Paloma fall in love with both the flavors and fashions of the season. Her primary outfit is a pair of cropped ankle pumpkin pants, pumpkin crocs, a white chef coat w pumpkin buttons, and a pumpkin orange neckerchief. Her second outfit is a pair of pumpkin plaid woolen pants, a white cable knit sweater w pumpkin detailing, and pumpkin suede booties. Her makeup is soft and warm yet very, very precise: much like her approach in the kitchen, and she keeps her hair in long curly pumpkin orange ringlets, tied back in a high ponytail. I always wished rh would do a baking major since culinary arts are some of the most impressive art forms in the world (we almost got there w poppy).

Amelie “Frenchie” du Mous (mustard yellow): always on point, Frenchie hones all of her high fashion skills from growing up in Paris into a neatly tailored fashion focus. Her primary outfit is a plaid mustard pinafore over a lace trimmed white blouse with bell sleeves, mustard yellow knee high socks, brown heeled oxfords with mustard laces, and a mustard beret trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a pair of knee length mustard plaid shorts w matching suspenders, platform mustard leather loafers, mustard mid calf socks, and a white puffed short sleeved blouse with a mustard plaid bow tie. Her hair is straight and long in two tails. We never got a dark academia girl so here she is to fall in love w scarlet

Ivy Pines (moss green): emerging from the woods for the first time in her life, Ivy is ready to bring her foraging gift to Rainbow High! Her art has always been from the forest around her and her family in Northern California, whether she’s crafting her own dyes or whittling intricate jewelry. Her first outfit is an ombré dip-dyed lace maxi dress (white into moss green) with thin straps, an oversized moss green cardigan, knit to texturally simulate moss (look up moss stitch w this specific rough spin yarn istg it looks just like moss), moss sandals, moss socks, and wooden jewelry with moss jewel accents. Her second outfit is moss green crochet pants, moss flats, and a white peasant top w moss embroidery. Her makeup is natural with mossy green eyeshadow, and her hair is loose beachy waves. She’d come w alt heeled feet but both her shoes would be flat :0. She’s the mori girl we deserved but never actually got.

Corinne St. Germaine (cornflower blue): traveling all the way from Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, Rainbow High is Corinne’s first interaction outside of her hometown’s sixty people. She’s not totally ignorant of the world though—she’s actually huge on the internet! Her fashion style has been dubbed Lolita Americana: gold rush pioneer outfits through a cute girly lens. Her first outfit is a cornflower blue pioneer dress with a knee length hem, high neck collar, long slightly puffed sleeves, and white apron, as well as lace knee high cornflower stockings, cornflower leather ankle boots, and a cornflower bonnet trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a cornflower wool coat, long cornflower wool skirt, and knee high cornflower riding boots. Her hair would have a soft wave and probably be in a half up style, and her makeup would be soft. In a perfect world she’s also got a parasol >:3

Leanna Royale (royal purple): Known for clothing real life royals and only the most fashionable celebrities, the prestigious House Royale has unveiled its latest stride into the fashion world: a daughter named Leanna. Raised from birth on fine art and livery, Leanna is a princess in all but political power. Her first outfit is a polished royal purple velvet pantsuit with a royal satin shirt and purple velvet heeled pumps. Her second outfit is a silk bejeweled minidress, royal purple bejeweled strap heels, and a royal purple fur stole. Her makeup is elegant and refined, complete with a royal purple lip. Her hair is long royal purple locs in an elegant updo, and yes: she has a tiara. She’s every bit of posh violet wishes she could be (/hj)

I’m gonna try and make these! Bases would probably be whatever I can find that’s cheap, though a good visualization I’m going on rn is based on the color create dolls (scarlet and mustard for green eyes, pumpkin and royal for purple eyes, cornflower and moss for blue eyes). Maybe I won’t go so far to do two outfits but I’ll try and at least make one for each :)

[edenspoem]

okay this may be oh so niche butt i feel like you could write the most gut wrenching angst based off the song “a house in nebraska” by ethel cain (my fave ever) thats set in the tlou universe 😞 id DIE!

OMFG THAT SONG i love that song and it has burgeoned some possible idea of living somewhere out in the middle of nowhere with ellie in my head— but angst? omg. definitely going to add that to my list.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

Whenever a hunt gets tough, it always starts fucking raining, because of course it does. Dean is practically knee-deep in mud, wondering if figuring out whatever has been terrorizing the forest in Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska is actually worth it. It’s just been him, his gun, and Cas for the past three hours, and they’ve gotten nowhere but deeper into the woods.

And, of course, Cas isn’t bothered by the rain because he’s a goddamn angel. 

(Maybe Dean shouldn’t call him a goddamn angel, but, well, God has always seemed to hate the Winchesters, so what’s one more thing?)

Cas plods on in front of him, dragging his trench coat through the mud. Dean can practically hear him squinting as he says, “I think we’ve lost the creature, Dean.”

“No shit,” Dean mutters, and of course Cas can hear him, because he stops and turns around, glaring at him.

“Contrary to popular belief, it’s not my fault that it’s raining,” Cas says. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get back to the Impala.” They could’ve used the Angel-of-the-Lord express to get here, but Dean doesn’t exactly love getting zapped, and he didn’t ask Cas to come on this hunt, anyways--Cas had just appeared in the passenger’s seat and Dean had nearly driven off of the highway and turned himself into a human pancake.

The trek back seems even longer, and by the time they get to the car, Dean is soaked through and longing for the motel shower that awaits him fifteen miles down the road. He slides into the driver’s seat and cranks Baby’s engine, and Cas gets in on the other side. 

“Let me,” Cas says, reaching out and laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder. All of the mud vanishes in a moment, and Dean’s jeans are actually comfortable for the first time in hours. 

Dean turns to look at him, and Cas is looking back. 

Maybe now would be a good time to ask why Cas decided to come on this hunt, why he always seems to have Dean’s back. Dean opens his mouth, question on the tip of his tongue--

And then whatever they were hunting in the forest slams into the Impala’s windshield.

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Fictober Prompt Day Three! Prompt: "Okay. Show me."

Pairing: Deena Johnson/Sam Fraser (Fear Street)

Read story below or on Ao3!

Somewhere near the middle of Nebraska, Sam rolls the window down and lets in the breath of late summer air, sharp and smelling of baked asphalt and the fields they’ve been driving past for what feels like days. The wind toys with the loose strands of her hair, as well as the scattering of candy and chip wrappers, and the carefully copied directions that sit on the dashboard, thankfully pinned into place by a Portishead tape. The action isn’t entirely a surprise, given that sometimes the AC craps out or they need a break from the recycled air and the monotony of the road or, as evening stretches into night and they’re still miles from the next cheap motel, a sudden jolt of fresh air to bring them back to life. But still, Deena looks over at her, eyebrows arched in amusement, and Sam looks, well…Sam looks far too good for someone whose been traveling in a car for three days, the afternoon sun on her cheeks, the wind tangles of her hair caught in the breeze as she leans her head to get a better look at all the nothingness around them.

Deena rolls her window down too to keep her ears from popping, trying to keep half her attention on the empty road, most of it on Sam. “You’re not gonna jump out or anything right?” She teases, mostly. “I mean, I know the drive is boring but-” 

Really, this is a bit of a stretch. If Deena hadn’t already been stupid in love with Sam, this drive would’ve definitely cemented that feeling right in the center of her chest, like the sturdy roots of a tree growing to push out everything but that fact. Because the drive really hasn’t been boring, not with Sam beside her. They’ve cycled through all the tapes they’d brought in a collected three shoeboxes more than once, singing along when the time was right, giving each other shit about the music choices they didn’t have in common, or sometimes scanning through radio stations from every town and city they’d driven through, trying to find something good among the static. Right now, they’ve managed to hook onto some underground college station for far longer than Deena had expected them too, all the way out in the middle of nowhere, Joy Division proclaiming mournfully that love will tear them apart. And, over the steady stream of music, there had been the cheesy, childish car games, endless rounds of I, Spy that had continued until one of them had been laughing too hard to continue. Conversations about what they would do once they finally made it to the end of what Deena is already starting to suspect is an endless road trip to some mythical Oz with a magical, perfect new life waiting for them at the other end. Silences that had felt just as comfortable as all the rest of it. 

Though, there isn’t much to be said about their scenery for the past hour or so. I, Spy would’ve ended quickly enough: something brown, something flat, something endless. Deena can feel the steadiness of it, the rumble of the car, the melancholic mood of whatever college student had programmed this particular broadcast, the endless expanse of earth and sky starting to wear on her, creating a fuzzy-headed exhaustion that certainly doesn’t bode well for the hours they still have ahead of them.

Sam laughs, settling back down in her seat and letting her arm hang out the window instead, her fingers tapping against the side of the car. “No. I just thought we could use a little bit of air.” She looks at Deena, her other hand reaching up to comb through her hair, to brush it back over her shoulders, only for it to be taken by the wind once more. “You okay? Pull over if you want to switch.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Deena assures her and the radio station finally succumbs to the static she had long been anticipating. She pops the cassette back into place, one of Sam’s picks: Weezer and the jarring guitars of “Say It Ain’t So.” “It does kinda feel like we’re the only two people left alive though, right? Like…when was the last time we even saw another car?” 

Sam leans forward, carefully collecting the pages of directions they’d put together over afternoons spent shoulder to shoulder in the Sunnyvale library, road maps and atlases spread out around them, the thrilling promise of escape making them lean a little closer than they might have otherwise. When suddenly everything was tied to the countdown, it all felt slightly more bearable: finishing her classes in Shadyside; having to say goodbye to Sam each afternoon with a furtive kiss several blocks away from the house where Sam’s mother would be waiting impatiently for her return; the memories and nightmares she would rather forget. Deena had planned out most of the route, her mind whirling through miles and hours and the amount of time they could feasibly spend on the road each day, even with the two of them trading off time behind the wheel. Sam had filled in the stops in between, gas stations and motels and those ridiculous roadside attractions like the largest chair or a place that promised a trained alligator wearing a tutu. Most of the time they didn’t really linger, not with all the driving they had ahead of them, the days and days that it would take them to finally make it to Portland. But they had at least stopped in to see the alligator, which had been wearing a tutu but seemed to be trained to do nothing but sit around. 

“There should be a gas station in a few more miles,” Sam says, the papers fluttering in her hands, the wind humid and hot but not entirely unwelcome. “We can get out there and stretch for a bit.” 

At the mention of it, Deena’s muscles immediately start to feel sore and achy, voicing their own complaints about the drive that feels like it’s taken far longer than the four hours they’ve spent on the road today. She rubs at the back of her neck and looks at Sam and feels that bubbling excitement start in the center of her chest, spreading through her with a thrumming fizz that makes it all too easy suddenly to ignore stiff muscles and endless fields. Fuck. They’re doing this. They’re really doing this. Even though it’s been days since they’ve left Shadyside behind, it still feels like it hasn’t fully sunk in, the fact that they’ve left and that every moment spent on this stupid, endless road is a moment that takes them further away. They’ve got everything they couldn’t stand to leave in the trunk the car, suitcases and laundry baskets in the back, and some place to call home waiting ahead of them. 

Sam catches her eyes and smiles and there’s something in her face that lets Deena know that she gets it, that she feels the same way, that it all seems too good to be true. Sam leans forward to stash the directions carefully back on the dashboard, reaching for Deena’s hand with hers, and says, “Would you rather only listen to Madonna or Whitney Houston for the rest of your life?”

They argue over this for the next twenty miles, until Sam finally abandons her point long enough to point out the sign of a rather questionable looking gas station. Though they’re down to a quarter tank and Deena thinks her muscles might atrophy completely if she doesn’t get up right that minute, so they pull up alongside one of the four pumps outside the building. There’s another car, a minivan seemingly full of kids and dogs, a weary looking man studying a map spread out across the hood while a woman fans herself in the heat and checks her watch. Neither of them glance over when Deena pulls into the parking lot and Deena can only sympathize with their weary expressions. Games of I, Spy in that car have surely gotten unruly. 

Sam gets out, stretching her arms and tipping her head back toward the cloudless sky overhead and Deena presses her teeth together because she really, really wants to kiss her, and fully intends to as soon as the world shrinks to just the two of them again. Again, that startling feeling of excitement starts to sneak its way through her, enticing and terrifying all at once, whispering that soon there will be a place where she can do exactly that, always. 

Instead, Deena only watches as Sam disappears into the store to pay for the gas before leaning against the warm side of the car, eyes studying the road ahead of them, the miles and miles to go before they sleep and all that. 

And Mrs. Johnson thought she never paid attention in English class. 

Finally, the bell above the store’s door chimes and Sam appears once more, grinning in a way that leaves Deena feeling both curious and slightly wary of what might have put that particular smile on her face. Sam lifts her eyebrows, coming to stand in front of Deena with her hands behind her back. “I got you something.” 

Okay, definitely more wary then. “What?” 

“Guess.” Sam’s grin only widens. 

“Um…” Deena tries to peer over Sam’s shoulder but Sam just shifts out of the way. “I’m guessing it’s not a Twix.” 

“No.” Sam pauses, considering. “Well, I did get one of those too. But, nope.” 

Deena just shakes her head, feeling a smile of her own start to take root, coaxed on by Sam’s grin. “Okay. Show me.” 

Sam relents, grinning as she brings her hands out from behind her back. She’s holding a camo hat with a patch stitched on the front that says “hey deer” with a picture of a buck beside it and Deena blinks, glancing between Sam and the hat. “Uh…thanks?” 

Sam laughs, pulling the hat down on Deena’s head and tapping the bill lightly. “Perfect fit. I knew it.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Deena says, pulling the hat off and studying it. It’s completely ridiculous and she can’t help but laugh. “It’s just what I’ve always wanted.” 

“I know,” Sam says, leaning against the car and crossing her arms over her chest. “I definitely expect you to never, ever take it off again.” 

“Maybe you should wear it, since you love it so much,” Deena teases, turning to retrieve the gas nozzle so she can fill up the car and get them the hell out of here, somewhere where she might be able to sneak a kiss or two when she’s supposed to concentrating on the road. 

Sam shakes her head, holding up her hands. “Nope, it’s all yours. It was practically made for you…dear.” 

Deena puts the hat back on, mostly because it earns her another toothy grin from Sam, though she does her best to feign a pout. “There. Happy?” 

“Very.” Sam nods. And then her smile softens and she shrugs. “But I usually am.” 

And this…this is exactly why they’re driving across the country, throwing themselves into a life in a place they’ve never seen before, one they’ve only crafted out of conversations and wishful thinking. This is exactly why Deena suddenly has no complaints about getting back behind the wheel of the car and putting even more miles between them and Shadyside and getting them forever closer to what is waiting at the other end. 

