Jeff - The Teleporting Land Shark
Web Comic by Megan Huang
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Day 4/25 of drawing MCU Christmas prompts 🎄✨
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requested : -Hey! I don’t know if you’ve seen that trend on TikTok where the girl is on the phone or doing something where she refers to her boyfriend as her “husband” and the guy’s reaction is always so cute! I was wondering if you had time if you could write something about doing that with CEvans, Seb, and/or Hiddleston and what their reactions would be! Thanks in advance!
- could you do a fic where reader pranks chris from one of those couples pranks on tik tok lol
a/n: loved this idea but thought to turn it into a headcanon! i hope it’s alright!
warnings: seb’s ends a little suggestively and there’s some kissing n stuff throughout it all but it’s really all just fluff!
no beta/loosely proofread so please excuse errors!
my main masterlist
you’re swinging through a starbucks drive-through after a day of shopping and you’ve been silly and lovey-dovey with each other all day long
he’s driving, and, of course, has a hand on your thigh at all times
and he always lets you order from the passenger side because he messes up the specifics of your drink lol
“could i please get a (insert your starbucks order here)?” you ask, nudging Chris’ shoulder because he’s laughing at how precise you always are
“of course. anything else for you today?” the employee asks kindly
“oh, love, can i get that cold chocolate-chocolatey-chippa-frappa thingy?” Chris whispers to you, giving your thigh a light squeeze
you giggle at the way he words it, but you know exactly what he’s asking for
“yeah,” you speak up loud enough for the machine to pick up your voice again. “and my husband would like the double chocolate chip blended frappuccino. and that’ll be all,”
his head jerks to look at you the second the word slips past your lips, the grasp on your thigh only tightening as his face lights up with the biggest smile
“alright, does everything on the screen look correct?” the employee asks, and you’re trying to hold back your laughter and pay his reaction no mind, but it’s so difficult
“yes!” you confirm with the employee before they tell you the total of the order and instruct you to pull up to the window
“Chris, pull forward,” you giggle, seeing that he’s still awestruck by your use of that word
“husband?” he finally asks with bright eyes
“what?” you ask, playing it off as if you don’t know what he’s talking about
“you called me your husband,” he repeats excitedly
“i don’t know what you’re talking about, but pull forward, there’s a line behind us!” you laugh, brushing it off
he rolls his eyes and groans, following your direction and driving up to the window
Chris and the barista share a nice greeting before Chris gives them his card to pay for your drinks
then as he’s handed his drink, Chris asks, “hey, did you hear what she called me? like when she was ordering, she called me her…”
he places the cup in the holder in the middle of the car before the person is holding out your cup next
“uh... husband?” the barista chuckles nervously, handing Chris your drink.
“see! they heard it!” Chris exclaims, turning to hand you your cup.
“have a good day,” the barista laughs, clearly confused, but Chris thanks them and then pulls into the nearest parking spot while taking a slurp of his frappe
“am i the husband, now?” he then asks once he’s parked, kissing your cheek while you sip on your drink
“if you wanna be,” you turn to look at him, shrugging nonchalantly
“hell yeah, i wanna be,” he nods
“okay,” you shrug and smile
“just gotta make it official now,” he smirks, kissing you with his chocolate-tasting lips
you giggle at the suspicious expression he has on his face as he pulls away
“so on a completely unrelated note, what’s your ring size and where’s your dream vacation destination?”
the two of you just moved into a new house together and picked out some new furniture for the living room and dining room and such
and the shipment was supposed to arrive today but Seb’s been dealing with the company all day long because the order got messed up
and all Seb wants is a furnished home with you, and right now all you have is the bed in your bedroom and this loveseat couch, which is barely big enough for Seb to sprawl out on, let alone you both to sit on
“oh my god! this is so frustrating!” Sebastian groans, shutting his laptop with force and tossing it onto the fluffy rug.
you knew he was getting agitated but you didn’t realize just how much
“oh my goodness,” you chuckle from the kitchen, “what is the matter, Incredible Hulk?”
“god, they say it’s easy handsfree delivery but this has been the most difficult process of buying furniture ever,” he explains angrily
“what?” you ask, leaning over the back of the couch and ruffling his hair with your fingers
“i just got an email and now they’re telling me the new furniture won’t be shipped til friday and it’s not even coming directly here. we have to go to the actual store to pick it up, which is like two hours away,”
“noooo,” you groan empathetically before stepping back over into the kitchen and flipping the light off
“i’m actually super pissed about this,” he states as you slide over to where he’s sitting
“it’ll be okay, love,” you hum, coming to sit beside him on the couch with a hot cup of tea for each of you
“love, all we have in our house right now is a bed and this child-sized couch, and that’s it,” he laughs in frustration, taking his mug from you and kissing you sweetly.
