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#rogers dry lake
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Photographed on April 11th, 1991  Atlantis touching down on Runway 33 at Edwards AFB, Ca after a six day mission.
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stone-cold-groove · 1 year
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Meanwhile, back at Rogers Dry Lake.
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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months
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Home Truths: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]
The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (4) Loki is given a shake, and the four of you hit up the local supermarket. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki. Major Satchelage. Humour. Brotherly/ Domestic fluff. Smut references. Mild angst. Pining. (w/c 4.5k) Recommended Folklore Track: Hoax
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The rain hadn’t stopped. You’d spent the next few hours limping between rooms, keeping busy, stealing glances out the droplet-streaked windows where you could.
Where was he?
The kiss had lingered on your lips. The taste of Loki absorbing into cracks of delicate skin like water in thirsty soil. Nobody knew where the god had disappeared to in the early hours, allegedly.
What's more, they didn't seem surprised.
It had been another two hours before Loki returned holding a string of thoroughly deceased rabbits.
He stalked through the front door, turning abruptly into the kitchen and lowering them to the dining table with a macabre series of thumps.
“Holy Moses-” Steve scoffed disapprovingly, folding his arms.
The kettle began to whistle on the stove as Loki paraded to the cupboard. He pulled out a mug sporting a large yellow bear with an eyepatch.
“I saw no reason why our ‘education’ need be stifled by a mild weather-tantrum” he drawled, gesturing to the window before plucking a teabag from the tin. He glanced back to you as you leant against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes narrowed. There was no hint there of what had passed between you only hours before. It made you sad. But not surprised. “Don’t you agree, Agent?” he purred. Thor emerged by your shoulder.
“What the-?” his eyes fell on the limp pile of fur adorning the plastic tablecloth; gasping sharply. “Hodorekorn, brother?” His excitement was electric. Loki shook his head. “Alas, no brother. Rabbits. But much the same to ensnare.” The god tilted his head as he poured from the kettle, throwing Steve a wink. “See, Rogers?” he smirked. “I am not completely useless.”
Thor’s arm stretched above your head, pressing his hand against the frame. “It took you four hours to capture five hodorekorn?” He chuckled wrly. “Rusty indeed, brother.” “Rabbits.” Loki corrected, stirring his tea.
Steve swallowed, eyeing the bundle. “What are we supposed to do with ‘em?” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. “Skin them, and cook them of course!” Thor’s boom filled the tiny kitchen.
Steve gagged.
You couldn’t stop the smile that spread. Loki’s eyes met yours, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah, we can do that” you said, “good thinking Thor. Steve? How about you take the first one? Dealer’s choice.”
Steve clapped a hand to his mouth, pushing Thor into you in a hasty sprint to the bathroom. Dry wretches followed as the three remaining Avengers descended into laughter.
Tears streamed down Thor’s face while you doubled over, clinging to his forearm. Even Loki’s demure overtures of mirth rumbled across the linoleum, although you were certain that it was the sight of you and his brother that was the cause rather than the captain’s overdramatic heaves. Just like the old days, you thought with a pang. Thor wiped his face, catching his breath while there was a pause in the theatrics from the bathroom. For a moment, silence. And then... ‘Heuuuuuurgh-’
You and Thor looked at each other with simultaneous disbelief, the following whoop of laughter utterly uncontrollable. Loki took a sip of tea before placing it down, walking silently to the table. He tilted the chin of a rabbit towards him, frowning.
“We really should skin these brother,” he said sharply, “they will lose succulence otherwise.” You looked up through misty eyes, the release making you forget everything else. Loki had bristled, his mood altered somehow. Thor caught his breath beside you, panting heavily. “I- I can show you how,” you gasped as you wiped a trail from your eyes. Loki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. My brother and I are not quite as incapable as Rogers would have you believe.” Thor’s brow furrowed, shaking his head lightly in your direction. Don’t mind him, it said. “Outside or inside?” you asked, reaching for your jacket on the hall hook. It was still wet. “Outside,” Loki said with finality. His eyes flew to your hand, resting on the anorak. “Your presence is not required, Agent. My brother and I are perfectly capable, as I said.” He shot a piercing glance to Thor. The blonde swallowed.
“Uhhh...yes. Indeed, yes – brother, lead the way.” Loki breezed between you, stooping gently at the door-frame as a slick waxed Barbour unfurled over his lithe body. It hung to his thighs, the taut curve of his muscled ass shifting. The ghost of his knuckles grazed your palm as he passed. Accidentally, you were sure.
Thor lingered by the coat-hooks, shoving an arm brutishly through the sleeve of a particularly beaten-looking yellow raincoat. The material creaked menacingly as he hoisted it up his biceps.
There’s no way that is zipping closing, you thought – half watching the outline of Loki pacing towards the small hut at the edge of the cottage boundary.
Thor threw a look over his shoulder, checking Loki was out of earshot. He tugged the sides of the raincoat down. The edges lined perfectly with his nipples. Rain fell vertically outside the open door, a gush from the awning gutter pooling around the doorstep.
“He probably wishes to recount his version of what happened last night,” Thor said in hushed tones. Hushed for him, anyway. “What do you-” Thor waved a hand, eyes closed to your protestation. “Sister, please – the neighbours over yonder valley likely heard the commotion my brother’s intransigence provoked. Rogers and I heard everything.” The strap of your backpack hanging on the rack suddenly became very interesting.
“I’m not your sister, not anymore. Never was – technically” you heard yourself say, avoiding his inquiring eyes.
Pursing your lips, you scratched a nail down the strap’s weave. Thor squeaked as he shuffled closer, constrained arms wrapping around your shoulders with difficulty.
Breath heaved from your lungs as he pulled you tight. “You’ll always be my sister, sister” he smiled, resting his chin on your hair.
“If these last decades taught me anything, it is that blood relation is the least important quality.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Now, I must depart, and entertain my brother’s lukewarm justification for his boorishness.”
He turned, throwing a ridiculous pointed yellow hood up with a flourish.
“And skin some rabbits, of course” he projected loudly, throwing you a calculated wink. From behind the bathroom door, Steve wretched again.
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Loki flung the rabbits on the small bench squeezed in the corner of the hut. A ragged door hung from its hinges. If he wasn’t sure it would disintegrate, he would have slammed it. He didn’t know what to think.
Growth, he surmised, was becoming more trouble than it was worth.
He pushed his hair back from his face, the wet slick that met his hand more familiar now than he would like.
“That was rude, Loki” Thor rumbled, shaking himself like a dog in the doorway. “Hardly,” Loki snapped, casting a disparaging look in the speaker’s direction. He felt a snarl curl at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his brother spilling from the tiny yellow raincoat. “And you look ridiculous.” Loki sat abruptly on the bench, turning his attention to the rabbits. He divided them out. Three for himself, two for Thor. His brother was slower. Always had been. “It was rude,” Thor repeated, squeezing himself to the bench on the other side of the sad bundle. Loki slid a small hunting knife over in silence. Hadn’t used them in years, he realised.
Not years, Loki thought. Centuries.
Perhaps more. The shuffle of fur coming skilfully away from muscle rustled the air.
“You’ll never win her back being like that, you know” Thor murmured, drawing the knife respectfully around the rabbit’s hindquarters. Loki scoffed in spite of himself.
“Who says I wish to win her back?” he huffed, laying the first completed rabbit on a clean cloth by his side. Despite stoic intent, he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s incredulous stare.
“What?” Loki said sharply.
Thor released a theatrical shrug, rabbit swinging. “Oh I don’t know brother-” he started, laden with sarcasm.
“Something about your perpetual hangdog expression, insufferable lovelorn mooning and thwarted midnight attempts at seduction led me to believe there could perhaps be something more at play.” He tapped the half-skinned rabbit against his temple. “Not just a helmet-hold, brother” he drawled.
“It was barely ten pm,” Loki muttered petulantly, busying his hands. They continued in silence, before Thor cleared his throat. “What did you wish to speak to me about, if not that?” “It was that, you cretin. But I wish not to discuss it anymore.” “Your feelings for her?” “They have never been in question, brother. You know that.” “Yes.” “Well.” Loki snapped with finality. “Well?” “Her feelings towards me. Her concerns, the ones that broke us...she was, right.” He faltered, grateful for the pause Thor held while he gathered his thoughts. “She told me I was hurting her, and I cared not. And I know not why. At the time, her protestations seemed unreasonable.”
The confession hung around his neck like a ceremonial amulet. Heavy, powerful. “And now?” his brother probed quietly, concentrating on his work.
“Who am I, Thor?” Loki whispered, peeling the fur back from the delicate soul in his hands before stopping. “Who am I if not who I have been for centuries? Millennia?”
“People change, Loki” Thor said quietly, reaching for his brother’s hand. Loki looked up, brows peaked softly.
“But brother, we are not ‘people’. Are we?” Thor was silent. Sympathy swam in the depths of his eyes, darkened by the gloom of the cabin. Rain hit the roof. Loki was glad of it, filling the empty silence. “I’m trying,” was all Loki could muster.
“I’ve noticed,” Thor replied cautiously. “As has she, I suspect. But the palace of Asgard was not built in a day.” “She kissed me,” Loki hummed quietly, staring at the bundle in his lap. “This morning.” “Ah,” his brother hummed mysteriously.
The blonde drew his hand away from where it sat atop Loki’s. He flipped the knife, inspecting the ornate handle. “Do you remember when father gave us these?” he said thoughtfully, a smile stretching across his face. Loki frowned, gazing at his own knife. “The summer with the-” “- Haugan sisters.” They both paused, sighing simultaneously at the wall. Thor shook his head, waving nostalgia from the air. “Father said that they symbolised our transition to maturity. Protection, sustenance, a connection to our roots Loki.” Loki closed his eyes, summoning the memory. The grass was long that endless summer, a log cabin with a stone chimney that dwarfed the exterior. A cabin that had no right to be where it was – and yet, “Loki?” He opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s. In that moment, they could have been three-hundred again.
The blonde god flipped the knife back to position. “Your problem, brother, is that you spend too much time worrying about what you think you should be, rather than what you are.” “And what am I, brother?” Loki bristled, laying his second rabbit down by the side.
“Someone who’s afraid to be loved” Thor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the final tug of fur from his charge. “Ah-Ha!” he smiled, turning. “Thank you,” Loki said quietly, cradling the offering and placing it with the others.
“All she wants,” Thor murmured, his concentration fixed on the second rabbit in his lap, “is you. The real you. The one that I know. But maybe one who listens better. And not the mural version, or the lore from battle tales...” He paused, before a sly grin stretched his lips. “Well, perhaps sometimes...if you catch my drift.”
"What if he is not enough?" Loki whispered. He wasn't sure if Thor heard him.
His brother's face had become serious again. He was on a roll. “To feel that your lover sees himself as superior to you in every way? Takes any opportunity to remind one of that? To never try to adapt to a reasonable request? I can see how it can become tiresome.” He shook his head, frowning. “Mother would never have put up with that nonsense. Why should she?”
“Indeed,” Loki muttered softly. He placed his third rabbit to the side as a sigh rattled his chest. His brother was making far too much sense for his liking these days. “Fear not, brother” Thor rumbled as he leant over, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I have a cunning plan. A kiss this morning is most welcome news.” “It was a strange situation. She knew not what she did- it would not have ended well, it-”
Loki’s eyes widened in horror, realisation blossoming. “A cunning what-?” There was a knock on the hut door.
