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starksnoir · 10 months
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Andrew Garfield for Modern Luxury (December 2018)
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starksnoir · 11 months
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This one’s mine.
The Corinthian | Boyd Holbrook The Sandman -1.09 -Collectors
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starksnoir · 11 months
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i have something inappropriate to say
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starksnoir · 1 year
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ugh corinthian my beloved, darling, bastard, cutie, literal nightmare, sunshine. i would like to slap you on the head and kiss your cheek and tell you how beautiful you are.
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starksnoir · 1 year
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Do you think that when Steve Rogers sneezes, one of the Avengers goes up to him and whispers, “God Bless America” Then Steve fucking looks at them like this
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starksnoir · 1 year
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sunlight || ch. 2
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CHAPTER 2: THE NORNS
<< PREVIOUS | NEXT >> | Masterlist | Ao3
In the palace of Asgard, long ago, stood a boy and his mother. The boy, who was not yet privy to the ways of the world, gazed upon the faint speckle of stars that littered the skies even during the day. He wondered what might lie beyond the only place he’s known since he was born.
“Loki, you’re not listening, dear,” his mother chided softly. “This is an important aspect of seiðr, you know?” 
The boy groaned and turned to face her, “But Mother! We’ve done this so many times, I’ve already mastered it! Can we please move on to the next lesson? Please?” 
In an effort to further emphasize his point, the boy repeated the hand motions his mother had just demonstrated. A swirl of emerald green magic glowed around his fingers and vanished into thin air as soon as he closed his fist. Frigga chuckled at the impatience of her son. She joined him on the plush bench and took his smaller hands into hers. Briefly, she took in the view of Asgard from the balcony they were on. Then, she remembered a tale she heard when she herself was just a girl.
“Do you remember what I told you about the Norns?” she asked softly, looking back down at her son. He nodded slowly.
“They’re the weavers of fate. They sit at the bottom of Yggdrasil and they keep it nourished,” he confidently answered, bearing a toothy grin as he did so.
His mother smiled and nodded to confirm his answer, “That’s right, my love. However, there is more to them than just that. Every once in a while, a thread of fate will be too fragile to join the others.” Her son listened eagerly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity, so she continued, “To strengthen it, they will intertwine it with another thread. Do you know what this means?” 
The boy shook his head, frowning. He didn’t like not having answers. 
“It means somewhere, in this vast universe we call home, there are souls bound to each other. To be family, to be friends or perhaps…” she stopped and smiled. “More,” she cooed, running her fingers through her son’s dark hair. Loki’s eyes widened. Frigga could see the gears turning in his mind.
“Like… like soulmates!” he exclaimed, turning to fully face his mother. “But Mother, how will they know if they were bound to each other?” he pulled away from his mother’s touch, if only a little bit, desperate to know more.
Frigga sighed. In all honesty, such occurrences were so rare, most people in the Nine Realms believed it was just an old wives’ tale to make children hope for a love so intangibly pure. She was an optimist, however. After all, every story had a hint of truth behind it, and she wanted her son to grow up believing in love. 
“I do not know, sweet boy. All I can tell you is this: intertwined or not, someday you will find a love that might just remind you of this,” she assured him. “And that is why you need to listen to our lessons.”
The boy laughed and listened to his mother once more.
On Titan, Loki cursed the heavens. He yelled and screamed until his throat was sore from it all. He just needed was this bloody Tesseract to work, and it couldn’t even do that. After a few more minutes of trying every trick up his sleeve, he sighed in defeat and sat back down on the sand, resting his head on his forearms crossed on top of his knees. He thought back to just a few months earlier, after he fell into space. Thanos was a memory seared into him like an big ugly scar that you can never get rid of; constantly reminding you of why it was there in the first place. Despite its cruelty, it did seem appropriate for these nightmares to come back and haunt him especially after everything he had just done. Loki pondered what the vision he saw meant; it was certainly something from the past, perhaps before Titan fell into ruin. His mind was finally clearing up- no doubt an effect of not wielding the scepter anymore. 
Then came the screams. Flashes of what he did to New York all played back in his head, causing him to groan. Hot tears began to well in his eyes as he grit his teeth. He closed his eyes and swallowed the sobs that threatened to escape him.
No.
He will not let these feeble, useless emotions control him. No longer will he be the prince cast into the shadow of his brother and father. He will be king.
A familiar voice in his head spoke up. It was a voice he hadn’t heard in a long, long time. Not since he was a boy.
“How many more people will you hurt to be king, Loki?”
Shivers ran down Loki’s spine as the voice called out to him from the depths of his mind. He stood suddenly, and turned around to meet the voice’s bearer. It was her. Sigrun. Just as soon as he saw her, she vanished, leaving him in a state of shock. The cool wind of Titan blew against Loki’s skin, as if to snap him out of his trance. The day just seemed to never end. 
As if some force of the universe wanted him to suffer even more, the Tesseract glowed and opened a portal from underneath him. For the second time that day, he fell flat on his face, this time back to Stark Tower.
“Oh my fucking God,” he groaned.
Within seconds, a horde of S.H.I.E.L.D agents cuffed him, muzzled him, and dragged him back to the exact spot he had tried to teleport away from just hours before. If looks could kill, the Tesseract would’ve been a puddle of blue goo on the floor. His brother and Stark jogged up to him, both scowling. Stark looked truly irritable. Thor, on the other hand, was furious. Oh no. 
Thor, even before his banishment to Earth, had always been patient and lenient with Loki, withstanding Loki’s neverending pranks and never hesitating to defend his younger brother to their father. Loki was sure he could present Thor with Surtur himself and his brother would still laugh boisterously and say, “Oh, that’s a good one, brother!” but this? This was new. The look on Thor’s face said it all. He was livid. Despite Loki’s utter disregard for Thor’s wit, he knew only secondhand Thor’s rage, for it was never directed towards him. He remembered the images of enemies torn apart and splattered on walls because of Mjolnir. Or the smell of burnt flesh struck by lightning. It was never, never, a good idea to anger the God of Thunder and Loki knew he had just crossed a line.
The lightning god marched towards him, brows in a tight frown and nostrils flaring in a way almost unrecognizable to Loki, “You.” 
Thor’s grip on his hammer was tight. Loki prepared himself for the worst. But the burn never came.
“I will not stoop to your level, brother,” Thor spat with venom. “I will not hurt you as you have hurt me; as you have hurt the people of Earth. But do know that whatever they punish you with? You will have deserved it.” 
As if on cue, Director Fury strutted into the scene. It was almost enough for Loki to forget his brother’s words and not wonder why it hurt so much. 
