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muddyorbsblr · 9 months

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onyx pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You're stuck in the Avengers Compound because of an injury from your last mission, and you come across an adorable and affectionate little kitten.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language (no i'm not sorry, Rogers); talks of explosions and injuries sustained from explosion [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: one-sided crushing (but is it really…?)

An eerie silence served as your only company in the Avengers Compound the last few days, some of your teammates off to finish the HYDRA mission that left you injured while the others took time off to visit their families over the holidays. With the promise to keep their comms on in case they would be needed until the New Year.

Now all that remained in the Compound with you were a few junior agents that drew the ends of the short stick, Val, and Loki.

Sadly your teammate, friend, and occasional drinking buddy Val was out blissfully spreading holiday cheer throughout New York with her girlfriend.

And Loki? Well, the God of Mischief wasn't exactly on chummy terms with you. Didn't even so much as give you a passing glance when you were at mission briefings.

Which was a damn shame because what you would give just to get lost in those stormy ocean eyes.

You made your way to the pantry in the common room to replenish your stash of snacks, towing along a little wagon to help you on the way back. Every step had you feeling every square inch of bruising on the left side of your body that you got from being unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius of an explosion at the HYDRA base you were trying to infiltrate with Shaun just a few days ago.

Your phone buzzed with a new message. "Speak of the devil," you muttered to yourself, seeing Xu's name on your screen as soon as you pulled up next to the elaborate barista setup, putting a few Lindor truffles in a small bag for your wagon. "Hey FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Agent Y/L/N?" the AI answered immediately.

"Could you make me a white chocolate mocha with peppermint while I raid the latest Costco delivery for uhh…supplies. Yeah, I'll go with that."

"Right away, Agent Y/L/N." The sound of the barista setup whirring to life filled the kitchen area as you checked on Shaun's message.

Thor just mentioned that he'll ask his brother to take a look at your injuries. Maybe get him to kiss it all better. He finished his text with a smirking emoji, along with some hand gestures that painted a less than family friendly picture, making you roll your eyes at the screen.

You recorded a voice memo for him. "You know that he'd need to actually be willing to look at me so that he could see the damage from the blast, right? And last I checked I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm Medusa reincarnated and I'll turn his Asgardian ass to stone."

You went on to the ridiculously stocked pantry to rummage the delivery that came just a few hours ago, trying to find a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos somewhere in the mix, when you heard a tiny meow from somewhere behind you. You looked to the ground to find a black and white munchkin cat looking up at you with wide blue eyes.

"Hi there, baby…" you cooed, surprised the adorable little creature hadn't hissed or scratched at you yet. Cats normally didn't take to you, which was a shame because you often found yourself fighting the urge to pick one up or stroke its head whenever you crossed paths with one during your errand runs. "How'd you get in here?"

The tiny kitten caught you by surprise with what it did next, walking up to your feet and proceeding to rub its cheek against your ankle, a little purr emanating from its small fluffy body. You decided to risk the hissing and scratching and bent down to pick it up, your heart melting once he placed his paws on your cheek and proceeded to nuzzle your face with his nose.

"Aren't you a complete darling." He settled into your arm as you carried him out of the pantry, a little whine escaping him when you placed him down on the counter. He stood on his hind legs and made grabby hands towards you, blue eyes wide and pleading for you to pick him back up. "Just a second, sweet baby, I'm just getting you something to drink."

You took out a tiny sauce dish and poured some cream into it, pushing it toward the kitten that responded with a slow blink and a meow before licking away at the rich liquid.

"I'm sure your owner's gonna crucify me for giving you that but I can't help spoiling little fur babies especially when they're as adorable as you are." You took a sip of the coffee FRIDAY had finished making before shouting out a question for her. "Hey FRIDAY, you have any clue who this little bub belongs to?"

It took a second for her to answer. "Negative, Agent Y/L/N. There is currently no other agent on the premises looking for their pet. I also see no collar on them and from a preliminary scan they do not seem to have a microchip on them."

Those words stopped the kitten from drinking to look up toward the ceiling and hiss at the source of the voice. He only relaxed once you started stroking his fur again, going back to drinking and letting out a few purrs along the way. "No owner, huh? Does that mean I can invoke Finders Keepers then?"

"It appears so, Agent Y/L/N. What would be your new companion's name?"