Suddenly, Loki realised that the rain had stopped. Your face popped around the corner. Loki straightened, wiping his hands on his Barbour.
“Steve and I are driving into town” you said, casting glances between the gods sitting hunched on the rotten bench. “Want to come?” Thor propped his fists beneath his chin, smiling obscenely. “Oh, please, brother!?” Loki thought about rolling his eyes, before stopping himself. He pursed his lips instead. “Certainly. Although I am surprised considering-” “We’ll be ‘undercover’, obviously” you cut with air-quotes, glancing backwards. “Apparently Steve needs something from the shops. He seems a bit flustered. The nearest one is pretty small but…” Your head disappeared again, only delicate fingers remaining curled around the door’s ragged edge. He had the sudden urge to protect them from rogue splinters. Loki frowned, noting an impish smile had worryingly taken up residence on his brother's face. “-Yes, I’ll...yes I’ll tell them.” Loki and Thor looked to each other warily, before you appeared again. “Steve says wash your hands,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “And lose the yellow slicker” you nodded to Thor.
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From the assortment of abandoned jackets hanging bushel-like in the hallway, they had managed to find one for Thor that wasn’t quite as conspicuous. The 3XL puffer jacket spread around him like a navy cloud.
Steve turned abruptly, eyeing Thor and Loki in the back of the Fiat. A hiss squeezed from the puffer every time Thor fidgeted. “Where am I supposed to put my legs?” Loki muttered scathingly. “This thing has gotten smaller since the drive here.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of magic-” he said, taking his time. “It seems that some of my personal items have gone missing.” Loki glanced at his brother, brows peaked as Steve continued. Thor’s gaze wandered out the window, following a passing bird. “We need to pick up some supplies, like bacon – that’s the cover with her,” he thumbed backwards, “since someone ate the whole week's ration.” Steve’s judgemental gaze swung towards a distracted Thor.
“But on the sly, keep your peepers open for some…” he cast a wary glance out the front windscreen, seeing you locking up the cottage. “-Unmentionables.” “Condoms?” Loki quipped factitiously. Steve flushed. “No, Laufeyson” he hissed, tone frantic as you crunched towards the car. “Rogers underwear has mysteriously vanished, brother” Thor chuckled. “One minute they were lined up in the suitcase, all thirty-six pairs. The next-” he made a whooshing gesture. “Thirty-six?” Loki mouthed incredulously. “Christ, Rogers. Did you intend on soiling yourself thrice daily?” The god twisted towards his smirking brother. “What did you do to them?” “Me? Tis not I who suspicion has fallen on, brother” Thor gasped, pressing his fingers innocently to his chest. Loki rolled his eyes, and this time – he meant it. “Well it wasn’t me.” Loki huffed, folding his arms as Steve’s stare pinballed between them. “I have better things to do. And besides, what fetid joy would I gain from such a waste of-”
You pulled the car handle with a jerk, noting all three men inside bristle and straighten in a way that could be considered nothing short of suspicious.
“Everything okay?” you murmured, settling into the driver’s seat. They nodded in silence.
Thor’s jacket hissed.
“That better not be a parp, Odinson” Steve muttered, followed by the low buzz of a lowering window. You adjusted the mirror, meeting Loki’s eyes and quickly looking away. “Okay,” you sighed to yourself. “Let’s do this.”
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The comforting Tesco Express sign glowed in mid-afternoon gloom.
It was barely three, and yet it may as well be sundown. Clouds still smothered the sky, hanging low and ominous over the town’s uneven rooftops. You pulled into a parking spot outside, thanking the powers that be it was quiet. Steve cleared his throat, digging into the breast of his raincoat. He produced four mismatched caps, jamming one low on his brow before handing out the rest. “I don’t think I need to remind you to exercise caution. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and if anyone asks – we’re just four pals from out of town here for some good ol’ fashioned cottaging.” You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t mean what you-” “May we begin this expedition so that it might end sooner?” Loki drawled. With no warning, Thor farted.
The captain’s eyes widened. “Get out...get out!” he gagged. It was the fastest evacuation of a hatchback you had ever witnessed. Thor was last, his cheeks pink. “All the bacon,” he explained sheepishly while pushing the seat forward. You took Thor’s arm, letting the puff of his jacket warm your chilled fingers. While the god’s wide eyes inspected the snack chiller inside the door, you saw a non-nonchalant Loki meander straight to the checkout followed by a jumpy Steve.
The captain hung back, picking up a packet of gingerbread men and inspecting it over a pair of sunglasses.
Loki drummed his fingers on the counter, smiling wryly as a member of staff appeared from the back. “Hi, with you in one second-” they said, holding up a finger before disappearing again. Loki murmured pleasantries, adjusting the cap holding the stuff of his hair. “What are you doing?!” Steve hissed. Loki caught a musty waft of his own waxed jacket as he turned, shooting Rogers a perishing glare.
“You’re the one that has us looking as though we intend to rob the place. Hush,” Loki hissed back. Steve snapped back to the nutritional information as the Tesco worker re-surfaced. “Sorry about that,” they said.
Loki released a dazzling forced smile. “Do you happen to have any mens undergarments in this” he raised his palms, searching for an accurate descriptor, “place?” The man on the other side of the counter frowned. “Like, underwear? No...you’d need to go to one of the bigger stores for that kind of thing.” Loki stared at him. “There’s one in Millom?” the man added nervously, making the sides of Loki’s eyes crinkle before his features softened. “I see,” he purred, tilting his head. “How unfortunate.” “Anything else I can help with?” the mortal asked. Loki sighed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels.
“One package of,” he squinted at the shelf behind the counter. “Durex Extra Safe, if you would.” The heat from Steve’s cheeks radiated the short distance from the bakery display. There was the squeak of a shoe, the telling crack of biscuit as the captain’s sensibilities floundered. Behind the counter, the man turned without a second thought, reaching up before glancing back. “Pack of three or pack of twelve?” he asked.
Loki smirked. “Pack of three or pack of twelve, darling?” he crooned to Steve, whose face had flushed an alarming shade of beetroot. He turned back to face the cashier. “Pack of twelve.” Loki winked.
You couldn’t hear what what transpiring at the check-out, but the shade of Steve’s skin gave the distinct impression it wasn’t on script. The oblivious shop worker reached up, bringing down a box and handing it to Loki who parted with a crisp twenty pound note. Where did he get cash, you thought; before realising what the box was. Are those...
“Agent, look-” Thor exclaimed beside you as he held out an oblong package. “Party Rings,” he said smugly, “If ever there was a snack made for I, tis this – surely.” You muttered a quick uh-huh, stalking down the aisle to where blustery Steve was busying himself picking up a random assortment of foodstuffs piled high in his arms. “Steve?” you said warily as you removed three packets of bacon and a tub of yoghurt. It revealed his face, still flushed and sweaty.
“Laufeyson bought...prophylactics,” Steve rasped as his eyes darted around the empty aisle.
“I saw,” you responded sympathetically while the captain shook his head. “In broad daylight too” he added, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder.
The increasingly erotic scent of waxed Barbour jacket filled your nostrils. “Got everything?” your ex quipped. Steve’s lips flapped, forming words that didn’t come. He released a goose-like hiss instead. You quickly unloaded the rest of the groceries from his hands, spilling them into Thor’s basket just as he parked himself beside you. “What’s happening?” Thor said. Crumbs from a ravaged pack of Party Rings clung to his beard. Loki continued, unperturbed.
“I’m sorry they didn’t have your unmentionables, Rogers. But nevermind – not a totally wasted trip.” He tossed the box of condoms to Steve who caught them out of instinct. “Oh, Extra Safe – excellent choice,” Thor rumbled far too loudly. “And a necessity, for my brother and I – nothing else seems to hold the force of our seed without making quite the mess-” he cast a knowing glance to you. “She knows,” he winked. Steve looked between the gods, aghast. Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his pocket, taking a casual bite. “Are you the same, Rogers?” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I imagine you must be with all that super-whatjit-serum business.” There was silence. “Oh, right” Thor laughed awkwardly. “Well, you never know...this trip might be the one.” He slapped Steve on the back, chortling.
“Stop calling me Rogers…” Rogers whispered. He looked like he was in shock, staring at the pack of twelve condoms in his hands. “Someone might…” Steve’s face paled as catastrophic images fell into place inside his head. A picture of him on the homepage of every gossip site there was, holding a box of French Letters in Tesco Express like a pervert. He stuffed them in his pocket.
“Let’s pay for this stuff and go.” he said firmly.
“Excuse me?” a voice creaked from further up the aisle. The four of you broke your huddle, battle-stances activated.
An old man shuffled closer, the tap of his walking stick echoing on the polished floor. “What should we do, Agent?” Thor muttered out the corner of his mouth. Your face softened, looking the geriatric up and down. “He’s clean, just an old dude,” you said. Steve tutted beside you. “Could be a disguise.” “A disguise?!” you hissed. “Excuse me, are you-” the old man started, before stopping in a haze of coughing. You began to step towards him, but Steve’s arm flew out to stop you. Four sets of eyes watched the man pick up pace, rubber end of his cane tap tap tapping on the floor as his crinkled gaze widened. It swept between the tall figures before him. Recognition. “Code Amber. Breach. Do something normal,” Steve whispered in panic. Without missing a beat, Thor lifted a sandwich carton from the basket and held in front of his face.
You turned, colliding with Loki’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he growled as he yanked you around the end of the aisle.
Before you could protest, he had you caged against a row of toilet paper. Matt plastic packaging cushioned the back of your head while Loki’s forearm pressed against the face of a sweet looking puppy. “This is normal... isn’t it?” Loki breathed, eyes flickering nervously from your shocked expression to where Steve was checking the expiry date on milk.
You stared up at him, fighting the urge to inhale deeply against the hollow of his neck with all your strength. Pine and smoked cedarwood and that fucking wax jacket. Loki's throat bobbed, working anxiously as the elderly gentleman bypassed the strange man holding a sandwich in front of his eyes. He was gaining on Steve. He's actually worried, you realised. “Move, Rogers” Loki grit, frowning as the intruder finally tapped an undercover captain on the shoulder. The god's eyes widened earnestly. It made you want to sink onto your knees.
The bow of Loki’s jawline was strained, veins tight and pulsing like they did when he was about to cum down your throat; his eyes pleading and needy, mouth open and- You swallowed. Letting your fingers clasp around the rough material of his open jacket, you tugged it gently. “It’s just an old man,” you whispered. Loki tilted his head, seemingly just realising the position he had manoeuvred you into. A gulp made his throat stiffen, then relax.
“Two old men,” he hummed, mirth warming his eyes. You smiled, and so did he.
Loki shuffled closer, his breath mingling with yours. He glanced towards the scene unfolding one aisle over, wetted lips hovering dangerously close to your own.
“Update,” he purred playfully, “the decrepit man has asked Rogers to get something from a high shelf. He has obliged.”
You pursed your lips with an approving nod, hoping Loki couldn’t smell the adrenaline seeping through your pores. “And my brother is still the village madman.”
