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tessatales · 3 years ago

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Touch Starved Series: ✨Loki✨

Loki x F!Reader

Warnings: none, unless you count alcohol use?

Theme: A bit of angst, touch starved Loki, Loki being SadBoi, Y/N helping, (emotional!)hurt/comfort

*Your POV*

Since arriving at the Avengers Tower, You could compare Loki’s transition into the team like a rescue cat getting used to their surroundings. At first, he never left his room, only venturing out late at night for food and a walk when he was sure everyone was asleep. Then, he began to venture out during the day, never staying long enough to start a conversation with anyone; and at one point actually hissing at Tony when he attempted to talk.

He was now within the third stage of acclamation in which Loki had begun to sit in the corner of the room and watch the team. Although a little unnerving, You were relieved to see the god of mischief outside of his rooms.

You watched as Loki stared out the window, his expression blank as he refused to acknowledge anyone in the sitting area as they began to file in.

‘Will you be joining us Brother?’ Thor’s deep voice boomed as he entered the room. Loki glared.

‘Join you in what, oh mighty Thor?’ Loki replied, his voice like black satin. Thor smiled, wandering through the open plan kitchen as he spoke.

‘It’s games night Loki! A grand evening in which we play Midguarian games and drink far to much’ Thor said excitedly, retrieving a beer from the cooler as in emphasise. Loki snorted.

‘As much fun as that sounds brother, I think I’ll politely decline’ Loki said, bowing his head in mock sincerity. You shrugged.

‘Looks like we’re playing uneven teams’ You chime in, taking a sip of your drink as you look at the raven haired god. Loki almost growled.

‘Fine, I will play once to fix the odd number, then you’ll have to figure it out for yourself.’ Loki grumbled, rising to his full hight before stalking over to stand beside you. You try your best to hide your smirk as you, Loki and Thor make your way over to the rest of the team.

‘Loki, joining us I see! Very good. Y/N is a sore loser sometimes, so having a teammate may help her odds’ Clint says with an evil grin. You glare at him as you drain the last of your drink.

‘Fighting talk for the guy who ended up streaking as forfeit last time’ You reply, your grin widening as Clints face contorts with embarrassment.

‘As much fun as all of this conversation is, could we please get on with this game of yours? It’s just a have a book calling my name and I’d hate to be late’ Loki drawls, his expression dripping with sarcasm.

‘I agree with Mischief, let’s play beer pong!’ Tony quips, ignoring the glare he received from Loki at his nickname for him.

‘Beer pong?’ Loki says, his brow thick with confusion. You smile.

‘Yeah, so the rules are you have to bounce the ball into a cup on the other side of the table. If you get it in, the person you’re playing against has to drink what’s inside the cup and the same for if someone gets the ball in on your side. But don’t worry, I’ll take your drinks if you don’t want them’ You reply smiling at the god as he processed the rules. After a moment, he nods.

‘Alright, let’s get this over with them’ Loki said with a slight grimace

*Loki POV*

This game was annoyingly enjoyable. With each successful land of the small white ball into the red cup- the avengers would erupt into a chorus of cheering or booing (depending on the team) Being split into two groups, then paired off with Y/N for later in the game; Loki tried to feel angry at being tricked into playing longer to keep the pairs even, however his silent enjoyment of the game had overpowered every other feeling.

True to her word, Y/N had drank the contents of every cup designated for him, but thanks to the other players seemingly awful aim, the extra alcohol was minimal, her cheeks just beginning to show the hues of pink as she watched the other team play.

During the final rounds (which consisted of whichever pairs were left standing) Loki took to drinking his forfeits, attempting to join in on the collective merriment.

Loki had the final throw, his aim to get the ball into Tony’s final cup unwavering. Taking a steady breath, Loki took his shot, grinning with glee as he heard the ball land into the drink. The cheers that came from the half asleep team only partially drowned out Tony’s slurred accusation of using magic to cheat- however every sound went dead in Loki’s ears as he felt Y/N wrap her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tipsy hug. Loki froze, his hand up at his sides in sudden surrender from the shock of the contact. His mind barely aware of Y/N’s shouts of ‘we won!’ as she held him close.

Loki’s fight or flight was broken, instead of pushing the girl away, his arms betrayed him as he slowly circled them around Y/N’s waist, holding her there, the second lot of contact feeling just as divine as her arms around his neck felt. Before he even had time to process, the experience was over, and the cold air that hit Loki as Y/N moved away to taunt Tony felt like ice.

With a cough Loki made his excuses to leave, turning quickly on his heels and sweeping quietly out of the room. His speed never faltering until he was safely back in his rooms. Was it the alcohol? No, it couldn’t be, he’d barely had any…

Loki stared at nothing, his mind a blank as he continued to process the absent feeling he had in his chest. He didn’t understand. Loki knew he’d always felt like something was missing, multiple something actually, but he’s never felt so sure of what one of those things was until now. Touch. He was missing physical touch.

Loki thought back to his life on Asguard. Racking his brain for instances in which he was hugged, or even touched with intention to comfort. Yes, his mother would reach for him, but rarely did her hand ever actually connect with his face, or his shoulder. And though he had maids, he’d turned to magic to dress himself early on after finding the maids hands felt like burning upon his skin when they accidentally touched.

The small sound of water dropping onto the hardwood floor alerted Loki to the fact he was crying, his body betraying the grief he seemed to feel for himself.

‘Loki?’ A soft voice came from the closed door, causing Loki to rub furiously at his face before turning to the shut door behind him.

‘Yes?’ Loki said, his hand on the door handle never moving as he spoke. He listened as feet shuffled outside his door.

‘It’s Y/N. Did I upset you? You left really fast and Wanda said you looked like you’d seen a ghost…’ Y/N said, her words trailing off. Loki cracked open the door.

‘Y/N…’ Loki said, his voice rough as he peered through the slim gap in the door. Y/N frowned.

‘Loki… are you upset about something?’ Y/N asked, her voice filled with concern. Loki laughed bitterly.

‘I wasn’t, however I seemed to have realised something rather tragic about myself, so now if you’ll excuse me, I have some self loathing to do’ Loki said, trying his best to put as much strength into his voice as possible. Y/N pushed her foot into the door, jamming it open.

‘Loki, let me in please. You’re worrying me’ Y/N said, her face pleading. With a grunt Loki gave in, releasing the door and letting it swing open as he made his way to his bed.

Y/N shut the door quietly behind her. Her nervousness almost audible as she stood awkwardly by the door.

‘What’s wrong Loki? Did Tony offend you? Because honestly he’s all talk on a good day so you definitely shouldn’t listen to him when he’s dru-’

‘No Y/N, it has nothing to do with Stark and his ramblings’ Loki said, interrupting Y/N mid sentence. He paced the length of his bed almost frantically as he waited out this awkward interaction.

‘Then what is it Loki?’ Y/N asked again, her concern so evident in her voice Loki couldn’t take it anymore.

‘You hugged me Y/N! Are you happy now? You hugged me completely without prompt or ulterior motive and it made me realised just how unwanted I am.’ Loki booms, his voice loud but not shouting.

Y/N stared.

‘You hugged me, and it made me feel like one of the holes in my chest had been filled. And when you pulled away…’ Loki took a breath.

“ It felt like I’d drowned in ice water. Your casual affection for winning a ridiculous game made me realise that I’ve never been touched unless I’ve initiated it first. So I’m sorry if the realisation made me want some time to myself Y/N’ Loki finished, sinking onto the end of his bed with a sigh; his head landing in his hands with a heavy sound.

Soft footsteps began after a moment, the gentle padding of small feet becoming louder as Y/N approached the bed. Loki felt the bed sink as Y/N got up and disappeared behind Loki.

‘I’m not sure how my outburst could be seen as an invitation to stay Y/N but-’ Loki began, lifting his head to looked at the young avenger. Before he had chance to turn around, small hands appears in Loki’s periphery as they lightly tugged on the gods shoulders.

‘Lie back Loki’ Y/N said, her voice soft.

‘I’d really rather be left alone Y/N’ Loki replied.

‘Just trust me a minute, please’ Y/N replied, her hands tugging on Loki’s shoulders once again. With a defeated groan, Loki succumbed; falling back until he was staring up a Y/N. Loki tried his best to act natural as he shifted his head, acknowledging more and more that he was in fact laying on Y/N’s legs.

‘What are you trying to achieve Y/N?’ Loki asked, looking up at her face with an unsure expression.

‘Loki. What you’re describing is what we on Midguard call being touch starved. It’s where you’re body craves the touch of another person’ Y/N replied, looking around the bed as she tried to get comfortable.

‘I don’t understand’ Loki replied, frowning.

‘You want human interaction Loki, so I’m going to give it to you. Even the god of mischief needs to feel physical touch sometimes.’ Y/N said, grabbing the book off Loki’s nightstand as quickly as possible as not to disturb Loki’s head.

‘What do we do now?’ Loki asked, his voice awkward.

‘We’ll, I’m going to sit here and read, aloud or in silence is up to you, while you stay where you are and hopefully acclimatise to this level of touch. Because I’m sorry to say Loki, the only cure to touch starvation is to well, be touched’ Y/N said simply, opening the book and beginning to read.

*Your POV*

Loki let you read in silence, his eyes staring up at the back of the book as you read. The god of mischief felt as stiff as he had when you’d asked him to lay back, his head never moving as he seemed to calculate his every breath. In an attempt to calm the god, you rearranged yourself, propping the book you’d taken from his nightstand on a nearby pillow as you used your now spare hand to lightly stroke Loki’s hair. Loki seemed to freeze even further from this touch, but you continued anyway, hoping Loki would begin to get used to the ideas of someone wanting to touch him.

After a while, Loki’s breathing began to even out, his every muscle relaxing as he seemed to give into his subconscious desire. You only realised he was asleep when he rolled over, his long body curling itself closer to yours. Closing the book, you stared down at the sleeping god in your lap, marvelling at the look of peace on his face.

You were unsure of what to do moving forward with the god of mischief; but you knew one thing for certain. He needed someone to be there for him, someone who will seek out his affection rather than shy away. And you were happy to be there for him, one touch at a time.

A/N: Hey! This is my first fic in the touch starved series and I hope you guys enjoyed it! This can be read as ether the beginning of something romantic or platonic- that’s completely up to you!

See you guys in the next fic ❤️

#avengers imagine #avengers x reader #touchstarvedMCU #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki 2021 #touch starved Loki #avengers fanfiction #the avengers #marvel fanfiction #loki layfeyson imagine #bucky x reader

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years ago

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Death Does Not Discriminate Between The Sinners And The Saints

It Takes And It Takes And It Takes

Part 2

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3609

@charliedakotariley I hope this is all you wanted in your original request. Sorry I took so long to get to the actual stuff you put in your request. I hope you enjoy this!

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Y/n didn't know what was going on. One moment he had been fighting Thanos's forces in Wakanda, the next, everything was getting weird. Enemies were turning to dust all around him. Worse than that, so were some of his allies.

It was bad enough that he had been separated from Tony, but now he wasn't sure if he would ever see him again. Who ever had done this was going to regret it if Tony was dead.

Y/n took a step, but before his foot even connected with the ground he was gone.

The next thing he knew he was waking up in the fields outside the city, alongside all the others. Everyone was pretty much in panic mode until a man with a deep red cloak started floating and took control.

Apparently they had been gone for five years, but more than that, there was an even bigger battle ahead of them than the one that they had just been in.

The floating guy did some odd form of magic that opened up a portal into another place. Y/n knew that then was not the time, but he felt himself go all giddy at the thought of real magic! Maybe after all this he could learn some!

The floating guy had introduced himself at some point, Y/n was sure, but he hadn't caught it and now didn't really seem like the time, so he just mentally dubbed him 'Floating Man' and moved on.

Then they were all rushing into battle, and Floating Man was not wrong. It was brutal, but Y/n couldn't help but feel he was in the wrong place. There was somewhere he needed to be, a tug inside that was pulling almost to the point of pain.

Y/n growled and dropped his perception filter, it was just draining him and he had more important things to worry about. He used the pause in onslaught to do a spin that sent a large swathe of enemies flying. Thank God for his tail, he had missed being able to give his all in battle.

In the space he had just given himself, he spun slower, looking for where it was he needed to go.

Y/n knew immediately exactly where he was meant to be. Tony was about to tackle Thanos.

Y/n smashed his tail as hard as he could into the ground and using the momentum of the shockwave caused by it, he leapt over the battlefield.

His eyes widened in horror as he watched Tony sass the mad titan. He had those damned infinity stones just about in place on his Iron Man glove. He would die if he tried to use them!

Y/n slammed into Tony at full force and wrapped himself around the stupid self-sacrificing genius just as he snapped his fingers. The energy coursed through the two beings and Y/n could feel it trying to overcome them. He knew there was a price for holding such power, but he wasn't about to let Tony pay it on his own.

He held on tighter and let out a roar, forcing himself to hold on and not be torn apart by the power of the stones.

"Don't you dare give up on me Tony! We'll go out of this world together or not at all, do you understand me?"

And then it was over. Thanos's armies were defeated, turned to dust, as was the mad titan himself.

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It had been five years since the Avengers had managed to bring everyone back and Y/n still couldn't believe how lucky he had been. If he had been even just a second later in getting to Tony, he might not have made it.

As it was his heart had taken some serious damage, and Y/n hadn't come out of it scot-free either. He had aged noticeably.

Where he had looked near his mid twenties for centuries, he now looked to be closer to forty than thirty, but he would never consider the alternative. What were a few hundred years to him when he would get to wake up in Tony's arms because of his actions.

But he could no longer ignore the thing that had been bothering him for the last ten or so years. Tony was getting older. And, ignoring magical space stones and stupid ideas, Y/n was not.

Every morning Y/n could see more differences. Tony was aging, and normally that wouldn't be a bad thing, after all, it means that he's alive to have the chance to age, but it was becoming more apparent as the days passed, and Y/n couldn't help but realise that one day in the not so distant future he was going to be without Tony once again. Forever this time.

Everyday as he noticed the changes in Tony, Y/n became a little quieter, a little more withdrawn. He didn't want to waste the time he had left with Tony, but the spectre of death was looming ever nearer, and this time there was no other realm to break into to solve the problem.

Y/n had felt a momentary surge of hope when he remembered the gift the Queen of Asgard had promised him, but that was extinguished when he remembered what had happened to Asgard.

The sinking in his chest was getting worse. There was a pain that was consistent, a deep thrum inside that wouldn't go away. Whenever he thought about the future, or Tony dying it came back. He could sometimes forget about what was coming, but he would inevitably be reminded and the pain would resurface.

Y/n thought fleetingly of his more carefree days, when all he wanted was to cause as much chaos as he could, and he could just swan away from it without a backward glance. Tony had made him so much more than that, without even trying. He had made him feel things and there wasn't a day that went by when Y/n could bring himself to regret meeting Tony.

But that sweet joy and love was now soured by the passage of time, and Y/n wasn't sure how much more he could take.

How could the mix of love and time bring so much pain and joy. Why could he not just have the joy, why did the pain have to come with it?

Y/n was standing in their kitchen when it happened. He was hit with a wave of pain so deep he buckled at the feeling. He had just taken another message from Tony's doctor about not putting too much strain on his heart, and he couldn't help the hopeless feeling washing over him.

He could feel time slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to slow it down.

His heart gave a particularly hard thump as his emotions got the better of him.

Y/n felt a searing pain starting in his chest that was physical rather than the almost unbearable emotional pain he had been dealing with. He gasped as tears dripped down his face. He only noticed when a hissing noise came from the ground by his feet, that the tears weren't the normal salty water, but actual lava.

It clicked suddenly, what was happening to him, but Y/n couldn't think through the fugue of his feelings. He had heard of it in stories but never seen it in person. Demons don't normally fall in love, so they aren't affected by things like the deep depression of watching someone you love die when there isn't anything you can do.

The thing is, demon's hearts are literally made of super heated volcanic rock. Demons were never made to deal with such strong emotions, so when a demons heart breaks, it happens literally. Lava erupts from anywhere it can force it's way out, then it starts to break down the rest of the body. As far as the stories are concerned, there might be a way to save them before they have broken down entirely, but no-one had managed it yet.

The stories hadn't prepared Y/n for the pain, but after so long only feeling hopelessness and despair, Y/n welcomed this new pain. Finally, something had come to save him from the eternity that was a future without Tony.

He could feel the lava in the burnt out husk that used to be his heart flare brighter as another wave of heat seared through him. The lava was actually burning away the blood that had been running through his veins.

Y/n had to get out of there. He couldn't do anything about the trails of melted stone that his tears were leaving behind, but he couldn't let Tony see this.

He would be with him again in their next life.

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Tony was starting to worry. He had been sticking a bit closer to Y/n lately because he had noticed the other man acting strangely. He seemed more and more sad as the days went by. This was something that Tony had needed to keep an eye on. He didn't want to lose Y/n to something that he could help to fix.

He hadn't thought much of it when the other man had rushed out of the room to grab the phone when it rang that morning, but it had been a while since then and Y/n hadn't come back yet.

He heaved himself off of the couch and groaned at the distance.

"God, it's a long way up these days."

He had only taken half a step in the direction his wayward husband had gone when Friday alerted him to a news broadcast of unusual activity on one of the islands off the coast closest to where they were at the moment.

He watched in disbelief as the news caster reported a seeming impossibility. The island was apparently home to a volcano, which was erupting. It was pure luck that it was an uninhabited island, but there would be far reaching results of the eruption.

Tony turned up the volume with a flick of his wrist.

"This is particularly baffling for scientists everywhere as this island has never been on anyone's radar for volcanic activity. Apparently this is just another case of nature getting the better of our understanding of science, which will have our scientists scratching their heads for decades. We have managed to get some footage of the eruption from a distance, and it is a truly harrowing sight."

Tony was transfixed. It really was awe inspiring to see something like that right in front of him. He couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation. There was no way that it was a coincidence that his literal demon husband was missing right as this was happening, right?

"Y/n?"

Tony made his way into the kitchen, calling out for this husband at the same time. He was getting really worried now, but was trying to calm himself. Everything was probably fine.

Tony tripped over something and landed sprawled on the ground. He looked around to find the offending item, but was met with the sight of their kitchen floor melted in a trail that led right out of the room.

Tony followed it with mounting fear. It led out their front door. After that the trail got further apart the further away from the house it got.

Tony swore as he summoned his suit. He hated being right.

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Tony was starting to think that fate hated him. Okay, to be fair he couldn't fault fate for sending him Y/n, but the demon could be the biggest drama king. Yes, Tony was aware that that was kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, but that didn't change the fact that it was true.

He was circling the island now, because of course the trail of fire and melted ground had led him there.

Tony let out another string of expletives as he flew close enough to land.

The island looked like what Tony though hell would look like. There were puddles of lava everywhere, and anything that wasn't a melted pile of rock was on fire or long ago burnt to ash. Tony was sweating in his suit, but he also knew that taking it off, even just the head piece, would be a death sentence.

"Y/N!"

He yelled as loud as he could, which, with the suit already amplifying his voice, was pretty loud.

There was movement from something off to his left.

Tony shifted to face it and was confronted with a sight that broke his heart. His sweet husband, always so concerned for Tony, was clearly breaking apart.

He had burn tracks down his cheeks where his skin hadn't been strong enough to withstand the lava. Y/n looked every bit the demon he had been when he first showed Tony what he was. He must have dropped the perception field once again, because Tony could see all of his demonic features. The horns which had once been shiny and sharp enough to gore even super soldiers, were now dull and flaking, just as broken as the man they were attached to.

Tony could see Y/n's chest glowing with the reds and oranges of fresh lava from where he stood.

Tony was frozen. He didn't know what he could do to fix this. But there had to be hope still, Y/n had recognised his voice even if he might not have understood the word.

"Stay there! I'll be right back. We're going to fix this, don't give up on me yet Y/n!"

After some quick thinking, Tony managed to concoct a plan that was only semi-crazy.

He flew as fast as he could in a tight circle just close enough to the ocean to encourage some of the water to form into a whirlwind of water and air. Once he had enough (he hoped), he sent it flying in the direction of his husband and the island.

He stood back and watched, sick fear pooling in his stomach as he saw the water hit. There was intense hissing and a fog filled the air in response to the water coming into contact with such a hot substance.

Tony couldn't wait any longer, so he landed as close as he could get to the place Y/n had been standing.

He found him laying in a puddle of water staring up into the fog. Tony removed the suit's head piece and both gauntlets, discarding them without a second thought.

He reached out to Y/n with shaking hands.

"What were you doing? What happened?"

Y/n turned deadened eyes on Tony.

"Time is a cruel Master who we must all answer to."

Tony had no idea what to do with that, but he really didn't like the look in Y/n's eyes.

"Yeah, but not today. You see that bastard, you kick his ass, you hear me?"

That got a tiny spark of life back into Y/n's eyes.

"Tony? How?"

Tony could have sobbed in relief. Y/n was coming back to him.

"Hey babe, I should be asking you that."

Tony pulled Y/n up into his arms. It was awkward with him still mostly in his suit but he wasn't about to take the time to remove it. He had a husband to bring back from the brink of something he still didn't understand.

"You gonna be alright?"

Y/n just burrowed into the side of Tony's neck.

"You scared the crap outta me, Y/n/n. What was that?"

Tony let Y/n pull back just enough to be able to see him. He wasn't letting the other man out of his arms for a long time after this.

"You can't deny it Tony, time is passing. I just couldn't bear the thought that you will pass so long before I will."

Tony felt his brow crease in confusion, but he waited for his love to continue.

"As a demon I have a much longer life span as you know. When you die I will be all alone. You'll be gone, forever. How am I supposed to live without you now that I know what it's like to live with you?"

Tony felt his heart breaking for Y/n. He could understand where he was coming from, but that still didn't explain this situation. He opened his mouth to question him when Y/n continued.

"Demons don't normally feel emotions as strong as love, and the loss that comes with it. We aren't built for it. Our hearts can overload. When that happens, they literally melt inside us. I'd been told the stories, but to be honest I didn't realise there was any truth in them."

He took a shuddering breath.

"When I realised what was happening, all I could think was that I couldn't take you with me when I died from it. So I left."

Tony let out a long breath.

"Okay, there's a lot to unpack there, but a steaming crater in the middle of nowhere isn't the place to do it. Let's get you home."

-------------

True to his word, Tony had barely let Y/n go since they got back home. He had whisked him through the kitchen with barely enough time for him to take in the ruined floor before he found himself on the couch wrapped in a blanket with Tony wrapped around that.

