Oh my god, you’re a Valkyrie.
Valkyrie is my kink
[Insp.]
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Chapter 3: Dark Magic {Avengers Imagine}
Turning the Tides
(Peter Parker x Fem!Reader x Tony Stark!Dad Vibes}
Summary: After saving Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in Manhattan four years earlier as a mermaid, Stark decided to make it his mission to find you and recruit you to stop Rogers from his own mission to disengage some soldier zombies in Siberia…whatever, you didn’t really know, or care. You knew enough to understand that stopping Rogers wouldn’t be the end of the world (literally), and that Stark’s paycheck would be satisfactory. However, you never expected to meet someone that would make the experience truly worth your while…you know, as a friend. Shut up about it already, okay?
Warnings: Civil War spoilers and swearing
You waited impatiently on a bright red sofa in the living space of the Avengers floor. You were alone and bored and halfway through a bottle of overpriced vodka when the elevator doors finally opened to reveal Stark and his quote-on-quote, ‘golden child,’ and you had to admit…not bad.
“…so, no,” Stark groaned petulantly. “You definitely cannot ask Cap to sign your suit. Moral of this conversation: don’t embarass me, kid,” Stark finished with a heavy sigh as he fell into the royal blue, velour chair beside you. “Party time’s over, Spring Breaker!” Tony yelled at you, motioning for you to set aside the bottle, but you just grinned and took another sip. “(Y/N), Peter. Spider-ling, Little Mermaid. Discuss.”
You studied every awkward move Peter made, immediately eliminating any notion that you might have had that he might be a threat as he nervously reached his hand out towards you. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m meeting someone…someone, so…someone like-”
“A mermaid, Peter,” you interjected calmly, inspiring a fresh bout of red to flush his cheeks. Oh, you were gonna have fun with this one. “Don’t be afraid to call me what I am. I know it’s strange. Just don’t think about it too much,” you whispered, throwing a wink into the mix that almost made him melt.
“Uh…yeah. No, yeah totally,” Peter stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, I kind of want to think about it. I mean, I already have. A lot. I mean, not in a weird way, just a curious way, you know. For science, and-”
“And, I’ll stop you right there, Romeo,” Tony broke in with a huff, causing Peter to breathe out a sigh of relief. “Before you dig yourself too deep into this gaping hole that you consider ‘flirting’…alright, gather around children. I have a story to tell you. It won’t take long becuase I don’t want to burden you with all the paperwork and politics and heart palpatations-”
“Oh, please do,” you dared, smirk spreading across your lips as Tony raised his eyebrows.
“And all the things you, yes you Fins, already know.”
“I’m pretty sure there are a few dots you could help connect for me.”
“Why do you care so much? I’m an upstanding member of society who saved the world on multiple occasions…and also I’m paying you, so I don’t see a problem here other than your possible underage alcoholism. That bottle was not that empty the last time I saw it-”
“It doesn’t matter. Just fill me in, and I’ll make a final decision from there.”
The room went silent. Stark and Peter stared at you, but each expression was on polar opposite ends of the spectrum. You could tell Stark was about five seconds away from exploding, desperately attempting to conceal his panic and rage (it wasn’t working). And Peter…well, Peter was just a lovestruck puppy dog. You relished the power you held over the situation at hand. Not that it mattered becuase you were going to help Stark anyway in order to earn what you desired, but you enjoyed the sensation regardless.
“Why did I have to find the most stubborn person on the planet to mentor…” Tony mumbled as he lowered himself again to sink into his throne that you suddenly regretted not sitting in.
“Mentor?” You scoffed. “I don’t remember hearing anything like that. At this point, the picture I’m painting in my head is that you’re taking two random, mutant teenagers and throwing them into a fight with full-fledged, alien-vanquishing, universe-rescuing, ex-HYDRA war criminals without any training what-so-ever, only the hope of money and not getting killed to get by. Is this true?”
Again, Stark was speechless. What was there to say? You were right, and you knew you were right.
“Yeah…” Peter drawled hesitantly. “And, I have this crazy difficult chemistry test on Friday that I just really have to nail, Mr. Stark, so…”
“So, let the guy do his fricken chemistry bullshit, and leave us out of your mess,” you asserted, taking Peter by the arm as you dragged him surprisingly willingly towards the elevator.
“Wait! Wait! That’s unnecessary! Totally uncalled for!” Tony rushed as he jumped from his chair to block your path. “I’ll tell you everything, okay? Sparing no details. Laying bare the naked truth before you.”
“Full coverage?”
“Everything.”
“All truth?”
“Every word.”
“Plane ticket to Japan?”
“As promised.”
“Whoa!” Peter gasped. “You’re going to Japan? When?”
“After we take down Spangles and the rest of his Stripes,” Tony answered quickly, keeping his eyes latched onto yours.
“Screw you. I don’t need this,” you spat, shaking your head as you pushed past Stark.
“Alexei Vasiliev,” Stark stated hollowly, stopping you dead in your tracks. Well, you can’t play stupid now. You turned around slowly and coldly looked the billionaire up and down. You knew he’d done his research deep into your history, but you didn’t realize until that moment how deep he’d actually gotten. “I didn’t want to bring him up, but you’ve given me no choice. He’s dangerous, (Y/N). I can help you.”
“But only if I comply,” you retorted. “Blackmail seems a bit low for you, Stark.”
“Like I said, I have no choice,” he insisted, the dark circles around his eyes darkening in the wake of his proclamation. “This isn’t a threat. Just a suggestion. I’m sure you’ve taken care of yourself well up until this point, but just like myself, he’s getting closer to finding you.”
“I found you, remember?”
“I was two days away from gaining full access to your encrypted governement-owned file that was created before you went rogue, detailing your entire childhood and what really happened to your parents. I’m so sorry-”
“Don’t.” You cautioned darkly, then swallowed your pride. Ignoring Stark’s ego and ignorance, he was certainly right about The Hunter gaining ground on his mission to find you. He found your sister. What’s to prevent him from finding you? You might be powerful, but what’s enough to stop him? An extra pair of eyes to watch your back might not be a bad idea.
You glanced over at Peter who kept his eyes on the floor, a pensive look in his eyes as he seemed to be thinking hard about something. You could tell it was something very personal, so you refrained from questioning it. Eventually, you peered up at Stark from under your long eyelashes, gracefully motioning to the couches again.
“Shall we?”
Alright, so Stark was right. You were already fully aware of almost the entire feud between himself and Steve Rogers. Starting from the Ultron incident, through Roger’s ties to his former-HYDRA war buddy, and into Roger’s objection to the Sokovia Accords.
Here’s the issue: you actually sided with Rogers…in your head. Out loud, you kept your opinions neutral and balanced. No sides. It was unnatural for your lips to refrain from the constant flow of uncensored thoughts that your mind never seemed to filter, but it just seemed like the smarter option at that point.
However, mid-conversation the time finally came for you to display your full potential as an ally. Again, a new concept for you sharing your gift with anyone besides your family…but they were gone. You’d accepted that. Maybe this was just another step towards moving on.
“Alright, Scales. You said you were more than just a water demon. Show me what else you got,” Stark prodded as you narrowed your gaze at him.
“Well, with a boost of confidence like that, sure thing!” You retorted sarcastically with a smile that almost immediately dropped as you reached into your bag and pulled out the book your father had passed down to your older sister before he died. Technicalities gave you full custody of the book now.
“Oh, goodie. An old, musty book,” Stark huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the leather-bound pages on the table before him. “I guess I can read Cap into submission. Got any Hemingway, or Steinbeck, or-”
“Do you want to know what the book does, or not?” You demanded stubbronly as Stark motioned for you to go on, quickly flipping through the yellowing pages. “This is the book that taught me everything I know. I’m still working on it, but I’ve figured out most of it,” you continued as you stole the book back from a confused looking billionaire. “Unless you’re proficient in Latin, this is pretty much useless to you.”
“Proficient, or not, that looks like some dark stuff for someone of your age.”
“Age doesn’t matter when your father was a warlock.”
“No way!” Peter exclaimed in awe. “Like Harry Potter? That’s so cool!”
“Barring the last things wall-crawler said, I agree with his first statement,” Stark scoffed. “No way. I’m calling bullshit. That’s impossible. I asked for the truth, not a science fiction novel.”
“You just fought aliens in New York with a team that included a living Ken doll that controls lightning, and you’re gonna lecture me on what’s possible?”
“First of all, that team doesn’t exist anymore,” Stark explained, pacing the room, until he stopped in front of you, leveling his deep, brown eyes with yours. “Second off, prove it,” Stark dared with the cock of his eyebrow.
“Fine,” you shrugged, barely lifting a finger before the whole room was swallowed in a shroud of smoky darkness as the windows were dripping in a tar as black as death, leaving only the center of the room where yourself, Stark, and Peter were standing alight by a single lamp beside the red couch. Jade and amethyst clouds swirled restlessly around them as if they were in the eye of a tornado itself, boiling alive inside a witches cauldron, casting shadows across the room to wake the spirits from just beyond the veil…as if.
“Okay! Alright! We get it, (Y/N)! You’re a witch with a gift for spontaneous haunted house attractions. Quit it before Michael Jackson rises from his grave and wrecks my office,” Stark demanded, but you could sense his nervousness like a wolf senses fear. With a smirk, you released the tension in your mind as the air settled around them and the city sounds of honking cars below could be heard again through the now open windows. Stark shook his head slightly, probably trying to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind as Peter fell backwards in shock on the couch. You couldn’t tell if he was in awe, or pure terror yet. He’d sort out his feelings soon enough. “Necromancy? Seriously? Explain yourself. Now,” Stark ordered.
“I got my fins from my mom, and my skills from my dad. What more is there to explain?”
Stark just balked at you for a second. “Oh, there’s far more to explain that that!”
“Of course there is,” you responded coolly. “But, it’s not really any of your business. You want me for a job, and I’m here. That’s all you get.”
“For now…” Stark mumbled to himself making you roll your eyes. What an ego-fest this guy was. You supposed after years of being the Tony Stark, things were bound to go to your head. But this guy was a whole new level of obnoxious narcissism. “Alright, fine. You plead the fifth, that’s great. As long as you’re willing to cooperate, I’ll accept that. But, in the face of this mission, what else exactly can you do and how do I know that this won’t bite me in the ass?”
“Basically, I can move things with my mind and conjur spirits to do my bidding,” (Y/N) shrugged, then flicked her eyes wickedly up to Stark. “And that’s an answer that can only come with time.”
“Perfect. I found my Anti-Scarlet Witch.”
“Scar-Scarlet Witch?!” Peter exclaimed.
“Spider-boy. You have got to stop acting like one of those freaks from Comic Con,” you sighed. “It’s not really intimidating when your opponent is fan-girling over you on the battlefield like a 14-year old at a One Direction concert.”
“Listen to your older, wiser sister,” Stark advised distractedly as he marched out of the room, motioning for his recruits to follow behind him while you playfully punched Peter on the shoulder and he nervously laughed, not really sure what to do next. “FRIDAY, fire up the chopper. We’ve got a red-head to meet.”
“Romanoff?” You questioned as Stark smirked.
“Oh, she’ll love to meet you. Stubborn, snarky, killer instincts, and a leather fetish,” Stark teased as you pulled your favorite leather jacket back over your shoulders and adjusted your leather pants. “You’ll have plenty to bond over.”
“Yeah? And what’s your fetish, Stark?” You teased, but he just laughed.
“None of your business.”
“For now?” You joked.
“Forever,” Stark closed as he swung the door open to the roof revealing blue sky and a jet blacker than Onyx.
“Wow…” Peter whispered in awe, his mouth slightly agape as he seemed to forget about any fears he might’ve had towards you, as you nodded stoically in approval at your ride. “That’s the famous Quinjet. I heard it once held Loki’s evil staff thing, you know the one he used in New York.”
“That’s true,” Stark admitted. “But it also once held Clint after a bad night with the wrong seafood, so…she’s been through a lot.”
You and Peter glanced at each other before following Stark aboard the legendary aircraft. It wasn’t long before the jet set off for Berlin, flying to meet ‘the rest of the intellectuals’ as Stark put it.
“So, you’re still in high school? That sucks,” you blurted out, not exactly looking for a fight, just entertainment. Peter seemed like a good guy. Being blunt was just the way you always started conversations.
“It’s not bad,” Peter shrugged. “You?”
“Never been. How does it compare to The Breakfast Club?”
“Um, not much,” Peter laughed. “The cliques exist, just maybe not as defined as the characters in that movie. A bit overexaggerated if you ask me.”
“Alright, but humor me, then,” you grinned, leaning towards Peter. “Which character would you be if you were in the Club?”
“Huh…” Peter trailed off. You could tell he was actually thinking about the question instead of just brushing it off like most people do when you ask questions. Why can no one just sit down and have a conversation anymore? It’s like you have to be thrown in mortal danger just to meet someone with half a brain these days. “I don’t really know actually. I’m just…me. I get to school, I do my work, I have friend…s…” Peter rambled, making you giggle.
Hold up. Giggle?
“And I also fight crime on the side. No big deal. Just protect Queens from all danger. Don’t know any Club member who can do that. So, I guess I’d say nobody. But, I will say that I know an Allison, emo, gothic type. She sits with Ned and I at lunch because she says she has no one else. Sound familiar?”
“Vaguely familiar,” you echoed in agreement. “So, you’re already the hero-type, then? Some experience being Superman?”
“Uh…yeah! Yeah, totally! I’ve been doing this for a while now,” Peter nodded furiously.
“Which Superman moment has been your best so far?”
“Oh, uh…” Peter hesitated. You could tell he was scrambling for something to offer. He was too much. “I, uh, once helped an old lady cross the street…that was pretty nice…”
“For sure,” you half-agreed, quickly getting bored again.
“I mean, it was after I stopped a semi-truck from crashing into her at the intersection,” Peter continued, bringing your attention back.
“Better,” you pointed out with a nod.
“She couldn’t remember if red meant go or stop, and she needed to get bread at the store, so-”
“Yeah, uh huh, that’s great. Can you communicate with spiders?” you interrupted, throwing Peter off entirely.
“No, no, not really,” Peter shook his head with another nervous laugh.
“Why did you make your suit red?”
“I…like…red?”
“Do you have a web fetish? Like being tied up in webbing, or…”
“No…why would anyone want sticky webs…?”
“Believe me, any fetish you can come up with, someone out there has it, or wants to have it.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Peter asked while shaking his head, still miffed by your rapid-fire. You just rolled your eyes and leaned back in your seat, folding your fingers over your seatbelt as you let your eyelashes meet your cheeks.
“Sure, sure. Avoid my questions. Super cool,” you joked.
“Why are you doing this?” Peter questioned in almost a whisper. It wasn’t a malicious question, he was genuinely confused. But you were naturally defensive.
“You know, the same question could go for you, Hometown Hero,” you retorted. “You save old ladies and rescue cats from trees. What are you doing in the middle of an Avenger’s pissing contest?”
“Well…Mr. Stark needs me, and…and if I can help, then why would I not?”
“But what exacty are you helping with?” you demanded, letting the silence fall into place, not even opening your eyes becuase you knew you got him.
“…um…well, I can’t really protect my neighbohood, you know, look out for the little guy, if I’m arrested for doing it,” Peter explained, sparking your interest, but you just kept your eyes closed and hummed. “If Captain America keeps doing what he’s doing and disrespecting boundaries, then gets arrested…that makes me a criminal. Me?! I mean, I’ve never done anything against the law…well, I mean I missed first period last week because I stopped this guy who I thought was stealing someone’s bike…turns out it was his bike…but whatever. I’m just trying to help. I just…I just want to make life a little bit better for the people who deserve it. The small things.”
Well, you didn’t expect that. You opened your eyes to find Peter looking directly at you, all the genuinity of his words clear in his eyes. You almost couldn’t believe it. Maybe this guy was the real deal…but you still doubted it.
“Money,” you spit out as you leaned back and closed your eyes again.
“What?”
“You asked why I’m doing this,” you answered, “I’m doing this for the money.”
“Are you sure about that?” Peter asked quietly, and suddenly, you got really guilty. Yes, in this situation, it was completely and totally about the money, but you’ve had these powers almost your entire life, not once (besides saving the two yahoos that got you into this mess) had you ever helped someone other than yourself and your sister. You didn’t trust people, so why in the fuck would you ever help them?
But that mistrust was formed years ago. Maybe it was time for a change in perspective. Maybe Peter had the right idea.
It didn’t matter because before you could answer, Tony announced that they were about to land and meet “Team Tony.” Egotistical motherfucker…
“So, you just…made a suit for me…thinking I’d join your squad, just because…?” You slowly asked Tony, confusion painted all over your face as Natasha snickered to herself with Col. Rhodes. “You decided to figure out Peter’s, a high school student’s, measurements by watching a video…just for fun?”
“Well, I’m not going to let you walk out there in flammable clothing,” Tony defended. “Gonna take a wild guess and say that that’s not genuine leather.”
“Thrift store. I don’t know what it’s fucking made out of,” you huffed, looking Tony up and down. “Just becuase you make fun of my clothing doesn’t make what you did any less creepy and weird, Leatherface.”
“Hey, this might be the thing that saves your life.”
“Oh, you mean saving my life from the mortal danger you’re putting me in?”
“You chose to be here, remember? I mean, kid, you remember, right?” Tony asked Peter, who slowly nodded his head, avoiding your eye contact at all costs. “See? You decided to get on this jet, so suit up. We’ll meet you outside.”
“And then what?”
“And then we talk to Cap,” Rhodey interjected. “If we can get him to stop this thing before it starts, then that’s what we’ll do. I’m not here to fight. I’d rather be getting a nice brunch back in New York, but no…Cap just had to go off on his own and just-”
“We know, Rhodey,” Natasha huffed, obviously tired of what seems like another bout of Rhoday’s monalogue. “We really know.”
“But what about (Y/N) and I?” Peter asked. “What are we gonna do?”
“You are going to stay far, far, very super far out of the way of the fight, if that’s what things come to,” Tony commanded, rubbing his temples. “Just keep them confined to the airport. Web em’ up. Do whatever spider-boys do in a fight.”
“Got it,” Peter nodded, but clearly he didn’t get it.
“And you,” Tony continued, pivoting on his heel towards you who was scrolling through Tony’s Twitter account, finding his tweets to be almost as annoying as him. “You are going to leave your phone in the jet, and stay by my side. I trust you a bit more than him, but not by much.”
“That’s unnecessary,” you retorted with your eyes still glued to the screen that Tony stole and tossed to Col. Rhodes who stored it in his suit. “Well then,” you whispered in mock offense as Tony squatted in front of you to level his eyes with yours.
“You are going to stay out of the way with Spider-boy until I call for you, do you hear me?”
“No,” you deadpanned. Tony just stared at you until, he put his face in his hands.
“…I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” Tony moaned as Natasha, rolling her eyes as she did it, put her hand on his shoulder, and mouthed, just do it, to you.
“Alright, fine. I will stay off to the side until things get ugly,” you sighed. “Duly noted. Give me a minute to change, and I’ll meet you all outside.”
“Great!” Tony beamed, immediately standing up with a smile on his face. “Just make sure to tie up your hair. Don’t want any impromptu scalping in the jet. Kinda gross and messy if you ask me,” Tony explained casually before leaving with the rest of the team who just shrugged at you as your jaw hit the floor.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a fucking minute!” You started to yell, but Tony shut the back doors on you before you could finish. In the silence, you let out a frusturated yell and kicked the door…like that’s gonna help, you moron.
You just needed to keep your head on straight for the next few hours, then you could be on your merry way with a pocketful of something other than lint. Just a few more hours and maybe you could stay in a place better than a Motel6 that you paid for with someone’s stolen credit card. Just a few more hours…
And with that motivating mantra in mind, you marched up to the suit that Tony had created for you and…give me a second…hold on, just wait…is there a zipper on this thing?…whoa, hey!…what that fuck?…it’s magnetic?…didn’t see that coming…alright…that’s snug…but in a good way…shit, if I look half as good as I feel, then call me Lara fucking Croft…I mean, I’ve never worn anything that fit as perfect as this in my entire life…I think I’m in love with it…
“I hate it,” you spit at Tony as you finally found the button that opened the back doors of the jet to let you rejoin your new cult.
