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blackleatherjacketz · 11 months

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Forbidden Fruit: Chapter 5

Alistair x Female Reader

Summary: Jack saves you from a vicious vampire attack and you discover you might be more entangled than you thought.

This Chapter: Alistair pleads his case to you over a candlelit dinner.

Warnings: NSFW, Mature Content, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Hair Pulling, Kissing, Bondage, Mentions of Sex and Cunnilingus, Kidnapping, Coercion, Jealousy, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Alcohol, Vampirism

Word Count: 2.4k+

Tags: @skittle479 @acutecupidity @bullet-prooflove @sadndnboii-reads @avatarofseshat

Read the rest of the story HERE!

Time seems to stand still as street lamps blur into traffic lights, whizzing by in a dull electric hum as you try your best to memorize the route your captor is taking you down. The other armed men in the car refuse to look at you or answer any of your questions as they drive you down a confusing combination of streets and alleyways until they reach their final destination. An old Italian restaurant on the outskirts of town stands alone in the middle of a parking lot, its weathered exterior falling apart in decrepit disarray as the black SUV comes to a complete stop.

One of the men rips off your rosary before forcing you out onto the pavement, the barrel of his gun pressing cold between your shoulder blades as you step over potholes and tufts of grass to get closer to the building. You can only imagine what lay ahead, your mind racing through every horrific scenario possible as you keep your eyes peeled for any shards of glass that might pierce your bare feet. You try your best to control your breathing, already jumping to the worst case scenario of Jack being dead or bleeding inside as the building seems to grow in height as you approach it. Only once you walk through those doors, you don’t find him tied to a chair or hanging from a meat hook in the freezer like you had feared. Instead all you find is Alistair, clean and confident as the first day you’d met him, dressed to the nines.

“You almost got away from me there, little lamb,” he breaks the deafening silence, proudly sitting at the head of a table in the middle of the deserted restaurant. It’s decorated with candles of varying length, each of their flames reaching toward the ceiling as their golden white hue reflects off his iridescent skin. His eyes remain cold and dark, hungrily scouring over you as the man who brought you here obediently steps away, holstering his weapon with a wave of Alistair’s hand. “Gave me quite the scare.”

“Where’s Jack?” You ask, noticing the other large men guarding every exit of the desolate dining room. You’re just now beginning to fully realize that you’re in way over your head; the news of your relationship with Jack and his Lycan nature paling in comparison to the stakes you’re being presented with at this very moment.

“Where’s Jack?” He repeats mockingly, picking up the bottle of wine in front of him and pouring it into the empty glass closest to you. “You know, you look a little paler than usual. You must be famished from all that running around you’ve been doing behind my back, and now all you can ask me is ‘where’s Jack’?” He fills the cup up to the brim, the scarlet liquid spilling over the sides and racing down the stem before he sets the bottle back down beside him. “You’re beginning to sound ungrateful.” His eyes lock onto yours with that last word, pulling you in like they had so many times before. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No.” You mutter as you weigh the pros and cons of stalling, running, or putting up any semblance of a fight before realizing that it would be all in vain. You know now that you wouldn’t make it ten steps to the door without a bullet in your back or his teeth in your neck, so you decide that your best bet is to play along. “We wouldn’t.”

“Good!” He exclaims, pushing the glass closer to you with a grin. “Now that we’re on the same page, why don’t you have a drink with me and maybe we can talk about Jack after you’ve eaten.”

You sit down hesitantly at his table, scooting your chair close enough to see the light blue veins highlighted by the flickering flames of the candles as they slither their way up his face and hands. More vibrant than you remember from before, they almost seem to glow in this hazy dreamlike ambiance as he nods toward your plate, urging you again to partake.

You recognize this meal from the night before, this exact table setting, now that you think about it. It’s almost as if he had replicated it piece by piece from the smallest details of the brand of wine to the very type of meats, fruits and cheeses stacked onto your plate. You can only speculate that he must want you to consume these specific things in order for their flavors to start coursing through your veins by the time he eventually drinks from you again.

Your last meal.

“To us,” he toasts with a raise of his own glass, the pewter goblet disguising its contents as he patiently waits for you to follow suit. He pauses as you reluctantly pick up your flute, watching the remnants of the fermented drink drip down your fingers and wrist as you carefully bring it up to his level.

“To us,” you repeat, your dry lips trembling with your expanding knowledge of him before the Merlot splashes over your tongue and down your throat.

“How does it taste?” His elbows practically creak against the old wood beneath the velvet tablecloth as his lips slowly part, mirroring yours to mimic the act of your consumption.

“Good,” you admit, taking another sip before setting the glass down as it stains a purple ring onto your napkin. If you’re going to be stuck here in this situation, you might as well take in a little liquid courage in the process.

“I would certainly hope so,” his smile widens as he leans in even closer to you, stirring up your complicated attraction to him. “I know how much you like it.”

“I want to say thank you,” you pause, taking yet another sip of the dry wine as it warms your body from the inside out, tingling its way into your extremities.

You can feel your desire for him grow with each subsequent drink you take, his sharp features more pleasing to the eye as they remind you of what brought you into his bedroom to begin with. It would be easy enough to fall under his spell again, and nearly impossible for you to tell if you haven’t already been entranced once he opened his mouth, but you force yourself to stay on track.

“But why did you bring me here? Why are you doing all of this?” Your questions are cut short as the space between you begins to shrink, your heart racing as he bends forward across the tabletop.

“Did our time together mean nothing to you?” His eyes dart over your face and neck, lingering on your pulse for a minute before he looks back into your eyes. “The feelings we shared, the breakthroughs we had?” His voice becomes shaky as his cold, slender fingers brush over your knuckles. “I know it meant something to me.”

The dense fog that surrounded your recent memories finally lifts as soon as he touches you, completely clearing the way for you to look back on them with ‘sober’ objectivity. Images of his mouth between your thighs, your hands in his hair and his name on your lips start piecing the whole picture back together into one deviantly cognizant mosaic. You recall every sensation he’d put you through, a tantalizing mixture of pleasure, patience and pain; leather and chains holding you back as you allowed him access to the most elusive parts of you. Ecstasy beyond your wildest dreams had ripped its way through your core, forcing your arms and legs to pull on the elaborate restraints tying you down, all under seemingly safe and voluntary conditions.

You look up at him from across your macabre candlelit dinner, these carnal truths visibly floating to the very top of your consciousness like algae on the surface, clearing the murky waters of your mind as he continues to touch you.

“There it is.” He leans back in his chair, smirking victoriously as he removes his hand from yours. “You know, from the very first second I saw you, I knew exactly what I wanted from you.” He stands up, casually waltzing in a circle around the table before stopping just behind you. “And you knew exactly what you needed from me.” He places his hands onto your shoulders, taking his time to massage your aching muscles before bending down to whisper into your ear. “What you deserved.”

“And what is that?” It takes everything you have not to turn your head, not to give in to the spine tingling sensation his lips feather into your skin.

“Freedom,” he answers, weaving his fingers up into your hairline. “From all the shame and fear that surrounds your generation’s archaic ideals of pleasure.” He grabs onto your locks, tugging downward so your chin juts toward the ceiling as he practically kisses his next words into the delicate skin of your jawline. “Freedom from abandonment and doubt, from the everyday monotony of this pathetic mortal realm.”

“Then why did you make me forget?” You manage to ask even though your breath stifles, his tightening grip on you bringing your body to very the brink of excitement.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s all coming back to you by now.” He smooths his other hand loosely around your neck, his thumb brushing over your bite mark in an almost loving manner.

“Not about us.” You swallow against his palm as it encases your throat, your body’s arousal response battling against its own fight or flight instinct. “Why did you make me forget about Jack?”

