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wellsayhelloaagin · 4 years ago

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Beyond the Door

Summary: After tragedy strikes, you return home broken. Wanda is left to pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Tissue warning for this one, character death, mentions of blood ( I think that's it, please let me know if I miss anything)

Words: 6k

A/N: It jumps in and out of flashbacks, anything in italics is a flashback. The title is taken from the song 'Tears in Heaven' by Eric Clapton.

The ride back to the compound was a silent one.

You sat stoically in the passenger seat as Steve drove the car, the soft murmur of the radio the only noise in the vehicle.

Every so often Steve would glance at you and open his mouth like he wanted to say something, but instead, he would sigh loudly and his eyes would return the road, his fingers gripping the wheel a little tighter.

You stared out the windscreen, but you didn’t register the scenery flying past you. Your mind was elsewhere, trying to work out how your day had ended in such tragedy.

“Captain Rogers, Miss Y/L/N, thank you so much for being here today,” a raven-haired woman greeted the two of you as you arrived. She had kind brown eyes and she smiled warmly as she shook hands with the both of you. “My name is Emily, I help run the orphanage.”

“Please call me Y/N,” you replied as she stepped back, “Thank you for inviting us. We’re happy we can help out”

As the car drew closer to the compound you could feel your heart speed up. What will the others think of you when they find out what happened? What would Wanda think?

“And through here is the playroom. It’s usually the most chaotic room so sorry about the noise,” Emily grimaced as she opened the door revealing the final room of the tour. It was noisy, but you didn’t mind. You cast your eyes around the room and observed the children playing inside.

There was a small group in the corner, watching an intense battle of MarioKart play out on the TV screen there. Across the room was a large table strewn with art supplies and numerous children who were working on their masterpieces. Some children were reading, lounging on bean bags that were placed haphazardly throughout the space. There was a racetrack that spanned the length of one wall, weaving around furniture and bodies as toy cars zipped along, watched eagerly by an excited group of children. There were children dressed in extravagant costumes that appeared to be performing for a small audience of their peers. It was chaotic, just like Emily had described, but the joy on the faces of the children was evident.

You could see the compound now, its formidable structure coming into view. You drew a deep breath in as Steve turned onto the long driveway. Your mind was still racing, replaying the day over and over again.

“Hey I know you, you’re an avenger,” you hear a small voice say. You turn your attention away from Steve and Emily, who were busy discussing the plan for the fundraiser that was scheduled to start later that day, to find a boy who couldn’t have been older than seven looking up at you in awe.

You crouch down so you’re at his eye level, and his eyes widen slightly. “I sure am,” you say in a cheery voice, a warm smile on your face. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Kane,” he said, and you noticed his green eyes glancing up at Steve, his expression hopeful.

“It’s nice to meet you Kane,” you replied, before dopping your voice to a whisper, “I brought a friend here with me, would you like to meet him?”

The smile that lit up Kane’s features as he nodded enthusiastically warmed your heart, and you chuckled as you stood up and held out your hand for him to take. “Well then let’s go introduce you,” you said and you felt his small hand slip into your own.

Steve pulled the car into the garage and cut the engine. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, before he turned to face you. You didn’t meet his gaze, but you could see him from the corner of your eye as he stared at you.

“I know you’re still processing what happened today but you have to know that what happened was not your fau-” he began before you cut him off abruptly.

“Don’t,” your voice was as icy as your stare as you finally turned and met his eyes. The bright blue orbs were brimming with sadness as he took in the hard set of your jaw. You couldn’t sit there and listen to him tell you it wasn’t your fault, not when you knew he was wrong.

The fundraiser was in full swing now. The large backyard was swimming with people. The children from the orphanage were running around in the summer sun, their laughter echoing in your ears. You glanced over to Steve and grinned when you saw Kane was still with him, hanging off his arm like a dead weight as Steve did bicep curls. The smile on his face was wide and infectious.

You saw Emily with one of the other workers, surrounded by different couples, all of whom looked happy and eager. You were glad that the fundraiser seemed to be working. Not only were you helping to raise money for the orphanage, but hopefully some of these couples would begin the adoption process and give these children loving homes.

You walked past a large sign and fought the urge to roll your eyes at it. It was one of the promotional posters used to draw in the crowd for today. There was a large picture of you and Steve, surrounded by the details for the event, and the words “Meet an Avenger” in large font across the top. You had to hand it to Tony, he sure knew how to get people interested. You had already spotted several photographers amongst the crowd, and you just knew that they were here on Tony’s orders, to get some inspirational pictures to boost the Avengers public image.

You continued to walk around the area, being constantly stopped by people who would thank you for all you do or ask for a picture. While you loved meeting your fans, you still felt uncomfortable from all the attention. You were in this job to help people, not for the fame.

You passed Emily and she grabbed your arm to stop you. “Y/N, I’ve just been told we’ve already met our projected donation total in just over an hour, and we have so many families interested in the adoption process for our kids.” Her smile was bright as she talked, her eyes shining with happiness.

“I’m so happy to hear that,” you replied, “Just think of how many donations you’ll have by the end of the day!”

“Honestly, thank you so much. Without you and Steve being here, we wouldn’t have been anywhere near as successful. This is going to help these kids out so much, as well as help provide for any children we’ll get in the future.” Her eyes were brimming with tears as she spoke, the emotion of the day catching up to her.

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m just happy to give back to the community,” you responded as Emily pulled you into a tight hug full of gratitude.

Steve sighed, and it looked like he was going to try and talk again so you opened your car door. “Let’s get this over with then,” you said, your voice flat and emotionless as you left the vehicle. Steve began to follow you inside.

You looked over at him, noticing how easy it will be for the team to realise that something had gone wrong. He was covered in dirt and ash, his normally sandy hair was stained with sweat and grime. You were sure you looked just as bad.

You placed your hand on the doorknob, freezing in place. You felt Steve rest his hand on your shoulder in support, but you just shrugged it off. You didn’t deserve his compassion. You squared your shoulders before opening the door and walking in to face the team.

“Hey, Y/N, guess what?” you heard an excited voice shout and you laughed as Kane came bounding up to you, his face flushed with happiness.

“What?” you asked him, your voice laced with curiosity, a playful smile on your face as you crouched down before him again.

“Captain Rogers said I have what it takes to join the Avengers when I’m older if I work hard. So I’m definitely going to do that,” his voice was loud and excited, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how adorable he looked.

“Well if Captain Rogers said it, it must be true,” you whispered, winking conspiratorially at him. He just nodded along with you, his brown hair bouncing with the force of it. “It must feel pretty good having your favourite Avenger believe in you,” you added and Kane’s brow furrowed in confusion, his head tilting to the side.

“He’s not my favourite Avenger,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “you are.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest at his words and you found yourself at a loss for words. He rushed forward then to hug you tightly, and you found yourself returning the hug.

“Hey Y/N?” he began hesitantly, pulling back from the hug, “If I join the Avengers when I’m older, can I marry you?”

You fight the urge to laugh at him, noting the seriousness in his expression. “Well,” you start, trying to mask the humour in your voice, “I’m kind of already dating someone.”

You watch as Kane glances over at Steve, anger lacing his features and you find yourself stifling a laugh once again. “Is it Captain Rogers?” he asks with a scowl on his face.

“No it’s not, but it is another Avenger,” you say and his head whips back to you.

“Who?” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Wanda,” you say, unable to stop the wide smile that graces your features as her face flashes in your mind.

“Oh I know her,” Kane gasps, his face softening, “She’s really pretty.”

“I think so too,” you reply, bopping Kane on the nose with your finger. He laughs at the action and the sweet sound fills you with joy.

“Are you going to marry her?” he asks earnestly.

You pause for a moment as you consider his question. You had only been dating Wanda for about nine months, but you honestly couldn’t imagine your life without her.

“I really hope so,” you reply truthfully.

You trudge through the house slowly, Steve behind you, matching your pace.

You can hear the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen and your stomach clenches. The team sounds so carefree and you just know that they haven’t yet heard about what had happened.

You round the corner to the kitchen and see that the whole team is gathered there. Clint and Tony are seated at the counter, Tony gesturing wildly as he loudly recounts a story for the team. Natasha is leaning against the counter, a glass of wine in front of her as she rolls her eyes at Clint in response to whatever Tony was saying. Sam is over by the fridge, rummaging around inside for something to eat, a favourite hobby of his. Bucky is seated at the dining table, a book is open on the table in front of him, but it seems to be long forgotten as he listens attentively to whatever Tony is saying, a smile playing on his face. You scan the room to locate your girlfriend, your nerves increasing as you spot her.

Wanda stands at the stove, her back to you as she stirs something in a pot. Judging by the delicious aroma that wafts through the air, she’s making your favourite dish. Your stomach is in knots, knowing that you’re about to spoil her serene smile and relaxed mood. No one has spotted you lurking in the doorway yet, and you are content to watch the lighthearted scene in front of you for a few more moments.

Steve steps up beside you and it catches Bucky’s eye. He looks toward the two of you with a lazy grin as he greets you. “Hey, welcome ba-,” he freezes as he takes in your disheveled state, his voice rising in alarm. “What the hell happened to you two?” He cries out, his tone drawing the attention of the rest of the room.

In an instant, you can feel the easy-going mood shift and the room is thick with tension as the group looks at you. You can’t look at their faces, you don’t deserve their concern. Not after today.

The fundraiser is starting to wind down. Emily had told you that the donations have totaled well over triple what they anticipated and you were on a high knowing that your presence had helped.

You could see them setting up for the formal part of the day and you knew that soon you’d have to join Steve and the workers on stage as they announced the total and thanked everyone for being here. You hated public speaking but you knew that it was expected of you. This was the part of the day that would be used as part of the feel-good story you were sure had been organised for the evening news program. You felt like a total sell-out, but you kept reminding yourself that this event had helped the kids of the orphanage.

The crowd had gathered in front of the makeshift stage and you saw Steve beckoning you over with a wave of his arm. You began to walk over to join him but you felt a small hand tugging on the back of your shirt.

You paused and turned to find Kane standing there, his green eyes twinkling in the fading sunlight. You smiled down at him and he shyly held out a folded piece of paper to you. You took it from him curiously and noticed your name scrawled across the front in large letters.

“It’s a letter for you,” Kane said, pointing to the paper in your hands, “Miss Emily helped me write it, but you have to promise to read it later.”

“Well I can’t wait to read it,” you assured him and you tucked the piece of paper into your pocket. “I have to go up on stage now, but do you want to hang out after?” you question him and he nods enthusiastically.

“I can show you all my action figures!” he cries excitedly, “I have one of Iron Man and The Hulk and even one of you!”

He launches into a one-sided conversation about all his Avengers toys and you laugh at his youthful excitement as you walk with him toward the stage. As you reach the edge he pauses his rambling before wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight hug.

As he runs off towards the area where the other children are sitting he throws a “See you later,” over his shoulder. You take a deep breath and walk slowly up the steps to join Steve at the podium.

The silence stretches in the room for what feels like an eternity when in reality it was only a few seconds. You stare determinedly at your feet, but the unmistakable sound of Wanda’s gasp draws your attention. You look up and her to find that she has turned to face you, her hands covering her mouth as she takes in your appearance.

“Well,” Tony breaks the silence, his voice impatient, “What the hell happened?” he repeats Bucky’s previous question.

“We were attacked,” Steve says simply, knowing that you weren’t ready to talk yet. Your gaze is still locked with Wanda, her eyes filling with tears as she rushes toward you.

“Are you two okay?” you hear Natasha ask as Wanda reaches you, her hands cupping your face as her eyes search your body for any damage.

“I mean, physically we’re fine,” Steve replies, scratching the back of his head and looking pointedly at you, “But it was a tough day.”

“Baby,” Wanda whispers, her eyes looking into yours and a frown gracing her features as she notices your blank stare, “What happened?”

“I’m going to go shower,” you announce, shrugging out of Wanda’s grip. You can feel the worried stares of the others on you as you walk out of the room, the whispers of concern registering in your ears but you don’t care enough to pay them attention. You just need to get out of there, before they find out everything that happened.

“-and now I’d like to invite two people, who made this day as successful as it was. Please give it up for Captain Rogers and Y/N Y/L/N!” Emily concluded her speech, stepping away from the microphone as the crowd below cheered.

You smiled awkwardly, hating that the attention was now on you, but you waved to the crowd as you stepped up with Steve.

“Wow, that was some kind of response,” Steve began, leaning down to reach the microphone.

“We’d just like to say a big thank you to everyone here today, your kind donations are really going to help out some kids in need,” you added before Steve jumped back in.

“We’d also like to thank the tireless workers here, who look after these kids day in and day out. We hope that this money will help ease the cost of running this place.” His statement was met with applause from the crowd, and you could see Emily amongst the other worker, eyes shining with tears at the acknowledgment.

“We’ve had a chance to see what goes on behind the scenes here,” you continued, “and these guys are the real heroes.” You could see the crowd nodding along with you. “I’ve also had the pleasure of meeting some of the children here,” you smiled as you thought of Kane, “and they are some truly remarkable kids. I hope that some of you leave here today and strongly consider adopting and giving some of them a forever home.”

You turned the shower on and stared at your reflection in the mirror as you waited for the water to heat up. You took in your face, which was caked with dried sweat, tears, and soot. The haunted look in your eyes and the way your forehead was creased as if you were in pain. You scoff at yourself, disgust washing through you at the sight of yourself.

You begin to remove your clothes, and as you try to slide your pants down over your hips, you feel something in your pocket. With shaking hands, you reach down and remove the piece of paper there. It’s a little smudged with dirt but relatively ok.

You open the letter and see more of the messy scrawl on the inside. You close your eyes briefly, before taking a deep breath to gather your courage. Opening your eyes you begin to read the letter.

Dear Y/N,

Thank you for coming today and helping us rays raise money. Miss Emily says we mite might have enuf enough to get new coats for winter this year.

I can’t wait till I get to be an Avenger with you when I grow up.

Love from your biggest fan,

Kane

Underneath the writing is a picture. There were two figures, fighting off what appeared to be aliens. The larger figure was coloured in similar to the suit you wore on missions, the hair colour matching your own. The smaller figure had brown hair and green eyes, a large smile was drawn on its face, and the words ‘Super Kane’ written above. The letter itself was filled with words that had been crossed out, and you assumed that Kane had had some help with the spelling of the more difficult words.

Your bottom lip began to tremble as you lost your grip on the letter, and it fluttered gently to the floor. You felt your eyes swimming with tears, blurring your vision as you finished undressing and stumbled into the shower stall. You tried to get a grip on your emotions as the water washed over you, not wanting to lose control.

You looked down and saw the water darken as the grime of the day washed off you, swirls of brown and black careening down the drain. Suddenly you notice red beginning to mix with the other colours and you glance down. You know that you weren’t hurt, you know it can’t possibly be your blood washing away. Your stomach drops as you register whose blood it is. You notice the crimson stains on your arms, buried under all the dirt. The red brightens as it becomes wet, standing out against your skin.

You lose your tentative hold on your emotions, the pain you were trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. You let out a choked sob as you sink to your knees, the warm water continuing to wash over you and rid your body of any trace of the day. But your mind, your mind was flashing back vividly.

“We’d just like to say one more thing before we go,” Steve calls into the microphone, gesturing off to the side of the stage. You notice two men in suits grab something that was resting there and you want to roll your eyes at the comically large cheque they produce. “On behalf of Stark Industries and the Avengers, we’d like to match the donations made today and double the total!”

