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of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 1 year

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Sinister Debut - Emery x Elite

Part of my Dark Angel of the Bullet Club series

I have to admit, I had a lot of fun writing the sinister version of Emery. I might do it more often. We'll see. In the picture above, you can kinda see what I was aiming at for her appearance. The hair color/style, makeup, eyes, and her outfit.

Following this (at some point) will be

Healing ((BTE happenings after the match, between Elite and Dark Order))

--and--

Phone Call ((aftermath of the match, following BCC in their locker room as Mox figures out a solution to their Emery problem))

Word Count: 4,329

Tag List: @blxxckheart @summertimefun1982 @katries @himbos-hotline

(if you want added to the tag list, please let me know. You can say 'all' to be added to all four, or specify, between NJPW, WWE, AEW and Dark Angel)

Warnings: violence, swearing, OC essentially loses her mind?

(divider by)

Brandon and Nakazawa stood backstage, stretching and mentally preparing themselves for their match. Time was ticking away quicker than either would like it to, but they had no other choice. They would do this to avenge their fallen friends, even if it meant getting their asses kicked. As he bent over, stretching his arms toward his toes, Brandon began thinking and realized something strange.

“Hey, Nak.”

“Yeah?” the shorter man replied, looking up from his spot on the floor as Brandon stood back up to full height.

“Have you seen Emery at all today?”

Nak paused, his face scrunching up in thought before he shook his head, “No, I haven’t. Not since Friday.”

“That’s weird. I… I kinda thought she’d be here… ya know?”

“Yeah…” Nak gave a solemn nod before adding, “Maybe it’s best she’s not, though.”

“Right. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt. The Bucks—and especially Kenny and even Hangman—they’d never let me hear the end of it if Emery got hurt on our watch.”

Nak nodded in agreement before they heard the familiar ‘Wild Thing’ music play in the background.

Their time was up.

“No sense in delaying the inevitable, I guess,” Brandon frowned, holding a hand out to help Nak up off the ground, “You ready?”

“As I’d ever be. Are you?”

“Don’t have a choice, do we? Let’s just… go out there and… if we go down, we go down swinging.”

“Take one of them with us,” Nak gave a stern nod, his hands on his hips.

“Definitely. Let’s go then.”

The two of them made their way towards the go-position, unaware of the chaos that was about to ensue, as someone watched them from the distance.

She was shrouded in darkness, the shadows of the equipment hiding her well. Blue hair hung loosely around her face, which was covered in dark makeup. The piercing red eyes that peered out from behind the curtain of blue hair gave her an ominous presence, made even worse by her emotionless stare.

Emery was long gone and had been for hours now; the Dark Angel had even come and gone. What stood in the shadows was someone that only had been seen once in the past ten years.

All of the emotions that had broken Emery over the past month—heartache, loss, helplessness, hopelessness, tiredness, and betrayal—had awoken her deepest darkest being.

Minutes ticked by as she stood there, still as stone, ‘Wild Things’ done playing as the ‘Elite Anthem’ begins to play. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

The Sinister Angel stalked towards the ring, a sickening smile appearing on her face. It was time to play.

-Meanwhile-

Kenny walked all around his home, looking in every room as he called out for her, “Emery?”

He had sat down to play a game earlier in the day, and she had been right beside him. It was their usual day-off activity, but he had noticed Emery seemed more quiet than normal. Her smile had seemed forced, and it was as though her mind was elsewhere.

Emery had promised Kenny she wouldn’t get involved in the match that night on Dynamite between Blackpool and Elite—or… what was left of the Elite. Brandon Cutler and Michael Nakazawa were all that was left—besides Emery—and easy targets for BCC. Kenny knew Emery could handle herself in a match—that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Blackpool had no qualms about attacking anybody and everybody and had no problems making people bleed. The last thing Kenny wanted was for his Angel to get hurt.

Frowning, Kenny made his way to the only room he hadn’t checked yet—the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he carefully, quietly pushed it open in case she was napping. But the room was empty.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Kenny thought as he turned to leave the room—until something caught his eye. The closet was closed, but the light was still on inside. Walking over, he slowly opened the door, curiosity flowing through him. Emery was not inside, but from the mess he saw, Kenny knew she had been at one point.

“I wonder what she was looking for…” he thought, scratching his beard as he reached down to pick up a box. The lid was on top but seemed to be thrown on in haste. Taking a quick look at the contents before he shut the lid, Kenny froze in place as he recognized the contents.

“No… no—” He quickly set the box down on an empty shelf nearby before quickly shuffling through Emery’s clothes in the very back of the closet.

“Please let it be here, please let it—” Kenny whispered, his eyes wide. When he reached the wall, it felt as though his heart stopped, and he stood there in a momentary daze before shaking himself out of it. Hurriedly, he pulled his cell out of his jean pocket and dialed Matt’s number.

“Hey, what’s up, Ken?” Matt answered.

“Nick still there with you?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” Nick asked as he joined the conversation, worried.

“Emery’s gone—and so is her outfit for Sinister.”

“Shit,” both brothers replied, “You don’t think she’s--?”

“Oh, I know she is,” Kenny frowned, grinding his teeth as he raced down the stairs, grabbing his keys and running out the front door, “You guys don’t have to—I know you’re still hurt, Matt. But I’m going—I ain’t about to let BCC get their hands on her.”

“I’d be more concerned about her hurting BCC,” Nick said as a beeping sound was heard from their side of the call.

“If it was just one or two of BCC, yeah,” Kenny agreed, “But not four of them. We’ve seen how Mox can get sometimes. He won’t hesitate.”

“True. We’ll meet you at the arena, Kenny,” Matt told him.

“Just be careful. I don’t want you getting more injured than you are—and we know how Emery would feel if you did.”

“Yeah, we know. I’ll be careful—let’s just…. Let’s save our family, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kenny tossed his phone into the cupholders between the seats as he drove, focused on the road as his jaw clenched in both worry and frustration.

“Dammit Emery, you --how could I not have noticed Dark or Sinister coming back?!”

-Back at Arena-

Emery stood in the shadows, watching the match from behind a curtain. It had only been a few moments since the start, but BCC already had the advantage. Both Nakazawa and Brandon were bleeding, the red liquid pouring down from the tops of their heads. Yet, neither refused to give up.

As she stood there, her hands clenched and unclenched, her short black nails digging into her palms each time she closed her fists.

They had started at a disadvantage, as Mox and Claudio had ambushed Nak and Brandon on the ramp and attacked them outside the ring before the match even started. Both men were clearly in pain but kept going, refusing to go down without a fight.

It was when Emery noticed Yuta taking cheap shots at Nakazawa outside the ring that her head tilts to the side. The anger and darkness inside her began to boil over as she stalks past the curtain that once hid her from view. Calmly, slowly, she walked towards the ring, dragging the black kendo stick behind her, the scratching on the floor like music to her ears—though at this point, she heard absolutely nothing.

Not even the crowd’s cheers and gasps when they saw her registered in her mind. Her red eyes were focused on the ring – and as she got closer, each member of Blackpool Combat Club stopped their attacks, staring at her. Mox nudged Claudio, gesturing towards Emery like ‘what the hell?’ as she stood five feet from the ring.

Slowly, she raised her free hand up to the hood on her head and pushed it back, revealing her blackened face as she stared a hole at Mox, ignoring the other three members for the moment.

Yuta stared across the ring at her in shock; this was not a version of Emery he knew, and to be honest, he was a little terrified.

The crowd around was cheering for her, chanting her name, but the voices didn’t reach her consciousness as she slowly crept into the ring, ignoring the referee’s warning. Mox waved him off, doubting that Emery would do anything at all.

“What’chu gonna do, lil girl?” He taunted her, a smirk on his face, “Playing dress up and make-believe again?”

Claudio chuckled beside him, his arms down at his side.

Nakazawa came out of nowhere, pulling on Claudio’s arm and turning him around before he began chopping at the taller guy’s chest. It caught the Swiss man by surprise, but with a swift knee to the gut and some elbow strikes to the back of the neck, Nakazawa was back out of the picture. As Claudio stood up, Mox began to walk towards Emery, a cocky smirk on his face until Emery finally moved. Her grip on the kendo stick tightened, her legs tensing to keep her balance, as she suddenly swung her arm towards Mox. The wood connected with his stomach with a sickening crack sound, the impact causing Mox to stumble backward and grip his body in pain. Claudio looked at Emery in shock, surprised she had actually done anything as the referee called for the bell ending the match as Bryan and Yuta climbed up onto the apron. Mox held a hand back at them, telling them not to get in the ring as he straightened up and glared at the woman in front of him.

“You think you got balls, eh--?” Mox sneered, stalking toward her once again- but she was ready. Her lips twisted up into a devilish smirk as she gripped the kendo stick with both hands and quickly spun around. The impact caught Mox directly on the back and the side of his ribs; she didn’t stop there, though, as once the sound reverberated around the area, she pulled the weapon back and made a quick succession of attacks. Ten seconds later, five blows in, Claudio quickly crossed the ring—causing Emery to avert the attack onto him. As the wood made contact with his ribs, Claudio closed his arm around it, stopping the kendo stick from moving.

“I don’t want to—” He tried telling her, but she was past listening. Emery let out a blood-curdling screech, causing Claudio to wince from the close proximity to his ears before launching herself at the taller man. The sudden force of her body against him caused him to tumble backward, landing on the matt as she rained down fists against his face. Bryan and Yuta quickly climbed through the ropes to stop her, Bryan being the one to wrap his arms around her mid-section and pull.

Feeling his arms snake around her, Emery locked her legs around Claudio’s and began scratching and clawing at him as long as she could. The instant that Bryan had a good grip on her, Claudio slid away from her, causing their legs to untangle. Another loud wail escaped her throat, making Bryan wince from the high pitch so close to his ear, holding on as tight as he could as she thrashed about against him. Yuta stood there, unsure if the person he was seeing was actually Emery; he was doubtful, but a part of him knew it was her. He would know that voice anywhere.

“Wheeler—do something!” Bryan yelled out, snapping the younger man out of his daze.

“Like what?!”

“Find something to hold her down!” Bryan ordered, his grip on Emery slacking the longer she fought against him. Mox had made his way back to his feet as Yuta climbed out of the ring and began looking underneath it for a form of restraint.

“Lil spitfire—” Mox smirked, actually liking what he was seeing from her. If he had known this side of Emery existed, he would have tried harder to bring her into the BCC. Emery clenched her hands onto Bryan’s arms, digging her nails into his skin as far as she could and dragging her hands back.

“Son of a---!” Bryan yelled, letting her go as he grabbed at his arms; long lines of blood began to trickle onto his skin from her scratches. Darting away from the three guys, Emery slid to the outside of the ring and disappeared under as they followed. Pulling back the apron, they were surprised to find her gone.

“Where the hell is she?!” Mox yelled, frustrated, as Claudio released the apron. They circled the ring, kicking at a beat-up Brandon and Nakazawa as they went. Suddenly, the lights began to flicker before going out completely. Nothing happened for a brief minute—until the sounds of metal on skin sounded, and shouts of agony came from Mox and Bryan. As the lights came back on, Emery reared back and heaved the steel chair forward, crashing it against Claudio’s back twice in quick succession.

She was breathing heavily, but a smile was plastered across her face; a noise from behind her caught her attention, and as her head snapped around to look at it, the smile on her face disappeared. When her eyes landed on Yuta, he froze in place just a few feet away from her. Handcuffs and rope were in his hands, and despite knowing he should snap out of it and restrain her as he was instructed to do, Yuta just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Ree….” He whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. Slowly, she turned around, her head tilting to the side as she eyed him curiously. Foot by foot, Emery stalked towards him, her eyes never leaving his. Eventually, she was chest-to-chest with him, staring up into his brown eyes.

Brown eyes that once held adoration and love for her.

Brown eyes that had taken pleasure in attacking her family.

Brown eyes—that had shattered her heart.

A smile crept its way onto her face, and for a split second, Yuta thought he was in the clear until another high-pitched scream came from her, and she spun around. The heel of her foot left the ground, coming up to smack him in the head, throwing him off balance; the rope and handcuffs in his hands fell from his grip. She took the opportunity and launched herself at him, knocking Yuta to the ground—but before she could attack further, strong arms wrapped around her and yanked her off of him. The force of the pull caught her by surprise, her hands going to the arm around her throat and digging her nails into him. Mox grunted out in pain but refused to let go, instead falling backward onto the floor and wrapping his legs around her smaller frame. As Bryan reached down to grab the rope and handcuffs, he glared at Yuta but didn’t say a word to him.

“Bring her over here, Mox!” Bryan ordered as he walked over to the corner of the ring.

“One sec—” Mox said, tightening the grip on her a bit; the lack of oxygen began to take effect, and her struggles began to weaken a bit. When she was nearly limp against him, Mox pushed her off of and into Claudio’s waiting arms; he took her over to Bryan, who grabbed one of her hands and placed her stomach first against the ring post. Seething, Bryan slapped one of the metal handcuffs around her wrist before giving the other one to Claudio to secure her other wrist. This effectively gave her nowhere to run to, no way to get away from or attack them.

“Just for good measure,” Bryan huffed, taking the rope and circling it around her and the post just as she began to regain consciousness. He tied the two ends as tightly as he could and stood back, a smile forming on his face as he watched Emery fight against the restraints to no avail. She began screaming at them, much to Bryan’s annoyance; he lifted the apron and looked underneath, finding a toolbox and pulling it out quickly. Opening it, his eyes brightened as he saw the duct tape, and without hesitation, Bryan ripped a piece off and looked at Mox with a nod. Mox walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her head again, locking her in place, as Bryan forcefully applied the tape across her mouth, silencing her for the most part.

“Now… where were we?” Bryan asked the other members of BCC before they wrapped around the ring and grabbed Nakazawa and Brandon, tossing them into the ring to inflict more punishment. As they go to resume their attack, they’re met with some resistance, as Brandon and Nakazawa fight back, throwing punches of their own. It doesn’t last long, however, as the blood loss begins to become too much. Mox grabs Brandon’s wrists and began stomping against his face while Claudio stretches out Nakazawa and jabs elbow strikes into his neck area.

Yuta stands at the edge of the ring, watching as he tries to drown out the muffled yells coming from behind him. From her spot, tied to the post, Emery had no choice but to watch the attack on her friends. Her wrists began to redden from her fighting against the handcuffs, the skin going raw.

The timekeeper clangs on the bell, trying to get help out to the ring, but no one comes out. Mox lets go of Brandon momentarily, ripping off his protective mask as Yuta began throwing punches at him before stepping on his throat. Claudio lifts up Nakazawa, delivering a powerbomb, before kicking the unconscious man out of the ring. Mox exited the ring, grabbed a microphone, and threw the bell away from the table.

“Where are the Young Bucks? Where’s the Cowboy?” Mox asks as he hovers near Emery, taunting her as he mentions her friends; he walks away, circling the ring as he continued,” Where is that goofy ass looking Don Callis? Where are they? I’ll tell ya where they are. They’re still at the hospital!”

Claudio pressed his boot into Brandon’s face as Yuta kicked at him. Brandon tried covering up to protect himself, but he couldn’t. Yuta keeps attacking as Mox and Claudio stand side by side and look out at the crowd.

“They got glass jaws. Glass brains. Glass egos. They’re a bunch of bickering little babies. That’s not Elite. This right here--- we put the Elite in All Elite Wrestling.” Mox threw the microphone down onto the floor, turning around to continue the beat down on Brandon until a piece of familiar music flows through the arena.

At the sound of ‘Battle Cry’ the crowd cheers loudly, but the once soothing music doesn’t seem to register in Emery as she continues pulling at her wrists, blood slowly beginning to surface on her skin from the strain. Kenny stalked out onto the middle of the stage wearing light-wash denim blue jeans and his sneakers. His shirt had been abandoned somewhere backstage—when he had found a monitor and saw what BCC had done to his Angel. The anger was evident on his face—tonight, he was not playing around. Mox and Claudio had their attention on him as Yuta and Bryan continued kicking at Brandon.

Kenny pointed at the ring as he began to stalk down the ramp, stopping halfway and gesturing for them to bring it. As much as he wanted to look at Emery, he didn’t—if he did, his resolve would falter, and he’d want to go to her. Right now, he needed to focus on BCC.

Mox shrugs, telling Claudio, “I’ll do it,” as he exited the ring and sat down on the apron, mouthing off to Kenny.

From behind Emery, Matt, and Nick sneak out from the crowd, but it’s like she doesn’t see them. When they notice her state of mind, both brothers become extremely worried—and very pissed off. They slide into the ring behind an unsuspecting Claudio, Yuta, and Bryan. They turn around to see what the crowd was on about, only for Yuta and Bryan to get taken out by stereo superkicks. Claudio charges them but is met with a double superkick; with them causing a distraction, Kenny jumps Mox, who had his back turned, throwing punches at him. Kenny rolls Mox into the ring as he and the Young Bucks all team up on Mox. Matt and Nick are kicking while Kenny continues punching away at him.

Matt takes a moment and walks over to Brandon, who leaned in a corner against a turnbuckle, blood trickling down his face. Nick looks to the corner opposite of them at Emery and goes to walk towards her, only to be stopped by Kenny.

“You know how she is when she gets like this, she’ll only fight you—just wait… a little longer…” Kenny frowned, hating the idea himself. Nick gave him a hard nod, understanding and regrettably agreeing with his friend before grabbing one of Mox’s arms. Matt rejoined them and grabbed Mox’s other arm with his good hand, and performed a V-Trigger as Kenny climbed out of the ring. His blue eyes landed on Emery, and for a split second, he hesitated.

His heart was yelling at him to go to her, to help her—but he knew he couldn’t. It would only do more harm to her in her current state of mind. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Kenny looked under the ring as Claudio jumped up onto the apron. Nick quickly pushed him off as Kenny grabbed the large black toolbox that Bryan had opened to get the duct tape, closing the lid and sliding it into the ring.

Matt and Nick stood to the side as Mox used the ropes to slowly haul himself back to his feet, watching Kenny pick the toolbox up. Using both hands, Kenny’s features darkened, and he began to run at Mox with the toolbox as a weapon but stopped short as Matt stepped in his way.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Matt told him, holding a hand out. Kenny slumped back, a frown on his face as Mox gave a smirk, thinking Matt was helping him. Matt’s eyes slipped past Kenny, landing on Emery, before he looked away, blinking. Mox took the moment to kneel down, watching and waiting to see what would happen.

The eldest Buck reached into his pocket and, with an expressionless face, pulled out a screwdriver, holding it in Kenny’s direction. Nick pointed at it as he looked at Kenny, talking to him and encouraging him, while Mox began running his mouth.

“No--- No---” Mox shook his head, a bit of fear in his eyes as he realized what was coming. Kenny slowly stepped forward and delicately took the screwdriver from Matt’s hand, looking at it for a minute as the Bucks turned to Mox and delivered some stomps, knocking him back into the corner.

Mox spat in Matt’s direction, leaning on the ropes as he edged them on, “C’Mon!”

Kenny held the tool in his hand like a murderer with a knife as he stared down Mox; the determination was in his eyes as he listened to the muffled screams of Emery. She was beginning to tire, her energy waning quickly as blood dripped down her arms and onto the floor.

“Oh, I’ll come on,” Kenny told him before charging full speed at Mox. Claudio and Bryan quickly grabbed onto their friend, pulling him out of the ring just in time as Kenny reached the corner. The screwdriver plunged into the top turnbuckle—exactly where Mox’s head had just been—and it stuck. Quickly, BCC hopped the divider and slowly began exiting through the crowd. Nick climbed onto the ropes, looking out at them as Matt and Kenny stood behind him, watching for a minute. Kenny noticed the noise coming from Emery had disappeared and looked over his shoulder. He could see her body beginning to sway and quickly rolled under the bottom rope, hurrying over to her.

“My poor Angel baby,” Kenny murmured, reaching up and gently prying the tape off of her face. She groaned from soreness and how tired she felt, her eyes briefly flickering open to see Kenny standing there.

“I’m right here, my Angel. Rest now…” he told her, and instantly, her whole body slumped. Kenny had been prepared and instantly caught her, supporting her body with his. Matt and Nick quickly joined them outside the ring, occasionally glancing in the direction that BCC had disappeared.

“Nick, grab that toolbox—let’s see if there are some bolt cutters in it,” Matt said to his brother, who gave him a nod and slid into the ring. Luckily, there was a cutter in the bottom compartment, and Nick hurried back; carefully, with Matt’s help, he cut the rope apart, and it fell to the floor below them.

“Think there’s some keys back there for these?” Nick asked as Matt assisted him, holding the short chain of the handcuffs so Nick could cut them as well.

“Should be,” Kenny nodded, leaning down and placing a hand behind Emery’s knees as he lifted her up into his arms.

“Let’s hurry up and get her backstage to a doc. I haven’t seen her like this in years,” Matt said as they hurried around the ring and up the ramp. Kenny kept quiet and stone-faced as they walked through the back towards medical, seething on the inside.

Blackpool Combat Club would pay dearly for this. He didn’t care what it took and how much it might hurt him in the end—but Kenny would not let them get away with hurting his Angel like this.

2 notes · View notes

loving-all-for-loki · 3 years

Note

i really love your writing sm. could I maybe request something with Loki and reader being slow to realize that the feeling is mutual? if you dont mind <3

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoy my writing, that makes me very happy to hear. I tried my best with this, I wasn’t really sure how to go about it, but I think I did a fun little twist to it. The italics are flashbacks. ALSO, you don’t need to know the song “Stuck In The Middle” to read this, but it will make this fic a little bit cuter if you do, so go stream it! It’s by Tai Verdes (actually just go listen to his whole album TV). I hope you enjoy this, nonnie.

Stuck In The Middle

Loki x reader

Word count: 2255

Warnings: fluff, maybe swearing I don't remember lol

Tony decided to throw another one of his giant parties, but no one is really sure why. There’s no holiday, no accomplishment to celebrate. All you know is that the tower is filled to the brim with high named people and well rounded faces. Music is blaring as people lounge around drinking or casually dancing. The Avengers are all around, scattered among the faces.

You on the other hand are leaning against a wall drinking some pop and trying to ignore the creepy men that hit on you. Parties are fine, you don’t mind them, but you don't go around gloating about your business or accomplishments. You watch Tony walk around getting praised by millionaires and celebrities with a smirk on your face. Shaking your head, you look down and give your glass of water more attention than the people.

“You really should get out there.”

Steve stands next to you with his little suit on that makes you laugh. You’re not used to seeing him all dressed up.

“I’m not a boaster. I’ll dance here and there, but conversation isn’t my forte.”

“You're having a conversation with me, so what does that say?” He laughs.

“I don’t need your technicalities, Cap,” you laugh as well.

“You don’t even have to talk to people you don’t know. We’re all here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you want me to stay here with you?”

“No, Steve. Go have fun.”

He smiles at you before returning to his seat at the bar by Bucky and Sam. You smile at the three of them. You do truly love your friends, even if they bother you during alone time.

“Why would you enjoy them if they bother you?”

“Loki, stop reading my mind.”

“I can’t. You’re quite loud,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes as you take another sip of your water.

“Do you not like these grand parties?” He asks.

“Eh, I don’t mind them. Just not a bragger.”

“Ah, yes. One night dedicated to gloating about your own accomplishments while putting down others.”

“No, that’s the Oscars,” you joke.

“Who is Oscar?”

“Never mind. Why you go out and dance? I bet you have some moves.”

“Not without a partner. I’m more of a partner dancer.”

“Well, there’s plenty of pretty girls around you to ask to dance.”

“Why dance with a pretty girl when I have the most beautiful one right here leaning against a wall and ignoring everyone? That’s more my style.”

“Loki, I’m flatter,” you laugh, “is this your way of asking me to dance?”

“Possibly. Thor has been bugging me to ‘get out there’ and I don’t like anyone here beside you.”

“Such a gentleman.”

Loki rolls his eyes as he takes your hand in his and leads you to the dance floor. The song changes into a fun chill song you recognize as “Stuck In The Middle”. You and Loki dance together as the two of you laugh. At some point, he pulls you into him, holding him at your chest.

“Remember when we first met?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do. You were arguing with Tony and Thor.”

“I want to return to Asgard and I will no matter what you say.”

“You’re a war criminal serving time here for your attacks. If you even attempted to go back, the American army would shoot you down.”

“And good luck to them.”

“My brother is a god, Man of Iron, do not forget.”

“Shut it, point break. You can try to leave if you want to die.”

Loki scoffs at Tony’s threat. As he goes to open his mouth, he sees a girl wander into the living area and scour the kitchen. The three watch her in silent and she opens every cabinet. Loki is curious by the girl with her long black hair and sweats on, clearing not caring about the argument happening. She finally turns around with her mouth filled with pretzels from shoving them in. She looks at the two gods and Tony with a wide eyed look, clearly asking “what” in her face and shrugging.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asks after swallowing.

Tony laughs and shakes his head, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. We’re just having a disagreement. Go enjoy your pretzels,” Tony chuckles.

Loki watches the way she submits to Tony and follows his lead, wondering who she is and why she listens to Tony without hesitation.

“I was so intrigued by you, this small little thing who looked so full of life. What happened to her?”

You laugh hard, “You got to know me, that’s what.”

Loki hadn’t seen the innocent girl in two weeks, wondering if she was even real. There had been some kind of glow to her so had he known better, he’d say she’s an angel.

Loki decided to coop himself up in the library while he was stuck on Midgard. Since he was stuck here, he thought he’d at least spend time doing something enjoyable. He’d spend hours in there until he had read every book and started to reread them. Then, as if the universe had heard him, the innocent girl had returned, putting a book away and getting a new one. She immediately walked out of the room and down to the tower’s elevator. Without hesitation, Loki got up and followed her at a quick pace, wanting to get in the elevator at the same time. As he walked in, they stood in silence next to each other and Loki realized he had no plan.

“I’m Loki. I don’t think we properly met.”

“Y/N.”

Loki feels his heart pound as she speaks to him with her heavenly tone. She sounds exactly like he thought she’d sound. It fits her so perfectly and he wants nothing more than to listen to her talk all day.

“I apologize for anything you heard the other day. Stark and I don’t see eye to eye.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughs, “He can strike a nerve sometimes.”

“That is an understatement,” Loki says, losing himself in his anger towards the billionaire.

You laugh at his comment which eases his anger. Loki is filled with joy knowing you find humor in his words, learning you’re not as stuck up as the other Midgardians.

“You read?”

“Yes, I love to.”

“What’s your favorite book?”

“Sense and Sensibility.”

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“It’s a Midgardian classic,” you say with some snark.

“I’ll have to read it. May I ask what you are doing for the rest of the day?”

The elevator opens and the two of you walk off, Loki still following you with awe.

“I’m going to spar with Steve for a little bit. You can join if you want.”

“I will not participate, but will not refuse to be of company.”

You smile at him as you walk towards the training room. Steve stands there getting ready and is surprised to see the stoic god behind you.

“Is he joining?”

“Just to watch.”

Loki sits down on the bench and leaves you to get changed and stretch. He can’t comprehend how something as sweet as you can be so willing to fight one of the super soldiers. He can’t even lie that he’s scared for you, but he’s soon proven wrong in seconds as you knock Steve down to the ground in a sweet kick. You and the super soldier go at it and you prove to be a worthy match for Steve. Loki is shocked by your swiftness and strength, clearly underestimating you.

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t expect you to be as tough as you are.” “Wow, you underestimated me. I’m hurt, Loki,” you tease.

“I’ve learned to expect the unexpected with you.”

“How so?”

“I think we all remember your silly holiday ‘April fools’.”

April fools is one of your favorite holidays and now that the trickster god is living with you, all of the avengers are on high alert all day. No one realized he didn’t know about the special day, so Loki wondered why everyone seemed to ignore him more than usual. He walked into the living space to see you sitting on the couch with another book.

“Did I do something?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m aware I’m not well liked, but it seems that I haven’t seen anyone all day except for you right now.”

“It’s because its’ April fools and they’re scared of you.”

A little ping of pride hits Loki.

“They’re scared of me? And what is April fools?”

“It’s a dumb holiday here where you prank people and they’re worried you’re going to pull something. After all, you are you.”

“You have a whole day dedicated to messing with people?”

“Yeah, usually it’s something simple like telling people you’re pregnant when you’re not or tying the spray nozzle on the sink together so everyone gets wet when they use it. Other people go big which is what they expected from you.”

“That doesn’t shock me,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I wanted to prank them, but I think they’ve left the building entirely.”

“You say we have the tower to the two of us?” Loki can think of a couple ways he’d spend alone time with you, but the idea of messing with the Avengers with your help is too tempting. He’ll have to put his other ideas to the side for the moment. “We can still do something.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure, but you could think of something, I’m sure.”

“We could glue everything down so you can use anything?”

“Like stick the together?”

“Exactly, but we could use your magic so we could reverse it later.”

“I like how you think.”

About two hours later, the Avengers return from wherever they had been throughout the day and run to their rooms to avoid Loki. As soon as they noticed the two of you relaxing on the couch, they tensed up and sprinted. You pretended to not have told Loki about anything and watched them get nervous, trying to hide your amusement.

It’s only minutes later when they all run back in yelling at you about how they can’t pick anything up or open drawers. Loki looks over to you among the chaos and smiles, seeing the wide proud smile across your face.

“That was a lot of fun. You surprised me in the past though, too.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He laughs.

You had gotten hurt on a mission and found yourself with a broken arm. Every day activities became 10x harder because you have to do it with your non-dominant hand and it’s started to get annoying. You’ve been attempting to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for about 25 minutes now. Loki walked in to see you struggling with peanut butter all over your hand and a glob on the bread. There’s a giant tear in the middle of the piece you’re spreading it on and a frown on your face.

“You look like you’re struggling.”

“Thank you, captain obvious!” You exclaim in an angry tone, glaring daggers at the god.

“Do you need some help?”

“I would love some because clearly, I’m having some difficulty.”

Loki comes over and helps you finish making your sandwich. You sit down to eat but because of your bad mood, you don’t even want it now. Loki notices your distress and shakes it head, waving his hand by.

“You’re healed, now eat your sandwich.”

You look at him in confusion until you realize your arm doesn’t hurt as much when you move it. You rip off your cast and feel around to feel how your arm is completely healed.

“Thank you!”

“You can be very sweet sometimes.”

“Don’t let Stark hear that, he’ll think I have mind controlled you.”

The Avengers all sit around the bar and watch you and Loki dance. They have a big smile on their face as they see you two have fun, laughing and talking. Thor has never seen his brother look so relaxed and joyful before, it’s refreshing to see him happy. Steve and Tony don’t miss the way you look at Loki, it’s filled with more love than any friends would look at each with.

“You think there’s more there?” Thor asks.

Steve and Tony turn to look at him with confused yet amused faces. “Thor, you really are an idiot,” Tony laughs.

The song comes up to the last chorus and you and Loki have stopped talking. He swings you around and holds his body next to yours. The music get’s both of your attention.

Cause we’re stuck in the middle of lover and friends

And we’re losing every part of the benefits

You’ve hurt me more than I ever knew

But it’s shitty because I’m doing the same to you

As the lyrics set in, you remember all the things Loki has done for you. Making your PB&J, recommending books, keeping you company when the Avengers are away, dancing with you at New Years parties, giving you a hug when you return from missions, and not leaving your side when you’re hurt. Loki thinks of all the things that made you bearable. Your sense of humor, the smile on your face when you see him, the way you’ll reread books you love, the way you make fun of others with him, and how you defend him when they make fun of him.

“I think I like you,” you both say.

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader fluff #loki layfeyson x reader #loki oneshot #marvel x reader

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chaoticpete · 3 years

Text

Young Avengers!

Young Avengers x F!Reader, Peter Parker x F!Reader

Warnings: bit of a crack, some fluff

A/N: Not my best but just a fun little thing I wanted to write since we are getting the young avengers (Allie this is for you 💜💜)

(I know the picture has absolutely nothing to do woth this BUT HOW COULD I NOT SHARE THIS)

“Do you think they’re ready to go on a mission like this on their own, Tony?” Steve asks as the original team watches the younger ones.

Peter and Harley are arguing over some lab mishap earlier, Billy and Tommy having their own petty argument. You and Casey are debating and Kate just watches everything rolling her eyes wondering how she even got here.

“Nope! But we have no other choice. It’s an undercover mission and the event is the target son’s party. And not exactly like any of us can blend in with that crowd.” Tony says looking at them.

He looks at Clint and squints. “I think I’m even starting to see some grays.” He said pointing at Clint’s head as he swats his hand away. “Let’s go discuss with the children.” He says opening the door and walking into the conference room.

“Younglings, hooligans. Whatever you are. Eyes on us.” Tony says walking in the rest of the team following in. “We have a mission for you guys.”

He presses the remote and a shady man pops up the screen. “Hans Wittaker. His name has been moving up very rapidly lately. And he has something we want.” He says before changing slides.