He immediately lets go of your hair at the mention of his name, quickly pulling away from you. “You don’t need my help forgetting about someone who’s hardly ever there in the first place, now do you?” He straightens his posture, slowly walking across the room toward the closest boarded up window. “Someone who can easily let weeks go by without hearing your voice, seeing your face, or touching your skin? Without so much as a word exchanged between you two? Where do you think your beloved Jack is right now, huh? Running away, again?”

“He said that he called me, that he texted, that he tried to tell me where he was, but he…”

“And you believed him?!” He cuts you off, his tone suddenly sharp and hectic as madness paints the entire width of his eyes completely black. The veins in his face seem to fill with blood, a deep purple against his pallid complexion before receding again back to their usual azure tone. “I would never do that to you!” He advances on you again, pointing toward his own chest to further prove the weight of his words as he bares his teeth. “I would never abandon or forget you, never let your needs go unmet while your mind races to wonder where I could be or what I could be doing.”

You stare at him, silent, as the seesaw of fear and attraction he always manages to balance on nearly tips the scales into sheer terror. He’s never shown you this side of him before, at least not that you can recall, his demeanor always practiced into a feigned display of being cool, calm and collected even in your fits of passion. You wonder how much of your time together was performative, how much work he’d put into becoming what he thought you wanted.

“No matter,” he takes a moment to calm himself down, bringing the whites back into the rims of his eyes. “I can see that you’re going to make this more difficult than necessary.” He pauses and walks back over to you, taking the arms of your chair and turning you to face him before getting onto his knees. “Do you really think someone like him can give you what you want?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, his hands on your knees barely keeping them still as they shake in anticipation of whatever torrid emotion might strike him next.

“Eternal devotion.” He offers, tears miraculously filling in his eyes as his chin begins to quiver. “Can you even imagine it my love? An eternity together…” He cups your cheek as he studies your features, his concoction of sorrow and anger pooling at the bottom of his eyelids until they start to stream down his face. “Someone like Jack can’t even give you a full week of his time, but I can give you so much more than that. I can protect and provide for you until the end of time, give you anything you could ever want. I would steal for you, lie for you… kill for you, my darling.”

Even though he addresses you directly as he caresses your face, he seems to be looking past you somehow. His desperate gaze gives you the hollow, sinking feeling that he’s merely using you as nothing more than a vessel, as if he’s almost looking right through you. As impossible as it is to predict what he’s capable of in this state, you do what you’ve always done in dangerous situations: you fawn.

“Okay,” you nod, agreeing to whatever plan he has set up for you while still holding out hope that Jack is on his way.

“Okay?” He smiles, nearly pinching your cheek as the tears drip off his face and splash onto your lap. “I’m so happy to hear you say that,” his tone changes again, the sadness in his expression disappearing as soon as it had come on. “Now eat up, you’re going to need your strength.”

#David Dastmalchian #Alistair #Werewolf By Night #Jack Russell #gael garcia bernal #Jack Russell x reader #Jack Russell Imagine #Werewolf By Night Fan Fiction #Marvel #Horror #david dastmalchian fan ficiton #david dastmalchian x reader #vampires #vampire

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prince-mrj · 1 year

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Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

#movies #marvel #doctor strange #science ficiton

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braincakewashere · 11 months

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WHO WE ARE! A COOL DOC

to many blocks but its a google doc see the small url under it. it cant give you viruses. its just alot. we focus on the representation of tokesn and the margilized from fantasy epics and kids stories to gothic horror about only white people to help you relate to the black populations using metephors adn actual representation in order to help the marginilized in some manner. braincake is the slogan of adam snowflake which is a brand of a public domain native american activist. its writing, its audio dramas, its books, its comics, and its everything between from podcasts to video games which like for people to be able to see themselves, so enjoy the doc with links to our work we even have a few open casting calls but we are a fantasy organization that makes profit, so please understand that we rebrand from time to time protgoanist publications and marvel which ended up being taken to muse improv to braincake and lango. we do religious work, fantasy work, mental health work, science and reason and logical you know stuff, evolutatinary crytpids history lessons on misofmrations as conspiracies as the literal genre concpiarcies and we dont control everything on this. some of it is just actual, lore of native and irish and scottish and merlin and whales and pochautnus of some of it is actual ficiton like fairytale, high and we do sponsor inside artsit through promotion as influncers. not everything is by us but just our inspiration. /gen /awakrd /asp /aspergers -aspyyin braincake internship of a sole properitership as just me hanging with my homie my pal my firend on a sceudled post since i gots memory issues.

#casting call #arg #creepypasta #conspiracy #conspiracy theory #braincake #disney #diongoespew #hbo #cw #ficitonpress #quotev

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8bitscarlet · 3 years

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The Sunrise Tells the Story

Summary: Waking from a one night stand, you try to put the pieces together.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff (mention of smoking & alcohol)

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

A/N: Avoiding the angst story becuase I have no idea if there should be a happy ending or a not so happy ending. Either way, Happy Reading!

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs,comments and likes are always appreciated! *

_______________________

Cold sheets stick to your sweating body as you rouse out of your deep sleep. As you glance around with a throbbing headache, the sunrise through the blinds lays the scene. Slipping into shorts and a shirt, it looked like a tornado had come crashing into your room. Shoes were tossed to either corner of the room, sheets jumbled amongst your bed - the evidence of the night was everywhere you looked.

You walk out of your room and into the small living room of your apartment. Gently, you pick up a glass of red wine left on the coffee table, a ring of condensation staining the wood underneath it. Clenching your brow, you pluck out a half smoked cigarette that swims in the rosy liquid. You peer at the staining of red lips on the damp paper. Last night, the smoke had filled your lungs until you only breathed in her. The sweet and arresting smell of lavender and fig assaulted your brain still, leaving you craving for more.

A record in the corner still spins, static filling the quiet area. Carefully picking up the needle, you slide your hand across the palm tree lined painting at the center of the record. A small smile fills your face, Rumours. You could still hear the plucking guitar strings as she hummed in your ear. Cool fingers running through your hair as she drew closer and closer. Those green eyes that stared so deeply into yours made you drunker than the alcohol.

Glancing towards your ticking clock, it was nearly seven in the morning. Just five hours ago, you both were stumbling through those doors like strangers do after drinking. The only witness of that night was the moon that shined through your curtains.

Now you stand here, a glass of half drunk red wine in your hand and the memory of her lips on yours. Gliding your finger across your lips, you can still almost taste the cinnamon of the shots you shared. With a sigh, you place the glass next to an unread book on your counter.

Her blue dress is slung next to it, wrinkled and full with the memories of the night. Taking the cold fabric in your hands, you play with the bent corner of the book. You know you weren’t here alone last night. It's completely obvious. Yet you woke to an empty bed and an empty apartment.

Would she be back for this?

You wonder as you glance down at the dress, running your thumb across the silky fabric. Or her heels that still laid amongst your clothes in your room. If she came back, what would this be?

A one night stand? A few words on a page? Lips had never haunted yours the way hers do.

Or could it be chapters in a book? Sharing glasses of wine in front of a fire, with a record spinning in the background. The moon could be the only witness of your nights for time to come. The cold fingers that gripped you closer last night would hold onto you in blissful happiness. Pressing the fabric to your nose, you breathe in deeply. That tantalizing smell of lavender would fill your senses until the end of your days. Wherever this was going, you only wanted her to stay. Just for her to stay past the sunrise.

The front door opens and you pick your head up, holding the dress softly between your fingers. You grin.

