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inknopewetrust · 3 years

Text

Manipulate Me

Summary: As Peter travels Europe as a normal kid, the world’s peril throws a wrench in his plans. With you by his side chaperoning the trip as an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the mysterious introduction of Quentin Beck leaves you breathless.

Pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom ! I had a great time writing for Quentin Beck again. For context, reader is Peter’s older sister but also happens to be a shield agent (it was the easiest route of explanation as to why she would be meeting with Fury and Maria Hill). Requests are currently OPEN and you can check out who I write for in my request guidelines tagged in my bio. Thanks for reading! :) *gif not mine* I do not own any of the dialogue from the film.

“May-”

“-And don’t forget the passports! Oh! The passports!”

“May!”

May stopped scrambling around the apartment only to find that you had the two passports already in your hand. The tired aunt pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose, and slowly calming down. It was fine... Peter had you, Peter had all his friends, Peter would be fine in Europe.

“Everything is going to go fine. I’ll be with him at all times and if he decides to wander off and do his Spiderman stuff––well then I’ll just have to call in some Avengers to stop him.”

“I trust that you’ll be able to keep him out of trouble if it comes down to it.” May picked up Peter’s suitcase off the floor and listened to his heavy footsteps draw down the hallway and into the living room where you had gathered with her.

“All ready?” He asked with those inquisitively wide eyes that reminded you so much of your mom. May handed him the suitcase but not before capturing the boy in a tight hug. Her “motherly” instincts grew since she returned from the blip. It was strange without the two of them. You, stuck here in New York without a leader in either Fury or Tony and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avengers and then the developed Sword, were left to pick up the pieces and build a life without them. That was the most difficult part.

“Promise me that you won’t get into any trouble?” May asked Peter who in reply rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“It’s just a school trip. Besides, Y/n is going to be there and I’m sure she’s told you a million times that she can keep me in check.” You smacked the side of his head but he just ignored you and turned to the door, opening it with a rough pull with his spider-y force.

“We’ll see you in a few weeks, May!”

If you were able to take back all the words you said and never go to Europe, you would ask Stephen Strange to reverse time.

Venice was a mess. The water-creature-man-thing...? had erupted the small city into a chaotic terror with locals and terrified students trying to find cover. Peter was somewhere flying with webs while another hero whom you had never seen before was assisting him. After a few minutes of trying to guide a group of students to safety, you secured cover underneath an awning in front of a store.

“Ms. Parker! What do we do!?” Flash was almost in tears from fear which you couldn’t help but judge. It was water? the kid survived Thanos’ snap so he could survive this. Not to mention Fury would have your ass if any of the kids died on your watch.

Out of nowhere the ground started to fill up with water and cracking of concrete or bricks began echoing throughout the small courtyard you trapped them all in. The green man came swooshing in with a cloud of smoke, almost like an illusion, and stopped the water with the sheer force of his magical abilities. The creature reformed into what looked like a water man and the green man dodged the attack with made the sound of bricks tumbling increase in intensity. Suddenly, the tower to your right began crumbling and you pulled as many students as you could closer to the building you sought shelter next to.

“Get back! Get back!”

“Who is that guy!?” Jason, one of the students shouted out but you couldn’t answer the question because you didn’t know.

“I don’t know, but he’s kicking that waters ass.” Brad voiced exactly what you would have said.

The green man continued to fight the water as the tower crumbled beside you all and then, like the blink of an eye, the monster was gone and the water scattered, soaking your shoes with a safety that was much welcomed. The man landed to sounds of cheering from the students and locals that found themselves in the same spot as you. But something was different.

Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or maybe the fact that you had never heard of this hero and you literally worked for the agency that worked with them all. Maybe he wasn’t from this world? Space? Another universe? You could have sworn that you heard of the idea of a multiverse.

But maybe it was the fact that beneath all that smoke and mirrors that made up the helmet of the mysterious man, it felt as though when he looked around at his admiring fans, his eyes trained on you, staring through your soul with some feeling that wasn’t welcomed or unwanted either. Intrigue, that’s what it was. And when he flew off, everyone was left with a curiosity that sparked a great debate throughout the entire world. Who was this man?

Well, the T.V. at the hotel identified him as Mysterio. Peter managed to make it back in one piece which you were able to celebrate in a brief moment outside before the voices of interested students and the television interrupted the moment. Betty and Ned were searching every website for some kind of clue but nothing other than what the news reported was to be taken as fact. It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t witches, it was just another hero.

So that was what you went with. That was until you opened your door to Fury sitting in a chair next to the window.

“Oh my God!” You shrieked and Fury laughed, laughed, at you.

“You scare too easy.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in spa-”

The slight reveal of a green hand made you shut up. "Fury” tilted his head with a slight “Ah, well.”

“Is this about that Mysterio guy?”

“We’ve got him at a site. Says he’s from another Earth and that these creatures destroyed his own and intend to destroy this one too.”

“Another Earth? So, the multiverse.. it’s real?”

“Fury” didn’t respond to that, but he simply rose and gestured over his shoulder to the window.

“There is a car outside. Go and wait in it while I go get Peter. The big man told me I need to scare the kid.” You smiled at the thought as the man left to go retrieve your brother.

You had been part of the world of superheroes far longer than Peter had. You had been there when Loki first attacked New York way back when and that seemed like so many years ago. With the blip, it seems like an entire eternity. Nick never let you in on his secrets of his relationship with Carol Danvers, but you had met the Skrulls when you went on a mission three months ago to visit Monica Rambeau in space. Unlike her, you weren’t blessed with some badass powers, though she didn’t always have them.

Peter looked terrified walking out to the car and when he saw you inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be alone. The site of S.H.I.E.L.D in Italy wasn’t far from where you had all taken up residence for the last day or two, but it was secluded, down in the catacombs of old buildings that no one would suspect. It reminded Peter of a Mission Impossible movie that you had watched with him before the two of you left for Europe, he felt more like a spy than a superhero in that moment.

As you walked behind the two down the long corridors of the abandoned treasure that was used as a make-shift S.H.I.E.L.D, you were surprised to see Maria at a computer, though now knowing about Fury, you were sure it wasn’t even her. The center of the room was filled with scattered agents who you weren’t familiar with and then a projection in the middle of the room, along with the man without the helmet.

You weren’t one for fawning over men. Jesus, you worked with Thor sometimes and while you were aware of his Godly looks, you never gawked. But this man, he wasn’t a God, he was just naturally beautiful. Dark hair, blueish-gray eyes that surely did pierce your soul, and a stature of a man who knew how to carry himself with power in the world. It was like he walked out of your dreams and into reality.

“This is Mr. Beck.” Fury introduced you and Peter to the man. Mr. Beck approached Peter with a small smile and held out his hand. Peter looked nervous but responded with his own shake.

“Mysterio?”

“What?”

“It’s just what my friends were calling you.”

“Well, you can call me Quentin. You handled yourself well out there today. I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.”

Peter looked puzzled but Quentin looked behind the boy to you. He held out his hand with another smile which you returned. Maybe there was a shock when you touched hands, but you were sure it was just your imagination.

“Y/n Parker, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“It’s good to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise.”

Did time rush by faster when you were in the presence of someone you were obviously attracted to? Yes, because before you knew it, the night was over, and Fury was leading you and Peter back out to the car. Peter was absolutely smitten with Quentin and could hardly break conversation. The man gave the attention to Peter like Tony did. It was like life imitating itself in another time. Quentin reminded you so much of Tony. Smooth with words, handsome, gifted in almost an unfair way, and he took an interest in the last piece of close family you had. You wanted nothing more than for Peter to have a figure in his life to give him a positive purpose. With Tony gone, he’s struggled trying to find his niche again.

“See you, kid.” Quentin looked disappointed but hopefully that his and Peter’s paths would cross again one day, even with Peter trying to avoid being identified by his class or the world. At some point, someone would figure it out if they hadn’t already.

“Yeah, see you.” Peter said as he walked out, following Dimitri, who Fury ordered to keep Peter in check with you. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but for some reason, Fury felt the need to send another agent.

“Good luck, Quentin.” You told him and he nodded his head, glancing at the holographic map of Venice next to him.

“I fear I’ll need it. But I’m hopeful that the good luck will be for more than just winning this fight.”

Swoon. That’s what you did for the remainder of the night and into the early morning. You couldn’t sleep a wink after the revelations that Quentin relayed to you and Peter about the elementals. That worried you too. How in the world was Peter supposed to sit by while other heroes with indisposed and couldn’t help? Sam and Bucky were on their own missions, Carole and Monica were off, Stephen and Wanda were no use and Thor was off on his own adventures with that team of riff-raffs from space–you know, the one with the talking tree.

But somewhere in all the jumble of thoughts, the scenery of the canal that had been a scene of something far different, calmed the noise. Enjoy the trip. This was the first time in years that you had traveled for something other than work and yet it was still filling every thought and moment. The thoughts were so loud and invasive that you didn’t register the person coming up to your right, ready to take the bag off your shoulders. You felt the tug and turned around, ready to punch the person but they dogged it, pulling it off your shoulder. It was a game of tug of war for the bag, but the person was strong.

“Let go! I said let go!” You pulled as hard as you could, therefore the bag came flying back to you and its contents spread across the sidewalk. The person glanced at the wallet on the ground and then back at you before you both dove to the ground. They grabbed it first and you tackled them to the ground. Wrestling with grunts and yells, you hadn’t noticed the audience of one that rushed to help. A blast of green light shot the person off of you and you clutched the wallet to your chest tightly, trying to reel in your ragged breath.

“I heard yelling from my hotel...” The hero started only to realize that it was you and with a turn of your head, you had realized it was him, Quentin.

“Oh! Are you alright?” He extended a hand, which you readily took to stand. He then helped collect the scattered items and put them back in the now ripped bag before handing it back to you.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” There was a brief, awkward lull but you weren’t sure what else to say.

“So, do you always wander around at night in a city you don’t know?” It was an icebreaker, a line that he knew would make you at least chuckle.

“No... I just had a lot on my mind. What you told us in there–it’s a lot of information to retain.”

“I’m sure an agent like you could handle it though.” You smiled bashfully at the compliment. Quentin gestured over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. You realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore but just a pullover sweater and some dark jeans. How he shot the green light in the first place you didn’t know, but all heroes worked a little differently you suppose.

“Would you like to take a walk? I promise I won’t try to steal your wallet.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” The conversation was so light, and carefree that for the first time in a long time, you felt like a normal person. Quentin returned your cheeky smile and began walking.

“I’m pretty sure a woman like you could figure out who trust and who not avoid. Isn’t that what they train you for? Agents?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Can I ask you something?” You asked Quentin and he looked at you with a nod of his head.

“How did you know the elementals would turn up in our Earth?”

“Intelligence. My wife, she had worked for our version of your agency. Before they came to destroy our city, one had already manifested itself in Mexico. It was as if there would be a pattern to follow. So when she passed, I used her intelligence to figure out where they might be, which led me here.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, it’s been some time now. She would be glad to see Peter helping me, and you helping out with the cause.”

“Peter really took a liking to you. I could see it in the way he could barely contain himself.” You laughed, changing the heavy subject to one more light.

“He’s a good kid. You’re related I assume?”

“My little brother.”

“You should be proud of him. He is doing a lot of good for the world. I just wish he was more confident in his abilities to realize identity protect isn’t everything.”

Quentin was right, it wasn’t everything. But it was more than identity for Peter. It was also no Tony to lead the way, his want to be a normal kid, his need to have friends and well, MJ to like him. But neither of you would know what it was like to be a teen hero, that was a lot of unneeded pressure.

“It seems that I brought you around full circle.” The sound of Quentin’s voice broke the silence and the realization that you were outside the barely standing hotel. You sighed and tugged the bag on your shoulder.

“Thanks for saving the day, Mysterio.”

“Anything to help protect Agent Parker.”

If you hadn’t just met him a few hours ago, you would have asked him to come upstairs but that was far too forward for the world you created for yourself, so you extended your hand as he had earlier.

“May our paths cross again.”

He grasped your hand tightly and agreed.

“Hopefully under better circumstances.”

You watched then as he walked away, unaware of the man underneath the facade of Mysterio. How he already knew who you were, knew all your secrets, and was ready to manipulate you to take down the institution that denied him success so many years ago.

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aliypop · 3 years

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And So It Starts

Wordcount: 2,063

Warning: ANGST and I guess Spoilers maybe

Authors notes : I wanted to do a big story to introduce my new character Astrid Sodotirr that I made for Loki and I really really hope you guys like her.

"I'll tell you jail is no fun." One of the women around the table remarked, "Agnes, you've been to jail?" the familiar-looking redhead said, sitting across from the lady who was now known as Agnes. "Once, in Monopoly." she laughed as they soon looked at their new "neighbor." She had a look of confusion on her face, almost as if she didn't belong. "Ah dear, what was your name again?" Agnes asked, watching as the curly brunette shook from her trance. "Astrid, Astrid Sodotirr." she looked at them both. The redhead had a look of discomfort while Agnes on, the other hand, was thrilled,

" So Scandinavian." she smirked, "Interesting, unlike my husband, Ralph." she then turned, "Isn't that right Wanda,"

"Uh yes... Sodotirr like the goddess of chaos?" she asked as Astrid looked at her, her usual garments replaced with 80's activewear. "Yes, my mom was huge into Mythology ." she laughed, finding that her voice didn't even sound like her own. It felt like a fantasy world, something that not even her magic could comprehend.

"My mother was just heavy into drinking." Agnes joked,

"Well, girls, I should go get going. Ralph isn't going to rub lotion on himself..." She winked, leaving. Wanda and Astrid stood in the living room waiting for her obnoxious neighbor to walk away before orbs of teal and red appeared from their hands. "Why are you here..." Wanda growled, "We all saw you die..." Astrid dodged the red beam,

"Do that again, Maximoff, and you'll join Vision and your brother!" she threw out a blast, "Then tell me how you broke in..." her eyes glowing red,

"I DON'T KNO-" she stopped talking as the sound of footsteps marched up the driveway of the 80s household Astrid. began taking the green stone out of her sweatband,

"I think they're here for you ..." Astrid whispered as one of them took the stone out of her hand, "Hey!"

