#He hears about the avenger Red Hood and seeks him out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justalittletomato · 4 years

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What would Mual do if he thought the reader was dead but they were alive? Savage finds the reader alive and doesn't tell him, dragging Mual to the reader. Only to find out she faked her darth bc a bounty was put on the reader?

I have somewhat tweaked your suggestion and this is the result. As always the angst train is here. Have fun.😎 the sun glasses hide my tears.

GONE (maul x reader)

Your fingers intertwine with his absentmindedly. Something to ground his thoughts to rather than tempted into yelling at everyone to finally make a choice after 3 endless hours. Not one plan could be agreed upon and now another meeting would have to take place after. You can feel him tense and glance to see his jaw set and eyes narrowing. Carefully you lean over to kiss his cheek and whisper, “ It’s fine, at least we’re together right now.”

You are right, prior to this, you both had gone on a series of separate missions, only having a handful of hours together. The endless meeting is a gift. Today he has you here.

“Given the circumstances, we are suggesting that the next meeting be broken into two groups, a solution to this issue may arise faster if we do this. “ the two of you glance at another at the announcement.

You raise a brow, “Well if it helps at least”

“ It better,” At least he gets to stay with you.

“Honored Y/N can you please join us?”

Maul’s tension returns with force. He grips tightly to your hand he baring his teeth at the syndicate member who dared request your presence “ They will be staying here with me.”

You know there’s no reasoning with him, but you know also know better than you refuse orders. “ I’ll go if you allow Savage to accompany me.”

The yellow Zabrak at your side sits up straighter and looks around the table, waiting for someone to disagree, anyone would do.

No one dares.

You somehow get him to let go of your hand,“ I’ll be back soon, please don’t kill anyone while I’m gone” you whisper, “or maim or frighten them out of the room,” You kiss his cheek,

“ Hurry back. “ he requests “ Also I can make no promises.”

You roll your eyes, “ Try.” You give him one last kiss on his lips before leaving.

Savage more or so pushes you forward as you kept looking back. He can still hear the two of you laughing from down the hall.

It’s another hour or so and still, nothing has been decided…Maul stared at one member who kept bringing up the same route over and over. He merely stares a bit longer, his eyes may be a bit brighter and there’s a strange look that overcomes the speaker's face. They freeze, thier flesh pales and they more or collapse in their seat. Maul sits back satisfied with the end of that.

A rumbling begins and the room shakes, everyone shouts as a loud explosion pierces their ears. Screaming begins.

Smoke leaks into the room as a blurry of people rush in panic, their clothes are ashy and some are trying to ease thier burns.

Neither of you come in.

GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!. He shouts as he jostles the crowd.

You had to be here, you said you were coming back.

He searches for his brother, he has no doubts Savage has you.

Safe and unharmed. You must be. Both of you must be.

The room is damaged and charred part of it blasted away leaving the ground broken and caved in, a blazing fire in its depths.

He sees the familiar armor in the corner his brother's horns and body in a defensive huddle against the wall, nothing more than ash around him. Maul lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “ BROTHER!”

Of course he would have protected you from the blast!

You were probably shaken but unscathed in his brother's arms. Savage always made sure to watch over you.

His brother is alive…Maul waits as he stirs and waits for you to also peek out. His brother mutters something in a pained breath. Maul leans in.

“Gone...they’re gone” his brother whispers.

Maul watches as Savage turns.

There’s nothing in his arms. Where?!

“They’re gone...”His brother whispers again.

He has nobody to mourn. Instead, he takes solace in your shared room and takes no visitors. Anyone who enters is tossed out, followed by a stream of screams.

No one could enter here, this was your tomb, he might as well bury himself here with you.

Every little piece and trinket hold its memories of you, he takes refuge in the bed you two had shared. Not that sleep comes easily without you at his side. A sense of panic fills him as he realizes your scent is slowly fading from the pillows and blankets. He resists and now sleeps on the cold floor, he would not disturb the remnants of you.

His brother is the only one allowed in, he watches in concern as Maul traces your old books and makes sure everything is kept as it was. However, Maul prys into the wardrobe and finds the white gown you had stashed away pushing Maul away so he wouldn’t see it.

“Not yet!” you had laughed.

Savage watches as Maul brushes his fingers on the silk. “ It was supposed to be in the next cycle.” Maul mutters the mirror on the wardrobe begins to crack, “ THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!!!” the sound of his anguish causes the crack to splinter, the mirror shatters as do the windows you once gazed through.

Savage keeps a close eye desperate to keep Maul in some state of reality. He somehow managed to hide the dress only for Maul to scream at him and shatter windows in anger, it now sits on the bed never to be worn or touched again.

A suggestion Savage gives brings Maul to return, “ Find who took them away from us.”

Maul leaves that very day leaving Savage in charge and locking the room until his return.

Who dared to take you from his life. His saber slices through another, “ WHO ORDERED YOU?” Their comrades watch in horror as this horned man cuts them down, It’s all that’s keeping him going. He will seek out your murderers, he will make sure you are avenged. He has no plans after that.

His brother's rampage continues focused solely on destroying those who took you out of their lives.

“ you have an urgent message. It’s encrypted.” It’s Rook, she’s solemn as she hands over the datapad,” We suspect it’s a ransom for information about...” she doesn’t not say your name. “ Thank you Kast.” Savage watches as she rejoins the rest of the deathwatch their armor now inscribed with a symbol of mourning for your loss.

The datapad asks for a password, odd it couldn’t be so simple, but there’s only so many passwords with few words.

The message opens and the holo image opens, “Brother?” Starlit eyes look hopeful.

It’s you, Maker it's you!

The message is dated only a few days prior…Maker ….. somewhere out in the galaxy you were alive!

“ Forgive me please forgive me. There appeared to be a bounty on me. Luckily a few of my associates found a way to help me, but they never told me how they would do so. “ you pause,” it should be safe now...I can come home.” you are crying now, “I can finally go home!”

Maul is off-world when Savage interrupts an interrogation it was another false lead. He screams in frustration, every lead has lead to nothing. Your killers were still breathing, still out there while you. You were...

Savage waits “ Brother.”

“ Unless you have more information I don’t want to hear it.” He needs to find the next target. Someone had to be responsible.

Savage can tell his brother won’t listen, reasoning is beyond him, it’s painfully reminiscent of their first meeting, he mutters to himself or maybe to you. If he dared to mention the truth his brother would not believe him.

“I do” he lies “but it not here. It’s off-planet.”

“Then what are we waiting for? The faster we approach the closer I can ensure my starlight is at rest...”

He never says peace…it does not exist.

You wait on the plains of this isolated planet, a rural place away from prying eyes. Surrounded by fields of golden wheat and fertile dirt. It's lovely you suppose, you think of the days you have spent here and realized you had long missed the day you would have finally worn that dress.

You can’t help but cry, you had promised to come back, you had promised...

Memories of events tend to linger, both on objects and on people. Maul sees red when he senses the figure in the plains. Why do you have signs of thier signature?!

A lone figure curled up into themselves, likely guilt for taking you out of his world.

Oh, the figure would pay with their life.

Savage grips his arm knowing his brother’s intent, too consumed that he could not realize you were right before them, “I lied. that is not a lead.”

Maul struggles in his grip, “Let go! That killer has remnants of my Starlight!”

The figure looks up to the sound of the name they had not heard in some time, thier hood falls and those starlit eyes widen.

Maul stills.

But you..you don't hesitate and run to them. The impact of your embrace might bruise you later, but you don't care, you haven't felt this alive in some time. It was like seeing the sun after so long..my darling dawn..you whisper against his hearts. “Starlight...” he croaks wrapping his arms around you. Bright and warm, and very much alive.

“I’m sorry”. You whisper, “I’m so sorry.” You are again curled up, this time in Maul’s arms. You’re half-blind with your tears as he holds you as close as he can against his hearts. His hands are your hair, and lips trying to kiss you all over your face, each one salty but one he believed he would never have again. He doesn’t want an explanation now, he has you.

He had tried to destroy you…he holds on tighter and soon the two of you are just whispering apologies to the other.

Savage won't move either of you but nor will he resist the two of reaching out to embrace him as well, all three of you are together again.

#anon asks #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #maul #darth maul #star wars x you #star wars self insert #savage opress #i feel maul is more in character in this

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

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Death Do We Part (Part 15)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 2,700+

You rest your head on your knees as you look at Tim. Your lips tremble as you watch him struggle with his thoughts.

He stares at his hands with narrowed eyes before you hear his broken voice.

“... I don’t know if I want to be Robin anymore.”

The morning dragged on agonizingly slow with Tim hiding in your room, Bruce nursing a drink in the kitchen, and Alfred sitting beside him. But when Bruce’s phone rang and the hospital told him that his son, Richard Grayson, was just admitted into Gotham General, everything sped past like a blur.

The city traffic buzzing through the car’s window. The loud reporters hounding you at the entrance. The doctor’s mouth moving in silence as he reads from a chart, explaining Dick’s condition. You were only picking up words like critical and surgery.

The first thing you became conscious of was Alfred’s hand on your shoulder. “Y/N. He’s going to be okay.” You didn’t even notice your tears until he was wiping them away.

It’s past midnight in the hospital room. Tim is sleeping on the couch. Alfred is in an extra bed. Bruce had just stepped out for coffee. And you’re still awake, curling up in the armchair closest to Dick. You’re holding his hand and looking at the fringes of his hair lying on his forehead. Slowly you loosen your grip to brush them back, but Dick’s fingers curl around yours.

You’re too busy staring at his hand when he opens his eyes.

“Hi…”

You cover your mouth to trap the sob that’s lodged in your throat. “Dick--”

He smiles. “H-hey hey. I’m okay.” He sounds exhausted but he still tries to laugh. “It’s just-- what? Like broken ribs again?”

You frown at him, “One punctured your spleen, Dick. They had to stitch it up during surgery.”

Dick chuckles, “Another one? Man. I swear I get one every other month. I probably passed out on Jason.”

“You were with Jason?” your voice hitched a little but you lower it right away and check on Alfred and Tim.

“Oh yeah… we had a nice little chat…” Dick’s looking at you now while frowning. “So… you’re leaving.”

You pause and then look down when you answer, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Jason since yesterday morning.”

Dick raises one eyebrow and teases you, “The morning after?”

“Shut up,” you snap at him in a whisper, making him snicker quietly. You blush but you can’t help give a small laugh as well.

Dick smiles at you.

“He told me you were leaving and I was hoping to charm the two of you into staying.” He gives you a look, one that’s both sad and disappointed. “But I don’t really think that’s an option, huh.”

Dick squeezes your hand and your voice is a lot softer when you answer, “He killed the Joker, Dick. In front of Bruce.”

“Yeah. He told me.”

“And you almost died, too.”

Dick laughs, “Ye of little faith in me, Y/N. I had those guys--”

“But the bomb. That one was real--”

Dick shushes you. “Jason’s friends got me off the bridge before it went off. Guess you guys were too busy watching Jay and Bruce’s fight.”

Dick slumps back against the pillows and stares at the point where the ceiling and the wall meet. “I hate to say it but Jason thought of everything.”

Tim grumbles in his sleep and you both turn to him. Once the rise and fall of his chest becomes even, Dick speaks again.

“This must be hard on Tim, huh?”

Tim has been tossing and turning in his sleep. When he was in your room, he checked on his wound and was surprised to find that Jason had changed his bandages when he was unconscious.

You watched Tim’s surprised look slowly morph into one of anguish. He didn’t know how to believe that Jason and the Red Hood were one and the same. Or is he just a persona Jason created to do what he can’t do. To protect the hard truths he wanted Bruce to realize.

You close your eyes and slowly climb into the bed next to Dick. He makes room for you and you carefully curl up next to him.

“He told me he didn’t want to be Robin anymore,” you whisper.

Dick pats your head and hums to himself.

“If I was Jason and Tim-- I was them. I was Robin and I always thought… I always saw Bruce as more than just Batman. He was my dad and my friend. He was my protector.”

When Dick’s hand stops moving, you wrap your arms across his chest and hug him tightly. You can feel the even breaths he’s trying to maintain but failing.

“But after what Jason did--” you can hear him clenching his teeth as he speaks, “After realizing that Bruce will always be Batman--to everyone-- more than anything else in the world… it shatters something in you, like you’re not special...”

Before your life turned into this living tragedy, you always thought Batman was just a myth. You’ve seen him sure, leaping and gliding over rooftops from your window and from the streets, but you always knew he was just a man playing pretend. Maybe a police officer finally fed up with the red tapes and the joke that is the Gotham justice system.

You always thought Batman was just another Gothamite who just got sick of being battered and bruised.

“It doesn’t mean I agree with Jason, though.” Dick’s voice is a little lower. He’s giving you a long look with the same sad and disappointed expression. “His heart’s in the right place but Y/N, he’s the one who doesn’t understand.

“When Bruce first brought me in, my parents were murdered by this guy-- Tony Zucco-- just a typical low life mobster in Gotham you know-- no one like the Joker. But when I became Robin, Bruce’s greatest concern was whether I would seek vengeance against that guy.”

Dick’s gaze strays away from you. He’s looking somewhere past his feet, seeing something that’s not there.

“I had him, Y/N. I tied him up and suspended him over a ten-story building, half hoping he would die, or break every bone in his body from that height and live out the rest of his days as a vegetable.

“Then Batman came out of the shadows. He didn’t stop me. He didn’t talk to me-- he just put his hand on my shoulder the whole time, while I stood there and held this man’s lifeline in my hands.”

Dick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath but he doesn’t open them again. The skin at the corner of his eyes crease and there are folds in his brows. When he speaks again, it’s rushed and he sounds exhausted.

“In the end, I couldn’t do it. I dropped him from the third floor. He broke a few bones and that was it. It didn’t make me feel better. Killing him wouldn’t have brought my parents back-- it also wouldn’t prevent another family from ever being murdered…

“Jason thinks he can get rid of evil in the world by killing criminals but he can’t. Because everyone is nursing evil inside of them-- I have something evil inside me.”

Dick’s lips are quivering when he opens his eyes again.

“Batman is the only one that doesn’t because all he wants to do is protect... everyone.”

Bruce has heard enough. He’s been standing outside the hospital room with his hand on the handle when Dick started talking about avenging his parents. Desperately, he wants to go in there and join you and Dick. But the writing on your arm pushes him to visit the rooftop instead.

He steps out to meet Gotham’s foggy air and reaches the end of the ledge when he calls out, “Worried about Dick?” He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t hear Jason’s footsteps approaching him from the shadows, but he knows he’s there. “You should be. He’s here because of you.”

Jason stops abruptly and clenches his fist. “Wrong. He’s hurt because of your self-righteous courtesy toward the psychotic filth of Gotham.”

Bruce turns around. Jason doesn’t have his helmet or his mask. He’s wearing a black trench coat but Bruce can still see the Red Hood symbol peeking from his chest. Bruce lifts one corner of his lips. “How does it feel?”

To Jason it looks like a smirk on its ways to becoming a snarl. Any semblance of a smile on Bruce is unsettling.

Bruce faces him fully with his hands in his pants pockets. “Now that you’ve killed half of the inmates in Arkham, how does it make you feel?” He watches Jason and lowers his brows and his mouth turns into a straight line. “Like it’s not enough. Right? Like there’s still a few more loose ends-- and you just have to be sure.

“I know you went after Penguin and Dent after the club last night. I also know you’re still after Harley.” Bruce eyes his clothes.

Jason tips his head to the side and replies to Bruce with a small smile.

Bruce tries to control the urge to arrest Jason then and there. He tries to stop being Batman for just one second before he loses his son for good. He takes in a breath and releases it like a sigh. He takes out his hands to gesture to Jason.

“If I could give you one last piece of advice. As a father. As a friend. Ask yourself if this is the type of person you want Y/N’s soulmate to be. Do you want her to be with a murderer?”

Jason didn’t expect that. He was ready to have another go at Bruce, maybe their last showdown before he leaves town, but now he just feels insulted.

“Fuck you, Bruce. I just want her safe-- To do a better job than you did for me. Be better than you.”

Bruce shakes his head. “You can do that without taking another person’s life, Jason. Killing people will only put your lives in more danger.” He points to Jason’s chest. “And you-- the Red Hood-- are a testament to that.”

Jason looks down, the crimson symbol on his chest peeking at him from his loose coat. The Red Hood is supposed to be just a means to an end. A myth strong enough to withstand the Bat’s. A new player to hook in the Arkham villains. Not someone who’ll join their ranks.

Jason looks back to glare at Bruce.

“I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

The pause Jason gave didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce.

“I assume you’re here to see Y/N,” Bruce replies. “She’s talking to Dick. She hasn’t noticed your message yet.”

Bruce walks up to Jason and sizes him up. Jason watches as his demeanor changes. Bruce stands taller, his shoulders seem to go wider. Jason doesn’t need to see the cape to know who’s standing in front of him now.

“Leave Gotham before sunrise.”

Jason can see himself reflected in Batman’s eyes. He suddenly looks like a child. The kid sleeping on the streets of Gotham. Scavenging in the garbage just to get by. Stealing to survive.

Bruce sees his own reflection in Jason’s and it terrifies him. He relaxes his shoulders and leaves his eyes half-lidded. Slowly, he lifts his hand and places it on Jason’s shoulder.

“Take care of each other, son.”

Bruce takes back his hand and starts walking to the door but Jason slaps something against his chest. Bruce looks down and sees that it’s an envelope. He looks back at Jason but he’s looking away from him.

“Give it to Alfred… please.”

Bruce smiles. He gives Jason a small nod before he takes the letter and leaves the hospital rooftop.

When Jason hears the doors close shut behind him, he lets the panic settle in. He first feels its claws scratching at his throat on its way up to his mouth, prying it open, making him gasp for air. Jason jumps when the door slams open.

You see your soulmate standing on the rooftop.

“Jason?”

You run to him and wrap your arms around his shoulder, as far as you can reach. He bends down and you hold him tighter. “You’re okay!” you exclaim against his coat. “I passed Bruce on the way here and I thought--”

“Y/N.”

Jason’s voice is shaky. You pull away to take a look at him but he holds you tight against him. You feel it now, the way his lungs are expanding rapidly and his heart is beating hard against his chest. He’s gripping your clothes as he pulls your body closer to him, afraid to let go. Afraid you’ll let go.

“I want to stay…”

The Joker had killed him and it killed you. The League had planned on using you against Jason. Scarecrow poisoned you. But now they’re gone. Dead. The Joker. Scarecrow. Black Mask. Bane. Croc. Clayface. Penguin and Dent.

Jason killed them all.

“You told me to find a better life. Away from all of this, remember? And I wanted that.” Jason hides his face on your shoulder and you can feel his tears seeping through your shirt. “I wanted that for both of us. But how could I do that if we have so many enemies? How could I do that if they can come after us at any second?”

Battered and bruised.

Dick’s wrong. Jason doesn’t have evil inside of him. None of them do. Everyone is just broken. Cracked under the pressure of the city’s heavy fog and manipulated into playing a never ending game of survival.

You glare at the horizon of the drab cityscape. Yellow lights left on all night. Sirens blaring at every corner. Sewer stench wafting toward the roofs. If Gotham hasn’t broken you yet, it will tomorrow.

You hold on to Jason tightly.

“It’s okay, Jason. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not, Y/N. We can’t stay-- I can’t stay.”

“I know…”

You rub Jason’s back to soothe him.

“It’s not just the Joker,” you whisper. “Gotham did this to us. It’s taken something beautiful from us-- our link-- and used it to abuse us. It tore us apart and made us forget who we are.

“We can’t stay here. We need to leave Gotham not because we’re not welcome. But because we need to heal, Jason.”

Slowly, you pull away from Jason to take off his coat. He watches as you unzip his kevlar vest and lets you take it off of him.

You stare at the symbol in your hands and silently thank it. Then you drop it on the floor. Jason is too stunned to stop you when you reach for one of his guns inside his coat. You fire two shots into the vest.

This is something you feel you need to do. Jason got to kill the Joker, the phantom menace that has haunted your dreams and waking moments. You only get this. The barrel is still smoking when you return it to him.

You pick up the vest and walk to the ledge of the roof. You pull back to gather as much momentum as you can and throw the vest out and down into the busy streets. You watch the Red Hood fall to its death until you can’t see it anymore.

Jason holds your hand and you turn to face him. He watches the look on your face, determined and unmoving. As if you hold all the cards and you know exactly where to go. He’s never seen such an expression on you.

He squeezes your hand

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Y/N.”

Just before the sun rises over, you’re already on a bus heading West, far enough away that even Wayne tower’s shadow can’t reach you. You pat the bag on your lap that has some clothes and your new identities.

As the bus crosses the bridge, Jason is watching the subtle pink and orange light peeking over the ocean that meets Gotham harbor. It’s a rare sight and one you’ll both miss. He turns to you.

“Hey,” Jason calls. “Look at your arm.” He takes out a pen. You watch as Jason writes on his arm and finally finishes his last words to you.

I love you.

END.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#ssa #jason todd #red hood #superhero soulmate au #DC imagines #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd x reader #Red Hood imagine #Red Hood fanfiction #Red Hood x reader #watchtower-feed #atbucud

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imaginexsa · 4 years

Text

Coming Back (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Hey guys! So sorry I took so long to upload hahah...I was having some issues with work and my mental health😗 Anwaysss, I don’t know if i made this angsty enough? And I hope this was what you requested haha I kinda struggled a little bit...uhHHHhH enjoy!!!

Request: @sarge-barnes-sir: henlo was wondering if u can do a bucky one hehe where he didn't get dusted, its set during endgame and bucky & the reader (they've been together since pre-hydra/40s) were sent to vormir (i actually have a detailed concept about this but i suck at writing) it's kind of confusing :( so u don't really have to do it but if u wanna to, i can explain it further or maybe dm u but again it's pretty convoluted so it's okay if u don't want to do it, i understand 💕 thank you!! stay safe and healthy ☺️

Warnings: angst, character death

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You couldn’t believe your eyes.

He was back.

You had been called to help during the battle with Thanos when you saw him again. You remembered your old friend, Steve, telling you that he didn’t die but seeing him in person hit you a lot harder than you had expected.