In front of you stands the final piece of the puzzle of the mess that lays all around. She doesn’t wear the midnight blue dress you hold in your hands, but strolls in practically swimming in your hoodie and shorts. Her flowing auburn hair that brushed against you in the dark is now pinned out of her face. And that red lipstick she used to mark your skin is wiped away with the night.

“Hi,” You whisper, putting down her dress on the couch.

She smiles, “Hi... This is - this is weird isn’t it?”

She gestures to the door, a woman you just met waltzing in like she’s lived here for years. When she looks at you with those twinkling green eyes, it almost feels like she has. With a shake of your head, you walk towards her.

“Not at all,” You grin, wrapping your arms around her waist, “Wanda.”

Wanda smiles, dropping the bags of grocery bags she held, “You weren’t as drunk as I thought… Y/N.”

Pressing your lips against hers, you remember kissing those lips all night in your sweet surrender together. The way you kissed, it must’ve made the stars of the night blush from the passion. Her fingers climb up your back, pulling you closer into her as you swipe your tongue against her lips. The warmth in your chest grows when she sighs into your lips as you rest your foreheads together. Slipping from your hands and walking with the bags to the kitchen, your eyes follow her. Wanda peers back at you with a grin,

“You had nothing for breakfast.” Unloading the contents on the counter, she raises her brows, “And that’s the most important meal of the day.”

Sitting at the counter, you watch her crack eggs into a bowl. Her delicate fingers never letting a piece of shell drop.

“I suppose I owe you lunch, then.”

Glancing up at you with a grin, she gives you a shrug, “Hopefully lunch in town. I saw that bologna in your fridge,” Wanda points a spatula at you, “You are not feeding me that.”

You smile, “We’ll go into town. I’ll even let you order the lobster.”

She raises her brows, giving you a playful look as she starts to warm the griddle. Leaning forward on her tiptoes, she presses a small peck on your nose.

“You always treat your one night stands to lobster?”

You lean back into the chair, popping your back as you groan, “Only when I want them to be two night stands.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, flicking pancake batter towards you. Laughing at how it splatters all over you, you bound out of the chair and wrap your arms around her. Rubbing the wet batter on your face all over her giggling face. Holding her in your arms, you were confident in knowing this story that was told by the rising sun would become a novel together.

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda imagine #wanda x you #wanda mcu #marvel fan ficiton #wanda x y/n

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smol-bean-buchanan · 3 years

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ur telling me natasha and gamora died for some freakin paper weights ????? marvel what the heck :/

marvel, probably (aka most definitely):

#WHY ARE YOU TESTING ME FEIGE #I DIDNT CRY IN PUBLIC OVER FICITONAL DEATHS FOR THE STONES TO BE PAPERWEIGHTS FEIGE #marvel #mcu #marvel studios #loki #loki series #natasha romanoff #gamora

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wienerbarnes · 4 years

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So Good at Being in Trouble

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,147

Warnings: kissy kissy stuff, b00bie stuff, nothing TOO explicit, but I'll give it a lil 18+ just in case

A/N: a good one I wrote before writing like two more one shots with angst LOL (just to clarify though, I always end happy, no matter how much angst ok so dw)

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

It’s 5:32 in the morning when Bucky kisses you, sweet, wet lips press against yours, warm from sleep throughout the night and content with having your lips being the first thing they touch this early morning.

The two of you don’t really have… a label. You hate that; like you’re fruit that’s missing a barcode sticker. You two have a lot of sleepovers, where a lot of kisses are shared, as well as cuddles and laughs and whatever other sweet things the two of you desire.

Nobody knows. It was the one thing you asked of Bucky, when he asked when he could take you out on a date or dance with you around the tower, etcetera.

“I’m, like, really fucked up, Bucky. I don’t even think I’ve ever had a good experience with a man, let alone a full relationship. I - I don’t really know what I’m doing, all I know is that I trust you, and you’re my best friend, and I like kissing you… a lot.”

So that’s where the two of you remain. No explicit labels, though Bucky expressed that he was exclusive to you, the whole you’re gonna be the only one for me, no matter if people know or not spiel. Just you and Bucky. That’s label enough for you.

You’ve gained a little more confidence around him, initiating a lot of the kisses between you two since then. Except for this morning, when he woke you up with kisses trailing up your neck and behind your ear, before they finally reached their destination of your soft lips.

Bucky leans on his forearms and slips more comfortably on top of your body, your knees bent up near his shoulders as he rests in between your legs. Your hands run up and through his hair and he softly groans against your mouth; you slip your tongue in as the opportunity presents itself.

Wet, spit-slicked tongues slide together as the two of you make out in your bed, the tower beginning to awaken as some of the early risers begin their days, but you and Bucky couldn’t be bothered.

His hand slips down to caress the thigh against his body; he doesn’t look but he imagines the way your tattooed leg looks wrapped around his waist, toes curled inside your orange socks. Your leg is bare and you’re in your underwear, purple with black hearts and spiderwebs around the front and, again, he doesn’t look, but he’s aware of the two cartoon spiders printed on the ass of your cotton underwear.

He wants to laugh at the thought, but he can’t bring himself to do so when your tongue is so hot against his and your quiet whimpers flow into his mouth. His concentration is focused on the way you have one hand curled in his hair and the other gripping the back of the neck of his t-shirt. Your back arches and your chest is pressed against his as his mouth suckles on your tongue before releasing and diving right back into kissing you.

A badly timed phone call - and how unfortunately timed it is - interrupts the two of you as Bucky reluctantly pulls away, licking his lips to savor the taste of you. He rolls on his back to reach for his ringing phone on the nightstand and glances at the caller ID - Big Bird - before tapping the green circle and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Barnes,” He answers as he stares up at you, now that you’ve straddled his lap, his hands raising to rest on your hips, his fingers tightening where they sit as you stare down at him with a hungry look in your eyes. And boy are you starving.

You’ll be shocked if Bucky can’t feel how wet you are through your underwear. It makes you a little nervous, mostly because he’s also in his underwear, so there’s not too many layers left between you two. And from what you can feel, the serum has done him very good and you are very lucky. I think the last time I was this wet was when Sam made me swim laps last week.

“Hey, man. I’m not sure if this is really important -” You lean your head down and take Bucky’s ear lobe into your mouth, tongue warm and wet on his skin as goosebumps erupt down his neck. You hear Bucky suck in a breath at the feeling of your teeth dragging against his lobe.

“Wilson, this better be the most important phone call you’ve ever made in your life.” Bucky replies, voice coming out breathy as your lips move lower down his neck, sucking hard and soft, licking, kissing, even leaving little bites in your wake.

“There’s this case that came up… it’s not really being handed to us because Sharon didn’t think it was anything, she sent it off to the FBI, but I don’t know, it just feels like there could be something there. I was thinking you and I could go check it out, make a call when we see the scene and hear what’s going on,” Sam rambles on.

Bucky’s not listening, though. Around ‘FBI’ you sat up, hips pressing hard against his, and lifted your hands from his chest to grab the bottom of your oversized shirt and lift it up and over your head, exposing your bare chest to the soldier beneath you. Bucky learned three things in that moment: one, that you don’t sleep with a bra on; two, that you, at some point, got your nipples pierced; and three, that Sam’s voice is quite possibly the worst thing he could be hearing right now.

His jaw is open as Sam asks him if he can be at the tower in an hour to discuss the case before training with you later that morning. He watches as you bring his hand from your hip up to cup one of your breasts, a playful smile on your face and you just look like you’re asking for trouble.

“Might need to make it an hour and a half, Sam. You know, in case I catch morning traffic from my place to the tower.” His fingers moved a tad higher to pinch your nipple, his large hand groping your breast with a gentle roughness, and your smile disappears, moving to bite on your bottom lip instead, eyes never moving from his.