"Variant found..." one of the minutemen said as two others grabbed onto her,

"On behalf of the Time-Variant Authority, I here by arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline."

"She's the one making false realties!" Astrid snarled at the witch,

"Hands up, you're coming with us..."

"Glady..." Astrid smirked, lifting her hands striking two of the minutemen. As she ran up the block, Astrid was falling slowly to the ground in slow motion.

"She stole the Time sto-" Wanda tried to finish.

"Reset the timeline..." the soldier said as they pushed the young woman through a portal, "Hey, I'm a princess, careful how you man handle me!" she growled, looking at the grossly colored orange walls. Taking her to what seemed like a receptionist desk as a young blonde man sat chipper and happy logging her into their system, "What species..." he asked,

"Asgardian... and she brought this with her..." the minuteman threw the stone on the desk.

"Oh great, another paperweight."

"Mobius, just get rid of it..." she sighed, cranking the lever as she threw Astrid inside the elevators,

"When Loki finds out about this... he... he won't be... WOAH!" a robotic arm touched her vibrant pink leotard, "I'm not that easy." she grumbled as the machine told her to hold still, lasering off the tacky 80's clothing leaving her in absolutely nothing as a trapped door opened,

Astrid was standing in front of a stack of papers dressed in a tan jumpsuit with TVA on it, "Please verify this is everything you've ever said." a voice said, startling her.

"What in Odin's missing eye is this," she said, another piece added to the pile.

"Please verify this is everything you've ever said." he handed her a pin as she began signing away. Astrid began to think that maybe marrying Thor would have been a safer option than whatever this was. As another trap door opened, Astrid stood in front of a metal detector.

"Please confirm to your knowledge that you are not a fully robotic being, were born an organic creature, and do possess what many cultures would call a soul." Astrid looked down towards the voice as her brows furrowed from the question, "Do people not know they're robots..." she asked, walking through as the machine took her picture, "Because if they didn't know..."

"They'd melt, now take your temporal aurora and walk through the door..." he sighed, watching as burst through as if she owned the place. Brown walls and bright lights paved her path while two-minute men watched and gestured to the take-a-ticket sign. "You have got to be kidding me," she mumbled as she took a ticket, walking through the guided path. Astrid watched as other prisoners went through, while others erased.

"Next case!" Astrid walked through the door's benches full of people, " Sodotirr, Variant A1020, AKA Astrid Sodotirr, charged with sequence violation 7-20-80." the judge said, walking to the stand. Astrid grumbled in aggravation,

" And who would I have the honor of these charges being blessed upon me by? "

"The timekeepers..." The judge said.

"Oh, the ones from the annoying clock lady..." she nodded as a few guards snickered,

"How do you plead..."

"I've only ever pleaded to one man... on occasion a few women..." she winked, "Now if you excuse me, I really should be go-" she snapped her fingers as nothing happened, "I should be going..." she mumbled, "Hold on..."

"If you're trying to use your powers, they don't work here now. However, I find you guilty, and perhaps pruning you would do just fine..." The judge hit her mallet until one of the minutemen whispered in her ear.

"Pruned... I don't like the sound of that."

"It has come to my concern that... Ravonna will be your consoler. Take the variant away..." the judge sighed as Astrid breathed, the once minuteman guiding her towards the elevator.

"I'm Ravonna Renslayer, now a Time agent of the TVA." she smiled at the variant.

"How long have you been here?"

"Well, you know what they say. Time passes differently here in the TVA." she nodded, leading her out the elevator and around the halls of the main building, "How cute, you know you should've done your research before deciding to go after me..." Astrid said, turning her head as her curls bounced along. As the doors opened, the two sat in front of a tiny TV, "Trust me. We've been doing our research since you were deemed crowned and named princess and goddess." She laughed, putting the flash drive in as she started her file.

"You know you're surprisingly good at complying..."

"Happens when you get told to all your life..." she mumbled. Astrid looked up at the screen memories played, some that were pleasant and some there were, "That one's a bit risky... If I were you, I'd skip it." she laughed, watching as the scene of a harvest festival on Asgard played.

There stood Sif, Thor, and Loki. Astrid, who was taste testing ale, had been a little tipsy. She found herself clinging onto Loki. She appeared to be younger, no more than 16 at the time. Dressed in gold to "compliment": Thor, her only view was the Prince of Asgard. "What would your mother say if she found you so full..." Loki winked. Tilting her chin up, "She'd say absolutely nothing because you are not to tell her..." Astrid gave him a burst of laughter sweeter than all the honey of Asgard,

"Oh but, I might..." he leaned in closer to her, their foreheads touching, "Then I'll tell Odin you took me away from Thor..." she whispered, stealing a kiss from him.

"You cheeky Minx.." he laughed.

"So why Loki..." Ravonna asked,

"Maybe I am..." she responded to the memory, clearing her throat, "Well, we understood each other..." she folded her hands together. "We were different yet so similar." her heart sinking in her chest as the last memories of Loki passed through, "Would you say your childhoods were the same..." Ravonna asked, not even savoring her answer. Before she could finish, there stood the memory of her mother locking her in a tower.

"You are courageous yet dumb... you are a disappointment I wish I never birthed..." Amidala laughed, yanking at the chain around her neck. "Purposeless child.."

"I was born with a purpose!" she shouted at the screen, "One you'd never see coming, one of courage and rage..." a tear falling on her cheek, Ravonna made a side note in her notepad, " You know for someone who's such a threat you don't act like one..."

Astrid turned to face her, her hands gripping on the table, "Just a sad little girl who thinks she knows what she's doing... when her purpose was to die..."

"Everyone dies..."

"Yes, but not how you did..."

"First Wanda, now you." She laughed, "What is this about me, the all-mighty Astrid of Vanaheim dying," Astrid asked, "Perhaps, I'll leave you with what happened before you screwed up the timeline..." she smirked, walking out the spacious holding cell.

"This is against the Norns for a mere puny human to tell me how I died." her back facing the screen as she heard an all so familiar scene.

"The rightful king of the Ottenheim God of mischief do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity..."

"Loki, wait!" Astrid ran towards Loki, his dagger not yet lodging into Thanos. The two looked over as Thanos only laughed, "Undying, you should choose your words carefully..." he laughed, throwing Astrid against a jagged rock watching as he snapped Loki's neck sat Thor, who had to watch the two people in his life waste away in front of him.

"Don't... leave... m..."

END OF FILE

"Some courage ... " Ravonna laughed, "It got you killed... why would you do that..."

"I wanted affection... I wanted attention. I wanted to be perfect..." she sobbed in the corner,

"That's pathetically sad..." Ravonna then got an idea, "But if you work with us, you can have those things. " she stuck her hand out, watching as the goddess looked up at her like a scared child looking for hope.

"Alright, we've got a variant..." Mobius sighed, "Astrid is this one right... Astrid?" he questioned. Astrid ran over as she saw a Loki variant tapping him on the shoulder. He took out his dagger, placing it near her neck,

"How attractive..." she rolled her eyes,

"You insolent worm, I should feed you to the fish who feed upon Odin..."

"Nice try..." she used her powers to immobilize him. Being a Time-Variant hunter had been slowly running her down. After all, she figured out how to play their game then attack,

But it was getting hard when they were looking for Loki and herself. "Take him away..." she sighed, walking into the office back to Casey's receptionist office as her eyes laid upon a suspicious blue box.

"Hey, you know what this is..."

"Tesseract... and It's very dangerous and..." she picked him up by his shoulders, "By the Norns, if you do not tell me who was wielding this, you will wish to whatever God you pray to that they have mercy over you..." she threatened him.

"He's an Asgardian..." Casey gulped.

"Where did he go..."

"Behind that door, I think..." Astrid tried to pull the lever, "You're not authorized!" he shouted, watching as she went to the elevator, only taking her back to her cell. Her ears pressed against the door as she heard Mobius talking as he usually did, but this time a voice she had recognized too well.

"Where are you taking me... by the grace of, Astrid you'll."

"You really don't like talking much, do you, little fella," Mobius sighed, shoving him in the cell. What felt like hours was only minutes when Mobius felt like he had gotten nowhere at all. As Mobius left the cell, so did Astrid. Following the footsteps of and the smell of Asgard's finest colognes, she found herself at Casey’s desk: the draw open with scattered infinity stones showing just how powerful the TVA was struck a bit of fear in the Goddesses' heart.

"Where was he..."

"I don't know... But, uh, what's a fish?" Astrid laughed, "I'll tell you later." she laughed, walking back as a hand reached out and pulled her into a cell.

Lips crashing on top of hers bodies pressed together.

" Astrid, my love..."

"Loki..." she asked.

#loki laufeyson #loki series #loki x oc #loki fandom #loki fanfic #Astrid sodotirr loki oc #new series maybe #tell me if you like it #please tell me

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honeyhan-123 · 4 years

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Neon Red

Summary: Feeling the failure of not being able to defeat Thanos, Steve longs to feel something else, anything else, and so he finds himself as a patron at The Golden Circle where our reader (known as Kitty by customers) is a dancer.

Warnings: Dark!Steve, Stripper!Reader, stalking, male masturbation, dubcon/noncon.

Word Count: 4.5k

AN: I’m so sorry there isn’t a Say Thank You update this weekend but please enjoy a slutty oneshot, it’s also a little spin off from the Project Legacy fic (you don’t have to read it to read this.) I would also love to thank @castedcaricaturesfor betaing this fic for me and @iwantutobehapppier and @omega-nicole for giving me their opinions about an issue I had.

My Masterlist

The neon red sign above the door reflected in Steve’s blue eyes as he stood, staring up at it, hesitating as he stood out on the street. He knew if his ma were still here that she would kill him if she ever found out he was about to enter an establishment like the ‘Golden Circle’ but that was exactly why he was doing it. She wasn’t here. No one was anymore.

For once in his life Steve Rogers wanted to feel something, wanted to give into his more carnal instincts. And so here he was, wondering if he had gotten enough cash out of the ATM across the street, wearing a dark blue baseball cap pulled low over his brow, praying that no one would recognise him.

Yet as he pushed open the heavy door and was greeted by the sickly sweet scent of the club, he realised his fears had been for nothing, hardly anyone spared him a glance, too enraptured with the dancer who was up on the podium. Even though it was a bit of a darker atmosphere than what he was used to, Steve liked it. He liked the dim red lighting - from where it originated he couldn’t tell - the plush brown leather booths, the mahogany bar behind which there was an alcohol cabinet that could rival Tony’s. It was modernised sure, but it reminded him of something that he might have seen back in his own time if he had dared do something so salacious and he knew that he had made the right call by coming here.

Straying a little further from the stage, he sat in one of the lone leather high backed chairs, hands running down his thighs, a little unsure of what to do as he surveyed his surroundings, barely even glancing at the woman on the stage. A server came over, holding a tray with one hand as she lent down, practically pushing her chest into Steve’s bearded face and while he appreciated the view of her scantily clad nipples, he wasn’t all that invested.

‘What can I get you handsome?’ Her voice was wrong, it was too much, too overt in its sexuality.

‘Just a scotch thanks.’ Even though he wasn’t interested he still slipped a twenty from his wallet, tucking it into the scrap of material that were her panties. ‘Keep the change.’ She smiled, her eyes seeming to eat him up before she turned and walked away, swaying her hips intoxicatingly.

The dancer on the stage finished her set, a raucous applause following as she made her way around the crowd, collecting tips from greedy hands. Steve’s scotch was set down next to him and he thanked the waitress as a voice cut through the applause.

‘Once again that was the gorgeous Glitter! Isn’t she just stunning? For those interested she does private shows too, just her and whatever lucky bugger in our lounges. Send an inquiry if interested.’ There was a pause in which Steve considered what the MC had said. Private shows, maybe that’s where he should be. But not with her, no. She wasn’t quite right.

‘Next up, is the sensational Kitty! Gentlemen please give her a very warm welcome.’ Steve's gaze was at once pulled back to the stage as the deep red velvet curtain parted, revealing her.

Immediately he knew. He knew she was the one. He watched enticed as she performed, her body twisting and twirling through the air with a sense of grace - of elegance - that the others just hadn’t held. For the first time since it had happened, he felt himself get hard, achingly hard. The desire to reach into his pants growing with every second that his eyes drank up her form.

He could almost pretend that it was only him, that he was the only one in the room with her, that she was dancing just for him. He didn’t necessarily care about the other men watching her because he knew, deep down, that she was his. It didn’t matter that she didn’t even know him or that he had only just seen her, she was his for now and forever more.

He waited until her dance was over, pulling a handful of twenties from his wallet and this time when she sashayed across the crowd for tips, his greedy hands joined the others. Swiftly tucking the money into the black silk, just above her vee. He relished in the way her eyes grew larger as she caught sight of the amount he had given, the way they had followed his deft fingers from her panties and up his arm before coming to rest on his face.

‘Thank you.’ Just those two words had Steve ready to cum right then and there. Her voice was so soft and delicate, just what he had been looking for all this time.

‘You’re welcome Doll.’ He fell in love with her smile, not that fake one she had worn when she was dancing, but the real one she wore now, her teeth gleaming in the dim lighting.

‘I-’

She was interrupted by a portly man calling her name, taking her attention away from him as the man gestured to her to come to him. Pausing slightly, she turned back to Steve but he raised his hands, a smile on his face.

‘Go. I need to head off anyway.’ He tried to make his voice as easygoing as he could, not wanting to let her know the dark thoughts plaguing his mind. She smiled at him once more before turning on her heel and crossing the room to who Steve could only assume was the manager of the establishment, his eyes following every sway of her hips until she led from the room and out of sight.

Stretching out his muscles, he stood from the leather chair, leaving a twenty underneath his now empty glass before pulling his cap further down his brow and heading out of the building, his phone in his hand as he searched Stark’s database for just who this angelic Kitty really was.

It really hadn’t been that hard to find her, the real Kitty. Ten minutes of searching had given him her real name, her address, her credit history, her family backstory. Camped out on the roof across from her apartment Steve chided Stark’s technology. In the wrong hands it could be quite dangerous, having such easy access to anyone’s personal details.