"Next time, tell me. Next time something is bothering you like this, let me in. There might be something I can do to help, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Y/n vaguely registered the words. They sounded familiar to some distant corner of his mind, but he was still feeling pretty numb.

"Together, or not at all," Y/n echoed his words from that long ago battle.

He was rewarded by a soft squeeze from his husband.

"Exactly. Now, before you get all mopey again, there's a message from someone in New Asgard on the machine."

Y/n's head snapped up. There was no way it could be related to this.

He turned to Tony, feeling hope well up in his heart.

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In the years since Valkyrie had become ruler of New Asgard, the kingdom had flourished. Perhaps their greatest feat had been the resurgence of magic in their peoples. Battle prowess had been the sought after trait for centuries on Asgard, but now they were on a planet that wasn't capable of inter-realm travel. There was nowhere to go and fight monsters to prove their worth.

Once they realised that their new ruler was trying to bring them back to their former glory instead of just making sure that they survived, they began to take charge of their own lives. They dusted off old tomes of magic that had somehow found their way into the belongings people had managed to bring with them, and soon the vast majority of them were once again using magic.

The reason this had been their saving grace, was because a young woman, a descendant of Idunn, had been playing around with her magic and followed a strange magical signature.

What she had found had brought the people of New Asgard hope. Hope that they could once again be great. She had found a single golden apple, buried in the wreckage of the Avengers compound. It had been protected by a spell strong enough to save it from the battle of Thanos, as well as the passage of time.

A note had been rolled up and stuffed into the box with it.

"Man of Iron,

The Queen of Asgard has bequeathed the enclosed item to you upon the occasion of her death. You are receiving it now, due only to the petty revenge it is to give such a boon to a human. Be grateful it is more pleasing to me to disobey the All-Father than to seek revenge on you for your part in my imprisonment on Asgard.

Loki, Ruler of Asgard."

The young woman had immediately taken the box, note and all, to Valkyrie. The decision would ultimately be up to her of what to do with it.

Valkyrie had decided that the needs of her people could be served at the same time as fulfilling the late Queens last wishes. It would just take a little longer to get it to Stark.

They had used the seeds to re-grow Idunn's orchard of golden apples. The Aesir would be able to retain their long life after all. Now that they had an entire orchard, they had enough for their people as well as fulfilling Queen Frigga's last wish that Tony Stark be granted the long life of an Aesir.

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When Y/n and Tony arrived in New Asgard they were amazed at the transformation the previously small fishing village had gone through. Y/n smiled at the area. It would never be the same as what they had lost, but they had the opportunity to build themselves a new future and they had taken it with both hands.

Y/n stood in the orchard, tears running down his face as he held out a single golden apple to his husband.

Tony had been unsure when Valkyrie had explained about the apples, how they were the source of the Aesir's long life and more sturdy bodies.

He hadn't known how he would feel about living a longer life than all the other people he knew, but as he stood in front of Y/n, looking at the life he was offering him, he realised he would never choose anything else. As long as he had Y/n he could survive anything.

He stepped forward and accepted the apple.

#Tony Stark x male reader #iron man x male reader #male reader #death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints

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gointothevvater · 3 years ago

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Her full profile is finally here! Seven pages of information! I may have gone down the rabbit hole just a tiny bit!

St. Cecilia Jameson

Gender: Cis female

Status: Alive

Occupation: Singer for British rock band Stiletto ("Like the knife or like the shoe?" "Yes.")

Family: Elizabeth Robinson, née Wallis (Mother), Bryony Robinson (Older half-sister), Esme Robinson, née Davies (Grandmother, deceased), Herakles Zafeiriou (Biological father, though she's never met him), Evander Zafeiriou (Older half-brother, who she's also never met, though they've exchanged family photos and stories via email)

Voiced by: Florence Pugh (Speaking), Lzzy Hale (Singing)

Age: A few months younger than Pickles

Date of birth: December 15 (Sagittarius)

Place of birth: Oxford, England

Birth name: Felicity Robinson (Initially, only Sammy knows this, though the rest of SnB learns it at Esme's funeral)

Nicknames: Ceelie (By Pickles and Sammy, mostly, though the Dethklok boys pick it up eventually), Star (By Magnus), princess (By Skwisgaar)

Ethnicity: Half English, half Greek (Though she's unaware of the latter for most of her life)

Height: Five-foot-one

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship status: It's complicated. It's always complicated. She's unlucky in love.

Current location: London, England

Appearance: St. Cecilia is a petite woman (She's half a head shorter than Pickles!) with golden skin and long white-blonde hair, which she wears in a high ponytail. She has thick, dark brows and bright brown eyes (Skwisgaar says she has "wolf eyes"). She has three white marigolds tattooed on each shoulder, a labret piercing, and a vertical collarbone piercing at the hollow of her throat. Her ears are pierced three times each, in which she wears two silver hoops and a silver stud on each side, and she has a small black star beneath each eye. She has a Christina piercing, nipple piercings, and a belly button piercing. She has a No Time For Antivenom tattoo on her sternum, and a European robin tattoo at the back of her neck. Along her spine, she has a tattoo reading "to thine own self be true." She has a shitty stick-and-poke crown tattooed behind her right ear. She has a pear body type, with wide hips, a small chest, and an even smaller waist (Nathan can encircle her waist with his hands). She typically wears a black muscle shirt, ripped dark jeans, heavy boots, black driving gloves, and a studded black leather collar with a D-ring at the front. She also wears a Gibson pearl guitar pick on a necklace, which was given to her by Pickles when they first started dating in the 80s. She wears a silver cuff on each ear, and her tongue is pierced with a simple silver stud.

During flashbacks to the Snakes N' Barrels era, she's shown with darker blonde hair cut in a mullet style, and only her labret and ear piercings, plus one on the right side of her nose. She wears a cropped white tank, with high-waisted jeans and black Converse sneakers. She wears mismatched armbands, one black, one striped, and the same collar she wears in the present.

Her more casual look consists of a black button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up, which she wears tucked into a pair of leather pants. She wears pumps instead of boots, and her hair is twisted up in a clip. She keeps her collar, but doesn't wear the pick necklace or her ear cuff, and she switches her hoop earrings for studs. She doesn't apply her stars.

For fancier occasions, she wears a black dress with spaghetti straps and a very short, flared skirt, black opera gloves and black strap pumps. She, as always, wears her collar with it, and she pulls her hair into a high bun.

Personality: St. Cecilia is cocky, witty, and teasing, but ultimately good-natured. She's a bit selfish and stubborn, but she does everything with 110% effort, hoping to impress people, even if she winds up getting hurt in the process. She'll do literally anything for validation. To say she's vain would be an understatement. She's something of a coquette who flirts with both men and women, and is she has a tendency to "think with her dick," as Tony once put it. She's slow to anger, but quick to jealousy, and she holds grudges for far too long. She's the playful type, but it's largely in a chill way. She's an obvious extrovert, and the role as frontman for Stiletto came very naturally.

Skills & Hobbies: St. Cecilia writes good poetry, great song lyrics, and terrible erotica. She likes plants and is quite the chess player (Though she hasn't managed to beat Charles even once), which she learned during her school days. She also learned to fence, ride horses, and speak fluent Latin there.

Musical Talents: She's a classically trained singer (When she was little, she was part of her church's choir), and she writes most of the song lyrics and some of the music for her band, Stiletto. In Snakes N' Barrels, she played lead guitar on a white Jackson Pro Series Rhoads RR3, but during their reunion concert, she plays a more modern Gibson Explorer '76 Reissue 2010 Cherry. She took piano lessons for several years as a child, and she's still pretty good. Nothing outstanding, but if Stiletto needs to incorporate a piano into a song, she's perfectly capable of playing it herself.

Relationships:

-Pickles the Drummer: Their relationship is a complicated one. They've known each other for ages, and they've been together through the highest highs and the lowest lows, all the way down to rock bottom. She partially blames him for her late teens and early twenties being the fiasco they were, and she cut off contact with him for a long time after the SnB breakup. During the run of the show itself, the two reconcile somewhat and even become more or less friends before Abigail shows up and things start to crumble again. They have a hard time admitting it, but there's love between them, and there has been for a long time. They're both afraid to try getting together again, though, as there's a mutual fear of the relationship ending as it did the first time, with them hating each other again. They're back together at the end of Doomstar, but there's no way of telling if the love between them is enough to keep them together or if they'll just fall apart all over again.

-Magnus Hammersmith: They were more off-and-on than anything, but they were together for years, even though quite a bit of it was long-distance. It wasn't supposed to be a serious thing. It was just supposed to be a quick fuck. Then it was supposed to be a performance to annoy Pickles, but Magnus quickly realized that St. Cecilia's feelings for Pickles were too strong for her to be any use to him in his revenge plot. The basis of their bond formed because they understood each other on a level they've never known with anyone else: Former Snakes N' Barrels guitarist St. Cecilia Jameson and former Dethklok guitarist Magus Hammersmith both understand on a fundamental level what it's like to be left behind and forgotten. Magnus caught a bit of feelings, and when Roy Cornickelson's funeral came around, Magnus warned St. Cecilia not to attend. It was their last interaction, and it forever cast him in a positive light for her, even after she learned what he was doing with the Metal Masked Assassin.

-Nathan Explosion: They get along pretty well. Their first meeting was at a singers-only Crystal Mountain party, and they ended the evening with a quickie in the coatroom. He wrote a song about the encounter, but Pickles never figured out that it was about St. Cecilia, which Nathan thinks is just the funniest thing. He mostly sees St. Cecilia as one of the guys once she meets with Dethklok again for the SnB reunion. It's a "been there, done that" kind of deal. She's not brutal, but she's funny and she's fun, and goddamn, is she pretty, and they would absolutely hang out if they could get their schedules to line up.

-Skwisgaar Skwigelf: St. Cecilia is nothing short of enchanted by Skwisgaar. It's not a crush, exactly, but she has a huge amount of admiration for him. They've practiced together a time or two, but she's a little rusty and winds up with her fingers bleeding because her calluses have gone soft. He tends to tease her over her soft hands. A guitar god, he tells her, can't have hands like a princess. His calling her “princess” becomes a bit of a thing for them. The two of them often have brunch together, talking shit and drinking. She's good for him; He's never had a female friend before.

-Toki Wartooth: Within the series itself, St. Cecilia hasn't given Toki much thought. He's cute, but he's just sorta there. His incident during the SOBERTOWN USA concert really scared her, and she more or less avoids him after that. Post-DSR, though, their relationship changes. He, like her, was hurt by Magnus, and even with him dead, Toki misses him terribly. St. Cecilia misses him, too. As sad as it is, this becomes their common ground. Their other connection, odd as it sounds, is pole dancing. St. Cecilia does it for exercise, and Toki did it for money, and they often compete to see who's better on the pole.

-William Murderface: St. Cecilia actually has a begrudging fondness for Murderface. He's awful, but he's also pretty funny, and she likes to hear him talk about knives and medieval weaponry, as her family home is full of such things. They clash over things, of course, but she likes being around him more often than not.

-Charles Offdensen: St. Cecilia really likes Charles, actually. He's basically the only person on the show who's really "on her level" class-wise. He attended Harvard, and she attended Oxford, so they have a great deal to talk about. They play a lot of chess and fence on occasion, and if it weren't for her feelings for Pickles and his obligation to the Church, they just might have gotten together.

-Dick Knubbler: They're friends, in a way. She thinks he's kind of a weirdo, but he knows how to have a good time, so as long as he isn't hitting on her, she likes being around him.

-Abigail Remeltincdrinc: They became friends mostly due to the fact that they were both women in the music industry (And both working for Crystal Mountain) and supporting each other seemed the right thing to do. Abigail getting involved with Dethklok and catching Pickles's attention quickly became a sore spot, and they drifted apart after that. After DSR, things got even worse. Abigail, naturally, is glad that Magnus is gone, while St. Cecilia is devastated by the loss. They had something of a falling-out over it, and they haven't really spoken since.

-Edgar Jomfru: Despite being very different people, St. Cecilia really enjoys Edgar's company. He merely tolerates her at first, but she grows on him, to the point where they're legitimately friends come Doomstar. The two of them often have lunch together on the roof of Mordhaus so they can get some fresh air.

-Family: St. Cecilia's family consists of her mother, Elizabeth, her older sister, Bryony, and her now-deceased grandmother, Esme. St. Cecilia has a very formal, cold relationship with her mother, and she has no desire to change that. As far as she's concerned, her mother doesn't deserve to have a good relationship with her. St. Cecilia adores Bryony, though. Though Elizabeth brags about her, Bryony remains modest and is very close with her sister because of it. Though there's seven years between them, they may as well be twins. Esme, who passed away in 1993, was more of a mother to St. Cecilia than Elizabeth ever was, and St. Cecilia still misses her terribly. She was a big part of getting SnB off the ground, and the boys even came to her funeral.

-Snakes N' Barrels: St. Cecilia adores all the boys, of course, but Sammy is the only one she really kept in touch with after the breakup. He was her favorite long before Pickles joined. There was a pregnancy scare not long after the band took off that somehow, against all odds, brought the two of them even closer. Sammy was St. Cecilia's first love. Her relationships with Tony and Snazz were much more professional, though none of them were anywhere near professional. The crown tattoo behind her right ear was done by Tony on a drunken night in, and it was too good a night for her to even consider covering it or getting it removed.

-Stiletto: She gets along with them all quite well! She's known Niamh McLoughlin, their bassist, the longest, and their friendship dates back to their school days. Lex Clarke and Priyanka Dayal, the drummer and the guitarist respectively, came as a package deal, as they've been more or less married for years. St. Cecilia adores them and the sweetness of their relationship. She's a little envious of them, actually, though she would never say so.

History:

-Childhood: St. Cecilia was born in Oxford, England to Elizabeth Robinson. She was raised more or less at her family's girls-only boarding school, away from her mother. When she was fourteen, she fell off a horse during an equestrian class and badly injured her shoulder. She was one of the popular girls during her school days, up until she hit fifteen and decided that she was no longer a child and had a right to demand respect from her emotionally distant mother. She quit the piano lessons she had been taking for several years and took up the guitar, though it aggravated her injured shoulder and even as a teen, she developed a dependence on painkillers. This rebellious period stretched until she was sixteen and ran away with the help of her grandmother. St. Cecilia was given her name just before she left, so it would be easier for her to hide, as well as a hefty sum to tide her over until she could get herself settled. She was only in LA for a few weeks before she met Sammy at a bar where the SnB prototype band was playing. Naturally, Snazz and Tony weren't thrilled with the idea of Sammy's kinda-sorta-girlfriend trying to become their lead guitarist, and when Snazz disparagingly referred to St. Cecilia as Yoko, she broke his nose (How could he have not expected violence when a Beatles-loving British girl was called such a horrible thing?). This earned their respect and is an event that they laugh about to this day.

-Snakes n' Barrels era: St. Cecilia stuck with the band for several months before they found Pickles, and she was smitten with him the moment she heard him sing. Esme was an important source of financial support during their formative years. The band made it big after not too long, and they all grew quite close. St. Cecilia ended up in an ill-fated off-and-on relationship with Pickles as time went on, and to this day she doesn't remember the first time she told him she loved him. It wasn't long after his first OD and his following stint in rehab that she told him, and they were both drunk in celebration of his release. His tolerance, even post-rehab, was far higher than hers, though, and he remembers, though he sometimes hates that he does. Though there was genuine love between them, the stress of the band and both of their substance abuse problems drove a wedge between not only the couple, but also the entire band. Coupled with Pickles fucking groupies behind St. Cecilia's back and St. Cecilia's becoming a rather serious Vicodin addict to combat the pain in her injured shoulder, the band was doomed. Pickles came to see St. Cecilia off on her flight back to England, saying he would meet her there when his next residuals check came in, but he never made it, and they didn't speak to each other for years afterward. It hurt, but St. Cecilia supposed it was for the best. A clean break, and all that.

-Preklok: After SnB broke up, St. Cecilia returned to Oxford, staying with Bryony in their mother's guest house as she tried to figure out her next move. Despite her gift for writing lyrics, she had no talent for writing books, and that idea quickly went down the drain. She still received a large amount of money in residuals, but she was reduced to a mere socialite, though it mostly agreed with her. At her mother's insistence, she attended a few classes at Oxford University. She absolutely loved it. In 1992, Esme passed away. St. Cecilia only told Sammy about it, but he took the initiative and brought Pickles, Tony and Snazz with him to the funeral. St. Cecilia was initially pissed, but she really appreciated the support. That was the only time she saw Pickles between SnB's breakup and their reunion concert. He was devastated when her parting words to him were "I love you with everything I am, but I never wanna see you again." In the mid-90s, she posed for an issue of Playboy, and Pickles has a copy of the issue tucked away somewhere. It wasn't until 1998, when she moved to a little flat in London, that St. Cecilia reunited with her school friend Niamh and the idea of Stiletto came about. They found Priyanka and Lex at an open mic night at one of the local clubs, and they hit it off, both as friends and as bandmates. They played at many clubs and pubs, and they were soon found by a scout at another open mic night. They signed with the UK branch of Crystal Mountain Records and were assigned the surly but efficient Melinda Glasscock as their manager, and within three years, Stiletto was huge, due in part to St. Cecilia's residual fame from Snakes N' Barrels. Their first tour was through Europe, but the second came to America, where St. Cecilia met Magnus in a bar post-show. They got on really well, and she invited him to her hotel room for the night. They exchanged numbers and got quite close over time, with her even flying him out to London from time to time so they could hang out. Magnus knew who she was from the start, and while he planned to use her feelings for Pickles to get her on his side, that soon faded and he came to genuinely like her. She wouldn't learn who he was until later on. A few years before canon, she had a quickie with Nathan in a coat room at a singers-only part at Crystal Mountain records, and he used the fact that she couldn't fit her mouth around his dick as inspiration for Dethklok's infamous song "Glasgow Smile."

-Season 1:

-St. Cecilia's first mention within the confines of canon is during Performance Klok, when Pickles mentions he hasn't been in a serious relationship since the '80s despite the fact that he would certainly thrive under such attention.

-She first appears in Snakes N' Barrels, during the documentary the Dethklok is watching. The guys are a little critical when they (Save Nathan, who's known for a long time) learn that part of SnB's downfall was due to Pickles's failed relationship with St. Cecilia. There's some comedic nonsense talk about fucking one's guitarist before Pickles goes to speak with Charles. Though St. Cecilia is working on an album with Stiletto when she's asked to go the reunion, she manages to push through and finish in time, though she arrives nearly late. She finds Pickles backstage, and when he sweeps in to kiss her, she pulls away a bit, saying they can't do this, as she's spoken for. She lets him hold her close, though. The rest of Dethklok finds them like that, and St. Cecilia excuses herself to go find Sammy, Tony and Snazz. There's some talk about Pickles not leaving Dethklok, which he says he won't, but they're rather worried after catching him with St. Cecilia in his arms. Meanwhile, she manages to find the boys, and they meet with Pickles backstage. While the boys partake of the Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake, St. Cecilia doesn't, as she once humiliated herself by passing out on stage and doesn't wish to repeat the incident. She presses a kiss to Pickles's palm before they go on stage, an old ritual that they were never able to shake. What happens is far worse than someone just passing out, and she and Pickles leave the stage amidst the chaos while the medical Klokateers take care of the boys and see them off to the hospital. It's a disaster. She's embarrassed and angry, and she turns down Pickles's offer of a ride home and calls someone instead, as she didn't get her money converted and can't pay for a cab. This someone turns out to be the man who's claimed her, Magnus, and Pickles is none too happy about it. He tries to stop her from going with him, but it doesn't work.

-She isn't seen in Dethkids, but she is mentioned. When Pickles starts drinking harder than usual, he finally gives in to the urge to call her, to talk about how Sammy and Snazz and Tony are doing, and to tell her that she should steer clear of Magnus. He's so drunk, though, that she barely has even an idea of what he's talking about.

-Offscreen, but somewhere between the two SnB episodes, Magnus and St. Cecilia abruptly break up. She has a feeling something was going on with him, but his sudden disappearance really hurt her. They had been together off and on for years, after all. A few weeks before he left, he bought her a little pink knife and showed her how to use it, just in case he wasn't around to protect her. When he left, he left his guitar behind, and she still has it as of Doomstar.

-Season 2:

-She's mentioned by Seth in Dethwedding, though only as "that British chick" he thought Pickles would eventually have married. Pickles nearly decks him for even mentioning her.

-St. Cecilia's next appearance is in Snakes N' Barrels II. In part one, during the advertisement for the SOBERTOWN USA concert, she's missing from the band lineup, and Pickles is both relieved and a little concerned by her absence.

-In SnB II part two, Nathan, Skwisgaar and Toki find her among the crowd at the SOBERTOWN USA concert. Nathan asks if she wasn't invited to play, but she says that she was: She just didn't think it was right to play without Pickles. Realizing that Pickles is sneaking around backstage, she leaves to go find him and try to keep him from doing something he'll regret. She only finds him just as Tony, Snazz and Sammy start freaking out, and she only just manages to keep Pickles from killing Rikki Kixx, though she honestly doesn't mind the thought of him dead. She pulls Pickles away from the stage, where he calls the Klokateers to take care of Sammy, Snazz and Tony, and she sets to icing down his bruised knuckles. She tells him that she and Magnus broke up, and he's thoroughly pleased about it: She's too good for him, anyway. That irritates her a bit, but she tells him to call her sometime, though she insists he do it when he's not drunk off his ass.

-Season 3:

-Ironically, when Pickles calls her in Dethhealth to inform her that he's dying, he's in fact drunk again. She wants to go to Mordhaus to see him, but he tells her to stay where she is, as he doesn't want her seeing him like that, though she's seen him at rock bottom as it is. At the end of the episode, he's drunker and higher than ever, but he calls her again to let her know he's all right. She can't understand him, though, so he puts Nathan on to explain. She’s thoroughly relieved, but she’s still considering going to Mordhaus to see him. She implores of Nathan, "Take care of him, all right?"

-Offscreen, in the time between Dethhealth and Dethmas, Pickles goes to London for a while to appease St. Cecilia, and to their mutual surprise, it's not really all that different from how it was when they were actually together. There's lots of cuddling and kissing and great sex and just... Hanging out. It's easy for them to be together. They have their share of problems, but the old spark between them is still there. Pickles is honestly a little scared of that: What if he falls for her all over again just for her to break his heart like she did last time? The fact that she has Magnus's guitar makes him doubly suspicious. He starts drinking harder than ever to drown out the thoughts of her.

