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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

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Hi! Are you still taking prompts? If yes, can you do a Starker one, where Tony is oblivious, and Peter doesn't know what to do, and ask for help to a close friend of Tony and they try to make him jealous by pretending to date and Tony is like of course he is with him he's everything i'm not and having a total breakdown and peter realize that they hurt tony instead and ask for forgivenes and end up together, pleasee? Thank you! If you aren't please just ignore this!

Against my better judgement, my prompts are never closed! Thank you so much for this super sweet/angsty prompt, Nonnie! I realised after finishing this that I never directly included Peter asking for forgiveness, but I hope this feeds you just the same! ❤

TW: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Self-worth issues | Jealousy | Alcohol mention

SFW

Harley Keener is two years Peter’s senior and nicer than Peter could have ever imagined. When Tony had first started to talk about the ‘the first one he pseudo-adopted’ and how Harley had grown into more of a ‘mini me’ than he could’ve imagined, Peter had felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut.

What if Harley was better than him?

What if Tony liked Harley more?

What if, with Harley around, Tony didn’t want Peter around anymore?

He needn’t have worried, though. Harley wasn’t as ‘outwardly’ nerdy as he was, but he was more than happy to gush over the latest Star Wars LEGO offerings, and Tony snarked them both in equal measure. It was surprisingly like having another Ned around, and it took less than a week for Peter to feel stupid for having worried about his place besides the two of them.

Tony even joked that Harley was the ‘prototype’ and Peter was the ‘updated model’, to which Harley had just rolled his eyes, knocked Tony’s spanner off the table like a cat and gone straight back to talking to Peter about ComicCon.

They became fast friends, and Peter supposed that was somewhat why he tended to forget there was a second person in the lab with them here and there, starkly (heh) reminded of it when Harley flopped down next to him on the penthouse couch one evening and said; “so how long have you been in love with Tony?”

He could have cried. The Avengers he was around almost every other day for the past two years brushed off his doting as a hero complex and ‘mentor crush’ and it had taken Harley Keener less than three weeks to call him out on its true nature.

Naturally and mortifyingly it ended up with Peter sniffling against Harley’s shoulder, wailing about how Tony was out of his league, how every single possible thing that could was against them, and how worst of all; Tony wasn’t interested.

“He’s interested,” Harley had shrugged, gingerly plucking a tissue from the box and holding it out to him. He’d been somewhat cryptic about the basis of his statement, but had enthusiastically proposed a manner of ways in which it could be proven. And Peter…

Peter agreed to one.

He didn’t know why. He wasn’t exactly a glutton for punishment and he certainly didn’t get his kicks out of being humiliatingly, crushingly rejected, but...But Harley had said so make jealous. Tony always wants everything, and when he thinks he can’t have something he just tries harder to get it and Peter had inexplicably said yes.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, Peter didn’t quite know which) the only real, viable option was...Harley himself. None of the other Avengers would work; since they were all taken, straight and/or highly unlikely to be receptive to fake-dating a teen half (or more) their age.

Neither Ned or MJ had access to the Tower or could really be around any SHIELD, Stark or Avengers activity, and that left quite literally no-one else but Harley.

“I mean, in a way, its perfect. I’m the grandmaster of the plan anyway, and you don’t have to wordy about hurting my feelings or me falling for you. We can collaborate flawlessly to get you some Grand-Daddy dick,” Harley hummed around the stick candy in his mouth, and Peter wasn’t quite sure what part of that sentence offended him the most.

“Does literally nobody want me?” he pouted, bottom lip pushed out dramatically as he kicked Harley’s leg out of the way and picked up the PS5 controller.

“Hey, chin up, munchkin. You’re prettier than half the girls I know. I’m just not wired that way.”

“You’re straight?”

“I’m not anything. It’s like asexuality and aromantic, but both,” Harley pulled a face, clearly trying to remember the term, then shrugged. “Ah, I can never remember it. Anyway, point is, I’m not interested in anyone. You’re a little cherub, for sure, but you’re cute like a cat, not suck-my-dick cute.”

And, well. Cute like a cat? He considered that a high compliment.

Thus, Operation Get That Grand-Daddy Dick (Peter did not name it) was underway. They both agreed to keep it natural and subtle, since Tony walking in on them half-naked or all over each other was just likely to spook him off. They’d edge into it; hint that they were spending more time together, act a little cosier, maybe get caught holding hands after a week or two.

In truth, it wasn’t all that different to how they had been before, except that Harley made his smiles even softer, a little more secretive and let his gaze linger when he was sure Tony would notice. They sat and stood closer together than before, and here and there Harley would press a lingering hand to his back or arm.

They made sure when one or both left they secreted away just out of sight and took a little too long, standing close together by the elevator and making sure to hug ‘longingly’ (whatever that meant in context) should Tony happen to peek.

And yet for all his smarts, Tony didn’t seem to particularly notice anything amiss until the first time that he spotted them ‘romantically hugging’. Harley was actually a very good hugger, and they stood in front of the elevator together, with Peter facing it and Harley facing the lab. Harley had his chin over Peter’s shoulder and his hands low and tight on his waist, holding him close.

“Spotted,” Harley whispered quietly, and moments later Tony spoke up.

“Well that looks cosy.”

Tony’s voice was carefully level, no betrayal of emotion as Peter shyly disentangled himself from Harley, taking a step away as though caught doing something he shouldn’t. He didn’t have to fake the heat in his cheeks when he glanced up at where Tony stood, arms folded, and he fumbled with the strap of his backpack, glancing across at Harley before he gave Tony a meek smile.

“Um, I’ll-- I’ll see you Friday, Mr. Stark!” he chirped, shuffling around Harley and into the elevator. Tony was still staring at him as the doors began to close, and Harley turned, casting him a wink and a finger-waggling wave. Peter waved back sheepishly and the moment the doors were shut, he whipped out his phone.

[To: Thing 1] Did he look mad? It looked like he looked mad. Omg. U gotta tell me anything he says :// [19:31]

Harley did in fact text him back two hours later, though there wasn’t much to report. Tony had made a few flippant remarks that could either be parental interest or slight jealousy, and had dropped the subject after a short while in order to focus on his latest project.