But it was fine, he was here to protect her now.

He waited up on that cold roof for nearly two hours until a cab came by, stopping just outside the crummy apartment complex. Even in the dim light emanating from the streetlights, his Kitty seemed to glow, shining bright and beautiful like an angel. He watched as she let herself in, a few minutes passing before the light to her apartment flickered on. He blessed the fact that she hadn’t drawn the blinds, thinking herself safe, tucked away on the twelfth floor. She gave him an uninterrupted view of her apartment, of how she wandered from the cramped kitchen/living room into her even smaller bedroom, disappearing briefly into the bathroom before emerging in only a towel, her wet hair cascading down her back, sticking to her smooth skin.

For the second time since the snap had happened, Steve felt his pants grow tight, the need to feel something, anything, overtaking him. He adjusted his perch on the roof, making sure he still had a good visual of the bedroom as his hand dipped down, briskly undoing his belt and pulling himself from his jeans.

He watched as her towel dropped to the floor, the fluffy white cotton kicked aside, revealing her body to him. Despite the fact that he had practically already seen it in the club, he couldn’t hold in the groan it caused, his hand wrapping around himself and pumping furiously as the pretty girl in the window got ready for bed.

‘Hey Kitty, he’s back. Again.’ You tried to hold in the smile Glitter’s words caused, the jealousy barely concealed, but you couldn’t blame her. Whoever he was, he wasn’t like the other men who frequented the ‘Golden Circle’ in a lot of ways. He wasn’t sleazy like the others, his hands - while they did occasionally linger - never groped bits of flesh as they slipped twenty dollar bills into the thin straps of your outfits and although he never took off the dark blue baseball cap, making it near impossible to see his face, you could tell he was attractive, his biceps bulged and his thick thighs looked like the most comfortable seat in the world.

While his continual presence did make you slightly uneasy, it also gave you butterflies, seeing his eyes always fixated on you, even when you weren’t the one on stage. He barely spared a glance at the other girls despite them trying their best efforts to draw his attention. He only wanted you. His presence made you not care about never booking a session in the Lounge because while the increased pay of a private show would have been nice, he was always by the mainstage, plus his tips were always far too generous.

Your heart raced with the typical pre-show jitters, incensed by the fact you knew he was out there, waiting for you and when your music started you took a deep breath, fully transitioning into Kitty, the cheeky dancer, before stepping out on stage. Like usual, your eyes flitted around the club, searching for him and when you finally found him, sitting towards the back, you made sure to give him your cheekiest smile.

‘Let’s give it up for our resident cheeky little Kitty Cat!’ You barely heard the obnoxious voice of Mike the club’s MC, opting instead to go to your happy place. When you had first started at the ‘Golden Circle’ it had been hard to zone out from the leering and drunken men but reflecting back to your days as a ballerina had helped. Although it was now a completely different style of dance, pretending that you were on stage in your pretty pink pointe shoes performing for your family had given you the peace of mind you needed to get up on stage every night.

Now however, your happy place had a much different setting. You were still up on stage, yet it was a smaller stage, a plush leather couch at the base of it, the walls lined with a deep red velvet, casting a sensual appearance over the room. Instead of a crowd full of strangers, you only performed for one man, a glass of whisky in his hand and a blue baseball cap pulled low over his brow as he watched you.

You knew it was wrong, dangerous even, to fantasise about a client like that, but it was what helped get you through the grueling shifts and with the way he watched your every move, you didn’t think he would mind.

As your dance came to an end, you did your usual rounds, sitting in a few laps, having your flesh groped as tips were slid into your red bodysuit. As always, you saved him for last, finally wandering over to his couch, your smile not as fake as it had been.

‘Well hi-ya stranger.’ You joked as you neared, and you thought that you just might’ve died when you heard his responding chuckle, one of his rare smiles gracing his lips.

‘Doll, I don’t think we’re strangers at this point.’ You smiled as he leaned forward, his hand slipped down between your breasts to place a couple of bills there. You were surprised when his other hand crept up behind you, gingerly wrapping itself around your waist. ‘So, I was thinking… How about a dance sugar?’ Your eyebrows raised on their own accord, your surprise evident. Despite how often he came into the club, he had never asked for a dance. The only time that he had come close was when he had asked you offhandedly, if you minded being the one to serve him his drinks when you were on duty. Although you had felt guilty about keeping him to yourself you had gladly agreed, how could you not?

When you realised that he was still waiting, you snapped out of your reverie. ‘Of course Darling, anything for you.’ Despite how full your body suit was, you didn’t want to keep him waiting, so you stalked around behind him, beginning your routine as you slid your hands down his chest, your lips coming to his ear.

Most of the time doing by-stage dances you found yourself having to grit your teeth, barely able to keep down the bile yet as you danced for your stranger the smile on your face was a hundred percent genuine.

‘You know, I feel kind of bad. We spend all this time together, yet I don’t even know your name.’ He shuddered as you whispered into the shell of his ear, being sure to brush your lips against the soft, supple skin.

‘I��m Steve.’ His voice was rough as he spoke, his adam’s apple bobbing, drawing your attention.Your hands danced back up his chest, smoothing out his shirt as you walked back around, being sure to keep one hand on him.

‘Well it’s nice to have a name to put to my favourite patron.’ Your hand wrapped around his neck, gripping onto the dark blonde locks as you nudged his feet further apart with your heels, sliding into the new space between them.

‘Your favourite patron huh?’ You loved the prideful tone that rang through his voice as you leaned down, pushing your chest towards him.

‘Of course Sweetheart, how could you not be?’ Your hands trailed down his chest once more, dancing below his belt line, skirting the growing bulge to trace the tracks of the rough denim coating his thighs. From here your arms could squeeze your breasts together as you leaned over them, the stray hairs of his beard nearly touching the red satin cups and just as you thought he would lose control and lean into the soft skin, you whipped around. You swiveled your hips as you moved your hands up your body, raising one leg first and setting it down outside of his knee and then doing the same with the other before squatting, just above his lap.

Your hips moved in a figure eight motion, slowly getting closer and closer to where he clearly wanted you to be. Looking back over your shoulder at him you spoke. ‘Tell me Steve, tell me how badly you want it.’

His groan was audible as you continued to tease, never quite touching him where he needed. ‘So badly baby girl. You have no fucking clue. I need you so badly.’ With his groaned words, you finally lowered yourself down onto him sending him a cheeky wink as you did so.

Despite the clubs firm no touching rule, you allowed his hands to rest on your hips as you moved them, your own reaching back and hooking around his neck, giving yourself some leverage. ‘Do you like that Stevie? Does that feel good?’

He didn’t answer your questions verbally, but the way he thrusted his hips up against yours was a clear enough response. You continued moving against him, letting his hands force you down harder on his crotch, letting him use you as he chased his orgasm. ‘God… Fuck Doll. You make me feel so fucking good. Yes…’ His words were a jumbled mess as he came closer and closer and you felt his hands dance up your body to squeeze your tits.

You knew you should pull away, knew it was wrong to let a customer touch you like that, but the way his groans were ringing through your ears was addictive. In that one moment, the only thing you wanted to achieve was getting this man off, whatever that meant doing.

He rolled your pert nipples between his fingers, rubbing you through the smooth satin as he moaned. ‘Yes, that’s it Doll, I’m so fucking close. Oh god, fuck, Doll. Make me cum baby, make me fucking cum.’ You moaned with him as you moved your hips up and down his crotch and you smiled as you felt his thighs tense beneath you, a long loud moan coming from him that almost covered the sound of satin tearing.

Your hips stopped moving as you looked down, barely registering through your shock the gaping rip down your body suit. You jumped out of his lap, trying to keep the material against your chest as you stared down at him, wanting to scream.

‘Fuck, I’m so sorry Doll. I didn’t mean to. I was just holding it and then when I - it just ripped. I’m so sorry, here. Take my jacket back to the changing room.’ You pursed your lips, trying to refrain from showing your anger, knowing the tips would be better if you could make it back to the dressing rooms before the curses started spilling from your lips. He held out a smooth brown leather jacket and you murmured a thanks as you slipped it on, barely registering the obscene amount of money he slipped into your hand before you turned on your heel, disappearing down the corridor, and edgy feeling creeping its way inside you.

Steve didn’t need to return to the club the next night to know he had messed up. There was a clear no touching policy and he had not only done that but he’d ruined your suit and your trust. He had seen it in the way you had barely smiled as he gave your jacket and then later how you had given it to one of the other girls to give back to him.

By the time he had realised you weren’t coming out for your floor shift, you had already left and when he finally got to your apartment, he was disappointed to see your blinds drawn shut. He had taken his frustrations out on a nearby trash can, cursing himself for losing your trust. You were the one thing in this fucked up world that made him actually feel something and just like with Thanos, he had fucked up and just like with Sam and Bucky, he had lost you too.

But he hadn’t… not really. You were still here, you could still be his. He just might have to change his approach a little. It could still work.

The next night Steve waited anxiously on the plush leather couch, admiring the velvet walls as the minutes ticked by. It hadn’t been long enough that he was worried you weren’t going to show, but he was impatient. He wanted, no, needed to see you again, to feel you rub against him as you drew him to his orgasm. Despite the terrible way the night had ended, the orgasm you had brought out had felt so good, it had been his best ever and he had cursed himself for those few seconds before he realised what had happened for not requesting a dance earlier.

When he had first discovered your apartment and your tendency to leave your blinds open he had thought that would be enough, that sitting up on that cold and lonely roof with his fist wrapped around his cock would be enough. But it wasn’t, and now, he had a taste for more.

He heard the click of heels through the thick mahogany door and anxiously wiped his hands along his thighs as the wood was pushed open, revealing your silhouette on the other side. He watched as you walked towards the stage, the door closing behind you, stopping just before you got to the platform.

‘Why did you book the Lounge?’ In the silence of the room, your whisper sounded like a scream.

‘I wanted to apologise, plus, I need to see you again. And I figured this way, we could talk.’ You scoffed at his words.

‘Talk?’ You mocked, laughing as you spoke. ‘You men never want to just talk. I thought… I don’t know what I thought but I know that I’m sick of it. So now you have two options, you can either leave or I can call security and have you escorted out. It’s your choice.’

Steve felt his mouth go dry, he couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t allow it. ‘Doll please… you don’t want to do that. Please don’t do that to me.’ You ignored his warning, reeking of his desperation, but before you could open your mouth to scream, he had lunged from the couch, his arms wrapping around you, one securing your back to his chest, the other clamped over your mouth.

‘I told you not to do that Doll.’ You writhed in his arms trying to twist away from him to no avail. The small groan that escaped his lips disgusted you as he sat down on the stage, pulling your hips against his. ‘Be a good girl for me, please Doll. You have no idea how much I need this.’ Your scathing response was made unintelligible by his hand as his other dipped into the sparkling blue skirt you had on, pushing the matching panties to the side as he swiped a finger along your slit.

His breathing was heavy in your ear as his fingers swirled around your lips, gathering the slick that was beginning to pool. ‘See Doll, you want this too. I know you do. Fuck, I’ve seen it with my own eyes how you would dance just for me, even in that crowd of men.’ Your muffled protests turned into hesitant moans as he entered you with two fingers, his thumb pressing down on your clit. ‘That’s it, that’s a good girl. Just sit back and enjoy it, doesn’t it feel good?’

Your hands clutched at his thighs, your head resting on his shoulder as you gave in, your hips twisting against his hand, riding it on their own accord. His fingers scissored inside of you, curling themselves against your walls as his thumb rubbed your pearl frantically. You didn’t miss the growing bulge beneath you but you could barely form a coherent thought as he pulled you to the edge.

‘That’s it Doll. Just let go for me, I know you’re close.’ You hadn’t realised when his hand had drifted down from your mouth to rest on your throat, but the gentle restriction had you seeing stars, screaming silently as you convulsed in his arms, letting go for him.

You watched in silent horror as he lifted his hand from your mini-skirt and raised it to his lips, moaning around the thick digits. ‘You taste better than I ever could have imagined, I can’t wait to feel you.’ You shuddered against his thick chest and gasped as he flipped you around, your chest pressing against the cold hard wood of the stage.

You yipped as he pulled down the skirt and panties, exposing your heated centre to the cool air, a moan coming from him along with the clink of a belt buckle. You tried to worm your way out of his arms even though you knew it was worthless trying, he was far stronger than you.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt him, sliding along the slick that he had caused, coating himself in it before coming to your entrance and pausing for a brief moment. You barely dared to hope that he would pull away and yet when you felt him slowly sinking into your heat, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Of course he would just do what he wants.

‘Oh god… Doll… Fuck.’ You felt the stretch of your walls as he eased in, pain shooting through you from just how big he was. You lay helpless on the stage’s edge as he began pushing in and out of your cunt, groaning obscenities as he did so. One of his hands dipped down, between you and the stage to swipe over your pearl teasingly.

‘That’s it baby, you feel so fucking good, taking my cock so well.’ Your heavy breaths filled the air as you tried, and failed, to maintain your composure. Sweat was coating your skin as he thrusted, your knees rubbing themselves raw against the plush carpet. The familiar tightening ricocheted through your body you came close, your toes curling in apprehension, only to uncurl moments later when he pulled you from the stage, flipping you over and pushing your legs up, above your head.

The carpet was rough against your bare back but the new angle was worth the pain, being able to feel him fill you so completely was worth it. His full lips covered yours, his tongue meeting yours halfway as moans tumbled from your mouth into his and vice versa.

His hips were unforgiving as they pounded into you, filling you to the brim and hitting that special spot with every thrust. It wasn’t long before he brought you back to the edge, clearly reading the desperation for release written all over your body.

‘Cum for me baby, cum on my cock.’ Your responding scream was lost into his hand, clasping over your mouth once more as your walls fluttered, clenching around him. His hips stuttered, his thighs tensed and he thrusted as deeply as he could as he came inside you, hot white ribbons coating your walls and groans filling the room.

He rode out his orgasm, the obscene sounds emanating from your pussy echoing through the room as your breaths mingled with one another as they slowly calmed down.

