#you better pray beg and plead on your hands and knees for another war and quickly sir

[fridaywormteeth]

Going to his own wedding like a man heading for the gallows

[absolutelyfizzing]

he promised

poe dameron x reader

description - Poe always promised he would come back from missions. One time he doesn't. (Ends in fluff i promise i promise)

warnings - depression?, anxiety?, fem pronouns, talk of injury and death, grief, fluff at the end, use of petnames, reader gets carried for a while and sits on a lap, mentions of eating and eating avoidance (not ed)

word count - 3800

A/N - so this was an oops. I wrote this hella fast but i was in the zone and i am pretty happy with the emotionally devastating product. I promise it has a happy ending i just dont want to give too much away. I feel like for maximum emotional damage you need to be a little in the dark. anyway, forgive me

MASTERLIST

You were stood in the command center with your hands wringing together. No matter how many missions Poe went on, the waiting was always hell. How were you supposed to remain sane when the love of your life was out fighting a battle that he might not come back from. That you might never see him again. He always reassured you that he would always come back to you. That you never had anything to worry about. You tried to believe him, and for the most part you did, but that didn't prevent you from being worried when he was gone.

You listened through the coms, trying to keep track of what was happening during the battle. Leia let you stay in there because she had a soft spot for you, as well as the pilot you were worried about. You were thankful she let you listen in on every mission, it meant that you weren't alone worrying in the room you shared with Poe. The conversation over coms was rushed and loud, they were scared and that made your heart beat faster.

'I have to go through, they're gonna come after us if I don't.' You heard your fiance yell. Worry stuck in the pit of your stomach, he was going to take a risk, you could feel it.

'Poe, it's not worth it. We should get out of here while we still can'. You agreed, wanting him to get out of there as soon as possible. You prayed he would listen and just get out.

'I have to try, I can't go back knowing that they could be following us to base.'

'Poe wait-' You heard someone rush out before comotion ensued again. You could feel your heart in your throat. You could have cried. After a minute of listening to pure chaos, nobody in the control room dared to speak a word. Everyone was waiting for an indication of what to do from the squadron. You found yourself zoning out in your worry. You were only broken out of your trance when you heard your fiance's name.

'Poe is down.' You stopped breathing.

"Down? What do you mean down?" You heard Leia call over comms.

'I'm sorry commander, he got hit. His X-Wing engine got shot and he was heading to crash on the planet right below us, his coms died. There's no way to know if he made it through but I don't know many who could take that crash and live. We have to head out and hope he comes back to base but I wouldn't get my hopes up.'

"Get out of there while you still can. We will have to worry about Poe when we gather our strength." Leia responded and the squadron called their understanding before the process of bringing them home began. You hadn't moved. You weren't sure if you had breathed. Your body was fully numb. You could feel eyes on you as everyone waited for you to respond. To show some emotion of your boyfriend having just gone MIA. You couldn't feel yourself though, your fingertips were numb, and you refused to believe he was dead. He promised. He told you he would come home.

Your brain was split between trying to grieve for the loss of the love of your life and trusting that he would be back. That he had to come back because he promised he would and he never breaks a promise. You felt hands on you and you realized you had fallen to sit in your spot. Leia was above you and was ushering you to your feet. You mindlessly let her push you somewhere and you barely even looked to see where you were going.

Eventually you showed up at your apartment door. You couldn't tell whether it felt like it had been instantaneous or an eternity to get there. Leia unlocked your door and pushed you inside and to the small couch that was stood in the living room-like space. The apartments were all very small, Poe had one a little bigger because he was housing with another person and because of his rank. Still, the extra amenities included a small couch, a smaller kitchen, and a window along the bedroom wall. When Leia sat you on the couch she kneeled in front of you. Her hand went to your cheek and you looked at her for the first time since you'd heard Poe go down. She seemed to almost be in tears but your eyes were dry. You didn't feel anything.

"Y/N, what can I do?" She asked gently. "Do you need anything?" You felt yourself shake your head and open your mouth like you were going to talk but closed it again as you thought.

"He said... He said he was coming back." You stated as if it changed the situation. "He promised." You mumbled.

"I know, Y/N. I am so sorry." She tried to console and your head shook. "We don't know what happened after he went down. You heard the team. He might contact us in the next few days, he is a smart man and he knows how to get a message out. But I don't want it to hurt you more if he never does." She tries to reason and you shook your head.

"No, you don't understand. He promised, " your head was spinning, "he's coming back." You felt tears fall down your face. When had you started crying? "He promised me that he was coming back home." Your voice broke which surprised you. Before you knew it you were crying into Leia's arms and you couldn't stop yourself. That was how you stayed with her for a while after, you weren't sure how long. She shed some tears of her own but eventually you both ran dry. You lost feeling again and you couldn't tell if it was better or worse. You made a decision. You wouldn't grieve over him until you were sure he was not coming back. You wouldn't mourn until you were sure.

The alternative was not, however, to recover. Instead you just stopped doing anything at all. You stopped eating, taking care of yourself, caring. Soon, your friends came in to talk to you. Instead of it being conversation though, they just talked at you. You couldn't bring yourself to respond or really even listen. Or maybe you did but you just couldn't remember. They would periodically come through to help you into a shower in which you just let the water run over you while someone else, you thought maybe Rey but you couldn't even recall, washed your hair. You drank water when they asked and would take a bite of food if they begged but other than that you might as well have been dead to the world. You almost hadn't realized how much of a vital part to your existence Poe was. How little you could bring yourself to do without him. You had thought you were prepared to be separated, you were in the middle of a war after all. Instead it was impossible to do anything without him and you wondered how long you could keep doing it.

This went on for a week. That was how long it took for them to declare him 'killed in action'. They felt that, if he was alive, he would have found a way to contact the base with the help of BB8 and local lifeforms. That was when you allowed yourself to grieve. The numbness turned into pain and it was a million times worse. You would have given anything to go back to numb.

You finally listened to your friends when they talked to you but their consolations did nothing to put you at ease. You still struggled to do anything but you complied with their pleads. You had been convinced, 2 weeks after the KIA announcement, to go to the canteen. To see people and interact. Finn pulled you along with an attempt at a smile on his face. Your face was blank but you tried to soften your eyes. You knew he was trying to help and he was grieving the loss of his best friend as well. When you were pulled into the large cafeteria, all noise ceased. You knew that they were looking at you and you guessed that they pitied you. You had seen yourself in the mirror that morning and you would have pitied you too. You got pulled to a table and Finn went to go get you and himself food.

People periodically came by and said hello or asked how you were as you tried to eat something. You responded with one word answers usually and you hadn't met anyone's eyes. You could feel yourself getting overwhelmed and decided you would head back to your room. You quietly thanked Finn for trying and left to the hallway.

Suddenly, alarms sounded. You were startled into awareness and people began running past you.

'ALL EMERGENCY CREW TO FLIGHT DECK'

You were curious about the alarm but you weren't emergency crew and you knew they didn't need any more bodies there than would already be there. That was until you heard someone as they rushed by as they talked to the medic next to them.

"Yeah I heard it was him but he went missing weeks ago." They sounded confused and continued jogging toward the flight deck. You feet started moving before you could even process it and it was the fastest you'd moved since he had gone missing. Since he had died.

When you got to the flight deck there was already a crowd. You could see over the see a people a beat up X-Wing. You thought you might have heard a droid. You elbowed your way to the front of the crowd, not apologizing when people grumbled their frustrations at you. When you made it to the front you were stood no more than 50 feet from him. He was soot covered and beat up but he was standing as he tried to wiggle out of the grasp of the medics. BB8 beeped and turned, spotting you. He made a loud excited noise and rushed to roll over to you and Poe turned at the sound. When he met your gaze he smiled.

You felt your knees give out and tears start to fall from your eyes. Your arms crossed over your stomach and you started to curl into a ball over your knees. A sob left you and suddenly large warm hands were on your shoulders.

"Y/N? My love, are you okay?" He rushed out, checking over you for injury as the medics still grumbled about needing to see him. His hand came under your chin to move your face so he was making eye contact with you. You let out another sob before grabbing his vest and pulling him into you, he kneeled to the ground as you clung to him and cried into his chest. He moved himself so he was sitting on the ground and he pulled you into his lap. You felt his hands on your back trying to soothe you but you couldn't stop crying. "I'm back. I'm so sorry I was gone but I'm back." He mumbled out as he kissed your head a few times.

"I'm so angry at you." You whispered and he almost laughed, just happy to hear your voice. You finally pulled your head out of his chest and kissed him like your life depended on it, like it was the last time you would ever see him. You pulled away so you were looking into his eyes. "Please don't leave me," you begged almost silently. You weren't even sure if he could hear you. "Please don't leave again."

"I'm not leaving, baby, I promise." He tried to calm you. "I'm right here. I'm okay."

You nodded, trying to convince yourself that he was real and he was here. You kissed him again just to check. You pulled away again, still trying to convince yourself.

"You died." You struggled out and Poe felt tears in his eyes as well. "You were dead, you crashed and you didn't make it and then they said you were gone." You said like that was what happened.

"I didn't die, my love. I'm right here. I'm alive, I'm okay." Poe pleaded and he grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his face so you could feel him. Your hand moved along is jaw which was now covered in stubble and grime. Your head shook like you were disagreeing with him but you were simply in disbelief.

"I love you" You mumbled as your eyes traced the lines of his face and tears fell from your eyes. He let a few tears fall as well before pressing meaningful kisses to every part of your face that he could reach.

You spent the next 2 hours like that. You wouldn't leave his hold and he didn't try to move you. The medics worked around you and everyone greeted him without disturbing you. You stayed, on his lap, curled into his chest. Your breathing had slowed to a normal pace and you were holding onto his vest tightly. Eventually, he had to be debriefed. He petted your hair and cooed at you to catch your attention.

"Y/N, my love," he whispered, "we have to get up now." He felt you nod but you made no move to get up from him. He took a breath before moving you off of his lap as you whined, standing up, and then picking you up so you could wrap yourself around him. You hummed contentedly into his chest and he had a smile on his face as he walked through the base.

"I love you." You whispered again into his chest. You had been doing it periodically every so often in the last 2 hours and every time Poe would repeat it back to you, kiss your head, or say something else. This time he chose to kiss your head.

"Baby, I have to go to the debriefing now and you know you can't come with me." He tried to say gently but he knew this separation might be hard for both of you. "I'm gonna put you down." He warned before encouraging your legs to go to the floor. You listened but didn't release his neck which you were also clung to. His hands fell to your waist and you both stood for a moment with your heads in each others necks and breathing deeply. "I'm gonna hand you off to Rey, okay?" He asked as he flagged down Rey from the hallway.

"Okay." You whispered, still not releasing him.

"Hey, Rey, sorry to bother you but could you keep Y/N company for a few minutes while I talk to Leia and the squadron?"

"Oh of course!" Rey chirped and you took a deep breath before releasing Poe. You let him kiss your cheeks and your nose before he walked the other direction toward the command center. You stared at him until Rey put her hand in yours and clasped it. You turned to look at her and for the first time in weeks, she saw you smile. "I'm so happy for you, Y/N." She assured and you believed her.

"Thank you." You whispered and another tear fell from you, this time of joy and happiness. Not grief.

"What do you say to heading to your room and get cleaned up a bit, yeah?" She tried and you nodded, following where her hand lead with one last glance toward the direction that Poe went.

"-the converter didnt even work until a day ago because the main power source broke down." Poe finished explaining his time on the planet he had crashed on and the rest of the squadron nodded and asked a few more questions. Once he was done, Finn met him outside the command center.

"So-" he paused, "I'm not sure how to say this nicely but most of your stuff went into the redistribution center because you were presumed dead." He rushed out. Poe took a moment to process and nodded.

"Well that's sort of a bummer. Could I borrow some of your stuff?" Poe asked, knowing it would take at least a day for him to get reassigned sets of uniforms.

"Yeah of course, that's why I'm standing here waiting for you. You could get cleaned up in my room too if you want. I know Y/N kept a few of your jackets and shirts but most of it got taken." The boys began to walk toward Finn's living quarters and there was a moment of silence before Poe asked something he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

"What happened when I was gone?" His throat felt dry suddenly and his words came out hoarse. "To Y/N I mean. Was she okay?" Poe wasn't sure what answer he wanted. He knew from your recent reaction that you were devastated, as he would have been, but he also knew he had a dangerous job. He might not come back from some other mission in the future and he hoped you would survive without him.

"Do you really want to know?" Finn questioned.

Poe nodded.

"I mean, she was broken." He paused to think. "She didn't talk to anyone for a week. Wouldn't move. Wouldn't cry. Rey had to help her shower and we had to beg her to eat. We almost sent her to the med wing because we thought she was gonna pass out from dehydration, she would barely take a sip of water." Poe's heart was in his throat but he was sure there was more. "Then you were pronounced KIA."

"Oh god."

"Yeah it wasn't pretty. They pulled your stuff out of your guys' room, took your name off the ledger. Leia let her keep some stuff but it was hard to watch. She finally cried, she just wouldn't stop. She was more responsive but she wasn't even moving towards okay. You could tell she was only doing what we were asking because we were begging. That she was doing it out of guilt. Today was actually the first day that I talked her into coming out of her room. She had been to the canteen for about an hour when she felt she needed to leave and then alarms sounded that you were back." Finn finished with a glance to his friend and Poe looked like he might throw up.

"I want her to be okay if I don't make it back one day." Poe tried to explain to his friend.

"She probably would have been functioning in a few months. She wouldn't have recovered but she would function. She's a strong woman, but she also loves you a lot. I mean, how would you react if she was killed on mission?" Poe could tell it was a rhetorical question but he thought about it very carefully. You were an engineer so you weren't called out on mission often, not nearly as often as him. When you were, he was worried sick the whole time. He hadn't really thought about how him being gone affected you before. Now looking back on it he kicked himself for it.

Poe thought about what he would have done if you had died and he thought that your reaction was probably mild. That he would have been unresponsive for weeks or even become violent with anger and grief. He knew that you were the one for him, the most important thing in his life, and without you he didn't know if he would find purpose in his life anymore. He fought in the war as hard as he did for you. To make the galaxy safer for you.

When he went MIA it was because he tried to take out a couple more imperial ships than he could handle. He only did it because he knew they would have followed them back to base if they left. Back to you. So he took the risk and it backfired but he knew he would do it again to try and keep the First Order away from you.

He was knocked out of his train of thought by the arrival at Finn's quarters. Poe tried to get cleaned up and dressed quickly, getting the grime off of himself and shaving his face. He hurried back to your shared quarters and when he entered his room he was greeted with your smiling face as you laughed.

You were sat on the bed, Rey on the other end, as you were talking about something which caught you in a fit of giggles. At the sound of him stepping into the room you looked at him and got up quickly to rush up and hug him tightly.

"Missed you." You mumbled into his chest. As he held you Rey silently nodded at Poe and left the room.

"Was only gone for a minute, honey bun." He reassured and you pulled your face back.

"You know I hate that one."

"Boo bear?" he teased and you shook your head no. "Munchkin?" nope. "honey bear?" no thank you. "Baby love?" You tilted your head a bit.

"I don't loathe that one."

"Sweetheart?"

"I like that one."

"Princess?"

"That's my favorite" You giggled and kissed him quickly for a moment. He could have cried at the sight of you giggling. He had missed that, you, the sounds you made, so goddamn much. More than he would ever put into words.

"I know it is, pretty girl." He smiled before picking you up and you squealed. He walked you over to the bed before dropping you on it and laying next to you. You climbed close to him, practically laying on his chest. His arm was snug around your waist and he left no room for you to move, not that you would have anyway. "How would you feel about going to bed, princess?" He almost whispered, not wanting to disrupt the fragile quiet in the room.

"Yes please. I love you Poe." You whispered back and closed your eyes a bit, focussing on his breathing.

"I love you, Y/N" he responded.

You both got the first decent sleep you'd had in weeks that night.

[cruciology]

Another Drink

Requested by Anon: “can u pretty please write some rough smut with sandor? like you’ve always fancied him and flirted innocently but one night at a tavern he sees you with someone like bronn or tormund and gets all possessive?”

It was a busy night for you. You expected it had something to do with the upcoming battle that the knights had all been talking about. Stannis Baratheon’s army was nearing King’s Landing. War would be knocking on their doorstep. You tried not to think about it and instead accepted the silver that was slid over to you. 

While your father technically owned the tavern, he hardly moved from his own barstool where he drank himself stupid every night, so the worries of how to keep the tavern open fell to you. After the way you were being tipped tonight, though, you were sure you would be okay for a while. Despite the impending doom of battle, you were in good spirits. You had even taken a few drinks yourself, something you never normally allowed yourself while working. It was too difficult to keep hands off of you while sober. You often had to send the men next door to the brothel when they forgot themselves and tried to grab your ass as you walked passed. 

One man had gotten a little too rough, you had ended up with a bruise, but you imagine you would have gotten much worse if the King’s bodyguard hadn’t been there to throw the man nearly across the room. The Hound was a quiet man, usually just drinking alone at the end of the night when he was relieved of his duties. He had intimidated you the first few times he had come in. His reputation was well known. The Most Feared Man in King’s Landing. But after that night, you realized you didn’t have much to fear from him if you didn’t get on his bad side. 

Maybe it was because he was the only man who never tried to woo you and you liked a challenge or maybe it was that he was actually handsome under the burned flesh and scowl or maybe you liked that he had rescued you, but you had developed a bit of a crush on the Hound. If he had noticed your flirtatious smiles or not so subtle brushes on his back when you poured his drinks, he didn’t say anything. Even if he was oblivious, you weren’t one to give up easily. 

“Is it true what they’re saying?” You asked the Hound over the loud chatter of the tavern as you set his pint down in front of him. Even sitting down, he was nearly eye level with you. “That Stannis is coming for the shore?” 

“What care is it to you?” The Hound said, not even glancing at you.

“Won’t be good for business if all my patrons die,” You said. You wondered if he would take notice of you if you plopped yourself down in his lap. 

“Men drink, doesn’t matter what side they’re on,” The Hound said, finally glancing at you. “You’ll be fine.”

“You’ll make sure of that, won’t you?” You said with a coy smile. He looked back down at his pint and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was a hard man to break. You supposed that was why he had the reputation that he had. “Let me know when you need another.”

He lifted his pint in response as you walked back towards the kitchen. You refilled some glasses, turned down drunken proposals, and took tips from men too drunk to realize how much they had given you. 

“Well, hello,” You looked up from your coin counting to find blue eyes boring into you. You could feel them on you and had he not been a good looking man, you might have taken offense to how he seemed to be undressing you in his mind. 

“And to you,” You said with a slight smile. He didn’t appear to be as drunk as the men he was with.

“All the tavern girls in King’s Landing as pretty as you?” He asked, leaning on the bar between you. 

“Does this work on all the pretty tavern girls?” You asked. He was older but plenty handsome. If the Hound wasn’t going to pay you mind, you thought this one wouldn’t be too bad to warm your bed for the night. Hell, you could be dead in the morning if the King’s army didn’t hold the line against their enemies. You figured you could settle. You leaned forward as well, your hands on the bar. 

“Is it working now?” He said. “Because that’s what I’m more concerned about.” 

“Maybe so,” You shrugged. “Can I get you another…” 

“Bronn, Commander of the City Watch.” His chest puffed out, all important as he introduced himself. “And yes, you can.” 

“Oh, well don’t I feel safe now, Commander Bronn,” You said as you poured him more wine. 

“Be safer with the eunuch as Commander,” You looked up, noticing the Hound looming behind Bronn. You couldn’t read the expression on his scarred face as he set his empty pint on the bar in front of you. “Get me something stronger, girl.” 

“A please wouldn’t strike you dead, Clegane,” You said with an eye roll. Bronn looked annoyed at the interruption as well. You could always find him later. “I’ll be back in a moment.” 

“Shouldn’t you be keeping your boys on a closer leash?” You heard the Hound ask Bronn as you turned to go to the storeroom. You assumed he meant the men who were supposed to be preparing for battle but were instead drowning themselves in spirits and women. 

The storeroom was a bit cramped, with shelves overflowing with fancy wines and spirits that your father had probably forgotten were back there. You could worry about organizing the mess after the battle. For now, you focused on finding something that might suit the Hound. 

Suddenly, something blocked the light from the candles outside of the store room. “What is it you think you’re doing?” The Hound asked, his voice so low and deep it reverberated in your chest. 

“Getting your drink?” 

“You want that idiot to take you to bed?” He asked. You felt your cheeks turn a bit red as you clenched your fists, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t want to give him that. 

“What care is it to you?” You asked, repeating his words from earlier. “Is it a crime against the king for me to fuck who I want, Clegane?”

“If you’re just going to take any cock that shows interest-,” 

“Well, you aren’t showing any!” You said, finally turning to face him. He glared down at you, his mouth a hard line under his beard. 

“You want me to fall over you like all these fools?” He asked, stepping closer to you, forcing you to step back into the shelf, your back hitting it and causing a bottle to crash to the floor, filling the small room with the scent of sweet, fruity liquor. “Do I look like a fool to you, girl?” 

“Do you expect me to wait for you to do something then?” 

“I’ll fucking do something then,” His mouth was on yours, his grip hard on your hips as he kissed you roughly. He tasted like the dark ale he had been drinking. You tangled your fingers in his hair, standing on tiptoe to reach him better. He reached down, scooping you up to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Take this bloody thing off.” He tore at the tie at the top of your bodice. You undid it with an expert hand, tossing it somewhere in the small room. His mouth moved to your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth. He bit hard enough to leave his mark, but not hard enough to hurt. You arched yourself into his touch. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You prayed to which ever god was listening that you both would live past tonight, if only so you could fuck the Hound good and proper, in a bed where he could lay you down and take his time with you. For now, though, you just wanted to feel him inside of you. 

You moved your hips against his stomach where he held you, trying to generate any sort of friction to calm your ache. You could feel him chuckle against your chest. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Was that not the point?” You asked, exasperated. “Come on, then.” 

The Hound set you on your feet. For a moment, you thought he was going to leave you like that, but in an instant, he had you flipped around. You faced the shelf once again as he ripped your dress down, leaving you naked with your skirts pooled around your ankles. His knee pushed your thighs apart and he shoved you until you bent forward. 

He lowered himself to his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs tight enough to leave a bruise. You were sure you would find his marks on you for weeks. You nearly cried out when you felt his tongue on your wet slit. Your hands clasped onto the shelf in front of you. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” You heard him growl from behind you, feeling the rumble of his voice. 

“Keep going,” You begged. “Please.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to keep quiet as he licked at your pussy, the noises coming from low in his throat making it that much better. You felt your knees buckle but his grip on you kept you from falling as you felt your end come, a cry of his name coming from your lips as that tension in you broke. 

You had barely any time to think before you felt him shove his cock into you from behind, his hand over your mouth so no one could hear the near scream that came out of your mouth. He was so large, you felt as if he filled you as you had never been filled before. You weren’t surprised, you had figured such a big man had to be big everywhere, but a guess was much different than having him in you full hilt. 

“Do you like that?” He asked, his mouth against the shell of your ear. “Do you like taking my cock?” You nodded furiously, pushing your ass back against him. He held your hips still with his free hand. He moved his other hand away from your mouth, giving your ass a sharp smack and making you yelp. 

“Please, Sandor,” You pleaded, trying again to push back into him but he held firm. He liked hearing you beg for him. 

“Tell me what you want, girl.” 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

He pulled almost all the way out before giving one quick thrust, making you gasp and dig your nails into the shelf in front of you. You couldn’t help a whimper when he didn’t keep going. “You want me to fuck you? Not any of those drunk cunts out there?” 

“No, no one but you,” You promised. 

Finally, he let himself go, slamming into you and sending more bottles to the ground. You honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care as you felt him pound into you. His grunts mixed with your moans and the smell of alcohol. You could tell he wasn’t going to last long and you encouraged it, wanting nothing more than to feel his seed drip out of you. You wanted to feel every part of him. 

His hand slid around to your front, his fingers finding your clit. “I want to hear you say my name again,” He said, pressing a kiss into the soft flesh of your neck. It was so gentle in contrast to how aggressive his thrusts were against you. “Fuck, come for me again.” 

“Sandor,” You cried out, your body shaking as you finished again. You felt his thrusts get more erratic, groans from low in his throat. He held one hand tight on your hip, the other held him up against the shelf as he finally released into you. 

His head fell against your shoulder as he hunched over you, looming over you. You reached your hand up, touching his now sweaty hair. He pressed a quick kiss onto your back as he pulled out of you. You felt oddly empty without him inside you, surrounding you. You both stood in silence as you redressed. You hoped that people would assume the wine stains at the bottom of your skirt were just spilled drinks. You still felt short of breath as he looked you over. 

“You gonna get me my drink or what, girl?” He asked. 

You laughed, reaching out to playfully hit him, but he grabbed your wrist, pulling you to his chest. Lifting you off your feet, he kissed you again. 

[mcnamaste]

Task 001: Character Playlist.

Another case of Affluenza - a Dylan McNamara playlist

Snippets of Lyrics below:

Side A + Dylan’s vibe 

1. all in my head (flex) - Fifth Harmony feat. Fetty Wap

Flex, time to impress Come and climb in my bed Don't be shy, do your thing It's all in my head

fun fact - the original song that they sampled this chorus from actually goes like this: 

Girl flex, time to have sex Long time yuh have di rude bwoy yah a sweat Girl, flex time to have sex Look how long yuh have di rude bwoy a sweat

thanks for coming to my ted talk

2. ain’t my fault - zara larsson 

It ain't my fault you keep turnin' me on It ain't my fault you got, got me so gone It ain't my fault I'm not leavin' alone It ain't my fault you keep turnin' me on I can't talk right now I'm lookin' and I like what I'm seein' Got me feelin' kinda shocked right now Couldn't stop right now Even if I wanted, gotta get it, get it, get it, when it's hot right now Oh my god, what is this? Want you all in my business Baby, I insist Please don't blame me for whatever happens next

3. sugar - Maroon 5

I'm hurting baby, I'm broken down I need your loving, loving I need it now When I'm without you, I'm something weak You got me begging, begging I'm on my knees

4. stupid love - Lady Gaga

You're the one that I've been waiting for Gotta quit this cryin', nobody's gonna Heal me if I don't open the door Kinda hard to believe, gotta have faith in me

 5. desperado - Rihanna 

If you want, we can be runaways Running from any sight of love Yeah, yeah, there ain’t nothin' There ain't nothin' here for me There ain't nothin' here for me anymore But I don't wanna be alone

6. pray for me - The Weeknd, Kendrick Lamar

I'm always ready for a war again Go down that road again It's all the same I'm always ready to take a life again You know I'll ride again It's all the same (Ooh, ooh, ooh) Tell me who's gon' save me from myself When this life is all I know Tell me who's gon' save me from this hell Without you, I'm all alone

Who gon' pray for me? Take my pain for me? Save my soul for me? 'Cause I'm alone, you see If I'm gon' die for you If I'm gon' kill for you Then I spilled this blood for you, hey

7. 24k magic - Bruno Mars Pop pop, it's show time (Show time) Show time (Show time) Guess who's back again? Oh they don't know? (Go on tell 'em) Oh they don't know? (Go on tell 'em) I bet they know soon as we walk in (Showin' up) Wearing Cuban links (ya) Designer minks (ya) Inglewood's finest shoes (Whoop, whoop) Don't look too hard Might hurt ya'self Known to give the color red the blues

Ooh shit, I'm a dangerous man with some money in my pocket (Keep up) So many pretty girls around me and they waking up the rocket (Keep up) Why you mad? Fix ya face Ain't my fault y'all be jocking (Keep up)

8. bed - J. Holiday 

Wanna put my fingers through your hair Wrap me up in your legs And love you till your eyes roll back I'm tryna put you to bed, bed, bed I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed Then I'mma rock ya body Turn you over Love is war, I'm your soldier Touchin' you like it's our first time I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed

9. don’t judge me - Janelle Monáe

Even though you tell me you love me I'm afraid that you just love my disguise Taste my fears and light your candle to my raging fire Of broken desire

But don't judge me I know I got issues, but they drown when I kiss you Don't judge me Baptize me with ocean, recognize my devotion

10. the greatest - Sia 

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest The greatest, the greatest alive

11. love in this club - Usher feat. Young Jeezy 

You say you're searching for somebody that'll take you out and do you right Well, come here, baby and let daddy show you what it feel like You know all you got to do is tell me what you sipping on And I promise that I'm gonna keep it coming all night long

12. u don't have to call - Usher

Aw, girl, your face is saying, "Why?" Tears in eyes Should've been more smart about it Should've cherished me, listening to friends Now it's the end And again, no story can end without it

Side B + Annalise Young (Infidelity & Divorce)

1. forgive me - Chloe x Halle

Baby, what you think this is? Why you wanna plead the fifth? You ain't gotta tell me what it is 'Cause I saw the messages You must got me fucked up You must got me fucked up I think I had enough

So forgive me, forgive me I been goin' too hard in your city So forgive me 'cause I'm not teary Best believe I'll move onto better things

2. makes me wonder - Maroon 5

Wake up, blood-shot eye Struggle to memorize The way it felt between your thighs Pleasure that made you cry It feels so good to be bad Not worth the aftermath, after that, after that Try to get you back

I still don't have a reason And you don't have the time And it really makes me wonder if I ever gave a fuck about you

3. maps - Maroon 5 

I miss the taste of a sweeter life I miss the conversation I'm searching for a song tonight I'm changing all of the stations I like to think that we had it all We drew a map to a better place But on that road I took a fall Oh, baby, why did you run away?

I was there for you In your darkest times I was there for you In your darkest night

But I wonder, where were you? When I was at my worst Down on my knees And you said you had my back So I wonder, where were you?