“No, you don’t. It’s perfect,” Tony dismissed you, knowing damn well that he wouldn’t create anything less than perfection. But you were determined to ruin his day without ruining your paycheck. It was only fair by that point. “Cap and his band of misfits are about to board their chopper that’s lined up on the North Wing of the airport. Rhodey, Nat, and I will do the talking while you two, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, take cover. Vision and T’challa’s waiting in the wings as well. I don’t want to see either of you, until I have to. Got it?” You immediately raised your hand, and Stark took in a deep breath. “Just nod if you understand-”
“But I have a question,” you replied innocently as Stark covered his face and held his hand out to motion for you to speak. “Which one of us is Tweedle Dee and who is Dum? It’s a pressing issue.”
Slowly, Stark raised his face from his hand, rage rattling deep in his bones, but he kept it together…sort of. “Just…!” Stark yelled as he pointed towards where you and Peter were to hide as you both scrambled behind the plane, yourself laughing the entire way. It wasn’t until you were in hiding that you fell onto the ground in a fit of laughter while Peter tried to get you to shut up.
“Alright, alright, geez,” you gave in, finally letting Peter help you to your feet as he sighed in relief. “What gives, Mr. Robot. Stark reprogram you with a new brainwashing chip in that suit of yours? I mean, shit, man. Lighten up.”
“I can’t lighten up, (Y/N),” Peter echoed nervously. “Look, you’re not the only one who has things to lose if this goes bad. Even if we do fight today, and somehow I end up hurt…or worse…my Aunt May has gone through enough. I don’t want to know what would happed to her if I didn’t come back home.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have to worry about that becuase you’d be dead,” you answered with a shrug as Peter just stared at you in shock, but you just shook your head. “Dude, the hell are you smoking? Do you really think Captain America is gonna let a fifteen year-old, bright-futured kid like you get hurt? Not if his Spangled Ass depended on it. This isn’t a war, Peter. This is running an errand for Stark. We’re just here to confine the issue, then we get paid. Done. So, stop worrying so much and help me ruin Stark’s day.”
“Again…what?” Peter asked, getting whiplash for a second time from you.
“He’s an egotistical maniac, and yeah, he might be helping me after I help him. Symbiosis. Blah, blah, blah. But, here’s the thing: I still hate him.”
“You don’t actually hate the suit do you?”
“I’d binge Netflix in this thing and be buried in my grave still sitting on my couch with the built in AC on. Now, Operation Snark the Stark, or nah?”
“You’re weird,” Peter responded after a long pause while you put your hand to your chest and fluttered your eyelashes, dramatically flipping your hair with your other hand.
“Why, thank you,” you acknowledged proudly. “I’m so glad you’ve noticed. Good to see that your common sense is intact. That kind of intuition will be useful in coming up with an evil plan. Like Hannibal Lecter…hello, Clarice,” you whispered seductively close to Peter who just gulped, then narrowed his eyebrows.
“Wait…isn’t the line, ‘well, Clarice’?” Peter asked.
“Um…no,” you argued. “That is, and always will be, one of my favorite movies of all time. I think I’d know what the line is, you Wanna-Be Movie Buff.”
“Wanna-Be…? Oh, come on-”
“I mean, you’re just like those nerds who say the line isn’t Luke, I am your father. Like, yes. Yes, it is. There’s merch for that shit. I’ve seen it at Target.”
It was as if time had slowed when the words left your mouth, a look crossed over Peter’s face that you had been itching for since the moment you met him: confused rage. Like a two-year old throwing a tantrum in the middle of a comic book store, Peter Parker, for all intents and purposes, lost his fucking mind.
“Whoa! Hey! That is too far, (Y/N)!” Peter whisper-yelled, still in fear of losing his brand deal with Stark, but angry enough to stop paying attention to Stark’s conversation with Rogers. “I have taken so much from you over the last few hours, but this is where I draw the line! It is a common misconception among a lot of people, including Star Wars fans. But only the people who really care to check their facts know the real line, which is-”
“Luke, I am your father,” you breathed into your hand as Peter leaned heavily against the stairlift that you were both stationed behind, subsequently taking you on a nerd journey that you would never forget…and love every second of…becuase you’re teasing him and that’s what you do to people…not because you like him…who said that?
Peter let out another frusturated groan and continued to demolish your bullshit claims one after the other and that was fine. The point wasn’t to stump your victims, it was just to make them dance. Creating entertainment where there was no entertainment is your go-to. You’ve had quite a bit of practice. Honestly, you’re still surprised that you’re not dead from this risky game.
In the midst of your laughter you felt an angry buzz in your ear which you swatted at it unwittingly until you realized it was the earpiece that Stark had given to you. You wanted to roll your eyes and ignore it, but the buzzing only seemed to be getting more intense to where even Peter started to notice. Quickly, you shushed Peter until you heard, son of a bitch. Underoos! I bring on two loudmouth, fearlessly reckless liabilities who love nothing more than to fight over nothing, and now they choose to be quiet. Underooos! Underoos! I can’t believe this…you’re embarassing me, kid…
“Shit, shit, shit!” Peter scrambled, rushing to pull his mask over his face to where it hung awkwardly loose in all the wrong places. “How do I look?”
“Like a mistake,” you answered, but kindly shifted his mask back into place anyway, then pushed him towards where Stark, Rogers, Rhodes, and Nat were stood having their arguement, waiting for Stark’s secret weapon. “That’s your cue. Now go! Jazz hands. It’s showtime!”
“I’m going, I’m going!” Peter huffed, shaking out his hands and cracking his neck before he quickly looked back at you. “Thanks, (Y/N).” Then, he was off, his web slinging him over Captain America’s head to steal his shield with an 8/10 landing on a plane just a few feet away from the group.
Again, not bad, not bad.
But, you were about to do so much better…
Chapter 3: Fear of the Unknown (Avengers x Fem!Reader)
~Part 6~ The Life of an Avenger: Ragnarok
Summary: It’s about time Marilyn Manson and her useless army of the undead (what did she need them for again?) to be executed. Thor, Val, Bruce, and the reader finally take on Hela in Asgard and Loki takes matters into his own hands.
Word Count: 6276
Warnings: **INFINITY WAR SPOILERS**, swearing
“So, this is what she’s killing an entire civilization for?” (Y/N) pondered in disbelief, unimpressed with the Asgardian throne that she was lying on top of. “It doesn’t even have lasers. Everything is better with lasers.”
“I do not believe that she is on her conquest just for the chair, but of course (Y/N),” Thor sighed, “I will put in a request for lasers with the next ruler.”
“What I meant was that I don’t understand the draw to supreme power,” (Y/N) ranted, trying to see if dangling her legs over the edge of the throne would make it more comfortable. It didn’t. “It must be the worst job ever. You do one thing wrong, and your entire kingdom falls. You say the wrong thing once, and you fall because your kingdom revolts against you with swords and pitchforks and various fruits to throw at you. This is what democracy is for. At least if the majority of the population votes for the wrong thing, then everyone only has themselves to blame,” (Y/N) shrugged, her nose scrunched up curiously at the large golden horns that extended like jaws above her head. “Like your hammer used to be, this throne is bullshit.”
“And therein lies one of the many reasons why I did not take it,” Thor agreed, graciously extending his hand out to help her off the throne. “Now hurry. She will be here any minute now.”
“Fine, but just know that your ass will be very unforgiving of you when you take a seat in this thing because it ain’t some fucking Lazy Boy, I’ll tell you that much…actually screw the lasers, just get a nice recliner…and maybe a vacuum. This place is a mess…”
“Go!” Thor shouted through his laughter as he attempted to compose himself before his sister’s arrival to the throne room. “But (Y/N)…only come forth if I use our signal. I do not want you to be a part of this fight if you do not have to be.”
“I’m pretty sure that you’re gonna need me,” (Y/N) scoffed as Thor’s face went straight to betrayal. “Well, she’s the Goddess of Death. Not the Goddess of Kittens and Warm Hugs!” (Y/N) explained herself. Thor just shook his head and motioned for her to take cover.
Once she was out of sight, Thor took a seat on what would have been his throne, taking his staff like the great king he could have been.
“See! Now that’s more like it,” (Y/N) appraised from behind a pillar across the hallway, immediately getting scolded by Thor to disappear, leaving behind only an echo of her mischievous laughter.
And not long it was, indeed. (Y/N) could feel the shift in the air as the goddess approached the throne room. Shadows darted across the marble floors, scrambling desperately to reach their hidden corners to shiver in fear as every ounce of the joy was sucked dry, replaced with only that sinking feeling you get when you know someone, or something, is lurking right behind you, waiting in cold silence for the opportunity to take you.
Sensing his sister’s approach, Thor began to summon her closer by impatiently pounding his royal staff on the ground beneath him, sending the dusted remnants of his father’s lies to scatter into oblivion. HIs warning calls to Hela demanded her presence, daring her to find him lounging upon the throne that she was actively killing to reclaim.
An impeccable plan.
The pitch-black antlers battled each other atop the head of the goddess like the poisonous wrath of Medusa as her silhouette announced itself in the throne room, her antlers retracting to lull Thor into a false sense of calm. Her grandeur strides were regal…calculated, sizing up her brother with cold, grey eyes that held a deep resentment that could only be attained through centuries of hate.
“Sister,” Thor greeted with an award-winning smile.
“You’re still alive,” Hela noted, the subtle tremor of her body signifying a blood lust just beneath her statuesque exterior.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Thor commented sarcastically. “Redecorating, I see.”
“It seems our father’s solution for every problem,” Hela bit back spitefully. “Better to cover it up.”
And, honestly, (Y/N) could kind of see her point. Hela had gotten Asgard into the position of the Nine Realm’s powerhouse through means that Odin had obviously supported until the day that he just…didn’t. She grew up knowing that death and pain resulted in immediate recognition and ultimate glory. And for her father, who knows better, to teach her such violence then cast her out for using said violence to support his reign…now that’s cold-hearted.
But on the other hand, killing innocent people is wrong, so (Y/N) still planned to kick her ass back to whatever hell-dimension she came from.
It wasn’t until Thor had been battered and whipped harder than a Rachel Ray brownie mix that (Y/N) tried to step in, peeking her head out from around the hallway, but Thor motioned her off. Huffing, (Y/N) pivoted with her back to the wall as she listened to Thor groan in pain. She wanted to cover her ears and block out his suffering, but she couldn’t and the sounds only got worse. She knew that Thor didn’t want her to get involved, but this was getting ridiculous.
He brought you here for a reason. Better safe than sorry.
Wait, what? Better safe than sorry? Who am I? Old Man Clint?
This must be serious if I’m using that phrase.
In a jolt, (Y/N) stalked the goddess from behind, Hela’s hand gripping Thor’s weapon with ease as he struggled against her unwavering strength.
“To be honest, I expected more,” Hela taunted Thor, quickly twisting his staff from his grip as she sent him into a downward spiral across the room.
“Be careful what you wish for, bitch,” (Y/N) retorted before taking the goddess out at the knees in one swift kick, splaying her flat on her back on the golden tile where (Y/N) secured her wrists and ankles each in a cage of ice.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Hela spit as a cascade of nightshade blades rained from the ceiling in an avalanche of death. (Y/N) dodged the blades, blowing the rest through the windows of the palace, shattering the glass to let in the last rays of sunlight before she was surely about to die.
“Depends on my mood,” (Y/N) sassed as Hela freed herself from her chains, only being stopped from impaling the ice sorceress by Thor impaling her first, pinning her to the gold-laced wall.
Now that’s teamwork.
Unfortunately, Thor’s strength wasn’t enough before Hela got Thor pinned to the wall instead, her black talons squeezing the life from his throat.
“Here’s the difference between us,” Hela boasted with poison on her lips. “I’m Odin’s firstborn, the rightful heir, the savior of Asgard. And you’re nothing.” And with her proclamation, Hela threw Thor to the ground where (Y/N) stepped in to defend him, but her efforts were wasted as soon as Hela knocked her into one of the pillars, the crumbling remnants leaving dust to snow her hair. Thor attacked the goddess again, but one slice of her sword brought the god to his knees, clutching his stomach in agony as she circled her prey.
“So simple,” Hela hissed, “even a blind man could see it.”
And in an instant, the blade ripped through Thor’s eye socket as blood cascaded down his face with the howls of his misery. Hela scowled in disdain.
“Now you remind me of Dad,” Hela sneered. But before she could end it all, (Y/N) screamed in a war cry of anguish as she tackled the goddess, wielding blades of ice like katanas, slashing wildly at the shocked goddess. Hitting the ground with the force of an avalanche, a wall of crystallized snow buried the goddess against the staircase of the golden throne as (Y/N) launched herself at the goddess, barely missing her body before impaling the ground instead to shatter her katanas to pieces. Hela stood quickly behind (Y/N) to charge her, but (Y/N) jabbed her in the face with her elbow before running towards the pillars and parkoured up the side to backflip over Hela, then blast her through the pillars in a flurry of ice that left her crumbled in a pile of stone. Breathing heavily, (Y/N) stalked towards the goddess, eyes and fingertips glowing silver amongst the smoke of destruction. Instead of groans of pain, (Y/N) heard the cackle of laughter erupt from where the goddess lay.
“Now, don’t you wish you had done that a bit sooner to save your precious friend?” Hela taunted, straightening herself from the ashes to lean against the wall behind her to gather her strength. “What a pitiful creature you are. I can see so much that you could have been if you were my executioner. If you would have chosen my reigning victory over some wannabe ruler. Look at him, he can barely stand. Sad. But you…you could have been so much more,” Hela appreciated, scrutinized (Y/N) up and down before shaking her head and prowling towards the ice sorceress with a sigh. “Tragic that I must kill you now.”
“Not likely,” (Y/N) asserted boldly, bringing forth another round of snide laughter from the goddess.
“Do you not realize who I am?” Hela balked. “It’s shocking to me that less people truly grasp that I am the incarnation of death itself. I don’t know how many people I have to threaten and kill before that really sinks in.”
“How about none? Maybe try a new hobby like modeling for Hot Topic. I bet they’d really appreciate…all this,” (Y/N) offered, motioning to Hela’s leather-clad figure as the goddess rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh.
“This has been mildly entertaining, but it’s time for you to die,” Hela huffed as she finished sharpening her sword with a quick blow to whisk away the ashes.
“Like I’ve never heard that one before,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes back before charging at the goddess with a shout of rage. It would’ve been really cool if (Y/N) had actually beat Hela, but instead a fist full of her hair was being tugged in Hela’s grasp, her nails digging into (Y/N)’s scalp as she felt the warmth of blood run down her cheeks with a stroke of chilling tears. Hela dragged both (Y/N)’s and Thor’s ragged bodies to the balcony, shoving their faces towards the chaos of Asgardian warfare down on the Bifrost below.
“You see, no one’s going anywhere,” Hela hissed in Thor’s ear, then brushed her lips next to (Y/N)’s ear. “I’ll get that sword even if I have to kill every single one of them to do it.”
“Surprised you haven’t done it yet, All-Powerful-One…or was that just…a load of shit,” (Y/N) choked out through heaving breaths, but Hela was unshaken.
“Suppose I’m deciding whether to kill you first, or let you live long enough to watch the city burn,” Hela whispered as (Y/N)’s head lolled to the side, barely able to keep herself awake any longer. But her senses were jolted by Thor’s chuckle that caused Hela to spitefully drive a stake through his back. (Y/N)’s eyes found the culprit with strenuous effort. It was a ship mounted by none other than Loki.
“No…fucking…way,” (Y/N) whispered, a smirk tugging at her lips. She couldn’t believe it. The son of a bitch had actually done the right thing for once. Who would’ve thought?
“It’s a valiant effort, but you never stood a chance,” Hela scoffed, pulling the dagger from Thor’s back to replace deep in his arm as she held (Y/N) firm by the neck. “You see, I’m not a queen or a monster. I’m the Goddess of Death. What were you the god of again?” Hela demanded from her brother, her hands crushing Thor’s throat as silence filled the air with tension. “No matter, I’ll slice your pretty little sidekick’s neck while you take a moment to ponder that,” Hela threatened, wielding a blade from mid-air, placing the wicked edge along (Y/N)’s throat and began to draw blood. “Tell me brother, what were you the god of again?”
And that was when the atmosphere shifted. Every tiny hair on (Y/N)’s body stood on end as a tingle filled her veins in a way that shifted all attention away from the scream that was just making its way to her parted lips. Her eyes were skywards, spellbound by the culminating clouds that spiraled into a storm of blue lightning that crashed straight into the balcony. In the same moment, she heard the roar of Thor’s voice as his body slammed into her, sending her into a ball far from Hela. Once she turned her eyes back to the scene, Hela was gone. Only a gaping hole where (Y/N) used to be was crumbled to the ground below where Hela lay in a heap. Ears still ringing, (Y/N)’s eyes found Thor, a ring of sapphire, electric aura surrounded his raging body. Blue lightning was crackling from the palms of his hands and glowed in his eye until he settled down enough to crouch next to (Y/N).
“Are you alright?” Thor asked, concern etching his bloodied face. Always a gentleman.
“Well that’s a new look,” (Y/N) commented loudly, then opened her mouth to pop her ears as Thor chuckled, the blue fire still burning in his eye as he helped (Y/N) to stand. “I mean that in a good way. You know, I wanted to ask you earlier, but what kind of juice cleanse/detox/steroids are you on to create that? Because whatever your secret is, you’ve been holding out on me, Pikachu. Could’ve used that kind of power in Sokovia.”
“I did not realize that I had this kind of power until I fought and, despite your claims, beat Banner.”
“You don’t say,” (Y/N) scoffed, raising her eyebrows at Thor, still not satisfied with his non-explanation.
“No, I actually do say,” Thor argued in confusion. “I just did say that.”
(Y/N) sighed, reaching up to slap her hand on Thor’s shoulder, taking a moment to look him deep in his eyes. “I love you, Thor, but you’re a fucking idiot.”
“I find myself charming as well, Fearsome One,” Thor joked, ruffling (Y/N)’s hair before returning his attention to the Bifrost, giving (Y/N) the chance to see his right eye that was blackened and bloodied from Hela’s blade.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough,” (Y/N) apologized, her eyes finding her boots. “You brought me as backup and I failed.”
Thor placed his warm hand, still steaming from his power surge, under (Y/N)’s chin. “You have not failed. There are still people on the Bifrost to be fought for and a war to be won. There is still hope.”
The edges of (Y/N)’s lips pulled upwards into a shy smile, a rare beauty to be seen. She took a long breath in and out before nodding to Thor who smiled back at her before nearing the edge of the balcony.
“Wait!” (Y/N) yelled at him, scrambling in her back pocket for the iPod Nano-looking device she found in Valkyrie’s apartment (she planned to give it back…maybe). With the press of one button, “Immigrant Song,” by Black Sabbath was playing as she attached the device to her arm and nodded with finality to Thor. “Ah, yeah…”
“Did you have that ready just for this?” Thor accused.
“Shh, you’re ruining the moment,” (Y/N) sassed. “Every badass battle needs a badass soundtrack. That’s just, like, the laws of super heroism.”
“Oh, and I am the idiot?”
“Would you just shut up and accept the Black Sabbath?”
“The Black who?”
“A second black eye from me if you don’t go down there and kick some ass!” (Y/N) shouted, throwing her arms in the air as Thor’s entire body flared up in blue lightning, encapsulating the power of the heavens as he launched himself towards the Bifrost, red cape billowing behind him like a beacon of war.
“This is Sparta, motherfuckers,” (Y/N) whispered into the wind.