“do we need more?” you question, against his lips
“mm,” he moans a little, “a bigger couch would still be better,”
“i dunno. if we get a new couch that’s just asking for Anthony to fall in love with it,” you joke, patting his chest
“yeah, well, i’m gonna make a rule that he can’t exploit our new couch like he did with the old one,” he laughs
“okay, baby. you do that,” you coo, squishing his cheeks in your hand and bringing him in for another series of kisses
he turns his body to face yours, grabbing the hot mug from your hands and setting both his and yours down on the flimsy, portable table in front of the couch
then he smirks and lays you down so that his solid body is on top of yours, you giggle bashfully as he hums contently at the way he has you
“seems you have no issue with having just a couch after all,” you tease.
he rolls his eyes as he leans down to kiss you slowly, hands grabbing your legs to wrap around his waist before planting his palms on either side of your head to keep himself steady
his kisses are hot and wet, moving from your mouth down your neck and sliding the fabric of the shirt - his shirt - off your shoulder to have access to the skin of your collarbone
he nips gently and playfully, slowly grinding his hips down against yours, and youre completely helpless underneath him
but it all comes to a halt when you hear your phone start buzzing on the side table above you
“seb, wait,” you mumble with a laugh, trying to slide up more
“mmm, ignore it,” he groans, continuing his assault on your neck before going back to your lips, tugging gently on your bottom lip with his teeth
“it might be work,” you whisper breathlessly against his mouth, reaching backwards to feel for your phone
“ignooore,” he repeats like the goof he is, but you push him off of you with a laugh, grabbing the phone and answering it
“who is it?” he asks, and you place your finger over his lips to keep him hushed
but instead of being normal and letting you talk on the phone, Sebastian opens his mouth and lightly sucks on your finger
“yes, speaking,” you say on the phone, your voice weak from watching him hold your hand in front of his mouth
“hang up,” he mouths, kissing your knuckles, but you make your eyes go wide at him, letting him know he needs to shut up
“so we need to go there to confirm the order again?” you ask the person on the phone, having to ignore Seb’s hands wandering up and down your thighs
but when he hears what you say, he stops and rolls his eyes, huffing in frustration and shaking his head.
“tomorrow?” you ask. “okay, i mean, i guess so. what time? can it be any earlier? it’s almost a two hour drive for us. that’s why we just wanted to have it delivered here,”
“oh my god,” Sebastian groans, rubbing a hand over his face
"alright, that works… no, that’s alright... my husband and i will be there to pick it all up tomorrow…”
at the sound of the word ‘husband’ seb perks up, face turning pink with blush and eyes lighting up like fireworks
“husband?” he whispers with a smile, but you still have to finish the call
“oh, yeah, that would be great. mhm, great…. thanks. alright, bye,” you finally end the call, dropping your phone on the floor below you, but not before sebastian’s lips are on yours again
“what’s got you all wound up all of a sudden?” you tease, knowing just what the cause of his behavior is
“husband, eh?” he murmurs, kissing just below your ear. “was there a wedding i missed?”
“hm… must’ve just slipped out,” you shrug teasingly.
“just slipped out, huh?” he chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows
“yeah, just slipped out,” you repeat with a laugh of your own. “that make you happy, though?”
“oh it makes me so happy. lemme show you just how happy it makes me, sweetheart,” he growls, and you can’t help but laugh in return
“we still have to pick up the furniture there, though,” you try to tell him
“mmm. i guess this couch will have to suffice until then...”
“darling,” you hear Tom call from upstairs, then hear his footsteps echo down the stairs and through the hall to meet you in the kitchen
you smile as you take in his lazy appearance: baggy grey joggers hanging on his hips, a cozy sky blue hooded pullover with uneven strings, white sport socks covering cold feet, thick frames around his perfect blue eyes, and unruly ginger curls that you just love to run your fingers through
he notices you looking him up and down with eyes of admiration and all he can do is chuckle and turn rosy in the cheeks
“what are you looking at?” he asks bashfully, taking another step so that he’s less than a foot away from you as he adjusts the glasses on his face
“just you. you’re adorable,” you giggle, unable to stop yourself from reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair
he blushes profusely, a shy scoff comes from his mouth as he shakes his head in denial before leaning down to peck your lips sweetly
“do you have any more laundry i can throw into this load?” he asks after you pull away
“no but thank you for checking,” you smile at him, turning back to your task of putting away the last of the clean dishes from the dishwasher
“oh, Tom! did you end up talking with Ben and Sophie about going out this weekend?” you ask
“yes, actually!” he announces excitedly, clapping his hands together. “they said saturday works.”
“oh, good,” you sigh. “and that also works for you?”
“yes, it works just perfectly. and they’re excited to try that restaurant,” he affirms.