“Pardon my intrusion, Thor. Secretary Pierce,” Fury bowed. “But because he disappeared for a while, we need to take him into custody. Just for the night. We need to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere while you work out how he’ll be serving time.”
Thor, Stark, and Pierce nodded, all walking away to further discuss (or argue about) how Loki was to be punished but not before Thor spared Loki one last look of remorse. In his mind, he asked himself how his baby brother turned out like this.
“Agent (L/N), Agent Morgan, take him to floor 4G. I want at least six agents manning the prisoner at all times, got it?” 
“Understood, Director.”
Loki has never whipped his head around so fast. He knew that voice. He just heard it no less than an hour ago. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
You were alive.
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starksnoir · 1 year
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these spot the difference games are getting harder nowadays 🤨
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starksnoir · 1 year
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another world [1]
after your boyfriend, peter parker, is killed by the green goblin, you take on the mantel of spiderwoman. a few years later, you're suddenly shoved into a multi-versal war after being called to another universe to help a (smaller) version of peter. a familiar face leaves you shaken.
[2] [3]
PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader
CONTENT: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!!, mentions of suicide, angst angst angst angst, may parker deserves so much better and i apologize for putting her through this
WORD COUNT: 2.2k
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Here lies Peter Parker. Beloved son.
We shall meet again.
[Y/N] stands over his grave. There's a chill in the air, autumn has finally taken New York. She shivers, her coat a few sizes too big, and two hands make their way to her lapel to tuck the girl in tighter. May Parker let's out a sigh.
"We've got to get you a thicker coat," May says. There's a tired look in her eyes. The lines on her face seem deeper. She's pushing on fifty-two now. The grief has aged her far more. "You're going to freeze when December hits."
"This one was his, May," [Y/N] replies. The words make May take a temporary pause. "I can't just find a new one."
Wind sends the leaves skittering along the graves. The red and brown contrast greatly to the pure white bouquet of cleomes sat on the headstone. Spider flowers, [Y/N] thinks with a small smile. He'd appreciate the irony.
"I think Peter would rather you be warm and cozy in your own well-fitting coat than freezing to death in one of his old, worn, baggy ones," May eventually responded. [Y/N] wrapped her hands around her body, subconsciously pulling the coat even closer. She could still pretend it smelled like him if she tried hard enough. The warm scent of cinnamon with hints of oak and amber. The smell of home.
The older woman gave her a sad smile and comfortingly rubbed her back. "But, I understand. It's hard to let go of it when you can imagine it's him. You wouldn't believe how many of Ben's old flannels are still folded up in my dresser."
Quiet crept in again. [Y/N] could still remember Ben Parker's death, how Peter shut down, how May crumbled. How could that have been nearly eight years ago? May still had her days of darkness, when the grief became too much. She had lost a husband and a son. [Y/N] had watched this woman quite literally go through every mother's nightmare. How did she get out of bed? How did she go to work? How was she still breathing?
"How do you do it?" [Y/N] broke the silence, unable to hold her thoughts back any longer. "It's been three years, May, and I still wake up expecting him to be next to me. I still wait for a call, a text, letting me know he's going to be late to dinner again this week because he's gotten caught up with some robbery downtown. I come home from work and I wait. I wait for Peter to walk in with Chinese takeout, give me a kiss that takes my breath away, and sit down to explain his latest gadget idea to me. I look at the door and I wait. I wait it for to open and it never does."
A sob falls from her lips. Tears are streaming down her face openly now, though [Y/N] can't remember when they started. May embraces her, tightly, as if she's keeping the girl in one piece. They fall together as [Y/N]'s knees give in from the weight of it all. The ground is cold. The grass is dead. Peter's headstone has collected enough dirt to look beige. There is no sign of life, no sign of who he was. All of it is dull. It makes the sobs wrack through her body even harder.
The two women sit there for quite some time. May cradles [Y/N] in her arms, whispering soothing words in her ear as the waves of sorrow slowly become smaller and smaller. There's been a quiet understanding between them ever since Peter's passing. They were family now. Neither would ever grieve alone. Neither would ever be alone. This was not the first time May Parker had held her son's partner in her arms as she grieved the loss of her love, and it would not be the last.
"You won't believe me, but it does get easier," May speaks while gently petting the girl's hair. Her breath had finally evened out, she was fresh out of tears. "It took me almost three years to come to terms with Ben's passing. I'm still learning to live without him. Healing is not linear, darling. I know it seems like this is never ending, but you will make it through this. We'll both make it through this, together, hand in hand. I am never leaving you and you're sure as hell not leaving me on my watch."
[Y/N] let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from May to look level with her. There were a few tear streaks down the older woman's face and [Y/N] felt a pang of guilt. She hated upsetting May or making her worry even more than she already did. May gently pushed the hair out of her face and [Y/N] took her hand.
"I'm not going anywhere, May," [Y/N] replied, placing a gentle kiss on the older woman's knuckle. "I'd miss your meatloaf too much."
May snorted, standing up and helping [Y/N] off the ground. "Now, there is no point in lying to me to butter me up," She joked, brushing the grass and dirt off the girl's coat. "Why don't you come back to the house for a bit? I'll make some tea. We could finally take a crack at that pumpkin bread recipe you've been talking about."
As if on cue, the shrill screech of a police siren broke May's created facade of a peaceful night. The women shared a look, [Y/N]'s full of remorse while May's held sorrow.
"Duty calls." [Y/N] sighed. She really did want to try that pumpkin bread recipe.
There was a beat. May opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find the right words to say. She didn't have to. [Y/N] already knew.
"I know, May," The girl spoke up. "He wouldn't want this for me, and you're right, but he also wouldn't want New York to be completely on its own. This city needs a hero, a symbol of hope. It's selfish, but this is for me too. Makes me feel like I'm carrying on his legacy, I guess. As long as there's a Spider, there's still a piece of Peter around."
It had been hard informing May of the double life Peter had been living after he passed, but what else could [Y/N] have told her? "Ah yes, your son died in a very tragic car accident and that's why his spine was shattered into pieces and I was left completely unharmed although I was also at the scene." Lying to May after losing him just felt wrong.
So [Y/N] told her everything, about Spiderman, about the Green Goblin and the Osborns. And a few months later, when [Y/N] decided to take her late boyfriend's place and protect New York, the first thing she did was tell May. May, of course, pleaded with the girl not to go any further with the idea of Spiderwoman, but [Y/N] had her mind set. She was going to protect New York, not only for her home state's sake, but for Peter's memory as well.
May sighed. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop [Y/N] and there was no point in wasting both of their time. She'd been trying to put an end to this for two years now, but the girl was stubborn. Peter had called it "overly ambitious". May couldn't help but think that Ben could've put an end to this somehow, but it was just her now. She'd find a way eventually.
