#and ends up being an mcu au

[sunderedazem]

“you don’t have to tell me. but if you do decide you want to, i’ll be here.”

For Steve and Corrain

:D you have chosen the Best Bois from the MCU/Moonrise legacy monstrosity! <3 (yay!!)

(Set during Age of Ultron)

It was...quiet. Somehow.

The porch was empty aside from himself and the crickets singing softly among the trees and tall grasses framing Clint's farmhouse, and yet the silence was deafening. Even in the midst of the soft rush of reeds in the breeze, the distant cooing of an owl, or the gentle windchimes tinkling overhead- the silence was oppressive, pinning him down. Breathing felt faraway and dim, the whisper of his own heartbeat muffled. It wasn't normal, this heavy, choking silence in his head and yet it remained in place, too heavy for even him to lift alone.

He shifted, leaning against one of the sections of railing that Clint hadn't taken apart yet. It was sturdy, groaning only a little under the weight of his grip. Absently, he traced a thumb over the chips in the white paint, trying to ground himself.

Nat was shaken badly by whatever the Maximoff girl had showed her. Very badly. He didn't know what fear could have possibly broken the Black Widow's composure like that, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to find out. And then there was Tony, and the catastrophe that had resulted from being shown his worst fears, whatever they were. Steve had to fight back a shiver, the world still oddly muffled around him, the ground and worn wooden floorboards a dizzying drop away from him now. Neither of his teammates had wanted to share their waking nightmares, but...clearly they had both been awful. Terrifying on a scale the rest of them couldn't imagine.

And maybe he'd understood that without them needing to say anything. Felt it, somehow, like the hollow ring of his shield against Thor's Mjolnir, except...echoing and cold and prickling down his spine like the ice of the Arctic. Fear not his own, clawing at his chest.

Sending him farther and farther from the creaking porch now miles below him.

Then there was a flicker of warm rain at his back, and suddenly the puppet strings attached to his limbs were reeling in, the earth rushing closer as he fell back into himself, dazed. Suddenly the noise was loud again, ambient sound enough to keep him present - and he whipped around, heart in his throat. And the tickle of warm rain, gentle and dry against the back of his neck - it smiled kindly at him. He knew this feeling, didn't he?

He blinked at the familiar silhouette before him as Corrain stepped quietly into the porchlight, humming softly to himself, his long white braid draped casually over one shoulder. His muted eyes were fixed on Steve's face, the soft grey-blue gaze searching. He had eyes like a summer thunderstorm, Steve thought absently, again.

"You've been out here for a while," the alien man said after a moment's pause, cocking his head to one side and gazing placidly up to meet Steve's racing-heart stare. "Everything all right, Steve?"

There was another set of chirps from the crickets in the reeds, a little, encouraging song to tamp down the instinctive urge to put the shield up - to hide Steve Rogers behind Captain America. But he swallowed it, trying to take a steadying breath the way Corrain had showed him, back before SHIELD's disintegration and Hydra's fall. The smaller man had never been anything but patient with him before - he deserved more than to be shrugged off. Besides - if what he'd said about his senses of empathetic perception was all true, then he'd already know the answer to his own question. And lying had never really been Steve's style - as Nat said, he was terrible at it.

"...I don't know."

The non-answer didn't appear to faze Corrain in the slightest. Instead, he just crept closer, until he was standing at Steve's shoulder, the top of his head barely level with Steve's chin. Vaguely, Steve wondered if they'd have been the same height, should he never have touched Dr. Erskine's serum.

"You don't have to talk about it." The alien man's - Zakuulan, he was Zakuulan, a human from a distant planet on the other side of the universe - tone was steady, still impossibly kind, as if he was trying to calm a spooked animal. "But if you decide you want to - and I think you should - I'm here. And your team is here. We'll listen."

The team? It took a moment for the concept to shape itself inside his head, of Natasha and Bruce, Clint and Thor and- and Tony, all somehow listening, withholding judgement as he laid bare the old, throbbing wound of loss. Three, almost four years had passed since he'd woken up from his long slumber frozen in the arctic, and yet- the ache hadn't faded. Bucky's capture and breaking at HYDRA's hands still haunted him, and even Peggy barely recognized him now and he dreaded the day he would finally lose her too. He'd had almost four years to get used to the idea and yet...

"...I didn't see anything frightening," he said finally, the words thick in his mouth. "Not the way the others did. I...No, it's not worth sharing, really."

Corrain frowned at that, and without warning his hand came up, smacking the back of Steve's head with a surprising amount of force from someone so petite.

"Ow? Corrain, what the-"

"You tell me that whatever has you disassociating out here for thirty minutes straight 'isn't worth sharing' again and I'll outright deck your dumb ass," Corrain said flatly. Steve blinked once- twice-

"Thirty minutes?"

"Well, Natasha and Tony both went on for at least an hour, if you're trying to needlessly compare your own troubles to other people again." The grey storm of that gaze was piercing now, searing holes in his face. Steve tried his best to meet it, but could only manage for a minute.

"Look. If you don't want to share- I'm not forcing you," Corrain said, flipping his braid back over his shoulder. His voice had lost the sudden brusque edge, returning to its previous warmth. "If you're not ready to talk, that's okay. But- I think you'd feel better if you stopped stewing in it. And I think your team is probably one of the only groups of people on this planet that could have even a prayer of understanding what you're dealing with. And vice versa."

For a moment, Steve let the idea settle in his head. And then, incredulously, he turned to the short man at his side, watching as the faint smile lines on Corrain's face deepened, his mouth curling.

"You want us to all talk about what Wanda made us see, don't you?" he accused - but he couldn't bring himself to put any bite behind the words, and Corrain's smile only grew.

"Not quite, considering she didn't hit all of you," Corrain chirped out, and that odd summer-rain warmth pattered lightly across Steve's back again, like an embedded giggle in the sudden curl of comfort he felt wrapping around his shoulders. "But similar enough - and yes. You can only understand each other more by listening to what you all fear most, and it can only help you in the long run. And I think what you all fear... those fears may explain more about how you all act than you think."

"Even if mine's not- not a fear, precisely?"

The porchlight flickered then, briefly casting the smile on the Zakuulan man's face into long shadows, and by the time the light clattered back to life the grin was gone. Only a soft, tired compassion remained.

"I know," Corrain said softly. "Grieving men don't fear death - they mourn that it didn't take them too. And you haven't been scared since I met you. That's the problem."

Silence sprinkled with the windchime's tinkling music fell. Steve tried not to think about how quickly, how accurately he'd been seen through, held his tongue even in the face of that placid acknowledgement. After all- what could he say to that? He was terrible at lying.

Corrain turned, gesturing back at the warm light of the screen door behind him, and then reached back, clasping a warm hand around Steve's shoulder.

"Come on, Steve." Thunderstorm eyes flickered back towards the house, unbearably calm in the face of what had just been laid bare between them. "You don't have to say anything, but I think if you wanted to, if you found the strength to trust them enough to be vulnerable...you'd find they'd listen, and they'd understand."

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

on one hand I wanna write my fic ideas wherein my marvel oc gets sent to the alternate universe of Gotham and hijinks ensue whilst she tries to survive and get back and the batfam and such slowly learn more info abt her world and how it's being threatened atm and she needs to go back and help and whatnot.

But on the other hand, the readers wouldn't know the marvel related backstory of this OC and would have. No context for her going in

But ALSO then the readers would know abt as much abt this mysterious figure as the batcrew do, and get to learn via flash backs and her slowly revealing info to them as safety allows

Then there's also just a general. Idk if there's any sort of oc etiquette when it comes to writing oc centered fics? My brain goes so hogwild when I read anything that I usually avoid oc fics other people write just bc I usually read and enjoy fics at face value but I also go "now what would happen if this OC was here?" And that gets real complicated when other people's ocs are involved

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 3

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - completed

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Galavano by @ichorai

Bucky x Reader

a series that follows the hero galvano through the events of the mcu!

2. Time (D)rift by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Dark!Bucky x Reader Apocalypse AU

The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own.

3. Uncontrollable by @fictional-affairs

Bucky x Widow!Reader

The year is 1992. The Winter Soldier is under HYDRA’s control, and the Red Widow is under Dreykov’s control, but when they find out their organizations are working together to have them kill each other, they decide to make a deal.

4. The Lake House by @rustytricycle

Dark!Bucky x Dark!Reader

You decide to spend the summer before Freshman year of college with two of your girlfriends at one of their parents’ lake house. It turns out that Captain America and his two best friends are staying next door. Bucky thinks you might be his perfect girl. But are you too perfect?

5. turn a blind eye by @sergeantxrogers

Bucky x Reader

The Winter Soldier was cold. Brutal. Unflinching. A machine formulated to comply. Bucky Barnes was the sun warming your skin, your happy pill. Loving him was like bittersweet liquor, sickeningly sweet when you sip, harsh and burning when you swallow.

6. Rooftop Sessions by @forever-rogue

Bucky x Therapist!Reader

Y/N is a therapist that works with war veterans that ends up meeting a mysterious stranger who asks for her help.

7. it’s all fun and games, until you catch feelings by @prettyyoungtragedy

Bucky x Reader

You’re pining after Steve and Bucky is pining after Nat, what better way to distract yourself from those two perfect humans than to distract yourselves with each other?! Fuck buddies it is then.

8. oh my delightful heart by @prettyyoungtragedy

Sequel to it’s all fun and games

Bucky Barnes is the sweetest dumbest most adoring boyfriend any girl could ever ask for... 

9. Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel ✨

Bucky x Reader

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

10. The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory

Mob!Bucky x Reader

You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.

11. Guiding Light by @wkemeup ✨

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

12. Home | Better by @softlyspector ✨

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

13. Mad For You by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Nat hosts a costume masquerade. Bucky meets the Alice to his Hatter. Shenanigans ensue. 

14. Sanguis Sanguinis Mei by @captainscanadian

Vampire!Bucky x Vampire!Reader

It took Bucky Barnes two centuries with the blood of his blood to realize how much he loved her. This is their story. 

15. Another World by @sinner-as-saint

Alien!Bucky x Reader

In a futuristic world - a millennium from now, you and your team rescue and care for stranded and hurt otherworldly beings; who are held captive and kept on Earth against their wills. You save them from the bad guys who exploit them. You help them adjust to your planet’s life, and give them their freedom back. Then one day, while on a rescue mission, you come across a human-like extraterrestrial being; in a cryogenic chamber, with a missing arm. And nothing is ever the same again…

16. Picking Up The Pieces by @gogolucky13

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky chooses to stay in his tumultuous relationship knowing you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, until finally you’re not.

17. Knight In Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes ✨

Knight!Alpha!Bucky x Queen!Omega!Reader

For the sake of politics and to get rid of you, their omega daughter, the King and Queen of England marry you off to the King of France. Settling into an unfamiliar monarchy is a tedious process all by itself, but a new problem arises soon after your arrival at your new home. One of the Knights turns out to be your true mate. Your Alpha. The one you are meant to be with. But you’re mated to someone else. And that someone else is the King of France.

18. The Escaped Bride by @marvelouslytrekking

Pirate!Bucky x Reader

Being forced to marry someone was not something you wanted, but when it turns out that it is to your best friend, who you secretly loved, things weren’t so bad. Unfortunately, good things don’t seem to last and when the worst happens, you refuse to sit around and be miserable. Will you find true love again, or will your life be turned upside down?

19. Plot Twist by @winterarmyy

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

20. The Road Goes Ever On and On by @rocketrhap3000 ✨

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

Life as a single mother of a three year old certainly has its struggles. But when a sweet stranger makes his way into you and your little boy’s life, a one of a kind connection sparks.

21. you’re my desire by @marvelouslizzie & @notafunkiller

40s!Bucky x Reader

Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers’ date but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

22. Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky ✨

God Of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader

For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand why they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they loved other mortals when they knew that none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live.

23. Lost In Each Other by @majestyeverlasting ✨

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

For Bucky, one of the best things to come home to is family. Especially after a day at work. So he's pleasantly surprised when you want to show him a new dress after dinner one night. And it just so happens that little Eden and Jamie find a way to work themselves into the equation. But it all makes for good fun and memories you will never forget.

24. Fight For Me by @littleseasiren

Bucky x Reader

After years in an abusive relationship, you finally get out. When the Avengers decide to raise awareness for your Battered Women's Home, you bump into Bucky Barnes, the hottest, most complicated man you've ever met. He thinks you're too good for him, but when your abusive ex reappears, Bucky knows he has to keep you safe - by any means necessary.

25. call me baby by @cherryrogers ✨

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

26. Static Verse by @theconstantsidekick ✨

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Tony Stark's sister's a fucking badass, codename—Static. Here's her story through the MCU.

27. Bygone by @borntobewondering

Bucky x Reader

You and Peter get sent back in time, and you fall in love with someone unexpected.

28. Clockwork by @aries-writingblog ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky has moved on. He’s found a place in the new world of the 21st Century. Found peace. But the past is always half a step behind him, waiting to snatch him backwards- like clockwork.

29. Deny the truth, set the world on fire by @lizatill

Bucky x Reader, Dark!Winter Soldier x Reader

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember.

30. Carnations by @viollettes

Bucky x Reader College AU

It’s a simple concept: Students can buy flowers for each other at the carnation sale. Red flowers are for love, pink flowers are for friendship, and white flowers are for expressing secret admiration. A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

[ishipallthings]

Cap Iron Man Rec Week 2024 (Wed)

Early in Canon Wednesday - July 24th for @cap-ironman Rec Week

Fics set early in canon as the boys are getting to know each other :D

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

To Be With You (Is Easy) by Carsonian @carsonian (MCU)

Tony doesn't know what prompted him to visit the recently defrosted Captain America, and he certainly hadn't given much thought to the little confessionals he's given the comatose Capsicle. But when Steve Rogers wakes up and seeks him out, he finds there's an attraction between them that can't be denied.

No Return, No Return by Carsonian @carsonian (MCU)

In many ways, Tony Stark has spent his whole life waiting to meet something real enough to test himself against. He hadn't planned on it being Steve Rogers.

Wish You Were Here by One and Five Nines (MCU)

Steve starts sending Tony postcards.

tear these old walls down by susiecarter @susiecarter (MCU)

Steve didn't like Tony Stark. Stark probably didn't like Steve, either. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and that was putting it mildly. And having to pretend to be a civilian Stark was dating, as cover for trying to save Stark's life while Iron Man was busy with a SHIELD mission, obviously wasn't going to help.

when you're gone by talktothesky @thatbuddie (MCU)

Steve's had to get used to many things in the 21st century but falling in love with Tony Stark might be the weirdest one yet. Especially because the man's dead.

not a lot, just forever by Thahire @thahiree (MCU)

A few months after the Battle of New York, Tony invites Steve over to see the apartment he has built for him. Steve, of course, is totally normal about this and not panicking at all.

Handheld by talesofsuspense (MCU)

When Steve starts stopping for lunch at Shawarma Palace he isn't expecting Tony to show up and to keep showing up. And he definitely isn't expecting a guide to the 21st century.

posing up a storm by picturecat @snoozingcat (MCU, alt 2012)

“I have an idea. Can we just pretend the day ended with that really badass Superfriends pose we did?”

Machines and Marvels by rainbowninja167 (MCU, alt 2012)

Or: In an alternate timeline where the Avengers never formed, Steve and Tony need a crash course in team bonding. Stephen Strange just had to take that literally.

choke on me by imperialstark @persephonesfill (MCU, WIP)

After fending off an alien invasion, Tony Stark has one more obstacle to face; Steve Rogers. Steve believes that they have a connection which Tony is trying hard to ignore. After a moment of passion aboard the helicarrier, Tony can't seem to stay away from Steve as their lives grow ever more intertwined.

and two self-recs!

I'll Be (Good To You) by ishipallthings (MCU, soulmate AU)

Steve Rogers wakes up seventy years out of time to a new world and a soulmate. It’s an adjustment. What he doesn’t expect is Tony Stark, a brilliant futurist who is equal parts fascinating and frustrating, and has just as many demons as Steve. He also doesn’t expect to find a family with a ragtag team of superheroes, or to fall in love. Luckily, Steve is nothing if not adaptable.

An Armored Heart by ishipallthings (AA)

In which Red Skull goes after Steve Rogers, and Tony realizes just how much he has to lose.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned! Please mind the tags before reading. Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

[findafight]

I need. NEED. Y'all to understand that in a MCU captain america au Bucky and Steve would be Steve and Robin. Like. The unhinged amount of devotion? Yes. Soviet torture? Yes.

But it also MUST be understood that Steve is Bucky, and Robin is Steve. DO YOU SEE MY VISION.

Steve, charming and charasmatic, looks out for his awkward but good hearted and mildly unhinged (he's no better) bestie until he goes off to war. Robin, a bit of a weirdo, wants to do something to help fight. She ends up in an experimental program, and getting super strength etc.

She gets shipped around as propoganda. She ends up in Italy. She finds out Steve's unit has been captured. Her best friend, the only one who really knows her, the guy she's probably going to end up bearded by. Her sweet cheese.

She goes to save him.

Against all odds she does. He's strapped to a table and muttering to himself and thinks he's hallucinating when he sees her. But she saves him.

They form a strike team, blow up bases, punch Nazis etc. The war in Europe is almost over. Then Steve falls from a train. Then Robin crashes a plane. They both die heroes.

Except.