“great! oh, i’m so glad this is gonna work out. it’s been so long since we’ve seen them,” you say happily, turning back around to face Tom and falling into his embrace
“i know, it’s going to be so great to see them again. and to spend some time out together, too,” he says in a voice just loud enough for you to hear, his chest rumbling against your cheek and his hands securing you close to him from behind
you sigh happily and the two of you remain like that for a few more moments before he pulls himself away to finish laundry
but before he takes his leave, you grab his attention once more
“oh! should i call ahead to see if we need a reservation?”
“oh, good idea, love. i didn’t even think of that,” he notes
he pulls up the number on google and reads it to you so you can call on your phone, and you put it on speaker so that Tom can hear, too
“hello, this is the Aviary, David speaking. how may i help you?” the man on the line says
“hello, David! i’d like to make a reservation,” you say, looking at Tom.
“of course. when would you like to make it for?”
“do you have availability on saturday night… five pm?” you ask David and also Tom, and he nods in affirmation.
“yes, this saturday is still wide open. i’ll put you down for five pm,”
“wonderful, thank you,”
“my pleasure. and how many are in the party?”
“there will be four of us,” you answer
“oh! ask about rooftop dining, darling!” Tom whispers to you
“and my husband was wondering if your rooftop dining is available?” you say to the man, and the second the word leaves your lips, your heart starts to race
you don’t know why it just slipped out, but it did, and judging by Tom’s giddy grin, he caught it
“absolutely. so i have you down for a party of four at five pm on saturday night.” David confirms.
“that’s wonderful. thank you so much,” you say with a small trepidation in your chest
“my pleasure. have a wonderful day,” the man says.
“you as well,” you reciprocate, then hang up, staring right into Tom’s sweet, beautiful blue eyes
“darling, what did you call me?” he wonders aloud with a small smirk playing on his lips
“huh?” you ask, standing up from the couch.
“on the phone, just now,” he asks, following you out of the living room
“oh... i dunno,” you shrug
“oh, yes, you do,” he chuckles quietly, bringing you in close to him by a firm grip on your waist. “what was that word you used, hm?”
“i have no clue what you’re talking about, mr. hiddleston,” you feign innocence, but the smile you’re fighting back is a dead giveway
“mm, mhm, alright,” he nods in fake agreement before leaving a quick kiss on your lips
“i don’t!” you refuse with a laugh
“okay. well, your husband will be finishing laundry if you need him,” he says before strolling away
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Natasha: “Zemo”? Sounds like a creep.
Steve: You can’t judge someone based on their name.
Natasha: Sure you can. “Natasha”. Cool name, cool girl.
Natasha, points at Bruce: “Bruce”... I rest my case.
Natasha, pointing at Y/N: "Y/N". Someone I'd like to be on.
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Kate: *waving from across the street* Hi, you must be Yelena. Wow, you’re blonde! I thought you’d have red hair. I’m Kate and, as you can see, I have black hair. Do you use a bow and arrow much? Have you ever fenced? Is this your first time in New York?
Yelena: … what is happening.
Y/N: *squinting* I told her to act natural. I can’t tell if she listened.
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Natasha: Can you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?
Clint: [crouches down]
Thor: [gets on knees]
Natasha: I hope you both die.
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Edge of Time⌛1
Warnings: this series will contain dark elements such as noncon and rape, violence, blood, sickness, death, ecological disasters, and other warnings to be added as it progresses.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features (nomad)Steve Rogers x reader. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: The end has come and you find yourself waiting it out. However, your own fate is not as clear as it seems. [Apocalypse AU]
Note: Unexpectedly posting on the weekend and unexpectedly turning a one shot into a series. And I dunno.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
You were alone before it all fell apart. You thought that would make it easier. Maybe it does. Maybe that's why you're still alive. Barely.
The droughts came first, when the world was still overcrowded. The earth dried up and the sun beamed mercilessly down at those desperate for a single drop of rain. People fell where they stood and were left to rot in the heat, no one strong enough to move them or bury them.
That's when the auditors began. They used scarcity to their whims. They hoarded supplies of water and took in only those they deemed valuable. Often, that value was passing.
The collective emerged as a counter to the auditors, those who wanted to help all not just the few. It devolved into violence, as things do when humanity is brought to the brink of desperation.
Then the rains came, the floods, and just as many drowned in the depths. High ground was not as easily hoarded and the want for water was sated and the opposite became the mantra of man. The former loyalties split and death continued to ravage those left behind.
You watched it all from the peripheral, waiting your turn, waiting for death. You wandered by in the shadows, easily forgotten, and waited. But it never came, even with the snow and that frigid, bitter, deadly cold.
The rains receded and those rivers left behind turned to ice as snow heaped higher than any head. It rarely stopped and you can never shake the lingering chill deep in your core. Warmth is the most fickle of commodities. It is not a bottle of water or a sixteenth story floor, it is intangible and seemingly unreachable.
But your turn has come. You feel it. You're sick, you're alone as you have been, even before, and there's not much left to save you. The city, the world, has been picked bare by humans as much as the elements.