A giggle escaped you, before the pad of Loki’s index finger smothered it gently. He leant close, your foreheads touching conspiratorially as silent laughter made his chest shake. His mouth creased in a soft smile, rolling the bottom lip beneath the top. “Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he murmured in a way that made your soul leave your body. You wondered if he was hardening beneath his trousers right now. He would have, before. Maybe – if last night was anything to go by. But your awkward kiss this morning flashed back with frightening clarity, the hard look in his eyes as he said the only word that ever seemed to matter. Go. Don't be an idiot, you thought bitterly. Your hands slipped from their rest on his jacket, catching briefly on his belt. Loki watched them fall.
“Me in trouble,” he corrected, face stiffening. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Thor’s face peered around the corner, a half eaten ploughman’s sandwich in his grasp. “Time to leave before Rogers goes into cardiac arrest,” he chuckled, nudging his head towards Steve loitering jerkily by the door.
“Can you pay for these?” Thor said, holding out the basket. Empty packets lay nestled amongst the survivors. “You’re the least famous.” You rolled your eyes, nodding up towards Loki. “That sounds like something he would say,” you quipped without thinking. Loki’s brow furrowed. He let the protective arm resting above your head fall without a second glance, striding the long way around towards the exit. Thor took another bite of sandwich. He shrugged, before following his brother. But he didn’t, you thought with a stab of guilt as the three of them disappeared into the street.
The glow of the Fiat’s lock lights flashed. He didn’t.
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--> Continued in Chapter Five, A Cunning Plan
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1981, the Space Shuttle Columbia lands on Rogers Dry Lake at Edwards Air Force Base
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straywords · 1 year
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In The Mountains XVII
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Dark! Steve Rogers x Reader x Dark! Bucky Barnes
Your vacation with your friends at a Swiss chalet is disrupted by your fateful encounter with two strangers.
Series Masterlist || Stucky Masterlist
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The brightness of winter’s sun sears your eyelids as you stir awake. You climb out of the covers, birdsong filling your ears. The remnants of sleep are nudged away by a sluggish blink.
For a moment, your mind lets yourself forget where you are. No thoughts floating in your head. No emotions bursting inside your chest.
A blessed lack of awareness as the morning light caresses your face.
You bask in it for a while.
…Until the wide, muscular arm clutching your waist harshly reminds you. 
This isn’t your home. This isn’t your bed. It’s theirs.
"Hm, ’morning, doll," Bucky groggily mumbles, his arm around you tightening as he wakes.
Steve’s on the other side of you, his warm, broad chest pressed against your back. You supposed at some point they snuck into the bed too, and you were too tired to even notice. 
The thought unsettles you deeply. Somehow you didn’t register your captors were in the bed with you. Somehow you fell into peaceful slumber between the two of them.
Sickness swells in your gut. 
You pry Bucky’s arm off you and clamber off the sheets, awkward as you stumble to the doorway.
Steve’s concerned voice trails behind you. 
"Sweetie?"
"I’m sorry…" you mumble, not sparing any of them a glance as you make a beeline to the toilet near the bathroom.
Wiping the tears spilling over your cheeks, you grip your temple as the headache mounts. You slump against the wall before sinking to the floor. You wince. It’s as if a hammer keeps pounding away at your skull. 
As soon as you reach it, you keel over the porcelain bowl and dry heave over the edge. Your knuckles strain, mind spinning and throbbing with the motion. Tears flood your gaze as your stomach burns.
When you rise, you lean against the nearby sink, turning on the faucet to wash your mouth. 
As a large hand clasps around your shoulder, you jolt in shock. 
Your lips part as Steve crouches in front of you. He drapes his fingers over your forehead. Your eyes flee his, focusing on the tight shirt that stretches thinly over his broad, muscular chest. 
"You’re burning, sweetie. You have a fever," he says. "You should stay in bed today."
This summons a wrinkle on your brow. 
"I don’t…don’t tell me what to…" you weakly object. 
Groaning, you push yourself into a shaky stance, flattening your hand on the wall as you struggle to stand. 
Steve sweeps you in his arms before your body can crumple. 
"Hey, I’ve got you, sweetheart." 
The sweetness dripping from his inflection irks you, frustration peeking inside you. 
You’ve hardly been on your own two feet these last two days. 
You feel weak, spineless. The very picture of the girl they felt they could just take and hide from the world. 
Less than.
Every time you plummet into their embrace, unable to carry your own body, you are proving them right. 
You shove against his chest. It’s useless of course. Steve’s an immovable object and you….You’re nothing. 
Crushed by defeat, you sag against him. 
"Don’t," you mumble.
Steve tuts, a frown creasing his stern brow. 
"Sweetheart, you fell into a frozen lake and spent the night in a cold basement. What you need is to stay in bed."
You snort. How convenient that he skipped the part where he and Bucky fucked you senseless and bent your body to their whim for an entire night. 
He strides back towards the bedroom, his steps smooth and easy. Panic clutches your chest as your pulse drums in your ears.
"I don’t need this," you say, tugging the fabric of his shirt. 
He gently eases you on the bed and you reluctantly let him. Your worried gaze darts to Bucky’s side of the bed, relief pulsing through you when empty wrinkled sheets grace your sight instead. 
Once he’s made sure you’re comfortable beneath the blankets, Steve’s hand brushes against your cheek. The brief touch makes the hairs on your nape rise. You flinch.
"Hey, let us take care of you. It’s okay," he coos.
A trembling exhale leaves your lips. Not a single aspect of this is okay. Not even their gentle words or soft touches. 
The day is strange, spent tucked in bed as Steve and Bucky unfalteringly dote on you. They bring you food and constantly check your temperature, bringing ice packs when the fever runs too high. 
Every minute of it is torture. A sick farce of domesticity. 
You’re only grateful for the slight delirium that allows you ephemeral respites, blessed breaks from reality. 
By the end of the day, you feel better, having spent most of it curled in bed, sleeping and crying, neither of them bothering you outside of checking on you. 
If you were naive, you’d think Bucky meant what he said, that they regret what they did, that they care. 
But you recognize it all for what it is. Trickery. 
Soon their patience will run out, and they’ll go back to demanding more from you. It’s only a matter of time before it happens again. 
A chill spreads across your spine. 
Ash and Sabri’s desperate faces flash through your mind. They are counting on you. You need to get up. 
You shove the blanket away and climb off the bed, mind clearer than it’s been in days. You have one goal and, despite how much your skin crawls at the prospect, you can’t stall forever. 
Taking a deep breath, your focus travels to the windows. The purple and orange hues of the sky tell you the day is near its end. 
As you take tentative steps around the bedroom, Steve’s authoritative baritone startles you. "You shouldn’t rush into it, sweetheart," he suggests. 
A shaky inhale drags through your throat as you meet his tall frame, occupying most of the door’s expanse. He’s leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded over his chest, his sharp gaze gauging you. 
Tension knots in your belly. Steve’s suggestions are often closer to orders. 
Gulping down your fear, tremulous words depart from your lips.
"I feel strong enough." You lift your eyes to his as you nudge resoluteness into your tone. "I want to get up and walk on my own."
Steve remains impassive at that, watching you as your attention roams about the room. 
"Where’s my suitcase?" you cautiously inquire. "I’d like to put on some clothes…please." The last word clumsily staggers from your mouth when you note the slight tick in Steve’s chiseled jaw. 
"We tossed it away," he casually answers.
Your jaw hangs slacks. "What?"
Steve’s arms unfold as he takes relaxed steps towards you. 
Once he’s standing before you, he cradles your face, his cerulean stare diving into yours. "Come on, sweetheart. You don’t need it anymore."
A long exhale quakes out of your lips as you swallow a fresh surge of tears. You don’t want to cry again. There’s been enough of that today.
"But that's all I had."
Sure, they won’t allow you to travel again anytime soon…but it was the last vestige of your old life, your real life, not this nightmare you got sucked into. 
Steve’s thumbs glide along your cheeks. 
"It’s time for you to move on, sweetie."
You blink at him, your lip wobbling. "W-What about my passport?"
You knew it was a ludicrous inquiry the very second it left your lips. Still, you couldn't help it. 
Steve smirks, his head slanting. 
"Sweetheart, you’re a smart girl. Do you really think you’ll ever need one again?"
Your stomach sinks with his remark, the finality of it casting more dark clouds over your already somber thoughts. 
Somewhere deep down, you surmised all those things. You expected them to come. Still, it doesn’t make any of it less awful.
Giving a slow, shaky nod, you ask after a while, "Can I have some clothes, please?"
"Of course."
To your relief, Steve lets go of your face, disappearing inside the closet as you fidget in your spot. He comes back holding a mustard sweater dress and wool thigh high socks. Your eyes bulge at the lack of underwear but you don’t comment on it, accepting the clothes when he hands them out to you. 
"I’m not hearing a thank you," Steve warns, fingers clamping around your wrists as you try to back away. 
Your heart leaps. A quivering smile blooms on your lips. 
Expectedly, he doesn’t grant you a modicum of privacy, watching you peel off the night shirt in favor of the oversized sweater dress and high, warm socks.
"Thank you, Steve," you chirp. 
His smile expands at your response.
He approaches you when you’re done, humming in approval as he studies you. 
"I have something to show you, sweetheart," he announces, wresting your hand in his and already dragging you away. 
Your brows draw together, your pulse picking up. The elation bleeding in his smooth timbre inspires you nothing but dread and mistrust. 
Quietly shaking behind him, you let Steve lead you through the house. 
He takes you to your former bedroom, pausing to toss a broad grin at you as his huge hand wraps around the doorknob. 
You suck in a lungful of nerve, preparing yourself for the worst.
When he pushes the door open, your mouth drops in shock. 
They indeed reconverted the bedroom; Bucky wasn’t lying. 
It’s more practical you suppose, since they won’t let you leave their bed anyways. 
"Do you like it?" Bucky asks, from his spot in the corner of the room near the window. This one too, he made sure to board up with wooden beams. It surprises you that there aren’t iron bars blotting out the sunlight as well. 
You soak in the room, the new furniture, the freshly painted walls. Your gaze lingers on the bookshelves nailed into the walls, artfully carved and brimming with books. History books, fantasy and fairy tales. Only your favorites. Of course. 
Next, you peer at the cozy sitting space, built right into the wall, fluffy pillows scattered across it. 
Finally, your eyes land on…the wooden crib. 
It’s in a further corner of the room, by far the prettiest and most elaborately carved piece of furniture in the repurposed room. 
Stars and moons gently sway above the empty space hemmed in by light wooden bars. 
Your heart collapses on itself.
Their excitement coats the air, stifling the air in your lungs. An horrified, gut-curling shriek threatens to unfurl in your throat. You quell it with a false, wobbly smile. 
"It looks nice," you offer. 
Lying is useless; they’ll see right through it. Best to pretend you're trying, yielding to their twisted dream, embracing the nightmare. 
You giggle softly. "I’m not huge on all the pink though."
Bucky beams at you, grabbing your hands and pulling you further inside the room. Your feet sizzle with the irrational, reckless urge to run away. 
"We can repaint. It’s not a problem. Whatever you want, doll."
A sardonic laugh nearly escapes the confine of your tight mouth. 
Whatever you want. Sure. 