The kitten looked up at you, as if expecting your answer. You wondered briefly if he could actually understand what it was that you and FRIDAY were talking about. "How about Onyx? I know I know it's absolute garbage for originality to name a black cat after a black gemstone but--"

His eyes widened before he climbed up your arm, only stopping once he'd reached your shoulder to nuzzle at your neck again. "It seems he likes the name, Agent Y/L/N."

"Then it's settled." You placed a soft kiss on top of his head. "Hello there, Onyx."

You brought your new kitten back to your apartment, setting him down on your bed while you tried to take off your sweatshirt as gently as you could manage.

"Ah, fuck it," you hissed as you felt the bruising around your ribs, letting out a pained sound when you opted to whip the garment over your head as fast as you could instead. Your reflection revealed that the bruising on the left side of your torso was quickly becoming a frightening deep purple.

Onyx meowed from your bed, again standing on his back legs and making grabby hands at you, eyes wide with evident pain.

"What's wrong, little baby?" He placed his paws gently on your side when you made your way to him, pressing his nose to the skin near where your bruising began. "Oh don't you worry your pretty little head about those, sweetie. They'll heal…eventually."

He kept on pressing his face to the area, your heart melting for the tiny kitten even more realizing that he was pressing kisses to your wounds.

"You really are such a precious little bub, aren't you?" You picked your new kitten up, placing him on the armchair in your reading nook before setting an alarm for dinner in a few hours and settling into your bed. "Get some sleep, sweet baby Onyx. I'll see you in a few hours."

Your eyes had only closed for a few seconds before you heard another tiny meow followed by a soft thud, immediately making you sit up on the bed looking for the kitten. He'd already made his way to your bedside, standing on his back legs and reaching up trying to climb up the sheets.

"Alrighty then," you mumbled, picking him up and placing him on the pillow beside yours. You rolled over to lay on your right side to remove any pressure to your injuries the best you could, hovering your finger near Onyx's nose once you'd settled in. He leaned up and pressed his nose to your finger, paws kneading on his pillow. "Boop," you giggled. "Sweet dreams, baby."

Just as you'd closed your eyes to try catching an hour or two of rest before you had to eat again and take those pain meds that Banner prescribed you, your phone began to blare Immigrant Song way too loudly by your nightstand. There were only two contacts you gave that ringtone to and one of them was currently out with her girlfriend.

"Talk to me, Thunder," you muttered, groaning when your stretch to reach for your phone made your bruising smart a bit. "You all good over there?"

"Absolutely grand, Lady Y/N," the blond god's voice boomed from the other end. "I was just wondering if you could check on my brother, he refuses to answer his phone yet again."

"That's gonna be a hard pass from me, buddy. I've already been cut and bruised, I'm not too keen to add stabbed to that list. He's probably just practicing spells. Or out on a date." You winced at that last part, an irrational part of you flaring up with unwarranted jealousy at the thought of Loki out with just about anyone. "Just--I don't know, check up on him yourself when you get back. You can take a stab better than me anyways."

Thor sighed loudly, the low rumbling making Onyx step back from his pillow and start hissing at the phone. You stroked the top of his head to calm him down. "Very well then, Lady Y/N. Rest well. We're scheduled to return after nightfall."

"I'll have pizza here waiting for you guys. Bring your own mead." You clicked off and tried to get some sleep, having FRIDAY place an order for pizzas and wings for when the team gets back. Your new kitten padded his way over to you, resting his head on your outstretched arm and letting out a soft purr.

The sound of the Quinjet coming back roused you from your nap, along with the feel of little paws on your arm and Onyx nuzzling your cheek.

"Looks like everyone's home," you mumbled, pressing a few kisses to the kitten's head before making your way out of bed. "Come on, little baby. Time to meet the team."

With a whole lot of discomfort and groaning, you slipped your sweatshirt back on before presenting your hand to Onyx and patting your shoulder, prompting the kitten to climb up your arm and perch himself on the spot, nuzzling his face behind your ear.

The team had already arrived and filled the common area when you made your way there, some of them helping themselves to the pizza. Barnes and Wilson walked in with coolers, probably filled with chilled bottles of beer inside.

"Hey, there she is!" Shaun exclaimed, pulling out a bottle of Pepsi before making his way over to you and pulling you into an embrace. "How's the healing go--Whoa there." He took a step back as Onyx hissed in his direction. "Where'd you come from, little guy?"

You shh'd the kitten, pressing kisses to his little cheek to calm him down. "It's okay, baby, Shaun is a friend. One of the good guys." You turned back to your mission partner. "Shaun, this is Onyx."