Robin wakes up. She wakes up in a world not her own and she's scared and frightened and told she has to fight again except this time she's alone.

And she does. She follows orders and fights and tries to figure out how to live when anyone who would understand her is in their eighties at the youngest or dead. How to exist in a world where the only person, even in their own time, who actually knew her, was dead. Dead for a long time. Deified alongside her by America.

So she follows orders. Until she doesn't. Until fury dies and someone with a metal arm and long brown hair shoots at her but holds their own against her enhanced strength. Pushes her, actually, being broader than her.

And she has allies, yes, but when it comes down to it, it's just her and the Soldier. Fighting under the overpass, and there's something about the Soldiers brow, the possible cowlick on his hairline where his long hair should be parted, that pings something in the back of her mind.

The mask slips off. And Robin thinks she's died again.

He doesn't recognize her, but his eyebrows scruntch together in a way she's known for what feels like eons. She's missed him.

A long time ago, longer for some than for her, he had been strapped to a table. She saved him then. She is going to save him now.

On a helicarrier, she can't bring herself to fight him. She knows him, how many hits he's taken, and even after whatever's been done to him, she knows him. Knows he's confused and scared and fighting it. Whatever's taken him away from her.

He knows her too. She can tell by the way he hesitated, pulls back. He's in there. She just has to find him.

She falls.

A strong hand pulls her out of the river.

[olsenmyolsen]

ok hear me out there is a severe lack of CarolKate fics, maybe Carol trying to prepare/teach Kate how to be a leader of the young avengers but they just end up incessantly teasing each other verbally until Carol gets fed up and puts a very bratty Kate in her place and shows her who’s boss

“oh yeah? make me” and “prove it” and “i bet *you* cant even do that” vibes

Thank you for reaching out! <3. I enjoyed writing this dynamic a lot! Also all of my requests so far have been smut... don't know what that says about you all or me.

Prove It (18+)

master list . maroon master list . dark master list

MCU AU (Kate Bishop X Carol Danvers)

Summary: Carol is training Kate to lead the Young Avengers, but the 23-year-old can't keep her mouth shut.

Word Count: 2K

Content: Sex, Fingering, Petnames Kink, Praise, Oral, Feelings, Pinning, etc

Carol watched as Kate rose up from the black mats in the training room yet again.

Kate was in dire need of some training, specifically hand-to-hand combat if she was going to be one of the leaders of the Young Avengers or whatever the hell Kamala was putting together.

Kamala Khan had talked to Carol about her own band of heroes for the last couple of months, but honestly, Carol put on a smile and tuned the hero from Jersey out most of the time.

"Okay, you got me that time, but that's because I was going easy," Carol smirked at Kate's words. "Oh really? What about the other twenty-nine times?" Kate put on a confident smile. "You wish it was twenty-nine times."

"No, it has been twenty-nine times. I've been keeping count." Kate's face fell. "Oh." Carol put her hands up ready to go again. "Really?" Kate asked, making Carol smile. "Yes. Now, come on, hit me."

"Oh, usually that comes after dinner. And with consent." Carol rolled her eyes as Kate laughed and put her hands up before her, pacing around Carol. The two of them had been going at it for at least an hour and a half, but Kate and her mouth had yet to stop.

Clint told Carol all about how great the archer was. But he warned her that she never stops talking. Like ever.

Carol was beginning to miss Goose and their quiet purrs.

Kate moved closer to Carol but made the mistake of moving her eyes to the point where she would strike—making it easy for Carol to lift her leg and collide with Kate's stomach. The younger woman stumbling back. "Jeez, I thought Clint said you took Karate or something?"

"He talked about me?" Kate ignored the rest of Carol's words. Carol sighed. "Yes, one of the world's greatest archers, but you still can't land a punch without someone hitting you first."

"Okay, ouch." Kate put her hands over her heart and faked being stabbed. Carol stopped moving and waited for Kate and her theatrics to be done.

It took another thirty seconds.

"Okay, kid, let's see if you can't resist telegraphing your moves." Kate made a face at the K word. "Ew, don't call me that." Carol and Kate began to circle one another. Carol looked slightly confused. "What kid? Doesn't Clint call you that?"

Kate lightly shrugged. "Yeah, but he's like a father figure, plus it sounds wrong coming from someone's mouth that isn't as old as him." Carol shook her head and laughed. "You know I'm technically over sixty."

Kate couldn't stop the words flying out of her mouth.

"Not with a body like that."

Carol stopped moving. Kate stopped moving. "Oh god. She's going to kill me." The Bishop girl whispered under her breath.

After a beat of silence, a glowing smirk grew on Carol's face. She had a new angle. "I see," Carol said, dragging her feet along the mat, slowly moving again. Kate stumbled before she also started moving. Afraid of what Carol would say and do.

"You're attracted to me."

Kate's mouth dropped. "No- I mean, yes, you're attractive, but no, I'm not- to you."

A blind man would be attracted to Carol Danvers.

Carol squinted. "You sure about that, honey?" Kate's eyes went wide as she gulped. Carol was having fun now. "Go back to calling me kid," Kate demanded, but Carol laughed. "Why are you afraid I'm bringing up some mommy issues?"

Kate exhaled. She needed to try and get the upper hand again. "And what if you are?" She replied. Carol shrugged after a second. "Then quit being a brat about it."

Kate's body grew warmer.

She licked her lips and opened her mouth. A little squeak came out before her words. "Well, maybe I just need to be put in my place." Carol raised an eyebrow and bit her bottom lip. "You got that right, sweetie." Kate's brain almost died, but luckily for her, she had the threat of Carol charging at her to worry about.

So she put her one leg back and planted her foot before lifting her other one to hit Carol, but the blonde was fast. She grabbed onto Kate's leg and dragged it down as she slid underneath Kate and her blue eyes.

Kate's face and then body hit the mat. Yes, in that order.

"Oh, Mommy's sorry," Carol said in a fake voice with a pout. Tingles surround Kate but she turned over onto her back and meet Carol's eyes. "You can't do that!"

"Do what?" Carol tilted her head with a smile. Kate huffed. She didn't know what she was yelling about. Either Carol grabbing her and pulling her to the floor or the nicknames.

"Like I said, Momm-" "Stop that!" Kate yelled from the floor. Carol took steps towards Kate until her body was over the younger woman's. Carol crouched over Kate. "Oh, you want me to stop?" Carol's voice switched from her fake, almost pornographic tone to her real one. "Let me guess, it's turning you on?"

A little frustrated, Kate lifted up and pushed Carol, making the blonde quickly shoot up and use her powers to catch herself from falling.

"Oh, okay." Carol took the hit and news well. Kate was red in the cheeks because of embarrassment, fear, and because Carol was right. The blonde crossed her arms over her white tank top. "You want me to stop treating you like the brat you are?"

Kate rose to her feet. Hands in front of her. "I'm twenty-three, not a fucking brat."

"Not with that attitude." Carol barked back. The training slowly works its way to the front of her mind again. On the battlefield, you couldn't waste a second having an attitude like this.

Kate was silent. "Okay. You want me to stop, baby?" Kate nodded. "Yes." Carol nodded and removed her arms from in front of her chest. "Oh yeah? Make me. Take me to the mat."

Kate let out a quiet sigh. Her body and mind were fighting for control, but she raised her hands and knew she needed to beat Carol.

"Atta girl." Carol winked in a sultry voice that made Kate clench her jaw and move towards Carol with a greater quickness than Carol had seen all day. Except Kate was still Kate and stumbled as she took a comprehensive step to the right, forcing her to launch forward into Carol.

But Carol was observing and moved her body to take the impact softer. Catching Kate.

Who then stepped on Carol's foot.

So technically, Kate did take Carol to the mat.

Kate landed on top of Carol as Carol wrapped her arms around the younger woman. The impact made a grunt slip from Carol's lips to Kate's ears. Quickly, Kate lifted her upper half off of Carol, and Carol's hands fell from Kate's back to her hips.

They stayed there as Kate looked over Carol's face. "Well, technically, you did what I asked," Carol smirked. "Y-yeah, I did." Kate stumbled as she felt Carol's rough hands squeeze her hips. "The problem is... I don't think this little slip-up means you're ready to lead a team."

Kate refrained from rolling her eyes—something Carol noticed.

"Oh yeah?" Kate whispered as she spread her legs wider on either side of Carol's. Carol nodded. "Yeah. Your attitude is still there, too." Kate moved her hands to Carol's and pulled them away from her body. She placed them onto the mat as her hands slid to Carol's wrist. Her body hanging over the blonde's. "I think you like it."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Kate couldn't win. "A leader takes control, Kate." Carol gently said into the space between the two. Carol was giving Kate an opportunity. Kate slowly leaned forward until her lips hung inches away from Carol's. She looked through her eyes to see Carol's blue ones telling her she wanted it.

Kate wrapped her hand around Carol's wrist and placed her lips onto Carol's. The older woman became intoxicated from one taste of Kate Bishop. Her soft pink tasted like lavender against Carol's.

The blonde could smell the body lotion Kate used in the morning. Kate could smell and taste the chapstick Carol loved.

As the two were becoming lost in one another, Kate began to grind her hips into Carol's—the friction causing a much-needed release of pleasure as Kate moaned into Carol's mouth.

Carol nodded and moaned as Kate's lips moved to her neck. Quickly, Carol lifted her arms up and wrapped them around her. Touching and feeling her skin.

Carol's hands burned with desire against Kate.

"Oh fuck, baby!" Carol moaned when Kate began sucking on Carol's chest.

Carol moved her hands down to Kate's sides again. She squeezed and slipped her hands underneath the seam of Kate's shorts. Kate moaned as Carol lifted her head to kiss Kate's chest. At the same time, Carol's left hand moved through Kate's untrimmed hairs. "You feel so good!" Carol groaned as Kate nodded with squeaks. "Oh fuck, Carol!" Kate cried out as Carol's middle finger ran over the wet spot Kate had.

Carol lifted her body with her powers and took Kate into her arm as she placed Kate gently onto her back. Her lips still attacking the you get woman's chest. Her middle finger was still pressing against Kate's covered wet pussy. "Oh, Mom-"

Kate stopped herself, but Carol heard it. She pulled her hand out of Kate's shorts and brought it to Kate's mouth. "Open." Kate hesitated. "I'm giving you orders, Kate." Carol reaffirmed with a commanding voice. "That's it. Be good for Mommy." Carol watched as Kate's mouth dropped, and slowly, Carol's finger disappeared as Kate's mouth wrapped around it.

"Keep sucking. Do you taste yourself?" Kate nodded with a muffled moan.

Carol was making her feel a way no one else had.

Carol, with a smirk, pulled down the sides of Kate's shorts as Kate helped kick them off.

"You're doing so well, aren't you, baby? Being good for your Captain! Your leader!" Carol husked as she spread apart Kate's legs. Her lips dragging up the other woman's soft thighs. "Oh, Kate." Carol leaned down and kissed the wet spot of Kate's black cotton underwear. With Kate's hand around Carol's wrist, she kept sucking and licking Carol's fingers until Carol pulled them out. Drool coating the younger woman's chest as Carol brought those same fingers to Kate's clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty," Carol said before pulling the black panties to the side. "Fuck Carol, you're so hot!" Kate whined. Carol loved hearing Kate come unglued.

"Oh, just touch me. Please!" Kate cried out. Her fingers ran through the blonde's short hair until she reached the back of Carol's head and pushed it closer to her wet clit. Carol gave in with a smile. "There you go, Kate. Command me!"

Carol was still making this a teaching lesson, and it drove Kate crazy.

"Just shut up!" Kate responded, turned into a loud moan as Carol's tongue hit the bottom of her spread pussy and worked its way to the top of Kate's clit. Flicking the hood before she slipped her middle finger up and worked it in a circular motion.

Even through the workout leading to this moment, Carol couldn't get enough of Kate.

And Kate was in pure ecstasy as Carol ate her out and finger fucked her better than she had ever had at college.

"Oh fuck! Oh, Carol! I'm about to cum!" Kate lifted her head from the black mat and arched her back. "That's not my name, sweetheart!" Carol replied as she spit on her hand and slipped it through Kate's wet pussy lips before returning to her clit.

And Kate knew what Carol wanted to be called, but it was too late as her legs began to shake and she started cumming.

Carol kissed up Kate's body as she came down from her high. Carol knew she would be too exhausted to do anything to her, but she was okay with it.

"I have to say..." Kate started as her breathing slowed. "That might've been the best training I've ever done." Carol laughed as her body hung above Kate's. "Is that right?" Carol asked.

Kate nodded. "Although I'm not sure if anything will stick."

"Oh?" Carol raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I mean, if I want to be a leader, I have to learn from the best."

Carol went to open her mouth. Kate interrupted her thought. "From the best who's still around." Carol closed her mouth and smiled. "I'll make something out of you yet, Bishop," Carol whispered before she leaned down and softly kissed Kate. "You still need to prove it to me."

"Oh, I will." Kate kissed her again. "I will."

dividers by @/benkeibear

[darsynia]

Dragonfly (Steve/Reader fantasy AU)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary:  Evil has prevailed. Your mentor’s dead, home destroyed, family scattered--you’re all that is left. At the last second, a stranger is called by magic to save your life. Can the two of you defeat the villain before he reaches the pinnacle of power?

Words/Warnings: 4,700 | canon-typical violence

draGONfly is 3/7 of my birthday gift set for @ronearoundblindly and is an action/adventure, angst with a happy ending story set after the blip. I know right now is a hugely busy week for you, Ro, and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

NOTE: it's MCU Steve in here! 'Worlds Collide'

Excerpt:

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Dragonfly

You’ve been on the run for ten days, with no safe haven to look forward to. The magic hunting you is relentless, fueled by hatred of your now-dead mentor and everything the two of you stood for. Your only reprieve is sleep; your enemy wants to witness the horror on your face in your moment of death.

All you can do is forge a path deeper into the forest, away from any innocent who could be harmed by Jovann Micht’s conjured creatures. As if watching Bram die hadn’t been torture enough, it seems you’re destined to die in the wilderness, alone.

You lean back on a tree and risk a pause to drink from your flask. Deep inside you feel your magic tremble; rest, food, and hydration is needed to stay powerful, but that is the point of Micht’s pursuit. Eventually you’ll falter, and he’ll achieve the last of his goals.

Does he know you bear the vial of his destruction? Those few teaspoonfuls are a potent culmination of your mentor’s study of the arcane, a life’s work of gathering and refining the most dangerous, mystical ingredients and combining them to make a weapon. You’d been able to see just two of the substances interact before being sealed into the final mixture, and the light they’d emitted had lingered in your vision for almost an hour afterwards.

There are three ways this can end: ideally, you’ll pour the vial into the glacial source of the valley’s drinking water and let the power propagate amongst the population Jovann Micht means to control. If that fails, you might be forced to break the vial with your dying strength, spilling its beautiful potential into the ground rather than empower one of Micht’s monsters-- or Micht himself.

The worst, most horrible option is for you to drink it yourself and spend the rest of your life battling to control the power Bram Ersk warned you about.

Heavy buzzing nearby sends your adrenaline racing, but it’s only a dragonfly angling its way past you toward the stream you've been following up to the mountains. They’re your favorite insect, brightly colored and free, with wide wings that decorate tree branches too delicate for a human’s weight.

You tuck away your canteen and check to see that your weapons are ready. The bow and arrows had only served to slow you down, so you’d sent them towards the plains with a burst of precious magic, a misdirection that hadn’t worked. Bram’s sword is cumbersome but necessary, and the daggers scattered through your clothing are a last resort.

Seconds later your preparedness pays off. The barest rustling of the leaves above your head has you crouching down with one leg stretched out for leverage if you need to run. You draw a dagger from its sheath at your back and watch in fascinated horror as your newest attacker reveals itself.

It’s a huge snake, fast and menacing. It strikes out and you dodge sideways, performing a half-roll to distance yourself, dagger still at the ready. Smoke rises from a splash of venom on your padded trousers, and a stab of fear strikes your gut. The snake can spit, likely with magic-enhanced distance. Is this how you finally die? Worn down with nowhere to hide from this acid toxin, then slain once exhaustion drops you?

You curl into a protective stance and tighten your grip on the dagger, drawing the creature in. Once it’s close, you spin up from the ground in a flurry of slashing blades. One dagger connects, but it’s glancing, enough to send the snake into retreat, but not enough to kill.

That only makes things worse. Your field of danger has increased to include the entire forest canopy.

There may only be a few minutes before the next showdown. You wipe your dagger on the nearby moss and place it back in its sheath for now. The forest around you is new growth, full of brambles and other scutgrass that tear at your armor, with a hundred branches arching over your head. You fight your way through to the stream with fear choking your throat, worried that you’ll have to expend more of your depleted magical energy to save yourself. If you need to use magic to survive his enchanted attackers from this point on, there won't be anything left. 

You’ve kept that power in reserve for some kind of final showdown, but there's at least a day left before you get where you're going.

Despair hits, and you scrabble at your neck, suddenly furious at the friend and mentor whose plans have brought you to such misery. The locket he’d given you has always been a talisman, a symbol of hope, but now you look at its silver concentric circles and feel nothing but betrayal.

Movement catches your eye, and you swing out blindly, the locket flying from your grip. As it spins, a blinding golden light spills out, growing larger and brighter until finally a figure steps forth--just as Micht’s devil-snake launches directly at you.