“There are some plans that we would like to access but, we can’t beat his firewall from outside but we can from the inside.”

“But why do we have to go get it?” Casey askes.

“Because Wittaker is holding an event for his 18-year-old son. And we’re not exactly nobody’s at this point and don’t exactly blend in with a teen cast.”

“And no one really knows what any of us looks like.” Peter finishes. “Bingo.”

“So here’s the deal. Kate will be watching from the outside. Making sure everything goes smoothly. Casey will be blending in with the crowd being Y/n backup if anything goes wrong. Billy will be working for staff and Tommy will be on standby with Kate. Y/n will be the bait. Pete-“ you cut Nat off.

“Why do I have to be the bait? Why not Casey?” “Yeah, do you guys not remember last time Y/n had to flirt with a guy?” Harley asked. “When she stabbed that guy with a fork,” “Or was it when she broke the other guy's finger?” The twins ask laughing.

You flip them both off. “I think she’ll do just fine,” Casey says. “And those guys deserved it putting their hands on her like that,” Kate interjected. Peter places his hand on top of yours. “You'll do great N/n.” He says, giving you a small smile. “Thanks, Pete.” You said taking his hand in yours.

“Simp,” Harley says in between a fake cough before Casey smacks him in the arm.

“Is everyone clear and their positions?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes. “Eye eye captain!”

“Oh, and Y/n, let’s not try jumping off the roof this time.” “But what if I need to make a quick getaway?” “You're just keeping the kid distracted. If anything, don’t break anything on him.”

Your heels make a click sound so you make your way through the marble-tiled room. You swiftly scan the room giving billy and Casey slight nods when making eye contact.

Noticing a small crowd you see a suave, blue-eyed brunette. “Locked on target.” You say from behind your champagne glass. “Go and talk to him,” Nat says from your coms. “I mean I really don’t want to.” “Y/n.” “Fine, I’m going.”

“Well, it seems I finally found the guest of honor.” You say approaching the guy. It takes everything inside of you not to kick him in the chest as his eyes roam over your body as if undressing you.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Definitely would’ve remembered an angel, such as yourself.” He says grabbing your hand and places a kiss. A small giggle leaves your lips.

“I don’t like the way he’s watching her,” Peter grumbles from across the room. “We all know she’s your girl but Y/n can take care of herself. Now come on we have to find the office.”

“Why don’t we just change that then?” You say a teasing smirk. “Go somewhere a bit more...private.” you finish while taking one of his hands and placing it right on your hip.

“Okay, Y/n is getting the kid to leave the room getting like three of the guards to follow him. Harley and Peter, you guys know what to do. Casey and Billy stay on stand by.”

Sadly, the plan didn’t keep going so well.

“Uh, so you guys know how you told me not to break anything on him,” you say looking for a way to escape.

“Y/n what did you do?” “She broke his arm and shoved him into the closet.” “Kate!”

“Okay well, I still have things to download.” “I think you're safe, Harls. All the guards are heading to Y/n’s location.” Casey says. “I’m going to help her,” Peter says leaving the office door.

“No, if they know were here the whole mission will be corrupted,” Billy says. “Right now they think Y/n is just some psycho.”

“Y/n you need to get out of there!” “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize that.” You say frantically looking around. Banging begins coming from the room door and the bathroom door.

“Is there like any secret entrances or something? Don’t evil rich people usually have those things?” You ask while starting to pull books off the shelves.

The banging on the door gets louder as they begin to kick in the door.

“Got it!” Harley exclaims. “Great now everyone gets out of there.”

“You guys know how you told me not to jump from anywhere. Gonna have to break that rule.” “Y/n don’t. It’s an 80-foot drop.” “I’ve jumped higher.” “Yeah with a harness on.”

You climb out onto the balcony. “Guys she’s gonna do it.” “Where the hell is Parker?”

You hear the door give in and guns start clicking. Looking over your shoulder you give the guards a sly smirk. “Almost had me, boys,” you say before leaping off, a loud whoop leaving your lips.

“I really hope som-off” you get cut off and you come in impact with a red and black-clad body.

“Perfect timing,” you say giving peter an innocent smile as your wrap your legs around his waist holding onto him tightly.

“Do you have a death wish or just love to give everyone a heart attack?” Tommy asks through the coms. Before you could answer, Peter lands on a roof top and chimes in.

“She’ll have to answer you later. We have somethings to discuss with what happened at the party." He says before turning off both of your coms.

Tags:: @tommyunderoos @spideyspeaches @frenchfrostpudding @holland-styles @gwenvrse @allegra-writes @blizzardbabe @cherry-hyejin @kitkatd7 @buckys-other-punk

#young avengers #avengers crack #avengers #avengers x reader #peter parker marvel #peter parker x reader #tom holland #marvel #x reader #peter parker #spiderman #peter x reader #tom holland spiderman #mcu peter parker #young avengers x reader #crackhead reader

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Trois:

Chapter One.

The leading lady will be introduced eventually but I feel like with the way this is written I need to focus on Adonis and Erik first.

Warnings: AU!Erik, AU!Adonis, smut, bisexual, mentions of blood, threesome.

The 2019 Comic Con at the Los Angeles Convention Center was populous to say the least. Adonis Johnson felt like he was elbow-to-elbow with the animated and roused crowd of event goers. Everyone is grouped like teenagers in those cheesy high school flicks. You have your Nerds—never worried about being challenged to prove their knowledge about the gaming character or superhero on the shirt they're wearing, yelling out quotes in a spirit of shared fandom. Then, you have your cos players—rehearsed smiles on their faces whenever they are stopped to have their picture taken, sort of deteriorating and looking less magnificent as the day goes on due to wig issues, broken weapons, or itchy and hot costumes. Then, there are those individuals like Adonis who endure the hectic universe.

Adonis is wearing a faded orange muscle tee with a mixture of his favorite anime characters such as Saitama, Goku, Sasuke, L, Yusuke Urameshi, and Spike Spiegel. He styled the tee with a pair of Nike Dri-FIT Basketball shorts in black, black Jordan socks, and a pair of orange and black Air Jordan 1’s on his feet. He couldn’t forget his layered silver chains and finger rings to make it more stylish, or his charcoal black Coach backpack to carry his essentials like the sun screen he needed and some water from standing in that long ass line in the blazing afternoon sun. The cast of Zombieland: Double Tap will be there, and over 800 exhibitors. Adonis didn’t even know where to start or end and at first he figured the map in his hand that he grabbed at the entrance was a great idea but he tossed it in the closest receptacle.

Adonis scratched at the steri-strip on the corner of his pouty bottom lip since the regular stitches were removed by his doctor almost 48 hours ago. Adonis earned that busted lip from a fight he triumphed in. He didn’t get that wound from the type of fights you see on paper view—he’s an Underground Boxer who participates in Street fighting. Yes, Adonis fights in ‘unlicensed’ matches. This means it operates outside the governing bodies of the sport and is susceptible to rules being broken and fights being fixed. It is illegal in many countries because it is dangerous and disruptive to daily life—running the possibility of being charged with several crimes especially. It’s Adonis’ personal fight club, a badge of honor for him.

Adonis was introduced to the idea of a fight club by a childhood buddy of his that died five years ago. His name was Clark Wilson. Adonis and Clark used to be in Juvie together—two angry kids who used their fists because of the violence and hatred surrounding them. When Adonis’ father, famous Boxer named Apollo Creed’s wife Mary Anne came looking for Adonis while he was in Juvie, she took him in as her own son and started him out in therapy and anger management groups. For the most part, Adonis felt as if his anger was suppressed but he missed the way fighting made him feel——alive. First, Adonis had to understand the reasoning of a Fight Club. Fight Club is about releasing his anger and stress; about fighting his problems; about going against normalcy and the safe little bubble he has become accustomed to living in.

Rules were put in place and Adonis found a private property hidden from the public eye so that the authorities can’t interfere. Adonis uses a basement of a record shop for his Fight Club location. If someone would die in Fight Club, there isn’t anything anyone could do. There has only been one case where someone died in Adonis’ Fight Club and he swore to make sure it didn’t become deadly. Brutal, yes, but no murder. Pinching the steri-strip on his lip to keep it in place, Adonis visits an exhibitor—Comic Madness. Pulling out his iPhone so he could use his Apple Pay, Adonis sifts through the comic books to find the ones he wanted. The price tag on them was a bit much but this was a once a year weekend event so he could break the bank.

Entrepreneur of a fitness company called Elite Body Edge, Erik Stevens strolls through Comic Con after checking out the Hellboy cast members doing a Q&A. Stylish per usual, dangling gold cross earring in his right ear, yellow and black camouflage cargos on, all-white creaseless Nike Air Force 1s, and a lax graphic tee with The Lost Boys on it, Erik pans his Canon PowerShot G7X Mark lll Camera around him, Vlogging his Comic Con experience for his YouTuber’s. When he’s not recording fitness and nutrition videos, Erik is vlogging about his daily life or giving advice to the anonymous subscribers who send him emails. He wanted to edit the video to look like a VHS video for a different aesthetic. Erik strolls past a group of cos players dressed as The Avengers and stops to record them, smiling at the enthusiasm and flashing his gold canines.

Erik sips from his souvenir cup, the straw making an annoying suctioning noise since it was nearly empty. Shaking the cup, ice chips clanking around, Erik stops to get some more footage. Just when he was about to end his vlogging, there was a rather sexy, good-looking dude with chestnut eyes, amber skin so smooth and velvety looking. The muscle tee he was sporting didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Clearly, he’s lean, and chiseled. Erik haltingly lowers his camera, his inky black eyes trailing over this mystery guys frame with enthrallment. Just when Erik thought he would be coming to Comic Con for some fanboy fun, he spotted a distraction with a nice ass. Erik is a bi-sexual man. Friends jokingly called Erik a hoe that got off on pussy or dick—a reckless hoe that played with fire. Married couples, closet homosexuals, threesomes with women, anything that caused mayhem and wreckage with relationships. Anything to get his thick dick wet.

Erik’s Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck and his lips parted. When the mystery guy turned around Erik grunted deeply. Lips so thick and plump. Oooh. His breath became ragged and he felt himself swelling. Why did this have to happen to him right now? Donnie must have felt Erik’s hard eyes burning into the back of his skull because he looked back over his shoulder at him with a raised brow and obvious annoyance. The corners of Adonis’ eyes crinkled with suspicion. Erik found it comical, giving Adonis a sly half smirk when their eyes connected. Adonis shook out his shoulders, focusing back on the stacks of comic books in front of him. Why is his heart skipping a beat and his stomach in knots? The back of his neck prickled and he glanced over at Erik again before he cocked his head to the side. The devilish smirk on Erik’s face sparked Adonis’ short temper.

Thinking back to his anger management tips, Adonis tried to take a timeout by using “I” statements—to stay in control. Think before you speak, don’t make assumptions, calm yourself. As much as he wanted those methods to work, Erik’s smiling, smug face bothered Adonis. Who is this random ass nigga and why the fuck is he smiling like there’s a joke? Adonis started to feel more and more uneasy about Erik staring at him. Does he know about the Fight Club? That seemed to invigorate Adonis’ irritation because he began charging through a group of cos players and walked right up to Erik with his pectoral muscles puffed out and his hands in fists so tight he could feel the aftershocks from his fight almost two days ago. Erik stood his ground with a single brow raised, waiting for Adonis to cause a scene. As soon as Adonis crowded his personal space that was already so little with how many people surrounded them, Erik made it his business to allow his inky black eyes to drop to Adonis’ crotch and back up swiftly.

“The fuck is your problem staring at me, nigga?” Adonis spoke with a harsh whisper that caused his jaw muscles to clench, “You know me or something?” Adonis paused before he nodded his head slowly, “Let me guess...you wanna fight me?”

“Fight you?” Erik’s eyes become slits, “Why would I want to fight somebody I don’t even know?”

“Well, then you must have heard about me…” Adonis says with a questioning tone. Erik licks his lips and with no regard allows his piercing eyes to memorize the shape of Adonis’ mouth. Adonis couldn’t fight the urge to do the same. He’s turned on. Just as the tension between the two of them reaches a fever pitch, Adonis steps away before he could even realize what he was doing. Adonis didn’t even know he had been holding his breath until he drew in a shaky tone. He’s noticeably quieter now, his aggression tampered. He knew his bewilderment was written across his face. Adonis squared his shoulders and shook out his limbs as if Erik had a bind on him.

“You good, fighter?” Erik asks sarcastically, “You’re a boxer? I can tell by your reflexes. For a second I thought you were gonna try and knock me out,” Erik smiled. Adonis swallows a hefty amount of spit to calm the tingling sensation in his abdomen.

“Yeah...I box...underground,” Adonis clarified, “Been doing it for seven years now.”

“Ahh, dirty boxing, I see,” Erik strokes his goatee, “how does one get into that shit anyway? I’m interested.”

“You don’t choose it like you choose your next meal..you gotta be initiated in...they like to weed out the weak ones…”

“That hardcore?” Erik took a few steps towards Adonis.

“Hell yeah,” Adonis stares at Erik’s feet as if he were overstepping, “I can tell you more about it if you’re serious.”

“As long as it’s from the pro himself I’m all ears.”

This foreign feeling that washed over Adonis’ body was something he felt before when he questioned whether or not he wanted a man to suck his dick. He looks back at Erik just as he smiles and Adonis rolled his eyes away slightly. What the fuck is happening right now?

“I don’t even know your name, bro,” Adonis held out his hand to give Erik dabs, “I’m Adonis.”

“Erik,” He raised his hand to shake Adonis’. He didn’t want to linger too long but the feeling of his calloused palm teased his hand and it made him want to stroke it. When Erik let go, he allowed his fingertips to brush across the center of Adonis’ palm and that little touch caused Adonis’ biceps to flex. Good to see him react.

“you gotta be serious...this shit is...it’s rough,” Adonis cleared his throat, “Ain’t the place to really discuss this—“

“Nah, I’m cool,” Erik says with a chuckle—a teasing grin on his face and his eyes now following the definition of Adonis’ arms. Adonis didn’t like Erik staring at him so openly. Maybe Erik got the wrong vibe from Adonis—believing him to be a possible fuck he could conquer after this crowded event, “I’ll stick to boxing in my gym. This underground shit sounds like some kind of deadly contract.”

“It’s not for everybody,” Adonis says with a smirk, “But if you change your mind, how do I reach you? I usually don’t recruit fighters out in the open like this.”

“Here you go,” Erik pulls out his black leather wallet, retrieving a business card before handing it over to Adonis. It’s a black business card with a gold metallic painted edge for his fitness club Elite Body Edge. The business card is twice as thick as standard cards, since they are printed on 32 pt. uncoated cardstock, offering a superb heft and feel everyone will notice. Erik’s contact information is at the bottom of the card.

“I’ve heard of this fitness club, all good things too, I’ll keep in touch if you’re ever interested.”

“I’d like to come and watch the fights at least...is that cool?”

Adonis ponders for a bit, “We have people come and watch but it’s mainly members…”

Erik notices Adonis’ hesitation, backing away a little, “Listen, you hardly know me, I don’t want to intrude on your little secret society. However, you have my card, you can stop by the gym anytime. We have boxing equipment that you can use too.”

“Aight...cool...I’ll come and check it out,” Adonis pockets the card, “Nice to meet you, Erik, sorry for the way I came off at you earlier, my anger can be a bit out of control,” Adonis lets out a nervous chuckle.

“A bit? I get this vibe that it’s more than just a bit,” Erik turns to leave, “Don’t hesitate to stop by and get a good work out in! Enjoy the rest of your time here at Comic Con.”

“Will do,” Adonis salutes Erik before turning away and disappearing into the sea of people.

________________________________________________________

Elite Body Edge is designed with the purpose of building strong foundations by balancing flexibility, mobility, strength, conditioning and nutrition as well as giving you the perfect sculpt to turn heads; because a strong and sculpted foundation makes a power house. With an arsenal of knowledge, from competition preparation to rehabilitation to strength and conditioning, Elite Body Edge can design a program for any body habitus to achieve any fitness goal. They offer one-on-one training, group sessions and accountability programs to best fit your needs. Why train with Elite Body Edge? No contracts with affordable month-to-month membership, a safe environment to learn proper technique from experienced trainers, a flexible schedule with a variety of group classes to fit your schedule, and an encouraging atmosphere to make working out fun.

Elite Body Edge is a high-end gym experience. Some of the club amenities include, locker rooms complete with sauna and massage chairs, rooftop deck, group fitness classes, premium strength and cardio equipment including LifeFitness, HammerStrength, Precor, and Star Trac, and an amazing aquatic area for swim-fitness. Some of the classes include Restorative Yoga, H.E.A.T Camp, TRX, Feel Fit Naked, Boxing, Self defense, Spin, H.I.I.T, Yogalates, Circuit Burn, and many more. It’s located at 8053 Beverly Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA. It’s striking architecture was designed by National Design Award winner Ian Jackson of Studio Sofield. It’s 30-foot video wall for virtual-reality cycle classes is exceedingly popular, and it’s soaring 25-foot ceilings supported by illuminated linear columns and over 40,000 square feet of state-of-the-art equipment, Elite Body Edge is a modern-day escape straight out of a sci-fi film.

Erik is no stranger to the gym. Over the years he has received multiple certifications in performance enhancement, TRX Suspension and is a EliteFirst Certified Level 1 trainer, which he has employed as a strength and conditioning coach for the nationally recognized Fremont High School Basketball Team which has produced multiple athletes in the NBA. He supports the youth and employs them to stay active and live a healthy lifestyle. The fitness mogul himself was wrapping up a TRX tactical training course. Most of the occupants are military trained or athletes and with Erik’s skills it can keep them performing at the highest level. Sweaty, heart rate spiked, muscles fueled, and a round of applause, Erik puts up one hand with a black training glove to settle the cheers from his hard working pupils.

“Nah, y’all should be clapping for yourselves,” Erik wipes sweat from the tip of his nose, “You guys did an amazing job today. The shit is tough but I see improvement and progress. We’ll meet at the same time next Wednesday. Remember, get some rest, stay hydrated, and eat a well balanced diet.”

Everyone gathered their things and exited the class. Erik grabs some cleaning solution and a few disposable cloths to wipe down the equipment. Gym playlist on, you wouldn’t be able to keep Erik’s energy down for one second. He’s so amped up that he could go for another training session; work on his hamstrings and calves some more. Satisfied with his cleaning, Erik exits the classroom, the double glass doors closing behind him. The energetic, hip-hop music pumped up his clients to finish their workout sessions. The air circulating the gym masked the usual odor that comes with sweating and his gym staff are very vigilant on keeping the place tidy. His staff wears black workout gear from head to toe with the gym logo on the front.

As Erik walks through his gym, checking things out, a familiar face catches his eye. Training on an Everlast Powercore Dual bag with a speed bag attachment is the eye-candy from Comic Con just a week prior. He’s shirtless with a blue Adidas face mask on and fingerless black MMA gloves. His gym shorts hung low on his hips and his feet danced back and forth in his Speed-Flex boxing shoes in time with his fierce punches. Erik wondered when he became a member. He didn’t expect for Adonis to even take up the offer on joining the gym. Smirking, Erik strolls over towards Adonis at the same time as one of Erik’s pilates trainers, Andrea does. Andrea is wearing a black sports bra with the gym logo and black biker shorts. Her sleek platinum blonde pixie cut made her glistening peanut skin pop. Her dark brown eyes held recognition as well as lust.

“Donnie?” Andrea says with a sultry voice, “I knew that was you,” Andrea popped her hip out, staring Adonis up and down with a big white smile, “How are you?”

Adonis takes off his face mask, those thick lips extra moist from the perspiration on his skin, “Andrea, w’sup? I’m doing good…” Adonis seemed to be thrown off by her presence. From the way he looked at her with his chocolate eyes, they must have had an interesting relationship. Erik took note of the way Adonis sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and Andrea licked her lips and touched his arm with her fingertips.

“Why don’t you come and see me anymore? We used to have a good ass time...what happened with that? Got tired of me?” Andrea says with a single brow raised.

“I’ve been busy,” Adonis looked away awkwardly, the fresh scar above his right brow catching Andrea’s attention.

“Busy getting into a brawl? What’s that scar about?”

“You know me…” Adonis turned away, “Can’t pass up a good fight.”

Andrea didn’t hide her sexual appetite for Adonis from the way her eyes swept over his body, silently telling him how his ripped physique turned her on. Just when she allowed her eyes to drop to Adonis’ crotch, Erik was there next to her, the form-fitting Under Armor short sleeve grey top he wore drenched and molding with his well-built curves straining against the fabric. Two sexy men with twin facial features that made her drool like a love-sick dog.

“Didn’t think you would show up,” Erik held his hand out to shake Adonis’ hand, “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s dope, I love the set up, I especially enjoy this boxing section...I mean, you have everything I need to help me train.”

“Where were you training before?” Erik asked.

“Delphi Boxing Academy, but I need more free roam, too many new people to train.” Adonis replies.

“...so, you know Andrea?” Erik looks over at her, her peanut colored skin immediately turning red and the top row of her teeth chewing on her pouty, pink bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah, we got history,” Adonis cracks a smile, “Maybe I should catch one of your Pilates classes...watch you do that seated toe touch.”

Erik arched a single thick brow at Adonis’ words. It wasn’t directed towards him but the seductive way he said that had a pool of desire filling the pit of his stomach. Erik knows exactly how that seated toe touch looked. Seated on the floor, knees drawn towards your chest, feet in the air and toes pointed to the sky, a complete view of a woman’s phat pussy or a man’s hefty bulge straining against the fabric of their stretchy leggings or shorts. Erik enjoys fucking a woman with a malleable body just as much as Adonis does it seems. He wouldn’t mind seeing how malleable Adonis can be.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” Andrea gives Adonis one final look up and down before walking away, “my number is still the same.”

Adonis watches Andrea walk away, “you got a good selection on your staff, bruh.”

“Yup,” Erik agrees, head tilted to the side, dreads shifting across his forehead before he grins, baring his teeth, “gotta have options, a pretty face brings guests, it’s all business.”

“Well, I admire your business. The dedication and strive to pull something like this together is inspirational. I put my membership in a day ago and was trying to meet with you for a personal tour but your front desk staff said you were out for the day.” Adonis says.

“Yeah, I’m also a Biological Science Lab Tech two days a week pulling twelve hour shifts.”

“Damn, how the hell do you function?” Adonis says with a shocked voice.

“You gotta love what you do. You should know, with your own fight club and all, living a double life...working a regular 9-5 during the day I’m guessing?” Erik says with curious eyes.

“I’m a Senior Trading Analyst for Smith Boardley Financial Group so, yeah, it’s like living a double life. They don’t ask questions though, which is good.” Adonis’ face shows annoyance as if he didn’t want to talk about his job. Erik senses that maybe Adonis isn’t satisfied with his daytime life, that he feels more free at night and in the ring. He hardly even knew this guy and yet he wanted to know every little detail; ask him questions. He has so many layers to fold back, and besides his reasons behind fighting, Erik hopes to make Adonis admit to his attraction to him. Only thing is, Adonis has to believe it. He’s still uncertain and confused.

“Why do you fight?”

Silence settles between them for a short while before Adonis finally speaks.

“Freedom mainly. I want to stop controlling everything and just let go,” Adonis closes his eyes briefly, “if it’s not working out for me...I need to find something that doesn’t...something that doesn’t define me as this perfect dude with a perfect job, and all this fucking money. The things you own end up owning you. The people around you can drag you down. When I fight, I lose control. I’ve been taught at a very young age to bottle up my aggression but all I wanna do is use my hands and to experience some feeling in this numb world...this ‘cocooned society’.”

“So it’s not about the violence for you? I can understand that. I guess working out is a release for me...that’s an interesting method that I support,” Erik’s eyes scan Adonis’ body, taking a step back so he can blatantly check him out, “I wanna know how this fight club operates...you think I can come watch?”

Adonis lets go of a laugh, his dimples flashing, “Yeah, man, you can come watch. I’m gonna warn you now though, it can get pretty graphic.”

“Blood? Broken teeth? Nasty scars? That shit don’t phase me,” Erik smiles, allowing his eyes to drop over Adonis’ body. Adonis leans down to grab his water bottle, taking a sip of it and completely avoiding Erik’s unwavering eyes. Why were those eyes making Adonis’ nerves spike up with excitement. It disgruntled him and had Adonis frowning from the feeling.

“Listen, just don’t be late,” Adonis spoke with finality, placing his face mask back on, “Can’t have people wandering in at the last minute. Come by tomorrow night around 10.”

Adonis’ change in demeanor has Erik chuckling. He has a habit of wearing his emotions on his face.

“Will do, bro. Catch you tomorrow...champ,” Erik jeers before leaving Adonis to his training.

____________________________________________________________

Going Underground Records was Erik’s destination for the late evening. Founded in 2001, Bakersfield's Going Underground Records is Central California's largest and longest running vinyl record store and has recently expanded with a new brick-and-mortar location in Los Angeles. They buy, sell, and trade LPs, 45s, stereo equipment, local concert promotional items (posters, flyers, one-off recordings, etc.) and more. They purchase collections of all sizes, so whether you have a handful, or thousands of records to sell, call or stop by any day of the week. They buy daily and travel to you for large collections. It seems completely deserted from the front but Erik’s instructions from Adonis’ text was to go around back through a basement door. Parking his red Audi R8 across the street, Erik puts out his weed, leaving it in his car. Opening the door, Erik’s left foot hits the wet street.

Fully out of his car, Erik closes the door, turning to walk across the street towards the record shop. Erik is wearing a camouflage pullover hoodie with black sweats and white Jordan 1’s with a low cut style. Bringing his hood up to cover his freshly twisted locs, Erik saunters down a narrow alleyway before making a left turn ending directly behind the record shop. As soon as he approached the red stainless steel cellar doors, Erik knocks twice, stepping away just in time as a tall, carob-skinned man with a bald head and a single gold hoop earring dressed in a black bomber jacket with a dark purple T-shirt and dark blue denim jeans opens the cellar doors. He looked at Erik in an angry or threatening way, his bug-eyes practically sizing Erik up like he wasn’t welcome. Erik was expressionless, no signs of fear towards this shaq looking man whatsoever, instead, Erik pockets his hands and clears his throat to speak.

“I’m here for rebellion.” Erik says. He was told to say this at the door from Adonis’ text after the gym yesterday. Erik stopped him before Adonis took off in his matte black Chevy corvette. They exchanged numbers so that Adonis could text him the address and password for entry into the fight club.

“Why do you seek rebellion?” The man spoke with a voice as hard as the blade of a shovel.

“Because of this effeminized society that forces me to live a dull and meaningless life,” Erik says with an even tone.

“Come in, quick,” The man says, “I’m Damion, the owner of this record shop.”

“Erik,” He shook hands with the man before entering the basement of the record shop through the cellar doors. There are metal shelves filled with boxes and janitorial items. Following Damion, Erik could hear hoots and hollers growing louder and louder within the basement. A black drape ahead separated Erik and Damion from the fight club. When the drape was pulled back, the badly lit room with a boxing ring and a crowd of at least thirty people awaited Erik. The shouts and roars are angry and free in Erik’s ears. It smelled like sweat, liquor, weed, and Vaseline mixed with coagulate.

There, in the middle of the ring with his fists tightly clenched, black boxer shorts hanging low on his hips, and left nose bleeding is Adonis himself. What would be his excuse this time when he went to work the next day? Maybe that he tripped and fell face first, bloodying up his nose. He bares his teeth that are just as bloody as his nose, punching his opponent so hard that they fall to the floor of the ring, his head pinched between the floor of the ring and Adonis’ left knee. Adonis kept slamming his fist into the bridge of his opponents nose——a beefy looking white man with ginger hair and a large leprechaun tattoo on his broad back. He did it again and again in flat hard packing sounds you could hear over all the yelling until the ginger-haired man caught enough breath and sprayed blood to say, stop. Just as those words fell from his lips with difficulty, Adonis stands to his full height, fisting the air with triumph.

“WHO WANTS NEXT? The night is just getting started!!” Adonis yells, voice like a rising storm, “THE RING IS FREE!”

“I’ll take him on!” A random black guy wearing a FedEx uniform says, pointing to a tall blonde-haired alternative-looking white guy with arm tattoos and nails painted black, “He’s been giving me a dirty look all night, let’s see what your hands are like. I had a long fucking day too,” The FedEx worker removed his hat revealing a clean faded haircut with waves, “Lets go!!! Don’t act scared now!!”

The ginger-haired white man was pulled from the ring, a bloody trail from his face following him. Adonis slid between the ropes and hopped out of the ring, walking through the crowded room until he reached a table with a series of water bottles and towels. Adonis grabs a bottle of water to drink, his grip crushing the plastic bottle before he tosses it away. Erik’s attention was brought back to the ring when the black guy kicked the air out of the alternative white guy then landed on him pounding him limp. The white guy clawed his neck for him to stop and that’s when he backed off with a viscous laugh. The blonde took this opportunity to give him a taste of his medicine. His left fist connected with the black guy's face, spit flying from between his full lips.

Yeah! Yeah! Kick his ass!

It was like a raging storm in that room. Erik walks further into the room, bumping shoulders accidentally with a wild amped up Al Pacino look alike with slicked back hair and what looked to be a waiter’s uniform on. These men came all the way here from their boring jobs to relieve some tension. Erik took his spot in a corner, his commanding yet piercing eyes scanning the room. He sought out Adonis again, finding him shouting into the ring. Erik was standing under one of only several lights in the after-midnight blackness of a basement full of men. In the ring two new guys are fighting. One of the men has his opponent's arms behind his head in a full nelson and rammed his face into the ring floor until his teeth bit down on the inside of his cheek. He kept going, even when the guy yelled stop. Adonis jumped into the ring, yanking the guy away and earning a right hook to his face. Erik hisses before grabbing his own jaw as if he could feel it.

“WHAT ARE THE FUCKING RULES, HUH?!” Adonis head butts him, knocking the guy to the floor before looking down on him with vengeful eyes, “WHEN THEY YELL STOP! YOU FUCKING STOP! Get up,” Adonis throws up his fists, “I said get the fuck up!”

Yeah Adonis! Teach him a lesson!

Body glistening from sweat and muscles perfectly sculpted as if they were carved out of limestone, Adonis beats this man down with just his fists, no special combo move like he’s some wrestler. The guy had enough, throwing his hands up in surrender. Adonis smiles with his blood stained teeth. There’s grunting and noise at fight club like at the gym, but fight club isn’t about looking good. There’s hysterical shouting in tongues like at church, except this isn’t a holy sanctuary like your grandmother would drag you to every Sunday morning to praise and worship. Erik briefly wondered who is responsible for mopping up the blood and sweat from the ring floor after all of this is over. Just standing there watching has his adrenaline spiked. Adonis raises his head towards the ceiling before opening his eyes, the low light making the blood on his face glisten.

His chocolate eyes scanned the room and when they landed on Erik he seemed to freeze with shock but then a knowing smile appeared on his face. Erik returned the same smile bobbing his head in greeting. Adonis left the ring and squeezed through the small crowd of men before finally coming face to face with Erik. Erik’s eyes sparked as they quickly swept Adonis’ drenched body. He had to suck in a quick breath to calm the pulse coming from his dick. All this charged up, aggressive energy is what Erik craves every time he fucks a man. That fighting back before surrendering to him when all his fat dick enters them. Adonis looked like the type to fight back, Erik really wanted to see that for himself. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

“Looks like underground street fights are a new favorite of mines,” Erik chuckled.

The corners of Adonis’ eyes crinkled as he smiled, “Didn’t think you would really show up.”

“I’m not all bark and no bite, bruh. When I say I’m gonna be somewhere, I make it happen. Anyway, I ain’t never seen shit like this so I wasn’t about to pass that up,” Erik’s lashes fluttered and his tongue glided across his bottom lip, his gold slugs twinkling in the low light like diamonds. Adonis’ brows knitted and his eyes fell to Erik’s lips. He caught himself staring and backed away, scratching the tip of his nose and taking a deep breath, his pectorals dancing one at a time. Erik’s eyes flickered with mischief and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I broke the code inviting you here, you know that?” Adonis looks around, “I’m surprised nobody called you out to fight them. When that happens, you have to fight. That’s the rules.”

“I don’t abide by rules easily,” Erik’s eyes are ablaze but his voice is like melted honey, “And clearly neither do you. I do my own thing. Is there some contract you have to sign to be involved in this shit?”

“First thirty names on the list get in, if you get in, you set up your fight right away, if you want to fight. If not, there are guys that do so maybe you should stay home.” Adonis points to his left brow, “A couple of stitches fixed this, some of these guys leave here with injuries so bad they need a bed in the hospital...It ain’t for everybody.”

“But yet here they are getting their asses handed to em’,” Erik shakes his head, “Looks like you need a drink.”