Still, there is the flicker of mortal will in you. That urge to live on.
You mourn your neglect. At first, it was a shiver, that was usual, the a trickle from your nose and stuffiness behind your eyes. The fever came with a dwindling hunger and you know it’s time to do something.
You descend from your retreat in the old apartment tower, half eaten away by the once immeasurable tides. You go down the back stairwell, slowly, carefully. You still hear others now and then, you're not the only one around, but the others travel in groups and that makes them dangerous. It's dark, you can hide.
You're out of breath at the bottom and lean heavily on the wall as your chest aches. You quake with the unshakeable chill and steady yourself. You push away from the brick and pull your scarf up over your face.
The pharmacy isn't far, two blocks. The streets are barren but for the skeletons of civilization; cars, trees, people… You keep close to the walls and duck behind the post boxes somehow untouched by the chaos.
Pharmacy is dark but you don't dare bring out your flashlight. With its broken window, you would light up the whole place. You brush away the broken glass with your glove and hop over the ledge.
You listen intently. A pulsing moment before you dare to tread further. Behind the counter, bottles scatter from previous searches and the orderless lashing of overflowing waters. You cannot say how much remains.
Most of the bottles or empty are coated with dissolved pills, turned to powder and paste. You don't need tylenol, it's unlikely to do much now. Whatever you do find, is unlikely to work but it's your only hope. Hope for what? What did you have to live for?
You tiptoe clumsily past the counter, the backroom is open already. It's not a good sign. You see the mess on the floor, baskets and bottles tossed all over. You get to your knees between the shelves and grasp at the containers.
You pull your scarf loose and drape it over your head. You bring a handful up, flashlight in the other hand, and blind yourself in the encased glow… empty. You move on your knees and continue your tedious search. You're allergic to penicillin but it seems that is all gone anyhow.
A bottle rattles in promise and you bring it under your makeshift tent. Azithromycin. You were no doctor but you recall taking it for some bout as a teenager. You tuck it into the chest pocket of your coat and zip up quickly. You continue your search but find little else. You manage to scout out a few boxes of cold tables still sealed in their plastic jackets and go out the back.
You suppress a cough as the cold hits you like a wall. You struggle to breath and your hands shake. Better to take something now, the sooner it takes effect the better. You fumble and force down two of the large tablets on your raw throat.
You feel dizzy as you pass behind the buildings and edge down alleys, ears perked for any disturbance. You heard a man screaming two nights past, there was a reason for that and it was rarely anything but other people.
You get back to your building. You begin the treacherous climb up the escape as your body weakens with each step. You stop halfway and sit to catch your breath. You need to lay down.
You grab the railing and drag yourself up, stopping just outside the fire escape where you came out. You hear voices. Shit. They've found your hideout no doubt. Not the first time but definitely the worst.
You listen as you peer back down the stairs. You have a kit on the eight floor. An old trick you learned in a book about New France, the Algonquin and Iroquois used to bury supplies for the winter in case they were stranded by snows. Hopefully they haven't discovered that yet.
"Doesn't look like a place for five," a deep voice carries as you take your first step down, "pretty small… not much. You sure this is all yours?"
"What's it to ya, buddy? We found it first so fuck off before we toss you out the window."
A chuckle, deep and amused, is the only response.
"What's so funny? Five of us, one of you. And I still haven't clocked a gun on you so it seems like you shouldn't be laughing." A snarl rolls back.
"I don't need a gun," the other man says calmly.
Then, suddenly, swiftly, a scuffle sounds and your feet clatter away. Whatever it is you want none of it. Whoever wins, you lose.
You stop as you count the eight and climb through the window, the door is rusted shut and immoveable. You hear more noise, above, below. Gunshots and hollers. Fuck.
You go to apartment 806 and rip up the cushions of the dingy couch. You waver on your feet as you lift the canvas bag and try to shake away the stars in your eyes. Your teeth chatter even as your skins on fire. You can't go back down the escape, someone likely heard you.
You stumble and catch yourself on the door frame. There's a place on Walter Avenue, you've had it in mind for a while. You nod and take a breath. You can make it.
As you enter the hall, you hear an unsettling crunch from above, the crush and collapse of several floors. Plaster and slivers of wood dust over you, the door frame keeping you from the weight of the flights above.
A man lands, broken and dead atop the pile of shrapnel. The whistle of another descent comes from above and you retreat as another figure appears, boots crashing down around his victim. You fall onto your ass and land on your bag with a gasp.
Your vision skews for a moment and you struggle to lift the weight as you get a knee below you.
"Please," you shield yourself with an arm as you get a foot flat but only stand and slip back down in a moment, shadow lurking closer, "I…"
You cough through your scratchy throat and clutch your head. You gape up at the man, a dark scarf at his neck beneath jis thick beard and overgrown locks, blue eyes catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows. He's huge, terrifying, you've never seen anyone like him, though he seems vaguely familiar.