The crowd goes wild then, cheering and applauding. You see camera flashes going off and you remind yourself to smile. Of course Tony had one last trick up his sleeve, one more way to spin this into a positive press story for the Avengers.

The cheque is handed to Emily and she’s crying again, shaking hands with Steve as she thanks him profusely. You catch sight of the children in the crowd, they’re all cheering loudly and you catch yourself smiling at the sight of Kane dancing happily with one of the older children. Ok maybe it was a bit ostentatious, but at least the money was going to a good cause.

That was when the first bomb went off.

You clutch your hand to your chest as you struggle to catch your breath. You’re curled into a ball on the floor of the shower, your sobs echoing off the tiles.

There are people running and screaming as you come to after a few seconds. The bomb had decimated the stage you had been standing on, and you found yourself buried in a pile of rubble. You struggled to free yourself from beneath a large piece of wood, trying your best to locate Steve in the chaos.

You hear the door to the bathroom bang open, but you’re too far gone to register Wanda rushing in. Her eyes fill with tears as she sees you, your sobs intensifying the longer you stay trapped in your memories.

Steve finds you and frees you easily. The two of you begin to help the others trapped in the remnants of the stage area, thankfully only discovering minor injuries. You spot a head of dark hair and recognise Emily under a pile of debris. She’s groaning as you help free her, clutching at what appears to be a broken arm.

When she spots you she grabs your arm in desperation. “Are the kids okay?” she demands.

Wanda slips in behind you in the shower, her clothes becoming soaked as she pulls you up to sit, your back against her chest. She turns the water off and begins to rock you gently, whispering gently in your ear to try and bring you back from the clutches of your mind.

You look frantically around and spot the children through a cloud of smoke. They’re huddled together near the fence. The older children are trying to console the smaller ones, their cries can be heard over the noise of the crowd and the incoming sirens.

You begin to make your way over to them, relief flooding your system that they all seem to be okay. Kane spots you across the space, pushing out of the arms of another child and running toward you. You speed up, trying to reach him.

That’s when the second bomb goes off.

Slowly your sobs begin to retreat and you start to notice your surroundings. You’re still on the floor of the shower, wrapped up in Wanda’s arms. She’s rocking the two of you, her soft voice in your ear helping to ground you back to reality.

“Come back to me my love, I’m here, you’re safe, it wasn’t your fault.”

It’s like a mantra, whispered over and over.

With one last shuddering breath your sobs subside, and you turn and cling desperately to Wanda.

“Oh thank god,” she cries into your hair, pressing firm kisses against your scalp and she hugs you tighter as you bury your head into her neck.

You’re not sure how long you sit there clutching her before you start to shiver. The residual warmth from the steam of the shower is long gone, and your wet hair and Wanda’s damp clothes have grown cold. She notices your trembling and pulls back, placing a light kiss on your cheek.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” she says gently, looking at you tenderly.

You allow her to pull you up to stand, your limbs aching from the position you were sitting in for so long. She leads you out of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying you. You stand there despondently as she rubs the towel over your hair before draping it around your shoulders. She quickly sheds her wet clothes and wraps herself in a towel before leading you into your shared bedroom.

She pulls some comfortable clothes from your closet, before dressing you slowly. She leads you over to the edge of the bed and runs a brush gently through your hair. You would normally be embarrassed about the way Wanda is taking care of you as if you were a small child, but you can’t seem the find the energy to worry about it.

Once your hair is free of tangles, Wanda gently pushes your shoulder until you’re lying down on the bed. She nudges you up the bed until your head rests on the pillow before she disappears. You continue to stare at the wall until she returns. She is dressed now, her damp hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head.

She frowns at your lack of response, concern flooding her. Unsure of what else to do, she crawls into bed behind you, hesitantly wrapping her body around yours.

It’s as if her touch awakens something in you, and you immediately roll over and curl into her side. You rest your head on her chest as your arm is slung over her waist. She breathes a sigh of relief and wraps her arm around your shoulders, her legs tangling with yours over the covers.

You feel her hand gently stroking your hair and you close your eyes, listening to the sound of her heartbeat beneath your ear. “Steve started to tell everyone what happened, but I wanted to come up here and make sure you were okay.” You feel the rumble of her voice under your ear, and you sigh.

You knew she wanted to know what happened, but she wasn’t pushing, and you knew that if you asked her to she would drop it. But maybe talking about it would stop the ache in your chest. So you tell her.

“The fundraiser was going really well,” you begin, your voice raw from the force of your sobs earlier. “We were wrapping up, they’d announced how much was raised. People were getting ready to pack up and go home. We were on the stage and Steve was talking and then…” you trailed off, your breath catching in your throat.

“And then what?” Wanda questions gently, her hand still stroking your hair. You focus on the sensation, using it to ground you.

“Then the bomb went off,” you whisper in the quiet room. You hear her stifle a gasp, her hand faltering in its ministrations. You figure that she hadn’t stayed for much of Steves’s retelling of the day if this was a shock for her. You take a deep breath before you continue.

“I was knocked off my feet, I must have passed out for a few seconds because I woke up and everyone was screaming. I was covered in rubble but Steve helped me out. Then we started helping the others get out. I found one of the workers, I think she had broken a bone but she wanted me to find the children from the orphanage.”

You can feel the panic rising in you as you talk, and you grip Wanda’s shirt tightly in your hand. As if sensing your distress, she places a soft kiss against your forehead. “I found them pretty easy, there were together and they were okay. I started to go over there to move them to safety. But one of them, a boy who I’d met in the day, he saw me and started running over. I was trying to get to him but then the next bomb went off.”

You close your eyes tightly, your breath is shallow as you struggled to even it out. You feel tears leaking from your eyes as you fight to finish your story.

“This one, it was different. It’s like the first one was to get people moving, because the second one, it was full of shrapnel. There were pieces flying everywhere. So many people were hit, but luckily they were only small grazes. But Kane, he was right near it, and he was so small. I got to him too late, he was already covered in holes. There were pieces sticking out of him, and there was so much blood.” You begin to sob again as the memories start to flash behind your closed eyes.

You dropped to your knees beside Kane, his cries of pain feeling like daggers in your heart. You cradle his head in your lap and your eyes desperately scan for someone to help. He starts to cough, and you look down, alarmed to see blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

“It hurts,” he whines as you place pressure on a particularly large wound on his stomach, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“I know buddy, but the ambulance will be here soon and they’ll look after you.” You try to reassure him.

His small body is riddled with metal, and you know he hasn’t got much longer. You look into his green eyes, a shade so eerily similar to Wandas, and you notice his eyelids beginning to droop.

“Kane, hey stay with me champ, keep your eyes open,” you plead with him, and you see his eyelids flutter as he struggles to follow your request.

You see the fear in his eyes, and you try to offer him a reassuring smile. “That’s it, keep your eyes on me.” You hear the sirens getting closer and you pray that they reach you on time.

“After you’re all better, how would you like to come to the Avengers compound? I could take you to meet everyone, you could do some training with us, maybe even help with a mission?” You’re trying desperately to keep him awake, but you’re quickly running out of time.

Kane takes a deep shuddering breath, a smile spreading across his face as he listens to you talk. “I’d like that,” he whispers before his eyes close, his body going limp in your arms.

“The ambulance didn’t make it in time.” You choke out before you begin to bawl again. You desperately suck in breaths between sobs, your chest feeling tight.

Wanda holds you tightly, trying to calm you down. Her hand continues to stroke your hair and you hear her talking to you. You try to focus on her voice, and after a few minutes, your cries have slowed to the occasional hiccup.

Now that you’ve calmed down you register what she’s saying to you. “Shhh, it’s okay,” she coos softly. You feel a wave of disgust wash over you, replaced swiftly by anger. You push away from her, scrambling off the bed. Wanda looks up at you, wide-eyed and confused by your sudden shift in mood.

“It’s not okay,” you yell into the room, the harsh rasp of your voice jarring after the quiet had was settled in the room only seconds earlier, “He’s dead because of me!”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Wanda begins to argue, sitting up on the bed, her voice calm and soft.

“Sure I can,” you scoff at her, the rage burning hot inside you. You start to pace beside the bed, hands gesturing wildly. “If it weren’t for me he’d still be alive. The orphanage was targeted because we were there. He was only close enough to that second bomb because he was running to me. It’s my fault!”

She rises to her knees, her eyes trying to catch yours. “You can’t know for sure that’s why the bomb was there,” she tries to reason but you cute her off with a sharp, humourless laugh. You watch as a flash of hurt crosses her eyes, but you’re too consumed by your anger to care.

“I can though. Steve got a call in the car. The person who did this?” You yell, gesturing wildly with your hand, “He did this to get back at the Avengers. He lost his wife and kids years ago during the Battle of New York, so when he saw the posters for the event he decided he was going to use it to hurt us.”

As you mention the poster you snort derisively, another wave of disgust rolling through you. “The only reason we were even there was to stroke our own egos and make ourselves look good. All the promotional posters, and the cameras there to capture everything. Use it to our advantage. And look where it got us!” You’re beginning to lose steam now, you sit on the edge of the bed and let your head fall into your hands.

You feel Wanda approaching you cautiously, her hand reaching out to hesitantly touch your shoulder. “Don’t say that, you were there for the right reasons Y/N,” her voice is quiet and soft as she tries to console you. When you don’t shrug away from her touch, she scoots closer to you on the edge of the bed, her body molding to yours. She rests her head on your back between your shoulders as her arms snake around your middle, wrapping you in a hug.

“It doesn’t matter why I was there,” you whisper to the room, “He’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back.”

“You can honour him,” she says, her voice muffled by your t-shirt, “you can remember him and make sure his death wasn’t for nothing.”

“What if that’s not enough?” you question, voice shaking.

“Then we’ll face that together,” she answers with a shrug.

You sit there in silence contemplating her words, once again thankful to have Wanda in your life. The way she knew exactly when to push you, when to listen and how to bring you back when you felt like you were falling apart.

The two of you move under the covers, bodies turned towards each other, faces only inches apart as your legs twine together. You gaze at Wanda, trying to memorise every detail of her face.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask after several minutes, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself.

She smiles gently at you, her hand reaching down to intertwine her fingers with yours. She brings your joined hands up to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand before she replies. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You close your eyes, the exhaustion of the day catching up to you. “I love you,” you murmur as sleep is about to overtake you.

You hear Wanda hum contentedly next to you, her reply warming your heart as you drift off, “Love you more.”

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

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A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal

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Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. “No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #modern royal au!steve rogers #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader

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gaitwae · 4 years ago

Note

Hello!! Mob!thor au please. You’re a successful and rising businesswoman and it’s your first time going to those rich people galas, there you catch thor’s eye and you spend the whole evening with him. Thank yew, stay safe😽😽

A/N: You have no idea how much I've been wanting to write this!! This is a Thor x F!Reader (anon requested businesswoman uwu)

Warnings: Slight harassment from Thor, implied only. Also a slight kidnapping. Non-threatening

Summary: Above!

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword

You had picked the perfect evening gown. It billowed behind you, and you received many compliments from it. It was your favorite color, and it matched your complexion. You had done up your hair. You carried your clutch tightly to your side. Although you were sure the rumors were only rumors, if there was any place they’d be disproved, it was at the Marvel Gala.

It was hosted every year by Tony Stark. He took business seriously. On top of the Asgardian mob rumors, you had heard he had some deals with the Odinson family. Whether or not the Odinson family ran a mob, they were still dangerous in court. Their lawsuit could mean the loss of your entire company. You shivered to yourself, glad that you had yet to make any sort of dealings with Valaskjalf Enterprises.

You grabbed a flute of champagne off of a tray. You tried not to down the whole thing at once, but this was a nerve-wracking experience. You could make acquaintances that could — no, would — change your entire career. You smoothed your dress out in hopes of wiping your clammy hands away.

“Miss? Would you like to dance?” a deep voice asked behind you. You froze, slowly turning around.

Before you was a tall, broad, blond hunk of handsome with a thundering presence. He wore a crisp suit, and his face and hair were kept in an almost pretty manner. He was elegant, yet bold. He was massive, but perfect. You tried not to stare, but you found you couldn’t blink. The man smirked, extending his hand.

“Miss?” he laughed.

You shook yourself out of your daze, remembering why you were at the gala in the first place. “I apologize; who are you?” you asked, smiling awkwardly. “I don’t like to dance without knowing someone’s name.”

“My name is Thor,” he said. You set your flute down on an empty tray passing by, taking his hand. He tugged you to the dancefloor. “What is your name?”

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you say. “I’m the CEO of—”

“I know what company,” he cut you off, his eyes lighting up. “I was rather impressed when Father told us how far your little company had been progressing. Had I known the simple surname I’d been hearing was yours, why, I don’t even think we would be standing here.” He chuckled darkly. He began swaying with you as the music swelled. You shook at his tone. What could that mean? Who was Thor? “The other family business would have contacted you. You have a lot of potential at L/N Advancements.”

Oh.

Of course.

“You’re... Forgive me, I should have remembered. Thor Odinson,” you said nervously. You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes. Of course, the mobster would find you. Of course, the mobster would find you! Of course!

“Yes. I’ll assure you, no rumors you’ve heard are quite like the real deal.” He snaked his hand to the small of your back. “My brother often likes to... exaggerate our side company’s deals. I should really get you back to the business talk, but I want to keep you to myself a little longer.” Thor grinned a model’s grin. “Unless you’re scared of me, that is.”

“Oh, I’m not scared of you,” you said. You realized you still had your clutch in your grasp. That alone disproved your point. Thor took it from you, setting it on an empty table.

“You aren’t?”

“Maybe I was scared of getting mugged,” you admitted. “It’s silly.”

“I think the only thing you should be scared of is how you’re getting home tomorrow,” he flirted, pulling you closer. Much, much closer.

You put distance between yourself and the heir of Valaskjalf. “I don’t do that. I won’t. Sorry. I barely know you, and I’ve worked too hard to slip up or give in. I hope you can understand.”

Thor, who was taking the rejection as if it never happened, only smiled brighter. “You’re scared that I’ll take L/N Advancements away from you with just a night together?”

“I’m scared your father might decide I’m not worth trading with once he finds out I’ve done a little more than speak with his son,” you said in your firmest tone. Thor laced your fingers. You didn’t pull away from that.

“But he might decide you’re worth keeping around.” He stroked your cheek, moving to his own beat now. The music didn’t match your rhythm, but it was still as intoxicating. “I could get rid of all your enemies, you know. I could make you untouchable.”

“I’m not interested,” you said. You shook your head. “I need a drink.”

“You just downed a whole flute of champagne!” he tsked.

“I still need one.” You lingered in Thor’s presence. He smelled of petrichor and fine cologne and a tiny bit of sulfur and something else that you couldn’t pick out. He hummed happily, as if he were drunk. He didn’t smell of alcohol, but his behavior could fool you in a second.

“You’re quite the prey,” he murmured. “I’ll get you a drink. I’ll get you multiple.”

“I can get my own drink,” you insisted. “Please, Mr. Odinson, I’m happy to be by myself.”

“You should relax,” he, too, insisted. He gripped your upper arms, taking you in once again. “Really. Don’t let your fear stop you from having fun.”

“I’ll do what I like.” You tore away from Thor. “Thank you fror the dance, but I have to go talk to Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.”