"If you need anything," May finally spoke. "I'll be home all night. I don't have night rounds at the hospital for the rest of this week. You stop by, no matter how late, okay? Peter's old bed is always there for you."
[Y/N] felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Peter's childhood bedroom. She'd spent at least four months after his death practically rotting away in his bed. There were so many memories from their teenage years in that room. She didn't know if she could face them again without deteriorating.
"Thanks, May," [Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I'll shoot you a text if I decide to stop by. In the meantime, pamper yourself. You work too hard."
The women shared a hug, May giving the girl a warm kiss on the cheek before they finally parted ways. [Y/N] watched May make her way out of the graveyard before leaning down to Peter's headstone. She gently sat her forehead against the stone and closed her eyes.
"I really, really hope you're proud of me."
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It was late. She'd been out for hours now, patrolling around the entire state of New York. Stopped a few break-ins, prevented some drug deals, the usual crime scene. It had been quiet ever since Norman Osborn's death. His passing was sudden, an apparent suicide. The news had sent [Y/N] into a fit of rage.
"That coward took the easy way out. After everything he's done, after Peter, it's over because of a fucking self-inflicted gunshot to the head? It was supposed to be me, May. I wanted to watch him bleed."
[Y/N] sat close to the top of the Empire State building. This had been her and Peter's hiding spot. She could remember the first time he had brought her up here, sometime during junior year, and the view had completely taken her breath away. Peter had taken her hand and told her he loved her for the first time. It truly felt like they could've conquered the world together.
She took a breath, attempting to let herself relax for the first time in a few days. She was exhausted; her head was pounding and her body ached. It was a lot more difficult to do the job that Peter left behind without any super-human abilities. She was extremely lucky all of his equipment hadn't taken damage, trying to follow Peter's notes and blueprints felt like reading a foreign language. It was a miracle she hadn't taken life-threatening injuries yet, though she had ended up on May's doorstep needing help getting patched back up more times than she'd like to admit. Thank God for May Parker.
The wind up this high was chilling. It seemed to bite, but it held a certain familiarity that brought comfort. [Y/N] wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the structure of the building. The red and blue of the suit reflected against the metal. She had managed to adjust Peter's old suit enough to get it to fit her smaller frame. She was cold. She never used to be cold up here.
Her eyes were getting heavier and it was dangerous to stay up this high, but she couldn't seem to care. She gave in almost at once, letting her eyes drift shut. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought. It's not like anyone will find me up here.
There was a brief moment of complete silence. No city sounds, no wind, she could barely hear the steady intake of her own breath. It was calm, almost as if she had made her way to the end of the world. A bright, nearly blinding light made [Y/N] squeeze her eyes shut tighter. What the hell?
The noise resumed. Cars honked, people yelled. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the effect of the light, and noticed that the sun had risen. Had she accidentally fallen asleep and slept until morning? She'd have to send May a text. She always sent May an "I'm Ok! :)" after patrol. The woman must be worried sick.
[Y/N] made her way off of the building, slipping her mask back on and beginning to swing home. The sounds of Jonah Jameson's voice echoed through Times Square. Since when had he begun filming his episodes? She could've sworn the reporter only did his podcast.
J. Jonah Jameson sat at a desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His voice seemed to echo through the city. "Spider-Man continues his era of chaos with no remorse—"
That was weird. She had sworn everyone had switched to referring to the vigilante as Spiderwoman ever since the change had become more apparent. Also, when did Jameson go bald? He looked just... slightly off.
The reporter's rant on the hero continued. "When will you cease this meaningless destruction? After your betrayal to Mysterio, it's a miracle you have any public support remaining at all."
Mysterio? Who the hell was Mysterio?
The girl stopped, perching herself on the edge of a building and looking at the screen expectantly. She couldn't remember fighting a "Mysterio". There hadn't been a big bad in New York since the Goblin.
"It's time this little round of show-and-tell was put to an end," Jameson continued. "When will you face the facts? For the betterment of this city, you should be put behind bars. It's time you turned yourself in, Peter Parker."
[Y/N] felt her stomach drop.
The screen flashed. A photo of a teenaged boy was put on display. The words "PUBLIC ENEMY #1" were plastered over his face. Footage followed of the man Mysterio, accusing Peter of attempting to kill him. He revealed his identity and screen went to black.
[Y/N] could see Jameson's face appear back on the screen, but she couldn't hear a word he spoke. Something was extremely wrong here. She couldn't stop thinking about the boy that they had shown.
That's wasn't Peter.
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starksnoir · 1 year
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BARKING RIGHT NOW
Excuse me sir Gaiman, why has the last episode of the Sandman so little to do with the rest of the series?
Think of Episode 11 as the bridge into Season 2.
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starksnoir · 2 years
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STARTED SCREAMING INTO MY PILLOW AND PUNCHING EVERYTHING THIS IS SO GOOD
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Bring me a dream
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Part 1 | Part 2
Part 3: Vanilla Marshmallow
Status: Ongoing
Pairing: The Corinthian x F!Reader
Series Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, horror elements, manipulation
A/N: ok i think I got everyone tagged that wanted to be, but if not please don’t take it as a mark against you! Just message and let me know to add you ☺️ enjoy everyone!
-🍰-
Perhaps it was the thought of your sweet face, or maybe it was the flashback of you making him “pinky promise”; or it was some combination of those things and others that was making Corinthian feel bad about the dead person in front of him. He stared back at the hollow eye sockets with a grimace, holding the cooling body close to himself and brushing its dark hair away from the trickling blood. What was he going to do?
Of course he had no intention of actually stopping his illicit activities, those were a part of his life’s rich tapestry. Naturally he said what he could so that you would give him a chance, but now he was genuinely beginning to feel like he should at least dial back. He tilted his head at the corpse and arched his back, coming to lie back against the soft, thread rich sheets and letting the body slump off of the bed.
“Gonna have to hide that now,” he said to himself, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Never had to do that before…”
His naked thighs tangled in a blood stained white throw, burrowing him closer into the warmth of the bed. He could’ve lain there all night, staring up at the ceiling and into the emptiness there, contemplating you. There was a softness that grew inside his chest as he thought of you. A need that tingled through him as the blood that remained on his bare skin seemed to scratch at him.
He needed to wash off his sins.
The bed was slicked with crimson, evidence of his failed promise. He glanced at the glasses on the bedside table and stared back at himself in the reflection, considering his toothy eyes and solemn lips. His cheeks were trickling with blood that looked like tears. Was this what Morpheus envisioned when he was created? He often wondered about that.
