Jake Gyllenhaal One Shots

You Gave Me Heart

Set post-FFH. Quentin Beck is attempting to be a "good guy" while running his successful tech business and Fury sends you in as negotiator/advisor/babysitter to keep him from attempting to destroy the world (again). Turns out you're not just another meddlesome Avenger after all.

You had been the only Avenger that Fury would entrust with such a task. You were equally surprised when Quentin agreed to bring you on board. His calloused exterior seemed to fracture when you were around.

His usually grating voice lost its edge, his face would turn bright from the dark grey of the storm in his eyes.

He even began explaining his projects to you in as much detail as you could comprehend, asking for your advice even when he knew very well that you were far from a scientist or engineer.

Quentin said he often found the solutions to his problems in the unique way you looked at things. You'd thought it was his gentle way of calling you stupid.

But he even went so far as to have you oversee one of his most volatile projects, using your powers to assemble otherwise very dangerous moving parts.

You were telekinetic. You had fought with the Avengers during the final battle. Five years had passed in the blink of an eye and you awoke to find so much loss.

It still rattled your bones, on those long nights spent watching over Quentin's team as they worked. A single microsleep could send your consciousness into a nose dive.

It was one of those long, oppressive nights that something in the labs went wrong. You weren't sure what but claxons began blaring, the overhead lighting turned red and sickly as people scurried around you.

"It's unstable. Everyone evacuate!" One of the head engineers called and you immediately sprung into action, punching in the emergency protocol as the last of the lab coats disappeared from view.

You knew what needed to be done. You watched the blast doors descend around you as a few of the scientists screamed madly at you to get out.

The device, whatever it was, was spinning at an increasing speed, more light emanating from its core as a low whirring stirred the air.

"Molly! Jesus Christ, open these fucking doors!" It was Quentin's voice through the intercom but you ignored him and focused all of your power on the radiating glow of the machine.

You felt its explosion, rather than saw it. You eyes closed on instinct against the blinding light, hands outstretched to contain the blast as much as you could.

The force field began to ripple and shake, its heating burning your palms til your screams sliced the palpable electricity in the air.

You remembered very little after that. There was pain and a sound like a clap of thunder. Agony brought your nerve endings to life and your body was thrown backwards and into the hard metal of the doors.

Sound dimmed, your vision gone and you gasped once and ceased to be. For a time.

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"What the hell happened? Why didn't you get her out of there?!" Quentin's voice barked aggressively.

One of the meaker scientists stuttered, "S - sir, she enacted emergency protocols from inside the lab. We couldn't stop her and -"

He growled, "Just - stop talking and get Doctor Whitfield."

You tried weakly to open your eyes, a frail moan of pain torn from your throat as voices continued to fade in and out dizzyingly.

"Honey?" His voice was softer this time, concern lacing his low timbre.

You'd never heard his voice filled with so much fear and worry before. It made your heart pound faster in your chest, its rythm thumping so hard you were sure he could hear it.

Your eyes began to co-operate and his blurry face hovered above you, the emergency lights now replaced by the overwhelming glare of the fluorescents overhead.

"Quen?" You choked out, trying to paint your dry mouth with saliva before swallowing sluggishly.

A warm touch fluttered across the side of your face, "Shh, don't move. The doctor's on his way."

"Is everyone -" You slurred thickly and Quentin sighed, "They're okay. But - you should have evacuated like everyone else. That's what the blast doors are for -"

"They weren't going to contain the blast." You interrupted simply, trying to raise your head before whimpering in pain and returning your scull to the cold concrete.

He clucked his tongue sternly, "You a scientist now? Because those doors were specifically designed for this kind of work, Molly. What you did was reckless and stupid!"

Your face slumped in defeat. He was often like this, especially when his patience was tested. Especially when you were put directly in harm's way.

His temper would flare drastically if you were whisked away temporarily on another mission. He didn't seem to do well when you weren't around. Even his staff felt your absence.

"I don't know how I knew - I just - "

"Sir, she's right." The head scientist piped up apprehensively and you felt a swell of relief in your chest at her words as she cleared her throat and continued, "The amount of power expelled by the blast was three times the explosive limit on the doors. It would have wiped out this entire floor."

Quentin's brows furrowed in thought and you caught his mind drifting to all the possibilities had the blast not been contained.

"You don't even know them." He stated simply and you frowned in confusion, "What?"

"These people. You don't even know them and you were willing to die for them?" He wondered, his expression perplexed as his eyes roamed your face, as if trying to piece together each aspect of your personality.

You tried again to shift your head but it only made your vision swim and your gut churn violently.

You grimaced and replied softly, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

"But I need you!" He barked suddenly, his fingers clutching your face in a tender yet firm grip as a war of emotions crossed his features all at once.

You tried to shake your head, to protest. You were just another person painted a hero in a broken world, "You don't. Fury would send someone else -"

"But they're not you, Molly. Don't you understand that? They don't even come close. It's you that I need." Quentin grit out passionately and you squinted curiously and asked, "Why me?"

He smiled then, a rare occurrence and something to be cherished. And somehow you had brought that out in him. The devil painted white by love.

"Because you make this ugly world beautiful. You give me hope to save it. Not to watch it burn."

In that moment he gave you a different kind of hope. And you clung to it like a lifeline, seeing the purity and clarity in his cerulean eyes. A gleam that had been stolen from him by an overzealous and self important hero.

The adoration in his stare was no illusion. His need as tangible as the fabric of reality itself. He wanted to save the world because of you.

You. Somehow, you had brought forth all the qualities in him that he hid behind smoke and mirrors. Tricks of the light.

Somehow, in all your searching for purpose, you had given Mysterio heart.