Steve and you were both test subjects for the super serum and had both went under ice that time to get rid of the Tesseract, but instead of joining the Avengers like Steve did, you wanted a break. You remembered the traumatic experience of seeing your lover fall off the train and you felt like you couldn’t handle anything, you were lost.

However, now, he was standing in front of you. The emotions you’ve held back all these years came crashing on you.

You didn’t know why but even though he was the love of your life, you felt tense walking beside him as the two of you trekked up the mountain in Vormir. It was a tensed silence as the two of you had been tasked to retrieve the Soul Stone.

The Avengers had figured out a way to defeated Thanos and it was to go back in time. You were honestly skeptical about the plan after seeing Scott get turned into an old man and a baby using the machine they created. However, when Tony had come to help, the whole situation changed, making it a lot more reliable and trustworthy to you.

Bucky and you were silent the whole way, each of you stealing glances at each other as there were a bunch of things you wanted to tell him but just couldn’t get the words out. Just as you were about to talk, someone in a hood came out to stand in front of the two of you.

“Welcome.”

You and Bucky tensed up immediately and drew your guns. “Red Skull.”

He didn’t react to the hostility from the both of you. “I am not here to fight. I am just a guide. To you, and to all who seek the Soul Stone.”

“Oh good, you can just tell us where it is and we’ll be on our way,” you said, still not putting your gun down.

“Ah, liebchen, if only it were that easy,” he said as he turned away. You and Bucky looked at each other before following him.

He brought the two of you near the edge of the cliff before turning to the both of you. “What you seek lies in front of you.”

You looked at the edge of the cliff, an eerie feeling washing over you as Red Skull continued. “As does what you fear.”

“The stone is down there,” Bucky stated.

“For one of you,” Red Skull answered Bucky’s statement. “But for the other…”

“Spit it out,” you snapped.

“In other to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul,” Red Skull finished as he moved away, giving time to think for the both of you.

“Do you think he’s lying?” Bucky asked after a while of watching you pace in front of him.

You stopped and looked at him, deep in thought before shaking your head. “I don’t think so. Thanos left here with the stone without his daughter. It’s not a coincidence.”

You and Bucky stared at each other as emotions running through your head as you knew what this meant. “Bucky––”

“No, Y/N,” he replied almost fervently as he walked to you and grabbed your arms, he knew what you were thinking and he hated the idea with every fiber in his body.

“Please, Buck, if I don’t do this, billions of people are going to stay dead,” you said, giving him a sad smile. “Let me do this.”

“No, I-I can’t.” Bucky shook his head. “I’ll do it.”

“No!” You shouted immediately, shocking Bucky. You had tears in your eyes as you remembered the scene of him falling off the train. “I can’t see you die again.”

You shook your heard, looking at him in all seriousness. “I won’tsee you die again.”

“Y/N-”

You reached up and cradled one side of his face, seeing him lean against your hand almost immediately. You felt a sharp pain in your heart as you spoke. “I can’t do this again, Bucky. You know how much I love you and seeing you gone so easily…hurt so much.”

A tear slipped down your face as you saw Bucky’s eyes clouding over with unshed tears. You rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone gently. “I tried so hard to be okay, I wanted a fresh start. I couldn’t keep dwelling on this pain but…seeing you again, it was like the wound that had slowly been healing got ripped open again. It hurts so much. If I were to leave this place without you like what I did in the past, I’m never going to get back up.”

“Y/N,” Bucky choked out your name as tears fell from his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Why are you apologizing, silly.”

The two of you quietly looked at each other before you pulled his head down and rested your forehead against his. “Please, please take good care of yourself. Don’t end up like the mess that I was. I know it’ll hurt but just know that I’m still here.”

You pulled away and took in a deep breath, turning to the edge of the cliff and walking towards it. As you stood at the edge, you closed your eyes and calmed your nerves before turning back to Bucky to give him one last smile before leaning back.

However, you suddenly felt someone hold on to your wrist as you dangled on the end of the cliff. Your eyes widened as you looked up to Bucky, his tears now freely flowing, drops landing on your face.

“Sweetheart, I really can’t let you do this,” Bucky spoke. “I can’t watch you die.”

You could feel your own tears falling as well as you steeled yourself. “Bucky, let me go.”

“No, please, no,” Bucky sobbed out.

“It’s okay,” you said as you used your free hand to hold onto Bucky’s wrist. “It’ll be okay. I love you, Bucky. I always will.”

With that, you ripped Bucky’s hand away from you as you felt yourself falling. Closing your eyes, you could hear Bucky’s shouts, despair in his voice before everything went quiet and you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

“Bucky, where’s Y/N?” Steve asked as everyone returned from their respective missions.

Bucky didn’t reply as he just collapsed to the ground, holding his face as he sobbed.

You weren’t coming back anymore.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Tags: @sammysgirl1997, @melconnor2007

#Bucky Barnes #bucky oneshot #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #reader insert #avengers imagine #avengers oneshot #avengers x reader #angst #oneshot

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dxctorstephenstrange · 3 years

Text

Back To Life, Back to Reality (RP w/ @punchyourwayout)

THE NEW YORK SANCTUM NOVBEMBER 22, 2023

"I can't help you, even if I wanted to. It's not possible."

Stephen Strange folded his arms in front of his chest, his body language reflecting the defiance in his voice. The request being made by the man before him was absurd and irrational, and he couldn't possibly entertain it.

Clint Barton sighed angrily and began to pace the width of the Sanctum's Grand Entrance. Strange had barely been able to say hello before Barton strode inside and started his pitch: cross dimensional barriers and find a way to get Natasha Romanoff back.

"You're a freaking WIZARD, man!"

"Sorcerer, actually."

"Oh, what-the-hell-ever! Point is, you can do all this magic shit, right? That Parker kid told me you were able to look into millions of futures to see which version we won against Thanos. Why can't you use that power to go back and, I don't know, find another way for her to survive?"

"That power came from the Time Stone, which Steve Rogers took back into the past along with the other Stones, remember? And the future in which we defeated Thanos couldn't have happened without Natasha and Tony giving their lives. Clint, I know you miss her...but as you told us, she made her choice freely, and you know it couldn't be undone."

"It was supposed to be ME, goddammit!" Barton growled back, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. He stumbled over his own feet, and Strange moved quickly to get the both of them in chairs, noticing a familiar scent on the man's breath and clothes.

"I think you've had a few too many tonight, Clint."

"I-I don't usually...I...today was her birthday. I was the only one she ever told the date for it. I went to a place we used to go after the ops we were assigned to, and one shot became two, then three...four...you get the idea."

"I see." Clint's demeanor and the motivations for his anguished plea were now more explainable.

"It was supposed to be me, Doc. I made the call. I was ready for it. I knew it was the right thing to do."

"You have a family, Clint. Why would you want to leave them behind?"

"I didn't even fucking know if any of it would work, but if it did...then, I would've gone out doing something right, doing one last good deed for their sake."

"And they'd return to a life without you."

"You don't get it, Doc."

"No, I guess I don't," Strange admitted, shaking his head as he sat back in the chair.

Clint took a deep, shaky breath, wiped his face with his hands, and leaned forward. "I'm...I'm going deaf, Doc."

Strange's eyes moved back to Clint and widened a bit with shock. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"A sonic arrow; used those damn things over hundreds of missions, and never thought twice about 'em. Then, one fucking arrow malfunctions and goes off right next to my head before I fire it. Permanent damage and progressive hearing loss, I was told...but I ignored it, like a goddamn moron. Didn't know how to break it to my wife and kids, or the other Avengers. I wasn't ready to be put out to pasture...but it's getting worse, and now I have no choice, and they'll know that I knew all along."

"There are remarkable new medical breakthroughs and technology that could help you-" Stephen began to explain, wanting to offer some hope to a man believing he was past his prime.

"Look, there's more to it than that. You don't know the whole story, and that's not even why I'm here, alright?" Clint hand-waved the detour to their discussion aside as the tears began to reappear in his eyes. "I just...miss her. I could tell her anything and...she understood, like I understood her. I need to see her. Please...at least once more. Can't you do that, at least? Can't you give me that, if nothing else?"

Strange sighed deeply. Everything about the idea was wrong. Even if he had the Time Stone to use as a means to go back to Vormir at the time of Natasha's sacrifice, his mere presence would cause a deviation in the timeline so drastic it could create an entirely new timeline and universe. It was a step too far...but maybe, there was something he could do for the grieving Hawkeye that would provide him with much-needed closure.

"Let me see what I can do, Clint. I can't and won't promise you anything...but I'll try."

Clint choked back a happily surprised sob, relieved that there was at least a chance that he could say one last goodbye to his best friend. "Thanks, Doc. Truly...thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Just go home to your family. Here...I'll call you a ride."

Strange stood, slipped on his Sling Ring, and drew open a portal that led to the Barton farm.

"Holy shit...that's wild," Barton said in awe. "Thank you for this...for listening to me, even if you don't want me to say it."

"Good night, Clint," Strange said before drawing the portal forward to send Barton home.

LATER...

Stephen went over the plan in his mind, believing he'd found a way to allow Clint the closure he needed with Natasha without disturbing realities or the timeline. First, however, he'd seek out Natasha on his own to make sure that she'd want Clint to see her one last time.

Taking a seat cross-legged in front of the large round window bearing the symbol of the New York Sanctum, he took a few deep breaths and raised his arms, touching thumbs to ring fingers. Soon his breathing slowed to a near-imperceptible pace, and his astral self parted from his physical body. He took a look back at his body before rising into the air, through the ceiling of the Sanctum, far into the sky, beyond the planet itself and across space to the center of celestial existence, where Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life...

VORMIR

Strange descended from the storm-ridden crimson skies to the clearing below the cliff, where Natasha would have landed. From there, he ascended to a path that led up to the cliff from which Natasha would’ve jumped.

"Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, son of Eugene and Beverly, brother of Victor and Donna."

Stephen, alarmed at the voice that seemed so familiar with him, turned to see a hooded figure approaching. It reached up and pulled back its hood to reveal a red, skull-like face.

"Do I know you?" Strange asked.

"No, but you are known to all who dwell within the Multiverse...and beyond: the Master of Time; the Man of a Million Deaths..."

Strange waved his hand around impatiently. "Yeah, sure, great; I'm looking for someone."

"Korrectur, Doktor. You seek the soul of one sacrificed for the sake of many. She is here; free and yet imprisoned."

"What do you mean?"

"She gave her life of her own free will; a gift of love. She is free from the bonds of this world, and yet she remains." The red-skulled guardian gestured to a rock near the edge of the cliff, and the astral form of the red-haired woman who sat upon it, facing away from him.

Stephen floated towards the rock and hovered a few feet away.

"Natasha Romanoff," he greeted. "I'm Doctor Stephen Strange. I’ve come here on behalf of your friend, Clint Barton.”

@punchyourwayout

#(RP: Back To Life)#punchyourwayout #doctor strange rp #doctor strange roleplay #marvel rp #mcu rp #avengers rp #dxctorstephenstrange

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myarmsaretoolong · 4 years

Text

In the Hands of the Enemy

Prompt #2: In the Hands of the Enemy - “Pick Who Dies” | Kidnapping

Word Count: 2601

Warnings: Major Character Death | Blood | Gun Violence

Synopsis: Tony receives the call no surrogate father wants to hear, Peter’s missing. His captor delivers the be-all and end-all of ultimatums. It’s you, or the Spider.

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

Tony looked up from his work when his phone buzzed; he picked it up in his free hand to check the caller ID. ‘Forehead of Security.’ He chuckled and tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could return to tweaking Peter’s new web-shooters. It was the kids sixteenth birthday in a few days, and Tony wanted to surprise him with a little upgrade.

“Hey, Hap. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t suppose Peter’s with you, is he?”

Tony shook his head lightly, “Don’t mess with me, Harold. It’s Friday. You pick him up on Fridays.”

“I’m not messing.”

The screwdriver dropped from Tony’s hand, and it hit the metal workbench with a loud clang. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. They should’ve been here by now. Tony’s voice was low when he spoke. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“The kid just never turned up. He texts when he’s going to be late, you know he’s always texting. I’ve heard nothing since he left school.”

Tony shot to his feet and started pacing around the lab, working out some of his nervous energy. “That doesn’t necessarily mean… Does it?”

There was a pause; it spoke more than words could. “I’d agree with you if it were anyone other than Peter.”

“Shit.” Tony raked a hand through his hair and bolted from the lab. “Can you search around? Check his usual patrol routes. See if there’s anything to give us a clue where he is.”

“Of course. And Tony, don’t worry, we’ll find him.” With that, Happy hung up.

Don’t worry, Tony thought, racing towards Rhodey’s room - the only other one currently occupied, damn Rogue Avengers - it’s a little late for that. His mind ran through a hundred possibilities, the kid bleeding out down some dark alleyway, tied up and thrown in the Hudson…

“Tony? What is it?” Rhodey rose from his desk, concerned eyes seeking Tony’s face for answers. Tony didn’t even remember opening the door.

“The kid,” he choked out, “Peter, he didn’t show-”

Rhodey crossed the room in three swift strides. One hand clasped on Tony’s shoulder, the other held up Tony’s chin and forced him to look Rhodey in the eye. “Let’s go find him then,” he said calmly. “What’s his last known location?” Carefully, Rhodey steered Tony out of the doorway and towards the armoury where they kept their suits.

“Uh,” Tony dragged his hand over his face and took a moment to think. “He sent me a selfie from the top of the Unisphere in Flushing. Must have been close to an hour ago.”

“We’ll start there.”

“Wait,” Tony stopped, one hand gripping Rhodey’s sleeve and halting him halfway across the lounge. “I can’t ask you to- I mean, you haven’t flown since-” Since I let you fall.

“I know, but the kid needs us.” Rhodey could read Tony like a book; he’d always been able to. It was probably the reason they became friends. He saw through the cocky, playboy exterior to find the guilt and dread inside. “This isn’t like that, okay. Listen to me, Tones, we’re going to save him.”

Tony nodded, steeling his nerve as best he could. “You’re right-”

“Boss, I-I’m afraid my protocols are getting overridden-”

“Friday?” Tony looked to the ceiling as if it made a difference. “Fri, what’s happening? Talk to me.”

Silence.

Rhodey and Tony shared a glance. “This isn’t a coincidence,” Rhodey muttered.

“Correct.”

Tony flinched from the emotionless, almost clinical voice reverberating over Friday’s speakers. Rhodey remained as stoic as ever, Tony, however, knew it was an act.

“Let me cut to the chase. I have your little Spider, I’d love to say he’s here and unharmed… but he’s a struggler. Choices had to be made. Consequences…” Whoever it was stretched out the final word, the kid would’ve made some sort of reference to Severus Snape. It sent a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Rhodey took charge, lifting his chin and straightening his back. “Where is he.”

“Safe, for now. So long as you all behave. Follow my demands.”

Tony stepped forward, about to speak, but Rhodey silenced him with the wave of an arm. “You can’t go making demands without proof of life. Let us speak to him.”

“Oh, I’m afraid speaking is out of the question.” There was a momentary pause before one of the holo-screens on the wall flickered into life. Tony clutched the back of the sofa so hard his knuckles turned white.

“You let him go,” he snarled. On the screen, Peter grappled against the restraints holding him to a metal chair. Muted sounds came from the brown, cloth bag masking his face, his usually blue Midtown Tech hoodie stain a horrific, dark red colour. Metal chains coiled around his wrists, securing them to the arms of the chair, the same around his ankles.

“I don’t think so, not yet…” A figure strolled into view, wearing a long black jacket with the sleeves folded halfway up their arms. They hadn’t made even the slightest attempt to hide their face. “Maybe we can have a little fun, first.” They ripped the hood from Peter’s head, the kid looked around wildly, still fighting his bonds.

“Peter, kid, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Peter found the camera, eyebrows knitted together. “Mister Stark?” For the first time, Tony got a good view of Peter’s face. His eyes were wide and fearful, a gag stuffed in his mouth. Blood drained from a deep gash above his left eye, a dark, purple bruise on his right cheekbone stuck out against his unusually pale skin.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s me. I’m going to come and find you, just hold on. Hold on for me.”

The figure moved to block Tony’s view of Peter, a twisted half-smile on their face. “As you can see, alive. Now I make my demands.” Tony wanted nothing more than to dive through the screen and hug Peter in his arms. He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa. “It’s simple. You, or the Spider. One will live, the other will die. The decision lies entirely in your hands.”

“What do you mean?” Tony spat, fear gnawing away at him from the inside out. “Me, I pick me. I die, leave the kid alone.” The muffled screams from Peter doubled, as did the sound of metal hitting metal.

The captor continued as if Tony hadn’t spoken. “You have one hour, plenty of time to make it here. I trust you’ve already tracked my location.” It was true, Friday’s protocol was to trace any and every communication made with the facility. “If you’re here, you’ve chosen for the Spider to live. If not, he dies.”

“How can I trust you? How do I know you won’t kill us both regardless?”

“I’ll give you my name. Listen up, now, little Spider. You’ll want to remember this.” Peter stopped struggling. “Avery Remington, do with that what you will. One hour, alone, no suit. Else it’s goodbye Spider.”

Tony swallowed. “You’re on.”

The feed turned to static, Friday turned it off and filled the room with a deafening silence.

“Tony?”

“Don’t,” Tony couldn’t face looking at Rhodey, he kept his back turned. “Don’t try and talk me out of this. That’s my kid, and I’d do anything-”

“I know.” Rhodey’s voice cracked. “Let me come with you. I’ll keep my distance. Peter’s going to need someone to bring him home.”

“Look after him for me. He has a habit of patrolling instead of doing his homework, so make sure he doesn’t let it pile up. Don’t let him blame himself. And-” Tony sucked in a sharp breath. “God, Pep… Tell her I never stopped loving her, I’m sorry for everything.” Tony didn’t wait for a reply, he ran to the armoury with Rhodey on his heels and jumped into the first suit he saw. Friday already had the flight plan set.

Tony’s mind wandered as his thrusters burned at full power, bringing back memories of Peter. Watching those YouTube videos, he hadn’t realised Peter was only a kid, that only came when he stepped foot in May’s apartment - Ross’ ultimatum hadn’t left time for a full background check.

When you can do the things I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen… They happen because of you.

That hug after they got back from Germany, Tony wished that hadn’t been the only time, that he hadn’t pushed Peter away, hadn’t thrown up boundaries like Oprah handed out cars. He thought he’d have all the time in the world to mentor the kid, help him grow into the hero Tony saw him to be. It turned out he barely had months.

He hoped the kid wouldn’t blame him for that when he was gone.

“Tones, we should land here. No suit, remember?”

Tony said nothing, but followed the instruction, landing heavily at the edge of a forest. Friday’s flight plan led them to a small wooden shack, barely able to hold itself up anymore. They were barely fifteen minutes from the Avengers Facility, fifteen minutes. All of this happening right under Tony’s nose, if only he’d been able to put a stop to it sooner…

“Stop it,” Rhodey stepped out of his suit. “You couldn’t have known. No one could.”

Tony, too, stepped out of his suit, though still kept his back turned to Rhodey. They’d known each other near on thirty years, and they should’ve had another thirty more. How do you say goodbye to that, how do you sum up those thirty years, the ones that will never be, into a single sentence?

Behind him, Rhodey sniffed. “Just come back to me, man. Do whatever you gotta do to come home with the kid.”

Tony broke. He turned and wrapped his arms around Rhodey, he returned the embrace with his strong arms, holding each other close as tears fell freely.

“Promise me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Tony whispered into Rhodey’s shoulder.

“I love you.”

“You need to let me go.”

“I can’t.”

Tony paused. Swallowed. “I love you, too.” He pulled away and walked towards the shack without looking back, head held high. He’d greet death with grace and dignity.

The door to the shack practically disintegrated in Tony’s hand, coating his palm in dust and rust from the handle. Inside was dark, only a single corner illuminated, both Peter and Avery visible. Peter saw Tony first, his escape attempts doubled in effort, though they were weak. Avery’s beating was clearly weighing on his body.

“I’m here,” Tony forced his voice to remain flat. “Now let him go.”

Slowly, Avery turned to face Tony. “All in good time. Come, join us.”

Tony did as he was told, remembering Avery’s threat about behaving themselves. “Just get it done.”

Avery reached out a hand, pulling a handgun from within the folds of the jacket, turning it over in their hands. “Some interesting information came to light.” Avery’s eyes flicked up to meet Tony’s. “You didn’t come alone.”

A jolt of fear ran down Tony’s spine, there was no point denying it now. “Rhodey’s a mile off, that way.” He pointed the direction he’d walked in from. “To take Peter home, nothing else.”

“That’s against the rule.” Avery levelled the gun at Peter, the kid froze. His Bambi eyes were wider than Tony had ever seen. Tony took half a step towards him, to block the shot with his body, when Avery spoke. Raising their voice for the first time. “Move, and I shoot.”

Tony held his hands up, returned to his spot. “Rhodey’s a mile off,” he repeated, trying to emphasise how little importance it was. “I came here alone.”

Avery stayed silent, seeming weighing up the options. Eventually, they stepped closer to Peter and pulled the gag from his mouth. “It seems, Little Spider, that we have a problem. Be honest, now, did he break the rules.” Avery stepped back, gun still aimed at Peter’s chest. “Remember, your life hangs in the balance.”

“Pete, look at me.” Peter pried his eyes away from Avery and met Tony’s. “That’s it, you’re doing so good. You know what you have to say, don’t you?” Peter’s eyes flooded with tears, Tony’s too, and he nodded. “You have to say I did everything right. Then you can go free.”

“Mister Stark,” Peter whispered. “I’m sorry I let this happen, I’m sorry I got you caught up in my mess.”

“No, you don’t need to say that. Everything’s okay.”

“Hurry, Little Spider. Yes or no, did he break the rules?”

Peter dropped his chin to his chest.

“Did he break the rules?”

Slowly, Peter lifted his head to Avery; jaw clenched, eyes lit with determination. “Yes.”

“No!” Tony roared, he dived forwards as soon as the word left Peter’s mouth. A single shot rang out, the sound filling every inch of Tony’s body. He’d never be able to forget that feeling. The explosion of pain in his chest, how his knees felt so weak it was a miracle he still stood upright, the knowledge that this was it, that everything was over…

The sight of blood steadily flowing from Peter’s chest and pooling in his lap. His scream of pain, every ragged breath he sucked in through gritted teeth. The colour drained from Peter’s face, Tony knelt beside his chair and cupped a hand to his cheek.

