authors note: hello prologue!!!! this does not talk about abby at all this is mainly introductory to the readers behavior… i hope someone loves it 🥹
1 YEAR BEFORE
for a very long time, there was nothing. you walked around almost as if you hadn’t had a soul, an essence.
you never cried as a kid. whenever you were upset, you’d go into your room and squeeze your hand into a fist as hard as your tiny fingers could manage. no tears ever came.
your mom and dad knew very early that there was something they couldn’t quite understand about you. they’d often have long conversations well past your bedtime discussing your… behavior. they knew you probably needed therapy, but they decided it was easier to keep it unnamed. unconquered.
it wasn’t till your senior year of high school, in a new town, at a new school, that you finally felt something.
her name was clara. she wore loud and clangy bracelets that nearly went up to her forearm. and brown hair that swept just past her shoulders.
you never really made friends growing up, mainly because you never had the interest to go up to someone and start talking to them. and you, well, you didn’t seem that approachable.
but clara was different.
on the first day of school, in 2nd hour government, she moved up from her table, and sat with you.
you look at her stunned, you instantly observe her beauty. you feel something weird, something uncomfortable, hollow but potent, something like fear.
“hi… i was um- i was just wondering if you were okay with me sitting here.” she awkwardly grins to you, like she’s bracing for rejection.
“yeah… yeah i don’t mind” you smile at her, soft, unfamiliar.
from then on, you guys only got closer. clara talked on and on about whatever’s on her mind and you listened. you always listened.
you did a lot of “firsts” with her. smoking weed, sleepovers, and one night, a kiss.
you were at her house, studying for your guys’ upcoming exams.
you guys were cross cross applesauce facing each other on her bed. she was so focused. and for some reason, she was all you could think about.
your staring catches her gaze and she laughs nervously
“what? weirdo” she laughs
but you don’t laugh, you just keep looking at her.
she tucks a stray section of her hair behind her ear and before you could even process what you’re really doing, you lean in and kiss her.
it was quick—hesitant, and a surprise to the both of you.
“why would you— what the fuck” she pulls back from you instinctively.
your heart sinks. “i… i am so sorry clara”
“it’s kinda late.” she closes her textbook “i think you should go”
you don’t have it in you to respond, you just quietly nod and hurry out of her room.
the sun has already set, and the wind is cold. your steps are rapid and it’s not until you’re almost half way home when you realize, you’re crying.
Y/N has isolated herself the whole time she’s been alive; per her father’s rules and her obvious estrangement from society. For ten years of her life she has been told it would be best if she didn’t let anyone know the truth of her past, and even when Y/N’s father disappeared she managed to keep up that especially terrible tradition. That is until she decides to save a kid, sending out a call to every sorcerer within the parameters of her universe, and maybe even the next. That’s not to mention the bubbly spider hero she managed to bump into along the way. Now Y/N needs to keep herself and everyone she cares about safe all while she discovers the demons that reside in her very soul.
cw: not proofread, strange!reader strange!abby, kinda heavily alluded to prologue so prolly read that
authors note: i kindaaa just wanted to release this today so i can sleep peacefully. might be shit idk but i put my freaking soul into writing so if theres a typo no theres not..
u get into a decent university close to your hometown. you never particularly cared about getting an education, becoming something. it was just a distraction from the last year of your life. the last time you felt something real. felt something at all
you refused to think about her. about what you did. because honestly, you didn’t understand it. and you didn’t want to long for a feeling that will never come back. to long for feeling at all.
it’s a foggy thursday morning, there’s an autumn chill in the air and all you want is to get to the library before it fills up.
in front of you is a familiar face. you’d seen her around in nearby coffee shops and around campus. she had muscles that filled the sleeves of her shirt; and a long blonde braid resting down her back.
she drops something.
it’s a folded piece of paper that flew right out of her pocket and skids to a stop at your feet. you don’t know what to do. you understand the right thing to do is to hand it to her, but you really don’t feel like interacting with a stranger.
you decide to pick it up and catch up to the woman in front of you.
“you dropped this” you extend your hand to her, holding the folded paper.
her eyes flicks from the paper to your face, her attention was then set on your face, almost mentally cataloging you. you felt small, embarrassed to be standing in front of her like this.
“thanks” she says, taking it from your hand.
she turns to leave
and then, almost as an afterthought, “i’ll see you around.”
and she walks away.
indeed you would.
after that day, you kept seeing her.
in the library, always at least 2 tables away. never closer.
outside the humanities building, vaping by herself.
you see her vaping a lot, it’s strange to you. you wonder if she’s addicted. you wonder what it’s like to be addicted to something.
you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about her.
the way you think about her troubles you. it’s unusual to pay any significant thought on a random stranger. especially for you.
you don’t leave the library till the evening, you spent hours studying for an upcoming exam and by the time you’re leaving, you’re exhausted.
you always enjoy walking back to your dorm at night. the faint chill in the air, bright moonlight, and the emptiness of campus.
you start feeling faint drops of rain land on you and before you knew it, it started down pouring.
you stop in your tracks, unsure of what to do, or where to you.
“fuck” you hear come from a voice behind you.
you snap your head back and through the pouring rain, you can tell it’s that girl you keep seeing.
she quickly shuffles to a nearby overhang and you painfully accept you’re going to have to join her.
as you approach it, you realize the space is smaller than you anticipated. you really don’t want to be in an awkward situation but you’ve already irreversibly put yourself in one.
you don’t look at her, or at least you try not to. you feel her staring at you and it’s so intimidating.
she then reaches into her pocket, and pulls out her vape. you try to ignore the eye burning into as she takes a hit of the vape before blowing it directly on you.
you look at her, surprised by her boldness, and nervous about the atmosphere between you two.
“what the hell…” you say quieter than you meant to.
you can tell she’s amused.
“relax,” she says. “it won’t hurt ya.”
“it still went in my face” you frustratedly murmur out.
she tilts her head, and stares at you. almost like she’s deciding something.
“sorry.,” she says, and you really can’t tell if she means it.
you turn away from her and she pockets the vape.
“you always out this late?”
“midterms,” you respond.
silence again.
“i see you walking alone a lot. thought you lived off campus or something”
“i don’t.” you start, “i just like the quiet.”
she nods, and you slowly notice her chiseled jaw and her cute dimples.
after a few minutes of silence, and the faint remnant smell of her vape, the rain slows and then completely ceases.
you clear your throat and begin to walk out from the overhang.
“my name is abby, by the way”
and you knew from that moment, you will be seeing abby more.
I like to think of myself as an eloquent sorceress. One that is certainly on the dramatic side, but eloquent and graceful nonetheless.
This may be the clumsiest, most inept thing I have ever done.
It will definitely annoy Dormammu though.
“Come out ass hat!” I scream as I clench my fist and mimick pulling something down. Behind me, a skyscraper follows my movement and comes crashing down. I listen to the boom of stone and metal crashing and bending. The dust bursts behind my back but I don’t pay any mind to it. I have more important things to think of.
My mom meant it when she said I was on my own after she left. Handling my dad was easy, but Dormammu is a whole other issue. One that required relentless planning. Now I know exactly what I need to do to win against him. Tony would think it’s a horrible idea. Stephen might kill me for it if it didn’t kill me. Peter would probably faint from the first sentence. It’s the only way to win though. There’s no other option.
“Let’s go Dorma-bitch!” I pull down another building. This one smashes against the building that he usually sits on. “I have a complaint to make.”
I’m starting to get worried. If he doesn’t come this will all have been for naught. He has to come if the spell is going to work. The spell Strange made.
“Y/N.” I twirl around. Cold wind bludgeons my face but I maintain my composure as I stare into Dormammu’s neon purple eyes. “Surely you could’ve thought of a more creative insult than, Dorma-bitch. ”
I shrug. “Had you waited to show up a couple more minutes I might’ve come up with something.” He offers me what seems like a smile, though it’s hard to see with his face rippling. “I’m here to make a bargain.”
“Aren’t you all?” he drones tiredly and leans back against a building. It groans under the weight of his body but he doesn’t move.
“I think you’re going to like this one though.” I sway to the side and kick away a brick. “You’re going to give me back all my magic, time stone remnants included, and I’m going to kill you.”
“And why would I like that?”
Silently, I begin making designs with my fingers. My sling ring purrs and even my magic tries to persuade me to stop. It’s too late now. He’s here and I have to save my family.