Peter slumped. There was snails who had a faster moving love life than he did. With a groan, he stuffed the last of his anxiety snacks in his mouth and flopped back against his pillow to discuss the next step with Harley.

Social media was their next plan of attack. Tony followed Peter on Instagram and Twitter, and had his Snapchat even if the older man rarely used the platform, so they were going to up the pressure by hanging out outside of the lab (which they did anyway) and posting it to social media.

It was too soon to cancel plans with Tony to hang out with Harley (and frankly, Peter didn’t want to anyway) so they simply both made themselves unavailable on certain other days, or hung out together without mentioning it to Tony beforehand.

They got ice cream at the park, went to the art museum downtown, visited several different cultural/ethnic based stores and went to the arcade to kick ass at air hockey over the course of a few weeks, all while keeping up the poorly secretive touching and closeness at the lab.

And he’d still have more luck getting blood from a stone.

Tony seemed...Either completely oblivious, or just completely unphased. Whilst Peter caught him watching them here and there with an unreadable expression, Tony never directly asked them or overtly commented on what was happening. There was the odd, “enjoy the park yesterday, kid?” or “saw your post the other day, you should try this place next,” but never anything along the lines of what Peter hoped for.

Even Harley was starting to doubt his original statement that Tony was definitely interested.

Especially when Tony was the one who started cancelling plans, telling them both to ‘go enjoy themselves’ and ‘live the lives of young people’. He didn’t do it all the time, but here and there they’d both receive a text telling them not to come today. The lingering looks got longer and more weighted, but even so, Tony made no move in either aspect.

“I think I’m just gonna have to give it up,” Peter admitted to Harley one night over the phone, hanging upside down in his bedroom with the phone dangling on a web besides him.

“Maybe he’s just not ready for anything right now?” Harley suggested on the other end, between the frantic sounds of tapping buttons.

“Maybe-- Oh, hang on. I’ve got an inbound from JARVIS. It might be Avengers stuff,” Peter hummed, quickly twisting to tap on the screen to accept the incoming call from JARVIS.

“Hey, J. What’s up?” He greeted the AI, blinking at the call screen.

“Apologies for the disturbance, Mr. Parker, but protocol deems that when Mr. Stark is in distress I establish contact with someone on his emergency list in order to inform them.” The AI’s voice was as smooth and unhurried as ever, but Peter frowned at the screen.

“Distress?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker. Sir’s heart-rate is elevated and he is displaying significant symptoms of sadness, including light drinking, darkened lighting and angered viewing of your social media.”

“Angered viewing of my social media?” Peter echoed, fear ratcheting up as he dropped from the ceiling and moved to tug on a pair of shoes. Fuck, had he let something sip? Was there something in the background of his photos? Had someone figured out who he was? He was hopping towards the door on one foot when JARVIS spoke again, and he had to hop back to pull his phone down from the web.

“Why is he sad over that? Did I do something wrong?”

JARVIS was silent for a short while, as though the AI was debating on how best to respond.

“I... Believe Sir may be feeling lonely. Or unworthy of company. There have been a multitude of such instances over the past several years,” JARVIS replied after a pause, as Peter locked the web shooters around his wrist and tugged the Spiderman mask over his head to avoid any cameras, crawling out of his window and leaping out into the brisk air.

It didn’t take long to swing to the Tower, especially not when panic and concern had him pushing it, testing his muscles and leaving him slightly out of breath by the time he slipped onto the top landing console.

JARVIS directed him through to the penthouse and up the set of 12 steps that lead to the ‘upper level’ of it, to an open doorway that revealed Tony Stark sprawled out on his bed, staring blankly at his phone with a neglected, half-open bottle of whiskey loose in one arm, like a newborn babe.

“Mr. Stark?” he asked softly, and Tony’s gaze flit up to him, clearing immediately. His mentor cursed and jerked upright, almost sloshing the whole bottle over his bedding.

“Shit! Kid! Wh’r you doin’ here?” Tony’s voice was just hinting on slurred, the same easiness and lack of concentration that came when you’d had a shot too many. Or five. Peter’s heart cinched as he stared at Tony gingerly putting the bottle on the bedside table, at the redness of his eyes and the messiness of his hair where he’d been running a hand through it, over and over.

“JARVIS called me. He said you were sad,” Peter managed after a moment, hands wringing the mask between his fingers nervously. He’d never seen Tony like this, this...uncomposed. He looked haggard, tired and sad, and it made Peter feel empty and adrift, unsure of how to approach this new version of the man he loved.

“Fucking snitch,” the older man grumbled half-heartedly, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Shit. Don’t-- Ignore me, kid. Adults my age are entitled to a night like this once in a while. Go back home, I’m fine. Fuck, you didn’t leave Harley for this, did you?”

“Harley?” Peter parroted, brows furrowing as Tony waved a hand.

“Go on, kid. Get. Make the most of being young and pretty with someone young and pretty.” Tony reached for the bottle again and Peter found himself striding across the room, placing himself in the way of Tony’s outstretched hand and the whiskey. Tony’s fingertips brushed his stomach and recoiled like he’d been burnt by the contact.

“Mr. Stark, do you think I don’t want to hang out with you anymore?” he asked after a moment, voice fragile. God, he’d hoped to maybe make Tony a little jealous, but nothing like this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him. And he clearly had. There was nothing but rawness in Tony’s eyes when the older man looked up at him.

“I’m not taking it personally,” his mentor attempted to joke, but it came out bitter and too flat to land lightly. Peter’s heart cinched in his chest and he shuffled to sit on the edge of the large bed, teeth on his lower lip as Tony turned away from his gaze.

“Mr. Stark, I’ve never...I’ve never not wanted to hang out with you. Even if I have other friends, too,” he pointed out tentatively, and Tony scoffed lightly.

“You’re too good for a world like this, shortstack. For someone like me. You should be trailing after someone like Captain Uptight,” Tony muttered lowly, and Peter scowled.

“You’re not less better than he is. Both of you are good people. Both of you make mistakes. Both of you save the world.”

Tony’s brows pinched, and he breathed out something that just barely sounded like then why aren’t I good enough?

Making an executive decision, Peter toed off his sneakers and crawled further up onto the bed, picking up Tony’s arm and settling down against his side, curling up under his arm and wrapping his own around Tony’s waist.