"Hmm," he catches you before you can hit your ass again, "you don't know them, do you?"
"Who are you?" You ask, senselessly.
He considers you as your lashes blur around your sight. He doesn't answer as he pulls a glove off with his teeth and touches your forehead. He sighs as you shiver against his hot touch.
"Shit," he swears and lets you down, laying you against your pack, "you got any meds? You take anything?"
He reaches under his fleece-lined jacket and pulls out a canteen, "here, water. Fever's gonna dehydrate you fast."
"Two," you hit the chest of your coat weakly and the pills rattle, "just two."
He trickles water through your lips and you drink greedily. Your head is thrumming so bad and your limbs felt filled with sand. You cough again and spit up your mouthful.
"Why?" You croak as you wave away the canteen.
"What?" He caps the container and hooks it back on the leather strap around his middle.
"Just kill me," you groan, "like them."
"You're alone?" He ignores your plea.
You nod and close your eyes. "And sick. So…"
"Right," he grabs your coat and pulls you up suddenly.
He holds you up with one hand and unhooks the bag from your arm. He hooks it over his shoulders, against the pack already there, and slips his other arm under your knees. He lifts you easily and walks over the musty carpet towards the metal escape.
"Door doesn't open," you eke out, "you should leave me. Please."
"You'll die," he says as he approaches the door, "sorry about this."
He kicks the door and it flies from its hinges and hits the railing outside. The motion jolts you and has you coughing again.
"Why?" Your head lolls as the pale winter stars twinkle down.
"Why not? You need help," he says lithely as he heads down the steps, "we help those in need. We don't help those who take."
"We?" You blink, each time your eyelids get heavier.
"You'll see," he says as he turns onto the next flight of metal steps, "save your energy, doll. I got you."
"No, I don't wanna…" you cover your mouth and shudder against him in another fit, "go."
He says something but you don't hear him as you grasp the front of his jacket. Your head is spinning and the world won't stop unless you keep your eyes closed. The air in your lungs licks like flame.
Doesn't matter, it's your turn. You've waited long enough.
You wake in motion. Layers cocoon you but you're still freezing. Metal rattles and you hear the rumble of an engine. There aren't many vehicles still operational and you haven't seen one since before the floods. You murmur through your haze as mutters rise around you.
“How long?” a voice you know asks as you fell a brush against the blankets thrown around you.
You blink at the metal roof of the truck, some sort of military machine. Your eyes focus as the man kneels beside you and you feel his calloused hand on your forehead. He gets an answer but you can’t make it out.
“Bruce’ll know what to do,” he says over his shoulder, his hands working to free his canteen again.
“You should’ve left her,” one of his companions says, a smooth female voice.
“She’s not one of them,” he insists as he touches the open mouth of the canteen to your lips. You drink and the lukewarm water soothes your ragged throat. “They were robbing her… she must’ve gone out for those meds.”
“They’re expired. Well past. More like, she was trying to put herself out of her misery,” the woman replies and you hear a thump on metal, “Buck, don’t take the main way. We’re not fucking around again. Those bandits aren’t worth my energy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” a man grumbles from further away as the one before you asks if you want any more water. You shake your head as you listen to the mumbling, “...no fucking around… don’t gotta tell me.”
“You should try to sleep,” the man in the scarf says, “we got a few hours.”
You nod again. You can’t even try to talk as your throat feels like broken glass. He adjusts your head atop a folded rag and fixes the blankets, nestling them under your chin.
“Goddamn, Rogers, you just can’t help yourself. How long has it been and you’re still on your hero shit,” the woman sneers.
“Sleep,” he pats the layers over your shoulder and stands, hunching beneath the low ceiling of the truck, “what’s the harm, huh? She’s one person. She needs help.”
“We’re not in the business of help, not anymore,” the woman replies.
“Nat,” the man, Rogers sighs, “you don’t gotta worry about her, alright?”
“That’s the thing,” she retorts, “you say that but I always end up worrying.”
Your eyes roll back and your head lolls as their argument continues. You can’t help but agree with the woman, Nat. With the way you feel, you’re better off dead. The thought of your inevitable end had almost been a relief. You slip back into the nether, the agony dulling with your descent.
The next time you awake, you’re still. You hear beeping, the hum of electricity, and you think it’s some twisted dream. You inhale, a little easier than before, but when you move your arm, there’s a tug. You open your eyes, propped up against the bed, angled to keep you bent. Your wrists are cuffed to the rails, a tube running from the back of your hand to a bag of clear liquid.
The walls are clear and look out onto a vast vaulted chamber, what could be a laboratory, or something more sinister. You feel like a mouse in a cage as you’re kept in the box to look in on. You feel warm for the first time in months but sleepy still.