-In Rehabklok, when Pickles's drinking is brought to the attention of the band and he's sent to rehab, he tries for a while to blame it on St. Cecilia. She broke his heart, and he drinks to cope. It makes perfect sense, until he starts to really think about it and realizes that he's equally at fault for how their relationship (And also SnB) fell apart. He realizes, after many years, that he hurt her as badly as she hurt him. And that makes him feel even worse. He talks the doctor into letting him call her to apologize, but it doesn't go well: She's a little offended that he would even consider blaming her for his drinking, given he was a drunk long before they met. "Is that what I am to you now? An excuse to get drunk and act a fool?" Not long after that, Pickles realizes the real cause for his drinking.

-Just before Charles goes to speak to the UN in Doublebookedklok, he calls St. Cecilia and cryptically asks her if she speaks Latin. She owes him a favor for getting her out of some legal trouble, so she can't really refuse. Several months before, she punched a scummy paparazzo who called Magnus washed-up, and Charles used his reeducation program to keep those involved from pressing charges or damaging St. Cecilia's reputation.

-Season 4:

-In Fanklok, before Charles meets with the band to discuss Klokikon, he welcomes St. Cecilia to Mordhaus and presents her with an ancient-looking journal that belonged to Aurelius Isambard, one of the original prophets of the Church of the Black Klok. She's taken down to the basement, where she's introduced to Edgar Jomfru, and gets to work.

-In Diversityklok, after he's spoken to Edgar, Charles speaks to St. Cecilia. He finds her engrossed, but thoroughly worried. She asks if this is real, and she's even more worried when he tells her it is.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia has been hard at work translating the journal, and she's come to a passage that seems to describe the growing tension between the band. It also mentions an approaching star, and she takes to sitting on the roof at night to observe the sky.

-In Prankklok, when Pickles tells Nathan that he's not allowed to drink any tequila during their friender-bender, Nathan tells him he can't visit St. Cecilia when they stop in London. Pickles reluctantly agrees. Not long after, we see Pickles on his phone, though, debating on calling her just before he notices the storm warning.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia approaches Charles about a phrase repeated over and over in the journal: Fata sidus oritur, the star of fate is born.

-After Charles breaks the news about Ice Festival to Skwisgaar in Bookklok, he goes to speak with St. Cecilia and Edgar in the basement. She's tacked two star maps to the wall: One from the previous week and one from the previous night. There's a spot near the center of the first map that seems bigger on the second one. She looks like the world is ending when she tells him it's the Doomstar. It's real. It's coming? When? Soon, she says. Far too soon.

-When Charles tells the boys he's going out of town in Dethcamp, it's to take St. Cecilia to an observatory, where they meet with Ishnifus and spend a few days tracking the Doomstar's movement as it comes closer and closer to Earth.

-In Going Downklok, when Pickles shows up all decked out for his meeting with Abigail, Nathan is quick to ask, "Don't you have a girlfriend?" Pickles insists he doesn't; He and St. Cecilia was hurt and angry the last time they spoke. On top of that, he believes she's all the way in London, and Abigail is right there.

-Offscreen, between Dethdinner and Breakup Klok, St. Cecilia is tagged in the video of Pickles leaving Dethklok by a drunken Toki. She's incredibly hurt. Pickles has nothing, he said. She, apparently, is nothing.

-In Breakup Klok, Pickles tries to call St. Cecilia to invite her to his wine tasting, but she refuses to answer and sends him straight to voicemail. Towards the end of the episode, after the escape from Salacia, Charles requests a check-up on Edgar and St. Cecilia back at Mordhaus, and Pickles is stunned and angry to learn that she's been more or less within arm's reach for months. Had he known, he's certain things would have been different-- He wouldn't have tried to make a move on Abigail and he wouldn't have fucked up his chance to get back with St. Cecilia again.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia speaks to Charles about staying at a hotel for a few days, just until Roy Cornickelson's funeral, after which she'll return to Mordhaus and her translation work. The day of the funeral, though, she receives a call from Magnus telling her she absolutely cannot attend, as he can't guarantee her safety. It's the last time she has contact with him before his death. We also see her watching the news about Dethklok's breakup and the insinuation that Abigail caused it, and St. Cecilia chucks a bottle at the TV, mirroring Pickles's actions in SnB II.

-In Church of the Black Klok, St. Cecilia is fetched from the hotel by Klokateers and taken to the Dethsub, where she meets with Charles, pointedly ignores Pickles, and goes to work with Edgar instead.

-The Doomstar Requiem:

-In "One of Us Must Die," St. Cecilia can be seen on one of the slides, staring up into the sky with Isambard's journal held to her chest. Towards the end of the song, reading from the book, she sings, "Dethklok, they must be rejoined/Evil, it must be destroyed/No more apathetic stoics/They can learn to be heroic/Write the song that will be our salvation..."

-In "Training," while carrying the journal, she sings the lyrics, "As the prophecy foretold, the Doomstar has been born/And you all will be endowed with a power known to none." Nathan, Skwisgaar and Murderface are looking at the art of the Prophecy, but Pickles is watching her. Ishnifus places a hand upon her shoulder, and they sing together, "The Deth lights are within you all waiting to be woken/And when the five are united, the evil will be broken," in a show of solidarity.

-In "En Antris et Stella Fatum Cruenti," just after Ishnifus is killed and the Doomstar goes red, we see a shot of Charles, Edgar and St. Cecilia at the Church, watching the sky.

-In "Morte Lumina," in a mirror to Nathan and Abigail's kiss, we see Pickles approach St. Cecilia, and she presses a kiss to his palm (Which is a really significant gesture between them) before he pulls her into his arms.

Trivia:

-The stars on her cheeks are actually a makeup trick, as she's afraid to have a needle so close to her eyes.

-She smokes Honeyrose Cherry cigarettes (Which have roughened her voice a bit), but she doesn't drink to excess, save when she's with Pickles. He's a terrible influence on her, but she adores him just the same. Considering him and Magnus, she has rather bad taste in men.

-Her signature scent is Estée Lauder's Cinnabar, which features notes of jasmine, orange blossom, cloves, and patchouli. She uses a cinnamon body oil when she wants to get Pickles's attention. It always works.

-She wants nothing more than to be loved, but she's keenly aware of the fact that most of the people who "love" her only want to coast on her fame. It's resulted in her having a hard time trusting people. The fact that Pickles and the rest of Dethklok don't need to coast off her is part of why she likes them so much.

-She's an iced coffee addict, and she prefers chocolate, caramel, or hazelnut varieties.

-She was raised Catholic, and while she lapsed a long time ago, she has occasional bouts of Catholic Guilt. Her name is related to her religion, as St. Cecilia is the patron saint of music.

-Her preferred alcohol is Bombay Sapphire gin, though she also likes white wine and champagne.

-She's a plant mom. Her flat is full of plants, including a little devil's tongue cactus she bought at a farmer's market in LA when she first came to America. It's traveled the world with her! It lived in the cupholder of Snazz's van for several years, and now it lives in her kitchen, perched on top of the microwave.

-She has a pretty serious oral fixation. She's always got something in her mouth: A cigarette, a pen, a popsicle, someone's fingers, a dick. Depends on her mood. Getting her tongue pierced helped a little, as she can play with the stud, but some habits just can't be broken.

-She and the rest of Stiletto own a condo building in London together, and she naturally has the penthouse to herself. It's very airy and open, with lots of mirrors and plants and exposed brick. One corner of her living room is just a huge window that looks out on the city. It's her favorite feature. Magnus is too nervous to go near it.

#this is a lot but i feel like she feels like a real character almost #Metalocalypse #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #william murderface #charles offdensen #magnus hammersmith #mtl #my mtl #st. cecilia jameson

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canmom · 3 years ago

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2ku Twosday 2×2×2×2×2×2 + 2 + 2 +1: Cube

Ah, would that we could have a more numerically auspicious number this Twosday 22/02/2022! The twosiest day for the next two hundred years! By which point, who knows, the Gregorian calendar may no longer be in use.

To celebrate the number two, I had the idea of watching a series of cult Canadian horror films all themed around a very twosy shape, the cube. After all, what is a cube but the result of repeated doubling?

Like I said, very twosy shape.

So yeah, we’re gonna watch the movie Cube (1997)! And its sequel Cube 2: Hypercube (2002) and prequel Cube Zero (2007). For ‘Toku Tuesday’ purity, it would be nice if I could show the Japanese remake of the first movie that came out last year, but it’s not on nyaa, presumably bc it hasn’t seen the BD release yet. Maybe another day.

So what’s Cube about? It’s about people dying in a big cube full of lethal traps! That’s basically it! It’s a kind of guro-y psychological horror thing I guess.

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Why is there a big death cube? This question is pointedly not answered, though characters speculate. The cube was built by some kind of mysterious bureaucracy, and one of the prisoners helped design it; Wikipedia terms the film’s ‘Kafkaesque’ tone one of the major reasons for its cult following.

The writer and director of the first film, Vincenzo Natali, developed the idea from the 1961 Twilight Zone episode Five Characters in Search of an Exit, which also imagines five characters of diverse origins thrown together in a confined space. To gain funding, he shot a short film Elevated that takes place entirely in a... lift (¬¬), selling the money men on the idea of a film taking place in confined spaces.

The Cube itself was designed by, who else, a mathematician:

The fictional Cube device in the film was conceived by mathematician David W. Pravica, who also served as the film's math consultant.[19] It consists of an outer cubical shell (the sarcophagus) and the inner cube. Each side of the outer shell is 434 feet (132 m) long. The inner cube consists of 263 = 17,576 cubical rooms (minus an unknown number of rooms to allow for movement, as shown in the film), each having a side length of 15.5 feet (4.7 m). There is a space of 15.5 feet (4.7 m) between the inner cube and the outer shell. Each room is labelled with three identification numbers, for example, 517 478 565. These numbers encode the starting coordinates of the room and the X, Y, and Z coordinates are the sums of the digits of the first, second, and third number, respectively. The numbers also determine the movement of the room - the subsequent positions are obtained by cyclically subtracting the digits from one another, and the resulting numbers are then successively added to the starting numbers.[20]

To shoot this, they built a single cube-shaped room, whose colour could be changed with gel panels. The tiny budget could only stretch to five colours of panel rather than the planned 6.

Natali apparently wrote a script for a followup film taking place outside the Cube, but destroyed it when it became clear that this film wouldn’t get made. Instead, the film saw two sequels by other directors: Hypercube brought in Polish cinematographer Andrzej Sekuła, trying to make a more abstract scenario with a 4D hypercube with odd gravitational effects, although the CGI of the time struggled to portray this convincingly; Zero saw Ernie Barbarash, the producer of Hypercube, step into the director’s chair to tell a story taking place, in part, outside the cube. These films go a little further to try to explain the existence and purpose of the cube, bringing in a concept of a government inducing amnesia in prisoners and sending them into the cube in lieu of outright execution. It is, apparently, less psychological horror and more gore oriented.

They all get... mixed reviews, but I think the premise sounds very interesting - I actually had the whole trilogy on DVD for years and... never watched it, for some reason, so tonight I feel like remedying that. If that sounds like fun, drop by in a couple hours at around 7pm UK time (may be a bit later, I’ll keep you posted!) at twitch.tv/canmom...