“I hear hell is a lovely temperature year round.”
His growl makes the ground underneath my feet shake. I have to brace myself on the stairway to keep from falling over. Looking up I see his fist prepared to come down on me, ensuring my death. Instead of recoiling I smirk. So far, everything is going as planned.
Now is the hardest part.
I close my eyes and feel the magic deep in the Earth, I feel my magic in Dormammu and I feel the magic that resides in dozens of dimensions in the multiverse. Without a second thought, I pull it into me.
It takes one moment to know that this isn’t going to feel good. No sorcerer has ever drawn in this much energy and probably for good reason. Usually one just pulls it in bit by bit. It allows the multiverse to continuously replace it. Now I’m shoving it all down my throat. It may be the worst idea I’ve ever had.
I slam my hands together. Every building around me, whether it’s made of stone, glass or metal shatters. Light explodes out of every pore. The pain sears every cell in my body, but I keep pushing, keep shoving more magic in so I can keep the spell going. Strange required nearly an entire dimension’s energy to do the spell on the Sanctum alone.
And I’m going to do it on all of Earth.
Dormammu is screaming something at me but there is no time to listen. At this moment there is only the spell.
My sling ring is burning my fingers. My magic is entering and exiting my body from every direction. It feels like I’m being ripped open —but the spell.
I can feel my fingers working to complete the spell. There’s an orb of light surrounding me, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the suit or me. Probably both. In fact, the metal scales feel like they’re burning away. Everything’s burning.
I slowly bring my fingers together, preparing myself for what is to come. Like Strange’s spell, this will be sending Dormammu and his zealots away but I did make some additions.
I concentrate on the glasses, on the spell wrapping around them so the video remains. I concentrate on the memories of this past week. Of my friends, Peter, Strange, Tony, and everyone remembering what has happened.
I imagine myself going to the mirror dimension with Dormammu.
That’s the plan? I imagine Stephen saying. You’re going to shut yourself in the mirror dimension with the most dangerous being alive.
I laugh through the pain, the heat of tears on my cheeks semi-apparent to me.
Well, I would say back, if I win, I’ll be the most dangerous being alive.
You once got your hand stuck in the sink.
You had me on opioids!
And you started crying because you were afraid it was going to shred your magical fingers.
That makes me laugh again, even if the words aren’t real. Even if they mean nothing. I laugh because what else can I do as the tips of my fingers connect and the spell ripples outwards.
I hear the sound of shattering glass, of the time spell following even as I’m placed in an entirely different dimension. What I hear the most is the sound of Dormammu shrieking as his fist comes down right next to me.
I’m thrown to the side, shards of glass and stone and metal chasing me down. I look over my shoulder and see the building I’m approaching. Hastily, I conjure wings to keep me from hitting it. I’ve exerted too much energy though, and it’s a matter of seconds before I drop to the ground with a harsh crack. Pain shoots through my collarbone again. The bone never had the proper chance to heal.
“You really thought bringing me to the mirror dimension was wise?” Dormammu ridicules. “My power here is infinite. I am the master of this place.”
“Yeah?” I cough into my hand. When I look at my palm there is a pool of blood. “Well, I think the mirror dimension could use a new queen.”
This only enrages him, and I turn to see a tidal wave of buildings heading straight towards me. Raising my arms I pull in more energy. A bright blue shield encircles my bleeding figure. I push it out towards the tidal wave and watch as every building is pulverized.
When I turn around I see Dormammu staring on in disbelief. I don’t utter a single syllable as I snap my fingers. The earth between us splits. Even the distorted planets around us shatter under my influence. And Dormammu only watches.
Once his attention returns to me I smirk up at him. “What are you?”
I step into the air. Instead of my foot going straight through and hitting the ground again the wind brushes under it, pushing it up. I take another step. And another. The planets Dormammu has taken for himself continue collapsing in on themselves, all because of me.
Dormammu’s face comes down to meet mine halfway. For the first time, he is not looming in front of me like this to assert his dominance but rather his curiosity.
“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I am the Bluebird. I am a powerful sorceress. I am one of Earth’s mightiest heroes.” I shrug lazily. “Most of all, I’m a teenage girl who’s sick and tired of you controlling her life.”
He opens his mouth to reply, perhaps to insult me, but the sound of a million planets shooting towards him keeps the words from coming. Meanwhile, I turn my back to him and run. I run faster than I’ve ever run. I skid down the steps made of air and wind. On the last couple, I trip and go flying forward. My body hits the ground. A chunk of metal collides with my head and a piece of an approaching planet strikes my shoulder. Pain ripples through my collar bone and I shriek out. Fatigue is starting to settle into my bones.
I stand though. I stand and run. My legs are pounding against the ground. My lungs are burning. If I could just make myself go faster—
But if I use my magic any more than I already I have I risk even more fatigue. That would mean risking passing out which would mean I wouldn’t get home. I have to get home. I have to get to Peter. I have to run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
Behind me, I can hear Dormammu. Hear him scream in agony as the planets smash against him. He must be fighting back, but the spell won’t stop throwing planets at him until he’s dead. That’s why I had to get so close. Why I didn’t have a head start. Because I had to place the marker on his head.
I raise my hands over my head as a sphere smashes against the earth next to me. Rubble is thrown underfoot and my feet threaten to falter. I stay upright though and keep sprinting. I just want to be a little further before I start making a portal and then—
Dormammu’s cold fingers wrap around my waist and pull me backward. I try kicking against his hand, scratching his palm, releasing my needle so it goes straight through his skin and bone. Nothing makes him release me and soon enough I’m back where I started.
I don’t bother screaming because there’s no one here to hear me. Just Dormammu who would laugh. Laugh as we both got smashed to death. I could stop the spell but then I may never be able to begin it again. Then he could find a way back to Earth and everything I had done would be worthless. Not now. Not after my mom and dad. Not after I killed for my own gain.
Tears are beginning to run down my cheeks. I can’t have lost. Not this way. Home. I have to get home.
And then he’s squeezing. I gasp for air. There’s a crack within his hand, but it’s not coming from him. It’s me. I bite my lip to cage the pain. Then there’s another though. Then two more. I raise my head to the dark sky and pray that my back stays intact. That he only breaks my ribs.
I’m thankful when he loosens his grip enough for me to breath. Before I realize it he’s laying me back in his ice cold palm. Everything is becoming blurry. Even his neon eyes have turned warped. I see something bright pink in the corner of my eye. It has enough shape for me to tell it’s a planet. I might run if I felt like I had the strength. Every breath of air hurts though. It would be so much easier to sleep than to run.
“Little bird,” Dormammu murmurs. His voice is rough, telling me he was severely hurt. I do not look at him. Instead, I keep watching the great neon pink planet hurtling towards his head.
“It looks like you’ve broken your wings.” I’m faintly aware of his other hand coming towards me. It’s only when it presses against my chest that I scream out. “Is it kinder to let them heal,” he wonders and raises his hand, but I see the way one finger sharpens into a thin point, “or to put it out of its misery.”
I see the pointed finger coming for me and I do not move. All I can do is watch as it pushes through what little remains of my suit, through my ashen clothes, through my bruised skin and into me. There is no scream that can match the amount of pain I feel in this moment. The only testament for how excruciating it is are the tears rolling down the side of my face. Black spots appear around my vision and I realize what is happening.
A cold shiver runs up my spine, the world fades a little, but I keep my gaze locked on the planet. Using what little energy I have left I focus my mind and watch as the planet is honed into a frighteningly sharp point.
Dormammu pulls his finger out of my abdomen. I feel my blood immediately rush out of the wound and hurry to cover it with my shaking hands.
He smiles down at me, victorious, but I see that the planet is far closer than before. He opens his mouth to mock me more.
The words are cut short by the neon shard slicing through the veil of black smoke. The noise when it splinters through his head is indescribable. If I weren’t bleeding to death I might throw up.
His neon eyes go dark. The rippling in his face stops. Dormammu’s hand drops…
And I drop with it.
Suddenly there is only air against my back. Soft, rippling air. I’m ready to keep falling. To find sleep while I’m doing so, but the mantra comes back. Home. Peter. Strange. Tony. Natasha. Thor. Bruce. Clint. Bucky.
The list goes on and on. All my reasons to get back home. Aunt May. Ned. MJ. Heather.