“Have fun mingling!” He caught your hand and kissed it. You felt your belly set itself on fire. Did Thor want one night? Clearly. But what did he want from a night? Did he want information about your business? Or did he want to take advantage? Did he want to use you, and let you use him in the same manner? “I’ll see you some other time, darling.”

“Don’t clear your schedule,” you warned.

Thor chuckled, “I’ll remember that.”

That didn’t stop him from following you around all night. He was by your side as if he was your partner. Whatever he had decided, it wasn’t going to change without a piece of paper signed by a judge...

Given that he was admittedly not only part of the city’s biggest mob, but a higher member, you couldn’t obtain that.

+-+--

Months later, and after many calls from Thor Odinson (who you did not offer your personal number), you finally started to cave. You let him have dinner with you. You took walks in the city during the daytime. You found he was a sensitive person, and almost three years of talking and dancing and Marvel Galas came and went before your first kiss.

Thor took a small sip of white wine, staring at you with electric blue eyes that you always got lost in. “Did I ever apologize for our first meeting?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so,” you answered. “I didn’t think you cared enough to remember it...”

“If I wasn’t in love with you,” Thor began, “I wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I intend to.”

“It’s been three years,” you whispered. “How long do you intend to stay?”

Thor wet his lips. “As long as you let me.” He reached over, cupped your face, and brought your mouth to his.

That was when the first kidnapping happened.

The room was dark. Your hair was being pulled back by meaty hands behind you. Your clothes were torn, and your eyes wouldn’t stop shedding tears.

“Ms. L/N,” a deep voice mused. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m glad my brother has someone to entertain him that doesn’t include a mortal injury... Since that nurse hit him with her car, he hasn’t quite been the same.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked the voice, wheezing and stifling a sob. You sniffled. “I don’t know why I’m here...”

“You’re here so we can talk.” A small light switched on. You saw a raven-haired man sitting in a small chair, one leg crossed over the other like the Joker. “Do you intend on strengthening your company with my family’s conglomerate?”

“No,” you said. You were shaking. You tried to look back at the meaty hands that held your head, but whoever it was made sure you watched the man. “No, I want to make it with my own merit. I don’t want to be absorbed...”

“Do you plan on staying away from legal trouble by making my brother dearest your... intended?” he continued, pulling a gun from behind him. He cocked it, keeping his cool eyes on you. He aimed. “If I think you’re lying, I’ll shoot. And trust me... I know a liar when I see one.”

“No!” you said again. “No, I don’t!”

His expression never changed. He rolled his neck, then studied you some more. “Name your favorite thing about Thor.”

“His laugh.” You gulped. “I love when he laughs... really laughs. When he doubles over, cries, and then giggles about it hours later.”

The man sat back, turning off the safety. “Name his favorite drink.”

“Locally brewed beer.”

“What’s my name?” His forefinger slipped in front of the trigger.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from outside the room. You sobbed again. The door swung open, and the man stood from his chair. Thor gripped his brother’s lapel, throwing him on the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Loki growled, dropping the gun on its side. “It wasn’t loaded! Calm down! Jane only wanted to stay for the secrets, I was simply—”

“I don’t care!” he snapped. “You have no right to kidnap her!” He was nose-to-nose with Loki, shaking him as he spoke.

“Thor!” you cried. He swerved his head, letting go of his brother to come and rescue you. He shoved the meaty hands off, throwing a solid punch.

“Come with me,” he said, lifting you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around him, shaking and trying not to cry too much. He held you tightly. He took Loki’s gun off the ground. “Don’t touch her. She’s nothing like Jane, and if you’d listen to me when I talk to you, Father wouldn’t have put you on lackey duty!”

“Take me out of here,” you whispered.

“I can’t,” Thor said. He kissed your head. “This is my life... I love you, but if you can’t handle this...”

You held him tightly. “We should talk about this later...”

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gotnofucks · 5 years ago

Text

Their Poison

Pairing: dark! Steve x dark! Tony x dark! Stephen x Reader

Summary: A billionaire, a sorcerer and a soldier walk into a bar. Their only poison of choice is you.

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Non-con, smut, language, 18+ Only

A/N: This is a birthday gift for my lovely girl @ironlady1993 who not only is the queen of dark drabbles, but also one of those people you can’t help but love. She’s been my cheerleader since the day I joined this site, encouraged me and keeps uplifting me everyday. Her talented mind is a wonderful place, and I can’t express into words how special she is to me.

A billionaire, a sorcerer and a soldier walk into a bar. Their only poison of choice is you.

Private parties thrown by Tony Stark always got wild, but you got enough tips that more than made up for it. There were little guests tonight and most of them were drunk beyond measure, silently being escorted out by Happy. You were cleaning up spilled liquor on the counter when the three men sat before you.

Tony, Stephen, and Steve were the most mismatched pair of friends you’d seen. The only thing they seemed to have in common were their good looks and arrogance. You tried not to squirm under their combined gazes that you’d felt on your person all night long.

“What can I get you?” You asked them with a forced smile.

Steve placed his elbows on the bar and leaned forward, a charming smile on his face that did little to ease your nerves.

“Shots.” He said, licking his lips. You nodded and set about pouring them their drinks, lining up shot glasses in front of them and a tray of salt and lemon.

“Here you go” You said and turned around, hoping to walk away when Steve held your wrist, pulling you back.

“No salt?” He asked and you stuttered, looking around, sure you’d just put it on the table.

“I – it was right here.” You said.

Tony and Stephen tutted, shaking their heads. Steve still hadn’t let go of your hand and you watched in trepidation as Tony walked behind the bar over to you, pushing in close so you were flush to the counter.

“We can’t do shots without salt now, can we sweetheart?” He purred in your ear and you squirmed. You tried to pull away from Steve but only ended up rubbing yourself against Tony who groaned.

“Not to fear Stark” Stephen piped up, rolling his sleeves over his elbow. His scarred hands were beautiful and methodical, the surgeon in him lost, but not gone. “We all have a natural saltiness in us. Come up here darling.”

You sputtered as he patted the counter, looking at you expectantly. Shaking your head you blinked away the tears kissing your eyes and protested. They were so polite, still smiling, but you felt dirty as they looked at you.

“I’ll just go and get more salt now.” You offered in a broken voice, but Steve chuckled, gesturing to Tony who quickly picked you up and dropped you on the counter, holding you down by your shoulders.

“Don’t worry, got it right here.” Stephen said and flipped your skirt, hands trailing up your thighs until they met the band of your panties and pulled down.

“No!” You shouted, wiggling around. Steve shushed you, leaning closer as he cupped your face, his blue eyes bright with amusement and lust. He brushed a soft kiss against your cheek before roughly capturing your lips, bruising them with his passion. Another set of lips was trailing kissing and bites down your neck while Stephen parted your legs, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your moist core.

You were overwhelmed, struggling but not knowing what was happening. They were everywhere, their arms surrounding your torso and holding you captive, mouths hot against your sweaty skin and moans that vibrated against you. You didn’t realize when Tony had pushed you down to lay on your back, his hands kneading the flesh of your breasts gently.

“Be a good girl sweetheart.” He warned before biting on your nipple from over your shirt, causing you to yelp. Steve unbuttoned you, quickly divesting you of your clothes until you lay on the sticky table, trembling before the three powerful men.

“Mr. Stark, please.” You begged. You had no idea what you were begging for, but you lost focus as Steve’s warm hands trailed down your hips and then to your warm center, parting your folds to bare you to their ravenous gaze.

“So pretty.” Stephen commented, pulling on your soft curls that glistened with your slick. You were embarrassed at how wet you were, how you seemed to become putty under their hands. You watched Steve take a lemon wedge and bring it to your mouth, raising a brow until you caved and held it between your teeth. Stephen tilted a shot glass into your belly button, some of it sloshing off.

“Me first!” Tony said and slid you to the side until your legs were dangling down and he was between them. He grinned at you before lowering his mouth over your belly, slurping on the alcohol, his beard tickling your skin. You moaned, feeling him sliding down until his tongue traced a path from your weeping hole to your clit, savoring your natural saltiness. You bucked your hips, groaning as his mouth met yours to suck on the lemon wedge, the sour juice slipping down your tongue and into your throat.

He smacked his lips, giving you a wink and stepping aside for Steve to take his place. By now, all pretenses were down, and Steve didn’t bother with the shots. His fingers delved inside you, swirling in as you arched your back, collecting your slick on his fingers. His smeared your wetness around your stiff nipples, coming in close so he could ground his hardness into you as he leaned over to suck your stiff peaks.

Your mouth parted, lower lip between your teeth as you tried to hold in your moans, tried not to let their ardor sweep over you. Steve was so large he almost covered your entire body, his warm tongue swirling around your nipple, tasting you.

“Oh god!” You exclaim, your juices leaking onto Steve’s pants and staining them. You felt him smile against you skin and hid your face in shame.

“Move the fuck over Rogers” Stephen suddenly said and Steve was pushed away from you. The doctor snapped his fingers and his red cloak flew over. You were pulled up from your arms and felt the cloak wrap behind you, hoisting you in air. You let out a terrified squeal, hanging in the air, flailing your legs, and begging to be let down.

“It’s okay darling, I got you.” Stephen shushed you, grabbing your floating legs and pulling you down until your cunt was right over his face. Tears dripped down your face when his lips enveloped your folds, your figure hanging like that of Christ on a cross and being devoured by the hungry crowd. It was appalling how easily your body betrayed you, how smoothly it succumbed to its baser nature and gave control over to these men.

He skillfully ate you out, wrapping your legs around his head and pushing you closer to his mouth by your ass. You felt the cloak pushing you back down and choked on a scream, laying supine in midair. Tony and Steve came forward, removing their clothes and fondling you, praising you, calling you their princess.

“You gonna cum for us princess?” Steve teased you, reaching out to play with your clit. Tony was busy sucking his marks into your skin, and the combined sensation from them pushed you over the edge, a tremendous heat bubbling in your womb and spilling over.

You sobbed, drenched, and exhausted, falling limp into their arms, not protesting as they lowered you on the floor. Sweet kisses were peppered over your face and hands, inner thigh massaged with large hands, warm bodies tangling to form a canopy of protection around you.

“Are you okay our love?” Tony asked, brushing his lips on the pads of your fingers. You breathlessly nodded, turning your palm to cup his face, smiling when he nuzzled. Steve sat behind you, resting you against his chest, and let Stephen massage your legs, easing the burn.

“Need a little breather before we continue?” Stephen asked and you bit your lip before nodding.

“Yes, I didn’t know it would get this intense. Maybe once I’ve caught my breath.” You answered and felt Steve kiss your head softly.

“We don’t need to fulfill all your fantasies in one night princess, we have the rest of our lives.” He assured you and you grinned, looking at your men who held you dearer than their own lives. They had denied you nothing, entertained your darkest, most insane desires of the flesh.

“No, I’ll be fine. Gimme a few minutes and you can go back to being cavemen again. The last time I came that hard was when I had you fuck me during that last alien invasion. I need this thrill.”

They chuckled, letting you rest and hydrate before giving you all that you asked for and more.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203

Marvel Taglist: @villanellevi @oneoftheprettynerds

Cevans : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny

#dark!steve x reader #dark!tony x reader #dark!tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader

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scalpel-mom-mori · 4 years ago

Text

Chrome Archlight voicelines

So, because I'm in need of practice and I'm just generally curious, I decided to translate A Chrome's lines. My Chinese isn't very good lol so these are going to be rough but! It'll be a fun time. Please look elsewhere if you want better translations.

If I like it enough, I'll do some more :D

CN Wiki

Sorry for any inconsistencies lmao I did like half of these in the middle of the night. Send me a message if you want to be tagged if/when I do more of these! My notes are in parentheses lol

Google docs ver

Construct joins:

Strike Hawk's team leader Chrome, reporting for duty. Hello, Commandant of Grey Raven, you wouldn't have happened to see my teammate Kamui, would you?

Level up:

It's important to keep improving yourself.

Promote:

Thank you for the promotion.

(Note here, 承蒙was used instead of 謝謝 or 多謝. 承蒙 is an honorific expression of gratitude if I'm not mistaken.)

Evolve:

Strict self-discipline, lead by example, never stop improving.

Skill upgrade:

So this is the Grey Raven's tactical training.

(Bro, I just stuck this in gtranslate ;0; Came out something like "turns out Grey Raven adopted such a tactical exercise method” but I thought that was kind of awkward.)

Equip weapon:

A weapon's strength is determined by its user.

Added to team:

Roger. Strike Hawk's Chrome, reporting for duty.

(Here, Chrome uses the phrase 在此加入, while in his Construct join line, he uses 在此報道. 在此報道 literally means reporting for duty, but tbh "here to join" didn't seem quite right. For "roger," he uses 是 which is comparable to hai in Japanese. Hai, in this context is usually translated as “sir” or “yes sir” but I just went with roger lol. I'm sure there's another phrase that actually is the equivalent to roger or ryokai)

Team leader:

Currently locating its position.

(This one seemed incomplete to me, but Strike Hawk is a recon team I believe, so it does make sense. I just think he'd be more specific than that lol)

Mission complete 1:

Please review the results, Commandant.

General greeting 1:

Strike Hawk usually operates individually, so we have our own communication channels for while we're on missions.

General greeting 2:

After confirming the route, ensure that no one will act rashly. I don't want to get complaints from other teams. Ah, forgive me, Commandant. I was just talking to my team members.

(Ugh this one was so hard ;-; probably screwed something up cri)

General greeting 3:

Commandant, concerning the most recent joint mission, I need to debrief with you as soon as possible. Do you have time now?

(Mmm, I was just guessing at the debrief part. He needs to talk to you about the most recent joint mission but I'm not sure of the exact wording he used.)

General greeting 4:

"Strike Hawk member stationed with Grey Raven Stronghold 101" This is... Kamui's handwriting. Apologies for the trouble, Commandant.

(Not super sure on the note from Kamui but omg lay off him, Chrome. Kamui is best boi)

General greeting 5:

What's wrong Commandant? Is there something that needs to be done? You keep staring at me. My... hair is messed up?

General greeting 6:

What is there to like about normal things? It may be that organized things process more smoothly, which is easier on the ocean ego.

(Ocean ego is a term used by veteran players in their translations, so that's the term I picked. As for the normal/organized thing, think of it like computer processing. Kinda unsure but, it's translated.)

General greeting 7:

Concerning Kamui's temporary deployment application... It's not that I disagree, it's just that if you need assistance, I would also like to help.

(“It’s not that I disagree” is a pretty literal translation. Could also be interpreted as “It’s not that I won’t approve it.”)

General greeting 8:

Regardless of whether it's in combat or in spirit, a team leader must be strictly disciplined and lead by example. The most important thing is to guarantee safety. As long as you understand my meaning.

General greeting 9:

Your private communication channel has been established.

General greeting 10:

If you ever have an emergency, you need to contact me immediately (with our private communication channel). I will be there immediately.

(For this one, I feel like specifying that it's through Chrome and commandant's private channel is unnecessary lol)

General greeting 11:

I want to win every victory for you./ Every victory I win is for you

(Two versions, because the first one is really literal.爲你 is basically “with you in mind” or “for your sake” and the literal translation can be interpreted as he’s doing your work)

General greeting 12:

You have already become my ambition. If you have favorites, I would like to be first among them.

