#me might feel flattered that tony would think so highly of him but if it came to the cost of ellis' friendship he would get mad

[puhpandas]

Y’all ever think if Gregory was never possessed and heard the childish names Tony called him he would laugh at the names or just side eye Tony for the name, bc wtf is “story destroyer”…

I think if Gregory wasnt possessed he and tony would have some serious beef😭

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: You have a reason to celebrate and need a partner to do that.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex in a public place, boytoy!Bucky, casual sex, opened relationship, drinking, sorority.

A/N: Here’s one more filthy chapter for you guys. It won’t always be that way since the plot moves forward, but it will still be focused on smut for the next couple of chapters. Our reader deserves some fun before things get a bit more complicated, right? The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. Tag list for this story is closed.  

Screen after screen pops in the air in front of you as you furiously type codes and formulas on them. You’re there, you’re almost there. You’ve been working on this project for months and now it finally seems like you’re getting somewhere.

“Coffee?”

You just nod as an answer to Camilla, your partner on that project. She gets up and walks out to go get the coffee. She already told you if it was up to her, you’ve already given up. But you know you’re getting there. You haven’t stopped working ever since early hours and you’re feeling inspired and focused as ever.

When you’re satisfied with the input you add to the system which is working on the calculations, you sit back. Eyes on the screen displayed in the air. Camilla comes back with your coffees and hands one to you, fixing her eyes on the screen, too as she stands beside you.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper.

Bringing the coffee to your lips you almost choke on it when the answer you were so desperately looking for gleams on the screen.

“Holy shitballs,” you shout and swiftly gets up, letting your cup drop to the floor, splashing the liquid around.

“Oh, fuck,” Camilla gasps and you two look at each other with paired up widened eyes before letting out a cheerful scream and holding each other, jumping around as you gain the attention of the other workers from the several small offices of the Avengers/Stark Technology Department.

A clear of throat takes you and your friend out of your reverie, catching your attention. When you see Sharon Carter on your door, with a smirk on her lips, you two cease the celebration, but keep the smiles on your faces.

“Hey, Sh- Director,” you quickly correct yourself, being friends with Natasha brought you close to Sharon, too. But now she’s Director of Shield, after Nick Fury became coordinator of the Avengers, therefore you should show some respect at least at workplaces, “Remember that Shield and Avengers’ joined project? The one where we were trying to build a device that would crack alien secret services codes?”

“Yeah, sure, our tech departments have been working for months to find an algorithm.” Sharon nods.

“Well, looks like we made it.” You point at the screen right in front of you.

“What the hell?” She shoots an eyebrow high and steps into the office, eyes analyzing the screen between you two.

“We doesn’t quite cut it, Director,” Camilla says, rolling her eyes, “She worked her ass off and got to it by herself. She’s been killing it these last few days.”

You huff, shaking your head. You’ve been really inspired, indeed. And you might relate it to a certain physical activity you’ve been engaging on recently and the outrageous amount of energizing orgasms you’ve been gifted with almost daily… not a topic to be brought out now, though.  

“Ooo, someone seems extra inspired…” Sharon narrows her eyes, but you try to not indulge any possible insinuation by just ignoring the comment with a smile, “Well, that’s amazing news,” she resumes, clapping her hands once, “and it kind of leads to the subject that brought me here, would you mind excuses for a second, Camilla?” She kindly asks.

“Of course, not. I’ll be in my office.” Camilla says, not holding back from hugging you and squirming in excitement one more time before walking out the room.

“This is huge, huh?” Sharon comments, pulling up the chair you pointed for her as you sit on yours.  

“It is, can you imagine what Natasha will be able to do with it?” You grin, brushing your hands together.

“Thanks to your badass brain,” she compliments before narrowing her eyes at you again, “You have a weird happy face.”

“Well, something amazing just happened…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sharon brushes you off, “You’re killing it at your job and that’s amazing… but to be honest, I expected to still see you moping around about your break up.”

“I’m still sad about it, but work has been great, and-”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sharon interrupts with a playful snap and you frown while she crosses her arms in front of her, holding back a laugh, “I’ve been texting with Natasha, I know about you and your boytoy.”

“What the hell?” Your eyes widen as you throw your arms to the air, already feeling your cheeks warming, “She’s on a mission and you two have been talking about my… sex life?” You lean over across the table and whisper the last part.

“We can multitask,” Sharon shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Oh, wow…” you scoff, “That’s two of the greatest spies on earth right.”

“Alright,” She chuckles, unfolding her arms and leaning over the table, “As much as I want to know all about it, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Ok,” you quickly accept the change of subject for your own relief, “Why are you here for, then?”

“To tell you that Stark is a jerk,” she deadpans.

“Ok… cool,” you drag the words, side eyeing her, “And?”

“Long story short, I lost you in a chess match and now you’re the new leader of Avengers/Stark Tech Department.”

You don’t quite assimilate what she just said as you keep your questioning stare on her, not finding the link between her words and, most of all, did she just say you’ve been promoted?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head shutting your eyes for a second, finally asking for clarification after what seemed like the longest staring contest ever.

“Well,” Sharon sighs, “You know how competitive Stark and I can be and when I decided to act by ethics and told him I was considering offering you the leadership position at Shield’s tech department he decided he would do the same and dared me to a chess match, where you would be the prize.” She shrugs, “I’m sure he had some help, right Friday,” she raises her voice staring up to the air but gains plain silence as a response from the A.I, “He won and got to keep you and I got  stuck with my second option which is your ex, as you might already know.”

“Wow,” you whisper, not really sure what to say or feel, trying to process all of what you just heard.

“You’re not offended by the chess match, are you?” Sharon checks, tilting her head.

“No… I’m kinda… flattered, I guess.” You frown and Sharon gives you a satisfied smile. “But… I’m confused… That’s Stark’s job.”

“It’s your job now if you should accept it.” She grins wider, “I guess he’s been thinking about it for a while now and saw my offering as an opportunity. I know Pepper has been on his ass for him to loosen up from some responsibilities, and who better than you to take over?” She points up at the screen with your recent achievement.

You let out a breathy laugh, reality finally dawning. Not in a million years you thought that would happen but now that it is, you’re not gonna be modest, you kick ass in your job and you fucking deserve it.

“He’s on a mission with Nat and Steve now, so he asked me to come talk to you, hang on…” Sharon holdsup a finger, before grabbing a small device from her pocket, which you recognize as one of your projects. “Stark,” she says.

In a second the image of a very battered Tony surfaces on the air as the camera captures his face from under the suit.  

“Hey, Carter,” he greets with a smirk as you hear the sounds of blasts, shots and explosions. The man is in the middle of a damn battle while casually answering a call.  

“Stark,” Sharon answers just as casually, “I have her here with me, just delivered the news,” she says, turning his image to you.

“Hey, boss,” you give him a shy wave.

“Hey, kid.” He scrunches up his face, shooting a series of blasts before you listen to something exploding. “I think you’re sort of my boss now.” He focuses on you again, smirking.

“No, I’m not,” you laugh.

“No, you’re not. But, tell me, what’s your answer?”

“I take it, of course.” You decide, why in the world, wouldn’t you.

“Great. Party to celebrate when we come back. Gotta go, these damn Kree are the worst. Will not invite them.” He turns off and his image disappears from before you.

“Well, congratulations.” Sharon places the device back on her pocket, “Our departments work a lot together, so I think I win either way.”

A mix of emotions fill up your chest. You’re excited and happy and scared. Mostly excited, though…  “Holy shit,” you curse, digging your hands into your hair as a grin seems to twist your lips permanently.

“You need to celebrate…” Sharon adds, offering you a cheeky grin.

Fuck yeah, you need to celebrate. And you know exactly what, or better, who you wanna do.

~~~

“How the hell are you wet already?”

The words are spoken against your neck through licks and sucks, after Bucky’s fingers glided under your underwear and sank between your slick folds. As soon as he walked into your living room, he jumped on you with kisses and grabs, discovering you in such a state without his previous help.

Well, sort of without his help, actually. The thing is, after you got out of work that afternoon, you didn’t even need to call him or text him to propose your little celebration as you found a series of texts from “Bucky Sweet Tongue Barnes”  waiting for you. In the first, he was asking if you had any plans that night, and the others… oh, the others… the fucker described all sorts of filthy things he wanted to do with you.

After a quick answer for him to come over and a long bath, all the dirty details he used on his texts refused to leave your mind and you couldn’t help but spending the rest of the time you had alone before he arrived teasing yourself with your fingers, having all those images and flashes from your last encounters in your memory to keep you going.

“I-“ you gasp as he sucks that sensitive spot in your neck and his fingers meet your clit, “Those texts you sent me…” You tilt your head to give his lips more room, your hands roaming around the hard pattern of muscles on his back, “I-I’ve been touching myself.” You confess with the lack of pudency you’re becoming familiar with when you’re around him.

In your arms, you feel when his body freezes for a second, before he sucks harder on your neck, “Fuck… did you come today already?” He gropes your ass under your dress with the hand that isn’t in your pussy. 

Your eyelids flutter and you reach down to the front of his pants to feel the growing bulge, “Yes…”

“Goddammit, that’s hot,” he grunts, and then it all happens in a blur as he lifts you by hooking his hands under your thighs and places you seated over the dinner table.

He positions himself between your opened legs as lifting up your short dress out of his way and, while you swiftly work on the buttons and zipper of his jeans, he takes a condom out of his pockets and, after ripping the plastic off with his teeth he hands it to you.

His eyes cast down to see your fingers rolling off the latex around his rock hard cock and, as soon as you’re done and wrap your hand around him to feel his thickness, he wastes no time and pushes you backwards until your back meets the cold wood of your table. 

Acting by the frenzy that is all over his eyes, he swiftly pulls the small fabric of your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt just enough before he holds his cock and pushes himself inside you, making you cry out and your body jerk backwards. You always knew spending an exorbitant amount of money on a good table would pay off someday and you hold yourself fisting each side of the table.

He pulls your thighs up wrapping his hands on your knees, giving you no time to adjust before starting to pound into you.

You love that he fucks you like that. Hard and raw, the sting of the stretching mixed with the pleasure brought by his expert thrusts fogging your mind and his thickness and expert moves hitting sweet spots of yours, kicking the air out of your lungs. You love that in the few times you’ve been doing it in the last week, he already seems to know what you can take and always somehow goes a little further, a little different… like he knows something about yourself that you don’t, yet. That it’s the first time that you two can’t be bothered to wait and take off clothes or get to the bedroom. You love it.

It is all new to you, yes. For you sex has always been attached to some kind of affection or romantic feelings and, while that is all good and wonderful, you’re enjoying so much finding out this other side, where the only goals are to share pleasure and have fun. 

“So fucking sexy,” he groans through clenched teeth.

Your core twists in response and your cunt clenches around his cock, causing him to let out a grunt and quicken his pace even more, making it extra difficult to breathe properly. Oh, he’s found out that praise kink of yours and now he’s been using it wisely, so wisely…

He reaches over to pull down the stripe of your dress and exposes one breast. A loud moan slips out of you when he roughly kneads the soft flesh. He keeps the metal hand around one of your knees while the leg he let go in favor to give your breast some attention curls around his hips, jerking along with the punishing pace of his thrusts.

“Yeah, sweetheart, so sexy… I’ve wanted to have you like this ever since I first saw that sweet ass of yours,” he confesses right before leaning over to wrap his mouth around your nipple.

You’ve been horny the whole day waiting for the moment you would have his cock inside you just like that and the praise, as tacky as it may be, joined with the warmth of his wet tongue around your breast and the stimulation against your clit that the new position brings prompt the blast of ecstasy inside your core.

With a trembling moan, you let go the edges of the table to hold his body pressed to yours as his mouth moves from your breast to attack your neck. You roll your hips, trying to prolong the pleasure unleashed as his pace falters.

The fingers of both his hands dig into your hair, making a mess of it as he pulls out his cock almost completely before shoving it deeply and harshly one more time, grunting out his own release.  

“Fuck,” it slips from under his heavy breath before he clasps his lips on yours. The kiss is wet and sloppy and lazy as you have your legs and arms curled around his body, keeping him inside you.

Still feeling a little numb from the orgasm he just gave you – a thousand times better than the one you had given yourself- you gasp and chuckle through the kiss as he straightens up and pulls you with him. You tighten the hold of your arms and legs, as he conveniently holds you by your ass until he finds the couch and sits down with you straddling his hips. He breaks the kiss and lets his head fall on the backrest, his chest moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

You move up to let his cock slide off but he tightens the hold on your ass, keeping you in place, “Just… let me stay in a bit more, it feels so good,” he says, eyes shut, still resting his head back on the sofa.

“Alright,” you chuckle, straddling his face with your arms as you place your hands on the backrest. You find the request a bit odd but also sexy as hell. There he is, always a step ahead on what you don’t even know you think it’s hot…   

After a few more seconds, when his breath – and yours- seems to come back to normal, he straightens his head and looks down at where you still have just one breast exposed. He ticks his tongue, “Let’s not make the other one feel left out.” He pulls your other strap, letting now both of your breasts bare to him before he dips in, grabbing the up till now covered one with his lips.

You shake your head, laughing at his antics, “You seem pretty fond of them, huh?”

He lets go of the mound with a pop, looking up at you with an almost shocked expression on his face, “How could I not?” he gasps, like you’ve just offended him, “I don’t know how you see them in the mirror everyday and don’t touch yourself…” he squints at you before continuing, “You do, don’t you?”

You laugh harder, letting your head fall back and he smiles at you before going back to give your tits some attention, kissing and sucking one, then the other. Noticing that his cock never really softens completely inside you, you let him enjoy himself a bit more before speaking again, “Did you mean that?”

“What?” He leans back, looking up at you.

“You said you wanted to fuck me ever since you met me… is that serious? I didn’t even know you remembered me before we… started this.”

“First of all, I’m always serious, I never lie,” he says, adding some gravity to his tone, “Second of all, remember that night a while ago, when I chatted with you and your boyfriend at a Stark’s party and then your sexy ass talked about your work with technology with such passion… you knew exactly what you were talking about and, fuck…” he licks his lips, ”I rubbed one out for you later that night,” he smirks, clasping his hands behind his head.

Your jaw drops at the reveal before your face scrunches up, “That’s…gross?” you say the first word that comes to mind.

“But it’s true,” he shrugs, looking pretty comfortable with the confession, “and ever since I’ve been thinking about tapping that smart ass of yours.” He emphasizes his point by slapping your ass once.

Despite that and his choice of words - which makes your cheeks heat up - and your previous statement of being grossed out by the revelation, you decide you take that as kind of a compliment, which leads you to give him the news.

“You know?” you say, “I was promoted today. You just fucked the new leader of the Avengers/Stark tech department,” you grin when his practically hard cock twitches inside you.

“Wow, congratulations.” His eyes widen and he grins back at you. 

“Never thought I would meet someone with a technology kink,” you comment, laughing at his first reaction to the news.

“More of a smart as fuck brain kink, sweetheart,” he reaches behind you to slap your ass for the second time that night, making you shriek and laugh a bit harder, “Ok, we need to celebrate,” he states.

“I am celebrating,” you aim a mischievous smile at him, rolling your hips for good measure.

“Damn,” he breathes, but holds your hips still, “No, I mean, you’ve been in a relationship for ten years, tell me…” he squints at you, “When was the last time you partied your ass off?”

“Ahm…” you think hard trying to remember when it was, “College, I guess?”

“Shit…” he lowers his head before swiftly getting up, making you lunge your arms on his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back as he walks to your bedroom, “Come on, let’s freshen up. This is huge news… I’ll take you to a real party now and then we can continue our private one later,” he promises.

~~~

As soon as you walk in the rooftop bar Bucky has chosen, you already decide you did good in accepting his offer. The place is gorgeous, sporting a modern, yet cozy decoration with small tables, sofas and puffs for those who want to sit. Dazzling lights flash on the dance floor right by a huge bar and the view of the city is mesmerizing while the beat of the music reverberates through your body.

Bucky pulls you by the hand through the sea of bodies. Thank god you chose one of the fanciest dresses of your wardrobe or else you wouldn’t fit in among the beautiful people crowding the place. Every once in a while, Bucky waves and nods at someone or a group of people. You can tell he’s a regular.  

He waves more excitedly to a group of women hanging on a mezzanine, before pulling you to that direction, “Come on,” he tilts his head back towards you with a smile, “You’ll love them.”

As soon as you approach the group, he puts his arm around your shoulders and introduces you to everyone, telling you the names of each stunning woman before you, Amanda, Emma, Jada, Alice and Brianna. They all friendly greet him and you with smiles, excited hellos and hugs, welcoming you two to join them, which you do.

“You know, Y/N was promoted today,” Bucky gushes and you smile at him.

“Oh, wow,” Amanda says through the cheerful congratulating words from everyone else, “This calls for champagne.” She then whistles and makes a sign for a bartender, who in a matter of seconds sends two bottles of fancy champagne to the group. 

A few minutes after the toast, you’re drinking and chatting with those women like you’ve been best friends your whole life, especially with Amanda, who goes out of her way to make you feel included. You can see how close they all are to Bucky, like he’s one of the gang, talking about any kind of subject in front of him and vice versa. Bucky stays by your side, and only when you’re completely mingled with the group he excuses himself to go grab what he called “a real drink” at the bar.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Amanda nudges you when Bucky is at a distance he can’t hear.

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “Bucky’s a great guy.”

“She means in bed, dear,” Brianna clarifies with a giggle.

You take a look around the group to see them all giving you mischievous and knowing stares. Oh…

“Oh, did all of you…?” you point your finger at them, but you don’t have to complete the question

“More like all of this rooftop,” Brianna laughs, followed shortly by the others.  

“So, he’s amazing isn’t he?” Amanda insists, wiggling her eyebrows.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that they all seem so friendly and open minded, but something makes you blurt out, “Amazing? He’s fucking fantastic.”

They all nod and verbalize their agreement, “I tell you all something,” Jada catches your attention, “That man drinks respect women juice daily and we owe him a toast. Here’s to Bucky,” she raises her glass.

“To Bucky.” You all mimic her through laughing and make a toast to the unsuspicious man at the bar.

As the conversation moves on and they all engage in different topics your gaze wanders to where he stands, holding a glass with some liquor that looks like whiskey in hands. But he’s not alone anymore. A statuesque blond is right beside him, laughing and touching his arm. You glimpse that flirting smile of him forming on his lips.

“You don’t mind do you?” Amanda’s voice makes you turn to her, spotting a questioning look on her face, “Because if you do… Girl, run away now, Bucky isn’t right for you.” There’s no malice on her voice, just a sincere warning tone.

You seize the moment to make an honest survey through your feelings. You’ve been warned by different people, Bucky included, and if there’s anything to worry about, Amanda is right, you should run now. As you keep your eyes on the two of them by the bar, you look and look and look inside, but find nothing that could be remotely taken as jealousy or something like that. If anything, it’s kind of liberating to know that you have so much fun with him and there’s no ugly, selfish feelings pulling you back. You feel like you could encourage the blonde on the flirting, because you know how damn incredible it can be…

Who would wonder that a class A womanizer like Bucky would be the source of such sheer sorority you’ve been experiencing that night…

“No,” you turn back to Amanda, shaking your head with a satisfied smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

The night goes on and Bucky comes and goes, chatting and drinking and laughing with you and your new little group of friends, taking you to dance, but also dancing with Amanda, Emma, Alice, Jada, Brianna and some others… A number of guys also approach you, take you to dance, buy you drinks and you end up with a few new phone numbers in your contact list. You party like you haven’t in a while and like you didn’t think women your age still did, which is stupid… You’ve been so caught up in the routine of your relationship with Eddie that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world spinning out there.

An exciting and fun world.

“Hey,” the familiar voice reaches your ear and makes you smile as you’re on the dance floor with the girls. The metal hand curls around your belly and pulls you before your back brushes against his chest, “Having fun?” Bucky asks, lips on your ears.

“Yes, so much.” You tilt your head and place your hands over his while his hips sway with yours.

“Hummm,” he pulls you closer and runs the tip of his nose over the length of your neck, “I’m glad.”

“However…” you sigh, loving how his hips move in rhythm with yours, “I think I’m ready to continue our other party at home.”

“Funny,” he chuckles and his tongue darts out before he swiftly brushes it against your neck. It’s quick and very discreet, but enough to set your core into flames, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

With that, you promptly let go of him and proceed to say goodbye to the girls. They all tell their farewells and wishes to see you again soon with knowing and excited looks.

~~~

“You were right, I had so much fun.” You wrap an arm around his elbow as you walk side by side through the streets of New York. The bar isn’t that far from your condo and when he suggested a walk back home you thought it was a good idea to check on the lively corners of the city, even with the heels. Also, he offered his leather jacket against the cold, which you promptly accepted.

“Oh, yeah, nightlife in New York nowadays is something we shouldn’t take for granted,” he smiles down at you, “And yeah, you had fun alright, I know there are a few extra numbers in your phone,” he winks.

You analyze his face and when you understand there’s nothing but playful teasing behind it, you answer, “Oh, yeah, oh my God,” you shake your head, “That was unexpected but fun. I might delete them all, though, things might get complicated and I’m not looking for any kind of complications right now.”

He smiles, seemingly satisfied for you taking him out of the complicated category. “You and the girls seemed to get along real fine, too,” he comments.   

“They’re really great,” you nod, getting cozier in his arm as a gust of wind hits you, “They all think very highly of you, by the way,” you let the smirk in your lips tell him what you mean.

“I work hard for that, sweetheart.” He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You let out a laugh, “That you do.” You look up at him from under your lashes, before whispering, “I can’t wait to see you working hard.”

He halts his pace, making you abruptly stop with him. You shoot him a questioning look, as he gazes down at you, his face lightening up like the best of ideas has just crossed his mind. Without further notice he unwraps his arm from yours and takes your hand instead, pulling you with him at a faster pace as he turns on the corner, changing the course that would lead to your home.

“Hey,” you call out, as you try not to trip on your heels as he pulls you, deflecting from the other patrons and leading the way, “What the hell are you doing?”

He looks back at you with that sinful smile of his, “Don’t wanna leave you waiting.”

Something flips inside your stomach in anticipation at his statement and, as he turns around a few corners, the streets seem to get less busy. When you reach a particular spot, he checks each side, like surveying the area before pulling you to a dark alleyway you haven’t even seen before.

As soon as you out of the street he pins you against the wall and crashes his lips on yours, shoving his leg between yours to keep you in place with the help of the firm grip of his metal hand on your hips.

Like a puppet on his strings you wrap your arms around his neck and respond to the inebriant kiss immediately even if you’re still astonished by it all and when he squeezes one of your tits through the fabric of your dress and his mouth leaves your mouth to drag kisses over your neck, you tilt your head to see the light peeking from the streets, so close to where you’re both standing. 

“Bucky…” a gasp swallows your words for a second as he presses his thigh harder against your pussy, “What the hell, someone can see us,” you remind him, knowing exactly where this will lead if you don’t stop him now. You can already feel the pool of heat in your lower body as he playfully nibbles on your lower lip before going back to your neck.

“Isn’t it exciting, to think someone can spot us while I have my dick inside you.” He licks a long stripe from your neck to behind your ear.

The mention of his dick makes you let out a wanton moan, but you’re not won over yet, “It’s a fucking dark alley in the middle of the night in New York City, Bucky. We will be murdered here.”

At this, all of his enticing movements pause, and he dips his head back with an offended glare at you, “Do I have to remind you who you’re literally fucking with?” he asks, outrage all over his voice, “The Winter Fucking Soldier, White Wolf and shit… the strongest Avenger,” he chant the names and you can’t help but chuckle a bit, “Don’t worry,” leans over to resume from where he stopped, “I can fuck you and protect you at the same time.”

You need no more convincing since that’s actually damn hot and you’re more than sold to the exciting game when he flips you over and kneels down behind you. Listening to your own erratic heartbeats prompted by the electrifying danger of it all, you sprawl your hands on the wall as he sinks his hands under your dress and pulls your underwear down your legs, placing it in his pocket once you step out of it.

He bunches your dress up high enough to give him room and you shudder and sucks in a breath as he props one kiss, then another on the back of each of your thighs, “Try to be quiet…” he says, but swiftly adds, “Not too quiet, though, I love to hear you.”

With that he spreads your legs a little farther and sinks his tongue into the apex of your thighs from behind.  Your jaw drops and your knees buckle as he holds your hips still against his face. While his tongue curls around your sensitive pussy your mind blanks and you whimper, trying to suppress a moan, not forgetting you’re right in the open air of New York. Your hips roll against his face, seeking for more friction to untie the knot forming inside you.

But too soon he ceases contact and stands up. You express your disappointment with a whine, face snapping to glare at him behind you.

He’s wearing a smirk on his face as he grabs another condom from his pocket. You wonder how many he has in stash, “You wanted to come on my mouth, didn’t you?” he teases, holding the package between his teeth as he unbuckles his pants.

“Of course,” you shamelessly admit under your breath.

“I know sweetheart… But my dick is aching for you, too,” letting his pants and boxes fall along his legs, he unleashes his hard cock and proceeds on putting on the condom, throwing the plastic package aside, “I was prepping you for it,” he continues, eyes fastened on yours as he speaks, “You want it, don’t you? You want my dick? Come all over it?”

You lick your lips and your gaze falls to look at his rock hard cock, feeling your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Now that’s an offer you can’t refuse, “Yes, I wanna soak that fucking dick,” you groan, not caring how tacky all the dirty talk may be, since it all sounds sexy as fuck now, clouding all of your senses.

“Shit… take it then, sweetheart.” Guiding his cock with his hand, he pulls your hips and in one single shove he’s inside you.

You let out a silent cry and rest your cheek on your hand against the wall, as the other reaches down to your clit, to help ease down the sumptuous twists inside your core as he pounds into you.  

The sounds and lights of the cars passing by on the street right next to you reminds you how exposed you are and fuck if you’re not gonna come quicker than you ever did as Bucky holds your hips with both of his hands, moving them as fast as he pleases, thrusting them back against his cock. You can feel the fire reaching its peak inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers, breathing hard as he fucks any remaining signs of better judgement out of you and you know it won’t be long for him, either.

You let out a loud moan and it prompts him to pull you pressed against his chest and cover your mouth with his hand, “Shhh.” His hot breath coats your ear and your head falls back on his shoulder as he keeps the delicious pounding of his cock inside you with no hint of mercy.

The damn alley spins around you and you wish you weren’t wearing his leather jacket now as the beads of sweat run down your forehead.

He must’ve heard something in advance because right at that moment a group of people walk by the sidewalk, chatting and laughing. All they have to do is to glance to the side and spot you two in that interesting situation. The danger, the fact that you’re so exposed while Bucky dicks you down against the wall out in the open triggers your orgasm and you let out a strangled sound, muffed by his hand, as the shocks of pleasure washes over your body and weakens your limbs.  

“Shit,” Bucky whispers against your cheeks and his cock pulses inside you, reacting to your cunt squeezing and soaking his cock as you reach your climax.

You wanna feel that again and acting under the influence of a rush of boldness, you reach behind between the two of you and gently massages his bouncing balls. You feel the pulsating of his cock between your walls again and that cheeky move of yours makes him come undone. You only wish that the group is far enough to not hear the reckless and loud moan that slips out of his lips against your ear, his whole body tensing against yours.

As you fight to catch your breath and his hand leaves your mouth to descend to one of your breasts, a long line of courses is recited in your ear before you can feel his body finally relaxing.

Your eyes flutter shut when you sense the brush of his lips on your neck. The next words he breathes against your heated skin makes you beam, loving that he says that while his cock is still buried deep into you, like a damn reward.  

“Congratulations on your promotion, sweetheart.”

