#y’know that soft pain that happens when it just kinda pierces you but you accept it?

[dinitride-art]

Okay, yeah. I understand what’s going on in season four with Mike and Will. I get it, now.

I get it, now.

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

in too deep (part 4) - jules 

jules x reader

warnings: for the first time in this story, probably nothing really major!! very vague description of piercing removal?? (this is me trying not to spoil the movie for anyone even though this is the fourth part lol)

notes: this might be a little short, but if you look at the footnotes of the last part, i explained why

also should i say like what’s coming next before every piece like up here in this section or does nobody care bc i would totally do that SO next week is either going to be henry fluff, roman fluff, or roman smut 😳 if i finish them all before next week, you guys can let me know which one you want if you wanna do that

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  “i’ve told you a hundred times, the business model is flawless,” you repeated. “every day we roll outta bed, hit the shore, and scoop up a day’s worth of merchandise. you know, nice shiny shells, maybe some skipping rocks; and then we spend the afternoon sellin’ ‘em. it’s pure profit, julie.”

  “yeah, babe, that’s a good idea n’ all, but what happens when we get too big? we’re gonna have to hire a shell finder, and then it won’t be pure profit anymore. that could bleed us dry.” jules countered. 

  “shit, that’s a good point. what if instead of paying him, we give him a chunk of the company? like equity, right?” you suggested. 

  “oh yeah, true.” she murmured. “well we have the business model and all, but what are we gonna call it?” 

you were trying to keep your calm, even in this terrible situation. you found that talking about the future, even though said future was entirely dependent on the fact that the two of you made it out of here alive, helped to quell your anxiety. or maybe it was just the fact that jules had an incredibly calming effect on you. 

  “hmmm, that’s a good one. i feel like that’s all you. i think you’re a little more creative than i am. i’m just the numbers girl.” you responded. the tinny, tapping noise of her tongue stud as she was deep in thought irked you. “babe, could you stop that? i keep tellin’ you, you’re gonna ruin your enam- oh fuck, wait!”

  “what?” she asked confusedly. “your tongue ring! th-the stud!” you exclaimed. “what about it?”

  “the locks- i can pick the locks with it!” you tried to maintain a low volume; after all, this plan didn’t need to be spoiled only moments after it’s conception. 

  “baby, it’s in my tongue,” jules reminded you. “how are you gonna get it out?” you winced as you realized the lengths your girlfriend would have to go to to get the two of you out of here. 

  “maybe if you do that thing that i hate - the one with your teeth - and just kinda pull on it, maybe it’ll just sorta, pop out?” you proposed. you heard a hefty sigh from behind you, hopefully signaling an attempt to escape. 

  “fine, i’ll try it.” you listened silently as she grunted behind you, pulling with all the force her tongue could muster. “sorry, babe, my tongue isn’t strong enough.”

  “no, your tongue is so strong! it’s a great, strong tongue! could you try again?” you begged, but to no avail, jules knew she couldn’t pull it out. “what if you - um - just, like, kinda turn towards me - yeah, yeah, like that, and i just sorta - clamp down on it with my teeth and, y’know, remove it.”

jules spun back around at lightspeed, slamming her mouth shut as she internally cringed at your suggestion. “that’s gonna fucking kill!”

  “i know, baby, i know it’s gonna hurt! believe me, i wish i had the piercing in my tongue, but i don’t.” you hung your head down in desperation. “julie, please, this is our only chance outta here.” 

  “you owe me,” she grumbled in acceptance. you heard the sound of fabric shuffling against the frigid concrete and you turned to meet her halfway. 

  “i owe you.” you whispered to her, placing a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “you ready?” she nodded, holding her tongue out and closing her eyes as she braced herself for what was sure to be very painful. 

  “okay, one, two,” on three, you yanked your head back, successfully pulling the stud out. she clamped her mouth shut rapidly, trying to contain her scream. before you could praise her, the basement door swung open and in came george holding some sort of food. 