“Yeah.” Deena nods, grinning as she looks down at her feet. “Yeah, me too.” 

[pentrologram]

15

little Loki drabble I wrote when I was still hyper fixated like, a year ago

883 words

pairing: Loki/gn!reader

pre-established relationship, no background characters, cute fluff and a little Princess Diaries insprired.

It was a fine summer afternoon in the middle of New York, and you and your fiancé, Loki, were out on a date in the middle of nowhere. 

Or, well, the middle of nowhere to anyone that wasn’t the both of you, anyone outside your private bubble. You had found this haven while walking home from work one day, completely on accident. You had been a little late to home that little and nearly drove Loki up a wall, but to make up for it you showed it to him soon after. It’s where you had your first kiss together, you recall as you set out the picnic blanket. 

The spot in question was a little piece of green land overlooking a beautiful, unpolluted stream- truly, a rarity this close to the city. Loki had even caught some fish in it during the spring and shown you how to gut and cook a fish properly. It was nicely shaded from the nearby forest, and it was a welcome change from the summer heat.

As you finished setting up the picnic underneath the biggest tree you could find, Loki began unpacking the food he’d made the night before. You sat down and watched the stream, watching the way the water flowed, almost hypnotised by the way that each droplet of water knew just where to go….

“My love?”

Loki tapped your shoulder gently and you very nearly jumped out of your skin, taken out of your peaceful trance.

“I’ve finished setting up, if you’re still awake,” he said with that casual teasing of his while walking away, hips strutting. You scoffed and contemplated tackling him to the ground- his stomach would hit the grass and he’d shriek about grass stains for an hour or two and then force you to hand wash his 100% cotton, 100% vegan shirt from a farmer’s market from the Amish in Asswhere, Nebraska- before deciding to follow closely behind, your hand brushing lightly over Loki’s. 

You sat down opposite each other, with the food in between the two of your. Loki had set out platters of fruit, sandwiches, cookies and all sorts of tea cakes, and a set of freshly baked muffins- the smells combined made your mouth water. Loki had a warm smile on his face as he looked at you, seeming very happy and content with the look of amazement on his partner’s face.

“You.. made all of this? By yourself? In just one night?” You asked in disbelief and awe.

Loki laughed at how surprised you seemed. Maybe if your expression had been a little less innocent-seeming, he’d pout and whine loudly about how you doubted him. No, he decided to be the adult here.

“Yes, I did.”

“Are you sure? Like, *sure* sure? No magic or anything?” You ask, your eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“No, I didn’t. Now, are you going to sit here and debate the legitimacy of the food or are you actually going to *eat*?”

“Of course I’m going to eat! All of this looks so good… I don’t think I’d really mind if it was all magic.”

Loki chuckled and shook his head, amused. With all the fuss you made, one would imagine you’d resist more to eating probably magicked-up food. He watched you as you took the first bite of one of the tiny tea cakes, anxious for your feedback. He’d spent all of last night when you fell asleep baking and frosting teeny little cakes and cookies. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he saw your face melt almost immediately.

“I know it’s rude to speak with your mouth full- but- this is *so good*….” Your voice was muffled from the food but there was sentiment and genuine reverence in your voice, he thought joyously, and he watched as you proceeded to devour the rest of your tea cake. Loki smiled to himself before joining you and eating with you.

Half an hour later, you had both finished off the entirety of the picnic. It was sunset now, and you were packing up to go a little deeper into the stream before going back home. You talked quietly about nothing as you got everything ready to go, leaving Loki with the picnic basket as you walked down to the stream. You simply stood there for a moment, admiring the way the lowering sun coloured the water, looking for tadpoles and minnows in the water. To no avail- but you did find a frog on a tree, and Henry the Soul Crusher seemed an appropriate name (Loki found it fairly amusing- how could such a small creature *crush souls*?).

He sat down underneath a shaded tree while you went into the stream and splashed around, and he warmed you up with their magic when you emerged and shivered from the cold water. The night ended with the both of them on the grass, underneath the picnic blanket, Loki curled protectively around you, the both of you passed out cold.

[scully-loves-ruthie]

Fictober Day One

Prompt "I chose you"

Fandom: The X-Files

@fictober-event

          “So, what do you think Scully, top ten?”  Mulder leans back into the old, cracked plastic bench of Shirley’s All Night Diner in the middle of nowhere Nebraska.  He takes another long slow sip of his coffee, letting the steam settle into his top lip, the condensation mingles with three-day old scruff.

          “I don’t know Mulder,” Scully muses as she takes another sip.  “Could very well be top 5.”  She sets her mug down on the scratched Formica tabletop.  She spreads her palms flat against the surface, the cheap feel triggers her memory, and for a moment she is bent over a kitchenette in a shit hole motel in New Mexico gripping the table with all her strength as Mulder pounds from behind.  It was a frenzied, unhinged encounter that left her gasping for air, only to be reminded of it every time she went to the bathroom and saw the bruises on the inside of her thighs.  The waitress’s voice yanks her from her reprieve.

          “You know what you want honey?”

          “I’ll get the egg white omelet, turkey bacon and wheat toast please.”

          “And you?”  She asks drinking Mulder in.

          “I’ll take the French toast, a side of bacon and home fries please.”  He hands over the menus without breaking eye contact with Scully.

          “So, what’s the consensus top ten worst coffee of all time or top five?”  He asks the question with a song in his voice.  He’d been doing that lately looking to entice Scully into forever remaining with him as he loops the country a fugitive.  She’s told him a million times over the last 2 months that she was his.  If running was his plan, his immediate future, then it was hers too.  So here they sit Mulder smirking at her like he just might mount her in the booth, Scully biting her lip because she would absolutely let him.  After everything they’ve endured the last couple years, all the losses, all the tragedy, they both just wanted each other in every way possible.  To be wholly and completely connected and twined forever.

          “Top 5 easy.”  With that she takes Mulder’s hand lowering her voice she leans in, “What do you think the bathroom will look like?” 

          He knows what this means, other than ranking coffee they been rating the fuckablility of the bathrooms they encounter as well. Scully has a gleam in her eye that won’t be denied.  They casually rise from the table and make their way to the men’s room.  It’s a single bathroom, perfect.  Mulder locks the door before unhooking his belt.  He stops as he catches Scully’s mouth on his.  She is feverish in her descent upon him.  Her hands reach down yanking his pants off while he backs her hard against the sink.  Fuck, she thinks as her back slams into the porcelain, and his dick into her waist.  With one swift motion Mulder rucks her pants down then lifts her against the sink.  He balls the back of her hair in his fist and yanks hard, eliciting a moan from the back of Scully’s throat.  He enters her with speed, stopping to stroke her clit with his thumb as he does.  Each stroke is long and aggressive, banging her head against the filthy mirror as his pelvis snaps against her clit in the exact right motion to have her gripping the sink until her knuckles turn white and the sound of her orgasm is swallowed by Mulder’s tongue.  He spills into her hot and pulsing as her body shakes from the stimulation and aftershock.  Mulder pulls his pants up wordlessly while Scully cleans herself up with a paper towel.  He kisses her softly this time murmuring his I love you against her lips.

          “You go back to the table Mulder” she says as she straightens her hair.  “I saw a payphone in the hallway, I’m gonna check in with my mom.

          “Ok” he says quietly as he kisses her forehead.  “Scully you don’t…”

          She silences him with a kiss.  She has no interest in listening to him tell her she doesn’t have to be here, that she could go home, that she deserves to go home.  She’s heard it too many times over the last 2 months.

          “I chose you Mulder.”  With that he exits leaving Scully to make her call.   

[buck-yyyy]

hajsbskabx- i mean i’m from the midwest soooo

BUCKY HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A MOUNTAIN AND/OR THE OCEAN IRL???

yes i have!!! my state isn’t by either, but i’ve been to multiple mountains, in colorado utah and washington, and i’ve seen/been in the ocean four times, in florida massachusetts maine and i think one other time but idk the state :))

[catxtopia]

We’re Not In Kansas? 

Summary: It was turning out to be a relatively lovely end to a hectic day. So naturally the universe had to throw a wrench in there somewhere. Said wrench came in the form of a strange flying object shooting out of the sky.

(Or: Iron Man 3 AU, where Tony crash lands in Nebraska and meets a small town doctor by the name of Stephen Strange)

Pairing - Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Word Count: 17,448

AO3 

NOTES: 

I completely forgot that this movie took place during winter/Christmas. I wrote half of this from memory before pulling the movie up and- look I can’t be fucked to change it!! I had this image in my head of corn fields and warm breezes so that’s what you’re getting goddamn it!

I left out a good chunk of the movie so it’s not a total rewrite. I am not good at action so a lot of that happens behind the scenes if you will, and I didn’t want to get into the whole Mandarin side of the plot so it's only mentioned once. Maya? Maya who? She’s off in some lab somewhere totally fine, no need to bring her into this.

Also I used Rose Hill as the town name for simplicity's sake, you can assume the towns look pretty similar just different nature settings lol.

I just wanted small-town-farm-boy Stephen to meet Tony, ok? That’s all you need to know! Please enjoy!

...........................................

The quiet chatter of crickets and rustling of late night critters milling about, buzzed over the wide expanse of corn fields and dusty roads. The sun had set hours prior, causing a quiet hush to befall the land. All other inhabitants had retired for the night or were at least on their way to doing so. The faintest of breezes danced through the looming corn stocks, making them sway too and fro gently.  

 It was calm and peaceful out here in the middle of nowhere. Just how Stephen liked it. 

 He was driving home from a long day of making house calls. Being the only doctor in town made his schedule pretty busy, hence his late night drive home. He sped down the back roads, tires of his rather rusty blue pickup truck coughing clouds of dirt into the air. His family's farm was the furthest out of town, a near forty minutes away, and the only way there was through dirt and rock. Despite the rough terrain, Stephen enjoyed it way out here where there was no traffic or overhead lights. Nothing but the moon and stars to guide you home.

 Stephen tapped his fingers along the edge of his opened window to the radio. Lukewarm air raced past, ruffling his otherwise perfectly kept hair. It was a beautiful night, the temperature just right to let the windows down. Fresh greens and the musty smell of dust was like a balm on Stephen’s tense shoulders. He could lean back and simply let the road take him. Bats, Stephen’s ever loyal companion in dog form sat with his head happily hung out the passenger side window. His floppy basset hound ears whipped all around in the wind, a big goofy smile lined his face. 

 It was turning out to be a relatively lovely end to a hectic day. 

 So naturally the universe had to throw a wrench in there somewhere. Said wrench came in the form of a strange flying object shooting out of the sky.

 It wasn’t entirely uncommon for shooting stars to make an appearance in the night sky but this thing was far too low and moving at an alarming pace. It was too small to be a plane and yet too big to be a drone, not that Stephen had ever seen such a thing way out here anyways. Whatever it was, it was on fire and hurting straight for an unsuspecting cornfield just up ahead.

 It cashed into the ground with a thud, sending dirt and broken stocks flying up in its wake. Stephen slammed on the breaks immediately, causing Bats to howl in alarm. He jerked the wheel to the side of the road and cut the engine. His instincts were kicking in and before he realized it, the doctor had grabbed his medical bag from the trunk and was dashing his way across the field. 

 He pushed this way and that around shoulder height corn stocks. He couldn’t see anything of the crash sight, just lazy smoke puffing up into the air. There were at least no screams or cries for help, perhaps it’d just been a harmless object. A few minutes of running and he was breaking through and finally getting a good look at what he was dealing with. Suffice to say the object was no plane. In fact it was a man- a suit of man rather. 

 Stephen stopped short of the device, his brain took in what little information he could around the adrenaline running through his veins. As he stepped forward to inspect the smoking suit, an arm shot up. Stephen faltered again, watching on guard as the arm grabbed at the face of the suit and plucked the plate off, revealing a blooded human beneath. That Stephen could work with. 

 “Hey, hello sir, can you hear me?” Stephen asked calmly as he knelt down beside the man. He leaned over the suit, searching his face for any recognition or sign he heard. The man was gleaming with sweat and had a handful of scrapes across his nose and forehead. He furrowed his brow and squinted back when Stephen got up close to him. “You’ve been in an accident, I need you to stay still for me, ok?”

 “Accident… that what they call falling outta the sky these days?” The man groaned. He closed his eyes briefly, seemingly collecting himself.

 “I wouldn’t say you stuck the landing so something must have gone wrong, therefore, accident.” Stephen hummed back as he assessed the suit and however the hell he was going to get it off. Engineering wasn’t really in his job description. 

 “Corn.” The man grumbled. 

 Alright a concussion was definitely on the books, note that. “I am sorry?” The doctor asked.

 “Field. Where are we, upstate?” 

 “We are about five miles out of Rose Hill, Nebraska.” A mechanical voice chimed, startling Stephen. He leaned a little away from the iron suit, a perplexed expression on his face. Finding a man in a tin can was one thing, hearing that tin can speak was entirely another. What the devil was going on here? And why did Stephen have to be the one burdened to deal with it. 

 “Why!?” The man shouted, confusion and terror flashing across his injured face. He began to fidget and look this way and that as if answers would be written in the dirt around him. Stephen placed a firm hand on the man’s chest to steady him. “Jarvis, not my idea! What are we doing here? This is thousands of miles away! I gotta get Pepper, I gotta…” His tangent died off as his breathing became erratic. 

 “I prepared a flight plan. This was the location.”  

 “Who asked you!?” The man shouted again, voice leveled with distraught. His brows were furrowed in a painful grimace as he breathed deeply. Stephen’s brain was firing off in alarm, knowing all too well the signs of shock and panic. But before he could reach out to snap the man out of it, a haggard command of, “Open the suit!” was yelled. 

 With a movement that looked far too sluggish for a machine of such power, the metal suit began unfolding like a torn apart lego set. The man immediately shot up into a seated position. He shuddered and groaned with each huff of breath. Ever so slowly he started looking around the little impact zone, taking in the burnt corn and piles of dirt around him. He grabbed at his left arm, rubbing circles near his wrist. It was at that point that he realized he wasn’t alone. 

 “No broken spine then, that’s good at least.” Stephen commented from where he’d finally given up his assumption this man was in a medical crisis and instead sat himself down on a mound of dirt. He examined the man’s face, followed his neck and down until he stopped on the glowing orb in his chest. Ah. Really it was rather disappointing how long it took Stephen to realize who he was looking at. What other billionaires flew around in flashy tin cans?

 “Uh- sorry who are you?” Tony pointed accusingly with his right hand, leaving his left cradled close to his chest. He looked curious but not really alarmed. 

 “Stephen Strange. I was driving by when I saw your little crash landing.” The doctor nodded towards the mess of machinery Tony still sat atop of. He looked down and pursed his lips as if conceding Stephen’s point.