It was a battle for sure. Thor, (Y/N), and Valkyrie held off Hela as best they could while the Asgardians were able to board their rescue ship and Loki went off alone (maybe not the best idea, but to be continued) to set off Ragnarok, whatever the hell that was. However, (Y/N)’s curiosity was quickly dissected by Hela’s sudden attack that almost knocked (Y/N) off the Bifrost but, she dug two ice blades into the bridge and pulled herself up just in time to deflect Hela’s sword. The two crossed blades, Hela’s face close enough to feel the chill of (Y/N)’s breath, witness the silver crescents of her incandescent eyes.
“Sidekick. Really?” (Y/N) snarled, finally pushing Hela over the Bifrost and into the water below with a jolt of magic that almost made (Y/N) collapse.
In a typhoon of waves, Hela rose from the dark waters on a large black talon, stepping from her creation towards Valkyrie who dragged herself away from the goddess as the talon disappeared back into oblivion.
“Hela, enough!” Thor shouted as he stood from his crumpled position on the Bifrost, feeling the earthquake he was waiting for beginning to shake the planet. “You want Asgard, it’s yours!”
“Whatever game you’re playing, it won’t work,” Hela asserted. “You can’t defeat me.”
“No, I know,” Thor panted, then pointed towards the Asgardian palace before it erupted into a volcano of fire and chaos. A giant stepped out of the nuclear explosion and loomed over the wreckage at triple the size of Scott Lang back at the Leipzing airport during a fight that seemed ridiculous to (Y/N) while it was happening, but now seemed flat out idiotic to her in the face of what she now knew now was Ragnarok.
Dear Diary, where did things all go wrong?
“No,” Hela gasped at the figure of absolute destruction that roared flames into the storm clouds that dispersed in fright from around the monster’s head. For the first and only time, (Y/N) completely agreed with the goddess.
In the midst of her distracted fear, Hela was impaled by Valkyrie who blitzed the goddess from behind and landed in a crouch beside (Y/N). Thor completed the attack by raining shockwaves down from the skies, dismantling the Bifrost where Hela lay, casting her into the seas below.
But the rage wasn’t over as the red giant dragged his sword to destroy every street, home, and livelihood that the Asgardians had spent centuries to build for themselves. Like a toddler destroying his city of Legos, the giant found pleasure in his reign of terror, smashing the bits a place that was once beautiful. The flames licked up the sides of every golden tower, melting the burning city into a storm of red fire. Even the smoke was lit with fury as it flooded the skies.
“Tremble before me Asgard,” the giant bellowed. “I am your reckoning!”
Thor, (Y/N), and Valkyrie stared up at the giant, watching in silent awe-struck horror at the scene of pure chaos.
“So…” (Y/N) drawled, “this has been fun…but, uh, what do we do now?”
Valkyrie turned to (Y/N), then looked skywards towards the ship full of Asgardians that were now leaving this wasteland they once called home.
“The people are safe,” Valkyrie assured. “That’s all that matters.”
“Cool, cool,” (Y/N) agreed with a nervous nod. “However, quick tidbit about me: I also indulge in the luxury of not being dead, so…”
“So, we are fulfilling the prophecy, (Y/N),” Thor answered solemnly.
“I hate this prophecy,” Valkyrie interjected.
“So do I, but we have no choice,” Thor explained, all doomsday. “Surtur destroys Asgard. He destroys Hela, so our people may live. But we need to let him finish the job, otherwise…” Thor trailed off as Hulk catapulted himself towards Surtur, fists raised and ready to smash. “No…Hulk, stop, you moron!” Thor commanded the beast, but Surtur had already flicked Hulk off of his arm like a pesky mosquito. Face-planting into the Bifrost, Hulk slowly slumped to his feet, prepared to have another go. “Hulk, stop. Just for once in your life, don’t smash!” Thor warned again.
“Hey, hey, hey,” (Y/N) mediated. “A wise man once said that if the Hulk wants to smash, let him smash. It is the way of nature.”
“Did you just call Stark a wise man?”
“He has his moments,” (Y/N) shrugged, then turned to Hulk and started fist banging. “Hulk, Hulk, Hulk, Hulk!” (Y/N) chanted before Thor shoved her arm to her side, making (Y/N) give him a look but he just smiled.
“Let’s go!” Valkyrie scolded Hulk who gritted his teeth in frustration before pounding his way towards (Y/N) and Valkyrie, picking up both warriors in the crooks of his arms and launched towards the rescue ship with Thor locked onto his back.
Dear Diary (again), a little thing that not many people want to know about but have definitely wondered. Yes, the Hulk’s armpits do smell like a 24-Hour Fitness men’s locker room bathroom. Question, answered.
(Y/N) understood the pain that was around her. Outside of the room she sat in, Asgardians were mourning for the lives they had lost, the memories that were shattered, and the futures that were uncertain. The wrenching feeling in her gut wouldn’t rest as her mind cascaded into a whirlpool of amethyst-shaded dreams that made her dizzy, but she couldn’t escape the vision.
Hesitantly, (Y/N) lifted her face from the palms of her hands to look herself in the mirror for the first time in what seemed like months. How much time had passed since Loki pulled her through Dr. Strange’s portal into Sakaar? Were Steve and Sam looking for her? Obviously, they hadn’t made it to Asgard, so where were they? How was Bucky doing? Where was Tony? Nat? Wanda? Peter? Clint? The little makes? What the hell was going on back on Earth?
Despite her youth and super soldier serum still surging through her veins, the tired lines on her face and sunken eyes made (Y/N) wince at her own pale, ragged reflection that was hidden behind the black charcoal that smoked her skin. Her appearance reminded her of Winona Ryder in the movie Heathers.
“Veronica, you look like hell.”
“Yeah? I just got back.”
All (Y/N) needed now was a cigarette between her lips, but she doubted that she could find a corner store in the middle of fucking space. Again, her glossy cheeks found the backs of her arms that she folded across the vanity, stubborn tears betraying her eyes as they melted into her skin. With Valkyrie and Thor out of the room, (Y/N) let her emotions consume her. She didn’t want to be crying. All she wanted was a nap, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. Especially after a courteous knock rapped against her doorframe. Shoving a tissue in her nose and wiping her eyes to staunch Niagara Fucking Falls, (Y/N) unwillingly trudged over to open the door to see Loki.
“I know that this may not be the best time, but-”
Before Loki could finish, (Y/N) shut the door in his face, her own face unmoved as she slothed back towards the vanity to sit and stare at the silver, metallic wall as dark thoughts pervaded her mind, but eventually she got tired of the knocking. She had hoped that Thor or Valkyrie would be back to throw Loki off the ship to float amongst the rest of his fellow space junk, but that didn’t happen. Cracking the door open a few inches, (Y/N) waited impatiently for Loki to explain his presence.
“I have something for you,” Loki simplified.
“And I have a foot in the ass for you if you don’t leave.”
“I understand that you do not trust me.”
“Congratulations. You’ve mastered common sense.”
“May I please come in?” Loki asked, a nervous twitch edging his voice, but (Y/N) didn’t care. He didn’t deserve her care.
“Typically, the delivery boy doesn’t get invited into the apartment. This isn’t PornHub. If you have something for me, then give it to me…with witnesses.”
“This isn’t an item that you’re going to want many people to know about,” Loki insisted in a low voice, but (Y/N) was unconvinced. “When I went to retrieve Surtur’s crown in Odin’s vault, I may have picked up a few things…just for my troubles as the newly gilded Savior of Asgard. Quite a feat to live up to.”
“You fucking kleptomaniac. There really is no such thing as a selfless act,” (Y/N) mused.
“I saved all of these people. I feel I deserved something in return.”
“Real classy.”
“Allow me to put it to you like this. Would you rather myself have this rare and dangerous item, or for you to take it off of my ‘untrustworthy’ hands?”
(Y/N) pondered the question for a moment, then turned back into her room, leaving the door ajar for Loki to enter as she stood at attention in the center of the chamber, arms crossed, a deep distrust locked in her eyes. Loki asked if he could lock the door and (Y/N) nodded. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Loki, it was more that she was annoyed as hell by him.
“Impeccable chamber. Have you decorated this yourself?” Loki commented, his eyes falling on the mess of dirty battle armor sprawled across the beds and couch.
“Show me what you brought, or I show you the door,” (Y/N) deadpanned.
“Very indifferent this evening, Lady (Y/L/N),” Loki chided, tisking her as he shook his head, but (Y/N) waited tight-lipped for him to finish his performance and leave. With a heavy sigh, Loki reached into his cape, not much unlike a drug dealer in a back alley. “And to think I may have done you mighty a favor…what kind of manners have they taught you on Midgard?”
“Don’t trust the shady guy in the trench coat.”
“It’s not a trench coat…why does everyone find it so vital to criticize my attire-”
“Loki!” (Y/N) exploded, her face revealing her own surprise at her sudden outburst. “I just…I would like to be alone right now, so if you could hurry this up…that’d be great,” (Y/N) explained as evenly as she could. Loki almost said something about hearing her muffled cries from behind the door but couldn’t bring himself to tear her down further. She was one of the good ones. So good that he almost stopped himself entirely from what he was about to do. Almost. But his orders were clear.
Loki grinned up at (Y/N) who raised her eyebrows impatiently at him. “You are going to like this, and I know that my promises are questionable to say the least-“
“The very least…”
“-yet I may promise you that this one is well worth your patience.”
(Y/N) let out another ironically impatient exhale as Loki pulled his fist from his pocket, fingers tightly enclosed around a glowing figure that peaked amethyst from between his deathly pale skin, casting a crystalline glow around the room like a lavender disco ball. Just like inside of her mind.
(Y/N) swallowed nervously as her heart pounded harder in her chest, clawing to be reconnected with its long-lost soulmate. “Loki…you didn’t…”
“But what if I did?” Loki replied calmly, sensing (Y/N)’s raised nerves. But he had to do it. It was the only way. “Give me your hand.”
(Y/N)’s eyes shot up to Loki’s in fear, the blue so iridescent in his eyes, she felt she could see right through them. But, in truth, she couldn’t. For once, she could not read him. “Why would you give me this? Don’t you want to…take over the galaxy, and have a statue, and a parade, and confetti, and whatever else you slimy rulers do to celebrate your royalty?”
“I’ve had my moment,” Loki answered evenly, but the bead of sweat on his forehead forbade him.
“What is this?” (Y/N) questioned, a dark look in her eyes.
“This is a compromise,” Loki admitted, making (Y/N) cock her head and refasten her arms protectively across her chest. “I fear that this may be interpreted as a trick, but…I am attempting to be candid here, my dear, and you are not making it very simple.”
“Probably because this isn’t simple,” (Y/N) retorted. “You raised hell for the Tesseract. Almost got away with taking over an entire planet with it.”
“You really think so?” Loki wondered.
“No, not at all,” (Y/N) responded immediately as Loki sighed in defeat. “But you had a difficult go at it from your side. What changed your mind so drastically from that crazed hunger for power, to now?”
“People change.”
“Not you.”
“Were you not the one who convinced my brother to trust me when we fought Malekith?”
“Not trust, just tolerate for the greater good…or something along those lines,” (Y/N) added to make her intentions seem less cliché than they really had been at the time.
“What makes you think this isn’t for the greater good?”
“…I refuse to dignify a response to that question,” (Y/N) answered in annoyance, clearly indicating that Loki’s window was closing as he felt the familiar piercing pain rack his skull.
“What can I do, (Y/N)?” Loki exploded, his tone bordering on begging. His eyes were wide, finally opening (Y/N)’s perception to his unspoken panic. It was an expression she had read before on his face after he had been caught in New York. He was afraid. “I am well aware that I am in no right to demand your trust, but I want you to have this. It is best for it to be out of my hands and into yours, so…just…just take it…”
No matter his intentions, at the time, (Y/N) had believed that she had to take the stone off of his hands. There wasn’t anything worse that she could possibly do with it than he could, so she held out her hand to him. The relief that washed over Loki’s face made her hand twitch in hesitation, but she swallowed her nerves and kept her eyes on the god as his fingertips graced the palm of her hand as her nerve endings were set ablaze. The moment the stone touched her skin, every inch of her body became alive like a field of wildflowers after the harsh storms of winter. She felt like herself again, a freedom filling her lungs and escaping her lips in the form of pure ecstasy that was tangible by the god in front of her who couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as remorse replaced his relief.
“Oh, so now you regret your decision?” (Y/N) teased him as a sad smile crossed his lips.
“Not at all,” Loki answered as he took in a shaky breath. “I suppose that I simply hope to one day see what you shall do with this gift…it would truly be a sight to see.” And he meant it.
“You say that like you’ll never try to pull some shit on me, or Earth ever again. In which case I’d be disappointed since that’s kind of your niche,” (Y/N) responded, examining the stone in her hand with curious eyes, still resisting against the full power that she held. “Do you ever wonder what the world would be like if we all spoke our minds?” (Y/N) pondered out loud, raising Loki’s attention.
“Many times,” Loki responded, still debating his next move. “But all I ever see is myself getting attacked in various ways…so, I would admit, quite chaotic. Not a world I would stand to live in.”
“I think there would be less war,” (Y/N) mused, her eyes dancing in amethyst light. “War is built on misunderstanding and mistrust. If we all said what we were thinking, then at least all options and opinions would be on the table, open for discussion…what are you thinking about right now?”
An innocent question that Loki would typically ignore and divert, but he felt an overwhelming urge to tell her the truth. His compulsion to lie almost outmatched the power of the orb…until her eyes flickered up to his, and it was all over.
“I-I am trying to save…save my-“
CRASH. The whole ship convulsed as if it had a stroke, causing the vanity mirror to shatter and the lights to shudder like the rattling of bones.
“What the hell was that?” (Y/N) choked as she made her way to the door, but Loki was already on her, pressing his hands around hers that held the stone. Screams echoed in the background as (Y/N) tried to free herself from his grasp, but he was desperate.
“I also hope that you shall one day be able to thank me for this,” Loki rushed as he pulled one of his hands away from (Y/N)’s as he pressed his palm firmly into her forehead to pull her into a deep sleep. Immediately, her body went limp in his arms as he carried her out into the hallway full of terrified Asgardians that didn’t have the whereabouts to question him. In his haste, he transformed himself and (Y/N) into Midgardians he had once seen on what they called, “television,” as he sprinted towards the desolate room where Heimdall was meditating.
Bursting through the door, he almost knocked (Y/N)’s head against the doorframe, but quickly shifted his stance to shield her. His heaving breath would’ve been ice cold against her skin, but she was off in her own world. Her mind reeled back to the time her and Clint blasted “Come and Get Your Love” over the lab’s loudspeakers back at Stark Towers after Tony and Bruce had been working non-stop for basically 36 hours just to break the tension. She hadn’t known that they were building and perfecting Ultron at the time, but the memory was still one of the happiest ones that she had. Dancing like an absolute idiot in front of Tony until eventually he caved and joined in. Bruce was a bit more hesitant, but (Y/N) was so contagiously happy. Plus, he knew nothing could look more ridiculous than the dad-moves Clint was pulling.
But this was all in (Y/N)’s head, so far from the agonizingly painstaking reality that lay ahead of her and the rest of the world…but Loki believed she deserved a few last good moments before…
“Loki, I-“ Heimdall began, but Loki was panicked. He became an asshole when he was panicked…well, more of an asshole.
“We do not have time to discuss how utterly infuriating you are. Yes, you knew I was coming. What a bloody gift you are to the universe,” Loki ranted as Heimdall helped him lay (Y/N)’s relaxed body on the ground. Ironically, she was more peaceful in that moment than she had been in months. “He’s already here…and do not burden me. I am aware that you were aware of that.”
“I need to know where I am sending her,” Heimdall responded calmly, his energy well-collected and balanced. Nothing could shake him at that moment.
“So, the all-knowing vision is not fully immune to blind spots. Wonderful that you choose this moment to have a flaw,” Loki bit back spitefully as he looked behind himself to find the looming ship that had haunted his nightmares, awake and rarely asleep, long before New York came to pass. The ship dwarfed the one they were on like the Titanic to a ship-wrecked victim’s feeble attempt at forging some palm tree leaves together for a raft that would inevitably sink. They were inevitably about to sink…
“The location, Loki,” Heimdall demanded as Loki growled out the address, then continued his patronizing at the gatekeeper to distract himself from the growing sense of chaos that approached.
“And isn’t it oh, so convenient that you may only bring forth the Bifrost for one last person. May only muster the strength to allow one to escape…do you not realize how close upon death we are? Do you not realize how worthless our attempts were to keep these people safe? Do you not-“
“Grant me silence to call upon the Bifrost,” Heimdall commanded, giving Loki pause. The request was firm yet comforting to the god who was masking his fears in the only ways he knew how.
“I am simply warning you to hurry. My brother and his pets must have already discovered her to be missing. He will attempt to search for her before he must fight,” Loki cautioned in a condescending tone, knowing fully-well Heimdall knew exactly where Thor was and how much time he had left. He needed to feel powerful before everything might be stripped away.
Heimdall’s muttered chanting became louder as the moments passed and (Y/N)’s body became an enchanted tinge of holographic light that colored her skin in pale, shimmering color until she was gone in a roar that echoed louder than the approaching ship, causing Loki to cover his ears and cower until the light faded. Staring at the empty space where (Y/N) had been, Loki felt relief at having completed his mission. He knew he was about to meet the voice that had commanded him for decades, but at least now…now he could provide a sense of loyalty to the entity. Provide his own services as bait. Provide a diversion to allow the others to escape.
In the wake of the silence the Bifrost left, the morbid screams of the Asgardians filtered into the room once more as Loki shook himself out of his own terror. Heimdall had already left to fight for their lives, but Loki was apprehensive. Everything he had done came down to this.
Swallowing the fear that choked his throat, he walked out the door and into the unknown.
*oh shit, it’s bout to get good…please like, follow, and re-post to show support for whatever the fuck is about to happen next xx
This is the best Marvel edit I’ve ever seen WOW!! ❤️
I was crying. I was screaming. I was smiling so hard my cheeks are sweating from the workout. Anyone else inspired?
Hush
Summary: You had recently been forced into a traumatic situation that has caused your life to become a living nightmare. Wherever you turn, there is a reminder of what had happened to you. A reminder that you had no future other than to be bombarded with memories that you had never wanted in the first place. But maybe, just maybe, that can all change with one act of very observant kindness. A trustworthy kind of kindness that could bring change to your life in ways you never thought could be possible any longer.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!ReaderOC
Word Count: 8263
Warnings: sexual violence, swearing, trauma, and severe anxiety
A/N: I’ve had this story written in my drafts for months now. I could never bring myself to post it, until something happened the other day. Life is too fucking short to silence yourself and to not listen to the important stories of others just becuase society finds it taboo. But I realized that the only way to change something is to stare it straight in the face and demand it to be changed.
You weren’t always the quiet one. You didn’t always stare at your black rain boots as you shuffled down a hallway, listening intently for the heavy thud of footsteps behind you. And you definitely were never the one to seek solace in the furthest corner of a room, closest to the exit and the furthest from attention.
You weren’t always afraid.
But these days, you can’t remember a time when you weren’t afraid. When leaving your house didn’t mean keeping your head down and your senses dialed in. When the sound of a car door slamming shut too close to you in a parking lot didn’t startle you. Or the sound of a burly man whispering down the aisle at the grocery store didn’t make your fingers scramble for the cold metal can of pepper spray in your bag, only for you to realize that he’s asking his daughter about what kind of cereal she wants for breakfast the next morning.
It’s a maddening feeling that you know shouldn’t be there. But it is.
And the thoughts of what he did to you should be gone. But they’re not. And you don’t think they ever will be.
Your therapist disagrees with you, but that’s his job. Optimism is what he’s paid to spread to people who see no future, only the shitty past. People like you. And that’s fine. You weren’t paying for these sessions anyway. That was all on your brother, the brother who pleaded with you to continue to try with this therapist despite your protests that the man was an idiot. But your brother was insistent. Just try, please. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, Mia.
Right. Because this was all about what he was forced to see every day.