(Okay that second sentence is kind of loosely translated lol. Literally it's "If you have rankings in your heart, I want to be first place" which Idk. I don't particularly like my translation either, but it's less janky.)

Affection increase 1:

Born to excel is… a boring concept, no?

(I think what he’s trying to say is the idea that one is born into greatness is a boring idea lol)

Affection increase 2:

… Many thanks.

Affection increase 3:

Kamui seems to have hit his Inver-device again. Forgive me, I need to go take care of that.

Affection increase 4:

Commandant, please don’t spend money on me.

Affection increase 5:

Perfection is… doing your best, regardless of the odds.

Affection increase 6:

Commandant, do you think honor is more important than safety?

Affection increase 7:

I would like the chance to discuss strategy with the Commandant.

Affection increase 8:

If I may, I would like to know what the Commandant likes.

Affection increase 9:

I want to become your shield, your fortress. I want to become your final answer.

Affection increase 10:

This is the best gift I have ever received.

Affection increase 11:

You are the solution to the world’s ailments.

Affection increase 12:

The gift I’d hoped to receive the most… is already before my eyes.

Idle 1:

Commandant, don’t let your guard down.

(He specifies that it’s during a mission in CN but it’s an idle line so /shrug)

Idle 2:

I look forward to fighting with you, Commandant.

Idle 3:

I am searching for an answer, but the holder of answers… does not say a word.

(I didn’t really know how to translate this one lol. “the holder of answers” is 答案的所有者, which is literally “the owner of answers” but like :p wakaranai.)

Idle 4:

Did something happen? … Nothing, don’t worry. I will be here.

Extended online time 1:

Please remember to rest, Commandant.

Extended online time 2:

Right now is not the time to work, Commandant. As a human, you need plenty of rest to ensure the quality of your work.

Extended online time 3:

Extended time linking minds can cause irreparable psychological damage. Stop overexerting yourself or I will be forced to take disciplinary measures.

Extended online time 4:

Whatever you want me to do, just promise me… you won’t do anything that will harm you, okay?

Connection made 1:

Good day, Commandant.

Connection made 2:

Commandant, you’re here. The new assignment has already been sent. Please give the order.

(This one’s kind of weird. Basically, he’s asking you to approve the assignment he’s sent you.)

Connection made 3:

For now, I’ll assist the Gray Ravens, so please tell me what needs to be done.

(This is a pretty loose translation, but it gets the point across.)

Connection made 4:

It’s good to see you, Commandant.

Connection made 5:

I think I can understand why Kamui is always here.

(ugh okay nerd time, the English just doesn’t convey how much I love this line in CN, but I don’t know how to render it in English without changing it significantly. Literally, it’s like “Why is Kamui always here? I think I can understand his… feelings” but like ugh. You get the point. It’s very much a realization that the Commandant and Grey Raven are people he really enjoys being around and ugh. Am in my feelings about it.)

Connection made 6:

Chrome, online, on standby.

(Not 100% sure of how to translate 聽從指令. Literally, it’s “hearing orders” but I can’t remember the exact phrase in military jargon help ;0;)

Extended offline time 1:

Excellent. I’ve been waiting for you, Commandant.

(So, I think some of Chrome’s lines are missing lol, because the cn wiki only lists one extended time away line, but I’m pretty sure there’s four per unit lol.)

Shake 1:

What is it? A corrupted attack?

Shake 2:

Disorienting…Stay awake, Chrome.

(Mm “Disorienting” was literally dizziness/vertigo. Chrome is really too serious for his own good.)

Shake 3:

Is it… Kamui, or the Commandant? What are they doing?

Quick tap 1:

This… is improper.

(Literally “does not conform to etiquette” but he’s not that stuffy lol)

Quick tap 2:

Is there something wrong?

(Not necessarily in the ‘made a mistake’ sense. I don’t really know how to explain this one. He’s kind of asking “is there somewhere my uniform’s untidy” more than did he do something wrong.)

Quick tap 3:

Please, don’t do that… it’s… a bit… strange…

Activity at max:

Rest is over. Strike Hawk Chrome requesting an envoy mission.

(Not too sure about this one lol. That’s the literal translation but usually activity max lines are reminders to get your rewards lol)

Begin battle:

Pioneers seek victory.

Battle skill 1:

Bring out all your strength

Battle skill 2:

I hope you are satisfied with this

Battle skill 3:

Get behind me

Signature (ultimate):

Go and meet your end

Injured:

Requesting medical assistance

Danger:

Everyone be on guard, change of plans

(Not too sure about this one, but close enough ;-;)

Knocked out:

… I still have more to do

(Literally, “this is a dereliction of duty”)

Assist:

Strike Hawk, team leader Chrome, here to support.

QTE:

Is this all?

Victory:

I promised you I would bring you a victory/ Here is the victory I promised you.

#punishing: gray raven #punishing grey raven #pgr #pgr chrome #chrome archlight #xue's pgr translations #i was gonna try and add the cn and jp tags but I'm too lazy #someone else do it for me

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eveenstar · 4 years ago

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𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔 [𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒇𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏]

||➸𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫||

Tags/Warnings: Mention of animal death (bird), death mention, a bit of angst and paranoia.

Summary: Everything seems to go well until your security guard says something he wasn't meant to know about.

Note: Feeling at my lowest but couldn't wait any longer to publish this. Enjoy!

Empty. You felt so empty inside. No matter how much food you consumed, it was never enough. Never enough to make it go away. The tvshow was long forgotten and merely reduced to background noise, something to make you feel less lonely in this black and white house. The clock on the wall kept making noise, reminding you how slow this day has been passing by.

“Thank you, miss.” The security guard that Natasha had sent to “protect” your house was nice enough to chat, and he even ate the food you prepared for him. You chatted for at least twenty minutes, about all kinds of stuff possible. For once after years, your house wasn’t cold anymore, instead, a cosy warm sensation had replaced it.

“It’s no problem.” You kindly smiled at him, placing the coffee mug on the table. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember asking for your name.”

“Jackson Sullivan. I’m a newbie on this job, it’s my first time actually.” Jackson replied while drinking from his own mug.

“And they sent you to deal with the crazy widow? I feel sorry for you.” You chuckled and arched your eyebrows slightly.

“You’re not a crazy widow, miss (L/N), you don’t have the at least ten cats nor do you live in the middle of the mountains.” He added a cheeky comment at the end, which wasn’t probably that funny, but the caffeine made you laugh like Jackson had just told you the funniest joke in the world.

“I hope I didn’t bother your day with sending you here, it’s probably so unnecessary since there’s no actual threat.” You began to clean breakfast’s dishes. You watched as the water made contact with your skin, chilly at first but quickly numbed out. Shaking your head softly, you put those thoughts aside for now and focused on the task. You had to control your zooming out from now on.

“Not at all. You’ve been very welcoming since I’ve arrived.”

Should you ask for his number? Go on a date? No, you’d be too hasty or desperate. You barely know this guy and he just came here to work, maybe later. After all, you didn’t need love right now.

A raucous and screech sound was heard, blocking you from your thoughts. Something had striked against your kitchen’s window, a raven. Jackson, for security measures, had his gun in hand while you two ran outside to see the bird. Even if the sunlight blinded you for a few seconds, it didn’t stop you from running to the house’s backyard and hope to still save the bird.

“It’s just a bird, love.” Loki comforted you. His voice was always so soothing and calm, like a beckon of light in the middle of the night. “It was his fate.”

“His fate was to slam against a window and die?” You frowned, clear tears streaming down your cheeks. Your boyfriend, however, did not share the same compassion as you did, but he carried a tender warmt in his eyes.

“The Universe has its ways.” He simply replied, and took the black raven from your hands, “We’ll give him a proper funeral.”

“Miss (L/N)? Ma’am?” You stared at the grass, then you looked around, even at the window. There was nothing here, not even a single feather, nothing. Did it fly away? Or maybe it was never here at all. You took a deep breath, and from the corner of your eyes you saw Jackson inspecting the grounds and surroundings. “There’s nothing here.”

“You heard it. We heard it. Something slammed against my window.” If you were alone in this precise moment, you’d think you were hearing things again. Your mind playing tricks against you, again. But no, you are not alone, you’re in the company of a security guard named Jackson Sullivan, and you both heard and saw a black raven hit against the glass.

“Maybe it flew away, right? What other explanation is there?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours before you looked away. Something else catched your attention, something in the garden. Ignoring the guard’s callings, your feet moved towards the white flowers blooming.

Narcissus flowers.

“Your favorite plants.”

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at Jackson.

“What did you say?”

“Beg your pardon, miss?” He looked confused, as if those words didn’t leave past his lips right now. Besides everything you two spoke about earlier, you didn’t mention those flowers to him, nor that they were your favorites.

“How did you know they are my favorite?”

Jackson seemed to stop and think for a brief minute, before glancing a charming smirk at you. “Captain Rogers told me about it, he thought I should order those flowers for you.” It’s almost as if he was trying to please you, to be as convincing as he could be.”

“Steve?” You took a step in his direction cautiously, not letting him out of your sight. “It was Natasha that handled your assignment here, not Steve. Why would he tell you that?”

“Hey Nat, how’s it going?”

“I was lucky enough to cross paths with him.”

The conversation wasn't pleasant, but you didn't know what to do about it. Should you ask for another security? Maybe the story he told was true, but you weren't naïve. It had a plothole. Were you, in fact, onto something though? Maybe you were bored, looking for a cheap adventure to occupy your mind.

Your hands slowly caressed the photograph you held, taken five years ago. It showed Loki and you hugging each other, you were smiling and your boyfriend didn't seem to notice the picture being taken at all. His eyes were upon you, in the most sweet gaze you could ever imagine; he preserved that look only for you. Only you could that side of him. The vunerable, loving side.

Loki wasn't the face everybody painted, no, he was your golden boy.

But then it all fell apart. The grief you felt was overtaken with emptiness over time, your mind still didn't accept Loki was dead. How to accept it, if it seemed like yesterday that he was here? The memories were still so alive, so vivid. Like his presence still lingered around. You denied the fact that he was gone, you wanted so desperately for this to be a horrid nightmare.

For you, it looked like the last time you spoke to him was this morning. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Slipped from your grasp just like that. That's how the universe works, you suppose. People fade away as quick as the last time you saw them. One moment they're here, the next they aren't. It always happens to the people that less deserve it, ironic is it not?

Suddenly, your phone ringed.

“Hey (Y/N), just called in to check in on you and also warn you that the security guard I assigned to you called sick early morning, so another one will replace him.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

“Ralph Williams?”

“What do you mean?”

"He's here."

“No, no. Jackson Sullivan.”

You heard her speaking to somebody in the background for a few seconds, before she got back at you.

“What? Why?”

“(Y/N), I’ll need you to play as cool and normal as possible. We’re going to your house right now.”

“Listen to me," Natasha said, her voice tune was worrying the soul out of you, “Jackson Sullivan doesn’t exist.”

“Now, now. It’s not pleasant to talk behind your husband’s back, darling.”

#kinda put my own feelings onto this one sorry for it '^^#saturn gardens fanfic series #marvel loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odison x reader #mcu loki

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castielpit · 4 years ago

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The Nightmares Don’t Stop- 9

Warnings: mild language, post-panic attack, mentions of panic attack, mentions of violence, mentions of PTSD, mentions of missing time/blacking out, mentions of firearms, unintentional self-harm, blood, bruises

Chapter List

You must’ve passed out at some point because you were no longer in the arms of Captain America- holy shit that actually happened didn’t it- and were now lying down on a cot in a sterile-smelling white room. You crane your neck to the side, surprised it didn’t feel too stiff. You must not have been knocked out for that long. You sit up on the cot, swinging your legs over the side. At least you were still in your clothes- as hideous as they are. The metal door to the room swings open. That mirror on the wall is probably double-sided glass- they were observing you.

“Hello there,” says the one and only Dr. Bruce Banner. Honestly, what else should you have expected? Nothing can surprise you at this point. “How are you feeling?” he asks, handing you a cup of water with a lid and straw. You accept it and gulp it down greedily, not caring how ravenous you looked while doing it.

“Thanks,” you mumble to Dr. Banner, giving him a small smile, which he returns. “So Dr. Banner, I’m assuming you have some questions for me after I almost choked one of your Avengers?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Please, call me Bruce,” Dr. Bann- Bruce replies offhandedly. “And you never answered my original question, how am I supposed to ask any other questions before I get that answer?”

You blank for a moment before remembering his original question.

“Oh, yeah I’m feeling fine. I was just a bit dehydrated but..” you trail off, holding up your now empty cup as an explanation.

“Right. May I?” he asks, gesturing to said cup. You hand it to him and he throws it in the trash bin near the door. “Well I am certainly glad you’re feeling fine, Ms. L/n…”

“Please, call me F/n,” you mimic his earlier words with a tiny smile. To your surprise, he gives a little chuckle.

“Right, well F/n you were correct in assuming there are some questions we would like answered, but you don’t have to answer anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he states, looking you directly in the eyes to make sure you understand he is serious. You nod in understanding, prompting him to continue. “You seem quite calm for someone who passed out almost immediately after trying to choke Clint, so-”

“Is Clint alright? Oh god, is Mr. Stark angry with me?” you cut Bruce off, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you.

“Yes! Yes, he is fine besides some light bruising around his neck,” Bruce assures you, but your guilt even worsens. It must have been apparent on your face because Bruce continues quietly, leaning toward you slightly. “Don’t worry, we’ve all wanted to do that at one point. The only reason Tony would be angry is because he’s jealous you got to Clint before he could,” Bruce winks at you. A genuine giggle makes its way up your throat. A fucking giggle. Since when do you giggle?!

“Anyways,” he leans away, glancing at what you assumed is the two-way mirror. “With how calm you have been since the incident, I can only assume this wasn’t your first…” he pauses in thought for a moment. “Episode?” You feel your shoulders tense up, sitting up a bit straighter. If Bruce notices, he doesn’t mention it, which you’re very grateful for.

“No,” you say barely audibly. You clear your throat and try again. “No,” that’s better, “This isn’t my first panic attack.”

“I see. Is it your first time having a violent reaction within the panic attack?” Bruce asks, writing some things down on a tablet as he speaks. You sigh, memories of therapists doing the same thing flooding your mind. He glances up at you.

“I don’t do well with human contact, especially when it’s unexpected. I have been able to avoid it and distance myself from people well enough until now, so this is my first physical reaction to it, yes,” you explain, being careful with your words. Bruce and the people behind the glass don’t need to know everything there is about you and your past. He continues writing on his tablet with the stylus, his face not giving away any emotion. No emotion was better than disgust, at least.

“Is the issue with human contact something that is a result of PTSD possibly?” Bruce questions gently in a quieter voice, setting aside the tablet and stylus to look at you. You nod affirmatively, an action which he mimics. “Is there anything else you feel might be important for me to know to ensure the safety of others in Tony’s program?” Your eyes widen.

“Mr. Stark isn’t kicking me out?” you ask, the shock evident in your voice. Bruce smirks, his eyebrows furrowing in amusement.

“If Tony refused to work with anyone that has made mistakes such as yours, the Avengers wouldn’t exist. Hell, Tony wouldn’t be able to work with himself even.” Bruce glances toward the mirror again, allowing his eyes to linger for a few seconds before returning his gaze to yours.