~~~

Tag List for this story: CLOSED

Permanent Tag List: OPENED.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Call me what?

Part of the Calling Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Loads of lovely smut!

Your meeting with the virologists wanting Stark’s lab to consult on their project ran late. You insisted on more information than they’d prepared, but they surprised you by being able to provide it quickly and efficiently. So, taking the time to review it seemed only fair. It proved promising enough to warrant a second meeting.  

However, now you were running late to one of Stark’s meet and greet cocktail parties at the New York Avenger’s Tower to keep all the government types happy and on a first name basis with the team. He insisted that all the team members attend, saying nothing greases the wheels like a joke and good martini. Steve insisted that everyone go, because it was important to humanize the team and earn trust. They were both right.  

Just as you shut the door of the town car, your phone rang. “Hey, handsome.”

“I hate these things.” Bucky’s voice rumbled low. He obviously didn’t want those around him to hear.  

“I know.” You settled back into the leather seat. Your words were sympathetic, but your voice teased. “All those stupid questions. All those ridiculous officials. And Steve would be so cross if you got them all bloody.”

“Doll, you know me so well.” You could hear the smile in his voice.  

“Yeah, well, I like to pay attention.” The lights of city crawled passed. The traffic moved slow as so many left work.  

“How long before you get here? I don’t know how long I can last.”  

“Traffic isn’t too bad. I think another five or ten minutes before I get to the Tower.” You looked down at yourself. “I think I’ll be okay without changing clothes.”

“You always look gorgeous.” Bucky answered immediately, but with complete sincerity.  

Before you could dismiss his comment, you took a deep breath and smiled to yourself. “Thank you, Buck. You always know how to make me feel good.”

“Just being honest.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But, ah, just out of curiosity, what are you wearing?”

“That little black wrap dress you like so much.” You grinned, knowing that wasn’t what he meant.

“And...?” He drew out the question.

“Really sexy four-inch high Farragamo’s.”

“Doll.” He whined.

“And the red strappy set you bought me last week.” You purred.

“Oh yes,” He groaned quietly. “I want to pull that thing apart with my teeth.”

You rubbed your thighs together at the thought. “Well, you’ll have to be good tonight.”

“Oh, I will be very, very good.” Bucky’s voice dropped an octave and you practically melted into your seat. He knew exactly how to push your buttons. “I’ll be good again and again.”

“Can’t wait.” You breathed.

“Hurry.” He breathed. “The sooner you get here, the soon we can bail, and sooner I can hold you down and rip that pretty red set to shreds.”

“Really now?” You shifted in your seat, picturing it in your mind.  

“Mm-hm.” He chuckled wickedly. “After being so good here, I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself. I can already taste you on my tongue. Having to hide out in this corner, I’m so hard just thinking about it. You wet for me, Doll?”

“You know that I am.”  

“l think you should check. Slip those fingers into that wet pussy for me.” He demanded.

“Bucky.”

“The driver can’t see through the screen. Do it. When you get here, I want to kiss your fingers and taste you. Go on, Doll. Touch your pretty pussy for me.”  

In the darkness of the back seat, you uncrossed your legs and let your hand slip up your skirt. You were soaking. A small whimper escaped your mouth as your fingers picked up the slickness and rubbed your clit.

“Oh,” Bucky purred. “You’re such a good girl.”  

“Buck.” You sighed.

“I can’t wait to taste you, Doll.”

“Doctor,” The driver spoke clearly. “Would you prefer to be dropped at the front door or down in the garage?”

You quickly straightened. “Um, ah, whatever is faster. Thank you.” You could hear Bucky chuckle. “Knock it off, you’re so bad.”

“You love it.”

“I’ll see you in a minute.”

“Can’t wait.”

The buzz of conversation and music assaulted you as the elevator doors opened on the Penthouse Lounge. As you made your way into the room, Pepper spotted you almost immediately gave you a little nod without pausing her conversation with someone you thought might be someone from the mayor’s office.  

“Glad you could join us?” Sam’s voice drifted over your left shoulder. His hand came around, offering you a glass with whiskey on the rocks. You glanced at him, eyebrow arched. “Saw you coming. Figured you might need to get a quick one under your belt.”

“Fun night, huh?” You took a drink of the Woodford Reserve.  

“Not really.” Sam shrugged. “Tony is still relatively sober. No one has stormed out. Bucky hasn’t hit anyone. Dull as could be.” You chuckled, but Sam went a little serious. “Actually, your boy is on edge. There’s a pencil-dick over there with the whole fire and brimstone vibe. He’s been trying to ask everyone if Bucky is truly ‘repentant’.”

“Seriously?” You frowned, downing the other half of your drink. “Who the hell is he?”

“I think he’s some National Security Deputy Kiss-Ass.” Sam grumbled.  

“Thanks for the drink, Sam.” You handed him the empty glass. “I’m going to find him.”

“Anytime, doc.” He kissed your cheek. “And that dress is smokin’.”  

You grinned and began to weave your way through the crowd, easily spotting Bucky and Steve across the room. Steve saw you coming, his serious expression morphing into a bright smile. Ah, you thought, this should be fun. Creepy dick guy was taking to your boys. At Steve’s smile, they all turned to see your purposeful walk in their direction.  

Relief filled Bucky’s eyes.  

Without hesitation you walked straight up to Bucky, cupping his cheeks in both hands and kissing him. Your tongue slid over his lower lip and he instinctively opened to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close and bending you back.  

His lips pulled away just a bit. “Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Handsome.” You smiled against his lips. Steve cleared his throat. Without moving you added, “Hiya, Steve.”

Bucky chuckled and stood you up straight. He caught your right hand in his left, bringing it to his mouth to kiss your fingers. Only you noticed the deep breath he drew in through his nose, or the twinkle in his eye. “Glad you finally got here.”

“Me, too.”

“And this is?” The man had a gravely voice, like he smoked two packs a day. He didn’t smell like it. However, he did look at you as if smelling something foul.  

“Sorry,” Steve gave a tight smile. “Wallace Flanigan, this is Dr. Y/L/N,”  

You provided him with a smile, but did not offer a hand.  

“Doctor?”  

“Yes.” Steve smiled. “She’s one of Stark’s top research doctors and consults for some the world’s leading public health agencies.”  

“Truly? Well, I understand why you would keep your maiden name.” He commented.

Bucky’s fingers tightened in yours.  

Leaning back against his chest, you pulled your entwined hands so Bucky’s arm wrapped around your waist. It placed you physically between them. Forcing yourself to appear relaxed, you smiled. “You misunderstand, Mr. Flanigan. I’m the Sergeant’s lover, not his wife.”  

Somehow the man’s back straightened even more.  

Plastering a fake look of innocence on your face, you continued. “But I suppose it’s flattering that you would assume, if we were married, I would not take his name in order to maintain a professional name of my own. I mean, considering his name is so highly renowned.”

Steve smirked into his bottle of beer, staring over your shoulder. He obviously was sharing a look with Buck.  

“It’s true he has a reputation.” Flanigan growled.

“More than one.” You gave a genuine giggle. “Now, I’ve just arrived and I’d like to steal my man away for a few minutes, if that’s alright?”

“See you later.” Steve fought not to laugh.  

You turned in Bucky’s embrace. “Buy me a free drink?”

“Anything you want.” His blue eyes locked on to yours with hot intensity. Bucky glanced at Steve, then the other man, “Excuse us.”

Bucky’s arm around your waist held you close as he led you away, toward the bar. You hand slipped under his suit jacket to rest on his lower back. “Well that was fun.”  

He paused, his lips pressing against your temple. You could hear the laughter in his quiet voice. “That was fucking amazing.”

Clint lifted a hand and the two of you made your way to where he and Sam leaned against the bar. Barton waved two fingers at the bartender, who quickly arrived with two more drinks.  “Okay, who made Wally’s head explode?”

“What?” Bucky frowned, letting you go only long enough to hand you the drink.  

“The two of you had your backs to us. Pencil-dick looked like he was going to have a stroke and I know that look on Rogers. He was trying really hard not to laugh. Which one of you is to blame?” Sam smiled.

“That’s all her.” Bucky grinned. “Set that fucker straight, smiling the whole time.”

“Hey, I just corrected him and said I was your lover not your wife. I could have said I was your fuck toy.”

Barton choked. Sam barked a laugh.  

Bucky’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, his head shaking. “Naughty girl.”

You offered him your hand, in an old fashion gesture. “But, sir, you love it.”

He took your hand, bowing his head and kissing your fingers. His tongue lightly touching your skin hyper-sensitive senses kicking into overdrive at the scent of your sex. “That I do, beautiful lady.”

“Saps.” Sam mumbled.  

You happily shared the silent secret of just how naughty you’d been with those fingers just before arriving at the party. “Buck, can we get some air?”

“Sounds good. Guys.” He nodded and followed you out onto the balcony. The cool night air swirl about, lifting the hem of your dress a bit, making him smile. He set his nearly full beer beside yours on the table just outside the door before following you to the railing.  

“Look really sexy in that suit.” You purred, as your hands slid around his waist.  

His palms ghosts over the silky fabric covering your breasts, feeling the hardness of your nipples. Bucky’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips. The cool fingertips of his left hand ran along neck of dress, petting the flesh of your cleavage. “Jesus, I want to rip this open.”

You leaned forward, tipping your face up. Bucky’s mouth covered yours, drinking in your kiss. The heat of his body stood in stark contrast to the cold night air. His left hand moved up to tangle in your hair.  Teeth nipped your lower lip, sending a shiver straight to your cunt.

“Can we get out of here?” You breathed.  

“Yeah,” Bucky looked around, before pulling you to the opposite balcony door. Just inside a door led to a service hallway, clear of the party. A cart full of used glasses waited, but the hall was otherwise empty. He tugged you close, hand digging into your ass as he brutally kissed you again.  

Just as your leg came up to his hip, you heard a little squeak and a “sorry”. You giggled against Bucky’s lips. He growled and pulled away. Taking your hand, he strode down the hall again.  

In the elevator, you tugged his tie loose and let it hang around his neck. Bucky stared as you deftly unbuttoned his shirt, you only got three buttons undone before the doors opened again. Moments later the two of you stumbled into your suite, arms wrapped around each other, mouths licking and nipping.  

“Finally.” Bucky grinned wickedly. He pulled the tie at your waist, allowing the wrap dress to fall open. He licked his lip as you pushed it off your shoulders to expose the red set underneath. The lace and thin straps perfectly constructed to hold you in place. “Hell, yes.”

Standing there in barely anything while Bucky remained fully dressed, staring at you with hunger, felt incredibly hot. You turned, strutting in your heels, ass swaying, towards the bed. A low strangled noise came from Bucky.

Before you made it to the bed, Bucky rushed you, wrapping you in his strong arms. He kissed you, hard and powerful. His tongue swept along yours, pulling a mewl from your throat. The cool metal fingers of his hand dug into the meat of your ass to pull you tight against his hard need.  

Bending forward, Bucky’s hot wet mouth clasped over your nipple. His hand squeeze your flesh. Teeth grazed at your nipple, soaking the lace of your bra. Demanding, powerful. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling. Breathing deep, filling his head with the scent of your need, he bit down and pulled at the fabric. His fingers tearing at the sides, the bra tore apart.  

You gave a little squeal as he tossed you on the bed. The look of feral desire upon his face created a flame of he between your legs. You felt your cunt clutch, knew you were dripping with need. His tongue slipped out, tracing along his lower lip, as your legs fell open.  

Bucky tossed his jacket aside, removed his belt and untucked his shirt. You watched as he slowly rolled up his sleeves. Fuck, that might just be sexier than him just taking the thing off. You practically whimpered. Your reaction did not go unnoticed.  

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wicked smirk.  

Bucky put a knee on the bed. He took your ankle in hand, lifting your foot and trailing a wet line to your inner thigh. His face rubbed against your silk covered mound, breath hot, whiskers making you shiver. His mouth covered you, tasting how you soaked through material. He growled as his teeth gentle scrapped over your sex.  

You clutched the bedcovers. Fire flooded to your core. “Oh shit, Buck.”

His dark and rich chuckled made you shiver again. His fingers slid aside your panties, teasing your sensitive flesh. Slipping fingers in deep, he stroked.  

“Such a pretty little pussy.” Bucky’s voice rumbled over you flesh. His fingers pulling moans from your throat. He leaned closer, sucking on your clit. “Taste so good.” You whined. He rose up enough to watch your face, to capture you in his gaze. His strong fingers stroked hard and fast. “Love to watch you come all over me.” Your body tensed, coiled. “Love it. Then I’m going fuck you hard.” You began to shake. “Gonna fill you up.” You snapped, heat flared, nerves on fire, as you came over his hand.  

Wet and sloppy, he still stroked you. As you writhed and panted as he held you down. “Yes, beautiful, Doll. Fuck, yes.”

You felt the panties tear. Bucky flipped you over, pulling your ass to him. The tip of cock slid over once, twice, before plunging into you deep. You cried out. Buck growled. One hand digging into your hip, the other on your shoulder, he slammed into you fast and hard.  

Glancing over your shoulder, he still wore his clothes, just freed his cock. “Oh, shit. Bucky. So fucking good.”

He pulled you up, arching your back. Buck wrapped his hand around your throat, turning your head toward the dressing mirror across the room. “You like that? The look of me fucking wrecking you.”

In the mirror you saw yourself, naked and flushed, bent back as Bucky pounded into you. He stood one knee on the bed, one on the floor, dressed. His powerful forearms and hands molding you to his need. Face intense, Bucky stared back at you in the mirror.  

“Answer me.” His hips pumped hard.

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” Your body clenched at him, so close to coming again. Your hand slid to your clit.  

Bucky sped up, the force nearly knocking the breath from you. You gasped a choked cry as your orgasm crashed violently over you. His chant of “yes, fuck, yes” turned into a growl. He emptied himself, holding you against him tight.  

His arms were around your upper chest and your waist. You held his arms against you as your breath began to return to normal. His nose nuzzled into your hair, just behind your ear. “God, you’re amazing.”  

“Best fuck toy ever, huh?” You sighed, head lolling to the side to submit to his kissed.  

A lazy chuckle shook him. “Doll, you are one of kind and I am one lucky son of bitch.”  

Joy mingled with sated happiness. “I’ll take that.”

TAGS

@acf2510​ / @asiaaisa77​ / @badassbaker​ / @bangtan-serendipity / @beautifullungs / @buchanansebba  / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @cashewsaremyfavourite / @daughterofthenight117 / @dawnlaufeyson / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @the-omni-princess / @imma-new-soul​ /@jesseswartzwelder / @josie605 / @kiki5283 / @ladifreakingda / @lbouvet / @lovely-lollipops-blog / @messenough / @michelehansel / @mindtravelsx / @morganhoran1671 / @night-cereus / @notyourtypicalrose / @rainbowkisses31 / @readermia / @rynabarnesrogers / @sammghgecko / @scarlettsoldier / @sebbysstangirl / @sexyvixen7 / @sllooney / @theneuropsychwriter / @the-omni-princess / @the-reading-octopus / @thorfanficwriter / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @vanillabunn21 / @wildmoonflower / @wwe-fanfiction-queen /

[sleep-i-ness]

Bad Date? (Maria Hill x reader)

Request: YES (at end of oneshot)

Content Warning: Drinking, mentions of cheating

A/N: Here you go hun! I didn’t really know how to write the reader as a tomboy so sorry if it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Oh and one bit was a tiny bit inspired by Two Weeks Notice (with Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock) so if you notice that well done? Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Taglist:  @holybatflapexpert​​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​ @natasha-danvers​ @a-stressedstudent​ (if you would like to be added, please fill out the form in my bio)

A loud knock at the door startled Maria out of her administration haze; she sighed, taking in the heap of strewn sheets. Her usually immaculate desktop was barely visible under the mountain of paperwork that had just been piling up endlessly since her day had started. It was already looking like she might have to stay well past her contractually mandated hours just to clear what she already had. The legal team at Stark Industries had been on the phone with her non-stop, demanding evidence or explanations that were either highly confidential, non-existent or possibly even both. Maria was honestly sick to death of having to clean up both the physical and PR messes of the Avengers.

“Come in.” She was unable to muster any energy into her order, hoping to whatever mighty being out there that it was an agent she could actually stand. Or really just any agent other than Agent Mace. He had been needlessly suffocating, bouncing into her office, whenever he so pleased, to ask a question that really only required the most miniscule amount of brainpower to be answered. It was a miracle he had ever been hired.

Y/N poked her head through the door, an easy smile tilting her lips upwards. Maria returned the infectious grin despite herself, a giddy, light sensation spreading through her chest.

“Oh, good, Agent Y/L/N. These are the mission debriefs that you filed, would you mind taking them down to Agent Coulson?” Maria rifled through the stuffed drawer by her leg and passed her a thick brown file.

Y/N grabbed it, their fingertips brushing lightly and Maria jolted slightly as an electric spark shot up her arm. “Sure, I got it.”

“Now, after you’ve dropped them down, you can start with the files for your next-”

Y/N interrupted her, smiling sheepishly, “Actually, I don’t know how much time I have. That’s what I came here to ask you about. Tony sort of set me up on a date with someone tonight.”

Maria’s heart sank, a sickening heavy feeling, and she wasn’t quite sure why. She shook it off, blaming it on a sudden bout of exhaustion and mustered an enthusiastic grin. Scraping the papers on her desk together, she stapled them together with a satisfying click.

“Great.”

Y/N took that as a dismissal as she backed away, towards the door. “I just have to figure out what to wear. I don't have anything.”

Y/N almost giggled and a wave of nausea rolled over Maria as she swallowed harshly. Y/N looked ready to soar with joy, like an entrapped bird in a cage that she held the key to.

“Have fun.” Maria couldn’t help the bitterness seeping into her words and Y/N’s face contorted, startled for a second, before schooling herself into a more composed expression.

What the hell was that. Maria was astounded as Y/N backed out without another word, a placating smile fixed to her cheeks. She attributed her sudden passive-aggressiveness on an envy of being able to leave work without feeling the immense burden of knowing how much else she had to do. But she’d never had this problem before when it came to her work-life balance.

Maybe she was finally feeling the need to get back into a relationship.

:.

Maria groaned as the clock hand hit seven and she hadn’t seemed to have made a dent int the pile. She’d have to work the night on this lot; she was prepping an incredibly time-pressured, high-stakes mission, so they were sending the team out tomorrow. The window had been made known to them only a couple hours ago, at most.

She wondered if Y/N was having a better night than her. A nice dinner out, good conversation and freely flowing wine. Then, dancing in the arms of her pretty date and maybe getting a kiss goodnight.

No. This was unprofessional. Maria shook her head, blinking hurriedly, as she tried to clear her mind of any distracting thoughts.

Work.

Right…

Eliott Callahan, ex-CIA, presumed deceased after a mission went wrong in 2007. Recently resurfaced with links to the Tribe of Salvation, an organisation that had been previously unknown until ties to the Ten Rings had been revealed. Supposedly owned a scientific reserve in North Carolina which was too heavily guarded to not be hiding anything. Callahan had given them a way in, now they needed to take the place out.

Maria’s eyes watered as she stared at the security schematics and the notes made by top SHIELD security specialists. God, she wished she had Y/N here to give her some advice on it. Y/N’s expertise was in getting into places she shouldn’t be, which is how SHIELD had found her. But Y/N was having fun on a nice date with a nice girl and Maria couldn’t help but admitting that it had brightened her day to see Y/N happy.

The last mission, Lima, had taken a toll on everyone’s mental health, and Maria couldn’t help but blame herself for the failure. Four of their top agents had been taken out and the others, who had barely survived, had still not passed their psych evals. Today had been the first time Y/N had been visibly giddy or enthusiastic about anything since then.

:.

“Hi.”

Maria scooted her chair to face the door; head buried in a document as she muttered the lines to herself as she read. Lifting her head slowly, she blinked owlishly at the figure in the door.

“Y/N?”

Y/N hovered in the doorway, still wearing a very flattering suit that Maria couldn’t help but admire. She offered Maria a small but weary smile, shifting from foot to foot.

“Come in, take a seat, how was it?” Maria wasn’t sure if she were acting enthusiastic enough to believably be realistically overjoyed for Y/N having been on a date, but she was sure she could instead pass as being worn out.

Y/N slumped into the hard-plastic chair, which rolled backwards due to her momentum. Unlacing her shoes, she yanked them off and massaged the soles of her feet. She stretched out her stocking-covered legs, gently rubbing circles into the back of her ankles and calves.

“It was horrendous,” Y/N groaned, tilting her head back in exasperation. “I mean, does Tony know me at all? Coulson made me babysit him for 3 years, he should know me better than to set me up with someone like that.”

“Like that?”

“Oh, God, she was about 20 minutes late and didn’t get off her phone the entire time. When she finally made some conversation, it was all about her ex-boyfriends. Like, not even ex-girlfriends. And she was always texting at the table. How rude is that!” Y/N’s cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes were glazed as she yawned, delicately raising a hand to cover a mouth while she stretched out like a cat. Y/N smiled sleepily at Maria as she curled into the uncomfortable chair.

Maria returned the smile softly, somewhat reassured by Y/N’s vehement complaints. “Sounds awful. No second date then?”

“God no, I’d rather be reassigned to… to the Arctic!” Y/N threw her hands up dramatically, the seat wobbling beneath her.

“That can be arranged.”

Y/N was unimpressed by Maria’s dry tone, bottom lip jutting out as she folded her arms sulkily.

A sudden thought popped into her mind. She brightened abruptly, sitting up again. “As if you’d do that. You wouldn’t survive without me.”

“You wish.” Y/N was cute while tipsy, Maria mused, before jolting at the thought. No, she was her supervisor, she could not be thinking like that.

“So, tell me.” Y/N’s chin was slipping off her hand as she yawned, elbow firmly planted on the desk. “I’ve told you how shit my date was, what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”

Maria paused as she took a mental step back from all the work thoughts accumulating at the back of her head. “Well, back in high school, it wasn’t really a date. At least, I hadn’t thought it was because I’d just come out. To everyone. And I went out for lunch with a friend, a guy named Tyler and he ended up telling me that he could turn me straight again. He also decided to show me the numerous photos of his penis. He had a whole folder on his phone in different lightings and from different angles.”

Y/N had clapped a hand over her mouth, “That’s horrendous, I don’t think I could ever look at someone the same if they did that. Like unsolicited and all that.”

“Yeah, definitely was the final nail in putting me off men.”

Y/N giggled, a pretty sound that Maria couldn’t help but want to hear more of.

“So,” she began, pursing her lips as she tried to think of how to continue.

“So?” Maria laughed

“Yeah, so, tell me. Is there anyone in your life? Anyone special?”

Maria snorted. “No, God no. I haven’t had the time in all honesty; I’m barely on top of my work, never mind sorting out a love life at the same time.”

“I thought… I thought that you were dating Agent Hayes?”