4. mend this love - Vaults

Take me from the edge Steal a step and lead me back from harm Hold it in your hand Crush it into crumbs like nothing's wrong

And tell me "right what you wanna know? Take what you wanna hide It's too late to mend this love" And tell me "go where you wanna go Break what you never had It's too late to mend this love"

5. wicked game - Chris Isaak 

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

No, I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)

6. love’s divine - Seal

Then the rainstorm came over me And I felt my spirit break I had lost all of my belief, you see And realized my mistake But time threw a prayer to me And all around me became stil

7. beautiful mistakes - Maroon 5 & Megan Thee Stallion

It's beautiful, it's bittersweet You're like a broken home to me I take a shot of memories And black out like an empty street I fill my days with the way you walk And fill my nights with broken dreams I make up lies inside my head Like one day you'll come back to me

8. i’m not the only one - Sam Smith feat. A$AP Rocky

You and me, we made a vow For better or for worse I can't believe you let me down But the proof's in the way it hurts For months on end I've had my doubts Denying every tear I wish this would be over now But I know that I still need you here

You say I'm crazy 'Cause you don't think I know what you've done But when you call me baby I know I'm not the only one

9. perfect illusion - Lady Gaga

I don't need eyes to see I felt you touchin' me High like amphetamine Maybe you're just a dream That's what it means to crush Now that I'm wakin' up I still feel the blow But at least now I know

It wasn't love, it wasn't love It was a perfect illusion (Perfect illusion) Mistaken for love, it wasn't love It was a perfect illusion (Perfect illusion)

10. don’t walk away - John Legend feat. Koffee

We can't go out like this It's just the two of us We should be making up We could be making love Didn't  used to talk like this Now you say you're giving up Took too much to build this house I don't wanna sit and watch it burn down I ain't leaving, I ain't leaving, I ain't leaving, I ain't giving you space I will not be replaced I don't wanna save face Don't leave me open, leave me open, leave me open, leave me open like that Whatever love we had We need to get it back

11. if I could have you back - Aly & AJ 

On the subject of you being gone forever I still can't believe it, I can't see it I should just stop counting days On the subject of the future Wouldn't it be nice to leave it open ended And pretend it could go either way

If I could have you back again I'd think about it once or twice, I guess If I could have you back I'd reconsider, maybe I'd say yes On the other hand, it would be better to have a life Without the constant indecision over If I could have you back If I could have you back

12. fairplay - Kiana Ledé

I think it's kind of funny You could say you love me Turn around and play me, yeah I think it's kind of funny You say things you don't mean Underestimate me, yeah

I have always done right by you Said you're never going to lie, liar Shit gon' come around full cycle I flip the script on you

Tell me why you mad Tell me why you're hurt Bet you didn't think that the tables would turn You gon' fuck around I'ma do the same How you like that karma? How you like that karma? Yeah, that's just fair play

Bonus: 

busted - The Isley Brothers feat. JS 

Busted, It's 2 o' damn clock in the morning, where you been? (Baby didn't you get my 2-way I was with my girlfriend) You are lyin', I called Kiesha and Tanya And they were both at home (But I didn't say them though) Well they're the only friends I know Girl you better (Wait before you get all upset here's the truth) Talk to me (I was with my girl when she got some bad news) And...? (Her man cheated, had her upset and confused) But baby what's that got to do With you coming in at 2? (I'm telling you, now she was so upset She asked me to stay with her) Well why didn't your ass just pick up the phone and call me? (I was gonna do that but it slipped my mind I'm sorry) (But I'm telling you the truth) Yeah, well I got something for you... Tell me what's her name? (Sharon) Where does she live? (Uuummm...) Her man's name? (Billy) She got kids? (I think one or two) She got kids? (Baby yes, no) That's one thing I got to know How the hell is she your friend If you don't know if she got kids?

[underatedcharactersunite]

Beloved

Summary;  Ivar has been taken by the Saxons. You don't take kindly to the love of your life is captured, so you go on a long voyage to Wessex to rescue Ivar. Prompts; “Never threaten me” & “Gods must have sent you as a gift to me” & “Can you sleep without me in a bed” & “You dreamed of me?”  Pairing; Ivar the Boneless X Female Reader For; @dreamwritesimagines WordCount; 3,094 Warnings; Mentions of violence and battle, brief nudity although not described in detail. Mentions of sex, people speaking negatively about women, Angst and Fluff

A shield maiden never feared but was feared. You had gone into battle several times now,  and you were never scared to die.  That did not mean you could not fear for the life of your beloved. 

Your only fear had come true. The Saxons had captured Ivar. You felt conflicted when he had requested that you remain in Kattegat. To protect the people, he explained to you. Being aware that Ivar trusted you with his people made your heart swell with pride. Nevertheless, when word began to spread about Ivar's capture, people panicked. They trusted you. That didn't mean they never wanted their fearless leader to return. 

You didn't have to think for a single moment what to do. You were going to sail to England. Then you were going to wreak havoc among their lands. You were going to cut down anyone who stood in your path. Stood in your way from getting your beloved back.

As men and women began to prepare for travel, the people knew. You and Ivar had been together long enough for people to be aware of how dangerous you could be. The people often spoke of your heart. How you'd be the one to do anything for anyone if they needed aid they would come to you. If they needed a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen, you would make time for anyone. 

On the other hand, the people understood clearly not to annoy you. To not become your enemy, you had a temper to rival that of your lovers. They've seen you slit a man's throat for speaking ill will about Ivar before. They've seen you threaten and harm anyone who comes in your way. 

Separately either one of you was dangerous enough. On a bad day, the two of you were on an impenetrable force of nature. Stories have been told throughout the lands that people often have prayed to God's that you'd be in a good mood whenever they're dealing with an angry Ivar. 

You stand while the boat swifts along the sea like woven silk. Every row brought you closer to your beloved. The men worked tirelessly for their mightly ruler. Odin would surely bless them for such loyalty. You looked out at the vast sees almost impatiently. Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched by Hvitserk.

Hvitserk examined your posture. Despite your sail being in its early stages, you were still ready and looking for a fight. Hvitserk had seen Ivar with several women before. None were like you. You were not afraid to stand up against Ivar when you needed too. You were not afraid to stand your ground and fight. One of the things that Hvitserk admired and loved about you, the way you loved Ivar for who he was. You've been there every time he's broken another bone. You sit there and comfort him when he's in agony. When he's angry and almost intolerable to deal with. You've been nothing but kind and patient to him. Hvitserk is positive that the love between you is true love. Like his Mother told him, the truest emotion he can feel.

Hvitserk approached you cautiously. Being aware of your current state of mind, he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder to alert you of his presence. He can only imagine what you're currently thinking. You're undoubtedly thinking about cutting down every Saxon that comes in your path. 

"We're going to get him back! We'll kill any Saxon that gets in our path." You turned to glance at him, your gaze softened towards him.

"Do you think he knows we're coming for him?" You questioned, looking at the vast ocean spread out in front of you.

"I do! He knows your coming. I've never expressed this before to you. You're good for Ivar. He's learning to control his temper, make better choices” 

Gaining at least one of Ragnar's son's respect and acceptance filled your heart with pride. When you were young, you often watched the way Ragnar Lothbrook commanded a room. Ragnar never had to speak much his presence alone could speak volumes. You often wondered if you would have gotten Ragnar's approval.

"I will kill them all! Anyone who stands in my Hvitserk. I will burn their buildings to the ground if I have too. I'll cut anyone with my sword who stares to stand in my way." Hvitserk placed a tender hand on your shoulder. He believed you. Every word you spoke passionately. The Saxons had no idea who they had caused problems with.

The voyage lasted for many weeks and days. Ivar's current predicament never left your mind for a single second. The images of him being tortured smothered your mind like a dark cloud. You were aware that they would want him to plead and beg for death. You imagined groups of Saxon's taking turns to torture Ivar. You had become aware that the Saxons loved to underestimate Ivar. All they observed was a cripple, but Ivar was so much more than that.

When you finally rescue him, he will tear down the city and make everyone pay for the crimes against him. Everyone will know that they underestimated him. They will learn to fear him and respect him. Then and only then will the two of you return home and enjoy the comforts only home can provide. They will be the ones who will be sorry. Sorry that they ever thought foolishly to mess with Ivar the Boneless and you.

The second that the ships landed on Saxon soil, everyone was on their battle stations. You had been gifted with enough time to contemplate the best plan. You had thought and thought about it until you were certain. A small group were going to remain to set up camp. Two large groups were going to tackle the Saxon army. Whilst they were completing their tasks, you were going to take down every Saxon in your path.

Storming the castle was quick and effective. You wondered if the Saxons were as smart as people made them out to be. The Saxons had never seen you raiding their lands. Perhaps they thought you needed time to regroup. They should have never underestimated you and the people that looked for Ivar's guidance daily.

Perhaps that's why you were relishing in their screams as they were cut down. Today the Saxons would know if they were going to pick a war with you, they would have to bring everything they had. You fought beside the most trusted of men and women the entire battle seemed unreal as your mind highlighted the castle and the castle alone.

Breaking the castle wall and getting over was the most difficult you were aware that the walls would have many weapons that you did not have at home.  Many of the vicious warriors that died would now be with many of their loved ones and fallen comrades in Vahalla. 

Perseverance was on your side as no-body gave up. Soon the large castle doors were broken down, and you were stepping into the Saxon castle.  You weren't greeted by many armed men or guards except a rather pathetic scrawny appearing King.

"I thought Saxon Kings were supposed to be intelligent. Leaving yourself defenceless whilst your armed guards were out there protecting your lands. Pathetic. My beloved often speaks of stories that his late Father Ragnar Lothbrook told him of a King Ecbert. A smart man, a wise man who would sit down and have conversations about serious subjects. I thought I'd be facing a King of his magnitude."

"Do you think that I've given in? A woman coming into my castle believing she can take my prisoner. Now that I have both of you I'll make you both suffer." Your patience was wearing thin, especially now that you stepped closer to your beloved Ivar. This pathetic excuse for a King believed he dared to challenge you. One of the several things that you had in common with Ivar, you didn't appreciate being threatened all too much.

"Never threaten me! Never insult women in my presence do you understand!? Our people see the worth of women who are trained to fight in combat! You, on the other hand, see us as weak creatures, but you are wrong! We are as good as men. Take him back to camp! I'll deal with this Saxon when we've rescued Ivar. Here's something to think about King, whatever you've told your men to do to Ivar is going to be nothing then what happens to you!"

It didn't take a second for the man to beg and plead for his life. You shrugged whilst he screamed as the men took him away. You'd deal with him later, or a few days or maybe a few months from now. Now it was your turn to apply mental and physical torment.

Locating the dungeon where you knew Ivar was being kept was simple enough. The large iron gates gave it away. An entryway with a speck of glass gave you a glimpse of your current state. You were covered in the blood of your enemies, blood on your sword, blood on your shield. From head to toe.

The others began to release the prisoners who were locked inside the Dungeon walls. You didn't care who they were you just hoped they would cause the people grief and disparity when they stepped out onto their lands again. The very last door at the end of the hall was your last choice.

You halted at the door, hoping that behind this wooden door, the man who you had travelled all of this way to collect was right there. Looking through the metal bars on the door, you saw the face you had been dying to see.

"Break it down!" The men were quick to break down the locks. The second the door flung open you burst through, on your knees kneeling in-front of Ivar. If it wasn't for his signature electric blue eyes, you would have hardly recognised him. His body was beaten up, bloodied and bruised. His frail hand reached out in-front to take yours in his own.

"It's okay Ivar I'm here." His frail hand reached up to touch your face, the callouses on his face did nothing to deter the warmth that swarmed your body. A touch that only Ivar could provide you with. Leaning into his touch, you pressed a gentle kiss onto his palm. The entire time your eyes never once left each other

“Gods must have sent you as a gift to me” Your eyes glossed over. For many weeks you'd imagined hearing Ivar's voice. You'd also feared that perhaps you'd been too late and he was already dead. However, the Gods had blessed you more time with the man you loved so dearly. A single tear escaped down your cheek and more threatened to revolt against you, however, Ivar was already wiping them away. 

"We have to go!" You nodded, giving the men the go-ahead to continue with what you had already planned. You weren't stupid you knew that the Saxons would have destroyed Ivar's braces the second they beat him. Without those you couldn't fathom which pain was worse; The breaking of bones or people attempting to break someone's spirit.

Ivar observed you intently through clouded eyes. The way you fought, it was almost as if you were dancing. Each movement was fluid like your body knew what to do every time. Ivar had meant what he said to you earlier. You were brought to him by God's. You were the perfect balance of strong-willed and delicate. You had been there every time he broke a bone or decided to go to war with someone. You stood beside him no matter what, you weren't afraid to give him your honest opinion about whatever he was facing. Even when most tried to give him space, you were there to voice a reason for him when he needed it.

Before Ivar had been taken, he'd been contemplating something. He wanted to make your relationship official. He wanted you to be his wife, and in return be your husband. The wife that one day he would settle down with and have many heirs. Most men desired to have only boys, however, Ivar wanted to have a daughter one day. A Daughter who would be as bold and brilliant as her Mother. But for now, the two of you would conquer lands together so the two of you could solidify a future for your children and one day grandchildren.

When enough conquering was done, he planned to whisk you away to the woods, somewhere private and excluded where no one would bother either of you. The two of you would lay in warm furs until you're first of many heirs was safely in your womb.

Ivar watched on as you yelled for everyone to retreat. As everyone treated back to camp, Ivar just watched on in amazement. The camp was pretty basic, a couple of tents, a large warm fire to keep everyone shielded away from the cold. The largest tent located far enough away there would be no interruption if they desired it.

The man laid Ivar gently onto the warm furs that you had purposely put there. It was your turn to take over as you gently began to remove the torn clothing away from his body to identify each injury on his body. Each bruise and cut furthered your need for vengeance. Your body trembled so much you stood up once more to kill every last Saxon that walked upon this land. 

"Stop, you've done enough fighting for today. We will work out another way to get revenge on the Saxons. Send them a message they will never forget. Beside's do you want me laying on our furs dirty all night?" You called out for a bath, knowing someone would be close enough to hear your request. You pulled off the initial parts of your clothing whilst you waited. 

Moments later, several Thralls brought in a large tub filled with warm water. Thralls had no shame when it came to Ivar so when they began to stare at Ivar's chest intently your jealously reached boiling point. "Did I instruct you to look at him? Get out!" You blocked Ivar from their view as they suddenly scattered out.

Slowly you began to undress Ivar, removing all of the dirt and the dried blood away from him. A familiarity hit you, as you helped him up and off of the furs directly towards the bath that's steam rose from the water. Slowly, you aided Ivar into the bath everything would have been easier if he had his crutches at least. Taking hold of the sponge, you dipped it into the water before getting rid of the excess water.

"Don't...I need you." Ivar's whisper of a voice broke your determination to remove every last grain of Saxon soil off of him.

Stripping off the remainder of your clothes, you stepped into the tub leaning close to Ivar. The skin and skin contact gave you the final piece of evidence that you desired to prove that nothing and no one could hurt you both now.

"You know when I was captured, all I did was dream of you?"

"You dreamed of me?" You turned your head to glance at Ivar suddenly curious as what he was dreaming about while the two of you were apart. Ivar was unfazed by your reaction as he proceeded to run his hands up and down your arms.

"I dreamed of what I should have told you before I went away. I should have told you that I have seen our future together. It includes further raiding of lands we've yet to discover. One day we shall have many children together, hopefully, a mixture of Sons and Daughters to continue our legacy together. There is something that I'd like to ask you. How would you feel about becoming my wife?" Looking up at him in shock, quickly turning and straddling his lap as carefully as you can. You didn't want Ivar to experience any more pain especially in his legs, but it didn't seem to matter to him as he pulled you closer forcing you to settle on his lap. Ivar leans up placing a chaste kiss on your neck, pawing at your sides.

"Are you serious?"

"Why would I not be? Especially after today. You crossed an ocean and rough seas to come to my aid when I needed help. From this day until my last I am going to give you everything you could desire and more. You will never want for anything, I promise you. So what do you say, do you wish to make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?" You nod in happiness as you wrap your hands around his neck loosely resting your heads together.

The two of them laid relaxing in the bath, nothing could bother them, there were no Saxon's trying to kill them nor was anyone attempting to bother them. Ivar was kissing any body part that he could reach he didn't care he wanted to smother your body in his scent and his kisses.

"Why did you not want me to leave earlier?" You question him. He never minded when you went away to fight longer as long as he knew where he was.

"I did not want you to leave." Ivar turned your head slowly as if you were made of glass, before kissing you chastely letting his actions do the talking rather than his words.

“Can you sleep without me in a bed?” You jest as Ivar's eyebrow perks up as he slowly and purposely begins to kiss your neck. Ivar shakes his head as a response.

"Why should I have too, when you are to be my wife?" You snuggled into Ivar's chest listening to the steady rhythm of his heart until the water surrounding you ran cold.

[mell-bell]

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do- Part 1

Yon-Rogg x Reader

Words: 3027                       

Series Summary: You and Yon-Rogg were friends. You trained together. You fought together. But what happens when you realize you’re on the wrong side of the war? When everything you thought you knew was a lie. When the day you had been dreading finally arrives....when Yon-Rogg has to choose, you or the war?

Author’s notes: (posted March 11, 2019) Alright so just a PSA but I know absolutely nothing about Captain Marvel comics so I’m just going off what I saw in the movie (and what I remember like I only saw it once so far soooo) anyways I’m in love with Carol but also have an unhealthy obsession with Jude Law so I have a love/hate relationship with Yon-Rogg even though he’s a bitch, imma make him a little less evil and this is gonna be kinda dark so apologies for that....I wanted something different but this is what my brain wrote lol anyways enjoy!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You ducked as a fist came flying at your head, a smile growing on your face as you knew exactly what your opponent’s next move would be. Your arm darted out, ready to slam into his stomach, but before you could make contact, your legs were swept out from beneath you, and you slammed to the ground.

Your head throbbed where it had made contact with the floor and as you tried to push yourself up, your arm screamed in pain and you crashed back to the ground with a yelp. Taking a deep breath, you blinked away the sparks of light dancing across your vision, letting out an exaggerated groan as a foot lightly kicked your side.

“You better not be dead, the Supreme Intelligence would kill me for murdering her second best warrior.”

“Second best?” You snickered, pushing aside the pain as you shoved yourself to your feet.

Yon-Rogg smirked at you, immediately getting back into fighting stance, motioning for you to do the same.

Flashes of light were still sparkling across your vision and your body felt as if you had fallen 10 stories, but out of habit, your leg slid back as you lifted your fists.

“Y/N!”

Relief slammed into you as you turned. A Kree guard stood at the door of the gym motioning for you to follow.

“This isn’t over.” Yon-Rogg pointed at you, a playful smirk growing on his face.

You stuck your tongue out at him and flipped him off, before quickly following the guard out into the hall.

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

You and Yon-Rogg had been friends since your first day on Hala.

The second you landed on planet, you were placed in training, your supervisor being THE Yon-Rogg himself. All the other trainee’s around you kept talking about how he was the Supreme Intelligence’s favorite and how he was a hard-ass to all the new recruits.

But that didn’t scare you.

If anything it made you want to befriend him more.

Within five seconds of meeting him, you realized he was one of the most serious people on this planet. And you made it your personal goal to get him to laugh by the end of the day.

It only took you ten minutes.

His laughter echoed across the training room, all the trainees freezing and watching in confusion as he struggled to catch his breath. You stood back, your arms crossed, a wide smirk on your face.

However, the laughter only lasted for a few seconds before he stopped abruptly, pulled himself together, and yelled at everyone to get back to work.

But from that moment you became quick friends.

He volunteered to personally train you. And soon you were quickly rising in the ranks.

You balanced each other out. You were outgoing where he was quieter. And he was more serious where you were more emotional. But you respected each other’s strengths and weaknesses. He taught you how to focus and train while you taught him how to let loose and dream.

But your friendship didn’t stop you from being competitive. You both fought for the best positions and the best missions. But as you continued to be promoted, you were rarely put up for the same ones. You became more of a spy while Yon-Rogg was the definition of a Kree soldier.

Yon-Rogg realized quickly that you struggled to blindly follow orders. You liked knowing all the facts. But that wasn’t how missions typically worked. You would be given an order and were expected to follow it without question. But what if that order had consequences?

You didn’t like hurting people. You were a spy. You lied, you manipulated, but you rarely killed. You didn’t see the same death and destruction like the other agents, like Yon-Rogg.

He would often lightly scold you for following your heart too often. And you would reply by calling him robotic. Neither of you meant anything by it. But sometimes you could see the sincere worry in Yon-Rogg’s eyes and he would warn you that your bleeding heart was going to get you in trouble.

But you knew that he would always have your back should you need something. He would always keep you safe. And you would always keep him safe.  

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

A few days later, you were in the middle of gathering intel on a planet bordering Hala when you received a message ordering you to take out your informant.

Your steps faltered as you read the message over and over again. And against orders, you quickly sent a message back asking why. The only answer you received was: “double agent”.

Your heart dropped. You knew for certain that your informant was innocent. You had been working with her for years and she had never led you astray. You knew the only reason she helped you was to make money to support her children. She had no side in your war.

You weren’t sure how long you stood motionless in the middle of the street. It wasn’t until you heard the beeping of a cruiser behind you that you quickly stepped onto the sidewalk, the insistent beeping coming from your comm echoing in your hand.

The message read, “Execute target. Confirm?”

You swallowed hard before confirming.

Your heart was racing as you tried to come up with a plan. The last time you had been ordered to kill someone had been two years ago. You had lied and helped that man into hiding. And you had never been found out. Never told anyone. Not even Yon-Rogg. Part of you wanted to believe that if you had, he would have covered for you, but you weren’t sure. Even though he was your closest friend, this war had been his life for decades. You didn’t know what you would do the day he chose it over you.

But nothing was going to stop you from saving this woman. With no time to form a plan, you would have to wing it.

When you made contact with your informant, you made plans to meet up behind your usual bar. After making sure you weren’t followed, you slipped down the alley, your hand on your blaster. As you caught sight of the hooded woman leaning against the wall, you relaxed.

You whispered the code word, but before hearing it back, you began to beg her to leave and never return, realizing far too late that the woman in front of you wasn’t your informant.

Turning around to run, you ran headfirst into a Kree agent. Knocking him on the ground, you turned the corner seeing your informant across the street. Just as you were about to scream to her, something hit you hard over the head and you blacked out.

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

When you woke, smoke was billowing from a fire in front of you. The sparks burning against your face as you laid against the sandy ground.

You weren’t in the alley anymore. The desert sand blew around you, no civilization to be seen for miles. You began to struggle to get up when somebody kicked you hard in the stomach, pain splintering through you. All you could do was pray they hadn’t broken a rib.

Another foot came down, slamming your head into the ground, a rock tearing into your forehead.

Brushing the stream of blood across your face, you blinked ferociously trying to focus your eyes. The smoke burned as you peered around finally catching sight of your informant across the fire. The woman was terrified. She was kneeling on the ground, her body trembling. Her mouth moving nonstop, begging, pleading to the Kree agent’s standing next to her. But they remained motionless, their blasters aimed at the back of her head.

You had walked into a trap. This mission had been a test. And you had failed.

Someone spoke, their voice muffled. You strained to hear what they were saying, but all you could hear was the pounding in your head.

Before you could prepare to defend yourself, the Kree agent’s surrounded you. They grabbed your arms and hauled you up, forcing you to your knees. You began to fight back even as your body screamed in pain.

You managed to get one of the agent’s on the ground, but you just weren’t fast enough. Your legs were kicked out beneath you and you were pinned to the ground, forced to watch in horror as one the agent’s aimed his blaster at your informant’s head.

You screamed. And he pulled the trigger.

Defeated, your body fell limp. It was over. You were as good as dead.

But as if it wasn’t enough to watch the woman you had tried to protect die, one of the agent’s threaded his hands through your hair and hauled you up, forcing you to look at the woman lying on the ground.

Another agent came around and began speaking to you and when you didn’t look up he grabbed your chin forcing your eyes to meet his. As he began to repeat what he said, you spit in his face, barely flinching when he punched you across the face.

And this time as you laid silently on the ground, they left you there as tears burned in your throat.

You weren’t sure how long you remained there, the fire still burning hot across your face.

You welcomed the pain and prayed for the darkness to come.

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

After a while, you felt your limp body being dragged against the ground, the rocks buried in the sand, beating into you, birthing more bruises.

You knew you had made it back to the ship, when the ground became smooth and solid beneath you, a welcome relief to your body.

The two Kree agent’s stopped abruptly, your limp body jerking in their hold, a groan escaping from your throat.

Loud footsteps echoed across the empty walls in the hall. Two boots stopped in front of you. And you swallowed hard before looking up and meeting Yon-Rogg’s eyes. They were dark and hard. And in that moment, you couldn’t find one inch of the man you knew.

You flinched as his arm moved forward, expecting his fist to slam into your face. When it didn’t, you hesitantly met his eyes once more seeing the horror on his face as he looked from his hand to your beaten body.

He waved his arm, motioning for the guards to release you, but when they didn’t, Yon-Rogg swallowed hard before nodding minutely and leading the way into the Supreme Intelligence’s quarters.

And the only thing on your mind in that moment was Yon-Rogg’s voice telling you to be careful following your heart.

As the tendrils of the Supreme Intelligence burned into your skin,  you tried to fight it. All you could hear was a voice repeating: “you have failed your test”. It only took a few moments before your mind gave out and you collapsed.

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

You woke abruptly, the pain in your body causing a whimper to be torn unconsciously from your throat. Prying open your eyes, you saw the bare walls of the dungeon cells. You didn’t know that so many things could hurt at once.

A coolness spread across your brow and you squinted your eyes as they strained against the bright light in the room.

Someone shushed you as you tried to speak and that was when everything came racing back to you. Your heart started pounding and you pushed the unknown hands away before shooting across the room, your body giving out halfway. You dropped, your bound hands unable to stop you from slamming into the ground.

“Y/N.”

You shook your head, trying to get your eyes to focus as you watched the figure crouch down before you.

Yon-Rogg.

His mouth moved and it took you a few minutes to realize he was talking to you.

“-so stupid. Why would you do that? Saving a double agent. I know you don’t like bloodshed, but this is war. She could-“

“She was innocent.” You whispered.

And he froze, his bright eyes boring into you, “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” You swallowed, “Because she wasn’t a double agent. They set me up. The Supreme Intelligence. They knew I saved the last person I was supposed to kill. I helped him. And before you tell me how stupid I was, I’m not sorry. We’re on the wrong side of the war, Yon. I couldn’t sit around and do nothing anymore.”

His eyes flashed and he ran his hands through his hair, “Wrong side of the war? The Skrulls are attacking us. Killing us. How are we on the wrong side? This is everything we’ve been fighting for, how could you betray us?”

“I betrayed no one but the Supreme Intelligence, who wants to wipe out a whole race for no reason. Tell me there’s nothing wrong with that?” Your voice rose louder, “Don’t you ever wonder why they don’t come after us? Why they always just defend themselves? We’ve never even been given a reason why!”

“I....” He swallowed, “That’s not for us to question.”

Your heart sunk, “So, we’re just soldiers that blindly follow orders. Where does it end?”

A loud bang sounded outside and you pressed harder against the wall, Yon-Rogg’s mouth tightening as he watched you cowering, never having seen you in such a vulnerable state.

“I’m getting you out of here.”

“What?” Your voice cracked.

He shook his head and peered over his shoulder as if he was expecting a fight to come through the door, “I’m not leaving you here. They’ll kill you.”

You shrugged, defeated, “Yeah, I expected nothing less.”

“And you’re fine with that?” His voice wavered.

“What do you expect me to do? Fight with broken ribs, sprained ankle, hands tied together? I’m not some wonder woman.”

Voices echoed outside and as if a switch had been flipped, Yon-Rogg shot forward, the sudden movement startling you. He whipped out a knife and cut through your cuffs quickly. He hauled you up, your arm resting around his shoulders, his other grasping your side, the pain of breathing already getting to you.

“You’re signing your own death certificate.” You panted, more worried about him than yourself. You had accepted your fate the second you had saved that man two years ago. You knew you would be sentenced to death. But Yon...he hadn’t done anything.

“So be it.” He growled, his arm wrapping tighter around you, as he all but carried you through the door and started down the hall.

“Be careful with following your heart, it’ll get you in trouble.” You quoted at him, and you felt his steps falter as a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Your chest warmed a little, knowing he had your back. And as you returned his smile, he paused for a moment, looking down at you. You leaned into his body a little more, his head leaning down toward you, resting his forehead against your temple.

A moment later, he cleared his throat and you took a deep breath before you both started down the hall again.

You didn’t make five more feet before guards surrounded the two of you. Their blaster’s aimed to kill.

“The Supreme Intelligence wants to speak to you both.”

You weren’t lucky enough to fall unconscious this time.

The guard’s let Yon-Rogg help you down the hall and into the room. You could feel him breathing hard beside you, his eyes darting left and right, trying to find any available escape route to get you out of there. But as you grew closer and closer to the Supreme Intelligence you knew your fate was sealed.

The second you entered the room the two of you were torn apart. It took four guards to hold Yon-Rogg down and you began to fight thinking they were going to attack him for helping you.

But it wasn’t him they wanted.

It was you.

One of your closest friends, one of the women you had trained with for years, went on missions with, someone you trusted with your life, stepped up to you, her weapon extended. She threw a fleeting look at Yon-Rogg, who was fighting to break away from the guards, terror filling his eyes as Lora raised her weapon striking you across the face.

You weren’t sure how you remained conscious but as she continued to beat you, Yon-Rogg screamed and screamed and fought with all his strength. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t help you.

“I’ll kill you!” He screamed.

Finally. Finally. Lora stopped hitting you. Your breath was coming in short and everything was becoming numb.

Your last thought was at least they weren’t hurting him.

But it wasn’t until you finally passed out that they came for him.

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

The threads burned into your skin as your consciousness fell to the Supreme Intelligence.

“Why?” Your voice croaked hoarsely, your gaze focused solely on the ground, knowing exactly who you would see if you looked up.

“Because you disobeyed.”

“No, why did you make him watch?”

“Because he loves you.”

Your body jerked, your head shooting up seeing Yon-Rogg staring down at you. His face blank.

It wasn’t him.

The Supreme Intelligence’s head cocked, “I have known for years. Since you joined us. He tried to fight it. I never thought it would be a problem. I’m not certain when his mission stopped being ours and starting being protecting you, but it has caused me enough issues.”

“You’re lying.” Your heart was pounding.

“It is you who he sees when he speaks to me. Make of that what you will.”

“So, you’re going to kill us both?”

The Supreme Intelligence paused, “No. I am going to tell him you’re dead. Break him down. And then build him back up into the perfect soldier. Emotions destroy. He will be better without you.”

You swallowed heavily, “And what happens to me?”