“I do, I was actually headed to the bar around the corner after this,” Adonis lifted a single brow as his eyes peered into Erik’s, “You’re welcome to join me if you want...I can tell you more about the fight club...looks like you’re interested in joining.”

“Maybe,” Erik surveyed Adonis’ face, “We could get to know each other a little? You know, I feel like you’re a cool dude, wouldn’t mind kickin’ it over drinks.”

“I don’t see why not,” Adonis gives Erik a quizzical look before backing away, “Meet me at The Spare Room around the corner from here.”

Erik chuckles as he watches Adonis back away, stroking the length of his beard while he takes in the vibe of Adonis’ body language, “Aight, I’ll be waiting for you at the bar.”

_____________________________________________________________

“I ordered for you if that’s cool? Whiskey.”

Adonis is sporting a black and grey Nike zip-up hoodie with matching track pants and black AirMax on his feet. He settles next to Erik at the bar before drumming his fingers nervously on the polished wood of the bar countertop. The bartender serves them two glass tumblers filled with whiskey and a black cocktail straw. Erik removes his straw and drinks straight from the rim of his glass. Adonis stirs the ice in his glass around before taking a hefty sip over the rim as well.

“What are you going to tell your job tomorrow about that purple bruise under your eye and that bloody nose? You tripped and hit your face against a brick wall?” Erik cracks a smile.

“I’m off tomorrow,” Adonis touches the bruise under his eye, wincing a bit, “That punch was brutal.”

“I felt that shit myself. Damn, he got your ass good.”

“And I got his ass right back,” Adonis proclaimed.

Erik finishes his drink before calling on the bartender for more.

“After a fight I usually get some pussy to calm me down but good pussy is hard to come by these days,” Adonis stretches his back, “I ain’t been in good pussy in a minute…”

Erik’s jaw clenched at the way Adonis said pussy. He glanced over at Adonis, watching him drink from his glass.

“Shoot Andrea a text, maybe she’ll stop by and give you that pussy you’ve been craving,” Erik motions for

Adonis to pick up his phone, “The night is still young, ain’t too late to get in that puss...ain’t never too late.”

Adonis arched a single brow at Erik, “...You fuck her?”

“She yours?” Erik twirled his glass while studying his drink.

“Nah, she’s not...but did you hit?”

Erik bites his bottom lip, “Once, around the time I first hired her. She got it.”

“I know, I been it before,” Adonis shakes his head, “You fuck all the women on your staff?”

“Yeah, if they want this fat dick.”

Adonis stirred in his seat, “Another round, homie.”

The bartender fills his glass, the liquid sloshing around the only sound between them until the bartender walks away.

“You mad I dipped into Drea?” Erik asks casually.

“Can’t be mad at that. She’s not mine...remember?”

“I got this feeling that if she was yours...you would use this bar top to crack my head open,” Erik flashes Adonis a dimpled smile, “That’s if you can though.”

“You talk like you would want that,” Adonis squinted his eyes.

“I like aggression,” Erik says with a hushed tone. Adonis looked away, pondering Erik’s words. He couldn’t explain it but the way he said that felt as if he were flirting with him. Adonis pulls his phone out of his pocket at that exact moment to find Andrea’s number. He shoots her a quick you up text before returning to his drink.

“You from around here,” Adonis asked to clear the growing tension. It only worked a little.

“South Central. You?”

“Crenshaw up until the age of twelve, in and out of Juvie until my dad's wife found me…”

“Your mom wasn’t around?” Erik asked.

“She died when I was ten. Never knew my dad until his wife took me in...from there I moved to Tarzana to live in this mansion. My whole life changed. Found out who my pops was too. Apollo Creed.”

“Shit...you serious?” Erik’s eyebrows disappeared behind his dreads, “Bro...that’s WILD...why didn’t you follow in your father's footsteps?”

“I didn’t want to be known as Apollo Creed’s son and expected to be the next Creed star. I wanted to do my own thing, you know? That pro boxer shit didn’t stroke my curiosity. All the fame, all the attention. Nah, underground street fighting is my thing.”

“I’m sure your old man would be proud either way though, you’re a hot head just like him.”

Adonis smirks, “That’s what I’ve been told.”

“I know mine would be proud of me...lost him to the streets back in 92’ when the riots were going on. He was an activist like my momma. He protected me from getting shot on my tricycle. It humbled me...Still got my momma. She moved back to New Orleans two years ago.”

“Those riots were crazy. I’m sorry about your father...shit is tough.”

Erik sighs, “It is, but it just reminds me of how lucky I am to have him as a father. Made me the man I am today.”

“Yeah...I got nothing but love for my dad even though I never met him. Took me a while to get here though, it wasn’t a walk in the park. Got siblings I didn’t connect with in the beginning but now we’re tight. Mary Anne...that’s my step-mom’s name, she didn’t have to raise me, could have left me in the system.”

“What was your real mom’s name?”

“Vivica. She was an aspiring model. My dad met her at some Hollywood party. They slept around for a while but then Mary Anne found out so he ended things. My mom got pregnant, kept the pregnancy a secret until she passed from a brain aneurysm. By then my pops was already gone. Mary Anne found out and raised me.”

“Man,” Erik dragged his hand down his face, “This whole conversation turned heavy so quick. Let’s fill up these glasses, we need more liquor.”

“I second that.”

The bartender gladly refilled their glasses. For a little while longer, Erik and Adonis talked, learning more about each other. They argued about their favorite Anime, the best clubs in LA, and other random shit that had them laughing. They had only met about six days ago and they talked like old friends catching up. Adonis asks for a bottle of water since he has to drive. The bartender brings him his bottle at the precise moment that his phone buzzes. Picking up his phone, Adonis unlocks it to find a text with an image attached from Andrea. Opening the text, Adonis’ eyes became stormy with lust and his bottom lip poked out with need.

“Goddamn,” He muttered. Andrea always knew how to get him worked up. She’s on the floor naked with her legs spread wide in front of her floor mirror, peanut skin glistening from whatever body oil she used and that phat, creamy pussy with all her glistening pink spread open and freshly waxed for him to come play with. He remembers how sweet she tastes. Adonis’ tongue rolled around his teeth before forcing his eyes away, locking the phone and placing it within his pocket. He was about to be all up in that pussy.

“Andrea?” Erik says with a sly smirk.

“Yeah...she really miss me,” Adonis retrieves his wallet from his pocket, “I can cover the drinks—“

“It’s already on my tab, bruh. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead and handle your business.”

“You ain’t have to do that, Erik,” Adonis stands from his stool.”

“Think of it as a victory drink for the champion of underground street fighting,” Erik held up his glass to Adonis before knocking back the rest of the contents.

“I hope that’s your last drink, your eyes are so fucking low.”

“It is, I gotta get home, I’m pretty tired,” Erik tells the bartender to close his tab before standing from his seat. He dabs Adonis, bringing him in for a brief bro hug, pulling away so that his cologne wouldn’t have his dick brushing up against his. He didn’t need that to happen so soon.

“I’ll holla at you, Erik,” Adonis turns to leave the bar.

Erik watches him exit before short, heated breaths escaped his mouth. Erik signs his receipt before leaving himself. While walking to the car, Erik pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket, scrolling through his messages, and finding the person he was looking for.

Erik: Still on for tomorrow night with you and hubby?

Jodie: Absolutely💕 we’ll see you tomorrow night! Can’t wait 😘

______________________________________________________________

Andrea has an apartment at the Madison Toluca in North Hollywood, CA. It’s a three bedroom, two bathroom apartment with a black, red, and white color scheme. Adonis arrived shortly after 12:30 AM and knocked on her door. Her All black Yorkipoo—-a mixed breed of a Yorkshire terrier and a poodle, named Cookie was barking at the door when he knocked. Andrea could be heard yelling at Cookie before opening her door. Andrea beamed at Adonis with her big round eyes bewitching and her smile wide and pretty. She was wearing a teal blue Nike sports bra with a pair of black high crotch panties and bare feet. Her platinum blonde pixie cut is wet and slicked back from her shower and her peanut skin still glowed from the oil on her body.

“I didn’t get a response from you so I didn’t think you would show up,” Andrea stepped to the side to allow Adonis entry, “What made you text me tonight to see if I was up?”

“You know how I get after a fight.”

Adonis closed the space between them and grabbed the back of Andrea’s neck, tilting her head back enough to have her back bending before his thick tongue slithered up her neck and to her lips for a kiss. Adonis always itched for sex after a fight. His dick on swole and his hands unexcused Adonis cuffed Andrea’s ass, damn near pulling her from the ground. They continued to kiss, suck, and lick all over each other’s mouth to savor the taste.

“Damn, got my dick heavy right now, girl,” Adonis squeezes Andrea’s ass, “come on, I want that pretty pussy.”

“Donnie,” Andrea moaned, voice as pure and sweet as if from heaven, “I miss the way you used to fuck me.”

“Uh-huh?” Adonis lifts Andrea off her feet, wrapping her legs around him, “How I used to fuck you?”

“So good baby,” Andrea thumbed Adonis’ pouty bottom lip before peppering light kisses along them, “I miss your lips on my pussy too.”

“I can’t wait to taste it again, is she still nice and creamy?”

“Always, daddy,” Andrea’s body shook with anticipation in his arms, “Damn...I’m shaking.”

“It’s because you need this just as much as I do.”

“I miss your big dick stuffing me,” Andrea dragged her kisses down Adonis’ neck.

“You miss the way daddy used to give it to you?”

“Ooh, yes—“

“I’ma tear you up, Drea.”

Adonis brought Andrea to her bedroom, flopping down with her straddling his lap. Andrea giggles like she always does while Adonis kisses along her neck and tongues her cleavage. Andrea’s breath is coming out shallow and fast. Adonis grabbed her face, making her look at him.

“Breathe,” Adonis pecked her nose, “This dick ain’t going nowhere,” Adonis smirked, “It’s all for you, girl.”

“This my dick?” Andrea leans back so that she could grab for Adonis’ crotch, “It’s so goddamn thick goddamn baby.”

“I’m tryna make you cream all over it.”

Adonis was in an intense tongue-lock with Andrea while she stroked him through his track pants. She broke the kiss with a trail of spit before lifting from Adonis’ lap and dropping to her knees. A constant hiss escaped her mouth as she fumbled with his track pants. Discovering his waistband, Andrea pulls his pants and briefs down and around his ankles. That fat, long, swinging dick almost hit her in the face. Andrea grabs it before putting it right in her mouth where it belongs. While Andrea Gluck-Glucked Adonis removed his hoodie and the black T-shirt beneath it.

“I just wanna fuck your face and eat your pussy until you can’t take it anymore,” Adonis tilted his head back, “Drea, fuck.”

Adonis curses under his breath when Andrea gave his heavy balls some attention before bringing her lips back to that fat tip. Adonis dragged his fingers through her wet, short platinum blonde strands before palming the back of her neck and forcing more dick into her mouth. The loud slurping was something Adonis missed heavily. His hips were practically off of the bed now, lip between his teeth and eyebrows knitted together.

“I miss this fucking mouth,” Adonis fucked Andrea’s mouth, “Shit, Drea, you still got it girl, this mouth is still a beast.”

Andrea smirked before stroking his spit covered dick while sucking the tip. She really missed his dick from the way she was eating it up. Adonis wasn’t about to stop her, he simply widened his legs and laid back on his elbows.

“You finna have a nigga bust,” Adonis’ abdomen flexed, “I needed this so fucking bad, make me bust, girl.”

The eye contact she was giving him had Adonis balls so full with his tasty cum.

“Just loving on me,” He says before chewing on his bottom lip, “Mmhmmm,” his eyes closed and his brows pressed together tightly.

Andrea planted her hands on the bed and started bobbing her head up and down his dick while moving her head in a circular motion.

“Slow down...yes, yes, like that,” Adonis’ lips parted.

He could literally feel the corners of the inside of Andrea’s mouth and her tight pouty lips nice and steady on his dick. She manipulated that muscular organ in her mouth to flick back and forth on the base of his dick and his balls each time she went down.

“Love on my dick, babygirl, Drea I’m about to bust, you ready?” Adonis’ eyes squeezed shut and he completely fell back against the bed, “good girl slurp all that shit up oh my fucking God,” Adonis exploded in Andrea’s mouth damn near making her choke.

“Get up here,” He says, picking Andrea up and bringing her on the bed. Andrea was on her knees, shaking her slim thick booty in his face, her pussy wide with anticipation. Her cream made a mess of her pussy and it was begging to be licked up. Adonis smacks each ass cheek before giving both of them a nice, appreciative kiss. His lips tickled and they felt so moist against Andrea’s skin. She widened her thighs and arched her back more, practically pushing her pussy into Adonis’ face for him.

“You shoving this beautiful pussy in my face?”

Andrea nods her head with a bite of her lip. Adonis turns around, laying his head between Andrea’s thighs before wrapping one arm around her waist with the other hand occupied with jerking his fat pole. Andrea sat on his face fully before grinding Adonis’ lips. He leans forward to place his lips on her pussy, serving her tongue with long trails of spit. The wiggle of his wet tongue had her lifting up on her hands, thighs shaking. Adonis takes both of his thumbs, peeling her open.

His damn tongue.

“Ooh, yes, Donnie.”

Her entire body shivered.

Adonis’ tongue was dripping with spit and warm against her inner folds. He was in the middle of spelling out his name with the tip of his tongue all up and down her slit. With the D Andrea’s body shivered. With the O she started shuddering in breaths of gasping completion. With the two N’s Andrea clawed the bed. The letter I made a shape over her clit at the right angle. After the E He sucked her pussy into his mouth.

“When you lick me you never miss a spot,” She said with a voice like the harmony of angles. Adonis lapped at her pussy some more in response to her words, “Donnie, please don’t stop, baby...I’m gonna cum, Donnie keep doing that to me.”

Adonis gave her sloppy suction kisses down to her entrance and back up to her clit, keeping her lips apart so he could really get inside. He repeated and repeated, slurping and sucking and licking and kissing. He went faster and faster and she bucked her hips into his mouth, cries getting louder and louder.

“Mmmm, yes, do it like that,” Andrea said with a sensual voice.

“How bad do you want to cum?” Adonis said before he slurped on her clit and her labia at the same time, moaning himself feeling his precum wet his fingers.

“Really bad daddy...I wanna cum so fucking bad from your dirty mouth...make me scream.”

“Fuck. You may be a sweetheart but you a freak for sure.”

Adonis concentrates on tonguing and sucking all the spots that have Andrea’s hips bucking and her pussy smothering him.

“Daddy...guess what?” Andrea’s eyes watered and heat crept up her body.

“Uh-huh, I got that pussy cumming?” Adonis’ words are muffled with the way his lips trailed all over Andrea’s pussy.

With that Andrea’s body froze as her orgasm washed over her. Remembering how good Adonis ate her pussy wasn’t enough for her. Now she was experiencing it again while sitting on his face. He was going for round two from what it felt like. He kept saying over and over how much he needed her beautiful phat pussy and how he was going to dick her down just like that with her back arched. Andrea was ready to crawl off of him when her second orgasm hit her. She squealed so loud her throat went raw. Satisfied, Adonis resurfaced, his lips and freshly shaved chin glistening from her juicy folds.

“Come taste how sweet you are.”

Andrea turns, wrapping her arms around Adonis’ shoulders before licking his lips. She hummed with satisfaction while pulling him down on top of her body.

“Pussy is gushy baby,” Adonis held all his body weight up on one hand while the other played with Andrea’s folds, “That pussy just needs me in it...I could tell from how your eyes lit up when you saw me… miss the way I bust this tight kitty open...I wanna stick my dick so deep in it.”

Adonis leans down on his elbow to kiss Andrea again while he rubbed her clit. His dick is like a swinging pendulum between his legs right now, desperate and hard for Andrea’s pussy. Adonis has enough of teasing Andrea with how fast his heart beats and how painfully hard he is. Grabbing his dick, mixing the wetness on his fingers from her pussy on his pre-cum laden dick, Adonis lined up with Andrea’s pussy before thrusting in slowly, widening her thighs at the same time. Adonis groaned when he was fully inside, making sure to watch her face so that he could see all of her expressions.

“Ahhh, yes, that’s it.”

Adonis’ muscular body was mesmerizing from that angle. He began to roll his hips, working all that girth and length in and out of Andrea. Adonis felt Andrea’s pussy squeeze his dick and it only made him go harder. Adonis pulls Andrea’s sports bra off, her perky breasts with dark brown nipples reminding him of Hershey kisses blessing his eyes. Adonis sucked on each titty while he strokes her pussy. The double sensation has Andrea creamy and the macaroni and cheese sound of her pussy grew louder and louder between them.

“You taking this dick just like you used to,” Adonis pushes her thighs back, “Fuck all that moaning call me daddy while I’m in it.”

“Daddy,” Andrea whispered.

“Look at it Drea,” Adonis whispered back.

Andrea’s eyes traveled down the length of Adonis’ magnificent body to his long, thick dick spreading her open. She couldn’t put into words how full she felt.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Adonis whispered, “This how Erik fucked this pussy?”

Andrea’s eyes flicked up to Adonis’ face quickly. She went red with embarrassment, ragged gasps leaving her mouth.

“What? Answer the question,” Adonis pushed his dick all the way in. Andrea could feel it tickle her navel.

“Yessssssss,” Andrea answered with an uneven breath.

“He fuck this pussy in your bed, Drea?” Adonis’ hips were smacking into the back of her thighs, “What he do, girl?”

“He-he fu-fucked me in my b-bed,” Andrea stuttered. Adonis heard himself grunt at her response. Had he ever gotten off on another man fucking the same chick as him? No. Probably wouldn’t have cared in the past but for some reason, knowing that Erik hit Drea too has him harder than he was seconds ago.

“You call him daddy?”

“Yes!!! Donnie, baby, it’s so much dick,” Andrea’s face frowned with ecstasy.

“And this pussy is good so you’re getting all this dick, baby,” Adonis reaches up to grab onto Andrea’s headboard and she knows what that means. Andrea held onto his waist with a death grip to prepare herself. Adonis started descending his dick all at once in Andrea’s pussy. No pause, no warning, just nothing but a fat dick with all its length sinking into her drenched pussy fluently. It felt like she wasn’t in control of her body anymore.

“Donnie, please please please,” Her mouth opened, no words escaping.

“Did he call you his nasty little girl?” Adonis says with a voice so gruff and guttural. He looked down at his dick working the hell out of Andrea’s pussy. The muscles in his back and arms burned in a good way. He was tearing Andrea up from this angle, “Got me going crazy in this pussy...I needed this pussy.”

“Daddy, daddy I’m gonna squirt,” Andrea’s toes curled. Her body didn’t feel like it belonged to her anymore with the way Adonis was taking her pussy. Andrea trembled while her pussy leaked it’s sweet juices all over his dick.

“Got that pussy cumming?!! You ain’t answer my question...he calls you his nasty little girl?”

“No,” she spoke faintly, “He called me his nasty little bitch.”

Adonis bit down on his lip hard. He pumped her fast a few more times before withdrawing from her tightness, flipping her over and arching her back deep.

“Nasty little bitch? Huh? You like that name?” Adonis sounded harsh, “Keep that ass up Drea, come on baby...I got something for you.”

“DADDY!!” Andrea wasn’t prepared for that big surprise just now. Adonis has both of his large hands on her waist while he plowed her. She never had this rough amount of treatment from him.

“Daddy, shit,” her shoulders fell forward against the bed. High-pitched moans filled the room and her cheeks smacking and ricocheting off of Adonis’ rock hard hips was stinging her flesh. He was hostile and she loved the change. Sure, Adonis’ much gentle side was always just as good but to see him use her body the way he was it had her squirting and she never experienced squirting while having sex with him. She needed more of this.

“Throw it back, Drea, keep going, baby,” Adonis watched her struggle. It didn’t matter to him, his big dick was nice and wet.

“Nasty little girl, huh?”

“Yes,” Her breath was rattled.

“Come on and make this dick cum.” Adonis grabbed her hips, forcing her back to take all his length. Andrea screamed.

“That’s how you do it, so do it, girl, I’m not showing you again,” Adonis watched her do it right this time with a smirk, “That’s my nasty little girl… take this dick...keep taking this dick.”

“Daddy-“

“Why is this lil’ pussy so fat? Damn,” Adonis felt his nut sack jump, “Look at this beautiful, fat pussy, go ahead and cum Drea, go ahead baby.”

“Yes, daddy, Unh!!!!!”

Andrea slows down, Adonis taking over again, giving it to her and moaning the closer he got to cumming.

“That pretty pussy, fuck, take this nut girl,” Adonis’ words were stuck in his throat the second he let off in her pussy with his thick cum. Thank God she was taking contraceptives because she would be pregnant with all his damn babies with how thick and heavy his load is. Adonis retracted his hips, dick sliding out and his cum dripping from Andrea’s gaping entrance. His dick left a serious imprint with how much wider her slick hole is.

“Damn,” Andrea’s body turned over, “That was some kind of fucking,” she giggles, wiping sweat from her face, “What’s gotten into you, Donnie? baby, you were wild in this pussy tonight.”

“Lack of pussy does that to you,” Adonis stood from the bed, stretching out his back muscles. Andrea tilted her head while staring at his dick.

“Round two?” Andrea begged.

Adonis sighed, “I need some water first.”

“How do you know Erik anyway?”

Adonis shrugged, “Comic Con. It was a random situation. He gave me his business card and that’s how I ended up at his gym.”

Andrea gave Adonis a playful smile, “Are you mad that I fucked him? It was only once, Adonis.”

“Nah, I’m not mad,” Adonis gave Andrea a once-over with his chocolate eyes, “But you liked that I brought it up...that pussy was choking my dick.”

“I did. Maybe we should have a threesome. I would love it if you both fucked me.”

Adonis felt his chest grow tight from her words. His face twisted up with confusion at the feeling. Was that...anticipation? Nervous excitement?

“Maybe, you should get on all fours again so I can come back and get some more of that pussy,” Adonis responded before leaving her room to grab them both some water.

_____________________________________________________________

Parked on a hill on Valley Ridge Ave. in View Park, CA,

Erik pulled out his phone to remind himself of the address. 4515. DVSN- Still Pray for You stopped playing when Erik turned his car off. Air Jordan 3 Retro’s, Khaki cargo pants, white T-shirt, a denim jacket, and layered gold chains was Erik’s outfit for the evening. His dreads are side swept, a few of them falling in his eyes. He slouched slightly in his gait, oozing confidence. The home is an iconic 1930 Spanish Revival with stunning city views, exceptional vintage details, custom modern updates, a large beautiful private yard with a tiered flat grassy area, patio, and an herb garden. Jogging up the steps, Erik knocked on the green door, stepping back before swatting away a moth that lingered near the porch light.

The door unlocked, Jodie standing before Erik with a glass of red wine in her hand and a long charcoal grey T-shirt dress with a high slit, coffee brown eyes fringed with false lashes and copper skin looking soft and silky. Her lush lips are glossy and her blue-black hair is in a sleek low bun. Erik’s eyes traveled from her toes that are painted a fuchsia pink up her shapely legs, over her poked out hip and up to her heart-shaped face. Sweet notes of apple and apricot wafted from her skin the closer Erik got to her. He leaned down to kiss her glossy lips delicately, his tongue tasting the gloss. Jodie’s oval-shaped pink ombré nail skimmed Erik’s jawline with fascination.

“Hi,” Jodie said with a pleasant voice.

“Hey,” Erik whispered back, the suave way he said it causing Jodie to nibble on her lip.

“Do you want some wine?” Jodie offered.

“I’ll take some wine,” Erik closes Jodie’s front door, “Where is the party?”

“For now, in the living room.”

Jodie pointed towards the area in question before walking away with a sway of her extremely thick hips towards the kitchen. Erik found the living room, Jodie’s husband, Vance, seated on the couch, smoking some weed, denim cut-off shorts on, an olive green linen short sleeve button-down shirt with a bandanna print open and revealing his athletic body. The deep brown complexion of his skin looked satiny beneath the living room lights. His chiseled face with sharp cheekbones made him look like a male model and Erik especially loved the nose ring on his broad nose. His full lips smirked at him before taking yet another puff of weed. That fresh fade with glossy waves and perfectly groomed beard has Erik lusting even more.

Vance spoke with a husky voice, “Erik...glad you came.”

“Me too...let me hit that.”

Vance shared his weed with Erik.

“Training TRX on Wednesday next week?” Vance asked.

“I am. I’m not here to talk about my gym though, you know that,” Erik said, savoring the weed, “I ain’t know you went both ways, Vance.”

Vance cracked a smile, “Yeah, I’m bisexual. Me and Jodie. We’ve been trying to hook up a threesome with a man for a while and then Jodie said she saw you out a few weeks ago at the Avalon with some dude tonguing him down.”

“A date I met on Tinder, fucked him good that night too,” Erik’s head relaxed against the couch, licking his lips to the memory.

“I bet you did,” Vance passed the weed, “He takes it well too?”

“He needed to be trained, but I’m good at that..have them coming back for more in no time.”

“Mm,” Vance’s eyes glossed down to Erik’s crotch where his dick print was visible on his left thigh. Vance shook his head as his breath rushed out. Erik was a big boy.

“You looking for something?” Erik spoke softly, the sensation of the weed sweeping deeper, “it’s right here,” Erik squeezed his dick, the cargo pants molding around the shape of it, “You want this dick?” Erik’s eyes looked at Vance’s big lips and he just knew those juicy lips would feel fucking fantastic sucking on him.

“I do, I want that dick.”

“Put that weed out and come get it, that’s why I’m here right? Get the fuck over here,” Erik takes off his denim jacket, widening his thighs, “That pretty ass mouth you got...I need my dick sucked now…do it slow too.”

Vance’s hand gripped Erik’s dick through his pants. Erik made it jump against his hand. Vance let out a groan.

“Come on, boy, my shit is thick right now.”

Vance went to work on Erik’s pants, pulling them down and around his ankles. He couldn’t wait to satisfy the beautiful massive dick in front of his eyes. Slide that big dick in his hungry mouth and drain his balls. Speaking of balls...they are heavy and soft to the touch. Erik slouched, pulling his T-shirt up to reveal his taut abdomen, defined pectorals, and bulging biceps. His dick was standing up and the veins looked like a work of art on his chocolate pole.

“From the way you’re looking at it I can tell you’ve been wondering just how big this dick is...right, nigga?”

“Yes…”

“Yeah...it’s here for you and your wife...where is wifey at anyway? Jodie!” Erik called for her.

“I’m here—Ooh,” Jodie sauntered over and placed Erik’s wine on the coffee table. She’s in her purple lace bra and panties set. Jodie dropped to her knees next to Vance. She stared at Erik’s dick in a trance.

“Let me feel those soft ass lips, Vance,” Erik slapped Vance on the cheek, startling him, “Yeah, you taking too long, baby boy, all this fat dick in front of you. Show your wife how you suck some nut out of the dick.”

“Damn, Erik,” Jodie’s eyes are love-struck.

Vance gripped Erik’s dick and pumped him nice and steady, making sure to squeeze a little just beneath the tip of his dick so he could watch his pre-cum spill from his slit. Spreading the pre-cum along the sides of Erik’s dick, Vance’s big lips engulfed half of Erik’s dick, bobbing his head while reaching down to gently squeeze his balls. Erik kept his gaze pointed downward, looking from his dick being sucked by Vance and Jodie watching with envious eyes. Jodie has to grab hold of something so she placed her hand over Vance’s erection, his visible erection pressed hard against his denim cut-offs.

“Two big dicks just for me,” Jodie spoke with excitement.

“Don’t worry, ma, you’ll have some of this dick in your mouth too, Fuckkkk...yeah, suck that shit...suck that fat dick...oooh, you really wanted this shit, hungry ass nigga...don’t get too greedy your wife need some of that too.”

“Yes I do,” Jodie has Vance’s jeans and briefs down with his dark chocolate dick in her hand, nice and warm. It’s more so long than girthy. She jerked him while watching Vance slurp up Erik.

“Vance...baby...get that dick,” She whimpered.

Erik will never get over how good Vance’s lips feel. He thrust his hips, forcing more girth and length into Vance’s greedy mouth. Damn, he can deep throat too.

“Look at you deep throating this wood, boy. You miss big black dick in your mouth, yeah? Miss a nice pair of heavy balls too? I got a load waiting just for you...all you gotta do is be a good boy…”

Erik’s eyes went so low that his long lashes made them seem like they are closed. Jodie’s hand twisted Vance’s erection and each time Erik’s dick hit the back of Vance’s throat, his dick would jump in Jodie’s hand. She arched her back and brought her lips to Vance’s dick. Jodie wasted no time slurping along Vance’s dick. One look at Jodie’s ass in the air has Erik reaching down, his thick fingers clawing her lace panties and yanking them from her ass in pieces. That action made her lips tighten around Vance’s dick and Vance moaned.

“How that dick taste Jodie?” Erik asked.

“Delicious,” She said before slurping Vance up some more.

“Got that phat ass in the air...I already know that pussy phat with the way it sits in your leggings at the gym…”

“Mmm,” Vance cast his eyes upwards watching as Erik’s toned abdomen is exposed, reaching up to run his hand along the deep ridges of the cut muscle, slurping along his dick. He worked more of Erik into his mouth until his nose touched his trimmed hairs, feeling his length curve down his throat as he took him all the way.

Jodie was in the middle of gagging on Vance’s dick, her spit staining the carpet the more she tried to swallow him. She reached beneath her, hand finding her creamy pussy before spreading her folds to rub her clit in circles. Erik could hear Jodie’s pussy from his seat on the couch. He groans deep, mouth hanging open from the way Vance was sucking him. He tilts his head to watch Jodie while holding the back of Vance’s head to fuck his throat.

“FUCK!” Erik let out the curse before gripping Vance’s throat, hips jerking from how purposefully tight Vance’s lips are as his mouth slipped off, “Let Jodie have some.”

Jodie’s lips popped off of Vance’s dick. Erik gazed at Vance’s dark brown dick. All that dark chocolate. He’s long as fuck too. Ain’t nothing Erik can’t handle down his throat. Too bad tonight was his night to get all the work. Jodie moaned before gripping Erik’s spit covered dick. Her tongue flicked Erik’s dick before she locked eyes with him, batting her false lashes like she’s innocent with all that fat dick in her mouth.

“Damn, girl, crazy with it,” Erik leaned forward to slap both of Jodie’s cheeks hard, “Got all this hard dick down your pretty little throat...got your Hubby taking off his clothes...you see your wife sucking my dick, Vance? She a dick hungry bitch.”

Vance is completely naked now. He pumped his long dick while leaning over Erik’s lap to hope for Jodie’s lips to slip off so he could take over again. Jodie lets her throat get fucked, gagging only slightly before fighting it back down, eyes turned up to watch the pleasure on Erik’s face as she feels Erik’s dick stretching out her esophagus. Jodie moans around his length, reveling in the taste of Erik on her tongue.

“Jodie,” Vance calls to her while gently squeezing Erik’s balls, “put his dick in my mouth.”

“You want some more of his hard, thick dick? Here,” Jodie feeds Vance Erik’s dick, “Suck it baby…”

“Husband and wife working together...Jodie...let me see that pussy,” Erik showed her how wide his tongue is.

Jodie climbed onto the couch, turning with her ass facing Erik before bending over on her knees. Her pussy lips are pushed between her thick thighs. Two slippery lips that he wanted to kiss.

“Spread your cheeks so I can see all that pink pussy...mmmmm,” Erik hisses, “Pussy creamy as fuck,” Erik licks his fingers before resting them on Jodie’s protruding clit and labia. He loved how smooth and soft she is. It looked like chocolate and from the way she tasted on his fingers it was just as sweet too.

“Come here,” Erik spoke firmly, slapping Jodie’s ass, “lay on your back and spread your thighs so I can finger fuck you.”

“Unh—“

“I wanna feel how tight this little pussy is.”

Vance jerks Erik’s dick before slobbering on the tip of his dick, “It’s tight...she’ll grip you.”

“That’s what I want, right Miss Jodie?”

“Yes, daddy,” Jodie says with a lick of her lips.

“There you go, baby boy, suck that fucking dick up, suck daddy’s dick up,” Erik demanded. He could feel his balls grow tight and he knew what that meant. He didn’t want to cum yet, not until he had his dick in Vance’s ass and Jodie’s pussy.

“Erik,” Jodie called to him with a melodic voice.

Erik watched her bring her knees to her chest, that pussy wide open and her slippery hole winking at him. Erik couldn’t hold back from rubbing Jodie’s clit back and forth before slapping it, causing her to whimper. Erik smoothed his fingers down her pussy before pushing two fingers inside, biting his lip at the way Jodie gasped.

“Tight fucking puss,” Erik strokes with a curl of his fingers, “I’m digging baby?”

“Yess,” She cries.