I still have to talk to Wanda and Vision. I still have to get back at Loki for that dumb prank he pulled on me. I still have to visit the library with Wong but just end up making fun of Strange with him. Michelle owes me coffee and I owe May dinner. I promised to modify Ned’s tech with a spell. Natasha wants to teach me how to dance. Clint wants to teach me sign language.
Bruce has to pay me back for accidentally causing me to astral project. Steve wants to take me to victory dinner for acing my chem test. I still have to make that Asgardian style vase for Thor in ceramics. I still have to repaint Bucky’s arm after messing it up during lessons. I still have to let Tony make modifications on my suit. Strange still has to give me a tour of Kamar-taj so I can see what my magic is rooted from. Heather has to tell me everything that happened to her.
Peter is going to take me to prom.
I had so many reasons to leave but there’s so many more to come back now, and I did not save them, I did not impact their lives just so I could abandon them now. I am not my father. I will go home. I am coming home.
I spin in the air so that I face the ground. Pulling my hand away from my gaping wound, I hold it in front of me and begin making a portal. I’ll be cutting it close but I’m coming home. More planets crash around. The ring of gold opens just before I hit the ground.
Instead, I land in the handcrafted feather bed I slept in at Kamar-Taj. I roll over, the pain too sharp in my stomach to actually enjoy the soft mattress. My feet find the ground and I stand. Everything hurts. I want to sleep, but I’m almost home. All I have to do is find them now.
I wander clumsily through the halls. There’s no one out, telling me that I must’ve arrived either during lessons or the night. While one hand stays on my stomach the other follows the wall. There is a trail of blood left in my wake, but I don’t care.
Finally, I hear the murmur of familiar voices through a nearby doorway.
“Just tell me how we can get her back, Strange.” Tony. Tony’s here. That means Strange is too. I wonder if all the Avengers have come to see where I am.
“All we can do is wait.” That doesn’t sound like Stephan’s voice. It does but it doesn’t because I’ve never heard him sound like that. Hopeless. I wish I didn’t have to leave him hopeless.
“What if Y/N doesn’t make it that long?” Then I lose my breath.
Because that’s Peter’s voice. My Peter’s voice. I hadn’t heard him in so long. For more than one instance I thought I never would again, but here I am, listening to his voice from my spot next to the doorway.
“The kids right, Strange,” Tony agrees. “You told us yourself that this Dormammu guy is like a god. Y/N—”
“Y/N is strong,” Stephan interrupts. He’s angry. “Besides,” I hear his footsteps as he walks across the room anxiously, “she hasn’t left me with any other choice besides waiting.”
“What does—”
“She siphoned all of our dimensions magic into her,” he announces. “This dimension, the one of ours, before our, the one that lays a hundred dimensions away.” I hear something thud as though Stephan had lost his temper. “She took it all and I can’t get a hold of anything that’s left. Even my sling ring can’t get me to her.”
“Why?” Peter’s voice rings out helplessly. I want to step in now but I can only lean against the doorframe and wait for enough energy to return so that I might speak.
“I think the video she left us explained that pretty well, kid.” So they did see the video. How long was I gone then if they were able to find it in it’s hiding spot. Maybe they just worked quick. Maybe I’ve been gone for months and they just happened upon it. I don’t know which answer I prefer.
“No—no.” I can practically hear Peter’s frustration boiling over. “Why can’t we do anything? Why can’t we save her, you guys? You promised Y/N you would keep her safe and you failed!” I flinch. “Why did we fail?”
They’re all silent, not knowing the answer. I hear my own heartbeat hammering in my ears. Looking down at my stomach I see all the blood I’ve lost. Too much.
“Because Y/N had to save herself one more time,” Strange answers.
As I enter the small room there are so many different things I want to tell them. I want to say that I defeated Dormammu. That he’s dead and that I got to meet my mom but I had to kill her to get out of my dad. That I think me killing her might’ve been her way to escape my dad too. That I don’t think she got to hear me when I said I love you.
I want to tell them I killed my dad too. That he told me things that still scare me and won’t stop scaring me. That I found my best friend he killed when I was little and that she’s been with me all this time.
I want to say that I was scared I’d never see them again… Hear them again and that even just listening to their muffled voices through the walls of Kamar-taj brings me unimaginable peace. That I was a hero and I saved the Earth with my own two hands. But most importantly, I want to tell them that I missed them. That I came back because I want to live every last second of my life with them… even if I don’t have much time left.
While I’m trying to figure out what to say though, I realize that the three of them have already turned towards my bloody and beaten figure. I glance at each of them quickly to read their expressions. A soft giggle threatens to escape my throat when I see the way Tony's mouth has dropped open in silent shock. The way his eyes gleam a bit just from seeing me intact. That humor that was once in me though is replaced with dread when I see Stephens eyes scanning my entire body, expression hollowing when he sees the way my shirt has been stained a dark shade of death by the blood still slipping through my fingers. Finally, I look to Peter whose golden brown eyes are locked intently on me to make sure I don't disappear again. My gaze softens immediately at the sight of him and a warm tremor moves up and through my spine. I offer them all a single soft grin.
“I'm home,” I manage to force out of my mouth. Though it's only two words I feel that it conveys everything I need them to know in this moment. And although I wish I could be strong enough for Peter to rush worriedly to my side, to feel his lips on mine and the kind words that drop onto my bludgeoned body another tremor curls up and through every nerve in my body, pulling me towards something I'm terrified of but ready to accept. Before the cloak can reach me or Peters webbing or even the sound of Tony shouting my name I fall backward and allow my eyes to roll into the back of my head.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Part 33 will be up in about two hours :).
A/N: Yo okay so tumblr fuckignjlbshfalbdh deleted my shit before I even got the chance to post, so here’s my second go at it :(((((((( Sorry that it’s so brief but I’m still a little rusty. I hope you guys enjoy and if you like it please reblog loves!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
“How can I survive this without my magic, Heather?” I wonder, already sensing that the vortex is trying to suck me up again. We’ve been walking for a long time, though I have no idea how long. Time is non-existent here and the miles we walk become the ones in front of us. Everything here is simply infinite. Well... as simple as infinity can get.
Heather smiles softly, as always, knowing something I don’t. “It’s your magic, Y/N.”
“No, it’s not,” I whisper, despair settling in like a cruel disease. “I gave it to Dormammu. I’m not a sorceress anymore. I’m not the Bluebird.”
“Glinda…” Heather murmurs sweetly, using the ancient nickname before grabbing my hand and holding against her chest. “Your magic is your soul, and as long as you’re alive your soul will want to come home.” She turns away from me, looking into the white abyss. I follow her eyes and immediately shrink backward. A swirling, opalescent hurricane has opened up overhead. Fearing the worst, I look at my free hand. My suspicions are confirmed where I see my fingers fading into dust before being sucked into the vortex.
“Heather-” I have to measure the questions I could ask in a split second. “What’s happening?” I finally murmur in a desperate voice.
“That doesn’t matter right now,” she asserts. “What does is that you escape. You can only do it with magic.”
“Which I don’t have,” I remind her, growing slightly impatient. Suddenly a look spreads over her face. The look. The look she’d give me everything time she came up with a horrible idea, and I already know what her idea is. “No,” I growl, indignant even when I’m running out of time. “There is no way I’m doing that Heather.”
“Why not?” I roll my eyes and spare the hurricane another frightened glace.
“Because he won’t just give up his magic to me, and I obviously can’t take it.” I hold up my hands frustratedly, showing her that I don’t have the magic to pull my father’s away from him. “I have nothing, and it wouldn’t even be enough to get me out of the hell hole he’s going to throw me in!” I feel guilty for being angry towards Heather after so many years of not seeing her- of believing she was dead. After everything though, after being tortured and haunted and taken advantage of it’s so easy to be angry. Even with Heather.
Despite my outburst, her eyes remain patient though. Her loving purple eyes. “Then fight,” she whispers, and I finally catch a glimpse of something unusual in her eyes. Guilt. Like she’s in on some sort of universal secret I don’t know about. I open my mouth to say something back, but instead, I’m only left with her voice murmuring ideas straight to my mind.
Take in your surroundings.
When I open my eyes tears that I hadn’t even known existed are streaming down my cheeks. I’m on a bed. One softer than even the one at the base. The springs don’t ache below me as I draw in a deep, patient breath. Everything here is white. There’s no detail, just absence. The only thing with color is the different picture frames sitting on the desk and bookshelves. Ones I can’t remember. Ones that are absolutely and entirely fake.