“You are no threat. However, I can’t have you around in fear that you will corrupt my soldier again. But you may be of use to me someday.”

The figure before her smiled. But it wasn’t Yon’s smile.

And then everything went black.

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

Author’s notes: Seriously don’t even though what this is....it just happened. Didn’t mean to make this so fucking dark but it happened and now I want to make it happy so possibly a sequel one day

Part 2 is up! I don’t want to link it though because tumblr hates links but you can search for it on my page :D

[redstoreroom]

The King of Singapore

The young man in blue paid him two dollars reluctantly then walked away. He dropped the money into his pouch and, with weathered fingers, zipped it up. His hands were still sticky so he wiped them on his shirt. His clothes looked like he had had years of sticky hands.

The sky was blushing mauve; he should start packing up. His ice-cream cart was parked by the suspension bridge over the river. He stretched his back with a groan. It had found an uncomfortable curve as its daily normal.

His precious cart was one of those with a large umbrella and conjoined to a bicycle. He looked too old to cycle, in my opinion. He knew it too. He also knew that one day, he wouldn’t be able to anymore. His joints were less like joints than bends lately. There weren’t much of muscles left on his bones either. And it worried him. Money, it worried him a lot. He could survive without shelter and homelessness was familiar. Food however… When that day comes, he’ll be fucked. His stomach too. Empty and fucked.

He lifted the metal lids of his cart, one after another, peeking into their freezing chambers. They usually contained many flavours of ice-cream. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, cookies and cream, mango, sweet corn, red bean, raspberry ripple. He even had durian flavoured ones; they taste better than you think, trust me. They cost more too; more than they should. You can buy them scooped on cones or cups, or sliced from icy blocks and sandwiched between wafers or bread. He had them on sticks too. However, that evening as he peered into the compartments, he saw that they were empty except for cold exhalations meeting his face and a single popsicle. The tubs were all scooped clean. The blocks for the sandwiches were all gone. It had been a busy day so he hadn’t noticed. Even the corn flavoured ice-cream had sold well. One more popsicle.

His heartbeat rushed. Happiness; he hadn’t felt it for a long time. He turned to the river and the towering buildings beyond it as he tried to girdle his emotions to his wasted body. He wanted his entire nervous system to experience every droplet of the contentment. He needed it to nest in him forever. He smiled. He listened to the distant of laughter that travelled from nearby bars and restaurants; laughter of smoking and drinking people. Feasting people. Joyful people. With them, he felt a shared glee from afar. It was lonely but not lonely.

This land, my land.

He was a king of this country, centuries ago; a raja, when the gods of the sea were still awake and sending bladed hordes from their depths to the shores of this island. A young boy, still unclaimed by puberty, but with smarts and banana trees, saved the land from the piscine attackers.

When his subjects—with mouths stuffed with panggang garfish—threw adorations at the child, our king grew worried the story would end with him throne-less. The boy was the David to his Saul.

He sent five men to kill the boy when the moon turned blind and unable to bear witness. They went to his home upon the hill and entered his room through the window. His parents were asleep. Five men. Five blades. Seven stabs each. They left quicker than they came.

As his life began its migration from his body, he wept to the gods. His final breaths called to the gods of the winds. His tears called to the gods of the waters. His temperature, lowering fast, called to the gods of fire. His blood seeped through the floor and called to the gods of the earth and thus began the slow and famous red-dyeing of the hill; Bukit Merah.

Forgiveness or revenge, the gods asked the boy.

Revenge, he said. Revenge and multiplied.

And so, they commenced the punishment. Food from the earth withered black in the mouths of our king’s family while water turned to poison down their throats. When they are shrivelled and broken, air then fled their lungs in slow hisses and rattles and so much pain. One by one, members of the royal family died, leaving our monarch completely alone. You see, fire, most cruel, cursed him with a promethean spark of life, so that he will never die. He will age, slow, but no death.

For hundreds of years, he searched for Death. He found her, one day, during the second world war, and asked her to take him. She laughed. Ask someone else, she told him. Then she left. She said she was rather busy. She had a lot of work to do.

It wasn’t till the nineteen eighties, that he met that ‘someone else’; at this very bridge, in fact. She looked like an old woman, greying hair and all that. Her ill-fitting blouse was a vomit of tiny purple and grey flowers, and dark patches of sweat under her arms, on her chest and her back. Her black trousers were too loose for her legs. He approached her.

“You’re the Devil, yes?” he asked her. “I need your help.”

“Cavenagh Bridge.” She placed a hand on a railing of the bridge. He wasn’t sure if it was for emphasis or support. “Did you know, it was built in Glasgow, dismantled and reassembled here in 1969?”

“Yes. I worked on it. Forced to. I was in prison then.” He placed a hand on the railing too but found it too hot from the sun and retreated his hand. She kept hers on it.

“My, my. From king to convict. When the mighty fall, they plummet.”

“At least I had meals behind bars. Out here… Empty belly and immortality; brutal combination.”

“Tell me, did they really sacrifice children when building bridges? Or is that just an urban myth? Oh, please tell me they did! It would really make my day!”

“Even if they did, who am I to judge?”

She laughed, hard and with bouts of coughs. “I like you. You’re hilarious. Your entire situation is hilarious. And you’re pathetic; that’s lovely too! Like a monkey. Like a drowning monkey. And that makes me smile. So, fine. How may I help you?”

“I want to die.”

“And in this heat, I want ice-cream. Boohoo! We all want something. You were given life without expiration. You could have earned every ounce of your riches back. Your land, even! I don’t understand how you managed to waste it all. Why are you such a failure?”

“Bad choices?”

She smiled a sigh. “Well, I can’t fault you for that, can I? Even God makes choices He regrets. I’m proof of that. Fine, I’ll help. But my dear, I can’t peel the curse off you. Amend it, however—”

“I’ll take it.”

And a contract was signed on Cavenagh Bridge, with the river and sun as witnesses, and the Devil gave the ex-convict king an ice-cream cart, telling him that once it is empty and frozen goods all sold, he will die. Easy, right? Yet for some reason, the thing never seemed to empty.

He could see its contents decreasing yet there was always more left. As time went on, the cart grew and accommodated more flavours and types of ice-cream. It even added a bicycle to itself. The king—now ice-cream man—could never remember when or how these changes to his cart occurred. He could only notice that it was different from before. Like realising there were now wrinkles under your eyes but never being too sure when they first appeared.

When he started selling popsicles, he tried counting them to keep track of their number but could never finish the task. So, he gave up. No surprises there. Once, he tried to buy his own wares. That didn’t work either. Everything in the cart doubled itself in quantity.

For years, he peddled. It turned his dark skin papery and covered it with wrinkles and spots. He joined the country’s army of the aged men and women who toiled—often disregarded—right up to their deaths. And like him, a small few toiled for their deaths as well; praying they lose balance at the next foodcourt table they cleaned or the next floor tile they swept, and fall, snapping their cervical spine, killing them instantly. It was the nation’s waiting game and our king feared he would be playing it forever.

Yet that night, he found his cart finally empty save a single popsicle, more than three decades after his compact began. He called to people to buy it. No luck. I was walking by his cart when he begged me. I asked him what flavour it was. Yam. Who the hell eats yam flavoured anything? So, I said no. He fell onto his knees, crying and pleading. I heard him screaming as I walked away.

I wonder whether anyone bought it. I really hope no one ever does. Such a waste of money. Living is so expensive as it is. I mean… yam, for god’s sake.

(Note 1: This story was inspired by the Singapore folktale, Attack of the Swordfish, a tale of how Singapore was attacked by schools of swordfish and saved by a young boy, Hang Nadim (using a wall of banana stems), who was then murdered by the king. 

Note 2: An earlier version of this piece was initially posted on 12th June 2017 and has been edited and revised on 4th August 2020)

[lady-divine-writes]

The Prince of the Sea and his Child of Fire (Rated NC17) - Chapter 3/15

Summary: Blaine is a water sprite, prince of the undersea kingdom and sole heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen and his big coronation, he decides to take a journey to the surface, to seek out a legendary flame said to be tended by an evil witch. Instead of a witch, he finds something else entirely ...

Kurt is a fire fairy, prince of a race of fire fairies and heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen (on the night of a full solar eclipse when he will transform and become king), he sees for the first time in his life a water sprite - a member of a race that he's been raised to hate.

What will happen when these two mortal enemies fall in love? Is there any way for them to escape destiny and be together?

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

“Blaine! Wake up!” Trent pleads to his prince’s unconscious face. After hours of swimming, Trent - physically and emotionally drained, his energy reserves tapped - begins to lose hope. Blaine is still breathing but he hasn’t woken, hasn’t blinked, hasn’t moved for hours, not even in the ways someone normally does while they sleep.

And Blaine is a notorious sleep talker.

The thin, sensitive skin of Blaine’s eyelids has been stained black with ash, and a larger, angry-red burn marks his brow, but otherwise he seems uninjured. Trent looked Blaine’s body over as soon as they were far enough away from that accursed cove to risk stopping, trying to find any other burns on his skin, but there aren’t any.

Trent isn’t a doctor, but he takes that to mean that whatever is plaguing Blaine is happening inside his body.

Perhaps he’s enchanted! he thinks. Perhaps that fairy put him under a spell! Or maybe he was a witch! A powerful witch, and now Blaine has been cursed to sleep for the rest of his life!

“Please!” Trent cries, terrified that he’s lost his best friend forever. “Wake up, Blaine!”

Trent swims all day, stopping from time to time to check on his prince and to rest, keeping Blaine to the parts of the ocean untouched by daylight. Daylight in any form will hurt a sprite, but exposure to direct daylight out of water will kill them. By late afternoon, Trent finally makes his way back to the castle. He miraculously avoids being seen and sending up any sort of alarm. He hides with Blaine in the garden beneath the splayed fingers of a yellow Elkhorn coral, blocked from the view of passersby and the castle windows above.

“Blaine, I need you to wake up,” Trent says, his voice wavering as despair takes over. “You’re my best friend. Besides, I don’t want to go to your father and tell him his only son is dead.” Trent withers at the thought. “You know he’s going to kill me, too.”

Trent bends over and rests his ear on Blaine’s chest in search of a heartbeat. It’s there, and it’s strong, but that might not be enough to counter that blasted fairy’s magic. Trent doesn’t know. Very little is known about the fire fairies above except they’re evil, and not to be trusted under any circumstances. But what else is there that needs to be known?

“Please, Blaine,” he mutters, tears starting in his eyes. “Get up … please, get up.”

Trent hears a cough … then a huff … then a snort. He looks up to see his friend’s eyelids struggle open, weakly parting, unfocused eyes searching his face.

“What are you going to do next?” Blaine asks in a raspy voice. “Profess your undying love to me?”

Trent feels a rush of unabashed joy for a single second before anger sets in.

“You jerk!” Trent snaps, pushing away from Blaine. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Awww, admit it …” Blaine sits up, pressing a hand to his spinning head “… you were worried about me.”

“I was worried about being ground into chum and fed to the sharks, that’s all I was worried about.” Trent rises to his feet and brushes off his pants, offering Blaine a hand up regardless of his anger. “What happened to you? I thought you were dead!”

“I … I was knocked out cold, I guess. Nothing more.”

“So you’re not going to grow wings or burst into flames then?”

Blaine snickers. “No. None of that,” he says, but subtly peeking at his back to make sure.

“Great. That’s just great. Well, back to business as usual, I guess.”

“Guess so.”

“By the way, your royal ass-ness, you are officially late for another war meeting.”

“Wha---?” Blaine brushes at his clothes, grimacing at the scorch marks curling the hem of his pants. He looks up, peering at the position of the light in the water, the direction of the current. He slaps a palm to his forehead. “Aw, crap!” he groans, half out of pain and half out of irritation. He scrambles out from under the coral, feet pushing into the wet sand as he propels himself forward, kicking up clouds in his wake. He circles around the castle, heading for the entrance. “Couldn’t you have gotten us back here any faster?” he yells at Trent, clambering behind him, fighting to keep up.

“Maybe I could have gotten here faster if I had dropped the dead weight I was dragging, you dugong’s behind!”

Blaine grins at his friend’s comment as they backtrack through the hallways, taking the same path they had earlier, dashing through the maze of corridors till they get to the main hall, feet sliding across the slick floors. Blaine rounds the corner to the war room, continuing on alone (which he wouldn’t normally but he owes Trent one), stopping at the door and straightening what is left of his singed pants. He doesn’t have time to race back to his room and grab his royal sash not to mention a shirt, so shirtless and unadorned will have to do. It’s a serious breach in protocol (or so he’s been told numerous times) but one good thing will come from that.

His dad will hate it.

Blaine can hear voices from the war room echo out into the hallway before he enters.

“The situation is getting serious. We should attack now before anyone gets hurt!”

“I agree! We must move quickly! Take them by surprise! We cannot delay any longer!”

“General, with all due respect, we cannot go to war over an isolated incident! That will cause far more trouble, and damage, than it’s worth!”

“We’re not talking about an isolated incident. It seems an army of jellyfish attacked the outlying area a full moon ago, my king. And there are reports that a larger army is amassing west of the whale graveyard.”

“Send an envoy. Try to reason with them first! Perhaps your son could …”

“Jellyfish are brainless! They cannot be reasoned with!”

“If they can organize forces and mobilize, they can most definitely be reasoned with!”

“The outlying area … the whale graveyard … those are fairly remote areas to be building an army and launching an attack. Do we have any idea why they would choose there?”

“It’s not heavily guarded and …”

The guard at the entrance clears his throat when Blaine enters, wincing at the sight of Blaine’s blackened eyes and ruined pants.

“Presenting His Royal Highness, Prince Blaine!”

Blaine barely makes it a foot through the doorway when the entire assemblage stops cold, turns in his direction, and stares open-mouthed. His father, the massive black figure at the far end of the room, revolves around slowly and to dramatic effect. The oldest among the water sprites, he fills the room from nearly floor to ceiling. His once pale skin now an oily pitch, he absorbs every inch of light in the room, making it seem darker than it really is. Unlike other water sprites, he’s developed thick, rugged tentacles from years of scouring the ocean floor and rarely swimming. His eyes, once golden like Blaine’s, have become large yellow discs with no discernible pupils. He’s a fearsome monster to behold, the leviathan of nightmares and legends.

And Blaine gets to call him father.

The Great Sea King takes one look at his son and closes his yellow eyes in disgust.

“Leave us,” he says, gesturing with his tentacles to those gathered around the room.

Without a word, the entire council stands and leaves, eyes adverted as they pass the sprite their king shows so much disdain for.

“Close the door,” the king commands. The heavy door closes. Blaine and his father stand on opposite ends of the room - alone.

Blaine steps forward, back straight, shoulders square, head high – as much the countenance of royalty as he can muster. But when his father opens his eyes again, he is unimpressed by his son’s posturing.

“Father,” Blaine starts, clasping his hands behind his back to stop their shaking, “I apologize for being late, but I …”

“Look at you,” his father sneers, addressing his son with a grimace. “Look at your clothes, your face. You are a mess, and late to yet another important meeting.” The king turns his back on his son, staring at the wall behind him. “You make a poor prince. What sort of king are you going to be? You are a disgrace.”

Blaine glowers at his father, for all the good his sour face does when his father refuses to even look at him.

“If I’m such a disgrace, then don’t make me king,” Blaine says bitterly, disguising the hurt in his voice.

“If I had any other choice, I wouldn’t,” his father says, sighing heavily from the burden of his troublesome son. “We are done here. You may go.”

Blaine jerks back. In his father’s presence less than five minutes and already dismissed. Must be some new record. A younger Blaine would have apologized, fallen on his knees and begged for his father’s forgiveness, begged to be given another chance, but this more jaded Blaine knows better. Even at his best, Malek, the King of the Sea, has never seen any worth in his only son. So Blaine simply turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

His face burns bright with embarrassment, but he no longer cares who sees him. It’s no secret what his father thinks of him.

He only prays his father’s opinion isn’t contagious.

He expects to find Trent loitering in the hallway waiting for him. He hopes to find no one. He needs a moment to himself to remember why it is he doesn’t take to the waves and swim as far away from the palace and his father as he can.

One reason, he knows, is because there isn’t anywhere in the sea he can go that his father can’t find him.

But also because Blaine wants to be a good king. He does have opinions about how to handle the ravaging jellyfish hordes that have been attacking unchecked for months, but his father doesn’t want to hear them.

His father wants Blaine punctual, but mostly quiet at all times.

That’s not something Blaine is prepared to do, not when it comes to the safety of his kingdom.  

That will all change when Blaine becomes king. He’ll call the shots and will answer to no one. Regardless of his immaturity at times, Blaine loves his people. He loves the ocean and every creature in it. It would be nice if, before he’s given the crown, he could make his father see him for the king he will be, not the disobedient prince Malek thinks he is.

If he could only find a way …

“Running away from responsibility again, Blaine?” a snide voice asks from the shadows.

“I’m not running away from anything,” Blaine growls, turning to face the eavesdropper leaning against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, looking exceptionally comfortable hiding in the dark. It’s his glowing blue eyes Blaine sees first, then his golden mane of hair, and that knowing grin that Blaine so often wants to smack off his face. “Maybe you should stop hanging around where you aren’t welcome.”

“My father is still the king’s steward,” Hunter says, “so technically, I am welcome here.”

“Your father is welcome here,” Blaine sneers, “and just barely. You, on the other hand, are nothing. You have no rank and are therefore unwelcome. Permission to remain in the palace has been granted solely as a courtesy to him, but it can be repealed.”

“You know,” Hunter continues, ignoring the prince’s remarks, “you look like you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.” His eyes sweep down Blaine’s body, stopping on the scorched portions of his pants and traveling up to the burn on his forehead, staring with a curious eyebrow raised. “If you can’t handle the numerous responsibilities of being appointed Sea King, I would be more than happy to take it off of your shoulders, Prince Blaine. All you need do is ask.”

Blaine rolls his eyes at this overconfident sprite who used to be a dear friend – a long time ago before a jealous and ambitious Hunter discovered he could be next in line for the throne if anything unfortunate happened to Blaine and his father turned the position down.

“No, thank you,” Blaine says, sauntering away. “I’ve got it covered.” He stops mid-step and turns, walking back toward the cocky sprite staring daggers at Blaine’s back. “And by the way … you may want to start packing your bags, because the second I get that crown on my head, you’re out of here.”

Blaine pats Hunter’s cheek condescendingly, then walks lazily off to his room. Hunter watches Blaine swagger down the hallway and out of sight, laughing to himself.

“We’ll see,” Hunter mutters, catching a glimpse of the morose Sea King before heading in the opposite direction. “We’ll see.”

[victimofthemusic]

Five Times Tony Stark Was a Good Dad (And One Time He Wasn’t) Pt. 5

Hey guys! We’ve almost reached the end and I’m so excited to get the last few chapters up. This chapter was inspired by Tom Holland’s adorable relationship he has with his dog, Tessa and a few other fics that I’ve read over the last couple of weeks. I have the outline for the next chapter so it should be posted in the next couple of weeks! Enjoy and thank you for reading (:

If you want to read the other chapters, you can find them here: Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, & Pt.4

~~~~~~~~~

“Peter, your mom and dad, they—“ Aunt May choked on a sob, her grip on his shoulders tight, “They—“

“They’re not coming back, bud.” Uncle Ben said softly, bright blue eyes filled with unshed tears and something tight wound its way around Peter’s heart.

“No, you’re lying! I want my mommy and daddy!”

“They’re gone, Peter.”

Gone

Gone

Gone—

Blood, so much blood. Peter looked down at his hands, the dark crimson staining his skin and dripping on to the sidewalk. Sirens blared in the distance, there was shouting, erratic heart beats, pained groans—

Uncle Ben

“Pete—Peter, I—“ A cough and blood spilled from his lips, slipping down his chin and Peter could only watch, helpless.

“Ben, please—please hold on—“

“Take care of May—“

“—I can hear the ambulance, just a little longer—“ Peter pleaded, tears blurring his vision and panic gripping his racing heart.

“—be…safe—“ Another cough, more blood, a wheeze.

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

Uncle Ben—

“No, no, no, please uncle Ben, please don’t go—“

Gurgling, more wheezing, even more blood.

“Sir, we need to ask you to move so we can help him—“

“—He’s going into shock—“

“—he’s not going to make it, he’s lost too much blood—“

“—I can’t find an exit wound, the bullet is still in there—“

“—Peter—“

“Uncle Ben, please—“

My fault my fault my fault—

“I told you, if you didn’t stop messing with my business, I was going to kill everyone you loved.”

The Vulture smirked as he held the gun to May’s head, his eyes dancing oddly as he watched her squirm and cry heavy mascara tears. She struggled against his hold, her dark eyes pleading with Peter.

Save me, save us.

But he couldn't move, his body was trapped underneath the rubble of what was the roof of the building. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe and he couldn't think clearly. His spidey-sense was going haywire, his body was alive with pain and he could taste the blood in his mouth.

“Peter—“ May begged.

The silver of the barrel glinted dangerously in the lowlight and Peter squirmed, crying out in agony as rebar stabbed him in the thigh—

“I told you, stay out of it—“

“Peter—

“Say goodbye to your aunt, Peter—“

“Peter please—“

“—I warned you—“

“Peter—!”

A gunshot and more blood—

“No!”

Peter

All my fault all my fault—

Peter—

There’s so much blood—

“Peter!”

His head was on fire, his senses in overdrive—

“Peter—damn it kid—“

A hand grabbed his arm and he cried out, fire coursing through his veins—

“Peter!”

Choking on a gasp, Peter opened his eyes to total darkness. His legs were tangled in the sheets and he could feel sweat-soaked state of his shirt clinging to his back. The back of his head was tingling, the hair on his arms standing at attention and he realized, as he tried to focus on getting air into his lungs, that he wasn’t alone and someone was talking to him.

“—you’re okay kid, you’re okay—F.R.I.D.A.Y. give me his levels—“

“—blood pressure is one-fifty over ninety, heart rate is at one hundred and fifty beats per minute—“

“Kid, can you hear me? It’s me, Tony, you’re in your room at the tower, in Manhattan, you’re safe, no one can hurt you—F.R.I.D.A.Y. hit the lights, level four, we don’t want to overstimulate his senses—“

Dim light filtered through the darkness and Peter felt something in his chest loosen at being able to see his surroundings. The familiar light charcoal walls, the blue of his bed spread, the giant IronMan poster hanging over his desk and Tony, kneeling on the plush grey carpet beside his bed, watching him with unconcealed concern and Peter’s gut twisted with guilt.

“Mr. Stark—Tony, shit I’m so sorry—“

“Pete,” Tony interrupted, voice uncharacteristically gentle, “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but no words would come out. His mind flashed back to blood, all the blood, my fault, my fault, May screaming—

Something was in his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision and something that resembled a sob ripped itself from his lungs and made it’s way passed his lips. His entire body was shaking, his head was spinning and he could feel the bile rising in his throat, the lump pressing harder against his esophagus until he couldn't breathe. He bolted up out of bed, tripping on the bed sheets and ignoring the harsh cold of the tiled bathroom floor, he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up dinner.

Wave after wave of nausea hit him to the point where it felt like it was never going to let up. His brain was still swirling with the images of blood and death, the sounds of uncle Ben’s protests and May’s screams still playing through his ears and Peter prayed to anything or anyone who would listen to just make it stop.

A hesitant but strong hand landed gently on Peter’s shoulder, another coming to rub in between his shoulder blades as the vomit gave way to bile and his throat and stomach ached in protest of bringing up anything else.

When the world stopped spinning and the angry sea in his stomach settled, Peter lifted a weak hand to flush the toilet and pushed himself off of his knees to lean heavily against the sink. He rinsed his mouth out before he grabbed his Darth Vader toothbrush, wanting to rid his mouth of the horrible taste of stomach acid and half digested Pad Thai.

Peter ignored his reflection in the mirror as he wiped at his mouth and he could feel Tony’s concerned stare burning a hole in the back of his neck, but he ignored that, too. He could feel the fatigue in his bones, but his mind was too hectic to go back to sleep, his stomach lurching in protest at the thought of seeing more of—

“Peter,” Tony said, voice soft and Peter, startled, met his worried gaze in the mirror, “Why don’t you take a hot shower and change into some new PJ’s, okay? Meet me down stairs in the living room when you’re done.”

Peter nodded numbly, already stripping out of his sweat clothes. He fought against the anxiety rising in his chest at being left alone again and for a wild moment, he thought about asking Tony to stay outside the bathroom, just to have the comfort of knowing someone was there, in case something or someone wanted to get him at his most vulnerable. Like the time Peter snuck out of bed and into the living room when he was five and supposed to be sleeping. Aunt May and uncle Ben were sitting on the couch, watching Jaws and the next night, at bath time, Peter was terrified of getting into the water, images of a hundred foot long shark with bloodied jaws of his victims flashing through his little mind and Ben, bless him, stood outside the bathroom in case he had to fight off a shark for him.

“I’ll be right outside Pete, nothing is gonna get you, you’re safe with me.”

Shaking his head, he mumbled for F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn on the water as hot as her code would allow her to go, the A.I. forever coded to keep his safety in mind.

He washed quickly, not wanting to be by himself for longer than he had to or to keep Tony waiting for too long. Stepping out of the shower, he toweled himself off and headed back into his room, shivering as his hot skin met the cold air.

He noticed the fresh pajamas laid out on his bed, along with the new sheets that were on his bed—they were blue when he went into the shower and now his sheets had IronMan all over them, in different stages of action and despite the nightmare still fresh in his mind, he smiled at Tony’s attempt at humor.

Shrugging into his new pajamas, he wrapped himself in his Star Wars blanket and made his way down stairs, where he found Tony waiting for him on the sofa with two steaming mugs of something in his hands and the opening scene of the first Star Wars movie playing at low volume on the giant flat screen TV.

Tony handed him the mug—hot chocolate—when he sat down and manifested a blanket for himself and another one of Peter, in case he wanted it. Peter took a hesitant sip from his mug and had to bite back a moan of satisfaction when the rich sweetness met his tongue and danced over his tastebuds. There was no way this was Swiss Miss.

“All the way from Belgium,” Tony confirmed his thoughts, taking a sip from his own mug, “It’s my favorite and way better than store bought, bleh.”

Peter huffed a weak laugh at Tony’s snobbish tendencies and took another sip of the delicious brew, ignoring the piping hot temperature because it was so so so good.

He snuggled deeper into the nest of blankets as F.R.I.D.A.Y. started the movie and all thoughts of the Vulture and Ben and May’s blood curdling screams drifted as he was taken to a galaxy far far away.

Tony wrapped his arm around the back of the couch and began playing with Peter’s shower dampened curls, running his fingers through it. A small smile found its way across his lips as Peter leaned into his touch, his shoulders relaxing further into his blankets, his eyes never leaving the screen in front of him, sipping away at his hot chocolate.

Peter looked so small and vulnerable, wrapped up in Avengers themed blankets and sipping his hot chocolate from an Iron Man mug and it made Tony’s chest ache at the youth that radiated from the scene in front of him. Peter was just a kid, barely a teenager and he was already dealing with horrific nightmares that Tony himself was no stranger to. He had his own demons that preyed on his unconscious mind every night and he wouldn't wish some of things he saw on his worst enemy, let alone the fifteen year old kid sitting next to him.

Tony wanted to ask him what his nightmares were about, but he knew Peter, as much as he trusted Tony, wouldn't want to talk about it and burden Tony with his problems. Peter, because of his intelligence, was often treated with a level of maturity that didn’t match up with his age and Tony was no stranger to that. People forgot, often times, that because he was so smart, that he developmentally, he was still a kid. A stupid teenager with stupid teenage tendencies that, mixed with his scary level of intelligence, often times turned into disaster.

Peter had a brilliant mind and Tony could only imagine what his subconscious mind could conjure up to scare the kid so badly that he got physically sick from it.

A light snore broke Tony from his thoughts and glancing down, Peter was now snuggled into his side, dead to the world and holding his mug precariously in his grasp. With fond smile, Tony gently took the mug from his hands and placed it on the coffee table, making a mental note to grab it in the morning. Slowly, so he didn’t disturb the sleeping teen, he slid out from the couch and scooped Peter into his arms, ignoring the warmth that bloomed in his chest when the kid snuggled closer to his chest, his hand resting against the arc reactor as he dozed on, completely oblivious.

He made it to Peter’s room without a hitch—the kid was still snoozing away and Tony didn’t drop him, so he counted it as a win. He walked across the soft carpeted floor and carefully eased Peter down onto his fresh Iron Man sheets. Peter snuggled into the pillows easily enough, but when Tony tried to remove his arms from underneath Peter, a small frown caused a furrow to appear between his eyebrows, which gave Tony pause. Peter, as if he sensed his hesitation, rolled over on his side and snuggled back into Tony’s arms, his hand once again finding purchase on the arc reactor. The furrow between his eyes disappeared and he seemed to settle back into the pillows, his body relaxed and face smoothed back into the serene expression of one in the middle of a good nights sleep.

Tony hesitated, ensuring that the kid was settled and comfortable and asleep, before he tried to get his limbs back, once again coming up unsuccessful.

Because the kid adhered himself to Tony.

As in, he was stuck.

To Tony

Like the little spiderling he was.

“You don’t make things easy, do you kid?” Tony muttered, sighing as he weighed his options.

His back was already aching from being bent over this long and there was no way he would be able to do this for the next several hours or whenever the kid decided to get up.

He wasn't gaining ownership of his limbs anytime soon and if he tried, he’d probably rip his skin off and then he’d have to deal with the weight of Peter guilt for god knows how long. They hadn’t explored this particular enhanced ability too much, but Tony was sure without any sort of experimentation, this would not end in his favor if he tried to move and it’s not like he wanted to wake the kid up to ask him to kindly remove himself from Tony and give him the use of his arms back.

So that left Tony with only one option and that meant he had to roll Peter over, facing the opposite way and Tony crawled over him, holding his breath and praying that he didn’t wake the kid up. Finally, his body met the softness of the mattress and his lower back sighed in relief. He had to rearrange some pillows and adjust the blankets, but he settled, his eyes heavy, he watched Peter—the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, the small pout on his lips, the serene expression on his face as he dreamed (hopefully) better dreams. And the way his hand never left the arc reactor, it’s soft glow illuminating the room like a night light.

And that’s when Tony got an idea.

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

Peter trudged into the Tower, his back pack slipping off of his shoulder and landing haphazardly on the floor, but Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care. He face planted onto the couch, curling up into the fetal position and closed his eyes, sighing in satisfaction at finally being able to rest.

His nightmares had been getting worse, to the point where he didn’t sleep at night. He either stayed out late patrolling or caught up on his homework, choosing to do something more productive with his time than falling victim to nightmares.

And some nights, when it was really bad and homework and patrolling couldn’t keep the thoughts at bay, he’d web his way to the tallest building he could find and sit there and just listen to the city—sirens, clubs, taxis, car horns, chatter. His thoughts got drowned out by everything else going on around him and sometimes being up high, felt like it was the only time he could breathe.

“Kid, I know I’ve told you make yourself at home, but that doesn’t mean you get to just toss your stuff wherever you feel like—“

Peter groaned, opening a bleary eye to watch Tony nudge his backpack out of the way with his foot as he made his way over to the couch.

“”m sorry, I’ll pick it up later.” He muttered, burying his face back into soft cushion.

“Or you could pick up now, bring it down to the lab and get cracking on the homework I know you’ve got piled up in there.” Tony countered, sitting on the coffee table.

“It’s Friday and I’ve already finished all my homework last night.” Peter said, voice muffled from the couch cushions.

He could feel the weight of Tony’s stare as he shifted on the couch and Peter was avoiding looking him in the eyes, knowing the question that was on the tip of Tony’s tongue.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, his tone going from harpy to soft, gentle and it still made the guilt rise in Peter, knowing that Tony worried about his sleeping habits along with everything else he had going on in his life.

Peter hesitated and Tony sensed it, “Pete, you can talk to me.”

He was ashamed to admit it, but he felt tears fill his eyes. He was just so tired. But he was afraid, of closing his eyes, of seeing Ben die, all the blood and May and the Vulture—

“It always starts with my parents,” Peter began, voice thin, “I-I don't remember them much, but I remember the day they died—Ben and May, they sat me down and told me that my parents weren’t ever coming back. Even though I don’t remember them much, I still feel like there’s this loss? I guess is the best way. Like there was piece in my life where they should be and they’re not there anymore. It’s like a—a void?”

He can feel his voice get shakier as his brain goes over his nightmares that intertwine with memories and he feels like he’s asleep, trapped somewhere he doesn't want to be.

“I uh, I was there, the night Ben died,” Peter admits in a whisper, “I had just gotten my powers, I was scared and confused and I couldn’t tell anyone and we got into a fight and I ran away and Ben came looking for me and there was this guy who—“ Peter chokes on the words, everything coming out in a rush, “he had a gun and he had just robbed a liquor store and Ben tried to stop him and he got shot and I was walking home and I saw it and I couldn’t—I couldn't stop it. There was so much blood and he was dying and it was my fault. I shouldn't have ran away from home and if I hadn’t, he wouldn't have been there and he’d be here. There’s always so much blood, I smell it and I see it and I see him, drenched in it and there’s nothing I can do.”

Peter chokes back a sob, his hands shaking and his chest tight, “And then it’s the Vulture—he has May and he’s holding a gun to her head. He warned me that I should've stayed out of it, that I brought this on myself and I can’t move because there’s a building on top of me and I-I can’t get out, but he has May and she begging me to save her, help her and I can’t. He shoots her and I can hear her screams and there’s more blood and he’s laughing and so much blood and I—“

Peter’s babbling at this point, shaking with tears and he’s so tired, so fucking tired and all he wants is to sleep and he doesn’t know how to without the nightmares.

He doesn’t know how he ends up in Tony’s embrace, but one minute he’s sitting on the couch, crying like a baby and the next thing he knows, he’s being pressed into a warm chest, the edges of the arc reactor digging into his cheek. Warm hands are carding themselves through Peter’s hair and it’s so nice, to be held and just cared for. Tony smells like Tom Ford cologne and engine oil, the arc reactor is giving off a soft glow and he just feels safe.

He settles himself eventually, pulling away from Tony and wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

He meets Tony’s eyes and half expects him to crack a joke to ease the tension, but he doesn’t. Tony looks tired too, but in a different way and it makes Peter feel guilty. He knows his nightmares have taken a toll on Tony’s sleeping habits, interrupting whatever sleep he does manage to get to comfort Peter through his nightmares.

“Pete, I know it’s not easy, to talk this stuff through, but it does help.” Tony said, ruffling his hair, “not talking about, not sleeping, it makes things a lot worse than they need to be and you know you can talk to me, whenever you need to.”

He cupped Peter’s cheek in his strong grasp, urging him to look up into his eyes and Peter complied, “I know what it’s like to relive the horrors of your past and the manifestations of what could’ve happened and I hate more than anything that you have to go through this, especially at your age. You’ve seen things that someone even my age should have to witness and I’m so proud of you for still trying to push through. You’re so strong, bud, but it’s okay to ask for help. Even with stuff like this, okay?”

Peter nodded and Tony patted him on the back, standing up, “No science stuff today, you need sleep, but first, I need to show you something.”

Peter followed him down to the lab, ignoring the urge to fall over on the next available surface to finally succumb to the fatigue that was pulling at his eyelids.

“Now, as much as I would love to have sleep overs and be clung to like a Koala does a tree branch—,” Tony began, giving Peter a side eye.

Peter gave him a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“—I need my sleep too and you need to learn how to sleep on your own, because even though I don’t mind being your security blanket, there’s going to be times where I’m not available so—“

F.R.I.D.A.Y. opened the lab doors and Peter noticed two things.

The first was the labrador puppy sitting patiently on the lab table with a red bow around it’s neck.

The second, was that it seemed to be curious about an object lying next to him (her?), sniffing at it curiously and giving it an experimental lick.

“Hey, paws off the prototype mister—“ Tony said, rushing over to the work table and grabbing up the object that oddly resembled an arc reactor—similar to the one glowing in Tony’s chest.

The puppy merely blinked up at Tony, it’s tail tapping a soft beat against the metal lab table.

Peter was beyond confused.

“Tony, what—“ he began, looking from the puppy, to Tony, back to the puppy.

“Well, first off, congratulations, it’s a boy!” Tony said, scooping up the puppy and thrusting it into Peter’s face.

Big, brown, puppy eyes stared up at him eagerly, a pink tongue poking out from his mouth and aiming for Peter’s nose.

Peter was sure he was going to melt from the overdose of cuteness.

“Is he—is he mine?” Peter asked hesitantly, taking the puppy gingerly from Tony’s hands and cuddling it close to his chest. The puppy panted happily, lapping at Peter’s chin and wriggling in his arms to get closer, his paw resting on his chest.

“Yup, just picked him up from the shelter today—I went the adoption route, rather than the shop route—and he’s all yours. Don’t worry, I talked to May and she was up for the idea, even talked it over with your landlord, just in case. I’m paying for all the vet bills of course, but the responsibility—making sure it eats, sleeps and gets walked and all that jazz, is on you.”

Peter stared blankly at Tony, “You bought me a dog?”

“Adopted,” Tony corrected with a tut, “but yes, I did.”

Peter studied the puppy, who was now content on chewing on the draw string of his hoodie and he couldn't help the smile that graced his face if he tried. He had a dog. A dog. Of his very own.

His

“Tony—I—thank you, but why—“ Peter fumbled for words, glancing up at the ball of cuteness to look at Tony in disbelief.

Tony gave him a smile, giving the dog (Peter was really going to have to come up with a name), a pat on the head and he got a lick for his troubles, “I talked to Rhodey, told him you were having a rough time of it lately and he works with the VA and he told me about all the research they're doing into emotional support dogs for soldiers who come back with PTSD. Labs are supposed to be one of the top breeds and they ease anxiety, nervousness and they can even sense a nightmare and help you through it. This little guy was entered into the program and he proved to be a little to rambunctious for the discipline, so I gave the partnering shelter the program uses a quick phone call and well-ah.”

Peter stared down in awe at his new companion and couldn't believe that this adorable ball of cuteness was his.

“Rhodey is going to help train him up a little bit, but he’s going to sleep with you and hopefully, having his presence in the room will help ease some of your anxiousness to sleep and help with your nightmares but if it doesn’t—“

Tony turned to the lab table and handed what Thor, (Peter decided the puppy looked like a Thor) was about to use as a chew toy, to Peter, who shifted the puppy to the floor to take a better look at it.

It was an arc reactor, the same one that Tony had in his chest and it glowed the same soothing blue tone light that emitted from Tony’s, but it was little bit bigger and tapping it, a thinner beam of light filtered from the center of it and looking up at the ceiling of the lab, an image of the Iron Man helmet was projected onto the tiles.

“It’s a nightlight,” Tony explained, “I’ve noticed that the glow of the arc reactor is soothing to you, whenever you’ve had nightmares and I think it’ll help that, should this little guy fail at the one job I’m giving him and I’m not here, you have a light when you wake up, so you’re not in the dark.”

Peter was exhausted. That was the excuse he was going to use for why his eyes were watering for the second time in the last hour and not because Tony got him a dog that he loved, but also made him a night light in the shape of the one thing that calmed Peter during his worst nights. Something he’s never admitted out loud, but Tony figured out anyways.

“Tony, I—thank you.” Peter breathed, staring down at the nightlight and the puppy simultaneously and Tony waved him off.

“It’s no big deal, I just had to make a few tweaks to the program—I also made sure to add in the same feature my reactor has, just tap it and it becomes your suit. In case theres an emergency or whatever. Not that the tower will ever be attacked or anything, but it helps me sleep at night, knowing my suit isn't too far away from me,” Tony furrowed his eyebrow, “some have called that hyper-vigilance, but I called it being a good boy scout and being prepared, even if the experts don’t see it that way but I’ve never been one for soft sciences—“

Tony’s cut off abruptly when Peter wraps his arms around him and squeezes, to the point where Tony’s sure he’s cracked a rib or two but he can’t find it in him to care. He squeezes the kid back with just as much force, his heart warming at the thought of getting this parenting thing right.

“You’re the best, Tony, thank you.” Peter says as he finally pulls away, brown eyes shining with the upmost sincerity and Tony grins, ruffling Peter’s curls.

“Don’t mention it, kid, I just hope this helps.”