He could feel Tony’s heart thumping wildly in his chest, could feel his breath hitch and the hesitant way that Tony let his arm settle over Peter, fingers curling in his hoodie.

“You are,” he offered simply, squeezing gently. “This is my fault. I was acting like a dumb kid, and I thought... I should’ve known that it was just gonna end badly.”

“Is being my mini-me really that bad?” Tony choked out, and Peter pushed himself upright, alarmed.

“What? No! Mr. Stark, being around you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t ever ever regret being around you! I just... I have to…” He trailed off for a moment, frustrated, then prayed to Harley for forgiveness and sucked in a deep breath.

“I’m not actually dating Harley. At all. He doesn’t like people that way. Any people. We’re not boyfriends and I don’t want to stop spending time with you to spend time with him. I like spending time with you and you’re still my hero. Tony Stark or Iron Man,” he stated firmly.

Tony looked at him for a moment, then looked away.

“You should be with Harley, kid. Or someone like him. Not someone like me. Not someone with my history. I’m a shit person, kid. All this Iron Man stuff hasn’t even wiped half my scoreboard clean. Someone like Harley... He’s the better parts of me. Like you. He’s worth your love”.

Tony seemed almost startled at saying that word, twitching a little before he attempted to turn away from Peter again, gaze finding the far end of the room like he wished he was anywhere but here.

Peter fidgeted, then sucked in a deep breath. “Please don’t hate me after this,” he fumbled out quickly, then rolled half on top of the older man, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as he leaned forwards.

The kiss was awkward and clumsy and couldn’t have lasted for than two seconds before Tony pulled away, eyes wide and voice rough.

“Kid, what-- You can’t--”

“If you say you’re not interested, I’ll respect that,” Peter interrupted. “Or if you say I’m too young or whatever. But if you say anything along the lines you of not being enough, or not being worthy, or-- or-- Or whatever it is you feel you aren’t... You’re wrong. The reason me and Harley were acting like that is because I was trying to make you jealous.”

“What-”

“And I know its dumb! I don’t it was childish and I never thought it would hurt you like this. But I’ve lo-- I’ve really liked you. For years. And I know you’re a lot older and we might never be able to be...To be...Normal. I guess. But I want whatever I can get with you, because you’re worth it,” Peter barrelled on, desperate to at least be heard before Tony kicked him out. Except when he trailed off Tony was just... Staring at him.

“It’s just... Hero worship. You still think I’m some magical superhero and you--”

“No offence, Mr. Stark, but you don’t know what I think. Not when it comes to you, clearly,” Peter cut in, cheeks heating at being so brash. Prior to this he wouldn’t have ever dreamed about being so direct and forceful against Tony.

Well. Not in any PG-rated sense, anyway.

“Just... We don’t have to talk about it now, okay?” eh offered, sliding off Tony just a little so he was back up against his side, wriggling around until he could grab the faux fur throw on the bottom of the bed, pulling it up over both of them. Tony remained quiet at his side, just watching as he got them both settled.

“Just... I’m gonna stay, alright? Right here. With you. Because this is where I want to be, and its where I’m gonna stay until... Until you tell me to leave.” His lower lip threatened to wobble with mounting emotion as he lay his head on Tony’s chest, feeling the thick ridges of his scars beneath his shirt.

A moment later, Tony’s hand settled lightly over his head, fingers sliding tentatively into his hair.

“And if I never tell you to leave? If I’m selfish and never want to let you go?” the other man whispered.

“Then I guess that makes us both selfish, because that would make me happy,” Peter mumbled into his chest, wrapping his arm tighter around Tony’s waist. The room went silent for a while, save for their breathing and Tony’s heart thumping beneath his ear.

“Okay,” Tony rasped after a moment, and Peter smiled.

“Okay, Hazel Grace.”

“...What?”

“Nevermind. You’re too old for that reference.”

“You’re a little shit.”

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rosalesbeausderholle · 4 years

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So this is a huge loaded question and I understand if you need time to answer, but how should radblr handle the individual users we know to be political lesbians? Gcdk and piquegender both said during the last GS discourse "lesbians often have sex with men when we feel lonely" and "it's not uncommon for gay people to have exciting and enthusiastic straight sex" and I want to be able to talk about how we see through the polilezzes who hide behind non-goldstars without demonizing non-GS. Or to help bi women understand the difference between being gay and not being in love with any male exes or liking sex with them bc they're 20 years old and men don't care about their pleasure yet, and that will save them having to write another Oops I'm Not a Lesbian post in two years, confirming what lesbians already knew but were attacked for trying to say, even in a gentle way. Sometimes it's none of our business, but I'm so tired of non-lesbians speaking over lesbians in radblr, especially to call goldstars privileged for our ostracisation and lack of access to male resources, in addition to telling everyone how it's fine if lesbians want to fuck a man once in awhile with no external pressure other than curiosity when we're horny and liking women limits our options.

I agree with you yeah, I honestly think that anyone who says “lesbian have sex with men because we feel lonely“ is an idiot, and that’s stupid. Like, there’s no argument there. It is stupid it is just plain wrong, and we can just call them out on their horrendously lesbophobic argument and that’s that.

But we can do that without then going “any lesbian who is not a GS is then a fake lesbian“ because that is the argument I’ve seen some people make, and that is the argument that makes this whole discourse a nightmare for me, personally. I’m a gold star, though I don’t call myself that a lot, and I don’t agree with saying being one makes us “privileged“ because we both suffer under homophobia and misogyny even if it manifests in different ways, and I think we should be understanding of that while also standing our ground with people dismissing our unique experiences. None of us (gold stars i mean) have to listen to anyone, even if she claims she’s gay, who tells us that “but how can you know if you haven’t tried men?“ That’s lesbophobic as fuck, and we don’t have to tolerate that, at all. We also don’t have to tolerate people saying shit like “if you’re a gold star it’s only because you were a social reject shut in“ (and kudos to social rejects shut ins everywhere because I’m the president of that particular club but also that’s super hurtful) or to say that we were lucky or shit like that. Being a gold star doesn’t make the lesbophobia we experience lesser, it might make it different, but no less. And then it also depends on where you live, how supportive/lesbophobic your environment is, etc.