#toku tuesday #toku twosday

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naferty · 4 years ago

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Stark Holiday

(First Part. Recommend reading that before this one. Makes a little more sense!)

~~~

Steve once wrote a letter to get a best friend for Christmas. He had been eight-years-old, back when his health was bad and his scrawny child body had been scrawnier than most. Finding someone to be his friend proved to be a real puzzle.

He didn’t know why he chose that particular year to ask for a friend from the jolly man. Maybe the bullying had been particularly bad that year, or maybe he was finally old enough to understand the feeling of loneliness, either way, he wrote the letter and only asked for a friend while requesting other, important things for his ma.

Steve didn’t remember much of that year, but he did remember it was the year where he finally made a friend.

The boy had been similar in age as him, with the darkest eyes and darkest hair Steve had ever seen. Steve remembers the boy practically wore nothing against the cold. Only the thinnest little sweater and boots, while Steve had been wrapped in every jacket they had owned. As if the cold didn’t affect him.

Steve also remembered how the boy smiled at him. Wide and open. No sneer in sight. That year, Steve played in the snow for hours and never wanted to stop. He never wanted to say goodbye to the boy, to Tony.

The next day, Tony was still there and still wanted to be his friend. Steve had been overjoyed.

Then the next day and the next, until the strangest thing. Come the first day of the next year and Tony never returned. Vanished with no trail left behind. Little eight-year-old Steve had been heartbroken for a time but then he brilliantly resolved; he’ll just as the jolly man up north for his friend to return.

Come the following Christmas and… it worked. Tony came back and Steve had another wonderful holiday with his friend.

Then Tony disappeared on the first day of the following next year again, so Steve wrote another letter and come Christmas week, Tony was back.

This pattern repeated for years until Steve finally met Bucky one sunny day in February. A jerk who became his best friend. Thick as thieves and glued to the hip. They’d later join the military together and share an apartment.

Steve didn’t write a letter for this year, nor any of the following years, and didn’t recall ever seeing Tony. Steve hated to admit it, was a little ashamed of it to be honest, but he had forgotten all about Tony. About the letters. Until now.

His date with Sharon went well and seeing as Christmas was right around the corner one of the topics they had gone over had been their childhood holiday memories. What their families had done before. Any embarrassing stories for a particular year.

Steve remembered Tony and the letters. He told Sharon as much. A cute story in his childhood that he now chucked it up as pure coincidence. Tony had probably just been in the area visiting family and celebrating the holidays. Once Christmas was over he’d return back to wherever he lived and then return again to Steve’s neck of the woods to visit and celebrate.

Sharon agreed and they smiled and laughed. Their date continued until they had to go, but they left agreeing to try again. Steve liked Sharon. He could see himself dating her if it worked out, but not anything further than that. They needed a bit more time for that.

He returned to his apartment with the discussions of the date in mind. Specifically, the letters and Tony. To many, including himself, it really could have just been a coincidence. A little boy visiting distant family that happened to live in Brooklyn and looking for a friend to play with for the week, but what had happened on the year Tony never returned? A falling out with his family? Rebellious teenage faze where family reunions were too boring for him so he whined and whined until he was allowed to stay home?

Steve couldn’t say, but it did catch his curiosity. What are the odds the letters and Tony are connected? Low, but who would it hurt if Steve wrote one more? For old time’s sake, and as an apology for having forgotten his old friend.

So, he wrote.

A simple letter consisting of questioning his sanity for writing to jolly ol’ Saint Nick as a full-grown adult and mentioning his old friend who Steve was curious to see now. See how Tony had grown, how he looked, what became of his life after.

How Steve had come to miss him now that he remembered him.

He signed it and sent it on its way. Never to be seen for Steve had no idea where letters addressed to a fictional character go.

Just as years before, Steve had forgotten about it shortly after. Not out of malicious intent. He just had so much to do. Work, check on Bucky, share a coffee with Sam, meet with Sharon for another date and promise a third, drop off lunch for Natasha, make sure Clint hadn’t been thrown overnight in jail, figure out his budget for presents, the list went on and on.

The 21st came upon him pretty quick. Steve thought nothing of it. Just a regular, rare day-off. Get up for the day, stop by his favorite coffee place for a little treat and enjoy his free time before meeting up with Natasha and Bucky for some dinner.

He had just gotten in line for his drink and slice of cake and was looking around the establishment when something caught his eye. A sweater. A thin and outrageously colorful little thing, worn by a man sitting at a table. There was no sign of a coat or jacket or anything else to keep warm. Just a sweater, pants and boots.

There were inches of snow outside and the wind was unforgiving. Only someone insane would wear a simple sweater.

The questionable sanity of the man caught Steve’s attention. Then Steve noticed the man looking at him. Embarrassed at being caught, Steve turned away and stubbornly pretended he saw no one.

His stomach dropped when at the corner of his eye sweater-man stood and made his way towards him. He felt his face heat up. Sweater-man was going to demand to know why he had been staring and Steve would have to somehow explain why he had been fixated by the sweater-man’s choice of clothing.

“Excuse me?” Sweater-man said.

Steve accepted his fate. This was his end. “Yes?”

Sweater-man smiled. Wide and open, with exposed pearly whites. “Steve, it’s good to see you again.”

Steve’s mind blue-screened. Again? Steve had met sweater-man? When? Where? Steve may forget people from his childhood, but he prided himself on easily remembering faces as an adult. He’d remember a face like sweater-man’s. Pointy nose, round doe-eyes, fluffy dark hair and a goatee. It was a face Steve would easily remember put together.

He didn’t remember sweater-man.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said softly, “I don’t recall. Where did we meet?”

The smile remained, growing a little wider. “I’m not surprised. It’s me, Tony. Remember us playing in the snow way back when?”

Steve’s jaw nearly made friends with the floor. “No way,” the odds were supposed to be low! How was it possible he’d run into Tony after just having thought about him. “Oh, my god, how have you been?”

“I’ve been great. Busy. This is my busiest time of the year so finding time to relax is a miracle, let me tell you.”

Steve got a better look at the man. Shorter than himself but carrying some muscle. Visible through the fabric of the sweater and pants. Slightly pale, as if he rarely saw the light of day but pink on his cheeks and nose. Looking at his face a second time… it was a handsome face. Tony was a very handsome man.

His holiday friend had grown up to be a very fine man.

“What do you do?” Steve moved out of the line, not wanting to create traffic as he caught up with an old friend.

“I’m in the posting business. Distributing, mailing, take your pick.” There was a gleam in Tony’s eyes. As if he was revealing a secret.

“With the holidays coming up, no wonder you’re so busy.”

“Never busy enough for a cup of coffee, though, and enjoy a little stroll in the park. Care to join me?” The smile of before, the same smile Tony had often given him when they had been kids, made Steve’s heart skip a beat.

It was cold and the wind was hell. Only the brave or insane would take a stroll in the park in this weather. Steve eagerly said yes.

#naferty writes #stony #stevetony #stark holiday au #text post #long text post #they gonna be late childhood sweethearts just watch #might make a 3rd part and have it be a new years special

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cherienymphe · 5 years ago

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Crossfire III (Biker!Bucky x Reader x Steve)

Warnings: DUB-CON, eventual NON-CON, eventual kidnapping

PLEASE DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: You and your new husband Steve move back to his hometown. It is here that his past catches up with him, and you both pay the price.

You peeked through the window, a smile spreading over your lips as you caught a glimpse of who had knocked on the door. Wanda had a small smile on her own face when you finally opened it. She looked so lively outside of the diner setting.

“Wanda! What are you doing here?”

“School doesn’t start back for weeks, so I figured you don’t want to be cooped in the house until then. I thought I’d show you around town,” she said.

“Oh.”

Steve had claimed that he was going to get around to doing that, but work had taken up so much of his time. Not to mention everything else he was dealing with. It seemed silly to make him show you around with much more serious things on his plate. You absentmindedly brushed your fingers over your neck, flinching a bit.

“You know what? I love that idea. Come in! I just need to put on my shoes,” you said, stepping aside.

You closed the door behind her as she looked around.

“Wow. It looks so different from the last time I was in here,” she said.

“This used to be the hangout spot or something?” you chuckled as you put your shoes on.

“Something like that,” she chuckled back. “I told you, I was never really friends with Steve. My brother, Pietro, was though. I think he idolized him a bit, to be honest. I came around with him once or twice during some of their meetings.”

“Meetings? What kind of meetings?” you asked, grabbing your purse.

She seemed to freeze, lips parting ever so slightly as her eyes widened. You frowned at her as she hurried to double back.

“Not…not meetings really. Just when the guys would hang out and stuff,” she said with a shake of her head.

You eyed her odd demeanor for a bit, eventually brushing it off. You followed her outside and looked around in confusion.

“How’d you get here?”

“I walked,” she said with a shrug. “My house isn’t far.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to that, how small the town was. Sure, walking in New York was normal, but that was in the city and the boroughs. You considered taking the car but decided against it.

“You don’t mind walking some more, do you?”

“Of course not. You won’t get the full experience driving around anyway!”

You locked the door behind you, thankful that it was nice outside.

“Walking around this town was how we found all the cool hangout spots when we were kids,” she chuckled. “Some of the best places here would’ve remained a secret to us.”

“What was Steve like then?” you wondered. “He doesn’t talk about his past much…”

Hell, before you moved here you had thought Steve only had two friends his whole life.

“I’m sure he’s the same now as he was then,” she chuckled. “Bossy and self-righteous…kind of like a kid when he doesn’t get his way.”

She nudged you, and you frowned. Steve could be set in his ways sometimes, sure, but that wasn’t at all what he was like. At least, not now. He’d told you he was a different man back then, but you were really starting to wonder just how different.

You kept your thoughts to yourself and instead listened to Wanda as she talked about the different businesses in town. You learned that she and her brother aren’t from here but from Sokovia.

“Yeah, we didn’t know the language well when we moved here, but Steve and Bucky made us feel welcome. They accepted us with ease and the rest followed,” she said.

You glanced away at the mention of Steve’s former friend, and you bit your lip.

“So Steve and Bucky were pretty close…”

“Like brothers,” she confirmed.

You watched her face fall, and your curiosity to know what happened between them grew. Again, you kept your thoughts to yourself. You wanted to trust that Steve would tell you in his own time. The two of you spent the rest of the day walking around town. You walked by the small shopping center you didn’t even know was here. It consisted of a Dollar General, a liquor store, a post office, and a small clothing shop you’d never heard of.

When the two of you neared the local bar, Wanda’s demeanor changed. She slowed, visibly uncomfortable, and you frowned. You saw ‘The Asgardian’ flashing in bright neon lights. It was late in the evening, now, so the place seemed to be just livening up. You noticed quite a few motorcycles parked out front, a few of which looked familiar.

There were a couple of people mingling by their bikes, drinking beer and laughing. You noticed a small group of women eyeing the two of you, all sporting those leather jackets. Wanda grabbed your arm.

“Come on-.”

“Wanda!”

You both looked over to see one of the women waving you two over, dark ponytail swinging. You could tell that Wanda was uncomfortable, so you spoke up.

“We don’t have to go over if you don’t want to,” you said. “You can tell them I don’t feel well or something.”

Wanda bit her lip before eventually shaking her head. “I wish it were that easy,” she quietly replied, reluctantly approaching them.

You followed and noticed the way some of the men closer to the bar eyed you. You made eye contact with Sam, and he waved. You returned it with a small smile.

“You know Sam?”

You cut your eyes to the woman who asked. She was finishing up a cigarette, green eyes focused on you as she stomped it out.

“Not really. He came by the house the other day to see Steve,” you answered.

She smirked, glancing at the blonde woman beside her before pushing off of her bike. She stuck her hand out.

“You must be Steve’s wife. Natasha,” she introduced herself.

You took her hand, introducing yourself as well. The other girls greeted you and introduced themselves too, albeit the blonde one, Sharon, did so reluctantly.

“We’re about to head inside. You two should join us.”

It was the one who’d waved you two over. She had introduced herself as Brunnhilde, but she claimed that everyone called her Valkyrie.

“I was just showing Y/N around. We were actually about to head back to-.”

“Just for a few drinks,” Natasha laughed, throwing her arm over your shoulder. “Besides, Pietro’s inside. He’s been wondering where you were, Wanda.”

You didn’t protest when Natasha pulled you along.

“So, how long you and Steve been married?”

“A little over a month,” you answered, “…but we’ve been together for almost two years.”

“Newlyweds,” she laughed. “That’s sweet.”

The bar was dimly lit inside and filled with smoke. It was rowdy, and your ears were immediately filled with loud chatter and boisterous laughter from men and women alike. A few people eyed you as you walked past with Natasha, but their eyes didn’t linger for too long, almost as if they were afraid to stare.

You settled down at a table in the back, Wanda and the rest close behind. Natasha waved the server over and ordered a round of beers.

“You drink?” the redhead asked.

“Not much,” you honestly replied.

Back in your college days you got pretty wild, but that was behind you. Or so you thought. One round of beer turned into three then three turned into five. Before you knew it, your body felt light and your head felt fuzzy. You found that you liked Natasha. She was funny if not a little rough around the edges, but it was in that good and tough straightforward way you’d always envied.

She was currently telling you about the time Steve had gotten in trouble for breaking into the school for senior prank day. The cops had him cuffed and ready to go when Tony and Clint distracted them while Sam and Bucky busted him out of the car. You snorted, immediately covering your mouth in a fit of giggles.

“God, Steve never tells me any of this stuff,” you complained. “I didn’t even know the guy had friends.”

You chuckled, taking another sip of beer.

“Yeah,” Natasha sighed. “Steve had a lot of friends, a whoole support system here before he ran off.”

She suddenly scoffed, chuckling without humor.

“It was pretty brave of him to come back here after what he did. Brave…or stupid, I still haven’t decided yet, but the man always did have steel balls.”

You frowned at her, confusion piercing your brain as she nursed her beer.

“What do you mean?”

Something in you was telling you that this was a conversation meant for Steve and you, that you were doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t: prying. She almost choked on her beer, staring at you with wide eyes before she laughed. This time it was genuine.

“You don’t know? You’re telling me Steve didn’t tell you?”

Your frown only deepened, and she suddenly quieted, a look of disbelief falling over her features. She fell back in her seat with a light scoff, shaking her head as she glanced away.

“That son of a bitch,” she whispered, but you still heard her over the noise.

Against your better judgement, you pressed her for information.

“What? What did he do?”

She sighed, setting her beer back down before leaning forward.

“Well…you know about the club. The money they would take and-.”

“Wait, wait, what club? What money?”

You were growing more confused by the minute. She stared at you for a moment, studying you. Realization bled into her features.

“You don’t know anything…do you?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, and apparently you didn’t need to. Your silence was answer enough. She looked away, and you watched as she clenched her jaw.

“I think you should go,” she said.

You blinked.

“What? Why? I-.”

“Because you clearly don’t know your husband at all…and I’d hate to be the one to ruin that for you,” she said, staring you down. “You should go anyway before Bucky shows up.”

You frowned but nodded at the mention of Bucky. You turned and tapped Wanda on the shoulder, telling her you were going to go.

“Alright. I’ll go with you,” she said, putting on her jacket.

“Let me go to the bathroom first,” you told her.

You stood and swayed for a bit, realizing that you had drank more than you intended to. You managed to make it to the other side of the room though, hand sliding along the wall as you stepped into the dark hallway.

The bathroom wasn’t the cleanest, and you turned your nose up in disgust. You normally squatted over public toilets, but you were so wobbly you didn’t think you’d be able to. You sighed, mulling over Natasha’s words. While it was true that there were things about Steve you didn’t know, was it really true that you didn’t know him at all? Did you really not know Steve at all?

The alcohol in your system made your emotions so much more…more, and you blinked away tears. Ever since you’d moved here, nothing had gone like you thought it would, and while it might’ve been unfair to think so, you partly blamed Steve. Not only had he moved back here knowing that when he left, he’d left behind bad blood, but he allowed you to be blindsided.

You stumbled to the sink, splashing water over your face after washing your hands. There was no use looking into the mirror, the dirt and grime covering it didn’t allow you to see anything. God, you could just imagine what Steve was going to say when Wanda dragged you home, drunk and wobbly. You yanked the door open, a burp rising in your throat, but you swallowed it down in shock.

Your body was frozen as your eyes connected with familiar blue ones. He smiled at you, but it was cold, mocking even. You stumbled back when he stepped inside, and your eyes widened when he closed the door behind him.

“You-you can’t be in here,” you told him, moving to get past him.

He gripped your arms and pushed you back. His large frame and your inebriated state made it easy. You winced when he pushed you into the sink, pain traveling through your lower back.

“I’ve got my hands in almost every cookie jar in this town. I can go wherever I want,” he shot back, tightening his grip.

You struggled against him, but he only chuckled at your attempt. You grunted in frustration, fed up.

“What do you want from me, Bucky?”

You spat his name, and a slow smirked danced along his lips.

“Hmm. I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I know what I want from Steve…”

You glared at him.

“…but I don’t know what I want from you exactly. Well…at least not all of what I want.”

He stepped closer, pressing himself against you, and your struggle increased. You could smell nicotine on his breath, and you gasped when one hand traveled down to grip your thigh. With your now free hand, you shoved against his chest, but he only pushed himself closer.

“Steve and I shared a lot back then. T-shirts, bikes…women,” he said, gripping your jaw. “Although, I don’t think he’s inclined to do so anymore. He seems a little…possessive of you.”

His laugh sent shivers down your spine, and you pushed against him, hard. You were satisfied when he took a step back, but your relief was short lived when he shoved you back. Your head slammed against the mirror, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your already tilting vision was swaying when you opened them.

“You know what he told me that day I came by? He said if I so much as looked at you again, he’d bury me. You got yourself a keeper,” he chuckled. “Too bad he’s a liar and a thief.”

“Don’t talk about him like that. I don’t know what happened between you two, but Steve isn’t that person.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, gaze almost pitying.

“He hasn’t changed, sweetheart. He just got better at hiding,” he sneered.

You turned your face away, but his grip on your chin tightened. He leaned down when you tried to lean away, nose brushing against yours.

“Did you even ask him what he took? What he did?”

You tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“We used to go from town to town, you know…taking money from anyone we could. Selling drugs to anyone desperate enough to buy.”

You jerked in his grip, eyes wide in disbelief as you stared at him.

“We thought we were untouchable…and we were. No one messed with us, and if they did, we made an example out of them. Steve led and we followed,” he continued.

“No,” you shook your head, stomach churning.

“We were gonna take over this town. Almost two million dollars,” he whistled. “That’s how much money we had saved up. We were going to buy out everyone we could. We were so close, and this whole town knew it. They were scared, and rightfully so…”

He suddenly gripped your hair, one arm curling around your waist as he pinned you to him.

“Then Steve had a change of heart one day. He turned his back on all of us and the way of life he helped create. He left. No big deal, we would eventually get over it…had he not taken the money with him,” he spat.

You swallowed, eyes widening as you realized the severity of the whole ordeal.

“Not only is he a traitor who turned his back on us, but he’s a thief too.”

He looked over you and suddenly hummed.

“You look like you’re going to be sick. Let me walk you outside to get some air.”

He didn’t give you time to protest before yanking you away from the wall and towards the door. The bar was even louder than before, and the hallway was dark, the only light coming from the lights in the bar. Bucky didn’t go that way though. He shoved you towards the back of the building.

His hand was still in your hair, and his grip was tight as he forced you through a backdoor. The air was cool on your skin, but the cool brick wall against your back was colder as he pinned you against it.

“Steve really thought that he could just come back here and live the rest of his days out peacefully after what he did. So confident,” he mused.

You yelped into his mouth as he pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and forceful, pressing against yours so harshly it hurt. With one of his hand in your hair and the other pressing into your back, your movements were restricted. He forced his leg between yours, and you brought your knee up.

He let go of you with a groan, and you pushed past him. Your foot caught on his as he stuck it out, and you felt yourself falling. However, he stopped you before you could hit the ground. One hand gripped your arm while the other wrapped around your throat. His lips were at your ear, heaving chest pressing into your back.

“That was cheap, doll,” he hissed.

“Let go of me!”

His grip tightened, and you gasped, digging your nails into his arm. He shook you.

“You tell Steve that I want that money back. I don’t think he’s taking me seriously, and I’d hate to have to find ways to…” his lips brushed over your cheek “…get his attention.”

You stumbled when he finally let go of you, and your arms and neck were sore. You spun around, hand outstretched to slap him, but he caught your wrist. You glared at him and he glared back, his hold tight.

“You should go home to your husband, Mrs. Rogers. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are,” he said.

You yanked your hand from his grip, jaw clenched as you eyed him. Deciding to pick your battles, you turned and stumbled away from him. It was dark outside, now and you were positive that Wanda was worried. You were proven right when you made your way to the parking lot.

She ran towards you, your purse in her hand. Her eyes were wide and inquiring as she steadied you.

“Where were you? You were taking so long so I went to check on you, but you were gone.”

“Are you in their...club or whatever too? With Bucky?” you asked, ignoring her question.

Her face fell, but she shook her head.

“No…”

“…but your brother is,” you guessed.

She didn’t deny it.

“Who…who told you? Did Nat-?”

She didn’t have a chance to finish, bright headlights nearly blinding you both as a car pulled up beside you. You recognized the car.

There was a frown on Steve’s face as he hopped out. There was a frown on yours too as he approached you. He nodded at Wanda, thanking her when she handed him your purse.

“I’ll talk to you later, Y/N?”

You eyed her, suddenly unsure of who to trust, but nodded anyway. She looked between you two before reluctantly walking away, going back inside no doubt. It was quiet, and you could tell that Steve was upset, although you couldn’t understand why. You were the only one with a reason to be mad.

“Get in the car, Y/N,” he sighed. “I don’t even know why you’re here of all places and-.”

“Two million dollars?” you quietly interrupted him.

He paused and swallowed his words, visibly taken aback as you questioned him. His eyes gave away nothing, but his body language did.

“…what?”

“You heard me, Steve.”

He didn’t reply right away, and his jaw ticked. He glanced around, eyes narrowed.

“Let’s talk about this at home, or at least in the car-.”

“I want to talk about this here, Steve. I want to know why you thought you could just come back here after doing such a thing and act like nothing happened. I want to know why you didn’t tell me, why you just let me walk into this mess with you?”

He heaved another sigh, running his hands down his face.

“Y/N-.”

“Bucky doesn’t want that money back. I don’t care what he says! He knows you don’t have that money to just give back. He wants revenge!”

“Honey-.”

“And then you actually have the nerve to want to raise children here? Knowing you had a target on your back the second you crossed the city limits? You think I’d want to bring children into this?”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. You didn’t wait for him to say anything, instead walking around him and getting in the car. You crossed your arms over your chest as he slid into the driver’s side. You could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to look at him. He reached for your face, but you jerked away, and he sighed.

The short drive to the house was quiet. You could feel him glance at you here and there, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look at him. You knew that Steve was different then, he’d told you so, but you had never imagined…

He stole from people, sold drugs? You didn’t even want to linger on what Bucky meant when he’d said they’d made examples out of people. You were starting to regret the way you’d confronted Steve, but the alcohol in your system had clouded your judgement. You wanted to believe Bucky was lying, but Steve’s reaction told you all you needed to know. You weren’t even sure you wanted to hear his side of things.

You ignored his calls as you hurried from the car.

“Y/N.”

You rushed inside the house, and you could hear his footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, stop!”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to a halt. You turned to glare at him, attempting to pull your arm free but he wouldn’t relent.

“I was going to tell you the truth. I promise that I was,” he assured you.

You didn’t know if you believed him.

“I had hoped things would be different now, that they would have let it go-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, a laugh bubbling in your throat.

“I don’t believe that, and I refuse to think you do. Two million dollars, Steve? Come on. I didn’t grow up with these people but even I know they’d never let that go. No sane person would…”

You jerked away from him, heading for the stairs. He called you again, but you simply ignored him.

You stared out of the window, gaze locked on the moon shining light into your room. Your back was to Steve, but you knew that he wasn’t asleep either. His breathing was different. You heard him sigh before you felt the bed move.

You frowned when he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You reached down to push his hand away, but he tightened his grip.

“Let go of me,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, pressing himself against you.

You sighed, lacking the energy for this discussion at this time of night.

“That’s a nice sentiment, Steve, but we’re still here in your hometown with dangerous people who want payback for what you did,” you replied, fighting his hold.

“I had my reasons,” he snapped. “Will you stop it?”

You huffed in frustration, sitting up and grabbing your pillow.

“I’m sleeping on the couch.”