~~~~~~~~~

It was a late night in the work shop for Tony, he was working out some kinks in the software for Peter’s suit and adding some new upgrades he’d thought of in the recent months and he wanted to surprise Peter with them when he woke up in the morning.

He’d sent the kid to bed hours ago, despite the complaining and the pouting—all on Peter’s end and even though Tony wanted him here with him in the lab, he was trying to be good at this parenting thing and that meant curfew’s and rules and boundaries. At least that’s what the parenting books said.

Tony stretched, his lower back popping back into alignment in the most satisfying way. He had reached his limit of what he could do, it was up to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to finish inputting all the changes and Tony found himself wanting to check in on Peter.

“What’s the time, Fri?” Tony asked as he headed out of the lab and into the elevator to go up to the penthouse floor.

“3:26 am, boss.” She replied back dutifully.

“And how’s underoos doing?”

“Mr. Parker is currently in R.E.M sleep, his BP is one-forty over eighty, body temperature is one-oh-one point six, pulse rate is steady at ninety five beats per minute—“

“I didn’t a whole med report F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony said with a roll of his eyes as he made his way down the hall way towards Peter’s room.

“Of course, boss, my mistake. Should I make a change to my code to respond with a open ended and general statement such as ‘fine’ or okay the next time you ask about Mr. Parker’s well being? Would that suffice your curiosity?”

Tony didn’t know where he’d placed the sass level last when he updated the A.I.’s code but he knew for damn sure it wasn't at one hundred. He didn’t dignify the sassy A.I. with a response, choosing instead, to let it go ignored and check on Peter himself.

The door was cracked open, so Thor—Tony rolled his eyes at the name but after living with the overenthusiastic lab the last couple of weeks, he couldn't deny that Peter had chosen a rather fitting name for the dog—could get in and out of the room if he pleased, but Tony had never seen a more devoted animal in his life.

Thor and Peter had taken to each other right from the get go and at this point, they were inseparable. While labs were generally friendly and loved affection from anyone, there was no denying that Thor clearly favored Peter over anyone in the room. He followed Peter around the tower like his own shadow and never left his side during the night, which caused DUM-E to work over time to get rid of certain stains out of the carpet. And Peter was just as enamored by the puppy as Thor was with him—it was a match made in heaven.

Peeking his head into the doorway, Tony couldn't help the smile that graced his lips at the sight before him. Peter was sprawled out in his bed, covers half kicked off, Iron Man pajamas in full view and snoring away. Thor was in an equal state of comfort—his little body splayed out on the other side of the bed, head rest on Peter’s out stretched hand and snoozing away next to his owner. The arc reactor nightlight was on display on Peter’s night stand, the Iron Man symbol floating on the ceiling like a reminder that no matter what, Tony was always there for him and his heart warmed.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., take a picture and archive it, I need to send this to May.”

“As you wish, boss.”

Just as Tony turned to go back to his room to finally succumb to the fatigue he could feel starting to creep up on him, Peter made a whimpering noise and in a flash, Tony was back in the doorway, poised to wake the teen if need be. But before he could, he heard the telltale sign of sheets rustling and then the sight of a little yellow head popped up from his resting place. Tony watched as Thor scurried over to Peter, climbing up his body and finding a place on his chest, sitting down right over his heart. He began licking and pawing gently at his face, urging his human to wake up from whatever scary thing was causing him discomfort. After a moment, Peter seemed to settle back down and Thor watched him closely before he, too, settled back down. Rather than moving back to his original place, he curled up on Peter’s chest and his big eyes caught Tony moving back out of the door way and his ears perked at the intrusion, but he didn’t move from his distressed human.

Thor stared at Tony and Tony stared right back, caught in a Mexican stand off with a four month old labrador puppy.

Tony cracked a smile and nodded to the dog, “Good boy, Thor. Keep watching over underoos and keep him safe, okay? And if you need to, come get me, you know where I sleep.”

Tony turned back into the hallway, but stopped himself and looked back over his shoulder at the dog that was starting to doze off again, but perked back up at Tony’s reappearance.

“—and if I catch you chewing on my favorite Gucci slippers again, we’re gonna have to have a talk, okay? They don’t make them anymore and I know I’m a billionaire and Tony Stark, but lemme tell you, getting Gucci to bring back an old style is damn near impossible. Saving the world is a piece of cake compared to that, capisce?”

Thor simply blinked slowly up at Tony, before he shuffled around so his head was now nestled into Peter’s shoulder and his butt was facing a rather affronted Tony.

Canine or not, Tony understood the gesture for what it was.

He just got told to kiss a furry ass

“You’re lucky Peter likes you.”

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

Thank you guys for reading and please feel free to let me know what you think (:

[desperationandgin]

10 miles (Jamie x Claire ANGST FEST Modern AU)

Rating: General Audiences (but SAD. ANGST. REAL SAD.)

Also Read On: AO3

A/N: This is an angst and pain-ridden modern AU one-shot. This story doesn’t belong to any modern AU world I’ve written before so this is NOT Market Price J/C and it’s definitely not DATRIL J/C. I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I wrote it. Here we have another example of just trusting where I’m going, I think.

Christ, the shot had come out of nowhere.

Twenty-four hours ago, Claire’d agreed to go hiking with him good-naturedly; outdoors was fine. Camping is perfectly acceptable. Hiking through the woods and up a glorified hill was never her idea of a good time. He should have let it go, never should have told her it would mean so much to him. It’s mid-May, deer hunting season should have been over with at the end of March. It’s the only reason the young hunter Jamie’d caught sight of (as he approached to see what he’d taken down) ran.

If Jamie ever sees him again, he’ll kill him.

“Claire? Christ, Claire,” Jamie’s hands move to her stomach, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that she’s been shot in the gut. One moment she’d huffed about living at the top of the ‘mountain’ forever because it’d be too much work to get back down, and the next she was toppling over as if someone let all the air out of her. As Jamie applies pressure, he watches blood seeping between his fingers and his entire body runs hot as panic settles in. Fumbling for his phone with one blood-slicked hand, his attempt to call emergency services is immediately thwarted by no service. They’re deep in the woods, his phone doesn’t work, and his wife is bleeding to death before his very eyes.

“Claire, I have to carry ye, I have to get ye up into my arms.”

For her part, Claire’s calm, clinically trying to decide what her chances of survival are. Not high, she concludes quickly. She can feel her heart beating rapidly, trying to compensate for the blood pouring out of her. He’ll never get to help in time she realizes, watching as his phone fails. “...Too far. It’s too far,” she manages, realizing she doesn’t feel much other than the pressure of his hand.

“I’m no’ staying here or leaving ye,” he says firmly, making a decision as he lifts Claire into his arms.

Ten miles. He judges the distance in his mind and knows that’s as far as he needs to go; the closest ranger’s station. Jamie starts walking, determined that nothing but God himself will stop him. Looking down at her face for a moment, he watches as her own hands move to her stomach now, though it does little to staunch the freely flowing blood. “Keep yer eyes on me, Sassenach,” he breathes out, needing to look ahead now, to navigate the not at all easy terrain.

“I told you I hate—hate hiking.”

Now isn’t the time for jokes, but he’s keeping his emotions in such tight check that a nearly hysterical bark of a laugh escapes him. “Could have made the point any other way.”

Concentrating, he’s never prayed harder for his steps to be sure and steady, his hold on her strong. He has to focus, looking down one more time before taking in the terrain ahead. One mile goes, then another and another. Jamie notes every mile marker carved in trees and tries not to slow down. He talks to her, asking her questions, but realizes as he steps over a fallen tree that she hasn’t answered in return.

“Sassenach? Our honeymoon. Ye remember the mime?”

They’d gone to Paris, and Claire’s eyes drag open to look at him. “Such—” she wets her lips. “Such a stereotype.” Her mouth feels dry, desperately thirsty. “Jamie, stop. Stop, I need water.”

He goes to war with himself, knowing every moment they aren’t moving is more blood lost. “I’ll get ye as much water as ye want, soon as we make it.” He passes another mile marker. Only six to go.

“Do you remember,” she begins, trying to wet her lips. “Our first apartment?”

Sparing her a glance, he smiles, but it fades the moment he realizes how pale she is. It only pushes him to keep going, ignoring the burning in his arms. “Aye, I do. Wi’ the leaky windows.” They’d had a heavy storm and found out then as carpet squished under their feet.

“Balcony, though. It was good,” she murmurs, eyes closing.

“No view was ever as good as lookin’ at ye, silhouetted by the sun in the evenings.” Jamie looks down at her again, then speaks a bit more forcefully. “Open your eyes, Claire. Dinna close them, do ye hear me?”

Slowly, they flutter open again, the amber of them so dull, lacking the fire that usually burns in them. “...Tired. I’m tired,” she manages. Everything in her is slowing down, she can feel it. She always thought she’d be afraid to die, but there’s an odd sense of calm slowly settling over her. To catch her breath she has to breathe deeply, the effort exhausting.

Finally, after reminiscing about the apartment, their first date, their vacation to New Zealand, Jamie sees an actual, honest to God sign. Three miles. Three miles to the ranger’s station. “Claire, we’re close. We’re so close,” he breathes out urgently, hoisting her up in his arms a bit more, re-energized.

“Put me down.” Her words are mumbled, her breathing shallow. “Jamie, please.”

“No. No, I won’t,” he replies firmly. “Ye better no’ give up on me, Sassenach, or I’ll never forgive ye.” It’s a desperate statement to make, not one truly made out of malice. “Christ, we’re nearly there. Tell me… tell me what we’ll do for Christmas this year. Visit Lallybroch?”

Claire makes a sound in the back of her throat, blinking slowly. “The kids?”

“Aye, aye, we’ll visit and ye can hold wee Kitty, though she willna be so wee by then.” Katherine had only been born four months ago, and her arrival sparked conversation about trying to have a child themselves. She still hasn’t stopped her birth control, it’s still an ongoing conversation. “Are we still going to try, Sassenach? For a wean of our own?”

Children. An idea that terrifies her as much as it excites her. “Soon?” she asks, turning her head in against his chest, closing her eyes again. She wants to sleep, desperately.

“Perhaps within the next year, aye?” When she doesn’t answer after a few minutes he looks down again, heart twisting in his chest at how she’s gone beyond pale to grey. “Claire! Claire, dinna—” He pauses as they pass the two-mile marker. “Almost, we’re almost there, mo chridhe, keep speaking to me, open yer eyes. Please, Claire.”

It takes a monumental effort, eyes heavy as she finally, slowly looks up at him. There’s no focus, gaze drifting. “You...you’d be a—a good father.”

“And ye’ll be a good mother, Claire. I ken it. If I’m no’ a father wi’ you, then I dinna want to be a father at all,” Jamie proclaims. He’d never even truly cared about whether or not he’d be married eventually. Not until he met Claire. They’d both been at the same outdoor art festival; her alone and wandering and not even sure of what she’d been looking for. Jamie’d been at a booth, supporting his sister as she sold her artwork. When Claire’d wandered by and immediately been drawn to Jenny’s work, Jamie hadn’t been able to stop looking at her eyes. They were the color of pure, raw honey. That was the first time he’d ever known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with one woman.

He’ll be damned if she leaves him now.

“At least six bairns, aye?” he asks, joking (mostly).

“Jamie, I need—”

“Dinna ask me to stop, Claire,” he manages through gritted teeth. His calves feel as though they’re on fire, his arms are shaking, but he’s so close. “I can see it, Claire. The next marker, then ‘tis only a mile ago, we can make it.”

There’s a feeble attempt from her to turn her head, to see if she can see what he does, but it’s too much effort. As he breathes out that they’re almost there, that she has to hold on for another mile, she weakly shakes her head. “Put me down, Jamie. Please. Please, put me down.” She isn’t going to live, she knows she isn’t. She’s very aware of what her body is (or isn’t) doing, and she just wants to stop.

“Claire, dinna—” Jamie chokes on his words, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“Too much,” she breathes out, her voice sounding like nothing more than a wisp of air. “It’s too much.” Even when they get to the ranger’s station, they’ll still have to call for help. She’ll never make it to the hospital alive, and she knows it. “Stop. Jamie,” she pleads weakly.

When she says it, he can hear it in her voice. She’s dying and there’s not a thing he can do about it. “Please, Claire.” One more attempt.

“I’m cold. I’m so cold, Jamie.”

Her words make his steps falter, and finally, he sinks to his knees, still cradling her close. For a moment, tears blur his vision, obscuring her face. “Ye canna leave me, Sassenach,” he begs, choking out the words as he rocks her, cradling her as close as he can, trying desperately to warm her.

Now that they’ve stopped, she looks up at him, trying to focus as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I don’t—I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then let me keep going, please,” he begs, pressing his forehead to hers.

“It’s too...it’s—” She’s struggling, unable to grasp onto the words she wants to say to him.

Jamie’s hand presses over the wound again, as if he can do more now than watch the life stain his hands. “I dinna ken what to do,” he whispers brokenly, looking to her even now for an answer, a way to make her better.

One of her hands moves over his, the gesture feeling heavy and clunky to her. As if her limbs are all asleep and she isn’t in control of them. “You know,” she begins, stopping as she struggles to take the next breath. “You know—I love you?”

His lips press to hers urgently, a kiss she’s too weak to return. “Dinna say that. Please, dinna say goodbye to— I willna let ye go.”

She’s crying, tears falling backward, over her temples and into her hair. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Cradling her body in his arms, Jamie rocks slowly. “Dinna be sorry, lass.” He chokes on his words, an actual sob tearing through him. “I love ye, Claire Fraser. And I’ve always kent ye loved me. I ken that ye always will.” He hates saying it, hates knowing this is the last time he’ll ever hear her say it in return. He feels her hand move over his weakly and then stop. When she says nothing, he looks up at her face and everything stops; the noises in the distance coming closer, perhaps even his own heart. “Claire, open your eyes. Claire! Open yer eyes, Claire, please.”

But she doesn’t.

Sobs wrack his frame as he bows his body over hers, shielding her with himself too late to save her. He says her name again, one loud shout up at the treetops.

It’s his scream that wakes her.

“Jamie?” Claire sits up, leaning over to examine the face of her sleeping husband, fingers moving through his curls. “Jamie, wake up,” she whispers quietly.

With a loud gasp, his eyes fly open, cheeks tear-stained. In the dark, his eyes search for hers. “Light, Sassenach.”

Reaching toward the nightstand, her fingers press the switch and instantly they’re both illuminated, blinking and squinting as their eyes adjust. “See? I’m here. I’m right here.”

Jamie swallows heavily, eyes never leaving hers as his fingers reach out and press lightly against the puckered scar on her stomach. Just as he’d gotten to the last mile marker and stopped, the young man who accidentally shot Claire did the right thing, got help, and emergency services had been on their way. She’d coded twice, but in the end, somehow, survived. He’s decided not to question it much and instead thank God she’s alive. It’s been nearly six months, but he still wakes from the nightmares at least twice a week.

“You saved my life, Jamie. I’m here because of you,” she whispers, reaching out to cradle his face now, to pull him closer carefully and press her forehead to his. Tugging at his hand, she drags it from her abdomen up to her chest so he can feel the steady beating beneath her skin. She knows in his dreams she doesn’t live, so she does everything she can now to prove it to him, that she’s real and there.

Taking a few deep breaths, Jamie closes his eyes for a moment before looking at her again, mind clearer now, more focused. “Ye came back to me.”

“That’s right,” Claire murmurs, sweeping curls off of his forehead. “I fought for you.”

“Ye didna leave me.”

“I didn’t. I won’t,” she promises. Sinking down against the pillows, she reaches for him, tugging so that he can rest his head against her chest. This has been their routine from the moment she arrived home from the hospital, only now she can hold him better because the wound has healed. “Sleep again, Jamie. I have you,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

“I love ye, Claire,” he murmurs, needing to say it, knowing he’ll never again stop himself from saying it for any reason. “Christ, I love ye.”

Kissing his face where she can reach, she turns out the light once she’s satisfied he’s calm. “I love you, Jamie Fraser. Close your eyes and sleep.”

This time when he does, he dreams of the bairn growing in her belly now, no bigger than the size of a pea.

[tcmmysheiby]

two years: tommy shelby.

authors note; angst, angst, angsty, tommy being sad after the war, reader trying her hardest but not getting anywhere, angsty reunion. could potentially get a part two outta this. thank you @peachyblinderss for reading over this. word count; 3.2k. 

Leaving Small Heath had been a hard choice.

There were lots of unpleasant memories that you attached with the town, so many negatives that it was hard to remember the times when you were a child, running through the streets with your mud-caked and ripped dress with the Shelby brothers. Every time you thought about those piercing blue eyes, you wouldn't remember the time he asked you to be his, or when he got down on one knee. Your mind would go to when he returned back from France, broken and demolished, when he couldn't look you in eyes because he was petrified of breaking down.

You couldn't forget the countless nights that you spent awake with Tommy. Holding him in your arms as you continuously reminded him that he was back home, not stuck in the trenches with no family, no love and no happiness. He never spoke to you during those late hours, he wouldn't even cry, he would just stare at the wall as his mind went through the scenes of the tunnels, the sound of the screaming men as they all thought about being home with their families in the warmth.

Tommy was an impossible man though. Before the war, you found it easy to read Tommy, he found it impossible to hide secrets from you, always wanting to express his emotions with the woman that he loved more than anything in the world. After the war, he was an entirely different man. There was no light behind the eyes that you had fell in love with, a smile never graced his angelic features, he was dead inside, completely lost in the world.

You could remember the moment that he broke things off with you. It had been a perfectly standard Saturday, there was no signs that things were going to dramatically change and that your heart would be broken as the sun fell.

Tommy had been his usual bleak self, only talking to you if the conversation revolved around the business, not wanting to speak emotionally to you. He didn't want to put all of his wretchedness onto you, he didn't believe that it was fair. Keeping himself at a distance seemed faultless, at least that way you couldn't get hurt but Tommy was ignorant, he couldn't see the light falling from your eyes as the days passed.

All you wanted was your husband back and you finally thought you had got him. When he asked to speak to you on that Saturday evening, you expected him to finally destroy his walls and admit everything to you. For once, there was a soft smile on his face as he sat across from you at the table but it wasn't one that represented happiness, it was a guilty smile, his attempt at trying to calm you down before you could kick off.

You listened as he spoke but after a few minutes, you stopped. You couldn't stand listening to what he was saying, the fabricated justifications not bringing you any consolation. He claimed that he loved you but he didn't want to ruin you, deserved better was what he said. That wasn't down to Tommy to decide however, you didn't want better and you never would. Yes, Tommy was entirely a different man but you knew the old Tommy was buried somewhere in that broken mind of his. The Tommy who laughed at your foolish and unfunny jokes, the man who praised you every single day, the boy who couldn't walk past you without kissing you.

Begging and pleading was not going to get you anywhere though and you soon realised this. You hung around Birmingham for another couple of months, wordlessly pleading with Tommy every time you passed him in the streets, trying your hardest to speak to him at work but only getting the cold shoulder. It had got to the point where Polly had intervened, she couldn't stand seeing the both of you so sorrowful but like always, it was no use. Tommy had made up his mind and he wasn't going to change it, not anytime soon anyway.

After a while, you couldn't stand being in Birmingham.

London was your next option, a chance to have a fresh start without constantly worrying about Tommy. You were naive enough to think that moving to London would mean that all of your feelings for Tommy would vanish into thin air, a chance for the two of you to move on with your lives and possibly find someone new, you were so wrong.

Before you got on the train, you had gone over to the gambling den and told Tommy about your plans. A part of you prayed that he would beg you to stay and promise to be the husband that he was before the war took over all of his thoughts. He simply nodded though and wished you well. You were enraged at his reaction, you had spent most of your life completely and utterly in love with him and not one part of Tommy cared that you were leaving the town you had been raised in, a city that you cherished.

Unknown to you, Tommy was beside himself for days. Walking into the office every day felt flawed, he no longer saw your beautiful smile or heard your contagious laughter that would privately have him smiling in his office. Tommy had fucked up big time and he knew it, he would never forgive himself for letting you go so easily. Polly regularly reminded him of what he had missed out on, the words she spoke full of accuracy but Tommy didn't listen, he physically couldn't. He didn't want to be reminded of the biggest mistake of his life.