 “And you just decided to investigate? For all you know I could have been the next big bad villain ready to take over this unsuspecting-” Tony paused and took another wary look around him before he settled on, “-field.”

 “I am annoyed that I can’t even take that as a joke anymore, all things considered. Such strange times we live in.” Stephen rubbed at the pinched tension between his eyes. “But no, I am a doctor. Figured someone might need one after hurtling out of the sky.” 

 That lit up the billionaire's eyes. He snapped his fingers, “Ah! A doctor you say? Well what’s your diagnosis, Doc?”

 Stephen leaned his elbows forward onto his knees, “A few scrapes and bruises, possible mild concussion. With a little Neosporin you might just live.” He shrugged. The adrenaline of before was finally wearing off. An aching weight was settling over the doctor's bones, making him abundantly aware of how late the hour was. Gods he wished he was in bed already.    

 “Don’t suppose there is a town nearby?” Tony asked as he slowly heaved himself up to his feet. “Hey J-”

 “I actually think I need to sleep now, sir.” Jarvis’s scratchy voice echoed from the sparking armor. 

 “Jarvis.” Tony turned to look down at his suit. An eerie silence was his only response. “Jarvis?” 

 Stephen suddenly felt as though he should look away from the stricken expression upon Tony’s face. Like a man realizing for the first time that he’s on his own. Lost in the middle of nowhere with no easy way of getting out. Later when Stephen goes over this encounter, he would realize that expression was the reason he intervened. 

 “Well, no use standing around out here.” Stephen slapped his knees and clambered to his feet. He grabbed his bag and then tossed it onto the iron man suit. Tony pulled his head out of its sorry state to watch the doctor move around him. At least he snapped out of it fairly quickly.

 Stephen leaned down by the feet of the armor and then begrudgingly lifted one after the other with a quiet groan. Christ it was good he had some amount of muscles from working on the farm, otherwise there’d be no way this thing was getting moved. “Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna lend a hand, Mr. Superhero?”

 A small grin started spreading over Tony’s crestfallen face, lighting into one of mischief. “Seems like you’ve got it handled, Doc.” He chimed and hopped off his suit towards the head. Despite his words he leaned down and gathered the shoulders of his suit into his grasp. “Lead on, cowboy.”

 “I resent that.” Stephen hissed through his strain to lift the armor. He shuffled backwards, testing his steps, before heading off towards where he left his truck.

 It took them a fair bit of time navigating around corn stocks, many of which broke off or were highly disfigured by their trampling. Stephen felt a pang of guilt for the farmers that’d have to clean up this mess, much less the stock they were losing. He’d be sure to apologize later. 

 Eventually, however, they made it to the road and after a little jimmy rigging, they managed to get the damn suit into the trunk. Stephen closed said trunk with a huff and then began dusting off his hands. 

 Tony leaned on the side of the vehicle, breathing heavily from the work. He wiped his hand across his brow and frowned at the dirt, sweat, and blood that came away. “If you could drop me off at the nearest town, I’d be mighty grateful, pard'ner.” He asked in a ridiculous southern accent. 

 “Firstly, Nebraska not Texas. Secondly, absolutely not.” Stephen turned without further warning to head towards the driver’s door. Tony’s eyes widened in alarm. He hurried to the passengers door, unsure if the man intended to just ditch him but he wasn’t about to risk it. 

 “Seriously? Then what the hell was all that? You just gonna run off with my suit?” Tony accused as he flung the door open. He was momentarily stunned into silence as a dog jumped straight into his face. “Shit!” He shouted, stepping back to get out of the way, but the door kept him close enough for Bats to hop his front paws onto his chest and begin his slobber filled assault.  

 Stephen grinned over the coughing and gagging coming from across the way. He lazily fished out his keys and started the truck. As soon as Fleetwood Mac started up on the radio, Bats calmed down and assumed his position of sitting front and center.

 Tony spat and huffed, rubbing aggressively at his cheeks to get the dog furr and other fluids off his face. “Gah!” He shouted and dropped his hands so he could throw a scathing glare Stephen’s way. 

 “Are you getting in or what?” Stephen asked from his very relaxed and bored looking position behind the wheel. His left arm was hanging over the window, fingers tapping at the top of the frame. 

 “Depends where you’re taking me.” Tony countered. He lifted one foot onto the truck and grabbed the handle of the door for support. “I know how horror movies start. You lure me into your car, take me out into the middle of nowhere, what’s a poor gal like me supposed to do with no phone or weapons?”

 “You very obviously do not know horror movies well, because you just gave away the information that you have no phone or any protection.” Stephen countered with a shrug. “Also, don’t know if you noticed but you’re already in the middle of nowhere. I could’ve easily killed you by now.” 

 “Which means you’re either into some kinky shit or you’re going to ransom me.” 

 Stephen hummed thoughtfully, “Either way, you’ll have to get into the car.” 

 Tony held his ground, staring Stephen down with a squinted gaze. He pursed his lips and looked to be really going over his options before he grinned and shrugged, “Good thing I am into kinky shit and am rich.” He then pulled himself into the truck and slammed the door closed behind him. 

 Bats wagged his tail happily at his new companion.  

 With a flick of his wrist, Stephen put the car in drive and sped off down the dusty road. It was minutes further down before he said, “Town is forty minutes in the opposite direction and I’ve had a long enough day as is. My place is just up ahead, you can crash there for the night. I’ll take you to town first thing in the morning.” He could feel Tony assessing him from his peripheral. 

 After a moment of silence Tony asked, “You got any tools at your place?” 

 “As much as one needs on a farm.” Stephen frowned. “Nothing fancy like your tin can back there.” 

 “Don’t need fancy.” Tony assured in that horrendous southern accent again. He grinned when he saw Stephen roll his eyes. “I just need some things to tinker with…”

 ……  

 “This is it!?” 

 “I told you it’s a farm.” Stephen sighed as he dropped his medical bag on one of the counters in his garage. He decided he would leave the sorting and restocking for in the morning. He was absolutely beat for the day. By the time they’d pulled into the property it was nearing midnight. The main house was dark, Stephen’s parents having already headed off to bed. Luckily for him, Stephen had his own loft apartment above the garage, which was a little away from the house. There was no need to sneak an extra person into a house with his parents, how utterly awkward that would have been. 

 Beverly and Eugene were used to Stephen coming and going as he pleased. He was an adult after all and he occasionally worked odd hours. He lived on the farm for the convenience of his parents rather than any true desire to stay there for himself. The land and the animals were a difficult job to deal with, one his elderly parents didn’t want to give up. They weren’t as young as they used to be and an extra hand went a long way for them. So he helped where he could and they gave Stephen his space when he was tired of it all.  

 Tony shuffled around in the cabinets of tools that in fact had very little. It wasn’t like they needed much outside of repairs and replacement parts for the machinery outside. This wasn’t a lab. Stephen didn’t know what Tony expected but he was obviously disappointed. 

 “I don’t think I can get my suit started with this.” Tony groaned as he held up pruning shears. 

 Stephen snorted at the put upon expression on Tony’s face. He looked like a child pouting, bottom lip pushed out and everything. He wandered over to examine the man’s findings and had to admit it was all pretty abysmal. He really didn’t want to deal with this right now. “I am guessing you weren’t out here for the view.” He suddenly commented with a resigned sigh. This wasn’t going to be an easy fix was it?

 “Afraid not.” Tony tossed the garden scissors back into the cabinet. “Kinda end of the world business actually.” 

 “Christ.” Stephen sighed again, this time louder and with more pain. He rubbed at his temples as he thought. “There are some stores in town you could rifle through tomorrow. In the meantime, standing here worrying about it wont help. Come with me.” He nodded towards a flight of stairs off to the far side. 

 Stephen propped the door at the top of the stairs open for Tony and Bats to slip inside. It was nothing grand or fancy, just an open loft space. A few steps away from the door was a decent sized bed and living room set up, and to the opposite side of the room was a kitchen and dining area. Stephen kicked the door shut behind him and lazily tossed his keys into a little dish near the door. He followed that by also kicking his shoes off. 

 “You can have the bed, I’ll take the couch.” Stephen yawned and made his way over to a dresser to pull out a change of clothes.

 Tony slipped out of his own shoes and carefully walked around the whole loft, taking in every nook and cranny. To the untrained eye it might just seem like perusing, but Stephen could tell the man was definitely checking his exits and the security of the place. He couldn’t blame him, stuck in an unfamiliar building with a stranger? He would have done the same thing. 

 “Here.” Stephen tossed a shirt and some sweatpants onto the bed. He was pretty sure they’d be too big, but better to offer something rather than nothing. With that, they both began an awkward dance around each other as they got ready for bed. Ten minutes later the lights were flicked off and they were both tucked into their respective spots, trying desperately to sleep.

 ……

 Beverly hiked up the stairs to her son's loft apartment above the garage. In her arms was a basket of fresh laundry. She knocked once and softly popped the door open once she got no reply. It wasn't too unusual for her son to sleep in on weekends after all, but she had a large breakfast marinating in the kitchen that she had every intention of sharing. They didn’t eat together very often, but she’d heard the boy come in rather late last night and knew a little food never hurt to liven someone after a long night. 

 "Stephen, honey." She called as she made her way into the loft. She made it only a few steps before faltering. She blinked once. Twice. 

 Lying face down with his arms and legs spread wide was an unfamiliar man in her son's bed. The sheets were tossed messily over his sure to be naked body. A pair of sweatpants laid to one side of the bed, looking like they’d been abandoned in the night. And a shirt that she knew to be Stephens was shoved up around the man’s shoulders. Curious. 

 Beverly took one look before gently setting down the basket of laundry and quietly making her way out again. 

 A quick trip into the garage led her to her missing son. Stephen was bent over his medical bag, replacing and organizing equipment. 

 "Breakfast is ready dear." Beverly gently laid a hand on her son's arm, giving a soft squeeze. 

 Stephen looked up with a smile. 

 "Your friend is welcome too. Preferably dressed of course." Beverly smirked over her shoulder as she made to leave. 

 Stephen couldn't even utter a word out before she was gone. 

 …..

 The table was quiet, aside from the scraping of silverware against plates. Stephen sat awkwardly hunched over his eggs and toast, trying to focus on eating and remembering what all he needed to get done today. This inopportune breakfast was throwing a bit of a wrench in his schedule, but he hadn’t the heart to turn down his mothers invitation. Not that she’d let him slip off without feeding his guest anyways.

 Said guest was currently sipping at the coffee that’d been prepared and scanning the morning paper without a care in the world. His brows furrowed every so often and his foot tapped an anxious rhythm but overall he seemed perfectly fine with this arrangement. 

 His parents on the other hand… Beverly was smirking nearly the whole time, shooting Stephen glances between bites of her muffin. She’d pointedly glance at Tony and then back to him with a raised brow, inviting Stephen to comment but the good doctor elected not to engage. His father looked rather annoyed with the whole affair, which wasn’t too surprising. 

 A rustling of paper jolted Stephen out of the glaring contest he was having with his mother. Tony smacked the folded up paper down onto the table and tilted his mug at it in an accusatory fashion. 

 “Apparently I am dead.” He grunted and took a swig of coffee. 

 “Oh that’s a bit of a bummer.” Beverly frowned.

 Stephen glanced down at the headline describing Tony Stark’s tragic demise. He hummed thoughtfully and took a careful sip of his tea. “I suppose that’s for the best.”

 “Well now that’s not very polite, Stephen.” Beverly chided. She swatted at her son with her napkin. 

 “Yea, have some respect for the recently deceased.” Tony grinned. He leaned towards Stephen with his chin cushioned against his hand. The display earned him an eye roll from both Mr. Strange’s. 

 The elder of the two rose from his chair with a grunt. He deposited his plate by the sink and made his way off towards the front door. It slammed behind him, leaving an ugly silence in its wake. Beverly was quick to sweep it away however. 

 “Oh don’t mind him, a bit of a recluse that one is.” She winked at Tony and then nodded towards the discarded paper. “That was quite something there, inviting terrorists to your house. What kind of a tactic would you call that?”

 “An idiotic one.” Stephen grumbled around a bite of toast. That earned him another stern look from his mother.

 Tony for his part did look a little chastised. “He’s not wrong. I wasn’t in the best place to be making decisions like that.” He admitted with a shrug. In fact he’d realized that not an hour after making said decision. He’d just been so angry, let the paparazzi get in his head while he was vulnerable to subterfuge. “A friend of mine was hurt in the last bombing. I was angry. I am angry. But putting myself and those close to me in danger wasn’t the solution.”

 Beverly nodded solemnly, her face was set in the perfect display of sympathy. She was a very sincere woman and made no show of hiding it. Stephen chewed slowly across from her. He pushed his plate slightly away and glanced towards the somber mechanic beside him. 

 That sure as hell didn’t sound like the arrogant playboy philanthropist Stephen had read about. It wouldn’t be the first time the media had gotten the image of a celebrity wrong. However, Tony had made quite a show of it all himself in the past. Perhaps the ending and saving of the world had humbled him. 

 “We all make mistakes.” Beverly smiled reassuringly. “Especially when grief is mixed in.”

 …. 

 The ride to town was a rather uneventful one all things considered. Stark didn’t make nearly as much a fuss as Stephen had expected him to. He kept mostly to himself, gazing out the window probably to get a better lay of the land now that it was daylight. Bats occasionally clambered onto Tony’s lap to get a good mouthful of the wind rushing by. The mechanic didn’t take too kindly to it at first but well into the drive he succumbed to rubbing at the pups flopping ears, a small resigned smile on his lips. 

 Fields of corn passed by in blurs for miles. Every once in a while a small house would pop up, its paint always chipped and driveway always dirt. They didn’t pass any other cars but Tony was a little startled to see a couple riding horseback along the road at one point. So very uneventful and boring, how did people live like this? It was another handful of miles before they started making it into town.

 They passed only a handful of buildings, most of them in rather rough shape. One particularly broken square of rubble caught Tony’s eye. A smattering of flowers and memorials lay solemnly around what looked to be a wall of a house, now nothing more than toppled over brick. “What’s the story there?” He asked, nodded towards the site.

 Stephen glanced over briefly before focusing back on the road. He was nothing if not a careful driver it seemed. “Chad Davis. He was ex-military, won a bunch of medals in the army. Some folks said he went crazy and made a bomb, then he blew himself up right there.”

 Tony watched the rubble growing further away in the side mirror. “Six people died, right?” 

 “Yeah.” Stephen replied.

 “Including Chad Davis?” 

 “Yep.” 