Things are going to be warped.
I stand up from the sofa bed and step towards a bookshelf. On it is a beautifully framed photo. The photo itself is from what seems to be three years ago based on the appearance of my face. I look like I’m thirteen in it. Old enough to trick people into letting me work. To my right is my father, smile glowing on his face in a way I have never seen before, and to my left is a beautiful woman. She has to be just about my height now, and her long, y/h//c hair matches my own. My mom.
It will be based on your father’s mind and everything he’s created
Across the room, I see the glimmer of a mirror. Turning around slowly, I begin to approach the corner in which it stands ominously, ready to show me something just as frightening as this place. As soon as I see myself in the mirror I take a step back. I don’t recognize the girl I just saw. She is unscathed with soft, beautiful skin and hair that seems to gleam in the dim lighting of this room. She is lovely. The image of an angel. There are no ugly scars that mark up her body. Again, I begin walking towards the mirror, this time keeping my eyes locked onto myself. The only similarity I see between the two of us is our eyes, which both hold the same fear.
He will have made everything to be perfect.
I close my eyes and concentrate on Heather’s voice.
Ruin his perfection.
I open my eyes and look towards the exit.
Destroy it.
Gulping, I stumble to the doorway.
Sow chaos into his order.
Staring at the door frame I swear I can see a green haze peeking through. Just like the apartment.
Ravage against everything that place is.
I brace myself once more and place my hand on the cold, bronze knob.
Fight, Y/N.
My hand quakes against the metal. In fact, my whole body does and no matter how hard I will it, it won’t stop.
Fight for me.
I close my eyes and tighten my grip on the handle, trying to push away my fear
Fight for those who raised you.
I suck in a big breath, praying that the extra oxygen may help to slow my racing, aching heart.
Fight for Peter.
I listen closely as the door clicks. My entire body shudders as I open my eyes to stare through the small crack I’ve just created. Through it drifts in the smell of cinnamon, and coffee, and, if I’m not mistaken, chocolate chip cookies.
Most importantly Y/N…
Realizing the air I’ve trapped in my lungs I swing the door open and straighten myself. I clench my free fist and glare at the man and woman who are sitting silently at the table opposite to me.
Fight for yourself…
Everything, every atom in the room, stops as both my parents, the man who I hate and the woman I have never known look towards me, gaping out of absolute bewilderment. My grip on the door handle tightens so much I’m afraid that I may just break it. Knowing it is more likely that I will hurt myself I drop the hand to my side.
Because there is no one in there who can do it for you.
“Y/N,” my father, murmurs in an uncharacteristically soft voice. It takes everything inside of me not to throw myself at him and rip the man to shreds with my bare hands. Instead, I just let my eyes snap to him, fire filling them. “Come sit with us.” He reaches across the table and grabs the woman's hand who visibly shrinks under his touch. My eyes meet her’s suddenly, and I feel my heart quench. I see everything I am in her. Scared eyes. Oh god, we’re both so scared.
“I made cinnamon rolls,” she nods at me, and I immediately understand that she isn’t telling me, but warning me. I gulp and take another glance at my father. Although his expression is still soft I can see the slight strain in his expression.
My fingers unwrap themselves so they are no longer clenched and I try to force some sort of pleasantness into my expression. Biting my lip, I make my way towards the table. My mother has already made me a plate and wordlessly she slides it towards me as I take a seat.
“Thank you,” I mumble my first words in this warped place. When I look up she smiles at me softly and I find myself curious about what exactly she’s thinking of. I wonder if she’s imagining a different lifetime. One where my father and husband wasn’t so cruel. One where she was allowed the chance to raise me throughout my childhood. One where I could learn magic on my own terms. One where I was loved day in and day out. One where she taught me how to be strong and how to fight. One where she helped pick out homecoming dresses and threatened the boys who’d come by the house.
“Of course Y/N,” my mom whispers back. Her voice is not sweet. It is hoarse from a hundred battle cries. She has scars over the entire extent of her body. Ones on her collar bones that have turned a pale shade of their original tone. There are puffy brands that seem to be the result of brands. On her arm, the only part of her that doesn’t seem to be marked by pain, is the mark of the Valkrie. She follows my eyes to the dark brown tattoo and smiles. There’s something reminiscent in her eyes. Like somehow, serving Asgardian royalty was a simpler time. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.
Wordlessly, I cut through my cinnamon roll, keeping my eyes down. Both of their eyes are on me. I can feel them.
Even as my father reaches his other hand across the table to cover mine I keep my eyes on my food. She had to have had a reason for why she interfered before I let my anger get the best of me. When his ice-cold hand lands on mine I flinch. Goosebumps appear on my forearms and I shiver as quietly as I can manage.
“Now Icarus,” I feel the need to choke on the nickname. No one has called me that in six years. The last time I heard it was the day before my tenth birthday. “I know this is a big change, but I just want you to know the rules.” I furrow my brows and look up at him through a thin curtain of hair.
“Rules?” I question. My voice is alarmingly vulnerable.
“Of course.” My father’s grip on my hand tightens suddenly, and I feel my knuckles crack. “All you need to do is listen to me.” Unable to stop myself, I scoff and look back down at my cinnamon roll.
“It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”
“Excuse me?”
“Y/N,” my mother pleads from her spot on the table. Suddenly, I begin wondering how many of those scars really happened in battle.
“You take away my magic, my choice,” I throw my fork down on the plate, “my family.” All of the sudden my father yanks me towards him. My ribcage hits the edge of the table and I wince out loud, pain bursting through my chest. The second I look up I’m faced with my father, whose eyes are filled with molten lava. I don’t shrink under his gaze though. Something about my mother has given me back my iron heart so that I can face him with my head held high.
“We are your family, Y/N,” he retorts, his voice stern. I scowl and shake my head side to side.
“To me,” I rip away from his grasp, “you are the man who destroyed my childhood, and she is just the women I’ve met in my dreams. You are not my family, and you cannot control me.”
Everyone is silent as though we’re waiting to see if I back down. I’m even waiting for my resolve to falter. It doesn’t though. My eyes stay cold, indifferent to the man in front of me, and after so many years of his torture and abuse and manipulations, I see all the power in his eyes fade away. He has nothing left to hurt me, and therefore he has lost control.
Finally, he drops his eyes and reaches to grab his napkin. I watch attentively as he rubs the white cloth against the corners of his mouth, his eyes still cast down. My mother’s fear rolls off her shoulders and towards me, but I do not look away. When my father looks up again he’s angry, yet he doesn’t know where to put it all.
Abruptly, he stands from the table, the legs of his chair screeching against the marble floors. I watch as he numbly tosses the napkin onto his plate. My mother, on the other hand, bows her head and goes back to picking at her food. Once he can manage to look me in my eyes my father glares down at me, raising his finger accusingly.
“I want this place cleaned up by the time I get back for dinner.” My expression remains blank as my father stalks over to a hallway that I assume leads to an exit. Both my mom and I watch as he disappears. Once he’s gone her eyes are on the side of my head again. I swallow and tear off a piece of my roll.
I’ve walked throughout the entire house five times over, but I still can’t get used to it. As a child, it was everything I hoped for. It’s all so pure. Everything is so perfect. Even the air. Breathing it in I find that it smells like the ocean. There are windows covering an entire wall, and they all look out on an infinite sea of clouds. Everything is white. The floors are white marble, the ceilings are white arches. It’s like this place has been waiting for my arrival so that I may color it myself.
I think this is everything I wanted. When I was young at least. I wanted a place that felt pure, a place where I felt pure, but now I want nothing more than to be sitting at the kitchen island, basking in the rays of the real sun, which I have taken for granted so much, as Peter traces the scars covering my hands. The only imperfections in this entire place are the ones that cover my mother. I don’t even have imperfections anymore. He’s taken those away as well.
“It’s beautiful out there,” she remarks behind me, as though just the thought of my mom summoned her. “It reminds me of Asgard,” my mom continues under her breath as she slowly approaches the windows. “I loved it there, you know? It was always so beautiful.” I turn towards her, curiosity getting the best of me.
“Then why did you come to Earth,” I question. My mother smiles, remembering.
“I suppose it was my disregard for authority that prompted them to exile me.” She places a scarred hand against the glass. The clouds seemingly shift beneath her gaze, and I’m stunned to see them part, revealing the true, pearly ocean beneath.