“Down!” a voice commands, and you drop, watching in shock as the glowing figure hurls a disk through the magical snake. The horrid thing lands in pieces that immediately shrivel and writhe. They melt into the ground, leaving only a low-lying, putrid fog behind.

The man stalks towards you, still obscured by the now-fading golden light. Instead of finishing you off, he strides past and pulls his disc-- his shield-- free from the tree it had sliced into. When he turns back your way, the man tucks something into a pouch on his chest, and the glowing light diminishes enough to see him. He looks you over, brows furrowed not in anger, but obvious confusion.

“Are you all right?”

“Thank you,” you say, struck near-dumb by the imposing presence of the man. He’s tall and broad, handsomely clad in padded armor with leather accents, but it’s his shield that has your attention. Its concentric circles and inner star look just like Bram’s locket, but in color.

He seems self-conscious about it, spinning the shield around and attaching it to his armor at his back. “Was that-- did I interrupt some kind of re-enactment?” your savior asks, curiously examining the last remnants of the toxic fog. He turns to look at you with the same studious intensity, but your head is spinning. Did Bram conjure this man with some sort of latent magic? “You should sit down,” he declares, thrusting out his hand with the confidence of a commander. The man clearly wants you to take it, but your hesitation prompts him to give up and walk over to a cluster of rocks. “Here. Do you have something to eat?”

Bemused, you pick your way toward him, deflecting your ‘I usually have to forage for something to eat’ answer with a question of your own. “What’s your name, hero?”

The word turns up a shy little smile that flies like a joy-tipped arrow right through your chest armor. “Steve. Yours?”

“Well, Steve, you’ve shown up for a battle, but I’m still fighting a war.” There’s no more time for niceties. You walk past the rocks he’d suggested you rest on, and pick up a sturdy-looking walking stick. It’s safer to stay close to the stream, and you’ll need the stability. “You’re welcome to come?”

There’s a chance that this summoned savior will disappear soon. You only have so much physical strength left, and you can’t spend it like this.

Steve turns in a circle, taking in the trees, the stream, and you, then nods, squaring his shoulders. “All right.” He certainly doesn’t seem at ease here, and you wonder if he’s real, whether he was somewhere fighting with that shield of his before Bram’s magic plucked him away.

Truthfully, you’re afraid to ask, as if naming the magic will destroy its cohesion.

Instead you lead the way along the uneven stones and brush that edge the stream, and he follows in clearly baffled silence. Sometimes you pause to adjust your armor or fill up your canteen and catch his brow furrow as he looks around at your surroundings. Once, he lunged forward to steady your steps on a slippery stretch of rocks. The warmth of his hand through your many layers was enough to bring rare tears to your eyes.

It's been so long since you’ve been touched in comfort.

Steve sees the tears but can’t know their context. You’re not willing to tell him, so you speed your pace, and he remains silent. If he’s been summoned as support, you question what triggers the magic might use to determine you’re no longer in need. If it’s words shared, you’ll hold yours in reserve. If it’s help provided, you’ll labor beside him with every ounce of your remaining strength until you finally ask for that help. If it’s distance traveled… well, you can’t think about that now.

Countless birdcalls and shared silence later, the landscape starts angling up more, and the trees thin out.

“Oh,” Steve says. His stunned tone makes you stop and look back at him. “I came to the forest--a forest to retrace my steps, looking for the echoes of what we lost. I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what I’d do if I found that the dust of my lost friends had fertilized plants that their shadows never--” he faltered, and you make your way to him, powerless to help, desperate to try. 

You recognize this grief. It's the hopeless kind, where a person just stands desolate in the aftermath and looks for the signs of their own death.

“Steve--” 

“It’s not the same forest,” he interrupts, a catch in his voice. “That’s a mountain.” He tears his eyes from the now-revealed peak in the distance and looks at you, concern and an odd sort of exhilaration in his eyes. “I kept walking because I thought we’d eventually get where you’re going, but we won’t, will we? Not today. Where am I? When am I?”

“‘When’ is easy: my waking nightmare. ‘Where’ is tricky. Who’s to know you won’t be pulled back where you came from if I tell you?” You can’t keep the bitter fear from your voice.

Steve steps forward to look down at you with gentle kindness. He’s so handsome you can’t help but feel self-conscious, clad as you are in shapeless armor, sweating with the exertion of carrying Bram’s sword (actually heavy) and Bram’s vial (metaphorically heavy)-- but you drift closer to your unexpected savior, catching the earthy scent of his sweat. You can see the sheen of it on his forehead, and you lift your hand to draw a finger across and feel the moisture of it.

“You’re real,” you breathe, surprised despite the snake, despite his steady presence behind you for this stretch of your journey.

He moves his hand to touch the drops of freshwater that have spilled from your canteen, going as far as to taste the tip of his finger. “So are you.” As though realizing that’s an intimacy the two of you haven’t agreed on, he steps back and squares his shoulders, the picture of a warrior again, despite his lack of weapon. Perhaps he is the weapon. “So what’s the plan? Camp for the night?”

You sway on your feet at the thought (both that he’d put aside his own situation and at the idea of rest), but shake your head. “Micht will send something else soon. I must reach the base of the stream. Everything relies on that.”

He looks askance at the darkening sky, then back at you. “What would make you willing to camp?”

A promise that you won’t leave me! you scream in your mind. A look of determination crosses his face, and you realize you may not have spoken the words aloud, but your body language has done that for you. You pull in a breath to prevaricate, but he brushes past you, headed into the forest.

“There’s a clearing,” he calls out, a minute later.

“Steve, I can’t--”

“You can.”

A terrible, insidious, horrid thought crosses your mind: that Steve is not from Bram at all, but an illusion with the same purpose as all the others that Jovann Micht has sent you. That his attack is formed from trust this time, rather than fear.

The shape of Bram’s locket is the only thing you can think of to refute your fears, but couldn’t Micht have torn that knowledge from Bram before killing him?

“You’re afraid,” Steve says from only feet away.

You close your eyes. “Yes.”

“Sometimes fear is a friend. It was definitely that in the army. Kept us sharp. You could tell when a soldier lost his fear because he was suddenly very brave. Problem was, we needed the brave ones sometimes.” 

He falls silent, and you can’t help but look at him. The bleak look in his eyes is clear, despite the distance between you, and in that moment you decide to trust him. If he’s another monster construct, if Micht can understand you that well, then the villain deserves the win, and all is lost.

Steve can hold a lot of supplies in his ‘tek’ suit, as he calls it. He gives you a few dense grain bread things, full of dried fruit and nuts that revitalize you. While you eat he lights a fire for the two of you, meaning you can save your newly bolstered energy rather than using it for warmth-- and best of all, he has a strange silver blanket that seems to hold heat so much better than anything you’ve used at night, even the homemade blankets from your cabin. Despite all this, you find it hard to relax, and Steve can tell. You are reluctant to explain and thus relive the trauma that sent you into the forest, and he doesn’t elaborate on his own.

He seems surprised when you want to sleep right away. That surprise morphs to a quiet, concerned anger when you explain the thin agreement you have with your aggressor, that he’ll only kill you when you’re awake.

“That won’t happen,” he declares, and you believe him. Just like a parent who promises they’ll always protect you, his words have an unspoken caveat; ‘for as long as I’m here to stop it.’

It’s enough.

You wake with the light, finding to your surprise that Steve has slept at your side, his broad back acting as a wall between you and the dangers of the woods. It’s been a week since you’ve been able to lay still in the morning, but your respite is marred by a large worry: why hasn’t Micht sent something else? Had he sent his most fearsome conjurations early on in your journey because you’d been stronger? It would be like him to conserve his energy and insult you at the same time. If you die to something more mundane, that would just add to his narrative, after all. The alternative is that he knows about Steve, and his new plan is to create something fearsome enough to destroy them both.

“You’re barely breathing,” Steve rumbles.

Selfishly, you want him to turn over. You want a memory to cherish when he’s gone. Just once, you'd had someone lying beside you whose sole purpose was to ensure your safety.

He does roll over. He’s no less real for it, and that thought lets you release everything you’d held back since Bram, since the village, since the slain, tortured lamb that was the harbinger of all the horrors that followed.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls you to his chest and lets you cry.

The next attack comes within sight of the glacial moraine. You were right. Micht had sent his worst to finish you. 

Steve pulls his shield from his back as soon as you pass through a group of boulders and see the creature. It’s twice as tall as he is, a four-legged monstrosity with the same number of snarling heads. Each serpent-like head is riddled with teeth, and like snakes, they bob and weave easily, able to turn and react with lightning swiftness.

“Your sword, please,” Steve says grimly.

“It’s armored--”

“So am I.”

Adrenaline mixes with the magic surging inside you. “Listen. I have a thing to do. It’s all that matters,” you tell him breathlessly. “After that, I don’t care what happens. Do you hear me?”

He’s looking at the creature, and you can see his soldier’s mind. You watch the fear dwindle, replaced by bravery, and you cannot let that happen.

“Steve!” you beg-- and he looks at you, still alert and ready to fight. “This was always going to end one way, okay? I just need you to--” The thing screeches with many voices, each wielding a knife that slices away some of your resolve.

You swallow hard and start taking off any extra weight, dropping your canteen, the sheathed dagger at your back, even the heavy brigandine leather that covers your blouse. It isn’t a match for a hydra’s teeth and claws anyway, and you must be fast.  

“I need to get to the base of the stream. That monster is here to stop me.” It probably isn’t. If Micht knew you bear this potion, he’d have long ago crushed you into paste and taken it for himself. “Don’t you dare lose your fear!”

Steve laughs ruefully. “I wondered if you would remember that.”

“Something sent you to me, and this is why. If there’s any justice, it should send you back, once I succeed.” The words stick in your throat, but you get them out.

“It’s a hydra,” Steve says with a hatred in his voice you didn’t think he was capable of. “I was created for this.”

You both turn to face the horrible creature. Steve lifts the sword and you ready yourself to run.

“Wait,” Steve says, a manic happiness in his eyes. He steps close and dips his head, kissing you. It’s awkward, with the sword and shield held wide at his sides, but that just makes it more real. “Go get him.”

Then he charges toward the beast.

You’d planned to wait until the two were fully focused on each other, but every fragment of magic in your body is screaming for you to help Steve. You tamp that down and hold still, certain that the hydra will only focus on Steve if bloodlust blinds it to your existence.

That’s even harder when there are multiple sets of eyes to look for you.

Steve makes first contact, roaring up and smashing his shield against the first head that lunges toward him. The thing reels back in obvious surprise, the injured head lolling to the side. The other heads rear up, and you take the moment to run far to the side, sticking to the treeline, even though it means farther to run. You weave between trees, catching glimpses of the battle but always hearing it. Screech follows screech follows the smash of metal against armored skin, over and over and over.

Just as you’re forced to cross into the rockfield, the hydra lets out an agonized scream, and you risk a look over. Steve’s holding his shield protectively above himself as he hacks at the two heads he’d sliced from the hydra. He’s panting from exertion, and as you watch, magic bubbles at the sliced necks, growing two new snarling heads from each stump. They sink down to the body of the beast and then stretch back out as individual, fully-realized necks right in front of your eyes.

You can’t send any power to Steve, not yet. Instead, you send it to your own legs, and the burst of resulting speed tears through the remaining distance. You reach into your shirt--

“You could have given it to me right away, foolish child.”

“Liar!” you spit at your enemy, furious and fragile. “You wanted this.” Of course he’d known. Micht had always loved theatrics.

“You’re right. That’s quite a guardian you’ve found for yourself,” Jovann Micht muses, leaning casually back against a large boulder. He’s standing between you and the stream.

You’re done with this. One way or another.

“Move.”

“I don’t think so.” He moves towards you, confident, commanding. “Hand it over.”

Behind you, the screeching gets louder, and oddly, Micht stumbles sideways, hissing. You risk a look over your shoulder and see that Steve’s sliced off more of the creature-- a leg this time. It brings the deadly heads closer to him, and you can’t watch.

Micht has conjured a walking stick that he’s now leaning on with a vicious look of delight on his face. “I prefer an intelligent adversary.”

He doesn’t mean you.

He’s always underestimated you. Everyone does.

Your fingers close around a vial, and you pull it free. It’s been shaken up by your headlong run, as evidenced by the blue glowing light.

“If you want this, you have to catch me.”

Your burst of speed still sings in your veins, and you start to run-- toward the hydra, not the stream. Gathering up all of your magic, you hurl it toward the back legs of the hydra, meaning to destroy them and hopefully disable Micht, if your hunch about the connection between them is correct.

The fireball hits home. The ground shakes as the terrible beast falls sideways, all seven heads turning to assess the damage. One catches fire, its agonized scream piercing your ears even at this distance. You can’t see Steve, but the desperate flailing of the inflamed head soon spreads the fire. 

You hook around, satisfied. Micht is in a heap not far from where you’d left him, recognizable by his signature blood-red suit. All that’s left is to get as close to the headwaters as you can. Bram had confided in you about the rip current that swirls right at its base, sucking the water down into a secondary stream that he’d helped the village tap into.

It serves as the drinking water for the whole valley, surfacing down past your former home and bubbling down to the sea, or so it’s said.

If you can get even half of Bram’s concoction into there--

A powerful blow knocks you to your feet, and you lose your grip on the vial. Dazed, you struggle to your knees, watching as a hand curls around the vial.

Get up! You have to be convincing! UP!

You’re unsteady as hell, but you lean into that, begging with a suddenly raw throat for Micht to stop. Your magic is almost gone again, but you grit your teeth and start for the vial. Behind it is your goal, the origin of the stream. Just ten strides, and he’ll think you’re giving up and throwing yourself in instead. Eight strides…

A rough hand curls around your neck and pulls the true vial from your bodice before shoving you to the ground.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Steve roars. Through tears, you can see him running toward the two of you. He swings his arm, releasing his shield. 

Micht stands triumphant with the vial, unstoppering it in preparation to drink. It’s all of your worst fears realized, and the moment seems to hang in time, more misery for you to experience right before he kills you face to face, just as he’s always wanted.

Steve’s shield smashes into Micht’s midsection, knocking him backwards. The vial flies up, its contents fanning out in a glowing blue rain over Jovann Micht. Everywhere it lands, white lightning and red flames erupt. He’s screaming, you’re screaming, thunder and agony crashes all around you, until finally, he’s gone.

The silence is oppressive. It’s as though your blood’s stopped pumping, the air’s trapped in your lungs, and your muscles are frozen solid. The pressure builds until Steve stabs the bloody sword into the ground beside you and slumps over to rest his hands on his knees.

“We won.”

Your body's working again, but you don’t know whether to feel happiness or horror. “Yeah.”

Both of you are exhausted, the kind of bone-weary that isn’t possible without having experienced something unspeakable. The smell of burnt hydra is horrendous though, so Steve pushes to get as far away as you can before collapsing beside the placid stream. You let your hands dangle in the frigid glacial meltwater, needing to feel something bad that isn’t horrible.

“Don’t fall in. I’m too wiped to go back for the rest of your armor, and that’s a white shirt.”

He’s speaking in riddles, and honestly it's the first regular thing Steve’s said to you since… all of that. “What?”

“The water makes it transpar-- Never mind.” Embarrassment drips from his words, and it’s enough to make you scooch around so you can see him.

Steve’s black armor hides most of the blood, but he’s almost drenched in it. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him, and he’s wrapping a once-pristine white bandage around a gash on his leg, pausing every few revolutions to rest. Noticing your scrutiny, he offers you a weak smile.

“That fireball was something.”

“So’s your swordsmanship.” You search your resources and make a decision. “Want me to heal that?”

“What?” he says, then laughs, the sound genuinely joyful, though astonished. “I just fought a real hydra. Did you know that’s the second bad guy that’s disintegrated right in front of me? Of course you can heal. This place is… this place is something.”

His voice breaks on ‘something.’ You don’t know him very well, but the trauma you’ve shared tells you he needs a moment. Avoiding eye contact, you reach out, sending your magic in a gentle golden trickle across the ground between you. It slides smoothly over his boots and up the fabric of his trousers, finally sinking into his wound. You send a little extra, too, even though it makes your chest ache with warning. It’ll soothe his mind, and that’s worth it.

That done, you turn back to the water, staring past your fractured reflection into the stream’s shallow depths. Across the stretch of rocks and bubbling froth a dragonfly twists and dips, reacting to shifts in the air too subtle for you to notice. It’s a reminder that not everything’s been affected by the life or death struggle you’d just experienced. It helps, so much so that you don’t notice that Steve’s come to sit beside you until he speaks.

“Did you know that dragonflies are a symbol of grief and rebirth?” He doesn’t wait for your answer. “Part of their life cycle is underwater, I guess, and the story goes that each one reaches a point where they need to surface. They each promise they’ll come back and tell the others what they find up there, but--”

“--but they can’t. They’re trapped either side,” you breathe.

“Trapped, yeah, but not dead.” The word is ragged, and you look up at him, even though it hurts your neck. “I lost friends in my forest. They turned to dust. We lost.”

Your hand is freezing, but his armor is thick. You reach out and squeeze his leg, and Steve stays still, clearly moved to quiet reflection.

“There’s a second life, is the moral. I don’t know if this is mine, but I wouldn’t mind if it was.”

You don’t dare hope, but you pour yes please into your expression. He smiles and pats his chest.