“No, we broke up a while ago over… mutual difference involving work and personal lives becoming too heavily involved.”

“Okay… so that’s what you wrote on the official forms about your break-up. Now, tell me again with feelings. Come on, let’s have a proper deep chat.”

“Hm.” Maria glanced back at the document she’d discarded back onto the pile and groaned. There was clearly a better option of the two. “Fine. I’m sure you are aware of Agent Hayes’ reputation.” Y/N frowned and shook her head. “As a… honey trap. It seems that she was unable to remove that part of her life from our personal lives and decided to… practice on other agents and people in our lives.”

Maria spoke bitterly, expression twisted in a grimace like she had tasted something extremely sour.

“So, basically she’s a cheating bitch.”

“Yeah.” Maria nodded. That summarised her perfectly.

“Well, fuck her, we don’t need shitty women in our lives. Am I right or am I right?” Y/N’s voice rose as she declared her statement triumphantly, sending Maria a quick grin as she pumped a fist in the air.

“Yes, you’re right.” Maria was tentative, unsure whether she wanted to ask the words on the tip of her tongue. “Anyone else in your life?”

“Well,” Y/N took a deep breath, working up the courage to do something momentous. “I did like someone, but I thought they were dating someone, so I let Tony set me up on an absolutely awful blind date.” Her voice lowered to more of a murmur. “But now I found out that the woman I like is single.”

Maria blinked. Could she-? No. Well, there was no point in not trying. “What if the woman liked you back?”

“I’d probably ask if I could kiss her.” Y/N glanced at Maria’s lips, the glaze in her eyes no longer from alcohol.

“I think she’d say yes. She’d be pretty dumb not to.”

Y/N leant in, and Maria’s breath caught in her throat. She had to be dreaming. Their lips met and every thought flew out of her head as she melted into the kiss. Maria pulled away, laughing at Y/N’s pout.

“Wait. Come here.” Maria patted her lap and Y/N eagerly straddled her legs, one hand cupping her chin, the other on the back of her head. “That’s better.”

She kissed her again, an awestruck expression appearing on Y/N’s face as she grinned blissfully. Maria could smell the sweet scent of Y/N’s perfume invading her senses, everything blurring as her mind focused in on the way Y/N seemed to fit perfectly in her arms. Or the hand gripping the hair at the base of her neck as Y/N kept her head in place, the other caressing her cheek.

As they broke apart again, Y/N stayed on Maria’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck.

“I have to finish this work, but you’re welcome to stay and help. It’ll go twice as quickly.”

Y/N pecked her lips. “Deal.”

-

Request:  Maria hill x female, tomboy, reader where Maria hears that tony set the reader up on a date with some girl he knew. Maria can’t stop thinking about it and ends up staying up through the night until r dare is over. Reader comes back after the date and they talk and reader makes fun of how bad the date was. (aren’t in relationship but get together after talking)

[random-imagines-blog]

Promise Me {Reggie Mantle One Shot}

Requested by: @13reasonswhystan Wordcount: 3292 Summary: After your bad break up with Sweet Pea, Reggie Mantle tries to get your attention.

You’ve been in bar brawls at the White Wyrm, you’ve been in fights at Riverdale High School - but no bruise, cut or bone break hurt more than the betrayal that you had at the hands of your best friend and boyfriend, Sweet-Pea. It felt even worse because you liked Josie, after having seen her perform a couple of times. She was a sweet girl, a very pretty girl, both things you felt like you weren’t. You were just y/n Jones, sister of the highly inquisitive and weird Jughead and daughter of the King of the Snakes. That earned you the nickname Snakling, though you hated it. It sounded like a cross between a snake and a duckling which was some Griffons and Gargoyles type shit. Add that onto the fact that you were best friends with Toni Topaz - all anyone thought of you was 'Snake’. What they didn’t know was that you had a heart underneath the hard exterior and now it was shattered. 

“Oh wow, the snakling emerged without her boyfriend!” Reggie Mantle, the loudmouth of Riverdale High said on the first day back to school after Summer. You didn’t retort - he was never worth your time. You continued to walk past him and to your locker, which unfortunately wasn’t that far from where he was standing, right by the prime vending machine. There goes your chance of having a bag of chips for breakfast. He didn’t follow that up with anything, which was slightly surprising. After you got your locker open and started to replace your old books with your new ones, you peeked over at the football player. He was staring past you, down the hallway.

Josie McCoy was walking into the hallway, wearing a cute little sundress, her curls perfectly bouncy and all. And beside her was Sweet Pea, who kept his eyes down on his feet. Clearly he was trying to avoid you. The two of you haven’t had a conversation since you had caught him with the pretty dark girl, and had just straight up said that it was over between the two of you. You felt like there was nothing more for you to say apart from that. But though you had no words for him, you had a certain finger that you wanted to wave in his direction.

You slammed your locker door shut, making a couple of other students jump because of how loud the impact was. You performed the role of the angry ex perfectly. Even Reggie didn’t dare to say anything as you walked past him towards your first class of the semester, but looked from the new couple over to you with confusion and finally with understanding. His eyes narrowed at Sweet Pea, though no one noticed this motion.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Josie asked from the end of the hall before you disappeared into the classroom. You didn’t stop, not even for a second. God, it hurt even more because she was just so nice. You would have preferred her to be bitchy or smug or anything other than the sweetheart that she was. It would have been much easier to hate her.

“We can but we won’t,” You shut her down. “Unless you’ve been living under a rock this whole time, you might have noticed that we’re not friends.”

“You should hear her out-” Archie said from across the hallway. You rolled your eyes at him - the redhead always intruded on everyone else’s business.

“Do I look like I wear a stupid hat and listen to you?” You shot back, making Reggie grin. “I’m not my brother, so you don’t get to tell me what I should and should not do.”

“Y/N...” Sweet Pea said with a frown. He truly didn’t mean to hurt you, that much was obvious, but you weren’t in the mood for dealing with his guilt. He dug his own grave.

You took your cellphone out of your pocket. The cellphone with the pictures of the both of you, the cute text messages, the phone case that he ordered for you online. You let it drop to the floor and stomped on it with your boot. “Oh look, deleted our history. Feel free to pretend we never happened. I know I will.”

There were looks of shock from other students as you walked into the classroom, kicking away the remnants of your cellphone. You weren’t exactly well off and it would be hard to get a new phone but that felt damn good. You kept up the tough exterior until you were at your desk by the window, turned your head to gaze out at the sunny day, and let out a groan you were holding in. This year was going to be fucking tough.

-

You weren’t in a rush to get a new phone. There wasn’t anyone that you really wanted to talk to. Toni, your best friend, was busy with Cheryl all of the time, and Fangs was glued by Sweet Pea’s side at all times. Instead, you used a small amount of money to buy a tape recorder, and you recorded all of your classes so that you could doze off, then listen to the lecture back later. You needed an education if you were going to get the hell out of Riverdale like your mother did.

A strange effect of your breakup with Sweet Pea was Reggie Mantle. Ever since your public dispute with Josie McCoy, everyone knew what had happened. And most people took the young musician’s side, if there were sides to join. You had a reputation for being a hardass, for being unfeeling, for being intimidating. You guessed it didn’t surprise them that your boyfriend, someone who was supposed to love you through all of that, would choose someone who poured out her emotions through music and stupid little cat ears. But Reggie actually seemed to take this opportunity to get closer to you. It started slow, such as him calling out flirtatious things as you walked past his vending machine. Then the words took on actions as he’d walk beside you to class, despite not having the same schedule. You didn’t encourage this behavior, and didn’t talk to him much, but his presence was actually somewhat comforting during these lonely times.

Just because you weren’t particularly fond of him, didn’t mean that you didn’t think he was extremely hot.

“It’s my birthday next week,” Reggie said, joining you on your way to your first class after you switched out your books in your locker. “I was thinking after football practice of going to Nuit Blanche for a drink, and I want you with me.”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” You asked, in your usual flat tone. He was surprised to actually get a response, but extremely pleased. His million watt smile was saved for this occasion.

“Both.”

“Then I’m saying no, and don’t tell me what to do,” You brushed him off, walking faster and disapparing into the classroom. Reggie stood where you had left him, his smile somewhat fading. It was very rare that a woman challenged him like this but damn, he was kind of into it. He walked faster to the classroom and stood in the doorway, leaning against it, giving you his best smoldering expression.

“Then you decide what we do. I’m putty in your hands,” He winked.

Half of you wanted to groan, but the other half of you was flattered. In order to keep up your facade, you smirked, looking him up and down. “We’ll see how much you can handle being stretched apart, boy.”

-

There were way too many people invested in seeing what you had planned for Reggie’s birthday. The fact that you had said yes to planning it was a surprise to a lot of people, considering how different you and the Riverdale Playboy were. When Reggie went to his usual spot in the morning to talk to his football friends and get presents from the adoring cheerleaders, there was a bigger crowd than usual. It was his birthday, but it was you getting all of the attention! The fact that you didn’t even show up and a quarter of the school were late to their first classes made it all the more interesting, and frustrating to Reggie.

When lunch time came around, you still didn’t show up. Reggie’s mood was getting worse and worse, and he was snapping at anyone who even asked about you at this point. He sat with the rest of his football team in the cafeteria, and was tearing his way through the shitty sandwich that he had bought but wasn’t all that hungry for. He felt like you had really let him down, and nobody did that to Reggie Mantle.

He was just about to take another bite of his sandwich when a hand went on his shoulder and pulled him off of his chair onto the ground. The cafeteria went silent as he hopped back onto his feet and turned to face Sweet Pea. The two of them never got along, but there was a lot more tension since the first day back. “What sort of game are you playing with her?” The serpent hissed.

“You’re one to talk about games, player,” Reggie shoved the serpent away from him. “She’s none of your goddamn business anymore.”

“Okay guys, let’s take a breath-” Jughead attempted to get between the two of them. “She’s nobody’s business.”

He was ignored, and pushed out of the way by the two bigger teenagers. “If I hear you’re going after her because you think you can be some sort of rebound...” Sweet Pea said, speaking slowly to give himself time to think of something to threaten him with.

“Who is the one who left her that way, huh?” Reggie said, remaining cool, and smug. “I can’t wait to see what she has planned for my birthday. See how far I can stretch, she said.”

That made Sweet-Pea see red. He pulled back his fist and was getting prepared to punch Reggie in the face, but Jughead managed to grab hold of it and bring him down. “Cut it out Sweet Pea. You messed up. Just let it go.”

“Just let it go,” Reggie repeated, pushing on Sweet Pea’s shoulder once more, and laughed when the Serpent stormed off, out of the cafeteria.

After class, he went straight to Football practice, which was a good place to let out the frustration that he was holding. Padded up, he ran straight into the heavy dummies that were supposed to represent the other team, slamming it down onto the ground. A whistle blew and he got back up onto his feet and started to set it right, when his eye caught on a form sitting on the bleachers. Not many people came to watch the practices, so you stood out like a sore thumb. When your eyes caught, you gave him a subtle nod, which he returned with a wink. When he turned around to go back to the starting line, he was grinning again, all of his doubts disappeared. As if anyone would give up the chance to spend time with him, especially on his birthday. He could have asked any one of the cheerleaders or the other girls in school and they would have latched onto him all day, but the fact that it was you who was here made it special. You were out of place here, but you still came. That meant more than he would ever express.

“Knew you couldn’t resist,” He said, walking over to the bleachers once the practice was done. He took his helmet off and ran his fingers through his dark hair, knowing that he looked damn good. But he didn’t get a reaction out of you. You weren’t the swooning type but come on - not even a giggle? Not a blush?

“I’m only bringing you out tonight because I have no one else,” You said with a shrug. “Jughead’s always with the blonde, and Toni is with the redhead. They both apparently need to bone all the time so I’m on my own.”

“Did you seriously just say bone?” Reggie asked, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the first thing that you said since it didn’t match his confidence.

“Bone, bone, bone,” You repeated, straight faced. “Also, I heard that you almost fought my asshole ex boyfriend in the cafeteria today.”

“Almost,” He said, that grin coming back. “But he wasn’t worth it, so I let him go.”

You nearly snorted, getting onto your feet. “You should have punched him right in the nose, I’d say it’s worth it,” You shrugged. “Go shower and get dressed, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

“What are we doing?”

“Oh Reggie, you’re going to get stretched in ways you never dreamed of.”

-

Okay, so Reggie put up with riding bitch on the back of your bike. He didn’t like it, but he strapped on the helmet and he held onto your waist, which was the only good part of it. He put up with leaving his car behind in the parking lot of Riverdale High, though he didn’t trust that it would be safe when he got back. He put up with the fact that you raced past two counties to get to a third.

But asking him to come inside of the obviously gay nightclub? On his birthday of all nights?

“For the record, this is not what I thought you had planned.”

“I know,” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked up at the neon lights. “But your idea was stupid.” Before he could say anything to protest that, you continued. “Veronica’s speakeasy? Where McCoy performs all of the time? You can be an asshole sometimes Reggie, but even suggesting that was too much.”

“What about your shitty Southside Bar then?” He asked, trying to find an excuse to get out of this.

“Sweet Pea,” You concluded as if it should have been obvious. “It’s drag night, so no one will even pay attention to us. But if you’re scared, I’ll take you back to the safety of Riverdale.”

Reggie knew that it was a challenge, and that your teasing was just to get him to go along with the plan, but still, the word scared was an affront to his pride. “Oh, I’m not scared,” He assured. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t get too jealous when I have the Queens all over me,” He smirked, adapting his attitude to the situation.

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” You said, going ahead and opening the doors. Inside was very high-energy, with neon colored lights just about everywhere. Music was playing loudly from a stage, where a drag queen was doing her act, lipsyncing to Rhianna’s ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’ and doing a damn good job of it too. You waved at the bartender, then went to one of the tables near the back.

“Do you come here often?” Reggie asked, noting how the bartender had waved back.

“Once in a while,” You admitted. “It’s my safe space, away from the Serpents. None of them would ever dare come here.”

“I can see why,” Reggie said, looking around. There was no way that any of the North Siders would be here either. He thought about just leaving out the door and calling for a ride home but you got back to your feet.

“I’ll get our drinks,” You said, leaving before Reggie could even tell you what he wanted. The bar could be in big trouble for having a couple of minors here, but they were at least wise enough to not give you alcohol. Instead, they gave you virgin cocktails that had the full flavors that you liked, and were sugary and fizzy enough to give you a rush that was close to alcohol. You came back with two tall glasses filled with a purple liquid. “Just try it. As much fun as it would be to torture you, even I wouldn’t do that on your birthday.”

Reggie eyed you but then took a sip of the drink. It tasted almost like blue raspberry, but with some sort of soda added. “It’s not bad,” He admitted. You showed him a true smile, one that you didn’t show many people. It made you look like a whole different person, he realized. He liked the person that you were when you smiled. And it was all the more special because it was just for him.

“Drink up, then we’ll dance. I can’t guarantee that one of the beautiful Queens won’t flirt with you or feel you up but ... I have the feeling you won’t mind.”

Reggie laughed and took another sip of his drink. “The more the merrier.”

-

Reggie had never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. You weren’t trying to be sexy like all the other girls that he’s danced with. You were having fun, and bouncing along and moving, and not caring what anyone thought. But there still seemed to be a shy look to your eyes when they met his. The lights that were going all over the place made him feel a bit dizzy, like he had stars caught on his pupils.

The way that you interacted with the drag queens and the others in the bar was unlike a side of you that he had ever seen. You were softer, you were giving out compliments, and hugs, and love and just positivity. He liked your snarky self of course, and this was still you but ... it was hard for him to grasp. You  were not at all like anyone that he knew. You were in a league of your damn own.

After a couple of hours, you two stumbled out after last call. There was no alcohol in either of your veins, but you still had the giggles as if you were tipsy. That much sugar could do it to a person. “Promise me something, Reg,” You said, letting him put his arm around you to keep you warm on the way back to your bike.

“What’s that?” He asked, taking in the cool night air and the feeling of you wrapped up beneath his football jacket. “That you’ll never hurt me the way that Sweet Pea did,” You asked, looking at him, staring right into his eyes. “Because I might have to take off your clothes and throw you to the Queens if you do.”

“I promise,” Reggie said without the slightest hesitation. You both got to your bike and he was about to put his helmet on when a question came to him. “Why not do that with Asshole Pea?”

You laughed at the nickname, and how almost dirty it sounded. “As if I would ever want him to know about this place. It is, or was, my little secret. Guess it’s ours now.”

You winked then put your own helmet on. Reggie did the same, put his legs around the bike, then held onto you as you started back towards Riverdale.

Ours now - he really liked the sound of that.

[kalluun-patangaroa]

Waking up to a new morning...

The Observer, Sunday 15 September 2002

Written by Amy Raphael

After the booze, coke, crack and smack, Suede's Brett Anderson is back in the land of the living with renewed optimism and a new album 

Brett Anderson grew up hanging around car parks, drinking lukewarm cans of Special Brew and taking acid. Occasionally, he caught the train from Hayward's Heath to Brighton, less than half an hour away, but still a world away. He would buy punk records and, perhaps, a Nagasaki Nightmare patch to sew on to his red ski jacket.

His mother, who died in 1989, was an aspiring artist; his father was mostly unemployed and obsessed with classical music. He wanted his son to be a classical pianist, but Brett had other ideas. Lost in suburban adolescence, he was drawn to the Smiths, to Morrissey's melancholic lyrics, his eccentric persona. He wanted to be a pop star; he would be a pop star. He had no doubt.

Anderson moved to London in the late 1980s, living in a small flat in Notting Hill. He studied architecture at the London School of Economics, but only while he got a band together. Here he met Justine Frischmann and, with old school friend Mat Osman, formed Suede in the early Nineties as an antidote to grunge and anodyne pop.

Anderson borrowed Bowie's Seventies glamour and a little of his Anthony Newley-style vocals. He looked to the Walker Brothers's extravagant, string-laden productions and appropriated Mick Jagger's sexual flamboyance for his stage show. Yet Suede were totally original, unlike anything else at the time. Dressed in secondhand suits and with casually held cigarettes as a prop, Anderson wanted to write pop songs with an edge; sleazy, druggy, urban vignettes which would sit uncomfortably in the saccharine-tinged charts.

Like his lyrics, Anderson was brash, cocky, confident. He talked of being 'a bisexual man who's never had a homosexual experience', realising it was an interesting quote, even if he knew he would probably always lose his heart to the prettiest of girls.

When I first met him, in the spring of 1993, Suede were enjoying their second year of press hysteria, of being endlessly hailed as the best new band in Britain. Fiddling with his Bryan Ferry fringe, Anderson asserted: 'I am a ridiculous fan of Suede. I do sit at home and listen to us. I do enjoy our music.'

He talked about performing 'Metal Mickey', the band's second single, on Top of the Pops. 'When I was growing up, Top of the Pops was the greatest thing, after tea on a Thursday night... brilliant! You get a ridiculous sense of history doing it. It was a milestone in my life; it somehow validated my life, which is pathetic really.'

By rights, Suede should have been not only the best band in Britain but also the biggest. Yet it did not happen that way. During the recording of the second album, the brilliant Dog Man Star, guitarist Bernard Butler walked out. It was as though Johnny Marr had left the Smiths before completing Meat Is Murder. The band could have given up, but they did not; they went on to make Coming Up, which went straight to the top of the album charts. Then, three years ago, disaster struck during the recording of Suede's fourth album, Head Music. Anderson was in trouble: the pale adolescent who had swigged Special Brew in desolate car parks was now a pop star addicted to crack.

Brett Anderson sits in a battered leather Sixties chair in the living-room of his four- storey west London home sipping a mug of black coffee. He has lived here for three or four years, moving into the street just as Peter Mandelson was moving out. The living-room is immaculate: books, CDs and records are neatly stacked on shelves, probably in alphabetical order.

Anderson's 6ft frame is as angular as ever but more toned than before, the detail of his muscles showing through a tight black T-shirt. Gone is the jumble-sale chic of the early Nineties; he now pops into Harvey Nichols.

He appears to have lost none of his self-assurance but, a decade on from his bold entrance into the world of pop, Anderson has mellowed, grown-up. By his own admission, he is still highly strung and admits he is probably as skinny as a 17-year-old at almost 35 because of nervous energy. But he no longer refuses to listen to new bands in case they are better than Suede; he praises the Streets, the Vines and the Flaming Lips.

This healthy, relaxed person who enjoys the odd mug of strong black coffee is a recent incarnation. At some point in the late Nineties, Anderson lost himself. He became part of one his songs and ended up a drug addict.

He talks about his new regime: swimming, eating well, hardly touching alcohol. No drugs. Did he give everything up at once? 'It was kind of gradual... giving up drugs is a strange thing, because you can't just do it straight away. You stop for a bit then it bleeds into your life again. It takes great willpower to stop suddenly.'

He sighs and looks into the distance. 'I got sick of it really. I felt as though I'd outgrown it. It wasn't something I kept wanting to put myself through and I was turning into an absolute tit. Incapable of having a relationship, incapable of going out and behaving like a normal human being. Constantly paranoid...'

The drug odyssey started with cocaine, but soon it was not enough. 'Cocaine is child's play. After a while, it didn't give me enough of a buzz, so I got into crack. I was a crack addict for ages, I was a smack addict for ages...'

Another deep sigh. 'It's part of my past, really. I'm not far enough away to be talking about it. It's only recently I've been able to say the word "crack".'

When Head Music was being recorded, he says he wasn't really there. He would turn up but his mind was not focused. The album went to number one but it was not up to Suede's standards; as Anderson acknowledges, it was 'flashy, bombastic; an extreme version of the band'.

He laughs, happier to talk about the good times. 'Last year, when I decided not to destroy myself any more, I kind of disappeared off to the countryside with a huge amount of books, a guitar and a typewriter... and wondered what the outcome would be.'

He spent six months alone. It was a revelation to discover that he could spend time by himself. 'I think a lot of people are shit scared of being on their own. Me too. From the age of 14 to 30, I jumped from bed to bed in fear of being alone. Being in the cottage in the middle in Surrey, I learned that if one day everything fucks up, I could actually go and live on my own. It's a total option.'

For a long time, Anderson had avoided reading books, worried that his lyric writing would be affected by other people's use of language. Last year, he decided it was time to fill his head with some new information. Although he had been told for years that his imagery was reminiscent of J.G. Ballard, he read the author for the first time in the cottage - and was flattered. He read Ian McEwan's back catalogue and challenging books such as Michel Houellebecq's Atomised.

Despite his self-imposed exile, it still took Anderson a long time to perfect Suede's fifth album, the self-consciously celebratory A New Morning. The band tried to make an 'electronic folk' album by working with producer Tony Hoffer, who had impressed with his work on Beck's Midnight Vultures. However, unable to make an understated album, they eventually called in their old friend Stephen Street, the Smiths producer.

Yet more trouble was ahead. Anderson says Suede have faced many 'big dramas' over the past decade - Frischmann left the band early on to form Elastica and soon after ended her relationship with Anderson, moving in with Britpop's golden boy, Damon Albarn; Bernard Butler walked out with little warning; the drugs took control - but still the band were not prepared for keyboard player Neil Codling's exit. He was forced to leave in the middle of recording A New Morning suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome.

Anderson says he was furious when Codling left.'He couldn't help it, I know, but I did feel aggrieved. I felt let down. But more at the universe than at Neil. I tend not to show how I feel about these things in public. It's like when Bernard first left, I was devastated. I felt as though that original line-up was really special. And we will never know what might have been.'

At times, Anderson sounds as though he has had an epiphany in the past year. He smiles. 'Well, you only need to listen to A New Morning to realise that. The title is very much a metaphor. It's a very optimistic record; the first single is called "Positivity", for God's sake. It's a talismanic song for the album. It's a good pop single, but we've haven't gone for a Disney kitsch, happy, clappy, neon thing.'

He looks serious for a moment. 'For me, the album is about the sense that you can only experience real happiness if you've experienced real sadness.'

Has he had therapy? His whole body shakes with a strange, high-pitched laughter. 'No! No! But I am happier now. I feel more comfortable with myself. I feel as though I'm due some happiness. I've just started going out with someone I really like. I've made an album which is intimate and warm. I don't any more have the need to be talked about constantly, that adolescent need for constant pampering...'

A swig of the lukewarm coffee and a wry smile. 'And, best of all, I don't feel like a troubled, paranoid tit any more.'

A New Morning is released on 30 September

[theangriestpea]

Mercy Killing

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little short. I just thought ending it where I did was perfect. There's a tiny bit of fluff though so enjoy! Coss-posted on AO3!

Chapter Five: Apologies

Dinner was strained. No one mentioned the elephant in the room. Lavender and Sweet Pea could barely look at one another. Fangs struggled to keep conversation going but it was hard when it was all one-sided. Toni and Cheryl kept stealing glances at one another, also having a hard time coping with this newfound turn to events.

“I have to watch my sister again tonight. Mom is working.” Fangs said, checking the time on the old clock in the kitchen where they were cleaning up.

Lav almost dropped the dish she was rinsing off. “What? You can’t stay?” She asked, a pleading edge to her voice. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with a moody Sweet Pea. “Cheryl and Toni have that River Vixens event tonight so they will be gone…I was hoping you’d lay in bed with me to help me sleep.”