“I hear that pussy,” Vance says with spit hanging from his mouth.

“Come suck her clit,” Erik commanded. Vance and Erik got down on the floor between Jodie’s thighs. Vance spreads her pussy lips so wide that her labia stretched. Erik was astounded when he saw how much cream spilled from Jodie’s pussy. Vance’s tongue curved at the tip while he teased her big clit.

“Clit big as fuck, Vance stop playing, suck that shit up. Clit nice and phat like that you better suck it.”

When Vance’s lips wrapped around Jodie’s clit she moaned to the ceiling. Vance reached up to pull the cups of her bra down, her big, round breasts spilling over, creating a mouthful. Erik damn near drooled. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth while his fingers played all in Jodie’s pussy. Vance was slurping loudly on her pussy and it had Erik slapping Vance’s firm ass.

“Yeah, nigga,” Erik says, “Got the whole puss in your mouth, make this bitch cum...say, I’ma make this pretty pussy cum.”

“I’ma make this pretty pussy cum,” Vance says before French kissing Jodie’s clit.

“I’ma make it squirt,” Erik flicked his tongue on Jodie’s nipple before showing some attention to the other. Jodie gripped his dreads when he went back and forth with sucking her nipples. He had her thrusting her chest into his mouth.

“Grip me like that again, go ahead, ima put my face in your pussy next,” Erik spoke roughly.

“Eat my pussy up,” Jodie widened her legs, “There’s plenty...slurp me up daddy.”

“Nasty bitch, I like you,” Erik was face to face with Vance, “Let me see how that clit fit in my mouth.”

Vance chuckles before giving Erik some room to eat on Jodie. He helped him by keeping her pussy lips open. Erik was still working his fingers, practically stirring all in Jodie’s creamy cavern. Erik kisses Jodie’s clit, the pecks slowly turning into full blown French kisses that has him opening his mouth wide to wrap his lips around her.

“Mhm,” Erik’s eyes rolled shut.

“Taste good, yeah?” Vance said while extending his neck to kiss Jodie’s lips, “That’s your pussy on my tongue.”

“Mmm, I taste lovely.”

Erik spits on Jodie’s clit before working his tongue with so much gusto that Jodie and Vance watched with awe.

“Ooooh, He’s stroking my pussy with those thick fingers...oooh, I’ma squirt…Vance, baby, he’s gonna make me squirt, baby,” Jodie grabbed for the back of the couch. She became spasmodic and Vance had to hold her down and kiss her lips to distract her so Erik can keep going. That bitch was leaking all in Erik’s mouth. He sucked her up again before tasting his fingers. Vance leaned over Jodie’s lap, getting some of Jodie’s pussy too.

“Pussy is so goddamn good,” Erik gripped Jodie’s jaw, pressing his lips into hers, “I can’t wait to bust your shit wide open, let’s take this shit to the bed.”

Pulling his lips away, Vance stands with Erik, both of them picking Jodie up. She had her legs wrapped around Erik while Vance stood behind her cupping her titties. Erik bounced Jodie on him like he was fucking her standing. Vance kissed and sucked on her neck at the same time. All three of them took their fun to the bedroom. Jodie grabs some condoms from her dresser, begging to watch Erik fuck Vance first while she rode his face. Vance went to lay on the bed, his knees drawn to his chest. Erik was blessed with the sight of Vance’s tight asshole and heavy balls with his dick resting against his toned abdomen. Jodie climbed on top of Vance’s mouth, turning to give Erik the condom and lube.

Erik spits on Vance’s asshole before sticking his finger inside. With his free hand, Erik jerks Vance’s long dick

To keep him solid so he could have something beautiful and chocolate to look at while he banged his ass. Jodie was currently popping her pussy on Vance’s tongue, legs in a squat so her pussy could be nice and spread for him to suck up. It was a beautiful sight. Erik almost wanted to bust from that alone. Staring at Vance’s body now made him think about Adonis. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. Adonis. Nice big lips, sexy rock-hard body, aggressive and competitive, sexy smile, chocolate eyes all intense at one minute then gentle the next, the way he fights…

“Erik I love the way your finger feels in my ass.”

Vance’s words broke him out of his trance.

“Yeah? Ain’t shit compared to this dick, boy,” Erik removes his finger, grabbing up the magnum to place on his dick. Rolling it over his glans all the way down to the root, Erik applies a little bit of lube for some extra slip. Bending his knees, Erik forced Vance’s thighs back before slapping the weight of his dick against his ass, sinking inside of his warm, tight ass.

“Damn boy...damn...ass tight as fuck,” Erik started grinding his hips, “Feel all that thick dick pumping?”

Jodie looked over her sweaty shoulder and saw Erik’s fat condom covered dick thrusting in and out of Vance’s ass. She felt chills all over her flesh and the sexy moans against her pussy and groans from Erik made her cream even more. Jodie can see Erik and Vance’s muscles ripple and flex with their movement. Jodie turned around so that she could 69 with Vance, grabbing his long dick up and going straight at it with a bob of her head. Vance clapped her cheeks before eating both of her holes.

“Fuck, that’s what I’m talking about Jodie, eat that dick up,” Erik pushes her head down further, “There you go, deep throat that shit.”

Vance was working his hips to take all of Erik’s dick, Erik caught that, rolling his hips to meet Vance half-way so that his dick could be all up in his ass.

“Got this nigga working his hips to get all this wood,” Erik bites his lip, “ass is creaming already too.”

“Mmm, I wanna see,” Jodie jerks Vance’s dick while admiring her husband's creamy asshole grip Erik’s dick, “Vance...baby...he got you creamy, mmmm, Vance.

Vance moaned into Jodie’s pussy with each suck.

“That’s it baby, make this pussy cum...oooh I feel you tugging on that clit, make me nut baby,” Jodie’s eyes almost crossed, Oh God...Oh God...fuuuuuuckkkkkkk babyyyyyyyyyyy—“

“Face hella sexy when you bust, girl,” Erik wrapped his arms around Vance’s thighs and started ramming his dick deep, big balls slapping against his ass. Vance’s core tightened and it seemed to shoot straight to his dick because now he’s cumming in Jodie’s hand. Jodie licked as much away as she could but he kept on erupting. It was Erik’s pounding deep in that ass that had him making a big mess.

“Oh shit, Erik, fuck,” Vance stared between Jodie’s thighs at Erik, “Dick is all up my ass——“

“I’m taking this ass?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Jodie could not stop looking at Erik’s hard dick fucking Vance so good. Erik leaned over Vance, his naked chest and those gold chains hanging over Vance’s body. His dreads hung low and he bit down on his lip, working his hips fast and skillful. Jodie needed that dick in her pussy.

“Ima nut again,” Vance’s handsome face crumbled, “Fuck, Erik, ima bust—-“

“Yeah, nigga, I’ma make that dick cum while I beat this ass up good.”

Jodie cupped her pussy and rubbed it up and down to the sight of Vance shooting out yet another thick load. Erik pulled out and rocked back on his heels, watching the way Vance’s ass quivered. There is a creamy puddle beneath his ass. Erik removes the condom, walking to Jodie’s dresser to grab another. Rolling it over his still hard erection, Erik walks up to Jodie picking her up and wrapping her legs around him. Erik sits back on the bed, Jodie over him with his hands cradling her ass.

“It’s time to get in you now...nothing but dick deep in your guts…”

Vance stood up from the bed and jerked his dick watching Jodie grab Erik’s dick herself, squatting over his dick before lowering her hips, that thick dick nothing but a flesh covered pole for her to fuck. Jodie was up on her feet, upper body bending over so she could bounce her hips. Her ass cheeks clapped with each bounce while she fed her pussy some dick. Vance went to lay next to Erik so that he could have a better look at his wife handling Erik’s dick.

“You see that sexy little pussy taking all this dick?” Erik says to Vance before his eyes zeroed in on Vance’s erection, “Dick long as fuck...tear some ass up with this.”

Erik started Jerking Vance’s dick.

“Get that dick, ma, nasty ass bitch...got my dick all in that pussy...I bet that ass looks real juicy bouncing…”

“This big ass dick.”

Jodie’s cream coated the condom.

“Good dick…” She moaned, “mmmmm, some good fucking dick...so thick...Unh, so good.”

“She’s loving that,” Vance says before grunting from Erik’s thumb stroking his tip, “I love that fat dick too.”

“I know you do, baby boy,” Erik gives Vance a sexy smirk.

Erik liked the feel of Vance’s dick in his hand but he couldn’t stop wondering how Adonis’ would feel against his palm. Is it thick with a little bit of curve? Does it have length to it for Erik to deep throat? Is it soft to the touch yet textured from his thick veins? He couldn’t shake it. He let go of Vance’s dick and grabbed Jodie’s ankles, picking his hips off the bed and serving her more dick. He didn’t let up on his strokes, knocking the wind out of her chest and making her shout. Vance took over with jerking his dick while his eyes focused on Erik’s powerful hips.

“KEEP FUCKING ME!”

“Make her cum, Erik...Make that pussy cum,” Vance said.

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” Erik gritted his teeth, “cum on this dick, bitch...get you some of this dick...she about her business look at her,” Erik and Vance watched Jodie work her hips on his dick, “bounce that shit.”

“Hell yeah, I love watching that big dick pound her pussy,” Vance leans over to tongue Erik’s neck. Erik gripped his chin and flicked tongues with Vance. He broke away from him to moan out. His balls contracted rhythmically with his dick and that was a sign that he was ready to pump his fat load all over their faces.

“Get down on your knees, both of y’all, hurry up, fuck, I gotta bust!”

Vance and Jodie are on their knees and Erik stands before them, snatching his condom off before fisting his dick. All of that cum squeezed out from his heavy sack all over Vance and Jodie’s face, mouth, and wiggling tongue.

“Clean this dick up,” Erik spoke with a gruff tone. Both of their tongues battled for a taste. The feeling of two sets of lips on his dick made more cum dribble. Vance took over and sucked him, Erik pulling his dick from his mouth to give Jodie some. He allowed his dick to swing back and forth for them to catch and suck.

“Y’all gon’ have me fucking again,” Erik shook his head, “Damn...y’all love this dick.”

Watching them attack his dick had Erik satisfied but there was still part of him that needed more.

Adonis was going to be trouble...if only he would accept his attraction for Erik so he could really show him how badly he needs him. Erik wasn’t going to wait too long either.

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#Creed 2 #Erik Killmonger #killmonger smut #adonis creed #adonis x OC #killmonger x oc #creedimagine #nahimjustfeelingit writes

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rosepetals-flyingbirds · 4 years

Text

Don’t Leave.

With: Bucky x Reader.

Words: 3.548.

Yes, i have a similar version with Ivar.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Say you love me.”

“I love you.”

She would ask that, she didn’t want to sound clingy, probably why the moments she asked those simple four words were always when they were the most intimate.

How beautiful she is. Bucky could never grasp why she was with him. Y/N would always laugh when he said something as cliche like “I’m so lucky to have you”,“you’re so beautiful, what are you doing with me?”, "my sweet little angel", "my doll".

The truth was that Y/N found Bucky extremely handsome. She could watch him all day if required. She loved his eyes, his lips, his facial hair which seemed to grow by seconds, his soft hair, his jaw, his scars, his metal arm, his nightmares.

Everything.

But she also loved his personality. He was such a complicated person! Traumatized, stubborn, closed off but… he was funny, so damn smart, sweet, surprisingly romantic, and truly cared about her.

Both were too scared to start something when they first fell for each other. Bucky had such a terrible life filled with torture and loss. So even if unconsciously, he expected pain from all the situations, and if he couldn't love himself how could someone else love and accept him?

And Y/N had too much trust issues to trust a guy. Maybe it could be her father’s responsibility for cheating on her mother, hell, even her mother’s fault for cheating on her father!

Maybe it was all the people's fault for cheating on their s/o and acting like it was okay… like it was some animal instinct that overpowered them.

Weak.

But she allowed Bucky in her heart, how could she not? Never a guy has made such sweet displays for her. It was in the details, when he saved the last cupcake for her. When he would give her his jacket. Or offered her a ride on his motorcycle when she needed to go somewhere and Bucky didn't want her feeling crowded in the subways and buses.

Even so much as buying flowers. Back in the day it was normal, to court someone. Buy some flowers, a box of chocolate -or in the case of New York's depression, a flower stolen on the neighbor and some candy his parents had saved in the fridge- but in the modernity, it seemed as "clichê", he thought of asking help to make a cd to you, but then they said now it was a playlist-thing and he excluded that idea because it was getting too weird and he didn't want to ask help. So he did buy flowers, not a bouquet, but a small jar with a tiny flower so she could plant, then another, then a small cactus, and when the idea of receiving flowers from him was something expected; He bought a bouquet.

And it was stunning.

A mix of blue roses, with white tulips, lavender, and blue nemophila. Only the most distinct, so Y/N could feel he thought about her in the whole process. Which everyone could see he did. She was the only thing that mattered to him. He was so gentle, never pushed her to do something she wasn't comfortable with, on the contrary actually, y/n that initiated the first time they had sex, the kisses grew deeper but Bucky wasn't ready so they waited until he felt comfortable. He was honest, kind, and even with his nightmares... he opened up to her, allowed her in the vastness that was his mind. His guilt, his pain.

He trusted her, and Y/N thought it was amazing.

Once -while friends- they went to a small gathering Fury throw to celebrate a successful mission that took a couple of years to be done. And everyone was dressed up, and even that some said it was a small party, it ended up with 200 people. Bucky didn't want to go at first, but Steve told him it would do good, and then Y/N was excited too so he made the effort.

Besides, since he started working with the team, the shield agents took a likening to the metal armed man.

Bucky thought in holding his hair together in a man bun, but then he felt weird so he took it off. So he tried another style but it was also ridiculous. He ended up letting it freely, as usual, she seemed to like in that way.

But deep down he just wanted to look good. For her.

They went together to the place, of course it was high safety so they could relax, even for just a moment. Y/N looked stunning, per usual, she didn't like to use makeup on the daily basis, and she was a fucking piece of art. But she also managed to look striking with those products on her face, Buck giggled as she held his arm for support since she was wearing Natasha's heels, and since people always saw them together and adding that in the party people were sure they got together.

Steve was proud, very much. Even though his heart broke a bit since he had a major crush on Y/N since the day he saw her for the first time. But the way Bucky looked at her... that was what love glowed like.

But as the night went on and Y/N mixed with her other friends, Bucky kept alert and spotted a man staring at her, he was Jay Halstead, a good guy, great agent, and Y/N's friend, and what pissed Bucky more was the fact that they would look great together.

If Jay was a prick, it would be easier but he was a good fella, as good at the level that he served with Sam in the army, good as he was the one that helped Steve to find the best psychologic on the country.

Annoyingly good. And he would be good for her.

Buck was talking with Steve and Clint when he got a glimpse of Jay approaching y/n, and she was very happy to see him. Hugged him and even allowed him to linger his arm on her shoulder.

Buck's stance changed and Steve realized why.

Clint drank his beer and shrugged. "If she isn't your girlfriend you can't be pissed because other guys like her."

Buck didn't agree, nor responded but he knew what Clint meant.

Before Steve could give some advice Buck smiled, y/n waved at him and called him over.

Buck looked at Steve who told him it was okay.

Jay smiled seeing Bucky, shook his hand and Buck was glad Jay’s arm wasn't around y/n's shoulder anymore.

"Hey, just wanted to congratulate you on the last mission, saw the files and you fixed what Fury has been trying to fix in 12 years."

Taken aback by the praise Buck only nodded, but a small smile lingered on his face. "Thanks, man."

"And also he now beats Steve in the mornings run." Y/N confessed.

Jay laughed and by Y/N’s smile it was clear it was an inside joke. "No one can ever beat Steve Rogers, I fainted last time I tried."

"Well, I have been winning in runs over the punk since we were 10. Some things don't change with time."

"Yeah, i have to go. Mission tomorrow morning, just passed by to say hello to everyone." Jay leaned and kissed Y/N's cheek. "Bye, sweetheart. Good to see you." And then extended his hand again to shake Bucky's. "And congratulations again, i am happy you're in the avengers. The world needs you." With a tap on the shoulder, Jay left and Bucky stood a bit shocked for what the man said.

But after all, it was all Y/N has been saying over the months she met him.

And after what seemed like ages Y/N finally let him in. And Buck also fought his demons and allowed to be loved and cherished by someone.

And it was amazing.

...

Meeting her family took a bit longer than the ’normal’ couples take. Her family was okay, but she was worried about how they would feel and most importantly how Buck would feel.

Y/N’s family lived far and using Tony's jet they flew to her homeland, her cousin flirted with Bucky wich made Y/N glare at her almost all barbecue. Y/N's mom was a bit worried about her daughter date a man in such a dangerous life, but she was happy so that was all that mattered.

And Bucky's family was Steve, so it was clear that he accepted them together.

Buck has never felt so much like he did with her.

...

Dream.

Dream was the word Bucky could only imagine when Y/N danced for him. Her small satin dress covering her smooth skin, he loved how her hips moved so graciously, the scent of her shampoo, how she kissed his cheeks when he made coffee for her. Y/N could be in her period, feeling awful wearing baggy pants and still, she managed to steal his heart even without trying. He was sure that no one had ever loved someone as much as he loves her.

He could do anything for her.

...

On a mission, Bucky was looking the area of the attack arguing with Sam of where was the best point of attack, he was really close to yell at the man who never agreed with his tactics when his phone made a ping sound letting him know a message has arrived.

Hey baby, I hope you’re okay and you haven’t slapped Samuel! I’m watching you, mister! ;)

I’ll have to make a small trip with Brenda, she had a problem with her parents and she needs me to help her. I’m sorry but I really have to go. See you in a few days.

Bucky, I love you. With all that I am.

Bucky found it weird, Brenda’s family lived in another country, why she would make such travel in a hurry?

Of course, Y/N was a good friend, but she didn’t do such spontaneous things.

As he glanced at his cellphone with a keyboard (designed for him, since his metal arm managed to break the last smartphones) he re-read the messages before he tried to call her only to be met with a voice message. He tried to calm his nerves down and finish his work. She had warned him after all, it wasn’t like she went away without telling him.

At their apartment, he saw a few notes here and there, one in the fridge telling she left some leftovers for some days.

Another in the bathroom reminding him to buy shampoo and one on their bedroom saying: “You won’t die if I stay a few days away.”

Silly girl.

But even if Buck was suspicious of the sudden new he needed to trust her, he couldn’t be the crazy boyfriend who didn’t trust his girl.

However on the next day, he found it completely weird that she didn’t call him, she sent a text saying she was okay and safe but she couldn’t call him, he asked why but she just asked him to trust her and quickly stopped answering his texts.

Really really weird.

Was she kidnapped? Was she cheating on him? Was she really traveling with her friend? His mind couldn’t stop making ideas up. Bad assumptions up.

Gladly Bucky had a great memory so he remembered Brenda’s adress when Y/N went there a few months prior, he had to go there and see if Brenda was at home, if his girl was there or if she was actually out of the country. If she was out of danger.

Finally reaching the the street he stopped the car before walking to Brenda's house. He knocked on the door praying for no one to be home, but after a few seconds, it quickly opened with Brenda showing him a confused face. “Hey? What are you doing here?”

Fuck. “Hey, um, is Y/N here?”

“No, actually I haven’t talked with her for weeks now. Why? Did you guys had a fight?” For Brenda, it was almost impossible for you and Buck to fight, but as herself had a realtioship where she thought the man was perfect, she knew to expect anything.

Y/N lied, what was happening?

Knowing it wasn’t for the best to let her know about the situation he made a small smile. “Yeah, we did, I thought she was here. Thanks.” He hurriedly left not waiting for her response.

All the -painful- way home Bucky overthought his whole relationship, why would Y/N lie to him?

He couldn’t place a reason for it, the only things that were hammering on his thoughts were the hypothesis: Kidnap, cheating or she simply got tired of his traumatized self.

But why would she cheat on him?

Wasn’t he a good boyfriend? Does she suddenly feel tired of his problems?

Was she tired of his hard personality?

Wasn’t he satisfying her in bed?

Have you found someone else?

Why?

And most important…if so, with who?

Bucky's mind was around doubts and adding all of his insecureness wasn’t helping much.

He didn’t even realize he reached her building until he saw his neighbor going for a walk with his dog. The whole walk he was pinned by fear and rage that he didn’t even count his steps.

To not help much his case he called her with no answer, he texted her with no answer either.

What could he do? He didn’t know where she was, or with who she was.

Was she safe?

“What is happening, my heart? Why are you lying to me?” He mumbled alone in their bedroom.

His heart cracking each thought he had.

After five longs and painful days, he received a text.

Hey Bucky. I’m going home we need to talk.

Bucky couldn’t answer, he couldn’t possibly ask what she wanted to talk about? Why would she leave him?

...

There she stood, a single suitcase in her hand and a tired face.

Bucky wanted to hug her, to get in his feet, and to say how worried he was… but no! He allowed his rage to consume him when he saw she was alright and no enemy of his has taken and hurt her.

He was mad.

“Hey Bucky we-”

“Why?” Without letting her finish her sentence or even getting up from the couch, he asked.

“What?”

“Why you left and lied? Are you tired? Do you want to break up? Because i re-create the past weeks and i can’t see a reason for this, Y/N. You ran away and lied to me saying you traveled with Brenda to Brazil?”

She didn’t argue, only let the suitcase on the floor and rubbed her face. And with her silent stare, Bucky knew the end was near.

And that would break him, make all of the pieces he built in the last years since he got free from Hydra to fall apart.

Letting a sarcastic chuckle his frustration over the last weeks started to show with full force. “You’re selfish! I always said that i don't need your help, that i was broken and still am but you didn't have to stay with me. I always warned you and now that i'm so fucking deep in love with you-you will destroy this. But please, tell me what is it. Am I not satisfying you enough? Or is the nightmares? Maybe because i ca not go to the library with you or because we can’t go to the movies and i know you always says that Stark's is almost the same but you love movies and Y/N-”

For more dramatically Bucky sounded, she knew he was self-conscious about his state, of course, he did therapy to help with his self-loathing but seeing the most precious thing getting ready to leave was about to break his cold-mended heart.

Making all his therapy process going to air.

Y/N stood there, looking tired and staring at him. She knew he would be mad, she was mad at herself for lying so blatantly. “Are you done?”

Taking a deep breath and placing his hands on his pockets he nodded, trying to control the tears to leave his eyes.

“I’m not cheating you, I never did, I never will. And i'm not tired of us. I’m not overwhelmed, you are the most important thing in the universe to me.” She took her jacket off and walked to the couch.

Bucky looked at her carefully while she approached him, so what was the problem then. “Tell me.”

“I’m not trying to break up with you, if that is what you think.”

He nodded and let a small sigh let his nostrils. A lock of hair leaving his man bun and Y/N's fingers itched to pull it behind his ear.

“I… I needed some time to think, I didn’t want to lie to you but I really needed some time alone without you getting worried.”

Was she sick? Why was she so sad?

He sat by her side and looked at her lap taking a deep breath, her gaze met Bucky's and she nodded her head almost telling herself it was the proper moment. “I’m pregnant.”

The time seemed to stop for Buck, such a brilliant man and that was the only thing he hasn’t anticipated to leave her beautiful’s lips.

It made sense for him now, Y/N was always predicting the worst. Always waiting for the day he would grow tired of her and leave, or only try to have some “fun” and fool around with someone else.

She didn’t want to have a child because she was afraid she would have to do it all by herself.

“Y/N… baby, I’m-”

“I don’t want it.” Her answer was firm but her lips were trembling with nerves. “I-” Her eyes filled with tears, even with the past days being of pure anxieties and sorrow, she still had tears left. “I can’t have it, Bucky. I- I-, I’m so scared.”

He couldn’t control his eyes when they glanced at her belly, his child was there, growing each day. He wanted the baby, wanted a boy or a girl to cherish and take care.

And only the thought of a baby so pure and ethereal as Y/N meant a lot.

It was his.

After everything he suffered, everything he did that provoked people to suffer, he was blessed with a son or a daughter.

But he needed to focus on her.

“Will you try ab- abortion?” He didn’t want her to do that, he would try to change her mind if she said yes but he knew it was her choice.

“I… I don’t know! I mean no I won’t. I can’t! But Bucky, I’m so so scared.”

“You think I’ll leave.” He said softly, she looked at him startled, but she shouldn’t. Bucky always knew her. “You know I would never abandon you, especially not with our child.”

She nodded, her heartbeat going faster and faster by the second. He could hear it, of course he could. Apparently, the time to “cool off” didn’t help as she has thought.

Bucky gently held her waist and thigh and pulled her to his lap, Y/N hugged him tightly and started to sob. Bucky was her home.

And she was terrified he would leave her, especially with a child to take care of.

“Shh shh, pretty girl. It’ll be okay.” His hand started to caress her scalp softly trying to bring her some comfort.

Some minutes of pure comfortable silence passed before Y/N straightened her back and looked at the deep blue of his eyes. “I’m sorry I lied…” She murmured.

Bucky chuckled at the thought of how angry he was 20 minutes ago at her, now it seemed really stupid the way he allowed his demons to make him think the worst of his angel.

“I forgive you. Y/N,” He raised his hand and touched her cheek softly, she leaned in and kissed his palm. “I know you’re worried I’ll leave or that you will have to raise that child alone but I promise you that I won’t let you down! I won’t let our child down!” He placed his other hand on her belly, Y/N smiled at the vision.

Of course, she didn’t have a bump yet, but seeing Bucky hand touching a place where half him and half her was growing was a new comforting feeling.

Y/N nodded and smiled at him, lifting her pinky she pouted. “Promise? Even that the serum has some effect or if someone tries to take them away from me. Promise you will be there for me?”

He chuckled at her cuteness but realized how deeper the worries about a child was, interlacing his pinky with hers he nodded. “I promise.” She leaned in and kissed him lovely. She missed him.

He gazed at her, and as he passed his thumb under her eye to dry a tear, he was more sure than ever that she was the light of his life. “We got this, my love.” He affirmed his hands holding her face softly. “We do.”

Bucky Barnes is good at protecting the ones he loved, so he will do the possible and impossible to protect his perfect little family.

…

<3 <3 <3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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petersasteria · 4 years

Text

The Forces of Nature || Ch.3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

Summary: “There’s this kid out there that can control the wind or something. I think she’s a great addition to the team. Let’s recruit her.”

SERIES MASTERLIST || PP MASTERLIST

The next three days of school were filled with Y/N constantly asking Peter when he was available to work on the presentation. Peter found it annoying as usual, but she wasn't annoying; she was determined. She was determined to get along with Peter. She was really trying hard. Peter wasn't cooperating because he kept dismissing her. Ned was disappointed.

"Why are you so disappointed, anyway?" Peter asked with a shrug as he closed his locker when the day ended.

"Because she's trying, Peter! You're not even trying. I thought you were recruiting her? What happened to that?" Ned asked, completely done with Peter's bullshit.

"Technically, I still am. If I don't end up recruiting her, Scott will recruit her and my suit would probably taken away which would make me extremely upset."

"Well, you aren't doing your job in recruiting her. Sounds to me like you WANT to have your suit taken away."

"Of course no-"

"By not doing what you're supposed to do, you're one step closer to Mr. Stark taking your suit away." Ned said sternly. He looked behind Peter and saw Y/N approaching them. "Y/N's coming over here and she'll probably ask the same question again. So please cooperate."

"Fine." Peter huffed. Ned was right, after all. He didn't want his suit to be taken away. As if on cue, Y/N approaches them with a wide smile which Ned returned. Peter just stared at her.

"Hey guys!" Y/N greeted. "MJ went home already, she said something about a protest or something and I saw you guys and I thought I would say hi."

"Well, hello." Ned said sweetly. "I really love your outfit choices. What's your style today? I love it."

Y/N smiled shyly and looked down before looking back at Ned, "It's actually inspired by Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City. I loved her outfits in that movie and I saw that I have some similar pieces in my closet. So today, my style is Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City."

Y/N was wearing a pink long sleeved polo with the sleeves folded all the way up to her elbows. On top of that was a small white vest to match her white slacks that were straight cut. For the shoes, she decided to give heels a try that's why she was slightly taller that day. She also wore a black tie that was loosely tied around her neck.

"You look great! Doesn't she look great, Peter?" Ned turned to Peter who was looking at her up and down.

"You know, you usually dress either too old for your age or too young for your age. When you wore that sailor outfit the other day, I noticed that everyone here wanted to bang you; you looked like a porn star or something."

"Peter!"

"Hey, I'm just telling the truth so I don't have to say shit behind her back." Peter defended. "But, Ned's right. You look great today. I actually dig this look." He smiled at Y/N and clapped.

"Why, thank you, Peter. That's really nice of you to say." Y/N beamed. "Anyway, I also approached both of you to tell Peter that it's okay if he doesn't want to work on the presentation. So, I started my research last night and started on the presentation already."

Ned and Peter were in shock. Ned was shocked because he was impressed. Peter was shocked because he realized he wouldn't get a grade if he didn't let down his pride to join Y/N.

"Wait, uh, I've been meaning to tell you that I was going to join you today." Peter said quickly. Y/N raised her eyebrows, "Really? No more lame excuses?"

"What do you mean 'lame excuses'?" Peter furrowed his eyebrows. Ned looked between the both of them and just watched the scene unfold.

"Oh, Peter. I'm not stupid; I wasn't born yesterday. I can let the Stark Internship slide because I know it's real. But your other excuses? Cat-sitting your neighbor's cat? Walking your dog? MJ told me you didn't have a dog. Maybe you really bought groceries after school so I'll let that slide too. But the other day you told me that you were going to be late for your shift at 7/11? Dude, later that day I saw you at Delmar's and you took your sweet time to stay there." Y/N let out an exasperated sigh.

"And I'm sorry for that, okay?" Peter frowned. "But I want to work on it now. Really, I do. Please? I don't want to fail history."

"Fine." Y/N gave in. "Only because I'm nice."

"Thanks." Peter smiled. "My place or-?"

"Mine." Y/N said. "Shall we?"

Peter nodded and they said goodbye to Ned. The train ride going to Y/N's house was quiet. Peter had his earphones on and Y/N took out her book and opened it on where her bookmark was. As she started reading, Peter couldn't help but look at her as she sat across from him.

He didn't understand why everyone liked her so much. Even the Avengers liked her despite not knowing who she was. Peter would ask himself at night why people liked her or liked to be around her. He just didn't get it. But now he's asking himself why he doesn't get it. If it was so easy for all of Midtown and the Avengers to like her, why wasn't it easy for him? Why was he struggling? Suddenly, he felt himself becoming like Evan Hansen in the song 'Waving Through A Window'.

"On the outside, always looking in."

Like what Evan felt in that song, Peter felt like an outsider in his own situation. It was as if a glass separated him from the rest of Midtown when Y/N came along. He wasn't even sure if people still knew him or if anyone ever noticed him.

A few moments later, they arrive at Y/N's station. On instinct, Y/N immediately puts the bookmark on the page she was reading and closed the book before putting it in her bag. She glanced at Peter and motioned for him to follow her so he did. As soon as they got out of the train, Y/N just kept walking with Peter following by her side.

"So, what were you reading?" Peter asked.

"Why're you asking?" Y/N chuckled lightly.

Peter shrugged, "They say that you could tell a lot about a person based on what they're reading."

"Who the hell said that?" Y/N laughed. "It's kind of ridiculous." Peter didn't say anything as they kept walking. After a moment of silence, Y/N spoke up again.

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah."

"It's about a kid who wished that his parents never met; he wished it at exactly 11:11 and it came true. When he woke up the next day, he was on the ground and in the wrong year. His house was gone, his whole family was gone. The only person who was there was an angel literally sent from heaven who was tasked to help the kid." Y/N told him.

"That sounds really interesting." Peter genuinely said. "So, what's the catch? There has to be a catch."

Y/N giggled, "They only have one week to get his parents back together."

"You mentioned that he woke up in the wrong year... what's up with that?"

"Since their task is to get the kid's parents back together, the kid woke up in 2017; the year the kid's parents met. Another catch is that the kid's mom was engaged to someone else at that time. You should read this book. I'll lend it to you when I'm done with it."

Peter glanced at Y/N and smiled, "I'd love that. Thank you."

"Anytime, Peter."

A few turns later, Y/N and Peter arrived at her apartment building. They entered the building and went up the elevator to reach the third floor to Y/N's unit. Y/N led the way to the unit she shared with Eunice and unlocked the door before entering and inviting Peter in.

Peter closed the door behind him and looked around. It was similar to the apartment he lived in with May and it made him smile a bit. He noticed that there weren't any pictures of Y/N. Instead, there were pictures of a dark skinned woman with what seemed to be like the woman's family.