But, you knew he meant well. He offered to have you stay with him for as long as you needed, which you never would’ve accepted before from your fancy lawyer brother, but your stubborn confidence has faded. You weren’t sure of yourself anymore. He had taken that from you. And now you were left afraid.
So, with your brother’s offered assistance came the therapy from hell. And honestly, it wouldn’t have been a bad idea…if only the therapist wasn’t a total jackal. But you digress.
It had been exactly a month and seven days of treatment, and all this guy had done was to tell you to stop being so afraid, to live your life for the future, and to maybe try to some meditation.
Um…great. Thanks, Generic Advice Generator. I will surely get right on that after I overcome my crippling fear of everything, apparently, all on my own.
But you digress.
However, this recent therapy visit was different. Your therapist was going on and on about his weekend away with the boys (who all met on the high school football team, himself being team captain). They went on a camping trip to Tahoe where his buddy had a cabin, or something. There was beer, and fishing, and bonfires, and beer, and…you know, it doesn’t really matter. You had stopped listening after mounted the grill to the back of my truck. It wasn’t until he mentioned getting that same truck stuck in the mud on his way home that he came to the realization that you still existed. And that’s when the lightbulb went off that teamwork is somehow the key to everything since his buddies helped to pull his car out of the mud…by calling a tow truck for him. But you digress.
The point is that now you are walking down the long, locker-infested hallway of a high school towards this magical thing that your therapist seems to have just discovered yesterday called, group therapy.
Ooh.
Aah.
Wow.
The reason behind a therapy session for grown adults being held in a high school was completely beyond you, but your therapist and brother had insisted. You weren’t sure why, and were much too paralyzed with fear to really dig down to logic and reasoning, but the locker doors were making your heart pound much faster than it should have been. The nervous flick of your eyes made you dizzy as you hugged your hood closer to your ears. The doors. What was inside of them? Who was inside of them? Which door will open? Is it that one? It’s that one. He’s inside. You are going to die. You are going to die. The screaming of your boots were the only noise that screeched down the hallway because you were late to this stupid meeting, and you were alone. You were hopelessly alone and now you were going to die. You were going to die. You were…
at the meeting….and now you felt stupid…becuase what kind of an attacker would be able to hide inside of a high school locker…and now they are all staring at you, so you better say something…anything…literally fucking anything…time’s a wastin, you idiot…
“Are you here for the Guide to Success and Sanity Social Group?” a woman in a black pantsuit and a Crest Whitening Strips smile asked, leaning forward expectantly in her chair.
Unfortunately, you answered in your head.
Your voice, as it always was these days, was gone. So, you nodded, just barely shifting your hood back to reveal your face so that she didn’t call security on the dripping wet, hooded freak that just infiltrated the “healing process.”
“Oh, wonderful!” She chirped in excitement as she craned herself out of her seat to welcome you with her hand extended, her manicured fingers beckoning you forward. “Come, come! Don’t be shy. We are all here to help each other. Come now, tell us your name, my love, since you missed our introductions.”
Of course, I did. This being late idea seemed like a great idea at first…
“Uh…Mia,” you answered quietly, just an octave above a whisper.
“Alright, Leah. My name is Trish, and it is so nice to meet you! And, we are all certainly glad to have you this evening while we discuss the merits of making plans for a successful future. Plans that really put us on a launch pad and set us off for a lifetime of happiness! Does that sound like a good place to start tonight?” You were never one to accept crap, but correcting Trish would mean having to use words, and that was not in your plan for tonight. So again, you nodded. “Fantastic, Leah! Now, that is exactly the type of attitude I like to see! A real go-getter! You are going to make a fine addition to this team,” Trish bubbled, squeezing your shoulders in a way that made you want to cry. “Now, if you would like to take a seat, then we can surely begin!”
It seemed like a very simple request to just take a seat. But, you couldn’t.
You couldn’t because the only seat that was open was, what seemed like, the furthest possible point from the exit that could’ve ever been put in a room. Why did you get to this meeting late? This was your fault. Everything was your fault.
That green, glowing EXIT sign was mocking you. You knew it was. Your eyes shifted nervously between that sign and the wooden chair in the front row to the right of the semi-circle. About fifteen pairs of eyes watched you, some sympathetic, but most were impatient. The tension was growing in the room, but you knew that most of the tension was building inside of your chest. Maybe that tension was spilling out into the audience that watched you so carefully as the spotlight from the hanging lamp directly above your head made a ring around your insecurities. They were all judging you for your insecurities, for your fears, but the seat was too far. How would you possibly escape him?
And at the same moment that Trish put her hand on the center of your back and the breath you were holding deep in your stomach released in a gasp, you heard one of the wooden chairs scoot back from its place, completely negating your gasp from all other’s ears. You hoped.
Your eyes shot up in the direction of the sound to see one of the other therapy-goers stand up out of his own chair, the chair that happened to be the one closest to the exit, to walk over to the chair where you were about to be forced into. You couldn’t believe it. If you had ever seen a miracle, this was it.
With a quiet sigh of relief, your legs awakened, and you made your way to the back corner of the group where you allowed the strain in your muscles to relax ever-so-slightly. The pain in your chest subsided as your breath returned. And it was only from this place in the shadows of the back of the room that you realized how ridiculous you were just then. From back here, you saw that very few people in the group were listening to Trish, and even less had their eyes anywhere other than the ground, the windows, or hidden behind hoods. The nervous ticks making you realize that your insecurities are the least pressing issue on any of these people’s minds…except for one.
The man who had given up his comfortable chair next to the exit for you.
For you. Ha! My vapid narcissism is clearly showing.
He must have gotten cold sitting so close to the doorway that pulled in a draft that raised the hairs on the back of your neck and made you shiver in your chair as the tip of your nose was bitten by the chill. Still, would you switch chairs? Not even if there were icicles dripping out of your nostrils.
But he didn’t know that. And why would he care? He doesn’t. He just got cold and used the opportunity that your interruption gave him to move.
However, that doesn’t mean that you weren’t going to stare at him for pretty much the next two hours. That’s one thing that did remain intact. Your curiosity. Although you weren’t going on as many risky adventures as you used to embark on outside of Trader Joe’s or maybe to the post office, but you still enjoyed a good mystery. And this man was a mystery for sure.
Well, you supposed everyone in that room was a mystery to you, but he was the only one who interested you. Maybe it was the military posture that he kept firm as he sat rigid in his new chair that he pretended wasn’t giving him anxiety at being so far from the exit now (it probably was). Maybe it was the black, baggy clothes that he wore to mask the contours of his body (they didn’t). Maybe it was the hood that he wore to cover his faintly recognizable face (it didn’t). Or maybe it was his eyes that seemed to be watching you with the same intensity that you were watching him whenever your eyes flicked over to the exit. You were sure that he thought that you didn’t notice (but you did).
It was like a game of tag, except that you were both cleverly good at not being it. Both just barely missing each other’s curious glances. It soon became a competition, at least in your mind, to see who could catch the other one’s eye first. Who would be first to be caught off-guard?
Turns out, it was you. Caught staring at his large hands gripping his muscular thighs in a way that could not be comfortable for him, but that’s as far as that thought got before his eyes found yours. At first, his expression was unreadable, very soldierly and poised as he scrutinized your body up-and-down. There wasn’t much to see considering your gray sweatpants and oversized, black raincoat that swallowed your favorite flannel and the rest of your body. And honestly, you were glad for the protection, because if he could see even an inch of your skin, you could swear that he would be able to see the way his eyes made you feel. The warmth that spread from your chest to the tip of your nose was travelling quickly through your veins, and suddenly, that draft didn’t mean a goddamned thing to you. All you could feel were his eyes. That was all you could think about. His hands. His arms. His hair. Him.
But you were still the first one to look away. Only because you heard the scuffle of something in the hallway next to you. In a panic, your eyes whipped to the exit only to find a crumbled piece of paper blow across the wet, dirty tile.
And once again, you were back to square one. Afraid of everything.
Embarrassed, you didn’t look back towards him for the rest of the meeting, knowing that he probably saw what you had just done. Instead, you kept your eyes firm on Trish and focused on your breathing exercises. They were the only thing that helped you to cope with any panic attacks. The only thing.
You didn’t know why you continued to go back to these group therapy sessions. But you did. This was one of your last sessions, so might as well finish strong.
Maybe they made you feel accomplished in that you were able to leave the house. At these meetings, you weren’t forced to speak when you didn’t want to (so to you, that meant never). But that feeling wasn’t the same for everyone. In fact, most of the other patrons were very excited to share their stories and to bond with the people around them. You respected that and eventually started to tune in to what they were actually saying.
Turns out, many of them were war veterans, lost between a time when they were celebrated for their heroism versus now when they were shunned for protecting their own country. You, personally, never understood why the soldiers were the ones to blame for going to war. They wouldn’t have had to go war in the first place if the higher ups hadn’t caused a war to fight. But maybe that was just you.
It wasn’t until about four weeks in that you realized the truly strange part of these meetings, the thing that was always gnawing at the back of your mind every time you sat in your chair near the exit: he never spoke. The man who gave up his chair, he never shared with the group.
Not that you had any room to judge since you had yet to say a word either. However, he always showed up to the meetings. Just like you. You had yet to have a staring contest since the first day that you arrived, but you still felt his eyes every once in a while. Not wandering. You could tell he was deliberate about every move he made, concise in every decision. You could feel something else behind his eyes: concern. No? Desire. Maybe? Desperation.
Come on, now you’re being ridiculous.
Well, whatever it was, it didn’t matter after the fifth meeting because he was gone. Yeah, just there one day, poof the next like a magic trick.
You didn’t want to feel hollow after the realization hit you. But you did.
He was the first person outside of your own flesh and blood (which was really just your brother and only your brother) to show you any kind of mercy or understanding whether he knew he was showing it or not. Even when he caught your eye, he looked at you not as a victim, but as a person. As if nothing happened. He knew something happened to you, or else you wouldn’t have been in group therapy, but he didn’t pity you, or undress you with his eyes.
He just seemed curious yet reserved in a ‘mind you own business’ way. And you really liked it. But now he was gone, and the little narrative that was playing out in your head was cut short like when FRIENDS was cancelled…but less important since the cast actually knew each other for thirteen years. This was just a fucked-up meet-cute scenario that only happened in your head.
Regardless, the distraction was welcomed and made time go by faster. Now, you had to find some other way to occupy your mind instead of facing what was still weighing your gut down and keeping you from functioning in society…not that you were all too ‘functioning’ before everything happened, but now…now everything felt like a challenge. What you wore made all the difference in the world. What kind of shoes you were wearing mattered. Making sure you had mace at all times mattered. There was a checklist for every time you left the house, and even when you didn’t. You were always prepared just because you hadn’t been for one day, for one hour, for one guy…some disgusting guy…at one place. Just once. And now everything was different.
But you were sure nothing changed for him. And that’s what made everything feel worthless to you. Even when you spoke up, nothing changed for him. And that’s just the way the world was.
You supposed that the therapy did help a bit in the sense that after someone mentioned being afraid of how angry they were all the time, Trish offered up the idea of channeling that energy into a hobby of some sort. So, actually taking advice from someone for once (can’t say you never tried now), you decided to take up kickboxing. Why?
Well, if anyone knew what had happened to you, they would probably guess at self-defense, and that was definitely a large part of it. However, the other part was pure rage at the society that promoted a legal system that allowed misogynistic judges to get away with letting go…him, and every other him on this goddamned planet…with only a slap on the wrist after what he had done.
He was your boyfriend at one point. You had trusted him to let him into your apartment. There was no evidence of foul play. He even wore a condom.
But they never knew about the knife. The scars you had from when you were attacked at a young age by a knife. The reason you froze when he pulled it out. Why you didn’t fight. Why you felt responsible for what had happened to you. Verbally, you did not consent. But there’s no evidence to prove what you said, or didn’t say. Only his word against yours. And you allowed him into your apartment. That’s the same as your body, right? Right?
You were ready to punch something. You wished it was the two cops who didn’t believe you and questioned you about your own virginity, your own “purity” before they even talked to him. But, the world was unfair, so you settled for a punching bag, instead.
You’d never been inside of a gym like this before. Not that you had been to any gym before this, but whenever you thought of a gym, you thought of a place filled with the sweaty masses groaning their way through whatever torture devices they decided to burden themselves with. And judgey eyes on judgey trainers and gym-goes alike. You preferred to be…literally anywhere else.
But this place was different. It was small and secluded in a way that felt welcoming which was far off from the aggressive sales pitches demanded by any other gym. This felt more like a yoga studio fitted with a boxing ring and a stack of bags to provide training for an entire army. It wasn’t familiar to you, but when you put your mind to something, it became an obsession until you felt confident in what you were doing. You had watched a few sleepless nights’ worth of Youtube videos on kickboxing, now you just had to learn.
Shouldn’t be too hard. No big deal.
Oh, fuck. Never mind, this is a big deal. Where do I put my foot if my other foot is over here? Nope, that’s wrong. Yeah, that definitely doesn’t feel right. Is that move supposed to hurt that bad? I’m gonna break my ankle if I keep this shit up.
Safe to say, things weren’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped. But now, you were determined, coming in every day, sometimes twice a day, with a vengeance. You knew this was all distraction and you still weren’t really talking about what was keeping you from letting things go, but this was way more entertaining. Despite how awful you were, it would tire you out and by the end of the day, you would need to sleep. It wasn’t a request from your mind to your body that got rejected and thrown into the shredder, but something that just came naturally, which was an incredible change.
The only thing that didn’t seem to be changing was how awkward your body felt against those punching bags. Again, the gym had never been your friend, so this was new to you. It wasn’t until two weeks in that one of the men, who all seemed plenty friendly and open if you had any questions (which, of course you did, but you would never ask for help), started to notice you. You faintly recognized him from somewhere but could never quite place where. Whenever you were feeling a bit lost, you would always seek inspiration by watching him. Just quick glances here and there, but you always made notes on his body position. It was easy to tell that he knew what he was doing. You just wished it was as easy to watch as it was to actually do.
He was toweling off one day after he almost destroyed one of the punching bags on the opposite side of the room from you, and like magnets you could feel his glance, just like anyone else’s. The only reason you homed in on him was his hesitation at the door. You tried to ignore his pause and continue your workout, but he took a look towards the ceiling with a sigh, then made his approach.
He stood in your line of vision to your right, watching your stance carefully as you threw one last punch before taking your headphones out of your ears.
“Pardon me,” he asked politely, his eyes careful as you finally looked up to his face. He was carved from marble, yet still soft and honest in a way you couldn’t explain but felt comforted by. Not that your body lessened in rigidness, but still. “I don’t mean to interrupt, and this is incredibly rude, and I’ll leave if you want, but…may I offer you some advice?” He asked, and as compelled as you were to ignore him and put your headphones back in to block him out, you nodded, desiring deeply to know what he knew. He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Alright. So, your stance is good, but maybe bend your knees just an inch more to establish more balance and to keep your center of gravity closer to the ground. It will strengthen your hits and prevent injuries which…I just wouldn’t want that to happen when it’s such an easy fix. Have you ever had lessons before?”
You shook your head slightly, making him nod. “Okay, okay. That’s alright. In fact, that’s amazing. I’ve seen you around here, and I can tell you have the strength to put in the punches. I mean, that punching bag doesn’t have a chance once you find the right fighting stance,” he complimented, making you smile. You could tell he really liked that, but he quickly shifted back into his neutral expression. “But for now, just work on bending your knees and not locking your joints after you throw a kick.” You nodded again, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you.’ He responded with a quiet ‘you’re welcome’ back as your eyes met his again. You could tell he was scrambling for something else to say, but he settled for, “I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers.” He introduced, offering you his hand. In your panic, you pretended to not notice his hand and instead reach down for your water bottle. He clearly noticed, but didn’t say anything about it, just let his hand drop to grip the handle on his bag.
“Mia,” you answered back to him before taking a sip of water. The name dawned on his face as he smiled to himself.
“I knew that’s what it was,” he laughed as you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “Trish kept calling you Leah at the meetings and I knew on the first day that I clearly heard you say Mia. Thought I was losing my mind for a second.”
“Trust me, the feeling was mutual,” you responded with a half-smile. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere, too.”
“Are you still going to the meetings, or…?”
“No,” you shook your head. “Not exactly the most uplifting environment.”
“I’d have to agree with you on that,” Steve smiled. “Probably why I left.”
“And you turned to fighting?”
“Turned back to it,” Steve admitted. “Seems like you found a home here too.”
“Once I find my footing,” you shrugged. Steve seemed to debate something in the intermittent pause, but once he glanced at your face, he acquiesced.
“Well, if you ever have any more questions…you know I’ll be here.”
“Breaking bags?”
“I always pay for them,” Steve defended with a sheepish grin, making you roll your eyes and scoff.
“How gentlemanly,” you teased quietly as you slipped your gloves back on. “I’ll let you know and thank you.”
“Anytime…Mia,” Steve emphasized with a tip of his head before he left the gym, his offer hanging in the air leaving you breathless. You hadn’t had a full conversation with someone, much less a man other than your brother, in months. What made you open up to him? Guess you really wanted to know how to box. Dedication and desire makes you do some crazy things.
It was almost a week later when you approached Steve again. You were extra anxious due to your court date being set for the following month. You didn’t realize it would be that soon, but you supposed sooner was better than later. Although you would have to see him…to testify in front of him.
He raped me! He raped me! He raped me!
But you didn’t report the incident for a full three months.
That doesn’t mean that I am any less important now than I was the day that it happened. Because he raped me. And he could get away with it. Because of all the mistakes that I made…because I was the one who made the mistakes?
You swung wildly at your bag, the sweat pouring off your nose and into your mouth with the taste of blood from biting your cheek after the phone call on the way into the gym. Your head pounded like a jackhammer in your brain, but you couldn’t stop. How could you? If you stopped, he got away with it. You couldn’t stop. You didn’t even care about form anymore, you just took your shots where you could until a spasm hit your shoulder and you hugged your bag until it stopped, until the spinning stopped, taking a seat on the wooden box next to you as you threw your headphones in a crumpled heap on the ground in frustration and took a sip of water. You stretched out your shoulder and raised your eyes across the gym to find Steve killing it, as always. And as always, he seemed in control of his thoughts and emotions, channeling them into his kickboxing.
Wonder what that’s like?
Grabbing your towel, you crossed the gym past the rust covered walls and faded wallpaper to stand in front of Steve just within his eyesight as he did to you. Immediately, he paused his workout to steady his bag and focused on you.
“Nice to see you again, Mia,” Steve beamed at you making your stomach do a flip. You suddenly realized what you were doing and got nervous, quickly thinking about running to grab your stuff and bolt through the door. Steve followed your darting eyes towards the doors and took a step back to sit on the chair next to him, making himself shorter and less intimidating. “Did you have a question? I’d love to help if you have one.”
“Yeah…uh, yeah I do.”
“Shoot,” Steve encouraged you with a nod and you took a breath.
“I was just wondering…I just…keep falling out of balance when I, uh…when I come out of a kick and I just…I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Alright…can I see? Could you show me an example?” Steve asked, and you felt your eyes go wide, but swallowed your nerves. He was just trying to help, and you asked. “Hey, no pressure. Just do what you normally do. I’m always here anyways, so what’s the difference, right?”
You nodded at that because he was right. It seemed like you were both here more days than you weren’t. Squaring off to the bag with your shoulder, you raised your fists, bending your knees as he advised, and leaned into your kick. Your landing wasn’t as awful as it normally was, but that’s probably because you had an audience. Steve nodded as he stood and you stepped out of his way.
“When you’re coming off your kick, you’re more on your front foot than your back, so all of your weight is being pushed forwards which is the last thing you want in a fight. You landed on your toes, though, so you’ve got the energy to keep up, you just need the balance. May I?” Steve asked you and you nodded as he assumed his stance, throwing a few kicks to show you where to hit the bag on your foot and how to shift your weight properly. You watched his mechanics closely and it was mesmerizing. You could have watched him all day, but you had shit to do and kickboxing to learn. He motioned you forwards and you stepped up to the bag. You tried doing what he had done, but it was still off somehow. It was better, but not Lucia Rijker better. Not even close.