As much as she hated depending on everyone, she had figured that Fangs would at least be kind enough to hold her like Cheryl and Toni did early that morning. Of course she was going to wear something that covered her a little more. Not that she didn’t trust him but she wasn’t as comfortable parading around in her underwear with him. Now that she knew that they hadn’t had sex, she felt incredibly awkward around him. As if the mistake might have offended him.

Of course Fangs was just flattered that she even entertained the thought of having a rough romp with him in the Wyrm. Though he was somewhat jealous of Sweet Pea having a go at her, he wasn’t going to say anything to Lav about it to make her any more uncomfortable than she obviously already was.

“Ask Sweet Pea.” Fangs suggested, only half joking. He knew deep down that his bestie was a cuddler. He’d seen the way he’d hold a pillow as he slept. The material clutched tightly to his chest as if he were protecting the old down feathers hidden inside.

Lav almost dropped the dish again. “I am not laying in a bed alone with Sweet Pea.” She hissed out, the suggestion being completely out of the question. “There’s no fucking way.”

“Why? You’ve already casually fucked. Once you two both talk about it, it’ll be a lot better. Maybe this is a good thing, maybe he’ll realize what a nice piece of ass you are and stop pushing you away.” Fangs said as he lifted his shoulders into a dismissive shrug.

She decided to ignore his comment about her just being a piece of tail. Usually when Fangs objectified women he was just joking about it. He was never serious. “He won’t.” She replied hotly. “He’ll never say yes.” She added after a moment of thought. “He probably didn’t even enjoy it.”

Fangs laughed lightly, “I think he did and that’s why he was so mad. Though he did say you came too soon.”

Lav blushed furiously as she smacked him on the arm, “that’s not funny! I couldn’t help it! I haven’t…I haven’t had a lot of sex so I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

“So you got over excited and Sweet Pea was just so fucking good that you got overwhelmed and couldn’t hold back. It happens to the best of us.” Fangs said with a lopsided smile. “Maybe next time you can go longer or just have multiple.”

She shoved him with her good hand, “we are not doing it again!”

“But you enjoyed it so much!” Fangs said, trying to persuade her that it wasn’t a terrible idea. “And have you even had sex since then?”

Lav looked away from him, still embarrassed, “well, no…but that’s because all the guys around here are jerks. Including Sweet Pea.”

“What about me?” Fangs said with an adorable pout.

She rolled her eyes, “except you, Fogarty. You’re still the best I ever had, even if it was just in my dreams.” She joked.

“Oh so you have dreamed of me?” Fangs said, his pout sliding into a smirk. “Good to know.”

Lav let out a playful scoff. In the next room she heard the TV being turned up louder. It had to have been Sweet Pea since the Vixens had left already. She shot a look to the doorway that showed how annoyed she was at the loud sounds of explosions coming from the living room.

Fangs finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “There, all done. Now, I have to go. Have fun tonight and don’t forget to use a condom.”

“Fangs!” Lav snapped, hitting him a third time. “No!” She said as if he were a dog doing something bad. He chuckled, shaking his head as he walked out. He said his goodbyes to Sweets before leaving.

Lavender stood in the kitchen for a moment before gathering up her courage. She walked into the living room, eyes pulling to Sweet Pea as he stared intently at the television. “It’s time for you to take your pills.” He said in a voice that was indiscernible. It wasn’t as rough as it usually was but it wasn’t soft either. Somewhere in between as if he didn’t really know how to say it. As if his feelings were just as conflicted as hers.

She gave a small nod, disappearing into her room to take her antibiotics and pain medicine. “Sweet Pea…?” She called out to him, just loud enough for him to hear over the booming television.

Silence filled the trailer as he cut the TV off and walked into her room. Confusion washed over his eyes as he noticed her in nothing but bra and underwear. He jaw clenched and his fingers twitched as he remembered what it felt like to touch her that night. He tried to push the memories into the back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to think about them.

“Can you dress my cuts?” Lav asked sheepishly, not looking at him. Her eyes stayed glue to the floor.

Sweet Pea let out a soft sigh before nodding his head. He walked over to her and just as he had the night before, started to tend to her healing wounds. His touch was delicate and light. His hands however lingered on her thighs, tracing the oval bruises as his thoughts ran deep.

Lav shuddered under his fingertips, however she didn’t say anything to him. She let him treat her cuts at his own pace. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as he looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. It was so unnerving that her knees began to shake.

“I’m sorry.” Sweet Pea said after addressing the laceration on her stomach. He had been reamed by Cheryl for what he said to Lav about her being stupid. She made sure to tell him in her very intricate vocabulary that he was the one that was a dumbass and that what he had said had made Lav feel even worse than she already did. That hadn’t been his intention. She woefully set him straight.

Their eyes connected and he realized that she had no idea what he was talking about. “For what I said.” He added, quickly looking away from her as his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “For calling you dumb.”

Her breath hitched in her throat as he stood up, having been kneeling down to tend to her thighs and abdomen. “You’re not stupid.” He added, sounding a little more confident in what he was saying.

“Thanks.” Lav said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. A spark of happiness ignited through her chest. Sweet Pea had never apologized for the way he acted towards her. He never made excuses either. He just was. Perhaps this meant he didn’t hate her after all. Perhaps Fangs was on to something.

Sweet Pea was tenderly touching her face now in a way that had her edging closer to him. He peeled back the tape and revealed the mars on her cheek. A frown graced his pink lips as he looked over the galaxy of her skin. The blue, purple, and blacks spreading across her face where her broken orbital bone was. The surface was swollen and angry.

He dabbed ointment onto each cut, his eyes never leaving her face as he worked. Her smile became more visible as he went on, grabbing a new gauze pad to put over the wounds.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” She finally asked, her stomach a bundle of nerves from not knowing what his answer would be. His face was a mixture of confusion and frustration. His expression made her stomach drop and suddenly she felt very stupid for getting her hopes up. “You’re too big for the couch. You’ll fit better in my bed and…I don’t want to be alone.” She added, jumbling her words as she said them quickly.

Sweet Pea mulled it over while they stood in an awkward, tense silence. Lav shifted nervously, her body acting like it was on repeat as she kept moving her weight from one foot to the other.

He really hated her couch. It was lumpy and uncomfortable and his feet hung off the side. Her bed was only a full-size so they’d be touching but would that really be so bad? After what they had done that night at the Wyrm? After he cleaned her up and tended to her gashes.

It was also highly likely that she’d wake him up screaming if he didn’t lie with her. That was not something he really wanted to go through again. “Let me change.” He replied, disappearing from her room as his hand dropped from touching her face. “Put some clothes on!” He shouted from the living room and he rummaged through his bag of clothes.

Lav shook her head, smiling again as a blossom of excitement bloomed inside of her. She took off her bra before putting on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of cloth shorts. Getting dressed was easier now that the worse of the pain had dissipated. Her ribs and face still ached terribly but that was to be expected. Between her legs, her core was sore as the cuts were still healing. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes tight so she wouldn’t have to think about it.

“I need to know what they used.” Jughead’s voice sounded in her head. Water filled her eyes and she used the heels of her hands to gently rub them dry. He didn’t need to know, she thought bitterly. No one needed to know.

She turned the light out before crawling into bed, curling into as tight of a ball as possible without hurting her fractured bones. I need to know- her thought was interrupted by the sinking of the bed. Sweet Pea laid down beside her in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white tank top.

She looked at him with a terribly fragile expression. One that made him wrap his arm around her and pull her to his chest securely for comfort. He didn’t know what he was doing or why he was doing it. It just felt natural.

Lav didn’t fight him, she leaned back against him and let out a small breath of relief. His arm was around her small waist, in a perfect spot between the mess of gauze on her lower stomach and the bands of cloth around her ribs. His nose nestled sweetly into her hair as if it were meant to have been there all along.

Feeling safer than she had in a long time, Lav fell asleep.

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Her clothes were ripping, her skin was aching, and all she could hear was cruel laughter falling from black painted lips. Hollow eyes glittering with heinous joy as their claws tore into her flesh. Blood splattered around her, pooling against her cold body. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. Her limbs felt like they were wrapped in cement as firm grips held her down.

Her legs were pulled apart and she felt as if she was being torn. Light glinted off the blades that were being used to etch scars into her skin. It blinded her with pain. It seemed to last for hours, darkness creeping across her body as she was abased by what was happening to her.

Lav

They pulled on her limbs and she felt as though she might rip in half.

Lavender

She felt herself tearing down the middle. Her mouth opened but no sound came from her chapped lips as she tried to wretch out a scream.

Shanna

The darkness started fade. The cement around her limbs dissolving. Her tarnished tissue healing itself as her body was once again whole.

Lavender opened her eyes. Her wide pupils swept away with panic as they searched over the baby face hovering over her. Strong arms on either side of her. She felt trapped, claustrophobic. Brown eyes full of emotions she couldn’t name as she searched them for malice or contempt. She found none.

Her thoughts buzzed around like bees in her head before settling into the hive of her brain. Recognition came over her as she realized that the boy over her wasn’t going to hurt her. “Sorry.” She muttered, dry eyes suddenly becoming wet, “I’m so sorry.”

Sweet Pea stared down at her, finally moving off to the side to simply hold her as she cried. The awkward feeling in his chest didn’t move as he searched for words he knew he didn’t want to say. “It’s okay.” He mumbled, his grip on her tight like it was that night in the bar. “It’s okay.”

[walterisaacson-blog]

Holbrooke in Heat

A review in the New York Times

Walter Isaacson

Our Man: Richard Holbrooke and the End of the American Century

By George Packer

608 pages. Alfred A. Knopf. $30.00

​Richard Holbrooke was a large man with gargantuan appetites – for food and women and movies and acclaim and, above all, diplomatic and undiplomatic maneuvering – appetitesthat struggled to feed an outsized ego that was matched only by his insecurities. As the last great freewheeling diplomat of the American Century, his turbocharged zeal and laughable lack of self-awareness earned him fervent admirers and fevered enemies, including a few longstanding colleagues who fell passionately and paradoxically into both camps. In fact, Holbrooke himself was caught in this duality of being his own most fervent admirer and worst enemy (although when someone once commented that he was his own worst enemy, a national security adviser he had worked with snapped, “not as long asI’m around.”)

​I doubt that any novel, not even one coauthored by Graham Greene and F. Scott Fitzgerald, could have captured Holbrooke fully, and I certainly thought that no biography ever would. But now one has. George Packer’s Our Man portrays Holbrooke in all of his endearing and exasperating self-willed glory: relentless, ambitious, voracious, brilliant, idealistic, noble,needy, and containing multitudes. It’s both a sweeping diplomatic history and a Shakespearean tragicomedy, with Holbrooke strutting and fretting his hour on the stage.

​Perhaps intentionally, the book emulates the rollicking cadences, lapidary character descriptions and exhaustive reporting of The Best and the Brightest by Holbrooke’s close friend David Halberstam. (Packer on Halberstam: “Jewish and middle-class, with thick-framed glasses and big hairy hands and violent gestures and moral certainties, with his gift for dramatizing everything, including himself.”) Informed by complete access to Holbrooke’s intimate diaries and letters along with more than 250 interviews, the book overflows with the trait that was Holbrooke’s saving grace: an in-your-face intellectual honesty that is not tainted, as Holbrooke’s was, by being manipulative. The result is so bracing that Our Man not only revitalizes but in some ways reinvents the art of journalistic biography.

​Packer pulls no punches, and the complex shadings of the all-too-human personalities – including Holbrooke’s widow Kati Marton, his lifelong frenemy Tony Lake, his patron Hillary Clinton and his nemesis Barack Obama – are painted with vibrant complexity. They will likely wince but then nod as they read. So too, I think, would Holbrooke himself, who died in December 2010 when his heart exploded from the strain of unappreciated diplomatic exertions. I can almost hear him howling at Packer from the grave, berating him for the brutalpassages, and then, after realizing how brilliant and brilliantly he has been portrayed, pouring on his flattery and ham-handed charm. (Full disclosure: when I was a journalist, I fell into the camp of his alloyed admirers, and he would do all of that to me, albeit while looking over my shoulder to see if there was someone more important to flatter and berate.)

​Packer establishes a Holbrookian intimacy by talking directly to the reader at times. “Holbrooke?” he begins. “Yes I knew him. I can’t get his voice out of my head.” And a few pages later, “Do you mind if we hurry through the early years? There are no mysteries here that can be unlocked by nursery school.”

​The key to the mysteries, instead, begins with Vietnam. When Holbrooke arrived in Saigon in 1963 as a newly minted foreign service officer, America was not yet waist-deep in a quagmire. His role as a rural affairs advisor was to help win “hearts and minds” in “strategic hamlets” as part of the “pacification” program, before napalm and Zippo lighters had imbued those words with an ironic and then sinister stench. He and his colleagues read Graham Greene’s Vietnam novel The Quiet American, but they did not yet fully appreciate Greene’s deft description of his title character: “I never knew a man who had better motives for all the trouble he caused.”

​Holbrooke was among the first diplomats to harbor doubts about the war. “I sometimes think this first year in Vietnam was the best of Richard Holbrooke,” Packer writes. “His ambition still had a clean smell, and youth was working in his favor – physical courage, moral passion, the boundless energy and enthusiasm and sheer sense of fun, the skepticism, the readiness to talk straight to ambassadors and generals.”

​In Vietnam Holbrooke became best friends with Tony Lake, a fellow foreign service officer “who kept his ambition more tightly wrapped,” a talent that came naturally to someone born into the WASP establishment that Holbrooke hungered to join. The intensity of their friendship and then their falling out provides one of the many wrenching plots in the book. They play tennis, invent games, party, smoke pot, and travel together. But when they return to Washington, Holbrooke’s social-climbing among the Harrimans and Alsops of the Georgetown elite turned Lake sour. “Friendship with Holbrooke had acquired a whiff of the instrumental,” Packer writes. Eventually almost all of Holbrooke’s colleagues, even the admiring ones, came to feel used.

​Also at times abused. With his appetites, Holbrooke couldn’t help himself. In one of the most egregious examples, he decided to pursue a romance with Lake’s wife. “Holbrooke’s betrayal,” Packer writes, “would stay secret from almost everyone, while the acid it released would take years to eat silently at the bonds of youthful ambition and Vietnam and tennis and American greatness that had held the two men together.”

​Holbrooke’s compulsion for cheating on or with women – and also Packer’s willingness to report with gusto the psychological and physical details involved – would seem shocking were these passions not so interwoven with the neediness and drive that was at the core of his professional life.Holbrooke was perpetually in heat. Chapters recounting feveredstatecraft are interspersed with those chronicling Holbrooke’s three marriages and multiple affairs and romances, including one with Dianne Sawyer, all featuring the same detailed reporting and sharp personality portraiture.

​The most intense and intensely described relationship is with his last wife, Kati Marton, who gave Packer exclusive access to his papers. A vibrant reporter and writer of nine highly-acclaimed books, including an extraordinarily powerful memoir of the family betrayals and secret love affairs that accompanied her parents’ escape from Nazi and then Communist Hungary, Marton’s career ascended during periods when her husband’s languished. This was not a recipe for marital harmony. Each has dramatic affairs, but they were tethered by ambition. “She became what he never had,” Packer writes, “a climbing partner.”

​The peak of Holbrooke’s career came under President Bill Clinton, when he shuttled around the Balkans cajoling Bosnian warlords and Serbian war criminals to make peace. His work culminated with three weeks of negotiations in November 1995 at an air force base near Dayton, Ohio, where he pushed Serbian leader Slobodan Milošević and others into a peace agreement.“Let’s given him his due. He ended a war,” Packer writes. “Diplomacy is not for the short of breath.”

​True to form, Holbrooke personally led his own lobbying campaign for the Nobel Peace Prize. He wrote letters extolling his accomplishment and pressed others to sign them. He also repeatedly found excuses to travel to Oslo, where he made a point of meeting several times with the secretary of the Norwegian Nobel Committee. “He campaigned so hard for that Nobel Prize that that’s probably one reason he didn’t get it,” President Clinton remarked.

​He also did not get the other prize he wanted. After Dayton, Clinton passed him over for Secretary of State and gave the job to Madeleine Albright. Even though (or perhaps because) they agreed on most major issues, Holbrooke’s contempt for Albright, which mixed sexism with rivalry, oozed out regularly. On the back of a menu card at a lunch she hosted, he jotted his unfair opinion of her: “MKA – very articulate, even eloquent on values – weak on process, policy + diplomacy – uneven, unpredictable – charming + mean – insecure – her biography was her career – very strong will.” In this universe, particles of like charge are destined to repel each other.

​When Barack Obama was elected president, Holbrooke again lobbied hard to be Secretary of State, but the incoming president became allergic to him. Obama, who took as much pride in telling people he hadn’t read their books as Holbrooke did saying that he had, was disdainful of Holbrooke’s compulsion to flatter and be flattered. When the president called him Dick at their first meeting, Holbrooke stopped him and, as Marton had instructed him to do, asked the president to call him Richard instead. “If Holbrooke had tried to repel him in their first minute together he couldn’t have done a better job,” Packer reports.

​Instead, Obama recruited Hillary Clinton to be secretary and Holbrooke’s erstwhile friend Tony Lake to be National Security Advisor. Bravely defying intense resistance from the White House, Secretary Clinton appointed Holbrooke as her special representative to handle Afghanistan and Pakistan. Unlike the no-drama Obama crowd, she understood that what made Holbrooke a handful also made him effective.

​Holbrooke’s tenacity as he whirled relentlessly through the region might have, if he had been given time and support, allowed him to cajole and browbeat the prideful warlords there like he had done in the Balkans. But it soon became clear he was completely lacking in support from the President.

​Obama thought that Holbrooke was “disruptive,” and Holbrooke thought, as he told a young woman he had an affair with, “Obama has ice water running in his veins.” The problem was they were both right. When Obama made a surprise trip to Kabul in November of 2010, he didn’t invite Holbrooke aboard Air Force One or even let him know about the trip in advance.

​Exhausted by his missions and drained by his tumultuous commuter marriage with Kati Marton, Holbrooke woke up anxious on the morning of December 10, and barreled into the White House, sweating and pasty-faced, to make yet another effort to wrangle a private session with Obama. He was rebuffed. He then dashed to the State Department for a meeting with Secretary Clinton. Suddenly, his face turned red, his legs collapsed. An aneurysm in his heart had burst, ripping a hole in his aorta. When he arrived at the trauma bay of the hospital, the doctor told him to relax. “I can’t relax,” he replied. “I am in charge of Afghanistan and Pakistan.” Three days later he died.

​His multiple memorial services were packed with friends and enemies. Marton later took pride that she had choreographed the one at the Kennedy Center so that Obama had to sit through two hours of testimonials. “I could never understand people who didn’t appreciate him,” Bill Clinton said in his eulogy. “Most of the people who didn’t were not nearly as good at doing.” At aservice a few weeks later in the U.N. General Assembly chamber in New York, Tony Lake, with a gray beard, sat alone in the balcony, feeling conflicted as always.

​The overriding theme of Holbrooke’s life, detailed with unnerving accuracy in this book, was ambition. He was relentless in forcing his way into meetings to which he wasn’t invited and clambering into motorcades where he wasn’t manifested. During the Carter Administration, when Holbrook was an assistant secretary, Secretary of State Cyrus Vance’s personal secretary had to send him a memo. “Henceforth, you may not insert yourself as a passenger in the Secretary’s car unless this office has specifically approved,” it said, adding that the security detail had been given instructions to enforce this edict. As Packer notes, “Holbrooke, undeterred, had the memo framed.”

​“Ambition is not a pretty thing up close,” Packer writes. “It’s wild and crass, and mortifying in the details. It brings a noticeable smell into the room… Because of Holbrooke’s psychological mutation of not being able to see himself, and maybe not give a shit anyway, he let us ogle ambition in the nude.” Lurking in this description is a more subtle point. It wasn’t just Holbrooke’s ambition that hobbled him, it was his inability to cloak his ambition like the more polished members of Washington’s striving elite.

​The difficulty in writing biographies of grand players, as I know from trying to do it with Steve Jobs, is to be honest about their rough personalities while guiding a reader to the conclusion, which is as true for Holbrooke as it was for Jobs, that their unvarnished drives were part and parcel of their true greatness. “I don’t think I run roughshod over people, but if something sucks, I tell people to their face,” Jobs once said. “I know what I’m talking about, and I usually turn out to be right. Maybe there’s a better way – a gentlemen’s club where we all wear ties and speak in this Brahmin language and velvet code-words – but I don’t know that way.” Or as he put it more poetically: “The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.”

​In corporate as well as government realms, leaders often prefer, as Obama did, teammates who are low-maintenance. But as Packer shows, there can be a payoff for those able to harness a Holbrooke. “Don’t forget that inside most people you read about in history books is a child who fiercely resisted toilet training. Suppose the mess they leave is inseparable from their reach and grasp? Then our judgment depends on what they’re ambitious for – the saving glimmer of wanting something worthy.”

​Why such a mammoth book – and such a long review of it – about a mid-level diplomat whose only major achievement was helping settle a war in a faraway place with unpronounceable names? Because if you could read only one book to comprehend America’s foreign policy and its quixotic forays into quicksands over the past fifty years, this would be it.You have to begin in Vietnam, as Holbrooke did, and understand that U.S. involvement there was a complex mix of sincerity and blindness and idealism and hubris. Likewise, our subsequent involvements, including Iraq and Syria and Afghanistan, have involved good intentions, outsized ambitions, and a deficit of humility. Just like Holbrooke. “Our confidence and energy, our reach and our grasp, our excess and blindness – they were not so different from Holbrooke’s,” Packer writes. “He was our man.”

​Our man, our man in full. “I still can’t get his voice out of my head,” Packer concludes. “One day I know it will start to fade, along with his memory, along with the idea of a life lived as if the world needed an American hand to help set things right. By this point you’re familiar with its every failing. But now that Holbrooke is gone, and we’re getting to know the alternatives, don’t you, too, feel some regret? History is cruel that way. He loved it all the same.”

Walter Isaacson, a professor of history at Tulane, is the coauthor, with Evan Thomas, of The Wise Men and the author of biographies of Henry Kissinger, Benjamin Franklin, Albert Einstein, Steve Jobs, and Leonardo da Vinci.

[mostfacinorous]

Whumptober 31st

aka guess who got sick just in time for the end of this series??!?

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21][22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30]

Showdown Frigga stayed with them for a week, and in that time Loki improved considerably. In fact, he was all but fully healed three days into her visit, but there were things that Steve hadn’t even realized were wrong-- when Loki had turned back to his more human looking skin, he was more flushed, had more color in both his eyes and his face, and Steve doubted any of the others would notice, subtle as it was, but he seemed-- different.

He sat up straighter, smiled a little wider, and more of his smiles made it up to his eyes. He seemed… happy, and for the first time Steve realized that he hadn’t been, even in the quiet moments they’d shared, there’d always been a weight, a dark cloud hanging over Loki.

It made sense, of course; Steve knew what it felt like, having that burden on your soul, knowing people had died because of you. It was good to see Loki relieved of that, at least where his family was concerned. Good to see that he had family still, even if Steve felt a slight pang around losing that connection to him-- which was selfish, he knew, and made him feel like a heel.

He was happy for him, though. Happy to see him doing better. He was glad he’d been tricked into bringing Frigga to Earth, even-- just all around glad about how everything had turned out.

Right up until Steve realized he was losing him.

It had been a sudden discovery. He’d been giving Frigga and Loki some space, now that he was well again, giving them time to talk and catch up, but he heard them in the kitchen together, on his way there, and paused, only to be sure he wasn’t interrupting something he shouldn’t.

“--I’m unwanted.” Loki was saying.

“Come back with me. We can change your appearance, I know you’ve mastered the guises of several nonexistent guards. Come and live with your family, and once we hold some sway again, we will change the hearts and minds of the people.”

Steve grimaced. That seemed like a big ask, for Loki to hide and risk being hurt or worse, if he was found out.

“Mother, I thought I could never come home.” Loki answered solemnly, and Steve looked around the corner to see him holding both of her hands, earnest. “To find that I can now…”

Steve’s heart stopped, and he had heard enough. He couldn’t ask Loki to stay. He couldn’t be so selfish. Particularly if Loki felt he was unwanted here. And it was… fair, he supposed. They’d come to respect him, to trust him, but it had taken time, and Loki was still so hesitant to leave the tower. He had so little here. Next to nothing. A few books he’d acquired, but he could take those with him. Some clothes. Steve.

And Steve had thought, maybe, there was some hope that Loki… wanted him. That that had been what he’d meant with what he’d said about crossing lines. But Loki hadn’t shown much sign of interest in him other than that. Oh, there were little things, but nothing… solid? Just things that made Steve’s heart flutter and his head go a little stupid. A kiss on his hand, a lingering look, little touches, but nothing that couldn’t be explained just by their being friends.

And that was… fine. If that was all they were-- friends didn’t get in the way of friends going home. Hell, even if they were more, as someone who really never could go home, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he was the thing that stood between Loki and him being happy.

---

It took Loki some effort to get up his courage, but with his mother’s encouragement, he went to Steve right after lunch and knocked on the door of his bedroom. He’d been somewhat distant of late, though in fairness Loki had been distracted with the sudden discovery that his family lived, and catching up on the news of the other realms.