Corinthian trailed his thoughts toward the entrapped endless and smiled. thinking of him caged and seething often brought a grin curling to his lips. It had upset him to know just how much you revered Morpheus upon talking to you more. You’d denied yourself the pleasures of the human realm, waiting so loyally in the dreaming, it was unfathomable. Beyond his comprehension. There was so much to gain from life, so many experiences to live.
He intended to make sure that you experienced them all. He wanted to claim it all for himself anew, seeing what the human realm had to offer for a dream. What would you do? How will the world change you? He couldn’t wait to see. It made his heart flutter thinking of all of the possibilities.
All he had to do was hide that poor wretch sprawled on the floor and he could drive back to the city and go meet you at daybreak. A thought that had him sighing into the pillow, moving his hands so that they trailed down past his stomach. He had some time before the darkness would dissolve and until then, well, he intended on having some fun to himself before he had to restrain himself once more.
Not for much longer, he hoped.
-🍰-
“So…How did the date go last night?” Casey probed, coming to sit in front of you on the breakfast bar.
She’d done a fantastic job of cleaning up your mess from the day previous and she’d even packed all your treats away into containers to keep them fresh. Well, those of them that she didn’t eat for compensation, of course. So it meant that you were able to get to baking again that morning, and make some pancakes in further recompense for all the trouble you’d caused.
You surveyed Casey’s wide eyes and knowing smile, and then pushed your little stack of pancakes over to her. You’d tasted them moments before and knew they were bound to impress. They tasted like sunshine on a field of wheat, like the memories of a farmer on a perfect day's harvest. The stuff of dreams. A sliver of your power. That would help to distract her, you thought.
“I’m seeing him again today,” you said dismissively, trying not to pique her interest too much.
She was midway through chewing when she burst into a round of applause, clapping her hands with glee. You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your syrupy coffee, calculating whether she was happier at the news or the pancakes. Definitely the news.
“Well then it must’ve gone well then, right? You gotta tell me all the details, did he like your makeover? What did you guys talk about? Did you kiss?”
You snorted at her last question and turned away from the island and toward the sink, busying yourself with the dishes. Agreeing to rehab Corinthian was one thing, kissing him was entirely another. Though you had no doubt he intended on claiming that and much more, you felt like you were unwilling to give him the satisfaction. You were going to be a guide for him, you thought, not a fuckbuddy. Yes, you had to be level headed, you couldn’t get too taken in on him.
“He was full of compliments for me yesterday actually, thanks for helping me so much,” you finally said, letting the water splash onto the dirty crockery.
“See! I was right,” Casey announced victoriously, mouth full of pancake.
“Mhmm,” you agreed, narrowing your eyes at a difficult spot of batter that clung to the pan you were washing.
“And you haven’t answered my other question either, which makes me think that you’re hiding somethingggg,” she sing songed.
“I’m not hiding anything,” you shrugged, turning around to see her sceptical face. “Honestly! We went to an ice cream place and we just- uh we just talked is all.”
“You went for ice cream and talked? What are you fifty? I thought you were going to that club!”
“Well, we met there, but then he said he wanted to show me someplace cute,” you shrugged again. “I liked it! It meant that we got to talk about things and relate and I guess…I realised that we’re more alike than I first thought.”
You paused for a minute, letting your hands float passively in the warm suds as you thought about your night together again. He had been so much more earnest than you ever would’ve given him credit for. You figured he must’ve been thinking about his nature for a long time, must’ve become so lonely wandering by himself.
While you didn’t think he was a completely innocent tragic soul, you couldn’t help but identify with his search for a purpose beyond the dreaming. Now that you were just as equally stuck on earth, you had no idea what you were supposed to do with yourself either. Sure, living with Casey in her inherited apartment and baking treats for her all day was a nice way to live, but it wouldn’t last forever.
One day Casey’s eyes would dim and she’d draw her last breath and when that day came you’d look just the same as you always had. You watched her then, as she dug into your pancakes with her warm smile and rosy skin, looking vibrant with life and possibility as she enjoyed her breakfast. You didn’t want to watch her slowly die and you couldn’t let her grow suspicious with time.
You had to leave, would be forced to find another purpose beyond live-in cook and housemate. If you could help the Corinthian stop his murder spree and become more of an honest man, then at least you coud attempt to find a reason for your own existence in the process. You owed it to dream to make something of yourself, to do something he’d be proud of.
“Ugh these are so good, I love it when you- hey! I told you, you have to stop watching me eat like that!” Casey shrieked, opening her eyes to your staring.
You giggled as she tossed a tea towel in your direction and watched as it drifted way over to your right, harmlessly dropping to the ground after blowing a gentle gust toward you. She was a terrible shot. You rolled your eyes and picked it up, placing it out of harms way lest she try and throw it at you again.
“I just like that you enjoy my food so much, it shouldn’t be a crime to see your reaction,” you laughed, covering up your thoughts from moments ago.
“There’s seeing a reaction and then there’s whatever you do,” she groaned, waving her hand at you dramatically.
“Well, I’m so sorry, I’ll try to do less of it,” you smirked, holding your hands up.
She glared at you playfully, and you took a mental note to try to stop with the staring. You still weren’t used to being perceived, still had the mentality of a dream. People never found it strange when you watched them eat in a dream, but apparently in the human world it was incredibly rude. There was so much etiquette you had yet to learn, so much you had to discover about being a person on planet earth.
“Well while we’re being intrusive,” Casey said suddenly, smiling wide with whatever idea she’d just cooked up. “Why don’t we look up your new loverboy.”
You groaned and turned away again, hoping you could go back to the dishes and off the subject of your supposed love life. If you had to lie about dating Corinthian anymore, you’d have steam coming out of your ears. Afterall, she’s already covered kissing, soon she’d be asking if you wanted to do…other things with him. Oh gods, no. You were very much unprepared for that conversation.
“C’mon! What’s his name again? Let me see a pic,” she grinned.
“It’s uh-” you panicked, freezing as your hand fumbled with a sudsy mug, “Cory.”
“Cory what?” she asked, fingers already firing over her phone keyboard.
“Cory Knight,” you lied, struggling to think of little better than Corinthian the nightmare. “Although, it doesn’t matter. He’s like me he doesn’t do facebook and instagram and all that.”
“Oh for- What the hell is it with you cave people! How have you managed to find the one other person in this city that isn’t on socials?”
“Well it’s like you said,” you laughed, “We’re both ancient people that go to ice cream parlours and eat desserts that don’t mess with our dentures.”
She groaned behind you and seemed to busy herself with attempting to find anything on a Cory Knight, but as she grew quiet you assumed that she musn’t have found anything. You settled back on your task of finishing with the dishes and smiled a satisfied grin when finally the kitchen was clean again, save for the plate that Casey was absentmindedly tapping with her fork. It filled the tiny room with metallic noise.