Tommy truthfully believed that he had done the right thing but when the nights got colder, and the nightmares got worse, he realised that he needed a time machine and he needed one quickly. Tommy never expressed it but he was grateful for all the times you held him at night after one of the nightmares had brought him out of his slumber, the skin-on-skin contact bringing him support, your words calming his heart down. Tommy missed you more than anything but he didn't know what to do, or how to get you back.

London was not pleasurable for you either. You had tried your hardest to move on and forget about Tommy but the dates you went on felt wrong and you would persistently find yourself comparing every man to Thomas. None of them were like him. They didn't satisfy you like Tommy did, didn't humour you or treat you like Tommy did. They were simple and characterless and you had grown to love Tommy's wild and dangerous temperament, even though it had completely ripped your heart into millions of little pieces.

Getting a job in a bar made the days go quicker though and it was a chance for your personality to shine. You harmlessly flirted with punters as you served them drinks, smiling kindly at the female performers who put on one hell of a show night after night and weirdly, you had grown to love your job. The management was dreadful and you couldn't stand your boss, the Italian alarming and menacing, asking you questions daily about your life in Birmingham. You didn't understand why he cared so much, he didn't pay any attention to the other bar staff, it always you.

It all made sense though.

It had been a normal night, busier than usual but the same personalities coming in and out of The Eden Club. You served cocktails and gin to customers, the bar soon becoming hushed as most of the punters made their way towards the dancefloor where the jazz band were blasting out melodies. Deciding to take your break premature, you made your way over to a completely empty part of the bar and lit a cigarette for yourself, inhaling the smoke and breathing it out slowly.

In your own world, you didn't notice the silence that spread across the club. It was only a for a few seconds, one look from the infamous gangster had them all dancing again, nobody wanting to get involved with the devil like boys.

Tommy noticed your first. It was if he could sense that you were in the room somewhere, his stomach doing flips when he saw you leaned against the bar, a cigarette in your hand as you flipped through a discarded newspaper. Tommy chuckled quietly to himself, you had always been fascinated by the news. He could remember buying you a newspaper every day before school, the two of you walking in silence as you read the local paper and kept updated on local drama.

Then Arthur noticed you. He looked at Tommy who couldn't take his eyes off you, debating what he should do. Arthur outstretched his leg underneath the table and kicked Tommy before tilting his head in your direction, giving his brother the answer that he needed.

"What have you got to lose?" Arthur asked, eyebrows raised.

John began to participate in the conversation, a smirk on his face as he watched you stub the cigarette out. It had been so long since he had seen you, since any of them had seen you, and it felt unreal but not unwelcome. You had grown up with the Shelby brother's, four best friends that got along so well. It had been heart breaking for Tommy when you had left Small Heath and Arthur and John took it just as hard. It felt like they had lost their sister.

Tommy looked between his brothers before nodding his head once. Arthur was right - what did he have to lose? He had already lost the woman that he loved but maybe this was his chance to win her back. It had been just over two years and Tommy had grown since then, he was trying his hardest to put his demons behind him and focus on the future, his future involved you though.

Tommy walked up to the bar and over to your leaning body. He remained still for a few moments, not knowing what to say or where to start. There was so much that needed to be said, tears would fall and cursing would be vocalised but it would do them both good in the end.

"A bottle of whiskey, please."

You froze at the sound of his voice.

"I'm on my break," you replied, not once looking up from the newspaper in front of you.

You had thought about this moment for so long but now that it was here, you didn't know how to react. One part of you wanted to jump over the bar and have him again but the other part of you wanted to shout and scream at him, let him know that he had completely broken you. You were terrified to look at him, scared that you would crumble and forgive him there and then. Just the sound of his silky voice had your heart fluttering.

"That means that we can talk then, doesn't it?" Tommy tested, an attempt to see if you would actually go with him and have a proper chat about everything that had occurred.

You chuckled and looked at your watch, eyes still refusing to meet his, before shaking your head. "My break finishes in two minutes."

Weirdly, he had missed this. Just being around you and listening to your voice, that soft voice that had relaxed him during his darkest of nights.

"Well, I will have a bottle of whiskey when your break is over."

Tommy was not going to give up and you could sense this, secretly happy that he had made the effort to come over and talk to you despite everything that had gone off. Sabini's interest in your Birmingham background made a lot more sense now, maybe that's the only reason that he hired you in the first place. It became obvious that Tommy, John and Arthur were here to cause trouble and as awful as it was, you wouldn't stand in their way. If it meant getting new management, you would let the three brothers do whatever they wanted.

You were a distraction though. Tommy had planned to come in, kick off and get everything over and done with but he couldn't focus on business, not with you stood behind the bar. If anything, he wanted to make sure that you were out of the way so you didn't get hurt in the explosion that was about to happen. The brothers were desperate for a violent release and it was going to be big and it was going to be bloody.

"For fuck sake," you muttered before snapping the newspaper shut. "Follow me."

Tommy smiled proudly as he followed you towards a room at the back of the club, checking to see if Sabini was knocking around. Leaving his brothers alone was a recipe for disaster but he trusted them enough to not cause any trouble while he spoke to you.

Tommy also took note of the fact that you hadn't looked at him once. It saddened him a bit.

"What do you want?" you asked, your tone rude as you busied yourself with some clothing that had been discarded by the performers. It was all so you didn't have to look at Tommy and face reality.

"I want to speak to you."

"Yeah? Well, you have five minutes," you replied, your nerves flaring up as you sensed him walk behind you.

"Look at me, darling," Tommy whispered, his voice so gentle you almost didn't believe that it was him.

Slowly, you turned around to look at the man you once called your husband. He hadn't changed at all - his suits were more expensive, crisp and clean, his muscles were more noticeable and his face held dark secrets that you weren't aware of. You knew that Tommy had become more violent and scary since you had left Small Heath as you found yourself checking up on the Shelby family often, not that you would give Tommy the satisfaction of knowing that you still cared about him and loved him. When you had learnt of the shoot-out in the middle of the street with Billy Kimber, you weren't surprised at all, just relieved that Tommy was alive.

Tommy glanced at your hand, smiling when he spotted the wedding ring still on your finger. He held his own hand up, showing that he had never took his off either.

"This isn't good for either of us, Tommy," you told him, already knowing that this conversation would lead to pain. "I think it's best that you leave."

You could feel yourself warming up under Tommy's stare as you tried your hardest to not smile, your eyes glued on the wedding band. The fact that he continued to wear it brought you so much joy, maybe he did still love you after all.

"I'm not leaving."

He was still the same old Tommy.

"Okay," you mumbled, parking yourself down on the sofa. Tommy finally walked back towards the door but he didn't leave, he simply rested his back against it, blocking anyone from entering. "Why did you do it, Tom?"

"I don't know," Tommy responded with honesty. "But I know that I have regretted it every day since. I should have put up more of a fight, should have gone off after you."

You laughed sardonically. "You didn't though, did you? I waited at the train station for a while because I stupidly thought that you would come and get me, tell me that I was being daft and that Birmingham was my home." You laughed again, not caring that you sounded embarrassing. You wanted Tommy to understand that you were so hurt over his actions. "I just want to know what I did wrong."

Your voice cracked as you spoke, and so did your emotions. It had been months since you had cried over Tommy but here you were, your vision blurry as you fought back the tears.

Tommy took a deep breath and shook his head. "You did nothing wrong, absolutely nothing. In fact, you were fucking perfect. It was me, all me."

You weren't going to disagree with that.

You had often wondered what your life would be like if you had stayed in Birmingham and fought harder for Tommy. It was clear that he was regretting his actions and maybe the two of you would have reunited and become one again. It was all fantasy though and you knew that you couldn't have stayed in Birmingham, it was too painful seeing the man you loved every single day and not being able to show him how deeply you needed him.

"I know that things were hard for you when you came back from France and I don't blame you for being so closed off," you started, not wanting to upset Tommy by bringing back memories of his past. "But I tried so hard with you and I allowed you to treat me like dirt for months because I am so fucking in love with you." You hadn't quite realised your words until afterwards, you weren't going to take them back though or correct yourself. You did love Tommy. "And you just dumped me like I was nothing. We were together for over ten years, Tom, ten fucking years."

Something in Tommy snapped as he stepped forwards. "Do you think I don't regret it? I am reminded of you every single day and it fucking kills me. I shouldn't have pushed you away and I certainly shouldn't have fucked you over and I am sorry, so sorry." Tommy ran a hand over his face as he tried to remain calm. He was not angry at you, he was angry at himself. "I thought I was doing the right thing and clearly I wasn't but I was in such a state after France and nothing made sense. I didn't want to burden - "

"Don't," you interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of his sentence. "You could never be a burden. You are my husband and I'm meant to look after you, protect you and make sure that you are well and I'm sorry that I couldn't do that."

"You did." Tommy no longer cared if people walked in, he was too focused on strolling towards you and wiping your tears away. "You were fantastic," he said sweetly as he kneeled down your height and swiped his thumb across your cheek. "And I want you to know that I love - " Tommy was cut off by the sound of screaming and shouting. 'Fuck!" he shouted as he stood up. "I knew I shouldn't have left them two alone."

"Tommy, what's happening?" you asked as you walked towards him, instinctively grabbing his hand for protection.

Tommy looked down at you before rummaging through his pocket. "There's a hotel at the bottom of Corporation Street, room 103, meet me there." Tommy handed you a key as he took another look out of the door, the screams of petrified individuals not becoming any quieter. "If you want," Tommy quickly added, not wanting to pressure you into doing anything.

Not giving yourself a chance to say no, you took the key from his hand. "I'll go out the back way," you mumbled.

Tommy nodded in agreement, he didn't want you to see the violent mess that was happening down the hallway.

"I'll be with you soon."

"And I'll be ready."

[raendown]

Almost did not bother to post this one but here we are anyway. Last of my small fills for the @naruto-rarepair-bingo, today’s prompt: gods and goddesses. 

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 3200 Rated: T+ Summary: Promised away in an arranged marriage to the greedy king of their land, Izuna appealed to the God of Compassion, ruler of all gods, to save him from this unwanted fate. All he wanted was an escape. What he found was love and so much more.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Transcendence

In a world of gods and beings with immense power there once lived a man of simple beginnings. Born to a family of modest wealth, Izuna wanted for very little that his elder brother did not provide. For many years he lived a happy life surrounded by comforts and he was content in his place with very few complaints. Perhaps a little arrogant, maybe sometimes a little impatient, underneath the selfishness he presented to others there lay a heart of gold that wanted only to please the brother whom he loved.

Until the day his world was rocked and his heart betrayed by an unexpected decision.

Hungry for power beyond his position, the elder of the Uchiha brothers sought friendship with the king that ruled their lands and availed himself of whatever the king asked from him in return. For a time Izuna thought little of this. Always before his brother had considered what was best for him and always he had been allowed to seek whatever path in life made him happiest. That changed on the day he was presented to the king, when the monarch of their land saw his beauty for the first time and fell madly in love with him – or so he claimed.

The king’s love was a selfish, thoughtless thing, worried only for his own desires with no care for what Izuna may want. When his attempts to capture the young man’s attention failed the king went to his older brother to whisper quietly in his ear. In exchange for Izuna’s hand in marriage he offered riches and power, jewels and soldiers, influence and a place at his side for years to come. Seeing such an easy path to all he had ever wanted, Madara accepted the king’s offer without consulting his sibling first. It was his right as the head of the house, he claimed, to determine the fate of those under his care. And unfortunately he was correct.

Unhappy with this decision, Izuna pleaded with his brother not to make him do this. The king was not a kind man, he said. The king would not treat him well but would make him unhappy. Madara did not listen.

In desperation Izuna fled to the temple of the God of Compassion, Tobirama. On his knees he prayed at the altar for many hours, confiding his worries to the ruler of the gods, begging with all his heart for Madara’s will to be turned aside. From sunup to sundown he poured out his heart but, to his devastation, received no answer. With the heaviness of fate in every step he left the temple thinking himself doomed to a life he had never wanted with no one to hear his cries of despair.

Yet there was someone who had listened, unbeknownst to him. Though he had not shown himself the God of Compassion was sworn to listen to all who prayed for his aid and he had taken heed of Izuna’s plight. He found himself confused and intrigued by the passion in the young human’s words. To have someone plead so strongly against their own marriage prospect was foreign to him, something he had yet to witness in all of the many arrangements he had blessed. So unusual was it that the god Tobirama vowed to watch over Izuna.

So it was that Tobirama watched from afar to learn what he could of this fascinating human and the situation he struggled so desperately to escape. And the longer he watched the more deeply he fell in love with this human who turned his nose up in someone’s face and then granted them favors when their back was turned. Izuna was beautiful to the others of his kind but to a god it was his soul that shined the brightest and it wasn’t long before Tobirama knew that he wanted to meet with this man. That he had to know this man who could surprise even a god with his actions. Truly Izuna must be one of a kind, surely they must be destined to meet.

He appeared before Izuna on a hot summer evening with little fanfare for Izuna was not one to be impressed by those who thought too highly of themselves.

“I am the God of Compassion,” he said, “and I have heard you words. Your plight has touched me and I have come to grant you the freedom you prayed for so fervently. Ask of me, young Izuna, and I shall grant your wishes.”

“Oh highest of gods I ask only that you free me from this unwanted marriage to a man who desires nothing more than the pleasures of my body.”

With a magnanimous nod Tobirama vowed, “As I have promised so shall I do. Tell me, Izuna of the Uchiha family, where do you wish to go.”

The question gave Izuna pause and he admitted that he had nowhere else to go but that surely anywhere must be better than to spend the rest of his days chained to a selfish and pompous king. His answer brought thoughtfulness to the supreme god’s face.

“I would not wish to see you untethered and alone in this world. Seven days from now I will ask you again where you wish to go and your answer shall be my will.”

But that was not all there was to the god’s promise. For six days Tobirama returned to visit with this human who had captured his attention and for six days they spent many hours together. Izuna wove tales of his people and the great myths of their land. In return Tobirama recounted the beginning of the world and told stories of the gods’ cavorting. So well did they get along that the seventh day arrived almost as a surprise and still Izuna had not taken a moment to think of a place he might flee to in order to escape his unwanted marriage.

And yet something had begun to grow between them as they spent their days together and as he learned more about the god who promised to solve his problems Izuna finally recognized the warmth that was blossoming under his breast. On the morning of the seventh day he went to his brother the moment he woke with his heart in his hands.

Calling upon their brotherly bond he confessed that he had fallen deeply in love with the God of Compassion himself and asked that he be unbound from the king he did not want so that he might follow the path to happiness. But his brother refused him and forbade him from ever seeing Tobirama again. Izuna could see that his brother had been blinded by the promise of riches, taken in by false promises until he forgot the things that should truly matter. Though it hurt him Izuna knew what he had to do.

When Tobirama came to him that day with a patient smile he asked the question as he had promised to; where did Izuna wish to go if he were taken away from here?

“I would stay by your side,” Izuna told him and Tobirama received him happily, both of their hearts’ desires fulfilled.

Borne by a golden chariot they fled the Uchiha estate to the place where the gods made their home. There they alighted and were together and they both were happy to have found the other half of their soul. Their union was one of partnership and equality, a give and take that spoke to many happy years ahead of them.

Yet not all were pleased. In the kingdom from whence he fled the suitor Izuna had scorned burned hot with rage and shame, filled with insult to be so callously rejected and humiliated to have been judged as less than a god. All his life had his subjects worshipped him and told him that he, their king, was like unto a god himself. To have his intended flee the rich life he offered for the hand of another left a darkness that rotted in him until he could bear it no longer. Filled with rage, he made a plan.

In secret he called his forces together and amassed a great army. The kingdom was large and his influence strong, far-reaching. Word was sent by a secret messenger to the Uchiha estate where Madara was called upon to test his loyalty. Would he support his king in this hour of need or would he break all bonds of fealty and stand by the brother who had betrayed them both? Madara's answer was swift and short. He marched for the capital the very next morning with as many strong men as he had to offer riding at his back for he too had felt spurned by Izuna’s quiet exit which cost him his path to riches and power.

When all of his forces had been gathered and the points of their swords stretched from horizon to horizon the king bade his servants to fall on their knees and pray.

“Pray to the god of compassion that he come and meet his doom. Beseech him appear and face the calamity that he hath wrought for I declare that I will wage war upon he who has stolen what is rightfully mine.”

In the home of the gods Tobirama heard the prayers of those who sent him worship, as he listened always to the words spoken to him, and in these words he found amusement. How very much the king must think of himself to challenge a god, to declare war on the heavenly host. With laughter on his lips he went to Izuna and told him what prayers had reached his ears but instead of mirth he was met with fear that he quickly tried to sooth. No mortal could hope to meet a god in battle and triumph, he assured his love.

Still Izuna’s worries were not soothed. He worried for the crops that would not grow with so many men gone to war, for the wives that wept over husbands who might never return. More than his divine lover he knew the effect that war could have on the peoples below them and this was not what he had wanted when he fled his own situation.

Izuna begged Tobirama to put a stop to this without letting it go any further and Tobirama, seeing that this was truly important to him, agreed. Moved as he was by the emotion in Izuna’s voice, how could he do less than anything his beloved asked of him? With utmost confidence in his own abilities he girded himself for war and selected the finest weapons from his holy arsenal. As he made to leave he was stopped by a gentle hand and the press of soft lips against his cheek – and surely no wine could ever taste as sweet as having the love of this man at his side.

He listened gravely to Izuna’s warnings to be careful. To remind him of his purpose Izuna tore a strip of silk from his own clothing to tie around Tobirama’s wrist as a symbol of his favor for all to see. With courage roaring like a fire in his breast Tobirama set out from the place where the gods made their home and mounted the same golden chariot with which he had carried them both to a peaceful escape not so long ago.

The battlefield stretched out before him with grave silence when he alighted upon the earth, endless miles of spears and swords standing in orderly rows before the wicked king who hid behind their might. In disgust Tobirama called upon the king to face him like a man rather than hide behind others.

In answer the king sent his champion to face Tobirama in battle – Madara of the Uchiha family, the brother spurned. And although several attempts were made with honeyed words and sincere reassurances that Izuna’s life was happy and safe now Madara was not to be soothed or deterred from his path. So strongly did he perceive some injustice done to himself in his brother’s refusal to marry for his gain that Madara was willing to throw his life away meeting swords with a god.

When it became clear that words would not spare him from this ridiculous farce Tobirama unsheathed his blade and lifted his shield. Gird in armor from a heavenly forge, armed with weapons shaped from a fallen star, it was little wonder that the battle swayed easily in his favor almost the very moment it commenced. Yet he found himself surprised by Madara's skill. Far from the pampered and lazy noble he had expected, his opponent demonstrated great skill from the first clash of their blades and it quickly became clear that they were a better match in battle than anyone could have predicted. What should have been a quick and resounding victory became a struggle for the highest of stakes.

For Tobirama had given his word when he accepted the challenge and it burned in his heart to know that if he fell in this battle it would be the end of Izuna’s freedom, that to be vanquished now would doom his beloved for the rest of his pitiless life. Such a thing could not come to pass.

And yet his arms grew tired. His parries grew weak. So long had it been since there was need for him to take up sword and shield that Tobirama found he had forgotten the rigors of war. It did not take long for Madara to sense that victory may have been closer to his grasp than many believed. His grimace of exertion became the feral grin of a creature on the hunt, a predator that senses the weakness of its prey. With a great war cry he brought all of his skill to bear and pushed forward in a relentless attack that drove the god of compassion back until his knees folded and he knelt upon the earth with both arms raised to protect himself.

Then it was that a breeze happened across the sandy plain where they had made their battlefield and lifted the scrap of silk tied about Tobirama’s pale wrist. Vibrant red woven with golden thread, an outfit he had willed in to existence to match the fiery passion of his lover’s heart.

“For Izuna,” he whispered and Madara paused in his wrath.

“For Izuna,” he murmured and the strength returned to his arms and his legs.

“For Izuna,” he declared and a fire was stoked inside him that could not be dimmed.

“For Izuna!” he roared and his purpose was made anew, the love he felt rushing through him and giving him the power to push himself back to his feet and drive Madara away.

As though the Fates themselves had blessed him Tobirama gathered his godly strength and brought all of his skill to bear until it was Madara kneeling in the dirt with a blade at his neck, begging for mercy he did not deserve. Yet Tobirama granted him mercy – of a sort.

Long was the noble Madara's hair, long enough to brush the back of his knees for all who looked upon him to see that he had yet to be defeated in battle. And firm was Tobirama’s grasp as he held the cruel brother’s hair in one hand as with the other he sheared it in one swipe of his sharp blade. Madara's horrified screams mingled with those of the evil king still hiding behind the ranks of those he had gathered to defend his selfish cause.

“Are you or are you not the God of Compassion?” Madara cried, weeping to feel the wind against his scalp as he was shaven bare for all to see his shame. “Have mercy upon me! Have compassion as you are named!” He shrank away when Tobirama drew himself up in stern reprimand.

“You mis-define the word for your own purposes. I have had compassion upon the weak and the suffering. You are neither. I grant you mercy in the form of your life, in giving you the chance to repent your sins. Pray, my most wretched brother in law, pray that someday you may understand the things that you have already lost.”

Leaving his opponent defeated and broken, Tobirama turned towards the king’s armies and bade them to part. Seeing the fire of holy purpose in his eyes, they did so, stepping aside to make him a path to the king who had brought them all together. Tobirama’s justice was swift and unyielding. Although the king made an effort to defend himself he too had fallen victim to laziness during the long years of peace and had grown accustomed to having others perform tasks in his name. Whatever skill he might have had in times gone by had long been forgotten. He fell beneath Tobirama’s blade with little fanfare and not a single voice raised in his defense. When the king lay dead before his army they looked to the god before them for instruction, the clear victor on the field and the one they most feared to displease.

Tobirama had no interest in tending to human lands or meaningless golden crowns. It was not for him to take the throne he had so easily vacated. Yet there was another who he knew deserved all the good in the world, whose heart was deep and warm enough to guide these peoples in need of a kinder leader. He returned to the home of the gods to find Izuna with his nails bitten to the quick with worry and his beloved hurried to greet him with grateful relief to see he remained unharmed. Quiet and solemn were his words as he told Izuna of all that had passed on the earth below.

“It is for you to rule them,” he told his lover. “You who were to be their Prince Consort, now you may rule over them as a kind and benevolent King, clever and quick with your heart of gold.”

He listened carefully to Izuna’s worries that this new duty would part them but this Tobirama was quick to soothe as well. Though he may have endless worshippers to tend to and Izuna may have an entire land of subjects to watch over there was nothing on the earth or in the heavens that could keep them apart for he had found happiness in their bond and it was clear to him that Izuna felt the same.

And so it was that the supreme ruler of the gods took his first spouse in a human who deserved compassion as only he could give. The ignoble Madara returned to his estate alone and well-chastened where he would in later years reach out again to the brother he had treated so poorly. Far and wide across the conquered land the peoples agreed that peace and prosperity both had increased under Izuna’s ruling guidance. The land was quiet and happy and all was well.

Thus is the legend of Tobirama who answered the prayer of one in need and in return found an answer to prayers of his own.

[dreamchester67]

At Worlds End

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned)

Word Count: 1436

Warnings: Mentions of death, Angst, hinting at a breakup

Summary: You and the Winchesters are up against another big bad threatening to end the world; Dean wants to take the lead once again, but how will your relationship fare?

Authors Note: Hey y’all. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I’m seemingly better at writing angst than anything else haha. This is unbeta’d, so any and all mistakes are on me. Feedback is much appreciated :) xoxo

Once again, you and the Winchesters were met with an impending doom. It was fairly often that you three were what was stopping the world from ending, which was becoming quite alarming. Whatever sick game God, Lucifer, or whatever the hell was playing, it was coming to a point where you wondered just how many more “end of the worlds” you could take.

    This time, you were up against another God-like monster that had somehow awaken from the empty. How that happened, you were vastly unaware. The unfortunate part-you were running out on plans- and friends. You had already lose more men than you cared to admit, some being close friends for years. Within the last three days, not only had you lost many men from the apocalypse dimension, but one of the most important people in your life had been killed-once again. While this dimensions Bobby Singer was different from the one you grew up with and looked up to as a father, he still had the same underlying qualities as the man that you lost to a gunshot wound to the head. To make matters worse, Cas had been killed on impact right along with Bobby. No one knew how to handle their deaths, other than to give them the proper hunters funeral and go on their separate ways.

    It had been a hell of a few days, and since you felt the need to clear your head, you headed down to the gym in the far hall of the bunker. Getting the tape and gloves, you warmed up to go a few rounds with the bag. Kickboxing was always a way you used to clear your head ever since the death of your parents during high school. It didn’t hurt that it kept you on top of your game during hunts, as well. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you threw a few warm up punches before twisting and landing a kick halfway up the bag. Slowing your breathing, you kept a steady pace for another twenty minutes. What you hadn't noticed was Dean making his way into the gym, and leaning against the wall, captivated by the intensity of your workout.

    Leaning against the bag, you threw a few more weak punches before crashing to your knees and letting the tears that you had been fighting for the last few days fall. You cried for the men lost, you cried for your best friend, and you cried for the loss that you were at against this impending evil. Your chest was heaving up and down when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. Giving in, you let yourself be consumed by the smell of leather and whiskey, all while muttering how you should have been there. Dean knew how much it hurt you to lose Bobby the first time, and he couldn’t imagine what you were going through now. You had always been close to Bobby, you were the daughter that he said he always wanted. To make matters worse, someone who you both called a best friend was also stolen from you, and wasn’t going to be coming back again. So you sat like that, being cradled in Dean’s arms, for Lord knows how long. After you managed to calm down, you excused yourself to go take a much needed shower, to which Dean told you he would be at the war table with Sam, trying to figure out one last battle plan.

    Heading out of the shower room, you felt defeated. You didn’t know if it could get any worse from here, but for the first time in your life, you actually sat and prayed that it wouldn’t. Walking towards the war table, you came across Sam and Dean in a heated argument. Clearing your throat to gain their attention, Sam’s face lot up and turned to Dean. “Finally, someone with some sense. Y/n, talk some sense into your idiot boyfriend.”

    “Dude, she’s gonna see the importance in this.”

    “Dean,” you interrupted, “let Sam finish.”

    “Thank you, y/n,” Sam said, rolling his eyes at his older brother. “Dean figured out a grand scheme to get the god back into the empty and keep him there for good.”

    Pausing, you looked between the boys with wide eyes, “and that’s a problem how? Isn’t that what we want to do?”

    “Here’s the problem, someone has to be in the empty for it to work,” Sam finished, and the reality of Dean’s plan hit you like a ton of bricks. Turning to your boyfriend, you took in the fact that he was hanging his head, his shoulders tense as he gripped the chair in front of him as if his life depended on it.

    “Dean?”

    Cutting you off, Deans gravelly voice came out harsher than he intended it to, “Y/n, you don’t get it. This is our only option!” He paused, waiting for you to yell at him, shove him, anything that would prove how angry he thought you would be. However, you just took a step back with tears running down your cheeks, something Dean only ever saw in private, as he was the only person that you would allow to see you cry.

    “No, Dean. This is your only option.” And with a shaky breath, you headed back to your shared bedroom. One in the room, you ran your fingers over one of the few photos of you two; taken on your first date, without you knowing, by Sam. While you two had yelled at him in the moment, it became one of your most prized possessions. Running your fingers over the frame one last time, you picked up the picture and chucked it across the room, the glass shattering all over the floor. Combing a shaky hand through your hair, you opened your dresser and began to throw your clothes onto the bed.

    A knock at the door caused you to pause for a moment, but you carried on ignoring the noise. A split second later, Dean poked his head in the room, eyes widening when he realized what you were doing. Taking a stride over to the bed, he began collecting your clothes and stuffing them back into the drawers they came from, pleading with you, “Y/n, please, sweetheart, Don’t leave. Yell, scream, I don’t care. But don’t leave, not now.”

    Trying to suppress your anger, you take the clothes that he’s holding and throw them back onto the bed. Refusing to make eye contact, you rummage under the bed for a duffel bag. “So it’s okay for you to leave, but not me?” Before Dean could comment, you cut him off, “and yes, this is different. Wanna know how? You know i’ll still be alive, whereas you’ll end up dead. Again.” And with that, you cover your face with your hands, sitting on the edge of the bed, attempting to not cry for the third time today.

    Kneeling in front of you, Dean takes your hands in his and shakes his head, looking you in the eyes. Letting out a chuckles, he says “you’re supposed to be talking me out of this.” Looking him in the eyes, you can practically see him begging you to be angry. But you weren’t; you were tired, wanting all of this to just come to an end once and for all.

    “That’s the problem, I always have to talk you out of it. Selling your soul? Taking on the Mark of Cain? Saying yes to Michael? I always try to talk you out of it, and you always end up doing it anyways. I can’t see you not come back next time Dean. I’m done.” With a sigh, you see him on the verge of tears. Deciding to continue before you lose your nerve, you lean forward and kiss him on the forehead. “Dean, I love you so much. But I can only go through this so many times.” Standing up, you finish packing your duffel, Dean kneeling in the same place he was earlier.

    “Please don’t try to find me.” When Dean dropped his shoulders, you took it as your cue to leave. Saying goodbye to Sam was difficult, however he understood why you were leaving and you agreed to stay in touch. With a hug, you climbed into your ‘68 Firebird and saluted goodbye to the bunker. Knowing you may never get the chance to again, you pulled out your phone and sent one last text to the love of your life.

    “Goodbye, Dean.”

[marvelmymarvel]

Promote Me, Love Me

Part 4/12

Ronald Speirs x Lieutenant!Reader (Mainly)

Carwood Lipton x Lieutenant!Reader (Kinda)

Synopsis: You have one goal in this war, to rise faster in the ranks than Ronald Speirs from Dog Company. The only problem, you’re hopelessly in love with the crazy man. Will it mess up your chance to be better than the arrogant careless man, or will it make you realize that ranks aren’t everything when it comes to love? But when you find out that your best friend Carwood Lipton has been hiding feelings for you, what will you choose in the end? Speirs, Lipton, or that Golden Rank you’ve dreamt of since you were a little girl, only war will make that decision.

A/N: No one is dating anyone yet... So anything that happens doesn't really qualify as cheating... I promise you. I don't like cheating. Also, I know that I hint a lot at smut but I’m sorry to say that I will never write it. But you’ll know if they do have sex, just won't write it ya know. Anyway, enjoy part 4!