Still, when Loki knocked, Steve opened the door almost immediately.

“Steve, I ah-- I wanted to talk to you, about a matter of-- of some import.” He began, feeling ridiculously nervous. After all, if this went wrong…

“May I come in?” He asked, just as Steve, with a huge grin, asked, “So when do you leave?”

And Loki felt as if he’d been hit in the chest with Thor’s hammer.

Steve was so glad to be rid of him, so eager-- and it was a fair reaction. Loki had been more of a burden than anything, a liability. Steve had been tortured because of him, and burned, had to travel to another realm… This was no doubt better, for him. Better than any hopes Loki might have had for being something more.

“I ah, my mother thought we might leave tonight.” Loki said, ducking his head. He watched from his lowered eyes, though, hoping to see some reaction, something that would prove his supposition wrong.

But if anything, Steve smiled wider. “Yeah? That’s pretty quick. Do you need help packing your room up, or…?”

Loki shook his head. “No, no-- I can do that myself. Ah, I just wanted to thank you--”

Steve waved his words off, and Loki stifled the pang he felt at that, too, falling silent. Even his words, it seemed, were unwanted. Well, Steve had forgiven him the mistake of burning him… but he had never denied that Loki ought to go. Steve let the silence stand for an awkward moment before asking,

“Was there anything else you needed?”

Loki swallowed. “No, that was-- that’s all. We leave before your dinner time-- if you want to see us off.” Loki told him.

Steve nodded. “I’ll do that.” he said, and Loki returned the nod and turned away, barely able to hold back his tears.

He’d thought it was only Asgard and Jotunheim that did not want him, but it seemed Midgard held no home for him either. At least he knew Asgard. Knew the rules and the way of the land and how to avoid everyone, if he so desired.

He returned to his mother to tell her, stiffly and distantly, that he would be returning home with her after all. Thankfully, she understood, and the sympathy on her face felt like a killing blow.

She hugged him, clearly both gladdened for herself and saddened by the news, for his sake.

Loki packed, taking with him all of the memories he had, and the few items that tied in to them. Once they were safely tucked away, he waited to say goodbye to the Avengers, his erstwhile friends during his exile, and then Heimdall took them, and they returned to Asgard.

---

Loki had only been gone for a day, and Steve was doing his best to pretend that nothing had happened-- nothing was different, or suddenly missing from his life. The others noticed, he knew they did, but for once, even Tony kept his big mouth shut. Steve ran, hit the punching bag, and cooked lunch for everyone. Distractions and keeping moving were how he’d always managed his losses in the past. This would be no different. And, given a little time, it would start to hurt less.

But it turned out that wasn’t in the cards.

Jane Foster showed up as Steve was beginning to dry the dishes he’d just washed.

She looked distressed and out of breath, and he immediately felt himself tensing up.

“As-asgard.” She said, as if it was a secret password, or some form of greeting. “Loki’s been captured. Thor and his mom can’t get to him without setting off a civil war. Heimdall will smuggle you in-- you need to go save Loki. They’re going to kill him.”

Steve was halfway to the door before he realized that he was on a collision course for Jane, and even then he just picked her up, paused to set her down, offered her a hurried “Thank you!” And ran for his room, for his shield, then up to the roof.

“Heimdall!” He called, and not a moment later he was pulled away again-- and he found it a little funny that he’d wanted to see Asgard. Though… not like this.

---

He’d been in nicer cells. Much nicer. But he supposed the bastard son of Laufey, who made an attempt on the life of the king, who led frost giants into their realm… Well, needless to say, Loki’s comfort didn’t rank very highly in the minds and hearts of his captors. The guards had turned against his family before, now they claimed to be protecting them, but the threat remained. And the people of Asgard agreed with them. Loki was dangerous, always so known for his silver tongue.

He should be flattered, he supposed, that they thought so highly of his abilities at persuasion.

But if that were true, he wouldn’t be waiting to die tomorrow. He would have talked his way out of this mess. He would still be on Midgard, having talked his way into the Captain’s heart, his bed, his life…

Loki sighed. But it was a comforting thought, for all the sadness it held. And, why not? It wasn’t as if he could get out, wasn’t as if he would ever see him again. The very least Loki could do was create himself a replica, to watch over him as he slept. He didn’t think Steve-- The Captain-- would hold that against him. With a slight shimmer, he fashioned the man’s likeness, and sat him in an equally non-existent chair, beside Loki’s bed. He considered, for a monet, bringing him into the bed, curling up with him as they’d done in Latveria, and in Africa. But that seemed like too much-- and besides, he knew the image would fade where he touched it.

“I die tomorrow, Steve.” He whispered softly, feeling very foolish, and very sad.

“I’ll watch over you,” his spectral Steve answered.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” A stronger, more real voice said, and Loki sat up, shocked to find Steve-- the real Steve-- outside of his cell. He banished the false one with the flick of his wrist, vaguely humiliated, but much more concerned.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Loki hissed, approaching the door. “If they catch you--”

“If they catch me, you’re claiming asylum on Midgard, and I’m the Midgardian representative come to fetch you back.” Loki bit his lip, but nodded, secretly thinking that they had better not be caught-- Steve had no idea how these things worked on Asgard.

“And how will you release me?” Loki asked, but Steve was already fiddling with a key that he wore around his neck.

“Come on,” he said, beckoning Loki out as soon as the door opened, and Loki came gladly, though he wished, as he swept past, that he had the courage to embrace Steve. That Steve wanted that, from him.

He wondered what would become of him, on Midgard, now. Surely Steve would feel he ought to provide for Loki-- out of duty, responsibility, if nothing else. But if he did not want Loki around…

“I don’t have to go back to Midgard.” Loki said quietly, even as he donned an illusion to make him look like a different guard than the one he’d been caught as. “I could go to a different realm.” It was the best he could do, in the circumstances, he thought. The best offer he could make to let Steve live his own life, without the burden of him.

Steve twiched, nearly flinched, and then said, in a studiedly even voice, “If that’s what you want, Loki, I’m not going to stop you. I just… want you to be happy.”

Loki felt the already sharp edges of his emotions pressing at him from within, threatening to shred him from the inside out. “I don’t know how to do that, without you.” He admitted quietly.

As he did, they turned a corner-- right into several armed guards. One looked them up and down and touched an amulet-- like the one that had been used earlier, to see through Loki’s disguise.

“It’s the traitor!” He shouted, and Steve stepped forward, spreading his arms-- and his shield, to block Loki from them.

“And who are you?” The man beside the amulet wearer asked with a sneer, as the others readied their arms.

“The leader of Midgard’s finest warriors.” A voice boomed from behind them, and everyone turned to look as Thor and Frigga strode forward. “My shield brother in our battles, there, and hero among his kind. What brings you to Asgard, Captain?” Thor asked, as though he didn’t know.

“Your shield brother is attempting to escape with the traitor Loki.” The man with the amulet said, handing it over to Thor so that he might see for himself.

Thor had never been a good actor, but he feigned surprise reasonably well. “Explain yourself, Steven-- what claim have you on him?”

“He came to Midgard for Asylum.” Steve said, and Loki suddenly learned that he was an even worse actor than his brother. It was obvious someone had given him these words, or he had rehearsed them himself. Loki wished he could hide his face, but he could not look away from the disaster that loomed.

“And he left Midgard to return here-- thus losing that Asylum.” The guards’ leader said. “His crimes were here, his punishment decided. I will give you this one chance to leave, before you, as a representative of Midgard, begin a quarrel your realm cannot hope to win.”

“Loki is also a hero of Midgard.” Frigga said, speaking up for the first time with a sort of fierce pride. “He worked and lived alongside the Avengers-- and he returned for my sake, to heal his mother’s broken heart. Were we not together when you discovered him?” She challenged.

“Be that as it may, I do not see what that has to do with the Captain’s claim on him.”

“He is one of my men, my team, and as such is under my protection, and that of my realm.” Steve said, sounding like he thought he was gaining ground.

“He is not serving you now.” Another guard pointed out.

“I am.” Loki said, a spark of inspiration coming to him at long last. “I owe this man a blood debt; my life in his service for his having saved me. I am his, to do with as he pleases-- surely you would not break an oathline older than your entire house.” Steve was staring at him.

“Is this true?” Thor prompted, looking entirely too pleased for the part he was meant to be playing.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, then, “Yes. I saved him from torture, saved his life when I found him a beaten and bloody mess, a knife still in him. I would say that your justice has already been served, considering how close to death he was, when he came to me.”

The guards murmured, but Thor stepped forward. “Take him and go. And Loki-- you are banished, never to return to Asgard. You may come no closer than the Bifrost’s dome. Are we understood?” Thor sounded threatening, but Loki immediately understood. Frigga and Thor himself could meet him, under Heimdall’s watchful eyes. He could see his family, if not his world. It would have to be enough.

“I do.” He said, bowing, and the guards murmured again, but Thor stopped it by rapping the end of Gungnir on the ground. The tension in the air was palatable, and Loki held his breath, only hoping that Thor’s will, his power, was enough to win this showdown between the forces of Asgard and of family and the crown. “I am Thor, Son of Odin, Son of Bor, wielder of Gungnir and King of Asgard. It shall be as I say.” Lightning crackled around his hands, from his eyes, around his head, and no one seemed to be so much as breathing. Thor waited to see if there would be any argument. The silence that followed was absolute.

“Now traitor, Captain-- begone from my sight.” Loki did not need telling twice, grabbing Steve’s hand and making a run for the edge of the city and the long bridge that would take them to Midgard. To home.

They did not stop until they stood just outside the dome, and Loki looked back for one last glimpse at the only home he had ever known.

“You don’t owe me anything, you know.” Steve said softly, and Loki turned to find him watching him. “You can still go to some other realm, if you want.”

“I meant what I said,” Loki told him, equally quiet, though he knew Heimdall heard it all. “I do not think I can be happy without you. But… I could learn, if you do not want me.” He still wanted Steve to have the option to leave him, to go to his own life, to live without guilt.

Instead, Steve stepped in and took hold of Loki’s shoulders. “I don’t think I have ever wanted anything or anyone more in my life.” He admitted, words so much shyer than his actions, as he leaned in and kissed Loki for the first time. Loki kissed back, his heart soaring, and heard the Bifrost coming to life behind them. When the kiss ended, he looked into Steve’s eyes, and smiled, for the first time in what felt like years. “Shall we, then?” He asked, gesturing toward where Heimdall waited.

“Yeah. C’mon Loki, let’s go home.”

[blazingtheway]

Through the Looking Glass – Storyline 8 – Together - Part Six

Continuing on from...

↬ Embry Call ↫ Of course, Leah would disagree with us saying she should laugh more, she liked to hide certain parts of herself… and that type of laughing was one that opened you up to people; if they looked closely enough, they could catch a glimpse of something you didn't expect to reveal. I didn't know much of the tribe’s language out of my own stupid, childhood stubbornness. But I had heard that one from #Sam back in the day enough times to know it wasn't flattering. #Tony gave me a look as if to ask what that meant, and I shrugged. I wasn't about to risk messing up the translation in front of these three. "You don't want to know." I chuckled. I looked at #Tony and then Leah giving her a knowing smile. She knew, I was never one for subtlety and it just wasn't something that could be helped. Unless you were related to her there was no denying that Leah was a lot of fun to look at, but we all knew there was a whole lot more to this woman than what you saw. Lately, I was learning that ran so much deeper than I ever imagined. “Leah here actually has pretty good taste in music. I haven’t found a flaw yet…” I narrowed my eyes at her in a mock threat. “But I will.” I had to admit that her Rachel Platten albums weren’t exactly to my taste, but they meant something to her. And that fact alone lent deeper meaning to the songs for me too, and really… wasn’t that the definition of good taste? Finding a true meaning in the sounds and the words. I almost choked on a laugh when she suggested a musical number. “You know I don’t sing!” I smirked at her. “Do you really want me to empty this place out before the night even starts?” ‘That’s not how #Quil tells it!’ #Seth laughed. “I sang to Bear when she was little and only when she was sick. That doesn’t count!” But Leah had that look on her face. The lines drawn on the board below the words ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ ꜱᴘᴜɴᴋ. I smirked; they weren’t going to sell. Maybe I was more competitive than I would like to admit, I could feel every eye in the room trained on us. I kept my eyes locked on hers, still showing glimpses of something more. “Okay! I’m in! But you can’t tell people about the bet to boost sales. The women in this town would do anything to get me on stage and the boys too.” They would know I meant the pack. “And if you don’t hit ten you sing on Monday. Right?” I smirked and took her hand in a firm grip, not letting go until she agreed. ↬ Leah Clearwater ↫ I didn’t need to see Call’s eyes to know that ‘Nope I’m not taking that’ look he was giving #Tony to understand. I knew he’d never taken to learn the tribe’s words, the guys found it hard to do so. I knew if he could #Seth would have passed on learning too as a kid, but our grandmother had taken it on herself to not communicate with us in any other way. So, if we wanted to talk with her, we had no choice but use the tribe’s tongue. “Let me translate it for you Tony.” I smirked looking between the guys all stood beside the bar. “Golagi nigesvna means he is an Idiot, then there is Nudanvdvna which means he is a fool. There is also Nigolagvna which means Stupid” My finger moved from #Mac, to #Seth and then finally landed on Call with a grin. “The list keeps going on, I could come up with a lot more well thought out names for the three of them Tony.” I smirked as I said it. ‘Hey! What did I do?’ #Seth gave me his big puppy eyes, with a puckered lip making me look down to the bar with a shake of my head. “Keep that up kid and I will smack you over the side of your head.” My attention moved back to Call. “Pretty good? Man, you don’t even know the half of it. I could give you a run for your money Call, in more ways than one.” My taste in music was vast, it didn’t stay within the categories that people picked. I wasn’t ‘one or the other’. My taste moved across the full spectrum from hip-hop, to country, to even the old school stuff. I liked songs from across the board, classical, old, new, rap, country. If it was good, and the words and the melody spoke to me. It was listed. Call then took a hold of my hand

and I shook it. He didn’t let go and his eyes were on mine again. I’d never really paid much attention to his eyes, but these days it was all I could see. He locked people in, and I was sure everybody must find it hard to pull away from them when that happened. “You’re always so full of yourself. Because the Girls can’t get enough of what Call has to offer right?” I teased sarcasm dripping in my voice. The truth was that every member of the pack had this air about them, we knew we were good at what we did, and with Call and me especially, modesty was just a waste of time. I kind of liked his no BS towards his playing because he was good. Clearing my throat, I squeezed his hand. “I don’t need to boost the sales, I’m that good just by myself.” But it was the clarification he made a point of making that had me stood still. If I lost, he expected me to get on stage? My eyes flickered to #Mac who was watching all of this with #Tony, but #Seth was the one to speak. ‘I’ll take the forfeit for #HWH.’ My kid brother was trying to protect me in the best way he could. But what he’d forgotten was that it was my job to protect him. I shook my head to him. “Ten 𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙎𝙥𝙪𝙣𝙠cocktails to be sold, no talk of the bet and no telling the customers of the outcome. But that also means, you cannot talk people out of buying them too Call. Also, to make it fair. One on One... I will be the only one selling the drinks. Seth and Mac can’t push the drinks too. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 I win… You are up there—” I pointed towards the stage with my free hand. “—And 𝙄𝙛 you by any off-chance slide by the finishing line... I will be up there.” Shaking his hand again I tugged to free myself from his hold. ↬ Embry Call ↫ I shook my head as she explained the words to #Tony, he was never going to remember them. He was blushing again when Leah's attention was on him. That boy was a mess. #Seth was trying to use his puppy dog eyes on Leah... they didn't work nearly as often as they used to when he was a kid. “Oh, she could… and has come up with very creative names for all of us!” I scoffed. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been shocked at how wide open her taste in music was. Growing up like I did… I was surrounded by all kinds of music. Mom filled the house with it constantly, all kinds, and all genres. She didn’t care what people thought of the 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙styles… Like me. I had no issues leaving musical soundtracks next to my classic rock for all to see. And the pups had learned long ago that, try as they might I had no shame when it came to what I listened too. Her sarcasm was sharp as a blade, I smiled. Just how I liked it, that tone was 100% Leah Clearwater. I felt the worry that things wouldn’t ever be the same after she knew my secrets fade away. And here we were, and she was sniping at me like I was the same person she knew all her life. It sounded counter-intuitive, but it was the best outcome; I didn’t want her to see me differently so this… this was just more proof the Leah really was the Beta we all desperately needed. She was the leader we all would desperately need soon. She was the friend we all needed but never knew we had. She kept her eyes on mine longer than I thought she would, again. “C’mon we all know it’s true.” I boasted. ‘I’ve seen Call in action… He definitely has a way with the ladies.’ #Tony tried to put on a little bravado, but his round face just flushed pink again. ‘We’ve all seen Call in action.’ #Seth rolled his eyes; I knew he was talking about a lot more than just seeing me pick up girls in the bar. The pack had front-row seats to my memories… and I wasn’t shy. ‘Yeah… far too often!’ #Mac agreed but the look on #Seth’s face said, ‘𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩’. I smirked when she clarified that I couldn’t talk people out of buying them either. “I’m highly offended, Clearwater, like I would do such a thing.” I smirked and all the while plots were forming in my mind.

↬Leah Clearwater ↫ I rolled my eyes, but we were all laughing at Call’s comment, about the nicknames. And it was fresh coming from him. He was the one in the pack who gave everybody nicknames the moment he met them. I just found colourful ways not to use names. #Mac shifted to lean on the bar, but before he did, he clapped #Tony on the back. ‘Leah doesn’t do too badly herself. The harder she lets them down. The more they seem to want her.’ I rolled my eyes at him. “Are you saying I need to change tactics here? Become all soft and bat my eyelashes like the shorties do with you and #Seth?” #Mac just jabbed his thumb towards #Tony and his red face. ‘Seems like both will get you more than what you want Lee.’ He winked and started to hum ‘Another one bites the dust.’ Then ducked his head away. But I’d not even reached out. If I wanted to smack his head, I would have. But I was intrigued by the red-faced man wishing the ground would swallow him up. “Relax Ton, if you don’t get your arse teased every ten seconds in this place. It means you’re on the 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨. It’s clear here you are in. No matter if you wanted it or not. #Tony laughed and shrugged his shoulders at me, fidgeting with his shirt. ‘I could think of worse places to be, and you guys are kind of fun.’ I saw the look #Seth was giving Call, and again no words were needed. I could read the kid’s expressions without him needing to part his lips. Shaking my head, I lent on the bar again, my arms crossed under my chest. “You forget I know you Call, 𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜may be the wrong word. But if I see you mess with the outcome, by the Spirits.. You know I will make you pay.” A glint of daring in my eyes. It was always more fun when they all misbehaved, gave me an open season on kicking their arses. And the Moms had no issues with me setting their 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 in line. ‘You are really going to do this? Get up on stage and sing?’ #Mac looked scared and proud all at the same time. And #Seth just looked uncomfortable for me. The kid knew what it meant for me to keep certain parts of my life to myself. “That would imply that I plan on losing. Do you not know me at all Marcus Knight?” I gave him a raised eyebrow. ‘You know she means business when she starts to use our real names.’ #Seth stage whispered to #Tony, earning him a real smack up the side of his head. ‘Hey! Just telling it how it is. Call and Mac will vouch for me here.’ “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Now what’s next or are we ready to go here?” I pushed back from the bar, getting the cloth to wipe the tops down. My eyes flicked back to Call again, and how easy this was. After all, said and done, after all he’d learnt about me and witnessed in the last weeks. He was still here. Still helping and still keeping my secrets to himself. ‘Igvyi Galuga Howa ayelvdi ( First comes trust ) Leah. It seems to me that ↬ Embry Call ↫ Call has passed this test.’ ↬ Embry Call ↫ I shook my head at her comment about the 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨again. It was pretty hard to find a girl that was close to my height; even in heels, most were lucky to come up to my nose. “You know I’m not exclusively into short chick’s right? When you’re six-four it’s pretty impossible to find a girl that doesn’t look short next to me. Even you.” I smirked at Leah and quickly added. “And you’re definitely not a 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙮!” I laughed. I tried not to chuckle at #Tony but the guy had zero poker face. “𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧play poker Ton… You don’t have a chance!” I teased him. “And hell, yes he’s in!!” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Just wait until you hear him sing! He is popular everywhere he goes!” I raised my hands and stopped my internal plotting. She seemed to be reading my mind right now, I could plot later. #Mac was watching Leah… But my eyes were on #Seth and I wondered why he looked… Apprehensive? He loved watching his sister lose a bet… but the kid looked a little shifty. “I dunno she calls me 𝙀𝙢𝙗𝙧𝙮 𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡 so often; I’ve forgotten what my real middle name is!” I laughed again; and again, I was struck by how so

little changed in the way we interacted, after she found out what I really was… or used to be, at least. Things had changed a little between us though, but I was putting that down to the secret she had told me and my decision to stand by her… and everything she did for my mother. “So, guys how long till you open?” I asked and turned to #Tony and clapped my hands together, rubbing them like an over-excited kid. “I think it might be time for a soundcheck #Tony? Let these guys see what they’re in for when you come back to play?” ‘You want me to sing? Here?’ He looked back at the stage and then to Leah. ‘Ri-right now?”

↬ Leah Clearwater ↫ “Shorties, Gym Bunnies, Hikers, chicks who are easily charmed by your wise arse ‘Art of Conversation’. At the end of the day you got to make the most of the small pool of talent that is on offer to you I guess.” I was smirking as I said it. There was no shame in his game. The Spirits, I wasn’t one to judge him or anybody. There were plenty of people here on the Rez to do that for us. But it didn’t stop me from teasing the likes of Call and the pups about their 𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙮𝙯, and how they were the Magnets for the chicks who seemed to become trapped in their honey jars. ‘So—’ #Tony pointed to me and Call and then back again. And I frowned looking at Call and then him. “So?” I asked him, but #Mac was laughing from having cottoned onto what #Tony was trying to say. ‘So, Call isn’t your type?’ I would have choked if I had been drinking something. #Seth all but fell over laughing and I rolled my eyes shaking my head. “Nope! No. No way.” My hand moved in a circle over ↬ Embry Call ↫ ’s face. “This is not something I would take home. I have brains, and I’m not into this Magic Mike XXL look.” I stopped talking as I saw the look in #Tony’s eyes change. “The Spirits” I muttered under my breath, ↬Embry Call ↫was right. ( Not that I would tell him. ) #Tony was the sort of guy who really shouldn’t play poker 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧!! I clarified quickly. “And, I’m not the dating type. On top of that I don’t see guys from within a fifty-mile radius of my house.” Knowing full well that would knock Port off the map too. Before anybody could get in their smart arse comment I smirked at ↬ Embry Call ↫ . “Oh, wow. Did Ms. C not tell you? She changed your middle name for you. It’s now completely official man. 𝙀𝙢𝙗𝙧𝙮 𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡 is what is on your legal documents.” Pushing back to look at my phone as it buzzed. “We have an hour to go.” Looking back to #Tony as he was glancing at me. “Sure, go for it Tony. It’s kind of perfect for you to be the first to use that set up.” Pointing my phone over to the stage. “And, you know Call here could help you test it all out too.” I stepped away to read the message; 𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢: 𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙. Out of the side of my eye I saw Call laughing and joking with the guys, and then my wolf showed me a flash from the locker room in Seattle. Call was sat cleaning blood off my face holding his hand up to show me. ‘𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜.’ She then flashed forward to my fist hitting #Tom in his face, the sound of his nose shattering under the force of my fist, the way I lost control of myself in that split second of time. This was the guy who’d stepped up in a moment when I didn’t think I needed him to show me something I wasn’t ready to see. And then he’d shown up on my door days later to tell me his dark past. I replied. 𝚃𝚘 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢: 𝙽𝚘 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕 – 𝙻 I could hear the guy’s egging #Tony on to do his thing and I moved around the bar and onto the main floor. The cleaning crew had done a good job, but the stage setup made a little mess that needed to be sorted. #Mac walked into the back and returned with the broom in hand and winked at me. ‘I got this’ He said as he started to sweep up the floor. I didn’t fight him on this one and started to move the tables back into place and pulling the chairs down to set them right.

TBC...

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Cast Of The Movie Knives Out

The new murder mystery movie Knives Out is filled with famous actors many audiences already know and love. But there's one face in the cast who might not be as familiar to fans. For now, at least. In Knives Out, Johnson will play Richard Drysdale, the husband to Jamie Lee Curtis' Linda. Recently, the Tin Cup actor went on The Deep Cut podcast and raved about his experience on set. Knives Out features a massive ensemble cast including Daniel Craig in Knives Out, Christopher Plummer, Chris Evans, Ana De Armas, Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Michael Shannon, Toni Collette.

Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/FilmMagic/Getty Images

The new murder mystery movie Knives Out is filled with famous actors many audiences already know and love. But there's one face in the cast who might not be as familiar to fans... for now, at least. Ana de Armas, who plays Marta Cabrera in Knives Out, is a total standout in the film, and has audiences excited to see more of her (which they will).

In Knives Out, De Armas' Marta is the protagonist and caretaker of the famous and wealthy author Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer). When Harlan dies suddenly and gruesomely, Marta is forced to deal with his greedy extended family — and a big secret of her own — while a team of detectives investigate the whole situation. Even among the big, stacked cast, which includes Daniel Craig, Jamie Lee Curtis, Katherine Langford, Chris Evans, Toni Collette, and more, the relative newcomer stands out in her dynamic role.