“Glad to know where I got it from,” I scoff, trying my hardest to hide my amazement. Glad to know where I got everything from.
“I know I’m not your mother, Y/N,” she informs all of the sudden, and I find myself at an immediate loss for words. “I have no right to be. I wasn’t there for any of it. Your childhood.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” I remind her.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t my daughter, nor are you your father’s.” She beams at the beautiful sky, shining its perfection down on us. “I believe someone else deserves that honor far more than us.” I find myself gawking at the women before me, finding something about her so very unbelievable. I don’t understand how I can see so much of myself in her, and how she can see just as much of herself in me, and yet she understands that I can’t think of her as my… mom. I know she is. I know she and I share blood, but she isn’t my mom, and it is so incredibly amazing to me that she knows that.
“How’d you end up with that monster?” I laugh quietly. She’s so good and kind and the fact that she managed to end up with my father is unfathomable.
“He wasn’t always a monster. Before Dormammu found him, he was good, Y/N. He was a man who could’ve loved you properly.” Tears rim her eyes as she remembers a man who I do not know. “He called you Icarus before you were born, too.”
“Well, it’s not really endearing, huh?” I shake my head and look out at the endless sky. “He told me that story to remind me that I am not permitted to fly away. That’s how he phrased it you know. Fly away. Every damn time. He always said it like I was a goddamn broken bird that couldn’t escape.” I wish that I could take hold of my magic at this moment, but it is gone. It can’t rumble in my fingertips anymore.
“That wasn’t the reason he called you Icarus before you were born,” she informs confidently. “In Asgard, we had our own version of the story.” The woman looks to me, our eyes mirroring each other. “An intelligent father created wax wings so that he and his son may escape a cruel king, but the child, Icarus, flew too close to the sun. I assume you know what happens next.”
“Of course,” I mumble. “He falls to the ocean and drowns. His father drags him out and curses his own genius. I’ve heard it a thousand times.”
“Icarus didn’t drown.” My mom looks at me closely. “She fell to the waves and she sunk, and sunk, and sunk, but she never hit the ocean floor. Instead, she was reborn on the other side with wings made of sunlight.” Suddenly, she grabs onto both of my shoulders and turns me towards her. There is an intensity in her eyes that I have yet to know from her. “It’s time for you to fly away, Y/N, and I know how.”
A/N: I just want to say thank you to all those who welcomed me back after my impromptu hiatus. I love you all so much and to have had your support for nearly a year now is incredible!
If you would like to be tagged shoot me a message in my inbox or comment below. Please reblog if you guys enjoyed to let others know about the story.❤️❤️❤️❤️
Warnings: Abuse mentions, coma, severe injury, minor gore, near death, nightmares
Word Count: 4.5K
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
A/N: Ok so this is literally my favorite chapter that I’ve ever written. I just love it a lot. Like... fnjbejkwbjkfbk it just makes me happy. I hope you guys enjoy it just as much as I did and if you like it please reblog loves!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
(OH! and a lot of old dialogue/lines were brought back in this chapter. (; )
She suffered from severe laceration all over her body, the majority on her back, eight broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, a puncture wound just below her right hip, a deep stab wound that caused internal bleeding, a collapsed lung, and a bruising along her spine.
The woman pauses. I don’t know who she is, but Stephen keeps calling her Christine. She sounds like a doctor from the way she speaks. If I astral projected I could see if I was right. I don’t want to use magic right now. All I want to do is sleep.
Our scans haven’t shown any serious or long-lasting damage to her brain but we won’t know for sure until she wakes up. She taps her foot on the floor, considering what to say next. Stephen, can I speak to you alone? I hadn’t known there was anyone else here with us. The other person doesn’t speak, doesn’t grunt or disagree. Whoever it is just stands and leaves.
Once they’re gone and the door shuts the woman begins speaking again.
I understand that magic and spell-casting is your line of work Stephen —
The mystical arts.
I scoff to myself.
—but you’re bringing kids into it now? She’s sixteen!
I’m not the one who brought her into it in the first place, Christine! Stephen yells back. I pray no one hears them. It was her piece of shit father who forced her to do this when she was a toddler. I only wanted to protect her and I…
His voice trails off, but I know what he was going to say next. I failed. That was going to be the next word. Failed. After that summary of my injuries, I might be tempted to believe it.
I’m sorry Stephen. I didn’t—
It’s okay, he reassures her . I just—I wanted to keep her safe even when I didn’t actually care. When I found her she was a nuisance but she was my responsibility. Now she’s still my responsibility and she’s definitely still a nuisance, I chuckle in response, but she’s special. Now when I actually do care and she’s hurt I—I feel like…
I feel the faintest sensation of a rough, scarred hand covering my own. The energy around it is pained… sad. I frown and try to grab it back. No matter how much I will it though my fingers refuse to move.
Like my heart has been ripped out of my chest.
She’ll be okay Stephen, Christine reassures him. She’s going to wake up.
There’s silence. I will my mouth to move while there is a chance for me to be heard, but my lips stay locked together, unable to open.
She won’t forgive me though, he tells her. I tried to save her. I sacrificed myself so she could get out, and yet she still ended up hurt. Her body will heal, but what about her mind? Y/N’s father had already hurt her so much. What will this do to her?
If she’s anything like you, she touches my other hand, then the pain will allow her the opportunity to grow.
Stephen doesn’t reply to Christine’s encouragement. Instead, his other hand wraps around mine. Christine’s fingers pull away from me and I listen as she crosses the hospital room, stopping at the doorway.
Don’t stay too long, okay Stephen?
He says nothing. The door shuts with a soft thud, leaving the two of us alone.
I think I hear him sob.
Stephen had left a long time ago. At least it felt like it did. He left and the other person who was here with me never came back. By the lack of noise, I assume it must be night time. Just like when I came back home.
Being in this state, a coma they said, it feels like I’m sitting outside my own mind, blind and only able to hear. I know I’m still apart of my body, but it just doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m floating. Like I’m rising higher and higher without any fear of the consequences. I can’t seem to remember what it’s like to be one with myself.
At least I can sleep.
I’m falling.
The sun hangs above me, calling for me to come back. I don’t reach out though. My arms stay locked to my side and I keep falling.
I wonder when I’m going to hit the ground. Each sound makes me flinch, but the impact never comes. Soon enough I’m more annoyed by the dream than frightened. I’m falling. The sun is shouting. I never meet the earth below.
I feel my hair around my face, resisting gravity and pulling upward. My dress does the same. It’s the same dress I wore during the press conference.
I had done things, said things, that I wasn’t proud of. Even. Now I’m working to accept that some of what I did wasn’t my fault.
My father’s face flashes in front of my face.
Whatever you do, it will be influenced by me, by the experiences you’ve had because of me.
“Stop it,” I beg softly.
You’ll never escape my hold. I’ll always be a nagging voice in your head, one that you will listen to.
“Please…”
I’ll always be a part of you, Y/N.
“Stop it!” I reassert. He’s still there.
You can’t kill me in any way that matters.
“STOP!”
I find myself staring in the mirror sometimes and listing off all of the things I hate about myself until I’m saying things that aren’t even real or just flat out don’t fucking matter at the end of the day.
I’m falling.
My arms feel a little looser, but I still can’t reach out for the sun. The ground does not come to claim me.
I’ve never done this. Goodbyes I mean. I never had the chance to. My mother died before hello, my father disappeared without leaving so much as a note, and people have left my life before I could even find a way to care enough to say goodbye.
I want to stop falling.
It’s you guys or me. My magic or the end I fear more than anything else. Your end. The end of everyone I love.
I just want to sleep.
This is the story of how I come to the end of myself.
Let me touch the sun.
Thank you for loving me in all the ways I never thought a person could and then loving me more. I may have found my end, but thank you for making it a good one.
The sun.
This was the story of how I came to the end of myself. I am the Icarus… And I have loved the sun far too deeply not to burn for it.
I only want to touch the sun.
But I’m falling.
It enhances her in ways she doesn’t even understand yet.
Green flashes in front of my eyes, tinting the gold sun.
I’m saying Y/N would be our only hope.
I can move my hands.
It has always been a part of her and we have absolutely no right to remove it from her without her wanting it too.
Feeling returns to my forearms.
Your magic which enhanced the time stone.
I roll my shoulders.
Your magic was a gift from destiny itself and by fusing the time stone with it you were able to gain full access to its powers.
I reach towards the sun.