You lay, staring up at the man above you, his cap probably having fallen off during your struggle, and you finally recognised him. His beard was full and thick and his hair was much longer than you were used to seeing it but the amount of times your History classes at school had been forced to study him, you would never forget his face.

The recognition must have been clear in your face as he hastily pulled out, his cum seeping down your thighs as he pulled his pants back up, handing you your skirt.

‘St-Steve?’ You couldn’t even be sure the words had left your lips but the way he tensed at the sound told you they had.

‘C’mon Doll, let’s have the conversation somewhere private.’

‘We are somewhere private.’ You argued with the man standing before you, the red light casting a strange aura around him.

‘Yeah, but I’m nowhere near done with you.’ His hand was held out before you and you knew he wasn’t giving you much of a choice so you nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead you from ‘the lounge’, pausing to pass you his jacket as you approached the door of the club.

The air outside was cold, unforgiving, as he led you outside, the harsh neon red light of the club slowly being swallowed by the dark night as you walked, hand in hand. To where, you weren’t sure, but you knew it would be wherever Steve needed you to be.

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

Text

An Awakening

Vision learns the truth of his life prior to Westview which leads to an honest conversation with Wanda.

Ao3 link

There is nothingness and then there is a calliope, it’s jaunty little ditty shocking his mind enough that Vision’s eyes snap open. Blades of grass tickle his cheek and an aura of flashing lights draws him up, palms pressed firmly onto the ground as he hoists himself up into a seated position. His body aches, a faint echo in his mind of being violently torn apart, but it is a feeling that fades the faster he thinks about it. Since it seems important, he tries to move his mind away, hoping that if he doesn’t explicitly focus on it that it will not be forgotten.

Vision nods, goes to stand up, but finds his legs not responding fully, knees buckling under the weight of a fleeting memory of immense pain. A hand loops under his right bicep, the woman’s other hand coming to rest on his back as she helps him up with an aggrieved, “Why can men never admit when they’re hurt?” The snark behind the comment feels forced, the same underlying terror on her face as all the other residents here.

That’s when he remembers, most of it at least. He was on his own reconnaissance patrol, inching ever more methodically toward the edge of town to see how far Wanda’s influence reached. The horror of his findings, their frozen, crying faces, almost knocks him back to the ground, but luckily the woman’s hands are still there to steady him. “Thank you.”

“Did you go in the funhouse?” It’s not really a question the way her voice falls, more of a statement with a rhetorical uptick at the end. “Heard it’s really disorienting with all the clowns.”

Vision doesn’t recall such an attraction anywhere in Westview but then he looks up, following the still present music in the air, and finds an entire carnival before him. Red and white striped tents tower out of the ground, stalls for food send plumes of greasy smoke into the air, and numerous game stalls are lined up where stuffed animals and blowup hammers hang joyfully from the walls. This is new. What is also new is that there are houses and roads beyond Ellis Avenue, which seems right, as if it was always like that, but there is a niggle of unease that tells him this isn’t true, if only he could access the information that makes him feel that way.

“Oh, um , thank you.” His costume is, at least by his understanding of how Billy and Tommy reacted, not sick by any means. Regardless, he finds his hand moving on its own accord to grip the cape, wanting to feel the object of her jealousy. It feels different, slicker and more aerodynamic than the one Wanda left in the closet. He yanks it a bit farther forward and notes that it is also a much more subdued gold with flecks of crimson in parts. A glance down also confirms that his green and yellow ensemble is gone, replaced by teals and reds, no athletic shorts covering the skin tight ensemble.

This is all wrong.

Vision knows the town never had a circus, nor the rows of houses beyond Ellis, he knows that he was not in this outfit and that everything feels just a bit off.

“Do you want some coffee or a ride back home?” The concern in her voice goes deeper than one would expect, even though she did find him injured on the ground, something more wavers in her words. Vision decides that he needs more answers than questions and, even though he hates taking away people’s autonomy, he reaches towards her temple. “Woah,” the woman swats his hands away, “I have pepper spray.”

“I will not harm you.” Oddly her face softens and she drops the threat, allowing him to send a pulse of golden energy into her head.

The change is instantaneous, the woman’s face becoming far more animated, “Vision?! Oh my God, you’re okay!” This is now the second awakened person to recognize him, to be excited at the prospect that he is there to help. “Oh what the hell!” Vision watches the woman’s hand run along her gaudy canary and ruby diner uniform, one that is common in little run down diners on the highway, a thought that he doesn’t quite know how to substantiate since he doesn’t seem to have a memory of such a stop and yet the knowledge is there. As she inspects her clothes, grunting in disbelief and irritation built into every movement, she confuses him further, “I’m an astrophysicist and this is what I get? So disrespectful.”

Neither Norm nor Agnes responded in such a...laid back way to be awakened, both in immeasurable pain that this woman seems to show no signs of. “Miss, are you okay?”

“Doctor, not Miss.”

“My apologies.”

She turns a bright, closed lip smile towards him, reaching out her hand as she says, “I’m Darcy.”

He takes the proffered hand and gives it a polite shake. Even though it is clearly unnecessary he adds, “And I’m Vision.” What he says next is a bit of a surprise to him, mainly because he doesn’t feel like he has a basis for the assumption that she will know the answer, but for some reason he has full faith she can help him, that she wants to help him. “Who am I? What,” he surveys the carnival around him, “what is happening here?”

“Straight to the big questions.” It is not derisively or caustically stated, in fact there is far more affection than one would expect from a stranger. Darcy glances around, nervous for the first time, “I’ll try to be quick, I’m sure your wife’ll be here soon.” This fear is not new, sadly, the same insinuation made by Norm about Wanda’s involvement. “Let’s see, you’re Vision, obviously,” a small, self conscious chuckle goes along with the statement. “You’re an Avenger,” luckily, she senses his desire for more, quickly adding, “group of super powered people, well, not all of them have super powers, some just have really amazing tech, but anyway you’re a team that fights bad guys and saves the universe.”

“Wanda and myself, we were-“

“Yep, joined at the same time and then fell in love, really cute.”

This confirms what Agnes said, which suggests that perhaps her other words were true as well. “Am I...dead?” All joy leeches from Darcy’s face, a deflated nod going along with the tightening of her lips. “How?”

Darcy looks around again and Vision can’t help but join her in the action, can’t help but feel a little bit nervous about who doesn’t want him to know this. “Shortened version - big purple angry grape named Thanos was collecting all the infinity stones, this includes the Mindstone,” Vision’s fingers rise up to brush the gem. “Wanda had to kill you to try and stop him.”

“She killed me?”

Quickly context is added, “Only because you,” she levels a finger at his chest to emphasize his role and take blame off his wife, “insisted she do it.”

None of what she says makes sense. “Why would I do that?”

The next statement is said in a way that typically is coupled with a playful fist against the shoulder that leads into a jovial shove. “Being all self-sacrificial’s kinda your thing. Which is super noble, don’t get me wrong, but a bit rough on the people around you, like asking them to kill you for the greater good.”

Which is a fair point and one he will need to cogitate on at a later time, “Why did Wanda, specifically, have to kill me?”

“Oh because she was the only one strong enough to destroy the Mindstone.”

A logical assessment that he can easily believe his former self to have made. “Was she successful?”

Darcy’s voice quiets somewhat, a slight tremble in her words, “She was. But then Thanos reversed time, brought you back, and murdered you right in front of her.”

Suddenly his worldview shifts, new meaning and understanding emerging as to some of Wanda’s actions and her strong reaction to his accusations the other night. Despite this dawning of understanding, there is still a major question he feels hasn’t been answered. “But then how are we here? How am I,” he falters on the next word, as early as this evening not thinking it was something that could be false, “alive?”

“That’s the million dollar question. No one knows.” A high pitched whizzing vibrates in the air, punctuated by calls of Vision! “I gotta go,” she begins to walk away, but turns back with an anger not yet present in her words, “Quick FYI, if you meet a guy named Hayward, don’t trust him, he’s a dick.”

“I um, will not, thank you.”

She starts to leave again and then stops, “Also, we don’t have proof it’s all Wanda. Food for thought.”

Vision appreciates the comment, “Thank you.” It is when she actually walks away that he is the one that has a realization of not re-invoking whatever trance the people of the town are in. “Darcy!” She turns expectedly towards him as he approaches with his hands out and ready to take the pain from her, except she swats his hands away, yet again.

“Stop it, I’m a better ally awake.”

Based on the prior two people he has spoken to in their awakened state, this seems a poor choice for her. “Does it not hurt?”

“I mean, yeah, feels like I went on a tequila bender last night and haven’t had water in weeks.” How she remains so lighthearted is beyond him, but he admires it immensely, “but I can’t help you if I’ve forgotten.”

Though he isn’t sure it is in her best interest to remain in such a state, the idea of a confidant is appealing. “Very well.”

Seconds after she walks away, blue streaks materialize around Vision, both his sons and his wife appearing suddenly in front of him. This is unusual but he doesn’t get a chance to inquire about their speedy entrance, Billy rushing towards him first with a relieved, “Dad!” Vision catches him, using the momentum of his son’s leap to lift him and hold him close, Billy’s arm wrapping protectively around Vision’s neck. Tommy follows shortly after, his run far more powerful as he slams into Vision’s torso with a tight hug.

It is Wanda who hesitates, her eyes faintly glowing red, a deep, concerned frown on her lips. “Vizh,” her voice cracks and his heart breaks at the pain she tries so valiantly to mask. Vision manages to get one of his hands free enough to motion Wanda closer. She accepts the offer, one arm winding around his waist and the other laying on Tommy’s shoulders.

They have only been home for three hours and yet this is the tenth Wanda has found herself standing in the doorway, hand propped along the wooden frame. In the room Vision lies in bed, eyes closed and resting, Billy is wrapped around him, his arm thrown across his father’s chest and head buried just under the vibranium dot of Vision’s chin, and Tommy is curled snuggly into Vision’s other side. The boys are still in their costumes, Billy’s cape sprawled behind him on their mattress and Tommy’s now flat hair looking a bit crusty from the spray dye. It’s an idyllic scene and yet Wanda fights back tears, shoving the drops away from her eyes as if they are an enemy that needs to be thwarted.

She almost lost Vision...again. The boys almost lost their father at ten years old, an age for which grief is overwhelming and confusing, can shape a life forever, or so she intimately knows.

Reluctantly her body pulls away from the door, arms crossing over her chest as she walks back downstairs, not once considering peeking in on her brother in the guest room. That is a problem she is still trying to figure out, the man a stranger, an antagonist, but with her brother’s name. There are too many inconsistencies in his behavior, too many contradictions in his words, half of them true to her brother and the other far too knowing of events that occurred after his death. Unsurprisingly he and Vision clash, a thought that briefly makes her mouth perk up, always having a belief that if her brother lived he would have begrudgingly accepted her relationship while also making it his personal duty to make jabs at Vision, who Wanda always knew would take it with a silent dignity that was then removed late at night when he’d insist on lengthy conversations with her to figure out the insults. That’s what life was supposed to be. What life is now, technically.

The gurgle of water washes away these thoughts, her focus now solely on filling the kettle and getting it on a burner to boil. Except the distraction is short lived as she sits down at the kitchen table to wait, fingers interwoven and glowing faintly of the residual scarlet energy she had to use tonight. Wanda fixates on her fingers, bending and straightening them, unsure how she knew what to do or even had the power to expand the town. But that’s not the most troubling incident of the night. No, what pesters at her resolve is a simple thought: Why did Vision want to leave? They have everything here - a house, Billy and Tommy, each other, and the time they always tried so hard to find.

Wanda startles at the creak of the kitchen cabinet, heart still racing as she takes in the curve of Vision’s shoulders and the vibranium band along the back of his head. Silently he makes her a cup of tea, hands moving calmly through the ritual he created, the cup always the same distance from the kettle, bag placed at the bottom with the string hanging out precisely two inches, both hands holding the kettle (one on the handle and one at the base) as a perfect arc of water fills the cup, and finally one and a third spoonfuls of sugar. The sequence completed, Vision walks the cup to the table, placing it gently down with barely a clink from the porcelain. She expects him to sit down across from her, to silently stare for a minute or so before bringing up the town again, reopening the wounds of their last fight because they never actually resolved anything other than to try and act normal around the boys. But he doesn’t, instead he takes her hand, tugging it until she stands, and then he hugs her, engulfing her entire being in his presence. The firmness of his chest and the tinny waft of vibranium are just as soothing as the kisses he peppers along the top of her head, each one more doting than the last. “Vizh,” Wanda reluctantly pulls back a few inches, hand squeezing between their bodies until she can cup his face, “are you…”

“I know,” he kisses her properly now, not like the emotionless peck earlier in the day, this one imbued with all of his love and all of his concern. “I know enough.”

A chill moves through her body, limbs growing rigid and heart almost coming to a complete stop. “What do you mean?”

Vision’s fingers move up to trace lines through her hair, palm coming to rest on her cheek. The surety of his prior statement lessens, mouth sinking lower until it’s a shallow frown. “I know that I am,” it is unlike him to pause like this, to seem to want to avoid a conversation he himself brought up, “that I was dead.”

Her denial is immediate and viscera, “What are you talking about, why would you…” but then his doleful gaze meets hers, the ridges of his synthetic skin bunched together in a show of deep, aching pain, though it is clear from the way he holds her, the way he places a far too gentle kiss to her forehead, as if the action itself might knock her over, that he is more concerned for her than himself, which is the epitome of who he was...who he is. If there is anything she can offer that matches this unerring compassion, it has to be honesty because clearly hiding the truth from him will not stop his incessant march towards the truth. But that is easier to think about than it is to actually commit to doing. Wanda swallows down a sob and fights to keep her voice calm. “You were.” The confirmation is too much, her chest heaving as all the memories rush to the forefront of her mind--her hands erupting in red at the feel of the Mindstone fracturing, at the almost silent I love you , and then having to watch him come back only to die in a far more brutal way.

Strong arms that shouldn’t exist continue to encase her, draw her deeper into the comfort of his embrace, the feel of his fingers running through her hair with the same gentle “Wanda” he always said when soothing her. Deep down she knows it is all a lie, this life, this man, this blissful existence. Because as a Maximoff there is only one constant in life and it is sorrow, biting, empty, unavoidable sorrow. Which begs the question of how, exactly he found out. A question that infuriates her and invokes the well know feeling of being caged in by the inevitability of her life.