You acquiesce, cheeks hurting as the corners of your lips stretch to their limit. "Great. That’s…really great, Bucky."
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I do not have a taglist but you can follow @straytales and turn on notifications to know when I update.
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theodoresgirl · 5 months
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PLEASE write more cheshire!fem!reader x Killian Jones 🙏🏻
i loved it sm. i’m actually quacking. (i was the one who requested it!!)
Maybe this time, he meets her again and there’s like a strong tension between them and reader is saying strange things and he just wants her to stop so he kisses her!!🤭🤭
and if your comfortable with it, the kiss leads to smut? if not, then fluff is great too!!
Just shut up - Killian Jones x Cheshire Cat!Reader
Killian Jones x Fem!Reader a/n: im sorry it took over a month and that its not good. Im sorry TnT
Part 1
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Y/n had found a portal back in Wonderland and got curious, The portal transferred her from Wonderland to Storybrooke. Though not the way she would’ve guessed.
She screams as she falls from the sky, She luckily lands in the lake next to the docks. She shoots up out of the water screeching, She looks around paddling towards the docks. “So cold, so cold” She repeated as she grabbed the edge of the dock and pulled herself up. It was freezing, It was the middle of winter, and It was probably -20 degrees in that water. She groans and stands up ringing out her clothes' excess fabric out. “Water. It had to be water. I hate water.” She mumbles and starts to curse under her breath, shivering. 
“I hope you don’t mean that. It’s better when it's on a boat, and not 5 degrees outside..” Y/n looked up hearing a familiar voice from one of the boats docked. Killian stepped off his boat walking over to her with a towel. “Cats don’t like water, Captain.. Sorry to break the news to you.” She shivered looking at the towel and at Killian. “Such a shame.” He shrugs and unfolds the towel. “Where did you come from then, love?” 
“I feel through the sky.. And landed in a body of water. ” She looked at Killian still shivering. He wrapped the towel around her and rubbed her arms with his hand and hook. “This’ll dry you off some..” She rubs her upper arms trying to get warm. “Okay, come on. Let's get you new clothes and a warm shower.” Killian grabs her by her belt using his hook and walks towards his ship. 
She blinks following along not wanting to be cold anymore. “So Cap, This is where you live?” She asked, grinning trying to think of a pun to make. “Not at the moment. I’ve been staying in a room above a diner, The cold isn’t pleasant to sleep in.” Killian unhooks y/n and steps onto the Jolly Roger to grab a bag, He steps off the ship before placing the arm with his hook behind y/n and gilding her to town. “Is that where we are going then?” “Yeah, It's got warm water, and you’ll be able to get a room for as long as you need it, Granny is a sucker for helping new people.” 
Killian and Y/n walked into town, Y/n was as cold and frozen as an ice cube. They headed up to his room to clean y/n up before going to eat and get a room. Killian opened his door and y/n walked in going straight for the shower. Killian tossed his bag onto a table and went to the dresser. He starts to rummage through the drawers looking for some clothes y/n could wear temporarily til he could get one of the girls to take her shopping. 
Killian took out a black Poets shirt and some sort of comfy pants he’d never worn. He walked over to the couch in the room he’d paid for and laid out the clothes for her. He could hear the shower turn on, He walked over to his bed and laid down to wait for y/n to take a shower. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, He began to let his mind wander through scenarios of what would happen once she got out. His heart started to race as he pictured her in his clothes.
He didn’t hear her turn the water off and walk out of the bathroom. “Are these mine cap?” Y/n spoke, picking up the shirt. Killian sits up looking at Y/n in just a towel. Her hair was stuck to her wet skin, skin shimmering against the light. He nodded, not saying anything, What was he gonna say? You look amazing with your hair sticking to your back. That sounds crazy.
Y/n looks over at Killian, “Stuck in your imagination?” Killian shakes his head snapping back, “Not at all. Yes, those are yours.” Killian gets up and runs his hand through his hair. Y/n slips the shirt on as she drops the towel. “Imagination is the only weapon in the war with reality.” Y/n looks over at Killian who is facing the wall, His heart is racing. “Hmm?-” He turns around to look at y/n. Y/n holds the pants in her hands and grins talking in riddles. Killians' eyes twitch a bit, “Just put the pants on so we can go eat.” He walks past her into the bathroom to splash his face with water. Y/n slips the pants on and ties it so they stay up. Killian walks out of the bathroom, and heads to the door. Y/n followed behind him continuing talking in riddles or rhymes.
Killian takes Y/n to Granny's diner to order food to go. Then grabbing a room key for Y/n. They headed back to Killian's room to eat.
Killian opens the door to his room and Y/n rushes inside and over to the couch. “Giveeee! It smells delicioussss.” Y/n licks her lips looking at the bag that holds the food. Killian shuts the door and walks over to the couch and table, He puts down on the couch setting the bag on the table. Y/n grabs the bag and takes their food out while Killian takes his boots off. 
Y/n started to eat, Finally keeping her mouth shut. Killian grabs his food and leans back to eat. It was quiet while they ate. Killian ordered a burger with ketchup, Pickles, lettuce, and cheese. Y/n ordered chicken strips with fries and ranch.
Killian finishes his burger and gets up walks to the window and opens it a bit. “A little hot there captain?” She smirks. He looks over at her, Not saying anything, he knows he can’t lie to her, and He can’t admit she was right. “Captain?” She raised an eyebrow still smirking. “Captainnn~” She kept taunting him by repeating his name. 
“Something isn't working up there love'' Killian rubbed his temples, Y/n climbed over the couch and walked closer to him, “If you haven’t noticed I’m not all there, Captain~” She tapped her head loving how irritated he seemed. Killian glared at her before filling the leftover space between them and kissing her. She hesitates for a second before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing back. He puts his hand on her waist and his hook brushes the skin on her collarbone, The cold metal meeting her warm skin. She shivered at the touch.
He breaks the kiss and pulls back licking his lips. Grining, She pulls back “So i’m guessing you were in your imagination earlier.” Killian kisses her again before answering her with a nod. “You have no idea love.” “Why not show me.” She kisses him, deeper this time. 
She moves her hands to his chest and pushes him towards the bed. He backs up towards the bed and sits down still kissing y/n. Her arms return to hanging around his neck. She stands between his legs pressing against him. He pulls down the oversized pants she had on, She steps out of the pants and kicks them away. She unbuttons his jeans and belt, He stands up picking her up and putting her on the bed before pulling his jeans and boxers down.
He breaks the kiss and starts kissing her neck, as she moves her hands to the bottom of his shirt and pulls it off him. “Want me to stop-” before he could finish his sentence she cut him off. “Killian just shut up.”
Killian strokes himself before lining  himself up with her entrance, “You're the one who rhymes.” She rolled her eyes opening her mouth to say something but let out a gasp as he pushed in. He kisses her deeply, holding still for a minute while she adjusts. 
He starts to thrust continuing to kiss her, Both running short of air. They break the kiss both catching their breaths. He holds his hand on her waist and plays with her hair using his hook. She smirks, blushing, Her heart was racing. He continues thrusting, She places her hands on his shoulders gripping tightly. 
She moans, leaning her head back arching her back. He puts his hook on her waist. "Love, you are absolutely breathtaking." Killian complimented her. She grins before moaning. She raised an arm to grab her hair and hold it above her head. Killian and her continued for awhile until they both hit climax. 
“K-Killian” She gasps arching her back cumming, 
         Killian moans, He keeps thrusting before pulling out and releasing on her lower stomach. He plops down next to her, Both of them were panting heavily. “I like it when you say my name.” He smiles.
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usafphantom2 · 7 months
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7 September 1956. The X-2 launch altitude was 30,000 feet. After the fuel was exhausted, the X-2 glided to a touchdown on Rogers Dry Lake at Edwards Air Force Base.
@ron_eisele via X
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lonestarflight · 9 months
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"The second free-flight test of an evolving series of X-38 prototypes took place July 10, 2001 when the X-38 was released from NASA's B-52 mothership over the Edwards Air Force Base range in California's Mojave Desert. Shortly after the photo was taken, a sequenced deployment of a drogue parachute followed by a large parafoil fabric wing slowed the X-38 to enable it to land safely on Rogers Dry Lake at Edwards. NASA engineers from the Dryden Flight Research Center at Edwards, and the Johnson Space Center, Houston, Texas, are developing a 'lifeboat' for the International Space Station based on X-38 research."
Date: July 10, 2001
NASA ID: EC01-0204-2
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NASA Armstrong updates 1960s concept to study giant planets
NASA researchers are looking at the possibility of using a wingless, unpowered aircraft design from the 1960s to gather atmospheric data on other planets—doing the same work as small satellites but potentially better and more economically.
John Bodylski, a principal investigator at NASA's Armstrong Flight Research Center in Edwards, California, hypothesized a lifting body aircraft design NASA tested decades ago could meet the requirements for an atmospheric probe that can collect measurements of giant planets, like Uranus. The design relies on the aircraft's shape for lift, rather than wings.
Bodylski submitted his idea and earned a NASA Armstrong Center Innovation Fund award to write a technical paper explaining the concept and design. The award also supports construction of models to help people conceptualize his atmospheric probe. Enter the NASA Armstrong Dale Reed Subscale Flight Research Laboratory.
Robert "Red" Jensen and Justin Hall, two of the lab's designers, technicians, and pilots, brought Bodylski's designs to life. Jensen and Hall created a mold, then layered in carbon-fiber and foam that cured for eight hours under vacuum. The parts were removed from the molds, refined, and later joined together.
The first of the two lifting body aircraft, both of which are 27.5 inches long, and 24 inches wide, is complete and offers a first look at the concept. The second aircraft is almost ready and includes hinged flight control surfaces. Flight controls systems connected to those surfaces will be mounted inside the structure before the model's final assembly.
Together, the two models can test Bodylski's ideas and provide flight data for creating better computer models. In the future, those computer models could help researchers built atmospheric probes based on those designs. Bodylski's concept called for sending the aircraft on missions attached to satellites. Once in the orbit of a planet, the probe aircraft—about the same size as the models—would separate from the satellite through pyrotechnic bolts, deploying in the atmosphere to collect data for study.
Current atmospheric probes, small satellites known as CubeSats, gather and transmit data for about 40 minutes and can take in approximately 10 data points before their parent satellite is out of range. Bodylski's design could descend more rapidly and at a steeper angle, collecting the same information in 10 minutes, plus additional data for another 30 minutes from much deeper in a thick atmosphere.
Following a series of technical briefings and flight readiness reviews, the aircraft is expected to fly in March 2024. It will fly as a glider air-launched from a cradle attached to rotorcraft often used by the lab. Future tests could include powered flight depending on what data researchers determine they need.
"We are looking to take an idea to flight and show that a lifting body aircraft can fly as a probe at this scale—that it can be stable, that components can be integrated into the probe, and that the aircraft can achieve some amount of lift," Bodylski said.
IMAGE....The lifting body aircraft on Rogers Dry Lake, near what is now NASA’s Armstrong Flight Research Center in Edwards, California, include, from left, the X-24A, the M2-F3, and the HL-10. Credit: NASA
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daydream-cement · 1 year
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The Cedars Have Eyes Ch. 7
Characters: Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)
Synopsis: The Council of Cedars offers Fern more clarity.