Y/N went straight to the kitchen as Peter made himself comfortable on the couch. The whole apartment was cozy and aesthetically pleasing. He looked to his left and saw an open door. He assumed it was Y/N's room judging by the way it was designed and styled. He didn't want to offend anyone but the dark skinned woman looked older than Y/N and the style of Y/N's room wouldn't fit the older woman.

"We don't have any juice. I hope water's okay." Y/N's voice cut off his train of thought as he looked towards her as she brought two glasses of water and placed it on the coffee table. "I'll just get my laptop, okay?" Y/N settles her bag down next to Peter's and rushed to her room to quickly grab her laptop. Not even a second later, Y/N came back with her laptop and sat next to Peter.

"I already started on the powerpoint. I hope you don't mind; I used Canva." Y/N said as she opened her laptop and quickly went on Canva.

"I don't mind. Did you make notes?" Peter asked. "I really have no clue about Elizabeth I."

"I don't have notes, but I do have a book." Y/N told him before she opened her backpack to grab the book she used for the presentation. She handed it to Peter who gladly took it from her. He opened the book on where the bookmark was and he began to read it.

"I thought that we could only do a few slides. I asked Mrs. Johnson this morning for the specifics and she said that we'll only present about the beginning of her life until she became queen. Her life as queen was given to someone else." Y/N explained.

"That's fine. I trust that we'll explain this really well. I don't want to sound arrogant or anything, but we're two of the smartest people in that room." Peter said.

"That's actually true." Y/N giggled. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. I didn't eat lunch. I was at the library studying for a quiz in Spanish." Peter frowned slightly.

"I'll make us a lasagna, then. I think it's your turn to do the research since I've already done that all night last night." Y/N turned the laptop to face him as she stood up and went to the kitchen to start cooking.

Peter read the one Y/N did so far and he was impressed. He read the book first before he started typing anything. He knew that Y/N was fascinated by all of the Tudors and he wanted to know why. Almost two hours later, he found himself getting really hooked on the book.

"Are you enjoying?" Y/N asked.

Peter looked up from what he was reading and nodded, "I'm probably just as fascinated as you are right now, if I'm being honest. Anyway, I'll start typing now."

"Okay." Y/N nodded. "The food's ready, by the way." She went to the dining area as Peter started typing quickly. It didn't take long for him to join Y/N and they started eating.

"I don't see any pictures of you, Y/N. Who do you live with?" Peter asked nonchalantly.

"I live with Eunice. She's my... friend. She's my best friend, actually. She's a few years older. She's a cop; she's my hero." Y/N praised as she ate.

"How come?" Peter wondered. Y/N took a sip of her water and said, "I've lost three people I love in the span of two years. After that, I lived with my cruel aunt who treated me like a servant. Last summer, I ran away from that cruel place and found my place here."

"Then I met Eunice." Y/N remembered fondly. "She took me in without hesitation and helped me find a decent school for my senior year and that's why I'm in Midtown. I could say that she's like a sister to me despite our differences. I love her. She's my family. Families aren't always bonded by blood, you know."

"I get what you mean. Mr. Stark is like a father to me." Peter smiled. "I've lost three people too."

"Who?" Y/N asked.

"My parents and my uncle Ben." Peter answered as he reminisced on the memories he had with his parents and mostly uncle Ben.

"I lost my parents too." Y/N said as she teared up at the memory. "It was a car accident. The drunk driver hit our car so bad and it killed my parents instantly. I was with them when it happened. I was only 15."

Peter frowned as she continued her story.

"I only had scratches and I was the only one alive in the scene. I got out of the car and when I did, the car blew up. I miss my parents so much. As much as I want to dwell on losing them, I knew I had to move on. My parents would want that."

"Who was the other one you lost?" Peter asked softly.

Y/N wiped away her tears and cleared her throat, "I lost my grandmother a year after I lost my parents. She died in her sleep. She was a really good person, you know? She never made me feel guilty for being the only one alive in the accident. In fact, she loved me even more. She loved me more than she loved anything else. It was just me and her in the house that I grew up in."

"She took care of me and loved me. She always reminded me that I was her best girl. She said that to me every night. I just didn't know that those would be her last words to me because she didn't wake up the next morning."

"Y/N, I'm so sorry." Peter said. "That must really hurt. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I thought you hated me... why are you so nice to me?" Y/N sniffed and drank some water.

"I don't hate you. I dislike you. Those are two different things. And just because I dislike you, doesn't mean that I'm heartless. Consider me as... a frenemy." Peter said.

"Frenemy?"

"Friend and enemy."

Y/N nodded, "I like that. So what are you right now?"

Peter smiled at her and softly gripped her hand, his thumb rubbing the top of her hand, "Right now, I'm your friend. And as a friend, I can say that I know what it feels like to lose important people. I can also say that you're not alone."

'Perhaps it isn't so bad to be close to Y/N', Peter thought to himself. He didn't want to admit it, but being with Y/N felt great. He didn't feel like an outsider anymore.

* * * *

i legit cried while writing abt y/n's parents ffs i told y’all you’ll know why im crying lmao

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @myblueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @justanothermarvelmaniac @itstaskeen @sandystoriess

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @parker-potters @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @chloecreatesfictions @holland-styles @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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imaginedcreaderinsert · 4 years

Note

Maybe for requests, Jason x reader with unrequited love. Jason being the one in love and the y/n never truly loving Jason the same way. Maybe an established friends with benefits relationship. Smutty angst ? Xxxxxxxx

SUMMARY: explained by the ask......... might or not might have added some cheating, WHOOPS.

WORD COUNT: 3685

TW: Angst and smut. Some cheating might have been implied. Read until the end! You can decide on which end you want first by commenting!

A/N: Tomorrow (today cuz here it’s 6:17 AM!), I’ll answer another ask I have pendant from some time ago, and I’LL START ON MY FIRST PART TWO, BABIES. I know that Heal, Cool Girl and others have attracted a lot of attention, but I think I’ll start on Heal, cuz I have it all planned. On Cool Girl I was planning on doing some endings: two with Jason (good and bad), two with Dick (good and bad) and one neutral but... Well, angsty. Tell me what you think!

People that asked to be tagged: @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @dora-the-grownup

I just want to be yours — Jason Todd x Reader (x Dick Grayson, implied)

You told yourself this would be the last time. Fucking this up this much shouldn’t be a thing, should not happen this often; people joke around the big mistake that is fucking with an ex, and the worst thing is that you actually joked about those things: as if you could ever do such a thing! How pathetic can someone be, right? The room is dark, and it takes you a bit to actually find your clothes; disorientated as you were when you first opened your eyes, this is a really big step. Your bra is somewhere near the bed, and your underwear between the covers. The rest you can maybe take here and there, as long as you find your pants. Jason won’t mind.

His wounds are slightly fresh, even when you had taken care this time with your nails; seeing how beat he had been, you had tried to take care, not leave more red marks behind this time. Looking back, drunk and high on adrenaline, letting him walk you to your door had not been the best option; but who knew Jason would get into a fight for you on that same night? People think of Jason as someone smaller than Dick, and that may be so in age, but in no means in weight or height. He is the biggest of all of the Wayne adoptees, and maybe the one with the worst self-control too. You used to like that when you were going out, but that was getting old, right? Still, he had taken you out of that bar in his bike and it all had felt so juvenile, like the first time he’d done something similar. He was irresistible when you two met, and it had been lust at first sight - you could swear on that. Now? All that was left were ashes of a very intense but mediocre romance at most in terms of deepness.

Sex was easy, no questions asked; the problem always was when Jason got clingy, a bit antsy and inquisitive. It made you flee. Thus, you get up as quietly as you can, drag your clothes out, take one of his shirts, and escape the house. If he finds you, you think you won’t be able to say “no”.

***

“I don’t-I don’t know”: You frown, holding your cellphone between your ear and shoulder. It’s getting hot, and you hate that, but your hands are a bit busy. Fuck you hate your job.

“I think you do, (Y/N)”

“Ugh, I hate it when you call me by my name, Richard.” You emphasize your voice in the last noun, making him chuckle because of your revenge. He hates his name too. “I’m just-look, you don’t want the details. We both wanted it, that’s it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I know, I know! Shut up, I swear to God I planned on having some drinks and going back home. Just that. I actually like talking to him”

There’s a bit of a silence on the line, enough to make you know what he’s going to say. The thing he has been insinuating for the past months, of course.

“You know he hasn’t gone out with anyone, right? He didn’t go to your stupid set-ups with other girls.”

“Yeah, they’ve told me. How is that my fault?”

The tiredness in Dick’s sigh makes you feel guilty, because of course you know whose fault it is. How can he move on if you are constantly moving back in his life like that, being all unfair? And you know, you know, but you love talking to him and sometimes, just sometimes, things go back to how they were before it all got messy.

***

“But why?”

“I don’t know, just because I don’t.” You answer, exhausted with yourself. It feels like a trap at times talking to him, and you hate that. Jason is not being clingy, but he can’t quite make why you are so opposed to it. And he should.

“It’s just meeting the rest of the family, babe. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You gave me a fucking drawer, Jason. It is a fucking big of a deal.”

He drops himself into the sofa, sighing, quite exhausted. You are too, lax in the comfortable armchair you’ve made almost yours throughout the time you’ve spent with him.

“Listen, that is because you are here almost everyday, (Y/N). I’m not going to ask you anything.”

That calms you down, somehow, but there’s hurt in his eyes. You can remember it clear as a day; it had been a couple months after you’d meet, started to fuck here and there — and he had given you a fucking drawer in his bedroom. Like you two were something.

The fact that you feel so anxious for meeting his family, knowing him a bit more, and having a drawer had not been good signs. Both of you had entered the relationship making very clear it was merely sexual, but now touches were becoming more usual, nuzzles and the occasional naps taken together…

He is falling in love with the little thing she does, like walking around the apartment in her cold bare feet and putting them up Jason’s lap any chance she has, just so that he can “warm them up”. He finds that adorable for some reason, instead of annoying. Or the way her hair looks like that of a superstar when she takes her scrunchie off, occasionally – her hair is amazing, almost as if styled, but its purely natural, unintentional. He is falling in love too with the way his hand perfectly fits her waist when he hoists her back to him, grabs her by the naked lateral area showing skin before sleeping, calming him up immediately. He loves how she just seems to roam around comfortable around him, enough to laugh out loud like that, be in silence, or fuck him all sweaty and without a care in the world. He loves it when she starts things, making him feel so wanted, so loved.

Jason has never felt wanted. Not much anyways. Dad fled and mom OD’d; Bruce Wayne (not Dad) had his touches, yes, but how could he win against golden boy, always perfect, always first in everything? Not to say the years he was dead, where he did nothing to avenge him, just mourn. He kind of just knew that things would have been different if it had been Dick, if it had been Tim – and Jason hated himself for thinking like that, but he couldn’t help it. People didn’t stick around him too long before leaving, and usually in bad terms. They left him behind, but then you came along, always soft, sweet, sarcastic – but never cruel. You fought to reach him, talk him out of certain bad thoughts, ruts where he didn’t feel like waking up and even confessing dark and unspoken secrets.

No one but the social services knew how you had been abandoned in a bus stop by your mom when you were three years old. How long you’ve stayed there, hoping no one would grab you, take you, kidnap you or worse things – you had cried but you had stay in your position, hoping she would come back and just make it all a bad joke. You never understood or fully assimilated the problem, thus becoming the broken shell you are with twenty-two years old, a victim of the broken foster care system – just what Jason would have become had Bruce Wayne not appeared. Not everyone has an angel watching their back.

You had expressed your tremendous trust issues, your desire to flee from happy things, good people: they made you feel broken, unwanted, less of a person, and worst of all small. You hated being small, being walked upon – there were people who when threatened, they made themselves smaller, bowed down their head in submission. But not you. Fear made you stronger, you knew how to take every blow and give it back with if not as much force, even more. Relationships made you feel caged, clingy, and Jason knew that when he had asked you stay the first night, uncomfortable as you had been the first minutes before falling sleep, maybe because you had stressed yourself enough or because you were truly tired and he had noticed.

He noticed the smaller things. Jason wanted to know that her small things were big and loud as shouts for him. He noticed, he knew.

***

She knew too.

“I see you, (Y/N) (L/N).” He tells you one night, cuddled up against him, laughter dying in your throat from the self-deprecating joke. You can’t even remember what it was about, but his eyes, his gorgeous eyes had made you feel bashful, almost timid.

And that scared you to death. You know what he means, what he sees – you, in your rawest form, your most humane and vulnerable sides. And he stays anyways.

“Well how could you not with your stupid frog-like eyes, dumbass?”. You retort before laughing, pushing him from your body almost too scared.

You have to fight, or otherwise you’ll lose. You knew that back then and you know that now. Falling in love with Jason is almost too easy, giving up into his eyes and his big cuddly arms, the loving monster that he is – and you mean that in a good way, always in a good way. You knew of his vulnerabilities as much as he knew about yours, and you had something deep, tainted by moments that made your stomach flutter, your cheeks blush at times.

There’s only one remedy against that.

***

Jason pushes you against your wall, making you gasp and the pictures behind you flutter, scaring you for a second – but then you forget, his incredible mouth on your neck making things, sucking skin, so deliciously that your thigs trap him deeper. His arms, holding you up by your ass against the wall, squeeze the flesh even with clothes between you. He groans, his bulge pressing against your hot core, mewls coming out of your mouth. It’s so easy to start, why hadn’t you done this before?

Oh, right, because sex fucks things up like love. It’s the second most dangerous thing after opening your heart to someone, and you know that this is it. He will take you, and after that, he will be done with you, like the rest of men in your life. You grab him harshly, taking him back from hair so that he can look at you, with your very serious and commanding eyes:

“Sofa, now.”

He takes you there, almost pushing you into it as he descends. You take off your blouse, bra – and like a dog, by instinct, he attacks your chest, hardened nipples to play with as you moan, trousers becoming more and more uncomfortable.

“Take it off, take it all off, Jay.” You beg, this time, helping him in the process before he starts taking clothes off your body, worshipping almost. That’s dangerous.

You thought Jason would be a selfish lover – he seemed like the type, himself coming first before the rest (no pun intended), but to your great surprise you get to cum two times before he finally lets himself in, with your very tired but pleasured permission. You are in love with his body, you can say that much, as his cock and his dominating presence is all you can see, your legs opened for him, about to enter your dripping entrance-

“Jay!”. You moan, nails going for his arms, the closest thing to you at the moment. He fucks you without abandon, mere lust and want behind, no love to be seen on a couch-fuck that will never be spoken of again.

You get on top of him and ride him, as he meets your thrusts halfway there. He gives and gives and gives, thinking he will get something in exchange, maybe you will say something stupid like the stupid things he wants to say as he gets to see your pleasured expression, blissed out face and moaning and whimpers – but there’s no “I love you’s”, no “I want to be more”, no “I kind of haven’t been thinking of you as just a friend for the last past months”. He has been often thinking about it these last weeks, but there isn’t that kind of realization as he finishes you.

But if that’s what you want for now, he will respect it. He will if it means holding you close to his body in your most vulnerable time, after coming down from an orgasm and grabbing her neck as she calms down. Jason takes her to bed after cleaning them up, and slowly, almost groggily, falls asleep, protecting her from the rest of the world. He just wishes he could have kept that night longer, eternal. Nothing is the same after that.

***

The first times after that are incredible sex-wise, but there’s no communication. There’s moans, dirty talking and kinky conversations that they hadn’t touch on before, but nothing deep, most definitely not loving. But slowly, they make their way into something else, in the precious pillow talk that becomes his favorite moment after making her cum again and again.

“No, no, that’s the thing! Everyone loves Picasso, but not a lot of people know what a misogynistic ass he was! There are far better alternatives than him, way too underrated and unknown from the same movement! And that goes for the little racist bitch that’s Lovecraft! He has his freaking cult and he was the worst person to exist on-“

She rambles, rants on about writers, painters, artists which she loves and hates, things she seems to want to share with him. He loves that, her passion, how intelligent she is, and how he looks at her, expectantly before he shares his own, which most often than not is with hers. She likes that. Sometimes they don’t coincide, but that’s okay too because she gets even more fired up, and they end up kissing, just to “make-up” even when there’s nothing to make up for. But he likes that, he adores it. He just wonders how long that precious period will last before problems arise, and he’s right in doing so. Jason is prepared at least.

***

“I just can’t say.”

“But why? It’s just-we’ve been through so much together, Jay! I’ve told you everything, and I thought you had done the same, how can you not then? Trust me with that?”

“That” happens to be his vigilante life, one he plans on keeping form her as long as they live. He’s seen people die, get attacked, be kidnapped – he won’t forgive himself if someone is to take you, especially with the Joker back in Gotham once more. To Jason, the more he loved and opened to you, the more you became a target, a weakness: his weakness. It was the eternal superhero’s dilemma, wasn’t it?

“No, fuck you! You knew how big my trust issues were, you knew how long it took me to open up! And then you just can’t take that big step for me? Are you serious, Todd? I really don’t know where we are headed, it’s just a mystery at this point! Sometimes you-you do that where you stare at me with-with love! And then there’s this comfortable silence, the kisses in-between! I’m not comfortable with the idea of taking things to the next step, but if it’s with you, I can make do! But not if we are going to be like this, if you are going to be this way”. Your finger accuses him, almost making a hole in his chest. It hurts, because more than anything she’s disappointed. Dealing with anger was easy – take the blow, the insults, let them steam off, and then hug. Nothing more. But with disappointment, he never knows what quite to do. And she’s a bit like that as well. “I need space. Don’t wait on for me.”

*** You still fuck for the months to come, but there are few kisses in between, just on the stupid days you let yourself be swept on by his charm, his hands that undo you more times that you can remember. It’s easy to concede a bit, be sweet for a time before retreating, hiding yourself – nothing has been the same since the fight, and Jason is desperately trying to gain the closeness he’s lost in the months that this has been going on.

There’s movie marathons, still you come to his apartment and he comes to yours late in the night – but whenever he comes from a vigilante mission, she kinda somehow knows because of the hours and thus, Jason always finds her asleep, giving him her back before getting into bed. He kisses her nape, the naked skin between neck and shoulder, and presses his head into her back as if saying “sorry”. It never works, because you never turn around, as wake as you are. It won’t make the cut, because he’s still not talking.

But then the unimaginable happens.

Jason discovers that (Y/N) and fucking Dick Grayson are keeping in contact.

Things spiral down from that point on.

***

You fall slowly in love with Dick. He has a girlfriend and insinuates so in one of your hangouts (they are no longer meetings, just friends chilling), but you couldn’t care less. Dick has something that Jason hasn’t quite show you: honesty, undoubted charm, and easy-going attitude. Nothing is intense, you never go home angry or disappointed, upset that he doesn’t trust you. Richard Grayson seems to, to your own surprise, hold you in great admiration. In between some things because you are Jason’s girlfriend – and the rest because of your personality, the charm he says you have.

“It’s like I never fully get to know you. Some days you say this, and then you say that – it’s fascinating.” You take it as a compliment, chuckling with slightly pink cheeks as you look at his eyes, dilated and flirty.

“Well, that keeps things interesting, doesn’t it? You’ll never get tired of me.”

Sometimes he gets nervous; others he fully blushes and other he flirts back; you are sure of that. And the comfort of his arms around you when you say goodbye is something you aren’t sure you can ignore for much longer. The meetings started as informative reports, if you are to define it in some way; the relationship with the Wayne’s was not at his best, but still Dick wanted to keep in contact, see how Jason was doing, seeing as he had no apparent job. Things started politely enough, brief talks before parting ways, until you started giving in more of your relationship problems (or whatever the hell Jason and you had, seeing as you are not officially going out) and Dick slowly started to voice things out.

And it all seems to go good enough so that Jason starts to get worried. Then he plainly follows you, stalks you, one of your days – he observes you eating out with someone else, which makes his instincts calm, but the moment they step out into the cold and the guy helps her with her coat, he can catch the profile of his face. And he launches himself before he can think about it through, going for his face and making his head bounce almost back from the window.

***

You shout his name and grab a hold of his arm as you take him back, try to take him apart from Dick Grayson, whose stomach he’s currently going for. No one else seems to want to step in, thus making your job more difficult. But you’ve seen it before, and he won’t stop – he doesn’t know how to stop when this kind of things happens, something gets triggered inside his head. He’s told you so many times that you can actually remember, and you can fully understand the feeling – he’s lost control. But still you grab his arm, try to push his chest back and make him look at you. When you make contact two times in a row, he stops, letting himself be slightly pushed back, stopped.

People are staring, and Dick is on the floor coughing; Jason’s knuckles are red and slightly bruised, and Grayson’s shirt is dark and dirty because of his boots. He hates that, losing control, you know – you grab him by the jaw before telling him sweet nothings, making him relax almost in your touch. He’s explosive, dangerous like that but you still stay. That amazes him.

***

He takes you desperately, like fucking his way into your body until you can’t remember anything anymore, you will get tired of him – when will it be, when will it be? He wishes he could stop thinking that as he makes his way inside your body, desperately bruises your lips with love, as if making you understand: I love you, he too timidly mouthes into her as her eyes close, on the ceiling out of pleasure. It’s a slow rut, but deep and pleasurable – you cum once and then he finishes off on your stomach, kisses in between, (Y/N) whispering sweet confirmations, phrases of pure love and desire:

“You can let go, you can cum. Cum on me, get me dirty too, baby. You are fine, you are safe, I need you. I need you, just you. Okay? Okay, Jay, baby. Just go, let go.”

He does. He kisses you. You kiss back, and soon after, turn to sleep.

Slowly, you are slipping away.

***

The inevitable happens: sex stops, and you stop talking. Sometimes you don’t ever get to see each other. What’s the point? You cut things off, and Jason just accepts. How had it been that easy? You cannot fully understand, but it’s something you definitively appreciate. Were you in the wrong perhaps? As Dick opens his mouth, apparently to greet you, you realize. It’s clear to you as the day:

“I have to tell you something.”

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader implied #reader insert #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #jason todd dcu #jason todd angst

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stevenroguers · 4 years

Text

we are soldiers

Summary: ‘The last time Steve had lost him, on the train, there had been no goodbye.

It’s only fitting that this time there is a month for farewells and loving kisses and broken words that mean more to them than anyone will ever be able to understand.’

Something is wrong with the serum in Bucky’s body. At least he has Steve.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Terminal Illness, Main Character Death. This fic ignores the latter part of CACW. Basically, Bucky joins the Avengers after HYDRA is destroyed.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 4.2k (yes, I know, it is very long for a Tumblr fic but I had a lot to write for them.)

A/N: This fic has been written for @youngmoneymilla ‘s 15k challenge and if you’re not following her, you totally should because her writing style is mature, fantastic and so captivating. The background score I used as inspiration is here.

The first time it happens, Bucky is making coffee.

He feels the tremor in his right shoulder, just as he picks up the cup and before he knows it, he’s spilt burning coffee all over his front and the granite countertop.

Burns hurt Bucky more than he’s willing to admit, so when Steve comes in to the kitchen, bleary eyed and adorably rumpled from sleep, it’s to the sight of Bucky dabbing a dry, wet cloth to patches of reddening skin on his chest, wincing in pain.

‘Jesus, Buck, what happened?’ Steve asks, eyes widening as he takes in the overturned coffee cup and Bucky’s shirt lying discarded on the floor.

‘Spilt the damn coffee,’ Bucky mutters through clenched teeth. ‘Hurts like a bitch.’

Steve shakes his head and the fondness Bucky sees there still makes his heart clench with wonder. ‘The way you’re fucking going at it, rubbing like that, it’s going to hurt even more. Put that rag away, I’ll get you some ice.’

He turns towards the refrigerator, the rays of sunlight coming in through the windows arcing off his back like golden dancers and Bucky stares, momentarily distracted from the pain.

Steve is fucking gorgeous.

Bucky realises it in the stolen moments when he knows only he’s looking, really looking at Steve.

The few moments of calm after a battle, when everyone is just taking in the surroundings, the wreckage, the disaster– Bucky looks at Steve. Takes in the line of his jaw, the set of his shoulders, the relief and grief battling in his eyes which go from clear blue to overcast skies in the matter of seconds.

Some mornings, he wakes up before Steve and has the privilege of watching the way his blond hair fans out behind his head, almost like a halo, making him look like the goddamn angel he is. He’s soft in sleep, his eyelashes fluttering, his lips parted and his forehead free of the lines that usually crease them.

And now, as the sun dances over the expanse of Steve’s back, Bucky hungrily drinks his fill, feasting his eyes.

They’re soldiers- every moment is precious.

Steve turns back around and picks up Bucky’s shirt from the floor, wraps up a bunch of ice-cubes in it and walks over to where Bucky’s standing, leaning against the kitchen counter.

His brow furrows up in concentration as he presses the ice to the reddening patches of Bucky’s skin.

‘You don’t hafta be so… diligent, Steve,’ Bucky says, his voice gruff. ‘It’s going to heal in a couple seconds anyway.’

‘Doesn’t mean I like to see you hurt,’ Steve says immediately, looking up at Bucky through his fucking perfectly curled eyelashes. It makes Bucky want to lean down and kiss him stupid, so he does.

Their kisses go from chaste and soft in the mornings to heated and filthy in the showers to longing and desperate when one or both of them are about to go away on a mission.

Now it is gentle, searching, soothing as Steve traces his tongue over Bucky’s bottom lip, making him smile into the soft touch.

It makes him forget the strange feeling that made him drop the coffee all over himself in the first place.

–

Bucky wakes up after a particularly vicious mission where his ribs had been battered and bruised beyond belief, feeling achy and sore.

It isn’t something he’s used to- the serum heals him in a few hours, maybe a day at most.

He’s been hospitalised a couple of times, of course, but that’s only when he’s lost a life-threatening amount of blood or when he’s been hit in the head particularly terribly or something else that makes Steve turn pale and his mouth draw into a thin pinched line. If Bucky dares object at being shoved into an ambulance and rushed to a facility, Steve turns furious eyes on him and picks apart his battle techniques and self-esteem issues.

‘You think you’re fucking dispensable,’ Steve had told him once, almost on the verge of tears. ‘How do I make you understand you’re the most precious thing I have left?’

He stopped objecting after that.

But this mission had been harsh and he’d definitely pulled almost every muscle in his body and sprained a couple joints, but nothing too serious.

Which doesn’t explain the pain he’s feeling everywhere, because it’s been almost twelve hours and if not completely healed, all he’s supposed to feel at this time is a slight twinge here and there.

He gingerly walks to the bathroom and takes off his shirt and has to bring his hand up to stifle the gasp that escapes when he encounters his reflection.

The bruises across his abdomen that are supposed to have healed by now are going from red to an angry purple. There’s red lesions everywhere that haven’t healed and a particularly nasty gash on his right arm which seems to be bleeding slightly.

He brings up his metal arm to touch one of the bruises and winces as his muscles seem to shrink away from the touch. The pain is tolerable- Bucky’s been through much worse but he knows this isn’t how it is supposed to be.

So he turns the warm water on (there are perks to living in a tower made by Stark- there’s warm water all the time, anytime) and draws himself a bath, sinking down and hoping the issue resolves itself after a good night’s sleep.

It does- he wakes up the next day to a body that feels and looks untouched by war and detriment but something about the experience leaves an uneasy feeling curling in his gut.

–

Steve notices something is wrong when they’re fucking on the couch.

He’s riding Steve, and it feels like fucking heaven because Steve knows exactly where to touch him to make him see stars but with one particular thrust Bucky arches too far back and cries out from the pain that shoots across his spine.

Steve is on alert in a second, reaching out to grip Bucky’s shoulders in firm hands, pulling him down to meet concerned blue eyes.

‘What’s wrong?’ Steve asks, worry dripping from his tone. ‘Did I hurt you?’

The slight incredulity in his voice stings and Bucky scowls (which is laughable because Steve’s dick is still in him) and says, ‘I don’t know why I bother fucking you, if you’re going to be such a fucking pussy each time I make a sound.’

He cringes the second the words leave his lips and Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. His dick is going soft inside Bucky. The discomfort and embarrassment make Bucky pull off and fall onto the couch beside Steve where he curls in on himself, facing away.

A hand rests on his shoulder and he leans into the touch, even as Steve remains silent, waiting for him to explain. Steve knows by now that sometimes, Bucky says things that he doesn’t really mean when he can’t get across what he wants to say. It all comes out anyway, because Bucky is Bucky and Steve is Steve.

‘The rogue SHIELD branch in Ukraine,’ Bucky murmurs after a while. ‘One of the fuckers got me in the lower back.’

‘But–’

‘I know,’ Bucky sighs. ‘I still haven’t healed.’

He feels the tug on his shoulder and turns around to face Steve with a resigned huff. The concern on his face is overwhelming.

‘It’s been a week, Buck,’ Steve says, worry shrouding his irises. ‘How are you still feeling it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bucky responds, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes.

‘Bullshit,’ Steve says immediately, tone flat. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

Bucky sighs and shakes his head. ‘It’s nothing, really. Nothing to worry about anyway. Just that, these days… the healing, it’s not working as well as it used to.’

‘What?’

‘Couple of missions, really,’ Bucky hastens to explain, almost frightened by the shock in Steve’s voice. ‘The ones over the last couple of months.’

‘Last couple of months? Buck, what the fuck?!’

‘Steve–’

‘You don’t fucking talk to me! You’ve not been healing for a couple of months and you didn’t fucking tell me!’

‘Steve–’

‘No!’ Steve’s eyes are blazing and he’s pointing a finger at Bucky. ‘No, you don’t get to fucking Steve me right now. We’re going to Bruce tomorrow morning and you don’t get to argue.’

Bucky would very much like to argue. But one look at Steve’s shaking finger and the fear in his eyes makes him shut up. He nods in acquiescence and Steve pulls him into a hug that’s even tighter than the ones he usually delivers.

‘I love you,’ he murmurs into Bucky’s hair and presses a kiss to his temple. ‘I love you so much, fuck.’

‘Fuckin’ sap,’ Bucky mumbles into Steve’s chest and that’s that.

–

Bucky pleads with Steve to let him go to Bruce alone and finally, after an hour of arguing, Steve says fine with a scowl and stalks out. Then he comes back, scowl still in place, kisses Bucky hard and brutal on the mouth, nipping at his lips and pulling on his tongue.

When he pulls away, he still looks upset but his voice is soft when he says, ‘I want you to tell me exactly how it goes.’

Bucky pulls him into a gentler kiss in response.

Bruce looks alarmed when he hears what Bucky has to say.

‘You’re telling me,’ Bruce says, looking at Bucky over his spectacles, ‘that the main property of the super-soldier serum is not… working for you?’

‘It isn’t the main property, strength is,’ Bucky says. ‘Isn’t it?’ he adds dubiously.

Bruce shakes his head. ‘Strength is a result of that property. The reason you have that much strength is because the serum heals you against weakness, if that makes sense.’

Bucky shrugs. ‘Well then, yeah. It’s not working.’

‘I need to do a blood test. Send it to the lab and get some results,’ Bruce says, looking more worried than Bucky thinks he should.

‘What could be wrong?’ Bucky asks him.

‘Any number of things. You didn’t get Erskine’s serum like Steve did. You got whatever mutation Zola managed to come up with. There’s no documentation of what actually went into your body all those years ago. I don’t know what could be wrong and that’s what’s worrying me.’

Bucky feels the first shred of fear curl around his chest.

Bruce’s eyes are kind when he says, ‘Look, Barnes, I didn’t want to sugarcoat it for you. Figured you’d appreciate no one lying to you. But don’t worry about it till the blood comes back with a bunch of papers telling me what’s wrong with you.’

Bucky nods.

‘And Barnes?’ Bruce says, tone a little sharp. Bucky looks at him in askance.

‘Don’t lie to Steve.’

Bucky shudders.

–

He tells Steve who buries his head in his hands and stays silent and unmoving for long minutes. Bucky doesn’t know what to tell him so instead he crawls up to Steve and runs his metal fingers through Steve’s hair. It usually relaxes him but this time Steve reaches up to take Bucky’s hand in his and though Bucky can’t really feel anything, the sensors Stark put in this arm lets him know just how hard Steve is gripping it.

‘You’ll be okay,’ Steve murmurs, focusing on Bucky’s chest instead of his face. ‘You’ll be okay.’

Bucky doesn’t know if Steve is trying to convince Bucky or himself.

–

As it turns out, Bucky isn’t okay. Bruce comes into their rooms with a sheaf of papers and a grave expression, telling them both to sit down and Bucky immediately knows something is terribly wrong.

He hopes for Steve’s sake that it’s bearable.

Bruce hesitates before he begins and Steve’s grip tightens on Bucky’s waist.

‘You’re dying,’ Bruce says and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he looks horrified. Steve jerks in shock and Bucky still hasn’t really processed what the words mean so he looks at Steve for cues on how to react but Steve just looks… there isn’t really a word.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bruce says, taking his glasses off and wiping them against his untucked shirt. His hair is a mess and there are shadows under his eyes. ’I never practiced, I don’t have a good bedside manner so I don’t have a clue how to do this but… it’s true. Barnes is dying.’