Wanda steps out of his arms, trying her best not to show how much pain that simple movement creates, her body screaming to remain against his forever, but selfishly she needs answers more than anything, needs information to help her regain some level of control over her emotions, has to know why he put his family through so much just to find out this awful truth. “Why aren’t you happy here?”

A denial forms quickly, his body taut at the accusation, “I am happy Wanda, how could I not be?”

“Because you left, you...you abandoned us today,” Wanda knows she shouldn’t use the next part in anger or for gain, but she needs her husband to understand the severity of it all. “Did you know Billy can sense you?”

Vision’s “He can?” is hard to read, both concerned and in awe, with something else she can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yes, and his first experience of that was feeling you try to die because we apparently aren’t important enough to stay alive for.” The comment hits as intended, Vision stepping back, horror forming in the spasming muscles of his face as he looks up towards the ceiling, towards where he left their sons. “What are you trying to find out there?”

Vision’s simple, “The truth,” is aggravatingly vague, thankfully, or not depending on how this goes, he clarifies, “There is something wrong in Westview, Wanda. The people are in agony.”

A fed up laugh comes out with her “Aren’t we all?” Only Vision can’t find the humor, the gears in his eyes twisting clockwise and counterclockwise while he stares at her, face ladened with a suffocating sympathy.

He takes a step towards her and she steps back, not missing the way her reaction hurts him. “Wanda, it is not like you to inflict pain on innocent people.”

Since they started this new life, her memories have been hazy, coming in and out of consciousness, enough clarity to understand that whatever is happening in Westview is preferable to outside of it. After tonight, after Pietro’s comment about her dead husband, it’s all there and she realizes that she’s never gotten to say out loud what she did, what Thanos forced her to do, the Avengers too scattered with all that needed to be attended to after his defeat to focus on anyone but themselves. So she squares her shoulders, lifts her head and puts all of her self loathing into her next comment, “If that’s true, then why did I kill you?”

This time when Vision steps towards her she lets him grip her arms, let’s him guide her until her face is pressed into his chest, allowing her to hear the beating of his synthetic heart. “You were only doing what I had asked.”

“Well it wasn’t worth it,” her voice is muffled by the teal sweater he’s wearing, “and I can’t, I can’t forgive myself.”

His arms tighten around her, one hand gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt and the other holding her head to his sternum. “You did nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame-”

It doesn't take a telepath to know what empty words he is about to mutter. Wanda forces herself from his embrace and stares hard into his eyes, “Don’t, Vision, just don’t. It won’t change what happened.”

Reluctantly he accepts it, moving cautiously back to the original topic of their discord, “Is this,” he gestures vaguely around them, “the result of,” it is still hard for him to say, which she appreciates because she can’t say it easily either, “my death?”

“I don’t know,,” this time he seems to accept her ignorance, which allows her a chance to actually consider it more. All she can really recall is the crushing loneliness and the suffocating despair of losing the last person she loved in the world. It’s not a stretch to assume that had something to do with now. “Maybe?” If he knows about his death, she reasons that she might as well tell him the other nightmare she discovered upon her own rebirth, something she’s tried to block out as best she can. “It could also be from finding out some shady government organization was experimenting on your corpse.”

Shock is too gentle a word, hatred a tiny bit too strong for the tone of his voice, “That does not seem like an activity I would condone.”

“It’s the exact opposite of what you requested.” Wanda thinks back to that day, and unlike Vision, pure, unabashed hatred flowed through her veins when she received an anonymous tip. Hatred at S.W.O.R.D, at the scientists going against Vision’s will, hatred at the world for being so awful, and hatred at her teammates who let it happen, who didn’t seem to consider that agencies like that lie, that they would never want the body only for “safe-keeping.” All Vision wanted was a burial and she was determined to provide him that, to allow herself the closure she needed. So she broke in, sickened at the way they’d disassembled him and had separate monitors attached to his limbs and head. “I broke in,” Vision holds his breath as she talks, “I took you from them and all I remember is flying away. I was going to bury you in the forest, like you wanted.” That’s where her memory stops and where Westview begins. “And then we were driving to our house after getting married.” Finally he releases his breath with a shuddering gasp. “That’s all I remember, you have to believe me that I have no idea what’s going on.” Unlike the other night, he wordlessly accepts her ignorance, mind likely still reeling from the revelations she shared. It is this lack of judgment that emboldens her to say what’s been swirling through her mind whenever the knowledge of reality sets in, a thought that should carry with it guilt but she can’t muster up guilt when she finally has what she has been denied over and over again. “But I’d be lying if I tried to convince you that I don’t prefer what we have in Westview.”

With a hand on her back, he leads her to the table, pulling out the chair in front of the barely steaming tea, and then he sits directly next to her, tenderly taking her left hand in his own, thumb rubbing absentmindedly along her wedding ring. “I cannot fault you in any way for that feeling. If not for being complicit in the pain of so many, I would wholly embrace this life we have now.”

His tacit disapproval is only slightly less painful than his yelling, but she has to begrudgingly accept that he may not be completely wrong. Whatever pain he has sensed in others was enough to make him tear through the barrier and risk losing his own family. “But what if,” still she fights against figuring it out, unsure she can handle what it might lead to, “what if fixing this means I lose you again,” which is already incomprehensible, but is made even more harrowing by the next possibility, “what if it means losing Billy and Tommy too?”

Tears lick at the corners of his eyes, a war waging on his lips of how to proceed. “It will be horrifying and it will be immensely difficult but you,” he grabs her other hand, his fingers forming a vice around her own and she isn’t sure if he is trying to convince her or himself more, “are so remarkably resilient.”

Sometimes she wishes his density manipulation applied beyond just his body. “Clearly not, Vizh. Look around us.”

Vision doesn’t, instead he looks down at their enjoined hands, a shaky breath recentering his thoughts. “I think we may be, as they say, putting the cart before the horse.” The verbal shift is so utterly ridiculous that she chuckles, an action that causes him to smile nervously. “Did I use it wrong?”

“No, it just, you always say it so academically.”

“I see.” Finally real, genuine amusement flits across his face. “Well, regardless, we don’t know what is happening, unless there is something you aren’t telling me.” It is not an accusation in the slightest, in fact it is said as an aside, almost hopeful that she’s waiting to surprise him with the solution.

There is a lot she hasn’t said, but none of it seems vital other than perhaps one observation. “I definitely have control here,” this itself is painful to admit. Where he is merely complicit if he remains here, she is actively continuing it, “but, I don’t, I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t know how I’m doing this.” Vision takes in the admission, brow furrowing as he no doubts files it away in his future mysteries to solve mental folder. “Like tonight,” she thinks back to when Billy told her about the soldiers, to the moment she realized what Vision had done, “All I knew is that I needed to save you because I couldn’t lose you again. I didn’t have any idea of how or what to do, but I felt like if I just put all of my powers into it, that something would happen.”

It’s amazing how easily he transitions into his cool and clinical investigator voice, “Is this the first time you’ve felt that?”

“No. I mean sometimes I have an idea of what I’d like,” such as when she saw the beekeeper come out of the sewer and then vanquished it, “but other times I just have a hope it will be fixed.”

“That is a start.”

Wanda waits for more and when it doesn’t arrive,she pushes for it, “What does that mean?”

He releases her hands and pats his legs, an odd energy reinvigorating in him. “We must figure out the source of these alterations. Clearly it is not just you.” A fact she can’t say for certain but doesn’t have the heart to correct him on, enjoying how it feels like they’re a team again instead of bitter foes. “I met someone tonight who has knowledge of our prior lives.”

This is unexpected and terrifying. Perhaps the only good thing is that she knows it is not Pietro, because she is not willing to trust him, but to be fair, she isn’t sure she can trust whomever Vision found. “Who is it?”

“Her name is Darcy, she says she is an astrophysicist and has a seemingly strong grasp on what happens outside of Westview.”

Vision is not a very strong judge of character all the time, quick to trust and slow to lose hope in a person, as evidenced by his continued trust in her, yet she asks him anyway. “Are you sure we can trust her?”

“I believe so.”

“Okay.” For now she lets him hold on to that belief, knowing that she will be able to assess this person when they meet. Which also means she knows, deep down, that if this person ends up like Monica, one of S.W.O.R.D.'s cronies, that she’ll be forced to take control again.

The sincerity of his “Thank you,” and the tenderness with which he grabs her hand again, bringing it to his lips with a bit too much romantic melodrama, brings about a fluttering warmth in her chest she has so dearly missed, one that chases away all the disparaging thoughts of what is to come, “truly, for your honesty.” Wanda simply smiles in return, not entirely certain her honesty is worth much at the moment.

It is a relief when Vision maneuvers the conversation to a happier topic. “You said Billy could sense me tonight?”

Pride spreads her lips into a toothy grin, “He’s a natural telepath.”

Vision shares her feelings, sitting back with a satisfied smirk. “We shall have to see if he has your telekinesis as well.”

“We will. Also, Tommy has superspeed.”

Vision’s paternal delight perks up his entire body. “Remarkable.”

“They’re pretty impressive.” Wanda finally picks up the tea and takes a sip, not caring it no longer holds any warmth, far too enamored and distracted by Vision launching into a suggestion of a training regime for their sons, the Maximoff family seeming to be front and center in his mind. If there is any kindness in the world, they deserve at least one night to care about themselves and no one else.

#wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #darcy lewis #scarlet vision #mine

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sadweeb69 · 3 years

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OC information

Okay, so, I used to have a super detailed OC on Amino whose information would literally take up half my bio (I'm not kidding. If you followed me on Amino, my bio was hella long, mostly because of the memes and my OC's info. There was a lot of ranting). But since Amino fucking Thanos snapped my account and yeeted the remains to the stratosphere and I'm unwilling to make another account because climbing up the ranks is long and tedious as hell, I had to come here and (hopefully) find some people to roleplay with. Kinda like starting from scratch. So, here's a version of my OC's info without all the excess information.

...Okay, maybe SOME of the excess information ._.

It's just the info I remember, though (my dumb-ass didn't write it down on a piece of paper or copy and paste it on a Google Doc-)

[REMINDER] None of this information is about me (the person typing all this). Just saying this for clarification. ALSO! None of the pictures belong to me. The artwork's not mine and neither are the screenshots of Gerard Way (my beloved)

Name: Matthew Daniel Woods

Age: 21

Birthday: October 7th. He doesn't celebrate it for... reasons.

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual (he prefers men, but he still feels hopelessly attracted to women)

Appearance: Long, black hair that covers his right eye, ocean-blue eyes, black hoodie, all black clothing, lean but muscular body, scars all over his chest, stomach, arms, and back, one large burn scar on his right cheek that's covered by a face-mask which covers the lower half of his face (from his nose, mouth and cheeks to his neck/throat)

Height: 5'11 (he a tall boi)

Faceclaims

Realistic

I'm fucking obsessed with Gerard Way, okay? It's not my fault I'm obsessed with hot emo boys. He awakened a... certain feeling in me-

Shirtless

Hot shirtless bois for... research purposes-

Anime

Personality

Cold, rude, loner, pessimistic [on the outside], sad, scared, angry, alone [on the inside], probably locks himself in his room while crying to My Chemical Romance

Likes: Waffles, cats, his personal space

Dislikes: Most people, women (most women he dated in the past used him because of his body and didn't care if he was suffering), dogs (he's allergic to them. When he's around them, he sneezes like a kitten), his father, his personal space being invaded, being flirted with, people who don't think waffles taste good, physical affection (he's kinda like a vampire, except he won't shrivel up and turn to dust. He'll just hiss and wish he were either somewhere else or dead)

Weaknesses

This man can't dance to save his life. He can sing, but not dance. When asked to dance with someone, he'll just say he doesn't like dancing.

Do not let this man near an oven or anything that can set a house on fire (lighters, matches, etc.). First of all, he has trauma relating to fire. Second of all, if he hates you (and I mean more than he hates anyone), he'll burn your house down. No regrets. Toasters are fine, though. He prefers those since they don't burn his waffles to a crisp

He isn't really the best at being nice. He can try, but he has a short fuse

He's not good with manners. Sure, he'll say, "please" and "thank you", but that's all

Whenever he's around dogs, he sneezes like a cute little kitten. He's embarrassed by his dog allergy

He smokes. However, he only smokes when he's thinking of his Mom

Strengths

He... kinda has a sense of humor - if you count sarcasm and ranting about how much of a piece of shit his father is

For someone who seems like he has a deep and intimidating voice (which he does! But it's not the seductive kind. It's more like the "I'm gonna beat your ass if you don't shut up" kind mixed with the pretty boy kind. He's basically hot, but he's not afraid to beat your ass if he has to. Think of a mix of Corpse Husband and Jotaro Kujo from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure), he actually has a pretty nice singing voice

Like I said, my account on Amino got yeeted and I didn't write down the information or copy and paste it on a Google Doc, so this is all the information I remember. I wanted to keep it as simple as possible

#oc #roleplay

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gccdnews · 3 years

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Did you see JESSICA DREW from MARVEL walking around Limbo? The CISFEMALE looks like ALICIA VIKANDER, and is NINETY SEVEN years old. I’ve heard she can be VIRTUOUS & WITTY but also COCKSURE & REACTIVE. When I think of them I think of HELPING THE INNOCENT BY HOSPITALIZING THE GUILTY, RAISING SPIDER-BABY, THE GREATEST QUIPS OF ALL TIME BITCHCAKES. They’ve been here WITHOUT their memories as an PI & FIGHTER at BAKER STREET INVESTIGATIONS & UNDERGROUND FIGHT CLUB for SIX MONTHS. I heard they’re seeking a sanctum.