“Hold on, for me. Please, Peter, hold on.”

Somewhere, Avery shuffled around. There was a loud click, and all Peter’s restrains released simultaneously. He crumpled into Tony’s arms, and Tony cradled him, gently brushing a curl of hair from his bloodied face, one hand clamped down on the seeping wound over his heart. That hand stained red the second he placed it there.

“I’m so-rry,” Peter whispered, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, bright red against his stark white skin.

“Shh,” Tony hummed, not caring as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’ve got you. I’m going to get you out of here. Stay with me, can you do that?”

Peter’s body gave an involuntary spasm, Tony held him tighter. “My fa-ault, don’t blame y-yourself.”

Despite everything, Tony laughed. A wet chuckle. “You know me too well, kid.”

Peter smiled, his eyes slipping closed. “I’ll be okay.”

“Me too.” It was a lie, but Tony would’ve said anything at that moment if it gave the kid even an ounce of ease. Peter fell limp in his arms. “Pete,” Tony tapped his cheek gently. “Kid, come on. Don’t mess with me.” He shook Peter’s body.

Nothing.

“No,” Tony whispered, a fresh wave of tears tracking down his face as he folded protectively over Peter’s body hand hugging him close. “No, please. No...”

The ghost of Peter’s grin still rested on his face. Even in death, Peter smiled.

“I thought I’d feel something.” Avery stood over the pair on the floor, looking down with an utterly emotionless face. “I thought I’d feel… completed. The job is done, after all.”

Tony laid Peter down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb his sleep, and got to his feet. Avery observed each of his movements, head tipped to the side.

“What does it feel like, do you think? Death?” Avery nodded at Tony. “You came close. How could it feel to lose everything? Feel it all just… slipping away.”

“I’ll show you how it feels,” Tony growled, hands balled into fists and eyes burning with hatred, rage, pain. With grief. “You can count on that.” He didn’t need his suit to make Avery suffer.

#whumptober2020 #no.2 #pick who dies #kidnapping #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #irondad #fanfic #irondad fanfiction #marvel fanfic #character death tw #blood tw #kidnapping tw #gun violence tw #TDA whumptober #tony stark #peter parker

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canumoveurseatup-no · 5 years

Text

i’m leaving soon

summary: sometimes there’s only one way to handle things, it may suck but you feel it in your gut that it has to be this way.

word count: 2.7k

pairing: thor x black!asgardian!reader

warnings: endgame spoilers if you still haven’t seen it, death, sacrifice

—————

You were all Thor had left. You were his last smudge of sanity, his voice of reason. You always had been, from kids to centuries later.

So you made sure to stay up with him to hold him, comfort him, talk to him the night before the time heist went down.

“You deserve to see everyone, my love,” you pet his long beard, loving it’s volume and how some areas are darker than the other, “They will not care how you look for they are your loved ones. They will understand,”

He knew you had a point, but he felt disgusting with how he let himself go, he felt disgusting with how you were still utterly in love with him looking like this. But that let him know you were probably more in love with him than he could compare to, though he felt that was impossible, Thor would do anything for you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with me instead of the rabbit?,” he sighed. He’d feel a lot better if you were with him than another desolate planet. You deserved to see your kingdom once again too.

You kissed his lips and gave an airy laugh “Take pictures for me,”

“We can show them to our heirs one day,” he smiled hopefully. You and Thor always wanted children but everytime you guys thought you were ready, something came up.

“When this is over,” you place his hand on your belly and he runs his hand over it, hoping one day you swell with your children, “Maybe we can finally settle down and try,”

Thor always kissed you with an insurmountable amount of love and each time it still surprised you than the last.

“I love the sound of that,”

————

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling uneasy. You suffered from a restless sleep and the dreams that occurred were unsettling to say the least. All that showed over and over was a hooded figure and a huge cliff but you shook it off as it happening due to you eating before bed, doing so always causes weird dreams for you.

“All right, lets suit up!,” you heard Steve across the way. Thor was stalking around chugging beers from a six back.

“My love,” you called out to him with a little smile, “If you wanna see me, better hurry, I’m leaving soon,”

You always said that to him before going into a battle. He always always busy doing something else and it never failed to get his attention.

His knees buckled at your smile. He threw the beers to the side and rushed over to you, hands fast to be placed on your cheeks to pull you into a searing kiss.

“Tell me love is endless,” he muttered.

“My love for you will never have an end,”

He hated that you had to go with Clint and Natasha. His eyes welled at the thoughts of not only going back home but going back home with out you. You two always had the plan of doing a better job at ruling than his father and his mother loved you as if you came from her loins. She knew for long that you would one day be Thor’s wife and when she found out he proposed, she was over the moon and guided your footsteps to be a better queen than she.

You tasted the salty tears on his cheek and gave a small smile.

“That’s what a year long headache does to you,” he whispered. It’s clearly been longer than that, but you knew he would try to dumb down his emotions until everyone was almost ready, “I’m not okay, I feel so scattered,”

“As anyone else would feel, my love. But this is our final fight. Avenge everyone- for he will pay for what he’s done, again,”

He didn’t want to go without you, he wanted you by his side for one last walk around your kingdom before it fell to ashes. One last walk on the bridge... one last talk to his mom.

“It’s go time,” Tony clapped and you felt Thor’s grip tighten on you.

“Come back to me, my lady,” he whispered hastily, “Don’t leave me, can’t handle another bout of déjà vu “

You gave one last kiss before you two walked to the platform, “I will always find my way back to you,” you stood by Natasha and Clint, while he stood by Rocket.

“See ya in a minute,” Natasha smiled. But you didn’t miss the looks of uncertainty on the faces of Nebula and Tony. Before you could acknowledge it, Bruce had already hit the button and sent you to your respective time lines.

————

“What the hell is this place,” Clint muttered.

You never understood mortals and their rhetorical questions.

“What you seek lies in front of you, as do what you fear,”

You all turn around and step away from the voice that came from the shadows. Out stepped the hooded person and suddenly your choppy dreams made sense.

“Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan, Clint, son of Edith. and Y/N... daughter of Heimdall,”

It hurt to hear his name but you’d be damned if you let that impact you right now.

Natasha was ready to fight but took it upon herself to ask the questions, “Who are you?”

The figure lifted his head and you all frowned at him but this was too important to assess his looks.

“Consider me a guide. To you, and to all who seek the soul stone,”

This should be easy enough right? It’s just a stone... but you of all people should know things are never just.. ‘easy enough’. There was always an ultimatum.

“Oh, good. Tell us where it is, then we'll be on our way,”

You turned around and walked the the cliff, “Ah, liebchen . If only it were that easy,” you spoke for the stone keeper. You recalled those words in your dreams. You miss the look everyone gave you as you just continued to look down.

It was a long way down.

“What you seek lies in front of you. As does that which you fear,” he repeats. He leads Nat and Clint to he edge with you and you could feel the tears welling.

“The stones down there,” it finally clicked for Natasha. Clint’s jaw clenched and he cursed under his breath.

“For two of you. For the other, in order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul,”

It hits you all like a ton of bricks.

You and Natasha take a seat before her and Clint go at it.

“Whatever it takes, remember?,”

They make a fool of themselves fighting and crying until you had enough and waved your hand to fling them back from the edge before standing up.

“Enough!,” you’d had enough of the theatrics. Things had to get done and no one had time for a game of ping pong.

This was your task.

“Sorry there’s no way out, my love,” you whispered to the wind, knowing it would get to Thor in no time.

“Y/N! what are you doing?,” Clint tried to grab your arm but you simply pin him to the ground of the huge stone you all stood on without even touching him.

“I- I’m doing what’s right,” you turn to look the two. being held back by your power so they can’t stop you. It has to be this way, it only makes sense for it to be this way, it appeared in your dreams.

“I-it won’t work for you! You’re not mortal,” he tried to reason.

“Rules of mortality or immortality do not apply here,” the stone keeper grumbled.

“You can’t leave Thor like this. You’re all he has,” Natasha pleaded. But it fell on deaf ears.

You choked at the mention of his name, if only there were some other way but this was the way. This was the one chance to win that Tony talked about.

“It’s our only way to win,”

—————

Thor and Rocket got the stone when he heard your whisper in his ear.

“Sorry there’s no way out, my love”

“If you need me, wanna see me... you better hurry,” your voice was broken, scared, “Because I’m leaving soon.

He stopped in his tracks and looked around for you but you were nowhere to be seen, not until he was seeing things through your eyes.

“Listen before I go, for I don’t have much time,”

Rocket looked at Thor to see his eyes were no longer their lightening blue... they were the color of the golden setting sun one would watch on a beach...much like yours, he had no idea what was going on but the way Thor was breathing heavily was indication that things were not okay.

“None... of what happened is your fault, my love,”

“Y/N, no,” he whimpered.

“I know you feel that these things wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t around but that’s not true. You don’t have some curse where everything that you come in contact with crumbles,”

His eyes were moving fast. All he could see was a sky of heavy purples, blues and pinks. He could hear Natasha and Clint shouting out you from behind to not do this... to let one of them do it and he hated to be selfish and admit that they were right.

It shouldn’t be you.

“You are a ray of sunshine, even on the greyest of days. You are allowed to grieve but do not blame yourself for a series of unfortunate events that were destined to happen millenniums before you were born,”

Rocket stepped back when Thor shouted in tears, all it was was a bunch of “no no no” and “please”

“I can’t lose you too,”

“You will never lose me... I am eternally within you... our love is endless,” he could hear your cries, the sniffles, he practically heard your heart breaking.

“I’m sorry our heirs never saw their kingdom,”

He was brought back to reality when he could no longer see things from your eyes and was standing in front of the team again. Stones in their hand. He was fast to fall on his knees and turned red with a shout of your name. So loud it shook the compound and the ground beneath them.

“It should have been one of you!,”

Clint and Natasha knew he was hurting but that didn’t mean his words didn’t have an impact. They wished they did more, but their combat was no match for your goddess essence.

“Where’s Y/N?,” Steve asked. He looked at Thor’s red face, bolts of electricity glinting in his eyes.

“On Vormir,” Nebula began, “The only way to get the soul stone is with a sacrifice... and that sacrifice is a soul, one willing to do what is right,”

—————

Surrounded by orange and lying in shallow water, you wake up with a gasp.

You sit up and scan the area. Only thing in sight was a pavilion and a figure standing under it.

“Father,” you croaked out, “Father, what is this place?,”

You run to him and smile when he turned to you. Oh how you’ve missed him.

“The place where our souls come to rest when all is said and done,”

He pulls you in his arms and you take in his scent of saffron and sandalwood.

“Which leads me to question... what has lead you here,”

He saw you coming... he just didn’t know how.

“I did what was right,” you swallowed your tears, “I did what I had to do to help defeat Thanos but I left my love in the process... I added to his pain,”

You felt guilty for having to leave him in such a way. You told him you’d come back, you broke your promise.

“Neither of you is without the other. Come,” he held your hand tight in his, “Time to be with everyone,”

————————

Thor was blood thirsty during the final battle. He barely held it together at the funeral they had for you.

The last remaining piece of him was gone and he was going to do everything in his power to avenge every broken piece that Thanos took from him.

For his people, for Loki, Heimdall. He lost them on his journey here. For Bucky, Sam, T’Challa and his people, Peter, Wanda... all because he didn’t go for the head. It was all his fault, in his mind that is. He was a ticking time bomb and Tony wouldn’t even give him the chance to try the gauntlet.

Portals appeared everywhere and the fallen had risen, ready to fight. He stood there waiting to hear your voice, to see your smile, to see your golden armor, hair braided back, with your father’s staff in hand.

But you weren’t there... so he fought for the both of you.

“M-Mr. Thor, sir,” Peter said quickly, “Sh-she.. Y/N wanted you to know she never meant to leave on such terms. She loves you and never wants you to doubt that,”

He knows you, you probably think he hates but he could never hate you. He’s lost everyone in a tragic way so he can only expect so much, he wasn’t nat at you. He was mad at the world, the universe... himself. He wishes he told you ‘I love you more’, he wishes he held your hand more, done more of everything no amount of ‘more’ could heal this.

He kept fighting. He’d never stop fighting for you. Though it wouldn’t bring you back, it wouldn’t make your death in vain, just for some mortals you barely know. He had your favorite barrette, in the shape of a sun, in his breast plate under his armor.

So you’d be fighting with him.

He had Steve and Tony by his side, not letting up, even with deep gashes and blurry vision.

The end was getting close and he had made up his mind long ago. He looked to Valkyrie and she knew what he was planning to do. She knew there was no changing his mind, the attempts to stop him would be futile.

“The people will love their new king. You will be the leader they need,”

She tried not to shed tears. She’d grown close to the God and his wife. Now both were leaving her behind, but she wouldn’t let you two down.

The gauntlet fell at his feet after it was taken off Thanos’ hand. Thor didn’t need to question, there was no second guessing and no turning back. He didn’t have time to beg anyone to let him be the martyr and he sure as hell didn’t have time for the answer ‘no’.

“You’ve taken enough from me,” he growled. Thor was feeling so much at once. He was scared to die, afraid of being in pain, but he was tired, tired of constantly fighting, relieved that this would be it, he could rest and be with his loved ones. Excited because he’d get to be with you soon, to hold you, love you endlessly.

“Thor, no!,” Tony shouted, but Strange held up his finger... this was the one.

Thor envisioned your smile, your laugh, you kicking his ass in training from kids to grown. He was hurting, he was terrified. But if he did this, he could be with you again.

He practically felt your arms wrap around him in a welcoming hug and that was it.

“I won’t let you take anything else,”

————

He was scorned by the snap. He was beginning to lose all feeling and he knew, the fight was over. What once was the compound covered in bright green grass, surrounded by pretty trees was now covered in soot and rubble, smoke clouds sat high above them... was hard to tell they were still even on Earth.

“N-no, c’mon buddy, don’t do this,” Bruce shook Thor, trying to keep him awake. He can’t let his friend die like this, he can’t let his friend die. The one who fought for him to be saved from a foreign planet, a friend who believed in him no matter what form he was in.

“Let him rest,” Valkyrie set her hand in the shoulder of the green man, “He deserves to be home,”

Thor was on his last leg when he saw you.

Everyone saw you in his eyes.. They saw the way his eyes glinted gold before dimming dull. You were wearing a yellow dress that flowed in the wind, a bright glow behind you, hand stretched out for him.

“Time to go home, my love,”

————————

that shit hurted 🥴

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!

tags: @blackreaders-assemble @mbaku-babygirl @dumbchick @warmchick @vozit @veryhellshdia @spideys-wife @here-for-your-bullshit @valkyriesnymph @persephones24 @alyssaj23 @mokacoconut @xye-weirdo @chonisberonica @eratotalles @micki-smiles @disaster-rose @valentinevirgo @retroxvailles @crawlingnightmares @hisxblackxqueen

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wickednerdery · 4 years

Photo

Title: Out of Time Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Loki x Stark!OC Rating: FRC Summary: “I’m always VIP.” Notes: So I found this gif on Google - if it’s yours, I’m happy to credit - and it inspired this idea where Loki (after escaping with the Tesseract in Endgame, perhaps?) ends up in a strange cyberpunk/futuristic Earth. No idea if I’ll continue this or what, but it HAD to come out, lol!

Chapter 2

The Midgard he arrived at was not the one he left. It was older, wilder, both brighter and darker in turn. Loki shifted into Midgardian garb before approaching a main street, nothing looking familiar. The cars ran on their own, machines walked alongside mortals, and the sky above was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

“Hey, you lookin’ to jive?” A man asks from behind leopard-printed leather mask.

Loki takes the other in fully. Boots, hooded jumpsuit to match the leopard-print mask, and wild burgundy mohawk. The lights at the knuckles of his gloves alternate between red and yellow as he closes fist, then glow pure yellow across the board as a small, square, tab appears from between two fingers.

“Three million credits.” Heterochromatic eyes smile. “Thirteen million for VIP.”

“I’m always VIP.” Loki waves his hand, the man switches a plain white plastic bit for a red one, stamped with golden mask. “Now, tell me more about this ‘jive’.”

“Ms Stark! Ms Stark!!” The crowds, press and plebeians both, call for her as she steps from black auto-motive. Some cheer in excitement, telling her they love her. Others scream in tirades, declare her a “Tuhao war bitch”. Interviewers ask about men, women, freedom versus security, and her thoughts on Stark technology used to hold down the lower class.

“Sorry, no questions this evening. Not for Ms Stark anyway.” The voice of her car is that of her ancestor. Red lines blaze from head and tail lights, demarcating a barrier and allowing her to carry on into the museum unaccosted. “But I’d be more than happy to answer some, maybe take any praise you have for her.”

Once away from the masses, Ana tugs at the collar of her cocktail dress. It unravels gold, falling to the floor as a gown for the evening. Simple trick really, more to do with sewing than technology, but it never fails to turn heads. “Tony...” she smiles. “Don’t get yourself a parking ticket talking to all your fans.”

“Of course not, when have I ever done that?” The auto replies in her ear.

“Last week? That time in Tokyo...that other time in Mumbai.”

“Okay, okay, point made. I’m out.”

Ana chuckles as car tires screech away in the distance. She carries on, men stepping aside with bowing heads to let her in. Her name is a whisper of reverence on their lips. Upon entering the exhibit turned ballroom people catch sight of her and begin to applaud.

“Ladies and gentleman, CEO of Stark International, chairperson of the Avengers Youth of America, and head of Earth’s Legion of Scientific Security...Ms Ana Roget Stark!” In the official announcement by the museum’s spokesperson the applause rises in volume and gusto.

Loki looks up, drink in hand, with interest. Stark? His lips curl in amused interest. He scans the crowd, then moves his focus back to her. Like the Stark he knows, she’s wholly confident and reveling in the face of adulation. While more polite, her smile indicates she believes herself worthy of the love she receives.

Her eyes scan from the balcony, land on the mysterious man in black. When he lifts his glass in notable salute, her brow goes up a fraction. Then she turns to the museum head. “Yes, yes, thank you for that...way too impressive introduction. I really would have just settled for Nobel prize winning person of the century.” She laughs, all but Loki join in. “My great-grandfather, Anthony Stark, unknowingly started this museum when he passed, leaving behind his suits and prototypes in the workshop of Stark Tower. Some still unfinished, some ready for mass production to make the world safe in his absence. They were able to be preserved and, yes, even improved upon as this place was created around them. As much as the Starks may have given to this museum, it gave back to the world. It is a sprawling testament of technology and innovation, of how far we have come and how far we can go. I thank all of you, each and every one, for your commitment to science, to knowledge, and to this museum in particular. I encourage you to continue that commitment tonight at the auction and in going forward with your donations.” Her eyes return to the man whose eyes never left her. “Thank you for coming, I look forward to speaking with you all before the night is over.”

Loki does not approach the lithe beauty with his enemy’s name, but his eyes do not leave her either. She swans about the room with the same confidence as the Stark he knows, but her manner is more delicate. She uses more deference in approaching others, is more flattering toward them than herself. Her show is alluring, appealing, boarding on arrogant but never crossing the line. Yet, when she does finally approach him, her manner changes.

“So, how did you do it?” She’s direct, no longer glad-handing, but nevertheless rapt with anticipation as she sits beside him at a table. “Cyber worm? Reverse engineering? Or did you figure out the sequence and use the key-code?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He’s no clue what she’s talking about, can’t even think how to answer.

Ana’s face falls to disappointment bordering on annoyance. “You bought it pre-rigged. Figures. I send out a golden ticket and people can only think about the quick buck.” She sighs, starts to get up. “I hope this was worth whatever the invite cost you, because it’s all you get. I don’t have time for fans.”

“Wait.” His hand flies out, takes hold of wrist.

She twists free, grabs his wrist in retaliation, and hits him with 75,000 volts via taser ring worn on her middle finger. She keeps hold until he’s limp, then releases and lets him tip over the table like a drunk. “Security, toss the lump in black at table 17.” Frustrated at her failed test, done with the night, Ana heads out a discreet side door that leads to the rest of the museum.

Looking over the reconstruction of the late Tony Stark’s penthouse Ana sighs. This is still where she feels most at home. Here and her own workshop, but she’s no mind for innovation right now. “How did you do it? How did you keep going?” She asks her ancestor aloud. Failures didn’t bother her, they were always part of success. It’s lack of momentum that drives her to darkness, to the functional bar where she pours two fingers of old school whiskey.

“You are a Stark.” Loki, in more regal and battle-ready gear, stands before the screen display of old New York. “Though a far fairer one, to be sure.” He winks, laughs when glass drops, shattering at her feet.

“Who are you?” Hand goes to her ear first, patching her into Tony, then the ruby and gold bracelet. She rubs it, anxious. “Oscorp? Stane International? Yak?” Ana takes him in, his new suit and the wild glint in his eye. “Or are you one of the anarchists? AIM? One of those anti-techs groups?”

He laughs. “Oh no, I’m my own man, Ms Stark. I don’t follow, I am followed.”

“Well, you have my attention, Mr...Mystery Man. What do you want?”

Loki hadn’t thought that far ahead. He’s merely intrigued by her, by wherever, whenever, he’s arrived.

“Really? I give you the floor and you stand mute?” Ana smirks. “Fascinating...and pointless. Thanks for the disruption and broken glass.” She starts to make another drink.

“Not curious how I got here then?”

“Only when you plan on leaving.” New glass in hand she heads out of the exhibit. She sees a biohazard symbol swimming across a fully masked face, hears the huff of the silencer, and feels the world slip past her as she goes down.

In a flick of his wrist Loki blasts the man through the wall, rushes to Ana as her gold dress goes red, then black, with blood. He gets arms under before her head hits the floor. “You’re not allowed to die until I wish it.” He watches her eyes widen in surprise, as if she didn’t expect him to be real.

“H-How...noble...” She snarks through the blooming pain, her world going dark as the mystery man’s suit.