Just as you were about to ask for the plate, the drumming stopped and the room grew silent. You tilted your head and watched as Casey looked up at you with a frown, breaking her gaze off of her phone. She bit her lip and looked back it again, then put it down still face up and glowing.
“What is it?” You asked, looking into her haunted eyes with concern.
“That guy I was talking to the other night - not the asshole one- the one that was funny… he’s missing. Look, his family put out this big appeal about it! It’s all over my feed.”
It was your turn to frown now, you felt your brows furrow and stalked over to the phone, scrutinising the picture of the blonde, lanky man. Upon seeing the picture your mind filled with the image of Casey and him laughing together and was then overshadowed by the image of dark shades and a familiar gleeful smile. He promised…
What was it that Corinthian had said again? It was his business to know a lot about handsome men. Had he been tempted by that man, had he kept him in mind and gone after him after making that promise to you? You clenched your fists and tried to contain your rage, hoping like hell that you were wrong.
It was a hell of a coincidence that that man should go missing only a few days after Corinthian had laid eyes on him. For his sake, and for the humans you tried to tell yourself, you hoped that he had nothing to do with it. Otherwise you were going to make him very sorry about breaking his no killing rule.
-🍰-
“Well hey sugar, I was worried you weren’t gonna-”
“Save it,” you growled, already breaking your promise to yourself that you weren’t going to arrive on the warpath.
“Woah! What’s got you so riled up?”
You stared down at the Corinthian and watched as he tensed up in the worn leather chair he’d been lounging in moments earlier, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glaring. The big coffee shop you’d agreed to meet in was busy, the coffee machine was whirring and screeching and people were all busy enveloped in their own conversations and creating a din. The conditions were too perfect not to create your own little scene and force a confession if you had to.
“What’s got me so riled up? Have you seen the news today?”
“The news? No, why do you ask?” he asked innocently, bringing his arms down to rest on the chair.
He was wearing a tan jacket today and a black tshirt, looking as pressed and prim as ever. Only one thing was different, his hair was more relaxed, a few stray locks were sweeping over his forehead and looking playfully ruffled. Had he been toying with his hair in your lateness? Why? Guilt?
“Does this look familiar to you?” You asked, brandishing the screenshot of the article you’d printed from your detour to the library right in his face.
Corinthian’s hands shot up to the straying piece of paper and snatched it from your grasp, bringing it to a more viewable level. He pondered over it for a few moments and tilted his head, all the while you watched for any sign of recognition. You waited for a twitch, a tiny gesture that would give him away. Though instead of gaining any insight you were sat there just as in the dark as ever, watching a frown grow on his face.
“Hmm…wasn’t the that the guy your little friend was into? The one that you were jealous of?” he said finally, looking back up to your pouty face.
“I was not jealous!” you whined, losing sight of your goal for a moment. “But yes, that’s him. Why is he missing?”
“Well, how should I know?” he asked, shaking his head at you.
“As you so eloquently put it the other night, you’re the one in the business of liking handsome men, and I happen to think that it’s a bit strange you were admiring him the other night and now he’s gone,” you hissed.
“Wait…you’re accusing me of this?” he grunted, tossing the paper onto the table before you. “I told you the other night, I’m done with all that! And besides, even if I were lying, why would I go after someone in the same city I intend to stay in?”
“Really? Are you done with it though? I just think it’s a little too much of a coincidence to ignore, Corinthian.”
He tilted his head again when you said his name and after watching you for a few measured seconds, he muttered something under his breath and brought his hand up to his mouth. He sat there looking pensive for a few seconds, giving you time to register your erratic heartbeat, and then he grabbed the paper again. He read over it a few times more.
“I didn’t do this,” he said finally, his jaw ticking. “What would I have to gain from it?”
“What have you ever had to gain from killing?” you shot back.
He paused for a few seconds as if in thought and then sighed. As much as you hated to doubt yourself, it was sounding more and more as if he genuinely hadn’t had anything to do with it. The way he looked so lost in thought told you that he seemed to be genuinely considering what could have happened, it wasn’t very like him. Lost for words wasn’t his style.
“Sugar, can you sit down and hear me out for a second? I know it looks bad, and I suppose you have a right to suspect me, but honestly I didn’t do this.”
You bit your lip and let your heartbeat rage on, you felt your blood pumping fast through your body and your skin heating unbearably. There was so much adrenaline coursing through you, a seat might not even cut it, you thought. You needed an island retreat.
You took the chair across from him reluctantly, but sighed as you made contact with the springy old cushion, finally getting to rest for a moment. The smell of coffee finally drifted into your nose and soon you were feeling a craving itching in your stomach, the familiar ache for more sugar and sweetness to calm your frayed nerves.
“Stay there and I’ll get you something to drink, please just…wait. Don’t abandon me now, ok? Not before you hear me out,” Corinthian said, his voice straining as he got up.
You nodded at him, still frowning his way but now more full of doubt. Could it be that he was that amazing at acting, or was he really as innocent as he made out?
You watched as his coat swayed behind him and he made his way over to the baristas, his face transforming into his usual easy smile as if he weren’t just trying to clear his name of murder a second before. It only made you more doubtful as you watched his display, watched him chuckling and pulling out his wallet, even tipping the worker before wandering over to the end of the bar while he waited for his order.
Before long he was back and there was a steaming white drink in front of you, topped with plenty of whip cream and accompanied by a few chunks of thick marshmallow. For a second you forgot entirely what you were even there to confront him about. For a blissful moment, you were on your supposed second date and being wooed with a near sickly sugary drink and fluffy treats.
Though, the bliss passed after a few seconds. There was no forgetting the picture of the smiling man on the table, no matter how much the drinks tray obscured it.
“Do you think buying me nice things will distract me, nightmare?” You asked, folding your arms as he retook his seat in front of you.
“C’mon, please don’t call me that again, sugar,” he crooned, pushing your drink toward you. “I genuinely didn’t do it. I thought we made a pact? You were supposed to start being nice to me.”
“How can I be nice to you, when someone you were checking out might be dead?” you whispered, voice crackling as you grew less sure of yourself.
“Well he might be dead sure, but maybe he’s just passed out somewhere after a wild night out. The article says missing, sugar, not dead,” he reasoned, his voice sounding heavy. “You at least know enough about me to know it doesn’t take long to find my kills. The news wouldn’t say missing otherwise.
He sounded sadder the longer he spoke, there was a strain in his throat, he didn’t sound his usual sly self. You continued to eye him for a few moments and finally, after giving him enough thought you broke and released a big breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding.
Corinthian made a good point, the guy was just missing and he hadn’t even been missing for that long. It could very well be that his family were just overreacting, you didn’t know otherwise.