You lifted your head up from Lips shoulder at the sound of a scream. “What the fuck was that” you hissed as you flew up. Lip grabbed your wrist, still half asleep but you pulled out of his grasp, “Y/n I think it's alright, come back sweetheart” he grumbled but you shook your head, “I’m gonna go check it out” you whispered before climbing out. It didn't take long before he was fast asleep once more, he knew you’d be careful. Considering you were surrounded by men that would take a bullet for you, you were safe out there as much as you were in his arms. You walked towards the sound that was now a moan. You heard footsteps from behind you, turning you straightened up “Flash” you called out boldly. Your hand was on your hip as you waited for the person to exit from the treelines. “Thunder” he purred out as he exited. Your heart stopped at seeing Ron and you fought back a smile. “What are you doing out of your foxhole Lieutenant,” he asked as he stepped closer. You were 5 feet away from each other, yet he somehow took your breath away like he was centimeters away from your lips. You just kissed your best friend hours before... Multiple times as a matter of fact after the first one... And yet, Ron seemed to make you forget everything.

“I was going to check out the sound Lieutenant” you whispered out as he stepped even closer to you. Your breath hitched as he towered over you, “Why are you so shaky... Lieutenant” he purred out the title as if it was the sexiest thing he’d ever say. It certainly made your knees buckle a little as he caught you by the arm, his hard grasp made your breathing shallow as you looked up at him. He leaned down, his lips swept past yours and detoured to your cheek and then to your ear. “I find it fascinating that I have this effect over you” he whispered sensually. It sent shivers down your spine as your eyes fluttered closed in lust. He kissed your ear, then down your jaw slowly. When he pecked the nape of your neck was when your eyes snapped open in realization. Pushing him away you backed up against the tree that was only a couple of feet behind you. Your chest was rising and falling quickly as you tried to catch your breath. As you tried to ground yourself from what was about to happen. While you wouldn't have done anything sexual with him in the middle of the woods. You couldn't deny that if he was about to kiss you, you would kiss back without a second thought. But Carwood. “Stay away from me Speirs” you hissed finally pushing off the tree. His face fell into one of confusion, as only hours before you were looking at him as if you wanted to kiss him till he died. Something changed. His face morphed into one of understanding, and he wasn't happy. “You and Sergeant Lipton” He whispered out gruffly. You fell silent, not knowing what to say or do. When you didn't say anything he turned his head to the side as he let out an incredulous laugh that felt dry and made you want to run and hide. Turning his head back to yours he sent a dirty glare that made your heart stop. “And to think I actually-” he began but before he could continue, he heard a branch snap close by. He glared at you before walking towards it, gun in hand, this was your chance to escape the suffocating conversation you two were about to have. Rushing past behind him you heard him talking to a soldier who came to check on the moaning like you did. You ran towards your hole and slid in, breathing heavily you gripped onto Carwoods body like he was the only one that could ground you at that moment. “Hey honey” he whispered out drowsily, you were quiet as you were trying to catch your breath and slow the thoughts that were racing in your mind. When you didn't answer he sat up quickly, now fully alert at the fact that you were possibly in danger. How could he fall asleep and let you go alone?! He couldn't trust that you’d be okay, and right now, he was afraid that-that one sleepy choice had harmed you. “Y/n... What happened” he pressed as he cupped your cheeks in his strong hands. You whimpered out, you couldn't tell him. He would look at you differently. You felt the guilt flood your body as you just shook your head before flinging into his arms, hiding your face in his neck. “I’m so sorry Car” you cried out and he just held you, his mind racing trying to figure out why you were crying and why you were sorry. He pulled you away and grabbed your cheeks once more. “What are you sorry about Y/n” he stammered out, afraid to hear what you were going to say. Your lip quivered at the thought of telling him. While you weren't dating yet, you didn't want to hurt him. You shook your head and sucked your lower lip in between your teeth. “I should have stayed in the foxhole, I’m sorry I didn't listen” you lied before pulling from his grasp and laying back down into his arms. He didn't press. You were thankful. You didn't want to hurt Car... Not on someone who meant nothing to you. But those were empty words that you told yourself to sleep at night. Even then though. You barely slept.

You stayed out of the battle. Instead, you stood up above on the hill with Nixon and Strayer. Sink gave you the heads up earlier that day that you would be promoted to Captain in the intelligence side of things. No more combat. Much more stress. So here you were, being shown the good and bad things that were happening down below by Nixon. Who you would be working with for the rest of the war unless you were promoted once more. You were shaky as you brought out a cigarette, putting it to your lips, you lit it. Inhaling the smoke, you began to feel your muscles relax, but your heart was on that field. Your heart was in the danger. How can one possibly relax, when you could possibly see someone you love die in front of your eyes. And you couldn't do anything about it. Exhaling shakily, an evil thought crossed your mind. ‘Who exactly are you even worried about’. The thought made your heart skip a beat as the cigarette settled in between your shaky fingers. Your head snapped over to a heavy metallic sound from the right portion of the field. 

“Holy shit” you whispered as you saw the German tanks rolling up. Your heart stopped as you stepped forward, your cigarette falling from your fingers as the tank shot out towards the left flank. 

“Sir, Dog and Fox company are pulling back” You heard Nixon call out to Strayer “WHAT” Strayer hollered while turning to the left flank. Your blood ran cold. Dog. “Ron” you whispered out as you saw all the men flying out of the trees. 

“Who gave them that order goddamnit” Strayer hissed and you just watched in pure and utter fear. “Please” you whispered to yourself as you watched more bombs explode along the tree lines. “Please let him live.” You were begging, pleading for his life... For both of their lives. Your head snapped up at another sound, a tank shell exploded at the Germans tank. Your eyes widened in shock and your head whipped towards Lewis who was watching through binoculars. You were praying it was a good sign. Looking back, you saw what it was. 

The sight made every muscle in your body relax. Chills erupted on your arms as you broke out into a gigantic smile. “Well hello second armored” Nixon called out from behind you and you let out a relieved laugh as tears formed in your eyes at the beautiful sight of the Shermans. With their help, the airborne was able to push back the Germans and you were finally able to capture Carentan with no more backlash. By the end of the battle, all of the Easy company soldiers emerged from the trees and you flew down the hill. Lip’s eyes lit up once he caught sight of you. You felt yourself melt at the mere thought of his arms wrapped around you. Safe. Calm. Secure. Flying into his arms, he encompassed you in warmth and safety “Hi sweetheart” he whispered softly as he held you close. “Are you okay Car?!” you whispered after a couple seconds of just holding onto him for dear life. You pulled away a little and ran your hands along his shoulders and body, looking for any wounds or blood. Finally, your hands grabbed at his face, looking at him as if you couldn't quite capture a mental image of him. As if he would fade away any second now. As if this was a dream and you’d find him dead in some trench hole. Cold and bloody. Something you would die to never see. “I’m okay Y/n” He laughed out at your frantic ways. It was really quite adorable, the way you were so adamant about finding him, that you ran down the hill instead of taking the Jeep with Strayer and Nixon. But that would have taken too long. You needed him. Now. ‘Needed who?’ the thought crossed your mind and you silenced it by kissing Carwood firmly on the lips. Holding his cheeks securely in your grasp, you deepened the kiss as he wrapped the arm that wasn't holding his gun around your waist. Pulling you closer to his body, you pulled away before pressing your forehead to his. Your eyes traveled behind him to see the other men. But they stopped on one man. You saw him behind Carwood, making your breath hitch as he watched blankly at you both. You pulled your face away from Lip and smiled softly at Ron. “I’m so glad you’re okay... Ron” you stated stubbornly. No emotions were laced in the tone, but you knew that it was difficult to hide the emotions bubbling under your skin from appearing in your eyes. Apparently, Ron had the same issue. His face was blank and emotionless, but his eyes spoke of nothing but pain and heartbreak. It was true. He did like you. Ron nodded before turning swiftly to walk away. Carwood was watching and still held you close by the waist. “What was that all about?” He whispered out at Ron’s dismissive attitude. You simply shook your head before turning to press your lips once more to his. “Doesn't matter” you muttered out finally before stepping back and grabbing his hand in yours. “Let's get you cleaned up” you cooed as you looked at his disheveled state. He smiled and you two took off towards the trucks that would hopefully take you somewhere where there were warm showers and warm beds. A place.. Where you and Car could finally go on a date. Where you could hopefully forget all about Ron. But that seemed highly unlikely as well. 

Aldbourne was relaxing. While you and Carwood didn't really go on a date. You started to feel your emotions lessen towards Ron. Maybe you just needed to get closer to Lip... Maybe you were just getting better at suppressing it. You didn't really know. But you were getting drunk in the barn with Dick and Car so you didn't really care at the moment. 

Nixon walked in and you smirked at your partner in crime, “Well hello there” you slurred out as you leaned against Dick for support. Lew rolled his eyes playfully at you but leaned in to tell you both of the news. It made you sober up real quick and you cleared your throat before setting down the beer you had in your grasp. “Can you tell him Y/n?” Nix asked you and you nodded before you all three broke away. Walking over to Car, you slid your hands down his shoulders and to his chest before wrapping them around him lazily as you leaned behind him. “Word just came in.” You started quietly into his ear as he grabbed your clasped hands that rested on the middle of his chest. He zoned out from the men around him, tuning into you and only you. “The training exercise tonight at 2200 hours is canceled. Passes are revoked and we are moving back out to France...” you whispered quietly, finally feeling the weight of those words as your fingers absentmindedly grabbed at his shirt tightly. He moved his head more towards your lips as he looked up at you. “Everyone needs to get their stuff ready immediately... We won't be coming back anytime soon. The trucks will be leaving from Membury at 0700...” you continued sadly and he just nodded at you before looking back down. Pressing your lips to his ear you let go of his shirt and backed away. Grabbing the beer you had set down, you walked out as Lip stood to give the announcement, you didn't want to hear it... Seeing the men's disappointed faces was enough pain to give you nightmares. They couldn't seem to get free of the hell. You hated that. Swigging the last of the beer in the bottle you walked towards the house in which you and Lips room was. “You alright there Captain” you heard someone call out from behind you. You whirled around shakily seeing Ron standing behind you with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes were on the cigarette but they shot up realizing you were staring at his lips as well. The taste. His taste. Fuck. “Lieutenant Speirs” you greeted with a slight nod, trying to hide the fact that you were caught staring, and that you knew you were caught staring. The smile that formed on his lips made you uneasy but made your insides swirl as well. “Care for a cigarette... Y/n” He whispered as he stepped forward, offering the box to you. You hesitated, thinking about all the stories you had heard. But you weren't afraid of him. Your eyes lazily shot back up to his and you scoffed quietly to yourself. “You gonna shoot me if I say yes” you garbled out, your eyes widened in realization and you promised yourself to never drink like this again. His smile fell into a scowl and he felt dangerous as he stepped closer to you. Your eyes shot to the carton, not really able to handle the glare he was giving you. “Just take the cigarette... Y/n” he muttered out coldly, “And find out if the rumors are true.” Your eyes shot back up from the pack of smokes to his eyes, your mouth felt dry and you cleared your throat before taking a cigarette. Putting it in between your lips, he lit it for you. Never breaking eye contact. You exhaled the smoke and nodded at him. “I never believed them anyway” you murmured before turning to leave, he watched your body retreat and he couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. “Good” he murmured to himself before turning around to head back towards the barn where he took off from when he saw you leave. He didn't want his favorite girl being afraid of him. For he’d always be there to save you. Even if there was someone in his way. Lipton wouldn't be in the way for much longer. The minute you realized how much safer you felt around him instead of Lipton, it would be game over. He would win you over. He thought as he turned his head back to see you entering the house, you would be his. He turned back as he entered the now quiet barn. He would die trying.

Part 5

tags:

@hell-itwasyou @desired-love-

[kenzieam]

Full Circle - Chapter Three (Bucky X Lev)

Rating: M (smut, language, violence, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee  @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff  @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815 @shirukitsune @chook007

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This is the sequel to It’s Time, with Lev reaching the end of her pregnancy; but will ghosts from the past threaten their newfound and hard-fought happiness???

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In the aftermath of Lev’s accident, what happens? Can she and Bucky repair their relationship, are the twins okay......

does Lev even survive

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

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My life is over. My world has ended.  

I’m so fucking stupid.  

I fucking sat there and let that bitch talk. I should have thrown her out as soon as she showed her fucking face in my office, but I was so goddamn stunned. I’d heard she was back in town, but I never thought she’d have the nerve to find me and want to talk.

It was bullshit, I’m sorry Bucky, I’d like to apologize for what I did so many years ago, as if ‘sorry’ could possible cover destroying the best thing I’d ever had.  

And I can’t even blame her, I’m the one that let her stay in the office, let her speak. I didn’t grab her by the scruff of her neck and toss her out like the trash she is and, once again, Lev found us.  

If it wasn’t so fucking agonizing, it would be funny. Poor bastard, you’d laugh, watching your TV screen, if it wasn’t for bad luck, he’d have none at all.

I love Levi. With all my flawed goddamn being, and seeing the betrayal on her face when she walked into my office shattered my heart, but then soul-consuming panic flooding through me when she turned away from me and ran, drove off in an obvious state of distress. She was in no shape to drive, no shape to go anywhere, and I could hear her thoughts, they’d been broadcast clearly enough on her breathtaking face.

Not again!! I need to get away!

I will never forgive myself.        

I don’t give the bitch time to speak, she’s followed me out into the lot, watched as my entire life disappeared in a squeal of rubber. I turn and let her have the full brunt of my terrified rage.  

“Get the FUCK away from ME!” I roar, spittle flying from my lips and she has the decency to flinch.  

She opens her mouth but I don’t let her.

“SHUT UP!!!! Do you realize what happened? Jesus Christ! Do you understand?!”  

For the briefest second shame flashes in her eyes and I have to clamp down hard on the urge to slap her fucking face. I have never hit a woman before, but Jesus Christ, right now I want to. Fuck your shame.

“I should go.”

Understatement of the goddamn millennium. “Yeah.” I all but spit, fumbling for my phone, hoping against hope that Lev will answer, let me explain. Alicia Howard completely leaves my radar as I focus on my phone screen. Dimly I hear her car start.

“C'mon, baby.” I plead, my hands shaking. Christ, if I lose Lev again, after all this.......

The phone rings, and rings before going to voicemail.

“Dammit!”  I try again, directly to voicemail.

My fingers are trembling as I type a text. Baby, nothing happened. Please believe me, call me PLEASE!

I’m shaking too goddamn hard to drive myself, to try and find Lev. Tears are already starting to form in my eyes when I dial the familiar number.

“Yeah. Buck.” Steve sounds casual, not knowing I’m about to drop a load of shit on him.

“Goddammit Steve-” I rasp as the tears start to fall.

“Bucky? Jesus, what’s wrong? I’m just pulling into the site-”

I hear the rumble of his car and turn, finding it hard to breathe through my growing panic. One thought keeps racing through my mind, stuck on a loop. I can’t lose her, I can’t lose her, I can’t lose-

Steve grabs my shoulders, shakes me. “Bucky?! What the fuck? Was that Alicia I saw leaving? Tell me it wasn’t, man-”

He falls silent at my expression, disapproval and anxiety warring in his eyes.  

“Lev saw-”

“WHAT THE FUCK!!!” His outburst staggers me, almost kills my panic, almost. "You were talking to that bitch? Bucky! What the hell were you thinking?!”

What was I thinking?

“I was just about to tell her to leave!”

“That should have been the first fucking thing out of your mouth!”

“Christ, man. Lev saw us, she fucking saw and turned around and ran. I don’t know what she’s thinking, where she’s going-”

Steve shakes me, hard. “Get in the car.”

I stumble and almost fall, barely managing to fold my large frame into the car before Steve races out. Mia must have been sitting in here last, my knees are touching my chin.

“Goddammit Buck, goddammit.” Steve mutters, like a mantra, over and over. “What the fuck is it with you? Fucking Alicia?! AGAIN?!”

“NOTHING HAPPENED!”

“DOESN’T MATTER! Lev saw the two of you within arm's reach and that’s too fucking close! Dammit, when will you stop wasting all your fucking chances with her?! For someone that says they love her so much, you sure play around-”

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence.” All of the rage directed at myself flows into my words, and they hit Steve hard enough he flinches.  

My head’s on a swivel, looking everywhere for the familiar vehicle as Steve races back home. It’s the only place I can think she’d go, and only because she’s surely planning on leaving me, packing her bags and disappearing again, and I won’t delude myself into thinking I’ll survive this time.  

The driveway’s empty but I leap out anyway as Steve screeches to a halt, falling in my hurry to reach the door. My fingers fumble the keys but I manage to throw the door open and rush inside.

“Levi?!” My voice breaks from the strain as I shout, sprinting through the house looking even though I already know it’s empty. I’m half-hysterical by the time I make it back to the kitchen. Steve is pacing, his phone pressed to his ear. He hangs up.

“Clint hasn’t seen or heard from her, neither has Nat or Sam.”

I’m lost, panicking and not thinking clearly in the slightest. There is no telling what I would currently give up right now just to rewind the last few minutes; to stand and lock the office door when I first noticed the strange convertible pulling in.  

“Sit down,” Steve commands, pointing to a nearby kitchen chair. “Let me make a few more calls.”

“Did you try Lev?”

He nods once, brusquely. “Voicemail.”

Surely Lev would answer Steve’s number, wouldn’t she?  

My phone rings and I press it to my ear before I even look at the screen. “Lev?”

“What the fuck, man?” Clint sounds simultaneously incensed and devastated. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Clint... brother, I-”

“I’m not your goddamn brother, you better pray nothing happens to my sister or goddammit, I’m have your fucking head!” His rage sends a cold wave down my spine, but it’s nothing I don’t deserve. He hangs up before I can stutter anything more.  

I can’t tell you how much time passes, but it’s agonizing, my absolute ruin. I plead to every god and deity I can think of, beg them to please, please, please let Lev be safe, let her give me a chance to explain.  

Steve moves between the house and the deck, the phone permanently attached to his face.  

I try Lev’s number again and again, leave her increasingly panicked and pleading messages, text in between each call, barely able to legibly type the words.                                                                            

The house phone rings, sharp and abrupt, interrupting my newest, most frantic message. Steve looks sharply at me then reaches over and snags it.  

“Barton Residence. No, this is a friend. He’s here.” Wordlessly he holds the phone out to me, and the sudden sorrow in his eyes breaks me. Trembling, I take the phone from his hand and press it to my ear.

“Mr. Barnes, this is Dr. Barlow at the University Hospital-”

I can’t stand to hear anymore and a scream claws from my throat as I throw the phone across the room.  

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Oh god.

I feel like absolute shit.

I lay still for long minutes, waiting for my senses to clear, I feel like I’ve been sleeping a long time, been clawing to the surface for ages.

What the fuck happened...... oh wait, I remember.

Sudden anguish claws in my chest and it’s all I can do to draw my next breath. Memories hit me hard and fast, each one slashing like a razor.  

‘Alicia Howard’s back in town.’

Whose white convertible is that?

Oh my god.... not again. NOT AGAIN!!

A ragged sob breaks free and I can only let the pain take me, helpless on the crashing waves of sorrow. I hurt everywhere, and the horrible whooping sobs are only making me hurt worse, but I can’t stop them.  

Sudden, searing pain steals my breath, stops my sobs cold and my hands, shaking and weak, fumble and flounder but finally manage to rest on my abdomen. The pain is hot, vicious and stabbing and cold panic begins to take my sanity when I see that the swollen belly I’ve been gazing at for so long is suddenly, curiously, flat.

Where are my babies?

WHERE ARE MY BABIES??

A keening wail of animal anguish breaks free as I throw my head back. I’d always felt vaguely ashamed if I’d been around another person, or seen an actor in a movie cry out like this, but I understand now; the wordless pain, the crippling agony needs to be released somehow.

A nurse I don’t recognize rushes into the room, followed closely by Clint and Steve.  

“Clint!” I reach desperately for my brother with shaking arms and he surrounds me in his strength and warmth, a steady rock for me to break against and I feel another set of hands rest gently on me, Steve; one hand strokes gentle circles on my back while the other rests softly on my knee.

And they let me cry.  

The nurse leaves, knowing her medical knowledge is of no use right now.

After a long while I’m able to breathe again without wailing, able to focus on more than just pain and lift my head, surprised to see both Clint and Steve have been crying with me. My brother’s touch is gentle as he cups my cheek.

“Hey, brat.” His voice is tremulous.

“H-hey.... Hi Steve.”

Steve folds his massive form to sit on the other side of the bed, his skin is pale, face haggard. “Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?”

I remember my earlier disorientation, my feeling of being gone for a long time. “How long have I been out?”

Clint and Steve share a look that does nothing to assuage my anxiety. Finally, Clint clears his throat and answers.

“Just over two weeks. You’ve been in and out of consciousness, but never really awake.”

My breath is stolen again as I gape soundlessly at both men, watch as fresh tears form in their eyes. They both look terrible, what Hell have they been trapped in?

“My babies?” I’m terrified to ask, I’ve lost them, haven’t I?”

A faint smile graces Clint’s face. “They’re in the NICU. They’re small and they were too early, but they’re getting stronger every day.”

My hand flutters weakly over my deflated belly.

“Emergency c-section. You were going downhill fast, their heart-rates were dropping, we had to get them out.”

I nod absently, disappointment heavy in my heart. I was genuinely looking forward to delivering my children, being there when they slid into the world, hold them as they were placed, brand new and crying, on my chest and that was robbed from me. The words are bitter acid on my tongue.

“And him?"

Clint and Steve glance at each other. “In the NICU with the babies, we won’t let him in to see you, although God, he’s tried. I’ve tried to get him banned from the NICU as well, but I can’t because he’s the twin’s father.”

Weak rage burns in my heart. He’s the cause of all this and he’s had over two weeks alone with my babies, time that have been stolen from me.  

“Did you want to see him?” Clint asks uncertainly, his tone indicating he’d rather I said no.

“No.” I all but spit. “But I want to see my babies.”

Clint nods slowly, then exhales and stands, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”  

Steve watches him leave then turns back to me, smiling wetly. “I’m glad you’re back, baby doll.”

“I’m sorry, Steve-”

“Hey,” he reaches up and gently cups my cheek. “Don’t. If anyone’s to blame right now, it’s Bucky.”

I don’t want to ask, but it comes out anyway. “How has he been?”

Steve exhales, thumb gently stroking my cheekbone. “Honestly?”

I nod.

Steve drops his hand into his lap. “He’s.... he’s broken, Lev.  After you left, when we didn’t know where you were, I.... I didn’t even recognize him. I’ve never seen him so... out of control, not even before, the first time. And then, Jesus, when the hospital called....” He trails off. “Then the doctor is saying we’re losing you, and we’ve got to get the babies out and there was just terror and confusion.... when the nurse came out and said you’d pulled through, Bucky just... he collapsed to his knees and started crying, harder than I’ve ever seen.... I mean.... he broke. He’s been with the twins every second he can, and here, trying to see you when he’s not. I’ve caught him a few times looking in through the door, but Clint is keeping a pretty close eye on you. They’ve had a few knock-down, drag-outs over it-”

“What?!”

“It’s come to blows a few times, Sam and I managed to separate them before they did too much damage to each other. Bucky is adamant that nothing happened, and honestly, the way he’s taking all this, I kind of believe him. But Clint’s in full-on brother mode, as he has every right to be, and it hasn’t been pretty.” He pauses and studies my stunned face. “I’m not trying to sway you either way, you wanted my honest opinion and that’s it.”

I’m so tired, so weary and worn out. “Why do I always assume the worst, Steve? I mean, if we’re so fated for each other, destined and soul mates and all that, then why am I always so quick to think he’s betrayed me? Why can’t I just.... trust?”

Multiple emotions flash over Steve’s face, pain and sorrow, anger and frustration. “Because your mother was a bitch to you. Honestly, I loved the woman, and she was always good to me, but.... the way she treated you... I mean, if your own mother couldn’t be there for you, why would you trust anyone else to be? Especially someone you care for as much as Bucky?”

“I trust you. I trust Clint-”

“We don’t own your heart, Bean. Of course, Bucky is going to affect you more strongly than anyone else, you’re a part of each other.” He smiles wanly then reaches over and gently rests his hand on mine. “I can’t tell you what to do and I'm not going to, but-”  

He’s cut off then by a commotion out in the hallway. Raised voices and scuffling, growing to hoarse shouts and I recognize both speakers.

“I want to see her!” Bucky shouts.

“No! Fuck you!” Comes Clint furious reply. More scuffling, as if Bucky is physically trying to get past Clint and is being held back. Steve shoots me a cautious look and stands, hurrying from the room. His voice joins the fray, calmer than theirs, but his answer only makes Bucky louder.

“No! Steve, please! I need to see her. Lev?!” I catch sight of his face over Steve’s shoulder and I’m shocked at how pale and haggard he looks. His eyes plead with me. “Lev!”

I’m not ready to talk to him, I can’t stand to see the pain on his face. He moans in distress when I turn my face away.

“Lev! Baby, please!”

“Come ON,” Clint all but snarls, pulling hard on Bucky’s arm. There’s a heavy thud, a grunt of pain and that’s when my tears start.

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I must have dropped off again, for the next thing I know, it’s blessedly silent. I’m alone again, but my head is clearer, but then the earlier ugliness hits me again.  

Two weeks? My babies are in the NICU, small and early but getting stronger, Bucky has been with them constantly, and despite my earlier venom, I can only summon a sense of relief, at least one of us has been there.

A surreal feeling washes over me; the last thing I remember is stopping by Nat and Clint’s, happy and eager to soon meet the little people I’ve been growing inside me, then the hated words are spoken 'Alicia Howard' and it all goes to shit. What is it with her? Nat’s right, I won. I have, had, Bucky and was truly happy; and all it took was the mention of her name to turn me into a hysterical mess.

Jesus, issues much?

A nurse bustles in and busies herself with checking the IV bags hanging beside the bed.

“Hello, dear.” She even has the warm, stereotypical English accent. “I’m Mary, how are you feeling?”

“Confused,” I admit.

She nods, setting herself gently on the edge of the bed. “You’ve had quite a lot happen in a short amount of time.”

“Where is everybody, I mean, my brother-”

“They were all escorted from the property earlier.”

“What?”

“They continued to fight and scuffle and security needed to be called. They have all been given a twenty-four suspension, but your brother left you a note.” She reaches over and pulls back a slip of paper I hadn’t noticed yet.

Lev

Sorry sis, but we got thrown out. They let me write this note, then we’re not allowed back until tomorrow.  

I’m sorry. I don’t want him anywhere near you or the babies, but if you want to see him, it’s your choice and I’ll support you.  

The kids have all come down with the flu at once or else Nat and Wanda would be there, but call me or Steve if you need anything, and I’ll figure out how to get it to you.  

Love you, Clint

I sniff, I don’t deserve such a brother, he always takes care of me.  

“Do you remember the accident?” Mary asks gently.

I pause, wracking my brain but only bits and pieces float up. “I uh.... I was hit by a semi; I was upset and not paying attention to the road.”

Mary nods sympathetically and takes over where I trail off. “You were broadsided, hit on the passenger side or else, my dear, I don’t think you would still be with us. You’ve fractured a few bones and are quite bruised, but there was serious concern of brain damage for a time and, by the time the first responders cut you out of the vehicle you were in a bad way, and the decision had to be made for an emergency C-section to save your twins, and you. You’ve been floating in what we term ‘altered consciousness’ ever since. Never truly aware, sometimes responsive, mostly not.”

“My babies?”

“I’m not a NICU nurse, so I don’t see them regularly, but from what I hear they are thriving. Your husband is there constantly and is always holding them skin to skin, the best way for preemies.”  

“Skin to skin?”

“He sits in the rocking chair beside their incubators without a shirt and the twins are placed on his chest in nothing but their diapers. He holds and rocks them for hours at a time. Skin to skin is a large part of our care here, whenever possible we encourage it. It’s truly miraculous how the babies respond, their temperature regulation is better, they feed better, sleep better. Your twins are thriving because of your husband’s attention.” She pauses and eyes me quietly, I know the question is coming. “You are currently separated?”

I shake my head, suddenly weary of the whole thing. “Long story, I hope it’s all a big misunderstanding but....” I trail off helplessly, not sure what I’m going to do if it isn’t all a mistake, if I have been fooled twice.... I can’t think of that right now, I can’t go down that road again, I need facts, not assumptions. “I-”

“Excuse me?” A quiet, hesitant voice at the door interrupts and I freeze in dawning horror, eyes locking on the speaker.  

No, no.... NO.

Mary stands and addresses the visitor. “May I help you?” She’s noticed my unease and is cautiously polite.

The speaker looks past her directly to me. “Levka, could I talk to you.... please?” Alicia Howard asks, her voice strangely humble.

I swallow hard. Every instinct is screaming NO but there’s something different about my nemesis. She’s twisting her hands nervously, eyeing me apprehensively, no trace of her usual arrogance or confidence. I catch sight of bags under her eyes, she’s tried to hide them with concealer, but the unforgiving fluorescents above us reveal all.                                                            

What could this woman possible have to say to me?

“Alright.” My voice is quiet.

Mary nods and steps aside, holding out an arm to the chair. Alicia nods in thanks and carefully sits, resting her purse on her lap, fingers clenched.  

“I’ll be just out by the desk,” Mary says. “Call if you need me.”

Alicia turns her head, watching Mary leave before slowing turning back to me. She takes a deep breath. “Levka, I..... I’m here to say that I’m sorry... for everything.”

I’m floored, absolutely speechless. I don’t think we have ever spoken to each other without screaming, hurling insults like hand grenades.  

“S-sorry?”

She smiles faintly, sadly. “I understand if you are confused, I’ve never been... repentant before.” She pulls a tissue from her purse and begins to torture it in her twisting hands. After a beat she takes a deep breath and raises her head. “Tommy has left me. He’s become enamored by a young woman he works with.”

You could knock me over with a feather and I can just open and close my mouth soundlessly, like a fish.

“Karma, I suppose.” Alicia gives a faint laugh, meant to be flippant, but heart-breaking instead. “It made me think about what I’ve done in the past, who I’ve hurt, who I’ve stomped on.” She looks up at me, tears in her eyes. “I’m truly sorry, Levka. Bucky was just a game to me, I was always jealous of you-”

“Me?”