So...that’s everything I have that’s clear in my mind for this right now, haha! Like, I know that Ana lives and all, but I’m not sure after that. I’ve some options: Loki leaves her to recover and stalks her from afar, Loki brings her back to her home and keeps her semi-captive there, Loki leaves her, but she seeks him out in gratitude and interest. ...But, even then, unsure of the sweeping story - is there a set enemy to go against together? Do they become enemies themselves? Or is this more of a romance? Is there more time travel?? So many questions/ideas, not enough determined yet, lol!

I’ll take suggestions though, haha!! 😉

Side Notes: Tuhao is a Chinese term referring to people of wealth. By “jive” the guy means party, in general. The description of the sky is a pull from William Gibson’s Neuromancer (awesome book!). The groups Ana lists are all from Marvel, all enemies of Iron Man in one way or another. And, yes, her self-driving car has the voice and personality of Tony Stark - he is her main AI, just as JARVIS and FRIDAY were Tony’s.

Tagging: @lady-crowned-with-stars, @beccaliciooouuusss, gravitational-anomaly, @fuckthatfeeling, @v-2bucky, @ultrarebelheart, @tarithenurse @latent-thoughts @chibiyanai @lukeevansandjdmobession @sweetfictionalworld @ladyfluff ...And I legit don’t know who else to tag anymore lol

#loki #fanfiction #tony stark #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel cinematic universe #stark!oc #plot bunny #cyberpunk #come and play with me #my writing #not my gif

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violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Philtatos [13/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #fatal flaw #secrets #riddle #fate #revenge #oracle #betrayal #prophecy #jealousy

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim feels a little bad about using Jason’s skin hunger against him but only for a moment. Any concern about that vanishes when he peeks back at Jason as they walk, and observes the color returning to the other man’s cheeks. The hand clasped in his own stops shaking the longer they touch.

Tim has never been one to enjoy holding hands—often he’s felt uncomfortable or self-conscious, worrying about sweaty fingers or whether the other person might consider it lame—but this doesn’t feel like that.

This feels right.

It’s actually concerning how right it feels, especially in light of his recent discussion with Steph.

Stop it. This isn’t about you. It’s about putting Jason at ease.

They return to the containment unit to find Barbara facing down Eros—an impressive feat considering she’s in a wheelchair and he’s the one looking down on her. Her face is drawn in irritation, and he’s gratified to see that Eros seems put-out about something.

“Took you long enough. Cherry here says she’s got a bonafide prophecy from the Oracle of Delphi and wouldn’t share it until you got back.” He eyes their entwined hands and leers. “I take it the domestics are going well?”

“Get bent,” Tim snaps in irritation as Jason tugs his hand back so fast he might as well have been burned.

“Only if you do the honors, pretty boy.”

Jason growls and makes a move for his gun, but Tim reaches out to stop him.

“Can you not tease him?” he demands of Eros. “Especially when the only reason he’s like this is because of you.”

“Oh, if only you knew…”

Before Tim can comment on that, Jason interrupts.

“What’s the feathered freak talkin’ about?” he snaps, radiating tension. “What prophecy?”

“The one Signal was able to recover from the girl that was killed,” Barbara says coolly. “He transcribed it and sent it along. Do you want to hear it, or do you want to keep acting like a child?”

This she directs at Eros, who actually does look chastised a beat, before gracing her with a cool smile.

“I guess it is apropos if you do the honors, darlin’,” Eros says with a cool smile. “Is it ironic or coincidental if someone who stole the title of oracle interprets a prophecy from the actual Oracle of Delphi?”

“Who cares? This whole situation is making me hate both irony and coincidence,” Tim says.

“It’s making me wonder if there are any coincidences,” Jason mutters, eyes fixed on Eros in intense dislike.

Barbara offers him an identical look, before thumbing the screen of her phone and opening her incoming messages.

Then she begins to read:

“The Unseen darkness cannot keep its captive thrice for mortal masks the divine that seeks its reward in the city where dark nights conceal the greatest of secrets.

“Crossed beneath the stars when the Rager’s Moon is full, eternal freedom is neigh upon the eleventh moment of the small hour.The sacrifice of the virgin gifts triumph to the prisoner and that which drowned in Lethe’s tears is reborn.

“But take heed, for the winged scion of Cythera, willingly blinded by the veil of vengeance revealed by Discord’s most cursed boon, awakens the warrior guided by the Physicians heir.

“Fury dooms the fair, heralding the return of magnificent Alexandros and one whose name is painted in blood and stone.

“Greatest of loves, damned by the gleam of a golden barb, torn asunder by jealousy and parted by cruel death, they will stand against Strife.

“Titans will rise and one who Death names hero, betrayed yet shielded by love, will sunder the chains of Aidoneus and avenge the victim of grievance. One will be born anew, the other bound eternally to Stygian Darkness.”

There is silence as she puts the phone down, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“What?” Tim says.

“I see your ‘what’ and raise you a ‘the fuck’,” Jason adds. “Does any of that make sense to anyone else? Because it don't make sense to me.”

“Blame my uncle,” Eros says, apparently annoyed.

“What? Why?” Tim wants to know. “Which one’s he?”

“Apollo,” Barbara says, still considering the puzzling words on the screen. “Aside from being a sun god, he was also the god of prophecy.”

“Talking in riddles is his favorite pastime,” Eros agrees. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’ll bet,” Tim agrees. “We’ve got someone like that here in Gotham.”

“Yeah, and he’s a frequent guest of Arkham, so what’s that tell you?” Jason grumbles.

“That people who come up with riddles have too much time on their hands.”

“There’s a reason the Oracles of Delphi didn’t put their predictions into simple words,” Barbara points out. ”If you give people information about what’s coming, how do you know you’re not ensuring it will or won’t come to pass? It was important for them to be seen as the medium of the message and not an agent.

“By keeping information vague, it would seem like they were allowing a querant the chance to defy fate, while at the same time allowing fate to take its natural course, whatever that might be,” Eros agrees. “Ans it was good insurance. Even Oracles needed to cover their asses. You were less likely to get your head lopped off by a visiting king that received news he didn’t want to hear. And whatever the outcome, they could still say, ‘we told you so’.” He considers Barbara. “You know, I don’t usually find brainy sexy, but you might just turn me.”

“I’m thrilled,” she deadpans.

“So what’s all this supposed to mean, anyway?” Tim asks, trying to bring the discussion back to the matter at hand.

“It could mean anything. Though to start with, that bit about ‘unseen darkness’, that’s an epithet for the Underworld in old Hellenic documents.”

“We called it that in the old days,” Eros confirms.

“And then there’s the part about someone captive in Hades.”

“I thought Hades was a person?” Tim says.

“It is. But it’s also a place.” Jason tells him.

“It depends on what story and what source you’re drawing from,” Barbara elaborates. “And what translation.”

“What about the next bit? About mortal maskin' the divine?”

“Could that mean whoever’s possessing Carrie Cutter?” Tim suggests. “We’ve already established she’s got help from a god, and if they’re inhabiting her body even for short amounts of time, it’s a pretty effective mask.”

“No doubt,” Eros agrees. “Not so sure about that part with dark nights, but I guess it’s referring to this cesspool you people call a city.”

Tim, Jason and Barbara exchange glances, knowing exactly how dark nights and secrets relate to their city.

Maybe Duke misheard. It might not be dark ‘nights’ so much as dark ‘knights’. Which makes sense, considering Bruce and Dick both have that title depending on the day.

“Safe to say it’s Gotham,” Tim confirms. “So all that begs the question, do you have any idea who’s locked in the Underworld trying to get out?”

Eros snorts. “The better question is who isn’t locked in the Underworld.”

Jason is glaring furiously at Eros, clearly growing tired of his evasive and snarky answers. The way his fists clench, Tim suspects he’s close to throwing a punch at the glass in frustration. Not something Tim wants to see, especially given Jason’s injuries from their altercation with Carrie Cutter and Dick haven’t even been seen to yet.

God, it feels like it was days ago but it was only hours. He probably came right here to confront Eros without even looking after himself.

He has to put that out of his mind for now. Deciphering any clues in the prophecy takes momentary precedence.

“…. A lot of myths end with someone displeasing a god and getting sent to Tartarus, so he has a point,” Barbara is saying, her thumbs busily texting something on her phone.

“So that’s not going to tell us anything,” Tim decides. “What about the ‘crossed beneath the stars’ part?”

“More of the same in terms of pinpointing when everything is supposed to happen,” Eros says.

“Which is when?”

“November twenty-third,” Barbara says, frowning at the small screen in her hand.

Jason looks askance. “How d’you know?”

“'Moon’ equates to month, and another name for Zeus was the Rager,” she replies. “So, Zeus’s month. According to the Athenian calendars we still have access to, Zeus’s month was Maimakterion—which in modern times would fall somewhere between November and December. And the next full moon—” She holds up her phone, showing a lunar calendar for the month, “—falls on November twenty-third. It’s the only full moon that falls during Maimakterion.”

Eros nods along in approval. “What she said.”

“And the small hour?”

“Midnight.”

“So, whatever’s supposed to happen is going to happen eleven minutes after midnight…assuming that’s what moment means,” Tim muses, glancing at his own phone calendar. “That’s this Friday.”

“Five days from now,” Jason agrees, and side-eyes Tim. “We’ve all had shorter deadlines.”

“That’s not necessarily referring to your deadline, sweet cheeks,” Eros reminds him. “I figure you have about half that.”

“No thanks to you.”

“You know, the last Jason I knew wasn’t this whiny.”

“Children,” Barbara says sharply. “Let’s stay focused, shall we? I’m concerned about this virgin sacrifice part—specifically the part where it ensures success for someone we probably don’t want to succeed.”

“Cutter did kill that girl,” Tim reminds them. “Maybe it was some kind of offering, so she’d be successful at whatever she’s trying to do.”

“It’s a good an explanation as anything else,” Eros agrees, examining his nails. “We always did love our human sacrifices. And a virgin does increase the likelihood of something working out to your advantage.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Jason growls. “That’s a kid you’re talking about!”

“And as an Oracle of Delphi she’s entitled to an eternity of bliss once she enters the Underworld,” Eros dismisses. “It’s a better end than some people are entitled to.”

Jason’s eyes blaze as if that’s a personal insult. Tim can certainly empathize.

“What about the second part?” he prompts. “What’s Lethe?”

“The Lethe was the river the souls drank from to forget their previous lives before being reincarnated,” Barbara explains.

“The Ancient Greeks believed in reincarnation? But I thought that was something from the Far East?”

“Many ancient cultures had a concept of reincarnation beyond the Hindu and Buddhist mythos,” Barbara explains. “Just look at the belief systems of the indigenous peoples of North America and you’ll see countless examples. And they didn’t have any contact with the civilizations of Asia during the time when those faiths were evolving.”

Beside Tim, Jason is as stiff as a board and appears to be having trouble breathing. Automatically, Tim edges closer to him, and though he doesn’t outright take his hand—he leans into him, nudging him with his shoulder.

Jason’s eyes dart to him for a moment, and he relaxes incrementally.

“How does that relate here though?” Barbara wants to know.

“Maybe the prisoner forgot something,” Eros suggests, not sounding very interested.

“Or maybe whoever’s tryin' to escape Hades as made to forget something,” Jason counters darkly.

“Only mortals can be made to forget by drinking from the Lethe,” Barbara says. “The prisoner could have been human. Salmoneus or Tantalus or one of the Dainads.”

Tim doesn’t even get a chance to question who they are before Eros interrupts. “Actually, it’s a little broader than just mortals. More like mortals, demigods that haven’t consumed ambrosia, giants, hybrids—”

“So again, we’re back to a broad spectrum of people it could be talkin' about,” Jason complains. “Great. Is there anyone or anything in this stupid prophecy that isn’t doublespeak?”

“Well, the next verse is pretty self-explanatory. Obviously, we’re talking about yours truly,” Eros says, pointing at himself. “What other 'winged son' do you know from mythology?”

“A case could be made for Pegasus.”

“No, it’s Eros,” Tim says. “Cythera’s another name for Aphrodite.” Everyone looks at him in surprise.

“How do you know that?” Jason asks, but where the emphasis ought to suggest incredulity, he sounds impressed.

Tim tries not to bask in that.

“My parents used to visit the island of Cythera a lot when they weren’t on business trips, especially before I was born. It was their favorite vacation destination. Full of history, not touristy—they didn’t like having to socialize with people when they were on vacation.”

Tim falls silent then, remembering sitting in his living room with his parents, pouring over their vacation photos of the Mediterranean island while they told stories. They’d always promised to take him one day…

He glances up and notices the others are watching him now—Eros with a sharp, calculating gaze while Jason appears concerned. As for Barbara, she seems to sense his discomfort, because she navigates them past the lull. “Okay, so if it’s Eros, what are you wanting revenge for? It’s not exactly your M-O.”

“I can think of a few people who have it coming,” Eros answers. “Starting with my mother.”

“What’d she do?” Tim asks.

“Do you have a few centuries worth of couch time?”

“Isn’t she the reason your wife died?” Barbara wants to know. “In the myth, she survived, but Tim told me that's not what happened in reality.”

Eros expression goes cold.

“That’s right,” Tim remembers; he and Eros had this conversation a few days ago, didn’t they? “Aphrodite is the one who sent Psyche to the underworld.”

Eros bares his teeth. “One of her many sins, but not the only one.”

“Then couldn’t the prophecy maybe be referring to her? Psyche, I mean? Maybe she’s the prisoner.”

“Are you implying my wife is the one behind your Cupid’s actions?” Eros growls. “Because that’s impossible.”

“How would you know? It could be—”

“Because she died a mortal! Her soul is mortal and wouldn’t have the power to escape the Underworld in any capacity! Furthermore, Psyche would never kill or arrange the death of anyone! She was good and pure of soul and that’s why I fell in love with her.”

“That’s not what I read,” Barbra says. “Didn’t you prick yourself on one of your golden arrows while watching her?”

“I pricked myself because I fell in love with her,” he snaps. “I’ve already told Jason here that the arrows only work to magnify emotions that are already there.”

“That makes no sense. You liked her before you made yourself fall in love with her?”

“Look, you know the story: Psyche was beautiful. So much so, that the idiots in her kingdom started treating her like a living goddess, bringing the gifts meant for my mother to this human princess. You can guess how well that went over.”

“Right. She sent you to make her fall in love with a horrible beast.”

“Yeah, one of Diomedes mares. Gorgeous animals—people would stop and stare at them for hours. Also, vicious, flesh-eating beasts. Just getting to close to one of those and it would have ripped her to shreds—and she would have stood there and let it.” Eros’ expression becomes soft, eyes faraway at the memory. “If she had been some arrogant, selfish royal I would have let it happen. But I watched her for days while I tried to put her in the path of that thing. And everything she did was just good and kind. I had never seen as pure a soul like hers.” He shakes his head. “The idea of a girl like that being sent to her death just because a bunch of idiot humans had the audacity to praise her alongside my mother didn’t seem fair.”

“And you’re all about fair, aren’t you?” Jason sneers.

Tim has to agree; if Eros cared about fair, he would have been a lot more helpful about curing Jason and wouldn’t have demanded they find his diviners beforehand.

“I was young and stupid, and I didn’t realize the world didn’t work that way,” Eros dismisses. “Even for gods. I thought my mother would never want to harm me—and so if I put Psyche under my protection, she couldn’t hurt her. And if I could show my mother what a good wife Psyche was, even if she was unable to see me, it would prove the point.” He snorts. “It didn’t exactly go my way.”

“And there’s no way her soul could have somehow been corrupted when she died?”

“The Underworld is stagnant. There’s no such thing as change or time there. Everything occurs both in one moment and in all moments there.”

“So you’re saying a soul going in would remain in the same state as it was when it died,” Barbara posits.

“Exactly. How else do you expect the judges to judge souls if they kept changing after death? It’d be a headache.

“Then if it’s not Psyche, who else can you think of that it might be?”

“It might be more than one person,” Tim suggests. “That line about 'greatest of loves'—what if that’s why Carrie’s been targeting couples? She hears the prophecy—or whoever’s riding along inside her hears the prophecy—and thinks there’s a couple out there that’s going to stand against her. She could be trying to eliminate potential threats to her end goal.”

“If so, we need to decipher her criteria for choosing her victims. You already said it didn’t seem like they had anything in common.”

“We’ll have to check again. Maybe now that we’ve got this prophecy, something new will jump out.”

“We skipped a whole verse,” Jason points out. “The ‘warrior guided by the physician’s heir’. Any ideas?”

Eros shrugs. “Since the rest of the prophecy involves me, I’d say it’s me.”

“How do you figure?”

“The Physician is another name for Apollo.”

“So?”

“So, who do you think taught me archery? Next to him, I’m the greatest archer among the Olympians.”

“Or it could be Jason,” Tim ponders.

Jason seems to go pale, almost panicked. “What?”

“I mean, assuming you’re interpreting ‘awaken’ by activating the way you do with a sleeper agent. You infected him with your blood however accidentally and then pressed him into doing your dirty work.”

“I resent your tone, boy,” Eros grumbles, but Jason interjects, “And the other bit?”

“The other bit is just really literal,” Barbara catches on. “Jason, you were trained by Batman. Who was the heir to an actual physician. The M.D. kind.”

Thomas Wayne.

Jason looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. “Shit.”

Eros watches Jason, inscrutable eyes considering; Jason glares back at him as if waiting for him to make a comment.

“But if it’s Jason, the next bit wouldn’t make sense,” Barbara says after a moment. “‘Magnificent Alexandros’. The only Alexandros I can think of off the top of my head if Alexander of Macedon. But that doesn’t really track with the rest of the verse. He was a historical figure, not mythological.”

“That’s offensive, you know,” Eros drawls. “All those stories you call mythology actually happened.”

“Then why don’t we have an archaeological record for them?”

“Because screw you, that’s why.”

“If it is talking about Alexander the Great, Robin will be happy,” Tim says with a rueful smirk.

Jason is perplexed. “Why?”

“Apparently he was on the list of the kid’s League-approved childhood heroes. Mother-son bonding time seems to have included traveling in his footsteps as preparation for world domination.”

Jason looks surprised and amused. “Really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“No, it’s just…” Jason shakes his head. “Never mind.” He clears his throat. “So, back to the prophecy. It talks about the Titans—are we talkin' the creatures the Olympian gods overthrew?”

“Well, whenever one of us mention the Titans, it is usually those bottom feeders rotting in Tartarus, yes,” Eros says dryly, inscrutable focussed on Jason. “Them going free is never a good thing. Don’t believe me, read the Titanomachy. Hesiod got it pretty close to right.”

“Could be the goal, could be the result,” Tim suggests.

“Which brings us back to possibly being on the lookout for more than one prisoner escaping Hades,” Barbara says.

“And all of that leads us to the typical ‘one shall live and one shall die’ device,” Eros concludes.

“Only we don’t know who either of those is.”

“I can tell you now if it’s a prophecy involving me, I have no intention of dying."

“If it’s even about you. It’s not really an exact science, interpreting this sort of thing,” Barbara warns. “Even an Olympian like you can misunderstand—there’s evidence of that in the myths. In fact, I’m sure we’re missing more than is good for us. It will take some time to decipher it and we need more information.”

“At least we have something,” Tim maintains. “The exact date when it’s going to happen and where. We can begin preparing for that.”

“It’s a whole hell of a lot to think about,” Jason agrees.

“Which you can do back at the Cave. We only came here to see if Eros could shed some light on the prophecy or see the arrows.”

“What arrows?”

“Wonder Girl told us that to reverse what’s been done to Nightwing is to remove the arrow that Carrie stabbed him with.”

“Uh, there is no arrow,” Jason says. “Cupid took it with her, remember?”

“I guess that answers that question,” Barbara sighs. “You can’t see them.”

“Of course he can’t,” Eros says. “I’m the only one that can see the wounds caused by my arrows. Even this pseudo-Cupid wouldn’t be able to see them.”

“After she stabbed Jason she seemed to be looking for something, so I’m not sure about that,” Tim argues.

“She can’t see them. Though it may be possible her divine passenger might. I don't know. Never had another god take my diviners before."

“Speaking of being stabbed,” Tim goes on, nodding at the bruises coming out on his face. There are likely more hidden by the leather jacket and gear. “You should get those looked at.”

“I didn’t physically get stabbed, you know. Magic wounds don’t need to be looked at.”

“You went toe-to-toe with an enhanced fighter and Batman. You could have internal bleeding for all we know.”

“If you think a little tussle with that dick is going to do lastin' damage—”

Tim cuts off his indignation. “I don’t, but you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly, and your system is already compromised, so how do you know what damage was or wasn’t done? You didn’t stay to get treated at the Cave.”

Their eyes meet, remembering exactly why that is, and Tim’s cheeks darken. Jason is the first to look away, though.

“It’s nothin'. I can patch myself up whenever.”

“I can help—”

“I’m good.”

“Jason—”

“I’m an adult and I’ve been treatin' myself without help for years now,” Jason interrupts tensely. When Tim can’t stop himself from flinching, Jason’s eyes flash with dismay. “I mean…” He flounders like he’s trying to take it back, and instead changes the subject. “Didn’t you say somethin' about a list? Maybe get started on that and I’ll do an injury check myself.”

It’s a clear cop-out, and if they were alone, Tim would be calling him on it.

“I’ll ask for help if I need any,” he adds, awkwardly, like it’s been a long time since anyone actually cared about his injuries being treated.

Barbara glances between the two of them, obviously sensing the undertone, but not commenting on it. Instead, she says, “I don’t mind helping Jason. Besides, Red Robin needs to contact the Family and let them know what we know.”

“And I need food,” Eros says. “I haven’t eaten since before you went on your little reconnaissance mission. Can’t you see? I’m wasting away.”

“If only,” Jason mutters.

Tim is torn, wanting to argue that he can help Jason, but at the same time trying to respect the other man’s obvious need for distance.

At last, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little defeated. “Let’s take a break. I’ll make a food run…you get yourself fixed up.”

“Whatever you say, babybird.”

⁂

Once Tim vanishes, Barbie indicates with a jerk of her head that Jason should follow her upstairs to the Nest medbay. He knows better than to think it’s just her wanting to take a look at his injuries—like him, she’s probably looking for some privacy.

They take the elevator up in silence, and Jason wonders vaguely when the last time was, he was this close to Barbara Gordon.

I don’t think I have been, actually. We both avoid the manor unless there’s no choice. And we both have good reasons for it. And when we are there together, there’s usually about six to ten feet of distance between us.