You yelped when he pulled you back down, covering your frame with his own. Your eyes were wide as you pushed against him.

“What is wrong with you? Get off of me, Steve.”

His face was twisted into anger.

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”

“I want to sleep on the couch, tonight. That’s what I want. I feel like I don’t know anything about you, and right now, I don’t feel comfortable with you,” you told him.

He frowned down at you, eyes hardening as he studied you. He ran them over you. Blinking a few times before pursing his lips.

“You know…about everything….”

You glanced away, and your silence was deafening.

“Who told you?”

“Does it matter? Its all true isn’t it? You led and they followed,” you repeated Bucky’s words.

“Was it Bucky? Did he tell you?”

“Does. It. Matter.”

His blue eyes were cold.

“I told you to stay away from him-.”

“I didn’t go looking for him, Steve! He found me! He sought me out, and he’s going to keep doing so because of what you did.”

His jaw ticked as he fought to think of a response. You looked away from him, swallowing.

“Natasha was right. I don’t know you, at all.”

He pressed his lips against your cheek, and you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your skin.

You didn’t respond, and he continued.

“I never wanted you to know about that, any of it. I’ve tried so hard to put all of that behind me.”

And yet, he still came back here. You turned your face away when his lips sought out your own, but he gripped your chin. You made a noise of protest when he pressed his lips against yours, but he ignored you.

“Steve.”

His other hand slid up your legs, pushing your t-shirt up with it, and you squirmed beneath him.

“Steve, come on,” you pleaded. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your mouth. “I’m sorry, and I love you. Let me show you.”

You stared up at the ceiling as his mouth trailed down to your neck, hands pinning your wrists down. You closed your eyes, realizing you couldn’t fight against his hold. His touch that once brought you comfort was making your skin crawl.

When you came for the third time that night, trembling and out of breath, you’d almost forgotten what had angered you. Steve’s grip was unrelenting as he held you to him, his low voice lulling you to sleep, the couch long forgotten.

#biker!bucky #Dark Fic #dark!bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel

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dalekofchaos · 4 years ago

Text

My hopes for WWE & AEW in 2021 and things I hope changes for WWE and AEW in 2021

Hopes

WWE

Roman Reigns stays dominant and reigns supreme as the Tribal Chief

Keith Lee wins the Royal Rumble, joins The Hurt Business and brings the WWE Champion to the Hurt Business

Naomi returns and joins The Hurt Business and dethrones Asuka to take home the gold

The Hurt Business DOMINATES Raw

Bianca Belair wins the Royal Rumble and dethrones Sasha Banks at Wrestlemania

The Riott Squad win the Women’s Tag Team Champions

Unify the men’s Tag Team Championships

Unveil a new Title and give us WWE’s very first Television Championship. It should be styled similar to the NWA and WCW’s TV belts, but on the sideplates it should include USA and Fox on the plates. Shelton Benjamin or Ricochet should be the TV Championship

Big E reigns supreme as Intercontinental Champion and finally gets to face Roman for the Universal Championship at Wrestlemania 38

Rhea Ripley gets called up and goes to Smackdown

Mercedes Martinez dethrones Io Shirai and becomes NXT Women’s Champion

Karrion Kross reclaims the NXT Championship

Anyone but Johnny Sameface as NXT North American Champion

Queen Of The Ring. The amount of female talent available on Raw, SmackDown, NXT and NXT UK is quite something. It's clear that this is the richest women's division in WWE history. They really should do something with all those workers. The 'Mae Young Classic' tourneys have been fine, but people would trip over themselves to see a fully-fledged 'Queen Of The Ring' epic staged across multiple nights. If booked correctly, this tournament could help establish a new contender for top titles. If she isn't Champion by then(though she should be) the perfect person to become Queen Of The Ring would be Bianca Belair! Bianca Belair would have unparalleled credibility for her 'StrongEST, FastEST, ToughEST' mantra if she whipped a bevy of skilled workers to become the first 'Queen'. WWE could also get creative by linking the event in with Charlotte Flair's nickname and spinning off into a feud between her and the winner afterwards.

Form Full-Time Female Tag-Teams and keep them around. The Women’s Tag Team DIvision is a mess. Keep creating makeshift Tag Teams and breaking up established tag teams and your tag team division is dead. The current champs and their predecessors haven't even been "proper" full-time duos - Nia Jax and Shayna Baszler were shoved together awkwardly in the summer, and they've since been replaced by the unlikely Asuka and Charlotte Flair combo. This cannot be allowed to continue. It's damning that WWE don't have more fully-formed pairings ready to go. The Riott Squad are perhaps the only actual twosome who are presented as a tight-knit collective weekly. Other than that, who is there? Considering the belts have been around for a few years now, that's unacceptable. The IIconics split, so did Sasha Banks and Bayley, and the scene is littered by 'odd couple' tandems like Mandy Rose and Dana Brooke, Lacey Evans and Peyton Royce, and Billie Kay teaming with the likes of Natalya or Tamina when it suits.

Ensure NXT is treated like a proper third brand rather than a quasi-development league for Raw and SmackDown. NXT has been on USA Network for over a year now, but it's still very much behind both Raw and SmackDown as a priority. Need proof? Look at the way Keith Lee was handled when he was "called up" after SummerSlam 2020. The former NXT Champ had to start all over again, and he's had several teething problems on Monday nights. It'd be nice to see WWE move away from positioning NXT as a 'feeder' for the other two shows. Changing someone's gimmick when they leave makes the brand look less-than, and there's simply no need for that anymore; NXT should be an equal to Raw and SmackDown, not a development league. Sadly, it still comes across as that. Lee's stop/start plight and the (mis)fortunes of others like Aleister Black and Ricochet should be a lesson to WWE. Some workers are better off rocking the black and yellow, not the red or blue.

AEW

Darby Allin becomes AEW World Heavyweight Champion

Adam Page costs Kenny the title and Page gets revenge and DESTROYS Kenny

MJF destroys the inner circle from within and when Jericho realizes what just happened, that’s when MJF and Wardlow destroys Jericho

Which is when we get a Sammy Guevara babyface turn and we get MJF vs Sammy

Arn Anderson turns on Cody

AEW’s Four Horsemen is formed. MJF, Shawn Spears and FTR with Tully and Arn managing as the JJ DIllon mouthpieces

Darby Allin and MJF feud for the title

The Women’s Division is improved. The girls get more time to shine on Dynamite. Your champion actually appears(shocking, I know) and build feuds and stories for your women’s division. There’s still some time to do what’s right for your women’s division, but the only thing that remains to be seen, does the powers that be of AEW even care?

Get a new title design for the Women’s Championship. It looks like a toy for a child. It’s plastic, not gold. It should be as big and beautifully designed as the men’s titles. It should be as big as the NWA’s title or even the WWE’s title. The title is symbolic as to how AEW treats it’s own women’s division and that needs to change with a fresh new design.

Sign Thunder Rosa. It may not fix everything with the women’s division, but it gives you your needed star power. Tony Khan should be begging on his hands and knees to sign Thunder Rosa in 2021 after her time with the NWA is up, his women’s division is getting their asses kicked by what his EVP refers to as a “developmental brand”

If you can’t sign Thunder Rosa. My solution is Push Anna Jay and Britt Baker as the top face and heel of the women’s division and either of them dethrone Shida.

Changes

WWE

Leave whatever that monstrosity of a creative team they have for RAW is. Let the Wrestlers dictate what they want their characters to be. Ditch the scripted promos. Let promos feel organic and real. Let the wrestlers be characters who feel real and genuine. Get rid of a “Creative” that isn't creative and let the wrestlers be creative and let them be free of terrible creative.

Get rid of the Gimmick PPV. WWE has ruined gimmick matches by turning them into themed PPVs. none of these matches are organic or special anymore. The matches themselves are great but are booked to fit a theme of a pay-per-view, when they should be used organically at the height of feuds. no one cares about the name of PPVs, so i don’t understand why WWE does this. the only one that actually works is MITB, because it makes sense as storylines reset after Mania.

Scrap the Brand Warfare/Brand Supremacy. WWE should scrap the tired brand warfare format at Survivor Series and move away from Raw vs. SmackDown completely. Booking around a calendar has become company law in WWE over the past decade or so. Perhaps McMahon always formatted things this way really, but it's more glaring now that gimmick bouts like Elimination Chamber, Hell In A Cell and Money In The Bank have their own pay-per-views. Survivor Series, with it's played out Raw vs. SmackDown vibes, also needs a rethink. "Brand warfare" is boring now, and it has been for several years. Although 2020's event was fun, it's nonetheless true that the month-long build to Survivors feels like a repetitive slog fans are forced to sit through every November. Hopefully, 2021 will change that. It is possible to book traditional elimination bouts without some sort of false show loyalty - WWE did this almost every single year until the first brand split in 2002. Their over-reliance on Raw vs. SmackDown is plain lazy. Survivor Series should be revolved around great rivalries between stables/factions. It’s really not that hard. Or at the very least if there IS a Smackdown vs Raw themed Survivor Series, at least add a damn reward. Give the brand a head start in the Rumble,, give the winners of the match number one contenders for their brand’s respective titles or ANYTHING better than just “brand supremacy lol”

Get rid of the 24/7 title. It has run it’s course. R-Truth is funny, but even he can’t make it work anymore.

Stop. Breaking. Up. Tag Teams. Stop killing your Tag Team Division. For the love of god just stop!

Cut Akira Tozawa’s ninja bullshit. It’s not funny, it’s annoying

Kill Retribution. It’s complete garbage. It has been consistently terrible ever since Retribution began. Mustafa Ali cannot save Retribution, he’s trying but no one can save it.

Stop the 50/50 booking

Stop rewarding Nia Jax, the living botch machine for injuring her fellow wrestlers

Stop pushing Lars Sullivan. Absolutely no one wants him.

They should cut raw to 2 hours because 3 hours is unbearable

Stop the overreliance of part time wrestlers. I don’t want to see Goldberg being pushed at the expense of today’s talent and I don’t want to see Goldberg period. I don’t want to see Brock Lesnar return at the expense of today’s talent. I don’t want to see Legends return. Push your current fucking wrestlers and make stars. You idiots!

Do not rush Becky Lynch back to the ring, she just had a baby. I read the reports that Vince wants Becky back by Wrestlemania. That is a terrible decision

Stop killing pushes because Vince changed his mind

Enough with “creative has nothing for you” if your “creative” has nothing for a certain wrestler, then they are not creative. Either let the wrestlers appear on the show or release them if you don’t want them anymore, it’s simple as that.

Do. Not. Put. The. Title. On. Goldberg. Goldberg should not have beaten Bray Wyatt's 'Fiend' for the Universal Title at Super ShowDown in February - that was a huge mistake, one that set Bray back and felt totally unnecessary. In 2021, WWE should outright avoid any temptation to repeat the trick and give ol' Billy another go-around with one of the top titles. If anything, Goldberg's only purpose should be to play victim for a quick Roman Reigns squash. Get through that elusive match then turn Bill into a company ambassador. He doesn't need to pretend it's still 1998 all these years on.

AEW

Leave the overabundance of spots just for the sake of spots and enough with the false finishes. Jim Ross was right, like it or not, the spots for the sake of spots and the false finishes need to end. This is my major problem with AEW and why I can’t stand The Elite in general. Everyone just needs to get their shit in. Everything looks fake. No one can look strong or credible and we have to see garbage Indy wrestlers and the spot monkeys make everything look fake and phony. The champions never look credible and everyone is on the level of job guys. This needs to change

Stop leaving your Women’s Champion off the show. It is downright insulting how dirty they are doing Hikaru Shida. She deserves as much time to shine as the other champions deserve.

Stop putting the NWA Women’s Champion as more of a priority than your own Women’s Champion

Enough with Brandi. Why is the women’s division given absolutely 0 screentime and barely anytime to develop their stories, but Brandi is ALWAYS THERE! Everything has to be about her. When a feud between Cody and Shaq was close to happening, of course it had to be about her. She’s turned heel/face as much time as the Big Show. I’ve grown tired of Brandi Rhodes. Stop shoving that attention whore down our throats. WE GET IT! You wanna be Stephanie so bad!

Enough with Cody’s big dramatic midlife crisis entrances. We get it, you wanna be Triple H SO BAD!

Stop the petty bullshit shots at WWE. It was fun at first, but it’s getting annoying. This is Eric Bischoff giving away the results and “That’ll put butts in the seats” level of petty bullshit. AEW had the fucking nerve to tweet a fan’s post saying they did a better tribute for Brodie Lee than WWE. HE JUST DIED! AND YOU ARE MAKING IT ABOUT YOUR FUCKING RIVALRY? GROW THE FUCK UP!

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writeroutoftime · 4 years ago

Text

lost in love and time - chapter three

@readermia, @mgk-rooklover1997, @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons, @dabooks23, @loser-alert, @themeanestlittlewitch, @peaches-roses-sins, @tiffanynguyen03 @t33n-tw4t @tinymalscoffee @diana-24-world, @ducky1901

CATCH UP - CHAPTER TWO

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: haunted mansion au - as the night wears on, things start to become even stranger, and where are Sam and Natasha?

warnings: none

words: 2162

a/n: hello everyone! sorry for my little absence from this series, but I am back and ready to write! please let me know if you think the jumps between scenes in this chapter are confusing because it’s something I want to continue doing for the rest of the series. anyway, please enjoy and have a fabulous day!

(this chapter does contain some dialogue from the movie, which I am not taking credit for)

There was only silence between the two as Pierce escorted Sam down the lonely halls of the mansion and towards the library. Despite the loneliness, the library was just as impressive as the dining hall, though slightly dusty and overflowed with hefty volumes of outdated volumes. By the time Sam processed all this, however, Pierce had disappeared before Sam could ask about Mr. Barnes’ whereabouts. Content to wait, Sam made himself comfortable in a cushioned chair behind the desk, which was scattered with books and old papers and ink stains here and there.

Next to the desk was an odd marble bust with a healthy coating of dust. Carefully, Sam inspected the bust and when he brushed the dust off top of the statue, its head fell backwards, though more like the hinge on a door. Worried that Sam had just destroyed some price heirloom, he rushed to push the head back into place, and found it did so with ease. Confused, he hesitantly pushed the head back again and saw that it hadn’t actually broken off. It was in that moment that Sam heard the whoosh of a door sliding and glanced over his shoulder.

Where there had once been a simple bookshelf, then transformed into a secret passage that opened to reveal a dark, damp, stone hallway that perhaps had been a servant’s entrance at one point. Against his better judgement, Sam walked towards the passageway and stepped inside to see if anyone or anything was there. As soon as Sam stepped through the passage, however, the door immediately closed behind him with a resounding thud, and Sam was thrown into pitch black darkness.

“Hey, let me out!” he shouted and turned to pound on the stone wall to no avail. Quickly, he fished his phone out his pocket, because while there was no way on earth his phone would pick up any service, the flashlight still worked just fine. The now illuminated hallway showed a seemingly endless hallway littered with cobwebs. “y/n, Nat. This is not funny.” Sam said, his voice hardening to conceal the fear he felt. “Mr. Barnes? I didn’t mean to go snooping through your things, you can let me out now.”

Again, met with silence, Sam decided that the only way he would find a way out would be to walk down the hallway and see where he ended up. While almost every nerve in his body screamed that this was a bad idea, Sam trudged on, praying that he would soon find an exit and that morning would come so the three of you could finally put this place behind you.

oOoOo

Thanking Steve for showing you to the room you would occupy for the night, he offered a small bow before he hurried back into the expansive corridors of the mansion. Alone in your room, you took the time to examine how the room had been furnished to be consistent with the rest of the design in the mansion. While the dated decorations and bedspread would have turned most people away, there was something appealing and, perhaps, familiar as you ghosted your hand over the mantle above the fireplace.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself unable to sleep, so you slid on your shoes and wandered into the hall, hoping that Sam and Natasha were close by. Because had Steve showed you to your rooms while Pierce had taken Natasha and Sam in the opposite direction, you weren’t sure how to get around. While the mansion was beautiful, it was massive and very easy to get lost in. Each time you turned down another hallway, you feared that you were simply making a circle and not actually headed anywhere.

You watched the bottoms of the doors, looking for light to illustrate if the room was occupied, but all of them were dark. The strange thing was, however, you swore you could here something moving behind some of the doors, but when you went to open them, you found them locked. At one point, you found yourself back in the front entrance you had first stepped in a few hours ago, and you sighed in defeat as you walked the semi-familiar path back towards the dining room.

Pushing the ornate doors open, you walked inside and saw that most of the dishes had been cleared and the large fire was dying down as the rain still pounded outside. However, those noises drowned out as the familiar, melodic tune found its way back to you once more, and it was only when you heard the clatter of plates behind you did you realize that you were not alone.

“Oh, Peggy.” you greeted with a smile as you waved at the woman you met at dinner. “Let me help you.” you said and began to help her pick up the fallen dishes.

“Really, it’s fine, Miss. y/l/n.” she said, though her eyes flittered nervously around the room. “What are you doing out of bed?

You shook your head with a slight chuckle. “Please don’t worry about all that ‘Miss” nonsense, just call me y/n. And, I couldn’t sleep, so I tried to find Sam and Nat, but ended up getting lost.” you admitted sheepishly.

Peggy tried to return your smile, but it come across forced as she stood up once more and attempted to collect her bearings.

“Are you alright?” you asked her and reached out to try and place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Before you could, she stepped out of your reach and lowered her voice to a sharp whisper. “I’m alright, Miss- y/n.” she began. “But you and your friends must leave in the morning, right away.”

“Did we do something wrong?” you asked, a frown now on your face.

“No, but I fear that-“

“What is it you fear, Mrs. Rogers?” Pierce’s cold voice cut across the room and you watched Peggy stiffen with fear as Pierce crossed to stand next to her.

“Nothing, sir.” Peggy breathed shakily, glancing down at the floor.

Pierce shifted his gaze between the two of you for a few, tense moments before he nodded his head. “Then I suggest you return to the kitchen and tell that buffoon of a husband that I need to speak to him.”

Peggy nodded submissively, though you could see a fury burning under her skin, ready for the moment she could tell Pierce off, and you didn’t blame her. If Tony treated you a fraction of the way Pierce treated Peggy and Steve, you would quit without hesitation, but not before knocking him down a few pegs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pierce, but have you seen Sam or Natasha? I need to talk to them.” you finally spoke up, directing the butler’s full attention to you.

“Is that what you need Miss. y/l/n? Because I need the staff and guests of this manor to remember their place, or does that seem too difficult for you, you impertinent girl?” he growled, and your eyes widened in shock and fear. Just as suddenly as the outburst had come about, though, Pierce quickly returned to his cool, uninterested demeanor. “My apologizes, Miss. It has been a rather stressful evening.”

“O-of course.” you told him and subtly took a step back, unable to ignore the sinister feeling you got when he was around. “I’ll just return to my room then.”

Pierce looked surprised but let the matter drop. “Splendid.” he told you and stalked off to brood in another corner of the mansion.

oOoOo

As Sam walked along the stone passage, his flashlight illuminated a series of doors that he could not open from that side. It wasn’t until he felt as though he had been walking forever, that, finally, a door opened, freeing Sam from the secret passage. Closing the door behind him, Sam noticed the only option was to walk up a set of rickety, old stairs that led to another door. With a deep breath, he ascended the stairs and opened the door at the top, wincing at the loud creek that followed.

The next room Sam stepped into seemed to be the attic of the manor, filled with dozens of trunks that were stacked one on top of another and old portraits and other antiques that were covered in cobwebs and dust. “What is going on here?” Sam wondered out loud. With each new discovery, this mansion became stranger and stranger.

Suddenly, Sam heard the creak of floorboards and froze in his spot. He wasn’t sure who else would be up here, but he figured they wouldn’t appreciate that he was up there. In his attempt to make it back to the door unnoticed, Sam felt himself bump into a solid mass and let out a shout of surprise, that seemingly echoed throughout the attic.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” Natasha asked through grit teeth once she realized she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

“I’m was trying to get back to the room. What are you doing here?” he hissed back.

Natasha’s annoyed expression switched to one of genuine concern. “You were gone for so long that I thought something happened to you. I tried to find the library, but somehow ended up here.”

“Great! Now we’re both lost and stuck in the creepy-“ Sam began to rant before his voice trailed off as his eyes glanced around the room before they landed on an old portrait, partially hidden behind some boxes.

Natasha followed Sam’s line of sight in confusion as he walked to the portrait and carefully dragged it out so that they could get a better look. Both he and Natasha let out a gasp of surprise as they studied the subject of the painting and realized that she looked incredibly familiar – she looked like you.

“Neither of you should be here.” a voice spoke from behind Natasha and Sam causing the two of them to let out another shout of surprise.

Turning to look at who was now in the attic, Nat watched as Steve and Peggy walked closer to both her and Sam. “Okay, what the hell is going on, and why does that portrait look exactly like y/n?”

oOoOo

Once you were completely sure Pierce had walked away and wouldn’t catch you off guard again, you headed in a new direction, determined to find your friends. Eventually you stumbled into the library and called out. “Sam? Nat? Are you guys here?”

What you hadn’t expected was for Bucky to be sitting in one of the chairs, standing with a pile of books in his hands when you entered the room. “Oh, Mr. Barnes, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in here. I was just looking for my associates.” you said, trying to hold onto any sense of professionalism.

“I thought I already told you to call me Bucky.” he reminded you with a wink. “Though, I am sorry, I have not seen your friends. I was just trying to tidy up before Pierce has a chance to yell at me for keeping a messy study.”

A smile crossed your face at Bucky’s action, though it was hard to keep the resentment out of your voice when you spoke of the butler. “He does seem the type of person to keep everyon-everything in its place.”

“Yes, he does come across that way.” Bucky admitted, glancing down at the books he held. “But he has been there for me my whole life, almost like a father to me.”

There was a moment of silence as Bucky glanced up and stared at you in adoration until your curiosity couldn’t hold off any longer. “Bucky, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Anything.” he whispered and set the books to the side to step closer to you.

“This house is beautiful and as you’ve mentioned it’s been in your family for generations. It must be like a home to you. Why do you wish to sell it?”

It took a moment for Bucky to respond as he chose his word carefully. “These walls are filled with so many memories. Some of them very painful.” he told you and you could see the sorrow in his eyes. “Why don’t I show you?” he offered and held out his arm for you to take.

There was a moment of hesitation, but even though you had only known Bucky for a short time, you already felt safe around him. Accepting his invitation, you linked your arm with his, and when your arms touched, you let out a quiet gasp at the sudden and intense feeling of safety and familiarity. For the briefest second, there was a flash of Bucky and a woman you seemed to know – almost like a memory. Then, just as quickly as it had come to you, the flashback and the sensation died down.

“It’s alright. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Bucky reassured you with a smile that you returned before he began to lead you off.

oOoOo

tag list: @readermia, @mgk-rooklover1997, @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons, @dabooks23, @loser-alert, @themeanestlittlewitch, @peaches-roses-sins, @tiffanynguyen03 @t33n-tw4t @tinymalscoffee @diana-24-world, @ducky1901

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter solider imagine #bucky barnes x you #lost in love and time #haunted mansion au

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sarah-writes-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Sweats over Stilettos: Avengers x Fem!Reader

S.S: HEres another one for you guys! Been sitting on this one for a while. Hoep you like it!

Warnings: homework (its a warning dont even question it!), nothing else!

Word Count: 1,420

Y/n- your name L/n- last name Y/n/n- your nickname

MASTERLIST

--------------------------------

Y/n L/n was never one to care about her appearance much. Obviously she was well-groomed but she was one of those women that choose comfort over beauty. Some may have considered her lazy or unprofessional considering how she dressed on the daily.

Obviously being a part of the Avengers there were moments where she needed to look professional and fit the part, which she did, in a non-traditional way. She would wear a fitted pant-suit and a clean pair of boots. If there was no need for formal wear she would walk around the compound in comfy cargo sweatpants and a loose shirt. Even during missions, her suit simply consisted of protective cargo pants and an indestructible top that she and Tony had created in the lab.

But given the opportunity, Y/n would never pass up the chance to surprise her friends with a side they’ve never seen.

-------------------------------------------

I sat at my desk, scanning rows of mathematical equations meant for the physics homework in my textbook. A strand of my hair, that managed to escape the messy bun atop my head, hung in front of my glasses. As I tucked the strand behind my ear a knock on my door brought me from my concentration.

“Come in,”

“Hey! Whatcha up too?” The kind voice of Bucky asked.

“Homework. I’m almost done. Why what’s up?” I finally peaked my eyes from the numbers on my paper looking at the brunette standing in my door. “Hey! I like the haircut!” I commented, finally taking in the short hair that stuck up with gel.

“Oh, thanks. Nat figures that I should look less like a nomad for the dinner tonight.” He says running his hand through the short hair.

My eyes widened behind my glasses and I groaned.

“What did I say?” The brunette asked, his steely blue eyes widening with worry.

“We have that dinner with the president and the Senate tonight. I had completely forgotten.” My response was muffled in my hands as they covered my face displacing my glasses.

“How in the world could you forget dinner with POTUS?” Tony questioned, as he just so happened to pass by, Clint not too far behind him.

“Jeez. We know you don't like dressing up but forgetting dinner. With the Prez?” Clint added. I rolled my eyes.

“Do you see how much I’ve got on my plate right now. Sorry that dinner isn’t exactly my top priority.” I gesture to the textbooks and papers scattered on my desk.

“Hey, have you seen-- oh there you are Buck! I have a question for you about ties quickly.” Steve pushed his way through the doorway of my room.

“Are we just going to gather in my room?” I question, slightly annoyed by the males that were pouring into my room. “What time are we leaving?”