"Always thought you were a dog person, Babes," Natasha spoke up before taking your arm and walking you to the food. "We leave for one day and you become a cat lady. Where'd you even find the time to go to a shelter and get baby blue eyes over here?"

"I didn't, actually," you answered the master assassin. "I just went to the pantry and poof there he was, meowing at my feet. Like the cat distribution system mailed him to me by magic or something." He nuzzled your cheek again before starting to knead at your face.

"And he doesn't belong to anyone? You're sure?" Shaun spoke up, backing up immediately when he tried to pet your new kitten and getting hissed at. "Easy, kitty. I'm a friend, I'm not gonna hurt you." The martial artist turned back to you. "He wasn't collared? Or chipped?"

"Nope. FRIDAY scanned him and everything."

"You wanna think about getting him chipped?"

Onyx hissed again at the question before swishing his tail around to curtain your hair around him, his little body shaking on your shoulder. As if he was silently pleading for you to not take him out to have him chipped.

"Don't you worry, baby. I won't get you chipped, I wouldn't hurt you like that," you cooed, letting out a little giggle as he placed his paws on your cheeks and nuzzled your nose, giving the tip tiny licks. You were so focused on your cat's affections that the bellowing of Thor looking for his brother was a distant muffled noise in the background.

Until he got to where you were standing and his booming voice was impossible to ignore. "What an adorable little beast you have, with you, Lady Y/N." Onyx buried himself in the crook of your neck, shaking at the sound of Thor's voice.

"It's alright, Onyx. It's just Thunder, he may be all big and menacing on the outside but he's just a fluff ball on the inside. Come on, go say hi."

The blond Asgardian approached you, examining your new pet carefully before a knowing grin graced his bearded face. "Hello, Brother."

A chill went down your spine at his words. "What the fuck d'you just say, Blondie?"

He motioned toward the kitten on your shoulder. "This is the explanation for his lack of replies on his phone. His absence from his quarters. Lady Y/N, the little beast hiding himself in your hair…is my brother. That is Loki."

In your stupor, the only words you could manage to say were, "Bitch what?!"

A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to the members of SAS, beloved besties, and fellow whores! I've had this idea doing a slow lurky crawl in the microwave that is my writing noggin for the last few months, and I'm so excited that I finally get to share it with y'all! Part 2 is coming in a few days, and then it's a coin toss on whether I'll be trying to end the year with crossing off some things on my writing todo list, or crossing off some titles from my Tumblr TBR 😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes

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lokisgoodgirl · 9 months

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Comfort & Joy: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (9) Roll up, roll up for the Stark Christmas Jamboree. Where candied nuts and cunning plans both come with an extra sprinkling of festive sweetness. (w/c 7.8k) Warnings: Minors DNI. Usual Lakes fare. Humour, Asgardian lore, fluff, all the feels. Smut references. A/N: This is the final final edition of The Lakes.

“Remind me, what named day is this in your charming yuletide festivities?” Loki inquired as you stepped out the revolving door of the Tower.

Charming. You smiled.

Last year it would have been any number of synonyms for stupid. You could hear them, see his lips curling the words from memory. Gratuitous. Senseless. Superfluent. Foolish.

But that was your problem, you recognised, not his.

“I don’t think it has one officially,” you shivered, nestling your chin deeper into the scarf. Fuck, it was cold today. “But I call it Christmas Eve, Eve.”

You sighed, watching crowds of the general populous making their way in shuffling merriment towards the Christmas market. No, not market. Festive Jamboree.

Tony had taken it upon himself to create a mini-wonderland right outside the Tower for one day only, all proceeds to the local children’s hospital.

A ferris wheel rose at the end of the cordoned street, every carriage packed. The smell of hot-dogs and caramelised almonds filled the air, old-time speakers tied to high lamps blaring Andy Williams at a volume that couldn’t be code compliant. “Lighten up, darling” Loki chirped as a gloved hand laced with your own. You turned to him, forcing a smile through the nerves. He looked phenomenal. A high collared coat of darkest green framed his cheekbones, pink tipped in the sudden chill. The one you’d seen in the window. You couldn’t resist. But when it came to Loki, what else was new?

He’d popped the collar, loose strands of onyx hair tumbling over the thick of his scarf. The one you’d bought him, of course.

Against the pale of his skin, dark brows peaked above a lowered fan of lashes while his gaze lingered on your intertwined digits. He raised the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it firmly.

“This will be fun,” he murmured against your glove with a knowing glint. “Have you planned...something?” you laughed. “Other than the thing.”