Though, as soon as the realisation dawned on you, your body flooded with guilt and you felt like you wanted to sink into the old leather chair and never come out. It turns out you’d been the one to break the pact, you had tried to take his chance away at the first opportunity and you’d almost jeopardised his effort to stop killing. He could’ve been lost and it’d have been all your fault.
“Gods, I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, feeling your voice shake. “I- I shouldn’t have done this, I shouldn’t have accused you like that.”
“Oh, sweetness, I understand why you thought what you did. Someone with a history like mine can’t be too precious,” he smiled, finally taking up his drink and sipping gently. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“Well…thanks for being so understanding,” you mumbled, finally focusing back onto the drink he’d bought you. “W-What did you get me?”
“Of course, sugar,” he said in that signature way that made sure he was winking. “I got you a white hot chocolate with vanilla marshmallows. The human over there recommended it.”
Your mouth watered just at the thought of drinking it. It sounded as amazing as it looked. He really did know you well, and it was starting to become more rewarding than eerie.
Without anymore hesitation, you brought it to your lips and took a greedy gulp, smearing thick cream over your lips and getting a nice warm mouthful of liquid chocolate. The mess was worth it. It was heavenly, sugar flowed fast and sweetly through you, perking you up and bringing life back to your defeated body. It was a liquid adrenaline shot.
“That looks like it’s good,” Corinthian chuckled, breaking you from your reverie.
All of a sudden you began to sympathise with Casey as you realised you were being watched. The Corinthian’s lenses peeked out from over his cup, ever the hunter in the longrass, he grinned widely. While your pleasure in watching people eat was knowing your work was good, you knew Corinthian’s pleasure was in knowing your joy came from him. He loved to see what he could do to you, even if it was just buying you a drink.
“It’s amazing, thanks for getting it for me,” you finally said, cupping the warm glass in your hands. “What did you get?”
“Black coffee,” he grinned, mirroring you. “I got enough sweet stuff right here to last me the whole day.”
-🍰-
“I can’t believe you ordered more of those.”
You giggled as you popped another marshmallow in your mouth and felt it melt into a gooey mess on your tongue. You were an official addict. You’d ordered a whole take away box full of them and practically skipped out the coffee shop with how high you were on the fluffy sugary treats. This was for sure going to be your new thing.
“They’re so good,” you smiled, looking back toward the Corinthian as he followed you out. “You should try one.”
He wrinkled his nose, face looking full of disgust. It was the first time you’d seen him look so repelled at the idea of something.
“I’m not one for marshmallows,” he sniffed. “Too sweet.”
“Too sweet? Something’s too sweet for you?” you grinned coyly, coming to walk by his side. “Here you are with all this talk of sugar and sweetness and you’re not even a real fan.”
“I can think of better things,” he says with a smirk.
You sigh at him and fall into a steady silence, walking along in any direction that he takes you. It’s a nice warm day and the sun is shining intensely, occasionally hiding behind a stray cloud here and there. Corinthian looks at home as he wanders leisurely in the sunlight and for once, you realise with a smirk, there’s a secondary use to those glasses of his.
Eventually you wander through the gates to a small park and find yourself being taken along a winding path and up to a hill, where he comes to a stop under an ageing old tree. It sags outwards and sprawls high into the sky, casting a little shade onto the bright green grass below. It’s a perfect spot to pause for a moment and get some respite from the heat.
“Would you like to sit for a bit?” he asks.
“Sure! I could use a little shade.”
He smiles obligingly and takes off his jacket, laying it out onto the darkened patch and gestures for you to sit down. The way he looks at you so expectantly makes your cheeks heat. He was being a gentleman. And - it was making you giddy for some reason? You caught yourself before you could make a face and sat down, quickly feeling his warmth next to you as he joined.
He never did feel as cold as he did when you’d first met him. You noted that as his shoulder brushed against you and the smooth flesh of his arm grazed against yours. There was something about it that made your stomach get all fluttery, like there was something dancing around in your body waiting to be released.
“I think this is one of the best parts of being down here, you know that?” The Corinthian says, leaning back on his arms and looking up toward the sky.
“What? Being here with me?” you asked, already starting to come up with retorts for any more of his flirty lines.
“Well, I’m certainly enjoying my time more now that you’ve stopped insulting me, but actually I was talking about being in the sun,” he sighed.
You laughed a little at yourself and peeked out toward him, watching as he continued to sunbathe. Whether he could see you watching him or not you had no idea, but you couldn’t resist looking at the way the light hit his face. It hit his cheeks softly and sloped off of his rounded nose, accentuating the kindness of his features.
It made you double take, had you blinking as you thought about it more. You’d spent so long filled with animosity for him, full of fear, but now you were starting to realise that there truly was more to him than the nightmare people spoke of. There was something gentle in him that you were sure that you could coax out more, if given the time.
It made you smile. He was so golden in this light, he shone. His hair, his face, even the lenses of his glasses didn’t look so threatening anymore. In fact…if you were really pressured you might even admit that the tiniest part of you was attracted to him.
“Do you sunbathe a lot?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from gazing at him.
“You sound surprised,” he snorted, turning to you again.
“Well it’s not the first hobby of yours I’d have guessed, but I suppose I do enjoy it too,” you smiled, lying back into his jacket until you were sprawled onto the grass.
You settled into the beige fabric and breathed in the sharp scent of patchouli and sage and fresh air. Corinthian really was like nothing you could’ve imagined. Everyone spun such fearful stories of him and made him out to be some horrible monster. All the while, he smelt like summer, and sounded smooth as a cocktail, dressing as elegantly as any gentleman from a fairytale.
“Do you think people often have nightmares about pretty days full of sunshine, sugar?”
Corinthians voice sounded serious all of a sudden, almost losing its smooth edge. It was enough to make you look back at him again and catch the grimace on his face.
“I guess not…” you trailed.
“Exactly, it's all darkness and crashing storms and creepy buildings. I can’t tell you what it feels like to break free of all that and feel the sun on your face for once,” he sighed, turning around fully so that he could hang over you, his face inches from yours. “I’ve seen things that no terrified human could’ve possibly shown me, that Morpheus would never have allowed for me. And, while I admit I’m not averse to shadow and horror because that’s what I was made for, it’s nice to be able to feel something other than the need to feed on fear. The only reason I have any beauty in my life is because I’ve willed it and that is something that I hold onto every time I think of the dreaming.”
Your breath caught as he spoke and you felt your throat constrict as you thought about what it must be like to be a nightmare. You just assumed they loved the darkness, just like you loved the light. It had never occurred to you that maybe they strived for more as well. You hadn’t thought that they could have wayward wants and fears just like you did, those wants that were against Morpheus’ own intentions for you all
“I never thought of the dreaming like that before, I’m sorry,” you mumbled.