She laughs mirthlessly, sitting up straighter. “C’mon, Levka. Everyone was. You were always so strong, so confident. You knew what you wanted and you did it. Not to mention you were surrounded by man candy that you were either related to or had hanging off your every word.”

Just when I think I can’t be any more shocked, she drops this. I never in all my years even entertained the notion that Alicia Howard could possibly be jealous of me.  

She clears her throat and continues, shame making her blush. “I knew you two were fighting and wanted to hurt you, show you I could have your man too. I waited until Bucky was drunk at Derek’s party then made my move. He was so.... sad and heartbroken over you it was easy, he was desperate for something other than sadness. He fought it, but I laid it on thick and poured more alcohol down his throat...... anyway, you know what happened next. And for a while, I was happy. I’d hurt you, badly. I knew it wasn’t Bucky’s baby but...” she breaks off with a sorrowful sniff. After a moment she raises her head and I’m shocked by the naked sorrow on her face, despite her efforts to conceal it. “What I did was horrible, and now it’s come due; I’ve had my man taken in return for stealing yours. That’s the reason I’ve been back home.... to help my parents move down to Florida to help me with the kids, my youngest just turned six months old, and I wanted to say I was sorry in person. I shouldn’t have gone to apologize to Bucky first, I realize that was a mistake; but I was a coward, I knew Bucky would be less likely to murder me on sight.” She twists a plain band on her finger and falls silent, waiting for my response.  

“So... you, at the worksite...?”

She shakes her head emphatically. “No, nothing happened. I didn’t want to show Bucky how devastated I was, so I sat on the edge of his desk and tried to be casual, but it failed. You walked in and....” She looks up. “He loves you, more than I think you’ll ever know. That’s why it was so satisfying to steal him that night... Bucky would never purposely hurt you Levka, I only wish I’d had the same luck with men. I don’t deserve your forgiveness for all that I’ve done to you, but I hope you’ll accept my apology.”  

I’m.... flabbergasted, struck dumb. I would have been more likely to buy the scenario of Alicia showing up here to smother me with my pillow than apologize and I honestly don’t know how to respond. Despite her speaking to my strengths, it has just taken a tremendous amount of courage to do what she's just done and I feel.... sympathy for her pain. The words come out before I can think about them, but they feel right all the same.  

“Thank you, Alicia. I do.... I mean, I forgive you.”

She jolts viscerally, looking up at me with wide, tearful eyes. “Really?” She wretchedly hopeful, and I see in this moment I have the power to break her.  

I don’t. I need to let all of this go.

“Yes.”

She chokes a sob and drops her head and my cheeks go red. How surreal is this? My high school nemesis, bawling her eyes out over my hospital bed. I’m awkward as hell, not sure what to do. Do I touch her, pat her head? Call for Mary? I’m saved by Alicia herself. She sits back up, struggling for control, her own cheeks red with a mix of embarrassment and emotion. After a moment she stands, collecting herself, straightening her blouse.  

“Thank you Levka,” she murmurs. “You’ve been far more gracious than I deserve.”

I nod. “Thank you, Alicia.... for explaining everything.”

She nods once, and swallows. “Goodbye.” She’s eager to leave and frankly, I’m eager to see her go; this has been crazy and I need time to process it all. When I look up again she’s gone and Mary stands in the doorway, smiling gently at me.

“Would you like to have a shower, dear? Clean up a bit?”  

“God, yes.”    

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

Sunset Apologies

Prompt (suggested by xOpal69 on FanFiction): I’d like to see this version of Tony go through the aftermath of Infinity War.

WARNING: There are several descriptions of panic attacks in this oneshot, so if you are sensitive to such content, please proceed with caution.

Thank you for the suggestion, and I hope you enjoy!

Read here on fanfiction.net. Read the previous oneshots here (FFN) or here (AO3).

xXxXxXx

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony stiffened as Peter’s voice rang out across the empty planet, more hollow and quieter than he’d ever heard it be before. He turned around to see the kid staring at his hands in horror, watching as paper thin cracks slowly started to spread through them.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Peter stumbled forward and tried to regain his balance as he looked up at Tony, brown eyes brimming with tears, silently pleading for him to make everything better.

“You’re alright,” Tony insisted, praying to a God he wasn’t sure was there that everything was going to be okay. It had to be. He couldn’t lose Peter. Please, not Peter. The kid wasn’t even sixteen.

“I don’t know - I don’t know what’s happening,” Peter gasped, eyes screaming in fear and pain as he glanced down at his right hand that was already crumbling into dust before he tripped over his feet and fell forward into Tony’s arms, clutching the man tighter than he ever had before. “I don’t know - save me, save me!”

Tony almost fell backwards when the kid’s full weight slammed into him, but even as Peter begged for his life he was unable to say a word, his voice trapped at the back of his throat. Instead, he held Peter close to his body, wrapping his arms around him in an attempt to ground them both. He didn’t know what to do, God, why didn’t he know what to do?

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, sir, please, please! I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go!”

Tony could feel Peter’s tears seeping through his clothes, the kid’s body getting lighter and lighter by the second. He knew what was happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn’t even respond to Peter’s cries, only holding him tighter and managing to cradle the kid’s head in his hand as they tumbled to the ground.

He didn’t dare to look back, but Tony knew that Peter’s legs were gone.

Instead he stared at his kid’s face, watching tears trickle down his cheeks and praying to God that it was all some nightmare, that Thanos had never gotten all the Infinity Stones, that he’d wake up with Pepper sleeping peacefully beside him, and that Peter would be alive and well at his apartment in Queens.

As if he could ever be that lucky.

Peter’s cheeks were streaked with dust, whether from the planet or his own body Tony didn’t know and he didn’t want to know. Their gazes met, and Peter’s lips parted slightly, as if he was struggling to get words out.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony wanted to scream and shout that no, he didn’t need to be sorry because he didn’t do anything wrong, but there was a lump in his throat preventing his voice from escaping. All he could do was stare in horror as Peter crumbled to ash in his arms, a dark gray that starkly contrasted against the orange sky and red dirt of Titan.

Tony closed his eyes, unable to watch as the kid - his kid - disappeared into the wind. He clutched his left wrist as he so often did when he was unable to do anything else, a single tear escaping his eye and falling down his cheek.

It was his fault.

He was the reason Peter was dead.

“Why, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s eyes flew open to see Peter standing but a few feet in front of him, a confused frown painted on his lips.

“Why didn’t you save me? Why did I have to die?”

Tony shook his head, scrambling to his feet. “Kid, no -”

“You could have saved me, Mr. Stark. Why didn’t you save me?”

Tony stumbled backwards, still shaking his head. “Pete, I…”

Peter’s eyes welled with tears. “I thought you cared about me, Mr. Stark! Am I just a tool for you? Do you only pretend to like me because I’m Spider-Man? Because I’m some kind of asset to you?”

“No, no,” Tony repeated. “Peter, why are you -”

“I’m dead, Mr. Stark.” Peter slowly shook his head. “And it’s your fault.”

xXxXxXx

Tony’s body jerked awake, and he immediately sat bolt upright in bed, body drenched in cold sweat. His short, sharp breaths echoed in the small room, and for a moment he had no idea where he was.

“We’re in Wakanda, Tony.” Pepper’s soothing voice interrupted his hyperventilation and his shoulders relaxed as she placed her hands on them. “You’re not on Titan anymore. You and the others are working on a theory to reverse Thanos’s snap, remember? You can and will bring Peter back.”

At the mention of Peter’s name, all the details of the nightmare came flooding back to him, just as they had every night since he’d returned to Earth. Nausea overwhelmed him, and Tony nearly fell out of bed before running into the connecting bathroom, collapsing to his knees and leaning over the toilet as he dry heaved.

It was the same. Every time.

He gagged, his body shuddering from the force, but nothing came up.

“It’s because you aren’t eating, Tony.” Pepper knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to, but tomorrow you really need to try to eat and drink something besides coffee, okay?”

Tony shook his head, still leaning over the toilet. “Can’t,” he managed to choke out. “My fault. Peter’s dead. My fault.” He heaved again, his breaths uneven and scratchy. “He can’t - he can’t eat. Or drink. My fault, Pepper.” He tightened his grip on the edge of the toilet bowl as another wave of nausea wracked his body, this time stomach acid coming up and burning his throat as he heaved.

“Tony, it’s not your fault,” Pepper said. She told him that every night, always on the bathroom floor as he tried to battle his guilt while his body took the toll. “And inside, you know that. Wherever Peter is, he knows it, too. You’re going to bring him back, Tony. You will. I know you will.”

Shudders finally stopped jerking through his body, and Tony felt the nausea subside, only to be replaced by the ever-worsening chill in his bones. Pepper didn’t remove her hand from his back, even as he moved away from the toilet. “What if…” He could barely stomach the thought, and he wondered if he’d abandoned the toilet too soon. “What if we can’t?”

Pepper didn’t answer. She never answered that question, not after having acknowledged it after his first nightmare, which had then resulted in him nearly having an aneurysm.

Tony ran his hands through his hair, barely noticing the tears starting to fall down his cheeks. “I killed him, Pepper. I couldn’t save him. He was just a kid!” His voice broke on the final word, and it was only then he allowed the tears to truly flow.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Pepper said, pulling him into a tight embrace. “You can’t keep blaming yourself, Tony.” She gently pushed the hair plastered to his forehead from sweat out of his face before pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re doing everything you can to get him back. If you keep beating yourself up over it, you’re only going to hinder your progress. Okay?”

Tony didn’t respond. She was right, just as she always was, but he didn’t have the energy to answer. Instead, he buried his face in her shoulder, allowing himself to fade away into his fiancée’s words of comfort.

He knew he’d have the same dream again tomorrow.

xXxXxXx

“James Rhodes is requesting you allow him access to the lab, sir,” FRIDAY said from the glasses that had been cast to his left on the table. “If I may, I would recommend that you -”

“I don’t care, FRI,” Tony muttered, tossing a screw behind him. “No one’s getting in here. Not now.”

“Sir, I must remind you that you are currently using the Wakandan lab, therefore in truth you do not have the authority to prevent others from entering.”

“Which I’m not doing,” Tony argued. “Wakandans can come and go as they please - all I did was change a few codes in the system’s interface to keep anyone non-Wakandan with the exception of myself out. If T’Challa were here, I’m sure he’d be grateful that I’m limiting the access of foreigners to the lab.”

“While your statement may hold some truth, sir, I doubt he’d appreciate you locking yourself in here as a way to shut everyone else out,” FRIDAY countered.

“T’Challa barely knew me,” Tony scoffed. “He wouldn’t give a damn about whether I’m alone or not. Now leave me alone, FRI. I’m working.”

“Working or tinkering, sir?”

Tony’s grip tightened on the upgraded webshooters he’d started developing ever since he’d returned to Earth from Titan. Working on them as a gift for Peter if - no, when - he brought him and the others back was one of the few things keeping him grounded.

“Sir?”

Unable to stop himself, Tony grabbed his sunglasses from the table, snapping them in half without a second thought. In a matter of seconds, however, the nanobots he’d built them out of reconnected together.

“I must admit you hurt my feelings with that, sir.”

“Let me be, FRIDAY,” Tony grumbled, tossing the glasses back down. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Understood. Allowing James Rhodes access into the lab.”

Tony bit back a scream of frustration. Sometimes his AI had too much intelligence and not enough artificial. “FRIDAY, as soon as everything gets sorted out, I’m replacing you with someone that will actually listen to me.”

“If you say so, sir,” was all FRIDAY had to say in response.

“Hey.”

Tony sighed and turned around, not even flinching as Rhodey winced and took in his appearance. He knew he looked like shit. After all, that was what happened when a person didn’t eat or sleep. Not to mention it was often made worse when said person also had a tendency to drown themselves in work to forget the world around them. “Hey yourself.”

“You look awful, you know.”

Tony shrugged. “That’s your opinion. I’ve been voted sexiest man alive a grand total of twelve times, you know.”

“Not if they could see you now.” Rhodey sighed. “Tony, Pepper says you’re practically living in here. You can’t do that, man. We need you helping us. We’ll only be able to fix everything if we all work together.”

“Yeah, right,” Tony scoffed. “Working as a team never got us anywhere, and that’s assuming we were ever actually able to work together at all. I assume you haven’t forgotten the Accords fiasco?” He glared at his friend. “Oh wait, I forgot you’re all buddy-buddy with the Capsicle again. Even after I told you everything about Siberia.” His heart was racing, and he was undoubtedly breathing faster than he should have been. “After everything I admitted to you, after everything -” He cut himself off, inhaling in sharp gasps.

Rhodey was immediately at his side, pulling out a stool from under one of the tables and helping him sit down. “Calm down, Tones. Breathe with me.” He took deep, slow breaths, encouraging Tony to do the same. “You’re in Wakanda. You’re alive. The arc reactor is in one piece. Breathe.”

It took him several minutes, but with Rhodey’s help he was able to relax. At least physically. “Sorry,” Tony muttered. “Shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m just…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. “You haven’t told anyone about what happened on Titan, right?”

Rhodey shook his head. “No. And I promise I won’t say anything.”

Tony nodded, relief flooding through his body. Only Pepper and Rhodey knew about Titan. What had happened to Peter. And as far as he was concerned, no one else needed to know.

“Listen,” Rhodey continued, returning to the previous topic. “Any other situation, Tony, I would not have hesitated to punch Steve right in the jaw. I’ll even admit that although half the universe was at stake, I was still tempted to do it.”

Tony managed a chuckle at that. “Thanks. Appreciated.”

“But I couldn’t,” Rhodey continued. “I had no choice but to work with him and the others. Just like you have to do that now. You can’t figure it out alone, Tony.”

“You don’t know that,” Tony mumbled, but in fact he did know in his gut that Rhodey had a point. Everyone seemed to understand things except for him these days.

“You’re the smartest person I know, Tones. But you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Weight of the world?” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I don’t give a shit about the world, much less the rest of the universe.” Tony glanced down at the webshooters he still held in his left hand. “There’s only one reason I need to reverse the snap, Rhodes.” His grip tightened on them. “One. Reason.”

Rhodey’s eyes softened, and he placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder before give it a gentle squeeze. “I know. And you will.” He removed his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “But the only way to do that is if we work together. Understand?”

Tony sighed. Rhodey was right - of course he was right - but it didn’t mean he wanted to admit it. “Yeah. I know.” He jumped off the stool, trying to act more energized than he felt. “Let’s get started, then. If you’re making me work with everyone else, then we don’t have any time to waste. The sooner we’ve succeeded, the better.”

Rhodey laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “There’s the Tony we all know and love.”

No, he wanted to say. That Tony had died on Titan, when his kid had crumbled to ash in his arms.

xXxXxXx

“Goddamnit,” Tony cursed, staring up at the shelf several feet above him. While he knew he was by no means short, he was also well aware that he wasn’t exactly the tallest guy around. And unfortunately, in Wakanda where everyone seemed to be taller than average, that meant he couldn’t reach a solid 87% of their shelves.

“Should I request someone to come and provide you with assistance, sir?” FRIDAY asked from his sunglasses.

“God, no,” Tony replied, mortified at the mere suggestion of having to ask someone to help him because of the reason that he was too short to reach the shelf. “You’re going to make me have a heart attack, FRIDAY.”

“That is a lie, sir.”

“Yeah, not for long,” he muttered, ignoring his AI as he tried to figure out what to do. If he jumped, there was the possibility he could reach it, but he didn’t want to rip through the stitches currently holding his side together, which was yet to finish healing from the stab wound Thanos had so kindly given him.

“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what is in the box you are trying to acquire?”

Tony sighed. “A few spare parts. Or so I was told.” He paused before adding. “You know, I don’t recall making you so nosy, FRI.”

“Perhaps,” FRIDAY hummed. “But you did create me to evolve based on circumstances and surroundings. I have learned a great deal from you and Ms. Potts, although my ‘nosiness’ may best be attributed to Mr. Parker.”

Tony’s entire body stiffened at her words. She was right. Peter always asked questions. Didn’t know when to stop. He’d be embarrassed afterwards, and then would proceed to not stop apologizing for asking so many questions.

“Did you really use nanobots, Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, Pete, as I’ve said a hundred times by now.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Yes, which you’ve said a hundred times by now.”

Peter flushed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m probably getting pretty annoying, huh?”

Tony chuckled, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Nah. It’s nice to have someone geek out over my brilliance every once in a while, instead of calling me an arrogant bastard or trying to steal my tech and use it for world domination.”

Peter snickered. “Well, to be fair, I’ve never said I wasn’t going to take over the world.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony shook his head, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto his lips. “You’d probably succeed, too. The first person to successfully take over the world and it’d be a twelve-year-old genius.”

“I’m fifteen, Mr. Stark.”

“Sure you are, Spider-Baby.” Tony flicked the kid’s nose. “If you were fifteen, you wouldn’t be able to use those puppy dog eyes on everyone like you do. But you can, therefore you can’t be older than twelve.”

Peter pouted. “That’s not fair, Mr. Stark!”

Tony laughed. “Life’s not fair, kid.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m tired of working. You technically don’t have to be home for another two hours. Want to watch a movie?”

“Star Wars?”

“Absolutely not. We watched that last time.”

Peter groaned. “Ugh. Fine.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Ooh, I know what we should watch!” He beamed at Tony. “You have to guess what it is, Mr. Stark. But here’s a hint: it’s the best superhero movie of all time.”

“What, is it that biopic about me?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “There’s a movie about you?!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course there is. I’m the legendary Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” He paused as a thought came to mind. “You know, I think they’re working on a second one now. Maybe it’s a third.”

“We have to watch it!” Peter grinned at him. “I want to know all of your life’s secrets, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course you do.” Tony shook his head, but a small smile was dancing on his lips. “You’re too nosy for your own good, kid.”

“Tony?”

Tony blinked, reality crashing back down on him. Wakanda. That’s right. He was in Wakanda. He’d been trying to reach a box. Spare parts. The box of spare parts was on a shelf that was too high for him.

When had he collapsed against the wall?

He slowly straightened himself up, his legs still somewhat unsteady, then turned around to see that Natasha had been standing behind him. He still wasn’t used to her bleached hair.

“FRIDAY contacted me,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “She said you needed help with something. Are you alright?”

“I apologize, sir,” FRIDAY said from his glasses, her voice low enough so only Tony could hear. “Your heart rate was elevating rapidly, and once you started having to support yourself with the wall I contacted help. Neither Ms. Potts nor Mr. Rhodes were available, and Ms. Romanoff was the only one to respond out of the others.”

Tony sighed. His AI had simply followed the orders he’d programmed her with. He couldn’t fault her for that. Instead, he returned his attention to Natasha. “Actually, Agent Romanoff, there is something I could use your assistance with.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing that he’d avoided answering her question but chose not to comment on it. “I never thought this day would come. The legendary Tony Stark admitting that he needs help.”

“Actually, that moment has come and gone already,” he grumbled, recalling his conversation with Rhodey a few days earlier about them all having to work together. “But if you’re going to act like that, I’ll find someone else to assist me.”

Natasha frowned. “I was joking, Tones. Lighten up a little. We can’t afford to wallow in anger if we’re planning on getting anything done.”

It was easy for her to say that. She hadn’t lost anyone. Not like he had.

Of course, she didn’t know he’d lost someone. Neither her nor Steve nor Bruce had any idea. And he planned to keep it that way. They didn’t need to know. They’d probably blame him if they found out he’d allowed a child to die. ‘Why didn’t you take better care of him’ and ‘why did you bring him with you’ and God, Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to take it. He was already asking himself those same questions every day.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just tired.”

Natasha nodded in sympathy. “I understand. We all are. And you’ve been working harder than any of us.”

Tony heard her unspoken question: Why? Even he had to admit that to anyone who didn’t know about Titan, it was strange that he, the conceited Tony Stark, was working so desperately to bring back half of the universe. The fact that most had him labelled as a man who did nothing unless it involved personal gain didn’t help, either. “I need you to get that box down for me,” he continued, trying to steer the subject back to its original purpose.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Really? You do realize you can jump and reach it, right?”

Tony sighed, rolling his eyes before he lifted up his shirt to show her the bandages wrapped around the lower half of his torso. “In case you’ve forgotten, Romanoff, I was stabbed not that long ago. If you really want me to ‘jump and reach it,’ as you said, I’ll gladly do so, but then you will have to deal with the fact that blood will be oozing out of my side and all over the floor.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were quirked upward. “I suppose I can count that as a valid excuse.” She walked over to the closet, eyeing the shelf a few feet above her head. A moment later, she jumped into the air - higher than what was possible for an average human, Tony was certain - and held onto the top of the door frame for a split second as she seized the chance to grab the box he needed.

She landed on the ground with her knees bent to absorb the shock of the landing, easily returning to her full height as she glanced down into the box. She frowned. “Was there supposed to be something in here?”

Tony groaned. “Yes, but I take it there’s not?”

Natasha tilted the box, showing him the empty inside. “Nothing except dust and spiderwebs.”

Tony could have sworn his heart skipped at least five beats before hyperventilation began.

He was back on Titan, holding Peter tightly in his arms until there was nothing left for him to hold on to, falling to his knees on the hard, red-brown soil.

Peter was dead. Because of him.

“Tony?”

Natasha’s concerned voice filtered into his mind, and the world of Titan slowly returned to the walls of the Wakandan palace around him.

“Tony, what’s going on?”

He hadn’t even realized he’d started gripping his left wrist, shudders wracking his body ever so often as he breathed in harsh gasps. “I’m fine,” he choked out, turning away from her and stumbling before making his way down the hall and back to his room.

“You’re clearly not,” Natasha argued, following him. “What happened out there, Tony? In space?”

God, Tony hated how intuitive the Russian woman was. “Nothing.” His fingernails clawed into his skin before he had to release his wrist to open the door. “Leave.” He didn’t bother to look back as he entered the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Tony buried his head in his hands, leaning against the wall as his knees buckled beneath him.

“Tony…”

He recognized Pepper’s voice immediately, relaxing slightly as she moved next to him. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Pepper sighed. “Tony, you can’t go on like this. You have to tell them about what happened.”

Tony lowered his hands from his face, staring at his fiancée with empty eyes. “The only thing I have to do, Pep, is bring Peter back.” He clenched his fists. “That’s the only thing.”

xXxXxXx

“Shit!” Tony hissed through his teeth as coffee splashed out of the pot and scalded the top of his hand. “Damn it!” He quickly turned the sink on, running cool water over his skin to ease the stinging.

“Maybe that’s a sign,” Steve suggested, leaning against the counter a few feet away from him. “You’ve had at least seven cups today alone, Tony.”

“What’s it to you?” Tony muttered, drying his hand before sipping some of his coffee, ignoring how it burned his tongue. “You need me awake.”

“You may be awake but you’re barely conscious,” was Steve’s dry response. “You’re no good to us if you can barely function.”

“Exactly,” Tony said. “That means I’m no good to you when I’m sleeping, either.”

“Actually, Steve has a point,” Natasha said as she joined the two in the kitchen, Pepper a few steps behind her. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ve been getting plenty of sleep,” Tony scoffed. “Right, Pepper?”

His fiancée rolled her eyes. “Tony, I’m not going to defend you on this one.”

“Boss has been getting a maximum number of three hours of sleep every night,” FRIDAY reported from his glasses. “A minimum of none, and an average of two.”

“Goddamn, FRIDAY,” Tony muttered, downing the rest of his coffee. “You didn’t need to tell them all that.”

Natasha frowned at the AI’s comments. “Why haven’t you been sleeping, Tony?”

“Nightmares,” FRIDAY responded. “About what occurred on Titan, when he went to space.”

Tony stiffened, his grip tightening on the handle of his mug. “Someone wants their software shut down, don’t they?”

“It is for your own good, sir.”

“Nightmares?” Steve repeated. “What happened on Titan that would cause nightmares, Tony? You told us that you were alone with Thanos up there.”

“Except for the girl,” Bruce said. “The blue girl. The one who was mostly machine. Nebula, or something?”

“Oh, now everyone’s in here,” Tony grumbled. He hadn’t even noticed that the scientist had showed up. “Guess it’s a party.”

“Well, not everyone,” Bruce replied. “Rhodey’s doing physical therapy, I think.”

“Is there something you’d like to tell us, Tony?” Steve demanded.

Tony didn’t appreciate the man’s tone of accusation. “Not really, if I’m honest. I’m quite content with keeping it all to myself.”

Pepper sighed, crossing through the kitchen and stopping at his side. “Tony, maybe it’s time.”

“You have been acting strange lately,” Natasha said, the corners of her lips dipping down. “Yesterday, you virtually had a panic attack when I showed you an empty box. I know you’ve been through a lot, Tony, but that seemed to be a stretch even for you.”

Pepper laced her fingers through Tony’s, gently rubbing her thumb in circles on the top of his hand as a means of comfort.

It helped. His fiancée truly was a gift.

“That box wasn’t empty,” he muttered, staring down at the inside of his coffee cup like it was going to somehow refill itself.

“Apologies,” Natasha said, her voice oozing with false sincerity. “It had dust and spiderwebs in it. My mistake.”

Tony’s grip tightened on Pepper’s hand, but he managed to keep a cool exterior. “It doesn’t matter, Agent Romanoff. My business is my business.”

“I think we deserve to know the truth,” Steve countered, crossing his arms over his chest and that look of suspicion Tony hated so much dancing in his narrowed eyes. “We can’t keep secrets from each other.”

Tony laughed, though there was no humor behind it. “Not keeping secrets?” He glared at the super soldier. “You’re one to talk, Captain.”

The two stared each other down, but in the end Steve cracked first.

“You’re right,” he muttered. “I was wrong then.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair. “So don’t make my mistake, Tony.”

“What mistake?” Bruce said, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What happened while I was gone?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony replied darkly. He glanced at Pepper, silently asking for her approval. She nodded, and he sighed. “I wasn’t alone on Titan. There were five others with me, excluding Thanos and the girl.”

“Did they…” Bruce gestured vaguely with his hand. “You know.”

Tony laughed bitterly. “Did they disappear? Yeah. They did.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t understand. Did you know them personally?”

Tony shrugged. “Not exactly. But near death situations can get you pretty close to someone.” He placed his cup on the counter, sighing. “Peter Quill. Originally from Earth but somehow ended up in space for a majority of his life. Asshole, but not as stupid as he looks. Drax the Destroyer. Associate of Quill. Thanos ordered the mass murder of half of his planet, which included his wife and daughter. Does not understand metaphors whatsoever. Mantis. Another associate of Quill.” His nose wrinkled as he tried to come up with an adequate description of the girl. “Weird bug lady. Some kind of empathic powers. They said they knew Thor.”

“Like that racoon,” Bruce added. “The talking one. And the talking tree.”

“Well, that’s three people,” Natasha said, ignoring the scientist and crossing her arms over her chest. “But I highly doubt their disappearances would impact you enough to have nightmares.”

“What, you don’t think I’m sensitive?” God, Tony would have killed for a glass of brandy right then. But he couldn’t allow himself to fall back into that cycle.

“Who were the other two?” Steve asked.

“Well, Stephen Strange was one. Complete douchebag.” Tony gestured towards Bruce. “You remember him, right? Wizard guy. Sentient cloak, funky necklace, magic powers.”

Bruce gaped. “He was with you?!”

Tony shrugged. “Hell, he was the reason we went to space. He had an Infinity Stone on him, and we had to rescue him so Thanos wouldn’t be able to get to it.” He sighed. “Not that we succeeded.”

Steve frowned. “Who’s ‘we,’ Tony?”

“Who was the fifth person you were with?” Natasha asked, eyebrow raised.

Tony stared at the ground, squeezing Pepper’s hand so tightly it had to hurt and yet she still didn’t let go. “Do you remember Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man?” Steve repeated. “The one you brought to Germany?”

Tony nodded. “The one and the same.”

“Why was he with you?” Natasha demanded. “I thought you recruited him for Germany and Germany only, Tony.”

“Yeah, well…” Tony shrugged. “Plans change.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing in a few commands before a hologram was projected from it. Something akin to a slideshow started to play, full of pictures of him and Peter, as well as a few shots of the kid as Spider-Man. “I liked the kid. He became my personal intern at Stark Industries. We worked on the suits, mostly. He was in the area the day of the attack, and followed me and the wizard into space.”

“Tony.” Steve’s voice was ice cold. “You recruited a child.” He shook his head in disbelief. “A child that could have been killed. In Germany, as Spider-Man, and in space. For nothing but your own personal gain.” He glared at him. “Do you realize that?”

Tony stiffened. Of course he knew that. “Germany was not my proudest moment, Captain. I’ll be the first to admit it. But the kid -”

“What did you even do to him?” Steve interrupted, blue eyes blazing with anger. “Did you switch from testing on robots to testing on humans, Tony? Is he a failed science experiment? A pet you keep around for your amusement?”

Tony couldn’t make eye contact with the man. His chest was tight, and it was as if his voice was trapped inside him.

“Steve, that’s enough,” Natasha said, her tone laced with venom. “I admit, I didn’t know Spider-Man was a kid when he was recruited, but Tony did not experiment on him. I can’t believe you’d even suggest that.”

“Good,” Steve snapped, glaring at Tony. “If you had, I would kill you right here, right now.”

Tony could sense anger boiling in Pepper as her hand not holding his clenched into a fist, but he shook his head, casting her a look that read ‘back down.’ He deserved this. He’d let the kid die.

“I cannot believe you,” Steve muttered, running a hand through his hair. “A child. What, did you keep him around because he was Spider-Man? His freaky powers were of some sort of interest to you?”

“Steve, you know you don’t mean that,” Bruce tried to say, but he was ignored.

“And then you brought him to space,” Steve continued. “From the looks of it, he didn’t come home with you, did he, Tony? How does that feel? To be responsible for the death of a child?”

“That’s it,” Pepper muttered, her blue eyes steely as she walked up to the blonde. She was already a tall woman, and her heels put her almost at Steve’s height. She stared him down, and for a moment, Captain America faltered.

The room was dead silent. Until she slapped him right across the face.

“Bullshit,” she snarled, glaring at Steve with more anger than Tony had ever seen her possess. “You don’t have a single clue about anything that has gone on with us over this past year, so get off your high horse and stop acting like you do.”