Your magic is your soul, and as long as you’re alive your soul will want to come home.
And I finally meet the ground.
I don’t want to sleep anymore.
There’s the sudden rustling of plastic as someone enters my room. The monitor next to me beeps consistently.
Like always, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of my own body. No one except for Christine has been coming in lately. She talks to me like I’m going to miraculously open my mouth and reply. She tells me the time, luckily, as well as the weather, the news. She even tells me who is coming in to see me. That’s how I know it’s Tony who walks through the door.
I listen as he walks to my bedside and places something down. He paces the perimeter of my room for a moment before finally settling in the creeky chair designated for me. Maybe they think it will wake me up sooner.
I brought you flowers, he tells me. A sort of weird tradition to me since they die so quickly. Little ironic for a hospital. Not that I’m saying you’re going to die. You’re too stubborn for that. He speaks like he’s distracted, but I guess he usually is. His fingers tap against a machine by my head.
You know, I’m sort of hoping you can’t hear any of this, Tony says. Rhodey says he didn’t hear my whole coma speech while he was out and neither did Happy. Knowing you, you probably will remember this for some reason.
There’s a lull as though he’s finally taking a moment to take in my appearance. The chair creaks.
Why?
I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure you guys already had this discussion.”
I get why you saved us and the Earth because of the whole hero thing. That I can understand. But why did you trust us, Y/N?
Oh.
You had no reason to, he continues. You’re father… he practically tortured you. You were abused mentally, verbally and physically. You were abandoned and used over and over again. He came back only to taunt you. There was no reason for you to trust any of us. After what happened to you people might say it was dumb of you to trust us. Yet you did.
I smile. “Yet I did,” I reply.
We didn’t do much to deserve it.
“Neither did I.”
We kidnapped you from school, tossed you in Bruce’s lab and let Strange deal with you.
I laugh.
What I’m trying to say is sorry.
“Don’t.”
I’m sorry for dragging you into this.
“Stop it, Tony.”
Maybe if we just let you live your life you wouldn’t be here in need of a coma monologue.
“You’re right.” I wish he could hear me. “I might’ve ended up somewhere worse.”
I’m also saying thank you, Y/N, Tony says. I know you were never one for trust. Trusting adults at least. Why should you have been though? What with your father. But I want you to know that I have never felt so much genuine pleasure as I did when I realized you trusted me. You had no reason to. I pulled you from the life you knew, I forced that stupid fucking bracelet on you, I forced you into being an Avenger, but you trusted me. So wake up. Someday just wake up so I can yell at you for drinking too much coffee and tease you for kissing Peter. Just wake up, and I promise I will show you I am worth trusting.
The chair creaks again, telling me he got up. I have a press conference today. Since you messed with time we went back to a couple of days after your interview and everyone is making me handle the news. I listen as he walks back towards the door, stops, walks back towards me and ruffles my hair.
“Really?” I chide angrily.
Have fun in your coma, Y/N. He opens the door to leave again. I’ll see you later.
I’m falling.
The part where I hit the ground is coming up.
I reach for the sky, but this time I land on something cold. It’s freezing in fact. Tilting my head to the side, I look to see where I am. Below me is a rippling black mass. I jolt and try to push myself, but the tar of Dormammu’s hand is holding me down. All I can do is stare up and into his neon purple eyes.
But they’re not purple.
They’re the color of my father’s.
His gaze is sharp and unyielding. He glares down at me like I’m a worthless ant that happened below his foot.
When will you realize this single lesson Y/N? You are not the hero of this story. You are the Icarus. You yearned for the light and warmth the sun provided you with after never having seen it. Y/N, you were destined to fall at some point. We all are. This hope you harbor within yourself was just the catalyst to your own destruction.
I sob weakly as the darkness begins to pull me in. “Just let me touch the sun.”
You’re worthless, he tells me.
“The sun.”
You were born worthless, the tar wraps over my mouth and I’m suddenly tugged under, and you will die worthless.
Hey Blue. His voice pulls me out of the darkness.
Peter.
Sorry for not staying long yesterday, he says. So he was the other person in my room. After your doctor asked me to leave I went to go check on everyone. Then I wanted to swing around the city.
“You were distracting yourself,” I reply, even though he can’t hear me. Even though I can’t open my mouth.
I may have been trying to distract myself.
I laugh.
You know when you left me at Kamar-taj, guilt shoots through me, I thought you were gonna come back a lot quicker. I thought I was gonna open my eyes and boom, you’d be standing in front of me looking victorious. Like you’d just conquered the world. Like you had just saved the world.
The chair creaks. I hear something sounding like a backpack full of books hit the floor.
Cause that's what you did. You saved us all. You killed Dormammu. You turned back time, he exclaims. You were the hero…
But you don't look like you've won, he whispers. You —you—
Something sounding like choking comes from where Peter is sitting.
You just look hurt, Y/N. His hand finds mine. I just want to hold it back. I just want to hold his hand. You're so pale and there are so many cuts. How did you get so many cuts?
“It's okay Peter.”
I feel so helpless, Y/N, he confesses. There's nothing I can do to help you and I'm supposed to be Spider-Man. I'm supposed to save people, so why couldn't I save you?
“I had to save myself, Peter.” He squeezes my hand hard. I hold back my wince “I had to be my own hero in this story.”
I don’t want to tell you to wake up, he says. You deserve to sleep, Y/N. After all you’ve been through. You deserve the chance to really rest for once. You have suffered more than I can ever comprehend. All you’ve been through, all you’ve done is a testament to how strong you had to be. For once you don’t have to be strong anymore. You can sleep.
If you are somehow awake in there though, he continues, then I want to say this at least. The day you left, you told me you loved me. I never said it back. I feel a familiar pair of lips on my own. They’re so soft. Softer than the day I left. I want to kiss him back but I stay locked to the bed, unmoving, unresponsive. He stays close even when we break apart so I can feel his breath on my skin.
I love you, Y/N L/N, he proclaims. You’re my hero and I love you for that and so much more.
Beeping suddenly fills the room, though it’s not from the monitor. Peter’s presence over me disappears and I’m left cold on the hospital bed.
I have to go now, he informs me, but I want you to know you can stay asleep for as long as you need to Y/N. You deserve to sleep. You deserve the damn universe, but if all you want is to sleep then you sleep. Just remember that whenever you wake up I’ll be around. You could sleep a thousand years and I would find a way to be with you when you wake up. Maybe try to aim for the tomorrow though.
Then Peter’s gone
And I’m falling again.
Every time I have this dream or see these visions there’s always something different. Every time something changes.
This time I’m not falling.
I’m running.
I’m running on air. Running straight down towards the ground. Oblivion. I can’t help but wonder what happens when I meet the ground. I hear the feral sound of Dormammu above me, his hand chasing me down. The planets are falling in on Earth, destroying everything.
I keep running.
People have been coming in the past couple of days. My friends, the Avengers. At least I think they have been. They weren’t loud enough and their presence didn’t make the dream end. Now I can’t stop running. The dream won’t end because I can’t reach the ground and I certainly won’t touch the sun. Dormammu might catch me first.
I remember the feeling of my ribs breaking. The memory makes me collapse. All the pain at that moment is surreal and the dream slows to match my new pace: a weak crawl.
Hey Y/N. Stephen.
“Wake me up,” I beg to him. He can’t hear me though. No one can. I am silent.
I always pitied people who would try talking to those they loved while they were in a coma, he tells me. The chair creaks. I keep crawling from death. It seemed so desperate to me. Last resort. Congratulations Y/N. You’ve managed to bring me to the last resort. I don’t know where to start though…
I feel my collarbone snap. The scream that tears itself out of my throat brings with it blood. Too much blood.
I used to have a sister you know? God, she was nearly as stubborn as you. Nearly. She’s the reason I became a doctor. She did pass away though.
“Stephen.” I try to force my mouth to move. I try to force my fingers to flex or my eyes to flutter. My body remains paralyzed on the bed though.
I feel my dad’s kick to my stomach.
My sister got sick, and she depended on me to save her, but I couldn’t. You’re a lot like her. That same glow in your eyes, the same humor, the compassion, but there is the smallest difference in your persistence.
My fingers are beginning to bleed from clawing at the air. Every breath is like being stabbed. I feel the force of an explosion throw me onto the side, the fire singing my skin. I keep crawling. Dormammu lets out another monstrous scream.