Bucky hangs up as soon as he can and quickly flips you over back onto your back, intertwining his fingers with yours and dragging them up above your head. He attaches his lips to your neck, kissing over the tattoo that lies there and makes his way lower and lower, until his lips meet the tiny metal bar pierced in your skin.

Through generous exploration, Bucky also learns that your moans are the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

#bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes fan fiction #marvel #marvel fan ficiton #hehehe

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boreddcposts · 4 years

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Concept: The villain keeps having their secret lair destroyed by the hero, and they keep having to make new ones. After the hero crashes into and destroys their fifth lair in the past three months, the villain bursts into tears.

“Do you know how much effort I put into these lairs!? They’re so expensive! I’ve had to take out so many loans to repair all the damage you’ve caused! I’m in so much debt!” the villain cries as they mourn the roof currently crumbling.

“Oh, shit. Uh, sorry. Ha, I guess I thought you guys like... magically conjured these things? Or something? Sorry, I’ll just...” the hero continues to repair the damage done by them, then promises the villain that fights will stay outside from now on.

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theartone · 4 years

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For (k)inktober day 3, voyeurism/exhibitionism I present chapter 1 of:

The Dead Ringer Ax

Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26767966/chapters/65298445

#tony stark/stephen strange #ironstrange #clone sex #fanfic #marvel fan ficiton #rated e #voyerurism #exhibition #kinktober #ok #so heres the deal #i wrote like seven chapters of plot #and it was all basically useless #so i stole the smut and a few plot points #so this is a bit weird #crack and smut #enjoy!

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h-o-l-l-i · 5 years

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Face Mask

Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 750

Warnings: Language, SEVERE FLUFF

Author’s Note: Requests are OPEN! Let me know if you would like to be added to any of my tag lists!

The click of the lock alerted your attention to your front door, your eyes darted to your microwave noting the time it read on the screen, the door screeched open and you silently slid over the couch.

You military crawled over to your kitchen as you heard heavy footsteps entering your living room, stopping for a second allowing the intruder time to let out a hefty sigh before knowingly walking towards your bedroom. You kneeled behind your counter and attempted to open the drawer quietly, the drawer had other motives; the wood stuck and it squeaked, the man’s body turned sharply, “Fuck.” You whispered under your breath, slouching down farther behind your island.

Your mind raced as you mentally analyzed your apartment for any hidden weapons that you had strategically scattered around your home. Your chest tightened and you straightened out, the footsteps growing closer and closer towards where you were shielded. You fished your fingers through the handle and the door opened, this time completely silent. Your hand instantly found the hard handle of a large metal pan; you gripped it tightly to your adrenaline filled body, “Come on your mother-fu—” you shot up to your feet quickly and hit the man hard over the head. He yelped and brought his large arm up to shield himself from the next blow. You wound up again but stopped, “Jesus, Frank! What the fuck!” You huffed and tossed the pan down on your butcher block island, “You scared the shit out of me!” He slipped his hood down off of his head, “Shit, Frank.” You gasped, taking in his heavily bruised face.

“A frying pan,” his dark brown eyes laid upon your weapon of choice, “really, Y/N?” He laughed. You gave him an irritated look and motioned to your barstool chairs, signaling him to sit-down. “It’s not that bad.” His head followed your movements over and into your bathroom. “Really, Y/N.” He shouted lightly when he heard you rummaging through your cabinets in your bathroom, the shadows on the floor moving methodically on the floor from the light.

“You say that every time, Francis.” You scolded, he smiled knowing that you rolled your eyes to yourself as you spoke. You reemerged from the tiny bathroom with a small box, “Luckily though,” you paused, pulling out the stool next to him and took a seat, “It doesn’t look, in fact, that bad.” You mocked his voice.

“I don’t sound like that.” He chuckled to himself, his eyebrows furrowing down at the box, “What’s in there?”

“Relax Frank,” you laughed and opened the box, he leaned in curiously, “Nothing in here is going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, I know!” He laughed and reached over to the pan still on your island, “What in the hell was this supposed to do to me?” He tamed his smile and tried to be serious, “Huh? What about your guns, Y/N?”

“You came home early, and I went for that one,” you pointed, “in the drawer that you ‘fixed’ for me.” You said with emphasis on the word fixed.

“I did fix it! It works doesn’t it?!” He defended himself and laughed with you. He stopped talking abruptly when his face was cold all of a sudden, “What the hell is that?” He wrinkled his nose.

“It’s a face mask.” You replied back to him, your tongue sticking out slightly as you focused on spreading it evenly on his face. “Stop moving.”

“It tickles.” He said, his eyes admired you intently, his heart fluttered in his chest.

“You’ll get over it; you’re almost done anyway.” You snickered back to him. “I was going to do this on my own while I waited for you to come back tonight but since you’re here…” you smiled admiring his unamused face that you just finished coating with the nourishing mask and pulled out a mirror and began to do your own face.

He laughed and his eyes softened watching you, “You’re lucky, you’re the only person who could ever get away with doing this to me. You know that, Y/N?” He smiled.

You paused and turned your face to look at his, “It’s because you love me.” You winked and resumed your application.

His hand reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear, “You’re damn right I do.”

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queen-of-the-avengers · 5 years

Text

Complete and Utterly Fucked

Characters: Clint Barton x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark, Jarvis

Word Count: 2,057

Warnings: angst, minor fluff

Summary: There has always been a target over your head since the world knew you were a Stark. You didn’t know just how dangerous it could be when you went on a grocery shopping trip alone and never returned.

Squared Filled: Criminal AU // Locked in a Trunk

Author’s Note: I know you guys have requests and I promise to get to them. I have two bingos I need to finish before the deadline in Aug/Sept and by the rate I am going, I will be done before that so please bear with me. This is for @clintbartonbingo and @badthingshappenbingo respectively and if you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

When you heaved the last of your boyfriend’s request into your trunk, you slammed it shut and returned the cart to one of the cart slots that were scattered in the parking lot. Clint and your brother were busy with some Avenger thing, so they had asked you to run to the store since the fridge was low on supplies.

Tony was a very popular man, but you didn’t realize just how popular you were until you went to the store. Everyone knew Tony as Iron Man, as the billionaire who had it all. You were just Tony’s little sister who some might think was an airhead that had a ton of money. While some thought that, others genuinely liked who you were. Your brother has invited you to press conferences, board meetings, Avenger meetings, and social gatherings. Everyone knew who you were because of him. It just didn’t hit you until you went to the store by yourself.

Usually, you thought people crowded around you because your brother was next to you. After all, everyone wanted to meet the boss man himself. Why would anyone want to meet his shy sister that didn’t contribute anything to his company? What should have taken you 30 minutes actually took an hour and a half because all everyone wanted to do was talk to you, take pictures, and have you sign things. It was nice to be noticeable, but you didn't know the dangers of having your name and picture plastered everywhere for anyone to see. Right as you approached your car, your phone rang and you answered it without looking at who it was.

“Hello?”

“Where are you? You should have been back by now,” Clint’s voice said from the other side.

“Tell Tony I’m kicking his ass when I get home because I could not get a moment of peace. Everyone wanted to talk to me and take pictures with me. This is what I get for attending events with my brother,” you grumbled.

“He says he loves you too.”

“Yeah, well, I just packed the car up, so I should be home in 20 minutes. My ice cream is going to fucking melt,” you pouted.

“Hurry back and it won’t,” he joked.