 Tony nodded slowly. He hadn’t caught a great glimpse at the site but he was sure he’d only seen five shadows. That didn’t make any sense. Six people and one of them didn’t leave behind a mark? The gears were turning in Tony’s head, clicking and clacking into various combinations that could solve this puzzle. “There were only five shadows.” He muttered.

 The doctor shifted beside him, his demeanor suddenly becoming a little antsy. He looked annoyed, or maybe not so annoyed but rather unsure how to tread here. He tapped his fingers against the wheel and sighed. “People have seemed to get it in their heads that the shadows are some celestial imprint.” He shook his head a little. “As if they are the marks of the souls that went to heaven.”

 Tony raised a brow, which Stephen met with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t seem like be bought any of the stuff he was saying. “Except Chad Davis. He went to Hell, so no shadow.” He finished the statement off with a dramatic spooky wiggle of his fingers as though he was casting a spell. 

 Tony grinned at the display. “I take it you don’t believe in all that?” 

 “Absolutely not.” Stephen scoffed. “I don’t partake in the religious rhetoric that festers in small towns.” 

 Tony hummed his agreement. But that still didn’t answer what actually happened. “Still begs the question.” 

 “His mother still lives here, she’d know more. She’s at the bar more times than not these days, we can check later tonight.” Stephen rested his arm against the open window, tapping his fingers on the rusted blue metal. It was at least worth a shot. Tony needed more answers before he could move forward with any of this mess.

 Stephen pulled the truck up outside a small general store and cut the ignition. 

 “That’ll be you over there,” He leaned over and pointed to the couple store fronts along the road. Across the street was a diner and further down the bar. “I have to go meet with a patient around the block. If you need me I’ll be at the red house.”

 Tony whipped around as Stephen climbed out of the truck. “Wait- you’re not coming with me?” He quickly followed suit out of the car, Bats jumped down after him. He didn’t wanna sound needy but he hadn’t a clue where to look for the things he needed. It’d be so much easier if the town resident at least gave him a hand.

 Stephen grabbed a hefty brown leather bag from the trunk, a very vintage looking monstrosity if you asked Tony. He remembered seeing it last night. That thing looked like it belonged in a medical museum. He half expected for the doctor to pull out a bone saw. The man rounded the car with a very unimpressed look on his face. He nodded towards the stores again. 

 “I am a doctor, not a mechanic. The only doctor here in fact so I am a busy man. Just because you decided to fall out of the sky and I offered - out of the kindness of my heart, mind you - to help you, doesn’t mean my schedule is any less full.” Stephen stated as he checked the time on his watch. Geeze even that poor thing looked like it belonged in the 50s. 

 “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Everything you need should be over there. I’ll be back in an hour.” Stephen turned to leave, he made it five steps before he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “Try not to cause any trouble, Stark.” He then resumed walking away.

 Tony scoffed and then looked down at Bats who sat at his feet patiently wagging his tail. “Is he always such an asshole?” 

 Bats barked happily in reply. He stood and trotted around in a circle a few times before looking back up at Tony and barking again. “I take it you’re my tour guide then. Lead on, Sir Bats.”

 …… 

 Roughly forty minutes later, Tony was shoving the last of the supplies he required into the back of the truck. There were a handful of boxes filled with tools and wires, things he hadn’t seen present at the Strange household that he’d need to fix up Mark 42. Hopefully he’d get this show on the road pretty quick, every minute of wasted time was another possible person getting blown up or worse. 

 Tony hopped down from the trunk and crouched to scratch at Bats ears. “Alright, should we go find your daddy?” He smirked to himself at his wording. Truly he was a child. 

 Like a drone zeroing in on its target, Bats trotted off away from the stores. Tony was quick to follow, a little amazed the creature seemed to know where he was going. His nose was down, sniffing left and right in a zigzag motion down the sidewalk. He turned the corner, heading towards a residential area. 

 Tony spotted the red house Stephen had previously mentioned he’d be residing. It was a decent size and even had one of those ridiculous white picket fences around the front lawn. Tony could just make out Stephen helping an older woman out onto the front porch. He steadied her arm and eased her down onto a quaint little bench swing. The woman was smiling pure sunshine and patted Stephen’s hand in thanks as he pulled away. Oddly enough Stephen was smiling just as kindly back. 

 By that point Bats had spotted his owner as well. He barked cheerfully and rushed past the jarred gate and up the steps to greet Stephen. 

 “Oh sweet boy!” The woman gasped. She leaned down to pat the excited pup. “I was wondering where you were, assistant Bats!” 

 Tony grinned at the nickname, of course the dog came with on Stephen’s house calls. Sick people loved animals, right? He shimmed past the gate himself but stopped at the stoop of the stairs, unsure how to tread here. Stephen was technically on the job, right? He probably should have waited in the car. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. 

 As if sensing his thoughts, the little old lady turned her gaze on him. She had big glasses that comically magnified her eyes. “And who’s this then, Stephen dear?” She asked with a voice made of honey. The doctor shifted beside her. 

 Before he could answer, however, Tony grinned and gave a wave. “Just a friend, visiting from out of town.” He brushed off easily. Really the less attention the better- which Tony never thought he’d be saying.

 “A friend, you say? Of Stephens? Why that’s something I’ve never heard of.” She cackled. The wooden swing created beneath her as she rocked back from the force of her laugh. 

 Stephen hardly suppressed an eye roll. He radiated annoyance, and yet his tone was still relatively kind as he replied, “yes well, stranger things have happened, Mabel.” 

 “Oh I jest, dear boy!” Mabel patted Stephen’s arm affectionately. She really was the embodiment of the stereotypical grandma figure. “Why, I can’t remember the last time Stephen left town. How ever did you meet?” She turned her attention back to Tony, the question obviously for him. Stephen looked again like he wanted to reply but the mechanic beat him to it. 

 “Oh ya know, my ride broke down out here and he swooped in like a knight in shining armor. He picked me up and put me back on my feet. You know what they say about doctors, catch yourself one of those and you’re set for life.” Tony gushed. So much for less attention. It was worth it to see Stephen struggle for control of the conversation.

 Mabel’s magnified eyes lit up and her smile grew tenfold. “Oh how romantic!” She gasped, hands flying to clutch in front of her chest as though she just witnessed a proposal. 

 Stephen, poor thing, was sputtering and very nearly red in the face. “That is-”   

 “Oh wait till the girls at the dinner hear! You know we’ve been trying to get this poor young thing to meet someone nice for ages. Of course fate would have to intervene. Dreadfully sorry about your car breaking down, but what a wonderful outcome!”     

 “Nooo,” Tony gapped, he could roll with the best of the gossips. “but he’s such a catch! I mean look at those cheekbones.” He paused to lean a little closer to Mabel. Cupping his hand over the side of his mouth he stage whispered, “Must be the personality, he can be a bit prickly.” And gave a cheeky wink.

 Mabel nodded solemnly. “He means well thought. Dear Stephen has been looking after me for years. Why if not for him I wouldn’t have made it nearly this far. He’s an excellent doctor, very sharp. I tell him all the time what an absolute blessing he is. Isn’t that right, Stephen?”

 “Yes Mabel, thank-”

 “But he does have a bit of an attitude.”  

 “-you…”

 Tony tossed his head back with a laugh. “I like you! Mabel, was it?” 

 “Oh yes, Mabel Witlock.” 

 “Alright! We should be getting on our way Ms. Witlock.” Stephen interrupted with a fierce clap of his hands. He still looked a little flushed in the face but it was undetermined whether that be from embarrassment or anger. What a fun game to play. 

 Mabel smiled knowingly at her doctor. She patted Stephen’s arm as he passed towards the stairs. “Oh take care, Stephen. It was a pleasure to meet you-”

 “Tony. You can call me Tony.” The mechanic grabbed Mabel’s outstretched hand in a gentle shake. They shared a smile and nod before Tony hurried off to catch up with his ride. Stephen had already marched himself to the road. Damn his long legs. 

 “And here I thought you’d have terrible bedside manners.” Tony cooed as he slowed next to Stephen. The man looked mostly recovered, but let it be known Tony doesn’t let things go. “That was really adorable back there. You, helping the little old lady. Very chivalrous and all that.”

 Stephen scoffed, “I was simply doing my job, Stark. Do you not treat your staff with basic forms of respect?”

 “I wouldn’t say I treat them like my nonna, no.” Tony swayed to catch a glimpse of Stephen’s eyeroll. He rocked back with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

 “Considering I’ve known her since I was a child, it’s not that big of a deal. You’re forgetting this is a small town, everyone knows everyone. In fact half the elderly population here probably babysat me when I was growing up. A city boy like you wouldn’t understand.”

  Now wasn’t that just the stereotype of the century! “Now you just sound like your father.” Tony just barely restrained himself from sticking his tongue out. 

 “He hasn’t said a single word to you yet.” 

 “Doesn’t have to, I can practically hear his internal monologue. Damn city slickers, get off my lawn!” Tony shouted in a butchered country accent. He lifted his fist to wave about and furrowed his brow to get a really good old man effect going. It all rips a laugh from the doctor. Which is a breath of fresh air to hear, Tony doesn’t think he’s heard anything sweeter. It brings a genuine smile to his face. 

 Stephen shook his head, laughter dying to a hum. “Don’t take it personally. You should have seen his expression when I told him I was going off to college. I might as well have stabbed him in the back, would have been less of a betrayal.” 

 “Don’t tell me you traded in your cowboy boots for loafers!” Tony gasped. 

 “How else does one get a phd?” 

 Tony paused, tilting his head to the side in thought. “I guess online school didn’t reach all the way out here?” He pondered aloud. “For all I know you guys just draw names from a hat and that’s the job you’re elected to do here. No phd’s needed.”

 Stephen looked to the sky as if trying to find the strength before he glared over at Tony. “I’ll have you know, I went to Columbia. Top of my class.” They rounded up to Stephen’s beat up blue truck by that point. He opened the door for Bats to jump inside, patting his head along the way. 

 “You don’t say… What the hell are you doing back here then?” Tony wondered aloud. Usually once people left their hometowns they didn’t come back. 

 “Long story. Did you get everything you needed?” Stephen inquired as he hauled his bag into the trunk, eyeing the boxes sitting nearby. 

 Touchy subject then, Tony noted. He patted one of the boxes with a nod, “Should have everything I need to get outta your hair.” 

 “Desperate for an escape, are we? Oh whatever would the world do without Tony Stark for a day.” Stephen grinned. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the edge of the trunk, staring down the celebrity hero on the other side. 

 Tony moved to mimic the doctor's stance, “Probably go up in flames, given the state of affairs right now.” It was said in jest but Tony couldn’t help the seed of fear that slipped in there. No, the world could do without Tony but they needed Iron Man, and last time he checked they were the same being. Because of that, Tony wasn’t allowed breaks. He had to be on constantly, he couldn’t waste his time galivanting out here in the fields while people were dying back home. 

 “So that all falls on your shoulders? No one else can save the world?” Stephen frowned, the snark of before instantly taking the backseat. He might be an asshole on most days but the way Tony said that statement felt too heavy. 

 Tony shifted uncomfortably. “Not with this. This is my mess to clean up.” He admitted. His fingers drummed along the rigid metal beneath his hands. Taking responsibility for things, that’s what he was supposed to do now, right? Accept you made mistakes, own up to them, and fucking fix it before it grows any worse. He was trying. Goddamn it he was trying so hard.

 Stephen watched the mechanic squirm beneath his gaze. “You’re not responsible for other people’s actions.” He said sternly. He knew what self doubt and hatred sounded like and this man, who saved the world not months ago, didn’t deserve to be questioning himself. 

 “I am if they are in direct correlation to me-”

 “No.” Stephen held up his hand, stopping Tony in his tracks. The billionaire has explained the situation earlier to him. Something along the lines of this maniac blaming Tony for his lack of help years ago, and perhaps a bit of spite for being such an asshole to the guy. “Passing on someone’s science project is not a means for domestic terrorism. Even if you left them hanging. You’re allowed to say no. You’re even allowed to be an asshole if you want. None of that warrants all of this.” 

 Stephen sighed heavily and pushed his hand back through his hair. “You’ve saved the world from an alien invasion for gods sakes, I think you’ve well made up for any tomfoolery in your past.”

 That was… well. Tony was a little stunned into silence for the first time in his life. “That was probably better than anything my therapist tried to tell me… you sure you're in the right kind of medical field, doc?” He was obviously deflecting but what did Stephen want him to say? Geeze they just met yesterday and already Stephen was a better acquaintance than ninety percent of the people closest to him. Pepper and Rhodey excluded, of course. 

 “Oh shut up.” Stephen pushed away from the truck and moved to get inside. Tony was quick on his heels to follow.

 “Just saying, very inspirational stuff!” Tony called, chuckling as Stephen slammed his door shut loudly. “Hey all this trauma dumping is making me hungry, when are you going to feed me?”

 …….

 The breeze was rich with summer wheat. A squeak of plastic cutlery shifting against styrofoam to-go boxes is the only sound besides the rustle of nearby crops. 

 Tony and Stephen sat quietly on the trunk of Stephen’s rusty old truck. Sitting around them were various containers from a nearby diner. Stephen had sequestered his new marvel away to the outskirts of town. They parked atop the highest hill, which for Nebraska was really only that, a hill. You could just about see the whole town from up there. 

 After their morning running between Stephens clients and needing to get Tony's supplies, they were in need of a little break. Boxes of various electrical equipment sat beside them, a show of their hard work.

 Tony chewed his burger slowly, contemplating the surroundings. Fields and dirt, aside from the practically one road town. It was rather dull, but it had charm. He certainly wouldn't survive here but to each their own. 

 "So," Tony cleared his throat, tossing aside his empty containers. "How does a top of his class doctor end up staying in a place like this?"

 Stephen paused his chewing, pointedly narrowing his eyes at the tin man across from him. 

 Tony stared back, unfazed. "I googled you." He explained. "You have quite the list of hospital ears ringing. You could be anywhere, and yet you choose here."

 Stephen sat his utensils down slowly. He swallowed and put his things aside. "It's honest work. The people here, they don't have the resources-"

 "Your talents are wasted here." 

 Stephen squinted at the land around them, lips pressed together tight. There was a strain around his eyes. "You're a special kind of douchebag aren't you."

 "Thank you." Tony smiled. 

 "My sister." Stephen eventually summoned the words. "She passed suddenly just after my graduation. My parents weren't in any position to run their business and grieve at the same time. I'd just moved out of the dorms so I came back to help them take care of things."

 "How many years ago?"

 "Fifteen.” Stephen poked at a fry with his fork, he didn’t talk about this often obviously. It was hard to vocalize, but it’d been so long since he’d made any admission out loud that it felt almost therapeutic. Maybe he never actually had said it out loud. “They never really got over it." Stephen sighed.