// whew. jess has a history™. it's long af and spans nearly a century so im not gonna go into crazy detail, but it's still lengthy. and i'm also gonna modify just a bit to fit in with the mcu for plotting reasons and stuff. if you don’t really care about her full history then there’s some bullet points toward the bottom.

she was born in england in 1924 and brought as a small child to the transia (it's a small, fictional slavic country) where her father was conducting research. unfortunately due to her being a small child, she contracted uranium poisoning from her father's work and had to be placed in a cryogenic chamber and treated with radiation and a highly experimental serum derived from the blood/genes of various species of spider.

she spent decades in stasis, educated subliminally with special tapes. when she was finally awakened she had only aged into her early teens, but she'd developed superhuman abilities.

grew up, moved away, met a dude, fell in love, then accidentally killed him with her powers. so yeah that kinda torments her still to this day. well, when she still remembered it anyway.

got recruited into hydra who she was led to believe were the good guys, had her memories suppressed, was told the high evolutionary basically a "god" figure, idek evolved her from a spider into a human woman, had an agent pretend to fall in love with her, etc etc. basically got gaslit and brainwashed into becoming a high ranking member until she was put out on a field assignment and told to assassinate nick fury. during the mission he told her what hydra really was and she dropped their asses.

got her memories back from mordred the mystic, then lived in a shitty apartment in london for a while. ended up breaking into a convenience store across the street at one point to get some food, but got noticed by shield agent jerry hunt who pretty much hounded her until she dyed her hair and created a secret identity to hide from him

did the hero thing for a while, moved to l.a., dated jerry, became a bounty hunter, moved to san francisco, became a p.i., superhero'd some more, met carol danvers 😍

went on a mission to finally take down longtime archenemy morgan le fay, and did so, but not before some morgan did some magic shit and separated her soul from her body ?? so she goes to the sorcerer magnus and has him cast a spell to make everyone who ever met her forget she existed.

not long later she was found and revived by two hero pals, breaking the spell, but she was left comatose. dr strange gets involved, abra cadabra, jess ain't a cadava'. but she is however, powerless.

continued working as a p.i. until an encounter with the new spider-woman mattie franklin somehow restored her powers, which came back slowly and were very unstable. meets jessica jones, accidentally zaps tf out of her, then works with her to save the new spider-woman.

eventually struck a deal with hydra to spy within shield so she could get her powers back but the skrull queen veranke was behind it and manipulating her so she could learn to perfectly impersonate jessica. jess ended up held captive for two years aboard a skrull spaceship while veranke took her place.

she and the rest of the captives got saved but because of the havoc veranke wreaked, she didn't exactly receive a warm welcome back.

spent some time rebuilding her reputation until she was invited to join the avengers (for avengers 1 in the mcu, let's say). they did some good work and she eventually fell for clint/hawkeye. they dated a while but things went sideways when he cheated on her (but obvs that's subject to change depending on who picks him up, just leaving that in for now bc it seems kinda noteworthy).

skipping comic spider-verse stuff bc how does that work with the rp, idek.

left the avengers after that and mostly stayed out of their business so she wasn't around for ultron or civil war and instead got back to her roots with some good ol fashioned p.i. work. may have crossed paths with the defenders and other street level heroes during this period.

then of course, came the snap. jess was one of the ones that vanished. using this instead of her death during secret wars in the comics. when everyone came back she joined all the others to fight thanos and damn right she was part of that moment with all the female heroes like she should have fucking been irl.

when things settled down after y'know, dying, she realized that she wanted to be a mother and raise a child, and almost never got that chance. instead of waiting, she got herself artificially inseminated. which was good too tbh because like, look at her luck with men and imagine getting stuck in one of those relationships she'd been in so far. way better off doing it on her own smh

got invited to an alpha flight maternity ward by her captain marvel but when she went there it ended up getting overrun by skrulls and being super fucking pregnant she called carol for help, but the maternity ward was apparently in a black hole?? bc ofc it was lol. so jess protected all the women there, had an emergency c-section to give birth to her son gerry, then popped right off the table to finish kicking skrull ass. carol got there just in time for jess to collapse into her arms after the fight. headcanon — there was always a crush there but this was the moment jess fell hard.

had a liiittle teensy falling out with carol tho so she ended up kissing roger gocking/porcupine right in front of her during a battle that ended up repairing their friendship. then she went on to have a party announcing she and roger were dating but lbr she did most of this sub/consciously hoping to get a rise out of carol. but her spider-baby ended up crawling out a window and roger was the one to find and save him and there were some actual feelings there too, so. complicated. she kind of distanced herself from everything else to focus on p.i. work and raising her son.

not much later, jess realized her radiation immunity was gone and her powers were killing her, so she had roger take gerry to an upstate farm in case her condition could potentially harm her son, then set out on the search for a cure. that search of course, leading her to limbo city, nevada.

upon her arrival however, her memories quickly started to fade and by the time she woke up the next morning she had no specific recollection of memories. just innate and instinctive knowledge like her emotions toward people she was familiar with, emotional trauma that manifests mostly in her dreams, maternal instincts/yearning, her abilities both physical and learned, her interests and likes/dislikes, etc. things that come naturally to her, for the most part.

interestingly though, the town’s magic seems to have cured her??

gonna say she speaks english, romanian, german, hungarian, symkarian, russian, bulgarian, polish and spanish fluently, and knows a bit about a number of other languages.

incredibly intelligent, she is after all the daughter of a genius, raised among scientists conducting research, and her knowledge/intelligence was only maximized by her stasis education tapes.

exudes a high concentration of pheromones that can attract or repulse people, to put it simply. and ignore the original heteronormative connotations bc women aren't typically the ones she wants to repulse, and men arent always the ones she wants to attract. it's difficult to control but she learned over the years. even now without her memories she has innate control over it, but if she manages to work up a sweat (which isn't all that easy for her tbh) or misses a shower or two, well… it's gonna kick in.

she probably can't do it anymore in limbo because she can't remember how, but with her pheromones she learned to control them so well she was able to elicit fear, anxiety, attraction, hatred, pleasure, etc. and even used them to convince the hulk to make her a sandwich once.

fucking loves butter. she's been known to eat the stuff straight up. and a lot of it. lucky thing she has a spider-metabolism.

hc: she loves making puns, especially spider related ones. she also likes to annoy her spider-friends by spider-throwing the word spider in front of everything though it's obviously a joke, unlike in her cartoon where im pretty sure she was dead serious lol

hates rats. so much. she will tear down a whole skrull army but if one shapeshifts into a rat it's over okay, she already lost.

allergic to flerkens. which is great for visiting her bestie/crush, and her pet flerken chewie.

still has her suit but hasn’t worn it yet in limbo. she found it under her bed a couple days after “waking up” in limbo but put it right back because she figured it was probably some weird sex thing and maybe wasn’t even hers so, gross, yknow?

#jessica drew.#limbchq: intro #jessica drew ( intro ).#death tw #gaslighting tw #captivity tw #pregnancy tw #i've come to love her so much in a short time

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

Text

Trigger The Light (Ch.1)

It was just the three of them. Tony, Nebula, and Quill. The men were in bad shape after almost a month of drifting in space (Quill could keep them on track for Earth, but actually flying the ship would burn their resources faster), and miraculously, Carol found them and got them back to Earth. They were both taken into the compound and given an IV before meeting up with the remaining Avengers and discussing their next move. Tony shut down when he saw Stephen and Peter on the screens in front of them, as well as another teenage boy, and when he tried to leave the room, he collapsed. Quill kept uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole thing as he studied each face that popped up on the screens, and only when the others talked about going after Thanos did he say something.

"The ship needs repairs." He mumbles.

"How long will that take?" Steve asks and Rocket was the one to answer.

"We can leave in the morning. Quill...you gotta stay. You're in no shape to go back out there."

Quill shrugs. "For once in my life, I want to stay on Earth. Just make sure you bring my ship back in one piece."

That had been the end of that conversation. The able bodied team members left to confront Thanos in space the next morning, and Tony and Quill took the next few days to recover. The engineer's baby daughter had survived the snap out of his entire immediate family, and when they were well enough to leave the medical ward, he approached Quill in the common area. The outlaw had been lazily scrolling through the internet on one of Tony's Starkpads, but nothing processed in his mind. He wasn't in the mood to try to catch up on what happened in the past thirty years while he was gone, and he didn't really see the point because of the Snap.

"Quill."

The man looks up at Tony and finds not only baby Diana on his hip, but also another little girl standing beside him with an overnight bag. He had recently met her just a couple of days ago, found out her name was Cassie, and that her Dad was one of the victims of the Snap. Her mother and stepfather were in the middle of traveling and they had no way of contacting them.

"I...I can't stay here. I bought a cabin by a lake and I'm taking the girls with me. You're welcome to come if you want."

Quill looks at the trio standing a few feet away and he nods. "Yeah...sure."

__________________________

Five years passed. Tony and the girls made the best of it, and Quill stayed because he bonded with Diana and Cassie. It wasn't like there was much for him out in space anyway. Rocket and Nebula were borrowing his ship, out doing who knows what, (helping out the world and the universe probably) and Quill was helping Tony raise the girls. Well, not so much raising...just helping. Being the uncle Diana called him and making sure Tony didn't get lost in his head or lock himself in his lab too long. There were very few pictures of his late family around the house and those few still hurt the engineer to look at sometimes.

"UNCLE QUILL!" Diana yells from outside, and the pirate flies off the couch and out of the cabin to find the little girl standing under the apple tree and looking up. Cassie was a couple feet away reading a book.

"Shit, don't scare me like that. What do you need kiddo?"

"I want an apple!"

Quill looks up at the tree and, considering how high up the lowest apple was, figured that not even Cassie would have been able to reach. He was the tallest member of the household anyway so it made sense that Diana automatically thought to ask him for help. With a smile, he grabs three apples, tells the little girl to wait, and walks back inside with the fruit to wash them. After that, he goes back outside and hands one to Diana before following her over to her little fort and handing another apple to Cassie.

"Is Tony in his lab again?" She asks as Quill sits on one of the lawn chairs and Dia crawls into her fort.

"Nah. I think he's making dinner actually."

"At least it's not you. We still haven't refilled the fire extinguisher." Cassie sasses and Quill flicks her forehead.

"Maybe we should talk about that window you broke-"

"Okay truce!"

Cassie bats away his hand and he chuckles as Gerald walks over to see what all the excitement is about. The alpaca nudges Quill with his muzzle when he notices the man's apple, and the pirate groans before taking a knife out of his pocket. He cuts off a slice and offers it to the animal and then gently pushes him away.

"Alright, now get out of here. Go raid the garden."

He stands up and herds the alpaca away from the girls' area and he watches curiously as a car pulls into the driveway. As far as he knew, neither he nor Tony were expecting company, so he waits until the car is parked and sighs when Steve and Natasha climb out of the car. Another person gets out of the back seat but was quickly hidden behind Steve as the trio made their way over to Quill.

"It's been a hot minute since we've seen you." He says to them and pulls the Captain into a hug. The hug gave him the opportunity to see who else came with them and it had his eyes widening. He recognized the man as someone that had been on the monitors when he and Tony made it back to Earth. A Snap victim.

Steve moves away and motions toward the shorter man as Diana leaves her fort to hug Natasha. "This is Scott. Scott Lang. He's-"

"Not to be rude, but they said Cassie was here." Scott interrupts.

Before Quill can turn to ask Cassie if she knew this man, she was rushing past him and falling into Scott's arms. The way he held Cassie was clear enough to the pirate that Scott was Cassie's father, and it brought a warm feeling to his chest. It was nice to see that the teen got one of her parents back and how happy it made her. Quill loved the girls. They were family, and he would do anything to keep them happy.

"I'm a little confused." He finally says after a few minutes of letting Scott and Cassie reunite and they all look at him. "Weren't you snapped?"

"No. That's partially why we're here." Steve answers.

"Explanation after food. I'm starving." Scott says just as the screen door opens.

"Hey! Chow time!" Tony yells as he heads toward them after stepping off the patio. He raises an eyebrow when he notices the three extra people. "Good thing we always make extra. Porcupine eats like Capsicle."

Tony then notices Scott and his mouth drops open as the younger man leaves Cassie's side and hugs the engineer. Tony pats his back in bewilderment and Scott pulls away after a few seconds to endlessly thank him for taking care of Cassie. They all go inside, Natasha carrying Diana on her hip, for dinner and once Scott gets a good amount of food into his stomach, he explains where he had been the last five years. The conversation did get sidetracked to Cassie's care again and Tony had recovered enough from his earlier shock to hold his hand up to quiet Scott.

"Hang on. I'm not the only one that took care of her. Quill had a part in it too."

Quill stops chewing on his bite of pasta and shakes his head after swallowing his food. "I didn't do anything." He clears his throat when Scott's golden eyes settle on him. "Tony did all the...parenting. I just...babysat sometimes I guess."

Tony and the girls immediately denied his words. They let Scott know that Quill did a lot for them just like Tony, and Scott stared at the pirate for a few more moments before turning the conversation back to the subject of the Quantum Realm and his theory. When time travel came up, Tony rubbed his hand over his face as he thought it over.

"We've all lost someone. Maybe I didn't lose a lover, but I still lost friends." Scott says quietly and Steve nods.

"We all did. We lost friends...family. You lost your kids."

Natasha reaches across the table to gently grab Tony's trembling hand. "You lost Mama Bear too. We all lost him. He means everything to us too. If it weren't for him, this family wouldn't be one."

Tony inhales and let his breath out slowly. "I...I can only promise to try. I don't want this to backfire and end up without more of you. I can't risk the girls."

"That's enough for us. Take all the time you need so you're confident it will work." Steve says.

The billionaire nods and they all finish their dinner on a more positive note. They all caught Scott up on what they could, and afterwards Steve and Natasha left for the compound after Tony promised to call them when he found anything. Scott obviously was going to stay with them because Cassie was with them, and Tony showed him upstairs to the room he would be using. The one next to Quill's.

Quill himself was cleaning up after their meal. Since he couldn't do much cooking, he was usually stuck with the chore to do the dishes and clean the kitchen. Which took him a little longer since there was more to clean. Even though there was a fifth person living at the cabin now, it was still quiet and Quill just assumed that Scott and Cassie were catching up. Maybe all four of them were. Diana was only a baby when the Snap happened but Scott still knew her brothers and Stephen. The pirate was pretty much a stranger. He only knew Stephen and Peter for a few hours.

"Shit!" Quill hisses under his breath when he cuts himself on a knife hidden in the sink full of soapy water.