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you thought. you kept your mouth sealed, hiding the ring beneath your tongue and hoping that jules would do the same. george approached the two of you, humiliatingly waving a ladle full of the dish in front of your face. 

  “come on, eat up. we don’t want you starvin’ down here now.” george smirked, his expression turning into scowl when you refused the food. “no? well, how ‘bout you?” he shoved the spoon towards jules, but he received the same response. 

  “fine. you’re gonna have to eat at some point, and i don’t particularly give a damn whether it’s my wife’s food or your own goddamn fingers.” he grumbled before heading back upstairs. as soon as the door closed, you heard jules spit the contents of her mouth onto the ground, panting as she took in breaths. “fuck.”

  “shit, that was a close one,” you dropped the ring from your teeth into your open palm. “you good, babe?”

  “yeah,” she groaned at the nasty taste in her mouth. “i just swallowed a bunch of blood. tasted like metal.” 

  “don’t worry, i got it from here.” you prodded at the keyhole with the stud, jabbing at it from every direction you could muster. you sighed as you couldn’t seem to get a good angle on your own cuffs. “fuck.”

  “what is it?” jules asked. “y/n, don’t tell me we just ripped a hole in my tongue for no reason.”

  “no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no way! here just - let me try and get at yours. could you like, sorta, present them to me?” she shuffled into the perfect place just within your reach. “yes, baby! that’s great!”

  “alright you motherfucker. come on, you little piece of shit, fuckin’ dickbag,” you cursed to yourself as you jammed the stud every which way. “you little piece of fucking shit... oh, i fucking got it!” you exclaimed. 

  “oh yes, baby!” jules shimmied out of the cuffs, turning around to press little kisses all over your neck and cheeks. “i love you so much!”

as much as you loved her affection, you loved the idea of escaping this hellhole even more. “alright, alright,” you panted through a smile. “no time to waste. get mine.”

  “okay, what do i do?” she questioned as she took the stud out of your fingers. “you just kind of stick ‘em in there, and then you kinda move it around until you find a catch point.” you answered. 

  “relax and feel it,” you directed, feeling her nimble fingers working the pin into the lock. “yeah, that’s right, just feel it. come on!”

suddenly, you heard a small snap, emanating from the cuffs. “oops,” jules mumbled under her breath. you forgot how to breathe for a moment. “oops?” you wondered out loud. “it, um, it broke.” she spoke so quietly she was nearly whispering. 

  “ohyougottabefuckingkiddingme,” you breathed out, trying to will the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes to go away as to not make your girlfriend feel bad. “whe- where’d it break?” you asked, expecting the worst possible answer. 

  “it - uh, it probably broke inside and now it’s just kind of in there!” she panicked. “oh baby. baby, i’m so sorry. i fucked it all up!” her head hit the pole with a soft thud. 

  “no, no, no, no, no, no, no! it’s okay, it’s okay!” you tried to deescalate the situation as fast as you could; the last thing you needed on top of being chained to a post was your girlfriend to have a breakdown. “hey, hey, come over here! c’mere, c’mere!” she crawled in front of you, wringing her head in her hands as she apologized profusely. “hey, it’s okay. you did your best. look, my leg is fucked, i can hardly walk anyways. it doesn’t matter. you got this, okay?”

despite your reassurance, jules still seemed a little shaky. “i- i don’t even know what to do, though. w-what do i do?” she looked over to sweetiepie who was waving her hand at them. “what is it?” she pointed in the opposite direction, directing jules’ gaze to an escape. “holy shit, it’s a laundry chute!” 

a spark set off inside you; maybe getting out of here was possible after all. “can you get up there?” she nodded confidently as if to say ‘of course i can’. she pulled you into a fierce kiss, catching you by surprise. “i love you,”

  “i love you too,” she grinned, making her way over to the chute and hoisting herself up inside, disappearing from your view.

you turned to sweetiepie, a desperate look on your face. “she better make it outta here.”