They were never what he would call close before she was paralyzed and he died. Barbie was Dick’s girl and Jason’s occasional babysitter until the Joker ruined her life. And then she wasn’t around at all. Jason wasn’t alive to watch her painstakingly drag herself up and pull it together again, so he never got the chance to interact with the Barbara Gordon that became Oracle.

Since returning to Gotham he’s kept her at a distance as much as he did the rest of the Family, so it’s somewhat surprising to him that she’s here now and working to help him.

Probably it’s on account of Tim.

Still silent, they enter the surgically pristine room of the Nest’s medical wing—and Jason is a little jealous of the supplies here. It makes the kits he has in his safehouses about as sophisticated as a needle and threat.

Barbie watches him, framed in the doorway.

“Well? Spit it out,” he grunts, deciding to get whatever reprimands are forthcoming out of the way.

Her look turns sharp before she reaches into her jacket pocket for something; Jason can’t help tensing up, even though she knows the likelihood of her pulling a weapon on him are slim to none.

That suspicion is confirmed when she instead draws out a device and turns it on; there’s a high-pitched background whir that Jason recognizes as a listening device scrambler.

Clearly we’re both aware of what a paranoid freak Timbers can be.

“Okay, Jason, what’s going on?” she asks without preamble. “You know Tim only wants to help you.”

“Yeah, at his own expense,” he retorts sourly.

Barbies raises an eyebrow as if waiting for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, she presses, “You’re being cagey. And it’s more than just worrying about losing control around Tim, I can tell.”

“Oh you can, can you?” he challenges.

“I’ve known you since you were still desperately trying to live up to Dick while pretending like you didn’t care. I know when you’re hiding something,” she folds her arms. “Believe it or not, Jason, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to things that matter.”

It’s reflex to want to say something caustic to that, but he stops himself in time. He needs Barbara’s help and pissing her off isn’t going to make his life any easier.

“I need a favor,” he admits after a beat.

“Another one?” she repeats, sounding like she doesn’t believe him. “You’re going to owe me a lot.”

“Yeah, well, now would be the time to collect on those debts while I still can.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means everyone else is tiptoein' around the subject, but at some point, I’m gonna need to be put under,” he says, erring on the side of just enough truth to keep her from questioning him further. “We both know what I’m talkin' about here.”

As expected, Barbara only just keeps herself from visibly recoiling; she’s already ready with an argument. “You don’t know we won’t find something before that happens.”

“I’m already feelin' like I’m livin' in someone else’s skin—” Literally, in a way. “—I’m not gonna get any better than I am right now. We’ve already seen what it looks like when I dip toward worse. So while I’m still lucid, let me make my decisions. And my decision is, I’d rather go under while I’m still me instead of violent, mindless…reaver.”

Barbara does a minor double-take. “Did you just make a Firefly reference?”

“It’s the last series I was watching before I died,” Jason says, a little defensive.

“I’m not judging, just surprised. Dick and Tim are usually the ones making pop-culture references to deflect. I’m not used to it from you.”

“And I’m not used to you stallin',” he counters. “You’re different from the other Bats, O. You know how to cut your losses, and you know how to make decisions when no one else wants to think about it. You get makin' the hard calls. So, I’m gonna ask you: when it comes down to a choice between me and Tim—and I mean when, not if—who do you save?”

Something like pain passes over her face, and then resolve hardens her face. “Tim.”

“Exactly,” he approves. “Because unlike me, he’s good. And smart.”

“You’re both of those things, even if you pretend like you’re not,” she protests.

“And he hasn’t committed multiple murders,” Jason continues, acting like he didn’t hear her. “Not that what I’ve done wasn’t justified. It wasn’t good, but I don’t regret it because I will go to my grave believin' sometimes that line needs to be crossed. Again. But it’s still a line Tim’s been lucky enough not to have to cross.”

She doesn’t argue with him, instead inclines her head.

“More people will miss him if he were gone then they would me,” Jason concludes. “I’m not supposed to be here anyway.”

There’s a long beat of measuring silence. Then, Barbara sighs. “What is it you need, Jason?”

He tilts his chin in gratitude.

“I didn’t just come here to yell at Eros,” he admits. “If Wonder Woman doesn’t show up, he’s the only one I know who has access to the stuff I need.”

“The Stygian Sleep.”

“Yeah. But it’s probably in GCPD lock-up.” He gives her a quick run-down of events, minus anything about Eros’ intentional plan to infect him. Babs listens, jaw set and eyes narrowed; given what she just said about him, she likely knows he’s not being completely truthful, but his explanation clearly holds enough water that she doesn’t call him on it.

“I’ll get someone to look into it,” she decides at last.

Which, even though he’s relieved about, he’s also suspicious.

“And by ‘look into’ you mean grab hold of and perform a million tests on it before handin' it over,” he posits.

“Just because you’re hellbent on using something that’s effectively going to kill you doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything about it first,” she says, unapologetic. “Like the prophecy, it might have clues about how to circumvent it.”

“Yeah, because we’re having so much luck with that.”

“Also, when Bruce comes to me later in a righteous fury for letting his son die a second time, I’ll be able to assure him we knew everything we did about it before making an informed decision.”

Jason doesn’t pretend to believe that’s the end of it. Barbara might be willing to humor Jason a little more than Bruce, or even Dick when he’s not compromised—she might even be a little more objective in considering things, but she’s not going to trust Jason’s plan to be the only plan. She’ll have her own contingencies, the same as any Bat.

The only difference with Babs is that once it’s over and done with, and it becomes clear there’s no saving him, she’ll have an easier time getting over it than Bruce will. And she won’t let it compromise her work.

Tim’s told Jason what Bruce and Dick were like after he died the first time, and if it happens again, Gotham needs someone competent in keeping things in check.

And Tim…

Jason’s heart thuds with guilt.

This time, Tim won’t just be sweeping in to pick up the broken pieces of Batman and Nightwing as he did as a kid. He won’t be watching it from the sidelines.

The memory hits him then. To his surprise, it’s not from Achilleus or Alexandros.

Jason hates Wayne Charity galas.

People are always staring at him, murmuring through pasted-on smiles that even if he couldn’t read lips, he would be able to hear the judgment dripping from their words. These people are so achingly dry and genteel, their teeth don’t even unclench around their vowels.

Bruce doesn’t make him come to all that many of these shindigs, thankfully; only the ones involving children’s advocacy and the like. Jason doesn’t mind those too much, considering their purpose. He just hates that even at those—like the one tonight—he’s the only kid that has to parade around in the straitjacket Alfred calls a tux.

He gets it, of course; he’s the poster-boy, the success story, a means of showing the rich snobs how well a dirty Crime Alley orphan can clean up so that they’ll open their checkbooks.

It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Except for tonight, for the first time, he noticed another kid that’s been dragged along. A tiny boy whose meticulously fitted tux still manages to look too big for him.

A man and woman who must be his parents are chatting with another couple, seemingly oblivious to the way their son is staring into the distance, a neutrally polite expression fixed on his face. He might as well be sleeping standing up, and Jason has the odd suspicion that’s by design.

That makes his mouth twitch; maybe rich kids get bored with this kind of thing too.

Jason keeps staring across the manor ballroom until the strange kid senses his gaze and looks up. He grins when the boy’s eyes widen—their color is startling, even from across the room, and they take up practically his whole face—and wonders at the sudden flood of color in his cheeks.

He’s about to motion the boy over to the edge of the reception area—hanging out with another kid, even a little one, will definitely break up the monotony of the evening—when Bruce’s hand falls hard on his shoulder.

“Time to make an exit, son,” he says, voice quiet and intense and incongruent with the false smile he’s still beaming at everyone within a ten-foot radius. From the distracted note in his words, Jason doesn’t even need to look out the window to see the signal lighting up the sky.

They meet Felipe Garzonas that night, and he doesn’t think of the boy again.

Jason shudders as the technicolor recollection fades out, his stomach twisting angrily.

He’s never made the connection between Tim and the boy at the fundraiser before. It occurs to him how stupid that was—at the same time it occurs to him that if not for that case that night, he might not have been on the outs with Bruce. He might have endured more Wayne event galas instead of limiting whatever time he was with Bruce to being Robin by night. He might have gotten to know Tim in this life, instead of dying.

He might not be in this damned predicament right now.

“Jason?”

He looks up, realizes that Barbie is watching him with concern. He is quick to revisit their conversation and mutters, “Yeah, fine. Just make sure the stuff actually makes it to me before my brain dribbles out of my head, okay?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” she replies, reaching out to turn off the scrambler device, though she continues to exude suspicion.

“All Bats are dramatic, or have you forgotten?” he quips back, offering an irreverent smirk to cover up.

“Hard to forget something you live with every day,” she returns dryly. “Now get over here and let me check you over.”

“You don’t need to,” he points out. “I’ve had worse than this, you know.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all aware you’ve died and come back, who hasn’t these days?” she returns. “Now, shirt off, or I’m telling Tim you didn’t do what you said you would.”

Jason glares. “This is going to become a thing, isn’t it? You people using Tim to make me do things.”

“Things that are for your own good, yes. Now strip, Todd.”

“Yes, mother…”

“You wish your mother was as cool as me.”

Which Jason can’t argue with, because she’s right; he’s had a total of three mother figures in his life (two of which he’s not sure even qualify because of how messed up they were), and none of them have been as capable or decent as Barbara Gordon.

Once he’s shrugged his top half out of the body armor and leather, she reaches for him.

Jason experiences a nauseous swoop in his stomach at the idea of anyone but Tim putting hands on him. Instantly, his hand snaps up and knocks hers back.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarls.

Barbara pulls away, watching him with a raised eyebrow and instantly Jason is overwhelmed with shame.

“Sorry,” he bites out. “I didn’t mean…”

“We can wait for Tim to get back,” she suggests, instantly understanding.

Alarms blare in his head at the thought; he shakes his head. “No. No, I’m…I’m good. Now that I’m expectin' it.”

She considers him several beats longer and then makes the next attempt to check his injuries. This time he concentrates on forcing the sick feeling away and tries to ignore how it feels like someone is rubbing sandpaper across his skin.

That’s a new symptom. Great. Because it wasn’t enough that I’ve been trying to claw my skin of myself, now other people get to do it too…

Barbara checks him over with quiet efficiency, evaluating the shallow slash between his arm and shoulder which his armor didn’t cover, as well the bruising along his hips, elbows and lower back.

“It could be worse,” she decides eventually, considering the mottled purpling across his chest. “Ribs are bruised, not broken.”

“I could've told you that…”

“And were you going to tell me about that?” she points at his shoulder and the spiderweb of gold leeching out around the long-healed-over bullet wound. From the way he’s been itching at it this past day, he doesn’t need a mirror to know it’s beginning to creep up his neck as well. “How long has it been growing like that?”

“Pretty much since I got it,” he replies.

She reaches up, brow furrowed and reaches toward one of the raised lines winding toward his chest. Again, he braces himself for the pain of the touch his body doesn’t want.

Thankfully, she barely grazes that. “You haven’t been keeping better track, have you? It might give us a more specific idea of how much time you have.”

“How so?”

“The same as any poison, I would guess. The closer it gets to your heart, the less time you have.”

He frowns. “At this point, I don’t think it even matters.”

Movement outside of the med bay window draws his attention, and he across the floor to see Tim climbing the stairs from the ground floor.

Jason is quick to grab his shirt and tug it on; it’s not something he wants to discuss with Tim just yet.

Barbara watches him, lips pursed in worry and disapproval, but he could care less about the latter. She knows his thoughts on this, and she’ll respect them.

Tim strides in and then slows like he’s wondering if he’s supposed to knock or not.

“How are you doing?” he asks, hesitant like he’s afraid expressing concern will set Jason off like a bomb.

Guilt hits him at that, but he forces himself to remain calm and blank-faced. “Fine.”

“I have to go,” Barbie announces, maneuvering her chair toward the door. “I need to go back to the Cave and check on Dick’s condition. I don’t know how long it will be before he tries to escape or pull something to keep from going nuts.”

“Also, it’d be nice if this month was one of the ones where Alfred doesn’t get knocked out,” Tim suggests with false levity.

“Or lose a hand,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Exactly. And whether he knows it or not, Feathers downstairs gave me some ideas about how to remove the arrow,” Barbie says as they leave the med bay.

“I should come with you.”

“No.” Both Barbara and Tim speak at the same time, but she’s the one that keeps talking. “You should stay here.”

“Not sure that’s the best idea.”

“I think it is,” Tim counters. “It will keep us out of everyone’s hair and they’ll know where we are.” His tone is reasonable—too reasonable; clearly Timmy has some ulterior motives.

Whether those motives are to circumvent Bruce or Jason’s plans, he doesn’t care. But one thing is for sure. “They can know where we are if we’re at the manor.”

And isn’t that a reversal—Jason being the one to insist on that?

I need to have people around because I don’t trust myself right now.

The mutinous expression is back on Tim’s face, before he visibly switches tactics.

“Okay, how about this,” he suggests, tone only a shade off exasperated. “Why don’t you go lie down somewhere and try to catch a few hours' sleep? If you’re sleeping, you’re not doing anything else, right? And then we’ll either go back to the Cave or see if anyone can be spared to chaperone here.”

“There’s no need for that,” a voice says, and they all look up to see Damian stride in still in full Robin-gear.

Tim scowls. “How did you get in here?”

“It was fairly simple,” the kid snorts. “A fish tank, Drake? Really?”

Tim looks like he wants to protest, but Jason chuckles. “It was kind of obvious, babybird.”

“You can barely take care of yourself, and you expect someone with a brain to believe you have the patience to care for fish?” the boy continues. “Exactly who do you think has been feeding them when you forget?”

Tim gapes. “You…break into my apartment…to feed my fish?”

Jason can’t help the loud guffaw that escapes at that, earning two equally unimpressed glares in return. He doesn’t care—that might be the funniest thing he’s heard in days.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Barbara says and wheels out of the room. “Try not to kill each other, boys. Alfred would be unhappy about it.”

“Luckily, we are standing in a well-stocked room with several methods for resuscitating a dead body,” Damian replies easily.

“Don’t you have school?” Tim grumbles.

“It’s Sunday, Drake.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I have been sent to babysit you two and put Todd down with extreme prejudice should he try anything.

Which Tim gapes and, while Jason is…kind of relieved about.

“Aw, Dami, I knew you cared,” he teases.

“Don’t address me with that infantile drivel!”

Tim sighs.

“Just don’t set anything on fire while you’re here…”

⁂⁂⁂

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years

Note

Hi! Do you know any Sterek Cinderella fics? Or any fairy tale besides little red riding hood? Thanks!!!

I LOVE SOME GOOD OL’ STEREK FAIRY TALES!!!! -Letta

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Derek looks away again. “Yes,” he says miserably. “I’ll never be good enough for him.” He feels more than hears Lydia sigh and step away.

“We’ll just have to make him forget about politics, then,” she says softly. “He won’t care what house you’re from the moment he sets eyes on you.”

“In these clothes?”

“Don’t be idiotic.” Lydia raises her wand and bites her lip contemplatively. “I’m your fairy godmother, Derek. I think I can work a little magic. But first – we’ll need a pumpkin and some mice.”

In which Derek is a Disney princess, but not really, and Stiles is the prince who actually remembers what Cinderella looks like.

Forevermore by AsagiStilinski

(1/1 | 3,098 | NR)

Once upon a time, there was a wolf prince, who's family was slaughtered by an evil huntress, legend says that he resides locked in a tower in the burned remains of his kingdom, waiting for someone to save him, and Stiles is about to become that someone

Fathoms Below by Saucery

(1/1 | 3,163 | Teen)

An absolutely shameless fusion with The Little Mermaid. Shh, just come.

The Prince and The Cobbler by FairyNiamh

(1/1 | 3,699 | Teen)

After his Royal Ball, Derek seeks out a certain cobbler with a familiar shoe. Really? Stiles is no Cinderella!

wander and wait by sinequanon

(1/1 | 3,714 | Teen)

Wherein Kate is an evil stepmother, Scott misses his friend, and Stiles ultimately has his revenge.

The Beauty and the Wolf by Shinigami24

(8/8 | 3,748 | M)

The tale of the beauty who loves the beast becomes the next matchmaking attempt.

Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees by LessonsFromMoths

(1/1 | 3,948 | Teen)

The boy snorted. It was an ugly sound. Not one you would expect from a...princess? “Well obviously the fairytale didn't get everything right.”

Obviously. Derek’s eyes trailed over the slender boy. Rose-red lips, pink-tainted cheeks, slender frame, skin as white as snow. The fairytale got enough right. “And your dwarves?”

The boy outright laughed then. “Less like dwarves, more like nuisances.”

In which Stiles is Snow White, Derek is confused, and fairy tales aren't all that they cracked up to be.

The Little Glass Button by RossellyBea

(1/1 | 4,208 | Teen)

“Scott, I love you like a brother, but come on. Why in the world would an omega ever pick me? Let alone an omega prince? I may be an alpha, but the chance of me getting the prince's attention is non-existent. Non-existent.”

Omegaverse Sterek Cinderella. That pretty much sums it up.

The Hale Swans by ophelianipples

(5/5 | 4,715 | Gen)

“But remember -” said the fairy - “from the moment you commence your task, until it is finished, even should it occupy years of your life, you must not speak. The first word you utter will pierce through the hearts of your sisters like a deadly dagger. Their lives hang upon your tongue.”

An AU of 'The Wild Swans' in which Derek tries to save his sisters and Stiles is fascinated by his odd behaviour (and stunning good looks).

Under The Sea by myrandomnesslife

(1/1 | 6,246 | Teen)

In which Stiles is Ariel and Derek is Eric. With a twist.

The Rest Is Unwritten by mikkimouse

(2/2 | 6,267 | Teen)

Once upon a time, the werewolf king and queen invited five fairies to the christening of their only son. The fairies bestowed the boy with gifts—beauty, grace, wit, and the most adorable teeth in all the land.

But before the fifth fairy could give her gift, a wicked fairy from the other Court arrived and cast a terrible curse on the baby prince. He would have a life full of tragedies, she declared, and die young, of a broken heart.

The king and queen were beside themselves with grief. It was very old, powerful magic, so there was little they could do to break it. However, the fifth fairy had yet to give her gift. The curse could not be broken, she told them, but it could be altered.

She bestowed upon the prince the gift of perseverance, so that he would never lose his will to live, even in the face of countless tragedies. And when he found the one who would stand by his side and face those tragedies with him without fail, that is when the curse would be broken. Because the fairy knew there was nothing in all the world more powerful than true love. Not even a wicked fairy's curse.

A Tale Spun from Love and Void by Toxin

(1/1 | 7,230 | Teen)

When Kate Argent kills most of his family, Derek makes a deal with a Nogitsune in order to avenge their deaths. In exchange for killing his first love, however, the Nogitsune demands Derek’s next one as payment, whenever Derek falls again. Never believing he’d make the mistake of opening his heart to anyone else, Derek takes the deal.

Fortunately, the only thing the Nogitsune likes more than pain is riddles, and when it finally comes for Stiles, it offers Derek a chance: if he can guess the Nogitsune’s name before the time runs out, Derek can keep the boy. The only problem is, Derek doesn’t even know Stiles’ actual name, and that soon becomes an issue in and of itself.

Or,

A Teen Wolf twist on the Rumpelstiltskin tale, initially inspired by the fact that Stiles’ name is nearly impossible to guess in three tries. Written for the Sterek Writing Room's 'Fairy Tale September' prompt.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fairy tale #fairy tale au #cinderella au #rapunzel au #rumpelstiltskin au #little mermaid au #anonymous #Anonymous

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cole-tudor-blog · 4 years

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Character Profile

First Name: Cole

Surname: Tudor

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Height: 5'2

Weight: 120lbs

Sexuality: Homoromantic Asexual

Likes: Cole likes sweet things, whether it be normal food, healthy or unhealthy. He also enjoys adventurous activities, though not if it is potentially dangerous. His favourite type of people to befriend are definitely people who don't just echo him or others, as in copying their actions/words, and can rely on themselves as much as relying on others.

Dislikes: Sour things more than anything, and he can't handle spicy food either. He hates being bored with nothing to do, along with having too much on his plate to complete. It makes him very stressed. He can't deal with people who tease him about every little thing he does, such as height, his looks, clothes, things like that. It makes him feel insecure.

Personality: He sees himself as a pretty average guy, aside from the few combat abilities and skills he has. So he doesn't think much of himself. He is naive, gullible and sees the best in everybody, no matter what wrong-doings they did in the past or what they have done to him. He is optimistic to the point where it actually becomes worrisome to people around him, but his optimism can also kick in at very inconvenient times or when it really isn't appropriate for the situation.

Is seen by others as: Similar to how he thinks of himself, a pretty average guy. His friends describe him as great to be around and uplifting, and a great source of comfort. Also sometimes compared to a puppy - as several features of him could be described with the word "small".

Personality quirks: Almost brutally honest, and can't even bring himself to say the smallest lie. This presents itself as a flaw in multiple situations, especially when he has to go through with a lie in a dire situation. He also has a knack to separate lies from the truth rather easily. And, if he isn't spotted lost in a hallway or doing something, he's asleep. That's that, he takes constant naps but never sleeps at night when he's supposed to.

Casual outfit: A green hoodie (usually has the hood up) with a plain black shirt underneath. He wears dark blue jeans which are a little too big for him, as they become looser at the ankle area and cover his foot slightly. He wears black and white trainers underneath them, with smaller white socks.

Hair colour, style: His hair is brunette and messy, rather spiky but surprisingly soft. He jokes that his hair fights back against brushes and combs because every single time they are used, they get tangled and it just doesn't work out.

Eye colour: His eyes are brown, and they tend to turn a more orange colour when in direct sunlight or outside.

Facial features: Freckles, a small "button" nose, and his cheeks and ears are naturally tinted red against his slightly paler skin.

Physical quirks: He's short, and gets teased about this a lot. Though he has become almost immune to the "haha, you're small" tease because he literally just grew up with it. His hoodie is also a way to tell it's him, because he almost never takes that thing off, aside from when he's going to sleep or if it needs washed.