With Knives Out as well as another major upcoming blockbuster, it's been a busy time for de Armas. 'I’m not complaining, because it’s taken me a long time to get here, and I’m living my dream,” de Armas told the Los Angeles Times. 'This is exactly what I want to be and what I want to do — but gosh, I’m tired. I feel like I repeat that a lot. But I’m tired. I think 2020 will be the year for me to sleep a little bit more.”

The actor might be going to sleep in 2020, but that'll be the year audiences will definitely be seeing a lot more of her. Here are the key facts you need to know to get ready for what's shaping up to be the Year of de Armas:

1. When She Arrived In Hollywood, She Didn't Speak English

De Armas was born in a small town just outside Havana, Cuba, in 1988. At age 18, she became a TV star in Spain, and she then moved to the U.S. in 2014 to take on Hollywood. She didn't speak English when she arrived, so she did months of intensive language studies before landing roles in movies like War Dogs and Blade Runner 2049.

2. She Initially Turned Down 'Knives Out'

The character description for de Armas' character Marta simply said she was a 'pretty Latina caretaker,' and, unhappy with that description, she decided she didn't want to be involved with the project. She explained to The Hollywood Reporter:

Getting an email that described the character like that — without any more information or a script attached because it was high-profile and secret — just really didn’t speak to me. So, because of the character description, my imagination immediately went to a portrayal that was not necessarily very positive or exciting in relation to Latin culture.

Luckily, she learned Marta was much more nuanced. She said to THR, 'When I finally read the script, I realized that the description didn’t fit at all because Marta is so much more than that.”

3. She's Co-Starring In A Film With Ben Affleck

De Armas and Affleck are playing a wife-andohusband duo in the upcoming thriller Deep Water. The movie is expected to come out toward the end of 2020.

4. She's The Next 'Bond Girl'

James Bond is known for having a badass woman by his side in each movie, and de Armas is going to play the part in the upcoming No Time to Kill. Unlike some Bond films of the past, however, the Los Angeles Times reports there will be 'a very different dynamic' between 007 and his co-star this time around.

Knives Out is in theaters now.

By/Nov. 18, 2019 6:18 pm EDT/Updated: Oct. 19, 2020 12:01 pm EDT

After directing critically-acclaimed films like Brick, Looper, and Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rian Johnson turned his attention to the murder mystery genre, giving us the star-studded Knives Out. The movie currently sits at a lofty 97 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, which is quite the accolade, and Vox's Alissa Wilkinson describes the flick as 'a delightful Agatha Christie-style whodunnit made for 2019 America.'

Perhaps the film's most obvious asset is its wildly talented cast, consisting of former superheroes, super villains, super spies, a few legendary Hollywood superstars, and everything in between. But while watching a murder mystery movie, the only thing you want to be trying to solve is who the killer is, not who the actor or actress playing the killer is and what other films you've seen them in before. So, before you watch the movie, here's a handy who's who for Rian Johnson's whodunnit, Knives Out.

Daniel Craig steals the show as Detective Benoit Blanc

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past decade, chances are good that you're familiar with Daniel Craig and his prestigious body of work. The English actor's breakout role was that of the iconic 00 Agent, James Bond, in 2006's Casino Royale. It was a role that, thanks to multiple sequels (four to date), landed him on Forbes' World's Highest Paid Actors list in 2015. However, the handsome Brit is far from a one-trick pony. Over the years, Craig has excelled in a vast array of genres, ranging from dramas like 2002's Oscar-winning Road to Perdition to comedies like 2017's Logan Lucky. He's certainly come a long way from playing a love-struck stableboy in Disney's mid-'90s medieval stinker, A Kid in King Arthur's Court.

In Knives Out, Craig plays Benoit Blanc, a private detective brought on to investigate the apparent suicide of a famous crime novelist. Craig was actually the first actor to sign on to the project, and he was apparently flattered to have been offered the part. As he explained to Cinema Blend, 'I hadn't read something like that (screenplay) before, and I was just over the moon that he (Johnson) offered it to me.' With a lead like Craig, it's no mystery why so many critics are crazy about Knives Out.

Chris Evans stars as Ransom Drysdale

Agatha Christie lovers ... assemble! Although the MCU's Captain America obviously won't be making an appearance in Johnson's murder mystery, Chris Evans, who's played the star-spangled Avenger several times since 2011's Captain America: The First Avenger, will be. The Boston-bred hunk has flexed his dramatic ability in films like Before We Go and Gifted, but not as often as he's flexed his impressive physical physique in action flicks like Push, The Losers, and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.

With an apparent affinity for playing 'the good guy,' Evans has played not one but two different superheroes, first starring as the Human Torch in the Fantastic Four franchise. His role of Ransom Drysdale in Knives Out, however, will be quite the opposite. Speaking with Entertainment Weekly, Evans explained, 'I'm usually tasked with playing guys who are a little more noble, and this guy is a little bit more vile. It's fun.'

Toni Collette is Joni Thrombey in Knives Out

Although it didn't exactly light up the box office, 1992's The Efficiency Expert, starring acting legends like Anthony Hopkins, Russell Crowe, and even a young Ben Mendelsohn, marked the film debut of Toni Collette. In the decades to come, the Australian actress would enjoy a highly successful career, most evidenced by her massive award-season love.

Cast Of The Movie Knives Out

In 2009, she was cast as the lead role (or, perhaps more appropriately, lead roles) in Showtime's United States of Tara. As Tara, a mother coping with dissociative identity disorder, Collette earned wins at both the Golden Globes and the Emmys. On the big screen, the actress has excelled in dramatic comedies like Little Miss Sunshine and About a Boy. However, she's perhaps most recognized for her work in a pair of iconic horror flicks: 1999's unforgettably twisty The Sixth Sense and 2018's disturbingly dark Hereditary.

In Knives Out, the decorated actress plays Joni Thrombey, a 'lifestyle guru' (drawing obvious inspiration from Gwyneth Paltrow and her company, Goop) and daughter-in-law of murder victim Harlan Thrombey. When speaking to Deadline, Collette showered the murder mystery's script with praise, saying, 'It was all in the writing. In reading it, it just kept opening up and changing, and it was so swift, and so smooth, and so surprising.'

Katherine Langford appears as Meg Thrombey

What Katherine Langford's filmography lacks in quantity, it makes up for in quality. At the ripe age of 20, the young Australian actress landed the role of ill-fated high school student Hannah Baker in the Netflix smash series 13 Reasons Why. Langford stole the show as Hannah, even earning a Golden Globe nominee for her performance. Her newfound stardom landed her parts in two movies in 2018, The Misguided and Love, Simon.

Although she'd previously worked with some fairly big names, such as Jennifer Garner and Josh Duhamel, Langford was admittedly quite starstruck when seeing her Knives Out co-stars in action. Talking with Yahoo! TV, Langford said, 'I get so in awe of everyone. ... I've watched all of these people.' While sharing the screen with A-listers like Daniel Craig and Chris Evans must've been incredible, the young starlet, who plays Meg Thrombey in the whodunnit, went on to specifically give praise to her fellow Aussie actress. 'Toni Collette, who plays my mom in this film, she's a legend in her own right. To work a lot with her is amazing, and to work with everyone is amazing.'

Knives Out features Michael Shannon as Walt Thrombey

Michael Shannon has quietly evolved into one of the most well-rounded actors in Hollywood. The two-time Oscar-nominated actor has appeared in a plethora of movies over the past 20 years, ranging from action blockbusters to dramatic thrillers. The first movie he ever popped up in was actually 1993's classic comedy, Groundhog Day, but he's really made much more of a name for himself in serious roles, such as the mentally disturbed John Givings in 2008's Revolutionary Road.

You might also recognize Shannon from parts he played in films throughout the 2000s, including Vanilla Sky, 8 Mile, and Bad Boys II. He's given notable performances for director Jeff Nichols in movies like Take Shelter andMidnight Special, and on HBO's Boardwalk Empire, he portrayed Nelson Van Alden, an agent for the Bureau of Prohibition. He even went toe-to-toe with Henry Cavill's Superman as General Zod in 2013's Man of Steel.

In Knives Out, the Kentucky-bred actor plays Walt Thrombey, the new CEO of his father's publishing house. In an interview with Slash Film, Shannon mentioned how great it was to work with Rian Johnson on the set, saying, 'I had a blast, man, that was so much fun. ... Also, Rian is a super, super sweet guy.' Having a sweet boss must be a major plus on a movie production.

Ana de Armas is playing Marta Cabrera

Although her official acting debut came in a Spanish film in 2006, Ana de Armas' Hollywood career really started in 2015, starring alongside Keanu Reeves as Bell in the dark thriller Knock Knock. After that, she played Miles Teller's girlfriend, Iz, in War Dogs, and then the holographic Joi in the trippy Blade Runner 2049.

Although she's starring alongside Daniel Craig in 2020's new Bond film, No Time to Die, the gorgeous Cuban starlet first shared the screen with him in Knives Out. As Marta Cabrera, the recently deceased Harlan Thrombey's live-in nurse, de Armas is one of the prime murder suspects. But while de Armas admittedly had a wonderful experience on set, shooting in Boston had one particular downside. As she explained, 'It was my first time in Boston. It was freezing, for a Cuban especially.' The actress may have been cold, but is she actually Knives Out's cold-blooded killer?

Jamie Lee Curtis is showing up as Linda Drysdale

Jamie Lee Curtis is truly an American treasure. The California-raised actress has appeared in so many films and TV shows through the years that it's hard to keep track of them all. If you're a horror fan, you probably know her best as Laurie Strode in John Carpenter's Halloween franchise. However, she's so much more than a scream queen. Curtis has starred in action classics like True Lies, kids' movies like Freaky Friday, and a slew of feel-good comedies, including My Girl and You Again.

With an ensemble cast as star-studded as that of Knives Out, it's hard to imagine any one person really standing out. However, when speaking to Entertainment Tonight, director Rian Johnson had a clear cut MVP: Jamie Lee Curtis as Linda Drysdale. The award-winning actress would show up early to set every day, even when she wasn't scheduled to be in the scene. 'I was like, 'Jamie Lee Curtis is here! Film her!' She got into scenes she wasn't even supposed to be in — just because she was there!' Talk about being in the right place at the right time!

Knives Out stars Don Johnson as Richard Drysdale

Detective James Crockett has certainly aged well. Don Johnson, who won a Golden Globe for his portrayal of the snazzily dressed, undercover detective in the classic '80s TV series Miami Vice, remains a big name in Hollywood, still popping up in movies while well into his 60s. Since 2010, the Missouri-born actor has starred in a few Western-themed action flicks, such as Machete and Django Unchained, as well as a couple of romantic comedies, including The Other Woman and Book Club. He's also been an apparent go-to-guy for HBO, starring in both Eastbound & Down as Kenny Powers' father, Eduardo Sanchez, and more recently as police sheriff Judd Crawford in Watchmen.

In Knives Out, Johnson will play Richard Drysdale, the husband to Jamie Lee Curtis' Linda. Recently, the Tin Cup actor went on The Deep Cut podcast and raved about his experience on set. He also disclosed that he was able to see an early screening of the film, and it blew him away. 'Actually it's so good that I am super proud of it.'

Christopher Plummer is playing Harlan Thrombey

Canadian actor Christopher Plummer solidified his status as an acting great by taking home an Oscar for his portrayal of Hal, a closeted gay man, in 2010's Beginners. With acting credits dating back to the 1950s, Plummer has enjoyed an exceptionally long and fruitful career, and it's still going strong. In 2001, he played Dr. Rosen in the Oscar-winning A Beautiful Mind, and in 2017, he played J. Paul Getty in the Oscar-nominated All the Money in the World. He certainly has a knack of being attached to prestigious projects, going all the way back to The Sound of Music.

In Knives Out, Plummer is playing Harlan Thrombey, a famous mystery author who's found dead. In the film, Harlan is tended to by his live-in nurse, Marta, played by Ana de Armas, and it sounds as though the two performers really developed a strong relationship on set. When The Hollywood Reporter caught up with Plummer at TIFF, the Barrymore actor was asked, of all the people in attendance at the film festival, who he would most like to be stuck in an elevator with. And the man replied, 'Apart from my wife, I think Marta (de Armas), our beautiful lady who is such a good actress. ... That would be very pleasant.' It's safe to assume that most guys would agree with Plummer's response.

Jaeden Martell is taking on the role of Jacob Thrombey

He may look young, but don't make the mistake of thinking Jaeden Martell isn't already the man. He's not even 20 years old yet, and he's already starred in a couple of major movies and TV shows. Before playing Bill Denbrough, the leader of the Losers' Club, in 2017's It, the young star shined alongside Bill Murray in 2014's St. Vincent, and he also played Johnny Masters in Showtime's often raunchy drama, Masters of Sex. (He was also the title character in The Book of Henry ... although the less said about that particular film, the better.)

Cast Of The Movie Knives Out Full

In Knives Out, Martell plays Jacob Thrombey, the internet-trolling son of Michael Shannon's Walt. Interestingly enough, this isn't the first time Martell and Shannon played father and son on the big screen. In 2016, the duo co-starred in the thrilling sci-fi mystery, Midnight Special. It must be nice to have a father figure like Shannon on set.

Movie Knives Out Cast

Lakeith Stanfield will try to solve the mystery as Detective Lieutenant Elliot

Life has been especially good for Lakeith Stanfield over the past ten years. The California-raised actor's first big break was getting cast as Marcus in Short Term 12, alongside Brie Larson. He then was cast as Jimmie Lee Jackson in 2014's Oscar-winning Martin Luther King Jr. biopic, Selma. Since then, his career has really caught fire. Although he's appeared in popular films like Get Out, Sorry to Bother You, and Netflix's Death Note, perhaps his most recognizable role is that of the philosophical stoner Darius in Donald Glover's comedic drama Atlanta. Then again, he also portrayed a young Snoop Dogg in 2015's Straight Outta Compton, so you be the judge.

For Knives Out, Stanfield is playing Lieutenant Elliot, a detective investigating Harlan Thrombey's death who initially believes it to be a suicide. However, as more clues begin to surface, his character starts to suspect something more sinister is afoot. The award-winning actor will, much like the audience, try to solve Rian Johnson's whodunnit.

Cast Of The Movie Knives Out Netflix

Riki Lindhome will be appearing in Knives Out as Donna Thrombey

Who Is The Cast Of Movie Knives Out

Riki Lindhome is undoubtedly one funny chick, but she doesn't limit herself to just comedy. Although she and fellow comedian Kate Micucci make up the comedy duo Garfunkel & Oates, Lindhome's first on-screen part was as Mardell Fitzgerald in Clint Eastwood's Oscar-winning Million Dollar Baby. After that, she landed the recurring role of Juliet in the sixth season of the Gilmore Girls, as well as parts in films like My Best Friend's Girl, Changeling, and The Last House on the Left.

Cast Of The Movie Knives Out Cast

In Johnson's murder mystery, the Emmy-nominated actress is playing Donna Thrombey, the wife of Michael Shannon's Walt and mother of Jaeden Martell's Jacob. In addition to working with some major movie stars, Lindhome has certainly enjoyed the movie's many twists and turns, telling Yahoo! Entertainment, 'You see a lot of movies, and they'll have like one big twist. With Knives Out, there's just one after the other after the other. ... By the end everything's woven together in this sort of masterful puzzle.' Count us in!

[sserpente]

A/N: That escalated quickly.

8th October: Pumpkin spice. 🎃 | feat. Loki

Words: 2296 (and it was supposed to be below 1k words… xD) Warnings: none

“Now I usually would not bother to ask but what are you doing?” Giggling, you watched the God of Mischief enter the kitchen. It was paradise, really—Tony rarely ever used it to actually cook something and after asking FRIDAY for the ingredients, you had the whole place for yourself to make some delicious pumpkin spiced cupcakes. It was a tradition you had begun practising every year during October, usually shortly before Halloween; and since the Avengers had left for a council meeting with Fury and a couple of other apparently “highly important” government lickspittles, you might as well kill time by baking.

You knew Loki had been excluded as well but he never left the room Tony had reluctantly put him in after Thor had brought him along. He spent most of his time reading and in fact never bothered about what the rest of this house’ inhabitants did all day long. It was strange he seemed to be starting to now.

“I’m making cupcakes. Care to help me?” You offered with a timid smile. Now you didn’t expect him to say yes. Loki had made it very clear as to what opinion he had of you all but unfortunately, that still didn’t stop you from fancying him. His sorcery and illusions impressed you, his wickedness and mischief intrigued you. He was quite handsome too. Oh no, scratch that, he was outrageously handsome.

“I’d much rather watch you and then try what you fabricated after.” Loki replied with a cheeky smirk as he leaned against the counter. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the weigh and poured in the amount of sugar that was required according to the recipe you had scribbled on a piece of paper. Once that was done, you mixed it with the eggs in a separate bowl.

“What are you making these for?” You suddenly heard his voice again. He almost confused you. Loki never made an effort to start conversations with anyone. Was he bored? You felt flattered he sought out you for some entertainment. Hopefully, he wouldn’t start tricking and teasing you. Even if that would be quite hot… No, stop it!

“It’s Halloween soon. I always make them for the occasion. They’re pumpkin flavoured. I used to make them with my best friend before I moved here to occasionally save the world with the Avengers.” You explained casually, glancing at him over your shoulder to give him a provoking smile.

“You mean All Hallow’s Eve? The night before All Saint’s Day. As I recall it, the reason for this holiday is to honour the dead and scare away unholy ghosts who disturb the spirits of fallen warriors and family members. Why in Valhalla would you bake… cupcakes for this occasion?”

Quite impressed by his knowledge of Midgardian holidays, you pouted at your sugar bowl. He had joined you at the counter now to look you in the eye. Instantly, you felt your heart beat faster. It wasn’t fear that shot through your body but much rather arousal. He was even taller when he stood that close and oddly, he smelled wonderful. Like leather, expensive fabric and some kind of tree you weren’t familiar with. He wouldn’t even have to try and seduce you.

“We celebrate it a little different here,” you began while adding some vanilla sugar to the mixture and starting to stir. “Usually, we wear scary costumes and go to parties to drink. Children go from house to house to do trick or treating. They ask for candy and if you don’t give it to them, you basically give them permission to throw rotten eggs at your house. There’s Haunted mansions with actual actors, scary movies, apple fishing and other traditions. Nobody really mourns dead spirits.”

Loki tilted his head as he thought about it for a second and you took the time to properly mix the ingredients in your bowl.

“That does not sound right. Except for the trick or treating maybe,” He added with a smirk. Giggling once more, you nodded.

“I figured you might like that part, Trickster. Now if you aren’t going to help me, I need you to step out of the way. You’re blocking the kitchen cabinets.”

The God of Mischief sighed in response. “What do you need me to do?” Startled, you looked at him.

“You really want to help?” You asked, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. Your question was met with utter amusement. Loki, King of Asgard and God of Trickery and Lies was going to bake cupcakes with you. Someone fetch the camera. No one will believe me when I tell them, you thought, still giggling quietly.

“You can start by pouring flour into the weigh.” You suggested, still stirring your eggs. They were almost finished and fluffy now.

Loki grabbed the flour on the counter. Without hesitation, he poured its white content into the bowl. Only he didn’t stop once the display showed the required amount.

“Loki, stop! Not everything!” You exclaimed, hurrying to take the flour from his hands. In the process, his skin brushed against yours. His hands are so soft… god damn it, (Y/N), concentrate!

“You told me to put the flour in!” He complained with his brows furrowed.

“Well, how many cupcakes do you want to make? A hundred? We only need five hundred gram. See the weigh?” You laughed when he frowned and you removed a bit of the flour with a spoon to put it back into the package.

“Now add one of these little sachets. It’s baking powder. Makes the dough fluffy in the oven.”

Loki nodded and did as he was told, this time without any mistakes. It was nearly cute how he fumbled around with the sachet to pour it to the flour.

“Thank you. We’ll mix it all together now, then add the pumpkin mush. It’s been sweetened already.” Smiling, you pointed at one of the cans on the counter. The sticker showed a rich pumpkin patch along with orange letters spelling pumpkin mash.

Quickly, you plugged in the mixer and got to work. In the meantime, Loki was watching your every move so intently pleasant shivers ran up and down your spine. He was actually… interested.

“You’ve never baked before, now have you?”

“The maids took care of it. I would sometimes sneak into the kitchens and steal the treats they prepared for feasts.”

Grinning at the mixer, you imagined a raven haired little boy with blue eyes using one of his famous illusions to secretly munch on candy.

“What’s so funny about that?” He asked. There was a threatening tone in his voice although you could tell he was rather amused.

Shrugging, you put the mixer away and used a spoon to scratch off the last bit of the sticky dough of the beaters before tossing them into the sink.

“Nothing. I’m just imagining a little Loki with sugar all over his mouth, leaving the maids wondering where all the candy has gone.”

Loki smirked. No, he smiled. He actually smiled. Planes took off in your stomach. God, why did he have to be so handsome?!

“You can help me put the dough into those muffin moulds. I put them on the baking plate already.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Well, I’d suggest you use a spoon but I’d be even more impressed if you used your magic.” You mused. This time it was a smirk.

“As you wish,” he purred. With a quick movement of his hand, mouth-sized bits of the dough hovered in the air with a start, floating over to the moulds without spilling a drop, where they squelched in neatly. A green shimmer surrounded them. You only watched Loki in awe, completely forgetting about wanting to put the dirty bowls and cutlery into the dishwasher right away.

Within seconds, the task was done and you were, after retreating from your trance, ready to put the baking plate into the preheated oven. Twenty minutes would suffice, until then, you had enough time to clean up the kitchen and talk to Loki.

“Tell me more about your Halloween.” He suddenly started. Swiftly, you grabbed the bowls and put them in the dishwasher.

“Well… usually, what you do every year is carve out a pumpkin. A Jack’o’Lantern. Families go to the pumpkin patch to pick one. It’s a win-win situation. After carving them out and cutting a scary face into them, you can use the flesh for pumpkin spice dishes. The pumpkin is lit up with candles so it looks spooky at night.”

There, almost done. Having put all of the crockery in the dishwasher, you moved back to the counter to wipe it clean from all the flour, sugar and any leftovers of the dough.

You flinched when you suddenly felt him right behind you. When had he moved, for Fuck’s sake? Pressing yourself against the counter, you bit your lower lip. His whole body seemed to be made of stone. You could feel the fabric of his clothing brushing against your t-shirt and your pants, didn’t dare to move.

Loki chuckled when he noticed your sudden discomfort, his hot breath grazing your neck. Casually, he placed his hands on the counter, trapping you between it and his body. You took a deep breath before you turned around.

The closeness startled you. His face was only mere inches from yours, his blue eyes boring into yours so intensely you feared to faint.

“Loki… what are you doing?” You managed to whisper, your voice barely audible. He smirked mischievously in response, moving even closer instead of answering.

His hands were resting on your hips now, pulling you flush against him. Before you knew what was happening, he had lifted you up and sat you onto the counter, with him pushing your knees apart to step between them.

“How long…” he began quietly, his face brushing your cheek as he muttered into your ear, “…I wonder, have you been fancying me, pet?”

What? How would he know? You’d been totally discreet this whole time! Right?

“I’m not… what makes you think I…” You failed to finish your sentence, for Loki’s hands were travelling now. His soft, long and delicate fingers caressed your thighs in a compelling manner. You could feel his lips on your neck. A soft mouth tasting your warm skin, a hot and moist tongue licking over your pulse. Your breathing quickened immediately. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet and here you were, panting so loudly it sounded like you had just run a marathon. You were practically a puddle in his arms.

“I did not know when I came to the kitchen for some distraction. But you are being horribly obvious, pet.”

The way he called you. Pet. For Fuck’s sake, this man would be the death of you! What had given you away? And, much more important than that, what… was he going to do? Was he about to do what you were hoping he would do?

Biting your lower lip once more, your eyes fell to his soft lips.

“What is it you want, pet?” He asked with a smirk as he followed your longing gaze. “Say it,”

One deep breath. No one would know, right? You had dreamed of a moment like this, wondered what his cool lips would taste like…

“Kiss me…” you whispered out of breath. It sounded like a prayer. Loki was a god, after all… would he hear it? His malicious smirk was answer enough. “Please…”

His eyes sparkling with a sudden desire, he cupped your neck with his hands and pulled you close. Only the fraction of a second later, his mouth came crashing down on yours. He tasted even better than you had imagined.

Closing your eyes, you let the kiss consume you. His tongue sneaked into your mouth, brushing against your lower lip over and over as his mouth massaged yours. Soon, both your tongues were fighting a playful battle, your composure all but lost. A moan escaped your lips when he attempted to pull away to let you catch your breath.

You didn’t even think about accepting that. Instead, you dug your nails into his armour so he couldn’t pull away—your eagerness even evaporated his condescending smile. You lost sense of time, didn’t know for how long you had been kissing, for how long you had been devouring each other. The loud ringing noise in the background was hardly disturbing when you wrapped your legs around his torso, the urge to rip off his clothes growing with every second that passed…

“Shit! My cupcakes!” You screamed into his mouth when you finally realised. Loki laughed—he laughed like he had never tried to take over your planet, like there was no grief and anger within him. The sound of it warmed your heart and still, even though you were giggling yourself, you finally managed to push him away from you to jump off the counter and open the oven.