You reached up and brushed Corinthian’s cheek, watching as he leaned into your touch. His grimace slowly faded and was replaced with his signature smile, his arms repositioned and came either side of you, boxing you in. Something told you that you should be nervous, but you weren’t worked up to that yet. You just stayed like that, caged below him and cradling his face.
“It’s alright sugar,” he crowed, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Speaking of beautiful things…would you let me kiss you?”
“Huh?”
You blinked a couple times, staring up at him in disbelief. Did he really just ask you that? Your heart beat rapidly and your body felt stiff. Every kind of inadequacy you had rose to the surface and made you feel like you were going to crumble like a biscuit. How were you supposed to do that? you’d never kissed before. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to do something with your lips? What about your hands, what were you supposed to do with your hands?!
“Hey, easy there, sugar. Just a little kiss, hm? I wanna see if you still taste like marshmallow,” he hummed.
You whimpered and stared up at him, searching his face for any sign of mocking, but he was serious. He wanted to kiss you, wanted to taste you. That fact alone made your legs feel weak, like you couldn’t even push yourself away if you wanted to, and gods that was the last thing that you wanted to do.
You wanted this. You actually wanted The Corinthian’s kiss. The you of only hours before would be rolling in her grave.
“I-I-ah, yes,” you finally said, stumbling on your words.
Corinthian snickered and lowered himself, brushing his lips against your cheek, chastely pecking you and setting your skin off in a blaze of fire. You could combust just from that if you were being honest with yourself. You gasped down a breath and closed your eyes as he moved to your lips and all of a sudden you felt his warmth on you, felt his arms hold your body in his tight grasp and his lips came down onto yours with a growing need.
You moaned against him quietly at first and then louder when his tongue brushed your lip and had you accepting him deeper into your mouth. You fastened your arms around him back and held him closer to you, forgot where and who you both were and clung onto him, feeling his body mould to yours while the sun continued to shine its golden radiance onto you both.
A few moments later, he broke the kiss, sighing deeply as he watched your face and saw your lashes flutter open like startled butterflies. Your hammering heart would surely scare away anything so small and frail.
That was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Unlike anything you’d ever tasted. You could feel a glow spreading through your body, could feel yourself burning for more.
More of The Corinthian.
“Oh, sugar,” he murmured, brushing his hand over your face. “You taste just as sweet as I thought you would.”
“Mhmm? You like the taste of marshmallows now?” you teased, feeling your head vibrate with an unfamiliar fuzziness.
“I like the taste of you,” he sighed, pressing a kiss onto your neck. “And one day, I hope you’ll let me taste more.”
-💕-
Tag List
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starksnoir · 2 years
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morpheus + being pretty - 1.02
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starksnoir · 2 years
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It takes Peter three tries before he’s able to put the suit on after Tony’s death. It takes him another four once he realizes the AI in it is Tony.
Pepper approached him not long after Tony’s death. Her eyes were red, but every other part of her appearance was as carefully composed as always. But when she handed Peter the suit, her hands shook. Her voice, though, was steady when she spoke.
“He wanted you to have this, if ever he… yeah.”
So now Peter’s sitting on the edge of his bed, chest heaving with churning grief, the echo of Tony’s voice still ringing in his ears.
“What’ll it be today, Parker?” Tony’s voice had greeted. And after four tries, Peter was expecting it, but it still didn’t make him any more prepared.
So for awhile, he just sits there.
The AI gives him time, though. There’s a second where Peter thinks, I can’t do this, how could he think doing this was okay?
He takes in another deep breath and stands, heading for his window, and climbs to the roof. Everything is always more clear from up high, a bigger picture you just can’t get from anywhere else.
It takes another hour before he’s able to do anything more than breathe.
His voice shakes when he finally speaks. “Tony?”
“Hey, kid,” the AI responds immediately, and Peter’s chest cracks wide open at that. A sob rises in his throat, but he swallows it down.
“Hi,” he chokes out.
“So are we going to fight some criminals or sit in the cold all night?” Tony prompts, and Peter lets out a wet laugh.
“Yeah,” he answers, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. Where to?”
And just like that, they’re a team again.
-
“Left! Take a left!” Tony’s voice yells at him as he swings wildly through the city in hot pursuit of a mugger.
Peter, in a moment of pure panic and disorientation, takes a right.
“The other left, Pete!” the suit yells at him, sounding exasperated, and Peter quickly backtracks.
It’s been a month since the first night Peter went on patrol with the suit. And even though there’s still a pang in his chest every time he hears Tony’s voice, he pushes it down and lets himself pretend.
“Sorry, sorry!” Peter apologizes.
Once he finally catches up to the man dressed in all black, webbing him up takes almost no time at all. Peter quickly snags the bag of cargo and rifles through it.
“Seriously?” he asks incredulously, staring down at the man now webbed to a trash can. “All that for some Twizzlers and cheap cologne? Wow, your life must be really sad.”
Peter heads back to the store to return the stolen items, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Just as he gets to his destination, his toe catches on the handle of a metal hatch in the roof, and he falls forward.
“Fuck!” he yells, pitching over the edge of the building. He quickly shoots a web and catches himself, looking around to see if anyone was watching.
Luckily, though, no one seems to have been paying attention. The people of New York are way too used to seeing Spider-Man around to be properly awed anymore.
“Nice, kid,” Tony says wryly, and Peter groans.
“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” Peter asks, grimacing.
“I recorded the whole thing,” Tony quips. “Whenever you do something stupid now, I’ll just play this video for you to remind you that you’re a reckless dumbass.”
“Thanks, Tony,” Peter says dryly. “Always good to be humbled.”
“Exactly. What would you do without me?”
I already am without you, a voice in Peter’s head supplies, but Peter shuts it down in favor of saying, “Live in peace, maybe.”
Tony scoffs. “That would be absolutely no fun.”
“For you, maybe,” Peter responds, dropping stolen goods off at the store. “Where to next?”
“Nightclub,” Tony answers without hesitation. “Pretty women.”
“I’m going to mute you,” Peter threatens, but the AI just laughs in his ear.
“You wouldn’t do that. You love me too much.”
Yeah, Peter thinks. I do.
-
Peter’s back on the roof late one night, dressed in the suit.
“Where are we headed, Pete?” Tony asks, but Peter just shakes his head.
“Nowhere. I just wanted to think,” Peter tells him.
“Oh? So why am I here?”
Peter hesitates before he answers. “I just didn’t want to be alone.” Tony doesn’t say anything after that.