My sister wouldn’t give up on me, Stephen continues. You, Y/N? You never ever give up on yourself. You’re so strong.
“I don’t want to be strong anymore,” I whimper.
There hasn’t been a day where the universe hasn’t wanted to run you six feet under. Every day there is a new struggle. Every day the same villains come back to haunt you. But you’re so damn stubborn. Even when you seem to be gone, even when you believe you’ve given up on yourself, you’re still fighting. You refuse to lay down and beg for mercy. You want to have faith. You want to be the hero. You want to live.
My hands stop clawing at the air. I stop feeling pain. Dormammu’s hand stops chasing me. The dream stops.
“I want to live.”
That’s what’s so special about you. I’ve never met someone who wants to live as much as you. Even when you’re walking towards death itself, I start moving towards the ground again, you’re clinging to life. You’ve always had your hands around it. In your sixteen years of life, you’ve become the greatest treasure death can hope to possess. The pain in my chest fades away. You lay your life on the line, but you always hope for the great escape.
I can breathe again
Don’t stop being stubborn now.
I stand.
Don’t let death creep up on you. If you find that you can’t be stubborn anymore, let me be stubborn for you. Let me remind you that you are the most heroic, persistent, compassionate, and complex person I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.
I turn towards Dormammu.
Let me promise you that you won’t be waking up for nothing.
I wait and listen.
Stark and I, we have an idea, Stephen tells me. I want to take you under my wing Y/N. I want you to be a real prodigy. My prodigy. I can take you to Kamar-taj and teach you everything I can.
I spread my arms out. Deep inside I can feel my magic humming in preparation.
With me becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, Wong suggested something to me. It’s only a suggestion. If you’d accept, we- I would like you to be Guardian. It’s an old practice. The role hasn’t been used for hundreds of years, but I think you would be worth bringing it back for.
I smile up at Dormammu.
Then one day, you would take my place.
My feet disconnect from the air, and I fall backward.
I can hear the heart rate monitor. I can hear the shrill beep that announces I’m flatlining. I can hear Stephen shout my name, I can hear the doctors rush in but most of all I hear the wind. It bursts past my face, shooting through my hair and curling around my finger tips.
“Running just seems to be all I’m good at.”
The wind is magic. It’s my magic. It’s mine to bend and shape and enhance. The wind is mine to use. All I need is wings.
“Hey, Y/N, you are an incredible person and I know that running away can’t be all-”
“But I am good at it. That’s what you’re saying, right Vera? That hey, you can do magic and shit pretty well but yeah, you are pretty good at running.”
The ground is coming closer. Stephen is still screaming at me to get up. I will. I will get up.
As he said, I want to live.
“I had the choice to run away right then and there. You knew I had my sling ring on me but I stayed.”
“Why?”
“Because I am so fucking sick of running.”
Finally, I turn my head to the sky. I look past Dormammu, past the falling planets and I see the sun. I raise my hand towards it.
I had a moment to learn how to crawl...
A familiar weight collects on my back. One that I’ve missed dearly.
...A second to walk...
My magic hums excitedly in my fingers. It’s ready. I’m ready.
...A minute to begin running...
It’s time for me to stop running away from the sun. This entire time I’ve been falling away from it. All this time I’ve only been reaching for it as I let myself come closer and closer to the ground. Now I know what I need to do.
I unfurl my blue wings. The wind bends around them, pushing past the feathers and magic within them.
...All without falling…
Everything is screaming around me. Dormammu, the planets, the heart monitor, Stephen, my magic, the wind. Everything is screaming except for me. I am the center of the hurricane.
...Before I forced myself to jump…
I want to live.
...And fly away.
My wings snap against the wind, pulling away from the ground and towards the sky. Everything in between doesn’t matter. It is only the ground, the sun, and me. Everything else disintegrates. Dormammu, the planets, the scream. It’s just me flying towards the sun, basking in the warmth it is offering.
I pound my wings harder and harder, the exhilaration of finally feeling it on my fingers motivating me to go higher faster. It is so close. Close enough for me to feel it in my heart, filling my veins. The sun is home. It is what I fell for and it is what I will rise for.
This is the story of how I only came to the beginning of myself.
I am the Icarus…
And I have loved the sun far too deeply not to fly for it.
“Y/N!” That is the very first thing I hear as I’m waking up. Then a beep. Just one for a moment. Then another and another until the noise has turned consistent.
My fingers clench around the covers, squeezing the blankets.
I can move.
I sigh, more thankful than I’ve ever been and start opening my eyes.
At first, it is only light. Bright white light that makes me wince and turn my head away. There’s something on my face, around my nose and mouth. I don’t pay much attention to it for now. I’m too focused on feeling. Something in my chest aches horribly. Like someone lit it on fire for the past minute just to see what would happen. The rest of my body hurts, but not in that way. Everything else feels much number. The pain in my stomach, my collar bone, my head. It all just pulses faintly. A small reminder of all that’s happened.
Then there’s a hand on my own, scarred and ruined and familiar. I try to smile despite the stinging in my face where I must’ve gotten cut by debris. It hurts but I think I succeed in making the corners of my lips turn upwards.
“Y/N?” Stephen asks this time as though he needs to check that I am, in fact, alive. I turn my hand over and squeeze his fingers.
Opening my eyes again I look up. The light is still there but it isn’t as bright as before. I can finally see that the thing on my face is a resuscitation mask and the burning sensation was from the defibrillator on the metal table.
I look at Stephen last. He’s staring at me, just staring. It looks like he’s watching a ghost.
Fearfully, I look down at my hands to make sure I’m actually connected to my body and not floating around in my astral form.
When I’m positive that I’m really here I reach up with my free hand to pull off the mask. Stephen sees what I intend to do before I do it. He pulls it off for me instead and places it on the metal table.
I blink my eyes hard to try and get rid of the blurriness that almost feels stiff. Nothing feels right. Everything is just a little warped. Not much but enough for me to notice. My eyes feel useless.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Stephen reassures, capturing my attention again. “It’s going to take a bit before you get your bearings. Just stay calm.”
I nod, my head feeling like a ton of bricks. I try to come up with something to say. Something that might relieve the tension. There are still doctors standing around, making sure I don’t die again.
“Well,” I croak, my voice rough from not being used for so long, “that was horrible.”
A/N: I’m going to begin cross-posting Fly Away as well as my other stories on @thewildheroine-archives
For anyone who would like to not wait for me to upload the rest, the other chapters are already on my Ao3. Thank you for taking the time to read. Please comment what you thought or reblog.
Hey guys! So I finally published Fly Away on Wattpad which I’m crazy excited about!!! The Wattpad version will be super revamped with important edits. For anyone who has read and enjoyed the story please go vote for me! It would be greatly appreciated!
And just so this doesn’t absolutely flop I’m gonna tag some mutuals to help signal boost! (and sorry if I’m being a bother. you can completely ignore this if you want )
A/N: Really quickly I just want to apologize for the recent hiatus that lasted the entire summer.... I had just grown unmotivated and uninspired for a while but I’m glad to be back now! This is a shorter chapter since I haven’t written in a while. I hope you guys enjoy!🖤🖤🖤
Peter and I remain on the ground for a moment, catching our breaths and doing our best to shrug off the mind gnawing cold that surrounded us in the portal. My legs and arms ache, my head pounds, and cuts I hadn’t even realized existed until now are dripping blood onto the polished oak below. I groan weakly, pushing myself off the ground with what little energy I still have in my being. To my left is Peter who has rolled over onto his back to try and alleviate some of the pain from going through the portal. Both of us are panting, the adrenaline that once filled our veins becoming a memory.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Peter opens his eyes for a moment only to close them the same second. His face scrunches up, making his eyelids disappear and turn into two thin lines of lashes to better block out the light.
At the mere sight of it, I can’t help the pleasant smile that touches my lips. The corners of my mouth are tugged up a centimeter as I watch Peter press both hands to his tightly shut eyes, seemingly thinking that will make the pain any more distant.
“I feel like someone put my brain in a blender,” he informs blatantly. A chuckle is pulled right past my lips and I nod. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Peter peeking through his fingers and lashes to catch a glimpse of me.
I grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “You’ll get used to it after a few years.” Peter releases my hand to try and massage away his headache.
“Magic?”