******************************

oops i may have accidentally went back and watched the movie a fifth time just to refresh myself on some of the dialogue but it was an accident i assure you

tags: @emmyrosee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @willyourecognisemee​ @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass​

[tarithenurse]

Orphan - 9

Starring:  Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! A good cop of something hot, pining, worrying. A/N: PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

9. Sisters, mothers, aunts

…   Morgan   …

All that wonderful snow just can’t go to waste, but after several wobbly snowmen and one perfect one (thanks to mom) the little girl has thrown herself into a pristine patch out of boredom, carefully considering her options as she sweeps the ground with arms and legs.

“What do these do?” Nebula’s voice pierces the fastmoving thoughts of the little girl.

The grey clouds tilt away, bringing the garden back into view and the blue woman wrapped in a mix of a borrowed bright yellow scarf and a green beanie. She’s crouched in front of a smaller snow figure (an attempt at a dog), bright black eyes taking in the lumpy shape.

“They don’t…do ‘nything,” Morgan admits. Are they supposed to do something?

Clearly dissatisfied, Nebula presses on. “Well, what is their purpose?”

“Why make ‘em?” Perhaps Nebs never got to build snowmen as a kid, the little girl realizes with horror. “For fu-un. What can you make with snow?”

“Shelter. Like a…hut.”

Morgan’s eye light up with the idea, already adding elaborate details to the construction in forms of turrets and battlements (even if she doesn’t know that is what the bumps on top of the walls are called). And who can deny a pair of big, dark eyes suddenly begging to partner on a project? Not the alien who swore years ago to protect the little one if anything were to happen to Tony, and so Nebula begins to stack the snow in a tremendous pile.

They’re digging out the inside of the mound (or rather, Nebula is excavating while Morgan forms and places blocks in a circle around the domed top) when a car pulls up, causing both constructors to pause and look. Short legs with heavy boots are already moving to run towards Uncle Rhodey when auntie’s voice sharply orders the girl to stay back. It sounds strangely cold and calm and Morgan can’t help to do what she’s told. A knot has formed in her tummy. Breath is quick. Is something wrong? She can’t figure out what it is because the only new is the woman who stepped out from the other side of the car, and one look at her face makes the confused girl feel happy. And sad. Weird.

 …   Reader   …

They talk like you aren’t there, bickering like a couple married for too long, and even if Rhodes is technically trying to defend you it’s as if he’s more worried about Cyborg Smurf and her feelings, his hands carefully reach out towards the woman, stopping short to protect her boundaries.

“She’s a spy!” No more than a hiss that won’t carry further than your straining ears.

“She was…lonely and afraid,” Rhodes insists, “jus’ looking for a family. Y’know what that’s like.”

Oh? If it wasn’t for the very clear memory of a sword then you would be staring at her now. Instead, you add it to the mental list of things that might be handy to know. It’s a long list.

“Want me to trust her? Think aga–“

“No.” The rapid answer stings. “I won’t tell ya what to think, just…accept Pepper’s giving her a chance, ‘ight?”

They continue back and forth, but your attention gets caught by the fluffy remains of a snowball landing on your boot with a soft thunk. It doesn’t take a genius to guess who threw it, but the nerves are gnawing at your insides as you turn to steal a glance at the kid. My half-sister. Sure, you might still not have a dad, but you have gotten an oddly stitched-together family to deal with somehow.

There are obvious differences between Tony Stark’s two daughters. The similarities, however? Just as many, and all hailing from the man you never got to know. Nearly identical set of eyes meet, filled with curiosity and a familiarity you know you can explain with logic if only you wanted to. Instead, you send a one-sided smile and lift your hand in a finger wiggling wave which the girl, Morgan, copies.

Movements slow, almost leisurely so, as you bend and scoop up a big handful of the cold precipitation to shape loosely in your hands. A wink and a questioning quirk of the brow is enough to send the kid into a silent fit of giggles before the projectile is launched in a soft arc to give her plenty of time to seek cover behind a snow hut in development.