Authors Note: Ugh, I'm such a dummy. I thought the Wednesday series was set in New Jersey, but it's actually Vermont. The animated movies are New Jersey and the vintage series and musical is New York. Can they quit movin' it around? Apologies for the continuity errors that now exist within past chapters. Great news though, New Jersey share the plant communities that I have based this writing on.
Is this chapter better or worse? Am I being too descriptive?
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Your dream that night was different, in fact.
You were walking in the forest near Nevermore. It was quite peaceful. It was sunset and a beautiful golden hue filled the forest. This was why you loved the woods so much. You knew right away you were in a white cedar swamp.
I hope this is what my heaven is like, you think to yourself.
You look down at your shoes and smile. You are wearing your rubber boots. Even dream you knew to wear the boots in a white cedar forest. You keep walking, stepping carefully, the ground shifting beneath your feet. It was like walking on a waterbed. You were in a peatland. Here one wrong step could send your foot through the moss, filling your boot with water.
Your eyes are glued to the forest floor, watching the understory plants as you pass them. Ferns. Many different species of ferns. It made you feel at home. Your mother always told you, 'Ferns are one of the oldest and wisest of plant species, developing long before trees and flowers."
You keep walking, noticing a break in the trees ahead. Odd. Once you reach it, you see a wide circle of cedar trees with no plants growing in or around them. How strange.
They couldn't be naturally occurring. Someone had to have planted them like that. You feel uncomfortable entering the ring of trees, so you walk along the outside of the circle. In all your observations, you notice that one tree is planted a few feet backwards, creating an odd curvature in an otherwise perfect circle.
12. There are 12 cedars here. The Council of 12 Cedars.
------
You had the pleasure of waking up with Larissa's head on your chest. She hadn't moved far all night, keeping herself glued to your side. You keep still. You weren't going to wake her or leave after last nights revelations. The rise and fall of her chest against you was a sensation that caused you to close your eyes, wanting to remember it forever.
When Larissa awoke, she crawled up higher, placing her face in your neck wordlessly. You pulled your arms around her, gripping her tighter like she wanted. Larissa, being a morning person, was typically all dry wit, sarcasm, and smirks in the morning. Today she was solemn.
You try to lift the mood with some reminiscing, "Do you remember the time, it was right before we even really got together, that we were down at the docks and you were messing around and pushed me and I fell into the lake?"
Larissa couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh against your skin and she finished the memory, "And when I apologized, profusely by the way, and tried to help you out of the lake, you pulled me in after you."
"You deserved it... Do you remember the car ride home from the conference?"
"Rowan wouldn't stop looking back and forth at us with that goofy grin. It was so embarrassing." Larissa was smiling against your neck at the memory, "Do you remember over holiday break when we were kissing in your office and Rowan came in?"
"She just stood there with that same smile, her arms folded, and said, 'Go ahead, don't let me stop you. I'll just watch'." You roll your eyes thinking about how funny and ridiculous your best friend could be.
"That evening... We stood in the greenhouse and you had grown mistletoe there for us." Larissa's voice was soft as she reflected on the sweet gesture.
"I always like a reason to kiss you." You bring a hand to her cheek and press a kiss to the top of her head.
"Do you remember when you grew me that flower at the lake?" Larissa asked, her voice cracking, she was getting choked up.
"Mhmm, and you kissed me..." You didn't know how to make her feel better. This reminiscing hadn't made her feel better, but probably made her feel worse in that you wouldn't have much more time to make more memories, "You have always been so easy to love."
You shouldn't have said it. The, very true, words just slipped out. Larissa began crying and there was nothing you could do but just hold her as she mourned for you.
-------
Larissa had to go into work. There was an incredible strength to her as you watched her happily interact with the students returning from their spring break. They way she chatted with students and their parents, no one would have ever guessed what was going on behind closed doors.
In all the chaos of students moving in, you slipped away to the woods, your good rubber boots on your feet. You were going to find the Council of 12 Cedars.
You remember having a conversation with Eugene about a remnant white cedar swamp a couple miles from Nevermore, but it was only accessible by foot. Larissa would notice your absence, but you had no reason to suspect you would be in any danger.
The walk in the woods actually allowed you to forget about the dread you felt for your own death and the guilt you felt for Larissa's sadness. You watched the plant community fade from deciduous forest to the delightful white cedar swamp. There was a worn deer trail that you followed through the thick of the forest. Raspberry brambles grabbed at your clothes.
You kept your head on a swivel, looking for any tree or rock that seemed familiar. Even with your keen eye for plant identification, sometimes individual plants ran together. You felt like you were walking through the forest for ages, ducking below half-fallen branches and stepping over rotting logs.
You stop yourself, an arm gripping a nearby cedar when you see a small herd of white-tail deer stop their grazing to look up at you. A smaller of the bunch stomps his foot at you, letting you know that he has seen you. You smile and stomp your foot in return. After this is all over, I should return here, you think to yourself. Your stomach drops as you remember the reality of your situation, you won't have the opportunity to return.
You head in the opposite direction of the herd, not interested in spooking them any further. And that's when you spot the clearing.
You remember the tree arrangement vividly. You know the tree to approach. It's the one separated from the bunch.
Much like how you speak with the oak tree by the old meeting house, you place both hands on the rough, splintery bark of the white cedar. With your past practice, the connection is made easily, but this conversation was much different.
Oh, look! It's her! It's the one! Took her long enough. She's here!
Many voices rang out at once, making it challenging to focus, one strong feminine voice rang up above the rest.
Quiet down, would you? She can't listen to us all at once.
You were grateful for her leadership, the intensity of all the voices was beginning to make your skull pound, I'm here to see the Council of 12 Cedars. Am I in the right place?
You are, child. We have been waiting for you.
Why me? What am I supposed to do?
The next full moon, you will descend to the crypt. Spring will bring new life to the forest. He will be waiting for you. Do not fear his wrath, he isn't as powerful as he would make you believe.
Am I really going to die?
In ten days time, you will give your life to save us all.
------
The trip home was a blur. You were processing everything. You never saw yourself as a brave hero that would be battling a colonialist bigot. Truly, you were content in your life teaching, growing plants, and making your girlfriend happy. Larissa. What would you tell her? You had such a short amount of time left.
Larissa was standing at the top of the grand staircase when you walked back into the front doors of Nevermore. She wanted to be mad. She wanted to scream and yell and scold you for leaving school grounds without even telling her. But she tamped it all down, kept it secured tight within her chest.
"I was so worried. Where have you been?" Her arms gathered you in her arms when you reached the top of the stairs. You were thinking she would be angrier.
"I found the Council of 12 Cedars."
Link to Chapter 8
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bigglesworld · 1 year
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Aviatrix-Jacqueline Cochran with a Lockheed F-104-G Super Starfighter. In 1953, flying a RCAF Sabre 3, she was the first woman to break the sound barrier, averaging speeds of 652 mph over Rogers Dry Lake.
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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months
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Sticks and Stones: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]
The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (2) Resolved to make an effort, Loki tries his best. But old habits die hard, some harder than others. Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Ex-Loki. Smut references/ Wankst. Humour/Mild angst. (w/c 4.8k) Recommended Folklore Track: Mirrorball
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“Oh blast it all,” Thor wailed like a child, throwing a pile of sticks to the side. Another bundle of promising kindle had turned to mush in his hands.
“We need to find ones that aren’t wet, Odinson – I told you. Sometimes they don’t seem wet, but they are wet.” Steve instructed, standing abruptly from where he’d sat on his haunches. Dismay was thick in the air. “Everything is wet here, Rogers." Thor whinged, kicking leaves. "The allusive flame taunts me.”
Loki sucked in his cheeks. The urge to expel a witty innuendo was almost unbearable. But he was trying to be amenable. Turning over a new leaf, as it were.
When the four of them had trudged back to the cottage last night, Loki had turned in to his sparse lodgings immediately with only the most cursory of bedtime salutations. To his surprise, sleep had descended quickly. He had been expecting to toss and turn for hours on that thin single bed, cursing Rogers and his brother and you; each with the time and thoroughness that was due. But he had slept well. And when he woke, the smell of bacon wafting through the floorboards greeted him.
Your laughter chimed against the clatter of porcelain downstairs, his brothers following suit. He had snuggled deeper into the lumpy pillow, inhaling in the way he used to against your hair. And now, beneath a canopy of green and gold autumnal majesty, they had made camp for this morning’s torture; fire-building. Loki buried his hands in another damp pile of foliage, grasping a hunk of twigs he found there. To hel with it, he thought as he closed his eyes; feeling secretive warmth spreading from his fingertips. Magic wrapped around each stick of wood concealed beneath copper leaves, drying it instantly. He glanced over to you, thrumming some moss between your fingers. “I found some dry ones,” he said nonchalantly, hoping it sounded believable.
You peered at his outstretched hands. “Oh yeah…” you replied. Loki frowned as your attention swung back to the wisped moss being pulled apart in your fingertips. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Thor looked over at his brother, aghast. “Cheater,” he rumbled loudly. To his side, only Steve’s ass was visible, shaking side to side as he still searched on his hands and knees through the undergrowth for where dry wood might lurk. Loki turned, one palm facing up. A column of ferocious flame burst from his skin, funnelling up like a portal. The sound of its violence ripped the air, squawks of local wildlife jibbering in the trees above. Steve lost his balance, falling to the side into the shrubbery. He let out a strangled cry, while Thor scooted backwards and knocked him further into the bushes.
“If I wanted to cheat,” Loki snarled, “there would be much easier ways to do so, brother.”
As quickly as it appeared, the flame ceased.
Loki turned back to you, smoothing his anorak. “Sorry about that,” he quipped with a cheerful smile.
In the time it had taken to complete his theatrics, you had selected one of his pile which you deemed suitable. You turned it over in your hands, fingers curled around the trunk of the weighty stick. Loki swallowed thickly. The innocently sensual glint in your eyes as you looked at it was almost too much to bear. Or maybe it was his imagination.
You hadn’t raised a smile all day, after all. He knelt on his haunches, mirroring your intrigue while you ran a finger down the larger stick. “We need to whittle a groove down here” you said. Loki nodded, moving his eyes between the line your digit took and your face.
Your eyes met.
He saw your gaze drop to his lips, only for a millisecond. “Could you?” you whispered, avoiding eye contact again.
In a flash of green, Loki produced a short dagger. He held it to you, handle first.
“I mean really we should use the one in your pack,” you smirked, eyeing Steve brushing sodden leaves from his ass as Thor fumbled fruitlessly in the undergrowth in a last ditch attempt. Loki felt his heart pound faster. He saw his chance. “But mine is better, Agent” he murmured darkly. “You know that.” “Guys – come over, please!” you shouted over his shoulder. Loki flinched. Truly, she now immune from my overtures, he mused bitterly; remembering the times a line like that would have had you groaning in his ear like a harlot.
He smoothed a rakish curl back from his forehead, collecting himself while his brother and the captain gathered round. Thor was muttering Asgardian curses under his breath, his hair wild. Twigs stuck out at obscure angles, a small slug clinging to the scruff of his jawline. Loki peeled it off, flicking it away.