Steve screams.

It’s so uncharacteristic that both Bucky and Bruce startle. In one swift move, Steve pulls Bucky to him and screams into his shoulder and all Bucky can do is bring his hands up to Steve’s hair, brush through the golden strands and try to process what dying even means.

When Steve finally stops, his voice is hoarse as he asks Bruce why and how and what.

The serum Zola put in him is losing potency at an alarming rate, Bruce explains, his voice detached and clinical. His systems are now dependent on it and so they’re going to shut down in due course because there will be nothing to sustain them as putting anything new into Bucky’s body is basically asking for either a painful death or genetic mutation. There’s no way around it simply because of that, Bruce says, hands clenching and unclenching. They don’t know what’s in Bucky’s body. It’s been tested and though isolated elements have been found and explained, the risk is too much.

‘We’ll keep testing,’ Bruce says, as though it will make Steve’s blank, lost expression disappear. ‘We won’t give up.’

Bucky knows they don’t stand a chance.

–

They make love that night, on the bed in their room.

Bucky’s on his back, his nails digging into Steve’s back as Steve gently fingers him open with first one finger, then two, brushing occasionally against his prostate. Bucky cries out, letting all his inhibitions go, pushing into Steve’s thrusts with eager wantonness. He’s always been vocal but today he’s being loud and filthy as he screams Steve’s name into the air surrounding them, heavy with the impending conversations and pain.

‘Fuck, fuck, Stevie, more,’ he cries out as he turns his neck to the side, gasping into the cool sheets underneath. ‘Give me more, please.’

Steve’s barely said anything since they received the news, looking far off into the distance but holding Bucky close with an iron grip. Bucky read and watched one of their favourite films on TV but nothing helped– Steve looked just as blank as he had when Bruce had left. It’s only when Bucky had gently kissed him on the neck, hoping desperately for some reaction that some life had reentered Steve, his eyes brimming with tears as he pulled Bucky into fierce kisses, pushing him down on the bed, holding him there and kissing every inch of him, sucking hickeys down his body, worshipping him.

That’s how they’ve ended up here with Bucky gasping and arching on the bed with want and Steve going agonisingly slow, nothing like the fast, brutal pace he sets in the bedroom. It’s driving him insane.

Steve works in three fingers and Bucky howls with the feeling of them sliding in and out of him, the lube slicking their way. Steve relentlessly targets his prostate, hitting it with every thrust and Bucky has had enough so he finally says, ‘Swear to god, Rogers, if you don’t put your cock in me now–’

Steve jerks his fingers out, leaving Bucky whining and empty from the lack of contact. In seconds, the blunt head of his cock is nudging at Bucky’s hole, gently slipping in, filling him up, piecing him back together.

‘I love you,’ Steve says and his tears fall on Bucky’s face as he moves up Bucky’s body, pressing open mouthed kisses to the corner of his lips, to the shell of his ear. ‘I love you, Buck.’

He’s barely thrusting now, just shifting and moving deep inside Bucky’s body. One of his hands curls around Bucky’s cock and the other moves to Bucky’s metal arm. Bucky runs his own hands all over Steve, touching him, feeling him, committing him to memory (as though he hasn’t already).

‘I love you, too,’ Bucky says, looking up at Steve and for the first time since he’s been informed that he’s going to die in a matter of months, the tears rise in his eyes. ‘Stevie. My Steve.’

And this time, Steve’s crying as he buries his head against Bucky’s shoulder and speeds up his thrusts, making Bucky in turn cry out at the feeling.

He’s nearing orgasm, he can feel it being pulled from him with every stroke of Steve’s hand against his cock and he begins clenching his rim around Steve and the pleasure of it is so unbearable for both of them that they hurtle over the edge almost simultaneously.

When the high wears off, Steve moves away from Bucky’s shoulder and looks into his eyes. There’s a desperation there Bucky hasn’t seen since the last time he slipped into the Winter Soldier’s headspace which had been almost eight months ago.

‘I can’t follow you there like I did in the War,’ Steve says and his voice is so small that Bucky’s heart breaks. The truth of where ‘there’ is hangs like an unspoken weapon between them. ’I can’t follow you there, Buck, so where will I go?’

And because Bucky has no answer, he pulls Steve close and lets him cry against his chest.

–

Bucky gets worse as the days pass. His strength is disappearing so fast that he wakes up each morning feeling like he’s aged ten years. His ninety years are catching up to him now and when he says as much to Steve, Steve gets a hard, cold look in his eyes and tells Bucky to stop joking about something like that.

It’s weird because usually sickness has medicine but Bruce is against putting any foreign substance into his body and that leaves Bucky with an incurable illness and no medicine. When Natalia comes to visit, he tells her and she pulls his head into her lap and they sit in silence for three hours.

Bucky’s accepted it, he thinks.

He knows what’s coming- he knows the end is near and there isn’t anything he can do about it.

‘Your life is not your own,’ Steve had once said when he’d found Bucky standing on the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the lights and busy roads of Manhattan. ‘Keep your hands off it.’

The dead do not know what comes after, but at least they find out.

The living must deal with never knowing.

For those who live, the concept of Heaven and Hell is a comfort. It is a blanket of warmth in a world of cold, hard truths. For those who are about to die, those concepts feel like a tightening noose.

Bucky hopes the afterlife is a void, that is to say he hopes there is no afterlife.

He cannot live somewhere else, knowing that Steve is apart from him, mourning him.

Or worse, forgetting him.

And the possibility of himself forgetting Steve is far too painful to contemplate when those baby blue eyes haunt his dreams, nightmares and waking moments and so Bucky hopes for the void during the sleepless nights where Steve’s breathing beside him is shallow and disturbed from nightmares.

This he tells Stark, who looks at him like he understands and there’s a silent agreement between them that Steve will never know about these thoughts, these conversations.

They make love every night and though Bucky sometimes wants it hard and fast and brutal, the achingly slow pace Steve maintains these days is comfortable.

It gives him more time to appreciate Steve in the throes of passion– that moment before he comes when his eyes fall shut and his lips are swollen and bitten, the moment he first slips into Bucky, the moment when Bucky slips into him.

They are soldiers, every moment is precious.

–

The day Bucky knows he is going to die the minute he wakes up, he coughs blood onto the white sheets, staining them a coppery red.

Steve says nothing, just lifts Bucky up and changes the sheets. He’s stopped going on missions for the past month, opting to stay in the tower.

Sometimes Sam comes over and it had been a weird moment when he’d gone all misty-eyed as he’d insulted Bucky for being on his death-bed. He knows that’s Falcon’s emotionally stunted way of saying he’ll be missed but it had been… strange and Bucky hadn’t known what to do with it or the mist fogging up his own eyes.

The last time Steve had lost him, on the train, there had been no goodbye.

It’s only fitting that this time there is a month for farewells and loving kisses and broken words that mean more to them than anyone will ever be able to understand.

Natalia says goodbye and though she tries to keep it short, unemotional, almost clinical, the long silences she spends in his company speak otherwise.

Stark comes in late in the evenings, sends Steve out to socialise with the others in the tower for a couple of hours much to his chagrin(‘being cooped up here with one person for a month will end up in you becoming some sort of cryptid and we need you, Cap’) and they sit and talk about science and war and sometimes death. It’s both easy and hard around Stark but Stark has accepted that Bucky will die with a sort of stoic cynicism and after Steve’s inability to accept it at all, there’s comfort in Tony’s dark humour.

Bruce comes in one day, sits on the floor and shatters a bunch of glasses against the wall because Bucky is too far gone for any research progress to help him now. Bucky tries his best to comfort Bruce but he doesn’t know what to say that won’t make him sound suicidal so he says nothing.

Wanda once came in awkwardly with a bunch of baked cookies and cried on his shoulder for an hour before telling him that if he ever wanted it, she could come and put him to sleep and ensure he enjoyed some good dreams.

And he’s glad he’s gotten all the goodbyes out of the way as Steve wipes the blood from his chin because he knows, somehow that today is the day he finally finds out what comes after.

He thinks he should tell Steve but when he pats the spot beside him on the bed, Steve sits and the look in his eyes tells Bucky that he knows too.

So Bucky closes his eyes and asks Steve to read to him and Steve does, in his soft, lilting voice the last few chapters of the Great Gatsby. The fact that Steve picks this book makes him smile, and he forgoes the pillow in favour of Steve’s lap and falls back asleep, surprisingly content with the reality of his death.

When he wakes up again, he can barely breathe.

He looks around him and they’re there– Stark and Bruce and Wanda and Natalia, even Sam and Vision. They aren’t surrounding the bed but they’re milling about, in the bedroom, in the living room that he can see from the bedroom and probably in the kitchen because he can hear someone using the sink there.

‘Steve,’ he rasps and beside him, there’s movement and Steve is gripping his hand so tightly that Bucky thinks that strength alone is enough to breathe back life into him.

‘Water,’ he manages and there’s a straw in his mouth that lets him sip in water little by little.

‘They’re here for you,’ Steve whispers and Bucky smiles.

‘No, they’re not. They’ve been here for me for the whole time I was dying. Now that I will, they’re here for you.’ He’s breathless and by the time he’s done speaking, he’s panting hard.

Steve has cried himself dry and Bucky isn’t surprised by the lack of tears in his eyes now. They’re red and swollen but dry as they fix on Bucky.

‘I’ll miss you,’ Bucky says, suddenly, looking at Steve, who clenches his eyes shut. ‘So much.’

‘Wait for me, then,’ Steve says and his eyes are wide, entreating pools of blue that reminds Bucky of the sunshine he hasn’t seen in days. ‘Wherever you are, wait for me.’

He takes him in, the slight stubble Steve hasn’t shaved off in a couple of days, the tense set of his broad shoulders, the warmth of his hands. He can feel his life slipping away and he knows Steve can too because the pain intensifies on his face.

He knows he has just moments left and he can feel his eyes closing but he struggles to keep them open as long as he can, spending those last seconds staring at Steve, falling in love again and again and again.

They are soldiers.

Every moment is precious.

When his eyes finally close, the world turns white.

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cancerousjojian · 5 years

Text

all yours, captain | carol danvers

summary: carol can get… what’s the word, a little possessive at times. she can’t help it, you simply mean to much to her. she decides to show you just how much that could be. also carol is soft.

pairing: carol danvers x fem!reader

words: 1.3K

a/n: listen. hear me out. this was not supposed to get smutty, but it does nonetheless. nothing too graphic, but be aware of that. i love carol. bye.

“Well, don’t you look like a good time.”

“Says who?”

“Says the third glass of whiskey you’re sipping like it’s water.”

Carol grits her teeth. She can hear it all through the earpiece you and her were both wearing. Flirting with the target to get information was a classic tactic, the perfect way to go for a particularly naive individual. And if Natasha taught you anything over all your years with the Avengers, it was that you must find a weakness and go with it. You were doing your job, and you were pretty damn good at it. That doesn’t mean Carol hated it any less. And even though you’re only across the ballroom, she refuses to look. She doesn’t think she can stand it. The person you’re subconsciously controlling might as well be her.

“Danvers,” she hears Tony’s voice snap in her ear. “You got eyes on Y/N and the prime minister?”

She takes a long sip of seltzer water in her flute glass before deciding to answer. “Yup.”

Static follows. She tried to tune back in to the conversation and actually do her job. She hears the target, the prime minister, speak of an address, which means you’ve successfully completed the mission. Carol can’t help but feel a wave of pride for her world-class spy of a girlfriend. She jots the address down in her communicator to repeat it to Tony and others who were awaiting the news.

She can’t stop herself from then glancing across the room at you, and the sight she sees makes her blood boil. The man you’d been coercing into submission is getting a little too handsy for your and Carol’s comfort. His hand was low on your back and he was leaning into you, speaking into your ear. Carol gulps, and pretends like she wasn’t staring when you begin to walk towards her. She notices the way you walk in confidence back to her.

She looks down shyly, and remembers how silly she feels in her dress. A silky lavender color, you helped her style it on your way to the location. She was never one to partake in elegance of that level, but she thought you looked stunning in yours. Even though she’s still a little fuming from the encounter, she feels a grin blooming when you take your hand in yours and head for the exit.

When you finally arrive back at the compound, the first thing Carol does is kick off her heels and flop on her bed. She’s thinking of you, as usual, but this time it’s not as dream-like as normal. Now she can’t shake the vision of you getting cozy with someone else in a crowded ballroom. It was for the mission, she tells herself. But that doesn’t help to ease her in any way.

She’s examining her reflection in the mirror, still clad in the dress that looked far too expensive to abandon on the floor. She hears a knock on her door, and assume it’s Tony congratulating her on a successful mission and inviting her to celebrate. She opens it, and sees you. Her heart nearly stops at the sight from the unexpectedness. Her breath hitches when you smile and slip passed her into the room. Carol doesn’t know it, but you’re thinking the same of her. Her hair seemed to fall especially meticulously and the small bit of lipstick she’d applied made all the difference. You take notice of her figure in the purple dress as well. You wonder if you’d looked that good in your red one, which has since been exchanged for shorts and a tee shirt.

Without words, you collapse on the bed with a sigh. Carol sits on the edge. You can tell something is off when she faces away from you, flipping through a book she hadn’t read in weeks. You don’t know what to say, but you try to make conversation anyway. “That prime minister guy is a total creep.”

Carol looks up, and speaks without thinking. “You seemed to quite enjoy it, actually.” She mutters under her breath. She can’t control the animosity that is ever-present in her voice.

Your face contorts into confused disgust. “Seriously? No, I wanted to get the address and leave as soon as possible.”

Carol shifts uncomfortably in her seat, getting up and slipping the straps of the dress off her shoulders without a word. You take her silence as all you need to confirm that she was quite bitter about the whole thing. You sigh, letting your hang low. You look up again, and Carol has shedded the dress completely, and you watch as it pools around her feet. You gulp at the sight. No matter how many times you’d seen her in such a state, it never failed to leave you speechless.

She walks to her wardrobe, throwing on a tee shirt and jacket with some jeans. Her back still to you, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and walk over to her. She feels your hand on her back and turns to look at you. She’s got a bit of a defeated look on her face that breaks your heart. Carol forces herself to face you completely then, and you brush a strand of her blonde hair out of her face. “Carol,” you speak lowly, crossing your arms. “What’s wrong?” You phrase it like a question, but it’s more of a demand for answers.

Her eyes flicker up to yours and she sighs, letting them flutter shut for a moment. “I just… I’m not used to seeing you with someone else like that. I didn’t like it, that’s all.” Her voice nearly breaks at the end of her sentence. “Hated it, actually.”

You try to conceal a laugh, but it escapes through your lips. You hold her face in your hand, and she leans into your touch. You kiss her, and it’s warm and familiar and all you could ever ask for. Carol feels like all the energy and life she possessed was put back into her. You pull away and she almost pouts. “You know that’s not true, right?” You aks, and you’re so close to her it comes out as a whisper.

She runs a hand down your side and settles it on your waist. She finds herself yearning for your touch, your undivided attention, and just you. Always you.

Carol nods, but if it’s not confirmation enough she speaks it out loud. “Yes. But you know I can’t help it,” she pauses to lean into you again, and the distance between your bodies diminishes. “You know I don’t like sharing.” She can feel your breath on her neck as you plant open-mouth kisses on all the exposed skin you can find. The feeling is ethereal, and Carol’s knees feel weak. You’re an angel and she loves you.

God, she loves you.

She can feel you tugging at the hem of her shirt, and suddenly you’re up against the wall, Carol towering over you. She’s trying not to whimper between kissing you.

“If you don’t know already,” you mutter in-between hungry kisses to her neck, jawline, collarbone, “You’re all I want. Ever.”

Carol’s hand slips up your shirt and her hands are warm against your abdomen. She stops for just a moment to look you in the eyes. You’re so beautiful in the dim lighting of her room she thinks she might collapse at the sheer image. “Swear?”

You smirk. “I’m all yours, Captain.”

She feels like she might cry at those four words, the sight of you against the wall, lips just slightly puffy from where she’d shown her how much she loved you. She hums against your neck, and the vibration causes you to erupt into a soft giggle.

Yeah, she really, really loves you.

#BIG OOF #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers x reader #Carol Danvers #brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagine #carol danvers fluff #carol danvers smut

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tierneysinclair · 4 years

Photo

“Nobody’s ever been arrested for a murder; they have only ever been arrested for not planning it properly.” ― Terry Hayes, I Am Pilgrim

Basic Information

Full name: Tierney Sinclair Pronunciation: Tier-Knee Sin-Claire Nickname(s): Not if you like to live. Tierney doesn’t do nicknames. Tierney is the only name he’ll answer to. Birthdate: September 8, 1979 Age: 40 Zodiac: Virgo Gender: Cis-Male Pronouns: he/him Romantic Orientation: Straight Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Current Location: Miami, Florida Living Conditions: Tierney lives in a small apartment above his new garage. It’s nothing fancy and that’s the way he likes it. Well worn couches, outdated kitchen appliances, wear worn towels. He doesn’t live in the slums but owning only new things has never been a part of Tierney’s lifestyle.

Background

Birthplace: Las Vegas, Nevada Hometown: N/A Social Class: Presents as lower-middle class but has enough money in the bank to be upper class if he really wanted to be. But he never will. Educational Achievements: None. Tierney never went to school. By the time he was released for the testing facility it was too late and too hard to get someone like him caught up. Sporadically home schooled by staff and other people Tierney isn’t the sort of person you want on your trivia team. He struggles with complex math, history, and all other assorted ‘average school knowledge’. Father: Unknown Mother: Unknown Sibling(s): Unknown Birth Order: N/A Pets: None Previous Relationships: Nothing lasts longer than a night. Do one night stands count? Arrests: A lot. By the time Tierney aged out of the foster program he’d been arrested more times than he had fingers and toes. Nothing major, minor mischief and petty theft. It wasn’t until he was picked up by the Syndicate that he started doing bigger crimes. And by then he had the support network to not get arrested. Prison Time: Surprisingly, not a lot. Accumulated, no more than a few months. It pays to have friends in low places.

Occupation & Income

Current Occupation: Hitman for the Blackburn Syndicate & Freelance Motorcycle Restorer Dream Occupation: None. Tierney has a limited view of both his life and the world. The idea of having a ‘dream’ anything is a foreign concept to him. Past Job(s): He was boy once at a greasy diner once. When they found out he’d lied about who he was a week later he was fired. Chicago wasn’t kind to kids with rap sheets and level five rankings. Falling in with the Syndicate has been the only ‘real’ job he’s ever had. Spending Habits: Tierney is a very frugal person. He buys almost everything second hand or used and very rarely spends it on anything new. The only expensive things he owns are his bikes and a flat screen TV. Tierney’s not ashamed to admit most of his money gets spent on bike parts anyways. Debt: Never. Credit cards mean government ability to track him. And being in debt t other people is a one way trip to being killed over it at a later date. Tierney repays any debts he can’t avoid as quickly as possible, but he tends to avoid accruing debts as much as possible. Most Valuable Possession: Some people might say it would be his bikes, and from a purely financial stand point it most definitely is, but according to Tierney it’s the Blackburn Syndicate, hands down.

Skills & Abilities

Physical Strength: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney works out twice a day, every day, no exceptions. He needs to be in top physical condition for every job and now it’s just become a part of his daily habits. He’s supremely strong in his own right but mix his powers in with it and a supremely dedicated force of will he could probably lift a car above his head.

Speed: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney isn’t the fastest hitman on the market but he’s perfectly capable of darting in and out of a situation with speed. It’s part of the job to act quickly and what he lacks in sheer speed he knows he more than makes up for elsewhere.

Intelligence: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney never went to school. What schooling he did get the few years he had between testing and aging out was sporadic at best. He’s not ashamed of his faults but he doesn’t go around talking about them much either. Besides, being able to recite the presidents holds no bearing on his life choices so...what’s it matter? Tierney knows how to do his job exceptionally well. What Tierney doesn’t know ranges from complex math to the English Oxford Comma.

Accuracy: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney’s powers require a certain degree of needed accuracy coupled with the fact he’s exceptionally talented with a range of deadly weapons. He prides himself in hitting exactly what he’s aiming at every time. Sure, he misses, but that usually because his target makes an unexpected move before he can account for it.

Agility: Above Average | Average | Below Average

He’s getting older, he won’t lie about that, and that’s starting to show. Tierney is less likely to look like a stunt double these days. No somersaults or daring roof top leaps happen these days. Besides, it’s more dramatic to sweep in like an avenging angel and sweep out just as quickly. Agility is good for running away. But you only run away when you get caught. And Tierney never gets caught.

Stamina: Above Average | Average | Below Average

Tierney’s powers are tied directly to his stamina. It’s taken him years and years of practice to build up the stamina he has now. He can use his powers for hours before he starts to feel winded and hours more before he gets tired. (Unless he goes for the super taxing activities like lifting buildings or psionic explosions.) It’s perhaps his greatest strength, his ability to keep going when others weaker than him might stop.

Teamwork: Ciara Sawyer is his go-to partner. Hell, most would call her his only partner. He doesn’t like working with other people and tries very hard not to do it. He will when he must but he’ll be begrudging about it the whole time. Talents/Hobbies: Motorcycles, Lockpicking, Murder Shortcomings: His sense of justice, the inability to kill someone who isn’t involved with what he’s doing. It’s a bonus he can erase minds when he wants to. Anyone who knows Tierney from work and outside of work knows he has a severe weak spot for his gang. Touch a hair on their heads and he tends to lose focus. Languages Spoken: English Drive?: Yes. A MV Agusta Brutale. Jump-Start a Car?: Yes Change a Flat Tire?: All the time. Ride a Bicycle?: No way. In hell. Swim?: Not because he likes to. Play an Instrument?: Nope Play Chess?: Yes Braid Hair?: No Tie a Tie?: Yes. Of course! Pick a Lock?: Oh hell yeah. With his mind. Cook?: Yes, but not well.

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Joel Kinnaman Eye Color: Brownish/Greenish Hair Color: Ashy Blonde Hair Type/Style/Length: Average/Well Kept/Short Glasses/Contacts?: None Dominant Hand: Right Height: 6′ 2″ Weight: 187lbs Build: Athletic Exercise Habits: Two session, morning and evening. Every day, two hours. With intermittent practice in between with others. Skin tone: Fair Tattoos: Left shoulder reaching to just below his elbow, spiders out to cover some of his chest and back. Got it to cover up an old gunshot scar. A faded string of numbers on his right arm (080879-58-05). Piercings: None Marks/Scars: Tierney is covered in scars. From battle wounds to childhood scrapes, to remnants of his life as a test mutant. Most can be found on his chest and back but part of why he wears pants and sleeves is to hide the others. Don’t want his identifying marks to get out and doesn’t like explaining to others what happened to him in order to get that many scars. Clothing Style: Dark colors, long pants, long sleeves, deep pockets. Usually a coat when the weather allows. The more places to hide the things he needs to work the better. But he cleans up well, he has plenty of suits in his closet too. Usually second hand stuff, the only time he buys something fancy is when he’s on a job. Jewelry: A set of dog tags labeling him a level five mutant. Nothing more. Allergies: None Diet: Average. More fast food than probably healthy. Physical Ailments: Stiff knees. Jumped off a few too many building in his younger years. Spent too many hours kneeling behind walls after that. They don’t bother him much but anyone with eyes can see they’re stiff. His left shoulder is also stiff, he favors it. Perhaps on of his worst gun shot injuries to date. It haunts him. And aches when the weather changes.

Psychology

MBTI Type: ISTJ-A (The Logistician)

ISTJs are often called inspectors. They have a keen sense of right and wrong, especially in their area of interest and/or responsibility. They are noted for devotion to duty. Punctuality is a watchword of the ISTJ. As do other Introverted Thinkers, ISTJs often give the initial impression of being aloof and perhaps somewhat cold. Effusive expression of emotional warmth is not something that ISTJs do without considerable energy loss. ISTJs are most at home with "just the facts, Ma'am." They seem to perform at highest efficiency when employing a step-by-step approach.

Enneagram Type: Type 6 (The Skeptic)

The committed, security-oriented type. Sixes are reliable, hard-working, responsible, and trustworthy. Excellent "troubleshooters," they foresee problems and foster cooperation, but can also become defensive, evasive, and anxious—running on stress while complaining about it. They can be cautious and indecisive, but also reactive, defiant and rebellious. They typically have problems with self-doubt and suspicion. At their Best: internally stable and self-reliant, courageously championing themselves and others.

Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral

A lawful neutral character acts as law, tradition, or a personal code directs her. Order and organization are paramount to her. She may believe in personal order and live by a code or standard, or she may believe in order for all and favor a strong, organized government.

Temperament: Choleric

Cholerics are extroverted, quick-thinking, active, practical, strong-willed, and easily annoyed. They are self-confident, self-sufficient, and very independent minded. They are brief, direct, to the point, and firm when communicating with others.

Element: Earth & Fire Emotional Stability: Stable Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert Obsession(s): Motorcycles. Tierney doesn’t know a lot outside of how to kill someone and get away with it. But he knows practically everything there is to know about motorcycles. How they work, how the break, how to fix them. Everything. Some would call him obsessed but Tierney calls it laser focused. Compulsion(s): Protecting his family. It’s what’s on his mind in every situation. All of his actions are dictated by this fact. Even for decisions that aren’t going to impact the Syndicate are measured against this need. It’s never occurred to him that it might, in fact, be a problem. It’s just natural. Phobia(s): Mutant testing facilities. It’s irrational, especially now, to be afraid of getting taken back to the white walled hellscape he grew up in. But he is. He scrubs his name clean where ever he goes and actively avoids anyone in a lab coat who starts asking questions. He even takes down fliers asking for mutants to ‘willingly’ submit to testing. He doesn’t talk about those years for damn good reasons. Addiction(s): None Drug Use: None Alcohol Use: Often Prone to Violence?: Always Prone to Crying?: No Believe in Love at First Sight?: No

Mannerisms

Accent: Depends. A bit of a hodgepodge of Boston and Midwestern. Tends to adapt to the common accent after a while when staying in a place for a prolonged period of time. Speech Quirks: None Hobbies: Motorcycle Repair, Motorcycle Rebuilding Habits: Spinning things in the air when he’s concentrating. Leg bouncing. Ordering more food than he can eat so he has left overs in the fridge. Nervous Ticks: Rubbing his nose and spinning objects in the air at high rates of speed. Drives/Motivations: Protecting his family. Fears: Losing his family, someone dying on him, being taken back in for testing. Sense of Humour?: Dry. Like the desert. Do They Curse Often?: Like. All the time.

Favorites

Animal: Bear Beverage: Heineken Beer and/or Black Coffee Book: None. Tierney hates reading. Color: Deep Green Food: Ciara’s Flower: None Gem: Emeralds Mode of Transportation: Motorcycles Scent: Fresh brewed coffee, rain on the horizon, motorcycle oil, pizza grease on your fingers Sport: Football and Hockey Weather: Rain Vacation Destination: None

Attitudes

Greatest Dream: End mutant testing. Tierney sees nothing productive in the act and goes out of his way to end it whenever and wherever he can. Mutants are people. Not lab rats to be poked at or taken away from their families. Greatest Fear: Losing one of his family and being taken back for mutant testing. Most at Ease When: Elbow deep in one of his bikes with of his closest friends lounging on the couch across the way. Least as Ease When: He doesn’t know what’s going on around him. When his plans has fallen through and he’s no longer in control of what’s happening around him. Worst Possible Thing That Could Happen: Alma being murdered. Biggest Achievement: Taking out the president of the company that held him as a test subject when he was a child. Biggest Regret: He has exactly Eleven. Eleven deaths that weren’t supposed to happen but did.

#hc #mrtask #murder tw #violence tw #abuse tw

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modestlyabsurd · 5 years

Text

Wallflower's Diner (Loki x Reader)

The old familiar ding-a-ling of the entrance bell. You hear it every morning when you clock in for work, and all day long during your double shifts; it sings its welcome for hungry people as they come into the diner.

Wallflower's was a little twenty-four hour hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon with a nice, artfully modern atmosphere. Regulars among newcomers come in every day, greeted by a happy person and the smell of food cooking, but what really reeled them in was the tasteful, down to earth decor and style. Natural light shines through wall to wall windows.

Happy green succulents and wildflowers sit on tables in abstract pots and vases. Bright murals of inspiring quotes swirling above skyscrapers color the walls, inside and outside. The tables were covered in reusable cloths with uncolored pictures of birds and cityscapes, and each table gets a box of washable markers to color with while they wait for their food. Even the to-go boxes are decorated with intricate designs.

Landing a job at this gem was something to be appreciated - and you did.

Even though you had to work double shifts five or six days a week to support yourself - the cost of living for a young person in New York was far more than you expected - you loved working at Wallflower's. It was such a happy place.

Some days you worked the kitchen, some days you worked the front house. Today you worked the kitchen. And since it was one of those mornings where frankly you didn't feel like waking up at five o'clock, at least you wouldn't have to deal with the public.

The morning breezed by smoothly as you sliced bread, cut fruit and vegetables and mixed pancake batter. Breakfast tickets started piling in at six o'clock. Soon, the kitchen smelled of coffee, omelettes, sweet pastries and fruity smoothies. You and the rest of the staff were popping out orders and washing dirty dishes like clockwork. A few people even dropped coins and bills into the tip jar on the order counter.

You recognized some of the regular orders and thought of the faces belonging to them while you cooked. One came in that made you smile upon reading it; breakfast burrito with scrambled eggs, peppers, cheese, sour cream and avocado (extra crispy, smushed down flat).

And before your mind can put it together, here comes a flash of blue as Peter Parker runs in the kitchen, peeking into the ticket window. "Hey Y/N!" he pants, resting his chin on his propped up elbows on the window. He resembles a puppy in the most ridiculous way.

"Hey Pete! What on earth are you doing here this early?" Peter usually came in after school hours to pick up a snack - a strawberry mango smoothie on most days - so seeing him before school even began was unusual.

"We were outta milk, so I couldn't have any cereal."

"Really? I'd die."

He laughs, "I know right? And plus I haven't had a breakfast burrito in a while so it works."

"How's Aunt May?" you ask while pouring eggs onto the griddle, thinking fondly of how much she cares about Peter and how much she really deserves a vacation.

"She's good. She's been worried a lot, though. About the internship."

The internship for Tony fuckin' Stark. Man, that kid got blessed.

"I'm sure she is - I mean, she's probably not ready to let go of you yet, dude. And you have been a little more stressed out lately," you fold the pastel yellow eggs on top of each other in a roll and add a dash of seasonings - onion, cayenne, parsley - just 'cause he's special.

"Yeah, but I'm fine. She literally has nothing to worry about, I grab coffee and sweat towels for a team of superheroes. How is that dangerous?"

You cock your eyebrow. He thinks he's slick. He has no clue that you know he's Spiderman on the weekends, and that's what he does for Tony Stark.

But it's fun to watch him stammer and stutter sometimes when you're onto him.

"It depends on the superheroes, I guess. What are they like, anyway? The Avengers, that is," you ask inquisitively.

"Oh man, Captain America is so cool. He talks about his life back in the forties all the time, about the radio stations, the sports, and sometimes he talks about his time in the war and it helps me with history tests - b-but don't tell anyone that! That's cheating!"

"You're such a goody two-shoes." Of course, so were you. It's a part of why you and Peter became friends. "Don't worry, I won't tell. What about anyone else?" you say, generously sprinkling the cheese onto his unrolled burrito.

"Uh, oh! I - ah," a waitress places another ticket above his head. After watching to make sure she left back into the dining area, he leans even closer into the ticket window. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone this."

"Spill the tea, Parker."

He stares as you carefully roll his burrito up with gloved hands, fighting with himself. He promised Happy he wouldn't tell, but he wants to tell someone so bad! And he trusts you. You've been there for him; you've talked to him for your entire hour-long break of your twelve hour shift when he failed his driving test. You've helped him study at the library before. You've even given him food on the house, which he knows is on you. You're a few years older than him, but he really considers you a friend.

As his face becomes sweaty from steam and his stomach growls at the sight of his breakfast crisping up, he gives.

"I met Thor the other day."

"You what?!"

"Shh!" he smiles hugely, "be quiet! Yes, they came from Asgard two days ago." Both yours and Peter's eyes have grown wider by at least two centimeters.

"Thor?!"

"Yes Thor! The real Thor! And Loki."

Your heart sank a mile.

That can't be right.

"Wait, his brother? The one who tried to take over Earth? Loki? He's here too? Why is he here?!" you hiss, flipping the burrito violently, the questions tumbling out before Peter has time to answer them.

"Hold on, hold on! Wait! He's good now! He's different! He doesn't want to kill anybody!"

"You talked to him?!"

"Yes! Well, I didn't really talk to him much, but he did say hi to me when Mr. Stark introduced us. Then he disappeared for the rest of the day."