“Well dinner is set for 7:30 but we should leave by like 7.” Tony informed me. I looked at the time on my phone realizing I only had about 2 hours to get ready.

“Well then I should get ready. So all y’all out.” I say guiding the entourage out of my room.

“What do you have to do? Change your sweats or something?” Clint jokes.

“HAHAHA. Just because I don't dress up all the time like Nat or Wanda doesn’t mean I don't know how to clean up. Which you should do, you’re looking kinda scruffy.” I sneer, sarcastically. I see the look of betrayal on his face as Tony lets out a chuckle before I close my door.

The depths of my closet hid the few dresses that I actually owned, even a few skirts, and my small collection of heels that I loved to strut around in but never wore outside my room.

I ran my hands over the few hangers that held dresses, pulling each out just slightly to see what they looked like. I pulled out a simple black dress, the protective cover still hanging over the material protecting it from dust, deciding that it was the perfect dress. I skimmed over my heels finding my red sole stilettos and placing the two on my bed.

I took a quick shower, managing to shave without cutting my legs in the process. I took the time to moisturize the areas of skin that would be showing and changed into my underwear.

Music was blasting through my speaker in my bathroom as I pulled out my hairdryer and began doing my hair, drying it, and curling it into loose curls, pinning them up to help set the curls. I did a quick makeup look, another thing I barely bothered with, a natural eye, and a dark lip stain. I took a look in the mirror as I rocked out to the music, the state of my curls pinned making it look a little odd at the moment.

I removed my dress from the plastic slipping it over my hips, the thin straps crossing at the middle of my back as the material dipped to expose my bareback. I adjusted the deep v-neckline, covering just a little more cleavage than it was. The darts that rested at my waist cinched the bodice to my torso, fitting my small curves. The a- line skirt was pleated at the waist, giving the skirt some volume.

I took two silver chains from my jewelry box. One sat on my collarbone, the second just a few inches down with a single chain dangling from the center with a single diamond on the end. The matching set of earrings dangled from my lobes and a single diamond stud set accessorized my second piercing.

I placed a simple silver ring that my father had gifted me onto my middle finger. A knock and wiggle of my doorknob distracted me from taking down my hair from the pins as I examined my appearance in the full-length mirror.

“Hold on!” I yelled as I struggled to put on my stilettos.

“It’s Steve. We’re getting ready to leave soon. You ready?”

“Ya I’ll meet you in the common room I have to grab a bag.” I searched through the small box of purses and bags in my closet pulling out a simple black clutch that had a dainty silver chain strap.

“Alright be quick.” His Captain’s voice came through the door.

I quickly slipped my phone, my badge, and lip stain in the clutch. I rushed out of my room closing the door behind me. I made my way into the common room, were laughing and the conversation was echoing through the halls.

Suddenly the noise ceased, oddly as soon as I entered the room. I secured my clutch looking at the group in front of me. Each had a look of surprise or shock written across their face, all except Nat and Wanda.

“What? Is there something on my dress?” I ask, twirling around so they could get the whole outfit.

“Wow,” Bucky breathed, eyeing my dress.

“Ya, what he said.” Clint agreed, Sam and Rhodes nodding along.

“Who knew! Y/n L/n can clean up!” Tony exclaimed.

“You look lovely, Y/n/n.” Steve complimented, like the gentleman he was. Nat scoffed.

“Lovely? That is an understatement. You look damn hot.” she said with a laugh and an eager nod from Wanda.

“Don’t get used to it,” I replied with a smile, smoothing out my dress unconsciously pulling it down just a bit to fit better.

“Aw come on! You look so good!” Tony complained.

“Ya. I know I do. But I don't need to look good to get my job done. Besides, if I wore this every day, I’d have more of an attitude than I do in my comfy clothes, and that’s something nobody needs to see.” I chuckle as I walk past the group towards the door of the compound.

When I didn’t hear any footsteps following me I turned to see them watching me.

“Well? What’s the hold-up? Let's go.” I instructed, my voice stern and commanding and Immediately everyone followed.

“Ya. I think you should go change into your sweats and sweatshirt again. You weren’t as crabby earlier.” Clint commented as we walked to the car.

“Just because I’m wearing stilettos and a dress doesn’t mean that I won’t kick your ass, Barton,” I told him, eliciting a few snickers from the team as we piled into the limo.

“Alright let’s get this over with so I can get back into my comfy clothes.” I sighed as we took off to the White House.

-----------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! hope you liked it! Dont be afriad to request something if you would like!

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years ago

Text

Do You Even Think About It?

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: ~8.8K Notes: Sam Smith is an absolute angel and I’ve been obsessively listening to their new album Love Goes. One of my favorites on the record is Kids Again, so I gave myself the opportunity to listen to it over and over again by writing a fic based on it. This is the product. Warnings: There be angst ahead. Summary:

Peter needs a job to help pay for graduate school, so MJ hooks him up at the breakfast for dinner restaurant she works at, Stevie's. It's not his dream job, but he likes the atmosphere and the cute sous chef who's chalk full of advice.

6 years later, Peter's mind is stuck on the young love he let go and the man who changed his world.

Or: A Starker love story told in flashback and set to a Sam Smith song.

Read on AO3 here.

November 2nd, 2020

Peter should’ve known the day would be an odd one when he heard Beyoncé’s Mine to start the day. Though his mind took many detours to the thought of Tony Stark, tangible things like their song made his heart ache just a little bit more than usual. It’d been years since he heard from him, and even after all that time, he still missed him – more than he usually cared to admit. Like it was six years prior, Peter sung along to the lyrics, the ghost of youth and Tony’s touch wrapping him up and surrounding him, dragging him under the weight of precious memories.

With Tony now on the forefront of his mind, Peter mindlessly went through his getting ready routine. His school had a pretty lenient dress code, so he slipped into straight-legged black trousers and a white button down, maroon cardigan combo. Topping off the outfit with all black Chuck Taylor’s, Peter made his way out to his kitchen to heat up the water for the French press that sat in a place of honor on the counter. Another Tony Stark influence, Peter realized as he portioned off his coffee serving and pressed down the pump, the delectable smell of freshly brewing caffeine bringing a soft smile to his face.

He didn’t do anything adventurous until he met Tony all those years ago – let alone make his coffee in a fancy French press. Tony’s love of food and fancy utensils to create and serve it rubbed off on him in a lot of ways, his brown eye’s catching the well-maintained cast-iron skillet sitting on the back burner of his stove. Sucking in a deep breath, Peter forced himself to see the remnants of Tony littered around his place. They lived so much life together in those short years together. It wasn’t surprising, now that he let himself think about it, how much Tony stilled ruled so many things about his life.

They changed the world together – Peter’s world specifically. It itched, how much he yearned to be that kid again; youth brought him happiness – the understanding of that now several years too late.

Forcing himself to get his shit together, Peter gathered his messenger bag and the lunch he packed the previous night before heading out of the house. He caught up on grading over the weekend, so a later than usual arrival wouldn’t be too debilitating. His mind was so caught up on other things, he marveled at the fact that he managed to get out the door at all. Sometimes, the feeling was so consuming – sometimes, he pushed through it and coped with their song on repeat his entire drive into work.

The day went by pretty easily, for the most part. Teaching advanced physics to high school aged students wasn’t too colossal of a task – he’d been working in the same classroom for the last six years; he could probably do half of his lesson plans with his hands tied behind his back. A majority of his students were those most would deem brainy, so there wasn’t much ruckus to deal with or discipline to dish out. Instead, he let his mind stray to Tony’s dark hair and the tan of his skin after a day spent down by the ocean. He stayed in the game just long enough to get through the day – then, Peter let his thoughts run away from him.

Before he knew it, he was behind the wheel of his car heading towards the east side of the city. Tony hadn’t lived there in years, but Peter did his best to avoid it, anyway. The corners of his mind that Tony occupied seemed like enough space to give him – visiting their old haunts felt like a step too far. Until now of course, his car idled by the all too familiar sidewalk, the blue door of Tony’s home still as bright as it looked back then. Whoever took over the lease there kept it up – they would’ve been insane not to after all of the work Tony put into it.

A weird yearning sat in the pit of his stomach. As a good looking soon to be 30-year-old, it should’ve been insane to be this wrapped up in the past and all the delectable memories it held. He wasn’t social awkward and had a good head on his shoulders – there’d been many men that tried to steal his attention, even. Yet, Peter invited the presence of those memories, instead. For every not so good thing that happened, there were 20 great adventures that took its place. Despite years of distance, Peter missed Tony – missed him and the person he let himself become under the radiant affection and liveliness that Tony brought to his life.

Peter tried not to think about the prospect of turning back time, but as he sat in front of Tony’s old place, he wished for just a few minutes of those old times – some of the best days of his life. What he wouldn’t give to be a kid again, sitting in the shining sun with the most radiant man he’d ever met, even now – even years later, Tony held that title so tightly, there wasn’t room for anyone else.

Shaking his head, Peter gave the blue door a longing look – if he didn’t force himself to leave in that moment, the strength would never come. His fingers gripped the wheel tightly, the tires grinding against the curb ever so slightly. He laughed at himself, the consistency of his driving habits making his chest feel warm. Even after all those years, he still misjudged the width of the curb. The thought gripped his heart tightly – there were so many things that hadn’t changed and so many things he wished didn’t all that time ago.

In his melancholy, Peter didn’t notice the front curtain twitch, or see the door open – a slightly older Tony Stark stepping out of it with confusion written all over his face.

The ride home consisted of a few tears and the stereo of his car scratching ever so slightly with the loud volume of the song he’d been listening to non-stop all day long. Peter stopped to grab a sub from his favorite pagoda in hopes of making himself feel better, then finished the trek back to his lonely apartment – the folding of his laundry the only thing for him to look forward to when he got there.

He got one of his feet out of the car before the vibration of his phone in the cupholder stopped him. Not recognizing the number off the bat, Peter let it ring, the buzz of it against his thigh as he slipped it into his pocket. Not thinking much about it, Peter got up into his apartment, dropping his sub and keys on the counter without much thought. Then, his phone vibrated again, this time, the three-pulse rhythm told him that whoever just called left him a voicemail.

Intrigued, Peter fished the phone from his pocket, his eyes bulging when he saw Siri’s suggestion of who it was (MAYBE: Tony Stark). Taking in a deep breath, Peter set the phone down, then immediately picked it back up – his brain was running haywire and standard operating procedures were not functioning at their usual capacity.

It was almost like the universe heard his call, or understood the pain he’d been in. Why, after 6 years of no talking, texting, or communication at all, did Tony reach out now? And if he listened to the message, what would come of it? Did he really have the strength to do the right thing here? Or the wrong thing for that matter?

Almost like he was working on autopilot, Peter let his thumb navigate the phone until he was a second away from listening to Tony’s voice for the first time in what felt like forever. Anticipation raced through him, his skin tingling with nerves and excitement that he couldn’t quite tamper down. Tony Stark, after so much time. Grinning, Peter let the rest of his resolve crumble, his finger pressing the play button before he could think too hard about the whole thing.

Hey Pete,

At least, I hope this is still Peter Parker’s number. I remember you saying you hadn’t changed your number since you were a teenager and am banking on that fact. I could’ve sworn I saw your old Honda out in front of the old apartment today. I’m back in New York, for good this time, and wanted to see you. I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough to stop you, but I thought I’d reach out. I’ve missed you.

Anyway – call me back. This is my new number, so you know where to reach me.

Peter spent the next five minutes listening to the message over and over again – the cadence of his voice hadn’t changed a single bit and the slightest hint of affection that sat there was unmistakable. Tony made it seem like no time at all had passed, like it was normal to call an ex up out of the blue, like it wouldn’t change Peter’s world to hear that he missed him – that after 6 years, Peter was still on Tony’s mind.

Clutching the phone to his chest, Peter took a few long deep breaths before making a decision. His mind would never leave him alone if he didn’t take the steps laid out in front of him – if he didn’t hit the call button and see where a conversation with the love of his life could take him.

There was a slight pause before the phone rang, then a click of the call being answered on the other side of the phone. Peter waited with bated breath as Tony settled onto the other side of the line, his inhale before saying anything more than enough for Peter to spring forward into the abyss.

“Hey, Tony – “

August 2012

Walking into Stevie’s, Peter didn’t know what to expect. Being a small-town kid, the big city still seemed impenetrable, despite living there for the entirety of his college education. Though, thinking about it, he supposed that he stayed in a pretty narrow bubble during his time in school. Getting into the master’s program, Peter knew he not only needed to branch out a bit more, but also needed to make some spare change to help pay for the next two years of classes.

Which is how he found himself standing outside the small restaurant, his first shift set to start in 10 minutes. With his apron in hand, Peter took a deep breath and pulled open the door. The smell of cinnamon and something on the savory side hit his nose as he stepped inside, his chest already loosening. Comforting scents always brought down his defenses – the 20 candles that riddled his little apartment spoke to that very fact. He liked to be wrapped up in familiar things, smells included.

Taking a few more steps into the restaurant, Peter brightened up even further when he saw MJ approaching him. They met during freshman philosophy, the two of them making fun of the professor before even exchanging names. With that sort of chemistry, their struck-up friendship didn’t surprise anyone. Her decision to stay in the city and continue her education played a huge part in Peter’s plans – Nebraska wasn’t calling him home, or anything, but he didn’t want to be lonely in the city – he got his fill of that feeling during the first few months of adjustment when he first arrived.

MJ getting the waitress job couldn’t have happened at a better time, either. Though he was smart (smart enough to graduate with a double major), scholarships were few and far between, so only half of his education was getting paid for by the school. Unlike his undergraduate experience, Peter knew he needed to work, both to make money and gain experience. Stevie’s wasn’t the classroom that he belonged in, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Peter Parker – am I glad to see you,” MJ said in the way of greeting, her cheeks pulling up in a slight smile. She was a tough, sort of grungy girl, but her affection for Peter shaded her actions towards him, giving her a softer edge where Peter was concerned. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned him towards what could only be the employee break room. “It’s kind of slow tonight, so you’ll have lots of time and space to learn everything you need to know.”

The slightest feeling of relief washed over him when they busted through the doors and only a couple of people were scattered around the room. On any part of the weekend, Stevie’s had a line out the door. There weren’t many breakfast for dinner joints in the city and the unique combination of sweet and savory of their menu brought people from all over the city to their little corner. Before applying, Peter battled with the anxiety of being around that many people – but the good money and ability to work with MJ overran the negative feelings he almost allowed himself to manifest.

After being introduced to the few people sitting around the break room, Peter clocked in and donned the traditional black apron that all of the servers were sporting. MJ took him around, showed him how the computer system worked, and let him shadow her during a couple of orders. When things started to pick up, she sent him off on his own – she had the utmost confidence in him and told him so many times throughout his brief training. He could handle thermodynamics like it was elementary math – serving people had to be a breeze.

Quickly, Peter realized that being a waiter took a lot more skills than he initially thought. Though the computer system was easy enough to navigate, remembering what went where and who ordered what took a few tables to get used to. He played musical plates a few times before getting the hang of labeling the people at the table and putting their order by said label. By the time Peter got within an hour of his shift being over, he finally felt like he could handle himself.

While in-between tables, MJ flagged him down – her hair was a mess and there were more than a few spills on her apron. “I’m swamped with this huge party that just sat down.” She looked over at the large table, her eyes focusing in on the unruly children climbing all over the chairs. “Could you take my other table? Their food should be up soon – it shouldn’t be too much work.” Without waiting for an answer, MJ turned back to the big party, her shoulders set in what Peter knew to be her determined stance.

Using the table planogram, Peter got the table number before heading to the kitchen to grab their food – their ticket number had just popped up on the screen outside of the window. Looking over the order one more time, Peter was surprised to see a tan hand reach out to tap his fingers that were just about to wrap around the edge of the first plate. “That’s a hot plate. You’ll want to cover your hand before you pick it up.”

Somewhat shocked at the timbre of the voice talking to him, Peter took a step back from the window, his hands flying up in surrender, like he’d actually touched fire, or something. Looking up, Peter forced himself to catch his breath. The older sous chef that stood in that spot for most of his shift was gone, only to be replaced with the most gorgeous human Peter could remember seeing. His lips were framed with a gorgeous, and well kept, goatee. Honey-golden eyes watched him with intrigue, and when their eyes met, Peter got to see the most glorious smile.

A soft blush overtook his face – Peter did his best to hide the rush of it and the smile that accompanied it. Ducking his head, Peter bit into his lip, his brain desperately trying to cling to whatever words he could remember in the heart racing moment. “Uh – thanks! I’m new, so I probably would’ve burnt off my skin if you didn’t step in.”

He ached to hold his hand out between them, to see if his skin was as warm as his eyes were. Yet, he understood how much he already made a fool of himself – Peter kept his hands down by his side with a sort of resolve that shouldn’t be necessary in a situation like this.

That rich voice sounded again, this time directed solely at Peter – the man’s attention on him explicitly. “I figured as much. I’m Tony – one of the sous chefs around here. You’ll learn pretty quickly what you can and can’t pick up. Just don’t drop shit and you’ll be okay.” His words were brief and somewhat cut off, but his eyes never left Peter’s – they seemed to burn into him with every second that passed.

“Good to know. Thanks again, Tony.”

Peter used the cloth napkin he tied to his apron earlier to grab the plate – the heat barely there through the fabric. He grabbed the other plate with his free hand and was about to turn away from the kitchen when Tony spoke again.

“What’s your name, new kid?” His eyebrows were raised when Peter turned to look at him, a smirk on his face.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

Beaming, Peter turned away, his cheeks burning from excitement and a rush of heat that his short conversation with Tony brought about. He sucked in a couple of long breaths before approaching his new table, his smile now back to its normal range.

The rest of the night flew by, Peter getting lost in the last couple of tables that came in before closing time. Though, none of them ordered any food, so he didn’t have an excuse to head back to the kitchen. Despite that, Peter found himself turning towards the window he knew Tony would be standing behind, their eyes meeting every now and again. He counted himself lucky in those moments – for a few seconds, those golden eyes were stuck on him, looking at him.

After getting closed out for the night, Peter pocketed his tips, shed his apron, and stood outside the employee entrance for a few minutes, just soaking it all in. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to be doing, but his time spent at Stevie’s would bring him one step closer to his ultimate goal, so it wouldn’t be too terrible. He made it out of the first day alive and even managed to impress both MJ and his boss. Sighing, Peter let his back rest against the wall, his tired eyes closing.

A heavy creek and the door opening brought him out of his silent reverie – he couldn’t recall how long he’d been standing there by the time he looked up. Much to his surprise, Mr. Brown Eyes himself stepped out, his long legs encased with a dark denim, his upper body still covered by the chef whites he’d been sporting earlier.

“Looks like you made it through the first night,” Tony said as nimble fingers worked at the buttons first at his collar, then down the length of his jacket. When the sides were pulled apart, Peter caught sight of a navy-blue V-neck shirt, the gap of it showing off just the right amount of dark chest hair to keep Peter’s eyes transfixed there. His breathing picked up, the same rush of heat from earlier trying to overtake him again.

“It wasn’t so bad. It seems like people are actually interested in the food we serve here, so they don’t really give much of a shit about me. As long as I don’t drop shit, I’m good.” Peter shot Tony a smile, the man’s own words sitting in the air between them. The tension in the air made his heart slam against his chest, Peter feeling slightly lightheaded in those seconds between speaking and Tony answering.

Instead of words, Peter was met with a solid laugh, the sound coming from Tony’s stomach and out of his mouth likely before he could stop it from happening. Peter watched a subtle blush bloom on Tony’s cheeks, his stubble not doing much in the way of hiding the red hue. If he wasn’t fucked before, he sure as hell was now.

“You’re a fast learner, aren’t you? I like that about you, Peter Parker.” Tony snuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground before looking up again, his eyes shining. “Want to grab a drink?”

November 3rd, 2020

Instead of the dreamy haze from the day before, Peter spent most of his day riddled with stomach-churning nerves. It seemed like a good idea, when Tony’s voice was in his ear and his presence could be felt, to meet up for coffee at their old haunt. After a day of thinking about Tony non-stop, Peter could do nothing but accept the invitation. It’d been years since he stepped foot in Stevie’s – if nothing else, the nostalgia of the trip would be worth it. Yet, Peter couldn’t stop himself from hoping – what he was hoping for, he wasn’t sure, but hope sat in the pit of his stomach, nonetheless. It made the time drag on, his lessons for once not up to his usual standards.

It must’ve been that type of day for everyone, because no one questioned or even batted an eye at his abnormal behavior. His students were a couple of weeks from Thanksgiving vacation and the will to pay attention was lacking in pretty much everyone. Grateful for that fact, Peter snuck out a few minutes before the end of the day bell. His planning for the next day was completed and there wasn’t anything else to hold his attention – he hoped no one noticed his early departure.

Though, the second he walked out of school, he was instantly at a loss. They weren’t meeting until after Tony’s shift (which just so happened to be at his very own restaurant, Peter Googled it earlier that morning). That meant he had more than an hour to kill and not a lot to distract him from what felt like a momentous meeting. There were so many things left unsaid between the two of them, so many memories that were so prominent – it was hard to separate the good from the bad – the forgettable, and those he didn’t ever want to forget.

For his own sanity, Peter put what happened between them before Tony left at the back of his mind. In the years since that day, Peter realized how childish his decision was – between not showing up and not thinking things through, there wasn’t much room for any other conclusion. The conscious thought of that didn’t take away the heartache he felt, however – Peter figured they both would be feeling a lot of that throughout the conversation they were about to have.

Left with the decision between fretting and heading back to his place for a quick spruce up, Peter drove the few miles between the school and the apartment he called home. He spent a lot of time in front of the mirror earlier that morning but knew a glance or two in his closet wouldn’t hurt the situation. He stripped out of his button up shirt and ran a washcloth across the skin of his upper arms, down across his chest, and along the length of his neck – it’d been unseasonably hot in his classroom.

Satisfied with his cleanliness, Peter walked into his meager closet, most of the clothes hanging in it ones that he purchased many years ago – there were lots of things in his life that felt like they were on pause, his wardrobe included. Sifting through them, Peter found himself smiling when he flipped by the hunter green Henley he squared away more than six years ago. The vivid way the color made Tony’s eyes stand out made his heart race – Peter still thought about those bourbon beauties on a pretty frequent basis.

Trying not to think too much of it, Peter pulled the shirt down from its hanger. Though some time past, Peter could swear the smell of Tony’s cologne still clung to the fabric. No matter how many times he ran it through the wash, the ghost of his former lover stuck around – the shirt like a tangible personification of Peter’s feelings over the years. Slipping it on felt like coming home in a way none of the other items in his closet could ever make him feel. That singular thought spoke volumes – though, Peter went out of his way to ignore the obvious. It was easier like that.

Finally satisfied with both his outfit and the time in which he had left to get to Stevie’s, Peter took a couple of deep breaths and one more quick glance in the mirror before heading back out to his car. The nerves from earlier seemed to be leveling out now that he took the time to pump himself up (being wrapped up in Tony’s shirt didn’t hurt, either). He made it through six years by himself, without the company of Tony – he could make it six more and then six more after that if things didn’t turn out the way he wanted them to after this little meeting.

With that in mind, Peter tried to decide what he actually wanted from his time with Tony – after all of these years, it seemed silly to walk into anything without at least thinking it through. More than anything, he wanted to step back into Tony’s arms like no time at all past; if they could pretend that the six years didn’t exist between then and now, he’d be perfectly alright with that. No matter how good of an idea Peter thought his decision was all that time ago, he knew that Tony, after being without him, brought something to his life that no one else could – he desperately tried to find it, but couldn’t, no matter how much effort he put in. It seemed a little outlandish, to think that their first interaction would be that magical, but he couldn’t stop himself from hoping – Peter always tried to be optimistic when the situation called for it (and this one totally did).

Despite not having visited his old stomping grounds in years, Peter’s mind remembered the way like he still travelled there on a daily basis – like the route was engrained in his brain so deeply, he couldn’t ever forget. Which made sense, after a bit of thought – some of the best memories of his youth were based around his time at Stevie’s and the people he met there. If he let himself think about it too hard, a wave of sadness would hit him; that was the opposite effect he wanted from this interaction – he wanted this blast from the past to be a happy one.