The cuffs ring against the metal rails and you test their resistance. You’re weak, it’s pathetic. You moan and press your dry tongue to the roof of your mouth. The machine chirps and you sense movement on the other side of the transparent walls. A man approaches, dark hair and stubble, and lets himself in as the door beeps and slides open.
“You’re awake,” he says as he approaches the single table and lifts the folder atop it.
You want to ask where you are but you cough instead.
“My name is Bruce Banner,” he nears you as he speaks dully as he reads, “and you are?”
You squint at him. You know that name. A name from before. You laugh and it devolves to another cough. It can’t be. You choke past your arid throat, several tries before you rasp out your name. He takes a pen out of his pocket and scribbles it down.
“Well,” he addresses you by name, “you had a nasty case of pneumonia, coupled with a viral infection. You also took some expired pills that didn’t do much for that. You’re lucky Steve found you.”
“Steve…” you echo and grasp at fragmented memories, “... Rogers?” your mind works to piece together the more distant thoughts, those times before the world fractured.
“The very one,” Bruce confirms, “you’re on the other end of it now. Your lungs are clearing out. I suggest you spit out anything that comes up.” He taps the metal dish by your leg with his pen, “You should stay in bed for a bit and not stress.”
He puts the pen away and takes out a key. He frees your right hand but not the other.
“Why…” you begin and swallow the dryness in your throat, “why?” You lift your hand so the other cuff clangs on the rail.
“You know the world we live in, it’s no different up there than down here,” he says flatly. “Water,” he points to the cup on the table you can just reach, “we’ll hold off on solid food for the time being.”
“Down here?” you prompt.
“You came pretty far,” he closes the folder and puts it back beside the tall cup, “a whole border away. Can’t say everyone’s happy about having a visitor, as rare as they are.”
“Oh?” you frown, “I… I…” your throat is itchy and torn, “...asked him… to leave… me.”
“Have some water,” he says, “and try not to agitate yourself.” He pulls open the single drawer in the table and pulls out a book, “Atwood… kinda fitting.” He tosses it into your lap, “but it’s what you get.”
“I— thanks,” you sniff.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he shrugs and backs away, “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. Don’t forget, spit.”
He turns on his heel and you watch him go, the door shutting behind him and the unseen lock whirring into space. You put your head back and exhale. You’re used to being alone, it’s the idea of the company that unsettles you.
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Peter Parker x reader
[no pronouns used]
Summary: Being trapped on a ferris wheel with your best friend makes you exposed to yet another one of his secrets - fear of heights. | fluff
mentions of blood, jealous!peter
There was a lot of good things that came with being Spiderman – unbelievable flexibility, cool suits, and a sort of freedom Peter didn’t get while he was just Peter. But the job also came with less interesting factors, like how he’s still being tracked by Happy.
I help the avengers, I am an avenger, and I’m still being watched like a kid, he thought, walking faster around the carnival.
He just wanted a normal day where he wasn’t being attacked by monsters, and the trip was going fun until he got a call from Happy asking him information on why he’s out of the city.
“I am literally on a school trip!” He had said exasperated, but the caller wouldn’t budge.
“That’s what you said last time and we saw how well that went.”
“Luckily, I happen to be near your location so I’ll drop by and check.”
“Check? You’re not embarrassing me in front of my friends. Happy- HAPPY?” The call had ended.
Groaning, he decided to stay low. He was Spiderman. How hard can it be to evade the eyes of one person?
Turns out — very hard. He saw the shadow of Happy in the distance, so he went the other way, where there was his school team near the Ferris wheel.
He spotted you getting seated in one of the booths and sighed in relief, easily walking past the ride attendants.
Your other friend was about to get in with you when Peter grabbed the edge of the door and hoisted himself up into the seat beside you.
“Peter what the—”
“Hi, bye! It’s an emergency,” he said to the friend, who stood there baffled. “You can take the next cabin. Maybe.”
Then he turned to you, who looked just as shocked.
“Did you even buy a ticket?” you asked wildly.
“And contribute to capitalism?” Peter looked betrayed, then smiled as the Ferris wheel started moving. “I’m just kidding, I didn’t have time to get tickets. Like I said, there’s an emergency.”
“Oh shit, are there any monsters?” You looked down to the carnival, which was getting smaller and smaller. “Hot aliens? Murderous unicorns?”
“No no, not that kind of emergency — wait, hot aliens?”
“Loki, duh,” you said with a shrug. “That man is wowza.”
“He’s not that hot,” Peter disagreed, scoffing. “Maybe a little bit—”
“Peter, he’s hot.”
“I regret telling you I’m part of the avengers.”
“Oh please, I would have found out anyway. Perks of being your best friend.”
“My best friend is Ned,” he corrected.
“A person can have two best friends!” You said swiftly, scowling. “And what’s the big emergency then?”