Steve gaped. Apparently it was also the first time he’d ever seen Tony’s fiancée so enraged.

“If you were actually trying to be logical here, you acknowledge your errors in dealing with the Accords,” she continued. “Yes, everyone made poor decisions, but you, Steve Rogers, didn’t even have the decency to admit yours. Instead, you ran away, leaving Tony to clean up the mess behind you, just like he does every. Single. Time.” Pepper paused, clearly attempting to calm herself down. “Anyways, about Peter. Or Spider-Man, if you prefer. For one, he was out fighting crime long before Tony ever met him, and continued to do so after Germany. Would you like to know what that child was wearing before Tony gave him an upgraded suit with hundreds of built-in safety features, plus a tracker that allowed Tony to keep an eye on him?”

Pepper’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Steve hesitated before offering her a brief nod.

“A sweatshirt. I believe it’s safe to conclude that Tony stepping in and giving him a new suit was a good thing.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, what was it you said? ‘A pet you keep around for your amusement?’” She gestured to Tony’s phone, which was still going through the hundreds of photos of Peter. “Right. ‘Amusement.’ Because apparently you believe Tony Stark is incapable of feeling love.”

As Steve turned to look at the hologram, the photo changed to the one Tony had set as his background - him and Peter just after they’d dyed their hair together. Seeing it made Tony’s body stiffen up again as the memories swirled around him. Fortunately, he was torn out of them by Pepper’s voice before he could be overwhelmed.

“Tony has spent so much time with Peter that he’s listed as an emergency contact at the kid’s school,” Pepper snapped. “He helps him with his homework, and I swear that they’re always off tinkering in the lab together. How dare you call Peter a ‘source of amusement!’” His fiancée was seething, and Tony knew she wasn’t done yet. “Now, I cannot be the one to tell you exactly what happened on Titan. But I do know that Tony did not bring Peter into space with him. Peter followed him because he cares about Tony.” She glared at Steve. “Unlike some people I could mention, who prefer to leave their friends for dead.”

Tony’s breath hitched at the mention of Siberia, and he didn’t miss the color draining from Steve’s face. “Thanks, Pepper,” he said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his fiancée’s shoulders after turning off his phone, the image of him and Peter vanishing. “I think he gets it now.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out.

“What he’s trying to say is that he was wrong,” Natasha said. “He misjudged you. So did I.”

Tony shrugged, trying to pretend it meant nothing to him. Part of him genuinely didn’t mind - he was used to hateful accusations from the press every other day. “I can understand why.”

Steve sighed. “Maybe looking after Spider-Man was a good thing for you to do. But I still don’t think you should have brought him into anything in the first place.”

Tony stared at the ground. “Yeah. I agree with you there.”

Silence fell over the room, and Bruce was the one to break it, awkwardly wringing his hands as he did so. “Tony… What happened on Titan?”

Tony took in a shaky breath. He couldn’t just walk out of this one. “We fought Thanos. We were so close to getting the gauntlet off of him, but something snapped in Quill. I think Thanos killed his girlfriend or something. In the end, Thanos overpowered us.” He shook his head, laughing bitterly. “I faced off with him for about five minutes on my own. No backup. I fought with everything I had… And all I was able to do was put a scratch on his face.” His hand immediately drifted to his side, rubbing the spot where his wound was yet to heal. “He decided to return the favor by stabbing me. He was going to kill me, but…”

He trailed off, guilt rising in his chest. Pepper stepped closer to him, her presence more comforting to him than anything else at that moment.

“Strange gave up the Time Stone. In exchange for my life.” Tony clenched his fist. “I don’t know why. My life isn’t worth half of the universe. But he did.” He shrugged helplessly. “Thanos disappeared after that. And only a few minutes later everyone started crumbling. Strange said something about it ‘being the only way.’” He exhaled a shuddering breath. “He turned to dust. All of them did. It was fast. Maybe three seconds. But…”

“Oh my God,” Natasha murmured. “Don’t tell me…”

Tony sighed as an excuse not to speak, knowing his voice would crack if he tried to do so right away. “Peter… Withstood it, somehow. Maybe thirty seconds. He was fighting it, and…” He cursed as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “He was begging me to save him. And I couldn’t do anything except hold him and watch as he crumbled away in my arms.” He stared down at his hands, able to visualize Peter fading away into nothingness all too well. “You’re right, Steve. I’m responsible for his death. Which is why I am going to do everything in my power to bring him back. No matter what it takes.”

Steve hesitated. “I see.”

Tony moved away from the group, refilling his cup of coffee before making his way to the exit, pausing in the threshold of the doorway. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

And then he was gone.

xXxXxXx

“Are you certain the stone was glowing, Tony?” Bruce said, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he examined a paper covered in complex formulas. “Because if you’re right…”

Tony frowned and quickly changed a number on the paper of his own that was similarly covered with assorted mathematical equations. “I remember everything that happened on Titan, Bruce. I’ll never be able to forget.” He knew Titan was still a difficult thing to discuss - for himself because of the experience, and for everyone else because it had only been cleared up a few days ago - but Bruce had quickly fallen into the category Tony was willing to talk to. Along with Pepper and Rhodey, of course.

“Then that means the stone was activated, somehow,” Bruce replied. “Based on everything you’ve said and everything I know about the Infinity Stones from working on and with Vision, I doubt it was because of Strange summoning it - there had to be another factor.”

“And once we know that factor, we may find a loophole in Thanos’s plan,” Tony continued. “Or, if my hypothesis is correct, we may even find a loophole in time.”

He and Bruce had been researching extensively anything they could find about the Infinity Stones - the Time Stone in particular - ever since Tony had offhandedly mentioned that the stone had been glowing as Strange handed it over to Thanos. Of course, it was more him and Bruce calculating while Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, and Natasha did a majority of the research for them. Even Thor, Rocket, and the Nebula girl helped out where they could.

No one was complaining, however. There was no time to complain when there was even a sliver of a chance that they would be able to bring half of the universe back to life.

“Wait a minute…” Tony murmured, his pencil pausing over his paper. “Holy shit. Bruce, I think I’ve figured it out.”

The scientist immediately dropped what he was working on, moving next to Tony’s side in a flash.

“If all the information we’ve gathered is correct,” Tony said slowly, gesturing the seemingly endless amount of bulleted lists he had next to him, “and if the formula I’ve worked out is as accurate as I can get considering that it’s regarding a magical object…” He shook his head in disbelief. “We might have a lead on our hands.”

“It looks accurate to me,” Bruce said after he carefully examined the equation. Fresh eyes were the best way to spot errors. “What else have you got?”

“Well, we know the stones only glow when they’re being used,” Tony began. “Or at least have been used recently, anyways. Based on the capabilities we know the Time Stone has compared to the skills of the other Infinity Stones, I think it’s possible that the Time Stone can travel through time.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. “And based on your formula, you think Strange sent it into the future?”

Tony smirked, feeling more energized than he had in weeks. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner.” Then he sighed. “Unfortunately, even if my theory is correct, I believe Strange was only able to send it into the future for a month.”

Bruce winced. “And it’s almost been a month, hasn’t it?”

“Exactly. And we have no way of accessing the Time Stone, because Strange a) had no way of knowing that we’d be in Wakanda and b) may not have even thought to send it to a dimension where we could access it. And even beyond that, we have no means of manipulating the stone, because last I checked, we were not wizards.”

Bruce frowned, biting his lip. “You know, Tony, I think I might know a guy who’ll be able to help us. Assuming he’s still around after the snap.”

Tony’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

Bruce sighed, frustration painting his features. “I can’t remember his name. He was the other wizard in New York, remember? He saved my life.” He paused before adding, “I think you invited him to your and Pepper’s wedding, actually.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Right! I know who you’re talking about.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it, what was his name?”

“I have run a facial recognition scan on the footage from the time before you journeyed to space, sir,” FRIDAY said from his glasses, which were lying on the table beside his paperwork. “The man who assisted you in your fight against the Black Order is named Wong. According to the intel I’ve managed to collect, he is still alive and continues to guard the New York Sanctum at 177A Bleecker Street.”

Tony clapped his hands together. “FRIDAY, you are utter perfection.”

“Does this make up for my forcing you to reveal to the others what happened on Titan?”

“If Wong is able to help us, FRI, then we’re more than even.” He stood from his chair, putting the glasses on before heading towards the exit of the lab, gesturing for Bruce to follow him. “Let’s go. We’ve got a trip to New York to make.”

xXxXxXx

“Manipulating the Time Stone is risky,” Wong said, glancing at the green Infinity Stone hovering in front of him. It had taken much convincing from Tony and the others, but he’d managed to pull it out from wherever Strange had sent it to - the Mirror Dimension, or something like that. “A sorcerer’s job is to defend the natural law, not alter it.”

“If memory serves, your job is also to protect our reality,” Tony pointed out, eyebrow raised. “I think returning the universe to its natural state falls within that category.”

“This is the only chance we may have to fix everything,” Steve added. “Please. Allow us to do so.”

Wong sighed. “Fine. I do not believe I have a choice in the matter, anyways.” He made a strange symbol with his hands, and soon his arms were glowing green in ancient runes. He met each of their gazes, one by one. “Do not fail, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

Then everything went black.

xXxXxXx

Tony was back on Titan. Just as before, the planet was covered in rocky soil and the skies were tinted with a brilliant shade of orange. However, this time, he was alone.

“I suppose now we must wait.”

Not entirely alone, apparently. He turned around to see Nebula, who was staring at the ruins of the spaceship he and Peter had crashed when they’d first landed. “Why? Is there really no way for us to impact anything?”

“I did not say that,” Nebula replied simply. “But I suspect that because Earth was where Thanos successfully gained the last Infinity Stone he needed, that is where he must die.”

“Then why isn’t everyone currently here?” Tony demanded. “We’ve gone back in time. They haven’t disappeared yet.”

Nebula shrugged. “I am no wizard, Stark. I do not understand the ways of time travel.” She glanced down at him. “While we wait, I suggest you seal your wound.”

Tony looked at his side, and sure enough, the stab wound Thanos had been kind enough to give to him had reopened. “Huh,” he muttered, wincing in pain as he sealed it with his suit. “I didn’t even notice.”

“You may not have until someone pointed it out,” Nebula suggested. “However, I am not keen on the idea of you bleeding to death.” She stared at him, and her piercing gaze admittedly made Tony feel somewhat uneasy. “You play an important role, Stark. Here, on Earth, everywhere. Your decisions are life-altering.”

“Well, that’s not a lot of pressure,” he grumbled, although he was confused as to what she was referring to. “What are you talking about, again?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I should not have said anything in the first place.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but didn’t comment. Silence fell over them, and he found his thoughts drifting back to Peter. He had never been one to pray, but he sure as hell - heaven? - was praying then that the others would succeed on Earth so Peter could return.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, not caring that it was coated in dried blood and dust from the planet. If they failed today… God, he didn’t know what he’d do. Living in a pit of depression for the rest of his life seemed likely.

And if they did succeed… Tony didn’t know what he’d do then, either. Never let Peter out of his sight? Push the kid away so nothing like this would ever happen to him again? Hold him even closer than before so he could protect him from anything that could possibly harm him?

None of them seemed right.

Tony was distracted from his thoughts by a cloud of dust swirling next to Nebula - dust that formed into the petite body of a girl he recognized as Mantis. Her eyes were wide as she observed the world around her.

Finally, she breathed a deep sigh of relief. “You did it.”

Nebula raised a brow at her comment. “You remember what happened?”

Tony bit back a sharp breath. He didn’t want Peter to remember. It wasn’t fair for the kid to have his own death as a memory.

Mantis frowned. “Not exactly. Much of it is… Unclear.” Her antennae glowed on her head. “But I am an empath. I felt pain in… Wherever we had been taken to.” She shuddered. “So much pain. From so many people.” She offered them a tiny smile. “But I can sense your relief now. You have succeeded. I do not know how you did it, but I am grateful that you did.”

“Did it hurt?” Tony asked after a pause. “When you disappeared? Did you feel it?”

Mantis slowly shook her head. “No… I did not.” She stared at him sadly. “I know why you ask. The boy. You are concerned he felt it.”

Tony blinked, shocked but not surprised that she’d managed to read him so easily. “Yes.”

“I do not know whether he felt it or not,” Mantis replied. “That is something you will have to ask him for yourself.” She tilted her head to the side. “But perhaps you already know… Right?”

Tony didn’t want to think about how Peter must have felt, every atom in his body tearing itself apart and crumbling to ashes. “No,” he said tightly. “I don’t know. But thank you for trying to help.”

Mantis looked as if she wanted to say more, but another cloud of dust started collecting, larger than hers had been, and materialized into Drax.

He blinked in surprise, staring down at his body, as if he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Then he burst out into booming laughter. “I have returned from the dead!”

Mantis giggled at his behavior, but neither Tony nor Nebula was sure of how to react. They were saved from doing so, however, as another cloud of dust swirled around before turning into the body of Peter Quill.

“Gamora,” he gasped, spinning on his heel and searching desperately for something - or someone - around him. “Where the hell is Gamora?!”

Nebula stiffened at his words. “You saw my sister, Quill?”

He ran a hand through his hair, nodding. “Yes. She was there! In wherever we were.” He bit back what Tony suspected would have been a scream of frustration. “Damn it!”

“She will return.”

Tony turned around to see the one and only Stephen Strange standing behind him.

“We were in the Soul Stone,” Stephen said, crossing his arms over his chest, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over the weird necklace he wore that Tony had a feeling once again contained the Time Stone within it. “At least, that is where I believe we were.” He gestured to the ground beneath him. “Since we have been brought back to Titan, I can only assume the snap has been reversed. If so, Quill, then Gamora should return from the Soul Stone as well.”

Tony noticed that Quill didn’t seemed entirely convinced, but his shoulders did relax. “Fine. I’m trusting you, Dr. Weirdo.”

“It’s Dr. Strange.”

“Same difference.”

Tony lost interest as the two started squabbling, instead looking around him for another cloud of dust to form. But nothing was happening. The air was still, and the earth remained settled.

His chest was tight, and he knew he was going to hyperventilate and possibly have a panic attack if he didn’t regain control of himself soon. He tried to steady his breathing, but the thought of Peter not returning wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Then a hand was placed on his shoulder, and immense calm seemed to wash over him.

“Relax,” Mantis murmured.

Tony did relax. He felt unbelievably serene, although anxiety was still nagging at the back of his mind.

“Don’t remove your hand,” Stephen instructed to Mantis, stepping forward and looking Tony dead in the eyes. “Stark. Your… Ward, or whomever he is, is going to return. But panicking will do you no good. Understand?”

Tony nodded, then frowned. “He’s not my ward.” The ghost of a smile dusted his lips. “He’s my kid.”

“I’m your kid, Mr. Stark?”

Time seemed to slow, and Tony’s eyes widened as he had to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming - or worse, reliving another nightmare. He was awake, which meant… Oh God. He slowly turned around to see Peter Parker staring at him only a few feet away, a goofy smile dancing on his kid’s lips.

There was an awkward pause, as neither of them knew what to do. Peter took a hesitant step forward, and that was all Tony needed before he practically ran over to him and pulled the kid into the tightest hug he’d ever given, not even bothering to hide the tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Peter returned the hug so tightly Tony was slightly concerned his back might snap in half, and briefly debated whether or not to tell the boy to squeeze him a little less, but when he heard the sobs of relief escaping Peter’s lips, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“M-Mr. Stark?” Peter sniffled, his face buried in Tony’s shoulders. “I take it we’re there now?”

A laugh mixed itself in with Tony’s tears as he remembered the awkward ‘not-hug’ the two had shared after returning from Germany, and he wrapped his arms even further around Peter. “Yeah, kid. We’re there now.”

There had been a hundred things Tony had planned to say, apologies, explanations, and more, but in that moment, he didn’t have to. Just having Peter back and in his arms was in enough.

“I missed you, kid.”

Peter pulled back slightly, but didn’t release Tony. He offered the man a small smile, which looked admittedly strange in contrast with his tear-stained cheeks. “I missed you, too, old man.”

Tony mock-frowned at the kid, then laughed to the point more tears started to flow. “Peter Parker, you are so grounded.”

Peter buried his face in Tony’s chest, and Tony could feel the kid’s laughter shaking his body. “Okay, Mr. Stark. As long as you’re grounded with me.”

Tony chuckled, ruffling the kid’s hair, all of the fear and tension finally starting to drain from his body. “Alright. Deal, Spider-Baby.”

“Mr. Stark!”

Even the others on the planet who had simply been observing the reunion from afar laughed at Peter’s indignant squawk.

Sure, he might have been thousands of miles from Earth and surrounded by a group that had to be some of the biggest idiots in the galaxy, but Tony had Peter.

And that was enough.

xXxXxXx

Bonus:

Tony hated sunsets. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but ever since they’d returned from space - Peter hadn’t let go of his arm the entire time during their trip back to Earth, much to his simultaneous relief and amusement -, even simply looking at the orange and pink skies reminded him of Titan. He was either filled with insurmountable rage or overwhelming nausea, depending on what else was going on around him.

He remembered finding out that Peter hated sunsets, too, and he could have sworn his heart had shattered then and there.

After returning from Titan, many people slept for days on end, Peter being one of them. Then again, Peter had also chosen to sleep in an uncomfortable chair leaning up against the wall in the MedBay, because he hadn’t wanted to leave Tony while he was in the hospital.

Tony had tried to explain to the kid that he was mostly being treated for basic stuff - getting fluids in him, re-stitching the wound in his side, etc. - but Peter of course had ignored him and promptly passed out in one of the plastic chairs lining the wall of his hospital room.

The kid had woken up as Tony was being allowed out of the MedBay, which had a been relief to everyone, because the thought of having to wake up a superpowered teenager seemed to be a struggle not worth having.

Peter had proceeded to not leave Tony’s side for the next week, the sole exception being to tackle his Aunt May in a hug, and even then he’d dragged her over to where Tony was sitting.

Aunt May had chewed the both of them out for at least a solid hour before she finally sighed and pulled both of them into a hug, saying that she was just so happy they were alive.

Tony was admittedly surprised to be included in that ‘they.’

Aunt May made him promise to look after Peter while he was healing before she’d left to go back to work. After she’d gone Peter had proudly announced that his aunt was one of the most amazing people he knew, and Tony was inclined to agree.

The two of them had continued to recuperate at Stark Tower for a few days after that. Most of the others were either at the Avengers Compound or in Wakanda, but every now then he and Peter would pass someone in the halls with a bandage or cast wrapped around some part of their body.

Around two weeks after their initial return from Titan, they learned of a party Sam and Clint were planning to have at the Avengers compound. Tony had at first been very miffed that he had not been consulted in the matter, much to Peter’s amusement, but he had relaxed when he learned that Pepper had taken care of it. Despite the sheer number of responsibilities she’d had to take on in such a short period of time, his fiancée still always looked and acted impeccable.

Upon realizing that Peter still made an ‘ew’ sound like a two-year-old whenever he and Pepper kissed, Tony had also taken it upon himself to kiss her every time the kid was around. Pepper was more than happy to comply, and Peter would always groan in response.

The party Sam and Clint were throwing was to celebrate both the return of many from battle and to honor the ‘valiant sacrifices’ of others who had given up their lives during the fight against Thanos. It was an all-day affair, much to Peter’s excitement and to Tony’s chagrin.

Of course, it was impossible for him to say no to the kid, so they decided they were going to attend the party from beginning to end.

Despite Clint’s insistent attempts to separate Tony and Peter while they were there in order to sneak the kid some alcohol, both managed to make it all the way through the day while remaining a hundred percent sober. Tony hadn’t had alcohol in years, and he wasn’t planning to start then solely because of a little party. He was also relieved to note that Peter was entirely disinterested in alcohol, too - he knew there was no way he’d be able to handle a wasted teenager, much less one with superpowers.

The party itself was much less ‘wild’ than Tony feared it would be, likely because people were still recuperating and had likely also lost someone fighting against Thanos. However, it was still good fun for all, as everyone was able to mingle and check up on one another as they wandered throughout the compound.

The party was near its end when Sam and Clint took everyone outside of the compound to a nice patio Tony had added at someone’s - Natasha’s? - insistence. The two were joined by Steve as they tried to propose a toast.

Tony tuned out at that point. He’d heard enough of Cap’s speeches to last him a lifetime. It was always the usual bullshit about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. He’d never understood why - the man had fought in World War II, not the Revolutionary War. But he never questioned it.

Peter, unfortunately, seemed much more enthused about the one and only Captain America proposing a toast. “Mr. Stark! I can’t see all the way back here,” he complained. “Can we get closer? Please?”

Tony groaned in mock-exasperation. “You mean you’re going to make me leave the comfort of air conditioning to go outside just so we can hear an old man preach?”

Peter nodded resolutely, which made him chuckle.

“Alright, fine.” Tony placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and started steering him through the crowd. “You know,” he called to the kid, “if you weren’t so tiny, Spider-Baby, we’d able to see from back there instead of having to go all the way to the front.”

“Says the one who’s only an inch taller than me,” Peter grumbled in return.

They stopped near the front of the crowd, albeit one of the edges of it. However, Steve, Clint, and Sam were more clearly visible now, so Tony felt he’d done a decent job. “Hey, I didn’t say I had to be tall,” he countered. “I just said you did.”

Peter didn’t respond, and Tony figured the kid had gotten caught up in the speech. He didn’t like to admit it, but Steve was pretty good at grabbing the attention of a crowd. Tony was, too, of course - just in a very different way.

He glanced at his watch, seeing that it read 7:46. He looked around him, and noticed the brilliant shades of orange and pink painting the sky and washing over everyone. A wave of nausea flooded through him, but he managed to stay on his feet. He was not on Titan. He was at the Avengers Compound. Peter was alive, Peter was breathing, no one was crumbling to ashes around him.

��Mr. Stark?”

Oh God. He wasn’t hearing things, was he? He wasn’t ready to question his sanity to so great an extent just yet.

Although, as Tony looked down and saw a quivering Peter standing in front of him, silent tears sliding down his cheeks, he did wish for a moment that it was only his imagination.

Pushing aside his own nausea and unsteadiness, he gently lifted Peter’s chin to ensure they were making eye contact. “Hey,” he said calmly, trying to keep his voice as smooth as possible for the kid’s sake. “What’s wrong, Pete? Why are you sad?”

Peter shook his head, and it was then that Tony noticed how the kid’s chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate.

Panic attack.

Tony muttered a curse under his breath. It wasn’t fair. Peter was only fifteen. But as he knew all too well, life was not fair. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, gently rubbing the kid’s back in an attempt to ground him. “What is it, Pete? I can help you more if you tell me what’s going on.”

When Peter didn’t react, instead continuing to stare blankly at him, Tony almost panicked. He was about to just drag the kid inside when slowly, very slowly, the boy shakily lifted his arm and pointed at the sunset.

“Sky,” Peter croaked, fear flickering in his eyes. “Titan?”

“Shit,” Tony whispered. Of course Peter would hate sunsets. He’d had his body ripped apart on a planet existing in a phase of perpetual sunset. “Okay. Okay.” He pulled his kid into a tight hug, rubbing circles with his thumb into Peter’s hair in an attempt to calm him down enough so they could walk inside. “Focus on my breathing, kid. Try to sync up your breaths with mine.”

It seemed to work, as Peter’s sniffles subsided and his body relaxed in Tony’s arms as his breathing shifted from hyperventilation to slower, more even breaths.

“Alright,” Tony said soothingly, gently releasing Peter. “We’re going back in the compound now, okay? And we’re going to go past the lab and down the hall into your room. Sound good?”

“I… I have a room?”

Tony would have laughed if it weren’t for the tears still falling down his kid’s face. “Of course you have a room,” he said, offering Peter a small smile. “Everyone does. Yours is probably the nicest, though.” He winked at him. “Only the best for my favorite Avenger.”

He was pleased to note that Peter did laugh in response, counting that as a win even though the laugh was barely loud enough to be heard. He wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and started moving through the crowd back towards inside, which was easier than pushing to the front because people eagerly filled in the spots he’d left open behind him.

In a matter of minutes they’d successfully made it through the compound and into Peter’s room. Posters covered the walls and LEGO sets lined the floors amongst assorted other things Tony had purchased in the hopes Peter would enjoy them, but he pushed right past them and sat down on the bed, pulling his kid down next to him.

“Why don’t you like sunsets, Peter?” Tony asked after a pause, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Peter shook his head, his bottom lip quivering. “It’s stupid,” he mumbled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. I can handle it myself.”

Tony shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” He chuckled, but his tone was tinged with bitterness. “I thought I could handle everything on my own, too, kid.” He glanced at Peter, who was staring down resolutely at the floor. “But humans aren’t invincible. It’s okay to ask for help and to rely on other people.” He hesitated, then added, “You know, Pete, I don’t like sunsets either.”

As soon as he admitted his own fear, Peter looked up at him, and Tony could tell that the kid’s resilience was beginning to waver. Finally, he managed to say, “The color. I don’t like the color.”

“Okay,” Tony said simply. “What about the color?”

Peter shook his head. “No, it’s your turn.”

Tony raised an eyebrow in response. “My turn?”

Peter nodded. “We’re taking turns to explain why we don’t like sunsets, Mr. Stark.”

Tony almost laughed, instead managing a chuckle and ruffling the kid’s hair. “Well, I’m not a fan of sunsets because of the color, either. Every time I see them I feel like I’m back on Titan, and everyone around me is crumbling to dust.”

“Me too,” Peter murmured, staring off into the distance, his mind clearly elsewhere. “I can see them all fading away. And then…” He shuddered, a few more silent tears falling down his face. “And then it’s me. And it hurts so bad, Mr. Stark!” He shook his head, trying to calm himself, but Tony could tell it wasn’t working. “Every part of my body is tearing itself apart and it won’t stop and -” Peter interrupted himself with a strangled gasp, and Tony immediately wrapped his arms around the kid, murmuring incoherent words of comfort as he rubbed Peter’s back in an attempt to calm him down.

Much to his relief, Peter did stop gasping, but the kid continued to tremble in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he whispered pitifully. “I’m sorry that I’m acting like a child.”

Tony hugged him tighter in response. “Peter, for one, it’s okay to act like a child because you still are one.” He sighed. “But this isn’t childish, Pete. You’re reacting to a traumatic experience. Anyone would do the same.”

Peter pulled away from him, the scowl painted on his lips a stark contrast to his tear-stained cheeks. “That’s not true. I don’t see you crying right now.”

Tony frowned. “Really, kid? Really?” He sighed and shook his head. “In case you’ve forgotten, Mr. Parker, you’ve only been back for a short period of time. I’ve been back for months.” He laughed bitterly. “God, Pete, I went through the five stages of grief all at once a hundred times over. Every night I’d have nightmares and end up dry heaving over the toilet for an hour. Pepper was there, and somehow she still loves me despite all of it.”

Peter bit his lip, a guilty expression dancing on his features. “Mr. Stark… What were your nightmares about?”

Tony hesitated. He had a feeling the kid already knew, but Peter had opened himself to him, so talking about his own fears would probably be a good precedent to set. He sighed. “Everything on Titan. Being stabbed, Thanos escaping, everyone crumbling to dust.” He stared down at his arms, able to see Peter disappearing from existence far too clearly. “The worst part…”

He shuddered, trying to keep his breathing even. Panicking would do him no good, and would make a terrible impression on his kid. “Every time, Pete, I can see you disappearing in my arms. I was holding you, and you just… Faded away. I couldn’t save you.”

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, avoiding eye contact with Peter. “And then in the dream you… Come back, I guess, and you ask me why I didn’t save you because I could have saved you and I should have saved you and then you ask if I only care about you because you’re Spider-Man which of course isn’t true but all the same I still ask myself what I could have done so that you might have survived that day.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah. I don’t really like sunsets.”

Silence fell, and Tony wondered if he’d said too much. Then Peter wrapped his arms around him, his enhanced strength causing Tony to wince as his back cracked before he hesitantly returned the hug.

Peter buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Stark. There wasn’t anything you could have done.” He pulled back and offered the older man a warm - if watery - smile. “Besides, you brought me back now, right?”

Tony sighed. “But if I’d just worked harder -”

“No,” Peter interrupted. “Mr. Stark, you can’t blame yourself! Dr. Strange said that we would only win in one future out of fourteen million, and that’s the one we’re in now. There wasn’t any other way.”

Tony’s fist was clenched. “It’s just not fair, Pete. You shouldn’t have had to die. And the fact that you could feel it and no one else could…” He shuddered. “God, Pete. I’m so sorry.”

Peter flinched at the memory, then bit his lip. “Well, no one’s come out of this unscathed.” He offered Tony a small smile. “I think it’s something we’ll have work through together.” He faltered. “Right?”

Tony managed a chuckle as he ruffled his kid’s hair. “Right.” He glanced at his watch, wanting to change the subject. There was only so much ‘emotional talk’ he could handle in one day. “You know, this party has been going on for a while. Would you rather we kick everyone out of the compound - I do own the place, after all - or should we go back to the tower? Either way is fine with me.”

Peter laughed, and relief flooded through Tony’s body at the sound. “I think it’d be a little mean to kick everyone out, Mr. Stark.”

“Tower it is, then,” Tony said, clapping his hands together before rising from the bed. “I say we watch a movie. Any preferences?”

Peter jumped to his feet, bouncing on his heels as his eyes sparkled. “We’re gonna watch the best superhero movie of all time.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. Are we going to watch the third biopic about my life?”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “There’s a third one?”

Tony shrugged. “Yeah.” He smirked at the kid. “What, do you not have three biopics about you yet, Underoos?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “No, Mr. Stark. I’m afraid I don’t.”

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not all it’s hyped up to be.” He placed his arm around Peter’s shoulders as they left the room, the lights automatically shutting off behind them. “So what’s ‘the best superhero movie of all time,’ as you put it, that you want to watch so badly?”

Peter beamed at him. “The Incredibles!” Then he pouted. “It’s too bad that it’ll probably never get a sequel.”

“Well…” Tony winked at him. “I’m sure I can make a few calls, if you’d like.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Mr. Stark, you’re the best person in the whole world!”

“Nah, kid.” Tony smiled warmly at him. “That would be you.”

xXxXxXx

I completely agree with Peter that The Incredibles is the best superhero movie of all time. It’s canon, sorry not sorry. Thank you so much for reading! :)