 Tony nodded. Eventually he turned his softened gaze on Stephen. "Did you?" 

 Stephen was again quiet for a long while. His mouth twitched as though to speak a few times before he chuckled uncomfortably and moved to hop off the trunk. "Says the man with ptsd." 

 "Hey, we're talking about your trauma right now, not mine!" 

 Bats clamored off the truck bed after Stephen, barking cheerfully as the man dropped his leftover fries for the pup to gobble up. He started cleaning up their trash, piling it all in their to-go bag and tossing it into the back seat. While he was back there he grabbed a red rubber ball and meandered back to Tony’s side. By the time he was done, Bats had finished eating his treats and noticed what was in his owner’s hand.

 Stephen smiled as his trusty companion’s tail began wagging back and forth like a little propeller. He tossed the ball up and down with one hand, watching as Bats hopped back and forth with the motion. After a little teasing he eventually gave in and chucked the ball into the field. Bats took off after it with all his might.

 “Like a Bats outta hell.” Tony grinned. 

 Stephen rolled his eyes fondly and took a seat on the edge of the trunk once again. A comfortable quiet had fallen over them as they watched Bats tumble around in the long grass like a tiny lion hunting its prey. 

 Tony was the one to break that quiet, obviously not quite finished with their earlier conversation. “Do you have any other siblings?”  

 Stephen breathed in deeply and let out a long breath. “A brother.” He nodded. “Victor. He moved away pretty young, and doesn't want anything to do with me. Which is fine, the feelings mutual.” Jeez he hadn’t thought of his brother in a while either. After Donna, things got estranged in the Strange household. Last he heard, his brother was off with some Morgana lady. 

 “Cutting out the toxic family abscess, nice.” Tony hummed his appraisal. 

 “You know a lot about toxic family abscesses?” Stephen asked. 

 The grin on Tony’s face honestly said it all. “Boy do I! Although mine lie more in the Daddy Issues category.” He winked for further effect. Stephen shook his head, deeply regretting asking. “But he’s dead and so is mom. Water under the bridge.”

  Bats trotted his way over to the duo, proudly holding his rubber ball high in the air for all to see. His jaw clenched and unclenched to make the toy squeak like a little car alarm going off. They both smiled at the gleeful hound. Stephen leaned down to wiggle the toy from the pup’s jowls and threw it again into the tall grass. After a few more throws to wear Bats out, the trio started getting ready to leave.   

 Tony shoved the trunk closed while Stephen helped the tuckered out pup into the front seat. When Tony joined them he patted Bats head and rubbed at his floppy ears. “Who’s a good boy?” Tony sang. Bats woofed and wagged his little tail this way and that. Stephen was whipped relentlessly by the appendage as he stuck the car into drive.

 “Alright alright, calm down.” Stephen chuckled, batting Bats back. “Where to, Stark?”

 ….

 Dusk was just starting to touch as Stephen pulled into town. The streets were mostly empty, save for the local pub crawlers and late dinner takers. He pulled into a small bar off the main road and then motioned for Tony to follow him out. 

 Stephen walked in first with an air of nonchalance. A few rounds of “Hey Stephen!” were shouted from various corners of the establishment. He waved kindly and threw a greeting or two back on his way towards a table. Tony smirked at the man’s apparent popularity. He couldn’t blame them, hell he was drawn to the mysterious doctor just as badly. 

 It’d only been a day since his house was blown to smithereens and he’d face planted into Nebraska, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of being glad he was here. Had any other doctor picked him out of that corn field, Tony wasn’t sure he’d be having as swell of a time. There was just something about Stephen. Maybe his wit or his charm, that inherent kindness just below his guarded exterior. It was all fascinating to the mechanic. He couldn’t help the bitter taste in his mouth at the thought of having to leave.

 Stephen guided the two to a small table off to the side. A waitress swung by to grab their drink order before disappearing again. As they waited for the drinks, Stephen took a sweeping glance around the room. He looked bored and uncaring but Tony could tell he was evaluating the crowd. His gaze faltered for all of a second before caring on until he returned to casually looking back at Tony. 

 “She’s the blonde in the navy sweater.” Stephen nodded his head ever so slightly in the direction he spoke of. 

 Sure enough Chad Davis’s mother sat by herself, nursing a glass of amber liquid. Tony didn’t look too long, but could see from there she had a file sat in front of her. Strange, expecting company was she? 

 “Guess that’s my cue.” Tony slowly started making his way over to her. He stopped short of her table with a polite smile and asked, “Mrs. Davis, mind if I join you?” 

 Mrs. Davis glanced up from her glass. She eyed Tony up and down lazily before shrugging, “Free country.” 

 “Sure it is.” Tony nodded and dropped down into the creaking wooden seat across from her. 

 As if preparing for battle, Mrs. Davis drew in a deep breath before sighing it back out again. She leaned back in her chair, looking tired beyond belief. “Alright, where do you wanna start?”

 “I just wanted to say I am sorry about your loss. I wanna know what you think happened.” Tony responded carefully. He eyed the folder lying close by before returning his full attention to the woman in front of him. He must have been right, she was waiting for someone. 

 “Look.” She sighed. “I brought your damn file, you take it and go.” She dropped the aforementioned document in front of Tony and waved him off. 

 Tony paused briefly before slowly flipping open the folder to take a glance. Pictures of Chad Davis in the army greeted him first, followed by a MIA document and various other paperwork. At first glance it all seemed straight forward. That’s when he noticed a series of pictures taken of fellow team mates, their names and status. A familiar name stood out. 

 Tony dropped the folder closed and glanced quickly towards Stephen, who was still sitting where he’d left him. He was twirling around a water and trying not to look Tony’s way too suspiciously. 

 “Look, Mrs. Davis I don’t think your son killed himself. I guarantee you he didn’t kill anyone.” Tony assured her seriously. “Someone used him. As a weapon.”

 Mrs. Davis stared at Tony for a moment as if she’d seen a ghost. It took her a minute to gather herself before she leaned forward and whispered in a broken voice, “You're not the one who called me here, are you?” 

 Before Tony could answer, a badge was smacked down on the table between the two. They both pulled away quickly, staring up at a woman in a black suit who’d suddenly appeared. Her lips were twisted in a sneer as she spat, “Actually, I am.” Then followed the statement by grabbing Tony by the arm and slamming him face down on the table. 

 From the corner of Tony’s eye he could see Stephen lunging from his seat. Around him voices shouted out, various “Wows!” and “Hey there’s!” but Tony could only hear his heart beginning to pound in his chest. All the noise of the bar blurred into a violent hum, pressure building at the back of Tony’s head. 

 Stephen was beside him before he could even blink, a vicious glare thrown at the woman currently manhandling him. 

 “What’s going on here?” Stephen asked sternly.

 “It’s called an arrest.” The woman answered as she cuffed Tony’s hands behind his back. Once sure that he wasn’t getting away, she turned to regard the nosey citizen. Her eyes raked over Stephen slow and calculating. She cocked her head to the side and asked in a curious tone, “Strange, is it?”

 If he was surprised by this stranger knowing his name, Stephen didn’t show it. He crossed his arms and leveled the woman with his best put-upon glare. “Doctor Strange. And you are?” 

 “Homeland security.” 

 Tony struggled against the cuffs quietly behind the woman. He kept his gaze locked on Stephen the whole time however, concern swelling in the pit of his stomach. This lady sure didn’t seem like she was interested in playing nice, and he’d be damned if he let Stephen get in the middle of it all. 

 “Are we good here?” Homeland security replied. 

 “Hardly. I am going to need more information than that.” 

 “That’s a little above your pay grade, doc.”

 “For an enforcer of the law you sure don’t know how said law works, do you? He’s entitled to know why he’s being arrested.”

 “Alright, I was hoping to do this the easy way here but-” The woman leaned in towards Stephen, a sinister gleam in her eye. Behind her back Tony watched as her hand began to glow a pulsing orange. His eyes widened and heart dropped. For a moment he feared he was going to have another goddamn panic attack, but he acted on the adrenaline before it could take hold. He kicked out the woman’s legs without an inch of remorse, causing her to tumble to the ground and land roughly on her glowing hand. 

 “Stephen, go!” Tony shouted, stumbling to his feet after the doctor. They pushed their way through the crowd and back out into the parking lot where Stephen’s truck still sat. 

 Bats perked up in alarm as the two men clambered into the car. Stephen struggled with his keys, his hands shaking ever so slightly. It took him a few tries to get the key to go into the ignition, but he eventually got the darn thing going. As he went to hit the gas however, a pair of glowing orange hands slammed upon the hood of the truck, leaving large indents in the metal. 

 “What the fuck?” Stephen gaped. “That- is she glowing?!”

 “Floor it!” Tony shouted. 

 “I- I am not gonna run over a human being!” Stephen shouted back. His hands gripped at the wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white.    

 Tony flailed about beside him, unable to gesture with his hands. “She’s barely human, it doesn’t count!” He argued. Bats barked loud and angry, Tony was sure the dog absolutely agreed with him. 

 Stephen took deep breaths and shook his head, “I cannot in good conscience hurt someone- I am a doctor! I took an oath!” This yelling back and forth was getting nowhere and the freaky lady was starting to- yep she was climbing onto the hood. 

 Fuck it.

 Stephen closed his eyes and let out a scream, mirrored by Tony as they jolted into forward motion. The tires screeched angrily as they ripped across the parking lot. Glowing lady held on for a good while until Stephen jerked the wheel, sending them onto the street. They could barely hear her yell over their own screaming as she went flying over the side of the car. 

 “Holly shit!” Tony shouted, head whipping back to watch Ms. Homeland Security barrel-roll along the pavement. She laid still once she came to a stop but Tony could tell she wasn’t done. Her limbs twitched and head turned slowly to watch the truck speed off.  

 …..

 Stephen was shaking. 

 The two had arrived back to the farm well into the night. The lights were all off in the main house, the Strange’s having all already turned in for the night. Even the lingering farm animals were all locked up safe in the barn. 

 They parked outside the garage, cutting the engine as soon as they came to a stop. Stephen hadn’t said a word the whole drive back, and the mechanic had been too tired - and preoccupied trying to get the handcuffs off his wrists - to break that silence. Not until Tony noticed the man had started shaking. 

 “Hey-” Tony started quietly. He was of course still handcuffed so he couldn’t reach out like he wanted to. Damn he was getting too comfortable with near death experiences. Of course Stephen was freaking out, any sane person would after being chased by a lady made of lava. He should have been more aware of the maelstrom building in Stephen’s nerves. 

 Stephen didn’t register dropping his keys to the floor as he leaned back, limp in his seat. They’d been too heavy for his unstable fingers to grasp. He stared out the front window at the handprints dented into the hood. 

 “I killed her.” Stephen whispered, voice cracking over the syllables. 

 Tony’s head whipped towards him, a struck expression crossing his face. “Hey no, no you didn’t kill her!” He argued. He shuffled to the side, letting Bats hop over him so he was sitting right beside Stephen. “I looked, she was moving, she’s fine.” 

 Stephen sucked in a shaky breath. His fingers gripped at his jeans for a long moment before beginning to rub along his thighs in a rhythmic motion. He closed his eyes and breathed out long and hard, and then repeated the motion of breathing in deep through his nose and out through his mouth several times. 

 “I still hurt her.” Stephen whispered, voice wavering with each careful breath he took.

 Tony resisted the urge to be snarky, his mouth tended to run off when he was uncomfortable. Or really all the time, let’s be honest. But he didn’t want to upset the doctor any further. To Stephen this lady was probably just some coocoo who snapped. Sure he had an inkling she was dangerous but to a pacifist doctor type like Stephen, he probably didn’t think violence was the answer. Stephen didn’t know this superheroing shit could get you killed.

 “She would have killed us.” Tony said with no room for argument. Stephen’s brows furrowed at his words. 

 “You don’t know that-”

 “Everyone wants to kill me.” Tony cut that train of thought off before it could fester. He shrugged as though being a target wasn’t a big deal. “Hell, I am technically dead right now and jacked up super villains are still after my head!” 

 That earned him a strained chuckle. Stephen was eventually able to slow his jittery hands and even out his breathing. Tony sat patiently the whole time, he could honestly learn to take some notes to help deal with his own recent panic attacks. 

 “Why do I get the feeling that pleases you?” Stephen shook his head, beyond done with this man’s antics. 

 Tony grinned all the while, definitely the cat who got the cream. He wiggled his brows playfully, “What can I say? A little danger keeps the blood pumping, doc.” 

 With a final huff of breath Stephen straightened his back and opened his eyes. He glanced over at Tony, feeling a pang of guilt for how worried the man looked. He hid it well around his usual cocky grin but the way he angled towards the doctor with his full attention hardly felt relaxed. He was facing Stephen, leaning his left side against the seat to counter out his awkward balancing act with no hands. He had his head tilted towards Stephen’s shoulder, mere inches and his chin could have been resting on it. He looked like a kicked puppy.

 Stephen leaned a little to meet Tony’s gaze. He felt the unbearable urge to do something lame like kiss his forehead. He settled for brushing a stray hair back into place upon Tony’s head. He smiled softly. “Let’s get you out of those handcuffs.”

 A cheeky little grin spread across Tony’s face at the comment. He tipped his chin the rest of the way forward to fully rest on Stephen’s shoulder and smugly replied, “Is that the only thing you wanna get me out of?” 

 “Insufferable.” Stephen scoffed and shoved Tony’s head back with a palm flat against his forehead. Tony tipped off balance and landed back against Bats, earning an annoyed bark and face licks in retaliation. 

 ….. 

 The soft patter of keys clicking away on a keyboard echoed around Tony. He was hunkered down in Stephen’s little kitchenette. All the lights were off around him, the only light coming from the laptop resting in front of Tony. He hadn’t wanted to wake the doctor, who’d just nodded off a few hours ago. He laid only a handful of steps away in the bed in the middle of the room so Tony was trying his hardest not to be too loud. Damn loft floor plans. 

 He’d just gotten off the phone with Rhodey, who’d given him passwords to access the AIM files he needed. He was now currently going through video after video of Aldrich goddamn Killian interviewing soldiers for his little stem project. 

 He grit his teeth as he looked through the Extremis Phase 1 Testing videos. Groups of people were being strapped down and injected with the product. Over the length of the video the patients began glowing orange, their skin darkened and cracked like rocks splitting across lava. Amazingly missing limbs began growing back, as if they’d never lost them to begin with. 

 “That’s incredible.” 

 Tony nearly fell out of his chair from alarm as he whipped around and came face to face with a sleepy looking Stephen. He gripped his chest and puffed out a hard breath. “Jesus don’t you know not to startle a man with heart issues!” 