So yeah they do say hurtful things about us, but I’ve also seen many gold stars say hurtful things about non-gs and like, why? What’s the point of saying these things? Wouldn’t it be better to just, not say them and try to understand that some of us just have different experiences from each other? These discussions always feel very absolutist to me imo. It’s not either “all non-gold stars aren’t real lesbians“ or “sexuality is fluid and lesbianism doesn’t really exist“. There’s a middle ground in that and it is “lesbianism (female homosexuality) exists and it is natural but due to living in a patriarchal and homophobic society it is hard for many lesbians to accept themselves and/or discover their sexuality. Due to this, many lesbians feel social pressure (and social sexual coercion) to stay in the closet, and in some cases, fake straight relationships“ Ta-da! Controversy over. I get lashing out when we’re hurt, and lesbians can hurt each other too, but there’s a different way to have all these conversations.

This is not @ you anon, but when this discourse comes up lately all I think about is the young lesbians brainwashed by queer theory. The ones with trans partners who are convinced that genitals don’t have anything to do with sex so they believe they can make themselves “love“ their partner’s male genitals. I’ve seen so many posts by these girls, either describing how they tolerate unwanted sex, calling out for help because they feel broken, or talking about how they “taught“ themselves to love d*ck so you can too :) There’s plenty of women within queer communities who call themselves lesbians while fully aware they’re bi, but then there’s people who are really lesbians really trapped in a lesbophobic nightmare where there’s no acceptable way for them to actually be same-sex attracted within those communities (and they may not call themselves lesbians, they may call themselves queer/bi because they like trans female people, or they may call themselves trans men because they consider liking women a “male trait” and it induces dysphoria, or they may call themselves lesbians and force themselves to tolerate relationships with the opposite sex). These women obviously aren’t gold stars, but they ARE lesbians and they NEED a community that supports them, not one that tells them “well you were in a willing relationship with the opposite sex under sexual coercion and extremely fucked up conditions so you’re not a lesbian even though you were put in such a horrible situation precisely because you’re exclusively same-sex attracted within a community that didn’t let you express that“.

So I agree with you that we need to call out people who insist dumb bs like “lesbians sleep with men when we’re lonely“ or that we’re all into men deep down or that we can’t come out as lesbians until we “try“ men and all the rest. And of course, we don’t have to tolerate people insulting gold stars? Like no matter who does it we don’t have to tolerate insults period. There’s ways to do that, and to maintain our boundaries about lesbianism being exclusively same-sex attraction, and yes to criticise comphet theory too (because it was created by a political lesbian and rests upon that theory, and while not everyone who uses it uses it to excuse their attraction to men because most people haven’t even read the original essay, which you all should btw to form your own opinion on it, it is still worth criticising) without then dismissing every single lesbian who has ever had any past experience with a man as a fake.

Some women like that are women who are actually bisexual (who are either confused about their sexuality, haven’t realized their bisexuality yet, or call themselves “lesbians” bc they wrongly consider sexuality fluid or whatever), but some are lesbians and I believe we can try to support all our fellow lesbians while still maintaining clear boundaries on lesbophobic sentiments and ideas. Our community is fractured enough as it is and we all need it, it is vital to create community among lesbians, so I see no point in fracturing it even further and creating ever more disagreements over this.

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nessamaurice · 4 years

Text

Simple Ch. 2 (Loki x F!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Tony and the Avengers are in desperate need of something like a “babysitter” to have an eye on Loki and teach him “how to human”. He decided to stay on Midgard over the dungeons of Asgard as punishment for his deeds in New York. That’s where you swoop in. A simple receptionist at the Avengers compound. You have to share an apartment in the compound with Loki and damn, he’s a really tough nut. With your open and kind character it seems that you are slowly cracking his shell. But suddenly things are getting twists that will change your life and your relationships there irreversibly.

Story rating: M

Chapter trigger warnings: n/a

Words: 2492

Your head just did not keep quiet.

Oh my god, what have I done. I don't want to be kicked. I really like my job. Don't fire me, oh lord have mercy with my poor soul.

Your mind went on and on while you followed the famous Hawkeye through corridors of the compound you never saw before. You stepped into a lift and the doors closed. You noticed that he did not push any button but the elevator started to move anyway. You glanced over to him and caught your own reflection in the mirror of the lift wall. Embarrassed you shut your mouth that was still open. You stared at your shoes (which were pretty dirty as you just noticed) and you wished so much you would not be wearing your favorite Star Wars shirt under your cardigan right now (the combination looked really good and the cardigan hid your nerdiness) as the heat in your cheeks did not stop rising.

"You don't have to be nervous."

You audibly gasped as Clint Barton pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and saw him smirking. You wished you could bang your head against the wall.

He leant a little over to you and lowered his voice. "You are not in trouble. We just have an offer for you." He leant back again. "But Tony wants to present it to you himself. Typical." He rolled his eyes really hard. He noticed that you had turned your head to him and you must have looked a bit puzzled `cause he said "Well, if you knew Tony you'd understand what I mean."

"Oh, I know." You said out of a reflex and immediately pressed your lips together in regret.

Now he turned his head to you, asking you with his eyes.

"I, uhm, I know him from the TV in interviews and sometimes he crosses the entrance hall, followed by several persons most of the time and, uhm, well, he has a loud voice so it's not hard to hear what he says and how he says it and... uh" You paused to find the right words to say what you were thinking without giving them a reason to fire you now, "I think he likes to set the tone." You smiled a bit as you compared your thoughts with your words and were proud of yourself. Quickly you added "And of course he has every right to do so, he's a genius and deserves every attention he gets."

After a very, very long second of silence, all Hawkeye did was let out a little snorty laugh.

Shortly after the lift stopped. Just before the doors opened, Clint Barton patted you a bit roughly on your back, which made you stumble a small step forwards, and said "Don't worry, you'll do great."

He stepped outside and you just followed him. Eventually he stopped, opened a door, held it open for you and waited for you to get in first. You took a deep breath and went inside.

In the meeting room was a long table with several chairs around it. The left side of the room was just one giant window. In the other corner of the room stood a man in jeans and a dark t-shirt (which turned out to be a Black Sabbath tour shirt) looking out of the window. As you entered, he turned around.