Steve was motivating enough, but you just didn’t feel like you were getting it. With a sigh, you leaned against the bag attempting to regain your breath before shaking yourself off to try again. As you went for your first punch, you felt Steve dangerously close to you as he tried to guide your hand, just barely grazing your elbow before you turned and almost jabbed him in the face, but managed to fall backwards instead to avoid his face at the last second.
“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Steve exclaimed in shock as you went down. He tried to squat next to you to help you up, but you put your hand out to stop him.
“Don’t, please,” you begged, attempting to calm yourself as you told yourself over and over that Steve wasn’t him. Steve was trying to help.
Get out of my head. Get out of my fucking head. You don’t belong here.
“Can I help?” Steve asked, but you shook your head.
“No…no, it’s not you,” you choked out. Understanding seemed to dawn on Steve’s face as he looked down at his hands, holding them up in surrender as he backed off a bit to give you space. The gratitude you felt in that moment was overwhelming, but you refused to cry. Instead, you stood up and resumed your position, rocking back and forth on your heels as you cracked your neck.
“Mia…I know a trigger when I see one,” Steve whispered, trying to comfort you, which you appreciated but now wasn’t the time. “If you ever want to talk…”
“Let’s just try this without, you know, hands on experience, yeah?” You asked, ignoring his offer that he quickly dropped with a nod instead. You returned your attention to the bag, and Steve continued to teach you for the next two hours. Even past closing, Steve asked the owner of the gym for overtime and the guy just threw Steve the key without hesitation who caught it with a thank you.
It soon became routine for training with Steve three times a week for however long both of you could stand (which you quickly realized was virtually infinite for Steve when he admitted to being Captain America with the super soldier serum and all kinds of junk that made him pretty much invisible).
“So, if you got hit by a car?”
“Safe.”
“Fell off a building?”
“Depends how high.”
“Run over by a blimp?”
“Highly unlikely, but sure.”
You two got to know each other pretty well over the months, even talking about things they wouldn’t admit to themselves. Steve was struggling with coping with the new world and sometimes wished he had maybe not survived the crash. He didn’t have a death-wish now, but still…the passing thought hit him more often than he would like.
“There are some things in life that you just can’t get over,” you answered him. “Your life is so far beyond changed that it feels like you are living in an entirely different person’s body. Like there was a before and an after. It doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy the after, it just means that things will be different now.”
“Which isn’t all bad,” Steve shrugged after a moment. “Google is extremely effective. I’ve learned more about the world in the past week than I have in my entire life,” Steve laughed. “That list you gave me was incredible! I can’t stop thinking about that video of that guy surfing the Mavericks. I mean, that was…”
“Freedom,” you finished for him. “The dedication it takes to get to that level of something you’re passionate about…and just the pride on his face when he got back to shore…that’s all I want,” you admitted, making Steve gaze at you. You acted like you didn’t notice, but you totally did.
“Then what the hell are we sitting here for?” Steve smiled as he offered you his hand to help you up. After a moment, you took his hand and prepared to continue the rest of the training.
It was weeks after that that you two began to spar. He taught you to look for weak spots in your opponent, how to defend and use your opponent’s offense against them, and most importantly (just because it’s so goddamn fun) he taught you how to perform a takedown, which is just…fuck it feels good.
And that moment you finally chucked Steve’s almost two-hundred-pound rack of muscles over your shoulder, you let out a victory howl as you ran around the empty gym, punching bags as you went while Steve sat on the ground and watched you with a laugh. As you approached, he high-fived you and pulled you into a hug that you were completely comfortable in. The pride on his face was contagious and you were so happy. Happier than you’d been in a hot second. Steve had done that for you and you couldn’t be more appreciative.
Steve stopped suddenly with a dramatic huff, crossing his arms with his eyes on the ceiling. “I mean, that was alright. But I think you could do better.”
“Damn straight! Now get your ass over here so I can smash it into the ground!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Steve beamed at you as you rolled your eyes having told him time and time again that the 21st century was past that kind of chauvinism, but sometimes you found it cute. You would never tell him that, but he knew.
It was a beautiful evening at around the time when the sun was still setting, but the stars were just beginning to wake as they glittered across the sky. You had received a text from Steve last night saying that he wanted to meet a day early this week since he had plans on the day they were normally scheduled. Of course you obliged because kickboxing had offered you a sense of confidence that was so sacred to you that even now walking at night seemed like a breeze to you. There was always going to be the voice in the back of your mind that warned you of danger every time you left the house, but that was just common sense in this day and age for anyone.
You walked in about ten minutes early to get your equipment set up and your warm-up in. Typically, Steve set up the equipment but he said in the text he would be running a bit late today, so you went into the back to grab the bags. Jacco, the gym’s owner, had given Steve a key a while back that was tossed between yourself and him over the months. As long as you paid for your time, he trusted you both extremely well.
You remembered once walking in to one of your sessions early one day to find Steve knock out five bags, sand pouring out of the sorry sacks on the ground before you made yourself known with a cough. He whipped back to see you standing there with a smirk on your face as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“You’re early,” was all he managed to say before you joined him in the ring.
“And you’re angry,” you pointed out, cocking your eyebrow at him. “Care to meditate on that?” Then, proceeded to carefully beat the shit out of each other.
You smiled in memory at that day and the next few hours of training ahead of you as you hung one of the bags on the chain, the jangle intermixed with the sound of the door opening behind you. Naturally, you called out to him, making a joke about yourself getting to the studio before him. You were both highly competitive. It was an easy thing to poke fun at. So fucking easy.
CRACK.
In seconds, you were in a choke hold that made your chest explode in terror and your neck tick as the air had no way to escape your lungs. You felt lips against your hair as the familiar scratch of unkempt facial hair scraped your skin like sandpaper.
His breath was day-old beer and chewing tobacco that he popped in your ear as he shoved his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming. And with one word, you knew it was him.
“Hush,” he cooed at you, apparently attempting to calm you, but you were already frozen. Your fight was lost in the sea of fear that was flooding your veins in ice. Even if you could breathe, you weren’t sure if you would know how to anymore. You could feel him stroke your hair after his hand left your mouth, the other staying wrapped around your neck, but loosening as he made the deduction that you weren’t going to fight him. He knew you just that well.
“You’ve gained some muscles on those bones, babygirl,” he teased, grabbing your waist as he moved lower and lower down your body, but you were numb. “I missed you. I thought about waiting until the court date to see you, but that was too long. Plus, I wouldn’t get to touch you like this…smell you like this…” he whispered hungrily, but you didn’t make a sound. Your whimpering had ceased after your immediate fear, but now was all about keeping the peace.
“But those are just extra features. No, baby, what I came here for was to give you a message. Guess I didn’t make it too clear the first time,” he ranted as he slipped a knife from his pocket that made you tense. You knew he could feel it, but there was no helping how wrecked you were by the sound of the blade.
“I don’t want you back. I just want you quiet,” he spoke softly, tenderly as if you were lying in bed together the morning after. He had no concept of what he was doing or what he had done. This was just another day to him. “I don’t want to be rude, but you’ve been causing me a lot of trouble with the cops.”
No, shit. You look like a homeless drunk that got face-fucked by a bus. Are you nervous now?
“Now, you could make this easy for the both of us and keep that mouth locked up tight. You stay quiet and I stay out of prison. We never see each other again. It’s a simple as that, baby cakes. As simple as that,” he swore as he dragged the blade over your throat.
Until you rape someone else. Just like the girl before me. Will it be simple then? Tell me. I want you to tell me how simple that would be.
“I just want you to know how sorry I am at how out-of-hand all this got. I mean, I remember when we used to talk about our future. How we both wanted the same things. How alike we were. It was magic. You were magic. And I just wanted you so much and you wouldn’t let me…but when you look this good…can you blame me for loving you that much?”
There was no warning. Just as quick as he was on you, you hurled him over your shoulder, slamming him into the ground where he belonged. Sitting on top of him, your fists came down on him as if you couldn’t feel pain. Your knuckles cracked and bled, breaking finger after finger, but he was in more pain just as he should be. He shoved you off of him with one punch where you rolled under the ring, finding an extra chain that you wrapped around your fist. Ripping aside the ring’s curtain, you found him steadying himself on the edge of a chair. You threw out the chain like a whip that licked the side of his head as he fell to the ground. You dragged his unconscious body to the same chair and wrapped him in the chain, giving him one last punch to secure that he was unconscious.
You dove for your bag to grab your phone, beginning to call the police before you heard him moan. Your finger froze over the last digit as you slowly turned your head to the wretched sound. His head was still dangling, blood and saliva dripping from lips as he struggled to lift his head to no avail.
That was when the thought crossed your mind.
He can’t hurt anyone else if he’s dead.
You glared at him, fingers crawling towards a metal pipe that was lying next to you in the corner of the room. Wrapping your hand around the cold metal, you lifted yourself heavily off the ground, stalking towards him as you slid your phone in your pocket. It seemed like the longest moment of your life, but some things are worth the consequences. And this, you decided, was worth it.
Raising the pipe above your head, you prepared to strike. Your whole body was on fire with your chest burning as you screamed at the top of your lungs, needing some way to escape the flames. It was at that moment that he woke, his eyes flashed to yours and he looked…amused. The sneer curled his lips as he licked the blood off of them, spitting the excess on your foot.
“You’ve gotten this far, baby. What are you waiting for?” he choked out, his teeth coated in slimy red as he smiled, coughing at your hesitation. “You gonna make me wait all day? Like I waited by your doorstep that night? I’m waiting, Mia! Just do it! Hit me, Mia! Hit me! Hit me!”
You looked into his eyes and thought of your brother looking at you through a window in prison. A phone in his hand, his voice in your ear, but the distance still unbearable. Steve’s eyes flashed in your mind as well, thinking about the disappointment in them if you were found guilty of murder. Maybe it’s defense, and maybe he deserves it, but you deserve so much better.
You dropped the pipe, the clang one of the loudest sounds you’d heard in your entire life. No, wait. The silence. The silence that immediately followed was the loudest. The silence was deafening.
“Well, how about that, baby. You proud of yourself? Why the hell didn’t you just take your damn shot? Like always, you missed your chance, baby. Missed. Your. Chance,” he taunted you, letting his head fall backwards over the chair as he let out a garbled cackle that echoed around the room. In a controlled rage, you grabbed him by his hair, ripping enough follicles out to make a pair of false eyelashes. You brought his eyes level to yours that were wide in a shock that you’d never seen on him before and thoroughly enjoyed.
“Maybe because you’re just not fucking worth it,” you spit at him, throwing him backwards as you pulled the phone from your pocket and dialed the police. He chastised you the entire time it took them to show up, but you just sat in the chair in front of him and watched him beg. He didn’t want to go to prison, he said. He couldn’t handle it, he said. He had a reputation to hold up with his father’s company, he said. He said so much that he became a blur.
All he became was the past.
The court date came and passed. Five years in prison with an extra five on parole. It wasn’t enough, but when the hell would it ever be enough? The only thing they could really charge him on was your own rape (despite the testimony of two others that had passed their statute on limitations), and the assault in the gym. The gym that you planned to go back to the following day, but you had one more thing to do before you went back.
You knocked on his door with recovering fingers, some still bandaged, some healed. He opened to door with surprise flashing across his comforting features, ocean eyes crinkling at the sight of you.
“Mia, I…what are you…how did you find my apartment?”
“Jacco is a kinder man than he gives himself credit for.”
“Very true,” Steve nodded as he took you in, clearly deciding whether to say something or not, but you helped him out.
“I’m okay, really,” you asserted and he half-smiled, then stepped aside to motion you into his apartment.
“Would you like to come in? I can make tea, or…”
“Oh, no,” you laughed. “No, it’s alright, I actually have to be somewhere. I just came by to tell you…I came by to thank you.”
“Thank me? You thank me every day, and I always tell you it’s unnecessary. You’re an incredible fighter, and it’s an honor to train you.”
“Yes, but…” you bit your lip to hold back tears. “I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have been able to testify against him had I not been able to fight. To have the confidence to fight back. And you gave that to me.”
Steve stayed silent for a moment, and before you could apologize for bothering him, he spoke up with a sigh.
“I didn’t do anything, Mia. I may have told you where to punch and how to punch, but you landed the punches. You punched back. You should be thanking yourself, not me.”
You looked up at him, knowing that you wanted this boy to be in your life for a lot longer than just a sparring session.
“Do you have time tomorrow night to meet?” you asked him as he beamed at you.
“Yeah. You still have the key to the gym?”
“What about dinner, instead? My treat for you teaching me the tricks,” you finally openly flirted with him which made him smile even wider, maybe even a bit of blush rising in his cheeks if you were seeing that right.
“Your treat?”
“21st century, Rogers. Get with the times.”
“I’ll get with the times, if I can get with you,” Steve flirted back which made you gasp dramatically.
“Oh, the neighbors will have a field day with this one!” You shouted, making him laugh. “Call the presses. Captain America has a naughty streak!”
“Alright, alright,” Steve settled down as you both looked at each other again.
“No matter what you say, I will still always thank you. I mean, yes, I beat his ass into prison, but still,” you responded happily as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow night. Meet at the gym.”
Steve laughed, not sure exactly if this was how dating worked, but he nodded anyways watching after the girl who had gotten his heart to start pounding again by pounding her fists.
You walked down the block to the gym, taking a seat on the bench across the street. The more you stared at the rickety old place, all you could think of was the peeling wallpaper and the spiderwebs that covered the locker rooms. You thought of the fist-bumps, the cheering, the sweat, the burn, the tears, and the pain. But none of things you thought of were him. All the things that came to your mind were the hard work you’d done and everything you’d accomplished.
You never thought that you would ever become a comeback story, but your freedom spoke enough volumes to fill a library. And that was enough.
*hello, my fellow heathens. This was an idea that I’ve been itching to post for a long time now. I know it’s not my usual content, but I wanted to post it anyway. Kickboxing and Marvel have been huge influences on my life in the absolute best possible ways. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to let me know xx
Chapter 2: Currently Fearing the Reaper {Avengers x Fem!Reader}
~Part 7~ The Life of an Avenger: Destiny Arrives
Summary: The reader struggles with her new-found power after Doctor Stephen Strange helps her to re-connect with the Power Stone much to Bruce Banner’s controversy. This could mean the difference between life and death for half the Universe once Thanos steps up to reclaim his prized possessions from Earth right in the Avenger’s own backyard: New York City.
Words: 6340
Warnings: **INFINITY WAR SPOILERS** and swearing
A/N: I love writing with Infinity War as the backbone! I think I might be making the plot thiccer than I have to, but you can bet your beautiful ass I’m gonna do it anyways. And before you comment, yes I am well-aware that the POV situation is incorrect and plays fast and loose with the rules when it comes to filling plot points. Now, if I was a professional novelist, this would be an issue, but this is a Tumblr fanfic, so…get over yourself, or don’t read it xx
TONY’S POV
An hour into the day, and Tony was already a mess. He didn’t even wake up a mess which was his typical protocol. To think he was halfway down the Happy Trail to not being in an absolute spiral of self-loathing and misery when this wizard came in and destroyed everything. For God’s sake, he was planning to have a baby with his future wife!
“Tony Stark, my name is Wong. You need to come with me,” Wong announced himself as he stepped through his portal that flickered flames of white magic into Central Park where Tony and Pepper had been taking an early morning stroll, something so normal one second, and then…
“I’m sorry, you giving out tickets to something?” Tony taunted the sorcerer who remained vigilant.
“We need your help. I fear the fate of the Universe is at stake,” Wong proceeded urgently.
“Who’s ‘we?’” Tony scoffed, staring in disbelief as one of his best friends emerged from the portal, the man’s eyes betraying an intensity of panic that Tony had never seen before. “Bruce?” Tony coughed in surprise as Bruce crashed into Tony, gripping his shoulders to convey the complete loss he was at. “What the hell is going on?” Tony demanded from Wong who shook his head.
“Dark times are upon us, Mr. Stark, and you are among one of the few people who may be able to stop it,” Wong admitted, but Tony needed more than that to put on the suit and jump into action.
“Look, if that’s all I’ve got to go on, then the Dark Times are always upon us. Ever heard of Global Warming?” Tony pegged Wong, but Bruce pulled back to look at Tony, tears brimming his eyes.
“Tony…it’s so much worse than before,” Bruce divulged. “And (Y/N)…”
“What about (Y/N)?” Tony prodded Bruce, his heart leaping into his throat at the mention of her name. “Is she with you?”
“She’s got the Power Stone back,” Bruce answered, shocking Tony. “Loki gave it to her.”
Looking into Bruce’s eyes, Tony felt the presence of an anxiety attack fill his belly like bugs desperately trying to escape from a jar, but the lid was shut tight. Tony turned to Pepper with steely eyes, a masked expression Pepper recognized and saw right through. He was in pain.
“I’m so sorry, honey, but I have to go,” Tony choked out to Pepper who approached him with a worried expression and a knowing smile on her face.
“You’re always sorry,” Pepper sighed, placing her hand on Tony’s chest. “But, this sounds serious. Besides, I expect you’ll make it up to me.”
“Another giant stuffed rabbit?” Tony attempted, smirking at her frown before kissing her cheek. “I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will,” Pepper acknowledged with a quick nod as she let Tony go, praying with every piece of herself that this was a quick fix. It almost never was, but she always hoped.
Stepping through the portal, Tony was met with a load of Sci-Fi nonsense about Sakaar, Asgard, Thanos, and a whole fifth-grade-trip-to-the-planetarium-lecture on Infinity Stones that he wouldn’t have believed had he not survived what he’d survived so far, yet the words just wouldn’t connect in his mind, especially considering most of his mind was taken up with one important question:
“That’s great and all, and I plan to deal with that mess of words you just offered me once I can wrap my head around ‘Devil’s Anus,’ but first…I need to see (Y/N). Where is she?”
“Stephen is seeing her now,” Wong answered ominously as Tony threw him a look.
“Doctor Stephen Strange, another sorcerer who apparently runs this place, is helping reconnect her ‘spirit,’ or something with the stone,” Bruce explained as best he could to Tony who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I know, I tried to stop her, but…it’s (Y/N). She does what she wants.”
“That stubborn, little…she knows better than that,” Tony cursed, turning to Wong. “Hey, you! Yeah, any opinions on all this, Mortal Kombat?”
“I’ve seen Stephen save Earth once before. I do not expect any less this time around.”
“So, he’s done this before? That’s where he was after he disappeared from his medical practice? Protecting Earth in this Hell Dimension?”
“Dark Dimension,” Wong corrected. “And, I suppose in simple terms, yes. He fought Dormammu to preserve Earth from his collection of planets by enforcing the use of the Time Stone.”
“…it’s like when we learned about Thor and Loki for the first time. Thought they would be the weirdest of it, but nope,” Tony muttered to Bruce who nodded in stunned agreement. “So, how long has he been, you know, wizarding?”
“Long enough,” Wong defended his friend, but before Tony could comment, the entire Sanctum rumbled as if a thunder cloud erupted directly beneath their feet, shaking pictures off the walls with crashes that paled in comparison to the far-off echo of a girl screaming in immense pain that sent Tony into a panic.
It was (Y/N).
“Where is she?” Tony started out quietly, pacing the room in search of the source, then turned to Wong with rage in his eyes like flashing warning signs. “Where the hell is she?” Tony shouted, charging the sorcerer. Bruce tried to calm him down, but he was inconsolable. “Show her to me!”
“She’s in good hands,” Wong promised. “Stephen must not be disturbed in the middle of his-“
“I don’t give a damn what we’re interrupting. She’s in pain and I’m pissed off,” Tony vouched as his Iron Man hand wrapped around his open palm that faced Wong, danger written across his reddened face. “I’m not asking again.” Bruce might’ve wanted to talk things out, but desperate times…
Taking a large surrendered huff, Wong’s hands smashed into something mid-air that caused a ripple effect like a JARVIS hologram of some sort…but much more Charmed than Tony liked.