“I think not that I was made for nature, brother,” Thor lamented under his breath. Loki chuckled, cut short as his dagger, poised in your hand, began to cut away at the centre of the large stick. There was a sharp intake of breath beside him. “That’s not standard issue,” Steve chided quietly, lips hardening. Loki folded his arms, elbowing Rogers in the process. “Watch what I’m doing,” you said sternly, eyeing the men with suspicion. They stood in rapt attention, watching every rut of the blade, every splinter and chunk which sprung forth. But not Loki.
Loki watched your face. Each furrow of your brow, flick of concentration, ghost of a smile as you looked with satisfaction at the result. “Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, running a cautious fingertip through the rough groove. “Now what?” Thor grunted. “Tis still a damnable stick.” You laughed the sweetest, most condescending laugh that Loki had ever heard.
It made his heart twist in his chest. “Now...you each take one of these” you handed each of them a smaller stick from Loki's haul. Loki’s was the longest.
A smirk curled the corners of his mouth against his better judgement. You rolled your eyes, snatching it back and switching it with Steve. “Sharpen these, so they are at a 45 degree angled point. Remember your angles from yesterday, Thor?” Thor frowned. You made the angle with your forearm. “Ah, yes” he smiled. “The little mountain.” For the next few minutes, Loki felt your appraising stare fall on him in intervals. He crafted his edge to perfection, sliding the dagger’s blade so close to the wood’s bark it almost shone. The rough hacking of the other men’s pocketknives peppered the air. Aside from that, and birdsong, there was silence.
When all of them had finished, you called them back around a small, cleared patch of forest floor. The branch with the groove you had made lay on the ground. The three men stared at it, sharpened sticks in hand. Suddenly it all felt very...human. They glanced at each other vacantly. “Loki?” you chirped, gesturing to the ground. He raised an eyebrow.
“On my knees?” he heard himself purr, the feigned incredulity palpable. You nodded sternly, just once.
“Very well,” he murmured, sinking down.
His knees hit the leaves with a crisp, gentle thump.
Immediately, wetness began to seep into the fabric. Like the gusset of her underwear, he mulled. He looked up at you the way he used to while you would have him kiss up your thighs, yanking his hair as he atoned for some imagined grave misdeed with sexual favour. The essence of his vulnerability. A rarity, only for you. He was such a slut for you, back then. Anything you desired. Anything he desired- “Loki?!” you snapped. He had been staring at your chest, eyes glazed. Carefully, he tilted his chin upwards. “Apologies,” he husked. The swallow which bobbed in your throat made his loins ache. Your voice was high. Higher than she intends, surely; he thought.
“Kind of...position it so the big stick with the groove is between your knees-” you’d said.
Loki shuffled, straddling the branch. It brushed the bulge of his cock pulsing lightly against his trousers. “Between my thighs, you say?” he asked innocently. “No, your knees. Well – thighs, sort of yes. Just keep it steady.” You were becoming flustered, Loki noticed. Loki liked that.
You bent down slightly, touching the hard round of his bicep before recoiling like it was a hot stove. “You um...hold the stick like this, no...like-”
Kneeling beside him, you adjusted the angle of his hands to grip the smaller, pointed stick. “That’s it...and then you rub it back and-” you swallowed, “-back and forth. On the one between your thighs. Knees.” Loki bit his lip, beginning to do just that. The sound was awful as his pace quickened after the first few strokes. Scraping, raw squeals that jarred the air.
“Like this?” he panted. A mist of sweat was forming at his hairline. He could feel it tingle.
“Like that,” you replied shakily. Your breaths were short. They were in time with the thrust of his arms as you hovered by his shoulder, guiding his wrist as it pumped back and forth. Thor and Steve glanced silently at each other, brows raised.
Loki saw Thor’s jaw drop from the corner of his eye, a meaty finger protruding from one straightened arm to the smoke beginning to waft from the groove. “Look, Rogers…” he gasped with the wonder of a child. The smoke became thicker, billowing in heavy flow. You fumbled to the side, grabbing some tufts of dried moss.
“Now tip it in, tip the ash in-” you said frantically, barely contained excitement in your voice. Loki complied, watching as the smouldering embers blossomed within the web of moss.
“Be careful,” he whispered, setting the stick in his hands down. He brought them up protectively around the moss. You held it forward, “blow, Loki” you murmured, keeping your eyes fixed on the small ball which had begun to smoke.
“Blow?” he said, forehead creasing while you nodded. Your eyes narrowed at the tuft clenched between your fingers. “Until you get-” “-a spark,” Loki finished quietly.
He blew on the moss, flinching as the vegetation burst with flame. Thor and Steve gasped, crowding round as you dropped the raging ball of fire to the groove of the stick below. You grabbed Loki’s spear, prodding the moss. Loki opened his mouth and closed it again.
He felt that he should be bored. Or annoyed. Longing for home comforts and solitude or some such. But, admittedly, he would not have thought of this whole scenario. Against his wishes, he had learned something.
What you had done? How you had transformed nothing into...something. Like magic. When he set fire to things, he cared not how they burned. Just that they burned. And, Loki thought, they always do.
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After what felt like an eternity, Loki closed the door to the cottage and turned the key.
He was the last one in, favouring a meandering pace behind the three others huddled together in a jovial formation. Water saturated him, rolling in thick droplets from his forehead down the carve of his jawline. He had never known rain like it. It had fallen like milk, heavy and thick and relentless in every direction.
Hair was plastered to his skull, to his neck. It stuck in clumpy tendrils and made a weird noise against the garish anorak when he moved. He flicked his hands forward with frustration. The clench of his stomach against the soaking fleece made him shudder.
After the first attempt, he had reluctantly admitted there was no point in drying himself every ten seconds. Even magic, he had surmised, was no match for the English countryside.
Muffled roars sounded from the living room. Loki rounded the corner, cursing every squelching step. Predictably, his brother’s head was lodged in the soaking neck of his roll neck sweater. His hiking trousers lay in a bedraggled heap on the floor, water pooling around them through the floorboards. Muddy bootprints were smeared in circles over the rug. Steve held the hem of the sweater, rolled over Thor’s head and arms, yanking it. “I’m going-to take-your gosh-darned-head-off,” he grunted; before there was a wet pop. Thor stumbled backwards, landing in a chair in the corner. He began to laugh.
Loki rolled his eyes. “I wish to bathe,” he said plainly before turning to the doorway. Steve’s eyes widened. “The lady got first dibs, Laufeyson. You’ll have to wait. Shouldn’t have dallied on the ridge.” Loki froze, a grimace descending.
He closed his eyes, clicking his neck with a tilt to the side. Thor laughed, shaking his head. He pointed to Loki, then to Steve. “What need have we three of hot baths?”
“Speak not to me of my affinity of baths. Tis you who had your very own bathhouse on Asgard” Loki snarled. He rolled his molars, the deep chill setting into his bones only half born from the wet clothes sticking to every crevice. He looked longingly at the bathroom door, thinking of what lay out of reach. The sweet caress of hot water on his aching muscles, covering his weather-worn limbs with the kiss of a million bubbles that only sought to bring him pleasure. A vision of your naked body sinking in foam fluttered in front of his waking eyes, your lips parted to the ceiling as you let your thighs fall open-
The boiler made an alarming rattle in the kitchen.
“I’ll check it,” he muttered, casting a final glance to the bathroom door as he passed. He heard a splash. And then a small groan of satisfaction.
In the kitchen, Loki gripped the counter-lip and hung his head. He stared at the greyed cream of the surface while seidr rolled up his body, every inch of sodden fabric plastered to him airing free. A waft hit his hair, blowing it over his shoulders. Shaking it back, his eyes meeting the row of mis-matched mugs from yesterday. “When in Nilfheim,” he mumbled to himself like a mantra.
He returned to the living room, three steaming mugs in hand. The others had managed to light a stove in the corner and were now wearing pyjamas. Tops and bottoms, Loki noticed. A rarity indeed. He looked again at the fire. The flames were small, but they were there. He decided to be pleasant. “Did you use the groove technique?” Loki smiled, setting a mug down on the armrest of Thor’s chair. The men laughed while Loki straightened, staring pensively into the licking flames. With mild interest, the god realised that this was the first time he had been in this room. No mean feat, considering that the cottage only had three downstairs. The kitchen, the bathroom, and this one. He glanced around at the sparse décor, as antiquated and dulled and beige as the other spaces. “I remember those,” Steve nodded, aiming towards a radio on a corner-shelf. Loki chuckled, before sipping his tea. He smacked his lips. “Honestly, Rogers. What possessed you to house us in this place? Surely there are nicer.” Steve shrugged. “I thought it would be good for us,” he said, brushing his pyjama bottoms. “I mean, look at this chair!?” Loki exclaimed, gesturing to where his brother sprawled. It was some kind of cream leather, cracked at the worn areas where a thousand mortal arses had sat. Stains adorned the peel of its chafed skin. “A son of Odin, in a chair such as that. It’s insulting.” The words were bitter, but a playful smile tugged at his lips. Steve saw it. “Actually it is rather comfortable, brother” Thor piped up. He re-adjusted himself, leaning backwards, “rather comfortable indee-” In a flash, his tea sloshed in the air; hands flying to grip the armrest as the whole chair slid back to a lying position. Loki jumped to his feet, seidr fizzling in the palms of his hands. “Calm down,” Steve said, patting Loki’s lower back. “It’s a recliner, it’s supposed to do that. Had those in my day too.”
There was silence but for the crackling of the fire which had grown to a healthy blaze. It was comfortable. Loki quietly transformed his clothes to the flannel pyjama bottoms that had lain neatly folded beneath his pillow upstairs. “What about the top? You’ll freeze.” Steve murmured, pulling his mug closer to his chin. Loki smiled, shaking his head. Fresh curls bounced around his collarbone. “I think not that a thin layer of cotton will help in that regard, Rogers.” “Modesty, then” Steve scoffed, nudging his head in the direction of the bathroom. Both brothers rolled their eyes.
“Our dear Agent has seen me in much more raucous states of undress, I assure you” he sniffed, staring pointedly at the flames. He could almost feel the wrinkle of Steve’s nose. There was another silence which hung between them, heavier this time. “What happened, Loki?” Steve whispered, leaning forward like a teen girl at a sleepover. He pulled the blanket in his lap to his chest. “Between you and-” he gestured with his head again towards the door. “You guys were pretty perfect together seemed like.” Loki bristled, feeling his brothers eyes on him too. He knew it would come to this. “We had an irreconcilable differing of opinion.” “On what?” “On me.”
Loki straightened, rolling his shoulders back and resting an ankle on his knee for good measure. Casual. The scratch of cheap upholstery made his back tingle. “Well that could mean all manner of things, brother. You are insufferable.”
Loki swallowed, blinking several times. Steve reached out, patting his hand gently, but Loki flapped it away. “Apparently I am...what were her words exactly? Oh, yes. Haughty. Condescending. Unwaveringly arrogant.” He looked pointedly between the men. “I mean, can you believe that?!” Thor and Steve’s eyes met, each waiting for the other to speak first.
“Well, yes” they said in sync.
Loki bristled again, raking a hand through his hair. “Not to the point where it subsumes all my admirable qualities, surely?” he said, beginning to pick at the green of his bottoms. “I mean really. Is it truly arrogance if what I say is true? I cannot help being a god.”