"There's a reason there's plastic on one end." Scott says from beside him and the pirate nearly jumped out of his skin.

"The hell?! How long have you been standing there?"

Scott smirks and Quill's heart flips at the sight.

Wait.

Where the hell did that come from?

Sure, Gamora was just a really good friend when he lost her, but was he actually attracted to Scott? Maybe the younger man was nice to look at, and maybe his eyes were really pretty in the light of the setting sun...

...Quill was in some serious trouble. It hadn't even been five hours and he was pining after Scott. This wasn't him. He flirted. Looked at potential lovers all together, not specific parts. Not golden eyes, not the shy smile Scott was giving him, not how the man smelled of mint and oranges. Stop. Stop paying so much attention.

"Do you need a bandage or anything for that?" Scott asks as he motions toward Quill's finger.

"No. It's not that deep. I've definitely had worse." The pirate sucks on his finger and then returns to his task of finishing with the dishes.

"I...uh...wanted to thank you. For taking care of Cassie when I couldn't."

"I told you, Tony did everything."

"That's not what he and the girls told me."

"You're welcome then I guess. She's a good kid." Quill says as he puts the last of the dishes on the drying rack and dries his hands. "I thought you would be spending time with her."

"I had a few hours with her, but she and Dia are getting ready for bed."

Quill looks at Scott and blinks. "Hours? How long have I been cleaning?" He looks at the clock. "I must have zoned out. Beer?"

Scott nods and Quill grabs a couple of beers from the fridge, and the two make their way into the living room. Once they collapse onto the couch, Quill hands one of the beers to Scott and then turns on the tv, putting a movie on. The rest of the evening passed in somewhat comfortable silence as they watched the movie, and just when Quill was about to strike up a conversation, he looked over at Scott and found the man fast asleep. He turns off the tv when the movie ends and grabs the blanket off the back of the couch, throws it over Scott, and grabs their empty beer bottles. He rinses them before throwing them in the recycling, and quietly asks FRIDAY to turn off the lights before retiring to bed himself.

#peter quill #scott lang #antlord #antman #starlord #mama bear au #ironstrange #tony stark #diana stark strange (oc)#cassie lang #avengers endgame #avengers

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metalgearkong · 5 years

Text

Captain Marvel - Review

3/25/19

Directed by Anna Boden (Marvel Studios/Disney)

Captain Marvel is the 21st feature film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and wields the series’ first entry lead by a female hero. YouTubers and bratty bloggers across the internet have given this film a scathing reputation, even before showing in theaters. Say what you want about Brie Larson, I see her as an eager actress who is beginning to break into the mainstream, and is equally excited as she is nervous about being under the spotlight, carrying so much responsibility, and already under so much scrutiny. Somehow I’m charmed and endeared by her imperfection, especially in the PR realm, even if I don’t think I’d click with her in person. Captain Marvel is what you might expect from this franchise: a special effects-heavy character study about an iconic hero, cleanly connecting her to the greater MCU.

Our protagonist is living her life as a Kree warrior under the name Vers. She has been a part of a Kree attack squad for 6 years, primarily fighting against the Skrull across the galaxy, but can’t recall her life before this time period. Chasing a Skrull to Earth (which had a classification name of M-55 or something to that degree) Vers attracts the attention of the retconed-named SHIELD. I say retconed because at the beginning of Iron Man which took place in 2010, and Captain Marvel taking place in 1995, it doesn’t make sense why they didn’t have an acronym for SHIELD in 2010 but call it “SHIELD” way back in 1995. Vers meets a younger Phil Coulson and Nick Fury, as they begin to learn who she is and where she came from. Vers becomes friends with Fury fairly quickly and easily for an extra-terrestrial (in my opinion), or does Fury know she’s human, despite her supernatural abilities and origin? I thought her adapting so easily felt a little generic and lazy for the script, even if she is a human down to the DNA.

This is a “hero’s journey” origins story of the character leading the MCU heroes beyond Avengers: Endgame. That alone relieves a lot of the tension of the film, as we’re all but guaranteed she will come out alive and on top, but this is a minor complaint I have about a lot of the MCU films, and something that is an inherit problem in a shared universe format. However, as stated, this is not the cynical cash-grab many fragile egoed men would have you believe online. I am proud the MCU now has a leading female hero, and one who doesn’t predominantly define herself with sexualizaiton, or has a story centered around a relationship. She feels like she could have been male or female (for the most part), which is exactly how Elen Ripley was originally written for the Alien franchise. Her forgotten past certainly integrates struggles of a woman in a predominantly man’s world (the US Air Force) but this was the only aspect of her story what was fundamentally feminine. Either way, Vers realizes she’s a human, and used to be named Carol Danvers, and suffered an accident that gave her energy powers and amnesia.

What I wanted more clarification on are who the Kree truly are, and not just their job, but fundamentally what makes someone a Kree. Carol is obviously a human, but her squad clearly contains other humans and non humans. Were the Kree just a joint force where any race could join? If so, what would keep Carol from learning about Earth knowing she and other Kree were humans? What makes all Kree bleed blue if they’re from different races? Why was Earth treated as such a mystery, especially when the dominant race is identical to herself and certain squad mates? Its these sorts of details, and details mentioned before, that kept me from being immersed fully in this movie, and wish they were better hammered out in the script. I was glad the Skrull, or at least primary Skrulls seen in the movie, were people wearing make up and masks, and not yet another CGI creation. Ben Mendelsohn plays the Skrull leader Talos, and its yet another charming yet genuine role by one of my favorite Auzzie actors. Talos’ personal story is one of the better aspects of the film, and I wish he and his race got more attention than they did.

Ironically, the more powerful Carol gets, and the more of her powers she discovers, the less interesting the action got. I liked seeing her struggle with her emotions and learn to use her unique powers wisely at the beginning of the film. Once she unlocked her full potential later on, I may have liked the triumphant moment, but seeing a CGI girl shooting energy blasts and flying through space was less tense than the stunt and martial arts-centered fights earlier in the movie. The technology to de-age Samuel L. Jackson is excellent, as its easy to forget the man is in his 70′s. Phil Coulson’s effects don’t look quite as good unfortunately, but he has far less screen time. I loved Carol’s smaller "fish out of water" moments, and her somewhat sarcastic and upbeat personality, even if she did cross the line into being straight up rude in one or two scenes (her personality needs some consistency). Her nod to the late great Stan Lee also marked a small, but satisfying final cameo for the Marvel founder. I loved seeing Carol interrogate people making sure they weren’t a Skrull and her going too far on occasion I found charming and funny.

I can’t say how relieved I was to discover this entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe wasn’t the SJW propaganda the internet was making it out to be. Captain Marvel may not be a top tier Marvel movie, but it serves as a satisfying sci-fi/superhero origins story, leaving a lot of potential for the future. While Carol Danvers’ personality did teeter precariously between clever and overly cocky some of the time, I chalk it up to her finding who she is as a person both personally, and figuratively as the writers of the film. I have no doubt her sequels movies and presence in future cross-overs will round out her abilities, limitations, and personality exactly as we’ve seen with the legacy characters. I’m excited to see what lies for her onward, even if the film wasn’t as groundbreaking as they wanted it to be, and if the script was missing some important details as well. I’m also hoping deeply that Carol Danvers isn’t a human deus-ex-machina for defeating Thanos in Avengers: Endgame, and somehow the plan to reverse the “snap” and putting down the purple giant remains complex, nuanced, and meaningful.

6/10

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kitandkanoodle · 6 years

Text

one night will remind you

A Guardians of the Galaxy AU where everything is basically the same, except Gamora was rescued and raised by Ravagers, and Peter Quill was captured by Thanos and raised as a weapon.

Basically, part two of a role reversal AU that no one asked for and literally no one but me wanted.

read it here on AO3!

“What a load of bullshit,” Gamora hisses, stomping over dried twigs and dead leaves. They snap and crunch satisfyingly under her boots, but frustration still simmers low in her gut. “Can you believe the nerve of him? Trying to traipse back into your life, trying to be your father? I don’t trust it for a second.”

Peter lets out a noncommittal sound as he follows behind her, and Gamora whirls around to face him, hands braced against her hips. She waits as he ducks beneath a low hanging branch, his movements graceful and almost entirely silent.

“This has all the hallmarks of a trap, you know.” She gestures sharply to the distant glow of their campfire, the warm light a beacon in the dark forest. There, the rest of the team sits with that strange, silent girl and that bizarre man, with his easy smiles and infuriating swagger – different from Peter as night from day.

If the man calling himself Ego hadn’t known so much about Terra, if he hadn’t dropped the name, “Meredith Quill,” like a live grenade, none of the Guardians would have ever believed he and Peter could possibly be related.

(“I hired a Ravager to collect you from Earth,” Ego had told them as they gathered around the fire. Gamora had bristled, recognition rankling at the back of her mind. Ego hardly noticed, focused as he was on Peter, who stared wordlessly into the fire. “I barely remember his name now, but whoever it was, Thanos beat him there. I never imagined you could have survived.”

Peter had only hummed in response.)

Gamora finds Ego familiar and slimy in a way that makes her skin crawl; he seems so much like the type of person she would run into at clubs and bars, smarmy charm and barbed praise. A “pick-up artist,” as Peter once put it. She wishes her ship hadn’t been wrecked so they could coat the bastard in their cosmic dust. Here and now, she says, “The Ravagers, the Kree Purists, and now, the Sovereign. Hell, any one of our old enemies. How can we know he’s not working with them?”

Peter breathes out a sigh, glancing off toward their camp. He looks strangely small, for once, slightly hunched in his favorite dark red coat. (In two months’ time as a Guardian of the Galaxy, the coat had been the first of Peter’s few indulgent purchase – and even then, it had taken Gamora nearly an hour to convince Peter that the universe wouldn’t end if he allowed himself to buy one frivolous thing.)

He murmurs, “I know, but...”

And Gamora freezes.

She creeps forward, ducking down to catch his eye. The moonlight falling through the canopy catches on the silver lines cutting across his brow and the bridge of his nose. Beneath those scars, she sees uncertainty and reluctance on his face, but she spots something else in the dark, too; something too complicated to name.

“You can’t be serious,” she says dully. When he stays silent, Gamora lets out a slightly affronted noise, rocking back. “You want to go with him?”

He pulls a hand down his face, turning to wander a few steps away as he thinks. Gamora scoffs in disbelief, crossing her arms as she waits. In the quiet, the whisper of a breeze rustles the leaves and branches around them, and the noise is near thunderous. The distant cooing of some woodland creature almost makes her jump out of her skin. She thinks she hears the echo of Drax’s booming laughter, but it tapers off before she can be sure.

Something writhes and snaps in her chest – irritation, anger, panic, she isn’t sure what. Today has been awful, with Rocket stealing those damn batteries and the Sovereign nearly shooting them out of the sky, but this? This, on top of it all? This arrogant, condescending old man, who bragged about his accomplishments and victories as if they were hardly worth the breath to tell the tale, trying to take Peter from them and their stupid little family?

The thought strikes her like a slap across the face, and she’s grateful that Peter’s back is to her. He doesn’t see the way her expression twists with hurt before she can compose herself.

The Ravagers had never been family for Gamora – not in the way the Guardians have been. They had provided her shelter after the destruction of her world, had taken her in when no one else would, but they were a far cry from what she had enjoyed as a child. The Ravagers had trained her, had honed her skills, had taught her how to lie and steal and negotiate, occasionally utilizing the business end of a blaster, but they were never close. They were brutal and reckless, if effective, but Gamora had always maintained a morality that the Ravagers could never destroy.

Gamora had always wanted to do the right thing. The Ravagers, on the other hand, did not.

(She thinks briefly of Nebula, a fellow Ravager in Aleta’s faction, only a year or two her junior, and her stomach twists with guilt. They were close as children, but after a few years, Gamora outshone her, started earning the higher-paying jobs and more of Aleta’s favor.

It almost feels silly to wonder what Nebula must think of her, now that Gamora has left her behind.)

Peter turns to face her, eyebrows knitting together, jaw set. “Do you remember the stories I told you? About that famous actor from Earth on the show with the talking car.”

Gamora frowns, taking a second to remember which actor he means. Peter has mentioned the few he could recall, and the foreign names blurred together in her mind. They sat together often in the belly of her M-ship, whenever the others were asleep or ashore, passing a bottle of liquor between them. He would patiently sit with her as she needled him for stories of his home world.

Peter had been older than Gamora had been when Thanos slaughtered their people, and Peter remembered far more of his home than Gamora did of hers. She found something cathartic in Peter’s stories and retellings – a reminder that Thanos didn’t take everything from both of them – and she guarded his childhood memories with the same ferocity she used to guard her own. On those nights alone, she would wait him out until he would sigh and ask, “What do you want to know?”

She would grin with triumph, settling in and leaning forward with an overblown eagerness that sometimes made Peter reluctantly smile. She would ask about the famous figures on Terra – the women he found attractive as a child, like the woman named Milano, or the men he admired for their bravery and skill, like the one called Kevin Bacon.

And sometimes, should would ask him to sing for her, whatever he could remember, which often resulted in little snippets of songs, or half-remembered choruses and tunes. He would make her swear never to tell the others if she valued keeping all of her limbs, and sometimes, if he were feeling generous, he would take requests.

“Sing me the one about the woman and the sailor,” was Gamora’s most frequent demand. It was clearly his favorite and the one he remembered best.

Given this context, though, she thinks she has an idea, and slowly, she asks, “Zardu Hasselfrau?”

Peter takes a breath to speak, but then he stops and blinks at her. Then, his face pinches in a way that Gamora would never tell him is endearing. “Wait. Who?”

“Zardu Hasselfrau?” she repeats impatiently. “The one who fought crime?”

It takes a few seconds, but at last, Peter’s eyebrows rise in recognition. “David Hasselhoff,” he corrects.

Gamora nods slowly, accepting the correction but not entirely understanding the point of this digression. She frowns, and her lips part to ask, Why did the car talk again? but Peter raises a hand to interrupt her, offering an apologetic look alongside it.