You would have gotten a new handful of snow if it wasn’t for the exasperated sigh and the presence behind you. “Nebu. No!”

This is gonna be a loooong afternoon.

…

It’s awkward. Not only is the entire reason for you visiting painful, but Pepper tries a bit too hard (bless her soul), Nebula doesn’t try at all, Morgan is wonderfully oblivious to the adults’ tension, and poor Rhodes is trying to navigate it all. You manage to last a few hours, partially due to talking maintenance of the veteran’s leg braces when Pepper was occupied with the kid for a while, but mainly it’s been a sort of sweetened interrogation about your plans with Uni (waiting for an answer on the re-application), the home and job hunt (completely dependant on the study), and anything else they feel like. Like they’re going through a checklist.

Just as you’re about to ask Rhodes if he can bring you back to the Bartons’, his phone rings and not even the door separating the living room from the hallway is enough to hide how he snaps into military mode.

“Sorry, gotta go,” he offers as explanation when he pops back in, “duty calls.”

And with that he, and your ride, is gone. Moments later you hear the roar of the car, leaving you feeling trapped.

“You…we’ve got a spare guestroom…?”

The hesitation is evident: Pepper might have been the one inviting you but without intention of having you sleep over. No, this visit was no more than a test run to see if you were enough of a Stark or too much for her to want you in the family. She never said that, but you know it. It’s a typical method that you’ve seen one too many times in the foster care system, but this time you don’t blame her.

“I…thanks, but no…I might have another option.” Standing you dig out your phone and navigate past couch, chairs, and toys towards the relative privacy of the hallway.

Clint had given you a bunch of numbers any journalist or fan would kill to have, and right now your scrolling through them until you spot one who happens to live relatively close by and has a couch tested by others as a bed.

Hot and cold dances through your body, dousing the already jittery nerves with fuel. Each time you hear the call tone your heart drops and it doesn’t make sense that it would feel like this – that butterflies in your belly are trying to hold up cold lead.

“[Y/N]?” Of course, anyone would follow the warm baritone if it called out to them. “Uhm…hi!” It’s like the softest wool to your mind, shielding you in a cocoon against doubts or abandonment.

Everything will be fine. Then you remember you have to reply. “Yeah, hello! Ehh…” Smooth, real smooth, ugh! “I’m…I was…” Fuck it. “You once said I could crash at your place and uhmm…I’m kinda stuck away from Clint and Laura’s an–“

“You’re at To-Pepper’s?”

How…? “Yeah. Rhodes just bailed and…it’d feel strange to sleep over, y’know?”

“I get it. On my way.”

“Thanks.”

Both of you hesitate for a moment, making you worry about what you’re supposed to say when Captain freaking America is coming to your rescue, but before you can put any coherent sentence together, he has hung up. The hallway is silent now. The light reflecting off the snow outside, cold despite the yellow hue, and the sliver of light under the closed living room door is all the illumination available. In there, in front of the fireplace, is a tiny family which you theoretically are a part of….just not technically – and standing here in the gloom underlines exactly that.

How can it ever be different? Nothing can replace the life you’ve had. Your own mother. No, perhaps it’s better to just step away and pretend nothing ties you together, let Morgan be the only child left behind by Tony Stark just like she was the only one who got to grow up with him.

Lost in thoughts, you don’t register Morgan skipping out into the hallway until she’s wrapped her little arms up as high as she can around your thighs.

“G’night,” she grins crookedly for a second before sobering up, “please come back soon and make mummy smile more.”

With those words she’s running off up the staircase with not a care in the world while you’re left behind with an uncanny sensation of being watched – hairs stand on end due to the goosebumps running down your spine. Make mommy smile more, your semi-sister’s voice echoes inside your head. Make mommy smile more. Make mommy smile. Smile more. Smile more? As a new widow, it would make sense if Pepper doesn’t smile much, the loss being too strong, too present in every little thing. Still, throughout the afternoon she’s smiled and laughed with enough heartfelt joy that the sorrow became invisible if only for a moment. Did I make her smile?