"Not suspicious at all!"

He chuckles at the whisper-yelling you're both doing. Thankfully, he'd expected such a reaction. "C'mon, I know it sounds crazy, but Thor says he's had a change of heart. Maybe he's worth a chance, y'know? I mean, he hasn't hurt anyone yet. Well, actually he did - "

"I don't even wanna know," you close your eyes and wave your hands, dismissing the thought of whatever it was.

"It was just a prank! It was actually pretty funny."

"I'll take your word for it, loser." You wrap his extra crispy, smushed down flat food in some recycled paper, then drop it into a bag with whimsical designs all over it. You write on it with a sharpie, You're really not a loser. "Actually, y'know what? I wanna know all about this later. It sounds too good to be true."

"Believe it, babe. Keep the change!" He throws five dollars at you and it lands on the hot griddle and before you have time to berate the little rat for contaminating and for calling you babe, he's running away. The door ding-a-ling's as he bolts through it.

You're left, picking up the bill off the stove before it catches fire. The burrito only cost a dollar and some change, so that was a fat tip; especially for a cook.

You pocket the money, shaking your head and smiling to yourself. "Have a good day, loser."

Aside from the usual lively, tiring high you get from working, talking with Peter was the highlight of your day. It left you eager to know more about the Avengers and their stories, about history, about Asgard, about space, about everything.

You kept having to stifle a nagging emotion - anxiety? fear? maybe just nerves - when your mind pulled to the fact that Thor's brother Loki is on earth at this very moment. Only by grace were you not affected by the attack on the planet years ago, but the damage was done regardless. You were merely lucky.

The disgust and disdain wanted to take over and sour your outlook, but pure curiosity overpowered that. Peter claims that Thor vouches for Loki now. He's biased, you think to yourself, before the angel on your shoulder pipes up, So are you.

By the time you realize you're having a mental conversation with yourself, the countertops are wiped sparkling clean and ready for the five o'clock turn of shifts. The natural light had moved, casting longer dramatic shadows in different patterns across the checkered floor and painted walls.

Part of you was a little bummed that Peter hadn't returned after school to pick up his usual smoothie. You'd really wanted to learn more of the Avengers and the mysterious Loki. If only you could ask May, but Peter said he wasn't supposed to tell anyone and by the sounds of it, he hadn't. You clock out at five-fifteen. Alas, you'll just have to wait.

Thank heavens the next day wasn't a double shift, since you were waiting tables. Although you still had to wake up at five in the morning.

The sun shined through the diner windows in warm yellow rays, a nice contrast to the brisk morning chill. The week had ended, taking some of the initial hustle and bustle with it. Rush hour didn't start until afternoon hours on weekends which gave you and your co-workers a bit of down time to relax.

But to your surprise, a hostess flags you down in the kitchen as you're pinning an order to the ticket window. She pulls you by the arm out of earshot and says, "There's a party out there and they asked for you to be their server. By the way, it's the Avengers."

You stare at her, but you don't see her.

"Huh?"

"The Avengers are here."

Breaking yourself out of your anxious stupor, you roll your eyes incredulously. "Quit lying. It's the Delgado's, isn't it? With their prim and proper etiquette and - holy hell."

You peek over the bar.

It's the Avengers.

Habitually you begin counting heads. So, it's not all of them; there are six heroes and you only count five heads - is that Peter? - sitting along the makeshift party table toward the shadowed back of the dining area. That's definitely Peter, with Thor, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and Jesus gremenies Loki is out there too?!

Only when a sharp pain shoots from your bottom lip do you realize you're chewing it, thinking of all the ways to curse Peter later.

In a rush you thank the hostess and pat down your waist apron to make sure everything's there, then you're standing at the front of the table overlooking the civilian-dressed Avengers.

Your usual, partially rehearsed introduction goes exceptionally smooth. "Hey guys! Welcome to Wallflower's! My name is Y/N and I will be your server this morning. Is this your first time here?"

Tony Stark who sits at the end like a throne speaks up, "It is, thanks to the kid, here," he mumbles, elbowing Peter in the arm. "He says he knows you."

"Yes, unfortunately, I do know Mr. Parker - "

"Hey!" Peter suddenly stops petting the succulent centerpiece at your fake cringing, making the whole table laugh and smile. All but one. Beside Peter.

One of the two sitting closest to you.

"Well, I dunno what all he briefed you on, but as you can see your table is a giant washable coloring book," they look down, suddenly noticing all the little swirls and blank spaces empty of color. You pull out small boxes of assorted washable markers from your apron and while you pass them around, realize you don't have enough for everyone.

"That might be the niftiest thing I've ever seen," says Steve Rogers. Captain fucking America! He's already drawing on his space.

You beam at them, "Yeah! It's one of my favorite things, getting to see the way people draw and color on their tablecloths. But it looks like I'm one box short for you guys, so I'll bring one more with your drinks. Everyone know what they're having?"

The first three, Tony, Peter and Steve, order their fountain drinks without a problem. The last two, however, haven't the first idea what a Coca-Cola or a Sprite is. Peter takes it upon himself to try and explain the concept of carbonated drinks, but fails miserably. Leaving Thor and Loki with even more confusion.

"Do you serve alcohol?" Thor asks innocently, making you nearly bubble over laughing.

"I'm afraid not. But we have coffee, sweet iced tea, orange juice or just plain water if that'd be better," you look between them, and you can't hold Loki's gaze for too long. It's intense, almost invasive; unlike the blond brother's lighthearted aura.

Immediately Thor answers, "I'll have black coffee. Very hot, please."

You take a mental note of that request, a stupid smile covering your face. Then you look to Loki, who is now choosing to stare intently at his menu. "And for you, sir?"

He contemplates his answer as if he's being interrogated.

"Plain water will be fine."

As soon as you're out of their view, you scramble away to the kitchen with a rush of unreleased adrenaline coursing through you. Your mind's racing, your heart's beating and you're pouring the heros' drinks like a mad person. Hell, you almost spilled hot coffee on your hands from shaking so much.

The worst part was it came from you fanning over the Avengers.

You reminded yourself to focus. It was a rather slow afternoon - especially considering the circumstance that would presumably bring people to see - but there were still three other tables you had to tend to.

On your way back to the dining room you almost forget to grab another box of markers before your hands are full with the drink tray. Weaving through a couple customers and other waitresses you make it to the long table.

You circle the table to sit everyone's drinks in front of them. Everyone's locked in a childlike trance as they color and doodle on the tablecloth; you glance around and notice the one who isn't. No one gave Loki any of the markers.

"Here's your markers as well," you lean over and extend your hand with the box to Loki. He averts momentarily from staring at your face to the markers. His mouth opened and closed, not sure of what to say. So he extends a frighteningly pale hand and takes them.

He accidentally brushes his fingertips to yours.

You both jerk away.

Damn, his hand is freezing, you thought, hiding your hand behind your back and flexing a fist; it lingered like a static shock.

He's gotten wide-eyed now, nearly apologizing. You can't help but feel bad for snatching your hand away like that.

"Cold hands means a warm heart. A-at least, that's what they say," you stutter. Loki retorts, looking down at his markers.

"You must be quite cold-hearted then."

"Loki!" Thor scolds. Although the others were now giving him dirty looks, you sensed not a bit of malice in his comment. In fact, your cheeks were heating up a great deal.

"Please, Y/N, don't mind the asshole," Tony says waving his hand in Loki's direction.

"Oh believe me, I've dealt with far worse just this week. Being called cold-hearted is a nothing," you assure them. The genuine grin on your face is helping a lot. "Are we ready to order?"

With that, you scribble each of their orders down onto your notepad before gathering the menus and making way back to the kitchen. The steamy heat hits your face like a splash of cold water. Exactly what you need.

You almost want to giggle out loud at the fact that you're semi-nailing being the Avengers' waitress. They're happy, they're comfortable, they're talking with each other. Coloring the table, still. You glance their way as you cover your other tables' refills and cheques and notice that every time you do, Loki looks up at you. Piercing enough to make you quickly avert.

The clock ticked away, closer to your thirty minute break. As much fun as you were having, the anxiety level was up there. Your mind went back to how you'd seek revenge at Peter. Maybe you'll add a big splash of lemon juice to his smoothie on Monday. Or cayenne pepper. That would be entertaining.

Once you get out of the groove, the nerves crawl up. So you occupy yourself by clearing off a couple of finished tables, balancing them on your arms to the kitchen to be washed. When you get there, the cook is placing the last plate of the team's order on the counter. Perfect timing, you think to yourself.

Defying all odds that have previously proven you a clumsy mess, you singlehandedly bring out all five plates into the dining room and make it to their table. Instantly, the markers are forgotten and the smell of toasted bread, sweet tomatoes and fresh herbs arouse the guys from their drawing. Tony, Steve and Thor are practically drooling from hunger, Peter makes grabby hands for his food.

Loki's food is served last, following the order in which it was taken. You set his plate in front of him, covering whatever he'd been diligently drawing.

He looks up at you again, meeting your eyes, and holds them there for a second longer.

"Thank you."

That feeling in your hand earlier? It's back, but now it's spreading through your sternum.

"You're welcome."

You find yourself still staring even after he's dropped his grateful gaze to his plate.

Air shoves its way into your chest.

"Alright! Please enjoy, and you guys just let me know if you need anything." A round of muffled appreciation sounds come from the team as they've already began shoveling.

What am I feeling? Pre-heart attack symptoms?

People are clearing out, leaving only the team and two others dining. This gives you a chance to do some cleaning up before you take your break. And a chance to sort your thoughts.

Is he mind-controlling you? No way, that couldn't be. There's no way he'd be going places like normal people with them if that were the case. But that sure is how it feels. Like you can't get rid of the thought. The coldness. The way he holds your gaze.

Who knew that simple eye contact could arouse so many feelings?

It also feels completely and morally wrong. Love at first sight is a farce, let alone with someone of Loki's caliber. He likely looks at everyone like that. A manipulation tactic. It's not even the first time a customer has tried sweet-talking a waitress. Of course, calling someone cold hearted is certainly a unique way of sweet-talking.

But it was the way he said it!

You're no fool. You know when you're being flirted with. Or are you? Who said that one innocent comment is flirting? You very well might be a fool at this rate.

Beads of sweat have bubbled on your forehead. You wipe them on your forearm.

Before you know it, your section of the dining area is clean. Spotless, even. You take the rag to the back to be washed with the dishes. Glancing at the clock, a sigh falls from your lips; you let another waitress know you'll be taking your break.

Being on your feet for four hours straight left them aching. Sitting on the curb was a great opportunity to stretch your legs out and pop the muscles in your back as well. You revelled in the breeze fanning your flushed face, watching the city bustle by. People on their phones, texting or talking, bums smoking cigarettes.

You stared at the scuff marks and worn spots on your boots. Distracting. From the fluttering in your chest. What an strange feeling. Warm, exciting. Queasy. Longing. All somehow from a single touch - a mere meeting of the eyes. I must be insane.

The shrill ding-a-ling of the door brings you back to reality.

Thumps hit the door behind you. Footfalls rumble the concrete and before you process it, men come barreling out and run down the sidewalk. One takes off in flight in a wisp of blond hair. It's then you realize that was Thor, and the rest of them following in their inferiority.

Tony Stark then leisurely exits Wallflower's, hands in his pockets. As if none of that happened.

Dumbfounded. That's the word.

You raise your head to look up, since he's blocking the sun from your back. "Uh, shouldn't you be with them?" you ask with a nervous chuckle.

"Probably. But I had to make sure you got this." He hands you a small white envelope with the Stark Industries logo on it. Without another word he begins strolling away toward the others, now a few blocks down.

Huh. You already miss them. Him especially. Dammit.

You open the envelope and inside is a flat stack of green. Twenties? You count them, trembling.

A three hundred dollar tip?!

Upon further investigation, you found their plates cleaned and strewn about the table from the dramatic exit. As you took them, you looked at everyone's drawings and colorings. Peter had nearly colored a paisley print in reds and purples, Steve had began a detailed doodle of Wallflower's Diner from the outside (he never finished the sign), Thor and Tony had the absolute messiest pictures ever, and Loki.

Goodness gracious, Loki.

He'd written admiring adjectives beginning in letters that spelled your name in loopy, beautiful handwriting. He'd began drawing intricate filigree around it, but didn't get a chance to finish. You traced the designs, engulfed by the artistic quality. Overwhelmed with sudden emotion. Breathless. No one's ever done anything like that for you...

So you're not insane!

Maybe you'll reconsider taking revenge on Peter...

312 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

Mother dragon (5); Winchester brothers x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey ya’ll okay I first want to say thank you so much for everyone who has taken an interest in this series. I thought no one would give it a shot but now I am in tears at seeing the messages that some of you give me about how much you like this series. And here I present to you, another part and there’s a special treat for you all inside but I won’t tell you what it is, you’ll just have to read and find out.

Taglist:

@onebigfangirlworld

______________________________________________

Part 5

“Mum. Mum.” I groaned tiredly. “Mum wake up.” Oh god the one thing I never missed, even now that he’s practically full grown. I peeled my eyes open to see Deacy hovering over me.

“What is it?” I groaned out.

“Two questions; one what is that symbol on your right shoulder mean?” I peeked over to see my anti-possession tattoo and I said.

“Well,” I rubbed my eyes trying to wake myself up further as I explained, “You remember how I told you about demons?” he nodded and I said as I gestured to my tattoo, “Well once I turned 18, I got this done instead of having to deal with that necklace on all the time. This tattoo on my body makes me immune to demon possessions.”

“Ahh, and second. What’s that suit you’ve got in the closet?”

“What suit?” I asked. He stood up, walked over to my closet and revealed a secret latch which soon sent my secret falling out. I quickly got out of the bed and I said to him. “What have I told you about going through my stuff?”

“All I want to know is what it is? It’s not like I’ll tell the brothers. You know you can trust me.” I looked at him an of course those soft brown eyes made me butter up every single time. And now that he was an adult, it only just made him that much cuter.

“Okay, okay. But promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Would they even listen to me if I did?” my heart ached a little hearing that come out of his mouth. I walked up to him and grabbed the suit from the rope and placed it on my hidden mannequin. I also took from my drawers the blueprints I had made years ago and handed them to him.

“It’s just a fantasy really, but after remembering that time seeing you fly, I just felt this rush of adrenaline and thought ‘hell why can’t I make one?’ Wings here are made of a flexible but durable leather texture that kinda resemble bat wings. They’re controlled by these pulley here, pull the string and out they pop. The suit itself is light weight so it’s not as bulky as the 2012 Ironman suit in the Avengers, but it’s strong and bullet proof at least.”

“You know dragon skin is the toughest shield there is, even stronger than your regular bullet proof vests. Maybe we can rework the cover of the armor. Make it more dragonesque.” He said.

“We?”

“Yes. This is a really cool design mum. And I think once it’s fully ready we can take it for a test drive.”

“And how do you plan on doing that Mr. Smart guy? We’ll be spotted anywhere here in Kansas.”

“We’ll find a way. So how long did it take you to build this?”

“Well after helping Dean fix his baby, and him teaching me a thing or two about electrical engineering, about…..2 and a half years. Also taking in the time to work on cases with the boys, helping save the world a couple of times. The usual procrastination stuff.” He nodded and he said.

“This is a well-made suit mum. Finally joining team dragons are yah?”

“Again Deacy it’s just a fantasy. I don’t even know if this suit will even work, it’s never been tested out and I’ve had it done for 9 months now.”

“Yo (y/n)!” I heard Dean say from the other side of my door.

“Shit.” I muttered as I quickly hid the suit in my closet and shut it. I quickly turned towards Deacon and was shocked to realize that he was also shirtless. “Gah Deacy put your shirt back on.” I whispered to him as I frantically started trying to find where he had tossed his shirt but couldn’t find it anywhere?

“Why?”

“Because if Dean walks in and sees you like—this he’ll think we…..that you…..” but it was too late, Dean opened my door. He still wore his robe and dark blue nightshirt and shorts as well as his slippers.

“We need to—” Dean opened the door and the second he saw Deacon in my room shirtless, the tiredness immediately left his face as he turned between him and me. “I’mma get my gun.” He bluntly stated as he turned to walk out of my room.

“Dean…..” I stepped forward but he quickly turned around and got into a karate-style like defense position.

“If you truly believe that I would ever turn on my mother like how you’re thinking, you’re even sicker than I thought you were.” Deacy said as he sat down at the foot of my bed.

“Yeah then why the hell don’t you have a shirt on? More importantly why are you in her room?”

“Because you weren’t going to give him a room and dragons get antsy when they’re in unfamiliar places so I allowed him to stay here. Dean c’mon, not this early.”

“Come on? Are you kid…..Look…..This….moth—You and me. Library. Right now.” He spoke his last statement as he tied the strings of his robe around his waist closing his robe around him staring me down like a pissed off dad who caught his daughter having sex with her boyfriend. “Come on!” he pointed behind him emphasizing his demand.

I sighed heavily and turned to Deacy before walking out of my room. I could imagine Deacon trying to follow me because next thing I knew, Dean stopped Deacon by crying out at like he was disciplining a dog.

We reached the library and there I saw Sam as well as Cas.

“Cass, well this is a surprise.”

“Hello (y/n).” he greeted me.

“Hey young lady, we still need to talk about what happened back there.” Dean said as he came into the library. I sighed annoyed as Sam said.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

“I found our little lizard guest was shirtless as he slept with his ‘mother’.”

“Dean I’m gonna ask you as nicely as I can. Can you please get your head out of your ass by this much so that I can explain myself?!” I rubbed my temples and continued, “Nothing happened, okay. When I went to bed he had a shirt on, okay?”

“Should I even ask what this is all about?” asked Cass confused.

“We’ve got a dragon in the bunker.” Explained Sam.

“A—a what?!”

“Yeah a dragon, they still exist and she’s the mother of the one we got.” Dean stated bluntly.

“How—”

“It’s a long story, we’ll fill you in later.” Sam explained.

“But…..how were you not captured? Dragons are attracted to virgin women, that dragon should’ve take you to its den.” Cass said.

“Yes, thank you Cass. I know how dragons are around women.” I sneered.

“Sorry it’s just that. Dragons are attracted to the smell of virgin women and if they aren’t virgins then, they lash out aggressively.” Cass continued to explain not helping my cause.

“Oh god (y/n) please tell you’re—” Dean started off and that’s when I proclaimed.

“Seriously?! When would I have time to give away my V card guys? I’ve lived in the woods for 6 years of my life, most of my teenage life trying to survive. I was in the system for two till I was legal and by then I met you two knuckleheads. When exactly would I have time to have a one night stand with someone?”

“Are we still on the discussion whether I’ll take my mum away from you all?” Deacon’s voice soon piped up. We turned around and I saw that Deacon was now dressed in one of Dean’s shirts as well as a pair of his jeans.

“Is that my Led Zeppelin shirt?” Dean snapped.

“Dean don’t.” I said.

“There’s another one of you here. But he’s not human.” Deacon spoke up wearily as he stared Cass down.

“Cass, this is my adopted son Deacon. I found him shortly after he was hatched. Deacy, this is Castiel he’s……”

“I’m an angel of the Lord.” He spoke up for me. Deacon’s eyes widened before he turned to Cass.

“It’s okay Deacy, he’s not like that last angel you and I encountered. You can trust Cass” I assured him. He hummed and nodded before saying.

“As I was saying earlier, I’ve known my mother since I was a few days old. Barely enough time to fully imprint with my real mother. (Y/n) has filled in the rest of the imprint of being my mother and that’s all I see her as. Not a threat, not prey, not an obsession. Just my mother, and nothing else.” I walked over towards Deacy.

He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled into my neck affectionately as I heard the soft purrs coming out of him. I stroked through his long hair and said.

“And that’s all I see Deacon as. Not a lover, not a monster, and most certainly not a soulless beast, but my son.”

*3rd Person POV*

Dean was currently going through the Men of Letter’s library, trying to find anything about dragons that they might have found. He was also using Sam’s laptop to do some basic animal researching on imprinting, of course most of the search revolved around the Twilight movies but the stuff he did manage to find basically stated the same thing.

“Dude how many times have I told you not to use my laptop? Last time you used it; it froze for a month all because of your Asian porn searching.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist Sammy, I’m actually doing some real research this time.”

“And what would that be?”

“Dragons and imprinting. I’m still not buying this crap Deacon’s saying.”

“Well what all have you found out?” Sam asked as he sat down in front of his brother.

“Well the Men of Letters say in this book of how ‘dragons always claim a female virgin in order to sustain their lustful urges.’ Nothing about imprinting or whether a dragon could imprint on a human at the first few moments of birth.”

“What have you found out about Imprinting?”

“Basically the same thing that when an animal is born, the first thing they see they child-parental bond is formed. The animal will just follow you like a lost puppy. Kinda like you do most days.” Sam looked at his brother and he said.

“And both (y/n) and Deacon have said that it was just a few days after he ‘hatched’ that they both met each other.”

“Exactly. Plus it’s been what—seven years since they’ve seen each other. Who knows what that guy’s been up to since then. What if he came into contact with another dragon? Could’ve been taught how to be a real dragon, fallen off the wagon?”

“That is a possibility. I mean it happens with cats and dogs if they become strays for a certain amount of years. But I have to ask, why would he not take her to his nest? Why let her stay back at her old home and not take her away?”

“It could be a play. After all he was raised by (y/n). She’s clever.”

“Yeah but Dean maybe—maybe there’s a chance that Deacon is different than the dragons we encountered a few years back after I got my soul back.”

“Until I see something about it, then Deacon’s still a menace and a danger to (y/n). Now why don’t you help me out here and see if you can find anything that I’m missing here.”

Reluctantly but understanding of where Dean was coming from, Sam picked up another book and began reading as closely as he could through every word and every page on the behavior of dragons.

*My POV*

I was out for my mid-morning run through the woods, I had allowed Deacon to make some adjustments that he saw would benefit my dragon armor and make it even more authentic. I soon stopped panting softly at a cliff’s edge that overlooked the lower levels of the forests.

“Hello (y/n).” I jumped a bit but knew that it was only Cass.

“Damnit Cass how many times must we go through this? Had I not already been through this, I would’ve probably fallen over the cliff.”

“Sorry.” I waved off the apology and said.

“What is it that you came out here for? I know you’ve got something on your mind.”

“It’s about Deacon.”

“Why what’s happened? Is he okay? Did Dean do something to him? If he did I swear to God—”

“He’s fine. It’s more so about your relationship with Deacon than anything else.” I sighed heavily and said.

“Cass please—”

“You are aware of what he is right?”

“Yes Cass I’ve known since the beginning. I came across his mother’s corpse at 11 years old. I watched as poachers, not hunters, poachers which means they hunt for sport, not protection. Come up to her and started admiring her cold, dead corpse and talking about how much they were going to make off of her piece. By piece. If I didn’t allow Deacon to come with me, he would’ve been sold off too, if not killed, while still looking like a 6 year old boy.”

“I understand where you’re coming from. But (y/n) that was all in the past. It’s been years since you’ve seen Deacon. How do you know he won’t revert back to what a dragon is supposed to do?”

“If he had, don’t you think I wouldn’t be here?”

“Some dragons bait their victims on. Don’t you think Deacon could’ve gotten in contact with other dragons and they taught him how to behave like a real one?” I refused to answer that because Deacon already told me everything.

“What exactly are you trying to say Cass? Stop with the riddles and just say it to my face.”

“Deacon’s now a full grown dragon. It wouldn’t be safe for you to have him at this rate. He’s not some pet that you can keep—”

“Didn’t I just say back there that he’s not a pet. I don’t see him as one. He’s my son.”

“And as a parent you must know that all children grow up. While we are grateful to him for saving you from the Vetala pack, he—he has to go back to his home. Wherever that is.” Oh I see where this is going.

“Well I hate to disappoint you Cass, but he’s not going anywhere. As his mother he’s going to stay here. I’ve been searching for him for seven years. I thought he had been killed, and now that I’ve found him, he’s never leaving my side again. I can take care of him, protect him and ensure that no hunter goes after him.”

“(Y/n), you’re not thinking clearly. He’s built his own life somehow. I know he’s told you that. What if he has a mate back home? Children? They’ll need him.” But as Cass kept ranting on trying to get me to see reason, I heard something in the air.

It was a deep, low wind gust. But I knew better, it didn’t sound like wind at all. Plus I have been out here for over an hour and no wind has blown yet, in fact the weather said there wouldn’t be any wind today.

“Cass be quiet.” I said.

“No (y/n) you need to hear—”

“No, no serious quiet!” I was alert and Cass seemed to sense something as well.

“What was that?” my stomach dropped and I muttered.

“Cass get down.” Then suddenly flying right up the cliff’s edge were two large dragons.

One was a massive spiked dark dragon with red like fins decorated down along it’s neck. It also sported a couple of horns at the side of it’s head but it was definitely bigger than how I’ve seen Deacy’s dragon form. The other dragon was smaller than the first and almost appeared like a cross between dragon and an owl.

It’s owl-like face sported a crown of horns and fins kinda like a lionfish and it’s scales consisted mainly orange and brown.

The two dragons circled around me and Cass who was holding me close to him as the two of us had ducked down so that we wouldn’t be blown away by the wind gust that I knew dragons had. They both let out roars as they finally hovered over us, and what was shocking to see with the owl-like dragon was that it’s two large wings suddenly split into four wings.

It tilted it’s head in a straight vertical line as it’s huge golden eyes stared directly at me. It turned towards the bigger dragon grumbling out a low roar, almost as if they were speaking to each other. The bigger dragon glared down at me with hateful eyes as it let out a low growl before roaring down at me.

Both Cass and I covered our ears at the agonizing loudness of the roar. But what we didn’t know was that suddenly appearing out of the woods was another dragon. However compared to the two others, it was more of a giant serpent. Cass turned around and suddenly there was just the force of being knocked forward before I found myself in the clutches of this serpent dragon.

I soon found myself being flown hundreds of feet into the air and I looked up at the black and gold dragon that now had me in it’s claws. I soon heard the sound of grunting and I looked down towards the tail and saw Cass hanging on for dear life.

He placed his finger to his lips trying not to let me give away his cover but the large black dragon huffed and roared at the dragon that had me as its attention turned towards Cass.

The giant serpent dragon then whipped it’s whip-like tail trying to get Cass off of him. Cass tried to hold on as best as he could but all it took was just three whips to finally send him flying back down to earth.

“NOOO!!! CASS!!!” I cried out as he got smaller and smaller before I finally lost him as me and the dragons flew higher and higher. Due to the insane air pressure the higher we flew, I must’ve ended up passing out because next thing I saw was nothing but darkness and I kept muttering Cass’s name as well as Sam’s, Dean’s and Deacon’s.

*3rd Person POV*

Cass fell about 1000 feet straight back down towards the forest and the second he fell to the ground, the only thing he saw were the three giant figures of the dragons flying away from him.

“(Y/n)……no, no (y/n)…..” he tried to get up but his body was in pain from the sudden impact, the last thing he saw were the dragons taking away his dear friend.

As the dragons continued flying higher and higher beyond the clouds. The owl-like dragon’s eyes did something that no other dragon’s could do. They suddenly glowed pure gold and suddenly appearing out in the air was a portal.

One by one each of the dragons flew through the portal and once the serpent like dragon’s full body went through it, the portal closed and disappeared, just as quickly as it had appeared.

The dragons now came upon a series of mountain cliffs filled with nothing but greenery and sea water. They flew through the mountain terrain through the entrance of a cave until finally arriving at a nesting area within the mountain.

Hundreds of dragons soon awoke from their slumber to see the three dragons reenter the picture with a human intact. The serpent dragon gently set (y/n) down before backing away. The owl-like dragon soon came up and as it walked toward (y/n) it changed from a dragon to human as did the other two.

As (y/n) was slowly coming around, she groaned and looked up and through a blurry vision, she saw a man staring down at her with a tuff of short brown hair, the scruff of a beard going all over his face and deep blue eyes staring down at her. She heard the low rumble of dragon growls before she passed out once more.

“Is she dead?” The brown haired dragon turned towards the other two. One was an Egyptian man with short black hair, a strong jawline and blue eyes much like the owl-like dragon has in his human form but not quite as deep. The other male who had asked the question had messy, curly blond hair and had greenish eyes.

He was more strongly built and he just seemed to have the Alpha-like stance and attitude, and around his face were old faded battle scars. The dragon who was standing over (y/n) then answered.

“No, humans don’t have the compacity to withstand sudden high altitude elevation. She’ll live though.”

“Good. Wouldn’t be too sporty of me to kill her if she’s already dead.”

“Easy Warren, we know how you feel about humans but there’s questions that need to be answered.” Spoke the Egyptian.

“Apophis is right. Like who she is and why she’s swarmed with Deacon’s scent.” Answered the brunette.

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profangirllu · 5 years

Text

Blood Bond: Part 1

Pairing: Peter Parker: OlderSister!Reader

Summary: As an older sister, you’ve always been very protective of Peter. After the Blip, you don’t even want him out of your sight. What happens when he tells you he wants to go halfway across the globe for the summer? Requested by @legintheheadlights

Warnings: spoilers, mild cursing, mentions of death and tears, action violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, any marvel characters or plot points, or you. Gif found via Giphy.

A/N: hello! So this is probably not very good but I loved the request idea! Just as a heads up, the reader has powers over the elements. If you ever get confused as to the reader’s fighting style think of Avatar: The Last Airbender or Legend of Korra (or drop me a comment if you want more description). This probably isn’t as proofread as it should be. Hope you enjoy xx!

—————————

As a hero you had many responsibilities: taking down villains, saving civilians, controlling your powers. It was a tough job, but being an older sister was even harder. You had to be a rival at times, a parental figure others, and a friend always. No matter how difficult each job you had was, you loved them and wouldn’t give them up for the world, considering that’s what you considered them.

Then you lost your world.

You saw it disappear right in front of you. Your younger brother, Peter, Spider-Man, the baby, one of the only people that gave you a reason to live, crumbled to dust, pleading for help. You screamed, a bloodcurdling sound of pure anguish, tears flooding down your face. The pain didn’t last long though, because soon after you were going the same way.

After the Blip, everything changed. You kept a watchful eye on Peter at all times, going on patrols with him (sometimes fighting the bad guys yourself so he wouldn’t get hurt), even transferring to his school so you could be close. Some would call you overprotective, you just called it being a sister.

So when Peter told you he was going to Europe, you panicked.

“Pete, are you sure that’s the best idea?” you asked, crossing your legs as you sat on his bed. “I mean, what if the city needs you?” Peter sighed.

“(Y/N), that’s what you’re here for! The city will be fine without me.” He walked to the door with the paperwork in hand, but you stood up and blocked the doorway.

“Peter, we need to be here. The Avengers are in shambles, the whole world is confused, and people need something to look up to. That needs to be us.” You stared at him intensely, trying your best to change his mind without flat out saying you didn’t want him to go because you were terrified of being away from him, what would happen to him. He let his head slide back as he put his hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/N), I’ll be fine,” he said, almost reading your mind. “I just want to go have a nice summer vacation with my friends, no superhero stuff.” You put a hand on top of his, patting it gently, and nodded. Stepping from away from the doorframe, Peter passed you, going to find Aunt May for her signature. He paused, looking at the floor as if pondering something. He smiled at you over his shoulder.

“You can come too if you want.”

~~~~~~~~~

The trip began as a disaster. Peter had this ridiculous (okay, kind of cute) plan to win over MJ while on the trip, much to Ned’s chagrin. Then, on the plane, Ned and Peter’s brilliant idea to switch seats due to Peter’s “perfume allergy” backfired and Peter ended up with Mr. Harrington the entire time. There were times when you would look back, Mr. Harrington’s head on your brother’s shoulder as he snored on, and you would raise your eyebrows at him suggestively, mouthing, “When’s the wedding?” He would make a face at you in response, causing a smile to break out on your face. Your heart twisted at the sudden realization that that boy had died fighting a battle no one knew about. He was fighting a war beneath that adorably nerdy surface.

And you were fighting just the same.

~~~~~~~~~~

Venice had to be the most beautiful place you had ever seen. Being in a concrete paradise for your entire life, a city built on canals felt like a dream. Your eyes went wide, taking in the stunning edifices and channels as the gondola plodded along to the hotel, which was less than stellar, but you loved it anyway. Stepping through into your room, which you magically had to yourself, you set down your luggage, unzipping the small bag on your back to check its contents. Inside you had packed two combat suits, a few masks, and communication devices just in case anything happened. Just because Peter was off duty didn’t mean you were.

Changing into a tank top and some cargo pants, you made your way downstairs and onto the streets of Venice, making sure you checked in with Peter before splitting up. Something in your gut told you it was wrong, but you ignored it and blamed it on your obsessive protective nature. After walking for a while, you ended up catching up with a group of students in a plaza.