“Happy’s checking on me again.”
He frowned. “Don’t look at me like that!”
“Like I’m overreacting!”
“Your words, not mine,” you said, your hands raised in surrender. “And Happy’s a nice man. He just wants to make sure you don’t get your head cut open like a stupid chicken.”
“That was an incredibly specific insult,” he noted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Another perk of being your best—” your words were cut off as the Ferris wheel came to a stop. You looked down in shock.
“Must be some minor uh, breakdown,” Peter gulped, clutching the steel bar in front of him.
You stared down and realized that just as your luck would have it, the wheel had stopped right when your booth was at the highest point.
Some people on the ground were waving madly and yelling that they were getting the problem fixed. You raised a thumbs up and sat back with a sigh.
“Don’t move too much!” Peter said warningly.
You were about to retort, then noticed he was looking like someone stabbed him in the chest. His face was paler than the sky behind him, and he was breathing through his mouth, quick and irregular. His knuckles had turned red from clutching the bar too much.
“Are you...scared of heights?” you asked, connecting the dots.
“No!” His reply came quick. You raised an eyebrow so he added, “I’m just not a fan of it.”
“But you’re Spiderman,” you reasoned.
“I know the irony of it, thank you Y/N, helps me a ton.”
You tried not to smile. “If it makes you feel any better, even if the ride breaks and we all fall down, you’ll have the least chance of dying. With your stickiness and all.”
“This is why Ned is my best friend,” he said, closing his eyes shut.
“No I’m serious, I had a dream like this once. You were okay, but me? I had to rush to the hospital. Blood, blood and more blood, I think I died—”
“HOW IS THAT HELPING ME?” he shrieked, his eyes still closed.
“Thought it was might distract you—”
“You have a sick sense of humor.”
“Fine,” you folded your hands, looking straight ahead. It was hard being mad at someone when you’re trapped with them in the air.
He slowly peeked his eyes open. “Can you please hold onto the safety fence?”
“For safety. You literally gave me a very graphic description of what would happen if you fall.”
“Hey, hey,” you said, turning to him slowly in your seat. “We’ll be fine. I was joking. Say it with me, we’ll be okay.”
“We’ll be okay,” he repeated, sighing.
“Good, but in case I die, tell Loki he was the love of my life.”
“FOR GOD’S SAKE,” he interrupted, looking down the Ferris wheel for the first time. “SOMEONE GET ME AWAY FROM THIS SIMP!”
“And you say you’re not overdramatic,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes.
After roughly 15 minutes, the ride started working again, and at the sudden movement, Peter took your hand, grasping it tightly like there’s no tomorrow.
“It’s okay, we’re going down,” you explained, but he either didn't hear you or opted to ignore you altogether. He only let go once you reached the ground.
“See, you didn't die,” he said, buying a stuffed frog toy from the nearby store. “And on the plus side, Happy lost us too.”
“Your first instinct after you get down from a life or death situation is to buy a frog?” you asked, pointing at the green thing.
“This is Mr. Smiles,” he said seriously, handing it over to you. “Mr. Smiles is a reminder for you to not have dark thoughts, especially not the ones where you fall off from a Ferris wheel and die.”
“In my defense, I can’t exactly control my dreams,” you replied, though you did hold Mr. Smiles tightly.
“Yeah, but if you have nightmares like that again, just tell me okay?” Peter asked, sounding worried.
“It’s not a big deal—”
“Fine,” you declared, giving up.
Peter looked pleased and a pleasant silence followed the conversation, only to be broken by Peter himself.
“Loki isn't that hot, is he?”
You bit back your smile. “He is, but he’s not my type.”
“Ah, good. Who’s your type then?”
“Adorable, dorky, dense guys who also happen to my best friend.”
“I am not dense, c’mon I got an A in Physics. Wait — I’m your type? Y/N? Y/N! You can’t just walk away!”
join/be removed from my taglist here.
taglist: @timmyslover @instabull @imabee-oralizard @cuddleluv
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┃┃╱╲ In this
╱╱╭╮╲╲ we love
▔▏┗┛▕▔ & appreciate
Both Miles Morales and
Tom Holland’s Spiderman
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If this scene was shot today, they would be shooting in front of green screen in interiers and we would have 0 pap pics, because "spoilers". Funny how they didnt have to do that before. Literaly finale of a movie basicaly leaked, and it didnt stop us from seeing The avengers.
Or Bucky. Imagine Winter soldier comes out in 2021. Not only Sebastian wouldnt be on poster or wouldnt do promo tour, they probably wouldnt even list his name among cast list, because "spoilers". Thats how crazy things are now.
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Day 5/25 of drawing MCU Christmas prompts 🎄✨
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Wanda: Alana, would you like to say grace
Alana: dear god, we paid for all this ourselves so thanks for nothing I guess
Y/n snickering: she’s definitely my daughter
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Pepper: You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning if you stay up late.