“Oh, wow! I guess that makes sense. I still almost can't believe it!” you exclaim, not bothering to hide the excitement in your voice. “And to answer your question from before...in the moments immediately following the contact Clint made with me, I sort of blacked out.” Bruce raises his eyebrows slightly.

“You don’t remember what happened?” Bruce prodded.

“I remember shooting one of the rifles, Clint placing his hand on my wrist…” you pause, recalling the memory that had played in your head during that time. You stare Bruce in the eyes. Could you trust him? He seemed so genuine. “And then I was reliving a memory. Once the memory played out, I realized I had Mr. Barton pinned beneath me, with my hands…” your voice chokes off a bit from the memory of your past and from what happened with Clint. The door suddenly bursts open. Your eyes shoot up to see your savior himself, Steve Rogers, barreling towards you. He reaches forward and grabs your hands gently. You flinch slightly and look down at your hands, covered in blood, along with your thighs now tracked with fingernail scratches.

“I- I didn’t realize…” your eyes widen, not even remembering when you started to scratch yourself. You look up into blue eyes filled with concern. Behind the wall of muscle that is Steve Rogers, you see Bruce running his hands through his hair nervously and Tony Stark standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Behind Tony you make out two shadows.

“After Bruce asked you if you remembered what happened, you started scratching your legs and wouldn’t stop. You kept speaking even though Bruce was shouting your name for you to stop,” says Steve softly. He looked down at your hands, dropping them gently when he realized he was still holding them.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you say looking over to Bruce, then to Tony, and finally your gaze landing back on Steve, who was now sitting next to you on the cot. “I don’t know what happened.” The room is silent for a few moments, nobody daring to move.

“Jesus Christ guys,” comes a voice from behind Tony. Tony, who is now stumbling as someone rushes past him over to some shelves near the side of the bed. Someone reaches out to steady Tony. You see a flash of red hair and look away, knowing it was the woman whose best friend you had left bruises on. You decide to look over at the now grumbling man who was shuffling through the drawers, pulling out bandages and rubbing alcohol wipes.

“With the amount of PhDs in this room you would think one of you guys would know what to do with an injured person. I swear sometimes this team makes me wonder…” The man turns around and his grumbling fades from your hearing as you look at his bruised neck. Bruises the same size and shape as your hands. He reaches towards you with something in his hand. Immediately, you kick the object out of his hand and back yourself into the wall, trying to get away. Two strong hands grab your shoulders and you whip your head around. Blue eyes. Steve.

#bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fic #marvel #avengers #self-insert

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gxrcias-gothgf · 5 years ago

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Davey's Birthday Headcanons (Darvy)

Darvy my boys

We all love them

Anyway Davey’s birthday

Darcy’s favorite day of the year

This boy

He goes all out

Balloons, cake, tons of presents, all the things

Darcy actually got Davey to sleep for once

So Darcy gets up super early just to make breakfast for Davey

Maya also helps him because she is the best

He also got Davey’s favorite milkshake from the diner where they had their first date

But he also gets Davey some iced coffee

Because this boy needs his caffeine

So when Davey wakes up

Darcy brings in the food and milkshake and coffee

There is so much food my goodness

Anyway so

Darcy has Davey open two presents after breakfast

Davey thought those were the only presents and internally thanked god

Spoiler alert they weren’t but we’ll get into that later

ANYWAY

The first present was a hoodie

Now since Davey is taller than Darcy, he can’t really wear Darcy’s hoodies so Darcy likes getting hoodies in Davey’s size and spraying his cologne on them

Or he wears them for awhile before giving them to Davey

So that was Davey’s first present

And the second one was a pair of slippers

Don’t ask why he just thought it’d be a nice gift

So then Darcy is like alright ready to go ice skating

“I’m sorry wHAT”

“You heard me. Now put on your hoodie and get dressed”

My poor boy

He was so against it

And then they got on the ice and he realized he was really good at it

Darcy however

My other poor boy

HE THOT HE COULD

He could not

So it gave Davey an excuse to hold his hand

Even though he didn’t need one but ya know

Darcy is a god awful ice skater and should just stick to sitting on top of basketball hoops

So anyway

I need to stop saying that but whatever

So after their done Darcy probably fell and hurt his back because that poor boy will never stop having back problems please god give him a break

So after that Darcy takes him to lunch at the diner they went on their first date on

It's their favorite place leave them alone

Tater tots and milkshakes that’s all they order

I swear

Right so

After that they go to a park just to hang out for awhile

They lay down on a grass hill

Their just talking and laying there

Right and so then Davey just laughs

No reason he just laughs

Darcy is like what?? the?? Fu-

He gets tackled by Davey who is still laughing

They started rolling down the hill

Their both laughing and loving life

It's adorable

So eventually they decided to head back to Darcy’s place

And like Davey knows something’s happening but like

Oh he wasn’t ready

“ITS BRITNEY BITCH”

Everyone jumps out dressed as ninjas

But

But they yell the Britney thing

Davey almost has a heart attack

“when I said surprise me I DIDN’T MEAN THIS”

“i’m overDRAMATIC OKAY?”

God I love these boys

“I hope you like it though because it took a lot of convincing and money to assure that Race didn’t dress up like Shakira”

Everyone changes out of ninja clothes because they just said no

Eventually Davey is forced to open presents

He insisted no one get him anything

He knew they wouldn’t listen

So he opens them and just like

He loves his friends so much

They love him just as much if not more

He’s the best I’m telling you

Les filming Davey’s reaction to the card he got him

“Happy birthday Raven god dammit Les”

“Oooh Davey said a potty word” -Maya

Les is smiling so much

Darcy high fives him and hands him five bucks and Brendon Disco (Darcy’s lizard)

“DARCY THERE’S SEVEN HERE THAT SAY THEY’RE FROM YOU”

Tags: @katherinebly @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

#darvy #rp darcy reid #rp darcy #rp davey #newsies rp

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 4: City Of Dreams]

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, not really angst but you can FEEL that the angst is coming, pre-angst???

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

He calls you at home, at the bare-bones flat you share with two Imperial College nursing students; he calls because he knows you want to see the world. He can’t give you the world yet, he can’t quite afford that. But what he can afford are two tickets to the British Museum, which are, incidentally, free.

Roger shows you the Rosetta Stone, a column from the Temple of Artemis, the Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III, the River Witham swords, the Benin ivory mask of Queen Idia, Chinese jade, Incan gold, portraits of Anne Boleyn, bronze busts of Hadrian and Claudius, Rembrandts and Da Vincis and Van Goghs. He shows you the treasures of the living and the ruins of the dead, their currency and their gods and their flesh: skeletal mummies of people who walked the earth a millennium and a half before the Mayans, three thousand years before Alexander.

He’s uncharacteristically patient. He takes his time. He studies the maddeningly small words on the displays and asks you which relics you like best, whether they speak to you, what they say. He doesn’t want to leave even when you offer, even when you can see he’s restless for a cigarette, when he drums his fingers against his hip and gnaws his lower lip with those tiny canine teeth. Maybe there’s something else he’s even more ravenous for.

Roger wants to show you everything. There are alabaster-white, echoing corridors roped off for renovations, but that doesn’t stop him. He sprints with you down dimly-lit hallways—your fingers interlaced with his, your hair flying—and raises curtains and murky sheets of plastic to reveal marble faces, Anglo-Saxon helmets, Viking blades, fifth-century scrolls. He keeps watch as you look; and when he hears the footsteps of security guards he pulls you into the shadows, presses you flat against the wall, giggles in whispers as he clasps his palm over your mouth and begs you to be quiet. I’m trying, your gleaming eyes tell him, and when he lifts his hand away his burning sapphire gaze drops to your lips, and you think he might kiss you, and you think you might let him. But at the last moment you turn away, pretend you hadn’t noticed, tell him you think the footsteps are gone.

And the words ricochet perilously through your mind like shrapnel: I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him.

That once felt like a promise; now it feels like a plea.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I have a deeply philosophical question for you.”

“Go ahead.”

John is laying across the studio couch on his back, using your maroon-tights-and-golden-sundress-clothed thigh as a pillow, holding his notebook with one hand and a dulling pencil with the other. You’re working through a pile of the band’s outfits that need mending, denim and leather and knits and polyester strewn over your lap; you are excellent at stitching, whether in fabric or flesh. Every once in a while you twirl a lock of John’s feathery hair, and he doesn’t seem to mind. “If Brian was a superhero, who would he be?”

“Spider-Man,” you reply instantly. “The limbs.”

“Ahhhh, of course! He’s a regular daddy longlegs, isn’t he?” John begins sketching. “I already have Roger as Thor—blond and ragey, likes to throw things—and Freddie as Iron Man. Innovative and unstoppable. Fearless leader. Shamelessly opulent.”

“How about you?”

John smirks, but maybe he winces a little too. “Doctor Strange.”

You frown down at him. “You aren’t strange, John.”

“I am,” he says simply. “But that’s alright. I make do.”

“I don’t find you strange.”

“Yes, well. You’re accustomed to patching together damaged things.”

Freddie explodes into the room, his tall black boots clopping on the linoleum floor. He waves his arms hysterically and thrusts his notebook towards you. I need your help, he’s written.

“Sure thing. Ask away.”

He scribbles another line and turns the notebook so you can see. Tell Brian he’s a twat.

You sigh. “Freddie, no.”

Behind the soundproof glass, Freddie, Roger, and Brian have been working on In The Lap Of The Gods: first Roger’s falsetto parts, then Freddie’s piano. This has been no easy task. Freddie is on complete vocal rest after being diagnosed with laryngitis, Brian is recovering from a duodenal ulcer (on top of his residual fatigue from hepatitis), and they’re all ready to strangle each other. Freddie opens his mouth to protest.

“Don’t you dare!” you cry, leaping to your feet. You start a fresh pot of tea on the hotplate and grab the flashlight from your bag. You’ve registered with a London-based travel nurse agency and, after heavy lobbying from Freddie and Roger, have officially been signed with the record company as Queen’s tour nurse. Assuming, of course, that the next tour ever happens. “Let me see.”

Freddie reluctantly plops down onto the couch so you can shine the flashlight down his inflamed throat.

“I better not find out you’ve been bitching at people,” you tell him. Freddie winks and flips his hair.

From the other side of the glass, you can see Roger jabbing an index finger at Brian, shouting, swearing, needling until Brian flings his hands into the air and stomps out of the studio.

“Well,” John says. “I’m glad that’s going well.”

You aren’t terribly alarmed; you’ve seen this before. Brian will spend a few minutes outside, pacing and muttering to himself under the sweltering August sky, and eventually he’ll right himself again—like a sailboat gaining traction in a storm—and return for round two or twelve or twenty. You pour Freddie a cup of piping hot tea with honey and slip into the live room, Freddie and John following behind you.

“How are things?” John asks cheerfully.

Roger is wearing a half-unbuttoned leopard print shirt, tight black leather pants, and black sweatbands on both wrists that he tugs at when he’s frustrated. He snorts in reply and rolls his eyes. Then he glances over at Brian’s Red Special. The guitar has been left unattended on its stand, shining and forbidden. Oh no.

“I wouldn’t,” John cautions.

But Roger does: he pulls the Red Special into his lap and begins to pluck away at it. You recognize the mournful intro riff of Stairway To Heaven. John whistles nervously. Freddie crosses his arms over his chest and taps the heels of his boots against the floor in disapproval.

“Roger, please,” you say. “Don’t stress the man out, you’ll give him another ulcer. You realize if he sees this he’s going to murder you. Hack you into tiny bits. We’ll never find all the pieces.”

Roger laughs. “Calm down, nothing’s gonna happen—” And then, as soon as he begins to adjust it, a tuning key pops off the head and rolls away. Freddie’s teacup shatters as it tumbles out of his grasp. Roger gapes at you and John and Freddie, horrified. “Oh no.”

“Roger!” you yelp, palms cupping your flushing cheeks.

John scoops the tuning key off the floor and rushes to Roger’s side. “Give it to me.”

Roger shoves the Red Special into John’s outstretched arms and begins hyperventilating, yanking at blond hair that you’ve learned is the product of cheap boxed dye. “Oh my god, Brian’s gonna...he’s...he’s...he’s gonna...”

Freddie bolts through the door and disappears outside, still clutching his notebook; he’ll try to delay Brian as long as he can. You wonder if you should join him, if that would make Brian even more suspicious, if there’s anything you can do. Roger paces like a lion behind iron bars.

John says softly as he works: “If I can’t fix it before Brian comes back, I’ll tell him I did it. He already hates me.” That’s not exactly true, and you all know it; but Brian and John clash better and connect worse than any of the rest of them. You marvel, momentarily, at how it can be possible for you to care so consumingly for four men who are so astronomically different. Ah, but perhaps you don’t care for them all in the same way.

“I can’t let you do that, Deaks,” Rog replies. Beads of perspiration are springing up along his temples, his collarbones, his neck. Don’t look, you tell yourself, feeling something scalding and hungry rippling through your skin like goosebumps.

“What can I do?” you ask desperately. “John, can I help...?”

“Almost there.” John is twisting the tuning key. You hear thumping against the door.

“Freddie, move!” Brian is shouting outside. “Move! What are you doing? What are they up to in there?!”

There’s a frantic commotion as John and Roger rush for the guitar stand. You spin to watch the door as it opens. Brian steps inside, his hawkish eyes narrowed. A frazzled Freddie materializes behind him. Your gaze darts back to the Red Special. It’s resting on the guitar stand where Brian left it, orderly and fully intact. Roger and John are chatting nonchalantly by the drum kit and trying to conceal the fact that they’re gasping for air. Oh thank GOD.

Brian peers back at Freddie. Freddie flashes an innocent grin. Brian props his hands on his waist and examines the room, taking long determined strides, fidgeting with the beaded choker around his neck. “Roger,” he says at last.

Roger bats his long eyelashes and casts you a knowing smile. “Hmm?”

“Why is there tea all over the floor?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Summer bleeds out, and autumn floods in like the tide. With dying leaves and cutting evening gales come other eventualities as well: a release date for Sheer Heart Attack, Killer Queen’s roaring reception as the album’s lead single, radio play and fanfare and the announcement that Queen’s first world tour will begin on the day before Halloween. So I might finally see some return on investment, you teased Freddie when he told you. He shot back: Just keep my vocal chords humming, bitch.

Tonight you’re at Top of the Pops with the rest of Queen’s usual entourage: Chrissie and Mary, Josephine and Veronica, assorted representatives and assistants from the record company Trident. The show has laid out a spread of fruit and meats and cheeses and cookies—biscuits, you remind yourself, you have to call them biscuits now—and alcohol...including Moët & Chandon, of course. You circle the table with Chrissie, piling free food onto your plate and sipping champagne, chattering mindlessly to distract yourselves from how petrified you all are. Freddie and Brian are still in hair and makeup; Roger is berating the producers for forcing Queen to perform to playback; John is compulsively snacking in some shadowy corner somewhere and avoiding the crowds, presumably with Veronica. You don’t dislike Veronica. She’s polite and gentle and undemanding, if a bit reticent around the band. You don’t think she would ever try to exploit John for the novelty of being with a musician, nor for the possibility of money and fame. But you sometimes wonder how much of John she really sees.

“Is this white cheddar?” Josephine asks as she stabs a cheese cube with a pink foil-tipped toothpick. “Or maybe gruyere? Monterey jack...?”

“I think it’s halloumi,” Chrissie offers.

“Ohhh, exotic!” Jo takes a bite. “It’s good, whatever it is.”