“There’s a pocket here. When I first showed up, you threw a locket--” he shakes his head curtly, enough to stop you from speaking. “I only caught a glimpse, but it looks like my shield.”

You squeeze his ankle, and determination hardens his expression.

“I think you might-- I think this place might need me. Do you have enough magic to, I don’t know… freeze it? Put it in stasis so it doesn’t send me back? I know just where I’d like to put it.”

You feel brave, but it’s not due to a lack of hope this time. This time, you have an abundance of hope.

“I’d like that very much.”

[deathbyathousandspiders]

HELL–BOUND. ₂

mcu!peter parker | zombie apocalypse au. CHAPTER TWO.

IN WHICH you & peter are humanity’s last hope of salvation from HYDRA’s zombie apocalypse, but will lingering feelings from the past get in the way of that?

read chapter one | three | four | five.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

“We have to get me to Wakanda.. so that they can kill me.”

You swore the world froze the second the words left your mouth. The truth didn’t feel real, even though you’d come to terms with the fate you knew was required of you. But the way Peter stared at you so profoundly; the way he stood from his seat, took paces towards you, the look he kept in his eyes. It made you feel like maybe there was a way out of it. 

“No.” Was all he said at first. And it wasn’t a reply, it was a command. It was a word of promise, of protection, of truth. And it made you swallow back the responsibility you forced upon yourself. The mask of acceptance you wore nearly broke in half, falling victim to the look of intensity Peter shot at you. It was a look that he hadn’t used with you in this new world. His eyes hadn’t glistened like that since before the outbreak. “No. I won’t let you die.”

The firmly stated words brought up the denial you’d been shoving down—hope you’d been trying to bury. It was a feeling that seemed childish to carry, childish and unwelcome and something that had no place here. 

So you shrugged. Blank stare, blank expression. You tried not to show him the trembling in your fingers, or the quickening of your breath at his demeanor. You tried to hide the panic that overtook your senses. “Maybe I don’t have to.” You spoke with honesty, glancing behind Peter at the folder he’d left at his seat. “But you read what I read?” It was more of a confirmation than a question. 

It took Peter more strength than he’d ever admit to peel his eyes from you. To turn back in his tracks and grab the folder. “Yeah, but–” He cut himself off, flipping through the papers. Skimming the pages that you’d highlighted and dog–eared and read through. The files that you stole. “What is this?”

“The initiative.” The answer was quick. You knew what you were talking about. You’d been preached to about this initiative since the day you dared to step foot back into HYDRA. The day the world fell apart. “We were pawns in their greater schemes, Peter. You and I–” There was a pause. A revelation. A confession. “We started this.” And you looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in weeks. “We have to end it.”

Peter flipped through the pages, looking over headshots of the two of you, side by side. You didn’t have to read over his shoulder or even see the pages to know where he was at, what he was reading — assessing the words you were saying and connecting them with the written ones he read. He connected the dots, consumed in silence from his state of denial. You watched the curve of his brows as they sewed together, the sight of him merely standing in front of you was a forgotten comfort. His presence was a forgotten comfort. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him until you’d given yourself a second to think about it. 

And you didn’t have that second right now. 

“How do you know this is real?” His eyes met yours, pleading, begging for this to be something merely theorized, fictional, anything other than reality. There was a curiosity to them that told you more than he wanted to admit right then; he wanted the answers you had to give, but he also wanted to figure out how to keep you safe first. 

You’d nearly forgotten just how well you knew how to read him. 

Parting your lips, you choked on the words. This was the hard part. He watched you struggle, and it reminded you just how much you hated showing weakness–just how little weakness you’d shown in the past month to anybody. Being this vulnerable and naked to someone gave you a glimpse of the person you were, and it scared you to feel like you’d reverted. It scared you to remember that person, and to forget that they’d even existed for a minute. 

You set your backpack on the floor. You shook off your jacket, tossing it too. The urgency and the lack of explanation kept Peter staring, lured and locked in. It kept him speechless as you grabbed the edges of your sweatshirt and pulled it up and off of you; kept him speechless at the crimson lining his cheeks at the sight of you in a camisole, and instantly catching his breath at the sight of teeth accenting your biceps. Scars outlining multiple rows of another person’s teeth. Dried blood and teeth. 

Peter nearly dropped the pile of paper’s in his hands, but he played it off. His fingers rubbed down the length of his cupid’s bow, down his lips and over his chin. It was his obvious tell, to you, that he was stressed, undeniably worried. Consumed, tormented. “Holy shit, Y/N.. What the hell..” He didn’t even have the words, the strength, to keep the sentence going. 

Forcing oxygen, you forced a front with it. Mustered courage, false strength. You knew he saw the way your arms trembled, that he saw through any kind of mask you’d try to develop. “Pietro–” You took another breath, sharper than before. “Pietro bit me. It healed him..” You found the words, right before grief finally caught up to you. “Right before they...”

Your focus steadied right under Peter’s eyeline, knowing you’d break if you met his stare. He could see you, watch you break, but somehow there was some kind of fake security when you didn’t have to watch his reaction to it. 

But then again, Peter knew you, and you’d forgotten that. His hands were gentle when they grabbed your shaking shoulders. When you’d found the second of strength to meet his eyes, you watched him study the length of you; he assessed your damage, made up stories in his head of all the ways they’d tortured you. Tears welled in your eyes at the sight of tension in his jaw and the agony in his eyes. 

He didn’t say anything before he pulled you to him, hugging you with more words than he knew how to articulate in that moment. The tender press of his hand to your back, the nudge of his head against your temple, and the gentle squeeze of his arms around you, it told you everything. This was the way he’d pictured reuniting with you, this is what kept him going. Finding you. He’d missed you. 

And you’d missed him. You’d forced yourself to forget it, to be blinded by anger, to forget the way you were the last time you’d seen him. You threw your arms around him, finally allowing yourself to break into pieces. You unlocked the doors that you’d forced your feelings behind, broke down the walls you forced your emotions to fortify within. You finally gave yourself the time to process everything you had to witness this past month. 

The separation and deaths of your found family, the unbearable torture and experimentation HYDRA had you undergo, the unwanted reunion with your parents; watching and causing the death of your best friend, being the reason Natasha wasn’t with you right now, and finally, greeting your boyfriend by kissing his cheek with a slap across the face. 

Being in his touch made the world feel normal, made you feel selfish. It felt selfish to forget what state society was in. It reminded you of a life before the outbreak, before everything was poisoned and damaged and dystopian. It felt incredibly selfish to be in a state so domestic, especially when the weight of the world was on your shoulders. 

Peter pulled back from the hug just enough to see your face. To hold your face in his hands and wipe the tears from your eyes. To see you. He took a few deep breaths, almost like he was trying to remind you to breathe as well. His hands slid down your jaw, your neck, cautiously running his fingers over the scarring on your arms. “Was he–” He paused, “Was he the only one who bit you?”

The tears felt stale now. You sucked in a breath, bringing yourself back into the harshness of the present moment. “No.” You sniffled, taking the cue to clear your throat and forcefully return the little amount of strength you had left. “When he came back, they had two other subjects bite me.” You glanced from one arm to the other, seeing as both limbs were decorated. “The other two bites were from walkers on the street.. Before you found me.” Both of you could see the lingering flakes of drying blood lining your biceps. 

You pulled back from Peter’s touch, grabbing your sweatshirt from the floor. Just as you went to force it over your head, Peter gently grabbed your arm. His eyes traced from the jawed scarring up to meet yours. “Can I–?” He cut himself off, taking a small breath. A nervous pause. “There’s running water here. You should shower.” He pulled his touch back with the comment.

A small smile touched your lips. “Are you saying I smell bad, Parker?” The response triggered from a forgotten instinct, finding that small pocket of normalcy between the two of you. And Peter mirrored your smile, laughing a little. 

“Well, I was planning on telling you earlier, but you slapped me.” It was a joke, and you knew it was a joke, but you cringed at the memory. You felt the apology bubble up your throat, and you parted your lips to tell him, but he cut you off before you got the chance. “C’mon. I’ll get you some clothes.” And he led the way. 

Silence filled the open space between the two of you. It was much more comfortable than before, despite the unspoken panic and urgency that laced the undertones; despite the unspoken fact that the two of you were still technically dating. 

Peter opened a door for you, flipping his right arm over to check the time on his wrist–watch. “We’re losing sunlight, so I think we should crash here tonight and battle–plan, then we can head out tomorrow after sunrise.”

Your eyes scanned the unclaimed bedroom before you, and how there were items of yours from the compound that you’d completely forgotten about. That you learned to grieve like they were lost in a fire. Your favorite band tees were salvaged, a music box that Sam gifted you sat on a bookshelf—a bookshelf with at least fifteen of the books you once had kept upstate. Empty spaces sat between certain spots and books, indicating that some series would always remain spacious and missing in their collections. 

You couldn’t get your lips to touch from the shock and gratitude that ledged between them. It hit you like bricks that Nat and Peter had been expecting you, it left you speechless to think about just how long they had been. You were in captivity for a month. This was a project. 

Clearing his throat, Peter leaned against the wooden doorframe beside you, giving you enough space between you to keep things comfortable. “While Natasha tried to find a way back to base to save you, I had some free time.”

The comment made you finally meet his eyes. His stare had already been settled on you, studying you in a way he hadn’t gotten the chance to since your reunion; taking you in like he used to, scanning your face for a reaction. 

The apology you owed him from earlier blistering in the back of your throat, forced back by the chokehold of tears, the hollowness weighting your tongue. And once again, as you gathered the strength to say it, Peter cut you off. 

He cleared his throat again, “I’ll go start us some dinner. You, uh– You let me know if you need anything.” And Peter rushed off, as if he knew what you were trying to say to him. It were like he didn’t feel deserving of the apology you’d been wanting to give him. 

It broke your heart to think like that. 

Or perhaps, he was scared he was losing you. That you’d both felt like the domestic bond you had built didn’t have a place in this new world. At least, not yet. But was that just the two of you punishing yourselves?

You’d kept the train of thought as you showered, washing off the trauma and painful experiences you’d lived through this past month. It felt freeing to wipe yourself clean, to run your fingers through a head of refreshed hair. Scrubbing off your wounds, the dirt under your fingernails, the scabbing on your limbs. 

A shower was desperately needed, a liberty you’d taken advantage of when it was at easy access. So were clean clothes. 

You chose a short sleeved band tee that you’d taken from Peter’s wardrobe a few months back; it was a black graphic Red Hot Chili Peppers top, his favorite. It made you curious on why he kept it with your clothes, but it also warmed your heart at the remnant of the memory; he always used to say that it looked better on you. 

The smell of food quickly filled your senses the second you’d left your room, and the loud growl of your stomach reminded you of just how long you’d gone without eating properly. HYDRA had really only served you necessary nutrients through an IV needle, so the scent of roasted vegetables was a surprise more than welcomed. Even if Peter could only cook canned food. 

You practically inhaled your food, and Peter gladly gave you the bulk of it. He made you drink two glasses of water, mixing in electrolyte substances in with them too. He took care of you, and it made your heart swell. 

Once you were done eating, he wouldn’t let you clean your dish, either. Not because he treated you like a guest, but because he had a spot on the counter next to a first–aid kit ready for you. 

The room was quiet, and it had been. It wasn’t only due to how dire your need for food was, but also because the two of you were lost in thought; finally assessing and processing things you didn’t allow before knowing the other was okay, finally realizing just how much the weight of the world rested in your hands. 

Peter was silent, focused, as he opened the kit. You kicked your legs back and forth on the kitchen counter, watching the crease of his brow as he avoided your eye contact. He stood beside you, scared to stand too close to your personal space, but keeping minimal distance in case the company was appreciated. He didn’t want to read your mind, but he also didn’t know how to ask these questions. And you couldn’t blame him. 

You didn’t either. 

He grabbed a rag, blotting it with rubbing alcohol as he pushed up the sleeve of your his shirt. “This might sting a little.” He warned, keeping his focus on which of the bite–marks were the freshest. 

Your lips pursed, raising a slight brow at him. “I think I’ve handled worse–” The sentence trailed off as your lips pressed to a harsh line, quick to take back your words. It did sting, and you pressed your free hand to the counter to try and subside it. “Shit..” You muttered, cursed, tried to focus on anything but the pain. 

Without a word, Peter opened his free hand on the counter beside yours, offering it if needed. And it was, very much so. You took it without question, not even waiting a second before you squeezed it in yours, counting the seconds it took for the fizzling liquid to do its work. To fade away. Knowing how long you had undergone torture in the HYDRA base, you knew these wounds were better off cleaned in Peter’s care than ignored. 

Taking in deep breaths, you looked up at Peter. His eyes fixed just beyond your eyeline, watching his movements with careful accuracy. You tried to guess his thoughts by analyzing the way he looked at your arm, but you knew your method of mind–reading would always fall short. And just when you’d gotten the courage to part your lips and talk about his band–tee, Peter beat you to breaking the silence. 

“Was it really my fault?”

The question certainly took your mind off the burns now lacing your arm. You scanned his eyes again when he finally met yours, trying to find the right way to answer him. Your bottom lip lodged between your teeth for a second, but you knew you couldn’t find the answer in avoidance. 

“I can’t say it’s not.. But we shouldn’t have hid so much from you…” You spoke honestly. The way his shoulders squared, you could tell he didn’t want to hear it. Perhaps he’d wished that you would’ve lied to his face, but that wasn’t who you were. Still, this wasn’t his grievance to carry. You blamed yourself for the way he was punishing himself for everything. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

Suddenly, his expression shifted. He paused what he was doing to study you, brows sewn together in confusion for a brief second. “But you were right–”

You cut him off, shaking your head. “I was wrong to pin it on you.” Your statement was solid, a foundation of earnesty. Your hand found a place on his cheek, immediately realizing that it was too comfortable, too intimate. Quickly, you moved it to his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't have noticed. “I took out my anger on you—” The right words to say scrambled in your brain, but what came out was truthful, and Peter could see that. “I–I was hurt. I thought you’d compromised the mission because you didn’t trust me.”

“I compromised the mission because I found out they’d sent you alone into HYDRA.” His entire demeanor melted into empathy and understanding. Your vulnerability seemed to melt the weight of how much responsibility he’d taken on for the downfall of society. “I trusted you completely. I thought they’d blindsided you– Sent you back to the place that brought you so much pain..” Peter was the only person who knew the extent of your upbringing with HYDRA, even though most of the Avengers had read your file. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, both having more understanding of the other. 

Peter went back to cleaning out your arms, nearly done with one of them. “I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve stayed out of it–”

Your grip tightened on his hand. “Peter—”

“I should’ve stayed at base. None of this would’ve happened..” His jaw tightened, upset with himself. “I’m sorry–”

Your hand found his cheek again, and this time, you kept it there. “Peter.” You waited until he gave you his attention, until there was confidence in the fact that he was listening. “We can’t live in the past like this.. It happened, and now we’re going to fix it.” The ghost of a broken smile found your lips, trying to feed him reassurance. “But for what it’s worth.. I forgive you.”

The words he processed eased the ache of his sorrows. Peter’s posture relaxed, but he tried not to show it too much. “Thank you..” He spoke quietly, grabbing a bandage and a strip of gauze from the box beside you. Peter gave your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing your hold, using both of his hands to wrap your left arm. 

Both of you fell into a comfortable bit of silence for a few minutes before the rest of the night filled with casual small talk and tiny fits of laughter. You finally allowed yourself to sit in it, be present with him; be present with the selfishness of being happy for a minute. You’d missed seeing Peter light up when he spoke about certain topic, the way he was so attentive to you; how thoughtful he was, the way his tongue poked out on occasion when he was focused. 

And you’d never know that he missed you just the same. Being in your presence alone seemed to lift a grievance off his shoulders. Neither of you asked whether you were still dating or not, but neither of you felt the need to. 

Because you both shared the same thought: you were going to find Natasha and you were going to right your wrongs. You were going to save the world, together. 

[jahayla-parker]

🎆 Hey J!! Congrats on your 1.5 followers I'm so proud of you girl!! So for my request I was wondering if it could be a Peter Parker one where y/n is somehow transported into Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man: Far From Home, or Spider-Man No Way Home you pick and chaos ensues 💜

Multiverse : Peter Parker x Real-world!Reader

Descr: short fic in which y/n finds herself in her favorite movie and has to decide how to proceed.

Warnings: I’m not really great at these kind of AUs but other than that, I can’t think of any but let me know!

This sucks; I'm sorry, nothing was coming to me

Y/n bounced her right leg nervously as she looked around. She didn’t understand what was going on. One second she had been rewatching the latest Spider-Man movie, No Way Home from the comfort of her apartment. The next, she was standing in front of a glowing circle, identical to the ones that were portals in the movie she’d been watching. She hesitated briefly but nevertheless let her courage guide her into the multi-dimensional opening.

Y/n squinted as her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings. She quickly realized she’d somehow seemingly entered into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. How that was possible, she wasn’t certain. Had it not been for her literally pinching herself several times, she’d have thought she was simply dreaming. But she wasn’t. This was real.

Y/n slowly made her way across the bridge, stopping the moment she heard the fighting begin. She was actually in No Way Home.. or… in the universe that held the No Way Home events..? She wasn’t sure how to phrase it, it was all so bizarre. Either way, she knew from having seen the movie countless times already, that she ought to run and hide unless she wanted Dr. Octavius or Green Goblin to harm her.