Background: He was raised in a containment facility along with other children around his age, most of them at least a couple years older than him. The leader/boss of the facility went by the name of Lewis Sandoval, and the name of the facility was "RTA". It was an abbreviation for something. For what? He doesn't know.

There, they would be trained in mostly gunslinging and hand-to-hand combat throughout their lives, getting more and more difficult as they grew or, went up the "ranks". They would not compete against each other - they were taught to trust each other. But just to trust the people they grew up with. Nobody else.

They used the fact that he was pretty average-looking to their advantage, using him as an assassin at the age of 14. He would have gone through around 8 years of actual training at that point. He was given a target list, along with the location, and a way to get there the quickest. He would also be given a time frame depending on how they wanted the job done.

Sometimes they wanted the job done quickly. The time he would have for that would be around 4-5 hours. Sometimes they wanted the job to be done right, especially if it was going to be difficult. Then maybe a few months, if he kept in close contact of course.

When the deed was done and the person was killed, he was to report back with evidence of the murder immediately. If he forgot the evidence or didn't do it within the time frame, he would be punished with isolation and starvation for around a week.

There was a specific room he can remember, a very small enclosed space and he could hardly breathe in there - it constantly felt like he was running out of oxygen. He wouldn't be able to see anything or hear anything. He was sometimes left in there for a day or so when they gave him just the right amount of sustenance for him to crave more, but enough for him to at least live through it.

When he grew and was no longer foolish enough to believe the obvious lies they were being told, he tried to make a plan with the rest of the group to escape. He did get a few people to help him with the plan. Others refused because the punishment would be unbearable, or they thought that even if they did escape, they would have nowhere to return to.

With the help of others, he was able to escape when he convinced the leader to let him have a mission with the people who agreed to escape with him. When they were sent off to find the target, they never did the job, and they never returned. Although that was clearly the right option, he was raised in that place. And he was taught to trust that authority. That very, very bad authority.

He was found when he was set on his own, the others having also went off on their own to seek shelter themselves. They didn't want to stay as a group in case they were all discovered, it would be more discreet if they just went off by themselves instead of staying in a big group.

Target sheets were spotted by some members of SHIELD, and so as a result of them worrying about some kind of bigger organization, which in the end, there was - he was taken in for questioning. He refused to answer any questions at first, but when he did open up, they allowed him to stay there. He isn't trustworthy, they have to keep an eye on him, but he would at most be useful if this organization sends people to try and kill the Avengers, or if the entire organization is sent.

Tickling info-

Lee: His laugh is notably high-pitched and squeaky. It's very loud, too, squeals turn to snorts if he is tickled for long enough. He doesn't flail, surprisingly - though he does grab onto the ler's wrist hard enough to cut off circulation. He lets go if they say it's bothering them though and just turns to gripping onto whatever surface is around him as he tries not to hurt the ler. No, he will not defend himself or fight back. Verbal teases get him the most. He will use his arms to cover his face though if that happens. He can't take it. It's so embarrassing to him.

Ler: Very teasy, he can't take what he dishes out. He's a fan of pinning down the lee or immobilizing them as much as he can, because he's small, and he can easily be pushed away. Raspberries are his favourite weapon, and he becomes ruthless if the lee is cheeky or stubborn. Respectful of people's boundaries, though. He's also very willing to do anything the lee wants him to. Like, if the lee wants him to tickle them in a specific area or if somebody has a favourite spot, he'll definitely focus on it. Despite being ruthless, he isn't too mean as a ler.

Worst spot(s): Belly, feet and hips. Worst out of all of them has to be his feet, though.

Favourite spot(s): Belly with softer tickles.

#tw starvation #starvation tw #tw isolation #isolation tw #character profile #hopefully i got everything i needed in here #oc profile #marvel

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unfallen-angel · 6 years

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Winds and Storms pt.1

MASTERLIST // PART 2

Summary: This doesn't exactly fit in with the MCU timeline. You are hiding, trying to stay off the radar because of your special skills, in a small city in Northern Russia. H.Y.D.R.A caught word that there were some revolters in the city, so they took care of it. That’s where you meet the first of the team.

A/n: I've recently been reading a lot of Bucky stories, and just can't squelch the urge to write my own. Fair warning I haven't written a piece in over a year, so please be gentle. I will likely be writing a ton more. Please let me know what you think or if you want to shoot me an idea to write!

WARNINGS: SOME cursing, explosions, and hints of violence.

Word Count: ~ 1600

Smoke billows into the air, blocking out the stars as you cough and sputter on your knees, gasping for fresh air. The building behind you groans, metal crunching against concrete, and crumbles to the ground. Another explosion sounds in the distance.

you flinch.This is not how you had planned to spend the evening.

Two metal suits fly overheard toward the second explosion. You stand in awe as you watch the Avengers work to contain the damage done by H.Y.D.R.A. and run two shaky hands through your long dark hair. The smell of burning gasoline and charred flesh burns your nose as you turn and run for the treeline, seeking shelter away from the fray.

A loud crash of thunder rumbles all around you and you nearly topple over. The ground is quaking beneath your boots as you push yourself faster. "What the Hell-" you hiss between your teeth and dive to the side just an an RPG rushes by you and hits the building that was just leveled. "I mean I think they're dead already," you mutter acidicly as you brush yourself off.

"I'm nothing if not thorough, my dear." A thick Russian accent. NOT. GOOD.

You whirl around and jump to your feet, reaching for the dagger you keep in your left boot, only to remember that you left it under your pillow when you evacuated the burning building. "Aw Hell," you say quietly and look up at the man standing only a few feet from you.

He doesn't appear to be armed, but the five foot soldiers behind him more than make up for his lack of a weapon. "A strangler. You should have been in that building with the rest of your pathetic people. How did you get out, my pretty?" His voice was sickeningly sweet as he stands in front of you, palms out in peace.

Without a word, you tilt your chin up defiantly and spit at his feet. You know this man. He is a scientist from H.Y.D.R.A. He is the one that tracks down recruits to test. He is the one that thinks he can play God, creating new life and taking it away as he sees fit.

"Feisty. I wonder..." His voice trails off as he looks over his shoulder at the oncoming convoy. Three large black tanks with the H.Y.D.R.A. symbol painted on the side along with another fifty foot soldiers all marching toward the battle behind you. A light flashes from one of the tanks and the ground shakes again a tank fires into the burning city.

Iron Man's suit flashes in the light of the flames as he soars skyward and hovers for a moment. No doubt he is looking for the source. Another flash and the tank fires at the metal man in the sky. You watch in silent horror and he slides to the side just moments before being hit. The white jets from his feet and palms tilt slightly as he rockets in the directing, left hand out in front of him. The white light quickly turns to blue as he charges his cannon.

"I will find you, my dear. You will be of use to me yet!" The Russian scientist barks and turns on his heel, walking briskly back to the car he had driven up in. The car that you had not seen before. The bulletproof, heavily reinforced, black SUV with a heavy duty front bumper guard.

Another explosion, this time to your right. Two of the black tanks soared through the air, burning in bright orange flames. "Iron Man to the rescue." You roll your eyes and turn back to the scientist as the car door slams shut. Darting your eyes back and forth between the metal suit and the scientist, you realize that he will get away. Iron Man is only focused on the tanks and hasn't noticed that getaway car. "Well shit," you spit out and start sprinting toward the car.

You cannot let him get away. You swore to yourself that you would never do this. That you would never show anyone what you can do. That you would always keep it a secret, but you were no longer a child. As you run, you crack your knuckles with your thumbs and take a deep steadying breath. It had been so long since you did this, you weren't even sure that you could anymore.

Steely resolved settles in the pit of your stomach. Your left hand comes up over your face as she wake a sweeping motion to the left, like you're brushing off a cobweb. Then you do the same with your right hand. Nothing happens. The toe of your boot catches on a root jutting out of the forest floor, but you keep going, stumbling only slightly.

Repeating the motion again you feel your fingers tingling. The air around you starts to buzz, swirling your hair around wildly. The car is already in reverse and driving away. You focus all your energy on hood ornament twinkling in the light of the flames. You focus so hard that you don't notice the noise of a metal suit coming up behind you.

You let out an animalist shout and bring both your hands up, crossing your wrists in front of your face and then sweeping both your arms out wide. Ice cold air slices through the trees and heads straight for the target. A moment later the car flips end over end. The sound of glass shattered and metal scraping fills the forest. You send another blast of air with your right hand, pushing the car back another fifty feet.

The whir of metal pulls you from the trance you were in and as you look to your right. A whitish blue cannon fires from the right palm of the red and gold suit and the car explodes, sending bits and piece of metal and glass flying everywhere.

Breathless, you drop to your knees and try to slow your heart rate. Iron Man lands beside you and the face shield releases its pressure and moves to the top of his head, revealing a very sweaty Tony Stark. "Um. Hi," He says and holds out his right hand to you. "I think we might have a lot to talk about, miss..."

"Y/N." You pant and stare at his hand incrediously. He just shot a cannon out of that hand, but you take it anyway. The metal is surprisingly cool against your skin.He pulls you to your feet and you let out a shaky laugh and bob your head just once. "Yeah. I guess we do." He starts walking back toward the city as flames engulf it. You follow behind, wincing as you gingerly put pressure on your left ankle. It must have twisted when you nearly tripped.

Tony noticed you limping and offered you his help. You just nodded and draped your arm over his shoulder as he pulled you back toward the Quinjet that was hovering just outside the city. The nearly silent jet turned its nose away from us and the door let out a hissing noise, like air being let out of a balloon. “Up you go,” Tony yells over the roar of the engines as he put his hands under your arms and lifts you into the jet.

“Hey! Let go of-” His hands are replaced by two strong arms clad in all black. Even the hands were covered by black gloves. You hear the fight sound of metal whirring in your ear as you struggle and kick out your legs.

“Easy. I’ll drop you if you kick me.” A low, gravelly voice muttered in my ear.

“You drop me and I’ll do something worse than kick you!” You retort and pull away slightly to turn and see just who Tony Stark handed you off to. Your eyes are met by stormy blue eyes framed by long, dark, unruly hair. The man steps back and releases your arms as a number of emotions plays across his face.

Quickly, he regains his composure and folds his arms across his chest. The faint sound of metal plates shifting draws your attention to his left arm. “Where did you pick her up, Stark?” He muttered and shifted his stance so that his left arm was slightly hidden from your view.

“If you must know, Robocop.” Tony rolled his eyes. “She leveled a 6 ton SUV with the sweep of her hands in the forest back there.” Tony claps you on the shoulder and moves to the front of the jet. “Y/N, this is Bucky.” He nodded toward the large man that helped pull you into the jet. Then you look beside him and notice another burly man that you have seen all too often. “And this is-”

“Steve Rogers,” You finish for him and smile at Steve, extending a hand to shake his. Steve shakes your hand enthusiastically and smiles back, nudging Bucky with his shoulder.

Bucky ignores him and sits back down in his seat, arms still folded across his broad chest. He stares at you silently until you find your seat across from him, and then he doesn’t look at you again the entire flight back.

You exchange a little information about yourself to the others and listen to their stories and banter. It was mostly just Steve and Tony that were talking. Bucky sat, arms folded, unmoving except for his eyes which occasionally flicker to you, and offered no communication to his team or you.

#MCU #Avengers #bucky barnes #steven rogers #tony stark #bucky x reader #steve x reader #tony x reader #Russia #Explosions #Super powers

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diazevan · 6 years

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Sacrifice

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe [Read on Ao3] Characters: Tony Stark and Peter Parker (Father/Son) Summary: Avengers 4 idea - Peter Parker has to sacrifice Tony Stark in order to retrieve the soul stone. (This was an idea originally from my parents, and I in the car ride back from watching infinity war.) READ THIS: The story falls after the Avengers have time-traveled to retrieve the stones before Thanos has a chance to. Therefore, in this mini-story, the only character who remembers the events of infinity war is Tony because for this idea to work infinity war was rewritten, and never took place. Time travel fixed it. (Meaning Peter has no memory of the events of iw.)

The only thing Tony could think about when they arrived was how beautiful Vormir was. It was dark and cold, but gorgeous. Tony removed his mask off and let himself take in the landscape of the unpopulated planet. “Does this new suit have a heater too?” Peter’s shaking voice came from behind.

“Yeah.” Tony sighed, turning around, “It should kick in automatically when it registers your body temperature.”

“I think I can feel it.” Peter deactivated his mask, and smiled up at his mentor, “What is this place called?”

“Vormir.” Tony said, “We need to get up there.” He pointed up, “We’ll save some time if we fly.” Peter nodded. With no places to swing, Peter had to rely on Tony to fly; it didn’t take long, they were there in a manner of seconds.

“Welcome, Tony Stark, son of Howard and Maria Stark.” A chilling voice came from in front of them; they both looked up to see a floating cloaked figure only a few paces in front of them. His face was covered, and neither of them could see underneath his hood. “And Peter Parker, son of Richard and Mary Parker.”

“How does he know us?” Peter asked; Tony made sure Peter was shielded before he opened his mouth to address the hooded figure, but he was interrupted.

“It is my curse to know all who journey here.” The hooded figure told them.

“Hey dementor, the kid was talking to me.” Tony said mockingly, he turned to Peter, who was obviously scared, but he was attempting to wear a brave face, “It’s okay.” He turned back to the figure, “Who are you?”

“Captain America would be able to answer that one for you.” The figure pulled his hood off to reveal his bright red skin underneath.

Tony said, “You’re Johann Schmidt. Cap fought you almost a century ago.”

“And since then I have been here.” Schmidt explained, “I was banished here, to spend a lifetime guiding others to a treasure I cannot possess.”

“The soul stone,” Tony said.

“You seek it to save the universe.” Schmidt said, “I understand, but do you? Both of you. You should know, it extracts a terrible price.”

“Take us to it,” Tony ordered, trying to make sure Peter didn’t find out why he was truly there. Not yet.

Schmidt guided the pair up in an awkward silence. When they reached the top, they were faced with a large drop; snow was falling on them, but their suits were keeping them warm. Tony and Peter traveled to the edge, “What is this?” Peter asked, turning to Schmidt.

“The price.” He told them. Tony closed his eyes, swallowing the dread in his throat; he put his arm in front of Peter’s chest and took a few steps back away from the edge making sure Peter followed his lead.

“And the price is?” Peter quizzed.

“The soul holds a special place among the Infinity Stones. You might say it is, a certain wisdom. To ensure whoever possesses it understands its power, the stone demands a sacrifice.” Schmidt explained.

“Of what?” Peter asked, eyeballing Tony in hope that his mentor would help explain what was going on.

“In order to take the Stone. You must lose that which you love. A soul, for a soul.” Schmidt explained. Tony closed his eyes, and bowed his chin down to his chest; he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and his hands started to shake. The sound of movement behind him snapped him back into reality; he turned to see Peter nervously stepping away from him.

“Why did you bring me here, Mr. Stark?” He asked, his voice breaking. Tony stepped closer, but Peter hurried back; he held his hands out, and Tony stopped in his tracks, knowing his movement was scaring Peter. “You don’t need Spider-Man. There is no threat here. This is just--this is not even a fight!” He shouted, tears brimming in his eyes, “Why-why do you need me?”

“I don’t need Spider-Man.” Tony admitted, “I need Peter Parker.”

“Why?” Peter asked as tears teased down his cheeks, “Why do you need me?”

“Lose that which you love,” Tony said, his own voice cracking, taking a step forward. Peter inhaled sharply, stumbling further back away from Tony, “I’m not going to hurt you, Pete.”

“No-no.” Peter stammered, “I’m 17, not an idiot. You want me to kill you!” He shouted.

“I know you’re not an idiot, kid.” Tony said.

“Why me?” Peter’s lip wobbled as he sobbed, “Why not Pepper or Happy? Or another Avenger? Why me, Mr. Stark?”

“There is this man called Stephen Strange. He was able to see over 14 million versions of the future, and the only one where we win, and beat Thanos, is the one where you do this.” Tony said pointing to the cliffside.

“I refuse.” Peter sniffled, “I don’t lo--” He stopped, and Tony approached until he was right in front of him, “Please.”

“I told Pepper that I kept having dreams about having a child with her, who I’d love with all my heart. And I had that-” he stepped closer to Peter, “-With you.” He extended his finger placing it on Peter’s chest, “And I’d sacrifice anything to keep you safe. When I watched you die --that was--”

“I can’t kill you.” Peter cried, “Please, Mr. Stark....Please - you can’t make me do this. I’m just a kid, I can’t kill you!” Whacking sobs tore through the young man, and he had to look away to carry on, “I lost my Dad, and my Uncle.” He turned back to Tony; bug-eyed, and shattered, “Do you really think I can lose another…... Dad?”

“You shouldn’t have to. Kid, the world hasn’t needed Iron Man for a very long time.” Tony explained, “But the world needs a Spider-Man because he’s a beacon of hope, and innocence.”

“I can’t do this.” Peter cried.

“This should not be you because you’re right, you are just a kid, and I shouldn’t be making you do this.” Tony said, tears rolling down his cheeks, “And I wouldn’t be unless the fate of the universe depended on this happening.”

“I wish I was just Peter Parker, and not Spider-Man.” Peter sobbed, “This is so unfair.”

“The world needs Spider-Man. Maybe even more then it ever needed a billionaire in a metal suit.” Tony chuckled, he pulled on his suit, and he was soon stood in his black clothes. “Right now.” He leaned forward, and disabled Peter’s suit, so that the teenager was stood in his regular clothes, “We should be ourselves, and not just our facades.”

Peter crashed into Tony’s chest, burying his head into his mentor’s shoulder; Tony, gingerly, folded his arms around the kid, holding him tight - bracing himself, and Peter for the unimaginable. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I know.” Tony cried, laying his chin on Peter’s head, and pulling him in tighter. “But we’re saving the world, and your world. Your friends, and your aunt.” He pushed on Peter’s shoulders; the kid looked down at the ground. Tony smiled through his tears, and lifted Peter’s chin up with his middle and index finger, “Promise me, you’ll still be an amazing Spider-Man, and a brilliant Peter Parker.”

“I promise.”

Tony backed up, so that he was almost near the edge of the cliff. Peter stayed put, shaking on the spot. Tony was sure the kid would keel over from the anxiety of the situation; he searched for words to comfort him, “I’m not scared, Peter. And I’m proud of you.” Peter shook as he travelled over, “I’m so proud of you.” He repeated, up close to ensure Peter knew.

“Thank you.” Peter sniffled; he placed a hand on one of Tony’s shoulders, he used his free hand to wipe away tears, “For--for everything.” He moved his other hand onto Tony’s other shoulder.

“I’m just a man, kid.” Tony told him.

“No. You’re Iron Man.” Peter cried looking up at him, “My hero.” He tightened his grip; his shoulders shaked as he cried, “I lo-ve--I love you.”

A small grin grew on Tony’s face, and every tiny ounce of fear in him was eradicated with three simple words from the lips of the only son Tony was granted in his life. Not related by blood, but the bond was still undeniable. “I love you too, kid.”

Their eyes met once more, and Peter used everything he had to push him. As Tony stumbled back, and started falling; Peter turned away, not being able to stomach what he had done. He buried his face in his hands, and fell down onto his knees.

When Peter opened his eyes, he was no longer knelt down on the top of the cliff face. He was sat in a pool of water far away; he looked around, scared. He bought his hands out of the water, and saw a glowing orange coming from his hand, he opened his palm to reveal the soul stone. He stood up, and realised he was once again in his suit. He pressed down on the device on his arm, and he was back on the streetside that him, and Tony had left from. He had returned home with the stone, and without his father-figure.

#avengers fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #peter parker fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #i don't know what this is #stark@r fans don't interact you nasties

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hiddlestoned4ever · 6 years

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Drawn Between Worlds - Dr Strange/Loki x Reader

(Chapter 1) Chapter 2 (Chapter 3 coming soon) Plot: After you started working for SHIELD, you got drawn into the Avengers group and helped them stop Loki and his Chitauri army from destroying New York completely. That was two years ago. However, Loki’s dangerous behaviour didn’t stop you from keeping your interested in him. Or perhaps it is his mischievous self that’s the very reason for it. But as a long-lost associate turns up, you find yourself being drawn between worlds and feelings as old emotions come back while new ones develop.

Words: 4158

Warnings: None

It's now two weeks since the party. The day after, the team divided up and it's now just Tony and you again. Because of that, you have some trouble filling all the time without the rest of your friends. The morning jog yesterday was dull, the training workouts are simple and boring. To get the time go faster, you tried to hang out with Tony when he's working, but that soon became sitting down on the chair and observe him.

Now you're outside on the streets, walking under the warm sunlight in your own thoughts. The headphone cord dangles from your ears to the left pocket where it's connected to your phone. Listening to music helps you to get distracted from the real world. You let it take over and steer your feet so you don't really notice where you're heading. The path is soon to lead you to someone who will make your life interesting yet again.

Walking out if the busy streets, the area becomes more abandoned. Big, old, empty buildings appear around you, but you keep on the pace. It's first when sirens suddenly overwhelm your music that you bring your focus up. Several police cars coming at high speed a bit ahead and disappears around a corner.

As curious as you are, you jog in the same direction and slow down when you enter an area where the cars have stopped and the police officers are on the outside, talking to a young woman and man. Some meters away, another woman approaches them and when the first woman sees her, she runs over and hugs her. From the distance you're standing, you can't hear what they're saying and it seems like everything is fine... but then it's suddenly starting to rain heavily out of nowhere.

"Great..." you mumble annoyed. From the nice weather you went out in, you didn't bring a jacket with a hood.

From the other end of the crowd, a man in a red cape has suddenly arrived. You instantly recognize him and so does the girls. One of them runs over to him and by the looks of it, slaps him in the face. Twice. The other woman follows and once she's with them, the raining stops so she must've commented on it. There must be a reason for him to return back to Earth so you start to run up to them.

"Thor!" you call and the God looks up.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," you reply.

"Hi, I'm Darcy," one of the women says and reaches out her hand. You shake it with a smile, not really bothering who they are right now. You're more interested in what brought Thor here. "This is my friend, Jane, and this is my intern," she continues and points at a young man beside her.

"Eh... Ian, my name is Ian."

Turning back to the scene, you see the policemen come up to the two women.

"Oh, eh, Jane. I'm pretty sure we're getting arrested," Darcy says and Janes turns her head.