“Yeah, I’ll be home soon,” you said before hanging up. Right as you put your phone in your purse, someone grabbed you from behind. Whoever it was yanked on your hair and placed a rag over your nose and mouth. The first thing your instincts told you was to scream, but the more you inhaled the chemical on the rag, the more your body relaxed. The parking lot was full of cars, so you don’t know why anyone didn’t call for help when or if they saw this happening. As your eyes were closing, you noticed that not a single soul was outside, instead, they were all huddled inside the store as if there was something more interesting than a young woman getting kidnapped.

“Didn’t Y/N say she was going to be here in 20 minutes?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, she did.”

“Jarvis, how long ago did Y/N call?”

“Almost an hour ago, sir.”

“Something is wrong,” Tony said seriously as he got up.

“What if she’s stuck in traffic? Or something happened to the car? Or she stopped somewhere else?” Clint tried to think of reasons why you were late. He didn’t like the thought of something bad happening to you while you were by yourself. Iron Man may be your brother, but you were no Avenger.

“Track her phone, Jarvis. Where is she?”

“She seems to still be at the store. Her phone hasn’t changed locations since she got there.”

“I know my sister better than anyone. She would have called if she knew she was going to be late. Something happened to her. Jarvis, cross reference the news with Y/N Stark,” he ordered as he put on the sweatsuit that turned into his Iron Man suit at the pull of the drawstrings. He placed his glasses that connected to the suit so that he could have Jarvis with him at all times.

“Already on it, sir,” the computer program said.

“Then I’m coming with you. She’s my girlfriend,” Clint declared as he got up.

“Suit up. This might get ugly,” Tony said as he prepared for the worst.

When the car that you were in ran over a pothole, you shot awake only to slam your head against something hard. Reaching up to rub at the spot, you found that your hands were bound behind you with something that felt like zip ties. Your ankles were also bound together with the same material. Your heartbeat increased and your breathing picked up when you realized what had happened before. Someone grabbed you, someone kidnapped you and stuffed you into a car trunk.

“Help!” you tried to scream, but this was the first time you noticed duct tape covering your mouth. Tony and Clint must be going crazy looking for you. When you didn’t show up at home when you said you were going to, you knew they would know that something is up. Now, the only matter is about how long it will take them to find you. Jarvis is a smart computer system, but only he can do so much.

“Don’t bother screaming,” came a voice from the front part of the car. Looking to your left, you realized that the tiny door that separated the trunk and the backseat was open so you could kind of see the driver. There was nothing that you recognized immediately, so hopefully, he would continue to talk and reveal something about himself.

“I know you’re confused, but where you’re going, you won’t have time to be confused. I have a lot of buyers lined up for the elusive Y/N Stark. They were so excited when I told them you were coming. Don’t worry, they’re nice… at first,” he laughed.

Tears sprung to your eyes when you thought about whatever the hell he was talking about. Where was he taking you? What kind of buyers was he talking about? Was he going to sell you like a human trafficking kind of deal? If so, who else have they kidnapped for their games? There was no way for you to get out of the zip ties, and even if you could, there was no way out of the trunk.

You were completely and utterly fucked.

“Oh my God, Tony Stark,” the woman gushed when the billionaire approached her. When he and Clint arrived at the store, they found your car with your purse and its contents scattered on the ground. One of which was your phone which you never went anywhere without. You always said that you loved taking pictures of everything around you because you never knew how long the beauty would last.

“Hi. I can’t help but notice that this cashier line is in direct eyesight to that 2019 cherry red Ferrari,” Tony began.

“Oh, yes,” she smiled once she spotted the car in question.

“Did you happen to see the owner of that car? She’s my sister.”

“Oh, I met her! She’s a very nice lady,” the woman smiled a bit too big.

“Excuse me, sorry, but we really need to know if you saw anything strange. Did she go anywhere?” Clint asked, eager to get this moving.

“No, I didn’t. But, I did see a small black car circle around her car a few times. I saw her put away her bags in her trunk, then the craziest thing happened here in the store that had everyone’s attention, and then when I looked back, she and the black car was gone. I figured she went across the street for a bite.”

“Thank you for your time,” Clint said before pulling Tony outside. They walked to your car before he spoke again. “Whoever took her must have had an accomplice inside to distract everyone.”

“Why do you assume she was taken?”

“Come on, Tony. You’re one of the smartest people I know. You know she was taken.”

“I didn't want to have to say it,” he sighed.

“Why would anyone want to take her?”

“I have a lot of enemies, Barton. I’m not an easy target, but she is. I should have known that before I let her go off on her own,” he sighed heavily once more.

“Hey, don’t blame this on yourself. We don’t know who took her, just that someone did. Come on, we can check security cameras around here to see if anything looks suspicious.”

“Already on it, sir, and I think I may have found something,” Jarvis said through the earpiece.

“I already have the nicest place for you. I think Big Joe would have a lot of fun with you,” the man laughed as he spoke. “You want to know why they call him Big Joe? It ain’t because of his weight.”

You wanted to roll your eyes and vomit at the same time. This man has been driving for quite some time now without taking any turns, so your assumption would be he is driving out of the state and is on one long highway. The ground wasn’t bumpy which meant it was paved, so that ruled out any dirt back roads. You didn’t know how much time had passed, so you wondered what the two most important men in your life were doing right now. There was no use in panicking or wasting your energy, so you thought it be best to lay here silently since that is the only thing you could do.

“All the other girls are pretty, but none of them compare to--shit,” the man cursed, and you looked through the hole to see him pulling the car over. Whoever stopped him, you knew they would have to be important because this man seemed like he didn’t stop for no one.

“You keep it down back there or I’ll kill every last one of those girls,” he threatened. When he brought the lives of the many girls he’s kidnapped, it was your motivation to keep quiet. You didn't want them to suffer for something you did.

“Tony Stark? What are you doing out here?” the man said once he recognized the billionaire, and your eyes widened to think that your brother was less than 10 feet from you. The most antagonizing part was that you couldn’t make a sound in fear for the other girls.

“Sir, there is body heat coming from the trunk of the car. If I may, I believe it to be Y/N,” Jarvis said into the earpiece. Clint stood next to your brother without the slightest clue to what Jarvis was hinting at. Tony pulled the strings of his jacket which activated the suit, and the metal formed to fit his body. As soon as the headpiece snapped on, he lifted his hands and pointed the gauntlets at the man.

“I think you have my little sister back there. Open the trunk, asshole,” he growled. Clint snapped his attention to the man who just sighed. There was no way he was getting out of this one, not when Tony was pointing those things at him. He could play it off, but that might end with his death, so all he did was pop the trunk.

Your eyes widened, and you kicked the top of the trunk to open it wider. When Clint saw what was back there, he rushed over there and looked at your eyes that were filled with fear.

“I got her!” he said as he held you sit up before slowly peeling the tape off you.

“He’s got so many girls, Clint,” you cried, letting the tears that have been building up since you woke up.

“You, my friend, are in big trouble,” Tony said as the man closed his eyes in defeat.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” he said as he pulled out the knife he always carried on his person. He snapped the zip ties on your ankles and wrists before bringing you into his arms.

“He’s got so many of them. We have to help them,” you cried into his chest.

“We will. We will,” he whispered as he soothed down your hair.

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blackleatherjacketz · 6 years

Text

Secondary Location: Chapter 4

(Gif Isn’t Mine)

Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn 99) x Frank Castle(The Punisher)

Rosa goes to Frank after she gets some threatening photographs.

Warnings: Spot the LOST reference, Graphic depictions of violence, Rosa being Rosa

Tags: @acutecupidity @bullet-prooflove @chelseafartnoise @decisivelynotsure

Read Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Rosa reluctantly knocked on the door as she clutched the Manila envelope tightly to her chest. The pressure began to fill her lungs as she held her breath waiting one, two, three, four, five seconds before his footsteps got close to the door. The sound of his boots shuffling across the unkept floor provided an odd sense of comfort as her hands began to shake. She sighed and clenched those shaking hands into fists as she did her best to mask her fear and anxiety.