Y/n let her feet guide her away from the immediate threat, only looking up when her legs came to a halt. She blinked rapidly as she found herself standing in front of Doctor Strange’s Sanctum. Of course she’d managed to make it here. Perhaps she should just go with the flow and try to help. After all, she knew how things would go, maybe she could prevent Tom Holland’s char Peter from getting hurt and May from dying.

That idea turned out too optimistic as Peter understandably was weary of y/n. It was one thing to bring people who knew him/Spider-Man from other universes. But a universe in which he was actually just a character and not real, that was another thing to digest. Nevertheless, Peter didn’t want to take any chances so he let her help him, Ned, and MJ.

It was a bit difficult at first to get Peter to trust her. As in his eyes, she seemed to be able to tell the future and was offering to stop the bad things before they happened. Luckily, having seen Far From Home, y/n understood why he was so weary of such a thing being too good to be true. So even when Peter trapped her in a sheet of webs as he demanded answers he could understand, she remained calm.

Once he had heard her out and understood that she meant no harm, Peter let y/n guide him on what to do and what not to do. There were some moments of chaos nonetheless as they were trying new things that y/n knew Peter hadn’t done in the movie before. But, she figured it was worth all the danger and chaos because she was helping her favorite superhero.

Only that too was much more intense than y/n had anticipated. Yet, she was simultaneously thrilled to be playing an active part in the movie she loved so much. Especially since they were now near the ending and May hadn’t died!

The only issue is y/n now had to return to her own universe. As much as she wanted to stay and make a place for herself in this one, she refused to risk ruining the MCU by accident. So, with a sigh, y/n closed her eyes as she said goodbye to this universe before stepping back into hers.

Taglist: @justapurrcat @natswife-marvelicious @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @theslayerofthevampires @wonderland2425

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[mgnifique-tion]

— human reaction.

summary || ``you’re starting to wonder if attending work after your day-off was a mistake.``

pairing: 2012!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: tesseract - cix (p.s. check out seunghun on build-up rn!) lowercase is intended… part: 1/?

— themes and warning/s: open-ended, enemies to potential lovers (for sure, they will be lovers soon), NOT a stand-alone one shot ;) wink wink, bossy loki, y/n being somewhat a dumb human being (heroism)

— a/n: hi! back with another loki au this march and guys, this is not a phase– IT’S NOT A PHASE, MOM! (corny? i graduated with that course in the university of the cornyology – i’m not even done with g12 lmfao wtf am i saying) anywho, i miss him. i literally rewatched the avengers for him and i'm not even active w the mcu anymore. i actually have a lot of other pending drafts from my main acc (@mgnifiqueyoo - follow me there :3) and so many unfinished IMPORTANT work from real life but like i thought of a line and now, i just HAVE to write it or it's outta my head so here u go. lmao. enjoy!

[ total words: 1.9k ]

support me on ko-fi! ☕

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“... oh my god.”

that was all you could mutter under your breath the moment you saw the rest of your co-workers controlled by that thing the alien held in his palm. you didn’t show up to work yesterday since you were just taking the final steps in finishing that project of yours.

what was the project? the hypercryogenic station.

and now, after a long day of ignoring your texts and calls, you ended up going to work, which happened to be a terrible idea. better yet, a horrible mistake. “... excuse me?” you took small steps, nearing the towering male as he just stood still, not facing you. all of your friends were doing his commands without any questions and you knew that clint barton would never do any of this!

but he did anyway. and you had to know why.

“what did you do with them?” you asked, demanding for answers as you heard him let out an almost inaudible chuckle only to be followed by a deep, low snicker. the alien slowly turned around and looked you straight in the eye, sweat pouring down his face with a sharp glare while his teeth ground against each other.

he was just terrifying, how else could you leave the facility without getting killed?

“oh, is that supposed to matter?” the alien mocked, later glancing at the staff he held before looking back at you, his smirk disappearing little by little. “... you must be horrified, aren’t you?”

of course you were, who wouldn’t be horrified when they see something like this? 

but before he could even get closer to you, he suddenly stumbled. that wasn’t something you expected since you assumed that he was a powerful being out of this world after seeing that wardrobe choice but he showed… weakness? it’s hard not to take note of it for future purposes.

you then cleared your throat and asked, “are you okay?”

but he said nothing in return, tense and trembling with every step. he had a maniacal look on his face as if he couldn’t control his actions; he seemed like he was enduring something that was hurting him inside.

and that got you thinking what else was happening with the man in front of you. “so, that’s a no?” 

“you’re the expert,” he said, “you’re the one blessed with knowledge over what it is that’s happening to me now.”

you frowned. you definitely had no idea what was going on with him and you were planning on leaving him to himself when he surprisingly grabbed your wrist. “heal me,” he pleaded, breathing in and out rapidly as you felt the burning heat that surrounded his palm, which led to that moment of realization.

“i… i don’t know how–,” you were then cut-off by him tilting his head to the project: the hypercryogenic station. if you ever had a scanner around you, his heat signature would be all over the place because of how high his temperature was. “but the station hasn’t even been tested yet and it could be dangerous for you and for all of us!”

the alien shook his head frantically, not letting any excuses get into his way. “if you don’t help me right now…” his breath hitched as the tip of the scepter was pointed at your chest, right at your heart. “you won’t be living for long.”

and that made you take so many steps, assisting him in the station as you closed the door. “you can’t be in there for more than a minute, it’s highly dangerous and i’m telling you, we haven’t done any tests yet–”

“just begin with the process.” his voice had gotten lower, hoarser with every moment that passed as you felt your heart race quicker. you knew that if you made a mistake, somebody like barton would kill you; there was no way out.

so the gears started running and you watched how the glass windows of the station had fogged up. your life’s work was being used by an unknown entity who took over the minds of your co-workers. your friends.

you couldn’t help but cry silently, biting your nails while you stood a meter away from the finished project. how could a five-year plan get wasted? to this unreadable, tyrannic humanoid? you can’t even breathe well.

and once the process was done, the station’s doors slid apart, creating a path for the man inside. when he stepped out of it, he didn’t even seem affected by it. all normal and human-like as if he had only bathed himself in some snow and not in an actual blizzard.

but colder than his skin was his gaze toward you, the scepter staring back at you as well, watching the way you took a few steps away from him.

“who are you?” you asked, your eyes glued to the scepter rather than his face, which caused him to get agitated.

in return, the tip of the scepter’s blade touched your chin, tilting your head up so that you could look at him. “i am loki of asgard,” he introduced with a deranged grin as you heard the way his breath hitched, overwhelmed and proud with how he spoke to you. 

that was enough to make you take another step back but his hand grabbed your arm like a lock, fastened so tightly that it made everything worse for you. “what did you do with them?” you tilted your head to the blue-eyed agents now circling the entire room, which made loki laugh.

he truly was out of his mind. 

“i simply used them for a greater purpose,” he said back, letting out another chuckle as the scepter gleamed in response. it was in his complete control… they were all under his control.

how in the world can you run from this?

“let them go.” “oh, we’re getting heroic now, aren’t we?”

he mocked you shamelessly as if it wasn’t your invention that saved him from his visible misery – whatever it was that hurt him earlier.

“... well, i did save you.” you just had to let a bit of sass come out because it was true. however, loki didn’t seem to be fond of that and had read that as entitlement rather than a reminder of who did save him.

nonetheless, he lowered his weapon and laughed once more. “your little saving was merely necessary, mortal. i could’ve used that machine myself.” of course, he disregarded that tiny, little favour you did for him and decided that it’d be best to not even give out a little thank you.

but then, again, what do you expect from an aspiring alien tyrant?

“but you couldn’t because i programmed it for my access only,” you continued the conversation, stating the truth right in front of him. that was your life’s work… you still couldn't believe that it was firstly used by some tall man with a scepter and emerald drapes. “besides, that thing you used wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.”

there was long silence once again… perhaps, even longer than moments of silence you had earlier when your eyes scanned over the rest of the place.

almost the entirety of the facility was led by loki. horrifyingly brainwashed by that scepter.

“fair enough,” he admitted, “but you wouldn’t be breathing if i hadn’t given you the chance.”

“... do you want me to thank you? for this?” “giving thanks means nothing. i need something much more than that.”

you crossed your arms, gulping as you still tried to make yourself seem as if you had the upper hand. an imaginary upper hand, perhaps? although you had put on that mask, loki knew you were afraid of what he could do to you. 

if this is only a preview of the damage he’s capable of causing, just how could you survive while being opposed to him?

“i could…” he trailed off, smirking to himself as he circled the station, his palm touching its painted and carved surface while the scepter glowed in his other hand. “hm… i could do the same to you. put your talent to use like the others.”

and you readied yourself, closing your eyes as your once crossed arms dropped to your sides, hopeless and left without a sign of help. “but you have not attacked me once,” he said with a tone of interest, diverting his attention from the opportunity of just controlling you like a mindless servant and rather feeling positive about a different, riskier path. “and you’ve saved me. willingly. no control needed.”

he walked towards you, breathing heavily and letting out a low chuckle. “do you know what gift you have, dr. l/n?” he questioned, expecting you to know the answer as he tilted your head upwards again with the end of the scepter. one wrong push and you could bleed to death; he was being careful with you still.

after all, you were a great addition to his plans.

“humanity, l/n.” he proudly stated, now lowering his weapon as your heart raced. never did you fear death until now, especially when your life would fade to grey without the knowledge of what’ll happen next. to the world and the people around you. “you’ve got so much humanity in you that your best choice was to save a dying god. it’s foolish, l/n. how could you be so brilliant but foolish?–”

“are you done?” you had enough of it, still staring at one corner as you saw how your friend’s eyes still gleamed in blue, manipulated by the god standing right in front of you while the remaining lights of the facility shone over his prepped quiver, ready to attack whenever, however.

and of course, the god of mischief was indeed offended by that. “... you’re so brave, it’s idiotic.” he laughed, shaking his head as if you both had been joking with one another and you felt the heat rush up your head; you didn’t want this. you just wanted your friends to be set free – your world to be set free from this being. 

“what do you desire in return?” “for you to stop whatever you’re planning here, my lord.”

even though loki knew you were being sarcastic, he just admired the way it rolled off your tongue. “you do know that does not equate to what you’ve done for me and you might want to do something more for me if you’d want that to happen,” he said, denying your request with a snicker. “but of course, i still appreciated your service earlier so how about i offer you something else?”

he’s cheating, you thought.

“in exchange of your little saving, it’ll be guaranteed that not one of us would lay a finger on you…” he paused, hiding the scepter behind his back as you tilted your head to the side. were you even hearing this correctly? that was too low. “and you would be shielded from any harm as well.”

but can you do anything about it? no. “is that good enough for you, my little savior?”

you had to think about it for longer than a second. why only a second, you may ask? well, does it look like you still have enough time to decide perfectly? the world is at stake; you had to give an answer now or worse destruction could happen.

“fine,” you uttered, firmly extending your hand towards him as he only stared back at your empty, shaking palm. “i’ll do whatever it takes to free this world from you.”

“that’s laughable.” “we’ll see, your majesty.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Title: Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: King!Steve x Royal!female!Reader, brief appearance from Natasha

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Georgian-but-quasi-American royal AU. You came into the betrothal with no illusions to the situation – yours was a marriage to ensure the continuation of many generations of alliance and peace between your respective kingdoms. Very early, however, you learn what your royal union truly means to you both.

Content Warnings: politically arranged marriage, reluctant pining, SMUT (rough fucking, p in v, oral – female receiving, fluffy fucking, nipple play)

Additional Notes: The eighth and final offering in my 2022 Holiday Extravaganza. Just a smutty one-shot here with a smattering of situation painting/plot and relationship development. Did I think we were going to end up with this much Steve for the HE? Nope! But here we are, yet again ahaha. I had closed my laptop and gotten up to go to bed, had this idea while brushing my teeth, and sat back down and typed for an hour, then have been feverishly returning to it as I had the time. So I hope you enjoy, dear reader.

Music Ficspiration: Big God by Florence + the Machine, I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face from My Fair Lady, Better Love by Hozier, Movement by Hozier, So Real by Jeff Buckley, Lover, You Should’ve Come Over by Jeff Buckley

“Your Majesty,” one of your ladies in waiting enters your bedchambers and sweeps into a curtsy.

“Yes?” you prompt, turning in your chair to look at her directly instead of through mirror of the vanity.

“His Majesty the King has returned.”

You nod, “Thank you. You may retire for the evening.”

She curtsies again, bowing her head, and then leaves, closing the door softly behind her. You sigh, turning back properly in your chair so your lady in waiting, the Duchess Natalia, can resume taking down your hair.

“Your Majesty?” she prompts, noting your sigh.

“It’s good to hear the king is back.”

“He will undoubtedly request an audience with you tomorrow,” she says. She is far too observant and already knows you too well.

She is also mercifully diplomatic, discreet, and a confidant who listens and doesn’t needle you or pry, so she continues letting out the braids, letting you muse on your own and only speak further if you want to.

You don’t want to.

The product of a long-arranged betrothal to bring peace between two countries, you had accepted your fate, resigned to be a good and dutiful queen. You were not to inherit a throne in your own country, had known that from birth with two older brothers, and you had grown up ready to embrace duty and opportunity. On arriving in the kingdom of Brooklyn as the future queen, your interactions with King Steven had been limited, but pleasant. They had been sufficient for you to be secure in your hope that it would be a good union, no need to worry about him being either cruel or moronic.

You had expected to be wedded and bedded. What you had not expected was to actually fall for him after the wedding ceremony and royal festivities when the two of you had taken the custom ten-day royal honeymoon to the palace in the north of his country by the lakes. The first night, of course, you’d consummated the union. The first few days you had been tentative in each other’s company. But with few staff, few interruptions, no royal obligations, only time really to yourselves – dining together, walking in the gardens, riding in the forest, in your bedchambers… you had grown close, and you had dangerously started to lose your heart to him.

Then you had been sent back to court while he had to depart directly to attend to matters in California in Stark’s kingdom. Two weeks had stretched to three, and the longer he was absent, the more you missed him, spurring you to grow more irritated at your naivety for developing more tender feelings for him than just that of the dutiful wife and queen you were supposed to and had intended to be.

No, here you sat, hoping your husband would summon you on the morrow, as you could not simply turn up in his royal presence, even though you were queen. Indeed, you could go anywhere else in this kingdom, had the company of many – some only because they had to or were courting your favor, but enough warm and developing relationships throughout the court – but not the one person you now yearned for.

You had been prepared all your life to marry a king and not to grow sentimentally attached to him as your husband. You felt like such a fool, pining when you had been perfectly fine and content in your life a mere six weeks ago.

There are voices outside your bedchamber and you and Natasha exchange perplexed looks. Just as she turns toward the door, it bursts open, the king entering without hesitation. He takes in the scene then quickly strides forward.

Natasha quickly drops into the customary curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she says.

You should have risen from your spot and greeted him as well, but your heart has jumped into your throat, and you are momentarily frozen.

The king is across the room and standing next to you by the time Natasha rises back to her full stature. He reaches out for the brush in her hand, and you catch the nearly imperceptible lift of the corners of her lips in a smile as she gives it to him.

“Duchess, you may go, I will take over.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

She makes to curtsy again before exiting, but he waves her off. “Go,” he commands, impatiently but somehow without any irritation, and she heeds his wishes and departs immediately.

Wordlessly, he steps right up behind you. You suppose you shouldn’t have been surprised he came to you. You belong to him, and he’s been denied by proximity for three weeks. He pulls all your hair into his left hand, then, holding it, works the brush through it with his right hand, starting at the bottom, moving up a little at a time. You marvel at how gently and methodically he works through your locks, almost reverently. Neither of you speak as he brushes your hair. You study him in the mirror. He’s concentrated fully on his task. Coming to a finish, he finally meets your gaze in the mirror, and the look in his eyes is intense. He sets the brush on the dressing table and sweeps your hair to one side, exposing your neck and he leans down to press a long, heated kiss to your delicate skin. You shiver as he follows this with shorter kisses trailing down your neck to the juncture where it meets shoulder, and it’s a sensitive point that draws a sigh from your lips.

He stands up straight and urges you to turn in your chair and face him. His fingers possessively trace along your jaw, tilting your chin up. “Did you miss your king?”

You couldn’t say you missed your husband and not your king, not yet, so instead of mincing words or spinning together something else true enough to say, you bring your hand up over his, and turn your head to press a kiss into the palm of his hand.

You try to move to kneel before him, but he says, “Oh no,” instead insisting on luring you up and pulling you into a kiss, fully flush against his body, and he leads you in no uncertain terms to the bed, shoving you down to sit at the foot of the mattress. He draws back and both of you are panting heavily. He stands between your legs, and he doesn’t take his eyes off your as he pulls his tunic up over his head and drops it to the floor. His breeches quickly follow, and his cock springs free, hard, and ready to take you. Already breathing heavily, you’re able to hide your reaction somewhat – which is a confusing mixture of both excitement and trepidation.

He urges you to scoot back, crawling up to join you,

Midway up the bed, he presses on your shoulder, “Lay back for me. “

He rucks up your nightgown around your hips, and crawls over you, using one hand to guide himself into your already slickening folds before caging you in on either side of your head and thrusting deep inside your cunt, filling you completely with the first thrust.

He adopts a frenzied pace to fuck you. It’s hard and fast. He’s no longer looking at you, his head dropped and buried into the crook of your neck. You can’t catch your breath. This isn’t what you wanted.

