#rejectedgod

I have a...surprise for him.

Can we keep him?!

o4. rejected-god.

"Eat You Up" -- BoA (x)

When I first saw you, I knew nothing's like it used to be. Boy, you have got to be the finest thing in history. The way I feel inside, is just so hard to understand. You feed my appetite in ways I can't explain. I'll eat you up -- your love, your love. I'll eat you up -- your love, your love. I'll eat you up. So yum, yum. Can't get enough. I think I'm in love. If you move any closer, boy, there is no guarantee.  What I will do to you, I fear it and it's scaring me. Like I've become some kind of demon in the night. You look so tasty I could eat you up alive. Can't stop thinking about the things I wanna do to you. You move any closer, you'd be asking for it too. I want your love; I need your touch, so much. -- I think I'm in love. I'll eat you up -- your love, your love. I'll eat you up -- your love, your love. I'll eat you up. So yum, yum. Can't get enough. I think I'm in love. I wanna take you to, my room. I wanna take you to, my room.

As if Monday days were bad enough.

Monday nights were even worse.

Agent Lestrade mused as she strolled across the room to yet another computer, absently jotting down the readings that flashed upon its screen, as she had been doing for the past forty-five minutes.

It sucked being a simple pencil-pusher in an organization full of action heroes and fighters, when her own heart burned with the fire of a natural-born killer. If it wasn't for the occasional call-ins for back-up from the super crew - the 'Avengers', whatever that meant - she probably would have gone mad.

With a sigh, she gently pushed a few stray bangs to rest behind her ear, leaning forward to get a particularly small reading.

She was, however, simply still a rookie. A pitifully low class of an agent whose major highlight of the day was maybe answering the receiver when one of the big boys called in a report of some kind. Forget about even seeing any of them.

With her readings of this particular computer finished, she moved on to the next.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her job. No, far from that. She loved the challenges that came with the work - however occasional they were - and even more so, her co-workers, the various other pencil-pushers and paper-runners and computer-geeks. They were practically her second family, her new family.

But now, the ones who were supposed to be on computer-reading-duty with her had went out for late-night snacks. At her own suggestion.

Another of her sighs echoed around the vacant room. She was such a loser.

She wished she had been accepted into S.H.I.E.L.D. just a little bit sooner. Like during the exciting days that she had secretly read about in the files downstairs. When the world was under extraterrestrial attack and the super crew first assembled. Yeah, those sounded like the good ol' days . . . Well, compared to today, anyway.

She hastily erased the absent-minded doodles she had accidentally drawn on the notepad in her hands, then sighed once more and lolled her head back to look at the ceiling.

What she wouldn't give for just a bit of . . . 'umph' in her day. Just a little something-something to make the day worth bragging about to her friends the next day.

Yeah, something like that.

Tony Stark, billionaire genius of Stark Industries, awoke that morning. It was a bright day in New York. Brighter than it had been for a while after the god of mischief's invasion. He had spent the following few weeks repairing his suits, making modifications and whatnot. The crash-landing through the portal at the end of the invasion had done a number on his latest suit, and he wasn't pleased to say the least. But, he worked vigorously to get it finished and had finally earned himself some time off. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare of everything but a pair of black boxers, and headed over to his closet to grab a V-neck t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting bootcut jeans, finishing off the outfit with a pair of metro casual dress shoes.