"Hang on," Jane replies and meets the officers.

One of the policemen lay a hand on her shoulder, but get abruptly thrown backwards like an explosion just occurred. Many other of the men also get caught by this and all of them land on their backs, startled by what just happened. The remaining officers raise their guns, pointing at the women, ready to fire. You and Thor rush over and he kneels down, barely touches her to see if she's alright.

"What just happened?" Jane asks gently as she pushes herself up on her feet. The police officer approaches you apprehensively.

"Place your hands on your head. Step back!"

"The woman is unwell," Thor answers.

"She's dangerous."

Thor glances warningly up at them. "So am I."

The policeman grabs a hold of his radio. "Requesting armed response officers to the scene." The rest of the men start to circle you and the rest of the group when Thor pulls both you and Jane closer.

"Hold on to me," he says to both of you.

"Thor, what are you doing?" you ask as you feel your body sort of dissolve and then are sent in an enormous speed upwards. The experience is amazing but goes incredibly fast. Your head gets dizzy and you shut your eyes while holding tight to Thor's arm.

You must've fainted for a short second because the next thing you know is that your body falls down once Thor lets you go.

"Oops, sorry," he says and helps you back up.

"We have to do that again!" Jane excitedly says and her smile drops when she sees a large man with an armour of gold, holding the shaft of a huge sword. "Hi."

"Welcome to Asgard."

Your head snatches up at the man's voice. His eyes are the same colour as is the outfit. "Asgard?" you turn your eyes on Thor. "We're at your home?"

"Well, the men on Midgard didn't seem like they had nice intentions so I brought you both with me. Besides, we need to figure out what's happened to you," he responds, now looking at Jane.

The sight before you blow your mind. It is magnificent. Like taken straight out of a fantasy movie, only a whole lot more beautiful. The big golden, triangle shaped building that stands out reminds you of some part of a musical instrument. Like some special kind of flute or something. And the Bifrost is stunning with its rainbow colour. Never did you think you would actually be able to experience this with your own eyes. Memories from when Thor talked about it comes to your mind and you realize why he spoke so passionately about it.

"Follow me," he says and leads the two of you out on the long walk across the bridge.

* * *

"What's that?" Jane asks while she's lying on a table surrounded by women nurses and some information that appears by some kind of magic. Kinda looks like Tony's lab with all his, almost invisible screens where he can swipe information from one screen to the other.

"Be still," Eir tells her while you and Thor watch as they examine Jane.

"What do you think it is?" you ask him, both of you standing with your arms crossed.

"I do not know. It's not of Earth."

"I have never seen anything like this, but she will not survive the amount of energy surging within her," one of the nurses tells you. Before anyone gets to say anything else, the door to the room opens and an elder man with long white hair and a patch over his right eye enters.

It turns out to be no other than Odin, Thor's father, king of Asgard and protector of the nine realms. The father and son have a bit of an argument about mortals not belonging here, but that it's the only way Jane can be helped. Odin tells the guards to escort both Jane and you out, when the guard who grabs Jane's arm, get thrown back just as the policeman.

"Don't touch her," Thor says leaning down and tenderly lays his hands on her. "Jane, are you alright?" She nods her head while Odin inspects the energy force running through her body.

"That's impossible," he mumbles shocked.

"The infection, it's defending her," the nurse says.

"Or itself," you comment, taking a shot.

Next, Odin takes the three of you to another room. "There are relics that predate the universe itself. What lies within her appears to be one of them. The Nine Realms are not eternal. They had a dawn as they will have a dusk." Odin shows you, Thor and Jane an ancient book. "But before that dawn, the dark forces, the Dark Elves, reigned absolute and unchallenged."

Thor leans over a book in front of them and reads out loud. "'Born of eternal night, the Dark Elves comes to steal away your light.' They were these stories mother told us as children."

"Their leader, Malekith made a weapon out of that darkness, it was called the Aether. While the other relics often appeared as stones, the Aether is fluid and ever-changing. It changes matter into dark matter and seeks out to host bodies, drawing strength from their life force. Malekith sought to use the Aether's power to return the universe to one of darkness. But after eternities of bloodshed, my father Bor, finally triumphed, ushering in the peace that lasted thousands of years."

"What happened?" you ask, getting really interested in these Asgardians stories.

"He killed them all," Odin responds.

"Are you certain? The Aether was said to have been destroyed with them and yet here it is," Thor says, clearly worried.

"The Dark Elves are dead."

Jane takes a glance down at the book. "Does your book happen to mention how to get it out of me?"

Odin's reply is not near reassuring. "No, it does not."

The king leaves and the rest of you stay silent for some seconds.

"Thor, can I speak to you for a moment?" you ask.

"Of course," he replies.

"I'll- eh, be out here," Jane says, pointing at the doors leading out to a porch. When she's out, you turn to your friend. Since you got here, everything has happened so fast but by the little 'break' you just got, you came to think of his brother.

"Maybe it's not the right time to ask this, but... where's that brother of yours?"

"What, Loki?"

"Do you have any other brothers hidden up somewhere?" you lift an eyebrow.

"You don't have to worry. Loki has spent his days in the prison down below since we got back from Earth and that's where he'll be. He can't harm you or anyone else."

For some reason, you feel a bit sorry for him that he's been in a cell for so long and will be for the rest of his life. Just the thought of Loki wakens something in you and you suddenly get the urge to visit him. On the other hand, Thor would possibly not accept that. But if he's safe from everyone, it can't hurt to go down there.

"Y/N?"

Having been in your own thoughts, you drop out of them and see Thor's wondering look staring down at you.

"Great," you say as a comment to his answer about Loki. Moving your eyes to the double doors, you see Jane gazing out over the railing. "You should go out to her. Must be a shock finding out you have a powerful weapon of darkness floating inside of you."

Giving you a little smile, Thor tells you the direction to some food and bathroom if you'll be needing it, and that he and Jane will find you shortly.

Taking his advice, you leave the room and head down the hall. Everything is so well done decorated: sculptures, paintings, colours... Most of it in gold.

"Shit!" you quickly take out your phone to look at the time. It's been hours since you left this noon. Tony must be worried sick about where you are. However, your phone says "out of area". Sighing, you put it back into your pocket.

This is going well, what's next on the list?

On the way, you meet Sif, the greatest of the warrior women and one of Thor's closest friends. She gladly escorts you to the food as you seem to have lost the way. You ask her about life here on Asgard and how the two prince brothers were as children.

"As any brothers. Fighting and playing. Loki is the master of tricks. Always has been. He used to play tricks on Thor, on all of us really. At first, it was fun, but after a while, it got repetitive and dangerous. Odin tried to have a strict talk with him but he wouldn't take words to wisdom."

"Sounds about right," you say and take a glass of water.

"You know him?" Sif asks surprised.

"Sort of. We stopped him when he brought his army to New York."

"Yes, of course! I must thank you for participating in that. Asgard is a better place without Loki. And Midgard must be too."

More boring if you ask me.

But you didn't say that out loud. You don't even know why you think that.

"You don't miss him at all? Surely, he must be somewhat good. I mean, according to your stories, before he found out he was adopted."

Continuing your walk, Sif shakes her head. "That side of him faded a long time ago."

You don't understand why you think about Loki so much but there's something about him that's caught your attention ever since he smiled at you for the first time. After that, you had visited him in the cage he was put in for a little chat where you figured out that his plan was to use the Hulk so he could escape. And his plan worked. Next time you got face to face again was on top of Stark's Tower in the middle of the battle.

Flashback

Steve helped you with a push of his shield so you could jump higher and grab a hold of one of those flying space things that Loki's army used to bring death and destruction to the city. You climbed up and knocked over one of the Chitauries and jumped on the shoulders of the other while pushing two knives in both of his shoulders. This way, you could control the little flying float.

You turned left, making it take you towards Stark's tower where Loki had placed his special machine with the Tesseract in the centre. From it, a powerful jet going all the way up, holding up a big hole in the sky. That's where the army come from and you were gonna try to close it.

However, that turned out to be more tricky than you hoped for. Behind you, Loki came after you, trying to shoot you down.

"Oh, you," you sighed. "Clint, some help?"

"I have my eyes on him," Clint replied. He was standing on a rooftop, bow and arrow lifted up to his face, aiming at the God. When he was sure that he'll hit his target, he fired.

But like a piece of cake, Loki snapped the arrow right before it would run right through his skull. He looked at it, then back up at Clint with a 'seriously?' look.

Right then, the arrow exploded and sent Loki flying in the air and landing hard on the roof of Stark's building. Shortly after, you jumped and rolled down some meters away from him.

Rising up slowly, you kept your eyes on him the whole time.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked as he groaned while standing up.

"Because I can. I have the power," he growled back.

"What exactly do you want? A throne?"

"I was born to be king!"

"Is this really the kind of king you want to be?" you asked with a high voice and arm stretched out to the disaster happening below us. "Everything in ruins, everyone trembling on their knees? What pleasure could that possibly give you?"

For several seconds, Loki just looked at you. Staring you right in the eyes and then his expression changed slightly. Like he realized something, but his action to speak got interrupted when the Chitauri Leviathan crashed its side into the building right under you. The ground started to shake, and you stumbled as your balance got unsteady. Beneath you, the edge of the roof began to crack and fall, bringing you along with it. Luckily, you got a hold with your hands so you dangled with your body in the air.

"Tony! Tony, do you copy?!"

"I'm a bit busy at the moment!" he called back.

"What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I'm just taking a break by hanging off the roof!" you shouted back, your voice raised as the railing you're holding onto, began to fall apart. "It's gonna break!"

"Thor!" Steve called.

"I'm on it!" he responded and started to swing the hammer.

Just then, the railing fully broke and you felt your body dropping but then, you suddenly hang still again. Looking up, you see Loki's hand around your wrist. Without hesitation, you managed to wrap your hand around his own wrist as he started to use his strength to lift you back up. And with a groan, he pulled you back over the edge so both of you landed on your backs.

"Y/N? What's happening?" the team asked from the ground.

Breathing heavily, you stared up at the sky. "I'm okay," you assure them, but turned your head to your right, seeing Loki getting up. While you kept your eyes on him, you did the same.

"Why did you do that?" you asked.

His chest raised heavily as his blue mischief eyes looked at you. Parting his lips, he didn't get to say anything as the Hulk came jumping over the edge and grabbed him as they crashed through the windows and landed inside Stark's living room.

Present

Of course, you never told anyone that Loki had saved your life. And you never learned why he did it but perhaps now, you have a chance to find out. If you only get a chance to see him.

Sif and you continue the walk as she tells stories of how they won wars, how the parties works and the day Thor got worthy of the hammer, Mjolnir. You tell her about how you ended up here and about the Aether that's taken a hold inside Jane. On your way, you spot a staircase that goes down to another floor and two guards on each side to keep people from coming down, or perhaps the other way around.

"Down there's the prison," Sif explains when she follows your look. "God forbid any of them getting out."

"And Loki?"

Stopping, Sif eyes you questionable. "You seem awfully interested in him. Are you worried he's gonna attack your world again?"

Shaking your head, you look away from the stairs. "No, I'm sure he's well kept down there."

About an hour later, Thor and Jane find you in good company with Sif and two other soldiers, Fandral and Volstagg.

"Thor! Come, join us!" Volstagg calls with his cup raised in the air. Smiling, he and Jane sit down with you.

The six of you actually have a good couple of hours before the whole place get attacked. Everyone gets to their feet to strike back and defend their home. Then. all goes downhill from there.

Something crashes straight into the palace, causing panic to appear among all the people. You all run towards the spectacle. When you arrive, there's a giant black ship that has parked right in the centre of the great hall. Asgardian guards approach it slowly with raised spears. Then, chaos is heard coming from the stairs that you spotted earlier.

"The prisoners," a woman to our left says. You quickly understood that she must be Odin's wife. Frigga.

"Loki," Thor comments.

"Go, I'll look after them," Frigga tells her son. Thor doesn't hesitate to take off with his hammer.

Next, Odin comes up to you. "Send a squadron to the weapons vault, defend it at all costs. Seal the dungeon," he tells a group of guards who immediately leave.

"Odin."

"Frigga. It's a skirmish, nothing to fear."

"You've never been a very good liar."

"Take them to your chambers, I'll come for you when it's safe."

"You take care."

"Despite all I have survived, my queen still worries over me." Odin puts a hand on Frigga's cheek that he quickly removes.

"It's only because I worry about you that you have survived."

Odin goes off and Frigga leads you and Jane away. She takes a sword from one of the guards. "Listen to me now, I need you to do everything I ask and no questions."

You and Jane look at each other, then back forward.

"Yes, ma'am."

By the Dark Elves' ship, it now opens and dozens of elves and Asgardians start to fight. The elves seem to have the advantage.

Frigga, Jane and you arrive inside a chamber. She hands you another sword.

"I can go back out there and fight," you tell her, but she seems to have her own opinions on that.

"I told Thor I would watch over you. These are not Midargians."

"It's not my first time, fighting species from space," you tell her and she turns to look at me.

"You were there when Loki attacked Earth?"

"Yes."

"Can't have been easy. Coming here where he is after what he did. I apologize for his actions. I wish he was still the innocent little boy when we brought him in." She turns to Jane. "Now, I need you to come with me." She brings Jane around a corner in the room, and when they come back, Frigga explains to you that the Jane following is just a hologram as the real Jane is hiding.

"Ma'am. Let me go and help Thor," you practically beg her. When it seems like she's about to accept your wish, the doors burst open, revealing one of the dark elves. Frigga goes in front of you with a raised sword.

"Stand down creature. You may still survive this."

With strict steps, he comes into the room.

God, he's huge!

"I've survived worse, woman."

You're following his movements, not letting your eyes leave him.

"Who are you?" Frigga asks.

"I am Malekith, and I would have what it is mine." As he walks closer to Frigga she strikes him in the face with her sword. He takes out his blade and starts fighting with her and you try to find a chance to help her, but don't get one. Frigga puts up a good fight but another elf, Algrim, comes to his master's aid and subdues her. You rush forward and swing the sword. The sharp blade almost makes contact with Malekith but he foresees it and swings his own sword into a fight.

The two of you go on for a short moment until he uses his sword to block your hit while his other hand goes right in your face, sending you across the room so you land unconscious on the floor.

Malekith then walks towards Jane. "You have taken something, child. Give it back." He stands in front of Jane and as he goes to grab her, she disappears and he realizes that she's a hologram, he turns to Frigga. "Witch! Where is the Aether?"

"I'll never tell."

"I believe you."

You slowly begin to wake and open your eyes. But it's too late. Algrim stabs Frigga in the back. "No!" you scream, but she falls dead to the floor.

At the same time, Thor rushes in with a scream and shoots a lightning bolt at Malekith's face, severely scarring it. He and Algrim escape and jump onto their ship before Thor can catch them. After, Odin arrives to find Frigga dead. He holds her body in his arms as Thor, Jane and you stand silently around them.

* * *

Right after all the elves are gone, everyone gets ready for Frigga's funeral. You and Jane were lent a pair of long dresses which some maids help you put on. Once you're done, you meet Thor outside the room. His eyes are sad so you give him a sympathetic smile. You had put out the thought of bringing Loki too, but Odin would not have it which stung in you because she was his mother too. But he still has to be inside the cell while all of you attend.

And it sure was a sight! It's the most beautiful memorial you've ever seen, including in movies. You could feel the strength of it and the sorrow everyone carried. Even though you didn't know Frigga, you started to cry on behalf of Thor and Odin's grief. And Loki, though you don't know if he knows about it yet. But she loved him, and you know he loved her too.

After the funeral is over, you, Thor, and Jane walk silently back inside.

"How're you holding up?" Jane asks him, holding onto his arm with both hands.

"Her death was not in vain. She protected you. She died honourably."

You walk silently on Thor's other side, your face down as you do. "I'm sorry, I tried to stop him-"

"Hey," Thor stops and puts his hand on your shoulder. "Do not blame yourself for this. It's Malekith. And I'm gonna find him and stop him." He takes his hand off you and continues to walk.

"Wait," you say after him and he turns. "Shouldn't Loki at least get to know about this?"

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Tags: @fire-in-her-veinz @markusstraya

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wickedchaos · 4 years

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( chaotic magic, a red hooded cloak, swirling galaxies ) –– && it looks like william “billy” kaplan has finally arrived in woodshore ( though he originates from marvel 616 ). although known as a WICCAN back home, here they are a eighteen year old student, known to be ardent, but impulsive. they were coaxed here with the promise of understanding his powers and memories. they remember fighting 'mother' with the other young avengers. (fc: ryan potter)

FROM WHAT POINT IN YOUR CHARACTERS CANON ARE THEY TAKEN FROM?

a little after the second Young Avengers volume. after he helped defeat the entity known as mother that he had accidentally brought into his dimension.

GENDER/PRONOUNS

cismale he|him

ANYTHING ELSE YOU'D LIKE TO ADD!

his new life before coming to woodshore

it was almost exactly how his life began in canon; he was born the eldest son of three to jeff and rebecca kaplan. he was bullied at school for his sexuality and being what can be considered a fanboy, until the one time he tried to stand up for himself strange things happened and he began having dreams of a life he didn't remember.

memories and what he was promised for coming to woodshore he just wanted to understand where these strange powers came from and how to control them, so he agreed to come to woodshore. he has most of his memories back but a lot of them still feel like a dream or another life he doens't completely remember living. most people from his old life he might recognize and know who they are but not remember why he feels for them a certain way.

history: - basics from his life; while he was born to a normal couple and has two younger siblings, he is actually the reincarnated son of scarlet witch and vision along with his twin tommy shepherd. even though they were both born to different families they are basically magical soul twins(??). - he discovered his powers after a talk with scarlet witch (his favorite avenger even though he didn't know she was his mother) where she encouraged him that he could take care of himself. after getting a bit more used to his powers he tried to seek out scarlet witch for help but ended up becoming part of the young avengers instead. - he went by asgardian at first but ended up changing his name to wiccan. - he began dating his teammate hulking aka teddy altman. - his powers are similar to wanda's/scarlet witch but a lot more chaotic and powerful. he is believed to be both a mage and a mutant, and can control space and reality (ex: reality warping, telekenisis, healing, flight, conjuring, etc...) - sadly if he can't hear his own spells... well they kinda won't work - hes also a candidate for the title of sorcerer supreme aka the title doctor strange hold. - if anyone has any questions about billy's history from marvel just let me know.i'll probably have an about page for him soonish cause i don't want to have basically an essay here.

misc:

basically he is 100% a total nerd and fanboy for anything he likes; to the point that it is canon that he is a George R.R. Martin Fan and Tyrion is his favorite character from GOT

billy is sweet, caring, earnest, and tends to wear his heart on his sleeve....

but at the same time the way his life went, left him a bit cynical, with a lot of self doubt, and filled with sarcasm

he is very passionate (about everything) to the point of being a bit tempestuous; especially when it comes to people he cares about.

despite that he can still be fairly level-headed and rational, especially in dire situations.

short summary: billy is a sweet snarky fanboy with superpowers. i don't make the rules that's just how it is.

#☼ | billy #☼ | billy : about #woodshore: intro #here is billy's intro! adrien's will be next in a separate post #please come love him

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bubbletimestories · 4 years

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Crimson arrow (Clint x reader)

Summary: After Thanos snap, Clint Barton lost everything and even his name. Become Ronin, he drowns in the blood the pain that gnaws at him. When he saves you one night, he sees you as an unknown in the fog but the future proves he's wrong. Pain, love, blood, some relationships are short but intense.Clint is a vampire but frankly, is that so important? (Yes a bit)

Warnings: Major character death (?), sadness, blood, violence, erotism

Themes: vampire, Avengers Endgame, Sad ending, or not, blood drinking, Love, sexual tension, slightly erotic, death, holdinh out for a hero

A/N. I placed the action before the start of Endgame, just to oust Hawkeye's family. One-shot. Have fun and enjoy <3

Translated with Google traduction, sorry ^^'

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21397405

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The rain that falls in big drops on the windows creates a vague filter between you and the world, the illuminated city which extends as far as the eye can see under the timid light of a rounded moon. You had to get used to seeing the world from above, always sleeping close to the clouds because he could not take any room other than the top floor, wherever you go. This makes his former nickname even more present, the very one he refuses to pronounce and has buried deep down like the rest of his past. Hawkeye ... sometimes you're extremely frustrated at not being able to joke about it, referring to Assassin's creed for example. But you hold on brilliantly.

A slight rustle comes to you and you smile before your companion returns, his face soaked with rain despite the dark hood that protects him and he pushes back with a grunt. The night seems to have been long, again. But at least he's alive and does not seem hurt, that's not always the case. Seeing you, the mask of coldness cracks a little and Ronin gives you a look almost tender, the blue of his orbs finding a child warmth despite the folds that mark the outline of his eyes. In these moments, you can easily imagine the simple and funny man that he must have been, his dad jokes while cutting wood, you catch yourself dreaming of chimney fires, a place where to cook and which would be yours, just yours. But already a cloud of bitterness covers the fragile sunbeam and the scenery becomes dark, real, that of an existence where everyone has lost loved ones.

- The manager has passed; I gave her a supplement. Even if she has to make concessions and leave us this room, I wanted her to be good. It's not easy for her.

You don’t really wait for an answer, you quickly understood that his silence was easily offset by your chatter and it suits you. Gently, you help your lover to get rid of his thick coat that falls on the ground, on hand like the sharp arc that always makes you cold in the back after all this time. You saw it in action, this weapon can shoot arrows and decapitate a man in the same movement. And what about the man who handles it ? For the moment, the latter is contemplating you with his usual sullen air, frowning as if you had done something stupid. But it's like the rest, you get used to it and you see it more as his natural expression (like Grumpy Cat) than as an attack. Not at all impressed, you address him a grimace by pressing you against his chest, feeling it frozen through his clothes. Your hand slips under the fabric, almost hot against his skin and you feel Ronin relax slightly. He literally needs to be warmed up, it's cute. Well, he also has cold feet syndrome in bed but does it matter? Tight against each other, you back to the mattress and the young man sits, drawing you between his legs so that you do not move away. His gesture is hesitant, as always, but he finally raises his hand to the back of your neck so that you can bend and he can give you a kiss. His lips are cold but incredibly soft, feeling a slight pressure on yours to translate how much you missed him. He struggles to admit it but to find you again after he has slaughtered criminals does him good, it gives him the impression that he is not totally empty.