 Stephen chuckled and leaned back out of Tony’s space, “It’s a good thing there is a doctor on hand.” He started making his way around the kitchen, grabbing two mugs and a box of tea. 

 “If you’re making the leaf juice, I’ll pass.” Tony grumbled. He focused back on the video still playing as Stephen scoffed in the background. The video resumed with the testing but it seemed as though something was going wrong with one of the subjects. Killian shouted for everyone to evacuate. The clip cut to the subject screaming in agony as his body glowed brighter and brighter, looking like he was about to pop. And just as suspected an explosion erupted from the struggling man, blowing the lab apart in the process. 

 Tony leaned back in his chair, stomach turning at the images. “A bomb that’s not a bomb.” 

 “Sorry?” Stephen yawned. He watched the kettle on the stove warm to a boil and then proceeded to pour the steaming water into the mugs. 

 “The bombs, they’re not bombs they are people.” Tony sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. 

 Stephen leaned his elbows on the countertop as he slowly stirred his steaming tea. His brows furrowed at Tony’s comment, not quite understanding what the man was getting at and honestly not awake enough to comprehend anything anyways. He took a tentative sip and then sat the mug back down but kept his hands wrapped it, savoring the warmth. 

 “Aldrich Killian thinks he can play god, make a chemical that can regrow limbs and cure any illness. Sounds like a dream, right? Except the side effects are walking jackolanterns blowing up town square.” Tony closed his computer and wandered over to lean on the counter opposite Stephen. “Chad Davis was the bomb. This chemical caused him to overheat like a hot pocket.”

 “Lovely visuals, thanks.” Stephen grimaced. He stared down at his hands in thought. “I’ve heard that name. Killian. Read some of his papers.”

 “Please don’t tell me you’re pen pals or something-”

 “It was one email, calm down.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “I just brought it up because I remember him living in Miami at the time, he was building up some facility down there. I assume you’re going after him, yes?”

 Tony regarded Stephen before conceding he had a point. “Yea, I have Jarvis working on it.” 

 ……

 “It’s totally fine, sir. I seem to do quite well for a stretch and then at the end of the sentence I say the wrong cranberry.” Jarvis cheerfully spoke from the head of Tony’s suit. 

 Tony blinked once, twice.

 “And sir, you were right. Once I factored in available AIM downlink facilities I was able to confirm Doctor Strange’s intel. It appears your next destination is Miami, Florida.” 

 Stephen, the smug bastard, grinned from across the room. He sipped loudly at his nearly finished tea. Strewn out between them were bits and pieces of the Iron Man suit connected to various wires and batteries that the two had managed to snag on their last trip to town. Tony had set up shop in the garage, not wanting to take up any more room in Stephen’s actual residence. 

 Tony clapped his hands together, “Alright, good work team.” He plopped down onto a nearby stool and began typing away at the laptop nearby. “What’re our levels at, Jar?” 

 “Minimal charging.” Jarvis replied solemnly. 

 Tony ripped his hands away from the computer and stood abruptly. 

 “The power source is questionable, it may not succeed in revitalizing the Mark 42.” 

 “What’s questionable about electricity!?” Tony shouted. A wave of unbridled unease began making its way down his spine. Like a shot of liquid ice trickling quickly through his vines and accumulating in a big twisted ball in his stomach. It felt like a physical punch to the gut. Tony staggered away from the table. 

 Goddamn it, it was happening again. How many times was he going to have to sit through one of these freak outs? Was once not enough? Twice? Christ when were they going to end! 

 Jarvis’s voice slowly muffled into nothingness. Tony’s ears felt stuffed with cotton, he could hear nothing but the ringing alarms in his head and the rapid thump thump thump of his heart. Pins and needles pricked at his fingers, slowly making their way up his arms. He was losing feeling, it was just fuzzy beneath his skin. Was he having a heart attack? A stroke?

 As Tony made his way to drop to the floor, he felt a pair of arms grab him around the waist. He was gently lowered to the ground rather than uncontrollably dropping like he had planned. He sat his hands against the arms around him, trying to make out the feeling of the other person. Stephen? Was it Stephen? Most likely. 

 His vision swam for minutes, speckled with black spots. He tried to breathe, knowing it was the only thing he could do right now to ground himself. It was just so hard when he could barely even make out if he was breathing at all. Over the pounding of his heart and the shaking of his limbs, he couldn’t tell. 

 Something cold was gently pressed against the back of his neck and in the next moment Tony felt his consciousness being ripped back to the present. He gasped and blinked several times, slowly taking in where he was and accounting for all his limbs. The needle like sensation dulled, the blurry vision cleared, but his heavy breathing and light shaking persisted. 

 “That’s it. It’s ok, Tony.” A gentle voice soothed like a balm on an open wound.

 Tony relaxed back against the hold around him. The cool press of a damp fabric against his neck shifted, rubbing carefully behind his ears and along the curve of his shoulder blade. Tony sighed and leaned into the touch. 

 After an unknown amount of time Tony felt well enough tethered to sit forward on his own again. He breathed a moment before peeking back over his shoulder at the man sitting behind him. Stephen was leaned up against a cupboard with his legs parted to fit on either side of Tony. He had a carefully calm expression on his face. A wet rag sat between his hands. He fiddled with it, obviously nervous. 

 “Putting something cold on the back of your neck helps.” Stephen explained. He looked adorable. “The uh nerves behind your ears pick up signals when you're having a panic attack, overriding those signals with the cold sensation can help calm you down…” 

 Tony slowly started smiling and eventually grinning at the silly doctor behind him. He was trying so hard to be helpful. God, when was the last time someone cared about him like this? Pepper and Rhodey were always there, always kind and wonderful and everything Tony needed. He would never discredit their worth. It was just that this, this thing with Strange, it felt different. This guy who he met only days ago had wormed his way into his heart like a thief in the night. Now he was listening to said man ramble on about medical facts Tony couldn’t give a single shit about but he’d kill for it to never end. 

 “Thanks, doc.” Tony eventually interrupted. 

 Stephen nodded. “Anytime, Mr. Mechanic.” 

 Mechanic, huh? Tony hummed thoughtfully as he glanced up at the mismatched bits of Iron Man laying across the table. He didn’t have time to wait for a full battery charge, but he could maybe bide some time. Guess he’d just have to build something if his suit was out of commission. 

 “Hey Stephenie, mind if I borrow your car?”

 …..

 “Here.” Stephen flipped the latch on his watch and pulled it from his wrist. “Use this, it’s got an alarm built into it. That way you’ll know when your suit is done cooking.”

 Tony took the time piece into his hands carefully. It was the same he’d spotted the doctor wearing earlier. The black leather strap was worn down, obviously a well loved piece of wrist wear.

 “It's a limited edition so I am obviously going to want that back.” Stephen crossed his arms. 

 “Obviously.” Tony grinned. “Or is this just your way of saying I have to come back to visit you?” He teased playfully. If he was being honest there might have been a shred of truth hidden somewhere in that comment. Cause who was he kidding? He wanted to come back for Stephen after all this was said and done. He just hoped that was something Stephen wanted too.

 Stephen rolled his eyes affectionately, “I should be owed compensation for all you’ve put me through, Stark.” 

 “And yet you want to see me again?” Tony stepped forward, batting his eyes. Say yes, please say yes. Gods what was he, some desperate lady in waiting? He’d not been able to shake the tight lump in his throat since he came to the realization it was time to go. He didn’t want this to be the end.

 The doctor pursed his lips like he was holding back a grin. He closed his eyes for a long moment, and then opened them to look Tony straight on. His face softened, “Yes, Tony. I want to see you again.”

 A gust of air rushed from Tony’s lungs. He immediately tried to play it off by nodding and looking down to fiddle with the watch still in his hands. “Good. Cool.” He couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his cheeks. “Cause ya know, you’ve not even seen my real toys. You think Mark 42 is cool, just you wait till you see my lab- or well…” He paused, no house means no lab. “Shit no lab, right, um-” 

 Stephen gently brushed his fingers over Tony’s cheek, saving him from the stream of nonsense coming out of his mouth. “I think I’d rather spend a little more time with you than your bots, so don’t sweat it.” He froze as the doctor leaned in to lay a soft kiss against his other cheek. 

 ….. 

 It started shortly after Tony had left. The vans. They were black, unmarked, and most importantly never seen before around here. They sat parked in various places Stephen often frequented. At first he paid them little mind but as he kept noticing them, the further curious he got. 

 "Take care Stephen!"

 The doctor smiled and gave a wave over his shoulder as he left his clients house. He was heading to his truck when he saw it. A black van sitting across the street. He watched from the corner of his eye as he sat his bags in the trunk. 

 Bats barked cheerfully from the back seat, excited to be getting on the road again. This was their last stop so it was now time to head home. 

 Stephen hopped into the diver seat, giving a hearty head scratch to his faithful companion. "Ready?" 

 The engine roared and off they went down the road. Minutes later the black van followed. 

 It was only once they were out of town that Stephen really noticed. A sinking feeling sat heavy in his stomach as bright headlights flashed in his rearview mirror. He kept his hands steady on the wheel, speeding up gradually. The van sped up as well.

 Mere seconds later Stephen was lurched forward. The van rammed into his back. Before he could even react, the truck was flipping into the ditch and straight into an electrical pole. The only thing Stephen would remember is the soft whining of Bats and the slide of a van door opening. 

 …..

 Waking up zip tied to a rusty old bed frame was not written on Tony’s agenda for today, and yet here he was. It wasn’t even the oddest position he’d woken up in before, although it didn’t make the situation any lighter. At least the bed was standing up and he wasn’t subjected to lying down. That would have been a different kind of party. 

 Last thing he remembered was breaking into one of Killian’s AIM facilities. In retrospect taking out a mansion full of guards with a littering of hand made weapons from a hardware store probably wasn’t the greatest planning, but Tony thought he’d done pretty good all things considered. Now though? Now he was thinking he probably should have brought backup. At least he still has Stephen’s watch ticking away on his wrist. As long as he waited long enough, he could blow this dusty, rusty, popsicle stand.

 A quick scan of the room revealed a more or less dungeon vibe, with a mad scientist twist. There was a smattering of tables all lined with medical equipment, test tubes, and computers with various stats and readings on what Tony could only assume were Extremis samples. The rest of the room was dark and dingy, a concrete hole in the ground. 

 Tony rolled his eyes at the whole thing. How stereotypical could these villains get, honestly. He was interrupted from his musings by the echo of shoes on cement. 

 “You know what my old man used to say to me? One of his favorite of many sayings. The early bird catches the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.” Killian announced as he made his way down the stairs and over to one of the few tables. He was wearing a ridiculous cream colored suit that really just made him look like a Bond villain. 

 Tony lolled his head to the side, tracking the man’s presence around the room. “Not still pissed off about Switzerland, are you?” 

 “How could I be pissed at you, Tony?” Aldrich grinned. He sat a briefcase down at the table before turning to give the mechanic his full attention. “I am here to thank you. You gave me the greatest gift that anyone has ever given me.” He gushed as he took tentative steps towards Tony’s hanging body. With a dark gleam in his eye, he leaned in and said breathlessly, “Desperation.” 

 Turning to pace in front of him, Killian professed. “If you think back to Switzerland, you said you’d meet me on the rooftop, right? Well for the first twenty minutes, I actually thought you’d show up. And the next hour I- well I considered taking the one-step shortcut to the lobby if you know what I mean.”

 “Honestly, I am still trying to figure out what happened to the first mouse.” Tony lazily replied. He refused to give this manic an ounce of satisfaction.

 “But as I looked out over that city,” Killian continued without missing a beat. “I had a thought that would guide me for years to come. Anonymity, Tony. Thanks to you it's been my mantra ever since. You simply rule from behind the scenes. Because the second you give evil a face, a Bid Laden, a Gaddafi, a Mandarin, you hand the people a target.”

 Christ. Tony’s brow twitched with annoyance. “You’re something else.” He spat. This monologue was getting dull, but a quick glance at Stephen’s watch said he still had too much time to waste. Willing himself to not lash out, Tony asked, “What’s next for you in your world?”

 Killian’s eyes lit up from where he’d taken a seat at the desk he’d laid his briefcase at. He turned slowly to catch Tony’s eye. “Well, I wanted to repay you the selfsame gift that you so graciously imparted to me. Desperation.” 

 Well that didn’t sound good. 

 As if on cue, the doors upstairs slammed open and a gurney was led down a nearby ramp. 

 "It really is wonderful, live test subjects." Killian hummed as he slowly rose to meet the party.

 Several men filed in around the body, that of which was outfitted with suspensions for the patient's hands to be elevated. The person was wrapped thoroughly in gauze and bandages, many of which were speckled with dried blood. 

 "Tragic really, a simple accident causing so much damage." Killian snapped on a pair of gloves, very dramatic like. The men around him moved a tray with needles and various tools within Killians reach. "But you know those back water roads." He continued casually. "One little bump and you're in the ditch. And with no hospitals nearby… well the damage could be irreversible." 

 Up until that point the scene was really only disturbing at most. Tony couldn’t see the injured patient around the various men, and as horrible as it was to witness some poor innocent lackey get pushed around for show, that’s all it was. A poor innocent lackey. Someone Tony didn’t have any ties to. At least that’s what he thought. Until Killian opened his goddamn mouth and ruined it all.

 Tony stiffened. The men continued to stand guard around the bed, preventing the mechanic from getting a good look. He needed them to move. He needed to see, to be sure. It couldn't be-

 The zip ties enclosed around his wrists strained with the force Tony put into yanking forward. He grit his teeth, heart pounding loud in his ears. This couldn't be happening. Stephen wasn't supposed to be here. He was a civilian, he was supposed to be home, with his fields and his dog. But no he was lying there wrapped in bandages and unconscious. And his hands, christ, what had they done to him… 

 "Stephen!" Tony called. The man laid still on the gurney, not a single twitch or hum of response. Perhaps it was a blessing he wasn’t awake to feel the most likely excruciating pain he’d be in.  

 Tony cursed internally, the boiling rage beneath his skin had him shaking from the force. Goddamn it, how could he let this happen. If Stephen died because of this, he didn’t know how he’d ever feel ok again. Guilt mixed with the rage until a toxic concoction of hate bubbled inside, oh how he was going to rip Killian apart. 

 Killian hummed as he prepared a needle. "Worry not Stark, he lives. Barely. You see I wanted to show you first hand what my little science experiment is capable of. And to do that I needed a truly damaged volunteer."

 "Volunteer." Tony spat. The metal of the bedframe he’d been tied to creaked angrily. 

 Killian chuckled. He flicked the syringe and then lowered the point to Stephen's arm. 