“Where are the fucking gloves?!” Looking around frenziedly, you hurried to get your cupcakes out. They had just the right colour and the pumpkin spiced smell was downright delicious—only you couldn’t find the bloody kitchen gloves!

Loki chuckled once more. Without hesitation, he reached forward and bent down, grabbing the hot baking plate with his bare hands.

“Right… Frost Giant…” You murmured absently. The God of Mischief put them on the counter, enjoying the smell, so it seemed, as well.

“Now, pet, how about you let these cool down before you decorate them? In the meantime… we could do something else, preferably in your bedroom.”

Your heart jumped at the thought. Maybe you should have baked some cupcakes and thereby attract Loki’s attention way earlier…

[agressivelyunfancynerd]

Cabin in the Woods (Captain America Fic)

Let me preface this by saying I have never, ever written a fan fiction, or a smut. So please, please be kind! However, if you find any mistakes, or anything, feel free to message me J

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex (wrap it please!), Clit Stimulation

Word Count: 3500+ 

Blurb: You’re a hacker who has been with the Avengers for a year, when you discover some seriously dangerous plans that could kill a lot of people, you help Steve assemble the team, only for them to have to leave you and Steve in harm’s way; you find yourselves in a hidden shack, and things get a bit heated.

You were the newest member of the Avenger’s team, although, calling yourself a member might be a stretch, you weren’t a trained assassin, or proficient archer or thunder god or even some rich engineer, you were simply a girl with excellent hacking skills, a big attitude and enough martial arts training to maybe not die in a hand to hand fight. A fight which you would’ve started with your sarcastic mouth.

If someone had told you two years ago you’d be working at the Avenger’s tower, or going out on missions with Captain America – your biggest crush since high school – and his team, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you were, sitting in the lounge room of the tower, tapping away on your laptop. It was late afternoon and the sun was blasting through the windows.

“Hey y/n, new intel just came in, it’s encrypted, think you can hack it?” Steve asked, although you hadn’t heard him come in.

“That hurts Rogers… Underestimating my ability to hack things not meant to be hacked, I’m offended” you winked at him. He smiled.

You held your hand out for the flash drive. He padded over to the couch where you were sitting cross legged and put the device in your hand, his fingers brushing against your skin, causing you to shiver. He turned and started to walk to the door, you watched.

You hated to see him go, but boy did you love to watch him leave. He turned to say something, catching you starring at his bum. Embarrassed you went back to typing away on your laptop.

Your cheeks started to burn hot, you were blushing at being caught ogling Captain America.

You had been with the team just over a year now, and in that time, you had made an idiot of yourself in front of Steve at least once a day, every day of the week.

Bucky knew you had a crush on Steve; your bedrooms shared a wall and he heard you touching yourself one night pretending it was Steve. He poked fun at you the next day, until you felt like you were going to combust, due to the heat in your cheeks; but he vowed never to tell a soul, and from then on you became good friends, he was your confidante, sparring partner, and horror movie marathon partner, and you became his tutor in all things 21st century.

But from the day Bucky found out about the crush you had gone out of your way to avoid Steve, in the hopes that your silly crush would subside and fizzle out. Sometimes you thought it was going well, you’d not see him in a week, you’d stop thinking about him every second of the day, but then bam, literally bam, you’d turn a corner and run into him. You’d touch him, he’d touch you and the crush would reignite.

This always ended in you sitting on Bucky’s bed late at night talking, and him laughing at how ‘cute’ you were. And then you’d punch his flesh arm and leave.

***

As the hours ticked by you became more and more invested in the files on the drive. If someone was trying this hard to protect and hide what was on here, it must have been important.

“Hey Y/N, I’m about to make some garbage eggs, you want some?” Wanda asked walking into the small kitchen just off the lounge.

“Hmm, what, no thanks,” you replied not even stopping typing or looking up.

“Wait, garbage eggs?” when you finally registered what Wanda had said you looked over the top of your laptop at her.

“Yeah, it’s basically when you get the entire contents of your fridge, whatever leftovers are still alright and you turn it into scrambled eggs or an omelette. Pietro used to make it for us.” She got a faraway look for a split second, before turning back to you and waiting for you answer.

“Sounds… interesting. But again, I’ll pass. Thanks though.”

Wanda cooked up her garbage eggs and left.

Bucky came in a few hours later, straight from the gym, he shot you a goofy smile before grabbing some fruit from the bowl on the counter and leaving. Bruce and Tony came in not long after that, made coffee and left, not once acknowledging your existence, or if they did you didn’t acknowledge them.

And you can’t be sure, but you thought Nat came in, but she’s so stealthy you and you were tired, you might’ve imagined it. More hours ticked over, your body was getting sore, you stomach was growling and you were starting to get annoyed.

***

Ten and a half hours…

That’s how long it had taken you to finally crack the data on the flash drive Steve had given you; it was a tough security system, encryption and fire wall, you were actually impressed. You’d be more impressed if the information wasn’t highly classified and extremely dangerous; as you skimmed the files on the drive, only registering the important words your heart started to beat in your ears, you had to tell the Avengers now. This could mean the end of the world.

Without thinking, or looking at the time, you leapt off the couch, laptop in your arms and started down the hallway to Steve’s room, since he was the leader, it made sense to tell him first. You knocked on his door, and when he didn’t answer you turned to go look for him, not realising how late it was.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?” He had opened his bedroom door, sleep still grasping at the edge of eyes; he was wearing a thin pair of cotton briefs and nothing else. He looked alarmed.

You stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

“I, umm, uhh…” you kept trying to look just at his face but your eyes kept wandering. He stepped out of his room and you backed up, hitting the wall.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning Y/N, what is it?” His concerned tone knocked you out of your daze.

“I cracked the encryption on the flash drive, I only just finished viewing the files, you need to see this”, you pushed past him, into his room – you were in Steve’s room – put your laptop on his desk, bent down and opened some of the files. You felt him approach, standing mere inches from you, the heat radiating from his body, the heat radiating between your thighs; as he read over your shoulder.  

Gooseflesh worked its way up your arms and across the back of your neck. There was a dull throb between your legs. You couldn’t think of anything else while he was this close. If you were a more confident person, or sure he felt the same way for you, and the circumstances were different you might’ve turned around and just kissed him, hard and fast, but you weren’t confident, and the circumstances weren’t different, so you closed your eyes and tried to breath.

“That’s great work Y/N, but uh, what does all this mean?” Steve straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and waited for you to explain.

“The cheat sheet version?” You asked, taking a small step away from him.

“Please” He half smiled, still sleepy.

You broke into a tirade, explaining the files, what you had found, what the potential outcomes could be, what the best and worst case scenarios could be and what the next step would be. You showed Steve the diagrams of weapons, bombs and other things you had found on the files, even that you had found more hidden files under deeper encryption.

“Christ,” Steve muttered. You turned back to your laptop, closing the lid and picking it up, creating a barrier between you and Steve. He turned away, grabbed a pair of long pants and pulled them on, and grabbed a baggy white tee, before grabbing your hand and leaving his room.

“We have to tell the others, form a plan, and stop this, before it begins” he said pushing you towards the elevators. “You get to the debriefing room, start making a file, I’ll get the others.”

***

You were sitting in the back of the Quinjet – you hated flying, absolutely detested it in fact. You had a fear of heights, and death.

You were bouncing your knee up and down and tapping your fingers on your leg as if it was your laptop keyboard.

You don’t really know why the Avengers were bringing you, you programmed a flash drive to reverse the process of the encryption, erase all the data and then blow up; so all they had to do was put it into the computer drive, run away and presto, it would work.

You explained all this only an hour ago to Steve, and he had taken the flash drive from you, pocketed it and then told you it was Plan B.

“So what’s plan A?” you asked.

“You’re coming with us; you’re going to copy all the data before blowing the system up, manually.” He said.

You were flattered that the Avengers had needed you… But now, sitting in the Quinjet, you hated yourself for being so good with computers.

“Nervous?” Steve asked taking the seat next to you.

“A little” you swallowed, looking around the jet, trying to get your mind off the fact you were just about shitting yourself, and the fact Steve was so close to you.

Clint and Nat were in the cock pit, Bruce and Tony were towards the back, talking science, or something else you didn’t understand. Sam, Vision and Wanda were all standing around talking to each other. And Bucky was brooding in the corner, his eyes closed.

“You know, it’s just like being in a bus” Steve said smirking at you.

“Yeah, except buses don’t usually unexpectedly fall from the sky, nor do they often get shot at.”

“Huh, I must be taking the wrong buses” Steve smirked. You tried to smile.

The jet lurched, making you dig your nails into your legs and squeeze your eyes shut. Nat announced over the comms that it was just that we had gone through some storm clouds, and no, before Tony asked, it wasn’t Thor. He was still off planet.

A big warm hand encased yours, touching your thigh.

“It’ll be okay; I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Steve whispered next to you, “you can open your eyes.” You could feel the blush creeping into your cheeks.

You started to open your eyes, as Nat announced we were starting the decent on the base, and before you could say anything Steve was on his feet and standing behind Nat and Clint. His hand left a warm feeling on your thigh. You took a deep breath and tried to steel yourself for what was coming.

***

A bomb exploded to your right, Steve was barking orders in the comms and you heard Hulk growl before what sounded like metal being torn apart. You were bent over the computer, tapping as fast as your fingers could allow, but it wasn’t quick enough.

There was no Intel to tell you that this base was so heavily manned, but from the minute you touched down it was a flurry of bullets and yelling and explosions.

Glass shattered above you and rained down.

“I’ve got to go help Clint, stay right here. Right. Here!” Steve barked before taking off and jumping out the window. You continued to tap away on the keys, but every time you got through a fire wall another one popped up. This was far more superior to the flash drive Steve had given you.

What felt like an eternity later you had cracked the final fire wall.

“Boom bitch!” you yelled at the computer. You started the copying process; it was copying directly to the Quinjet mainframe. You heard footsteps behind you.

“I got it Steve, we’re in,” when he didn’t answer you turned, only to be smacked across the head with the butt of a rifle. You fell to the floor hitting your elbow and shoulder hard on the tiles.

You managed to roll over just as the man in a black stealth suit slammed the rifle down at your head again. You kicked him and stumbled up. You were dizzy and currently seeing three of him. You raised your arms in your guard defence, just as he launched, you T stepped, and slammed the palm of your hand into the man’s face before bringing an elbow up under his chin; just your Kung Fu instructor had shown you – thank god for deciding to get into shape – he stumbled away, losing his gun, then he lurched and kicked you in the guts, you folded in half and fell.

The man retrieved his gun, and aimed it right at your face, your heart was pounding, your vision was blurry and unconsciousness tugging at you. BANG.

You flinched, and saw the man crumple, he fell towards you and you rolled to the left. Steve came running over to you.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I got you” he helped you up, a hand wrapped around your back and waist and he put your other hand over his shoulder.

“Computer” you croaked. He headed towards the console. You let go of Steve and watched as the files finished copying to the Quinjet.

Another explosion rattled the remainder of the building; Steve started yelling in his comms. You looked up and saw the Quinjet taking off.

“Uh Steve,” you stammered.

“I know Y/N, I told them to go, they can’t hold down the forces, get us back and save the files. They’re going to get the Intel to the government, and then they’re coming straight back for us,” you must of looked at him in horror, because he grabbed your face, “I promise”. You nodded.

“But we have to find somewhere to lay low, until they can get to us, come on.” He grabbed your waist and you started out, slow and steady.

***

It was dark now, you could barely see anything. Your head was pounding, you’d tripped maybe twenty times since getting away from the compound, if it wasn’t for Steve you would’ve fallen face first in the dirt and probably would’ve just stayed there until they found you.

“Here,” Steve picked up the pace, basically carrying you, towards this little shack in the middle of nowhere. He kicked in the door, placed you against the wall before doing a once through making sure there was no danger. He boarded up a few windows, found some old musty sheets and hung them in the windows, before lighting a fire.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, lightly touching your head.

“Like a crazy ninja in a black leotard smacked me with a rifle… Oh wait, he did.” You deadpanned.

“You got a real attitude Y/N, you know that?” Steve said before going in search of a medical kit. When he came back you were leaning against the wooden table, in what you assumed used to be the dining room.

Without asking, Steve grabbed your hips and hoisted you up onto the table, he stood between your legs and put the medical kit beside you. Without speaking Steve bought a damp cloth to your forehead, he started cleaning up the dried blood and the wound on your head. You couldn’t do anything but breathe and try not to stare. He tendered to your wounds for a few minutes, before putting some gauze on it. He turned to close the medical kit up.

Without thinking your hands went to his hips. He took a deep breath and stilled.

“What?” you asked when you had noticed he had stopped. You looked up at his eyes, his stare was so intense. So blue. You had never noticed before, but being this close to him, you could see the flecks of amber in his irises.

“You’re injured, you hit your head, and you’re not thinking straight, I don’t want to take advantage.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

“Steve” you whispered. His hands folded across his chest. Almost like he was protecting himself.

“Y/N”

“I’ve had feelings for you since forever” you touched his arms, getting him to un-clench his fists, “the pain in my head is almost gone, I am thinking clearly. In fact I’m thinking logically, like if the team doesn’t get back here in time and we’re found; I don’t want die not knowing what touching you, kissing you feels like.” You entwined your fingers into his.

“Don’t talk like that, we’re going to get out of here, alive.” He said.

“But if we don’t,” you hooked your legs around his hips and locked your ankles and pulled him closer to you. Without any further arguments Steve planted a hard, needy kiss on your lips. Your hands crawled up his back under his shirt.

Steve grabbed your face, before his hands travelled down your sides to the hem of your shirt. You could feel him getting hard between your thighs. You rolled yours to get a bit of friction.

“Y/N” he moaned, before ripping your shirt off over your head and threw it somewhere to your right, before standing up straight and ripping his off as well. As he came back down to your face he pushed you further back on the table. Until you were lying on your back with him on top of you.

He trailed kisses down your throat until he was between your breasts. With a snap he tore your bra away and took one of your breasts in his mouth while palming the other. You threw your head back and moaned his name.

“Steve” you dug your nails into his back the more suckled.

He moved away from your breasts and trailed down to your belly button, before he slid out of the grasp of your legs.

“Hold on to the table” he said, and so you grabbed the sides of the table as he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants and tugged. He ripped your pants and panties straight off, until you were lying there, in all your glory.

“Please Steve” you whispered looking up at him, before sliding back to the edge of the table. He took one look at your pleading face. You started on his button and zip, pulling his pants down until they were around his ankles. He sprang free, and was already rock hard.

“Y/N are you sure about this?” Steve whispered.

Instead of answering with words, you wrapped your hand around his length and slowly started pumping, rubbing the pre-cum around the tip with your thumb. He moaned and took a step towards you.

His mouth crashed into yours. Your hands moved from his length, to his hair and you wrapped your legs around him again. He lined himself up with your entrance, and slowly he entered you. It was agonizingly slow at first, so you could adjust to his size. He filled you entirely.

He started rocking his hips and you rocked yours in time with him. He moved his lips from yours to your neck, where he gave you a light nibble, which would definitely leave a mark tomorrow. Your hands traced his spine and his muscles. He rocked into you harder, and moved one of his hands between the two of you and started tracing circles on your clit; you dugs your fingers into his back leaving red scratches.

“Steve” you moaned as he took your breast back in his mouth, “Steve, please” you begged.

“Y/N”

You were close; you could feel the coil tighten in your stomach, the throbbing between your legs. With each rock. With each circle his thumb made. You were about to lose control.

“I’m close” you panted, your legs feeling weak. He thrusted harder into you, and you cried out his name.

“STEVE”

That was enough encouragement for him, his thrusting became faster and sloppier, and he came inside you. You rode out the end of your orgasm as he rode out his.

“Y/N” he panted against your ear, before pulling out and half collapsing on you. Your legs still hooked around his hips. Your hands were still rubbing up and down his back and you nibbled on his neck. He hoisted himself up onto his elbows until he was above you.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day you arrived at the tower.” He whispered, trailing kisses up and down your neck, “I fell more in love with you the first time you sassed Bucky and he had no idea how to respond, except stand there with his mouth open” he snickered, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“And I fell more in love with you tonight, and I didn’t know that was even possible”

And with that, you half judo flipped him until you were straddling him on the table.

“How about now?” you whispered against his neck as you nibbled. He growled and grabbed your hips. Just as you were about to go for round two, you heard the rumble of the Quinjet engines above, and you knew the Avengers wouldn’t be far behind.

“Oh shit” Steve said as you both jumped up and gathered your clothes.

“Language. Captain” you smirked. He slapped your ass before pulling on his shirt.

You two were just finished getting dressed when doors to the cabin flung open, Bucky, Nat and Sam stood there. Clint was in the cock pit of the jet and the other Avengers were on guard duty.

“Come on you two, we don’t have time for hugs and welcome backs, and all that crap” Stark yelled over the comms. As Steve walked away with Nat and Sam, they explained the situation; Bucky fell into step beside you, a smirk on his face. He held up your panties.

“You ah, left these behind doll face” he threw them at you and sprinted up the ramp. You quickly thrust them into your pocket, before climbing up and taking your seat, opposite Steve.

  End…

[mumuofdurin-blog]

Vogue Interview: The Man Behind The Machine

by Jeanie McMillan, senior Culture writer

As we all know, technology is something that we can’t do without; even people who decide to try living off the grid and go back to the days where we lived off the land will agree that technology, even the smallest bit, is something we can’t live without (remember back when I stayed with my cousin Eric in Alaska for a while to see what it was like to live off the grid? Yeah, even Mr. I Can Show Up Bear Grylls admitted that his satellite phone was a necessity, especially when it was winter and the snow could effectively block you in the house). Whether it’s competing cell phone companies, building your own custom computer from scratch, the latest VR headset, or something more work-related like all the medical technology that helps us live longer and better lives, technology isn’t going away any time soon, and in fact, is getting more, and more easily, integrated into our every day lives. From Steve Jobs to Bill Gates, everyone claims that they are at the head of the pack, at the top of their game, but when it comes down to it, there’s really only one person who can claim they really are at the top of their game: Genysis Industries’ CBDO (Chief Business Development Officer) and soon-to-be CEO, Nikolai “Nik” Dmitryevich Tereschenko.

**on cover of the magazine: a picture of Nik standing in a gray suit, jacket unbuttoned to show off a crisp, white shirt and a charcoal-colored tie with almost vein-thin, barely-there, diagonally-placed slate gray stripes. His hands are in his pockets, legs slightly apart; his expression is neutral, mouth slightly open as he looks down a little towards where the photographer was most likely crouched or kneeling down**

**inside, on the first two pages of the article: a picture of Nik on a couch in his penthouse, jacket up and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. One leg is brought over the other, one knee sticking out as he rested his ankle on the other knee. One arm rested on the back of the couch; the other was up by his mouth, wrist loose and fingers relaxed as his index finger rested on his lip while he looked off into the distance. The left page contains the picture of Nik and title of the article; the right is where the interview starts**

So, Mr. Tereschenko, let me start off by saying that I’m super excited that you agreed to this interview. I may not know a lot about programming or the difference between a processor and a microchip, but as someone who uses a lot of technology each and every day, I can tell you that I’m always excited when I hear that I can put in a pre-order for an upcoming piece of GenTech. Well thank you, that’s very flattering! I love hearing that people are pleased with what we come out with; numbers can tell us how popular our products are, but those number mean nothing when compared to hearing actual people’s opinions on everything, no matter how good or bad they can get.

Now, I know your father was the one who created Genysis Industries back in the day, but as a Russian immigrant, how did that all start? My father started out as your average, middle class person over in Russia--his dad worked at an office, his mom worked as a school teacher, and he, my uncle Vladimir, and my aunt Yulia lived comfortably in a two-story house with a dog and plenty of books and toys. They weren’t hurting for money, but my father was always trying to come up with something that would give him a little extra money beyond what he received for an allowance each week--lemonade stands, recycling people’s tin cans and glass bottles, lawn mowing, the usual things that kids would do. He, however, would get his friends to help him out, and they would split their wages--half would go to themselves, and half would go into the “company”, helping them do things like buy paper to make fliers around the neighborhood, or get better lemonade making supplies, or whatever they needed to do. This continued all throughout his life, even going into college, where he majored in business. The problem, however, was starting up a business in Russia. It’s rather difficult to do there, partially because of the laws there regarding starting your own business and partially because of various social issues, and so my father, with a lot of English and a little bit of money, got a visa, came to the United States after finishing his schooling, and started working at Chevrolet.

**the next two pages of the interview: on the right page, Nik is at the island in the kitchen, sunlight brightening the area, as he tosses up an apple and watches it fly up into the air. The left page contains the rest of the kitchen, used as the background for the continuing interview**

Starting at Chevy? Where exactly in did he start off with them? Well, originally he thought he’d take the usual immigrant route, and start off working on the line, making car parts. Apparently he managed to impress the head of the plant at the time so much that he put into management, and that was actually was where he eventually met the men he’d eventually partner with to help start Genysis Industries.

And the name “Genysis”? Where did that come from? Ah, now that actually came because my father, while he could speak English very well, wasn’t that great of a speller when he was younger. The word itself he knew the meaning of, which has to do with the beginning or formation of something, and he thought it was rather appropriate when they were starting out, but he could never spell the word the same way twice. It became a bit of a inside joke between him and his business partners, and they eventually ended up with the current spelling because it was the one that, in their words, “looked the best and made us stand out”.

I love it! Now, though, I think we need to move on to the man of the hour--you. You are the current Chief Business Development Officer of Genysis Industries, and you’re poised to take over when your father retires. Can you tell us a bit of how you came to be in your current position? Well, for as long as I can remember, my parents had the idea in place for me that I would take over as head of the company one day, and I was pretty much groomed for that from a young age. There were times when I didn’t think I wanted to take over, especially in my teenage years, but as soon as I started working there back in high school, I knew that I was, in fact meant to be there. My father didn’t want me to feel entitled or to have an ego, though; he made sure I started at the bottom and worked my way up, and that way, I wouldn’t think I was better than everyone like I might if I started much closer to the top. I’m grateful that he did that; not only did it show me what it was like at every level, but in doing so, I found my love of computer sciences and engineering. Eventually I made my way to my current position, and once my father retires, I’ll be taking over his position as CEO.

That actually leads to my next topic, so thank you for that! Not only are you the second highest position in the company, but you’re also very important with the development of various software, hardware, and designs for the products that Genysis Industries comes out with, with a lot of people calling you “the real life Tony Stark”. I’ve seen that before, and while I’m not the engineer he is, I’m very flattered by the comparison. Yes, while I do have a lot to do with the business side of things, I have spent a fair amount of my career as a part of the technological side of the company, and in fact I actually did a double major when I was in college. I love developing new programs and operations for the products that are specifically GenTech products, as well as having input in developing the parts that Genysis Industries makes for other companies to use in their products; in fact, I was the one that developed the Genysis OS, helping to take us off of using Windows on our computers, and I was a part of the development team to make the mobile version of Genysis OS when we entered the smartphone game.

**on the next two pages have two different pictures--the left page has Nik in the dining room, siting in one of the chairs, with Ace behind him, his arms around Nik’s shoulders and clearly joyous smiles on their faces as the two men look at each other, the tips of their noses touching; the right page has more of the dining room, with the interview printed over that.**

Now, Genysis Industries doesn’t just do things like phones, computers, teevees, computer parts, etc., correct? You’ve expanded to touch things in the medical field, philanthropic work, and other such things? That’s correct. One of the things we’re extremely excited to be doing is to really dive more into the bioengineering field, combining our advanced technology with both leading and up-and-coming scientists in the field to start working on things such as lab-grown human organs, plants that are more highly resistant to fungus and things that destroy them without losing any of their nutrition or any of the negative side effects, and even growing meat in a lab using a small sample of cells from a living organism--meat you can eat without killing an animal. We’ll also be partnering with such companies as Medtronic and Siemens to improve current medical devices, from something as simple as a thermometer to more advanced things like MRI and CATscan machines, so that, for things consumers use, they’re both as efficient as possible and as affordable as possible, no matter how much or how little you make, and on the medical professional’s side, they’ll get the same, if not better, quality they’ve already been getting, but at a cost that won’t break both their bank and their patients’ banks.

And the philanthropic side? With that, we do as much charity work as we can, whether through donations of money, equipment, supplies, or whatever we can, both at home and abroad. One thing that’s close to my heart is helping out the queer community, especially queer youth of any sort. I want to make sure that everyone, young and old, will have a place to go if they get kicked out of their house, or if they need support, a job, education...anything that could help them out, really. There’s also the part where we believe in all of our employees, from the CEO to the cleaning staff to even the interns, should be paid a living wage and have benefits that aren’t just benefits in name, and the fact that we’re very open and accommodating to all races, genders, sexualities, and the like,  but that should be considered “common sense” instead of “philanthropy”.

I know there have been stories and pictures of you, but to get a definitive answer--does that mean you are gay? (he laughs) No, no, most definitely not; plenty of women could tell you I’m not gay. No, I’m proudly bisexual, but growing up, my father, and to a slightly lesser extent, my mother, and I didn’t quite see eye to eye on that. I may be currently engaged to the wonderful man that’s currently imitating a blanket or a sweater hanging off of my shoulders, but I’m definitely bi.