Tony: Joke’s on you, I'm gonna hate myself in the morning no matter what.
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gold rush | masterlist
summary: in which druig found himself falling for the gentle soul who was known as the goddess of human love and flowers.
pairing: druig x fem!eternal reader
a/n: based on the eternals movie so will include major spoilers, the love interest is roughly based on the greek goddess antheia, will include angst, fluff and perhaps smut! add yourself to the taglist if you want to be notified whenever i update the series!
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“They’ve began to call you Antheia, you know.” He chuckled softly, ocean blue eyes staring out of the window, admiring the view below the domo whilst gently twirling the stem in between his calloused fingers.
“What?” She questioned “But that’s not even close to my true name?” Gazing at him in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as she watched his fingers brush against the individual petals.
“It means flower, my love. Personally I think it’s quite fitting.” He paused, handing the flower to her, fingers grazing against her own, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
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✧ pinterest board
✧ main masterlist
last updated: monday 6th december 2021
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the hands of fate.
frustrating, intoxicating, complicated.
rollercoaster kinda rush.
loved you in secret.
heroes die all alone.
falling in love in the cruelest way.
wounded the good, trusted the wicked.
the one who burned us.
flying ‘til the bones crush
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Clint: One day, you could be a mother.
Kate: One day? I am a mother.
Clint: IT’S A DOG, KATE!
Kate: HE’S MY BLOOD!
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•Baby Girls - b.b.
Pairing : CEO!Bucky x young!reader
Warnings: smut, age gap (reader is 21 and Bucky is 38), pregnancy
Summary: It all started with a one-night stand, you never expected to get pregnant, neither to fall in love with that handsome stranger. Modern au.
Please send requests and ideas for this au.
James “Bucky” Barnes
Helena Jaime Barnes
Safe in my Arms
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Owen Wilson and Tom Hiddleston as series covers
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birthdays - natasha romanoff x reader
a/n; fluffy blurb !! happiest of birthdays to my favourite russian assassin <333!!! tbh i’m not sure how i feel about this bcs my writer’s block has been bad bad but i really wanted to post something for today so
natasha never really enjoyed celebrating her birthday, not when it brought back bad memories of a past she’d rather forget. not when it was the day that marked her losing the one thing that she felt made her human, the day that marked her becoming a monster who only knew how to kill.
but you proved her wrong, as always.
natasha romanoff was not a monster, you’ve been proving that to her from day one. from when you were strangers, to friends and to lovers.
now, you and her were parents to the most beautiful children, 6 year old lena and 4 year old lauren. both of them adopted when they were just babies, as you yourself couldn’t carry children either.
“mama! mama!” lauren shook the redhead awake, greeting her with a large smile. “happy birthday mama!”
lena stood behind lauren with a tray in hand, filled with all of natasha’s favourite breakfast foods. “happy birthday mama.”
you watched from the doorway as lauren helped set up the mini table onto the bed before climbing up and snuggling next to natasha, while lena set the tray down, pointing out all of the dishes that the two little ones helped you prepare.
breakfast in bed had always been a tradition for natasha on her birthday, followed by just doing whatever the redhead wanted. it was simple, but you knew that’s what natasha preferred. you smiled softly as you watched your daughters present their mama with the handmade card and gift they had picked out for her.
“happy birthday to the best mama in the world..” natasha read out, eyes blinking quickly as she tried to hold back her tears. “thank you girls, for the breakfast and the gifts.” natasha was quick to press a soft kiss to each of their heads, before looking up straight at you. your smile widened as you walked over, hand going to cup your wife’s cheek, gently brushing away the tears.
“happy birthday my love.” you greeted, pressing a gentle kiss on the redhead’s lips, ignoring your daughters’ protests.
“thank you detka.” natasha murmured against your lips. “thank you for giving me a family.”
“thank you for being mine.” you replied, pressing yet another kiss to her lips before lena gently pushed you away, causing both you and natasha to laugh at her mildly disgusted face.
“so where we go mama?” lauren asked excitedly, prompting natasha to assume a thoughtful expression.
“how about.. the aquarium?” natasha suggested, both of you laughing again when the girls cheered in excitement.
as natasha watched from the doorway while you helped the girls into the car (because it was natasha’s day and you refused to let her do any work) and put the bags in the trunk, the redhead couldn’t wipe the smile that had been on her face since that morning. there really was no one else she rather celebrate her day with, and similarly to all her past birthdays since you had entered her life, she didn’t feel dread today, nor the usual sadness that came with today. you had brought an unmeasurable amount of happiness to natasha romanoff, and for that she would always be thankful.
you showed her she was loved, that she deserves to celebrate on the day that was hers and hers alone.
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ n.r taglist: @zombies1ayea @luckyalphagirl @marvelwomen-simp @natashaswifey
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