“Who is it?” His voice boomed through the heavy door before the hammer of a handgun clicked into position.

“Detective Diaz.” She finally let out her breath. She couldn’t believe that it had come to this, that she was actually seeking him out. She couldn’t believe that she had gotten this desperate… this scared.

Four different locks took their time to unfasten the door from the wall before Frank actually opened the door, his gun trained on her head.

“Easy, killer,” she whispered, raising her hands in the air. “It’s just me.” That feeling of impending doom seemed to wash away entirely at the mere sight of him.

He lowered his gun. “How did you find me?”

“Don’t insult me, Frank,” she shoved the envelope into his chest and made her way inside his apartment, “Or should I say Pete?” She turned on her heel and winked at him before walking toward the kitchen.

“Pete? You know about…?” He looked down at the envelope, then back at her.

“I know more than you think.” She found the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “And so do they, apparently.” She pointed to the envelope with her bottle and took a sip.

Frank opened it and poured its contents onto the kitchen counter. He turned the thick pieces of paper over to reveal several photographs of Rosa leaving her apartment building with red marker covering her face. The red ink dripped down the length of each photograph in the symbol he used on his chest: the symbol of The Punisher.

“Who sent you these?” He whispered without looking up.

“I was hoping you would know.” She took a drink and set her beer down next to the photographs. “Someone sent my captain a video of me pulling you out of the club, I got stuck with desk duty, then a week later I get these.”

“Were these in your mailbox, or…” His trigger finger started to twitch erratically.

“I found them on my desk this morning.” She chugged the rest of her beer and tossed the bottle in the sink. “Look, the last thing I wanted to do was to come here and interrupt…” she looked around his small apartment. “Whatever this is.”

Frank frowned before glancing back at her. “Did you see who dropped these off? A bicycle messenger, server, postal worker, anybody who could have…”

“Gina said it was there when she came in this morning.”

“Who’s Gina?” He sifted through each of the photographs, turning them over to look for some sort of clue.

“Ugh, you don’t want to know.” She rolled her eyes.

“I need to know!” He yelled, slamming his fist on the counter.

“I need to know,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers for the gravity of the situation. “If they know where you live, they know where you work, and they know you’re with me…” He licked his lips and looked at the ground before blinking an obscene amount of times.

He paused and pointed at the pictures. “The Gnuccis have deep pockets. Deep enough to buy a couple of Brooklyn detectives if they really wanted to.” He put the photos back into the envelope. “You said you were put on desk duty, do you have any idea who took over for you on the case?”

“Don’t,” she warned him.

Deafening bullets cut their way through the cheap drywall that made up Frank’s apartment before she even had time to get mad at him. Her instincts sent her down onto her stomach, losing sight of Frank instantly. Were they after her? Were they after him? Did they know those pictures would freak her out and lead her straight to him? Was this all her fault? Was she just a pawn in all of this? Did she even mean anything to the Gnucci family? I mean, she was the one undercover for six months, not him, right?

“Under the sink, Diaz!” Frank yelled through the cabinet.

Oh, good, he’s still alive. Of course he’s still alive! She opened the cupboard beneath the sink to find a handgun taped underneath the countertop. “Got it!” She yelled back, ripping it off the moldy wooden plank.

“Come on out, Frank! Let’s finish the job.” Eddie Gnucci’s voice was muffled, like an old black and white mafia film playing in another room.

The bullets from the car chase seemed a lot farther away than these, and a lot less detrimental to her hearing. Rosa winced as she tried to block out the high-pitched ringing in her ears as Frank took charge.

“You first!” Frank taunted, still crouching down behind the kitchen counter.

One shot, two shots, three shots, four; Frank didn’t give them a chance to get through the door. Five shots, six shots, seven, eight, nine; how many of them were waiting out there this time? Rosa looked down at her gun and checked each barrel for a bullet. She realized that Frank would be out soon, his gun having only fifteen to twenty rounds, max. She counted six rounds in her revolver, knowing she had to make each one of them count.

The sound of rushing footsteps kept vibrating through the floorboards and into her bones, forcing Rosa to get up and move. She watched as Frank shot Gnucci’s men pointe blank, ending their lives before they even knew they were in jeopardy. He used his last bullet and threw his gun on the floor before disarming the next man without any effort at all. His moves were quick and beautiful, like a well-choreographed dance with blood and gunpowder instead of stage makeup. A guttural growl rose out of his chest as he broke the arms and necks of Gnucci’s men, snapping their spines over his knee like an amateur karate board. Rosa couldn’t help but stare in admiration as he transformed into this creature, this wild animal howling at the moon as the blood of his enemies splattered across his face.

She saw Eddie Gnucci out of the corner of her eye, aiming a gun at Frank. She pulled the hammer back on her revolver and closed her right eye, aiming at the man who caused all of this trouble for her. She took in a deep, slow breath, doing her best to keep her aim steady and true on this Italian piece of shit. She exhaled slowly, pulling the trigger as his head exploded into a piñata of pink and red confetti.

Frank yelled as he twisted the neck of the last of Gnucci’s men, breathing heavily as he saw what Rosa did. “Thanks,” he smiled, stepping over the bodies to get to her. “We gotta go.”

#Frank Castle #Rosa Diaz #Brooklyn Nine Nine #The Punisher #Brooklyn 99 #Rosa Diaz Fan Fiction #Frank Castle Fan Fiction #Stephanie Beatriz #Jon Bernthal #Brooklyn Nine Nine Fan Fiction #The Punisher Fan Ficton #Marvel #Marvel Fan Ficiton

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scientifically-strange · 7 years

Text

What’s it Like?

Trying something a little new. Instead of third person it’s straight from Danny’s pov

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What’s it like?

I always find myself getting asked this, whether it be from Tucker, Dani, Sam, or hell, even Valerie sometimes. And while it doesn't upset me, the question itself is hard to answer, and is tiring to do so after having to do it so many times.

So what is it like living with the Avengers?

It’s indescribable, really. It’s fun, and annoying, and stressful, and happy, and so many other words, so I think the only way I can properly tell you is if I list them all off one by one.

Well, let me tell you.

First, I guess I should start with the host himself, Tony Stark. Though you probably know him better as Iron Man.

He’s everything people say he is, and more. He’s selfish and sarcastic, and is stupidly smart. Yeah, he’s also a playboy, and he never focuses on the important stuff for his company. Instead he pays with desk toys in important meetings.

Like all of us, Tony has a lot of baggage. We all have our demons, but Tony’s are arguably the worst. Yeah, I fought my older evil self and the ghost king, and Steve was in World War II, but compared to Tony it was a cakewalk. Because Tony’s been through a fucking blender. He’s got serious PTSD from the Incident, from the cave he was tortured in, and a few other things. He copes by drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee spiked with alcohol and monster energy drinks while building several more Iron man armors, all with their own special skills and weapons.

He also has really bad attachment issues due to his father was never really around, and the father figure he did had tried to kill him. So.

However, despite all of that, Tony is probably the most caring person on the team. And that’s including Steve. He just doesn’t know how to express it with emotions. So instead, he uses his actions. Thor mentioned one time that he needed to get more lavender (?) shampoo because he ran out, and now there’s a cabinet full of them, just for the thunder god himself.

There was another time when Clint’s hearing aids got blown up on a mission, and Tony made him everything-proof Stark hearing aids. Clint hasn’t needed a new pair since. And he made Steve and Sam’s rooms soundproof, so that when fireworks go off they can still enjoy the view, but now with less gunshot sounds.