Between the shattered glass, Tony could make out two figures that appeared to be doing some kind of séance, disappointingly without candles or a Ouija Board. Suddenly, there was a flash of purple light that sent both people tumbling to opposite sides of the room, but Tony immediately recognized the wild (Y/H/C) hair that belonged to the only person, besides Bruce and Pepper, that really understood him. His person. His person that he betrayed for reasons that didn’t make sense to him anymore as he watched her examine her hands that were alight in amethyst magic that he’d never seen on her before but was equally impressed by until he noticed how labored her breathing was…as if she was about to have another heart attack.
Bolting through the portal without a second thought, Tony tried to approach (Y/N) by calling out her name, not sure how she was going to react to him.
Her eyes immediately flickered up to his, but they weren’t her eyes. They were projecting amethyst light like she was being possessed by something beyond Earth which only scared him further until she blinked out the light to focus on him, instantly boring holes into his skull as she made a fist that sizzled with vengeful magic.
Yep, that was more like (Y/N).
Tony smiled awkwardly, leaning against one of the pillars. “So, not too happy to see me again. Understandable, understandable…” Tony trailed off as (Y/N)’s eyes refused to cease in their intensity, making Tony swallow nervously, himself not very good at apologies. “I know we had our differences, but you’re not gonna try and kill me, right? Your best friend? The Ass in Iron Ass?”
“I’ll try my best,” (Y/N) snarled, her eyes still on him.
“To not kill me, or…?” Tony tried to joke, but his confidence staggered.
“We’ll see,” (Y/N) deadpanned.
The silence in the room was deafening, until something tapped on the wood flooring with a thump. It was soft, but the sound reverberated against the walls with everyone’s heavy breathing. It wouldn’t have been noticed if Tony hadn’t been staring directly at (Y/N)’s face, tears rolling down her cheeks until her hair hid her agony, but Tony had already seen it.
“(Y/N)…I-I am so sorry…” Strange struggled to begin as Tony remembered he was the one who did this to her. With anger coursing through his body, he took a step towards the broken wizard and opened his mouth to say something, but (Y/N) beat him to it.
“You should have warned me,” (Y/N) croaked through her swollen throat, watching Strange’s eyes brim with shocked tears from the floor across from her.
“I-I didn’t know that that was what the spell entailed. The Dark Dimension is…darker than I previously thought,” Strange tried to explain, but (Y/N) was over it.
“You had no right to what you saw,” she countered. Tony couldn’t tell if it was rage or fear that was shaking her body, but he could tell she was moments from exploding.
“When the book said you would face your worst fears, I had no idea they would be that detailed and that your fears would be…forgive me, (Y/N). Are you alright-“
“Don’t touch me!” (Y/N) screamed, backing away from Strange who tried to reach out to her, but in seconds she was up and running out of the room, dodging the crater in the staircase to get to the second floor of the building. Knowing she needed time to herself, Tony charged Strange instead.
“What did you see?” Tony demanded as Strange tried to pull himself together, wiping at his eyes.
“More than I should have. I don’t understand how one person can have so much…pain,” Strange pieced together, his eyes shifting quickly in his head, dizzy from (Y/N)’s nightmarish memories. He knew now that what had happened to his hands was entirely his fault, but (Y/N) …she didn’t deserve what had happened to her. Not by a long shot.
“And you still shouldn’t. Whatever you saw, it doesn’t sound like you got her consent to see it. Pretty sure that’s a crime somewhere over at Hogwarts,” Tony retorted, nose-to-nose with Strange.
“Tony Stark…what a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” Strange condescended, finally regaining his whit. Just because he was apologetic towards (Y/N) didn’t mean that he was towards her friends.
“You as well, Doc. Came to complain about my lack of Acceptance letter in the mail as a kid, instead found you harassing my best friend. Care to explain yourself?” Tony posited, leaning against the staircase banister, resisting the urge to look towards the second floor as Wong stepped forward with a tired look on his face.
“I already explained to you that Stephen was helping (Y/N) to-“
“Helping?” Tony scoffed at Wong. “You and I clearly have different definitions of helping someone, because that…that was a scene straight out of Insidious if I’ve ever seen it.”
“Insidious?” Wong puzzled, but Tony shook his head.
“Yeah, didn’t think so,” he muttered to himself as Bruce made himself known.
“Tony, I tried to stop her. I meant to find you before she went through with…you know, what you just saw, but I wasn’t convincing enough.”
“And what exactly is it that I saw, Doctor?” Tony pegged Strange who’s face had become stone.
“I did what I had to do,” Strange swore. “It’s best for her, and definitely best for what’s coming.”
“Thanos,” Bruce finished for him. “The Other Guy fought him after we left Asgard, and Tony…not even he was a match. Thanos threw Hulk around like a dog’s chewtoy.”
“Well then, if Thanos needs all six stones, then why don’t we stick this one down the garbage disposal?” Tony attempted, pointing to the Time Stone around Strange’s neck.
“No can do,” Strange answered. “We swore to protect the Time Stone with our lives and now (Y/N), just as she had decided to do, has the burden of protecting the Power Stone.”
“I don’t doubt that she can do that. She’s been doing it for years, but…you don’t know her like we do,” Tony argued, his own heart weighed down by what he now felt he could have prevented. “She deserves better than being hunted down by aliens 24/7. We got her away from that shit until you dragged her back into this Freak Show. I hope you find peace in that.”
“I don’t enjoy doing what I did, but it was the right call,” Strange persisted. “You’ll see soon enough if you can deflate that ego of yours for more than two seconds…douchebag.”
“I’ll deflate mine when you deflate yours,” Tony bit back, eyes leveled with Strange who glared back at him, letting the sexual tension…I mean, just normal tension…build.
“…seven million three hundred and two possibilities-“
“AKA the amount of times you’ve granted someone’s three wishes?”
“AKA the amount of possibilities I’ve foreseen in this future war we are to have with Thanos in which only one I’ve seen us won…and in that one I saw (Y/N) wielding the Power Stone.”
“And doing what with it?” Tony asked, but Strange shook his head.
“That’s as far as my visions have taken me so far, but I plan to try and look further into the future once we end this useless banter we’re in.”
“It’s only been useless due to your lack of the fine details,” Tony retorted coldly as he finally looked up to the second floor, his patience running out entirely as he looked towards Bruce. “I have to go talk to her.”
“Are you sure? It really didn’t seem like she was in the mood for…you,” Bruce questioned nervously, but Tony brushed him off.
“Well, that needs to change,” Tony muttered, leaving out because I won’t be able to handle this chaotic situation otherwise. Not without her.
After evading the pit in the staircase, Tony found her hugging her knees next to the oversized window, chin digging into her right knee with her hand clutching her chest as her eyes and dried tears reflected the silver light outside. It was a position of defeat, of defense. She looked hollow.
Tony felt sick. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. (Y/N) was his rock, his person.
The guilt was overwhelming, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to fix this problem.
(Y/N)’S POV
She shouldn’t be crying. She shouldn’t be afraid of things that had already happened to her. Things she’d convinced herself that she’d gotten over. It was downright embarrassing after just been told she had to defend Earth from yet another Power Trip from space. As if she was some flawless hero-type that just lived to fight crime and have their face plastered on inspirational posters in school libraries. Like Steve. In fact, four years ago she was the one causing the crimes. Petty crimes, but still. When did this bullshit shift happen and how did she make it stop?
But after, what? Six days on no sleep and almost nothing to eat and having just been through a virtual reality game of Fucked Up Shit from My Past: Hoarder’s Edition, she’s bound to lose her mind. She couldn’t think straight, much less stand up straight. She slid her back down the wall next to her new favorite aesthetically-pleasing, melodramatic window, gulping in breaths and pinching herself to keep from passing out. Staring towards the ominous sky, she damned whatever Universal Force was tricking her into this shit.
Not that it was all about her, but she felt convinced the joke was on her, and the punchline was just around the fucking corner. She just wasn’t sure if she was ready for it this time.
She heard unsure footsteps climb the stairs after her a few minutes later, already knowing it was Tony. She knew it was useless to pull herself together. He’d seen her do worse.
Eyes still out the window, she felt Tony sit across from her, his own eyes watching her carefully.
“Are you hurt?” Tony asked after a few moments, knowing she wouldn’t answer him honestly, and instead of receiving a sarcastic response like he’d hoped, she simply pulled her hand from her chest to wrap under her knees. She hadn’t even known she’d had her hand there, holding herself together from where she was ripped apart in her nightmare. As awful as it was to discover, it had become an automatic habit for her.
Tony sighed in the wake of her silence, deciding honestly was his best way to go. It was his only to get her to open up to him in the early days of their friendship, and if it ain’t broke… “I haven’t been able to sleep,” Tony admitted, receiving only radio static as he laughed humorlessly. “As if that’s something new, I know. I know. But the reason I couldn’t sleep was because I didn’t know if you were alive…” Tony choked up, his eyes falling to his lap as (Y/N) blinked away a stray tear. Tony looked back up to her with another laugh, thinking of the cake that was sent to him, the same moment he knew she was okay. “Well, not until I received your gift, ‘you’re tacky, and I hate you.’ As always, your way with words has left me breathless, (Y/N)…but I still couldn’t sleep. There was always that voice in the back of my head and you know what it said to me? It kept telling me how wrong I was, and how right you were. That’s not an easy thing to admit, but (Y/N)…I mean it. Every word of it. Just please forgive me and when this is all over, come home. I don’t care about the Accords just come-“
“You pushed us out,” (Y/N) broke, her voice cracking with the effort. “You made us run. Made us criminals. And now, now when the Universe hangs in the fucking balance, now you apologize?” (Y/N) demanded, silencing Tony immediately. She shook her head with tears in her eyes.
“No. I decided that the moment Rhodey hit the dirt,” Tony answered darkly, his eyes trailing out the window as well in memory. “And when I woke up to find you in the snow…all I wanted was to save you…but Steve took your body before I could fix…” Slowly, Tony pulled out (Y/N)’s necklace from his pocket, the necklace he found under Steve’s broken shield after the regretful fight in Siberia that almost took her life. The sapphire pendant caught (Y/N)’s attention as it mingled with the light, casting a reflection on the window’s glass. With trembling fingers, (Y/N) caressed the silver chain from Tony’s hand, her mother’s necklace, and pressed it to her lips as her body fell into Tony’s arms that held her tight to his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he let her cry on him as she had allowed him to for so many years, quietly rocking her until her breathing became more stable.
“If you want to talk about it…” Tony whispered as (Y/N) sniffed, letting Tony support her.
“I was back under the knife…under Hydra. It was like I was a little girl again…alone and afraid. It felt like every bit of confidence I’d built up had never existed. Like I was theirs for the taking…which I guess I was. They did pay a hefty price for me,” (Y/N) joked darkly as Tony rubbed her arm, but she shook herself off, wiping her eyes. “But like I said, the Universe hangs in the balance. We don’t have time for my bullshit-“
“It’s not bullshit,” Tony interrupted, but (Y/N) shook her head.
“It is. All that happened years ago, and I’ve moved on, and…and don’t roll your eyes at me, I have,” (Y/N) smacked Tony with a laugh, both knowing they were too fucked up beyond repair. “Whatever. Besides…I have to apologize to you, too-“
“No, you-“
“Yes, I do. I fought fire with fire. I should’ve expected to get burned.”
“And apparently I shouldn’t have gone off my meds,” Tony joked.
“We all make mistakes,” (Y/N) shrugged, but was clearly still in deep pain. Tony recognized it, but also realized they were short on time and energy. “How much are you caught up on?”
“Too much, but also not nearly enough.”
“Perfect, we can work with that,” (Y/N) retorted sarcastically as she made her way towards the stairs, but Tony stopped her one last time.
“I just need to know what I’mworking with. Are you okay to handle this? Hey! No bullshit. Are you okay?” Tony asked, leveling his eyes with hers, not letting her look away from him.
“No,” (Y/N) answered candidly, not even expecting her own answer. “But I don’t really have a choice now, do I?”
“It doesn’t look like it,” Tony sighed sadly, then smiled at her. “But it does look like you’ve got your fire back,” Tony nodded as he held the amethyst locket that rested on (Y/N)’s chest in a pendant similar to Strange’s that intertwined with (Y/N)’s mother’s necklace. “Things could be worse. At least this Thanos character doesn’t have it.”
“And let’s keep it way,” (Y/N) smirked with a cock of her eyebrow, making Tony grin as they joined the new team downstairs in the foyer. Bruce paced nervously, flicking his eyes up to (Y/N) as he asked her a silent ‘are you okay’ that (Y/N) nodded to without a word as she looked towards Strange who seemed unsure of what to say, so she let him off the hook.
“I know that you didn’t mean for any of that to happen,” (Y/N) assured him. “You just caught me off guard…which isn’t an easy thing to do, so I guess a congratulations are in order, sir,” (Y/N) saluted him as he rolled his eyes, allowing some of the tension be relieved of the room. “So, Thanos. He’s coming. He’s evil. He’s probably ugly. What the hell do we do about it?”
“Botox?” Tony offered jokingly, but (Y/N) was quick.
“Maybe later. I’m waiting for my forties,” (Y/N) responded immediately making everyone laugh. “But no, seriously. From a scientific standpoint, are Steve and I even going to age? You know, because of the super soldier serum. I swear that man hasn’t earned a wrinkle since the day we first met,” (Y/N) rambled as she walked around the room in deep thought. “I mean, because I can’t wait to age. Like, I can’t wait to grow old with Steve and our highlight of the month is our weekly trip to Target, or Costco, or something. And we rent those little scooter/cart things, but not as jokes because we actually need them. But also as a joke because they’re fucking hilarious. And then we get home and eat…whatever old people eat, like vanilla wafers and pretzels all day and watch the sunset in our Tommy Bahama lawn chairs…but we don’t actually watch the sunset because we fall asleep at like four o’clock in the afternoon. And like-“
“Holy shit, (Y/N)!” Tony yelled out, trying to stop her as he leaned over a table in a chorus of laughter with Bruce, Wong, and Strange. “We get it. You’re ready to get old. Shit.”
“I know, I know. The point about Thanos, uh…damn, where is the point and why can’t I find it right now?” (Y/N) mused out loud to herself, but Bruce helped her out.
“The point is, we have these stones. We know where they are. Vision is out there somewhere with the Mind Stone and we have to find him. Now.”
“Yeah, well that’s the thing…two weeks ago, Vision turned off his transponder,” Tony answered. “He’s offline.”
“Wonder why,” (Y/N) taunted darkly, then shook her head. “No, wait. He was on your side. Seriously, why?”
“I found out about him and Wanda playing house somewhere in Scotland,” Tony groaned. “When I first designed Jarvis, I never thought he’d become so…evolved.”
“Aw! I’m so happy for them! Like a weird Bonnie and Clyde type of thing,” (Y/N) gushed. “That’s pretty fucking cute.”
“No, it’s illegal,” Tony deadpanned, but (Y/N) was still smiling.
“That’s what makes it so cute. I approve. Not that my approval matters, but she’ll get an earful when I find her.”
“Okay, is anyone going to explain to me what the hell happened here while I was gone? Like the part where you almost killed her in Siberia? Care to explain that, Tony?” Bruce shouted at Tony and (Y/N) who stared blankly at him, until Tony turned on (Y/N).
“You never told him?”
“Obviously, I told him the important bits,” (Y/N) retorted darkly, making Tony narrow his eyes at her, then she threw her arms up. “We didn’t have time! We were on a mission to kill Thor’s sister in space! We had bigger fish to fry than trying to explain Ant Man. Plus, I got distracted by Valkryie.”
“Who the hell is Valkyrie?” Tony exclaimed at (Y/N) who shot right back.
“Look, all I’m gonna say is that once I saw her fight, I wasn’t sure I was straight anymore.”
“Were you that sure to begin with?”
“Not since Rihanna, no, but I feel like we’re getting off topic again.”
“You don’t say?” Strange spoke up sarcastically, rubbing his temples. “Is this how your team always functions?”
“No, but it’s how we always dysfunction,” (Y/N) smirked as Bruce put his face in his hands.
“You have no idea what I’ve been through over the years,” Bruce moaned as Tony tried to high five (Y/N), but she walked right past him, suddenly becoming very stoic which killed the vibe of the room. “But for the past two years, I haven’t been here so…fill me in.”
“Are you sure you want to know?” Tony asked, and Bruce hesitated, but nodded anyway. Tony launched into the Sokovia Accords and what went down in Lagos, Berlin, in the airport, in Siberia, going into detail where he could, but brushing over the pieces that still weren’t resolved. (Y/N) chimed in for certain pieces, but remained quiet for most of the explanation, instead curiously roaming the room looking at the strange artifacts from who even knew where? Strange and Wong began to tell a bit of their own story with Dormammu, providing context for who everyone was becoming allies with until Tony mentioned becoming a father. The sound of metal pinging the ground interrupted the conversation where everyone looked to the back corner of the room to find a very sheepish looking (Y/N). Playing it cool, she “inconspicuously” walked over to a large planter where she tossed a small piece of whatever she broke inside, whistling towards the ceiling as she wrapped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels.
“Oh, hey guys!” (Y/N) laughed nervously as she noticed them all staring. “I was just…looking at the artifacts-“
“Priceless artifacts,” Strange interjected, making (Y/N) even more sheepish.
“Yeah…yeah, those priceless…artifacts…” (Y/N) coughed awkwardly, then went back to the same desk to look inside the drawer past the knob she just broke.
“(Y/N)!” Bruce chastised her as he shook his head, walking over to grab her by the arm.
“What, it’s already broken?” (Y/N) complained in a situation that reminded Tony heavily of the good old days back in Stark Tower. It was frustrating to know that things might never go back to the way they were. He choked back a tear, keeping his face neutral as he snorted at her.
“That doesn’t mean breaking it more is the solution, punk,” Tony teased her.
“Yeah, but I want to see what’s inside! I want to be over there!“ (Y/N) yelled just as a vortex of black rimmed in purple light swallowed (Y/N) into the ground, making her appear a few terrifying seconds later over by the desk. Clearly, everyone was shook. Even Wong looked shook.
“…but I was…and now I’m…” (Y/N) muttered numbly, pointing from Bruce to where she was, then narrowed her eyes at Strange and Wong. “Alright, which one of you fuckers did it?” Strange and Wong just shook their heads in awe. “No? Neither of you decided to add this to your magic show?”
“(Y/N)…I think that was the stone,” Bruce pointed out, making (Y/N) look down to the after-glow of the Power Stone that was now settling on her chest again. With a smirk, (Y/N) lifted her chin high to address the men as she princess waved at them, blowing them sarcastic kisses. “Thank you, thank you! I’ve officially surpassed all of you peasants with my greatness. You’re welcome for allowing you all to witness my upgrade. Excuse me while I single-handedly go take down Thanos,” (Y/N) joked as she made her way towards the door, but Bruce took her by the arm again.
“Not just yet,” Bruce laughed. “We still need to find Vision.”
“Well, who could find him?” Strange asked.
“…shit…probably Steve Rogers,” Tony replied, looking up to (Y/N) as Strange just about lost it.
“Funny thing is, he was already here,” (Y/N) sighed, making Tony cock his head. “Yeah, that’s probably why Doctor Fancycape over there is losing his shit. Him, Sam, Scott, and I came here to escape, well…you,” (Y/N) choked as Tony looked at the floor in guilt. “I told you, you and your government friends made us run pretty far.”
“I never meant for things to get so…complicated,” Tony shook his head.
“Yeah, Tony. Turns out life is complicated. I know, I’m surprised too,” (Y/N) retorted, quickly turning the dark conversation light. “But, not like in a good way. Like a, surprise! Happy birthday kind of way, but more of a, surprise! Your dog is dead, kind of way.”