“What I’m trying to say is...” Peter’s brow furrows after he trails off, and Gamora can see the way he carefully selects his words. Patience has never been her strong suit, but she dredges it up well enough where Peter’s involved. “What I didn’t tell you was— when I was young, I... used to pretend David Hasselhoff was my father.”

Gamora blinks, this time, arms dropping to her side. Then, with a slightly disbelieving laugh, she asks, “You what?”

“I pretended David Hasselhoff was my father,” Peter repeats, far more sheepishly. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, head bowed, and even in the dim light, Gamora thinks she sees the faint hint of a color rising in his cheeks. He takes a moment to collect himself before he continues, “Whenever there were school outings or father-son events, I always felt... ashamed. My mother would try to involve herself where she could, but I was young and foolish and felt—different. Secluded. I never wanted to seem odd, so I would try to convince the other children that my father was out of town, filming or touring with his band.”

The thought of it is charming, Gamora has to admit, and a small, unbidden smile curls her lips. These days, Peter rarely lies, from what she’s seen. She’s watched him adopt roles for the sake of a job – she witnessed it firsthand on Xandar, in fact, as he charmed her into dropping her guard outside of the Broker’s shop – but aside from that, he was always honest with her. Guarded, of course, but candid and sincere when he allowed himself to be.

“Did they ever believe you?”

It’s not often that Peter laughs, but he does so now – quiet and barely there. Gamora relaxes slightly with it.

“No,” he says, his expression softening, turning slightly sad and pensive, “never, but it didn’t stop me from trying. My teacher would send me home with notes for my mother. ‘I’m concerned about Peter’s frequent fibbing. Please discuss with him the consequences of persistent lying.’ I even had this little magazine clipping of him, too. I would keep it in my backpack and show it off like it was some department store portrait, and sometimes, I would— I would imagine what it would be like, if he were my father.”

He laughs again, rueful this time, and he draws a hand down his face. Gamora can only watch for a few long moments, speechless, before he finally lifts his head to catch her gaze. “It’s pitiful, I know, but I just... For the longest time, I... I wanted that, Gamora. Someone to play catch with. Someone to go fishing with. Someone who would teach me how to tie a necktie or how to use a hammer or how to fix a leaking sink. I wanted... I just wanted a dad.”

Gamora can’t remember the last time he’s spoken like this, aside from when she was half-drunk at a bar or on the ship. Sometimes, in those moments, he would sigh with far too much patience and tell her stories about his mother. Sometimes, he would recite the plot of a half-remembered film he had seen. Sometimes, he would hum her parts of songs, voice hesitant and careful, imperfect and lovely. And sometimes, he would offer little snippets like these, vulnerable and soft, when he thought she was too far gone to remember.

And she thinks of her own father, what little she can remember of him, who had loved her with his entire being. He was so proud of her, in all things she did, like the clumsy way she would wield a practice sword or mimic his forms and exercises. He would marvel over how quickly she was growing, would tell her how much he was looking forward to seeing the beautiful young woman and formidable warrior she would soon become.

She would give anything to have that again.

She takes a deep breath and releases it between her lips. She tries to dredge up a sense of calm, even if something bristles and snaps in her, reminds her that trust must be earned, not freely given. “And you think this man might be him? Your Hasselhoff?”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, and he shrugs with one shoulder. “I won’t know until I give it a shot, right?”

She sees again that odd, complicated emotion flit across his face, only this time, she recognizes it for what it is. Hope flickers in his eyes, something brittle and faint but there, nonetheless. It looks so foreign on Peter’s face, when usually he’s so grim, so impassive, and worry starts to percolate in Gamora’s gut.

“Peter...”

Before she can finish her warning, Peter closes the distance so quickly and silently that she hardly realizes he’s moved. He reaches across what little space remains between them, grasping her hand with both of his. “I’m not saying we go into this blind,” he says. Gamora hears a wistful note in his voice, tentative and hesitant, and her stomach twists with it. “I don’t trust this man any more than you do. I’m just saying, I would like to... try. Just for a few days.”

Gamora still hates the idea, and hates even more the idea of Peter setting himself up for what’s sure to be disappointment. She’s dealt with Ego’s type before – cocksure and self-aggrandizing and selfish – but she grudgingly admits that even she could see something sincere in his gaze, some quiet note of affection and awe whenever he set his eyes on Peter.

Apparently, Gamora is silent for too long, because Peter starts to pull away. “I can go alone. You all can stay and repair the ship while I—”

“Absolutely not,” Gamora says, and her voice is far more severe than she intends. Both of her hands wrap securely around his to keep him in place. “If you’re going, we’re going.” She pauses thoughtfully, and amends, “Actually, Rocket should stay and fix the ship, seeing as how it’s entirely his fault it’s broken.”

Peter exhales sharply with familiar exasperation, though his annoyance is belied when another rare smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, earnest and grateful. And as it does every time she witnesses one of those smiles, Gamora’s chest tightens, the breath rushing out of her lungs. She likes that smile, she’s come to realize over the weeks the team has been together; it’s become a personal mission to coax more of them from him, and she knows it’s not her imagination that he allows himself to smile more, these days.

At last, she feels herself relenting, shoulders dropping a little as she lets out another breath. His hands are warm against hers, solid and calloused. “And if it doesn’t work? If it turns out he’s trying to trick us?”

Peter shrugs again. “We’ll kill him.”

Like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Gamora presses her lips together, swallowing down a laugh, and she slowly glances down at their joined hands. Apparently, Peter only seems to realize what he’s done once she draws attention to it. This time, Gamora is more comfortable about letting him slowly pull back, even if he does so self-consciously, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Fine,” Gamora says after a few breaths, and she rubs at her brow, pretending not to notice the way his expression brightens with relief. “Fine, but I want it on record that I don’t like this.”

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #starmora #peter quill #gamora #star-lord #kanoodle fics

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thecosywriter · 7 years

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The Afterglow C7 (YonduXOC)

((Trigger warning: mentions of rape and abuse.)) . . . It had been a couple of months since X’antia had left the crew, the general consensus amongst the crew was that their captain had acted harshly but soundly. The glove was worth way more than some fire mouth engineer. Quill was kept in the ships cells for a week to calm himself down, Yondu couldn’t be seen to be acting soft towards the kid.

Quill had let the most important thing in the galaxy get away with little to no chance of ever finding it again. The fact that the gauntlet was lost to them was an added issue - but that was out of their hands now.

As Yondu sat at his control station he looked over his small trinkets which he had lined up on his control station; the new addition to the collection was the small metal figurine that X’antia used to keep on her desk. The little metal animal was placed at the end of the line of small figurines – the captain had made an effort to keep a hold of that small trinket – he was not a sentimental man by any stretch but looking at the figure every now and again would ease his guilt.

He didn’t want to think about the fate of his engineer – he knew all too well the way Grabbers teated their captive, he remembered too well the torture that he himself had endured as a child. Yondu never forgave his family for selling him into slavery, he often wondered as a child if it was something he had done – was he not a good enough kid that his family couldn’t love him enough to keep him?

The guilt and self-hatred did more to the mercenary captain than any physical torture could have ever done. Yondu knew deep down that he was a mess, he was a bad man and he did bad things to other bad people. He knew that it would be impossible to get anything remotely close to real affection from another person, that’s why he paid for the luxury of hookers and whores when he got the chance.

He knew that he was aging, that his scar covered body was less than attractive to the females, the only female he ever had any affection for he had sold onto grabbers and he could never really forgive himself for that amount of betrayal.

As the captain looked out in front of him into the vast emptiness of space he couldn’t help but feel the numbness creeping into his mind. He didn’t have very much more to lose, he was dishonoured by his people – the Ravengers had exiled him and his crew following the collection of Peter Quill and the only woman he ever felt could feel anything for him was now chained up in some Grabbers cell.

He was a fuck up. A failure and an embarrassment of the highest grade but God help anyone who fucking said that to his face.

He past months could only have been described as hellish for the Valkurian, X’antia had settled into her role as slave on the Grabber’s ship. They had dropped off the cargo to Thanos and were paid handsomely for their work. X’antia however was not turned over with the other woman and children – she had been kept with the crew. They enjoyed her too much to sell her on – she was their new pet.

X’antia knelt down next to the main kitchen table as the crew ate their meals – laughing and joking with each other about their most recent kills and cargo. The yellow haired alien crouched down in silence, listening intently to the conversation; she was tired of her new life. She had been freed from slavery and she had made something of herself and with each passing month the Valkurian felt a little bit more of her soul slip away. She knew she had to get out – she had planned her escape, she had planned her route out all she needed now was time and a very special tool.

Without warning X’anita was hoisted up from the floor by her hair and dragged down the corridor by one of the large hulking men. Crying out in pain as her yellow locks wrapped around the man’s fist, she braced herself for some kind of impact as her body was dragged across the hard cold floor.

“Get in.” The grabber snapped as he pulled open the lock on the metal bars and threw the Valkurian into the cell, landing with a loud thud he engineer let out a hiss and a groan as she pushed herself from the floor and dusted herself off before looking around at the large cell she had become far to familiar with. The cell was big but nowhere near big enough to harbour as many women and children as it had currently been packed with.

Looking for a relatively free spot, the yellow haired alien settled down on the floor and looked around the cell noticing that there had been an influx of new women and children spread out across the cell, some crying, some shouting but above all the worst thing was the smell of stale piss and shit that filled the air. It was to be expected, they were scared out of their minds, they had just been taken from their homes and probably beaten into submission – of course they would wet themselves or worse.

As the evening went on the new guests calmed themselves down or fell asleep from exhaustion. The older more settled slaves offering them as much advice and help as they could, slaves may have been worth little to nothing for their weight but they were above all else loyal to each other. That was the one rule.

The cell fell silent as footsteps echoed over the metal flooring reverberating on the walls of the cell – mothers hugged their children close as the cage door opened to reveal one of the Grabbers holding a large cauldron of brown mush.

“Your dinner is served ladies.” The pungent alien chuckled as he wiped his nose on his sleeve before tossing a dozen metal trays into the cell and dropping the cauldron by the door.

“We have the best chef in the quadrant, you should be thankful for such a meal.” The alien laughed as he noticed some of the grimacing faces from the women as they looked at the concoction which was offered to them. Laughing loudly the alien slammed the door shut and left the cell.

X’antia pulled her legs into her pre-emptively knowing what was coming, like clockwork as the main door lock sounded women of the cell made a quick rush to the pot of grool, scooping some into their hands and eating it like animals. The mother handed the concoction to their children who began to cry as they tasted the horrid mixture.

Picking up a metal tray, X’antia shielded herself from the projected vomit which was now heading in most directions.

“Hold your nose when you take a bite. It kills the taste.” X’antia called out from behind her tray, the other more seasoned slaves nodded in agreement they had been in there position before and they knew exactly how not to go about eating their dinner…don’t make the mistake of thinking you can make yourself enjoy the food. It just will not happen.

“You don’t hold your nose.” One of the women snapped back as she gagged and swallowed as much of the mixture as she could manage. “I’m used to that shit.” X’antia snapped back as she watched the new slaves wretch and gag.

“You little brat, I said move!”

X’antia looked over from the gagging women to the other side of the cell, a young blue skinned child was pinned against the cage wall by Martha – one of the larger more intimidating women in the cell.

“I was here first!” The young alien snapped back, she was courageous for a child, she coudn’t have been older than seven at the most, she had blue and teal skin – A luphomoid.

“I don’t give a fuck – my space stinks of shit. So you move your little blue bald ass and sit over there!” The large hulking woman growled as she lifted her hand up ready to slap the child across the cell.

“Martha!” X’antia yelled from her space on the floor making the large woman stop and turn around.

“What the fuck do you want whore?” She hissed back as she turned around and walked over to the yellow haired alien who remained cross legged on the floor.

“Why are you picking on a child? I know you are not the most ‘maternal’ of women – if you are female at all…” X’antia began, earning a few snickers from the other women who looked on intently.

“Do you wanna go girl?” Martha bellowed as she dragged X’antia up from the floor by her collar and pinning her against the metal wall behind her. “I am in charge around here – you here, we may be slaves but I am in charge of us whilst we are in here!” Martha hissed as she punched X’antia in the face.

“Oh, that was not nice.” X’antia growled as the wiped the blood from her face. In one swift movement X’antia pulled up her arms and dug her thumbs into the eye sockets of the larger woman – earning a screech of pain as Martha let go of X’antia who had wrapped her legs around her waist and continued to push her thumbs into the sockets of her eyes – using her weight against her, the yellow haired alien pushed Martha to the floor and slammed her skull against the metal floor over and over and over until the screaming came to an end.

The room was silent as X’antia removed her thumbs from the skull of the now dead bully before wiping the blood off on Martha’s top and standing up again and stretching.

“Hello everyone. My name is X’antia – I would like to welcome you to the life of a slave, you have been taken from your loved ones and been taken into slavery; this is your life now.” X’antia spoke out, addressing the entire room of women and children who had stopped eating and crying.

“Now, you are slaves and I would advise you to do exactly what your Masters tell you to do. Don’t play the hero and don’t try and be smart – you will lose a hand for that if you are lucky.” X’antia continued making the new women slightly uneasy.

“These men are monsters; they will do anything to you. They will beat you, they will rape you, they will beat and rape your child – that is life unfortunately and that is how it is you used to be a person, now you are nothing- you are less than nothing and you need to get on board with that if you want to survive. Out there – we are slaves but in here when we are all together we are a family.”

“A family helps one another; we look out for each other and we stick together and anyone who doesn’t want to be part of the family – ends up like Martha here. Do we all understand that?” X’antia snapped as she kicked the corpse of the woman sprawled out in front of her.

“Carry on.” X’antia chuckled as she walked over to the young blue girl who was standing in silence looking at the dead woman in the middle of the room.

“What’s your name?”

The young alien was too shaken up to reply, she just stood in silence staring at the corpse. X’antia sighed and gently helped her sit down in a dry spot behind her. Sitting down next to the child X’antia rummaged around in her dressings before pulling out a small amount of bread.

“Here, it’s a little warm but its so much better than that rubbish.” X’antia said softly as she handed the child the piece of bread, which the young child snatched from her hands and began eating.

“N-Nebula. My name is Nebula.”

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