You pop a sliver of pineapple into your mouth. “My goal is to eat at least three of everything. And wrap extras in napkins to smuggle home. It’s a hard life, you know. Roping one’s fortunes to an almost-famous rock band.”

Jo smirks and shakes out her hair: dark, full, freshly trimmed. “I’ll have to live vicariously through you. I’m watching my figure.” She glances pensively down at her svelte body, which is sheathed in a silvery mini-dress.

“Love, you look amazing,” Chrissie says, somewhat pained. You’ve learned that when anyone suffers, Chrissie aches right along with them.

Jo just wrinkles her nose and shrugs. Jo is wilder than Veronica, edgier than Chrissie, less saccharine than Mary, more glamorous than you. She’s the only match you could imagine for Roger; and this brings you down some days, drags you low, sinks you into indigo melancholy. But lately Josephine has been the blue one, the quiet one. And you suddenly find yourself wondering if perhaps there is no match for Roger at all, no perfect counterbalance, no one soul that could tame his anywhere in the world.

“You’re flawless, Jo,” you tell her, but it feels hollow and anemic.

Mary appears, stroking her large gold earrings restlessly. “Fred’s almost done. They want to start in twenty minutes.”

You toss your empty plate into the garbage—rubbish, you amend mentally—and shake the crumbs from your dress. “I’ll go get John.”

You scuttle around the set, checking gloomy forgotten spots and the dressing rooms and broom closets. As you search, Roger finds you.

“Hey,” he says, mostly confidently, a dash apprehensively, his hands buried in his pockets.

“Hi. I’m trying to locate your bassist so you can pretend to perform in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s kind of you. I just passed him, though. He’s with Freddie. Everything is as it should be. Can I talk to you?”

“Um.” You stare at him, confused. “We’re already talking, aren’t we?”

“Yes, alright, true, but I have something important to say.”

“Okay.” You study him warily. Roger clears his throat and glimpses around. The two of you are standing in the shadow of a monstrosity of a lighting rig and are very much alone.

“I just...I wanted to inform you that...um...I’ll be...ah...well, you see...” He shakes his head and forces it out. “I’ll be breaking up with Jo soon. And I just wanted you to know. For you to be the first to know.”

You recoil, stunned. “Why would you break up with her?”

He smiles. “So I can take you out, of course.”

Oh my god oh my god oh my god. A furious barrage of images cascades through your mind: touching him, being touched by him, whispers in the darkness, rings, chapels, children, and then: Josephine. What it must feel like to be Jo, what the beginning looked like for her, what the end will: scorched earth and desolation. “I’m not interested,” you say, pleasantly surprised by the steadiness in your voice.

“Sure you are,” Roger replies, undeterred. “We’re going to be travelling all over. It’ll be museums and monuments and libraries and natural wonders galore. I can show you the world.”

“I’m really not.”

“Why wouldn’t you be interested?”

“Because I’m not looking to get played. And you seem like someone who might play me.”

Now he’s wounded; those massive pale eyes are glossy. “I most certainly would not.”

“Roger, I’m completely enchanted by you. You’re brilliant and fun and caring and so much smarter than people assume you are—”

“Thanks...?”

“—And you’re a fantastic friend. But if we do this and it doesn’t last...which, let’s be real, it probably won’t...I’ll lose you forever. And the band. And my job. The math just doesn’t work for me.” But, oh god, I’d do anything to rearrange those numbers.

Roger mulls that over, shuffles his feet, lights a cigarette. “I have a list, you know. Not a written list. It’s just in me, a part of me. Here.” He points at his chest. “It’s not long. It’s only things I can’t live without, or things I wouldn’t want to. There’s becoming a musician. There’s leaving Cornwall. There’s finding a band worthy of me. Check check check.” He takes a drag and exhales smoke into the air. “Next there’s becoming a famous rock star, seeing the world, providing for my family. That’s all coming together presently.” His eyes find yours. “You’re on that list now. And once something’s made the list, it never comes off.”

“Not until you’ve had it.”

That knocks Roger back, makes his brow furrow, makes him blink as it rolls through him; because maybe that cuts just a bit too close to the bone. Then his face clears like a cloudless sky and he smiles, brightly, blissfully, as he always does. “I’ll just have to change your mind.”

“You can try.”

He takes your left hand, skates his teeth lightly over your knuckles, grins mischievously. “I’m going to need one last toast for good luck.”

Roger leads you back to the snack table and pours three flutes of champagne: one for you, one for him, and one for Chrissie, who’s waited for you. John, Freddie, and Brian are testing their equipment on stage; Mary, Veronica, and Jo have commandeered spots with the best view and refuse to abandon them. The three of you toast, drain your champagne, and watch the preparations from afar. John is bopping around the stage as he strums his bass, lost in the music in his head.

“Such a strange man,” Chrissie murmurs, although not unkindly.

Roger immediately bristles. “He’s only strange if you don’t bother to try to understand him.”

“Oh hell, Rog, come on, I didn’t mean it like—”

But Roger pushes by her and breezes away. He swipes a pint of beer and a bunch of grapes off the snack table, saunters over to where John is playing, and gnaws the grapes messily as he points and asks John questions.

Chrissie sighs and turns to you. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. You know I adore John.”

“I know it.” And of course, you adore him too. But you have something else on your mind. You tilt your champagne flute towards Roger. “What was he like when he and Jo first got together?”

“Why?” Chrissie asks, eyebrows raised. “You mean...was he the same way he is with you?”

You twirl your empty glass morosely. “Sure. If I am in fact that transparent.”

Chrissie chuckles and rubs your shoulder reassuringly. “Now now, don’t be grumpy.” She lights a cigarette and thinks. “Honestly, no. He’s different with you. More himself, less dramatic. Less always trying to be the dashing playboy. Just pure energy, that enthusiasm he has that’s almost childish. He’s happy. Really happy.”

You nod. “So you think I should give him a chance if he asks for it.”

“Absolutely not.”

You startle and whirl to her, not understanding.

Chrissie smiles tenderly, sadly, wishing she could change it. “He’ll ruin you. He ruins everyone. Now if he asked you in ten years? Fifteen years? Maybe. But if you say yes now, he’ll burn through you like battery acid. He’ll love you until you can’t imagine a world without him, until everything you were before is quarried from your bones. And then he’ll move on. He can’t help it, that’s just who he is. Reckless and wonderful and insatiable. And good luck trying to find anything on this whole fucking planet that can replace Roger Taylor.”

“I understand,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

You watch Queen up on the stage as they count down the minutes until showtime, how Freddie fluffs his hair and checks his eyeliner, how Brian meticulously rehearses his notes on the Red Special, how John and Roger exchange comments and jokes. And it occurs to you how symbiotic they are: Roger bringing passion and dauntlessness and fire, John tempering that when necessary and contributing something so dissimilar and yet vital, something steady and pragmatic and immutable. Brian’s a willow tree, Fred’s a lightning storm, Roger’s wildfire...but what is John?

You can’t decide. Roger is tapping away at the hi-hat and it sounds like a metronome, like something hypnotic, like a spell older than the pyramids.

I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him.

#queen #queen fanfic #queen fic #borhap #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #but you can never leave #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #roger taylor #queen fandom

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fanficwriter013 · 5 years ago

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The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 30

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1908

Warnings: None

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man. When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood. While others expect Thor to make things more official. What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Written with @avengerscompound

Chapter 30: Preparations

Loki burst into my room early the next morning to wake me up. I had been curled up tightly into Clarke’s side overnight, apparently, I’d started conditioning to move in close to warm bodies in my bed. I jumped at the sound of Loki shouting at me and sat up quickly while Clarke just blinked around the room bemused.

“You need to get up!” She barked. “You!” She pointed at Clarke. “There is breakfast out at the dining room.”

“I don’t get to eat?” I asked.

“You are being cleansed. You shall eat after the bonding. At the feast. When you have been bathed you will be given a soup made of herbs.” Loki explained, impatiently. “Now hurry up. I have too many things to do to be babysitting you. Get up and go to your bathroom. Now!”

I scrambled out of bed as Loki swept back out of the room. Clarke got out of bed slowly and stretched. “You think they’ll give your scalp a good scrub? Get rid of those impure thoughts?”

“If they get rid of those, there won’t be any of me left,” I joked and we both started laughing.

“Okay, you go get cleansed. I’m gonna eat. I’ll meet you back here to dress,” Clarke said.

I should have guessed by the fact that Loki kept saying cleansed that it wasn’t a simple bath. I was painted in thick, warm mud from head to toe and then wrapped in leaves and left for around half an hour. After that, I was hosed off and given an enema. They did hair removal everywhere except my eyebrows (which they shaped) and scalp. Something I normally didn’t really do. I was then taken into the large tub with four attendants and they started to scrub me down.

The water was hot and pungent. I couldn’t quite place the scent of the soaps they were using, but they were floral and slightly woody. They used large scrubbing brushes on my body and scrubbed my skin to the point that any part of my skin that wasn’t covered in the henhalda artwork, turned bright pink. They washed my hair. First with a soap. Then with hot oil that they left in for a while, before scrubbing it with soap again and finally a cream-like substance I assumed was the Asgardian equivalent of conditioner.

When they seemed happy with how clean I was, I was led out of the bath and dried off and oil was rubbed into my skin. By the time they were done, my skin glowed and my hair was as soft and shiny as it had ever been. The cleaning had done something to the Henhalda too. It was brighter and slightly reflective, and there were parts that now shimmered like they were alive.

I was given a thin robe and allowed to return to my room. Clarke was already in there, along with Katveil and another 4 women. Two were older, while two were around Katveil’s age.

Clarke was sitting on a large, comfortable-looking chair that had not been there before and three of the women were working on her. One doing her hair, one her nails and one giving her a pedicure. “Wow, they sure did clean you, huh?” Clarke said.

“Oh, yeah. Inside and out.” I said, making Clarke pull a face. “Morning, Kat,” I added smiling at her.

“Good morning, Elly,” Katveil said. “I’ve come to do any touch-ups on the art.”

I nodded and the two of us moved behind a screen that had been set up for dressing. “Are you excited?” She asked as I dropped my robe and she began to look me over closely, touching up any spot she wasn’t happy with.

“Oh yeah. A little freaking out. It’s a big deal.” I answered. “You know, the big ceremony. Living longer. New powers. Being cleansed.”

“I’d be nervous too,” Katveil said.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Hulk did great with the Henhalda,” Clarke said. “I saw Jax at breakfast. Well everyone really. Loki is going to have the kids with her all day. They’ll get ready with her and Thor. They have no idea what’s going on but they’re super excited about all the things that are happening.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad they’re with one of their parents,” I said.

“Yeah. They’re good. Hulk has been in control since yesterday. He fell asleep at one point while they were doing Henhalda. Jax said he plans to stay in control until after the bath. So it’s probably Bruce now, or Bruce soon,” Clarke said.

“Oh good. There were definitely parts of the cleansing Bruce would not have enjoyed.” I said as Katveil turned me around.

“So I guess you get the nails and hair done next and then we dress,” Clarke said.

“Elly also has to drink the broth that was made for her. But that is essentially correct.” Katveil said. She stood back up and picked up my robe, holding it open for me. “I am done. Just stay standing for a little while.”

I nodded and slipped the robe back on. “Thank you again. You made the whole process very enjoyable.”

She hugged me and wished me good luck before leaving me with Clarke and the other women. Just after she left Loki came into the room, carrying a bowl with the twins marching after her.

“Mommy!” The twins, cried, breaking formation and running at me. I crouched down and hugged them both.

“Hello, my little terrors. Are you being good for Auntie Loki?” I asked.

“Yes,” they both said in unison.

“D’joo know dat everyone has dis on dem?” Pietro asked, scrunching his fingers on my arm where he could see the Henhalda.

“I know. It’s pretty isn’t it?” I asked. The twins had both been fascinated by the artwork when they had seen me last night and they both had made up a story to go along with the bits they could see.

“Wiwl it go away?” He asked.

“Eventually. It’s just a special thing for today,” I explained.

“Okay, my darlings. We have to take breakfast to all your parents. Say goodbye to your mother.” Loki said, with much more patience in her voice than when she’d come to wake me up.

“Otay,” they both said and hugged me again.

I stood when they let me go and Loki handed me the bowl. “Drink all of it. When it is time for the ceremony I shall return to take you personally with the twins. Do not go with anyone else.”

“Thank you, Loki,” I said.

“I shall be glad when this is over. I need a vacation,” she said, playfully. It made me chuckle and she shook her head and left the room followed by the twins.

“Did Loki…?” Clarke asked looking from the door back to me.

“I think she did. I’m her favorite,” I joked.

Clarke snorted. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

I drank the soup. It was pungent and tasted really medicinal and did nothing for the fact I was ravenous. I was then bustled into the chair where my hair was cut and styled. My nails were painted and my makeup was done.

When it was done my nails were painted with the same iridescent oil slick style the fabric of my dress was and decorated with Celtic style knotwork in gold. My eyeliner was done in a cat-eye style with gold and purple eyeshadow, and my lips were painted a deep red. I had my hair braided in a thick, loose braid with a gold and silver hair vine adorned with crystals wound through it.

The women left and the tailors bustled in immediately helping both myself and Clarke into our dresses. Clarke's was a shade of lavender to offset her eyes, in satin with ornate silver armor that sat on her hips, chest, and shoulders. The skirt ended at her knees and she wore knee-high black boots with the same silver plating on the sides and toes.

“Wow, Clarke,” I said as the women helped me into my dress. “You going to be my bridesmaid or security detail?”

“I can be both,” she teased.

They did a last few adjustments on the dress and then moved me in front of the mirror while they fit the gold diadem and veil in place. I couldn’t even believe I was looking at myself. I looked like a queen from a fantasy novel, dressed in shimmering liquid color and lace and painted in ornate detail. At my forehead sat a dark opal that shimmered with blue, red, and green and matched the rest of my outfit.

“God damn, Elise. You are a queen,” Clarke cursed. “Look at you.”

I smiled. “Well, at least I look the part.”

“Good luck to you, my lady,” one of the tailors said bowing slightly. “I shall fetch the lady Loki.”

The tailors left and Clarke came over and rubbed my arm. “Ready to become Mrs. Odinson?” She teased.

“That’s not how it works here,” I deadpanned.

She started laughing just as Loki came in followed by the children. She had a floor-length gown in her usual dark green and gold. The gold mostly forming panels around the bust but also running down her arms in elaborate scrollwork. She had smokey eyes and black lips, and on her head, she wore her horned crown.

Riley was wearing a white dress with a gold sash around the middle, while Pietro had white leggings and a gold tunic. They both had flowers in their hair. “Wow, mommy, you wook so beudifuwl,” Pietro said, awestruck.

“Thank you, honey. You look very pretty too. So does your sister.” When I said that, Riley pulled a face.

“Are you ready?” Loki asked.

I nodded and our small group made its way down towards the main hall. Though we took a less direct path than we normally would take. “I’m taking you to the front entrance,” Loki explained as we walked. “Thor will be waiting at the throne with the High Priest. I shall go and stand with him. When you hear the crowd quiet and the music start-up you will proceed down the main aisle to the throne. Do you think you can handle that?” She asked.

“I think I can do that.” I agreed. “What about the others?”