“You learn something new every day,” Tony responded with a half-smile that didn’t really reach his eyes. “But still, it’s not that easy. Cap and I fell out hard. We’re still not on speaking terms.”
“Tony, listen to me,” Bruce cautioned as he approached Tony. “Thor’s gone. Thanos is coming. It doesn’t matter who you’re talking to, or not.”
“He’s right, Tony,” (Y/N) chimed in, then shrugged. “Besides, you already have half the power couple. What’s one more?”
“A whole power couple?” Tony teased her.
“Hmm, math. I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, not exactly the kind of math that I want to be doing. You, I can handle, but Spangles?” Tony scratched the back of his neck. “I almost caused the end for not one, but two of my best friend’s lives, and one of those happened to be his alter-ego. Couldn’t be more different than him, yet more perfect…”
“Is that the speech you’re gonna give at our wedding? Because it sucks,” (Y/N) deadpanned.
“Would you just let me…” Tony groaning, running a hand over his face as (Y/N) took a step back. “I just don’t know if I can face him after everything…” Tony let the statement hang in the air.
“Do you have a way to contact Rogers, or not?” Strange asked. “Because I can’t seem to find him in any of the portals I cast. I can try a locating spell, but those will take a few days to-“
“Don’t bother,” Tony interrupted as he sighed. After a moment of hesitation, he slipped the flip phone Steve sent him from his pocket. (Y/N) just stared at the little silver piece of the 90’s and gawked, concealing the moment she almost dropped her jaw by clearing her throat.
“First of all, I refuse to get sentimental about that,” (Y/N) stated into the silent room, making Tony smile at her awkwardness as she swallowed. “I can’t believe you still have that.”
“It was the only way to contact you and Steve…of course I still have it,” Tony admitted.
“Stop it, alright?” (Y/N) choked out, not masking her emotions as well as she would have liked which made Tony’s heart inflate with hope. “Or else I might actually forgive you. Which, then I would never forgive myself for being a pushover, which I’m not.”
“No, you’re not,” Tony agreed as they held each other’s eyes. (Y/N) rolled them to break the contact, crossing her arms across her chest.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Well? You gonna call him, or not?”
Tony dropped his smile immediately, scrunching her eyebrows down at the phone as he opened up the only contact programmed into the device. The name projected from the screen like a voice demanding to be called. He’d wanted to call for months now, but…but the time never felt right. He always felt like even if he were to call, that he wouldn’t know what to say. He knew he wanted to apologize to (Y/N), but it wasn’t her phone. This was Steve. Completely different story. And he knew for a fact that Steve would always answer, but it wasn’t really him that he wanted to talk to. He did, but it was always-
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” (Y/N) yelled impatiently as she tried to grab the phone from Tony’s grasp, but instead the device clattered to ground at their feet where they both dove for it.
“(Y/N)! Why do you keep breaking things?” Tony shouted at her as they fought for control.
“Are you kidding me? This thing is more indestructible than your suits!”
“As upset as that makes me, you’re probably right,” Tony shrugged, but still held fast.
“Didn’t we just discuss how I’m always right?”
“Not always, just more often than I thought!”
“Well, I’m not wrong about this!” (Y/N) groaned as she froze Tony’s hand a bit in a little sting to make him let go. With a huff, (Y/N) smirked. “Let’s test this shall we?” (Y/N) taunted as she prepared to stupidly throw the phone at the wall just to prove Tony wrong, but Bruce stole it from her instead, holding it just out of her reach as Tony was still hanging on her shoulder, reaching for the device. “Hey!” (Y/N) called at Bruce, but he ignored her and went in to call Steve himself.
Suddenly, the air shifted. A dull hum droned above everyone’s heads from the hole in the ceiling where Bruce came crashing to Earth. (Y/N) followed Tony’s gaze to look at Strange who’s fringe was twitching with the pulsating energy that tugged at everyone’s guts like the push and pull of the ocean tides.
“Say, Doc. You wouldn’t happen to be moving your hair, now would you?” Tony asked Strange who watched his own wisp of hair dance ominously on his forehead.
“Not at the moment, no,” Strange answered as Tony and (Y/N) looked at each other, confirming each other’s suspicions that something was about to happen with the fear in their eyes. Tony squeezed (Y/N)’s shoulder to assure her as best he could as she began to walk towards the door, looking through the window to catch a glimpse of people rushing the streets in pure terror.
“All I have to say is, they messed with the wrong bitch at the wrong time,” (Y/N) snarled as she shoved her way out into the streets, her hair getting swept up by the whirlwind that gusted through the canyon made by the towering buildings on each side of the street. The sky was barely visible through the ash and dust that was a low-hanging smog that made the city feel more and more unbearably claustrophobic by the second. Car horns were honking as traffic became a stand-still, people abandoning their vehicles to escape whatever was in the skies behind them, their terrified expressions peering over their shoulders like a horror movie come to life. (Y/N) heard her team attempting to help people on the streets, but she was determined to see what she was up against. She marched into the middle of the road, becoming mesmerized by the hollow spaceship that hovered above the smoke and grime like a Death Star donut. Struck by the ship, (Y/N) failed to notice the car hood that would’ve sliced her own head off had Tony not tackled her to the ground, cradling her head in his arms as they went down.
Breaking from her trance, she looked up to Tony who looked just as relieved as she felt.
“Suddenly, I’m overcome with the feeling to forgive you,” (Y/N) breathed out as Tony pulled her to her feet, each steadying the other.
“Then don’t do something stupid like that, and I won’t have to save you again,” Tony quipped, making (Y/N) push him off of her as they both ran around the street corner to where the ship was hovering over the dead-stop traffic like an apocalyptic wasteland where the dust storm was worse than ever. Strange stood beside (Y/N), gathering his magic to wisp aside most of the smog, but the view wasn’t much better in the clear, finally getting the full frontal of the spaceship in all it’s petrifying glory. “Friday! Evac anyone south of 43rd Street! Notify first responders!” Tony called to Friday, but (Y/N) stepped out in front of him with her hands pulsating in a purple glow that sent chills through his body.
“Don’t bother,” (Y/N) growled lowly to Tony and Strange, cracking her neck as her eyes glared daggers at the ship, the stone beginning to levitate off her chest. “They either find their way home, or they find themselves in a body bag. No more than ten blocks out, or they’re dead. No more negotiations,” (Y/N) asserted as she gritted her teeth, paving the way through the ruble towards the electric beam of blue light about a mile down the street, the light in her eyes demanding a war to not just be fought, but to be won.
Taglist: @shannonr2003 @briannabloom @ever-so-slightly-below-average
**Let me know if you want to be on the taglist (and yes, I will actually keep it up to date this time). If you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to let me know by messaging me and I hope you all have a wonderful week, fellow heathens xx
Chapter 1: The Orb {Avengers x Fem!Reader}
~Part 7~ The Life of an Avenger- Destiny Arrives
Summary: After the Ravengers, including the reader, defeated Hela on Asgard, they escaped in a ship that they were hoping would eventually take them…literally anywhere that wasn’t going to try and kill them. That is until Loki stepped in, once again, to manipulate the situation and now the reader must decide what to use her gift from him for, if at all.
Word Count: 6138
Warnings: **INFINITY WAR SPOILERS** dark shit, graphic content, and swearing (becuase I’m angsty trash like that)
(Y/N) awoke in a cold sweat, heaving breaths levitating her chest unevenly as her eyes scrambled for perception, ready to fight the first thing that moved. But it was too late. “Goddammit!” (Y/N) howled in horror. What had Loki done?
She thought of the screaming Asgardians she had left behind on the ship. She had never found out what they were screaming for. She thought of Thor, Val, Heimdall…Bruce…oh, fuck. She’d left Bruce in fucking space. “Shit, shit, shit…” (Y/N) mumbled as she ran her hands through her hair, halting mid-panic attack with her fingers still entangled in her tresses as she took her first real look at where Loki had sent her. At first, she thought that she might still be in a broom closet somewhere on the ship, but it was too warm and far too quiet. Hesitantly turning the ornate doorknob, she slowly peered into the empty room…in the same building that she had started this entire mess in: the New York Sanctum.
Disbelief.
That’s definitely not what she had expected, or even trusted. This must be a mirage of some sort. She must still be dreaming, right? With careful steps, (Y/N) lithely floated down the dark hallway full of antiques that came from, not only a distant time, but a distant world. She curiously wandered past a large grandfather clock with no hands, reminding her of the song “Nine in the Afternoon.” Still in a dreamlike haze, she carefully climbed the grand staircase towards the round, oversized window that filtered in cloudy gray light like a magnet for the sun. Brushing her hand across the metallic banister, she pulled herself towards the frosted glass to witness the bustling city below that she wanted to still call home. An irritated business man howled into his phone while passing a teenager who slumped down the same street with earphones plugged into her head, while two cars had an all-out honking war over the same parallel parking spot, while a pack of pigeons attacked a stranded hot dog bun, while…while everything happened. While the world existed right in front of her, yet she stared at the window like a television screen. Like what she was seeing was a recording from a far-off place where she had once belonged, but now…
“Shocking, isn’t it?” A familiar, deep voice commented behind her, his understanding resonating in a cautious undertone. “How do you feel?” Without turning her head, (Y/N) responded in a distant voice, still mesmerized by Earth.
“Disconnected,” (Y/N) whispered without thought. “He’s not here, is he?”
“…no,” Strange answered after a pause, taking a sad breath. (Y/N)’s eyes closed at his response. She had been half-hoping her instincts were wrong and that Steve was still close, but she would have known. “No, after the portal’s connection was cut off and Wilson was spit back out, they had waited. Captain Rogers wanted to stay, but…but he got an urgent call from Ms. Romanoff. I told him it was doubtful that you would return here…but, uh…that doesn’t seem to be the case, I guess. I wish I could tell you where they are now.”
“How long has it been?” (Y/N) asked, bracing herself for the answer.
“Almost six days since you went through the portal,” Strange answered. (Y/N) winced at that response as well. At least it wasn’t the painstaking years she felt she had gone through on Sakaar, but still…a lot can happen in six days when your boyfriend and best friends are pretty much all fugitives. Plus, now those painstaking years meant absolutely nothing, except for the last week after she met Valkyrie. What a fucking waste.
“Six days,” (Y/N) echoed in frustrated awe. “I could’ve done so much in that time. Could’ve learned a new language, or backpacked across Thailand, or thrown a tampon on-stage at a Justin Bieber concert. Literally anything. But instead, I helped to kill Thor’s devil sister in Asgard before the place blew up like my toilet after a bender. The things you do for friendship,” (Y/N) muttered, bitterly rolling her eyes at the sky.
Before she could continue, she heard a belly full of laughter from someone that definitely wasn’t the stone-faced wizard she knew. (Y/N) finally turned her head to see another man dressed in flamboyant clothing similar to Strange, his face seized up with laughter as he wiped the tears from his puffy eyes.
“Um…” (Y/N) questioned, pointing between Strange and her new audience member as he smirked and patted his hand on the heavyset man’s shoulder.
“Oh, yeah, right. (Y/N), Wong. Wong, the Winter Goddess, savior of Earth,” Strange introduced as (Y/N) nodded to Wong.
“Guessing you’re a wizard too, then?” (Y/N) teased as she began her descent down the staircase towards the men.
“If that’s what you call a protector of this dimension, then yes,” Wong bowed his head proudly as (Y/N) gave him a thumbs up. The moment he looked back up at her, he sighed. “Wow, you really are as pretty as Captain Rogers said.”
(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and looked the man up and down, making him increasingly nervous. Before he could apologize, she leaned against the railing, pointing at him with appreciation. “I like you, Wong.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief as Strange leaned over to Wong.
“She’s also as deadly as he said,” Strange warned, making (Y/N) smile.
“There’s a reason I’m marrying that man,” (Y/N) mused to herself as she tried to walk between the two men, but Strange stood in her way with crossed arms.
“And, where are you going?” Strange asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“To find Steve. Can’t really marry him, if I can’t find him, you know?” (Y/N) answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and to her, it was. Strange didn’t seem so moved, grabbing her wrist to spin her around as she tried to pass him again, leveling his observant eyes with hers.
“I know you have the Orb,” Strange accused, sending (Y/N)’s heartrate into a frenzy. The stone. How the fuck could she had forgotten about that? In a haste, (Y/N) patted her pockets for the Orb to find it tucked away in her thigh holster.
Relaxing, she smirked up to Strange. “What Orb?” she answered confidently. Strange let out a humorless huff with a look to Wong, then back to (Y/N).
“Don’t tell me you really think you can lie to me?” Strange asserted, raising (Y/N)’s wrist in his grasp, shaky fingers tapping her veins.
“Just did,” (Y/N) mocked, stealing her wrist back as she pushed her way between them towards the regal front door. “It was a real adrenaline rush.”
“We had a deal!” Strange called after her, referring to the deal he had made between himself, (Y/N), and Steve that if they were to come across the Orb, Strange would be the first one they contacted to reconnect (Y/N) with it for reasons that were never really explained. But, (Y/N) just shook her head.
“Maybe, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment yet,” (Y/N) joked, walking backwards with her shoulders shrugged. “Maybe, the stone and I can go to marriage counseling later when things are a bit more convenient, but until then…I gotta go, Penn & Teller. Break a leg during your performance, boys,” (Y/N) winked at them before turning back around to reach for the doorknob but was stopped by the sudden appearance of a golden sigil that blocked her exit. “So, this is how it’s gonna be, then?” (Y/N) groaned in annoyance, poking the magic that bounced back at her like a rubber band.
“You haven’t really given us much of a choice,” Strange argued, cracking his neck in preparation for whatever was about to happen.
“I’m not going to fight you,” (Y/N) sighed, facing the defensive wizards. “Mostly, because you don’t have a chance, but also…yeah, feel free to take offense,” (Y/N) pointed at Wong again who looked a bit crestfallen. “But also, I thought I was a welcomed guest? When did that change?”
“You are welcomed as a guest…to stay,” Wong explained slowly. “But not to leave.”
“That’s not a guest, that’s a prisoner,” (Y/N) snapped. “Or, do you need me to pull a dictionary from somewhere in this wizard’s lair to prove that to you?”
“You still don’t realize how important you are, do you?” Strange inquired as (Y/N) threw his arms in the air in defeat.
“Important for what?” (Y/N) yelled. “Why do you care so much? It’s not like another alien army is coming to piss on New York,” (Y/N) half-joked, her eyes widening in shock after Strange and Wong shared a knowing look. “Unless there is…you’ve gotta be shitting me! Holy fuck, what do you know? Who are they? What do they look like? Ugly? I’m guessing ugly, they always are-”
“All you need to know is that you must protect the stone,” Strange interrupted.
“Was already planning on doing that, Houdini,” (Y/N) mocked, giving Strange pause. (Y/N) sighed. “Just because I don’t want it, doesn’t mean that I trust anyone else with it…” (Y/N) admitted to her own surprise, letting her admission hang in the air. Strange gave a nod of approval, calmly lowering his hands without magic to submit his surrender.
“I don’t trust anyone else with it either,” Strange agreed. “All I need from you is your trust in me. I can help you, if you’ll let me.”
“And how the hell would you help me? Do all your party tricks include the use of an infinity stone?” (Y/N) teased defensively, still searching for a way to escape. “Hope you get tipped extra for that.”
Strange laughed quietly as he shook his head at (Y/N)’s indignation. “How your team has put up with you for this long is beyond me.”
“A lot of alcohol, I’ll tell you that much,” (Y/N) shot back, watching Strange closely as his fingers wrapped carefully around a large, antique necklace he was wearing. “What’s that?” (Y/N) asked, finally giving way to her curiosity.
“The answer to your question,” Strange responded smugly. “How do I know how to deal with an infinity stone?” Strange posited as he made some kind of witchy, voodoo hand motions that signaled the opening of the large locket that revealed an emerald stone casting a green glow in his eyes. “Probably because I’ve had a bit of experience. Really, it’s not a big deal having the ultimate power over time. I’m just honored to have been chosen for such a monumental task-”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point!” (Y/N) burst, making Strange laugh again. “Your modesty is over-fucking-whelming. So, alright, you know what you’re doing…probably. It still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want the stone, you know, inside of me yet. It’s risky, but what else is new?”
“Well, if you’d let me finish,” Strange huffed, “I’d tell you that there’s a way to do that without surgery.”
“What? You’re gonna align my chakras?” (Y/N) bit back without hesitation.
“Despite the sarcasm, you’re very close,” Strange admitted, surprising (Y/N) as she looked over at Wong to see him nodding to her. “Take a seat, (Y/N), so we can discuss this properly,” Strange motioned for her to sit as the room faded away to become a new, more inviting atmosphere still within the Sanctum, and a chair was replaced beneath her ass. A fire crackled in the corner as (Y/N) felt heat pressed against her fingertips. Taking a peek inside the mug, her nose was met with the homely aroma of caramel and espresso, just what she had wanted.
“Impressive,” (Y/N) stated with her eyebrow cocked, coffee mug raised.
“Necessary. Your mind was practically begging for it,” Strange answered with a smirk as she took a sip. “Better?”
“Marginally,” (Y/N) responded, placing the mug on the table next to her to fold her arms across her chest as she got herself comfortable. “So, what’s all this about chakra aligning? You’ve semi-peaked my interest. Tell me more.”
“Just so we’re clear, I am not entirely on board with this idea,” Wong admitted, throwing Strange a shady look. “But I have faith in my friend and his gift for the mystic arts. I just hope the power hasn’t gone to his head.”
“It does seem like that would happen,” (Y/N) taunted snidely.
“Believe me, I have stories,” Wong whispered to her as he laughed.
Strange rolled his eyes. “So glad you’ve both found this situation amusing, but you can’t hide from this forever, (Y/N). A choice has to be made, and I need you to make the right one.”
“Then, lay it on me. I’m open to listen,” (Y/N) smiled, crossing her legs on the coffee table in front of her. She quickly found both men to be worthy allies. She couldn’t find any malice behind their intentions, even as Strange explained his methods that included drawing energy from the Dark Dimension.
“Is that the name of your sex tape?” (Y/N) asked immediately, sending Wong into a fit that even cracked a smile on Strange’s face.
“Oh, I wouldn’t need a name for my sex tape,” Strange boasted. “It would speak for itself.”
“Spoken as a true narcissist,” (Y/N) shook her head, thinking of Tony’s vulgar arrogance. “You really do remind me of someone. It’s un-fucking-canny.”
“Do you just throw the f-word in the middle of any word, or…? Because I think you might be writing your own dictionary at the moment,” Strange commented, making (Y/N) laugh, which surprised her. She looked between the two men and sighed, scrunching her nose at them.
“You’re so lucky I believe in the merits of meditation,” (Y/N) conceded.
“Does that mean you’re going through with the spell?” Strange asked, excitement popping from the dimples in his cheeks as he began to lean forward out of his chair.
“Not a chance in hell!” (Y/N) burst out laughing while Strange’s and Wong’s faces dropped, their jaws simultaneously hitting the floor as Strange fell back into his chair. Taking a final swig from her mug, (Y/N) stood from her chair with a stretch and a sigh. “But, it’s been really great catching up with both of you. Really, I’m charmed, but I have more pressing matters to tend to…like sleep.”
“Hey, wait!” Strange yelled, walking over to block her path. “I just explained exactly how this spell will work. I told you things that I’m probably not allowed to tell you, but it doesn’t matter. None of it will matter unless you are the one to protect the stone.”
“Oh, I’m not opposed to any of that,” (Y/N) shrugged, confusing Strange. “As of right now, I’m fully informed on how this could go down, but what I need to know is why I would want all of this to happen right here, right now,” (Y/N) explained. “I mean, what the hell is so urgent that I need to do this today? I need to know whatever you know. None of this cryptic, Harry Potter Chosen One shit. I can’t run headfirst into the dark without a flashlight.”
Just before Strange was about to answer, thunder pierced the ceiling of the Sanctum, raining debris from the destruction caused by a holographic tunnel of light that disappeared as soon as it appeared, leaving only the final cracks of wood on the staircase and the moans of someone in deep pain.