Your brows scrunch in confusion and it’s impossible not to look at the silent women who seem to be waiting for you to do or say something. Anything.

“Did…? Have…?” Unsure what to ask the question dies on your lips.

Nebula shuffles, clearly uncomfortable. “The little one likes you, spy.” Danger still gleams in the black nothingness of her eyes but her posture screams doubt. “Perhaps I’ve been mistaken.”

It’s nothing but a tiny twitch of the lips when Pepper bites back a smile. “Would you mind checking that she’s brushing her teeth, Nebu?”

“Certainly, strong teeth are excellent for close combat.”

Once alone, your own awkwardness doubles. How long would it take Cap to get here? Pulling at your arm as if you can make yourself smaller, you’re sure you must appear sort of pathetic.

“It’s…thank you for y’know…havin’ me over,” you try lamely.

Even without high heels, Pepper is still a tall woman and she becomes almost elven in the scarce light. “She’s right, actually,” she admits, “I…it was nice having you here. To get to talk with you…even if it might have felt more like an interrogation…”

“Weeell…I mean…a bit, but that’s pro’lly logical.” C’mon, man! “Kinda hard for it not to fundamentally be freaking strange…all things considered.”

“I haven’t told Morgan anything…” It sounds apologetic, almost. “It’s up to you what role you want in the family.” Up to…? “But the way I see it…you’re Tony’s daughter. You’re family.” You can feel how your lips part at the confession, and you stand there gaping at the woman. “Just…give us time to find a balance.”

Maybe your father knew exactly what he was doing when he married this woman instead of your mom. Regardless: the past is impossible to change while the present is simultaneously tempting and scary due to the multitude of options available. I get to choose? It had been hard enough to put together a few outfits when you went shopping for the first time with Laura and Lila.

You don’t dare to look Pepper in the eyes. “Maybe get to know each other first? Before deciding?”

It’s a gentle hand that shapes around your shoulder, passing on a sense of security. “I like that,” the widow agrees, “you’re always welcome.” She hesitates, and you glance to see her biting her lip as if in doubt. “While you wait…why won’t you come and hear about Tony? Just let me tug Morgan in.”

 …   Morgan   …

Any smart girl knows how important it is for adults to brush their teeth too, and it had been a simple task to convince Aunt Nebula to join in by the sink where they’d competed in looking the grossest with the toothpaste drool, laughing so much Morgan’s cheeks began to hurt.

That giddiness is gone again as the kid crawls into bed. Nebula is standing by the window, staring at the few stars poking out between the clouds and Morgan knows deep inside her little chest that the alien misses flying between the stars.

“They want you back too, Nebu.”

Speaking softly, the words are barely even a whisper that most people would overhear. Not the blue woman. Hiding a sigh, she comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, a hand automatically fidgeting with a knife strapped to the thigh.

“They can wait,” Nebula’s voice cracks a bit, “and instead, when you are older and stronger, we’ll go visit them together.”

“Really?” The child’s smile is contagious, even as it turns into a wistful frown. “Gotta lot to learn first, then.”

 …   Reader   …

There simply isn’t room for anymore stories about your father, the great Tony Stark, but what you have heard is starting to paint a picture of a man much more complex that the news stories and interviews has ever managed to reveal. You shouldn’t be surprised. Neither at the (many) wild years – the last of which you are a result of – nor the dedication he showed when working on a project regardless of the magnitude, and still your mind is spinning from the effort of analyzing every tidbit of new knowledge.

Tired and unable to take more, you are already pulling on your coat and boots to get some fresh air when a car pulls into the long driveway, reminding you of the arrangement and a whole new set of worries.

Steve Rogers.

The name brings a cascade of butterflies with it, untameable despite your best efforts and forcing you to say goodnight and goodbye before it becomes obvious.