"Ah, you got to be Miss Y/N" he almost sang as he crossed the room quickly to get to you, stretching out his hand. You stared a moment too long at the hand, now being in front of you, before you grabbed and shook it.

"Uhm, yeah, hello Mr. Stark. What an honor to meet you." You stammered while smiling a bit helplessly.

"Oh, let's keep it casual if you don't mind. Tony." He grinned right into your face which just worsened your blushing. You assumed you just reached level tomato red. A very short moment his facial expression shifted just a little bit. He focused on your face, seemed to search certain features. Just as if he knew you from somewhere. But that lasted just like two seconds before he returned to his childish grin.

"Sure!" You cleared your throat; that came out a bit too enthusiastic, "Sure. A pleasure. Oh and of course, it's just Y/N to you."

"Alright! Sit down please."

He gestured you to one of the chairs. While you sat down he pulled a small plastic bag out of nowhere and offered it to you.

"Cashews?"

You couldn't help but smile and grabbed some, thankful to have something to do with your hands besides fumbling on your clothes.

"Okay. Barton?"

He simply nodded, waved someone to come in and joined you on the chair next to you. You simply smiled at him, chewing on your cashews as you heard the door closing and looked to the entrance again. You literally almost choked on the kernels as you gasped "Whoa fuck!" Right there in front of you stood no one less than Thor himself. You pressed your hand on your mouth to stop you from saying more swearing and spitting the food around.

The broadest of smiles in his face, he just said "Mylady.", leaning slightly forwards into a little bow.

You silently watched him getting closer to you with just a few steps. He took your hand and placed a decent kiss on its back.

Staring at him in all his armour, surrounded by some strange sort of glory, you swallowed hard.

"Hello! Uhm, Thor, I guess?" You smiled nervously. You noticed all the smirking from the other two men.

"You guess right. Your name is Lady Y/N, right?"

"Just Y/N, yes, thank you."

"Okay!" Tony said while clapping in his hands. "Everybody's here. So, Y/N, let me explain what's going on here. Thor, sit down please, otherwise she will just keep staring at your shiny hair." Your brain took a second to process what you were hearing and immediately turned your attention to Tony.

"Fine. Y/N, I am sorry to say that, but over the last month we observed some of our employees without informing them and one of them was you."

"I knew it!" you whispered to yourself, a bit too loud. "I'm sorry. It's okay, I don't mind."

Tony grinned a moment before he continued. "You noticed that, very good. No one else did. I'm honest, you are not our first choice for this job."

"She was mine." Clint interrupted. Tony's answer was just a dark glare before he continued.

"We tried it out with two other employees but none of them could handle the task, they gave up after a few days. I have to admit, this job is not easy. But on the other hand, it is pretty easy. First of all, I have to ask you a serious question and you have to answer it absolutely honestly. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Tony. Sorry."

Ignoring your stuttering he sat down on the table right next to you. His gaze turned a bit darker, steadily focusing on your face.

"Is there anything special about you? ... Not like you are not unique and this stuff", he added as you furrowed your brows on that strange question. "I mean, do you have any gifts? Super specialized knowledge we couldn't find out during observation?"

"Oooh" you let out in understanding, "Like telekinesis and stuff? Or a secret PhD in astrophysics? Noo, no, clearly not. I'm totally normal. I'm just a secretary. The only talent I have is that I can draw, well, not that bad."

"She's a very skilled artist" Clint suddenly corrected you. "But that is not important for the mission. No danger here."

"Great! Do you have any responsibilities that bind you to any person? Or maybe a pet?"

A bit confused you said, "Uhm, no..? I'm single and all I have is a salt water aquarium. I don't have any relatives to maybe look after, neither. If that is what you meant. I don't have any relatives at all. ... My family died early and I since had no other relatives to take care of me, a friend of my mother adopted me. But she died some years ago so... yeah. Just me." You added in explanation and stopped your own rambling.

Tony glanced quickly over to Clint who nodded sharply.

"Fish tank, okay that's no problem. In that case, I hand the word over to our big blonde one." Tony said pointing with his open hand at Thor.

"Thank you. Mylady, you surely know of the attack of the Chitauri lately. And I am sure you know that my brother Loki was in account of that. I took him back to our homeworld, Asgard, to obtain justice for all he did. He was offered two choices; to spend the rest of his days in our dungeon as a prisoner or to leave Asgard forever and stay on Midgard. If he would choose the second option, as soon as he would do any harm to Midgard or its people, he would be sentenced to death. At first, he wanted to stay on Asgard. But that... it did not work very well for him. He became more and more miserable, so I convinced him to take the other option. I was able to win our father over to put up that option again and now he is here. But after all he did, it is hard to trust him, especially now at the beginning. So Stark was so noble to offer my brother to stay here. We all got missions to look after, we cannot watch him all the time. So we decided to introduce him to someone to get him used to a life on Midgard."

"Okay, ehm, wow", you started after some awful long moments of processing, words failing you, "But, when I'm allowed to ask, why no SHIELD agent? I guess he's kinda... dangerous? How can you be sure he won't try to trick or kill me?"

"That's simple", Tony said, "because you are just a normal person. Sorry, no insult", he added lukewarm, "Therefore you are of no use for him.” He paused for a second, tilting his head. “I'm... I'm sorry, do we know us from somewhere? I can't shake off the feeling we already met."

"I don't think so? Oh, I'm working here down at the reception, maybe that's why I seem familiar. You never spoke to me but you often cross the entrance hall and I sit there all day. Well, most of the time I'm hiding behind the desk. Not that I want to hide, it's just because I'm in charge of the emails most of the time so my attention is to the screen. Uhm, yeah." You grew so hot you wished you could take of that cardigan without revealing your geek.

"Ah yeah. That'll be it. Are you okay? You look like you would faint."

"What? Oh, no, sorry, it's just a little hot", you held your ice cold hands to your cheeks, "I've never fainted once in my life. Everything's fine."

Tony kept staring at you for just a moment longer before jumping off the desk and turning to the coffee machine next to the door.

"Alright! Any questions?"