Silence was deafening.
Loki looked to the side, seeing Steve’s face contorted in a theatrical twist. One eyebrow was raised, lips stretched over his teeth in a grimacing caricature. “You do go on about it a lot.” he said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Indeed, brother.” Thor concurred. He nestled back in the recliner with a satisfied sigh. “I shouldn’t have to walk with these groceries...I am a god. I have no need of a parking permit, I am a god...I can only imagine how it is to be your significant other, especially for so long-” “Hey, Thor – did Loki tell you about ‘that time’ on Asgard?” “Why yes Rogers he did. All of them. And anyone else who’d listen. Especially the part which highlights exactly how impressive it is that he is...” “-a god,” they both finished. Loki stared between them, open mouthed. His furious gaze landed on his brother. The betrayal in his voice was palpable. “How dare you,” he growled. “You’re one to talk, spouting off about your powers and flaunting your lineage at every chance you can grasp. The audacit-” Thor raised a waggling finger in the air, pushing his feet against the chair and sitting upright. “Ah-ah-ah, brother. But I am both self-effacing and charming, isn’t that right Rogers?” he beamed. “He is quite charming.” Steve agreed, reluctantly. “You on the other hand...it comes across as more..” The three of them looked between each other. Loki’s face fell.
“Oh,” he said quietly.
Of all the times your gentle hands had cupped his, your caring words of encouragement that he think more of what he was saying; he had not listened. Not really. The armour of arrogance was a comfort to him. It was secure, unchanging. Unlike everything else. And in truth, he’d thought you’d liked it. Despite your occasional protestations.
Until the end, that was.
A creak from the hallway signalled your imminent emergence from the bathroom.
In all the commotion, none of them had heard the boiler cease its ragged howl. A few seconds later, your head poked around the door. Wetted hair fell around your shoulders, sticking to the curve of your neck. Loki looked up through his lashes, stomach fluttering as your palm slid innocently down the wooden frame. Moisture still clung to your skin.
Loki hoped you weren’t cold. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning” you said, looking to Thor and Steve before your eyes met his. He looked away quickly. “Goodnight,” the three of them chimed, some more enthusiastically than others. You stepped out in full view for a moment, adjusting the towel around your body. “Did you use the groove technique?” you smiled, nodding to the fire. “My brother made the same joke already,” Thor said, reclining on the deceptively comfortable chair again with a flourish. “But alas, no.” Loki’s heart skipped as you focused on him. Something swam in your eyes as you twisted the towel by your armpit. Something that wasn’t irritation, or coldness. He saw your covert gaze drop to his neck, lower to his chest, then to the flat of his stomach. He shifted, curling his long legs up on the sofa.
“Join us,” he said, gesturing to an empty armchair in the corner. You shook your head, offering a weak smile. “I’m exhausted, clearly you guys have more stamina than I do.” Loki felt the mighty need to agree rise in his throat. To articulate the validity of your statement, and its infinite reasoning and commend your observations. For the first time, he was aware of its overwhelming crawl upwards like dragon-fire, sanctimonious empty words writhing like live insects in his mouth – desperate to be spat. He forced them down, under the watchful eye of Steve. The words sat in his stomach like a stone.
“Goodnight, Agent.” Loki murmured with a respectful nod. You returned it silently, before closing the door.
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A sliver of open curtain cast moonlight on the wall.
Loki stared at it.
Then he stared at it some more. How long had he lain here? He turned, grasping at the vintage midgardian alarm clock on the side. He squinted. Nine-forty. Loki groaned, rolling back against the lumpy mattress. Tonight, unlike the last, sleep evaded him. Although he had only been in the maze of his thoughts for fifteen minutes, it felt like eternity. Why could he not read you? It was always so easy before, he pondered. His eyes tracked along a crack in the ceiling. Before she raised the drawbridge.
He sighed.
If what Rogers and his brother said was in truth, then it meant the unthinkable. That she was right to do what she did. Was he truly so conceited that he had let love which evaded him so long slip through his grasp for the sake of his pride? For what? To feel important for a fleeting moment? A thousand fleeting moments would be more accurate. A chill ran down his spine. Does she think that, in truth, I never cared for her at all? He closed his eyes, attempting to diminish the intrusive thought. In an act of mercy, his mind conjured the memory of you wrapped in only the towel downstairs. Hair wet, droplets kissing down your neck as you played with the side of the cotton.
‘Come here, Agent’ he would growl, spreading his thighs wider on the bed’s edge. He knew how much you loved the thickness of his thighs. At least, you used to. The version of you still in love with him would sashay across the room, bare feet leaving wet imprints on the floorboards. A coy smile playing on your pouted lips.
Would you wait until you had straddled him to release the towel, or in the moment before you did so? Loki pondered this for a moment, before deciding to indulge in both.
He could feel his cock hardening uncomfortably against the crotch of his pyjama pants, the spill of your perfect breasts into his imaginary hands making it throb. ‘Darling,’ he would sigh as he buried his face in your cleavage. His thumbs would graze your delicate nipples, guiding them to his open lips as you ground against his lap. A hand would nudge his tip inside your perfect heat before you edged down...down to meet the root. And then, you would kiss. You always wanted to kiss the first time you were fully joined. Entwined. Twin-gasps would fill the air, giving way to moans of quiet pleasure as Rogers and his brother slept next door.
Or tried to, at least. Loki spat in his hand, before slipping it beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. Cold fingers wrapped around the mass of untended lust that waited. He pumped once, pulling the foreskin back gently and letting his fist nestle against the neat of his pubic hair.
A ragged exhale escaped him.
How long has it been, he wondered briefly, before tightening his grip.
He extended his thumb, pressing harshly against velvet flesh as he swept upwards. The god’s eyes rolled back in the darkness, back arching up into his pleasure. Low pants began to pepper the air around him, each swipe of his hand more frantic than the last.
Too loud.
He bit his lip, eyes screwed shut while visions of you flashed through his mind. He settled on a memory of you in his bedroom in the tower. His hands were tied behind his back as he sat on the edge of the bed you shared, your fingers curling around his abs as they clenched beneath the touch. Your lips fastening around his trembling cock as you made him yours in each stroke of your tongue. Each slurping kiss that lingered as you sucked, his head falling back as he lost himself in you. Always, he thought between staggered breaths. Completely hers.
Loki’s fingers dug into the mattress, the rough methodical slap of his fist against flesh a din to his ears. But gods, it felt so good. He needed this. Needed to allow himself a stolen moment of pleasure where you loved him still.
Climax began to bubble in his deepest centre, swirling behind his eyelids. Loki’s thumb circled the tip with every fuck of his palm, squeezing tighter while droplets of precum made the pyjama pants damp. His teeth were gritted to the ceiling, bared in a grimace. His chin pointed upwards, the pillow folding in on his cheekbones with the force of the brace. His breaths were short. ‘Mmmm’ The god’s eyes shot open.
He paused, wincing as his fist froze tightly halfway down his cock. His ears pricked, concentrating. ‘Mmmm-uh’
Loki’s head fell to the side, facing the wall. The wall on the other side of which, you lay.
He closed his eyes, summoning every magnification of his senses that he could. Your voice. No more than a whisper, seeping through the stone.
‘Loki, yes…’
He’d know those sweet sighs of pleasure anywhere.
A breath he’d been holding rattled free, timed with a tentative tug of his cock.
He could hear everything now. The rustle of bedsheets tangled around your knees, the beat of your heart quickening as you reached your peak with him in your head. The press of your fingers on that spot just about your plump, beautiful clit. Were you imagining the flat of his tongue caressing against your desire? Loki thought you were. Orgasm began to rise alongside some unplaced feeling, his legs tensing; toes curling into the mattress.
She wants me.
In a split-second decision, he whipped the bedsheets from his body and jumped cat-like to the floor. Within two strides, he had opened the door with a creak and slipped into the cramped hallway. Your door loomed before him, adjacent to his own.
What are you doing, he thought; suddenly horrified as the chill set in. He looked down, cock hard and leaking against his pyjama pants.
He began to step back, emitting the loudest groan of a floorboard he had ever heard in his life. Loki grimaced, hushing the accursed building with clawed fingers. But it was too late. He heard the succession of your bare feet meeting the floor, and in a matter of seconds; your door opened. Just a crack. “Loki?” you warily whispered into the darkness. He cleared his throat softly, casting a glance over his shoulder before daring to meet your questioning eyes. That dragon-fire bubbled in his stomach like acid, quippy lines and heavy-handed flirtations that begged to be freed.
How had he never noticed before how much effort it took, not to let them out? I thought you might need a hand, You called for me, so I’ve come to... make you c- I know you still desire me, which is to be expected, Admit it, no one can pleasure you like me, For old times sake- Because, Loki realised, he had never tried. You opened the crack of the door wider, looking to either side of the landing suspiciously. His eyes ran from your bare feet to the hem of a nightdress falling around your thighs. He recognised that nightdress. Your favourite. It had dead leaves on it, which he never understood. But maybe now, in this place, he finally did.
You only wore it when the nights grew colder. And only when he was not there to hold you for warmth.
Which these days, he thought with a pang, is always.
All too late, the god realised he had become distracted from his newfound restraint. It had wound like ivy around his thoughts, vines twisting and flourishing with alarming speed. But there was nothing to be done about it now. “I thought you might want some... company,” he growled suggestively.
His cock pressed ferociously against his hip, covered from view by one thick forearm.
Your eyebrows rose beneath a deadpan stare. “You can’t be serious.” Like an out of body experience, Loki raised the forearm covering his crotch to rest high on the door-frame. The unmistakable scent of your arousal seeped into his nostrils, an interrupted climax lingering in the air.
Moonlight from the cracks in your curtains licked across his chest, his obliques – casting deep shadows in his cheekbones, Loki would wager.
Hair fell around his jaw, tingling the flushed skin. He could feel his manhood pressing eagerly against the cotton, as desperate for your touch as it always had been. The thrill that in mere seconds, he would feel you against him again where you belonged. The heat of your skin flush to his own, the muffled mewls from your lips as you kissed, the insatiable wandering of your hands as you devoured him like an addict’s first fix. You would be so happy. This time, Loki would make sure of that.
He looked down deep into your eyes, smouldering with all his might. “Deadly, darling.” he purred.
Your disbelieving stare fell to his crotch. It widened. “Oh my god, Loki.” you hissed. “Yes...?” he crooned presumptively in response. The rakish smile spreading barely had time to reach his eyes before the door slammed in his face, almost taking Loki’s fingers with it to the other side.
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>>Chapter Three: A Long Way Down Tags (contd in comments)
@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @arch-venus25 @nine-leafclover @iamlokisgloriouspurpose
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creepypasta65 · 2 years
Text
Random Creepypastas Hc’s
Jeff the Killer: 
Jeff loves cold chocolate, if he leaves it in the fridge and a creep eats it by accident, he would get so mad. 
Jeff lives in the Slender mansion but he’s not a proxy of Slenderman. He will sometimes do some missions for Slender like refilling Toby’s pills or killing some people. But he will not be a proxy.
He babysits Sally and loves it, usually the other creeps don’t want to babysit her since they think it’s boring but it actually isn’t and Jeff likes to babysit her since they do fun things like painting nails, prank Ben or go to the park. 