As you can see from the picture, we were unexpectedly joined by the young man hanging onto Nikolai, but I’d be lying if I said that it was an unwanted intrusion. The way that Nikolai smiled when Ace, as he called himself, came into the room and started being affectionate was like watching the love interest of a Hallmark movie hear that the protagonist had agreed to stay in the small town with said love interest. He didn’t stay long, just enough for some slightly posed, mostly candid pictures, but then it was back to business.

So, do you mind if I...? (he laughs again) Go ahead, I’ve got nothing to hide.

(I laugh myself) Since it seems like you’re taken, I know a lot of our readers are going to be sorely disappointed that they no longer have a chance with you, especially since you said you were engaged to Ace--who, by the way, is absolutely great--but how did you guys meet? I...to be honest, we met online. I hadn’t been in a relationship for over a year; it had been a serious relationship, and I was planning on asking her to marry me, even picked the ring out. Before I could do that, she came to me and told me that not only had she been seeing someone else behind my back, but she was pregnant and it was his. I broke it off immediately, they went to live in a different state, and for more than a year, I had nothing but one night stands. Then one of my friends showed me a site and told me to check this out, I stumbled upon Ace’s profile, and the rest is history. We weren’t serious about each other at first, just a casual thing, but somewhere along the way my thinking went from ‘Hold my hand so we look like a couple’ to ‘Hold my hand because it feels right in mine’.”

Awww that’s so sweet! You guys seem like you fit really well together. We do, and honestly, it’s refreshing. There’s definitely an age gap between us, and I’m always surprised he said ‘yes’ when there’s so many people his age that would be glad to snap him up in a heartbeat, but I don’t take it for granted. He makes my day better just with a ‘hello’ or an ‘I love you’, and when it’s time to leave for the day at work, I actually think ‘Well, time to go home’ with the feeling that I am going home, not just to the place I live. Ace is truly the best thing that’s happened to me, and I’m not fucking that up--sorry, am I allowed to say that for this interview? I’ll rephrase that--I’m not messing that up, I’m sorry. But yes, we do really fit well together, and I don’t know who’s more excited about getting married, him or me.

So I have to ask--when exactly is the wedding, and what are you guys planning for it? I can tell you right off the bat that it’s going to be either Spring, Summer, or Fall, but the exact date is still up in the air. There’s going to be friends and family there, but we’re not going to make it something that gets shown on every news station; it’s not unusual to have paparazzi snap pictures of us, but this is going to be closed to the press. Other than that, we’re still looking at ideas and what month and year we’re going to have it, and that’s all I can say. Wait, no, I lied--I’m pretty sure our cats, Lucky and Chip, are going to be involved in some way, even if it’s just in the staged pictures.

Well this has been an absolutely wonderful interview, and I’ve enjoyed speaking with you a lot-- Well thank you, miss McMillan, the feeling’s mutual.

--but there’s just one more question: there’s no way I can get on the waiting list for the latest GenTech phone right now, is there? (he laughs) Not yet, but give your information to my assistant, including your cell phone provider, and I’m sure we can work something out.

To see the transcript of the full interview, as well as all of the pictures that were taken, go to vogue.com and look up ‘Nikolai Tereschenko’.

[andinewton]

Born To Be King - Avengers Redemption Series - Part Three - Chapter 3

Characters: Loki, Sigyn;  pretty much everyone from the MCU appears at some point!

Pairings: Loki x Sigyn; Bucky x Amelia

Warnings: Smut, canon typical violence, swearing

Word Count: 60k + (complete with ongoing epilogues)

Summary:

He never wanted the throne...

Loki's life seems to be charmed of late. His dead wife has been reborn and has married him once more, they have beautiful twin boys, and they are working and living with The Avengers. The only blot on his otherwise perfect landscape is the constant friction Odin seems to be able to cause with one simple request delivered by Thor. Odin wishes to meet the twins but will not cancel Loki's banishment, allowing him to travel to Asgard with his wife and children. Loki finally caves but has a sense of foreboding about the trip which proves to be all too true...Join Loki, Sigyn and the team as they fight to find one another against all odds and protect their sons from those who would have them as their kings.

Master list

A/N:  Apologies, everyone, I have played a little fast and loose with Strange’s abilities in this story!  Just forgive me and enjoy, okay? Okay.

Chapter 3

Summary:  Enter Stephen Strange...

Stephen Strange sat watching the events in Queens unfold with concern.  More creatures from off world.  It had been bad enough just having Thor and Loki here full time but now Frost Giants and Loki’s wife?  Things were getting out of hand.  He needed to investigate before anything worse happened.  He sighed heavily, knowing this meant a trip to Park Avenue, and potentially running into Stark.  The man was a genius however he had an ego the size of Manhattan, and had been trying to convince Strange to participate in experiments to see how his powers reacted versus Stark’s repulsor technology.  Going to The Avengers Tower willingly might be taken the wrong way, but he didn’t see what choice he had.

He made it his business to keep track of all the sorcery wielders planet-wide and he had thought that Sigyn was a mutant, having attended Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters as Maia Tomson, however it was now apparent that was not the case.  He knew that there was a blog dedicated entirely to the romance of the God of Mischief and his wife but he had believed it embellished and romanticised, of her being reincarnated, aiding his redemption, however it was proving that may not be the case.  Two sorcery talented immortals on his planet was two too many, in his opinion, but there was little he could do thanks to the accord with Odin, however he could ensure he was familiar enough with both Mr and Mrs Mischief that he would know if there was likely to be a problem.

He called the Cape of Levitation to him and slipped the Sling Ring onto his hand.  It was for the greater good, in the long run.

Loki had left the compound for The Tower as soon as he knew Sigyn was finished in the fight and was safe, loading up the twins and insisting Thor go on ahead to set his mind at rest.  Neither had yet mastered driving and an agent was assigned to provide chauffeuring services back into the city.  The appearance of Frost Giants so close to his beloved was worrying, it could not be a coincidence that they set down so close to any one of the three Asgardians on Earth, and while he knew she was born of Midgard, Odin’s declaration of the return of her Godhead, along with providing the Golden Apple of Idunn, had returned her biologically to an Asgardian.  The biochemists, including Dr Banner, were still having a field day with her blood results and she was regularly giving samples for their continued research.  But no, this was highly suspicious, and he would ensure either he or Thor were with her at all times, including for her journey to Asgard.  No one was more important to him than Sigyn and their sons.

Sigyn and Darcy returned to The Tower by subway, ignoring the offer the team made to take them back.  Sigyn wanted her cookie and coffee, her first little semblance of normality without the boys for weeks having been spoilt, and the two of them sat and ignored the clean up crew arriving, and the staff and patrons’ glances.  Sigyn felt annoyed, but she couldn’t figure out why, and Darcy was trying to help her work it out.

‘Is it because our lady date got wrecked?’

‘Not really, because we finished it.’  Sigyn pressed the elevator button to take them up to the secure Avengers floors.

‘Because it was Frost Giants?  Technically your hubby and kids’ people?’

‘Maybe, kind of.’  She wrinkled her nose.  ‘That’s part of it I think, but something else too.’

‘Being hit on by the jerk in the coffee shop?’  Darcy leant against the side of the elevator.

‘No, that was kind of amusing.’  She managed a small smile.  ‘You won’t really post his efforts online, will you?  Because Loki will hunt him down.’

‘Should be flattered his wife is so hot, if you ask me.’  She shrugged.

‘I’ve got it.’  She looked up as she remembered.  ‘Spider-Man.’

‘Spider-Man pissed you off?’

‘Not him himself, no.’  She frowned as she thought about it.  ‘The fact he’s so young.  I’m with Bucky on this one.  He has no right being in a fight.’

‘Oh, it’s the mommy in you.’  Darcy grinned.  ‘He’s got mad skills though.  Have you seen the footage of him?’

‘Yeah, I have, and that makes it worse, knowing that under that suit is probably someone half my age.’

‘I don’t think he’s fourteen.’

‘Still.’  Sigyn kicked the floor with the toe of her sneaker.  ‘Didn’t seem right.  And Tony is encouraging him.’

‘That’s probably not a bad thing.’  Sigyn glared at her but she defended herself.  ‘No, hear me out.  If he’s going to do it anyway at least this way he has Tony’s backing.  He’s not at it alone.’

‘I guess that would be worse.’  She admitted reluctantly.  ‘But if it were Narvi or Vali I’d be worried sick.’

‘If your boys are half as magically talented as their parents you won’t have a choice, they’ll be joining you on the team eventually, but I get the feeling this guy’s folks don’t know what he’s up to.’

‘I feel like I ought to give him detention, or ground him.’

‘Teacher versus mommy.’  Darcy pulled two candies out of her bag and offered one to Sigyn who declined.  ‘Mommy is scarier.’

Sigyn chuckled.  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’  The elevators opened onto the common room.  ‘I’m going to change and go down to the gym, I think.  I need to kick the crap out of some poor, unsuspecting inanimate object.’

‘Between you Asgardians and the super soldier bros it’s a wonder we have any punching bags left.’  Darcy grinned as she backed up towards the corridor leading to their rooms.  ‘But in that gym wear you put the Ass into Asgardian.  You rock it!’

‘Hush!’  She laughed, planning on heading to her own quarters but light on the balcony caught her eye and she had a moment to consider why Heimdall might be opening the bifrost, with them all already on Earth, when she realised that wasn’t what it was at all.  A vertical circle appeared outside the glass, sputtering around the edges, like a sparkler from the Fourth of July, with orange light, before a portal appeared in the centre.  ‘Run, Darce!’  She yelled as a man stepped through the portal wearing a blue tunic and pants with a red cape that billowed around him in a very unearthly manner.  His hair was dark with grey streaks, a goatee not unsimilar to Stark’s curved the lines of his chiselled features, and he strode confidently towards the doors.  ‘FRIDAY, intruder alert!’  She steadied her feet and called to her power as Darcy ran out of view down the corridor, Sigyn hoped to the stairwell to get off the floor.

‘Mrs Loki, I pres…’  Strange didn’t get to finish his sentence as Sigyn grasped him with a extension of her own hand made of power, shoving him back against the nearest wall.  ‘I mean you no harm.’  Strange assured her with a small eye roll that irritated her no end.

‘Yeah, because appearing out of nothing in other people’s homes is normal!’  She approached cautiously.  ‘What do you want?’

‘My name is Stephen Strange.  I know both your husband and brother-in-law.’

‘And I’m just supposed to believe you and let you go?’  She stopped some way from him.  ‘If you don’t start talking…’

‘I know Stark as well, if you have to clear my presence here, he will be able to do it, but I am not a threat.’

Sigyn watched him carefully, as he reasonably tried to explain away why she should let him go. ‘FRIDAY, can you identify him for me?’

‘Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, former neurosurgeon at Metro-General Hospital, now resides on Bleecker Street, New York as Master Sorcerer.’

‘Master Sorcerer?’  She gave him an unimpressed look.  ‘And that’s meant to make me want to release you?’

‘Stark’s AI can also confirm that I don’t mean any harm, that I’m a friend.’  He explained reasonably, his hands by his side meaning he couldn’t work any of his own sorcery to try and get free, not that he would as that may lead her to believe her assumption correct.

‘FRIDAY?’  Sigyn asked for confirmation again.

‘Mr Stark does know Doctor Strange.’  FRIDAY dutifully replied.

More movement from the window drew Sigyn’s attention but she knew she couldn’t hold Strange indefinitely and go up against someone else.  Where the hell was everyone else?

‘Sister, you may release Strange.  He is a friend.’  Thor’s voice came from the balcony even as she began to turn towards it.

She let out a shuddering breath and dropped her magic, but Strange didn’t fall to the floor as she thought he might but floated down elegantly until his feet touched the carpet.  ‘Sorry, can’t be too careful.’  She said simply as Thor approached from one side, Strange from the other.

‘Understood.’  Strange nodded as he reached her.  ‘We haven’t been formally introduced.  Stephen.’  Rather than offer her his hand he touched his chest as an introduction and she bowed her head.

‘Sigyn.’

‘It’s good to finally meet you.’

‘What brings you here, Strange?’  Thor asked.  ‘Other than frightening my sister?’

‘I wasn’t frightened.’  Sigyn argued, backing away from the pair, assuming they had business.  ‘I’ll go get my bags and be on my way to the compound.’

‘Loki is on his way here, even now.’  Thor shook his head.

‘Drama queen.’  She rolled her eyes, knowing she was supposed to have met them at the compound and to spend the night there.  ‘It’s going to be a wasted journey.’

‘Actually,’ Strange interrupted, ‘it’s you I came here to see.’

That made her stop and narrow her eyes at him.  ‘Me?’

He nodded his head, one small bow.  ‘If you can spare me some time?’

She looked at Thor, unsure what to think, but he seemed relaxed and smiled encouragingly at her.  ‘Sure, I guess so.’  She pointed towards the far corridor.  ‘We can use my office.’

‘I will inform Loki of your whereabouts upon his arrival.’  Thor patted her shoulder.

‘Thanks.  Can you tell Darcy it’s safe, wherever she’s hiding?’

‘Of course.  You are in good hands, Sigyn.  Strange.’  Thor nodded his farewell and left on his quest to find their sequestered friend.

Sigyn didn’t take her eyes off the man before her as Thor left.  She was still irritated by the entire incident with the Frost Giants, Spider-man, and her heart rate was only just calming after the sudden appearance of this sorcerer on their doorstep.  Maybe the break to Asgard was what she needed, less stress, even just for a day or, more accurately, a different kind of stress.  A change was as good as a rest, or so they said.

‘Lead the way, Mrs…what do you want me to call you?’  Strange gave her a sideways smile.

‘Sigyn is fine.’  She said as she started towards the office and he fell into step beside her.  ‘And what do I call you?’

‘Stephen is fine.’

‘Fine.’  She repeated and they walked the rest of the way in silence, Sigyn holding her arm out for him to enter the office first then closing the door behind herself.

Strange looked around the room, obviously well used, with a state of the art computer, neat stacks of paperwork, and two framed photos on the desk.  He picked up the nearest one and looked it over.  It was a picture from Loki and Sigyn’s wedding, a candid shot of them both laughing while they held one another.

‘The other one’s of my kids, you want to familiarise yourself with that one too?’

‘Why not?’  He replaced the picture and picked up the other, looking at Loki and two small boys; one red haired, the other ebony, both freckled like their mother.

Sigyn huffed out an irritated breath.  She had just met the man but he seemed to annoy her more than Tony had back in the early days, and that was saying something.  She walked around him, pulling the picture out of his hand and putting it back on the desk before sitting in her office chair.  ‘Take a seat, Stephen.’  She said firmly and he did, still wearing the small smirk he had since she released him.

‘Tell me about yourself.’  He sat back in one of the two chairs opposite her desk and crossed one leg over the other.

‘Me?’  She took a slow breath.  ‘My name is Sigyn, I’m a Sagittarius, and I like long walks on the beach and avenging things.  That what you wanted?’

‘I get a sense of hostility from you.’

‘Your sorcery tell you that?’  She folded her arms and sat back in her chair.  ‘Listen, Doctor Strange, Stephen, when a random sorcerer shows up in my home unannounced I am automatically on the defensive, let alone when I’ve just had to fight off Frost Giants, and my coffee went cold.’

He gave her raised eyebrow, his smile still one of amusement.  ‘I caught you on a bad day.’

‘If you appeared like that any day I’d be on the defensive.  What exactly is it you want from me?’

He sat forward in his chair, his expression becoming more serious.  ‘I am one of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, and it is our job to watch for any potential magical threats.’

‘And you consider me a threat?’  There was an edge of laughter in her voice as she shook her head.  ‘I am an Avenger, I take my responsibilities very seriously, and there are people out there who are a lot more powerful than I am.’

‘But they're human.’  He stated.

She pursed her lips as she realised just what he believed the issue to be.  ‘So am I.’

‘But your power is not.’

‘You want a DNA test?  Or to see my parents’ birth certificates?  I’m not a threat.’

‘I said potential threats.’

She sighed heavily.  This was getting them nowhere.  She drummed her fingers on the back of the opposite hand as she looked at him, still regarding her with a combination of suspicion and amusement.  ‘Okay, let’s start over.  What do you need from me?  What can I do to make you realise you don’t need to worry about me?’

He sat back again, as though the offer relaxed him.  ‘I want to understand where you came from and how you came to be here, under the radar for so long.  I’ve seen the blogs and vines online, the story of your romance with the God of Mischief is like something out of a romance novel.  I want to know how much of that is true.’

‘All of it.’

‘Really?’  He said doubtfully.

‘Really really.  You might think it’s farfetched but it’s true.  I am the reincarnation of Loki’s dead wife, Sigyn.  I was born Maia Tomson, to human parents.  I spent my childhood having dreams of my past life, not knowing that was what it was, then I hit puberty and powers developed.  I couldn’t control them and I ended up at a special school.’

‘Xavier’s?’  He clarified, as that had been left out of the details, keeping the school’s true nature a secret.

‘Exactly.  After high school I went on to college and studied to become a teacher and counsellor, then took a job doing just that at Xavier’s.  From there I was offered the position as Loki’s guide.’

‘And the rest, as they say, is history.’  He was very familiar with their story from that point on, as documented by one D Lewis.  ‘How do your powers work?’

‘Loki says it always felt like Asgardian sorcery, and the more familiar I became with my past life memories the more I recognised it, the more I was able to connect to it.  Loki taught me the control I had always lacked.’

‘What about your mind?  You say you’re familiar with your past life memories?’

She nodded.  This was always the part that confused people, or one of the parts.  ‘I remember both sets, which is weird, because I remember two completely different childhoods in very different environments.  I remember turning sixteen twice.  I remember two sets of schooling, I married Loki twice and, maybe worst of all, I remember dying.’

‘You remember that?’  He asked in surprise.

‘In more detail than I would wish on anyone.’  She said quietly, her eyes on the desk yet unfocused.  ‘Some nights I dream about it and when I wake up I can’t breathe.  I’m in so much pain, here.’  She pointed just below her sternum and when he glanced back up at her face her eyes were haunted, deeply hurt by what she was telling him.  ‘It’s like I’m choking on my own blood, I can’t get any air in, and all I can do is reach out for Loki, and he helps me through it, he calms me down, and he holds me while I cry.’  She swallowed heavily, pressed her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as though trying to compose herself, and when she spoke again her hushed voice was tight and emotional.  ‘I’ve never told anyone that.’

‘Then I’m honoured.’  He realised that this was obviously a touchy subject and decided to try and steer away from something that was so painful.  ‘What else?’

She looked up at him.  ‘That’s it.  That’s all there is to tell.’

He gave her raised eyebrows as though he doubted that was true.  ‘Is there nothing else?  No biological evidence of what you are?  Asgardian or human or mutant?’

‘My blood tests are an enigma.’  She explained.  ‘Physiologically I am Asgardian, legally I am human.’

‘Not a mutant?’

‘The mutant registration act was repealed a good many years ago.  It’s not necessary to declare that.’  She gave a small smile.  This was a topic she knew the answers to without it making her brain and heart hurt.

‘But you are an immortal sorcery user.’

‘If that’s how you want to define me, sure.’  She shrugged.  ‘I don’t want to cause problems, Doctor Strange, I just want to help through The Avengers when I can, and live happily ever after with Loki and our boys.  I know the happily ever after is a fairy tale but my entire life seems to have come straight out of a fantasy novel in recent years, so why not?’

He stroked his goatee as he looked at her.  She was very petite, freckled and pretty with very unnaturally red hair, and he wouldn't have even considered her a magick user in her simple jeans and T combo, but he knew looks could be deceptive.  ‘Would you be willing to give me a demonstration of your power?

‘What did you have in mind?’  She asked suspiciously.  While her powers were now an innate part of her it wasn’t something she took lightly.

‘Anything.  Just a small sample of what you can do.  It doesn't have to be flashy.’

‘Okay.’  She nodded slowly and glanced around her desk, her eyes falling on her pot of pens.  She selected one mentally and concentrated, levitating it until it hung in the air between them.  ‘Enough or do you want something else?’  She asked, not taking her eyes from it.

‘That’s quite alright.’  He reached up and took the pen out of the air so she dropped her power.  From just that small demonstration he had got a feel for what her power felt like and how it worked.  She was a sorceress, of that there was no doubt, no matter where she actually came from.  ‘Thank you for your time, Sigyn.  It was very nice to meet you.’  He said, getting to his feet as he put the pen on the desk, and she frowned.

‘That’s really it?’

‘That’s all I needed to know.  I am sure we will cross paths again, hopefully on the same side.’  And he walked out the door, leaving her more confused than she had been.

Chapter 4

[elviscommunications]

Five Approaches to Original Thinking

At Elvis, we’re an agency that believes you can’t afford to be ordinary. If you want people to behave differently, you have to do something different yourself. So seeing Adam Grant’s keynote at this year’s SXSW was a must for us. He’s a New York Times writer on work and psychology and author of Originals: How Non-Conformists Rule the World. In this piece, we’ve summarised five key insights from that talk, and considered how they can be applied to driving original thinking in creative companies like ours.

1. Originals avoid false negatives

Having an idea is easy, but knowing what to do with it next is more difficult. True innovation is difficult to sell-in, even to yourself, because your intuition is based on your experience of what’s worked before, so you’re more likely to reject new thinking. Running your idea past someone who isn’t involved (ideally someone who doesn’t even work with you) means they’ll look at it with fresh eyes and judge it more objectively.

Grant had advice on how to judge ideas: rank all your ideas based on your gut feel. The best one is usually not the one you’ve ranked first, because you are too emotionally invested in it. It’s more likely to be the one that you ranked second or third, an idea that has a few flaws that you are willing to work on, because it is a more rational decision than your favourite.

2. Originals make the unfamiliar feel familiar

Once you’re confident your idea is a good one, how do you convince others of it? Try this exercise – think of a song in your head, then clap the tune and get someone to try and guess what it is. To you, it always sounds like an easy task because you have the tune of the song in your head. But to the person you’re clapping at, it’s nigh on impossible to decipher. This exercise illustrates how much easier we think ideas are to get than they actually are.

Making something unfamiliar feel familiar makes it an easier sell. One way to do this is by building a bridge with an adjacent domain. For instance, if you were selling in the plot of ‘The Lion King’, you could describe it as ‘Bambi in Africa with Lions’. But because this only borrows from the domain of other Disney films, it feels less compelling than describing it as ‘Hamlet with Lions’. Borrowing from the worlds of literature and theatre are close enough to the world of Disney movies to explain the concept in a way that feels straightforward, and yet far enough away to make The Lion King sound progressive and compelling.

3. Originals admit their weaknesses

Saying ‘Here are five reasons not to buy this idea’ might sound gimmicky, but there’s psychological reasoning behind it. In an experiment, two groups of people were asked to list the bad things about Tony Blair. Group one was asked to list two things, and group two was asked to list five things. Then the two groups rated how they felt about Tony Blair. The group that had to list five things felt much more positively towards him than those that listed two. This is because for most people, it was easy to list two bad things. But thinking of five is more difficult. And if you find it difficult to list just five things, he can’t be that bad, right?! If you lay out your limitations, it’s more difficult for others to think up any more. So not only do you appear to have thought through the idea thoroughly, others think it’s stronger.

4. Originals hire differently

Some companies hire purely based on skills, some hire ‘stars’. Start-ups often hire people based on cultural fit. And this is normally a very successful strategy, but only to a point. If a business hires based on cultural fit after IPO, this slows growth. And if you then drastically change your hiring approach, this slows growth even more. Once a company reaches a certain stage in development, cultural fit equates to groupthink, which stifles disruptive, growth-driving innovation.

Rather than hiring for cultural fit, it’s more effective to hire for cultural contribution. Look at what’s missing from your company culture and consider how new hires can enrich the existing culture. One great interview question to ask to help assess this is ‘how would you improve our interview process’ – this will give you a good idea of whether a candidate is willing to challenge the status quo and contribute to the company.

5. Originals fight Groupthink

Cognitive entrenchment is when you internalise the assumptions of your domain. And it’s very difficult to get out of that trench! But there are some ways that you can fight ‘groupthink’. From a company culture and process perspective, giving people a simple, anonymous method of logging workplace problems or suggestions enables people to feel safer when challenging the status quo. Or, play ‘kill the company’ – getting people to spend time thinking about how they would kill the company highlights problems and opportunities -  people are usually more creative on the offence than the defence, and again, they feel like they are in a safe space to speak up.

Similarly, people may have assumptions of you when you’re selling in an idea. If a 25 year old is put in front of a group of middle aged managers in order to deliver training, reeling off their experience at the beginning of the session is not going to set them up well. But starting with ‘what on earth could a 25 year old teach you’ or ‘I would love your advice on how to make this work’ not only flatters the audience, but more importantly forces perspective-taking, so the managers walk in the 25 year old’s shoes – a simple trick to get people out of their cognitive entrenchment.

For me, these five simple points can help to enable more original thinking, both on an individual day to day level but also from a broader, company-wide perspective. And for anyone that wants to know more, I would highly recommend checking out Adam Grant’s work, or getting in touch with us at Elvis  – we’d love to discuss it further!