“They will be entering from different doors. You will take the main one because you are the mother of the heir, and you will be accompanied by your children,” Loki explained. “You should attempt to time your procession that you and the others all arrive at the same time.” She stopped when you reached the doors and turned to look at me, her face set in deadly seriousness. “Elise, when you go on your journey, remember who you are and what they mean to you. Do not get lost in the fear of the unknown.”

I nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” she said and reached to touch my arm before pulling her hand away and saying something in Asgardian to the guards by the door. When she turned back she addressed the children. “Alright, my darlings. Take care of your mother. I shall see you very soon.”

“We wiwl Aundie Woki,” they both echoed. Loki nodded and slipped through a small side door.

I took a deep breath and looked over at Clarke and waited for the signal.

//NEXT

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starcityhq · 4 years ago

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THE APOCALYPSE —

Clark was forced to just watch the bloom of fire and smoke and debris take out part of Liberty Bridge. He stumbled backward into a podium, but for a second he did nothing. Then all of a sudden he surged forward and slammed his fists against the screen until the entire thing had gone black, cracking into a spidery formation that reached the edges. Without the Kryptonite diminishing his power, a hit like that would've taken out both the screen and the wall behind it. "No!"

Joker had said it was a choice, but Joker was a liar. Even if there were only one bomb, it still meant that Superman failed, didn't it? He... failed. He'd sworn to protect the citizens of Star City and already he’d broken that promise. He couldn't even make it out of the room. What was stopping Joker from choosing for him again? Nothing.

...Nothing.

Panic seized him, although heavily aided by the fear gas Joker had dosed him with. He couldn't watch it happen to Lois, to his son, or Kara and Eva. He couldn't let the catastrophic vision he'd had be the reality. He’d already failed Star City and its people, but how could he fail his family?

Clark turned from the broken screen as the timer edged closer to the ten second mark and then pass it. His blood was like ice in his veins. Like a man possessed, barely even aware that he was moving his arm, he made his choice.

The city was already in Joker’s clutches. He had to save his family.

Here it was. The moment of truth. Once Superman’s powerful hand smacked down, it became clear that Joker had been expertly playing a game. Not just with Superman, but the entire city. He’d said everyone loved a good plot twist - well, he managed not one, but two.

In Star City, a great rumbling sounded preceded a sudden BOOM. Every billboard-sized screen that Joker had placed throughout the city to play the live feed for his captive audience exploded into color. Literally. Glittering confetti shot out from strategically placed cannons and rained down into the streets below. Superman chose to sacrifice Star City and Joker had promised a show.

With festive flecks of paper and glitter settling over the confused crowd, a maniacal laugh cut through the shocked silence. “Silly, silly. Why would I give NOVA what they wanted? Why, you and I share a common enemy! No, no. I don’t think Star City will go boom today. For the real finale, turn your attention westward!”

On the heels of Joker’s cryptic warning, a second round of confetti cannons deployed. The air was filled once more with sparkling bits of color as the sky five hundred miles away ballooned in orange and yellow fire.

At the new NOVA headquarters, where Jihl Nabel was currently surrendering, the ground and sky split without warning. The mouth of hell itself would have opened with less ferocity. For one suspended moment the blast made no sound, instead everyone was blanketed by an unnatural silence that would not last. Those present had no time to react before the building and its surroundings was swallowed by light and blasted apart, leaving only pieces of foundation, twisted metal, and a thick covering of ash.

Around the NOVA agents and Colonel Jihl Nabel, an unstoppable force of radiation, heat, and pressure closed in. Anything and anyone not aided by shielding or superhuman ability would be consumed and disintegrated by the blast. A shockwave powerful enough to crush cars followed, leveling anything that remained standing after the initial blast. A deafening, indescribable sound replaced the eerie silence as the world around them was blown apart at the seams.

For those who survived, they would be choking on smoke so thick it felt solid and caught in their throats. Visibility was at first nonexistent, but an account of bodies would show several missing. There was no sign of Jihl Nabel or any of the agents who’d backed her, and a grisly discovery awaited the survivors.

Once the ash was disturbed, Batman’s shredded cowl lay on the ground.

Star City had survived, but at what cost?

TEAM A:

MEMBERS: Bruce Wayne, Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff, Anna Raven, Jihl Nabel, Bucky Barnes, Dick Grayson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, & Tommy Shepherd.

LOCATION: NOVA’s new Headquarters, 500 miles outside of Star City.

STATUS: Communications are down, meaning contact to League members and others is not currently possible. The area in and around the destroyed headquarters is unstable and should be evacuated, but Bruce’s absence has scrambled priorities.

TEAM B:

MEMBERS: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Jim Gordon, Roy Harper, Anton Satan, Wally West, Ted Kord, Donna Troy, & Airen Ravencroft.

LOCATION: Wayne Manor, Joker’s hideout, Harley’s hideout, Star City

STATUS: Red Robin, Wonder Girl, Fox Tail, and Red Hood have closed in on Joker’s hideout. Superman is still held inside, weakened severely by Kryptonite and Fear Gas. Confrontation is inevitable, and Joker will not be alone. Batgirl, Black Bat, and (formerly) Robin are following clues to reach the kidnapped Kara, Eva, Jon, and Lois. Elsewhere, Anton Satan has finally found the location of his family and is also on track to rescue them. Other team members assisting with the evacuation will focus on ensuring the safety of citizens still inside the city and tending to the wounded.

TEAM C:

MEMBERS: Scott Summers, Bobby Drake x 2, Julian Keller, Gabby Kinney, Nathan Summers, & Quentin Quire.

LOCATION: Glades Bay, District X, Star City

STATUS: The X-Men will join the remaining members of Team B, the SCPD, and others in securing the city, aiding with medical treatment, and transport. While the threat from Joker appears to be over, aside from the mountains of confetti, plenty of damage has been done. The alternate evacuation route created by Iceman will be maintained, as Liberty Bridge remains in disrepair after the explosion.

At this time, it is unknown to anyone on the outside whether or not there are any survivors from Team A.

NOTE: You are welcome to complete threads (group or otherwise) on discord or on the dash!

Remember our event will run JANUARY 31ST, 6:30PM EST to FEBRUARY 14TH, 6:30PM EST. Please make sure you are tracking and using the “STARCRADIOACTIVE” and “STARCEVENT” tags for event posts and are answering open starters in addition to posting your own! Please do not start non-event threads during this time without permission from the admins. As always, admins reserve the right to accept character applications at any time during the event rather than just during the typically scheduled two days a week. Keep an eye out for plot drops!

#starcevent #starcradioactive #starcplotdrop #starcadmin

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floosies · 5 years ago

Text

bury a friend: The Story of Noctua

pairing: steve rogers x possessed!oc x mcu!au

summary: there have been sightings of a dark creature who vanishes with night and in the mornings only remains of once living people are found scattered in open fields or forests nearby.

warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of attempted suicide, violence, gore, cursing, mentions/scenes of sexual nature.

Please read with discretion. 18+ content.

A/N: This is my first attempt at something more dark. It’s been in my brain since hearing some of biilie’s works and quiet frankly I want to venture into new territory. However, I understand the severity of some topics that I will write about. If you or someone you know is in need please look at these resources.

Tag list: @indecisivedolly

Part 1: Origins

Beginnings are messy, filled with misunderstandings and sacrifices. Her story began with her grandmother, a witch and a healer in the 1700s. She hid away in the woods of Italy, her powers growing until the day she birthed a new sorceress. The women were beautiful and strong, filled with magic bestowed to them by other worldly beings who they never saw but heard intently. With the flow of time they moved around the world, searching for others like them.

In the late 1800s her mother married a wizard, powerful and full of passion. They feared children though, not for a personal hatred. Never would they revolt at the idea of domesticity, but as times changed so did opinions and it was evident that they were no longer healers. Simple minded mortals saw wizards and witches as harmful and wicked. Her grandmother would be killed, as a threat for any others who dare preform malicious acts.

Pain harboured in her mother’s heart. Her father, a wizard with the power to bring her back knew it wouldn’t help. So they hid instead. In the haste of a heated moment, she was conceived. The pair prayed to the other worldly being for the safety of the child. On the night of her birth, it came as a raven standing at the windowsill. This is where it spoke with guidance to them.

The being promised the child would live if they gave her away. It made a proposition of granting her powers stronger than those before her and it promised to mentor the girl when the time came. How could they ever pass up such a blessing? So it was set in agreement and with a blood pact from her guardians she was now a belonging to the being that would possess her when the time came.

What was not explained was the matter of character that would come from her new care takers. Unlike her loving parents, her new guardians were cynical and cold. They were backwards people who lived in the Appalachians. She was raised to believe that any magical act was sinister and taboo. Lessons were taught through beatings and scoldings. Her kind soul was often taken for granted leading to her sadness.

By her late teenage years, torn by physical abuse and emotional void, she prepared her ending ceremony. On the night of her seventeenth birthday, she ran into the woods to where the creek shone brightly underneath the moon’s light. Flowers from the flora around her were in a tight bunch ready to be placed in her hands. In her hold, a polished knife. She felt it only right to die a proper way, she was dressed in a simple white cotton gown, her feet bare on the muddied ground.

She prayed on last time, with tears streaming down her heated cheeks. Taking the knife, she prepared to plunge it in her chest when a voice came. It was a strong scream that begged she stop and look into the waters of the creek. In the water a reflection of a beautiful boy, young and small. He spoke to her, promising that there was a better way to alleviate the pain she’d endured during her life.

Her body contorted in pain, but soon she was no longer in control. The being took over, now it charged after those who’d neglected, abused, and despised its sweet daughter. With such a conviction it killed bloodily and violently. Slashing throats of those who spoke ill of her. Dismembering those who abused her, and torturing, maiming, then killing the ones who tried to rid her of her virtue. Those backwards thinkers would never harm her again.

As it happened, it took years. She would learn about what she could without it’s help. It made her stronger with each kill, giving her immense abilities from simple levitation, divination, and pyrokinesis to teleportation through time and realms. By the end of the decade she had possessed all seven wonders and more. Also in her repertoire was a mass amount of deaths.

Stephen Strange was a man set on checking up on people like her. When he found her, she was in her other form. Then they spoke, “I simply ask you to stop this, and come with me.” She did not wish to be reprimanded for her actions or told what to do. She simply answered, “I am Noctua Lamia. I have suffered enough, I will suffer no more. The worlds will see me for who I am now.” With that she disappeared into another realm. He knew it would not be the last time he would see her but he hoped it would be on a better occasion when the next time arose.

Part 2 coming soon....

#Stephen Strange #oc!female #witch #sorceress #mcuedit #Steve Rogers #bucky barnes #horror #fic #chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu au

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uglypastels · 6 years ago

Note

So you reblogged a blurb you wrote about Tom getting a call from the reader being in a car crash, but what about a part 2, when Harrison and his brothers find out and try to get him to get his life back on track?

I never had the intention to write more but after reading the request i had some kind of That’s So Raven-like vision and I could see this one part of it play out in front of me so here you go. Now that I think about it, I might have swerved away from what you requested but i hope you like it. It got a bit too long hehe.

(part 1, kinda) Car Crash

warning: mention of death, blood, injury… its angsty yall. (about 1.1k words of it)

Tom stood in front of the large mirror. His eyes blank. The slightest hint of redness and puffiness was still showing underneath them from this morning. With shaky hands, he adjusted his tie. Even though he had not yet tied it completely, he felt as if he was suffocating. His air pipe was getting tighter and tighter. Suddenly, his vision was blurry again.

No, not now. He had to keep strong. Just hold on a little bit more.

“Tommy?” A voice he had not expected came from behind him. Tom turned around as a tear fell down his cheek. He looked at his brother, Harry, in the eyes. Just like him, Harry was dressed in a slim black suit. His curls were tamed as much as they could be.

“We have to go.” he just said but didn’t push his brother to actually get a move on as he used to when they were younger. They both stood there, not saying anything. Something between them seemed to hover in the air. This kind of presence, this heaviness.

“Is everyone-” he couldn’t get more words out before that feeling in his throat came back. It was choking him, hurting him from every side.

“Yeah, they’re waiting downstairs.” Harry put his hands in his pockets. The warmth of the material barely did anything in comparison to how cold he felt, how cold Tom felt, how cold everyone felt for the last week.

“You go, I’ll be down in a minute,” Tom said. His younger brother seemed a bit hesitant at first, but nodded eventually and walked away. Tom turned back around to face that goddamn mirror. The golden frame glistened mockingly in the sun. How dared it look so joyful on such a day. He looked into his own eyes. Brown, but there was no warmth in them anymore. His hair was brushed and washed but it didn’t have its usual bounce in it. His skin was paler and the suit just felt a little too big. Though it was just a short time, the muscles that he had worked so hard for were gone. He felt empty and numb.

So numb that he barely felt, barely realized, when his fist hit the glass. It smashed into pieces under his knuckles. The blood trickled from his hand. All Tom could do was look at it as it dripped. Scarlet drop by drop. It was nothing to worry about. He had seen worse. He had felt worse.

Except he hasn’t. He has never felt so hollow, so far away from existence.

It took him much longer to get downstairs than what he had told his brother. When he got to the foot of the stairs, everyone’s eyes were on him. His parents sat on the couch with cups of tea in their hands. Sam and Paddy had been talking to eachother but fell silent at the sight of their older brother. Harry had been looking at his phone while Harrison stood a bit away from everyone.

“What happened to your hand?” Nikki jumped up at the sight of the blood that kept falling on the carpet. Tom looked down too. He looked at his knuckles in confusion. There was a deep gash going over his knuckles. The blood covering all of his hand now. Without saying a word, he walked to the sink to wash the blood off. He didn’t even flinch when the water hit the cut. He was still washing off the red stains off his skin, too busy to notice the worried looks his family was giving each other behind his back.

Instead of getting some kind of bandaid, he got a tea towel and wrapped it tightly around his hand in the hopes it would stop the bleeding eventually. Without a word, he walked out of the room. The tension didn’t disappear once everyone was out of the house. It followed the family into the car, all the way to the somber building on the other side of town. There were already plenty of cars parked around it. People walking in but everyone stopped in their tracks when they saw them walk up. Next to them the people Tom was so close to calling family. It hurt them to see them again. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to see each other in Greece this summer. Not- not here.

They walked in. The first thing that Tom saw was rows of benches. Each of them filled with the other guests. Each and everyone except the first two. They walked down the aisle, listening to the soft piano music and the whispered mournings of others. They walked and walked. It felt like there was no end to it.

Then they stopped. Right in front of it. The large black box. It was decorated with golden filigree and large bouquets. All varying in sizes and colors. There was no coordination to them at all. Just like she would have liked it.

Next to it, a picture frame. It was simple, not to distract from the beautiful girl on the photograph. She looked happy, so vibrant, so full of life. Seeing her again made Tom take a step back. He felt a hand on his shoulder, making him look to his side. Harrison gave his best friend a sad smile as he squeezed his shoulder again. He gave him the small push back forward. With a deep breath, Tom took the steps he needed up to the casket. With shaking hands he put down his own flowers, right at the front. He forgot when he had taken them. The memories were all flooding back. It were the same flowers he had gotten her the day before their fight. Before the accident. It was her favorites. White Asiatic lilies and lavender daisy poms.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed to make out, as he straightened out the ribbon falling down, reading the words Forever in our hearts. Of course, he meant in his heart. She would never leave him. He had no idea how to go on with his life without her.