Sally paints his nails black and Jeff paints hers blue or purple. 
Jeff is really overprotective of his older brother Liu and sometimes he takes it too far but he doesn’t care. 
He is also afraid of the dark and has a nightlight that Sally gave him. 
Jeff has a lot of white hoodies and band shirts.
When he’s around the mansion and not killing, he wears some sweatpants and a normal t-shirt. 
Jeff loves working out and has some weights in his room. But he mostly works out in a gym that is in the mansion (Slender originally set it up for the proxies but some of the other creeps like Jeff work out in the gym).
Jeff loves cats and wanted to steal Dr.Smiley cats but he got caught. 
Homicidal Liu:
Liu is the pretty boi in the mansion like everyone in the mansion call him “pretty boi”. 
Liu has one of the cleanest room in the mansion and if you walk in his room, it smells like lavender. 
Liu first friend in the mansion is EJ and they’re really good friends. 
Liu loves receiving compliments since he’s really insecure about his stitches. 
He can cook really good and makes the best spaghetti. 
He has a tiny collection of plushies that he receives from Sally.
He sometimes babysit Sally when Jeff is sick and Liu doesn’t mind, and even considers Sally as a little sister. 
Liu does skin care routines and sees youtube videos when waiting for a face mask to dry. 
Liu has a lot of scarfs and even makes some scarfs. 
He likes reading poems and writes some poems himself.
Liu is also overprotective of Jeff but he doesn’t go as far like Jeff does. 
Liu has a dog, it’s a golden retriever and it’s really good friends with Smile dog. 
Liu is really kind to anyone but if you say anything about Jeff or his friends then he would be mean to you. 
Liu also likes taking pictures of his dog, forest, lake and flowers. 
Ticci Toby:
Toby loves drawing and has a box underneath his bed filled with old sketch books. 
He misses his sister a lot and visits her grave every month, he will talk to her about his day and his friends.
Toby still visits his mom and has a good relationship with her.
He has a big collection of stuff animals in his room, he has this cow stuff animal that he had since he was 6. 
Toby loves giving the creeps hugs and he will still hug them though they push him away.
He is touch straved and loves receiving any type of affection like hugs, compliments and gifts. 
He is really funny and can make you laugh when you’re sad. 
He’s that type of friend that is funny and acts dumb but they’re really smart. 
Toby doesn’t like his actual name which is “Tobias Erin Rogers”, it reminds him of his dad. 
When he was in school, he always hated when teachers did roll call and said his actual name instead of “Toby”. 
He broke many bones from falling off of trees or the roof. 
He doesn’t like his gash, he thinks it makes him look ugly and often hates when a creep stares at his gash for too long. 
Toby is a very outgoing person and almost everyone gets along with him. 
Have a nice day :)
160 notes · View notes
no-gorms · 9 months
Note
* post-successful spell break/Thanos defeat/etc, Tony has to be all “ah, so this charm offensive was a ploy all along then? Aha, whelp. I mean it worked, congratulations… uh thanks?” And Steve now has to either
Agree that this was a ploy and he would never attempted to woo Tony back without this motivation (technically true but not the whole story emotionally )
Say no I had no idea I just wanted you back (a lie but emotionally true) OR
Actually, like, use his words and try and convey how Steve felt he had no right to even think in Tony’s direction half the time but he does care and is so sorry and how he did this because of that care and how he still loves Tony and this was the only way he could allow himself to show it, by saving Tony’s life (true and sincere and perhaps outside the scope of Steve’s emotional IQ atm lol)
I assume he TRIES for #3 but ends up conveying #1 or #2 instead by accident before Tony tries stomping off. I dunno if Steve spits out the truth quick enough to stop Tony from leaving or if he has to put on his big boy pants and approach Tony later (thanks to the prodding of his dear friends) with heart in hand, for Tony to take or crush, to explain himself like he’s been avoiding for so many years
Or perhaps it goes a different way all together? Tony ends up saving himself and Steve is left standing there with flowers and a rented Brass Band to serenade Tony like, ah. well. good? good.
(Also, what are some of the ways Steve tries to woo Tony? And does his crew help him out? Do they know Thanos is the fiancé/who Thanos is or are they under the spell and are all, go get your guy Steve! Win back your husband! like rom-com supporting characters? Is Wanda doing WandaVision and is therefore busy/unaware or is this a ploy to keep Steve and co occupied so she can go do post WV bad things?)
* https://www.tumblr.com/no-gorms/721918559380520960/stony-sweet-home-alabama-au-so-like-make-it-post
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(following up on this)
I think it'd be funniest if Steve was alone in being aware of the rom com universe, like not even Wanda knows or cares what's going on, and the rest of their friends would try to help, but within the parameters of the fake reality so their helpfulness can get too intense and cheerful that gives Steve a headache even if their energy can be inspiring as well?
Like by the rules of the universe (and the rules that Steve has cast upon himself) he can indulge in everything he's thought about in passing about but never done in the real world because they're also kind of creepy, so maybe like:
Dropping sketches he's made on napkins and post-its, depicting happy memories of their past when they were together, where Tony can "stumble" upon them;
Sabotaging THANOS by like, slashing his tires and/or ruining his dry cleaning and/or giving his PA (the Maw in a suit) the wrong info so he misses a date with Tony, which allows Steve to "coincidentally" swoop in at the same restaurant like hey, how about that;
When they're walking together in a park or something Steve falls into the lake like haha, oh look he forgot to wear an undershirt and his cotton thing is all see-through now, isn't that funny.....
HUGE romantic gesture like he sends Tony on a merry scavenger hunt that ends overlooking some huge public place where Steve has painted a mural with words that Declare His Feelings and just as Tony arrives (thanks to the others helping out) there's the brass brand and a choir and and fireworks ad nauseam
So like, although all these things may have worked within the rom com universe, but once the spell is broken (I kinda like your suggestion that Tony saves himself) Tony shakes himself off and is like... Rogers, haha that was actually really over-the-top, good thing that was just Wanda's reality warping your brain like -- wait, what? You were conscious the whole time and did that of your own free will? And Tony does a massive side-eye while Steve's stomach sinks like, oh.....
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planesawesome · 2 years
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(NASA Image 1982) This photo shows NASA's F-14 (NASA tail number 991; Navy serial number 157991) flying over Rogers Dry Lake, accompanied by a Navy F-14. NASA 991 was the research aircraft in a joint NASA/Navy program between 1979 and 1985. This looked at ways of improving the F-14's handling at high angles of attack, increasing spin resistance, reducing "wing rocking" (i.e. tilting from side to side), and improving aircraft recovery when it departed from controlled flight (e.g., entered a spin). A number of F-14s had been lost in spin accidents, resulting in the program. The program was an unqualified success, but the Navy did not immediately incorporate the new control laws into its F-14s because of insufficient funding. As a result, mishaps with the Tomcats continued. Finally, the Navy contracted with GEC Marconi Avionics of the United Kingdom to incorporate the control laws into a digital flight-control system with minimal changes, and this was deployed on fleet F-14Ds aboard the USS Kitty Hawk and USS Roosevelt in March of 1999, decreasing the danger of out-of-control flight and making powered approaches to carrier landings much safer. Meanwhile, already in 1980 Dryden research pilot Einar Enevoldson had received the NASA Exceptional Service Medal for his contributions as project pilot on the F-14 stall and spin resistance tests.
NASA Photo 1982
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usafphantom2 · 2 months
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He Fell from an SR-71 at 78,000ft! #shorts youtube.com/shorts/2ZMMrna… via @YouTube
DURING THE EARLY DAYS OF TESTING FOR THE LEGENDARY SR-71 BLACKBIRD, THERE WERE SOME HARROWING MISHAPS, THE DETAILS OF WHICH HAVE RARELY COME TO LIGHT.
ON JANUARY 25, 1966, TEST PILOT BILL WEAVER AND LOCKHEED FLIGHT TEST RECONNAISSANCE AND NAVIGATION SYSTEMS SPECIALIST JIM ZWAYER EXPERIENCED THEIR PLANE VANISHING AROUND THEM WHILE EXECUTING A TURN… AT MORE THAN 2,400 MILES PER HOUR.
The most memorable flight occurred on Jan. 25, 1966. Jim Zwayer, a Lockheed flight test reconnaissance and navigation systems specialist, and I were evaluating those systems on an SR-71 Blackbird test from Edwards AFB, Calif. We also were investigating procedures designed to reduce trim drag and improve high-Mach cruise performance. The latter involved flying with the center-of-gravity (CG) located further aft than normal, which reduced the Blackbird’s longitudinal stability.
We took off from Edwards at 11:20 a.m. and completed the mission’s first leg without incident. After refueling from a KC-135 tanker, we turned eastbound, accelerated to a Mach 3.2 cruise speed, and climbed to 78,000 ft., our initial cruise-climb altitude.
Several minutes into the cruise, the right engine inlet’s automatic control system malfunctioned, requiring a switch to manual control. The SR-71’s inlet configuration was automatically adjusted during supersonic flight to decelerate airflow in the duct, slowing it to subsonic speed before reaching the engine’s face. This was accomplished by the inlet’s center-body spike translating aft, and by modulating the inlet’s forward bypass doors. Normally, these actions were scheduled automatically as a function of Mach number, positioning the normal shock wave (where air flow becomes subsonic) inside the inlet to ensure optimum engine performance.
Without proper scheduling, disturbances inside the inlet could result in the shock wave being expelled forward–a phenomenon known as an “inlet unstart.”
The ejection seat had never left the airplane; I had been ripped out of it by the extreme forces, seat belt, and shoulder harness still fastened.
“Can I help you?” a voice said. Did I hear things? I must be hallucinating. Then I looked up and saw a guy walking toward me, wearing a cowboy hat. A helicopter was idling a short distance behind him. If I had been at Edwards and told the search-and-rescue unit that I would bail out over the Rogers Dry Lake at a particular time, a crew couldn’t have gotten to me as fast as that cowboy pilot had.
The gentleman was Albert Mitchell, Jr., owner of a vast cattle ranch in northeastern New Mexico. I had landed about 1.5 mi. from his ranch house–and from a hangar for his two-place Hughes helicopter
Bill Weaver was an SR 71 test flight pilot; he survived the crash. There were problems with the Faceplate on his helmet that needed to be corrected.. At 80,000 feet the temperature outside is -65°. Which is near the maximum altitude of a potential bail-out.
Bill Weaver was unable to see out of his face plate because of the ice buildup. An ejection out of the world's fastest man-breathing airplane is scary enough but not being able to see is terrifying!
@Habubrats71 via X TAP ARROW BUTTON BELOW TO VIEW 😋👇
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His face plate was frozen. The result of this accident a heated face plate was manufactured, that required a battery pack and that worked.
There were several more accidents over the next 20+ years and all of the Air Force officers would survived their ejections. The only unfortunate death occurred to a test pilot who broke his neck.. Mitchell said he’d check on Jim. He climbed into his helicopter, flew a short distance away and returned about 10 min. later with devastating news: Jim was dead. Apparently, he had suffered a broken neck during the aircraft’s disintegration and was killed instantly. Mitchell said his ranch foreman would soon arrive to watch over Jim’s body until the authorities arrived. #HABUBRATS
@Habubrats71 via X
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