He holds your thigh up around his narrow waist, spearing into you again and again, his fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising force. You let out a quiet sob and he abruptly stills, raising his head to look at you, but you can’t look at him.

You’re not fast enough to brush away the tears though, and you know he sees them slowly rolling down your cheeks, tears you had fought to keep at bay.

He utters your name as if in pain and draws away completely, sitting back on his heels.

You turn away, rolling to your side, feeling so much more of you has been exposed than merely your naked body before him.

After a moment that stretches on between the two of you, his fingers tenderly caress your calf. He murmurs your name tentatively this time, a question.

You sense him shift on the bed, and suddenly you feel him behind you. You are wrapped in on yourself, but his hand brushes softly from your elbow to your shoulder. He lingers there for a moment, then you feel him shift behind you again, and he props himself up, so he can look down at you over your shoulder, and his hand moves purposefully now to your cheek to wipe away your tears. He plants a kiss on your shoulder. Then he brings his hand back to your shoulder and softly urges you to roll toward him so you’re on your back again and he can look directly at you again.

“That was too rough. You are a queen and deserve better treatment from a king.”

You turn your head away. “No, it’s not…” You bite your lip. Even the way he apologized was too detached and it made your heart ache.

“Not what?”

More hot tears spill silently over your cheeks. How can you explain? You hardly understood the tempest in your heart yourself.

But then he cups the side of your face, brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and when he draws your gaze back to him, there is something in his eyes so searching and raw that your heart longs for more of that version of him. “It wasn’t that you were too rough, it was that I don’t want to be merely used and discarded.” Your admission is out in a rush before you could second guess your words or their consequences.

He frowns. “Far from it.”

He moves closer and plants a kiss on your forehead, then rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, for a moment you both simply breath each other in being that close, one of his hands still cupping your cheek. At length, he speaks again. “I was desperate for you.”

“Desperate for me?”

He breaks away and laughs softly, but there’s a pang of bitterness to it. “Yes, desperate.”

He sits up, facing away from you.

You sit up next to him, smoothing your nightdress down, unsure how to proceed, you don’t want to lose him in the present. “Steven?” you try to coax him for more.

He sighs. “I’m afraid you will find me to be a fool.”

You wait for him to continue, needing to hear what he means.

“I was serenely independent and content before we wed, and inexplicably in a matter of days you somehow seem to have seeped into my bones, because from the first of your absence my mind turned so often of you. I found myself wondering what your opinion would be, wanting you to try some of the delicacies alongside me, wishing to see your smiles and your frowns throughout the course of the day. When I returned to my chambers each night, they were empty instead of peaceful and solitary. I’d grown accustomed to your voice, accustomed to your face, accustomed to your place at my side.”

He pauses again for a moment, and his expression pained. “But it was more than accustomed – I truly yearned for you and was angry to feel so much unlike myself when I’ve ruled for more than a decade without you, lived a life I thought was very much complete before you, devoted to the crown and happy in my reign, and now…”

The sentiment lingers in the space between you. Surely, he must hear your thundering of your heart in your chest. Finally, you say, “If you’re a fool, I’m a fool.”

His head snaps to look at you.

You take a deep breath and expose your soul to him, too. “I was born and raised for our royal duties, to marry and become a useful and reliable queen. There was no question of your deep commitment to rule this kingdom dutifully as its king. In the days before we married, it was evident we had the same expectations of our union, no sentimental notions. It made sense, and we were well-matched. At our wedding, we became king and queen. Away from our royal expectations, alone with each other, I think we both fell into becoming husband and wife. I’ve yearned for you these past weeks as well, and I couldn’t abide how impossible I thought my situation was, so sure and confident I would make for a good queen but discovering I wanted more. It was only when you went away that I felt the lack of something – an affection as I’d never had before, both for you and from you.”

He turns fully toward you and kisses you again, and instead of the demand and hunger, as he kisses now it’s driven only by the unrestrained yearning he confessed and that you admitted in return.

He pulls you into his lap, and you straddle him. He breaks the kiss to rid you of your nightdress entirely now instead of only pushing it out of the way as before, and then his lips immediately seek yours again. Your arms wrap around his neck, and his broad, warm hands are splayed across your back, pressing you flush to him, and you are just as eager to feel every inch of his skin seared against yours

He pauses his kiss, both of you utterly breathless now. You put a hand on his chest over his heart. He looks down and smiles at the gesture before looking up and beaming at you, but his small falters a fraction at the concentrated look on your face.

“What is it?”

You speak the notion that’s newly bloomed in your chest. “We are the only two people in the world with whom we can be totally ourselves, husband and wife, not the king and the queen, just a man and a woman.”

He nods fervently. “A new vow then between us: to both guard and embrace this as a true and unfettered love.”

You kiss him, but he only returns it briefly before pausing it again. “Do you swear it?” he asks.

You bob your head eagerly, seeking his lips, but he grips your chin, holding you back. “Words.”

“I swear it with everything I am.”

“As do I,” he affirms, then captures your lips again with his, moving you both again, this time lowering you worshipfully to the mattress. His mouth begins moving slowly down your neck, and you shiver, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair, the other clutching his muscled bicep. When he reaches the base of your neck, his tongue laves at the sweet spot he discovered there in your first precious days together, making you whimper. He then mouths at the spot and plants one more kiss there before moving lower. His lips skim lightly down your chest, kissing over where your heart is thrumming. He kisses the swell of your left breast, and then moves to mirror that action on the right. He brings his right hand up to palm one of your breasts as his tongue flicks across your nipple. He works to bring both to stiff peaks, licking and sucking the right while his hand plays with the left. Your back arches in pleasure at his ministrations.

He moves his mouth back to the other breast, and before you can think to miss his hand there, it’s confidently parting your thighs, seeking your now extremely wet folds.

“Steve.”

“That’s it, my love, let me make you feel good,” he says, and you whimper again. His fingers stroke your labia slowly. Your eyes close as he stokes your pleasure. He slips a finger into your core, pumping in and out. When he adds another finger, you can’t hold back the little noises that escape you. He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles, and those little noises morph into a moan. Steve moves up now to hover over you, watching your face as he works you up to your first climax that night. You would feel too exposed if he had studied you this way during your first days together, but your confessions tonight to each other leave you now feeling safe being so intimately on display. When you cry out, hips bucking, he continues to stroke, working you through the orgasm.

He removes his fingers, and you need the moment, but lament the emptiness. His eyes are still on your face, and when your breathing is close to normal, you open your eyes and look back at him. Then you glance lower to see he’s pumping his hard, thick member with the hand that was still glistening with your slick of arousal. His eyes are aflame with his need, and he moves in to kiss you again. You welcome it, parting your lips and sliding your tongue between his. He opens for you, and as your tongues tease and delve, you roll and hungrily push him back on the mattress.

Steve grabs your hips with both of his hands and moves your body to straddle him. In place just where he wants you, chest to chest, you drop down to your elbows, planted on either side of his head. As you continue to kiss, he presses his hand down to the base of your spine and brushes his cock temptingly against your entrance. You push your hips back against him, and his chest hums with approval.

“Please,” you plead.

He doesn’t make you ask twice, using his other hand to guide his length into your quim. He doesn’t rush this push into you, but it’s not slow. Once fully sheathed, he moves his arms to circle around your chest, holding you close to him as he sets a steady pace thrusting up into you. He swallows your moans of ecstasy. When it begins to overwhelm you, you have to break off the consuming kiss to gulp lungful’s of air. Seeing you desperate like this above him drives his voracity.

Still buried inside you, he rolls to bring you beneath him once more. You cling to his shoulders, and he continues to advance toward release for both of you. He shifts the angle of his hips, and he’s rewarded with a pure keen from you. He continues to hit the spongy spot up against your pubic bone. You sob, so close, and this time the tears are pure pleasure. He grasps at one of your hands, and your fingers twine together. A few more thrusts and your walls flutter around him and then he your orgasm hits. Your spasming channel is too much, and with a groan he spills inside you right after.

He collapses against you, and you welcome the weight of his body. You’re both quiet in your moment of satiation. Your free hand draws lazy patterns over his shoulder blade as your breathing returns to normal. You wonder if he’s going to drop off into sleep, but then he repositions slightly, and asks, “Are you comfortable?”

“Mhmm,” you respond. You’re comfortable physically and intimately in this moment with him.

He brings your joined hands to his lips, and he kisses the back of your hand, then tucks it close to his chest and begins conversing with you – about the mundane, the important, things from the past few weeks apart, and from your lives apart before. There’s more kissing, followed by more pleasure, pulling each other apart in turn, and no sleeping until long after midnight.

You groan when he wakes you at what seems to be daybreak. You close your eyes again swiftly, and open your mouth to protest, but he cups your jaw and his thumb brushes over your parted lips. “I know it’s early,” he murmurs, “but I want to have you once more while we’re alone and unbothered.”

And when he says it like that, with such tenderness and longing, you wouldn’t dream of denying it for either of you. You hope to grow accustomed to many more stolen mornings over your lifetime together now.

COMPANION/PREQUEL PIECE: The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are

READ THE NEXT PART: A SHIFT IN THE MORNING ROUTINE

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

If you enjoyed, reblog to help others find this story AND to normalize the fic-reblog culture. There are so many talented writers, and a reblog really fuels the muses of the soul more than you know - we all appreciate it whether we're big or little fish in this pond.

My askbox is always open.

[citrus-moonlight]

Danger Starts the Sharp Incline

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Demon!Klaue x Fem Scientist Reader Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.5K Rating: Explicit

Summary: At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating!, No Age Specified, PWP, One Shot, Smut, Let Me Be Clear: This Is Absolute Filth, Monster Fucking, Demon Fucking, Could be viewed as Dubcon, Implied Mind Manipulation, But to be clear reader is Into It, Pet Names, Touch Starved Demon, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Big Hands I Know You're the One, Unprotected PIV, Size Kink, Squirting, A Lot of Demon Cum, Like A Lot, Cum Marking, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms (both), Overstimulation, Possessiveness

A/N: Once again, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting very, very away from me. This honestly could have been even longer (it was over 5.5k and counting at one point!), but I managed to reign myself in, lol. I almost feel like I have enough for a part two, so who knows, perhaps I'll revisit this AU one day in the future!

This was inspired by the first bit of this absolutely incredible demon/scientist blurb* by @biscuitdragonwithastick, which you should definitely read first (thank you for the ok to go ahead with this!). It fully dug its claws (pun intended?) into my brain and refused let me go. I couldn't stop thinking about a Demon!Klaue AU, and thanks to some lovely encouragement, this is the result!

Please, please mind the tags, my dears, and thank you for reading!

*Demon's name has been changed here to fit the AU

Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics ❤️

UPDATING TO ADD PLEASE GO CHECK OUT THIS DEMON!KLAUE FANART BY MY INCREDIBLE LOVELY TALENTED FRIEND, truly I have not stopped screaming! 😍🥹💕

Work title is from "All Mine" by Portishead

AO3 Link

Make no mistake You shan't escape Tethered and tied There's nowhere to hide from me All mine You have to be

Klaw’s reaction continues to be noted by the higher-ups, and eventually it’s decided that they want to conduct an experiment, using you.

The next time you’re scheduled on the cleaning rotation they want to take the opportunity to determine if there’s a measurable difference in output and chemical composition - before and after you’ve been in the room with him.

“Just consider what it might mean to the future of energy research”, they’d said. “It could lead to the discovery of a demon-sensitive pheromone additive that boosts energy output across the board.”

Although you flush at the outward acknowledgement of what’s been happening, you can’t deny that it intrigues you.

Especially since you had started dreaming about him.

Since you’d stopped being able to control how wet you got when you observed him.

Since the self-consciousness you’d felt at the sidelong glances of your colleagues had started feeling like something else. 

Something like pride.

* * * * * *

Two days later you’re scheduled for the night shift alone, with not much else to do but make the occasional note in the shift log and wait for the alarm that indicates the mare’s collection tank is full. So you wait. 

And watch.

For the first time you have a chance to really just look at him, and you’re finding it difficult to pay attention to the instruments that you should be monitoring. Your eyes instead are continually drawn back to the observation window and the thick mop of black curls that falls across his forehead where his horns emerge, sharp features are framed by the scruff of a dark beard, and an intriguing mix of tattoos, brands and scars play across the planes and curves of his body.

Although his muscles aren’t as chiseled as many of the demons you've observed in this facility his shoulders and arms are thick, and you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes follow the dark hair that covers his broad chest and abdomen down to where it meets the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

A slick warmth has been slowly pooling between your thighs since you settled into your chair at the beginning of the shift, but as you watch the bored pumping of his hips fall into a smoother, swaying rhythm, that warmth ignites.

Widening his stance, hooved feet brace on the floor as he pulls out further before thrusting back in, letting you watch his cock slide slowly back into the machine’s opening, burying himself with a jutting roll of his hips, over and over. Almost teasing. 

Almost taunting.

This could be you.

It’s only when Klaw drags his hands along the metal “body” of the mare that you notice it: The claws of the first three fingers of his right hand seem to be…gone? 

With a flicker of concern you flip a switch on the console, using the camera to zoom in. 

Ok, no, they’re not gone per se, but they’re definitely shorter, nearly down to the quick. Was it an accident? Did they break in a fervor as he fucked the contraption? 

Frowning at the screen your mind turns over the possibilities, but before you can think to add the peculiarity to your notes your thoughts fizzle away when you glance back up to the observation window and see that he’s watching you.

As soon as your eyes meet his the tease in his movements falls away and he’s bottoming out hard against the opening in a rough, stuttered rhythm as his eyes cloud over, and you know from past observation that he’s nearing the edge.

Your inner muscles clench and the ache that’s been building since you walked in here swells and overlaps with a flaring jealousy when Klaw shudders and growls, filling the receptacle with another thick load of his seed.

You don’t even realize that you stood up until you feel the cool glass of the observation window beneath your palms, your breath fogging the surface as you press yourself against the barrier.

There’s still a slow, uneven cadence to the demon’s thrusts following his climax, but his gaze swiftly sharpens on you again when one of your hands drifts idly across your stomach, then lower, fingers brushing over the top button of your pants-

-and then you jump when a shrill sound interrupts you, nearly growling at the surge of frustration.

The alarm is piercing and incessant and won’t stop until you enter the demon’s room, so you return to the control panel to activate the sigil that will keep him contained while you clean and recalibrate the machine - tests having shown that a laser projection of the correct wavelength of light is just as effective as a physical binding.

Once you’re through the airlock you quickly set to working through the checklist, unhooking the mechanism that feeds into tanks in the floor and connecting it to a fresh one. You move on to cleaning the unfeeling hole that the demon fucks into day in and day out, your breath going shallow at the jealousy that continues to singe your nerves. 

His gaze stays entirely focused on you as you move around, cock swaying heavily in front of  broad thighs - still hard, always hard - the still leaking head so dark it’s nearly purple. 

The slick between your thighs has only increased since you started to work, fairly certain that you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, and when you have to pass closer to his “cage” he leans forward, nearly pressing himself against the barrier as he follows your path.

Inhaling deeply his cock twitches, more cum dripping from the tip as he ruts at the air, and you can't help but wonder if he’s picking up your frustrated arousal.

“Hurry up.” you chide yourself. “Stop getting distracted. Just finish your shit and get out.”

Kneeling down behind the machine you open the access panel and flip through the menus until you find the one that will complete the calibration, and while you’re focused on watching it cycle you don’t notice the outer door open from the hall into the observation room. 

The intern who enters must not see you where you’re kneeling on the floor, and evidently thinking that the trap has been left on in error he flips the switch to deactivate it.

When the light from the beaming sigil goes dark you pop up in alarm, the face of the intern frozen in an almost comedic grimace of horror when he finally registers that you’re staring back at him from the wrong side of the glass. 

The man reaches for the switch again but Klaw’s reflexes are faster, and before the trap can be reactivated the demon rushes the door. Slamming his shoulder against it he jams it so thoroughly they'll need to bring in special equipment to get it open again, but at this time of night it'll be hours, if you’re lucky, before a crew gets here.

Then he rounds on you.

With an oddly warm sense of detachment you think that you should feel fear as you watch the slow grin spread across his face, but the only thing you feel is a surge of hot, aching desire. 

He rumbles something you don’t understand, though the rough texture of his words is still intoxicating, and before you realize what you’re doing you’re walking towards him, pulling your shirt over your head as you move. 

Because right now you find that you want - need - to bare yourself for him, the sensation of it intense that your skin feels like it’s going to scald if you don’t get your clothes off now, and your shoes, pants and underwear quickly join the discarded pile on the floor.

Stopping in front of him you reach back to unclasp your bra, but your arms pause mid-way when Klaw’s hand reaches out, your breath hitching when he hooks a large, clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his.

You’d always assumed that his eyes were black, but this close you realize that they’re actually an impossibly deep blue, a blue that only resides along the penumbra of light and shadow where the last rays of sun reach into the depths of the ocean

You stand mesmerized as his hand dips lower, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as a claw trails gently down the delicate skin of your neck and chest, and then with a flick of his wrist the last scrap of fabric covering you gives way, exposing your breasts to the cool air.  

You’ve barely shrugged off the ruined garment when suddenly you’re being picked up - so, so easily - and placed on a table, swiftly reminded of how much larger and stronger he is than you, and once again dimly aware that you should feel fear, or dread, or some instinct telling you to run.