“So you’re Parker’s sister, huh?” a voice behind you spoke. You turned around to see someone you’d recognize anywhere. Flash Thompson, the kid who aggravated Peter to no end, stood looking at you. You’d know him from the descriptions Peter have you: cocky, dark hair, recently grown goatee, usually flaunted expensive clothing.

“Yeah, I am,” you answered, crossing your arms over your chest and jutting out your chin. “What of it?” Your sudden defensive stand took Flash by surprise, but only slightly.

“Nothing, just can’t believe you share the same gene pool as Penis Parker.”

You opened your mouth to give a snarky retort but were interrupted by a sudden stillness in the air followed by the sound of water crashing. An expression of pure shock washed over your face as a massive wave of water was about to do the same.

“Duck!” you shouted, pulling Flash out of the way as you kicked another person to the side. The water sprayed your face and the front of your shirt. You groaned, but your annoyance faded when you saw the thing in front of you. It was a figure, a monster even, made completely out of water towering at least five stories tall. It roared, making water rush in from nearly every angel to try and submerge the stunning city. You couldn’t just stand there and watch, you had to do something. You looked around for something to cover your face with, settling on a ridiculous masquerade mask from a street vendor as people began to scatter wary like mice. Running toward the danger instead of away, you used your powers to push a piece of the stone ground up, leaping into the air, swinging your foot around in a kicking motion. A blast of water launched itself from the canal below you and made its way toward the monster, doing nothing to stop it wreaking havoc. Your brows furrowed and you planted your feet on the ground once again, blasting blistering fire from your fists in several punches. Nothing. You squared your shoulders and twisted your feet, rock encasing your legs to hold you steady. You raised your arms, trying to feel the water the monster was made of, but ended up doing nothing once again.

At first you were shocked. How powerful was this thing?

Then you were confused. You could control the elements, so how could you not control this creature which was made completely of water?

Something was definitely up.

Nevertheless, you continued to fight, throwing funnels of air and fire at the creature left and right. You spotted Peter in a bell tower trying desperately to hold it up. You laughed when he tripped and hit his head on the bell itself, several times.

Spotting a new figure, you catapulted yourself up and over to him.

“Hey!” you shouted, ducking a spray of water. The figure didn’t turn to you, just continued to hit the monster with green energy. You weren’t going to lie, his getup was so ridiculous you let out a chuckle, but you continued anyway. “What can I do to help?”

“Distract the Elemental and get it away from civilians!” the floating figure shouted back. You nodded, glancing to the bell tower where your brother was desperately trying to keep the building from crushing his classmates. You jumped from the roof of the building into the water feet first, feeling the mask disappear into the space above your head. Not having the time or lung capacity to grab it, you spun, emerging from the waves in a cyclone of water. Shooting out your hands, the water around the monster crystalized into a shiny layer of ice, but, once again, did nothing to the monster. Itself. You shook your head, not noticing Peter shouting at you to look out or how the Elemental was swinging it’s arm at you, crashing into your cyclone, the force sending you flying back into a nearby building. You landed with a crack, but whether is was from the wall or your ribs you weren’t sure, and it was then that you realized two things.

One: Something was wrong with the entire situation.

Two: You were in for one hell of a summer.

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heroesmusings · 4 years

Photo

FULL NAME: Clinton Francis Barton

MEANING: Settlement on a hill

NICKNAME: Clint

MEANING: It’s just a shorter version of his name

AGE APPEARANCE: Appears 30, actually 33

BIRTHDAY: September 7th, 1987

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Virgo

SPECIES: Human

GENDER: Cis male

ALLERGIES: None

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Bisexual

THEME SONG(S): Wine Red by The Hush Sound, Raising Hell by Kesha, Church by Fall Out Boy, Angel in Blue Jeans by Train

APPEARANCE

HAIR COLOR: Dirty Blonde to Brown

HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Short

EYES COLOR: Blue

EYESIGHT: 20/20, he’s a BIRD BOY

HEIGHT: 6″3′

WEIGHT: 200 lbs

OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: For missions he wears his uniform but on days off its just jeans and a shirt

ABNORMALITIES: Deaf

DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): He’s got scars on both ears from the hole to neck, 6 gunshot wounds, knife scars

SELF CARE(MAKE UP): Clint washes his face once in a blue moon and at times has a beard

FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: He’s pretty friendly, a bit on the joking and sarcastic side

SKIN COLOR: White

BODY TYPE/BUILD: Broad shouldered, a big muscular build

DEFAULT EXPRESSION: Always a bit of a cocky smirk on his face

POSTURE: He stands with a little bit of more weight on his left side

PIERCINGS: One hole in his left ear

DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: Clint’s voice is a little on the higher end for a man of his stature, it’s a big rugged and can sometimes be a bit slow with a twang

RELATIONS:

MOM: Edith Barton

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Clint was a momma’s boy, very close to his mother the two had a close bond

DAD: Harold Barton

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: His father was abusive they did not get along at all, Clint was always the problem child

SIBLINGS: Barney Barton

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Before the circus, Barney and Clint were two peas in a pod, they stuck together through it all but after the circus Clint cannot stand his brother

CHILDREN: N/A

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: N/A

OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS: N/A

PAST LOVER(S): Bobbi Morse (ex-wife), Laura (ex-girlfriend), Zelda DuBois [Princess Python] (ex-fling)

CURRENT LOVER: Natasha Romanoff

REACTION TO MEETING SOMEONE NEW: Clint likes to find out what makes them tick, so he’s friendly, wants to get on their good side so he’ll know how to take them down if he has to

ABILITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS: he’s…. Alright? He’ll work with people but complain about it in the process

HOW SOCIABLE(LONER,ETC): Clint likes his alone time but he’s pretty sociable

FRIENDS: Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, the rest of the avengers team

PETS: Lucky the yellow lab

LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF PERSON: Anyone who mistakes her shyness for powerlessness

PARENTAL TYPE(PROTECTIVE,ETC): Easy going and easily manipulated

FAVORITE PEOPLE: Nat, Steve, Wanda

LEAST FAVORITE PEOPLE: Barney, anyone in the Circus of Crimes

PERSONALITY:

..WHEN YOU FIRST MEET THEM: ? Talkative, Jokester, Obnoxious

..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY LIKE YOU): Joyful, Teasing, Easy going

..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY DISLIKE YOU): Cold, Antagonistic, Rude

FAVORITE COLOR: Purple

FAVORITE FOOD: anything gross and greasy

FAVORITE ANIMAL: shockingly not a hawk, he loves dogs

FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Acoustic guitar

FAVORITE ELEMENT: Air

LEAST FAVORITE COLOR: White

LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Kale

LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: piranhas

LEAST FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Trumpet

LEAST FAVORITE ELEMENT: Earth

HOBBIES: watching daytime television, sleeping, knitting, salsa dancing

USUAL MOOD: Pretty jovial most of the time

DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: Drinks socially

DARK VERSION OF SELF: Ruthless, unforgiving, blinded by anger

LIGHT VERSION OF SELF: Carefree, the past doesn’t chase him anymore

HOW SERIOUS ARE THEY: Not very serious at all, unless it's a dire situation

BELIEVE IN GHOSTS: No he doesn’t

(IN)DEPENDANT: Pretty independent unless its nat

SOFT SPOT/VULNERABILITY: Messing with Nat, Talking about his father/home life

OPINION ON SWEARING: He’s got a filthy mouth

DAREDEVIL VS CAUTIOUS: DAREDEVIL

MUSIC TYPE: Soft rock and anything acoustic

MOVIE TYPE: Any sort of cheesy movie it doesn’t matter the genre

BOOK TYPE: Clint doesn’t read all that much but maybe fantasy

GAME TYPE: God ANY GAME, he’s a pro at them all

COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE: Clint thrives in any temperature

SLEEPING PATTERN: Clint sleeps where the fuck ever he can, anytime he can squeeze in a nap? He’s doing it

CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Clint gives no DAMNS about that stuff..

DESIRED PET: More puppies thanks

HOW DO THEY PASS TIME: Sleeping or annoying Nat and Steve

BIGGEST SECRET: After SHIELD fell Clint doesn’t really have any secrets but he hasn’t told anyone his brother was there when the Swordsmen deafened him

HERO/WHO THEY LOOK UP TO: Steve Rogers

WHAT ANIMAL WOULD THEY BE: a clingy puppy

FEARS: Something happening to Nat

COMFORTS: Anytime Natasha is around, greasy food, training

HOW DO THEY ACT WHEN THEY ARE:

SAD: Clint doesn’t like getting sad, so he often gets angry and frustrated when he’s sad. It’s from years of abuse because his father would mock him when he got sad so he doesn’t like getting sad… and at times he just disappears

HAPPY: Clint is usually pretty happy, so that comes with smiles and jokes mostly. If he teases and jokes with you then he’s in a good mood

ANGRY: Angry clint is usually even more reckless, he doesn’t think he just attacks, he will take no prisoners at all

AFRAID: Unless it’s Barney, Clint usually likes to face his fears head on -- tackle them right when he can so he can go into things unafraid.

LOVE SOMEONE: SOFT, clint is soft and doting, he loves to spoil and care for in any way he can. He’s protective and can be clingy

HATE SOMEONE: Clint makes it clear, he doesn’t joke he doesn’t tease or anything. He’s barely even likes to talk to them much less

WANT SOMETHING: Clint goes for it, there has been so much in his life that he’s never been allowed to have -- so now he’s letting himself have what he wants

CONFUSED: Clint is always confused okay

HOW DO THEY REACT TO:

DANGER: Clint runs HEAD FIRST INTO DANGER BECAUSE HE’S AN IDIOT

SOMEONE THEY HATE WHO HAS A CRUSH ON THEM: Clint would think its a joke honestly and when it isn’t a joke he’d avoid them

PROPOSAL TO MARRY: Clint would be upset that Nat beat him to it because he’s been working on awhile to propose BUT he’d of course say yes and think of the memory fondly

DEATH OF LOVED ONE: Clint would lose it, he wouldn’t be able to function any longer. He’d become cold and a hermit

DIFFICULT GAME/MATH/ETC: He’d let Tony deal with it.

INJURY: Clint would fucking laugh it off and act fine. But if it was Nat then he’d be obsessive until she gets help

SOMETHING IRRESISTABLY CUTE: He’d take a photo and send it to Nat

LOSS OF HOURS OF WORK: s l e e p

KNOWLEDGE:

LANGUAGES: English, ASL a bit of Russian

SCHOOLING LEVEL: Middle School

FAVORITE SUBJECT (S): Clint would rather dIE than tell anyone but he liked math

INTERESTED CAREERS: N/A.

EXPERTISE: master archer/marksmen, expert tactician, acrobat and hand-to-hand combatant

PUZZLES: clint is SO GOOD AT PUZZLES, he can figure them out quick

CHEMISTRY: clint likes both human and science. He likes the science part to design more arrows and the human part because he’s very in tune with people and their emotions

MATH: Clint is WILDLY good at math, he has to be because he doesn’t miss a single shot. Everytime he shoots an arrow he has to include every variable possible

ENGLISH: clint wasn’t all that interested in it

GEOGRAPHY: he’s pretty good at it.

POLITICS/LAW: Clint really isn’t all that into or interested in politics

ECONOMY/ACCOUNTING: Again not into any of that

COOKING: Clint can cook cereal and that’s about it

SEWING: He’s good at basic medical and clothing sewing

MECHANICS: Yes! He’s pretty good with cars and motorcycles

BOTANY (FLOWERS): Not at all

MYTHOLOGY: Looked into it when Thor showed up because Fury asked him too

DRAMATICS(ACTING,SINGING): He used to be a spy so he’s a good actor

READING LEVEL: Proficient

HOW GOOD ARE THEY AT PLANNING AHEAD: ……...sorry Clint doesn’t know what that means

ROMANCE:

DO THEY TAKE INITIATIVE: Yes all the time, anytime he can get his hands on Nat he will

HOW DO THEY ACT(SHY,ETC): He thinks he’s smooth but boy’s an idiot and Nat makes his heart race

GENTLEMAN/LADYLIKE VS KLUTZY: Oh Clint has plenty of gentelmany skills

GO SLOW VS JUMP INTO: WIth Nat? He wants to take things slow, he doesn’t wanna mess this up

PROTECTIVE: HELL YEAH

ACT LIKE FRIENDS OR LOVERS: Both

WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS DO THEY BUY:ANYTHING THAT HE THINKS NAT WILL LIKE, he likes getting her pretty things to wear

TYPE OF KISSER: Clint likes it soft and sweet or rough and biting there is not in between

DO THEY WANT KIDS: not until recently

DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: YES YES

MAKE GOOD OR BAD DECISIONS: He’s a fucking fool so both, but he tries REALLY hard to make good choices

ARE THEY ROMANTIC: yes he’s A SAP

HOW ARE THEY IN BED: Clint really lives to please Nat so he’s fucking great thanks

GET JEALOUS EASY: Nope, he knows that he and Nat are in it for good

WIFE/HUBBY BEATER: NEVER

MARRY FOR MONEY: LMAO NO

FAVORITE POSITION: Clint loves being choked by her thighs or under her.. He really isn’t it picky as long as he’s with Nat

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN ON THEIR DREAM DATE: just a day in with Nat and they eat nasty foods together

OPINION ON SEX: Sex didn’t always mean much to Clint, he used to sleep around often but with Nat it means a lot because there’s an actual connection there with her and he aims to make her feel good and have it be enjoyable

#clint ;; bio

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dmydfilmreviews · 5 years

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MARVEL MOMENTS

So what they really did, as well as making a good load of films, was actually make a vast tapestry of genius interwoven moments like flicking through a big comic book! Ten years! Twenty something movies! A load of rubbish images at the end of the list because the last three films weren’t officially out on Blu Ray! Avengers assssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Tony Builds the First Suit

Really it was a stroke of brilliance to start the whole shebang with Iron Man the self-made superhero. The backbone of the whole universe is that of Tony making himself and that all kicks off here, in a sequence that’s hugely thematically satisfying given what comes later. There’s also the fact that back in the day all this construction stuff was just fucking cool, a Nolan-lite bedrock for a blend of realism and fantasy that comic-book cinema had never quite nailed before. Seeing Tony improve his tech step-by-step is a quiet pleasure of these movies, the suits getting more and more outlandish but staying absolutely believable, just like the films, and that all kicks off here with one guy and a non-magical hammer.

Pepper Pulls Out Tony’s Heart

I noted these all down before Endgame, honestly. Sob. It was always his story really. The best example of the foundational relationship of the MCU: They finish each other’s sentences!

‘Truth is… I am Iron Man.’

They knew what they’d got from the very first. This ballsy coda sets the tone for the whole MCU, one of backed-up swagger, a willingness to fuck with the source material in the name of story and the general feeling that Robert Downey Jr. was God. All in like two hours. That they flipped the egotistically iconic line into an era-defining declaration of responsibility, growth and heroism a decade later is nothing short of remarkable.

Hulk and Betty in the Rain

It’s uh… it’s a nice comic-book visual of a classic comic book romance, I guess? Look, Hulk came a long way later, but his forgotten love for Betty was the closest they ever came to the source material outside of the Hulk generally smashing and being awesome. It was sweet!

The Bit Where Hulk Suplexes a Giant Zombie Wolf on the Rainbow Bridge of Asgard

wait was this in the Incredible Hulk

I’ve Successfully Privatised World Peace!’ ‘Fuck you, Mr Stark.’

They got Garry Shandling in these movies!

The Suitcase Suit

Now that is a cool-ass adaptation.

Black Widow Kicks Asses

Yeah, after a whole movie of being reductive eye-candy she was still reductive eye-candy here. But the scene as a whole’s basically a perfect realisation of her moves in the comics, and showed Marvel were capable of doing someone who wasn’t Iron Man. Then they did EVERYYYYOONNNNNNEEE bonus points for Happy taking out that one guy and yelling ‘I got him!’

Tony and Rhodey in the Japanese Gardens

Look, they just look cool, OK? No one said this was going to be deep.

Tony and Pepper as the Stark Expo Explodes

They haven’t managed a lot of great romance, but this one hella works: Tony’s overblown mess of a movie expo exploding behind the true love of his life is a visual so great that Shane Black nicked it wholesale for the climax of Iron Man Three: Christmas in Croydon.

The Frost Giant Throwdown

Wait, what’s happening? I thought these were the movies where Jeff Bridges rode a Segway? Are we in SPAAAAACCCCCEEEE?

Thor Can’t Pull It Off

Out of the big three Thor’s arc of mythology to humanity might be the deepest and most satisfying of all. That starts here with his tearful inability to be worthy of his father, his world and, crucially, himself, leading directly into the first great Thor/Loki exchange, then a whole host of movies that eventually put him through the emotional wringer to self-acceptance. Hopefully?

Thor and Loki Battle on the Rainbow Bridge

Yeah, it looks kind of goofy, but this is pure sixties Kirby, shorn of the irony the series would develop later. Beautiful.

Erskine Points To Cap’s Heart

That’s it. That’s the character.

The Star Spangled Man!

Who’ll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berliiiin?

That Whole War Montage That Ends With Bucky Falling From The Train

Just smash after smash after smash of wartime Cap goodness that we’d never see again, ending with the ‘death’ that’d define the rest of his story. Steve lost as much as Thanos in his quest for peace but, y’know, he wasn’t a total fucking intergalactic dick about it.

‘I gotta put her in the water!’

Man alive he waited for that date... whether you think the ending of Endgame ruins the moment somewhat (it doesn’t. sort of), this was still the biggest heart-tugger in the MCU at that point, and defined the characters of Cap and Peggy for years to come. Watch Agent Carter! Just bloody watch it!

'Lemme Put You On Hold’

The stand out moment of The Avengers is basically all of it, but let’s start with the moment Black Widow finally becomes a character, a sequence of broad-strokes skill from Scarlett Johansson and Joss Whedon that begged for a movie she finally got way too long later. Bonus points for possibly the greatest Coulson reaction shot in a history of great reaction shots.

The Helicarrier Ascends

OK, shit – this is series is big now.

The Whole of Stuttgart

Whedon’s love of classical posh entertainment is seen in Angel’s superior ballet episode and his fondness for Sondheim, and he even gets a bit of the ol’ jewellery rattling in here in a perfectly pitched Loki-loving sequence that culminates in some fantastic bits for Cap before Iron Man AC/DC’s all over the place. This is where the comic book stuff really kicks off.

‘YOU COME HOME!’

This Hemsworth’s fella’s really got something...

Forest Bro Down

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. The first real Avengers mash-up is just wonderful. This is where the wish-fulfilment really begins, in a quiet clearing, where three superheroes nearly beat the shit out of each other in classic comic-book style. The Avengers assembled.

The Whole Fuckin’ Helicarrier Sequence

An absolute masterpiece of blockbuster juggling that had never been done before, this could be the third act of any other film. Over what plays out weirdly like a piece of theatre we get terrifying Hulks, mewling quims and awesome heroics, all expertly laced with wonderful character mash-ups and action we’d never seen before. Then Coulson dies. This is what Joss Whedon does.

‘There was an idea…’

Fuck shit yeah there was, and it made for a hell of an Infinity War trailer six years later.

ALL OF NEW YORK

Yep, all of it, but if we’re being picky it’s Hulk v Loki for the comedy side, the tracking shot for the action. As a sequence it’s never been bettered in the MCU, even in the open-mouthed joy-gush of Infinity War and Endgame. FIGHT ME

Go Fish

Iron Man Three is a wonderful movie that works best as the sum of its parts, but there’s one bit that’s up there with the pantheon: the sky-diving rescue above the bay is such a joyous subversion of the usual third-act super-fisticuffs that it’s like something out of a 70’s Superman movie, only with a hilarious capper at the end where Iron Man explodes under a truck. Beep beep!

Running the Lemurian Star

The Russo Brother’s action calling-card for their incredible MCU run, this sets up their vision of Cap’s super-subtle-super-serum-super-moves. From the off it’s a game changer in the way action’s shot across the MCU, clean-cut raid-alikes becoming the order of the day. AND THEN HE FIGHTS BATROC ZE LEAPER

Elevator Throwdown

Yeah, yeah, we all know the actual bit in the elevator that’s spoofed to tremendous effect come Endgame, but remember this sequence ends with Cap TAKING DOWN A FUCKING QUINJET SINGLE-HANDED. The look on his face at the end says it all.

The Winter Soldier Street Fight

HE FLICKS A KNIFE MID PUNCH

Come and Get Your Love

We’d seen a lot of cool shit from the MCU by this point, but this was something else again. It’s funny! It’s funny as fuck! What the fuck is this movie? And again, they know their own best bits: the return to this in Endgame is top drawer. What a moron.

The Kyln Sequence

This whole breakout is the Guardians at their very best; squabbling in space, reluctant teamwork, loads of cool shit and leg theft. The bit where it all goes anti-grav is a treat.

WE ARE GROOT

That’s it. That’s the movie.

…Stark…

It’s a shame they didn’t delve deeper into Scarlet Witch’s hatred for the man who murdered her parents, but her barely contained rage is the keystone for Age of Ultron: deeper, nastier, more questioning of it’s heroes and their heroism. This one they brought on all by themselves.

Sun’s Gettin’ Real Low

Yeah, maybe it’s for the best the slightly bumbled Hulktasha relationship was forgotten about, but this moment was pivotal in the character development of both. Beautifully shot, and leads to a primo Ragnarok gag.

Lift That Hammer

You genuinely could have made a whole movie of these characters hanging out at an open bar. The Stan cameo’s great, the War Machine story bit gets an Endgame alien planet boost much later, but it’s the drunken worthiness competition that’s the real highlight, a seemingly fun throwaway that actually almost single-handedly sets up the whole character of Vision and the most fist-pumping moment of Endgame, a movie nearly entirely composed of fist-pumping moments.

Hulk vs Hulkbuster

Pure comic-book wish fulfilment again, and how. From Hulk spitting out a tooth to Tony desperately pleading ‘go to sleep go to sleep go to sleep’, this mad clash of science pals knocks every Transformers movie straight through a freshly-bought-building. Veronica!

Well Done.

Alright, Vision’s no one’s favourite Avenger, but he’s one who’s the satisfying product of several movie plots, one beloved supporting AI and the combined brains, magic and cool red capes of his team. Whedon performs his own mad-skillz level script trick to make us accept this fucking weirdo, first by giving him Jarvis’ voice, then having him stare out at a world and see his reflection in it, then having him lift an unliftable character-establishment hammer. None of this could be done by any other film series.

The Geometry of Belief

Ultron’s climactic church-a-maggedon is short but perfect, a swirling mass of splash-page insanity that culminates in a glorious trinity of Vision, Iron Man and Thor blasting the shit out of their mad son like a magic triangle. The Avengers at their peak.

Vision and Ultron Have a Chat

Whedon pops out these gems of detached humanism from time to time, and his sundown final exchange between The Avenger’s success and failure is a doozy. The most poetic little scene in the whole MCU, voiced by two creatures who look like nightmarish dildos. ‘A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts’ is an all-timer.

Big Bathtub

Ant Man’s bedrock might be its family values, but it’s the shrinking that makes it stand out. The first time Scott drops into tiny-town is a Pixar-esque fun-burst akin to Stephen Strange’s nutso jump into infinity later, with deadly bath taps, thunderclap vacuum cleaners and mid-day apartment raves (?) all bringing a new level of threat and adventure to a series already teeming with variety. They should carry these ones on foreverrrrr

Cassie’s Room

There’s something about this scene that sums up Scott’s whole character and hopefully sets up his daughter for future ant shenanigans: he is (was) unique as a hero with a family, and no matter how many Pym Particles he stuffs into his suit he’s always looked like a giant to his daughter. Plus, y’know, Thomas the Tank Engine.

Some Guy Crashes a Car at Night

The catalyst for the great middle schism. Civil War is a masterclass of twisting, gut-churning reveals, and this is the quiet moment that starts it all.

QUEENS

The perfect Marvel character, introduced into the perfect realisation of the Marvel Universe, perfectly.

Running Into Each Other At The Airport

LITTLE MAN IS BIG NOW I’M CLINT WE HAVEN’T MET YET I DON’T CARE WHERE YOU FROM KID QUEENS BROOKLYN I’M YOUR CONSCIENCE WE HAVEN’T SPOKEN IN A WHILE YOU GUYS KNOW THAT OLD MOVIE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK HOW OLD IS THIS KID ETC ETC OH MY GOD MY BRAIN HAS EXPLODED

Cap vs Iron Man

‘I don’t care. He killed my mom.’

The Big Brain Burst

They keep doing bits to expand themselves, and this is one of the best, with the most potential for the future. Fleeting, but dazzling.

New York Mirror Fest

If the next Strange movies delve into this deranged nonsense then they could end up the greatest of all of them. This is the tip of the iceberg, and it’s still unlike anything else being done in mainstream cinema.

Mr Blue Sky

In a movie that frequently reaches big and misses, at least it hits the spot at the beginning. This glorious celebration of family, space-craziness and genre subversion is everything Guardians does best. The Gamora / Groot bit is adorable.

Peter’s Civil War Adventure

The perfect tone-setter for the story’s most-average joe, this ground-level view of the universe’s biggest clash acts as a whippet quick intro to Peter Parker’s world in the big bad MCU. It’s always a thrill to see him where he belongs.

The Homage to Getting Buried Under a Tonne of Crap

Homecoming’s riffs on classic Spidey-lore are generally pretty subtle, but when it comes time to show what Peter’s really made of Watts rips directly from the best, first with the iconic Parker/Spidey face split and then with him holding up a whole fucking building like he’s nerd Hulk or something. The added ‘come on Spider-Mans’ are the adorable icing on the homage-o-cake.

Anytime That Immigrant Song Plays

Another!

Thor vs Hulk

Yeah, it’s not perfect and it’s a little CGIey. But it’s Thor fighting the Hulk in a fucking galactic gladiator arena place run by Jeff Goldblum and it smashes and it’s full of fun callbacks to previous movies. Yes! That’s what it feels like!

Thor and Loki Do Get Help

The perfect encapsulation of Waititi’s irreverent-but-with-tonnes-of-heart freshgasm on the story of Thor, this bit of hilarious dumb shit acts as amusing action beat and neat character resolution all in one. They’re friends again! They’re brothers! Thor throws him around like a rolled up carpet!

What Are You The God of Again?

Oh right, so he’s the best Avenger now.

Killmonger in the Afterlife

The bloody heart of the most emotional Marvel movie, when Erik Killmonger enters the Wakandan afterlife he finds himself in his own tiny Compton apartment, exiled with his father forever with the plains of eternity just out of reach beyond the window. Heartbreaking, and brilliant.

Thanos Arrives

The opening of Infinity War is another example of their absolute mastery of tone; after the megaton funblast of Ragnarok we’re thrown into the end of that movie being ripped apart, before Thanos appears, dragging a battered Thor into frame, beats seven shades of green shit out the Hulk and murders two beloved supporting characters, all without breaking a sweat. If you weren’t excited before you were now.

New York Tussle

The opening New York section of Infinity War is all very clever, acting as the only grounding Earthy moment in what’s a pretty out-there narrative in terms of existential stakes. You get Tony and Wong helping people off the sidewalk and Strange winking after halting the space-death-machine, but from there on out it’s full-bore comic-book smackdown fun, clashing characters who’ve never met and providing top-drawer banter about wizards and children’s parties. This is the page, up there on screen.

BRING ME THANOS!

The Thanos Fight

Jesus fucking Christ. Up there with the end of Avengers and the Civil War airport battle, this is a perfect realisation of superhero action, with a bigger dose of high-level insanity courtesy of the Infinity Stones and Doctor Strange. Sublimely realised, incredibly satisfying, with real weight and thought put into the spectacle, it’s also fantastic in the narrative of the film, the culmination of its themes of desperation and inevitability. The first time you saw them try to rip off the gauntlet was unbearable.

The Snap

Well, yeah. You’ll never get back the first time you saw this. And imagine seeing it as a fucking kid.#

Just a Girl

Sure the big level-up CGI fest at the end is good, but it’s the comedy smackdown on the Kree ship that’s the most satisfying part of Captain Marvel, the shit-eating joy on Carol’s face as she discovers she’s way more powerful than the assholes who’ve been holding her back. It’s corny sure, but it’s hella fun.

Thor Goes For The Head

Endgame is a shocking, disorientating blur to begin with, all the characters you loved acting in strange, desperate ways in a super-hero version of post-traumatic stress disorder. Tony’s meltdown is bad enough, but it’s when Thor just straight up fucking murders Thanos that you know this is going to get dark and serious. It doesn’t, it remembers it’s a Marvel movie, but the shot of him walking out into the blurred alien sun, cape aflutter, is a fitting goodbye to a more innocent time of heroics.

Ant Man and Cassie

A moment that could be worthy of a whole movie itself, a desperate Scott Lang meeting his five-years-older daughter gives a joke character a serious moment in the same way Infinity War did for Guardians. It’s very odd, very sweet and very Marvel.

Love You 3000

Morgan H. Stark is almost a little too on the nose as a wrap-up for Tony, but hell, she’s still sweet as all hell and a perfect capper to his story of fatherhood and responsibility. It’s a mark of the work they’ve put in that we’ll almost immediately accept the tired trope of kid-taking-over-mantle when she inevitably puts on the armour in a few years.

Steve and Peggy / Tony and Howard

This is the bit in Endgame where I finally started tearing up: a lot of it is too-neat fan-service, but fuck it, they’ve put in so much effort that it works. This is the scene where you realise both of these long arcs are coming to an end, the resolution of Steve quietly making his decision to go back to Peggy and Tony getting the closer of discussing parenthood with his unknowing father. It’s corny sure, but so are comic books, and setting the whole bit at the height of seventies Marvel Comics mania is a loving nod to the imaginations that made all these crazy possibilities possible.

Widow and Hawkeye

There’s a theme here. All of these moments are kind of cheesy and rely heavily on callbacks to previous bits… but at the moment it doesn’t matter because ENDGAME WOW. Maybe we’ll look back at it as a corny misstep, but for the moment, Clint and Tasha having one last, ludicrously overblown tussle for who gets to live is a sweet capper that never goes as deep as the others because they’re supporting characters. It still stings, and it’s a neat mirror to Gamora and Thanos in Infinity War. The red’s gone from her ledger! It’s on the rocks! Urrrgh

Nebula Kills Herself

Again, they’re so good that they can spend a big chunk of time in what’s ostensibly the last big movie for their most beloved characters on making a lesser character beloved. Endgame spotlights Nebula even more than Infinity War did Gamora, using her self-hatred and fear of her father for compelling, wibbly-wobbly plot and character beats. The resolution of her story and her newfound place with her team should make for a whole different Guardians before we even get to Fortnite-Thor joining up.

Cap Wields The Hammer

‘I KNEW IT!’

Thanos’ Army

One last escalation of scale. When Thanos’ army finally arrives it’s like something out of those apocalyptic Turner paintings, where the hordes of a ship-wrecked hell confront eternity under skies ripped from heaven. Only this time they’re facing one guy called Steve, and they’re fucked. Incredible.

Avengers… Assemble

It almost lives up to what you always had in your head. The Marvel Universe, somehow done right.

Tony Hugs Peter Back

Awwww!

New Avengers Run the Gauntlet

A surprising amount of Endgame’s grand finale is given over to the future hopes; while Strange gets stuck in with holding back a Biblical flood it’s up to Black Panther to grab the Infinity Gauntlet from Clint in a delightful callback to Civil War, before embarking on an intense relay race across the entire battlefield that begins with Scarlet Witch crushing the shit out of Thanos’ testicles and ends with Captain Marvel engaging the Mad Titan in a bone-crushing show of super-strength. And along the way if finds time to have Peter Parker dragged through the air by Thor’s hammer which was thrown by Captain America before landing on a Pegasus flown by Valkryie across an exploding sky of alien whales. Maybe the most satisfying run of action since the first Avengers.

I am Iron Man

It was always going to be him really. Bonus points for Downey Jr. originally telling Thanos to ‘Fuck off’. Did anyone else keep thinking he was going to wake up and quip and everything would be OK? That’s how you make movies.

The Funeral

It looks a little weird actually, like they weren’t all on set. But they were! The Marvel Universe again, holy smokes.

The Kiss

Now that’s how you end ten years and twenty one movies. They’re movies! It was romantic! It was exciting! It was fun!

For TEN FUCKING YEARS.

Swing a Ding Ding Sir

After five movies of fresh shit they've finally starting dumping some classic Spider-Man on us; the Euro stuff's fun and all, but it's Far From Home delirious climax that sees Spidey and MJ thwipping through the canyons of New York before bumping into ugly ol' J. Jonah JJ Jay Jay likes it's a freakin' comic book or something. Delightful, and also serves as a wonderful image of hope and joy post-Endgame.

What a fuckin’ ride. Here’s to the next... seventy six? Seventy seven?

wait did I leave any out

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