Unwieldy you took off your cardigan finally and try to hide the broad STAR WARS writing on it with your arms without looking totally awkward. You failed.

"Uhm, yeah. What exactly do I have to with him? Entertain him? Show him our world?"

With a steaming mug in his hand he turned around again and stared at your shirt for a second before answering.

"Love that shirt. First of all, try not to kill him. That could be the hardest part."

"How does it all work?"

"You will have to move in here. We have something like a little flat. We all live here. And with 'we all' I mean the avengers. Everyone has their own space, but we have a common room with a kitchen and stuff. We're like a big, crazy patchwork family." He grinned quickly before taking a big sip from his mug.

"Oh. Wow. Okay. That's a big move. What happens to my stuff? How long will all this take? Will you fire me completely when I mess this up or can I return to my reception desk when I can't do this? What if the others of you don't like me? What if I'm totally useless for you? How can I be sure your brother, what was his name? Loki? Right. How can I be sure Loki won't kill me?"

"You can take as much stuff with you as you want, we have space enough. We don't know how long it will take, probably several months the least. No, of course not, if you want to quit this you can get back to your emails. Don't worry about the others, when we can handle each other we are able to get along with a regular person. No matter how this will turn out, we will have advantage from learning so there is no chance for being useless. He got a little receiver injected under his skin and you will get a bracelet with an emergency button. If you feel threatened, press it once, we will get notified and be there within a minute. If you are in complete distress, keep it pressed for at least 3 seconds and Loki will get... a little electronic tickle. In that case, we also get notified but he won't be able to move for a few minutes. I know, that sounds fun, but just use this in case of emergency."

While processing what you heard you realized you relaxed completely. Resting the ankle of one foot on the knee of the other, you sprawled out on the chair, eating the cashews from your hand. You immediately snapped back to attention, not wanting to be taken as disrespectful.

"Relax Y/N. Don't act like I'm the president. I'm just a normal man. With a genius mind and unbelievable abilities, but - just a man."

You caught Clint next to you rolling his eyes, facepalming.

"So, what do you say? Interested? Oh, and of course you will get paid for your service. Catering and all essentials you need are on me. Don't worry about that. And we have room for your fishies."

"Ehm, well, it sounds really exciting. And since nothing ever happens to me, I'm seduced to say yes right away. But,", you held up one finger, "I would like to meet Loki first. Oh, and I want to know why the other two quit."

"We can arrange that. And they quit because he pissed them off too much. No life threat, he can just be a little pain in the ass. Uhm, do you want to meet him now?"

#loki #loki x reader #loki slow burn #loki x female reader #loki fiction #marvel fan fiction #marvel #slow burn #loki fanfic #nessa maurice #fanfic simple

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kaninchenzero · 5 years

Text

things my brain gets up to when unsupervised

just woke from a dream i gave birth to my first child in a dirty jail clinic i wasn't even held in though i had been once, briefly

it was just because i was super poor and it was the only place that would take us for no money and that jail had a nice black lady doctor that i trusted and was mostly full of old people there for being poor as fuck just like me

and when i come down from whatever drugs they'd given me (with my enthusiastic consent -- since i live in constant moderate to severe pain my personal philosophy on pain meds offered by medical professionals is "thank you, may i have another?") to notice shit around me

the place is packed full of smug shitty younger right wing white people who'd stormed the place for some smug shitty white reason, their smug shitty white young right wing hipster douchebag provocateur leader and his smug shitty white young douchebag provocateur girlfriend, some feds, and a young vaguely lefty hipster white dude doc filmmaker

none of which i can care about because a) the drugs are wearing off and i hurt and 2) most importantly i have no idea where my kid is

no sign of the nice black lady doctor so i go find this white lady nurse who is just a smug shitty asshole who laughs and tells me my kid is gonna be in cps care for at least four days because it's Policy for Jail Clinic Births even if i wasn't an inmate, kid is already gone, and if i didn't like it i shouldn't have been so poor as to not have any other options and i stomp off in a rage to find that doc guy and tell him about it, maybe he'll do a short about this fucked up Policy for Jail Clinic Births

next thing i know that provocateur asshole is laughing at me, holding a bloody machete, telling me he killed that asshole nurse for me and his asshole girlfriend is laughing at me with another bloody machete in her hand

so i take his machete and decapitate them both because i have had enough fuckery

throw the machete on the floor, ask the people around me to go find a fed to detain me, sit down, and start crying because holy shit have i had a bad day

just before i wake up i'm still sitting there, crying, waiting on the feds, screaming at people to stop fucking with my crime scene

#actually psychotic

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dearchuchu · 5 years

Text

Long version.

I'm going to assume anyone who wants the long version is going to read the short version. So I'll skip what was covered there and go into the details.

I had mini bottles, but I drank them all by dinner time with the idea I would just pick up some more for the long flight in San Fransisco. The closest liquor store was about a mile and a half away from our hotel out by the airport, and Mandy, who didn't know my plan didn't like my plan. She also didn't like that I drank my mini bottles that were for the big flight. I always planned on this, but neglected to tell her.

An Uber to the liquor store was 7 dollars one way. Man San Fransisco is expensive. I told Mandy, who was not happy with the idea of spending 14 dollars to go buy mini bottles that I already had (and drank), to go spend MORE money on MORE mini bottles. I, however disagreed.

I decided, it's only a mile and a half, I'll walk. 50 minutes or so, no big deal. Mandy wasn't keen on that idea, but it was much cheaper than Uber. Then I remembered, "Wait, didn't bird start here?" Yes the scooter company bird is in San Fransisco. I said, "I'll just scoot up there!" Alas, no bird scooters out by the airport hotels. Then I remembered I have lime on my phone too! So I loaded up the lime app, and sure enough, there was a lime scooter on my way!

I located the lime, and it's a bike. I think, "that's fine, biking will still cut off at least half the time!" I unlock it, and the lights don't work. It's night time now, so it's dark. I thought, "Wow, this isn't very safe. You'd think lime would have lights on their bikes." I ride up to the liquor store, which ended up being in a nice section of suburban San Francisco. Once in the well lit area I noticed the bike said "ebike" on it, and I saw the motor for pedal assist. It turns out the lime I got was a lemon. It did have lights, the bike was just broken.