Before the sound even hit the building, all three heroes had their senses peeked, jumping into action the moment the meteor struck, defenses up and ready for a fight. Climbing the remnants of the staircase, they stared down into the crater made by the light and saw Bruce Banner shrouded by a cloud of dust, coughing and wheezing as his eyes frantically searched the ceiling to find the trio ready for war. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Why didn’t I get this kind of grand entrance?” (Y/N) joked to the two confused wizards as she descended into the hole to help Bruce, extending her hand to him. “Hey, you okay?” She asked as he stood, pulling (Y/N) into an embrace.
“Thanos…” Bruce croaked into her ear, his voice cracking in pain as he pulled back to look into her eyes, curiosity and worry tugging at her furrowed brows. “Thanos is coming!” Bruce warned more clearly to Strange and Wong, then he turned back to (Y/N) with more urge as he shook her shoulders. “He’s coming.”
“I, uh…” (Y/N) stuttered, trying to find words as she looked towards Strange. “Is this the ‘why’ you wouldn’t tell me about?” She accused Strange who nodded to her as Wong’s magic sigils flickered out.
“I suppose there’s nothing holding back the truth now,” Strange acquiesced.
“There wasn’t anything to begin with!” (Y/N) yelled, throwing him a look as she shook her head and turned back to Bruce. “Let’s talk more about this somewhere that’s not falling apart…and maybe, get us both a shower.”
“That’d be nice,” Bruce agreed as Strange and Wong helped the two out of the crater, Bruce’s arm still around (Y/N)’s shoulders as she propped him up and led him to a chair that Strange manipulated. Immediately, Bruce launched into a play by play (to the best of his memory) of what went down on the ship after he thinks (Y/N) went missing. “Thanos. He’s…he’s a plague, (Y/N). He invades planets. He takes what he wants. He wipes out half the population. He sent Loki. The attack on New York. That’s him.”
(Y/N) laughed humorlessly. “So, this Thanos motherfucker is the ultimate, then? Goddamn…remember when we thought Loki was the worst? That was cute. Downright adorable…” (Y/N) trailed off bitterly.
“Is he not still the worst?” Bruce questioned, finding comfort in finally being able to sit down. “Did I miss something?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” (Y/N) pondered. “I think he tried to protect me by sending me here.”
“So, Loki sent you?” Bruce asked. “Heimdall told me you were safe, but…it was Loki?”
“I mean, as far as I know,” (Y/N) shrugged. “But…you were saying about Thanos. What does he want?”
“He wants what we already have,” Strange interjected, reminding (Y/N) of the heavy weight pressing against her thigh as he showed Bruce the Time Stone.
“Loki’s gift,” (Y/N) whispered as she pulled the stone from her holster, allowing it’s glow to shower the room until it faded in her hand. Bruce charged her immediately, attempting to take it from her hand.
“We have to get rid of that,” Bruce demanded, but (Y/N) tucked it away in her pocket. “If he doesn’t have all six stones, then he can’t win, and (Y/N)…he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way. There’s no hiding it. We have to destroy it-”
“I can’t,” (Y/N) asserted, silencing the room. “Loki gave me this for a reason. Maybe he knows something that we don’t. He worked with Thanos before…was controlled by him…he knows him better than any of us, and he told me to protect the stone.”
“It’s Loki!” Bruce exclaimed in disbelief. “How could you trust him? For all we know, he’s been working with Thanos this whole time!”
“Well, Loki’s not the only one who thinks that I should,” (Y/N) confessed, cocking her eyebrow at Strange.
“No, no, no,” Bruce argued before Strange could even begin, pointing his finger at the sorcerer. “Don’t you dare try to put any of these ideas into her head! She’s already prone to life-threatening situations, and this-”
“Has to happen,” Strange interjected. “Wong and I swore an oath to protect the Time Stone, and (Y/N) has to protect the Power Stone. It’s the only way.”
“No!” Bruce denied, pacing back and forth in front of (Y/N). “No…I saw Thanos. I fought him…you don’t understand, he’s not like anything we’ve ever fought before. Ultron was child’s play compared to this.”
“Maybe because you and Tony programmed him to go out like a little bitch.”
“Tony!” Bruce shouted, unphased by (Y/N)’s dig. “Tony, we have to talk to him, or Steve, or Nat…” Bruce persuaded, but (Y/N) was unmoved.
“I already told you Bruce. We’re not the Avengers anymore, we’re on our own now,” (Y/N) sighed, but Bruce laughed in shock.
“Half the world hangs in the balance, and you’re willing to give all that up because of a stupid fight you had?” Bruce pointed out, making (Y/N) feel guilty. He was completely right, and she had already known that. But the thought of seeing Tony again tied knots in the pit of her stomach.
“If you want to talk to him, then you go find him,” (Y/N) relinquished with a huff, then peered up at Strange. “But I’m a bit busy at the moment. Apparently, I have some destiny to satisfy.” Strange smirked to her as she rolled her eyes.
“What are you…what are you planning on doing with it?” Bruce panicked.
“Don’t worry about it-”
“(Y/N), all I do is worry these days, and you not telling me isn’t helping,” Bruce yelled back, a little green peeking out under his collar.
“God,” (Y/N) moaned, rubbing her temples. “We’re all gonna die young being this stressed all the time. Look, if Thanos is as hell-bent on his plan as you say he is, then what’s to say that destroying the stones won’t just be a minor setback? It sounds like the only way to stop him would be to kill him, and if that’s the case, then we might want to suit up with the best weapons we have.”
“(Y/N)-”
“I’m not going to be helpless, Bruce!” (Y/N) snapped, cutting him off. “If I can be the one to kill him, then I will. And that’s a goddamn promise.” She shouted, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes, and that’s when Bruce realized she wasn’t talking about Thanos. Gently, Bruce put his hand on her shoulder.
“This isn’t Hydra,” Bruce proclaimed calmly, finding her determined eyes. She had told him everything about what Hydra did to her when they shoved a piece of the Orb in her chest in the first place. He knew the pain she went through, but now wasn’t the time for her insecurities to come through. “You don’t have to prove anything. Destroying the stone would be the smartest thing to do.”
“Is it, though?” (Y/N) croaked, pulling herself away from Bruce to stand beside Strange and Wong. “I guess we’ll see soon enough.”
“Come on, (Y/N). You know better than this,” Bruce pleaded, but she’d made her choice.
“I know what I feel, and this feels right. I’ve been right about a lot more things than I think I’m given credit for, so it’s about time I went with where my mind wants me to go,” (Y/N) declared turning to the sorcerers. “Let’s do this.”
Strange nodded as he smashed into his hands into the air as if to shatter an invisible mirror that fractured the space’s molecules into fragments of reality. It was a beautiful art to witness.
“Shall we?” Strange coaxed as he motioned (Y/N) into the portal that she couldn’t keep her eyes off of, fascinated by the reflective colors in the nonexistent glass that sparkled like diamonds in the daylight.
“I hope you’re right about this!” Bruce called out to her, but she kept her head down and ignored him.
“Me too,” she muttered as the portal closed behind her, leaving only her and Strange in the silent foyer of the Sanctum. She turned to see Bruce and Wong behind her, but neither of them could see or hear her any longer, despite Bruce’s efforts. The only difference in the room was the amethyst light that flowed in from all windows of the room and the random fragments in the space around them. “So, this is the Mirror Dimension? Very Room of Requirement-y.”
“If all you’re going to do is make Harry Potter references-”
“Okay, I’ll stop…for now…” (Y/N) smirked cheekily, making Strange sigh.
“Please, take a seat,” Strange commanded as he sat down in the center of the room and (Y/N) followed suit to sit right in front of him, both crossing their legs as if they were about to start a yoga class. “So, you know the mechanics behind what we’re about to do, all I need from you is to do exactly what I say.”
(Y/N) made a face, then laughed. “Sorry, force of habit. Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
“Good, because I don’t want to deal with the consequences if something happened to you,” Strange complained. “Your friends are very…protective.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” (Y/N) huffed, but secretly allowed herself a small smile. “And you’re right. You wouldn’t like to know either.”
“Perfect. So, let’s make sure you don’t fall into the wrong reality and get lost forever in space. I’m sure it’s happened before, but not today. Ready?”
“Well, after that pitch…of course I am,” (Y/N) affirmed sarcastically as Strange folded his hands together and told her to close her eyes and breathe. The first few minutes were just like any guided meditation class. Mentions of good intentions and staying focused on her breath and allowing her mind to relax, until Strange asked her to give him the stone. (Y/N)’s eyes shot open and the spell that surrounded them dissolved, making Strange groan.
“Oh, come on!” Strange sighed. “Obviously, I need the stone to make the spell work. We went over this!”
“I know, I know,” (Y/N) huffed, shaking her head. “It’s just…you know, you’re putting a lot of pressure on someone who still forgets to change the oil in her car every six months,” she admitted, blowing the wisps of baby hair from her face in frustration.
“Three months,” Strange corrected her, making (Y/N)’s eyes grow even wider.
“Shit…Steve’s gonna kill me,” (Y/N) whispered as Strange let out an exasperated moan and rubbed his temples. It took every ounce of strength in her to pull that stone out of her pocket. Simultaneously, it felt like the most right thing, but also the absolute worst thing she could do…because that made sense. Either way, Strange perked up immediately, embracing the stone in his hand that he weighed with a skeptical crease between his brows. “What?” (Y/N) asked, worried that something was wrong, but Strange waved her off.
“I’m not an expert on Infinity Stones, as much as I would like to claim, but uh…I don’t think this is the whole stone,” Strange guessed as (Y/N) froze. “Maybe only half, I’m not…certain…are you okay?”
“That greasy, sleeze ball scammed me!” (Y/N) shouted. “And just when I thought he might’ve done something right for once-”
“He did,” Strange argued, holding up the stone. “It’s still an Infinity Stone, and it will still give you the power you need, so pull yourself together, and let’s start this over again, alright?”
(Y/N) just glared at the ceiling. “Selling me a dud…I’ll show him…” she muttered as she roughly shifted back into her yoga pose and Strange began his calming mantra once again. His hands caressed hers gently, pressing the stone into the palms of her hands as he continued to drone in a soothing voice that lulled (Y/N) into a state of peace that was spreading warmth through her body.
Simple. Easy. Sleepy. Really sleepy. Passing out…good-fucking-nigh….t….
“Wake.”
She felt the chill of the table before the burn of the serum. And she felt the straps ripping her bare skin over large sections of her body before she even opened her eyes. And she recognized his voice before she even saw his face.
“Keep squirming. Because that’s treated you so well, 437,” Doctor 7 (she numbered them in her head) spit in her ear in Romanian, automatically springing tears from her eyes just at the sound of his tongue so close to her skin as he licked his lips, herself not ready for her worst fear to come back and in a way that was so disturbingly real. This couldn’t be real…but she could smell the familiar mints he used to seduce the nurses who wanted nothing to do with him, so he took his rejection anger out on his patients instead. “One of these days you’ll admit this turns you on, maybe then I’ll take you home with me,” he moaned hungrily under his breath that made (Y/N) want to vomit, but she knew that they might just let her choke and die on the table…or at least almost choke, then tip her over at the last second just to see how long she could last…like the first time she tried.
Her voice caught in her throat, only coming out in a sharp whimper that caused Doctor 7 to grin as he continued to prep his table of surgical equipment, cleaning the blades with disinfectant that incinerated (Y/N)’s nose and made it that much more difficult to breath as she started to hyperventilate. If she had had time to shut her body and mind down to absolve her pain, she would have, but her surprise was damning, and Doctor 7 knew that as his fingertips scraped her skin to drag the thin sheeting away from her chest to expose the last bit of dignity she had left. Burying the marker where her heart was, he sketched the all-too-familiar outline of where he planned to cut out her insides just to watch her bleed…for science. He knew what he was doing, but (Y/N) never doubted the sadism behind his eyes, no matter the crucial medical knowledge he claimed to the Hydra higher-ups that he had.
Wincing away from his scarred face, (Y/N)’s eyes scrambled for something, anything to be weaponized and bury into his skull, but she was hopelessly alone, feeling the apathetic eyes behind the two-way glass that bared down on her like cement crushing a weed in the dirt.
Once the marker left her skin, (Y/N) knew what was to replace it, and became animalistic, clawing at the table to only get lead buried under her broken, bloodied fingertips as her teeth tried to sink into her restraints, but the doctor shoved her head into the table with a crunch that (Y/N) heard ricochet in her head with the splintering of bone. Dazed, the ceiling swam in and out of focus until light pierced her brain like a dozen explosions bursting behind her eyes, but she couldn’t escape its perversion that left her body vulnerable to his hands.
“Patient 437 prepped. Permission to proceed with Experiment 19-124?” the Doctor requested with his hands fastened behind his back, body at attention for the eyes behind the glass.
“Proceed,” a woman’s voice allowed, no inflection in her voice despite the order she just commanded for a 12-year-old girl to be sliced open.
With the Hydra salute, the doctor fitted his mask to his face and snapped his gloves into place in (Y/N) left ear, leaving it ringing as the only noise that filled the room afterwards was the beeping of the machines she was tied to and the scrape of metal on metal as his fingers wrapped around his instruments.
(Y/N) could feel her heart pound harder than ever, beginning to strain in uneven beats that left her gasping for air, sweat trickling down her temples and into her eyes that she tried to blink away, but she was helpless. Her entire body was on fire, the flames surrounding her heart and squeezing it as if to stop it from beating as a mercy killing. Every muscle was tense against the restraints, bruising her skin in the most gruesome ways, but her adrenaline was murderous and unrelenting, until…until the blade sunk into her skin and her whole body went cold. Freezing cold. A statue she became as she froze, feeling every icy stroke of the scalpel slice her skin. If she moved, she was dead. She knew that. The cease of her breath only caused her heart to beat faster, but it was instinct.
She felt the scalpel lift from her chest and felt a rubber-clad hand pat her arm.
“Now that’s a good girl,” the Doctor cooed down at her, a smile crinkling the skin around his eyes. Only (Y/N)’s eyes moved towards his face in a glare, the hatred in them so pure it would’ve terrified the doctor if he hadn’t been so used to it. “If only all the patients could be as helpful as you are to the cause. It would make my job a hell of a lot easier. You’re going to make one of the finest assets to date if you survive this. Just be a good girl and…hold…still…”
Slowly peering over his shoulder, the Doctor witnessed all of his scalpels levitating behind him, blades pointed straight for his heart. The overwhelming fear on his face was enough to bring a smile to her own face as she choked out, “you first.”
And it was over. His collection was buried in his chest before he could scream, sending his body crashing against the table (Y/N) was still strapped to as alarms blared around her, but she was dead set on survival. Fingertips shaking, one of the largest bloody scalpels that was buried inside of the doctor’s body was pressed into (Y/N)’s fist as she began to cut away at the fibers, getting faster with each passing moment. Tears and sweat mingled into a stinging blur, but her fingers kept sawing…and sawing…until she cut away enough to force her body free, immediately shoving her right hand over her heart to stop the spill of blood as she seized a towel to press against the wound.
The second her toes hit the ground, her knees gave out and the room went sideways as (Y/N)’s right shoulder hit the gurney and smashed into the floor. Once her eyes opened, she was met with Doctor 7′s corpse, bloodshot eyes still wide in terror but yet to blink, crimson spilling from his limp jaw that pooled around (Y/N)’s cheek. In a snap, (Y/N) was awake, pushing herself away under the table as the door to the room banged open. Instantly, the first man went down with a scalpel in his ankle from the whip of (Y/N)’s wrist. Taking the other man down at the knees, (Y/N) stabbed him the back with the broken headlamp that crashed from the ceiling after the Doctor went down. Barreling down the hallway, (Y/N)’s shoulder hit the wall again as she forced herself to continue running despite the way the hallway tipped from side to side as if she was in a boat that was about to capsize, painfully taking out guards as she went.
She stumbled until she was met with a wide-open space filled to the brim with Hydra agents in all black and scientists in white lab coats that (Y/N) sprinted straight through causing papers to fly, guns to go off, and people to shout. She had no idea what she was doing, it didn’t feel right, but she didn’t know what else to do. Hide? They’ll find her. They’ll probably catch her too, but (Y/N)’s legs had a mind of their own at this point, until…they stopped. Everything stopped when she witnessed two figures bound to wooden chairs she easily recognized as the ones from her kitchen when she was a little girl, sending chills down her spine, making her feel smaller than ever. Black hoods were over their heads, but (Y/N) knew…she knew…
But before she could speak, one of the hoods was taken off one of the hostage’s heads to reveal the freckled face of her older brother…broken and scared but assuring when his eyes met hers.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” his voice echoed in her head taking her back to the moment before he was shot, stealing her breath away as she stared into his blue eyes that suddenly widened in shock, but his warning came too late. Bodies buried her as (Y/N) let out a scream as she fought them off with both hands, her own blood slickening the floor as there was nothing to staunch the flow any longer, leaving her feeling dizzier and more confused after each heartbeat. With her back to the ground, (Y/N) held off an attacker, her head jerked to the side as the agent’s fist met (Y/N)’s face. Eyes trailing to the side, she spotted it. An amethyst glow that sent her heart into a frenzy in a good way. Hope.
Shoving the woman off of her, (Y/N) shakily stood to stumble to the stone that was shining like a beacon inside a cage that had been displayed in the center of the building, but the pleas of a woman caught her attention. It was her mother begging for (Y/N)’s life. And this wasn’t in memory. It was so clear as if (Y/N) was reliving the moment all over again. Again, she knew exactly what was to come next, but she had to pull herself away. She had to let it go. What happened had happened, and this was only a dream.
It’s only a dream.
It’s only a dream.
It’s only a-
Two shots. Her heart stopped, but her legs kept moving, trudging away from her past, from the worst moments of her life. The moments when she felt the confidence in herself drain from her body and fear fill its place. These are the moments when her innocence died.
Howling through the cacophony of screams from the Hydra agents that surrounded her, (Y/N) killed them instantly, not a hesitation in her mind as she reached towards the Orb, straining every muscle in her body even after a bullet pierced her spine, she reached for Nirvana. Even when the screams of Steve, Bruce, Nat, Wanda, Clint, and Tony pierced her mind, she reached beyond what she knew her body was even capable of…this was the only way.
Grazing the stone, she felt peace for a moment. The world became alight in lavender color as a sense of safety caressed her heart in warmth.
That was before the pain ripped her head back in an awful scream as the stone tore the skin from her body with the sheer power of its touch. In a tornado of light, (Y/N) was rocketed through the galaxies, dimensions whipping past her at speeds that were lost upon her as she began to black out, but her body hit the wooden floors of the Sanctum first, landing on her stomach, everything halted.
Slowly propping herself up on her elbows, she crossed her right hand over her heart to staunch the bleeding, expecting to feel the sticky warmth running between her fingers, but instead she felt chills coursing through the veins in her arms. As her eyes focused, she stared down at her hand that glowed in purple light from within her veins, black and silver magic wisping off of her fingertips like otherworldly flames as she flexed them in wonder, still barely breathing.
“(Y/N)!” A familiar voice called out, himself breathless as well, but she didn’t care. (Y/N) balled her hand into a fist as she turned towards the voice to see Tony with worry lines creasing his face, Bruce and Wong standing behind him.
The knot tightened in (Y/N)’s stomach, threatening to choke her.
**Hi, I’m the Worst. I don’t know why I think these dream sequences are necessary (maybe becuase they’re not you overdramatic corndog), but they keep happening. Anyway, let me know if you have any questions or comments! I have absolutely loved talking with you all more! Your messages have been so incredible and I just wanted to say thank you. It’s so interesting to really get to know the people behind the screens (s/o to Tiger Snakes). Hope you’re all having a great day and that this story didn’t ruin that for any of you (sorry, but as previously mentioned I’m the Worst). Follow and like for more xx
**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the rest of this series!