Tony also really loves to nerd out, which brings me to my next friend, Dr. Bruce Banner. He’s pretty soft spoken, until he starts talking about science. I remember the longest conversation I’ve had with him was when we were talking about space and NASA, which somehow ended up on a conversation of the horrible structure of hot dog buns? Not really sure what happened there...

Bruce always has great advice, and is always in like, a zen sort of mood. He’s not nervous all the time like most people think. No, he’s only fidgety around stressful people, like Fury or Ultron. Which is perfectly understandable considering if he gets to angry or freaked he starts looking a little green around the gills.

That being said, Bruce also makes the best tea on the Compound. Nobody knows what he does to it, but if you’re having a rough day or something he’s got your back. And he’s always got Tony’s back, too. I There was one time when Tony had been up for almost four days and Bruce had come in and put some headphones on Tony, and he passed out immediately. I helped him get Tony to his room, and Bruce kind of took it from there.

Hulk is pretty nice to. Though, to be fair the first time I met him he was pretty pissed because he couldn’t hit me. But after he calmed down enough, I told him a couple of jokes and he kind of warmed up to me.

And I told him I could help get the glitter out of his hair.

He still doesn’t know that it sparkles sometimes when crime-fighting. Nobody else has either, but that’s only because they’re to busy kicking ass themselves.

Steve is kind of like everybody’s dream guy, even if you yourself are a straight guy. He is 240 pounds of All-American beefcake with a heart of gold. His hair is pretty soft too.

He’s caring, but I’ve recently learned that he;s a little shit.

You would expect Captain America to be the perfect man, soldier, superhero, whatever. But he isn’t. I don’t even know where anybody got that idea.

This guy has a police record that’s longer than a list of Mr. Lancer’s book-swears. And he has the worst mouth on him. He stubbed his toe the other day and was cursing up a storm. However, he was cursing in Gaelic. I asked him about it and he said it was his first language due to his parents being Irish immigrants. I hadn't known that before, so that was really nice to know. But it also explained his accent. He had a lot of Brooklyn in it, but every now and then the Gaelic would slip through with it, making for a weird verbal cocktail that never sounded quite right.

He also has the worst mind out of all of us. It’s worse than Tuckers. His mind may be the gutter, but Steve’s is the fucking sewer. He was telling me about how he thought fondue equaled sexy times, and like? Literally, where did you make that connection? How many other foreign words has he heard and thought it was something sexual?

It shouldn’t surprise me though, considering he was in the army.

I could go on and on about Steve’s mouth and reckless behavior, but he, like Tony, has serious PTSD. A lot of it is from the war. He doesn’t like fireworks or loud, sudden noises unless he’s on the battlefield. There was one time I saw him mute a movie during a scene with a train, and I was going to ask him why, but then I saw that far away look in his eyes. It wasn’t my place to pry.

There’s also something about the sound of Tony’s repulsors powering up, too. It makes Steve tense up like a cat every time he hears it.

His coping methods are a bit healthier than Tony’s. He likes to draw his thoughts and feelings out. He’s damn good at it to, and while that’s a great thing, sometimes he falls asleep with them open, halfway done, and the shit he draws is so dark and depressing. I kind of worry about him sometimes.

But Sam’s been helping him though a lot of it. He was stationed overseas for a while before coming back to the states, only to get caught up in the fight again a few years later. He didn’t really seem to mind though. In fact, he seemed happy to do so. Whether or not that was from Captain America asking him to, or because he missed flying, I had no idea.

But I’ll be damned if I ever go to the park with him again.

His name is Falcon. He has cool metal wings he uses to fly. That all makes sense, right?

So how the fuck is he talking to pigeons?

I am genuinely worried that one day Sam till take over the world with birds, and h will have them shit on people’s cars and peck out the eyes of Hydra. Or something on the lines of that. However, if he is actually going to do that I think he needs a cooler bird.

Like a Falcon.

And as weird as that was, it doesn’t match up to the awkwardness of meeting Natasha “Million Alias” Romanoff. She’s as deadly as she is beautiful, and if I was into her in any way I would probably pay her to beat me up.

It never actually occurred to me that she’s not always being a spy? I mean, yeah, she’s always looking at the ulterior motive, because anyone with her background (which we will not speak of, so don;t even ask) would do the same. But she’s also a shitposting meme generator and has a really popular vine account even though vine is dead? Then again this is Natasha we’re talking about. I don;t wanna know how she does what she does.

She also steals clothes. SO far she’s stolen one of Tony’s hoodies, a pair of Clint’s sweatpants, a scrunchie from Thor, and one of my old Dumpty Humpty shirts I got at a concert. She also cheats at Monopoly and Cards Against Humanity. I haven’t figured out how she’s done it, but I know she does. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can just fucking win seventeen times in a row. You;d have to be a mind reader to do that shit. Jesus.

She’s terrifying, and honestly, every time I see her glare the fear of Thor runs through me, but a good portion of that goes away when she’s around Clint. And honestly> I can’t blame her. Clint, out of all of the Avengers I live with, is probably the one I hang out with the most. He’s super chill, and covered head to toe in bandages and has to have an entire pot of coffee just to stay awake. Also, he’s deaf? I had no idea during the Battle of New York, but later I found out that it was because they had broken and his new ones hadn’t come in yet. He’s taught me a lot of sign language so far, and Tucker makes fun of me for practicing it when I’m back in Amity.

Clint also has a lot of nests.

He has one on top of the fridge, in the A that’s on the outside of the building, a couple of key spots in the vents, and a board room on the 27th floor under the table because nobody ever uses it and it has a nice view of the sandwich shop right across the street. I’m sure he has more, but those are just the ones that I’ve found.

Also, his dog is not cuter than Cujo, don’t listen to that asshole.

Even though Clint chooses to keep his hearing aids out half the time, he still knows when Thor has come back from Asgard. Every single time, no matter where we’re at in the building, he just knows. It’s like a sixth sense. His head perks up, and he gets a dumb grin on his face, but then it quickly falls when he remembers that he ate the rest of the thunder god’s poptarts.

Thor is really fun to be around. And while I haven’t had a lot of quality bonding time with the dude, Dani has. They sit around and braid each other’s hair all the time, talking about flowers and giant monsters and space. Really, they’re best friends. And it’s adorable.

Don’t tell Jazz I said that.

There are aspects of Thor that remind me a little bit of all of the Avengers. Like Natasha, he can be cunning when he wants to. He’s always got the munchies like Clint, and has great advice like Bruce. Similar to Tony he also struggles with his own demons. But he seems to be most like Steve.

That being said, they are both huge little shits.

See, Thor likes to prank people. Half the time he uses Mojo (I don;t know how to pronounce the hammer’s name, okay) to fuck with us. I remember he and Natasha handing different house members his hammer while Natasha video taped it. He gets a huge kick out of watching us fall over. I remember when he did it to Steve, who was to zoned out in his paper to even realize what Thor had asked him to hold. He was gobsmacked for a whole week.

He hasn’t done it to me yet, and I have no idea if that’s because he hasn’t gotten around to it or because he’s still obsessed over me technically being royalty since I beat Pariah Dark, the former king. The first time we met he got down on one knee and bowed. It was the most surreal experience of my life, and that’s including when Tucker had to wear a chicken costume to a Dumpty Humpty concert because he lost a bet to Sam.

Every time he comes back from Asgard, we shake. But we don’t shake like normal people. It’s a sort of cultural thing. Instead of shaking hands we grip each other’s forearms and squeeze. I kind of like doing that better than a handshake. It seems way cooler.

So, you ask me what it’s like to live with the Avengers?