Not of the shiver of anticipation that leaves your breath hitching in your chest. 

Definitely not the wild need blooming in your core as sharp teeth ghost along the place where your blood thrums, his breath hot and his skin hotter.

His mouth continues its path downward, pausing to lick at the soft swell of your breasts, taking a moment to pull and pluck at your nipples with his lips. A pleased growl vibrates against your skin when you lean back onto your hands with a moan, arching into the swirl of his tongue around your pebbled flesh. 

It’s not long, though, before he can no longer ignore the way this increases the heated musk between your thighs, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva as his mouth travels down, seeking the place where you’re already dripping for him.

The demon's hands nearly wrap entirely around your thighs yet his touch is almost cautious as he presses you open, mesmerized by the way you unfold for him like the petals of a flower, slick and shining.

HIs eyes are heavy lidded as thick fingers begin to tease through your folds, toying with your clit, surprising you with how softly he rolls it between thumb and forefinger, a grin curving the corner of his mouth when your hips buck into his touch.

Noting your reaction he repeats the motion, gently pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until your mouth drops open and your breath is coming in sharp gasps, his dark eyes staying fixed between your legs as thick fingers coax a warm, honeyed orgasm from you, leaving you keening and startled by the slow intensity of it.

You’ve barely caught your breath when you feel his mouth suddenly envelop your mound, lapping eagerly at your release as you whine and writhe beneath his tongue, overwhelmed at the stimulation.

It’s too much, all of this is too much, but as he continues licking and suckling at your sensitive flesh you find that you’re no longer fighting it, the hum of bliss that hadn’t yet faded already building to a fresh swell, and when his lips capture your clit with a sudden fluttering pressure your body stiffens as your second orgasm flares through you, sharper and brighter than the first. 

When he finally releases you he speaks again, but through the haze of afterglow it takes a moment for it to register that this time you think that you understand him, the word seeming to appear within your mind at the same time that you hear it from his glistening lips.

“Sweet.” 

With a start you look down at him and he pauses, head tilting, curiosity knitting his heavy brows. 

Not moving his eyes from yours, his voice is a low, tentative purr when he speaks again.

“Would your sweet cunt like..more?”

Holy fuck. You can understand him.

Your thoughts spin as the shock works its way through you, the analytical part of your mind attempting to parse what the fuck is happening. Is it the increased time in his proximity? The physical contact? Whatever the mechanism, you can suddenly hear- or perhaps more accurately feel - his words, somewhere deep in your conscience.

A firm nod, then, in answer to his question, a responding pull of his lips into a slow, pleased grin.

Dipping his head Klaw licks a broad, wet stripe up your cleft, and then he’s devouring you, slavering hungrily against your sex, drool mixing with your arousal as his lips and tongue work your aching bundle of nerves until you’re gasping shallow breaths, every muscle strung taught as you hover on the edge once more.

Seeking for an anchor your hands find his curved horns, warm and leathery beneath your scrabbling fingers, and then with a rasping cry you’re coming in long, surging waves, your entire body trembling as your hips chase every flutter of pleasure on the tip of his tongue. 

Dimly you think that he must be satisfied now, that you must be satisfied, yet it seems as though with every climax you only hunger more intensely for the next. 

Once your hands release his horns and fall limp at your sides Klaw straightens up, and then wrapping his hand around his cock he starts roughly stroking himself. 

Almost without thinking your legs fall open, shaky arms pulling your knees back to expose yourself to him, knowing he can see how your soaked cunt still clenches through the last waves of your orgasm, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s coming with a rough jerk of his hips and you gasp at the heat, thick ropes of cum streaking across your slick folds and the insides of your thighs.  

Still breathing hard, the pumping of his fist gradually slows, a hand drifting along the curve of your inner thigh as his focus comes back to you. Gathering some of the sticky mess he left between your legs he drags it through your folds, and then suddenly a thick finger is sliding into you.

Even as you gasp at the intrusion you begin to understand that he had actually done it on purpose: Biting down those claws himself because, it seems, he had been thinking about this.

The realization that it was for you leaves your entire body humming, and as your hips cant up to meet the slow, almost teasing thrusts, there’s only one word that swells and ripens in your mind, uncertain whether it’s your word or his even as it falls from your lips.

“More.”

A knowing glint flashes in his eyes at your soft plea, and almost immediately you feel a second finger slipping against you. Just teasing his fingertips at your entrance at first he lets your juices slick them before pressing into you, both fingers together nearly as thick as a human cock.

You moan as he continues to slide them in and out of you, and just as you begin to sink into the ache of it, you moan low in your throat when suddenly he’s adding a third.

The heady pressure of him working three fingers into your already stretched hole is overwhelming, and you’re unsure whether you want to throw yourself towards the sensation or resist it, your body arching into him, yet tensing and pulling away at the same time.

But then he’s pressing you down onto the table, his hand nearly spanning the width of your chest to hold you in place as his fingers continue nudging deeper.

“Where are you going, little one? Going to have to take it if you want my cock." 

As if to emphasize his words he drags his erection against the inside of your thigh with a grunted sigh, a fresh streak of precum adding to the mess that he’s already left on you.

Because of course you do, and he knows it, has known it since you stopped being able to look away from his hunched form as he fucked into his mechanical mate, a warm curiosity growing into a distracting need.

And you know that he could have taken you at any time, could have forced himself into you as soon as your clothes were a forgotten pile on the floor. But instead, he’s been preparing you to take him properly, making you come until the only thing you know is his mouth and his fingers and you’re soft and trembling and ravenous.

“God yes.” You spread your legs wide again, giving him an obscene view of where his fingers are sinking into you, slick sounds filling the room as they pump faster now.

“There you go.” He croons above you. “Made for this, hmm?" 

Any attempt at a response trails into a choked cry when he finds that soft, needy spot deep inside you, a fresh, pulsing heat spreading through your already exhausted body as he takes you apart once more. Still pinned beneath his hand you’re unable to do anything but allow it to wash through you, shaking and whimpering as he continues to drag firm, curling strokes against your clenching walls.

Leaning down Klaw presses his face into your heaving chest, and your nipples tighten and ache as he licks languorously between your breasts, his huffed breath is hot against your skin.

As your senses filter back in your hands slowly begin to move, exploring the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, trembling fingers tugging and sliding through his hair, and then up and over his horns again.

Letting your eyes slip closed you take in the ridged curve of them, a velvety pleasure blooming in your chest when he inhales sharply, cock throbbing against your thigh when your fingers wrap around the base of them.

Finally pulling his fingers out of you he tugs you up, turning around and repositioning you so that you’re straddling his broad hips as best you can. Strong hands support you, encouraging you to slide your slick folds along his shaft, a giddy sort of panic stuttering in your chest at the sudden awareness of the size of him where he twitches between your thighs.

Desperate whines that may as well be prayers slide from your throat when he lifts you higher and you feel the thick, bulbous head of his cock nudging against your entrance, the only words falling from your lips a whispered litany of “Oh my god oh my god oh my god."

“I’m not your God, little one,” he growls softly, words distorted as if you're hearing them through a sediment of granite and blood. "But you will worship me."

“Yes. Yes..Oh fuck, please.” 

Beneath your lilting plea you dimly hear gritted curses and words of encouragement as you circle your hips, your arousal making a slick mess of his cock.

You can't help how eagerly your hips rock down, seeking more, so lost in the sensations that you're unprepared when a hard press of your hips matches his upward thrust, and the thick head of his cock suddenly ruts up into you, and when he slips past the tight ring of muscle the feral sound from deep in your chest nearly matches his.

Panting open mouthed you hold him there before rising up, slowly, slowly, letting him slip out of you before sinking down to take him back in. You feel weightless beneath the obsidian glint in his eyes as he watches you repeat the motion again, and again, his arms helping you move as you start to shake from the effort of riding just the head of his cock.

Even now there’s something warm and urgent drawing your hand lower, and you’re unable to help feeling pleased when his eyes go heavy as his gaze follows your fingers down to where they press against your clit.

“So..needy.” he rumbles. “Better than I imagined.”

“You..imagined?” You pant, attempting to sound coy, but your words are thick with lust as you continue to roll your hips, forcing yourself down further down his length. 

Your movements are becoming less controlled now, and when your fingers slip and brush against his shaft you whimper at how fucking big he feels where he's stretching you open, and how much of him is still outside of you.

You can feel every slick ridge and vein beneath your hand, and as you slide it along his length the muscles of his thighs tense and flex beneath you, his breathing going rough as your messy strokes continue.

“Look at you taking my cock,” Klaw grits, the demon’s hips beginning to stutter up in short, sharp thrusts. “Such a good little pet.” 

His words trail into a low growl that vibrates through your body as you feel a hard throb beneath your hand, and then heat.

You gasp, continuing to writhe as he spills into you, coating your inner walls with his thick seed, and almost you feel as though you could come again just from the heat of it.

Fuck, you need more of that.

Need it deeper.

Even as the pulsing beneath your fingers slows he doesn't stop moving, finally coming inside of you seeming only to have tipped his need to fevered desire. Holding you in place he thrusts up harder, dislodging your hand, and you can feel his spend leaking out of you, dripping down the insides of your thighs and slicking his still hard cock as he continues to drive deeper, no longer letting you set the pace. 

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He taunts, voice still a rough half-whisper after his orgasm. “Could feel it when you watched me. Wanted me to fill your little cunt, hmm?”

“Yes.” You let out a growled sob, jealous anger surging through you. ”That..thing, doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

A flame crackles in Klaw’s eyes at your heated words, and you wonder with a jolt of awareness whether he hasn’t been just as desperate for this as you have, longing for you as he remained trapped in the torment of a cold, unfeeling machine. Driven purely by instinct, chasing his release over and over again but never being truly satisfied.

The sudden realization that you could give that to him floods you with almost as much pleasure as the agony of being filled with his cock.

You’ve barely processed the thought when you suddenly find yourself with your back once again pressed against the cool metal of the table, Klaw only pulling out of you briefly before thrusting back in, harder.

He continues a slow, controlled rhythm, both of you panting hard as you feel yourself softening around him, becoming more pliant as your body relents to every stroke until with a final arching rock of his hips your cunt is completely stretched and full, everything so impossibly tight that you can’t even clench around him.

He's never felt anything quite like you, the achingly tight grip of your pussy leaving him nearly breathless as he holds himself as deep as he can, huffing and grunting like a bull while he watches you writhe and spasm beneath him.

Then he starts to fuck you.

He tries to keep his strokes firm and measured at first, but he can’t hold back anymore and it's not long before his chest is heaving, lips curled in a snarl, and it feels as though you're being split open as he pulls you back onto his cock in time to meet every thrust. 

A scarlet thread runs through every cell of your soft animal body, stringing tighter and tighter as pleasure builds to the edge of breaking but then surging higher, a fresh ecstasy building on every peak. 

The tightening grip around your waist signals the absolute loss of his control and when you hiss at the sudden piercing bite of his claws he moves his hands to brace on the table instead, his broad body forcing your legs back towards your shoulders as he leans down over you, driving his cock as deep as he can get into your willing heat until he’s grunting and drooling above you. 

A divine bliss slides through your veins as you lie beneath him, caught between the trammel of his arms, and as you watch his base instinct take over you begin to understand that only fools could believe that lust is a sin. 

And even if it was, even if you were offered perfect grace in this moment, you know with absolute certainty that you would refuse.

An infernal dam is finally swelling to breaking as you surrender to every relentless thrust of his cock, your wailed sobs the only sounds you can make as an impossible pressure ripples through your core, and with a deep throb you suddenly feel a drenching heat as your release washes over his cock and your thighs. 

“There you go.” Klaw growls. “Make a mess for me, little one.” 

This seems to be his final undoing, and as you continue to soak his cock his thrusting goes ragged until with rough groan he’s coming deep inside you, stilling himself to keep the head of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, making sure that you feel every hot, throbbing pulse of his cum as it fills you.

Keeping himself seated deep he rocks slow grinding thrusts into the slippery mess he’s made of his you, the lust that’s had no real outlet finally finding satisfaction in the way your clenching cunt is milking his cock, in the gentle swell of your belly as he pumps you full of his seed.

You’re a sweaty, twitching mess beneath him, and as much as you wish you could you’re unable to take all of it, can’t help how it spills out around his cock where you’re stretched and sore, how his cum and yours drips down your swollen sex to pool beneath you on the table.

His hands don't stop moving over your body, cupping your breasts, grasping at you hips, sliding over the ripe swell of you where he can feel you filled with his cock and his cum. Vaguely aware of soft grunts mixed with mumbled praise, you don’t register what he’s saying at first through the haze of euphoria.

“Going to be mine.” he rumbles, between languorous strokes. ”My little queen.” 

“Mine.”

* * * * * * *

The room is warm and flickering, silken sheets decadent beneath your fingers, your body thrumming with a heated anticipation that never seems to fade, now.

Rough hands lift your hips as your demon mounts you from behind, a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

A panting whine slides from your throat as he spreads you open, the thick head of his cock prodding your entrance, pleased to see you’re still dripping with his seed from the last time he filled you. And he doesn’t like leaving you empty for very long.

“Say it again, little one.” Klaw growls softly, holding himself still. Waiting.

“Yours.” 

You sigh, a smile curling around the word as he pushes into you.

“I’m yours.”

A/N: As ever, thank you for reading! This was definitely a bit outside my comfort zone, but I hope you enjoyed this filthy little foray into monster fuckery. 😊

[writerslittlelibrary]

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

main masterlist

Fluff #, Angst *, Dark^

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SERIES MASTERLISTS

I'm your mother now*^ Everyone knows Natasha was never able to have a child, but when she was denied by adoption agencies and foster care, she decided to take matters into her own hands. If they didn’t want to give her a child, she’d simply take one… (Dark!Natasha x teen reader)

Apocalypse au tlou x mcu*# Infected had been roaming the earth for years, and you, being born after the outbreak, just had to be special. what happens when a certain redhead finds out about your secret? (based on tlou part 2) (Natasha x teen reader)

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ONE SHOTS

I'm not sleeping on the floor# when you go on a mission with the famous Black Widow, who you think hates you, there appears to be some trouble with the hotel booking, one that ends in the truth being revealed (Natasha x teen avenger reader)

Were you expecting someone?# thinking it’s a day like any other, you simply busy yourself with some homework and your hobbies, until there’s suddenly a gun pointed at your head (Natasha x daughter reader)

I'll follow you anywhere# after the Sokovia accords, Natasha had to go on the run. what do you do when your mother figure goes on the run? follow her of course… (Natasha x teen reader)

I will help you#*^ when your parents went to jail, you started your life in the foster system. it was never very great, and you ended up with an amount of bad coping mechanisms. to help you, you were put in a psych ward, and who happens to be your personal nurse? the woman who will stop at nothing to adopt you… (dark!Natasha x foster teen reader)

So, I'm not a prisoner?#* part 2 part 3 extra you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you… (Natasha x Red Room teen reader)

Why should I help you?#* when you are in desperate need for financial help to pay off your rent, you go to the only person you know is able to lend you money. will the feared mob boss Natasha Romanoff even help you, or will she just see you as an easy target, like everyone always had (mob!Nat x teen reader)

The coolest mom# you and your mom had always been able to bond over your shared love for motorbikes

How can I help you? #* since you were small, your mom has always been able to help you feel better. fallen ice cream, scratched knee, your mom always knew the solution. but now? it almost seems that even your mother doesn’t know how to help you now…

You are a witch #* you were adopted by Natasha Romanoff, the great Black Widow. But what happens when the truth uncovers? What happens when the three kings of hell are sent to kill you, and you manage to uncover your power and banish them?

Can you dim the world...?# you go shopping with your mom but the store overwhelms you

"Children aren't payment, dipshit"#* the most feared mob in all of New York only has one rival, which happens to be your father’s mob. When it turns out he is indebted to the feared mob boss Natasha Romanoff, he uses the only thing he has to pay her, you…

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HEADCANONS

Mob!Natasha x daughter!reader

Aunt!Yelena x niece!reader

[porcelain-dionysus]

Steve’s Endgame Ending fixed

What if at the end of Endgame when Steve is returning the stones, he has to give up something he loves, right? So what if he gives up his super-serum effects (an au tweaked and borrowed from @growingpaynes-art ), and turns back into pre-serum-Steve? A list of reasons why I think this would work:

A) Straight off the bat it’s easy to keep Steve in the MCU with Chris Evans’ contract ending if they replace the actor who plays pre-serum-Steve (obviously with a guy who looks similar to the first movie, but without the CGI). I know people might be confused why he looks different but the MCU’s changed actors before and it’s not the hardest stretch of the imagination. Also thematically it’d be cool to have Steve be literally unrecognisable to the audience.

B) I think a lot of writers for the Avengers are so focused on writing ‘Captain America’; ‘bland, stoic, with no sense of humor’, that they forget about Steve Rogers; the young disabled man who would put his life on the line to fight fascists. This would be a great way to get back to the basics of Steve’s character and show the audience who he truly is.

C) Honestly it would just be nice to show that Steve is just as righteous and brave with his disabilities, something not often shown in media. Even the MCU likes to focus on Steve’s asthma and ignore that he actually was disabled. (which i’ll touch on in a second).