I get my WAY overpriced mini bottles, and then look for another bike, this one, hopefully not broken. I find one quickly, and it works great, lights and everything. Let me just say this, pedal assist bikes are super fun! I flew on the way back to the hotel! If you get a chance, ride one, the motor does all the work for you! I even made Mandy try it when I got back to the hotel. She had to admit, even as someone that doesn't enjoy riding bikes, it was pretty cool.

We both get a crappy night sleep, then eat a pretty good hotel breakfast, then off to the airport. Customs was stressful, as it always is, but the agents were in good spirits, because the TSA in San Fransisco is ran by a private company, so they are still getting paid despite the government shutdown. We find our gate, and get the last few things that we need to do online done before leaving the country for a while. Mandy doing work, me looking at cat memes.

Finally we board our plane, we're all set to go, and we sit. Then we sit. We sit some more, then we sit. Then Mandy points out it's been an hour and we haven't moved. No word from the captain, no word from the crew. Just an hour straight of sitting in a tarmac. The guy next to us, which was clearly flying internationally for the first time asked a passing stewardess, "Hey, what's going on? When are we taking off?" And she said "10 minute." Which is obviously bullshit.

We have a friend who works for Delta, and since we're still on the ground in America, we could still contact her, so we gave her the old "What's going on?" text. She looked into it, bad wind off the coast, Delta flights are delayed by 45 minutes. We watched several planes from several other providers take off, or taxi right behind us. We just sat. It was an hour and fifty minutes before we started moving. The FAA says that after 2 hours they have to provide you with a meal. They got in JUST under the buzzer.

I have no idea why we sat there. There was no work being done, no repairs. Delta got all their flights out in 45 minutes. There we sat. The captain never said a word. The staff said nothing. The only reason we knew anything is we have a friend in the industry. We flew China Eastern, for the record. This was strike one.

We get up in the air, and about two hours later they served our meal, 4 hours after getting on the plane. I could tell the service was going to suck, so I asked for a glass of wine, and a beer, and the flight attendant looked like I just kicked his dog. TWO drinks at the same time? Impossible. He did it, but you could tell it bothered him. I'm personally super glad I did.

The food comes after the drinks and the same guy starts handing us food, and we are like, "Woah buddy, what are the options?" This is when it becomes clear none of the staff speaks English. I mean enough for one to two words here or there, but clearly no real grasp of English. Strike two. He responds "Pork fried rice." Now if any of you are unaware, I haven't been eating pork. It's actually been well over a year, almost two now. I've made one or two exceptions, but those were always my decision.

Mandy says, "What about chicken?" He says "No. Pork fried rice." Luckily for me, I already decided I was going to eat pork on this trip, because the Philippines LOVE pork. In fact, in the first hour of being here we already saw a whole pig roasting on a pit in someone's back yard. What's important here is that I had already decided I could eat pork. I didn't want to on the plane, but with a 12 hour flight (14 with the delay), I had no options. Literally. Now the vegetarian behind me... He had quite a bit less options. I think he just didn't eat. Strike three.

It's important to note when we asked for our wine, he used the small cup, and poured a half pour. He also just had a sour expression on his face when he delt with us. I say "he" because we only delt with one guy for the whole flight. He then turned to the Chinese people across the row from us chatted them up enthusiastically, got out a big cup, and filled it up with wine. To the top. Mandy and I looked at each other like, "Are you seeing this shit?" First overt sign of racism, and that's a strike four.

After lunch, they got our trash, and no staff was to be seen or heard of again for four hours. No water. No snacks. Nothing. So in the 8 hours we were on the plane so far we got one shitty meal (did I mention it was horrible?) One glass of wine each, and one can of beer. At the 8 hour mark they came around with water, and we got yet again, the small glass, and a half pour... Of water. The Chinese people got full pours in big glasses. Strike five.

Two hours after our water (which after that first water, they came by on the hour with water) they brought out no doubt the shittiest sandwich I've ever seen in my life. I'm not exaggerating. This sandwich was, a half a piece of bread, with a meat we couldn't identify, no sauce, another half price of bread, then a wilted piece of lettuce the size of a half dollar, that I would have definitely thrown away in my kitchen, no sauce, then another half piece of bread. We were pretty sure this was going to be our last meal on the plane, and we debated eating it or not... But decided we would risk food poisoning because WE HAD NO OTHER OPTIONS. Strike six.

Two hours after that, about an hour from landing they come around with another meal, much to our surprise. Our dude comes up to us and just started to put a food tray on Mandy's lap (I was in the bathroom) she had to ask, "what is this?" And he said "pork" and she said, "Do I not get any options? Is that all there is? Just fried rice pork?" I'm walking up as he goes, "omelet." She says in her SUPER sweet "Fuck you" voice, "Yeah I'll have the omelet then." As I sit down I say, "Yeah I'll have the same. Also can I get a beer?" He just says "No." And pushed the cart away. Ok. Strike seven.

The omelette was covered with greasy soggy bacon. I thought to myself, "good thing I'm ok with this. Poor vegetarian behind me." My guess is, he just didn't eat. For 14 hours. Also, they made Mandy and myself raise our seats to upright while we ate, not the people in front of us, or any other other Chinese people. Outright racism. When they were breaking down the trash, our guy walks by me with an empty beer can from a couple rows up of, you guessed it, Chinese people. It dawned on me he never said, "No, we're out of beer" which is what I assumed. He just said "No." Blatant racism. Strike eight.

Had I not brought mini bottles, I would have been provided with one beer, and one half of a small cup of wine (about a quarter of a glass) for a 14 hour plane ride. Fucking ridiculous. Unacceptable. I will never in my life ride on China Eastern. I will tell everyone who will listen to me to never ride on China Eastern. Don't ride on China Eastern. Don't give them money. Their staff is racist towards white people. It's understandable if you have a domestic Chinese flight to have your staff not speak English, but if the flight originated in the USA, they should at least be able to answer simple questions.

If for some reason this should end up in front of someone at China Eastern, I don't want free rides, just fix your shit.

