"The first question to ask any runner: 'Are you running from, or toward?' Or: The life of a girl named Brian."

The newspapers call her Iron Man. Which is kind of her own fault. She would have put tit plating on the suit, but one good smack to the sternum and all her ribs would collapse. Since the first time she’d made it she’d been very concerned about gunfire, letting the world know she was a grown fucking woman with tits to match hadn’t actually been on her mind.

Derek smirks at her, eyes hooded as he leans closer still, until his lips are brushing her ear. His breath fans hotly over the curve of her neck and Stiles shudders, knuckles going white as she clasps them together between her legs. “Touch yourself,” he whispers, the curve of his lips a shade too wicked.

In a world where Natasha Stark still dreams of fire and blood, the Winter Soldier wakes ahead of schedule and nothing happens the way it was meant to. (People don’t have a purpose.)

In the midst of the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi and her Padawan are captured by Count Dooku, whose agenda may be entirely different from that of the mysterious Lord Sidious.