Tom took the step back and took one more glance at her picture. She looked beautiful, as always. It was a picture he took on one of their holidays. He couldn’t even remember where it was exactly. Just that it was warm and they had the best time together. He always did when they were together. Just that one night… it took everything away from him.

The End

thank you for reading and i hope you liked it. please leave a comment or an ask with your thoughts or just anything you want to say about the story. i love to read y’alls opinions or just talk to you all really

taglist (open) and masterlist in bio

tagging: @parker-holland-osterfield @tomhollanders2013 @andwhatdostarsdobest @pastelpeter @jollypotts @definitely-not-black-cat @social-holland @badhollandfluff @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape @anxieteandbiscuits @chkchkspidey @awkwardfangirl2014 @peterrrparkour @theamazingspiderlingg @butwhyduh @fratboievans @claryfray101 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @yikes-buckybarnes @parkeroffline @caitlinf653 @euphoricholland @the-claire-bitch-project @bwiannawebelo @smexymelanie @sleepybesson @spiderrrling @maefisher2003 @allywienie @allthedifferentfandoms @scarletteclipze @stasye @spideymood @its-the-unknownspidey @petersunderoos96 @artemisiaarm @fantasyizlife @osterfieldholland01 @hollandhearts @escapetheshackes @cartiertom @accio-rogers @hopelessfluff @petesrparker @not-jay-c @miraclesoflove @death-by-viola @qxeen-of-hearts @musicgirl234 @thewinchesterchronicles @thefridgeismybestie @pensysto @captainbuckyy @nerd-domland @lada122 @the-queen-procrastinator @babylsn @awkwardagnostic @spidey-waffles11 @imagine-lovebug @stormyholland @yikes-buckybarnes @peterparkoure @gennyld @fanficscuziranout

@tominhoodies @silverofthunder @queenoflostspirits @nerdyhockeygirl @rissa067 @hey-its-grey @tomhollanddtho @happywolves81 @madeinthemidnightmemories @yourbasicbitchsusan @ludiclove @likewhoajara @sunnydays0803 @webbedwonders @tra-gicx @yourlifeuniverse @spiderrpcrker @justanotherfangirl2015 @booksarebae2000 @the-lost-fairy-tale @hereiamhereigo @peter-prkr @petesrparker

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfics #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland blurb #tom holland request #tom holland writing #tom holland x reader #angst #fanfiction #request #uglypastels answers #musiclover1263

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marvxlousqueen · 6 years ago

Text

Warren Worthington- Amnesia

word count: 2.5 K!! (longest thing i’ve written lately!)

warnings: cussing, gets a little angsty boys!!

A/N: this idea came to me when i was bopping to my tb playlist and amnesia by 5sos came on so yeah get ready bc this gets angsty !!!

also yes its a roger gif bc warren has zero fucking screen time and im out of gifs

(Y/n)’s eyes were glued to his face, watching his lips part as if to make sure he continued to breathe as normal. Warren had taken a hard fall on their last rescue mission. This was his second day of being unconscious, but Hank assured (Y/n) that he would be up in no time, claiming Warren showed regular brain function.

(Y/n)’s brain was racked with thoughts about what would happen when he woke up. Their last conversation before the mission was, in a word, deep. The pair had stayed up until the late hours of the night, not even caring about the exhaustion they’d feel in the morning. That was the night Warren had finally been brave enough to make a move, sharing his feelings with (Y/n). They had spent a few hours fooling around, and then talked until the sun rose.

(Y/n) felt nervous to see him once he woke up.

Oh come on, (Y/n), let’s not think like this, she thought to herself. Remember what he said before he fell?

It wasn’t anything the team hadn’t done before. Flying out, saving civilians, bringing them back home. This time happened to be news helicopter that was going down over the Atlantic. It should’ve been easy in, easy out. Jean was slowing the rotors so that Kurt could bamf Peter and Warren into the helicopter to grab the civilians. As they were going through standard procedure, a plane flew by above the helicopter scene, causing a strong wind and noise that threw Jean off. She lost her connection with the rotors, making the helicopter drop.

Kurt grabbed Peter and Warren to bamf everyone out, but on the exit, Warren’s wings were struck by the spinning rotors. He was pushed out of the copter, his wings failing him. As he fell towards the ocean, a scream ripped out from his throat. Not “help!”, not “save me!”, not even “AHH!” The only words he could think to form was, “(Y/n)!”

The rest of the team were too preoccupied trying to get Kurt and Peter in with the civilians to grab Warren. He hit the water, causing a head injury that knocked him unconscious.

(Y/n)’s brain snapped out of her memories.

He was thinking about me during his fall, he wasn’t joking when he said he loved me.

“Hey, (Y/n). You alright?”

Looking away from him, she saw Hank standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just want to be here when he wakes up.”

Hank nodded, walking towards his cart with Warren’s graph information.

“Should be up any minute. He’s showing more brain activity than he was yesterday so he’s probably starting to wake up. Just give him some more time.”

(Y/n) nodded, turning back to the bed, watching over Warren.

An hour had passed since Hank had stopped by. (Y/n)’s eyes were glazed over as she stared at the monitor, holding his hand tight and praying he’d wake up soon.

Her eyes widened as she heard stirring from the bed. Looking down she saw Warren’s eyes fluttering open, then squinting in response to the harsh lighting.

“W-,” he cleared his throat, “Where am I? What happened?”

(Y/n)’s lips pulled into a smile, “Warren! You’re up! Everything’s okay, just took a bad fall a few days ago, but everything’s okay.”

“Fall? What-”

Warren was interrupted as Hank entered the room, followed by Jean, Jubilee, and Ororo.

“Warren! You’re up!”

Hank rushed to the monitor, checking his vitals, while the girls stood behind (Y/n), anxious to hear how their teammate was.

“Where’s everyone else?” (Y/n) asked.

Ororo piped up from behind Jean, “Training with Raven, but they’ll stop by after.”

Jubilee pushed to the front next to (Y/n), “Gave us quite a scare there, bird boy. Glad to see you up.”

Warren’s eyebrows were furrowed, “Bird boy? Who is that?”

Jubilee laughed, “That’s you, dummy.”

Warren clenched his jaw out of frustration, “Who are all of you?”

Hank stepped away from his monitor, “What did you ask?”

Warren looked towards him before scanning the girl still grasping his hand, “Who are you? All of you.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

Hank’s face was wrinkled with concern, awaiting Warren’s answer.

He raised his hand that wasn’t held by (Y/n) and point towards Jubilee, “Bird boy?”

“You don’t remember who you are?”

Warren’s was struck with confusion again, “No? No, I- I don’t.”

(Y/n) felt her stomach drop, her eyes burning, “Warren? You- you don’t remember me?”

He looked at her, noticing her misty eyes, “No, I’m- I’m really sorry. You seem nice.”

Jean snapped her head towards Hank, “Now what?”

He was tapping his fingers against the frames of his glasses, thinking about this situation. “It seems like a minor case of amnesia, should be back to his normal self in a few days.”

(Y/n) could hear her heartbeat in her ears as her thoughts ran wild.

What if it isn’t minor amnesia? What if he never remembers me? Or never remembers himself? What if-

“(Y/n).”

Her head snapped towards Hank, “huh?”

“How about you go get some rest? You’ve been sitting in here for days, go rest.”

(Y/n) nodded, wobbling out of her chair. Before she left the room she took one last glance at Warren, sad that when he looked at her there was an emptiness in his eyes. He didn’t know her.

Jean waited until (Y/n) left the room to interrogate Warren, “You really don’t remember who you are? Or who she is?”

Warren’s mouth open and closed, “No, I-I’m sorry. Who is she?”

“Your girlfriend, dipshit!”

Hank interrupted Jean, “Hey now! Don’t be mad at him for having amnesia, it’s all our fault for letting the mission go sideways.”

Warren blinked, “Girlfriend? Her?”

Jubilee sat down in the now empty chair to answer, “Not official or anything, but you did ask her out and make out and stuff so yeah.”

Warren looked down at his feet out in front of him, “How could I not remember a girl like that? She looked so sad..”

Hank piped up again, “It’s not your fault, just give it some time. It’ll all come back.”

Warren nodded, his brain was busy wandering somewhere else. “What’s her name?”

Jubilee laughed, “(Y/n).”

He nodded once more, eyes starting to droop again.

Hank took note and ushered the other students away, “Give him room to rest. And please keep (Y/n) occupied, don’t need her going down a sad path because of this.”

It was a little too late to avoid the sadness road for (Y/n). She had grabbed lunch on the way from the infirmary to her dorm room. She realized it was the first real meal she had eaten the past two days. (Y/n) scarfed down her sandwich and headed back to her room, pulling the blankets over her. She felt gross and desperately wanted to take a shower, but just didn’t have the energy. Instead she felt herself start to drift off, eyes squeezed tight as if she could make everything and everyone disappear.

Warren visited her in her dreams, a recollection of memories from their last night together. His red cheeks when he confessed his feelings, his warm hands roaming her skin, his soft lips pressed against hers. And suddenly everything turned black and cold like the life of her memory had been sucked out. Warren turned to her, “Who are you?”

(Y/n) woke up in a sweat, breathing hard. She decided she needed to take a shower and clear her head.

After a 30 minute shower and a few tears shed, she went for a walk around the school to get her mind off Warren. Passing by the cafeteria she bumped into Scott and Peter, who probably just finished eating dinner.

“(Y/n)...hey.”

“Hey.”

Peter wrapped his arms around her in a tight squeeze, “It’ll be fine.”

(Y/n) shrugged him off, continuing to put on a brave face, “I know. I’m fine, guys, seriously.”

Scott gave her arm a pat, “Hank said it should just take a few days.”

(Y/n) nodded, wanting to escape the conversation of Warren. She took the beat of silence that followed as her moment to leave, so she did. Walking outside, she ran into Kurt.

“(Y/n)! Are you okay?”

She sighed, “I’m fine!”

(Y/n) pushed past Kurt and speed walked towards the pond.

How am I supposed to get my mind off of him if no one SHUTS UP ABOUT IT?

(Y/n) sat down by the pond, eyes focused on the water.

“Hey. (Y/n), right?”

“Oh for the LOVE OF GOD, I’M FINE!”

Her head whipped around to see Warren standing on the grass behind her, “Oh, I-I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“No, you’re good. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Warren took a seat next to her, his wing brushing against her shoulder.

“I’m really sorry. I know you’re upset, but I am trying to remember. I want to remember you, so badly.”

(Y/n)’s eyes began to burn, “It’s okay.”

Warren nodded, “Well that guy in the clinic said it should just be a few days.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “I know, it’s just- never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

She shook her head, eyes on the water again.

“Come on, I’m your boyfriend, right? Tell me.”

(Y/n) could feel her heart sting, having been reminded that someone she loves so much doesn’t remember her.

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Well that girl said it wasn’t ‘official’ but still-”

“No, you’re not Warren. You don’t even know who I am.”

Warren opened his mouth, closing it realizing he didn’t know what to say.

(Y/n) looked towards him, her heart hurting once more. He was clearly frustrated with himself for not remembering anything and she wasn’t making it any easier for him.

“I’m sorry. You are Warren, just not my Warren. Fuck- you’re you and that’s good? Sorry-”

“Listen, I may not know who you are yet, but I care about you because.. well I don’t know why, but you obviously mean a lot to me and I want to hear what you have to say.”

God, she thought, how can he be so charming with amnesia?

“I love you.”

Warren’s eyes widened, “I- uh, okay.”

“Fuck- sorry that probably sounds really weird, but I’ve said it to you before and- and I don’t know it just slipped out.”

He nodded, biting his lip, “Did I say it back?”

“Yeah. We’re in- I mean, we were in love.”

“We still are, then.”

“What if you don’t love me when you remember me? Like- I don’t know. What if these few days not having feelings for me makes you not have feelings for me ever again? That’s- that’s what I wanted to say earlier.”

Warren let out a sigh, “(Y/n). I do have feelings for you. If I’ve said ‘I love you’ before then that’s not going to just go away because of some fucking memory loss.”

“But-”

“No buts!”

(Y/n) shook her head, “Fine.”

Warren nodded, “Okay, well- give me a few days. And I swear I’m trying to remember.”

A few days had passed. Actually, over a week had passed. Nothing.

Warren couldn’t remember anything. He kept trying to spend time with his supposed “friends” and “girlfriend” to trigger his memories, but nothing was coming back.”

It was now 4:00 in the afternoon. Warren had been sitting in Hank’s office for the last hour getting test after test run on his brain.

“What the fuck, Hank? You said a few days! It’s been almost two weeks!”

Hank’s head snapped up from his laptop, “Hey! Not my fault! Amnesia is tricky, it’s just takes time.”

“You said a few days and it’s taking forever. (Y/n) hates me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Warren slammed his hands onto Hank’s desk, “every time she looks at me, she sees the boy she loves, but I don’t remember it! And it just keeps getting worse!”

“What’s getting worse?”

“Our situation!”

“How? Is your memory getting worse?”

“What? No! I like her, Hank! I realize why I fell in love with her. She’s- she’s everything. The more I see her, the deeper I fall and she can’t even talk to me without getting sad because I’m not the real me. I’m hurting her and I don’t know what to do so please! Fix my brain!”

“It’s not that easy, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Hank-”

“Warren! Just talk to her about this. I’m sure it would make her happy to see that even without all your memories of her, you still love her.”

Warren took Hank’s advice and set off to find (Y/n). She was eating dinner by herself as she often did since his fall, her head buried in a book.

Warren nervously tapped her on the shoulder, “H-hey.”

(Y/n) looked up at him, dark circles around her eyes showing from lack of sleep, “Hey?”

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

(Y/n) nodded, standing up and following him out to the yard.

“What’s up?”

“I love you.”

(Y/n)’s breathe was caught in her throat. She coughed loudly, “You- you what?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“You don’t remember me.”

“Yes I do! I’ve known you for almost two weeks-”

“Two weeks!”

“And it only took two weeks for me to realize why I must’ve fallen in love with you in the first place! (Y/n), you’re perfect! Please, I- I know I’m not the Warren you fell in love with, but I will be that guy again soon, I know it.”

(Y/n) grabbed his face, pulling his lips to hers.

It was as if a firework went off inside of Warren’s stomach, being able to kiss the girl he loves. Then, he felt another firework going off inside his head. His mind was racing as different images came to him. Everything from tipping over his and (Y/n)’s canoe in the pond to the time Scott threw up on Jean at (Y/n)’s last birthday party. Warren also saw himself fall, the helicopter above him, the ocean getting closer until he smacked into the water. He broke off the kiss.

“(Y/n)!”

Warren wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight.

“What? Ow!”

He picked her up and spun her around, “I REMEMBER YOU! I LOVE YOU!”

“Put me down! Put me down!”

Warren placed her down on her feet, “I remember you!”

“You remember me!!!”

“Yes!! One time Scott threw up at your birthday party! The first Saturday of every month is your girls night with Jubilee, Jean, and Ororo! One time your top came off in the pond after I tipped our canoe and you flashed me! One time-”

(Y/n) cut him off by slamming her lips against his again. She pulled away, “I missed you so much, Warren.”

“I missed you more.”

Warren squeezed her tight once more, “I can’t believe I fell in love with you all over again.”

(Y/n) laughed, eyes misty from emotion, “I know.”

“We’re really meant to be, god I love you!”

He held her closer than he ever did before, so she’d never slip away.

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