So we land, we're at the back of the plane, and our bags are no where near us. This is because the plane is full of people that are carrying 3 to 4 carry on "bags" and cramming shit in the overhead that doesn't belong. We decided to just wait it out and keep an eye on our bags until everyone gets done. The Chinese in my experience push and shove, and don't make lines. This is exactly what happened. They push and shove to be the first to get off the plane, to push and shove to be the first on a bus to take us to the terminal. Mandy and I calmly collect our belongings, and get on the bus patiently, and then the doors close, and we head to the terminal. Golf clap for the Chinese. Well played.

Even though we aren't leaving the terminal, we still have to go through customs in China, which consists of 1 getting your finger prints scanned. 2 scanning your ticket and passport, and 3 going to the terminal. There are self finger print scanners at the beginning of the airport, but literally no one uses them. I say "hey Mandy, shouldn't we scan our fingerprints?" She says, "nobody else is, there's probably more further on." There weren't. I said, "Just because everyone is passing it up doesn't mean they are all right." We debated for a second, then just went on with everyone else. Not ideal.

Meanwhile there are passport control people running through the crowd shouting "MANILA MANILA 10 MINUTES THEY SHUT GATE MANILA MANILA!" See, since our plane was 2 hours late, everyone going to Manila was going to miss their flight. This led to the unorganized shit show we expected in China. People NOT going to Manila started running behind these people. Everyone followed into the self serve line, none of them had their fingerprint scans. You can't use self checkout without the receipt from your fingerprint scans. Manila was being let through without it, because they were literally missing their flight. Quickly the agent figured out the entire line eventually was just people blindly running after them, none of them had the correct information, and none of them could go through.

One by one, after waiting through about 30 minutes in self check out, people were sent back to the back of the line to check in with an officer. The fingerprint scanner was in a section that once you left, you couldn't go back in there. It seems logical if you don't think about it.

The check out by a person line takes about an hour. They were randomly letting people skip the fingerprint just to keep the line moving at self check out, that line was shorter, so we tried to see if maybe they would randomly let us through. They did not. They scanned our face, scanned our passport, scanned our ticket, then pointed to the back of the line.

At no point did anyone try to explain what was going on, in English, or Chinese. This could have saved people (read us) at least an hour. "If you have fingerprint, line here, no fingerprint, line here" is that hard? When we finally get to customs (again) they... Wait for it.. take my picture, scan my ticket, scan my passport, and then tell me to go in to the terminal. They did NOT get my fingerprints. They did NOT stamp my passport. Seriously. You can't make this shit up. They made me wait in line for an hour to do the thing they already did, but then just wouldn't let me in.

Now for security. First, we notice no one is taking their shoes off, and Mandy asks me, "Do we have to take our shoes off?" And I go, "I don't think so" and when we get up she asks, "Do we have to take our shoes off?" And the lady said "Yes. Shoes off." Literally a Chinese couple in front of us is going through the metal detector with shoes on. Mandy goes, "They're wearing shoes" and this woman from the people's republic of China looks Mandy in the eyes and says, "No they aren't."

"No they aren't." Let that sink in.

So we take off our shoes. I have 2 of my 6 mini bottles left, which they pull out, say something to the other people in Chinese, and then laugh. I think it was good hearted, but, I don't know the language. We make it through, or so I think, until one guy goes, "Take out power pack." I'm like "Oh, yeah I forgot that in my pack. Sure here." He looks it over, flips it around, and says, "No. You can not take." I'm like "Seriously? Why not? I flew here with that. I've flown all over the world with that!" And he says "I can't tell how strong it is, it's not printed." Which is true, because it's been rubbed off from use. The technical info isn't on there. I used that battery 5 days a week for work. It's been on 4 continents. I've flown with it countless times. Now it's stuck in China.

Mandy got super pissed and started to go off, and I stopped her and said, "It's not worth it. We'll have to get another one." China is not a free state. They don't have freedom of speech. The last thing I want is for this to escalate at all. I just said, "Keep it." And we left it. There was no reason for him to confiscate it. At all. I've never had anyone ever even glance at it. Ever. In any country. Ever. Except racist ass China.

At this point, we just wanted to get the fuck out of China. So this is my final point about China.. I kinda wanted to go at some point, Mandy kind of didn't want to go. Traveling with the Chinese, they are rude, pushy, inconsiderate, don't follow any local customs, they let their kids piss and shit in the street (I've seen it multiple times), and they just suck in general. These are my observations from traveling with the Chinese abroad. Traveling with them on their home turf, turns out they are racist against me as well. That being said, thanks but no thanks. China is officially off my list of countries I will visit. I now have absolutely no desire to go to China. We will never ride any Chinese airline ever again, no matter how good the ticket price. I'll never pay someone to treat me like a piece of shit.

Anywho, we have a bit of a panic getting on our last flight to the Philippines because our gate had only our flight on it, and they randomly closed it. We didn't know what time it was in China, and there were no clocks in the airport (which is insane). We went to get a drink, and our flight was a 9:20. At the restaurant we went to they said, "No food, just drinks" we said, "Ok we will do drinks." She said ok, the we ordered two Johnny Walker blacks, the lady then said, "No. Only beer." And I'm looking at the bottle with my eyes, and we're like, "uhhhh" she then said, we "We close at 9. Only beer." Which were 6 dollars for VERY blah Chinese beers. No thanks.

Well, now we're thinking it's like 5 till or something, then we see our gate is closed, and they're people going dowm an escalator towards our gate, towards our plane. We panic a little, then a bilingual girl comes up, and she straight up goes into full panic. "The gates are closed!" Then some Chinese. She takes off, we follow, she finds someone who works at the airport, hurried Chinese speech, then she takes off, we follow her. She's trying to find a way to that escalator, we are too. She gets us pretty worked up... Finally I'm like, "I'm just going to turn on my phone for a second for it to update to Shang Hai time." it connects... It's 8:18. After running around.

Yet again, we close at 9, so we can't serve you anything but beer... At our restaurant. Racist bullshit.

We get on the plane, no TV on this one, so 4 hours of silence. Everyone tried to sleep anyways. Everyone on this flight was on a similar ordeal as we were. Everyone used China as a layover, so they are all as exhausted as we are. When we land the plane erupts in laughter and applause. We made it. We fucking made it.

Well, to the Philippines. We still had a bit to go to get to our island... For sure. I'll post the rest of the long version later.

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