 Tony yanked viciously against his restraint. "Don't you dare touch him!" He yelled uselessly. His screams did nothing to stop Killian from breaking skin. He could do nothing but watch as Extremis made its way into the doctor’s blood stream.

 And that's when the convolutions start. 

 It was jerking moments every few minutes, as if Stephen was being startled awake without actually waking up. His eyelids would twitch and brows furrow but he wouldn’t rise from his slumber. The jerking eventually turned into full body shivering. The tell tale sign of the chemical working through his system was showing by the orange glow of his veins.

 Meanwhile, Killian had lazily snapped off his surgical gloves and started directing his men what to do and where to go. He appeared to be getting ready to leave, which should have alarmed Tony but the mechanic couldn’t pull his eyes from the beads of sweat forming on Stephen’s forehead. 

 “I am not sure if you can tell, but the body is trying to decide whether to accept Extremis or just give up.” Killian mused. He stopped next to Stephen’s head and ran the back of a finger along the moisture growing at his temple. A fascinated little smile pulled at his cheeks. “And if it gives up, I have to say the detonation is quite spectacular. But until that point, it’s really just a lot of pain.” 

 Tony jaw popped from clenching his teeth so viciously. He tried not to show the turmoil this was putting him through, but it was a tough thing. Standing there, unable to do anything was tearing him apart from the inside out.      

 “While this has been fun, I really must be going.” Killian sighed regretfully. He waltzed over to Tony with his hands tucked in his pockets. He looked far too smug for a man Tony planned to rip apart in the near future. He stopped just far enough away to not risk getting kicked.

 “You’re a maniac.” Tony ground out. 

 “No, I am a visionary.” Killian corrected eagerly. He leaned forward and patted Tony on the cheek like one does a dog. The mechanic stood still, not giving into the desire to bite.

 With that Killian turned away in a flourish. He made his way to the stairs, but stopped to look back at Stephen’s now withering form. His eyes raked over the man’s frame, and then glanced up to Tony. “He is quite the specimen.” Killian purred. “Perhaps when this is all over I should rekindle that connection we had.” He left that pondering thought with Tony, disappearing through the doorway soon after.

 The silence that lingered was mind numbing. 

 The men that were left to stand guard milled around the room at leisure. It was a small relief that they didn’t go near Stephen or mess with the tubes and wires he was hooked up to. Tony thought he’d go mad watching the doctor lay there panting and shaking as though consumed by a raging fever. A chime from his wrist, however, pulled him away from that dark path. 

 The alarm had finally gone off, looks like time had worn out. 

 …..

 “Come on Steph, you promised we’d go swimming!” 

 A soft crunch of tall grass snapping under barefoot rose from the otherwise undisturbed meadow. It was followed by giggling and the unmistakable chatter of children running, awakening the quiet land. The sun was high in the afternoon sky, blazing hot just like all sticky July summer days in Nebraska. A mop of brown hair bounced along the tips of the overgrown brush, heading for an opening to the river.

 Stephen breathed slowly, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He watched his excited sister feet ahead of him. He’d promised her a trip to the river and today she was cashing in. It was steaming with heat, really a perfect day to be relaxing in the cool tides. The air was hazy, rippling like a rock plunging into water. You could visibly see the hot thick soup that was humidity weighing heavy on the land. 

 Stephen gulped down a bout of nausea that wrestled in his stomach from the heat. It felt like being cooked from the inside out. He feared his insides would boil and explode before he’d make it to the water. 

 Donna was already gone from sight, damn her agility. Stephen sighed and hurried along, one foot in front of the other. It was vexing how tired and overwhelmed he felt. Perhaps a heat stroke was setting in? Although he’d barely been out here long enough. He trudged his way through the lanky grass, brushing his fingers over the tips of their blades. He jerked his hand back however as a sharp pain along his hands blinded him. It lasted only a moment but nearly knocked him over. He stared down at his hand, bewildered to find nothing out of the sort. Perhaps something bit him, or the grass nicked him just right… 

 “Stephen, hurry up!” Donna yelled, well within the cover of nearby trees. Stephen could just make out the sound of splashing and excited giggling. Well at least she was having fun. 

 “Coming.” Stephen tried to yell but the words stuck heavy in his throat. He breathed deeply, or tried to, finding it hard to gather air into his damp lungs. God what was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he was out of shape, he walked through brush like this all the time. It was just as though all the energy had been zapped from him, replaced rather with burning lead. He was weighed down, drowning.

 A scream rippled through the air, startling Stephen from his melting demise. He stumbled to a stop, head snapping towards the river bed where he knew his sister to be. 

 “Donna?” He called. 

 No response. 

 Mustering all his strength, Stephen quickened toward the trees. He gasped for air as he broke through the brush, eyes traveling the expanse of the rumbling stream before him. The river was rushing by, a strong current pulling anything and everything in its path. How odd, the water was always calm in this part. 

 “Donna?” Stephen called again, stumbling down to the bank where he saw his sister's few belongings. 

 “Stephen, help!” Donna cried from just down the way. She was gripping onto a slimy cluster of rocks on the opposite side, chin just barely above the water. The current pushed ruthlessly against her, splashing gulps of water straight into her face. 

 A bout of dread lurched hard in his stomach at the sight. “I am coming, hang on!” Stephen shouted back. He hurried into the tide but stopped suddenly as the water made contact with his ankles. It was hot. The water was scorching hot. Stephen flew back, landing hard on the muddy incline with a scream. His skin blistered and smoked, angry red and white bubbles puckered his exposed flesh. He went to grab at his ankles but the sharp pain in his fingers from before arose again, this time spreading along his entire hands. 

 “Steph please!-” A gurgle called from across the stream. Donna was slipping below the water line. Her eyes were wide with fear and fingers clawed desperately at the rock for purchase.

 Stephen watched in horror as Donna lost her hold. She was swept soundlessly into the current. Stephen rushed the water, burning be damned. He could feel nothing but sweltering pain along every inch of his body as he dove after his sister. He didn’t know how long he lasted, for before he knew it he was losing consciousness. The world around him blurred into darkness.

 …..

 The next thing Stephen knew he was jolting awake to the smell of fire. A black sky was high above him, clouds of billowing smoke rising after it. All around him were parts of building equipment and burning metal. Where the absolute hell was he? 

 A series of beams and broken bits of what looked suspiciously like iron man suits started raining down around him, startling him out of any sort of trance he’d been in. On top of that the king of dramatic entrances himself suddenly dropped out of the sky. Stephen’s throat caught as Tony, barely covered in a suit of armor, caught himself a foot off the ground with his one working repulsor. He flailed through the air and landed with a resounding thunk and clatter of metal on concrete. 

 All was still as Tony groaned and sat up. He looked in rough shape but at least he was moving. Stephen was just pushing himself to his feet when he caught sight of a smoking shadow lumbering towards Tony. The creature's body was badly mangled and burnt to a charcoal black. The skin, which was basically just ash at this point, was cracked in spider web like patterns, revealing a glowing lava like substance below. 

 As Stephen got closer he could just make out the burning man ranting. He was spitting in rage, shouting something about being the Mandarin all along. Stephen didn’t care what he had to say, all he knew was this walking smore was clambering at Tony with the intention of violence. Making a quick scan of the area, Stephen grabbed for the first thing that could be used as a weapon. He snatched up a metal pole and swung it over his shoulder as he neared closer to the man. Without further ado, Stephen rammed the pole as hard as he could into the fire hazard, sending him flying across the way. He landed straight into a collapsing scaffolding, causing a massive explosion. 

 Tony sat stunned around his pile of flaming robot parts. He blinked and slowly closed his dropped jaw. “Yea, I got nothing.” He said, stunned into silence. 

 Stephen turned in the direction, taking note of the aches and pains spreading slowly along his bones. “T-Tony?” Stephen whispered at the sight of the billionaire a couple feet away. Stephen shuffled towards the mechanic, desperate to close the distance between them. 

 The last thing he remembered before waking up was driving off the side of a road. Nothing around him was familiar, it was all highly disorienting. He just killed a man for god sakes! Or not a man perhaps but something sentient at least. Tony was the one drop of comfort in this pool of unknown, and he’d be damned if he didn’t reach out and grab it. 

 Tony staggered towards him, he quickly grabbed onto Stephen, halting his stumbling. “Easy, easy. I’ve got you.” Tony hushed. He wound his arms around Stephen’s waist, holding his shaking frame until the man managed to get a better hold of himself. Even then he kept his arms firmly in place.

 Stephen gripped at Tony’s shoulders, fingers clenching around the mechanics damp undershirt. He eased up only a little once he was sure Tony wasn’t going to move away. “What happened?” He managed to squeeze out around haggard breaths. As he started settling down, more questions started assaulting his brain. “Where are we? How did I get here?- Did I just kill that guy!?”

 Tony tightened his hands on Stephen’s sides, giving a little squeeze in hopes of grounding the man as he said slowly, “Hey, just take some breaths for me, ok? I will explain everything, I promise.” He nodded as he spoke, watching the doctor’s eyes carefully for signs he was registering what was being said. He gave a smile when he got a tentative nod in reply. 

 Stephen closed his eyes and did as Tony asked, taking in careful breaths. He focused on the brush of the hero's thumbs rubbing soothing circles just above his hips. He also started taking further note of how he was feeling. There were aches that lingered in his arms, legs, and especially his hands, that weren’t there the last time he remembered. His head was swimming in a fog, a fog that felt like scorching steam. Gods, was he always this hot? Or was it due to the fire blazing around them? 

 “That’s it. How’re you feeling, Stephen?”

 Stephen sighed. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” He laughed with no real humor. 

 “I mean, you’re not too far off.” Tony winced. “First, there is something I need to tell you.”

 “Well that’s not alarming at all.” Stephen frowned. 

 “What’s the last thing you remember?” Tony reached a hand up between the two of them to grab hold of Stephen’s cheek. He rubbed his thumb over the man’s tantalizing cheekbones and waited until Stephen met his gaze. 

 “I was driving home and some van drove me off the road. I must have been knocked out.” Stephen struggled to remember anything more but nothing came to mind. He leaned into the soft touch and Tony’s hand.

 “Right, ok.” Tony nodded. “So don’t freak out but you were hurt like- really bad in that crash, Stephen. Killian’s men took you and they gave you Extremis.” 

 Stephen jolted back like he’d just been slapped. He looked down at his relatively fine looking body, he didn’t look like he’d sustained any injuries. He tentatively pulled his hands from Tony’s shoulders and examined his shaking digits. He could faintly see what looked like scars along the backs of his fingers.

 “The majority of your injuries have healed from the chemical-”

 “But it’s still inside me.” Stephen finished nervously. “Am I gonna- What’s going to happen to me?” His brain very kindly started recalling those testing videos he’d seen Tony watching at the farm. Was he going to explode? Gods he really didn’t want to be a hot pocket. For all he knew he had hours before the fireworks would go off, maybe minutes. Did he need to back away from Tony? He didn’t want to hurt the man.

 As if sensing the oncoming maelstrom brewing inside Stephen, Tony moved his hand from the man’s cheek to rake through his hair. “Nothing! I promise. I’ve already got people working on a cure, you’ll be fixed up before you even know it.” He swore, tucking some stray hairs away from Stephen’s face.”You’re going to be fine.”

 Fine seemed relative. Stephen wasn’t sure he’d be completely fine anytime soon. How did hero’s do this all the time? This living on the edge, juggling your life for the sake of others, it was all so draining. This was honestly the most action he’s had his entire life, and he was pretty sure he was tapped out from here on. 

 “What happened to Killian?” Stephen asked cautiously.

 Tony lowered his hand from Stephen’s hair and placed it gently back on the man’s waist. He looked over his shoulder and nodded towards the scorch marks on the ground. “That guy you jousted into the building? Yea that was him.”

 Stephen followed Tony’s line of sight. There was nothing left but a blazing fire and broken equipment. Somewhere in that raging inferno was a rotting Aldrich Killian. “Is he-”

 “Probably…” Tony shrugged. He turned back to catch the doctor’s gaze again with a reassuring smile. “Don’t sweat it, Doc. The guy was a literal terrorist and about to rip my head off. I think I owe you one. Actually, I think I owe you many ones.”

 “You can start by getting us the hell out of here.” Stephen countered. He could also really go for a drink.

 “That- yea we should definitely do that.”

 …….

 It was a quiet afternoon on the farm. One of those breezy days where the wind rustled the leaves and grass just right, bringing about a little nature made melody. The sun played peekaboo around fluffy white clouds, warming the land just enough to not be unbearable. 

 Stephen sat far off in the field under a towering old oak tree. Laying on his propped up knees was a book and off to the side of him was a little basket covered by a checkered towel. It’d been a while since he had a moment of peace like this, left alone to his own devices. He could just sit here, breathing in the fresh scent of nature and just be. 

 Naturally the metallic hum of repulsors overhead had to interrupt the sanctuary Stephen had made for himself. It lasted only a minute before there was a solid thud followed by the shifting of metal on metal, and then all was quiet except for the soft crunch of shoes on grass. Stephen didn’t even bother looking up from his book when a warm weight suddenly dropped beside him. His shoulder was jostled as the peace intruder shifted against the tree and nudged their way closer. 

 Stephen eyed the hand that was sneaking over his thigh and making tip-toe like steps with each finger. They stopped a breaths width from his hand, then oh so gently started tracing lines along the back of his fingers. The touch brought a fond little smile to Stephen’s face. 

 It’d been a little over a month since Extremis had officially vacated the doctor’s body. It was by far not an enjoyable process, but Stephen couldn’t complain about the company he got through it. Despite having a destroyed house to deal with and all the business that came with being a superhero, Tony spent nearly the whole time by Stephen’s side. When Stephen wasn’t being poked and prodded in the lab, he was given free rein of Tony’s private quarters in the tower. Together they watched movies, ate nice food, and spent long afternoons just chatting. It was a nice change of pace to all the chaos they’d been through previously. 

 Now, a month later, and all that was left to remember the event was a slight tremor in Stephen’s hands. The nerve damage done by the car crash hadn’t healed properly and apparently never would. Tony was very conscious of this fact and took extra care around his hands. The man had tried to solve the issue numerous times but nothing had helped. Stephen had also looked into countless remedies but alas, no luck. 

 Closing his book, Stephen surrendered his hand over to Tony. Their fingers tangled together in a loose hold. “Hello, Tony.” 

 “Hey, Doc.” Tony greeted with absolute delight. He was giving Stephen a goofy little smile when the man turned to look at him. “Did you bring the goods?” He asked, wiggling his brows. 

 Stephen snorted at the display and reached over with his other hand to grab the basket he had sitting beside him. He plopped the wicker object onto the mechanic’s lap and had to press his lips together to stop from grinning at Tony’s beaming expression. 