These past few months have been much better for him. He’s gotten out more, even hanging out with Ned and MJ on occasion. Every so often, he gets dinner with Pepper and they reminisce. It’s nice. But when he’s not doing that, he’s in the suit.
It’s one of the few times the emptiness left in Tony’s wake doesn’t eat at him.
“It’s been nice,” Peter says finally. “Having you here, I mean.”
Tony takes a moment before responding. When he does, the AI’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle.
“It’s not me, Pete. Not really. Just a piece of tech,” the AI says softly, and the Band Aid that’d been placed over Peter’s grief-cracked soul rips off.
“It’s… no,” Peter protests, shaking his head. “It’s… It’s basically you, right? I mean. It’s close enough.”
“Peter. I’m just an AI,” the voice says firmly, and Peter’s eyes well with tears, not letting himself accept the reality. Because goddammit, it’s much easier to pretend that he’s talking to Tony - the real Tony. Makes his absence seem that much more like a nightmare than a reality.
“But I…” Peter’s voice cracks, words falling from his lips brokenly. “I just want you.”
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Tony’s voice says sadly, and Peter makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat.
“Why?” he gasps. “Why would you put yourself as my AI? Why would you do this to me?” Peter demands desperately, anger and sadness coloring his words.
When the AI speaks again, Tony’s voice is sad.
“It was the only way I knew how to keep protecting you.”
-
Based on this post made by @floweredantlers
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starksnoir · 2 years
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does anybody know that tony stark reader insert fic where tony leaves behind an A.I replica of him after he dies in endgame? omg pls help a girl out
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starksnoir · 2 years
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Once again I am BEGGING ya'll to stop cross tagging Loki & Thor fics... it's literally impossible to find Thor x Reader fics because the tag is absolutely flooded with Loki.
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starksnoir · 2 years
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YES MORE OF THESE PLEASE
I've got a Moon Knight request.
Have the boys (Khonshu included) react to (Y/N) being host to a symbiote (can be Venom if you want)
Can either be headcannon or oneshot.
How the moon boys and Khonshu would react to you hosting Venom
Poor Steven honestly, I think he would crap himself the moment he saw venom take over
I don’t think he would be particularly fond of venom, since he kinda reminds him of Khonshu in a way
Venom probably wouldn’t like Steven either, he would think Steven was too weak to be with you
Venom would only stop treating Steven bad after you berate him very loudly
Marc would be cautious at first
I think he would keep his distance whenever venom took control
He’d be weirded out too, I mean he’s seen gods up close but not really aliens so….
But after some time he would be less wary of venom
He’d be concerned about your health over anything else
Jake would like Venom
They’re both kinda unhinged so it makes sense
They’d be best friends who am I kidding
Khonshu tries not to care
After all, why should he care about your problems?
But that’d quickly change when Venom starts calling him cashew
I’m not sure that Venom would be able to see Khonshu, but let’s say that he can for now
Yeah Venom would go out of his way to be a pure menace towards Khonshu
leading to some unfortunate situations for you..
I hope you enjoyed these!
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starksnoir · 2 years
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the suit stays ON during sex
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starksnoir · 2 years
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sunlight || ch. 1
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CHAPTER 1: TITAN
NEXT >> | Masterlist | Ao3
The day was not going as well as Loki had hoped.
And he certainly wasn't fulfilling his glorious purpose either.
It had started out splendidly, in his opinion. He managed to ensnare two of his enemies' allies, Barton and Selvig, under the power of the Scepter and he had done so without breaking a sweat. He was able to lead the Chitauri to Midgard. He was quite sure he was going to get his throne and fulfill his end of the deal.
So why exactly was he here, handcuffed and muzzled, while his enemies argued whether or not he should face the Allfather's wrath or this planet's idea of punishment for a god?
This proved to be quite a predicament for him. He observed the conversation Stark and Thor had with the other man. Some kind of authority figure in Midgard, he thought. It was all fairly boring, but when Stark suddenly fell to the floor convulsing, he couldn't help but stare. Stark may have been mortal, but he was undoubtedly smarter than the rest of his kind. He wasn't the type to create something flawed, especially when that something was essential to his survival like that glowing machine embedded in his chest. It wasn't until some unseen force kicked the suitcase containing the Tessaract into the direction of another agent that Loki immediately knew something was amiss.
He was more than capable of discerning the fact that there were two Starks in the room. It was hard not to notice the unrelenting violation to his nose that was the man's cologne. For once, however, the hulking green monster finally picked the right time to smash something. The agent, whom he presumed was another Stark, dropped the case wide open and it slid back to Loki's general direction. And that was it. He picked up the Tesseract and teleported away.
He was smug about it too— until he landed face-first into the sand.
It was as if the universe just really wanted to mess with him, plucking him out of one horrible situation and into another.
"Well, this is less horrible than where I just was," he thought.
With a grunt, he slowly pulled himself back up. His handcuffs conveniently broke when he landed and that only left him with the muzzle, which he could take off easily.
"Great," he breathed out, picking up and eyeing the Tesseract which laid there as if it was mocking him. "For an artifact so powerful, you are truly useless."
Before he could even stand up, a searing pain flooded his head. He groaned and fell to his knees, hands clutching his temples to try and make it go away. The Tesseract was dropped, forgotten. It was as if multiple people were stabbing his head at the same time. It was too much. Then, there was a voice. It was his voice. Loki could recognize it anywhere, mostly because he could never forget how much pain he had to endure under the Mad Titan's grasp.
"It would be random. This is mercy," the Titan insisted to someone. Loki didn't know who.
"This is GENOCIDE, Thanos! You can't seriously be asking us to sacrifice half of our people? It's not right. It's immoral," the other person argued.
"What's not right is you letting this planet die for the sake of saving everyone now. The future won't be so kind."
With those final words uttered, everything stopped. The pain ceased and Loki could finally breathe again. He sat on his legs for a while, trying to process what just happened. Was his fear of that madman really that strong? Why was that... vision so clear? Thousands of questions ran through his mind at the speed of sound and yet he can't find an answer for any of them.
Deciding enough was enough, he stood once more, albeit slower this time. He waited for another pang of pain to run through his hand and cripple him, but it never came. When he finally deemed that the coast was clear, he grabbed the Tesseract and prepared to leave the godforsaken planet.
Until he felt a crunch beneath his boot. He looked down and saw a skull, half-buried in the sand. The Tesseract's glow fizzled and dulled, but it didn't teleport him anywhere else.
Author's Note:
Hey!! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Sunlight. It's pretty short since it's just here to set the pace but future chapters are most likely going to be longer. I'm really looking forward to writing this!! This is a project I've been putting off for way too long. Hopefully, I can keep updating at a regular schedule but in the meantime, thank you for your patience <3
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