“Nope,” I reply while standing, Peter extending his hand toward so that I can help him.“The bullshit that comes with it.” No one ever gets used to magic. We now stand side by side, our eyes looking around curiously. I study the hall tables, covered in old relics that have gone unused for decades, axes and swords hanging from the walls, their bodies engraved with different spells to ensure their safety, and old intricately barred windows through which I can see stars.
“Where are we?” he wonders out loud. I shrug and take another look, twirling all the around this time to get the full picture Behind me is a plane wall that has been marked up with an intricate sigil. One that I barely remember reading in my books. To the right is a dim hallway, only lit with light bulbs that continuously flicker. At the end seems to be three separate doors that all lead to completely different places around the world. Finally, I look to my left and see the corridor leads to some sort of library.
Without saying a word, I start traveling down the hall. I listen to Peter’s faint footfalls behind me to make sure he’s following as I lead the way. As we get close to the room the hall becomes brighter and I can begin making out the finer details: bubbling wallpaper from decade-old water damage, scratches on the floor from dragged furniture, exposed wires sticking out of lamps, peeling paint on withered trim. All things that may have been ignored before I stepped in here.
Peter and I reach the large room and I look around even more, taking in all that I can. Natural light shines through the large, circular window adjacent to us, warming both mine and Peter’s aching bodies. I bask in the content it brings me for a moment. Deep in the back of my mind, I wish I could etch the memory of the sunlight into my skin permanently so that I can never forget it again.
Then Peter’s calling for me. His voice, a muffled shout as I wince and look up. I realize the ceiling has fallen away from me just as the floor quickly approached. My eyes blink hard and I feel the ground below, trying my best to remember how I got here.
“God,” Peter mumbles while grabbing both my wrists and lifting me up. “Are you okay? Y/N are you- did something happen? Can you get up.” I nod feebly in acknowledgment. Once I’ve been firmly placed back on my feet I exhale deeply and begin walking again.
I observe a quick path to a stairway just outside the room but before I can even turn Peter slides in front of me. “Woah, woah, woah, Y/N.” He places a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to guide me somewhere to rest but my feet remain stubbornly planted into the oak planks. “You just passed out. Maybe take a second.”
“No.” I shake my head. “The quicker we find other sorcerers the quicker we can save everyone. We gotta focus.” Peter’s hands slip from my arms unsurely before stopping to land over my head. He keeps it there to make sure he can at least catch me as a look of defeat passes over his face.
“Okay just-,” he begins, “just take it slow.” I smile and nod again.
We walk together this time. At least until we reach the balcony.
Looking at the foyer everything in me goes numb. My hand slips from Peter’s grasp and lands against my thigh. The air settles deep into my lungs, refusing to leave like an insolent child not wanting to leave their friend’s house.
I start ambling towards the staircase. Afraid that if I’m not anchored in any way I may begin floating upwards until I’m irretrievable, one foot is always firmly stuck to the floor. Then when I’m going down the stairs my hand is wrapped tightly around the banister. If I hold on any tighter my knuckles may split through the paling skin.
By the time I’ve reached the foyer my thoughts are racing at a mile a minute. This is the foyer of the New York Sanctum. That should be impossible though. I felt it go up in flames. I felt the mind warping heat burst across my cheeks as my consciousness was sent spiraling back into my panicking body. I felt Stephen burn.
I feel as though a hard punch has just knocked the air from my lungs. A struggled gasp crawls out of my contracted throat. Peter quickly runs to my side before I can pass out again.
My hands shake and my head throbs and my soul does both. I feel the flames lick at my cheeks, my stomach, my toes, my neck. I feel myself throw my body in front of my mentor. The way the air shrieks in protest is the only thing I can hear now. That and the last startled, fearful breath Stephen lets out before I’m tossed back into my reality.
Suddenly, I’m hyperventilating. I feel like I’m drowning. Like a boulder is tied to my chest and I’m sinking further and further, nearing closer to the dangers of guilt and anger and grief that lay on the seabed like boiling tar. Trying to calm myself I think of the sun. The warmth. The light. I feel it wrapping around my limbs, warming every inch of my skin and lifting me into the blue sky. But the warmth turns to fire too and I’m falling again. Falling and sinking and hyperventilating and thinking more than I ever have.
“Y/N!” a voice calls, but it’s not Peter’s. It’s a memory now. That’s all it possibly can be. A hurtfully palpable memory still so fresh in my mind. Everything is fresh as I near the bottom though. Everything is a raw recollection that I can’t bare.
The voice keeps calling though, sounding more and more real everytime. More haunting. It takes me a moment to realize I’m screaming. To feel all the air I’m pushing out of my mouth tear the skin of my trachea apart. His voice is persistent though, and soon enough it’s turned to all of their voices. They’ve become a chorus of my guilt. Some are nameless and some have too many names. All the things I’ve abandoned. Through the horror, I manage to wonder if my father hears me calling his name. Screaming at him like some unholy monster who wants to know why.
“Y/N,” his voice breaks through the chorus in my head. I slam my hands over my ears to block them out but they’re still there, persistent as guilt should be. “Y/N, I’m here,” his ghost tries. “I’m right- I’m right here! I’m here. Just stop screaming.”
I shake my head and tuck it between my knees. There faces race in front of me, slowly morphing into one hideous, demonic creature I tremble in front. Go away. I think to myself and hopefully to them. He’s still calling my name though, saying it like a mantra over and over and over again. Go Away. I try again. This time the voice in my head is stern. He doesn’t hear though. He’s just going and going and going going going going. GO AWAY.
But he’s there still. I feel his hands on my cheeks now. I feel the lines of scars pressing into my skin. So real. Too real. Go away. I plead lightly. “Y/N!” Go Away. “Open your eyes!”
“GO AWAY!” I scream. My eyes snap up, fire and rage stirring in them like a hurricane of destruction. I expect to be met with the face of the horrid demon, a living symbol of all the guilt I feel weighing down on my soul.
But I’m not.
I’m met with soft greens, peaceful blues, and a yellow as warm as the sun. I stare at them, completely stunned by the image in front of me for a whole minute. Then my focus floats to the dark hair with two perfect streaks of grey on each side of his head, the short trimmed goatee, and the faint scars drawn on his skin.
“Strange,” I whisper. My throat throbs and I can swear the taste of metallic is dripping onto my tongue. He smiles down at me softly. Almost to further affirm the fact that he is kneeling right in front of me he presses his fingertips into my cheeks.
“I’m here,” he sighs contently. Joy stirs up somewhere distant inside of me. Absolute relief. Stephen is alive. My mentor is okay. I can hear him. I can feel him. With that happiness, something else arrives too though. Rage. Pure, merciless, blood-boiling rage that makes me push away from him. Both him and Peter, who must have been asked to step away while Strange tried to help me, look up at my quaking figure worriedly.
I can feel my feel my heartbeat in my fingertips, my feet, and my head. My entire being is pulsating at an incomprehensible rate. Thunder erupts in my ears and it isn’t coming from outside.
“You.” I point accusingly at Stephen, who has opted to stand for the coming storm. “You goddamn fucking asshole,” I hiss. Before I have time to think or even understand what I’m doing I’m stomping towards him. Instead of turning tail and running Stephen waits for me patiently and it’s that that throws me over the edge. His calm. It’s everything I’m not and I hate him for it right now.
When I reach him my fist slam into his chest angrily. None of my moves are coordinated. I punch and slap and kick and scream. I scream for a reason. For some sort of explanation. Stephen doesn’t do as I command though. He just takes it. He takes every once of anger and dispels it into the air until there is no memory of it. As I keep going more and more of my frustrations leave and soon enough it’s all gone.
But it has been replaced with everything else; relief, fear, grief, joy, love, hatred, emptiness. Everything I felt the past week flows through me now. My fists unravel to allow my hands to coil themselves around Stephen’s thick tunic. In return, his arms curl around my trembling torso and start to coax away they short, heavy breaths that make my body tremor. I press my face into his chest, smearing snot and tears and maybe even blood while my legs go limp. Stephen still holds me though, not allowing me to fall into a heap on the ground.
“You were supposed to be there,” I sob, whimper, blame. “I-I believed you would be there Stephen. You promised you would. Why-Why weren’t you there? I needed you.” Stephen’s arms immediately tighten. I feel the bottom of his chin rest on my head, somehow bringing more comfort to me.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers to me and I can feel his throat vibrate. “I’m so, so sorry.” But he doesn’t make any more promises.
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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed!!! Comment below or send me an ask if you would like to be tagged.🖤🖤🖤