The buffer of time he originally had dwindled down to nothing as he found a meter to park in front of and fed it a few quarters. His steps were impatient as he made his way back towards the white bricked building, the flashing sign still bright and alluring.

Each second he crept a little closer to the door, his hard beat harder and harder. With just a couple more strides left until he reached the entrance, Peter looked up and his breath caught – through the window he saw Tony Stark sitting in “their” booth, his hair a little longer and his goatee just a little bit more refined, big framed glasses sitting on his nose the only noticeably new addition.

It felt like getting knocked off his feet, seeing him again. Peter stopped, just for a second – he took a long gulp of oxygen before even thinking about opening the door. Like most memories, they all came flashing back – the place, the man, even the recognizable step he almost tripped on time and time again – each one a trigger for every precious second spent in this very place.

Before he could get swept away, Peter tightened his resolve and gripped the door handle.

September 2013 – October 2014

Though Peter was determined to make the most of the situation when he first started at Stevie’s, he quickly came to realize that everything he needed in that moment existed within the orbit of that café. The year he worked there so far, Peter made more friends, learned more about people, and met (who he hoped to be) the love of his life. Each piece of the tiny little puzzle of the Stevie’s community fit so well within his life that Peter couldn’t remember ever being happier than he was.

On top of the amazing job and the people surrounding it, Peter was quickly making his way through his master’s degree – he wanted to teach people the same way his professors were relaying information to him and was only a couple steps from doing exactly that. All of the fretting and worry from the start of his program dissipated after a booming fall semester that led straight into a scholarship to cover the remaining tuition problems. Now, he felt no pressure when he walked into Stevie’s – the job wasn’t a burden, but something he thoroughly enjoyed every time he walked through the door.

Of course, one of the main reasons his time within the walls of the all-day breakfast spot remained some of his favorites was the lovely man that so quickly swept him off his feet. After that first night where they talked about anything and everything tucked away in the corner of some no-name pub, he and Tony were pretty inseparable. For a while, he thought that he might exist in the friend-zone – and some of the pieces of him would’ve been okay with that. Yet, when his back hit the wall of the alleyway where everything started and Tony’s lips descended upon his own, Peter didn’t stop himself from feeling elated and relieved; there were so many wants and needs that included Tony not being “just” his friend.

Like most relationships do, the two of them settled into a comfortable sort of adventure that was both consistent and completely random at any given time. They worked the same shift, so it was easy for them to pick one of their apartments after work and head that way together. No matter where they were, Peter ended most of his days tangled up with the sheet stealer that Tony was. They didn’t need any awkward conversations to know that whatever time they could spend together, they were going to. In the most natural way, things fell into place and made Peter deliriously happy.

It seemed like nothing could touch them, either. Being so young and in love, Peter thought he finally found a place where he belonged. After so much time being the weird nerdy kid, or the new boy, Peter got to claim a spot in a pack – one that was handpicked and made so much sense – the group of them were almost too similar and too close to one another. Or so the people on the outside said, anyway.

When the changes did start to happen, Peter tried not to let them blindside him. It started out simply – Fred, their menacing head chef, quit after a particularly hard shift; two of the newer waiters were fired on the spot after dropping countless orders. He stormed out in a huff; his only words being thrown Tony’s way as he handed over the coveted black chef jacket Peter knew his boyfriend wanted more than pretty much anything else in the world. The adjustment seemed pretty flawless – Tony picked up a couple more hours here and there, but still managed to make the trek home with Peter every time they shared a shift.

Then, things started to pick up in the restaurant because of the exciting changes Tony made to the menu. Stevie’s went from being a place only packed on the weekends, to being packed at every major service time. They were so popular in their little corner of NYC that local news crews came around to do spots on the newest menu additions and the chef behind them. Those few extra hours Tony picked up turned into many more than a few. Being the loving and proud boyfriend that he was, Peter did his best to be supportive and not balk at their time together that seemed to dwindle more and more as the days past.

Luckily, Peter found some reprieve from the nagging worry of his personal life during the last semester of his graduate program – his student teaching sent him into the wilderness of Midtown High, a school known for its advanced programs and science specification. At the beginning, it felt like a good coping mechanism – if he wasn’t at home waiting around, he didn’t have to feel the small slices of resentment starting to creep into the tiniest cracks in his heart. As things progressed, Peter caught the bug and decided that the childish things he wanted just months before were things of the past.

Despite this, Tony seemed to be just as committed to the them they created throughout their time together. In a lot of ways, both of their careers booming at the same time felt like a good thing. Both got to work where their hearts drew them, but at the end of the day, they came home to each other. From his actions, Peter knew that was enough for Tony. They weren’t staying up all night drinking and talking about whatever struck their fancy – but they were together, soaking up the joys of life with the one person that seemed to understand the drive and need for those successes and happiness.

Which is why, a couple of weeks after celebrating their two-year anniversary, Tony looked at him with the biggest smile on his face. In their time together, Peter learned the many facial expressions of his gorgeous other half. For someone so reserved with their emotions, Tony said a lot with the slightest twitch of the muscles in his face. It took Peter a second to steady himself – even after two years of being together, the genuine nature of the look still tried to knock him on his ass. Young love was sweet and soothing, but there was something to be said for the transition into something more concrete, more stable.

“That’s your excited smile. What’s up, Tones?” Peter questioned; his eyes wide with the residual excitement that seemed to be floating around the room. His chest felt a little tight with it, apprehension and secondhand adrenaline tapping against all of his major organs like shoes on hardwood.

“I got a call from Chef Barton – the world-renowned culinary instructor in Paris. He had a spot open up in his breakfast kitchen and wants me to take it.” Tony stopped then, taking an excited breath before continuing. “I want me to take it, too. And most importantly – I want you to come with me.”

His arms wrapped around Peter’s shoulders then, the grip tight, Tony’s affection only increasing with the amount of excitement running through his veins. Being tucked into Tony’s chest gave Peter the opportunity to say nothing, which is exactly what he did. Instead, he forced his arms to wrap around Tony’s hips in hopes of returning the hug with at least half of the fervor Tony used to hold him. Peter tried to melt into the embrace – but his mind was racing. Paris? Now – when he finally felt like he was making the right steps towards actually being an adult? It seemed childish to just pick everything up and run across the country, no matter how much he loved Tony and the direction they were heading.

Keeping all of those thoughts to himself, Peter kept living his life with Tony – only ever getting quiet when they started to talk about their future plans – ones that, if Tony had his way, included the two of them skipping across the country, hand-in-hand, towards the unknown. Not wanting to deal with it head on, Peter avoided the topic, and everything that went with it, like the plague. He knew Tony could feel the hesitancy, but he never brought it up, so Peter didn’t either. Why disturb the peace when he could just ignore everything that would totally obliterate it?

Peter kept that attitude until the day before they were set to leave. Still on the fence about his decision, he half-heartedly packed a bag. In the weeks leading up to their departure, Tony sent most of his own stuff ahead to the small apartment waiting for them to arrive. In his infernal need to give Peter his space and independence, Tony figured Peter would get what he needed there some way or another. It didn’t even cross his mind, Peter figured, the thought that he wouldn’t be coming with him. The lack of communication and unwillingness to step on the fine sheen of ice between them hindering any sort of progress, or reassurance that they both needed.

Like most of his life, Peter listened to his brain instead of his heart – instead of meeting Tony at the airport, he holed himself away in MJ’s apartment, despite her own qualms against it, which she voiced loudly for most of the night as his phone rang with calls, and then chimed with text after text.

It was several hours after Peter knew Tony would be in the air that he finally let himself look at all the text messages sent his way. They ranged from distraught to upset to infuriated, and then resolved. There were so many of them to sort through, but the last one was the one to really catch his eye.

Tony Stark [8/13/2014 9:53PM]: It’s okay, Pete. I get it. Just let me know that you’re alright.

According to the timestamp, Tony sent that last one a couple minutes after their flight was supposed to take off. While in the air, putting distance between them after being ruthlessly stood up, Tony was still genuinely worried about his well-being. Piles of regret deposited themselves on the expanse of his chest – the repercussions of his decision hitting him with a fervor Peter didn’t know existed. He claimed to love Tony with all of his heart but let something like fear and a lack of communication strip that all away from him. Whatever happened, he needed to own it and deal with the fall out.

Peter Parker [8/14/2014 2:00AM]: I’m sorry – I’m okay, but I just couldn’t.

Surprisingly, Peter wasn’t bombarded with calls or texts the next day, or even the next. He figured that Tony would be calling like crazy the second he touched down in Paris – yet, Peter didn’t hear a thing. After looking at his quiet phone with distaste for two full weeks, Peter pulled up Tony’s contact information with the intention of calling him, instead. His thumb hovered over the call button more than a few times over the following few days, but no matter how much he wanted to, Peter couldn’t bring himself to do it. Like ripping a band aid, maybe the breaking would be quickest with one tough yank. From the lack of calls his way, Tony must’ve figured the same thing.

Tinged with unexplainable pain, Peter made his way through the next few days, and then the next few weeks – before he knew it, it was October. He finished up his degree during the summer and once he managed to pick himself up off the floor, applied to several of the local high schools. In a strike of luck, Midtown was so stoked about his performance during his internship, they offered him a job outright – without an interview or anything of the sort. In the matter of what felt like a second, Peter went from a loved individual with a spice for life to a high school teacher, who’s only joys came in the form of a new flavored coffee in the teacher’s lounge.

It worked. It gave him stability and adulthood. Happiness would come back – he hoped, anyway.

November 3rd, 2020

It was dizzying, having Tony’s attention focused on him again. The glasses were a welcome addition to Tony’s stupidly attractive face. They magnified the color of his eyes and gave off an air of maturity – though, the AC/DC shirt that clung to his chest counteracted that a little bit. Shrugging that thought off, Peter forced himself to forget about that debilitating mindset. It already cost him Tony once – the least he could do for himself was stop it from happening a second time.

When he first walked in, Peter was surprised to see that not a lot changed over the years – there were a few new art pieces on the wall, but the bare bones were the same. Even the menus Peter spent countless hours passing out and cleaning looked exactly the same. It felt like both a blessing and a curse, being in a place that seemed so familiar and yet entirely too foreign all at the same time. As he got further into the restaurant, Peter waited for the second that Tony caught sight of him – and was not disappointed a single bit. A reserved smile slipped across the other man’s face, the slightest bit of wrinkle by his eyes the only physical mark of their time spent apart.

Peter didn’t expect the hug that was placed upon him, but before he could even think about it, Tony’s arms were around him – his grip the same tightness he held Peter’s body with during their time together. It made his heart ache; how much he missed such a simple touch – and how easily he let go of it. Ignoring how pathetic he should’ve felt, Peter returned the embrace, his own arms tightening around Tony’s as if this were his only opportunity.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Peter heard Tony say, the whiskered lips mere millimeters from the shell of his ear as he did. “It’s good to see you, Pete.”

Unable to do anything else, Peter tucked his face a little further into Tony’s neck, his nostrils expanding with the long breath he pulled into his chest. Though the underlying smell of Dove for Men wasn’t there anymore, Peter could recognize that cologne anywhere. The olfactory association of the scent brought him to so many places all at once, each one reminding him of all the good memories and wasted time in between then and now.

“I missed you, too. I can’t believe you’re here. That you wanted to see me. Hell, that you look so damn good,” Peter said in reply as he finally tore himself away. His hands shifted to take hold of Tony’s biceps, his grip still firm, still clinging in a way that spoke of hope – hope that, when all was said and done, Tony wouldn’t walk away.

After getting his shit together, Peter took the seat next to Tony at the table – his chair a little closer than normal proximity usually called for. If Tony minded, he didn’t mention it; the man was so cool, he sipped at his warm coffee without a second of hesitation, despite the billowing steam rushing from the top.

Using the ruse of settling in, Peter took a minute to really take Tony in. His hands were still insanely sexy, fingers long and tan like the rest of him – his skin riddled with a few more nicks and cuts than before, but that was to be expected. His t-shirt fit him tightly, the sleeves highlighting the benefits of manual labor that running a kitchen called for. His coveted chef whites were hanging over the back of his chair, the crisp Stark’s on the right lapel bringing a smile to his face.

“You look amazing, Tony. Like time didn’t touch you at all.”

Tony turned towards him then, his fingers abandoning their hold on the coffee cup in front of him. “Nice of you to say. It feels like it has. Sometimes, it feels like 20 years past, instead of just 6.”

Reaching out, Peter let the tips of his fingers rest against the back of Tony’s hand, his pinky finger finding the same scar he obsessively touched whenever they held hands all that time ago. The caress pulled a shiver from them both, hazel met brown for a long second before Tony blinked and looked away.

“I thought it was just me that felt like that.”

Their conversations hit a pause after that, both of them soaking in the situation while the waitress came to take Peter’s order – his customary order of French toast and espresso rolling off his tongue before he even needed to think about it.

“It’s nice to know some things don’t ever change.” Tony looked at him, a hesitant smile on his face. “Do you still slather it in peanut butter?”

“Is it even French toast without it?”

The comment made Tony light up, his eyes twinkling with amusement, a laugh leaving his lips. “No, I guess it’s not.”

Laughter sat between them for a few minutes – their waitress came with food and coffee for Peter, her eyes lingering on them longer than necessary until her glance moved across the wall to where the old crew photos were hanging. “I knew I recognized you two. Stevie still talks about your crew like it hasn’t been years since you were last working here.” She gave them both a smile, left behind utensils, and turned away – a new sort of pep in her step.

“Do you even think about it?” Peter asked, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of the photos, like he didn’t just ask the most complex question to ever exist. “Those times, I mean.”

Tony took another long pull of his coffee before answering, the seconds between his lips wrapping around the cup and his eyes meeting Peter’s feeling like days. He caught himself holding his breath, his subconscious tensing up for whatever blow that might come his way.

“Every day.” Tony finally answered, his tone of voice serious, the look he gave Peter whimsical. “I can’t remember a time in the last 6 years when I wasn’t thinking about this place, this city – you.”

Like magnets, their hands were drawn together – Tony let the back of his rest against the table, Peter slipping his own against it so they were palm to palm, fingers interlaced.

“Tell me how you lived without it. Did somebody change your world?”

Tony looked at him then, his eyes wide with questions, with the need to have answers to them without having to voice them, or even put them into the universe to be heard. His fingers tightened around Peter’s; their palms now pressed fully together. The contact was almost too much for the moment, their closeness on the border of being suffocating when that sort of demand sat on the table.

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter squared his shoulders, his own fingers gripping Tony’s in a small attempt at reassurance. “It was never anything like that. Someone or something else. When you told me about Paris, all I could hear was my aunt’s voice telling me that I wasn’t going to be a kid forever. That one day I’d need to grow up and, in that moment, it was too loud – too loud to ignore or fight against. I didn’t see past anything after that.”

“But didn’t that make you sad? Thinking that we’ll never be kids again? Letting something like that make all of your decisions?” Tony tilted his head to the side, eyes not leaving Peter’s for a second.

“Yes!” Peter exclaimed, the words shooting from his mouth. “I came to realize, not long after I let you go, that growing up didn’t change who I was, or what I wanted. Being with you, the feeling of child-like wonder would never go away. We were moving towards what I wanted without me even realizing it. That’s the thing that made me sad the most – knowing how silly I’d been, thinking I’d want anything other than that feeling of never coming down.”

By the time he finished talking, there were tears in his eyes – the big drops there threatening to fall with every blink. He felt warm everywhere, like if he let go of anything – Tony’s hand, the way he felt, the pent-up guilt residing within him – he just might explode.

Knowing him as well as he did, even after years of distance between them, Tony pushed his chair away from the table and closed the space between them, his arms wrapping around Peter in a bone crushing hug. The time between their past and their present narrowing down to nothing with their embrace.

“It’s okay, Pete. I got it then and I get it now. I thought about you every day, not because I was mad or hurt, but because I knew – even with so much time and space between us – that you were worth every moment, every thought, every second of pining I couldn’t stop myself from doing. Paris was great – but it wasn’t where I needed to be. No matter how hard I tried to make it home.”

Each word drove him a little closer to the edge and when Tony’s warmth finally seeped deep into his core, Peter was unable to hold himself together. Tears streamed down his face, each one trekking to his chin, only to fall down the length of his neck to stain the collar of his shirt. He clung to Tony with all that he was worth – his perception of the restaurant around him narrowing down to nothing but their booth, their connection, their skin brushing in the most intimate of ways.

When there weren’t any more tears left to cry, Peter shifted slightly, his nose brushing against Tony’s cheek with the movement. Instead of shying away like he had every right to do, Tony leaned into the caress – his cheek warm to the touch. “It’s okay, Pete. It’s okay. I missed you, too.”

There wasn’t much productivity after that. Peter pulled away completely, only to remember that he was in a public place and just had a very real, very vulnerable melt down in front of a lot of random people. His cheeks colored for a moment, but Tony was there to sooth him, his work roughened hand grasping Peter’s without hesitation. They shared a tentative smile – the light in Tony’s eyes something Peter wasn’t sure he remembered being so goddamn vivid.

They finished up pretty quickly, Peter’s embarrassment still sitting in the forefront of his mind, despite the quiet support from Tony’s presence. He laid a couple of twenties on the table, waving Tony away when he tried to add his own money.

“I cried on your shoulder – let me buy you some breakfast.”

With a laugh, Tony nodded and walked towards the door, his eyes tracking Peter’s movement as he got himself together once more – it was almost like Tony was afraid he’d disappear if he looked away, even for a second.

Out on the sidewalk, Peter started walking towards his car when Tony’s arm shot out, his fingers gripping firm biceps. “I don’t want this to be the last time I see you. I can’t go another six years.” As he spoke, Tony loosened his fingers, letting his hand rest on Peter’s hip, instead. “Please tell me I can see you again.”

Despite his hopes and the smallest bit of expectation Peter couldn’t help himself from feeling, he wasn’t expecting anything like this – an invitation for something further. Turning until he could wrap his arms around Tony’s shoulders, Peter leaned in until their foreheads were resting against each other’s, breaths shared between them. He felt Tony’s nose brush against his before their lips met in the smallest hint of a kiss -

“Any time you want, Tony. I’m not going anywhere. Never, ever, ever again.”

#starker #bobbie writes #do you even think about it #kids again #peter parker/tony stark #sometimes i write shit #nobetterlove

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thatiranianphantom · 5 years ago

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I Have A Voice (It Is My Song)

Chapter 1: I Have A Voice

feat. a bughead that look like this:

They were in a clear state of mind.

Really, they insisted.

They were not going to be those people that had a baby and became total zombies.

Plus, Jughead had said to a dubious Toni, Georgina was seven pounds. Less than a football (nobody dares object to this). She sleeps, she eats, she poops.

How hard could it possibly be to take care of a newborn, if that was all they did?

Georgina was eight weeks old, one week corrected due to her prematurity, and had been home for two days. Their amazing friends had set up an entire nursery to welcome her, complete with a sign and cake, making Betty burst into tears.

(Though, to be fair, Betty’s emotions had been fairly all over the place. A week ago, she cried for an hour because the hospital cafe was out of vanilla pudding.

“The only flavor that matters, Jughead! Why even eat?” she had wailed, as a wide-eyed Jughead had patted her back.)

(-)

And Jughead has been right about one thing. Georgina was very small. However, to compensate for her miniature size, her lungs were quite healthy, something they were quickly acquainted with in her first two days home.

As it turned out, while the baby slept, she did not feel like the same privilege should be extended to her loving parents, a fact she punctuated by waking up screaming with an almost supernatural ability to sense when Betty and Jughead were in any form of repose.

(-)

Betty ran to him once, arms outstretched and clutching their red-faced, wailing baby.

“This,” she sobbed. “Is not a real baby. She is not a real baby, real babies sleep!”

(He should argue, but on one particularly exhausting night, he had spent moments prodding her, looking for a mute button as one would on an alarm clock.)

(-)

Betty buys five containers of tarragon because she consistently forgets she already bought it, so the tarragon containers increase with every grocery trip.

They bicker. Jughead is living with them now, and all other parties have invested in high-quality earplugs.

“I just feel like you could help, Jug! It’s not exactly easy to be getting up a million times a night,” Betty snaps.

“But what is the point?” He growls back, forehead resting on his folded arms. “You’re breastfeeding her. I get up, I hand her to you, sometimes I change her, that’s it!”

“Well, I feel like I’m taking care of what goes into her, so logically -”

“Logically, you would clean up what you started.”

Betty’s mouth falls open, and Veronica, visiting for the day, gapes.

“This is riveting,” she stage-whispers to Toni and Cheryl.

Betty’s eyes shine in rage, and she is on the cusp of a pointed retort when a loud cry sounds from the baby monitor.

She glares daggers at Jughead, and stomps in the direction of the bedroom.

She’s barely at the hallway before she whirls, fixing him with a scowl.

“Are you coming?”

He gives a pleading look to Cheryl, who immediately scurries to safety under Toni’s arm.

Heaving a groan, he rises and follows her towards the bedroom.

“Of course! If I wasn’t there to hand her to you, the whole system breaks down!”

(-)

Georgina cries in the middle of the night, on all the days with names ending with -day. He’s long since stopped trying to keep track of the day, but he tries to get up with her as much as possible, given how much he’s punished by way of silent treatment, for his surly remarks. He’s roused from the sleep he’d been enjoying for an estimated twenty-six minutes (a new record) by Georgina’s wails, and he groans and moves to pick her up, eyes bleary-and half open.

She must be eating well, because he’s having trouble picking her up. For a human of less than ten pounds, she is feeling surprisingly robust. Distantly, he hears Betty’s indignant moans and guesses the baby’s wails must have woken her up too.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he yawns. “It’s okay, Daddy’s got you.”

“Jug,” Betty’s voice mumbles. “What are you doing?”

It’s an odd question, because he feels like it should be fairly obvious after doing it approximately eleven thousand times a night.

“I’m picking up the baby,” he grunts.

“No,” she replies, and he swears he hears an extremely tired laugh in her voice. “No, you’re actually picking me up.”

(Years later, he has decidedly not lived that one down, and it never fails to get a laugh from any audience.)

(-)

Their friends start keeping a tally of places they’ve fallen asleep. Jughead, fully clothed, in the shower. Betty, in the car, pulled over to the side of the highway. Jughead, standing up mid-listening to something his professor was telling him. Betty, torso up on the floor, legs and feet on the couch. Jughead, head lolling onto Cheryl’s shoulder, mouth open.

(Veronica swears she’s never seen Cheryl change clothes so fast.)

(-)

So, they care for their daughter. And sleepiness aside, sometimes Jughead looks at her, and he just...can’t believe it. Can’t believe that this tiny, profoundly perfect thing was half him. Sometimes she winds her tiny fingers around his and he feels it right down to his bones.

He’s crying before he realizes it, and vowing that he will always, always protect her. It’s an instinct that is hard to describe, but his heart belongs to his daughter now, his beautiful, perfect Georgina.

And Betty...look, he loved Betty before. She was the centre of his world since he was five years old, but now it’s...more. It’s deeper. Sometimes Georgina falls asleep on top of Betty, then Betty falls asleep on top of him, and he is a kind of bone-aching exhausted that was heretofore unknown, but he stares at them instead of sleeping, heart full to the point of bursting.

#Bughead #I Have A Voice #Riverdale #Riverdale Fic #Betty Cooper #Jughead Jones #Currently writing #Look guys #I worked with mothers and babies for awhile #And actually had that thought #Like the baby sleeps poops and eats how hard could it be #But if you've ever been in the newborn haze #Or known someone in the newborn haze #Then you KNOW #Also I got to use a Reba quote in here #That was fun

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myarmsaretoolong · 4 years ago

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They Look so Pretty When They Bleed

Prompt #10: They Look so Pretty When They Bleed - Blood Loss | Trail of Blood

Word Count: 1235

Warnings: Blood | Needles | Medical Procedures

Synopsis: Tony thought the never-ending meeting with Ross would be the word part of his day, week probably. Then again, he hadn’t expected to be greeted by a trail of blood in the otherwise empty Avengers Facility.

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

It had been a long day in the office, and by office, Tony meant the seemingly neverending meeting with Ross he’d been trapped in since seven that morning. He’d been pretty pissed that Rogers snuck into the Raft and broke the Rouge Avengers out and decided to take it out on Tony, interrogating him all day long for any information he had. Not that Tony would give him anything even if he knew.