A shudder runs through you as the kiss continues and you feel something pointing against your flesh, responding to your own desire. But you have all your time and the atmosphere is not rushing. You step aside slightly, straightening up to look at the face of the vigilante whose tongue passes quickly on his mouth while he observes you. The next part, he knows it, he guesses it rather and he wants it, he wants this time out of the time where he no longer thinks about the pain or the murder. Without pronouncing a word, he removes his shirt, letting you explore his chest as you like to do so, as if it allowed you to have access to a part of him he conceals. On his skin mingles all his life, many scars date back in recent years but some testify to a secret past. You explore them one by one, the touch of your hands warming the hero little by little while you walk each muscle of his being with pleasure. Thoughtful, Ronin lets you do, just caress your jaw and the long scar that goes up on your cheek without it disfigures you. On the contrary, he thinks you are beautiful like that and he had to make you understand it often so that you accept this mark. Concentrated on the pink or white lines, you end up, as always, by looking up to your lover with a supplicating look that amuses him because he likes your curiosity, your natural.

- One day, you will tell me their story, how you made them ... - Maybe but, for now, let me keep some secrets.

You pout and turn your head towards the suspended mirror, towards your solitary reflection in the dim light of the room. You touch the corners of his mouth with a knowing look, smiling as he kisses the pulp of your fingers.

- Don’t you think I already know your darkest secrets ?

The mercenary shakes his head and presses you against him by tipping you on the bed to fold the blanket over your entwined bodies, it's time to take some rest. Your hand caresses his shaved temple while he traces indistinct forms in the hollow of your loins until sleep takes you, tight against each other until morning.

****Flash-back****

The worm-eaten wood is frozen under your legs and you focus on the feeling of freshness rather than the strong smell that emanate from wet boards. Your bare arms are agitated with painful spasms despite your attempts to breathe deeply, panic threatens to overwhelm you at any time and it is imperative that you avoid losing your mind. The rope that grips your wrists, the burning sensation where they put their hands to drag you, everything resonates in your flesh with too much intensity, you struggle to think even if your life is at risk.

At the other end of the room, the men are talking and they don’t hesitate to speak loudly, your notions of Korean leaving you no doubt about their intentions. Without being particularly pretty, you remain appetizing and they will not be choosy, who looks closely in a brothel ? With your heart on the edge of your lips, you listen to them discussing your future through murky scenarios, and the more you think about how you got there, the less you understand when you made a mistake. You were not accosted by a stranger who had offered you a drink, you did not hang out in hot areas, it was not even so late ... You simply lost your way, your hotel was to be a few meters and that was enough for them to fall on you. Everything happened so fast ...

A sob writhes your throat, no one will ever know what you have become, no one. You are a stranger in this country, who came alone to spend a few days in Korea. Who would think to seek you? You'll become an umpteenth gone, your parents will let the local police do some research and then ... they'll forget you, what's a missing when half of the world's population has fallen to dust? Shit ! That's not the way it should be ... It's out of the question that you're sold as a sex toy, you'll be ugly, scream all the curses you know, distort your face to make it repulsive, become a filthy creature that nobody will ever want. We'll see if they can find a buyer ! This thought gives you back a little courage and helps to move away a little the despondency and terror that paralyzed you. It does not save you but at least you are less likely to fall apart.

One of your captors suddenly seems to lose interest in the conversation and turns to you, glancing at your cheap clothes, your absolutly not feminine posture, and your lack of shoes after being dragged away. For some obscure reason, it excites him that you are so disheveled, he wants to test you before letting his boss decide your fate. With a foul smile, he moves away from the group to join you, playing thoughtfully with the waistband of his pants enjoying the fear that rounds your eyes and contracts your limbs. He has always adored women with curves, that's not what is missing from you so he licks his chops in advance. Driven by a kind of instinct halfway between the Harpie and the seagull, you decide to shout at your lungs what goes through your head, an anime opening to be more precise. You are more animated by the hope that your discordant voice twists the eardrums of the pervert than by the idea that a helping soul can hear you (you are far from everything), which does not prevent you from putting heart at work. The Mafioso remains for a moment frozen in amazement before your cry of Valkyrie, a moment much too short. With a kick, he puts an end to your song and cuts your breath, squatting in front of you while you fold in two, your face red and your eyes flooded with tears. Too bad if he is bawling, he wants to give you a good lesson and make you pass the desire to play the rebels. With a steady hand, he raises your chin to meet your eyes, his face cracked with a happy grin testifying to the pleasure he takes with all this. Then, without warning, without losing his smile, he strikes you violently in the face, his signet biting the flesh of your cheek by drawing a scarlet line. Your jaw supports the shock but your vision is totally blurred, your head goes to the side and you make no movement, shocked. Tears flow without restraint, pricking your wound raw but you don’t pay attention.

Your abuser smirks, totally ignoring his companions who are shouting at him, he has the right to have a little fun, right? It's not like you’re going to be expensive. Vibrating with excitement, he extends his hand to your thighs, without noticing the whistling that splits the air behind him. With a dull sound, the arrow pierces through as if he were made of butter and the guy crumbles to the side, dead without even realizing what was happening. The sound of the corpse collapsing heavily near you draws you from your grip and you contemplate the body with a mixture of horror and amazement. But that's nothing next to what's happening a little further, while a hooded figure enters the warehouse through a skylight and begins to slaughter the men present. Although clearly sub-number compared to Mafiosi, this new character is not allowed to defeat, striking on all sides with force and wielding his long and sharp weapon (?) with an impressive fluidity.

First captivated by this extraordinary show, your survival instinct takes over and you seek ways to free yourself and escape. Before you even understood what you were doing, you approach your aggressor and rub the rope that holds your hands against the arrowhead that proudly protrudes from the cadaverous torso. It takes you a moment but you manage to free yourself from your bonds, breathing a sigh of relief that is lost in the mass of combative grunts and groans of agony. When you turn your head, the mysterious assailant executes his last opponent and you watch the mafioso crumble to his knees while holding his throat, a thick liquid escaping from between his fingers. It only took a few minutes and yet none of your kidnappers still breathe. The one who is likely to save your life is catching his breath, running a hand through his hair that the hood no longer covers. He does not seem to be paying attention to you, carefully wiping in his arm the weapon that allowed him to effortlessly decimate half a dozen Mafiosos. From the back, he releases so much anger and pain that you hesitate to approach but the desire to be near a person a little friendly (or at least, who will not try to hurt you) is louder and you walk slowly to this man whose face is vaguely familiar.

- Th... thank you.

Your voice is flickering but you're happy that it's not chopped by the sobs, there's nothing more annoying and embarrassing. The hero turns around and looks at you for a brief moment, seemingly wondering what to answer or do. His face closes and he remains silent, passing you to leave the warehouse with the firm intention to let you get by. He has eliminated these criminals, that's all that matters, he cannot take the time to be nice, it's better that he stays constantly in that fog of anger that prevents him from thinking about what he lost, about his old life of Clint Barton. But you knew it already, right? Seeing the young man about to leave, you are feeling panicky, and if one of the mafia had survived? The mere idea of leaving alone in the night terrifies you and you grab your savior by the sleeve of his coat to prevent him from getting too far away.

- Please ... Just ... just the time to find my hotel.

The supplicating tone contrasts a little with the strength of your grip but the whole has the merit of making Clint hesitate, he really looks at you for the first time. You're chilled with cold, barefoot and your cheek is still bleeding, leaving you here would almost be no assistance to a person in danger ... And then there is something in you that softened a little, which pierces his shell. Nothing very obvious, just a little bit. The young man fixes your wound for a few seconds that seem long before closing the fist and recovering.

- Okay, I'll take you back. Put it on your cheek, you risk attracting attention.

He throws you a piece of fabric that you don’t try to detail, just plating on your cheek (it could be underpants, you don’t care) looking at the strange Robin Hood. As the shock dissipates, you begin to collect the pieces of the puzzle, associating his face with the arrow that killed your aggressor. So, he survived. If you had been told that you would meet Hawkeye ... the hero on whom you got a big crush. He has changed since the attack in New York, but it is the case for everyone. Next to Clint as a chick behind his mother, you leave the warehouse, a cool wind caressing your skin to remind you that you are free, the nightmare as short as intense that you lived is over. After giving him the name of your hotel, you set out in silence and you totally rely on this man you do not really know despite the media but to whom you trust completely. The latter ruminates his thoughts while walking quickly, the body tense as if he was constantly on the lookout. Soon, he puts between him and you several meters away that your short legs and bruised feet cannot fill. Out of breath, you end up stopping, removing an umpteenth pebble from your heel with a grimace. How on earth are hobbits doing?

- Tolkien, hippie bastard ...!

Your extremely gracious exclamation has the merit of attracting the attention of the vigilante who turns around and sees you on one leg, dusting your sore plant. Why do you talk about Tolkien, he does not know anything about it but as he is often compared to Legolas, he feels targeted. Well, he was compared to Legolas. Before. Still, your distress is fun and he comes back to you with a resigned sigh, he must be in a good mood tonight to agree to do that. Anyway, he must help you if he wants to drop you safely before sunrise.

- Hang on my neck and don’t wriggle too much. - What?

You scowl with a lost look before stifling a curse when Clint passes an arm under your knees and lifts you up. Reflexively, you cling to him and you miss strangling him before resting your calm. The situation is completely incongruous, perched that you are in the arms of an Avenger because you have foot pain. His coat rustles against your body and you resist the urge to inhale deeply, even if you already perceive the musky and masculine smell under the fragrances of leather and rain. Red as a peony, you turn your head and cross an extremely disapproving and very blue look, which makes you blush to the extreme. The young man stiffens even more, what you do not think possible, and looks straight ahead as he walks the streets, looking extremely focused as to forget that he carries you. Or, it's because you're heavy. Possible.

Fortunately for you, the hotel is soon in sight and you find the mainland with a mixture of relief and disappointment : without being particularly big, Clint gave you the impression of being in the arms of a giant. Once standing on your two legs, you hand him his handkerchief/piece of tissue regretting to have stained it with blood and he refuses with a categorical gesture. It is now time to leave (and go to bed) so you waddle a bit of a foot on the other before daring to look at your savior trying to remain calm, impassive, zen. And this despite being in front of one of your biggest crushes.

- Thanks for everything, Hawk ... - Ronin, he cuts you stiffly. - Ronin ... Thank you for saving me. - You're welcome. Hmm ... - Y/N. My name is Y/N. - Very good, Y/N. Take care of yourself and... it'll leave a scar.

He indicates your cheek with a sign of the chin then turns his heels and disappears, dark silhouette in the dark night leaving you still lost in the face of this incredible and frightening evening. Your wound stings you and you grimace, provide that he was wrong on this point. Silently, you go to your room and ask yourself what's going to be next, and let's face it, if you’ll ever see Ronin again. It may be your soul nourished by drama and rosy-water scenarios that speak but you sense something special, as if you were led to find him for a specific purpose. But there you may be a little too dreamy. A specific purpose... pff ... and why not Fate ?

**** Back to the present ****

- Take the time to feel it between your fingers, when it slides on your cheek of all its length. Breathe deeply and when you are ready, release the tension.

Ronin's breath makes your hair tremble as he puts his hands on your hips to improve your position, his pelvis pressed against yours. Even if this contact does not leave you indifferent, you remain focused on the tension in your muscles and on the target of fortune several meters away from you. You have already managed to reach closer, bigger ones, so there is no reason why you can not pierce this one. After taking a deep breath, you drop the arrow and grimace feeling the rope hit your breast, you really do not get used to it. The long, dark line splits the air and enters not far from the center. It is not perfect yet but your arms cannot endure anymore so it will be enough for today. In any case, the sun is setting and the increasing darkness will soon prevent you from shooting properly. Keeping you from smiling proudly, you surrender his weapon to the young man by folding and unfolding your aching fingers. Your companion looks at your arrow trying to remain impassive even if, inside, he is rather happy.

- Not bad ... you still need train but it's a good start. - Do not spare my modesty, I was great. Say it.

The man rolls his eyes to the sky by recovering his equipment, keeping silence while knowing very well that it will make you enrage, that you wait some compliments after the long hours of training which you have just undergone (with request).

- Let's say I'm a good teacher.

A teasing glow that one might have thought dead shines fleetingly in his blue eyes before he regains his seriousness. But you don’t need more and you smile in front of his look of badly licked bear that you got to know and appreciate. You return to your nest of the day, walking side by side, letting your hands brush against each other. You're totally exhausted but it was worth it, the day went much better than you expected. Ronin is not fooled by your intentions and as you go past an umpteenth monument in memory of the missing, he glances at you.

- Thank you for keeping me busy.

He adds nothing, plunging into his thoughts turned to the past, to those he misses and he does not hope to see again. This day is a hell for everyone, remembering that the years pass though the world has stopped turning round. You often think of the life you had, the people who have evaporated as those who have remained. Do you miss them? Infinitely. Do you regret having fled to a foreign country ? No, you cannot say it.

You arrive quickly "at home", it will be time to separate, at least for this night. Having managed to divert Ronin from his dark thoughts for several hours is already a feat, but he must also be allowed to perform his own rituals. As he prepares to leave you, you hold him by the hand, taken by a strange presentiment.

- Kiss me, I deserved a little tenderness, you torturer.

Even if he grumbles a little for the form, your lover nods and wraps you in his coat, placing a kiss on your mouth and your forehead. He never thought he could meet someone like you, a semblance of calm and warmth in the darkness. Sometimes he feels remorse at the idea that you make him happy but he can not leave you, there are limits to his punishment. But already he departs, adjust his coat making sure his bow is ready, his quiver is full. He faints in the shadows and shudders as he thinks about what he's going to do. Like every night, he will hunt, slaughter the underworld and criminals who swarm when night falls. He does his own justice and if it does him good, it’s perfect. It is not as if the order still really reigned since Thanos arrival.

As you return to your room and get rid of your shoes, you imagine what these hunts look like. You have already attended one of them but not until the end, Ronin could not finish the job since you were there. He agreed to tell you about it once, long after he told you his secret, and in vague terms. He simply said that he felt no pleasure and that their blood had a taste of ash, a stale aroma. Three, four bastards are enough to keep him alive for several days, the rest is simply for execution. But tonight is special, who knows what anger can trigger in him, if he will have the same control over his thirst for revenge and blood. You hope so, you have confidence. After all, he never hurt you. He is a hero.

The door slams and you stand up abruptly, you had to fall asleep after this long day of archery. Still half in the vapes, you look for the young man, a little surprised that he made noise, he who knows how to be discreet as a shadow.

- Ronin?

Nobody answers you and you wonder if you did not dream that sound of door when a muffled sound reaches you. It's not really a sound of pain, more a complaint or... a sob? The worry ends to wake you and you approach the door, hardly distinguishing a silhouette in the darkness. No doubt about his identity, you learned to recognize his musculature, the line of his hair... But you are surprised to find him prostrated, a slight tremor running down his shoulders, him you've never known otherwise than impassible and master of himself. Made dumb with anguish, you lay your hand on the thick leather of his cloak, still wet with a rain that must have fallen during your sleep, and drag him to the window to contemplate him by the moonlight. The young man lets himself go, feeling like he's out of his body.

The first thing that strikes you is the pallor of your companion's face, how much his features are drawn. His azure eyes don’t rest on you, preferring to fix the exterior landscape, darkened or rather veiled by a strong emotion. It is only then that you notice the blood that stains his hands, makes his coat shine and defiles his face with an infamous mark. This is the first time he appears before you so... dark, still carrying traces of his nocturnal activities. You often had to heal his wounds but never to see him in this vampiric aspect. The visible shock of your lover prevents you from believing that it is the blood of a simple criminal, but whose is it?

- What happened ?

In spite of your efforts to maintain a calm tone, your voice is weak and you cannot hide the fear on your face. Ronin shudders as he hear your voice and he looks down at his scarlet hands. He, the icy assassin, is unable to tell you about his crime. How could you accept what he did? His mouth articulates mute words as he looks back at the alley, her corpse laid in the rain, her face frozen in a mask of horror. Everything happened so fast... he was so obsessed with his pain, his anger, his desire for blood that he slipped. The silence drags on and you begin to imagine the worst scenarios, this evening was already a trial for him, what happened ?

- Talk to me... I’m freaking out.

Not knowing what else to do, you take a towel, anything, and start wiping Ronin's face and hands to remove the crimson stains. The softness of your gestures even as he sees only a monster in himself triggers like a shock in the young man who seizes your wrists forcefully and falls to his knees, shaking with sobs that hurtling down his cheeks, completing to wash the blood. He cries for a long time, without trying to hold back his tears, like a child, and you hold him tightly without a word, cradling him until he calms down and confesses everything to you. Never have you seen him so vulnerable, pressed against you as you protect him from the world. Or maybe of himself.

****

Midnight sounds and you sigh, another year has elapsed since Thanos wiped out family, friends, normality ... You take the time to quietly gather for those you have lost but deep in your mind resonates a worried voice that prevents you from being perfectly focused on your mourning. Today, billions of candles will be lit, we will wear black, we will commemorate the memories, because it feels good. But a person will not manage to get better and this despite all his efforts. Or maybe he refuses to really get better because it would be horrible, that would mean continuing to live. We can not talk enough about the guilt of the survivors ... This person, you would like to help him, it's been a long time since you think about it and you seem to have found an idea. Stupid probably.

Ronin passes in front of you, dressed in his shadow suit, his bow clenched in his fist. This night more than any other, he is preparing to make a massacre, to shed blood hoping to feel better then. But you both know that he will come home exhausted, his gaze empty and burned with a feeling of shame and disgust, because he will not be able to restrain himself. The thirst that animates him is inexhaustible, you are aware of it, but maybe you can help a little. Your hand closes on his and you stand in front of him, the latter guessing your thoughts even before you open your mouth.

- Don’t stop me, Y/N, I need it. - Really ? Do you think that will help you, really? - Yes, to eliminate rots makes me feel good, that's enough for my happiness. - It was not enough last time...

There is no real reproach in your voice, only sadness and a statement. Clint's face cringes, however, at the memory of the teenager who has suffered his vengeful fury. He felt nothing killing her, nothing at all, as if she had been one of those criminals. Hatred, anger, pain, he was blinded by his thirst for blood and it was enough for a moment... You perceive how painful this memory is, you remember his return, livid and his hands still wet, uncontrollable tears thar had shaken him. This scene, you have often thought about it, almost every day and it has deeply marked you. At the time, you didn’t know what to say; now you sense what you have to do. You look into the eyes reddened by thirst, squeezing your lover's icy hand.

- Let me help you…

You have absolutely no intention of preventing him from killing garbage or feeding on their blood, he is doing it all year long and this is just one way of enforcing justice while allowing him to feed himself. On the other hand, you do not want him to slip further, that the pain of having lost all those he loved burns him to the point that he does not only slaughter those who deserve it. If you can spare him this shame, you will do it without hesitation. It's all about control, not throwing himself into the darkness like a wild beast. When you think about it, you accept his condition of vampire with a lot of calm, maybe because it's not crazier than the rest or because you love him too much to be afraid. Who would have thought that the Avenger that is often forgotten was much more than an archer? Even before the Snap, Clint had a dark secret that no one, except Natasha, knew. Even the great Nick Fury had no suspicion. It must be said that the hero was a model of exemplarity, able to walk in full sun despite the pain, feeding exclusively on blood bags. Never had anyone seen his fangs, nobody before you. Bu it seems taht the Snap has removed all control at the same time as his family. But let's go back to the present, to Ronin who refuses to listen to you, to your clenched hand on his, to determination in your eyes.

- Don’t go like that, let me help you stay in control, stay a hero.

The young man groans on hearing this word but you don’t care, he remains forever an Avenger for you, in spite of everything. And you too, you want to be heroic, even if it's short-term, just tonight. You push back the hood that hides the features loved, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek while you feel him tremble by hugging you gently. You have won, you feel it. You are aware that you may die, it is a risk to consider, but it is not only for the survival of the one you love but also of the one he was, the one he is still deep within, he has to continue to exist. And then it saves an innocent life. No, you are not totally a saint, there is a little pride there. But no matter your motivations. And then, you trust him. You just have to avoid him leaving thirsty, it's simple. As you spread your neck apprehensively, you whisper in Clint's ear, a laugh in your voice.

- I guess I had to meet you. Nice to help you fill your gap.

It's awfully awkward but it doesn’t matter, you feel the hot breath of the young man against your throat as he laughs silently and that's enough for you. Eyes closed, you focus on your other senses, note how Ronin tightly squeezes you against him in a last movement of hesitation before accepting your decision (you're always right). He will know how to contain himself, he loves you too much to lose you. His mouth is on the thin skin and you shudder at this contact, the hard lips seem cold as stone but it is not fear that softens your knees. Not only. The time stretches and you feel him against you as the caress becomes kiss, both tender and feverish, tearing you a sigh. How could you be afraid ?

You cling a little harder when his tongue touches the hollow of your neck, it could look like any hug if the end was not special. Your heart beats wildly and you smile murmuring his name, his real name, while your lover decides to dive into your flesh to quench his thirst. Without being able to return to him what he has lost, you have the possibility to fill him, just a little, and that makes you happy. At the moment, the pain pierces you and you moan but it only lasts a moment, the young man is so sweet that you do not pay attention to the burn on your throat. Carefully, Ronin lies you down on the floor, still drinking, supporting your head as you feel lost. Your thoughts are confused but you feel the tenderness of the embrace, the sweetness with which he drinks while making sure not to hurt you, the movement of his mouth. He gave you love, a happy life despite the circumstances, so what is a little blood?

The one who was called Hawkeye kisses your throat one last time before standing up, split between gratitude and pain. He admires your lifeless body, your face frozen in a half-smile as an ultimate finger to the sadness of this world in ruins. He could not stop but you both knew it would happen. Before he leaves, he plants a rose between your teeth, because he knew your dramatic side perhaps, or to make the scene less morbid. Then he disappears murmuring your name gently. He will never forget you, it's a promise.

#crimsonarrow #hawkeye #clint x reader #Ronin #vampire #blood #love #death

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