*and now for some more headcannon-y stuff*

A) From screenshots from the movie, and a list at Disneylands Tomorrowland exhibit, the canon list of Steve’s disabilites and health problems are:

Asthma

Anemia

Diabetes

Color-blindness

Arrhythmia

Scoliosis

Chronic colds

High blood pressure

Easy fatigability

Heart trouble

Sinusitis

Fallen arches

Partial deafness

Stomach ulcers

Pernicious Anemia

Astigmatism

Nervous troubles of any sort

History of; scarlet fever, rheumatic fever

(Jesus Christ Steven)

B) It’d be cute to see Steve actually be able live with his disabilities, unlike in the 30’s. I cannot stress how much eugenics there was back then (and still is now, but WAY more casually acceptable back then). Even the actual Captain America storyline reeks of it a bit; experiment on a disabled man to ‘fix’ him and turn him into a soldier. However in the 21st century imagine if he could get the help he actually needs! Obviously a lot of his stuff is chronic, but he could actually live with it instead of just surviving like he would have done. And be able to afford them, unlike back in the Great Depression. Back braces, inhaler, mobility aids etc. It’d be nice to see a disabled person living with themselves as the HAPPY ending, instead of as a tragedy as it’s usually played.

C) The story of him actually seeing worth in his old (new?) body and himself instead of just a vessel for Captain America. A self-acceptance arc. Being able to retire in peace without anyone recognising him as Captain America without having to give up his life in the 21st century.

D) The Smithsonian exhibit is so closely tailored to his propaganda persona that it fails to acknowledge him as a person. I wouldn’t be surprised if the general public has never even seen a photo of him pre-serum, or knew how bad his illnesses were besides ‘just asthmatic and skinny’. He could easily walk around and not be noticed by anyone.

Tldr: Steve’s proper ending in Endgame should have had him return to his skinny form in exchange for the stone, and him being able to retire to finish art school in peace.

[gloriousburden]

Debunking the “thanos brainwashed loki” theory (kind of)

DISCLAIMER: i don’t really have any problems with people taking this theory more lighthearted/just as an headcanon/au sort of thing, my issue is when it is accepted as fully canon, and words, meanings, and statements in interviews are completely twisted. people too often use it to mischaracterize loki, and disregard any of his motives, acts, and issues.

when i first got into the mcu and started interacting with the fandom, i too believed this theory when i first heard about it. until i thought about it a little more, and learned more about loki.

i’m aware that this is a little controversial to say since a lot of people truly take the theory as canon and have basically forever now… but in all honesty i REALLY don’t think it’s true. but let me just state that yes, loki definitely was persuaded/coerced into doing the things he did in avengers by thanos and his goons in order to retrieve the tesseract, that’s very canon as we can see in the scene of loki interacting with the other. loki fears thanos for a reason. thanos is a piece of shit and is shown to be a piece of shit to others including nebula and gamora, who were supposed to be his “daughters”. if he would torture his own “children”, why wouldn’t he torture and subject a stranger that he wanted to use to get the tesseract? so loki definitely was tortured.

i know there’s these two interviews, one with tom hiddleston (here) and the other with joss whedon that confirm loki went through a lot of horrible things between the ending of thor 1 and the beginning of avengers. they don’t necessarily give any specifics, just that it was really bad for him. please forgive me as i cannot find the joss whedon one right now, but i believe it was a video. the article with tom hiddleston which i’ve linked, is him saying “I think somewhere between the end of Thor and the beginning of The Avengers, Loki has been to the Marvel equivalent of the 7th circle of hell. At the end of Thor you see him let go. He lets go of the spear, he lets go of Asgard, and he lets go of the need of his brother and father’s affection and approval. He has bigger plans now.” and joss whedon pretty much said the same (in regards to loki going through horrible things between thor and avengers) from what i remember.

(but even with that being said, i’m going to focus more on canon rather than interviews.)

i’m not here to disprove that loki was tortured, i fully believe that he was and it makes sense considering thanos’ character, but i’m here to prove that he wasn’t FULLY brainwashed into doing what he did.

also trust me, i know that most of the movies loki has been in disregard a lot of the shit he’s been through, but i do feel that if he was truly forced into it, it would’ve been elaborated on. which i will elaborate on in this post.

…………………………………………………………………………….

if anyone was brainwashed into committing the acts loki committed in avengers, they would be very distraught and traumatized when they eventually gained full consciousness and realized that they did those things. examples of this in the mcu being clint (who is literally in the same movie), as well as bucky who really was brainwashed by hydra into being an assassin, and is shown as being deeply traumatized when the brainwashing is undone. even if he didn’t commit those acts intentionally, and in his own will.

we can see in the dark world that loki was not really shown to be regretful about what he did. and honestly, i don’t think that was just them choosing not to show loki as being vulnerable, or them disregarding loki’s issues (per usual) because we actually get to see some of his true feelings, as well as him having a breakdown in the movie. he is willingly vulnerable. “now you see me, brother.”

he is shown to be deeply troubled, and vengeful about the possibility of him unintentionally leading algrim/kurse to frigga, the fact he was locked up and unable to be of any sort of help, as well as obviously frigga’s death in general. it was something that was truly done unintentionally by loki.

if loki had really unintentionally, and unconsciously committed the acts he did, he would be shown to be very distraught about it in the dark world, and it would’ve been elaborated on.

the approach the writers, as well as tom hiddleston wanted to take for loki’s character in the dark world was one that showed us as the audience, and as fans of loki more about him, as well as to see him at his most vulnerable, so why would they leave out his supposed trauma from brainwashing? because that’s not really how it happened.

they would have shown him be vulnerable about being brainwashed, and doing something unintentionally if it were something that really happened. since loki’s writing in the dark world was meant to “humanize” him. we’ve seen him at his most villainous in the last movie, so now let’s see him at his lowest in the one after that.

a major point of mine that disproves the theory is that although loki is shown to fear thanos, he’s not necessarily doing this whole thing JUST for him. he is also focused on ruling over earth, rather than just retrieving the tesseract.

if he was brainwashed, however, he would’ve got the tesseract to thanos without anything in return. thanos wouldn’t have had to bargain with loki, or offer earth/an army to him. he would have just mind controlled him with the scepter, the same way loki did with clint, and called it a day.

another point that disproves the theory is that if loki truly was mind controlled by the scepter, he would act almost robotic, and would be quite still, only doing things when told/motioned to the same way clint was when the scepter was first used on him in the beginning of the movie. (i’ve linked this scene further down in this post when i talk about the misconceptions of loki’s eyes being the same blue as the character’s who were mind controlled.) loki clearly says, and does whatever he wants in the movie. this would not really be the case if he were being mind controlled.

(also another example of loki realizing he had partially caused something unintentionally was thor’s banishment. he is shown to be quite nervous about the fact that thor got banished, although it did end up working in his favor later on in the movie.)

loki has shown many times, even before avengers when he is undeniably a villain, that he has no issues with hurting people to get what he wants. people who use the theory and accept it as canon often (i kind of hate this word, so forgive me for the lack of better words) infantilize and mischaracterize loki as being this character who is completely innocent, and helpless. and that he only became “bad” in avengers. meanwhile loki has always (always meaning since after/during the events of thor 1) been shown as a manipulative character with dark thoughts and violent tendencies. in thor 1, he committed genocide against the frost giants BEFORE he was under the influence of thanos or the scepter.

(let me state that i’m not saying loki is a bad person or a psychopath who just goes off hurting people left and right merely for the fun of it. i’ve elaborated on this, as well as loki’s motives in this post. but basically i’m saying that loki does everything he does with reason, and purpose. he is conniving, and calculated with his decisions. he doesn’t get satisfaction in hurting people, he gets satisfaction in getting closer to his goals.)

loki is already a “tragic victim” type character. you don’t need to erase that he’s capable of and willing to do wrong, and imply that those things were very out of character for him to prove that. characters can simultaneously do bad things out of their own will, while having a shitty past. not all victimized characters are completely innocent, and without flaws.

loki is never shown to have any love for midgard, or midgardians in general. he genuinely wanted to rule over them. in thor 1, loki says “i never wanted the throne, i only ever wanted to be your equal.” in thor 1. but in avengers, he says “i’ve grown, odinson, in my exile.” showing that he, and his motives have changed since then. he’s not the same person he was in thor 1, begging for his father’s love and recognition. not wanting a throne isn’t the case for him anymore. if he wasn’t able to prove himself to his own father, then midgardians were the next option.

in the dark world, loki no longer cares for odin’s approval. “he’s not my father!” “i didn’t do it for him.” as well as banishing/exiling him, and taking his throne. his focus shifting from odin’s approval as his own son in thor 1, to the approval of midgard as their king in avengers, to the approval of asgard as their king in the dark world, shows how loki’s character and his motives developed and changed with each movie. he realized that odin will never approve of him as his own son, let alone as king of asgard. thor 1 was just the start.

the reason this is relevant to disproving the theory, as well as the points i’m trying to make are:

1. the motives were already there. the will to do bad things, was already there before thanos and even the scepter’s influence/interference.

2. loki has changed between thor 1 and avengers, and he didn’t need to be brainwashed for this change to happen. he didn’t change and become “evil” because of what thanos put him through.

3. some people who take the theory as canon, believe that loki is fully good and would have never willingly hurt others to get what he wants, or to prove a point. which could not be further from the truth.

i know most of this won’t really make sense to people who already know these things, but my words (and this post in general) are more directed to/are about those who use this theory to try and make loki seem like he’s a character who only started doing bad things, due to being brainwashed. that he’s a character who would never do anything wrong against his own will. meanwhile, he’s exhibited “bad” behaviors willingly since the first movie he was in.

he’s a character with manipulative tendencies, and deep rooted resentment and jealousy towards those put above him. he is insecure, and is willing to do anything to prove himself worthy.

also a lot of the things and points that the people who believe this theory as canon use as proof are things that have been debunked. a point that they often use is that marvel has confirmed that loki was influenced by the scepter. but the only thing they confirm is that it heightened his anger and negative feelings. a big issue is that people hear “influenced” and misunderstand, taking it as a confirmation that loki was mind controlled, and not that the scepter was just amplifying his negative emotions that were already there, and have been since thor 1.

(link to the whole page.)

nowhere does it say that he was brainwashed, or mind controlled. influenced? yes, that’s what the scepter does.

another thing is people talking about his eyes supposedly being the same blue as clint’s, and erik selvig’s when they were under the influence of the scepter. when in reality… their proof of this is just lighting, edited photos, or them mistaking loki’s eyes as being green when they’re actually blue. tom hiddleston has blue eyes, and loki in avengers has the same blue eyes that he did in thor 1, before he even met thanos. his eyes aren’t green, and have never been. (also if loki was MIND CONTROLLED by the scepter, his eyes would be EXTREMELY blue, considering his natural eye color is blue.)

examples:

he has the same beautiful big blue eyes eye color. not the insanely bright blue that clint, or erik selvig had when they were mind controlled by the scepter.

more examples:

guys, if loki was being controlled by the scepter… his eyes would be the same color as theirs since the cgi was purposely used to make their eyes very unrealistically blue so that everyone would know they were being controlled. these two characters both have blue eyes. these pictures show them before being mind controlled/brainwashed, versus afterwards. also… his eyes would be that same blue throughout the movie. which they’re not… clint’s eyes remained that bright blue until the mind controlling was undone by natasha.

it won’t let me add any more pictures so forgive me, but trust me… it’s not the same blue. loki’s eyes do look a little brighter here so maybe i understand the misconception a little bit, but that’s due many factors that can be explained. one being the makeup put on tom hiddleston in this scene to make his skin lighter as well to make him appear exhausted. another factor being the lighting!! as someone with blue eyes, i know that basically anything can make them appear a different shade. but that even goes for other eye colors. that’s just how it works. another thing to mention is that tom hiddleston is naturally blonde and has warmer skin than this. the contrast of the darker hair and the makeup (ESPECIALLY the makeup used to make his under-eye area look dark, which is only used like that in this scene btw) will make his eyes look really bright especially when he already has bright blue eyes. here’s the scene.

another example of his eye color being this post of mine right here. he literally has the same eyes

we can see that the avengers, specifically the hulk, were influenced by the scepter as well. but their eyes weren’t bright blue, because they weren’t being brainwashed by it and instead their negative emotions that were already there were being heightened. this caused cap and tony to argue even more, bruce banner to become angry and emotional about being the hulk, everyone else to become more hostile, etc… these were pre existing issues. loki’s resentment towards thor as well as his need for approval were pre existing.

……………………………………………………………………………

anyway i will probably update this in the future if there’s anything i left out/to correct mistakes.

moral of the story is, loki was canonically tortured, subjected, and manipulated by thanos. but even with that being said, he was not necessarily brainwashed and he was definitely not brainwashed by the scepter. there is no canon proof of that. the scepter only heightened his negative emotions that were already there.

if loki really was brainwashed, don’t you think he would’ve just retrieved the tesseract for thanos without wanting to rule over earth? it would’ve been that simple. but since that isn’t true and loki was consciously and intentionally doing these things, he wanted something in return. neither clint, nor erik selvig wanted anything in return. they did whatever loki needed them to, unconsciously.

people tend to take the proof of his torture, and mistake it as proof of him being brainwashed for some reason. loki is not an innocent character who only started exhibiting “bad” behaviors in avengers. just because he’s done bad things doesn’t mean that you cannot love him, sympathize with him, or see him as the true victim in the story. he is the god of mischief. he is manipulative, and has deep rooted issues that causes him to do bad things in order to prove himself. you don’t need to dumb down his character, and motives in order to like him.

sorry if none of this makes any sense. i’m really bad at explaining my own thoughts and putting them into words, and i’m sure this could’ve been worded better. i just made this to clear things up as well as give my own take on the theory. don’t take it too seriously but also feel more than welcome to correct me on anything, as well as add your own take or anything else onto this.

thank you for reading!!

[cobaltperun]

Hi there!

So, I was supposed to be on a break until the end of the month. That is, as you can probably see, over. Things happened and writing is my best escape. I am, however, slowing down the updates, and I'll likely never have the same update speed I did while I was starting Lost.

And in case you didn't see it up in the description.

Main Masterlist

Several things.

Requests will never be closed again and the character list, as well as the requests I'm doing are under 'keep reading' (now also adding upcoming long stories and current works in progress)

I'll keep the list of characters here on this post, but I will be pickier about requests, I do want to mainly write the long stories and add in a request every couple of chapters or so. And I'll only do requests that inspire me.

🔞 next to the character means I will do smut requests as well. However, I only write top reader.

I will do any gender, female, male, gender neutral, trans, anything.

Characters might come and go from the list, but there are some characters that are always going to stay. Those are:

Tara Carpenter (Scream) 🔞

Wednesday Addams (Wednesday)

Natasha Romanoff (MCU) 🔞

Wanda Maximoff (MCU) 🔞

Nami (One Piece) 🔞

Nico Robin (One Piece)

Riza Hawkeye (FMA)

Rin Tohsaka (Fate/Stay Night)

Characters that are currently available:

Mabel (Finestkind)

Korra (Avatar: The Legend of Korra)

Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones)

I will also do platonic requests for

Straw Hats

Most One Piece characters

Most FMA: Brotherhood characters

Most Devil May Cry characters

Most Fate/Stay Night characters

Requests I'm doing

Tara x fem R - playing strip pool (not specified, but I'm guessing smut is acceptable ending to this) 🔞

Tara x male R - smut, Tara gets horny while R is on the phone 🔞

Tara x fem R - set in Scream 6, R gets attacked, angst with happy ending

Sam x fem R (Danny's sister) - R gets attacked.

Wednesday x fem R - enemies to lovers with hellhound R and jealous Xavier

Tara x male R - R, the doctor, helps Tara give birth to their first child. (Sidenote, I'm not getting technical with this, it will get really fluffy though.)

Tara x male R - they are dating, smut happens 🔞

Jerks With Hearts of Gold - first kiss, bed breaking 🔞

Wednesday x R - Opposites attract, though a bit slowly.

Tara x R - They love to hate each other. 🔞 (small smut)

Tara x R - Cute barista crush

Middle sibling Carpenter fem R - things go very wrong very fast

Tara x GP! R - Soft first time smut 🔞

Daenerys x female R - Dany gets a bit jealous when Viserion likes R.

Tara x R - Based on Cop car song

Tara x female R - How deep is your love

Cairo x female R - Poetry reading

Upcoming long stories

Mystery of You - Tara Carpenter x female Reader (She's a mystery, she's more guarded than anyone you've ever met, except maybe her older sister, but you are just drawn to her)

Savin Me - Tara Carpenter x female Reader (A single message changes Tara's life, also probably a sort of a Lost AU)

Endless War - Female Reader (EMIYA inspired powers) x Tara Carpenter (Being a hero was fine, until people you loved became involved)

Unnamed - Vada x female Reader (Vada meets you on the rooftop)

Unnamed - Lorraine x female Reader (Cop Reader comes just in time)

Unnamed - Mabel x female Reader (You and Mabel have secrets, ones you keep even from one another)

Unnamed - Wednesday Addams x Wolverine female Reader (Wednesday ignores Rowan and escapes)

Unnamed - Cairo Sweet x female Reader (A chance meeting starts something neither of you expected)

Leave out all the rest - Natasha Romanoff x female Reader (Starting this again, since I didn't really like where the original was heading)

Works in progress:

Eternal Flame - Jenna Ortega x female Reader

Lost - Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Darkest Part - Astrid Deetz x female Reader