Twelve hours later, Ross finally gave up and let Tony leave - god how he regretted leaving that man on hold. Tony headed back to the Avengers Facility, back to the place that used to be filled with the now Rouges and now, instead stood a hollow shell haunted by days long past. Vision left earlier in the week, going to Edinburgh to spend some time with Wanda - ‘cause apparently they were a thing now. Even Rhodey was out spending time recovering. It was just Tony, alone, in a building where ghosts hovered at every corner.

He pulled up the driveway and stopped right outside the front door - it’s not like anyone was going to complain about lack of access. With a heavy sigh, Tony stepped out of the car, a feeling of unease brewing deep in his stomach. He didn’t have spidey-sense like the kid, but after eight years of being a superhero you learn to trust your gut. Tony looked around, searching for the source of his tension, but saw nothing except the open door to the Facility.

Oh, hang on. Tony wouldn’t have left it open all day, even if he had Friday would have closed it behind him. So why was it open, swinging gently in the almost non-existent breeze? Now that was the real question. Maybe Rhodey stopped by for a visit, he mused, but if so, why were the lights all off?

Tony crept forward, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible on the tile floor in the foyer. To his horror, it also lit up a drop of blood, bright red against the white tiles. Then another. And another.

“What a way to add to the mystery,” he muttered. “Now,” slowly, he followed the trail, walking just to the side so as not to disturb it, “Tell me your secrets. In or out?” It soon became clear the answer was in. By the door, the trail consisted only of the odd drop here or there, by now the stream was far heavier.

Tony picked up the pace, whoever this blood came from couldn’t be in good shape. Friend or foe, Tony couldn’t take another lost soul on his conscience. Except if it were Ross, he could probably handle that after everything he’d put him through. Shit, what if it was Ross? Someone could’ve got to him after their meeting and he’d come here in search of help, not knowing Tony took the scenic route home to clear his head.

And if he died here, well that would reflect poorly on Tony. He could imagine the headlines; ‘Secretary of State found dead in home of public rival.’ It wouldn’t be hard for a lawyer to argue that Tony had both the means and the motive, all they’d have to do was bring up his less than heroic past. Yeah, he’d be walking straight into a murder charge.

“Ross, if you’re not dead yet I swear I’m going to finish you off,” he whispered. He kept following the ever-growing trail of blood through the darkened hallways he knew like the back of his hand. Straight through the lounge and kitchen area, a crimson handprint staining the orange sofa.

The sharp trill of Tony’s phone echoed through the room, making him jump at the suddenness of the noise. “That was smooth,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and answering without checking the caller ID. “Ross?”

“Uh, no… It’s May.”

Tony pulled the phone from his ear and check, sure enough, May Parker lit up the screen. “So it is, sorry May. It’s just...well, it’s a long story.”

“What was that? I can barely hear you, why are you whispering? Anyway, I just wanted to know if you’d heard from Peter. He didn’t come back from patrol at his normal time.”

The realisation hit Tony like Rogers and Barnes had in that godforsaken Siberian bunker.

“I know, I know. I’m probably overreacting. I just worry, y’know?”

Tony ran at full pelt. All attempt at keeping quiet dropped in favour of sheer speed. “May, I’ve got to go. I call as soon as I can.” He hung up without waiting for an answer. “Peter?” He yelled, praying or a reply. “Kid, c’mon. Where are you?”

His legs burned, fear growing with his every step. Every second passed was another Peter bled out. He skidded around a corner, the blood trail now little less than an elongated puddle. Sprinting on through the darkness, Tony almost didn’t see the body slumped in the corner of the corridor. “Kid?” Tony fell to his knees and tapped Peter’s cheek, trying to wake him up. “Come on, wake up for me. “Fri, get Cho here, now!”

Tony scooped Peter into his arms and ran to the medical bay, his hands and clothes stained red with the kid’s blood. He laid him on one of the beds, yelling for Friday to turn on the lights before searching for the source of the bleeding. “Fuck, kid.” Peter had a stab wound deep in his abdomen. “Fri, how long until Cho gets here?”

“Fifteen minutes, Boss.”

Not to sound cliché, but Peter didn’t have fifteen minutes. In fact, he barely had two judging by the colour of his skin and feeble beat of his pulse under Tony’s fingertips. His eyes flicked over to the storage cabinet stocked full of blood. Given the number of transfusions Tony had had himself, surely he knew how they worked. Right?

It’s not like he had a choice.

He darted across to the cabinet and grabbed a bag of Peter’s blood, double, and then triple, checking the name because for the love of God he was not giving the kid any of Bruce’s radioactive shit. He set up an IV for the blood bag and inserted a needle into the back of Peter’s hand before connecting the two with a plastic tube that looked close enough to the ones used on him.

For a couple of seconds, he watched the blood flow through the tube and into Peter’s body, then raced to find a bandage to make sure that blood stayed inside rather than ending up on the medbay floor.

After a minute, some of the colour returned to Peter’s cheeks, though he was still shades too pale. Peter gasped a great breath and air and Tony raced to his side, running a hand through his hair and whispering gently. “Hey, kid. Nice to have you back with us.”

“Huh,” Peter slurred. “Wha- Where?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Doctor Cho’s on her way, she’ll be here any minute.”

Peter seemed to be gaining a little more comprehension with every second. “Urgh,” he sighed, relaxing back into the bed. “Mister Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“I think someone stabbed me.”

��I think so too, kid. You left the evidence all over the compound.”

Peter screwed his eyes shut. “Sorry.”

“No,” Tony cooed. “I don’t care about that. I just care that you’re safe.”

#whumptober2020 #no.10 #they look so pretty when they bleed #blood loss #trail of blood #mcu #irondad #fic #blood tw #medical procedures tw #needles tw #i feel like i need to say this just given the prompt title and some of the people out there #not starker #ya nasty

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that-homoerotic-blouse · 4 years ago

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Stellar Moments

Pairing: Ten x Rose

Rated: T

Wordcount: 1, 330

Summary: a UNIT employee tunes in to an extraordinary frequency (Outsider POV)

For the prompt, “after all this time, it was always her”

***

She had always been good at listening. Not that she was quiet or shy or reserved in any way, mind you—it was just a skill; that’s how she preferred to think about it. And as such, it could be trained, honed and perfectioned. For years now, this skill had been both her tool and companion. It had gotten her a few promotions, too.

She had never been a military kind of person, but she found her job at UNIT paid off more than well. Especially when all she had to do was monitor frequencies on speakers and computer screens: satellites, probes, missions, teleport jumps and, occasionally, external threats. It was peaceful, or, as peaceful as it could be in an organization of national—and global—security. She loved it anyways.

But there was a particular signal she was fond of; one that made her jump in her seat without fail every time it appeared on the incoming monitor. It was unusual; rare, to say the least. There was no logical way to predict when it would arrive; there seemed to be no consistency. More or less, however, there was a pattern, a certain degree of periodicity. Once every year, give or take, without further notice, they would receive a message—no codification, no encryption whatsoever—from some random coordinates that located the source somewhere around the Earth orbit.

“Hello! This is the Doctor in the TARDIS,”

It always began like that. The squeaky voice and the glee in his tone reminded her of old customized voicemail. She used to have one like that on her Nokia, years ago.

But that was never the full message.

“Oi!”

“Oh, yes! Sorry, this is the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS,”

Ah. TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Him. And her. Everyone knew about them. And nobody did. Since the Christmas invasion and Canary Wharf, they’d had records about them (sketchy as they were). And then there came the vanishing stars and the stolen planets and their story took on the shining hue of legends and myths. Immortal.

Or almost.

They had been receiving the same signal for eighty years now. Eighty years.

Most of the times, the messages were trivial, hardly more than a routine check-up.

“Hi, this is Rose Tyler and the Doctor in the TARDIS,”

“Bonjour, Buongiorno or Guten Morgen! This is the Doctor and…”

There’d be sounds of thumps, metallic bangs and clangs of all sorts and the frequency would wobble. Her best guess was that the ship was going through some kind of turbulences. A few seconds after nevertheless, they’d come to a halt and the wavelength would be stable again, and the next sound she heard were always their voices, breaking into a relieved but lively laughter, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the bloody hell was so funny about turbulences in deep space.

Unfortunately, the signal only transmitted sound. She had asked some of the technicians about it, but they said that if they were truly sending visual input, the video frequency was probably lost somewhere along the wavelength. Pity, really. She would’ve given anything to see their faces, just one time. No matter how short or brief the messages were, there always seemed to be a certain atmosphere, like a bubble: a microcosm encased in a single audio track, a shared something between the two speakers that gave away more than their words ever could.

“UNIT control tower, this is Martha Jones speaking from the TARDIS,”

“Hello! Donna Noble here, in the old box. Do you read me? Do you read me? Um, I feel like I’m in one of those films… What! How do you mean they can’t hear me?”

But they weren’t the only ones speaking. There was a whole range of voices. With enough time and care, she had come to memorize all of them. Some older, some younger, some light, some teasing, some serious—but they all seemed to share, to drink from the same microcosm of glee and wonder and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

The frequency fascinated her beyond measure. It was like nothing she’d ever heard.

And so, she listened.

Sometimes, he told puns. Very, very bad, awful puns. As to why he did this, she had no idea. The ship’s signal was unidirectional; it wasn’t a conversation, it wasn’t a telephone line. And yet, odd as it seemed, it was as if he knew that there’d be a keen ear on the other end, that somehow, whoever it was, whatever life they led, they wouldn’t mind a cheering up, something to throw them off the monotony and make their day just a little brighter. And he succeeded, every time.

“Never trust atoms… they make up everything!”

“Okay, that’s it, spaceman, I’m booting you out of the TARDIS right now!”

But there was always laughter in the background, and she knew it was alright. And there was no helping it: she laughed with them, too.

Other times, he left songs to be transmitted through the frequency, wavelengths floating on into oblivion. Funnily enough, they were all from the Beatles. Who would’ve thought.

Whenever she got bored, on particularly quiet nights, when the world was safe and the office empty, her mind itched with curiosity and she retrieved some of the previous messages. She played them all from the beginning. One gigantic rewind.

“Hello there, beautiful. This is Captain Jack Harness speaking, how’s your day going?”

“Jackie, no, no, no! Please, don’t touch that!”

“Hello! This is Rose Tyler and the, err, is that water? Doctor, what the hell! The swimming pool is leaking again!”

“Hi! This is Tony Tyler in the TARDIS. You should see this place, it’s the coolest ship in the…”

***

She awoke with a deep buzz in her ears.

Her neck ached and every limb felt heavy and numb. Trying to blink the pain away, she raised her head from the unforgiving spot on a too messy desk and her gaze wandered over the controls. The monitor showing the audio track had given way to dead static. A terminal patient. She switched it off and the buzz drilling into her head ceased. The room should’ve succumbed to silence, but for some reason it didn’t. It was not until a few seconds later that she noticed the alarm.

Incoming signal.

She was suddenly thrown off her chair. Her mind felt brilliantly clear all of a sudden, as she started to fiddle with the keyboard. Adjusting the alignment of the radio frequency, she gave permission to the caller and opened all the audio tracks. One monitor to her left jumped unexpectedly to life. She squinted at the bright Technicolor. To her growing astonishment, there was visual input.

She froze.

The image of a person appeared on the screen: a man. Grey. Old. Frame thin as bone. And a frown just as prominent as his nose. There was a sense of enigma about him, something ancient and unfathomable, but also of nakedness, a kind of vulnerability that only came with things lost, eyes heavy with something akin to sadness. The quality of the image was fuzzy and blurred, the connection weak, but there was no mistake as to who that was.

It was long before he spoke.

“Hello, this is the Doctor in the TARDIS,”

Gone were the squeaky jokes and the goofy laugh. It was the first time she heard that voice: dark and measured and… Scottish?

This time, there were no other voices. No other people in the background. He was alone.

She had a sense of foreboding.

Because, after all these years, after decades and decades of inconsequential messages and unsteady signals, after songs and puns and travels and bumps and clangs and bangs and laughter, there had only been one constant, and one constant only. Because, after all this time…

“After all this time, it was always her.”

The Doctor made his last confession, and she listened.

***

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queensdivas · 5 years ago

Text

Hidden Blade Chapter 5

I know. It’s been so long since we’ve done anything with Four! But damn I was bored and this was perfect timing to bring four back to life in all honesty! Also who can resist Ben?

Okay so I bet some of you are wondering wheres the update for Gard? I’m waiting for a few artist to get some art work done! So exciting I know! Not Ben related but I thought it was important.

Okay so here’s chapter 5!

Enjoy!

Next Chapter

Previous Chap

Masterlist

For some reason Four wanted just the two of us to eat dinner on the rooftop? One put us up in a decent hotel that was a few blocks away from the penthouse and honestly a little quiet time before the mission is something I could use.

“I bring sweet and sour pork, steamed shrimp dumplings, milk tea, and a shit ton of rice.” A weird mixture of dinner but still delicious. He rolled across the roof on his skateboard as I was studying the blueprints of the penthouse.

“Oh and the lady was so nice she gave us pineapple bread.” He popped off his board as Four handed me the bag full of food. He squatted down to place the drinks in front of us as I began opening the bag.

“Thanks for dinner. So why are we eating dinner just the two of us?” I asked him as I handed him the dumplings.

“Cause I’ve been with them since this whole thing started. It’s nice to have a fresh face within the crowd.” Four handed me the chopsticks as I broke them apart. Glad to know I’m a fresh face amongst the other seven of them.

Ya know. I know we're supposed to call each other by our numbers to keep our identities a secret from each other. But the whole world thought I was dead in the first place before my fake death. So me telling my name wouldn’t really mean anything. If One considers us a ghost, then I’m just the wind blowing around.

I’d like to tell Four my name..just in case I do die. Someone should at least know my name before I die. But there’s no way he would spill the beans about him which is fair. This is his life and him jeopardizing by telling me his name wouldn’t be such a fantastic idea.

We ate in silence as we watched the sun beginning to set over the Sea. The orange sky was painted as we looked at each other with our stuffed faces. Scooting closer to each other but not quite touching yet as we kept watching the sky.

My eyes drifted over to his skateboard as it was sitting there staring at my soul. When I was kid a bunch of the other kids I lived with had skateboards and I always wanted to learn how to ride one. Obviously they said no because I was always the odd ball out.

“How long have you been riding?” Asking him as he turned his head towards the board.

“Since I was a kid. Wanna learn?” He asked as I quickly nodded. He grabbed the to go box of the pork as I took a sip of the milk tea.

We got up as he took a bite of his pork. He got on top of his board to start riding around the rooftop as he was eating the pork. Okay showoff! Very funny. He circled around me as I shook my head at him.

“Alright, Four very funny.” He stopped right in front of me to get off the board to place his pork down.

“Now just keep your feet evenly placed on the board because riding is just balance.” I nodded to step on the board with my feet placed where I could see where he left his after the years of riding it.

“Here. Give me your hands.” Giving him my hands as he began leading me on the board. We kept smiling at each other as he kept leading me around the rooftop. Who’d known that it was this easy to ride around on a skateboard.

“Now just bend your knees a little.” Nodding as I bent my knees and he let go of my hands.

“Wait no Four no.” I laughed as I began rolling by myself. My arms were a little shaky till I got the balance down. Oh my god this is fun!

“See! Easy!” Four yelled as I gradually began to slow down. He walked back over to me as he began leading me again.

“Now how long to learn all the cool tricks like Tony Hawk?”

“About three years give or take.” Do I look like I have two or three years?

“Jerusha.” I blurted out as we stopped moving.

“You don’t have to tell me your name. Just wanted someone to tell you if I don’t make it tonight. Rather not be completely forgotten.” I’m not quite sure what I just did. I let go of his hands then off the board.

“We should probably meet with the others before One tracks us down.” Tell Four as I gather up our leftovers and start walking towards the meet up.

A small group consisting of me, Four, Seven, and One we’re crowded around the cranes that would lead us over to the big apartment, er whatever those buildings are. One says he’s calling it a snatch and grab, minus the snatch or something like that because I wasn’t paying too much attention. Mostly because Four and I were working on harnesses and other contraptions for being spider monkeys of the group.

“Going to be honest with y’all. Haven’t really climbed anything that could possibly move me around like a fishing hook.” Seven told us I pulled out my much needed and preferred weapon to load that sucker up. My semi-auto, which is a synthetic 12 gage shotgun. I will be packing heat with this little gun, besides, little mini automatics aren’t my forte.

“Just don’t look down.” Four commented as I loaded my gun with the shells.

“Great advice. What a genius you are!” I’m really trying to hold my sarcasm at this moment because I’m trying not to shit myself. I know this is like my fortieth mission. But it’s the first time I’ve worked with more than a second person. It’s a little uneasy because if one person doesn’t pull their string we’re all screwed!

Stay focused girl! Ah okay. Here we go. I put my shotgun back into my bag as I slung my bookbag back on. I put on my climbing gloves as he began spreading his gymnastic chalk on his hands.

“So with all this do da stuff. We’re you an engineer before this?” Seven asked as I began checking my zipline contraption.

“In a weird way, kind of..” I tightened one of the knobs a little more. If we’re going to be dangling like monkeys off the side of this dude's cage, I’d like to make sure my arm doesn’t slip and then fall to my death.

“If that works, would you mind making me one?” Four asked me as he was cracking his knuckles. I mean I don’t even know if this is going to work, but if it does, sure.

“Sure. It’ll take me a few days or so if that’s alright? Mind if I use some of your climbing chalk?” He nodded as he tossed over his ball of climbing powder. Rubbing my hands together as One approached us.

“You afraid?” Is he doing one of those cliche movie things where one of the dudes acts all tought and the leader is like “fear is your best friend when doing stupid shit” kind of thing?

“Nope.” Yup. That’s one of the most cliche things ever oh my god.

“Good luck.” One told him as he shook his head.

“Saying good luck is bad luck.” I turned towards the crane to shake out my arms.

“I take it back.” Oh my god I’m going to start climbing up if they don’t stop.

“Taking it back is even worse luck.” Yup starting my climb. I began climbing up the crane as quickly as I could, because I know if I look down I’ll die. No I’m not afraid of heights, just things that move under me while I’m super high in the sky.

“Go go go go go.” One got him to start climbing up the crane.

“Yeah.” Four sighed as he was starting up to catch up with me.

“Good luck you two!” One chuckled as Four was the first to start climbing.

“Do you want me to die? Wanker.” He made it up to me as I watched the building that we were going to be jumping.

We made it to the top of the crane as it began moving. I gripped his arm as it scared the shit out of me for a second. He looked at me for a moment as I pulled my hand away from him. Dear God that was a little weird.

“Sorry. It kind of spooked me there for a second.” We began moving as quickly yet safely because One is moving this thing like a bat out of hell!

“Just take it slow and easy. We’re still moving across so just take it slow.” Four tried helped me calm down a little as I finally calmed down a little bit for the ride. Just fine!

“It’s a good ride One. A little scary up here, but.” Seven was the first to speak as we were gliding across the sky.

“Nah this is fun. Don’t be a pussy seven.” Four told him as our crane was closing into the penthouse.

“Yeah I got the gun, smartass. Remember that.” Four shook his head at Seven's little comment.

“Slow it down, One. Slow it down.” I told one as we made it over the penthouse. I climbed down to wrap my legs around the crane, then climbed down onto the roof.

“Overwatch is set. I got the target in his bed scratching his balls, reading some Chinese book. Is that a cookbook?” Oh I would love some squid right about now because that sounds delicious for a midnight snack.

I climbed around to the other side of the pool as I watched for the guards inside the penthouse. They were huddled around in the kitchen eating KFC? Wait a second! You’re in China with some of the best tasting street food and you decide to eat KFC? It’s not even real meat! The only thing that they have that’s good is their gravy!

“Zipline secure!” Right. Need to get started on destroying the windows. Shit they’re moving! Umm umm! I climbed up to the top of the roof roof to basically become the eyes in the sky in close range. For a few minutes till Four got the zipline set. They started coming out of the penthouse all over the outside pavilion thing. I dropped down to start crawling across the roof. Four ducked down behind the plants as he moved around the people he saw. The pool!

“Four to your right. They’re going towards the crane.” Saying over as he climbed down into the pool.

“Shit it’s cold.” He whispered through the com as he kneeled in the water at eye level.

“Four you got enemies to your left, eye level. Better take a deep breath. I’m going in.” I was about to climb down but One jumped on the com.

“No, don't Eight you’ll compromise the mission.” Ye have little faith in me.

“Give me a little credit One. I don’t need to make noise to do my killings.” Taking my hunting knife out of its sleeve to start sliding down the wall.

The closest guard that was near me stopped in front of the plants as I was about to stab him in the neck but he moved back into the house to sit back down with the other guards. Well shit if I can just slither over then this will be a cake walk.

Worming around the place as one was directly over Four as he was waiting to come up for breath. Crap they’re too many and they keep running around the pool and crane!

“Hang on Four I’m thinking.” Telling him as I kept watching everyone to see if I can get away with it. Even if I grab him and do it in the bushes he would be making a lot of noise. Look hiding a body is sort of loud and you have to do it right.

“Seven shoot the pool.” I whispered. If he shoots a hole in the pool then we have an airway for Four to be able to breath!

“Four moves right!” Seven told him as I backed out of the bushes to start going through my bag for the small glass breaking bombs.

“Incoming round.”

“You’re welcome. And y’all can refer to me as Mr. Seven from now on.” At that point you can call me Lady Eight. Oh could you imagine that? Instead of just numbers we added titles to our numbers! Dibs on Lady Eight instead of just eight. Oh my god that would be absolutely perfect!

Four climbed out of the water as he crawled over to where I was in the bushes. He flung his bag off as I began handing him the small bombs and rope. He opened his fanny pack as he placed a few of the bombs in there.

“Spiderman the walls and we’ll be set.” He whispered as I flung my bag back over my shoulder for us to start our bomb placing.

He boosted me up towards the roof of the penthouse as I reached down to pull him up. Bear crawling across the roof as low as we could till we reached the southside of the penthouse.

“Hot mask.” We were about to start unpacking but stopped as three began playing through our coms.

“In a Darth Vader daughter kind of way. Maybe later we can...coochie coochie.” Four and I looked at each other trying not to laugh.

“Woochie woochie coochie.” It’s becoming the laugh you have to keep quiet because bursting out in laughter would be horrible.

“A little over the top guys.” One chimed into their little conversation. I handed him the rope as he began trying himself so he could dangle over a building that if the ropes cut we don’t hit the pavement! We’re burned alive! I’m thinking too hard about this.

“You lost one of your seals! You’re on laughing gas you dumb motherfucker!” Tieing my rope around me as we looked at each other. Turning off our coms for a split second so we could have a private conversation.

“Did those two have some very big sexual tension even before I showed up?” I asked as he nodded.

“They hooked up in Vegas.” Telling him as I tried my rope around the pipe. We turned our coms back on as we could hear three laughing.

“I am the danger!” We turned our heads towards each other in complete shock. Hearing that ring through my ears actually hurt my soul!

“For the love of everything no more movie lines.” I told them through the com.

“Or ever.” One added thankfully.

“It’s a tv line, not a movie line!” Anything that has overpaid actors!

“Yes Miss Vader!” Darth Vader breathing began going through the com as we began lowering ourselves down on the large window glass. God it’s like listening to really bad porno intro Jesus! A loud bang happened from the com as Three was now obnoxiously laughing.

“Okay we’ve got a problem. Three got hit with nitrous, and he’s stupider than usual.”

“This is the funniest shit ever!” His laughing echoed through the com.

Four and I scaled down to underneath the window as we began placing them at the base of the windows. Though the rope was holding us, we still kept a tight grip on the cement just in case it was going to snap. These bombs were suction cupped which were very easy to place as we began going in opposite directions.

“He said there were sound wave bombs right?” Asking Four as he nodded.

“Supposedly. Which makes me a little less anxious because this won’t blow up my arm.” Fair enough. Reaching up to place one on the window as I grunted pulling all my upper body strength to smack it on there.

“How are you two doing over there? You look like elegant spider monkees!” Glad to know that us dangling a few stories off the ground brings him joy.

“Thank you one for describing us as very capable mammals who are very intelligent.” Not quite sure if that did anything but calling me a monkey is considered a compliment. They’re geniuses!

“You look like you’re having so much fun!”

“Tell me one. Has anyone asked you dumb fucking questions when you’re dangling like a fish on a line?” Four asked as we kept pushing to place the bombs.

“No need to climb angry you two.” It’s not that I’m angry! It’s the fact I’m trying to focus!

“Mate, you’re really ruining my flow right now, you know that!” Four told him which made him chuckle. I smacked another one as I checked to see I only had one more.

“Just get those high-intensity speakers placed.” Seven ordered as I shook my head.

“Yes sir sergeant sir!” I moved up and placed the last speaker onto the window! All done finally! I climbed up the rope to untie myself from the pipe.

“Hey have you ever uh...you ever been to an American movie theatre? Between 1983 and 2015?” What does this have to do with anything!

“No.” I answered as I walked over to where Four was dangling to wait for him to get done.

“No, I just pirate them on my phone.” What a dick move.

“That’s an ass hole move. All right.” Four finished as I reached down to pull him up from dangling. I took off my bag to pull out my shotgun and was ready to go.

“Get ready to pull that trigger.”

“Till my finger hurts.” That image.. OH MY GOD THE FREAKIN’ SOUND EFFECT! OH MY GOD IT MADE ME DEAF WHENEVER WE WOULD WATCH SOMETHING ON DVD OR VHS!

We climbed across the roof as he took one entrance as I was on the second one. The crescendo hit as the glass shattered all over the penthouse. Though One is a sarcastic dick, I will say that was a very genius move.

“Hit it!”

Let’s do this!

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