Living with them, it feels familiar, like it;s the one thing I’ve been missing my whole life.

It’s family.

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Also, OC week submissions are open officially if you want me to write them in with a DP and marvel!

#danny phantom #avengers #crossover #drabble #fan ficiton #dp x marvel

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lucacangettathisass · 5 years

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WIP Tag

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

now i dont have a WIP folder, per se, just WIPs in general, if that makes sense. I’ve decided to separate them into different categories, fanfic and original, and for fanfic i’ve organized it by fandom alphabetically. let’s go.

tagged by @lilithenaltum

FANFIC

CRIMINAL MINDS

Untitled [spencer reid x oc]: this is an idea i’ve had for a while that im finally getting around to writing. i made a plot bunny post for it here. basically family murdered, blame put on the largely black and brown vodou community, the team gets a mambo/manbo (depending on which term u like) to help and ooooh boy spencer falls hard and fast.

MARVEL

Feel Like This [stephen strange x female!reader]: stephen takes on reader as a student, and shit goes south. can be found here, currently working on final part.

Home Is Where The Heart(h) Is [stephen strange x female!reader x loki]: reader gets a job as the PA for the avengers. shenanigans ensue. can be found here, currently on hold.

Untitled [loki x oc]: also has a plot bunny post here. featuring major canon divergence, norse myth, and the whole ‘Loved One Being Reincarnated’ trope.

Untitled [loki x female!reader]: after falling from the rainbow bridge, loki ends up in the reader’s garden. predictably, things go to shit.

Untitled [loki x female!reader]: the reader, who is the daughter of an unseelie queen, explores the mortal world and gets herself entangled with the avengers, and their charge loki, who is beyond delighted by the reader.

PEAKY BLINDERS

Acquisitions [luca changretta x shelby!female!reader]: s4 canon divergence, wherein the reader, a shelby, is married off to luca to make peace between the families. can find it here, updated incredibly sporadically.

Hell Hath No Fury [luca changretta x female!reader]: s4 canon divergence. the reader is tommy’s long suffering wife and turns against him. can find it here, also updated incredibly sporadically.

My Lover In The Front Row [luca changretta x me] (seriously): luca goes to a performance at a burlesque club where he sees moi perform and falls head over heels. self indulgent af.

Untitled [tommy shelby x oc]: plot bunny post here. i know i say that i hate tommy, and dont worry i truly do, but i actually make him bearable in my fics when i want to. also im love ballet.

Untitled [tommy shelby x indian!reader x luca changretta]: some s4 canon divergence. reader gets a job as charlie’s nanny and it all snowballs from there.

RIVERDALE

Untitled [sweet pea x oc]: plot bunny post can be found here. also features jeronica because im love that ship.

RWBY

Glitter And Gold [various ships]: tells the stories of some of my rwby ocs.

Strange Bedfellows [blake belladonna x roman torchwick]: au where blake remains with the white fang, and after it joins forces with cinder, she is paired with neo (and thus roman) to infiltrate beacon. listen im trash for this ship ok sue me.

Untitled [qrow branwen x blake belladonna]: au where qrow goes to menagerie at ozpin’s behest to try and get the faunus onside. he meets blake and well, im sure yall can guess.

YU-GI-OH

Untitled [ryou bakura/yami bakura/marik ishtar/yami marik x me]: i transfer to domino high, where i meet the king of games himself and discover a few things about myself, and the neat scarab brooch i bought from a thrift store. self indulgent as fuck try and stop me coppers.

YU-GI-OH 5DS

Untitled [yusei fudo x oc x jack atlas]: plot bunny post can be found here. featuring some canon divergence.

ORIGINAL

Autonomy: As the best engineer in New Orleans, it was normal for Marcel to develop professional connections, the newest of which being John St. Clair; a toy maker from New York.

Along with his business, John brings with him his young daughter, Minnie, who is set to make her debut in New Orleans society.

Beautiful, kind, and intelligent, it doesn’t take long for Minnie to catch the eye of several men, including Marcel.

But is John St. Clair as happy to have Marcel as a son-in-law and a business partner? Or will another suitor ultimately win?

(steampunk historical romance ficiton)

Untitled: After spending her first year of university in Rome, and away from the Tuscan countryside she’s called home, Carlotta finally returns to help her family run their inn for the tourist season.

While back, she meets Victor, who has decided to summer in Tuscany. As Carlotta finds herself drawn more and more to mysterious Victor, she discovers a diary that belonged to a female relative from the 1880s, describing her torrid affair with a wealthy foreigner.

A foreigner who sounds a lot like Victor.

i tag @thefudge @gameofdooweeoo @blinder-secrets

#tag game

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lesbiansassemble · 6 years

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Tag Game

tagged by @reylynch- ily <3

1. coke or pepsi: coke, dear god not pepsi 2. disney or dreamworks: disney 3. coffee or tea: depends 4. books or movies: movies 5. windows or mac: mac, despite the fact that i have windows 6. dc or marvel: marvel ofc 7. x-box or playstation: x-box 8. dragon age or mass effect: neither 9. night owl or early riser: early riser 10. cards or chess: cards

11. chocolate or vanilla: vanilla 12. vans or converse: vans 13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: say what?? 14. fluff or angst: angst, give me all the angst 15. beach or forest: beach 16. dogs or cats: DOGS 17. clear skies or rain: clear skies 18. cooking or eating out: why not both 19. spicy food or mild food: spicy 20. halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: christmas

21. would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: too hot 22. if you could have any superpower, what would it be? teleportation, fancy some sushi? alright just gonna pop to tokyo, see you in a bit. fancy skiing? alright pack your bags 'cause we’re going to canada 23. animation or live action: live action 24. paragon or renegade: say what now? 25. baths or showers: showers 26. team cap or team ironman: iron-man all the way baby 27: fantasy or sci-fi: both, you heathen 28. do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they:

i can’t think of any!! i know i do have loads, but i can’t think of them off the top of my head

29. netflix or youtube: netflix 30. Harry Potter or Percy Jackson: percy jackson for books, harry potter for films

31. when you feel accomplished: when i overcome my laziness and actually do something 32. star wars or star trek: star wars 33. paperback or hardback: hardback 34. horror or rom-com: rom-com 35. tv shows or movies: movies 36. spotify or pandora: spotify 37. zootopia or inside out: i don’t remember them very well tbh, but i remember liking them both 38. favourite book: the chaos walking trilogy, the picture of dorian gray 39. favourite flower: roses 40. what field of study are you in (or aspire to be in): psychology, i’d like to study drama in the future though

41. song lyric you really love?

Strumming my pain with his fingers Singing my life with his words Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

42. what’s your MBTI type?: ENFP-T 43. fave movie: there are way too many to name 44. favourite tv show(s): game of thrones, modern family, b99, the good place, the office (us) and many more 45. what fictional world is your favourite? the marvel universe or the lord of the rings universe 46. favourite mythological figure? mermaids 47. who’s your all-time favourite fictional character? LOKI - my love, my life! 48. confetti or glitter? confetti 49. five things you’re grateful for in your life: friends, family, food, my dogs, movies 50. last ficitonal character you fell in love with? adam from only lovers left alive

51. If you could have dinner with any 5 people (real or fictional, dead or alive), who would you pick? Tom Hiddleston, Sappho, Gordon Ramsay (he can do the cooking), Selena Gomez and Tom Holland

52. favourite villain: Loki <3

my question: if you could witness any event in history, which would it be?

I’m tagging: @flyingavenger @angstyparker @nomadssteverogers @dorkychris @madcnna @parkerrpeterr @lokirevenger @claracivry @buckeed @taikka @captainvkirk @spacefloozy @mooniesloki

#tag meme #mun

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