 Tony’s feet rocked back and forth in front of him and fingers wiggled as he ripped away the cloth cover. “Yay!” He sang and scooped up a slightly wonky looking hazelnut cookie, courtesy of granny Mabel. What they lacked in appearance they more than made up for in flavor. 

 When news got out about Stephen’s “car accident” and subsequent recovery time spent with Tony, the residents of Rose Hill had started sending get well gifts the doctors way. One of those many gifts was a batch of Mabel’s finest baked goods. Tony had taken one bite and hadn’t been the same since. Now whenever the elderly lady knows Tony is going to be paying a visit, she makes sure to have a batch ready to go. 

 And that’s the thing isn’t it? Tony visiting. It’s happened at least once a week, every week since Stephen had returned home. The mechanic will hop into his suit and fly off to the farm at random intervals, much to the confusion of those closest to him. Often they’ll plan these meetings, a lunch here or a movie night there. But Tony has also gotten into the habit of just dropping by whenever he wants - as though he doesn’t have to fly across several states to get there. He always claims to be bored, but Stephen can tell beneath the aloof exterior, the man is just trying to escape his wandering mind.

 Sometimes Stephen thinks Tony is just paranoid of things happening to the doctor. That he just needs to check and make sure with his own eyes that Stephen hasn’t been tossed in a ditch or kidnapped by the latest baddie. Other times, Stephen thinks the man just misses his company. Either way, it is heartwarming to hear repulsors flying overhead. 

 Who knew one day Stephen’s heart would skip beats to the sound of Tony Stark outside his window. 

 Stephen watched in amusement as Tony scarfed down cookie after cookie with little to no restraint. By the time he’d had his fill, the man was looking a little green. “You’re a menace.” Stephen rolled his eyes. 

 In answer, Tony slid down to rest his head on Stephen’s lap. He sighed dramatically and dropped his hands onto his stomach like a satisfied cat stretching out in the sun. “You can’t expect me to stop at one.”

 “Five maybe.” Stephen argued. He settled one hand on Tony’s chest while his other began gently combing through the man’s hair. 

 “I did stop at five, so I am well within my rights!” Tony closed his eyes, taking in the lovely breeze and calming brush of fingers toying with his hair. He reached up to lay his hand over Stephen’s on his chest. “How’re you, Stephenie?” He asked into the quiet space between them. 

 Stephen hummed, he could tell the question was centered at his hands. Lifting a finger to run along Tony’s palm he said, “I might be onto something.”

 “Oh?” The mechanic quirked a brow but didn’t open his eyes. 

 “Only issue is it’s in Nepal.” 

 That got Tony to crack open an eye with a dubious expression, “Please don’t accidentally join any cults.” 

 Stephen honestly didn’t expect anything other than that response, even he was skeptical. “I think I’d make a great cult leader.” He mused.

 “Yea, you would.” Tony agreed easily. “That’s the problem. You’d get all these beautiful wives and have no time for me!” 

 “Ohh, so it’s not that you’re worried about me getting stuck in a cult, it’s that it would take up all my available time for you.” Stephen grinned. What a ridiculous man. 

 “Exactly.” Tony nodded. “I am just looking out for priority number one, me.”

 “You’re insufferable.” Stephen adored him.

 “You love it.” Tony shrugged as though it was the most common knowledge in the world. And maybe it was. Stephen wasn’t sure he could pinpoint exactly when that started being a thing. If he was being honest with himself he wouldn’t change their little back and forth bickering for anything in the world. He did love it. Gods, Stephen thought maybe he even loved Tony. And wasn’t that something?

 “Heaven knows why.” Stephen sighed. Knocking his head back against the tree trunk behind him, he looked up to the sky as if the answers would be written there. Meanwhile, Tony had gone back to closing his eyes and relaxing into Stephen’s hands.  

 “Some people say I am quite charming.”

 Stephen snorted and looked back down at his sleepy companion. It was a rare and beautiful thing to see the man so at ease, not worrying about the next meeting or alien invasion. The tension wrinkles were smoothed over and the pouty little frown he often wore was wiped away. He looked so peaceful. Stephen leaned down and placed a feather light kiss against the mechanic’s forehead. “You’re something alright.” He whispered against Tony’s skin.

 Always the opportunist, Tony tilted his head back to catch the doctor’s lips with his own. It was an odd angle, but they hardly minded, too caught up in the sweet sensation of being close. It lasted only a moment, but that’s all that was needed to warm their steady hearts. With soft smiles, they rested their heads together and let the delicate sounds of the farm envelope them.

The End.

[lostinaustenland]

son in law - E.M. College AU!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: after living in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska for your whole life, you can't wait to graduate from high school and move to California for college. but life as a college student isn't quite what you expect, and you find yourself becoming unlikely friends with your sworn enemy/dorm neighbor. based on the 1993 movie by the same name (which i am not proud to have watched lmao)

Warnings: none atm, but will update accordingly :)

Word Count: 2k

Notes: slightly out-of-character eddie. also, this is my first published fic, so apologies for any spelling/grammar errors!

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: Old Endings, New Beginnings

4 years ago, I stood on this stage and welcomed you all in as young seeds; fresh-eyed, hopeful, and excited for the continuation of your academic journey. Now as I look out on the students of McKinley High School , I see a group of beautiful flowers that have blossomed into adults - ready for their next adventure: “life.”

You nervously fidgeted with your hands as Principal Hodges continued his droning speech, dreading the next words that were just about to come out of his mouth.

And without further ado, I’m proud to present your valedictorian for the 1989 class of McKinley High…

You felt your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

Y/N!

Your classmates cheered your name as you got up from your seat, smoothing out the itchy polyester fabric of the blue graduation robe and straightening the cap resting on the back of your head. 

“Yeah Y/N! Woohoo!” A voice screamed from somewhere in the crowd. You recognized the voice instantly: your boyfriend of 3 years, John. A small smile crept onto your face as you finally reached the stairs of the stage, and walked up to the podium. You looked out into the faces of people you had known your whole life - people you loved, and ones you hated - and began to panic.

The sun was characteristically hot for May in the small town of Hemingford, Nebraska, and it only made your nerves skyrocket.

Think, Y/N. You’ve practiced this a hundred times. Just breathe.

A deep sigh escaped your lips. One speech. One, tiny little speech stood between you and freedom. Freedom from this small town you once loved but had grown to resent for its monotony, freedom from your overbearing but well-intentioned parents, and most importantly, the freedom to do whatever you wanted. 

Your whole life, you had been Little Miss Perfect. Straight A’s since kindergarten, Student Council President and Valedictorian of your graduating class, and future Pre Med student at UCLA. Your parents never explicitly said they expected perfection from you, but there was an unspoken expectation of flawlessness that constantly gnawed at you. And not only were you academically perfect, but you were the "It Girl” of Hemingford. You always had plenty of friends, a star football-player boyfriend, and led the McKinley cheer squad for 3 full years as its Captain. Everything perfect. Just perfectly perfect. You wondered if you could keep that standard of perfection up in college, or if you even wanted to.

“Today,” your voice rang out into the expansive corn field your graduation ceremony was held, “I would like to talk about change.”

The crowd was still silent, some kids yawning. You waited for a sign to continue, but none came. You continued,

“It’s all around us. Change. It happens whether we want it,”

You thought of how much you simultaneously dreaded and looked forward to that drive to California.

“Or not.”

Your eyes darted to your family in the crowd. Your mom, dad, brother, and grandpa. Rose, your mom, looked on the verge of tears while your dad, Adam, comforted her.

Your focus shifted to John, who was still beaming in the crowd. As much as you cared for him, you knew he had no desire of leaving Hemingford. He’d be perfectly content to stay here for the rest of his life: become a farmer like his father, marry some poor soul who’d pop out a half-dozen babies, and die here. The thought of rotting away here made your skin crawl.

“Change. Are we ready for it?”

You knew you were.

“I think so. We are poised and prepared for our future, ready to embrace new people, places and ideas. In short, we are ready for the challenge of life.”

A student let out a loud snore in the audience, garnering a pause from you and a nudge from another graduate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, take a good look at us. This student body - we are the future. We are the McKinley Tigers!” You shouted, taking the cap from your head and throwing it into the air above you.

The students all clamored at once to get up, celebrating their graduation and following suit with their own caps.

It was official. You had graduated from Small-Town High and were leaving for good.

Your words echoed in your head.

Change… are we ready for it?

Ready or not, change was coming faster than you could ever imagine.

______________________________________________________________

Clothes were strewn over your floor as you shoved as many t-shirts as you could into your suitcase. After much struggle, you finally were able to zip the suitcase shut, tiredly tossing it onto the floor and trying to clean up the mess you had left.

“Y/N! Come downstairs, it’s almost time to leave!” Your mom bellowed up the bannister.

“Shit, shit, shit!” you muttered, throwing the remainder of dirty clothes into your large walk-in closet and forcing the door shut.

You began to do a mental check of everything you packed:

Makeup, check. Summer clothes, check. Jeans and jackets, check. Shoes, accessories, and jewelry, check.

This continued on for some time until you knew for sure everything was in one of the many mismatched and over-filled bags that were laying on your bedroom floor.

Just as you were about to grab your luggage and meet your mom at the foot of the stairs, you were startled by the sound of a knock at your second-floor window. Whipping around with your heart nearly beating out of your chest, you were only slightly relieved when you saw it was your boyfriend, John.

Letting out a huff and rolling your eyes, you moved to unlatch and open the window. He crawled in with a smirk on his face, and immediately went to kiss you. On any other day, you would have relished at the feeling of his lips on yours, but now it only made you upset. You knew his sudden appearance would make your departure late - and that would make your mom angry, which was infinitely worse. Still, you kissed him back with force, and broke the kiss after a moment.

“C’mon John, you kissed me like I’m going to be gone for 3 years, not 3 months,” you giggled, wrapping him in a hug.

He broke eye contact with you, a flourish of red creeping onto his cheeks. “Yeah, I know. I’m just going to miss you. You know that, babe.”

“And I’m going to miss you too. But Thanksgiving break will come sooner than you think,” you said, motioning to the suitcases on the floor. “Oh, while you’re here, can you help me bring these out to the van?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

He laughed, giving a slight bow, 

“Anything for you, m’lady.”

You two made quick work of the luggage in your room, and soon everything was packed haphazardly into the back of your parents’ van. Just as you were about to take your seat in the car, John enveloped you in a hug.

“Promise me,” he started, “that you’ll come back to me in one piece.”

You chuckled, kissing him on the cheek, “Seriously, John. How much can really change in just 3 months?” 

More than you could ever imagine.

______________________________________________________________

Your eyes flitted open and you did a double take as you saw the sign outside the window of your car:

‘Welcome to UCLA!’

Your heart began to palpitate as you realized you were here. All the months you sat in your room back in Nebraska daydreaming about college, and you were finally here. Your mom and dad shouted at each other about where parking was for family-move-in and your brother was poking you in the arm, but you didn’t pay attention to any of it. You only woke up from your panicked trance when your dad called your name and shook your arm.

“Y/N, honey, it’s time to unload the car.”

Now awake, you were acutely aware of the pure chaos around you. A loudspeaker somewhere nearby blasted out unintelligible words as droves of students with their families pushed through your own.

“Lord have mercy, we’re never gonna get through here, Adam.” Your mom huffed out, picking up a few pieces of luggage and motioning for the rest of your family to do the same.

Your dad tried to calm her down, “Don’t worry, Rose, it’ll all work out. Once we’re in her actual building, everything will be more quiet and organized, you’ll see.”

Tired of your family shouting insults at each other and embarrassing you on the first day, you walked ahead to find your dorm room and hopefully meet your roommate.

______________________________________________________________

Inside, the situation was even more chaotic. Parents were barking at each other, students were yelling to be heard over the droning sound of move-in-day. Worst of all though, you heard metal music blaring from one of the countless doors in the hallway. You despised heavy metal bands, and wanted nothing more than to find your room, throw the covers over your head, and stay there for the rest of the semester if at all possible.

This is nothing like what I thought college was, you thought to yourself. All the movies you had seen portrayed college as a picturesque utopia for the average teenager. Every student on the dorm floor knew the others’ names, everyone got along, and there was absolutely NO heavy metal music. You looked down at the printed map in front of you, searching for your dorm amid the sea of students. Distracted, you didn’t even notice when another student was directly in your path, causing you both to collide and fall to the floor in a sea of scattered paper.

You thought your mood couldn’t get any worse. You were wrong.

You angrily brushed off your plaid skirt and picked up the sheets you dropped as a hand reached out to help you up.

“Woah, you gotta watch where you’re going. Don’t want to be running into people like that on your first day of college,” a male voice chuckled.

Your eyes darted up in annoyance to view who so rudely knocked you over as you tentatively grabbed his hand for leverage. He was somewhere around 6’ with curly brown hair and a stupid grin on his face. As he helped you up, his shirt - from some shitty rock group you had never heard of - rode up a bit past his wrist and you noticed several tattoos on his arm.

If only my parents could see this. I think they’d pull me out right now and send me on a one-way-trip back to Nebraska, you noted in your head. And to be quite frank, you wouldn’t be too upset with that scenario.

He looked at you expectantly for a moment, until you realized you were still holding onto his hand. You quickly pulled it back, wiping your palm onto your skirt. This is absolutely humiliating.

“Don’t worry,” you said cooly. “I can take care of myself just fine on my own.”

This time, he laughed out loud. “Yeah, I can see that,” he said, putting his hand out once more towards you, but this time to shake.

“The name’s Eddie Munson. UCLA Junior and RA on duty in Wilson Hall. If you ever need help in the rare case that you can’t take care of yourself on your own, I’m just down the hall in room 213,” he pointed to the room the metal music you noticed earlier was coming from. 

You stifled a laugh. That explains a lot.

“Tempting offer, but I have to be going now. You know, luggage to unpack and such,” you began to walk down the hallway to find your room again, leaving Eddie alone.

Let’s see… 204, 206, 208, 210, 21…

An immense feeling of dread fell upon you as you landed at the front of your door. You frantically checked the information sheet in your hand to see if you had just made a mistake:

‘Y/LN, Y/N… Wilson Hall… Room 212’

As you felt like the entire world was crushing in on you, a hand came up to rest on your shoulder.

“Welcome to Wilson Hall…”

You turned around, ready to throw up.

Eddie Munson stood there, a shit-eating smug grin on his face.

“Neighbor.”

______________________________________________________________

A/N: and that's the end of Chapter 1! I honestly don't know if I'm going to write more chapters, It kind of depends on if this does well lmao. but if i do, i promise there will be more eddie in future chapters. i appreciate any feedback you have and comments!