The nerves were fading, finally. He pressed his free hand against his chest in mock-hurt. “You wound me with your suspicions, madam” he purred, playful insolence thick in his tone. He sniffed, raising his chin. “I am merely imbibed with the spirit of the season.” Mid-giggle, your whole body rocked forwards as two hands shook your shoulders from behind. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve, sister!” Thor boomed in your ear. There was ringing. Thor looked good. He smelled good. And blessedly for now at least, there were no crumbs in his beard. “And to you, brother” Loki said, smile widening.

Thor tilted his head, regarding Loki’s jovial demeanour with suspicion. “And to you, brother-” he rumbled. His interest was piqued. “What has my Sponge of a sibling in such a buoyant mood this fine December day?” “It’s Scrooge,” you corrected, grinning. Thor grinned back as all eyes fell on your lover.

Loki gaped, darting his gaze between you both.

“Scrooge?!” he scoffed incredulously. “In past years, perhaps. Yet despite your attempt to churl me, I shall take it as a compliment,” Loki said, squeezing your hand, “for I too was visited by three spirits and thus...changed forever.” Thor frowned, “spirits, says you?” “Yes, brother. Yourself, Rogers, and the spectre of that ghastly reclining chair.”

Thor chuckled, before being distracted by something deeper within the crowd. Or someone. He cleared his throat. “I must to the candied nuts, brother” he muttered formally.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Rogers tip the nuts-vendor a quick salute as he nestled a fresh bag in his hand like a hamster. Heat steamed from the opening, wafting through frosty air. “Oh yes brother,” Loki drawled with equal gravitas. “The nuts will not eat themselves.” Thor squinted as a restrained smirk danced at Loki’s dimples. “Indeed,” the blonde replied, clearing his throat. “I shall see you at the bandstand anon.” And with a curt nod to you, he waddled hands in his pockets through the throng. You watched him go as Loki’s warm breath seeped down your neck, his mouth fastening to your pulse-point with a happy hum of pleasure. “You’re naughty,” you chided playfully. Loki nodded against your neck, the vibration of his agreement making you fizz. “And I have the knitwear to prove it,” he whispered. As you made your way through the crowd, Loki’s hand never left yours.

The two of you together were a familiar sight in Manhattan, and Avenger-fans on the whole had been beside themselves at news of your reunion. Confirmations had been slow. At you and Loki’s insistence, there had been no official statement. But the public had cottoned on eventually, with the help of the press.

Fans waited politely for pictures, nervously pulling at gloves and activating their cameras while you and Loki smiled and chatted. It was night and day from the way things used to be, while you stood on the sidelines amid a sea of bodies whipped into a frenzy by the god of mischief’s theatrical adulation.

Every so often, Loki would nuzzle your cheek; checking in. You’d squeeze his hand. One for all good, two for let’s go. You didn’t need that second squeeze today.

“With regret, we must depart for the afternoon’s questionable entertainment,” Loki announced. There was a chorus of disappointment, but he patted down the air.

“Please, join us-” he smiled to the crowd gathered around you, extending an arm towards the bandstand not thirty meters away. “Your participation will be most appreciated to drown out the subpar efforts of all of us. Truly, you will never look at us the same way, I guarantee it.” Despite having been erected overnight, the bandstand in the centre of the wonderland wouldn’t look out of place in Victorian England. Thin wrought iron pillars stretched upwards, twisting to an ornate canopy adorned with Christmas lights. Garlands wound up the pillars, twinkling sporadically. It was only 3pm, but the gathering darkness made them shine. A modest band of brass and strings had gathered beneath the canopy, instrument tune-ups peppering the chilly air.

And in front of it, in a semi-circle, microphones.

Steve stood to the side, handing booklets to a line of anxious looking avengers. Bucky, Wanda, Sam, Natas-

“I cannot believe we have to do this,” Bucky muttered ruefully as he threw his coat in the assigned box. “I can’t believe it. I actually can’t? Someone, fight me. Knock me out.” “We’re all in the same boat, Buck” Natasha lamented. She pulled at the baggy jumper hanging around her hips. Bucky looked down at his chest, pleading eyes meeting her stoic stare. “Fight me, Romanoff. Please.” “Don’t tempt me,” Natasha replied. Their jumpers were matching. Red, thick wool hiding any hint of the lithe muscle beneath. And stitched on them in winding, white-knitted lettering? Nice.

Your chest shook with the effort of holding in giggles. Even knowing what was coming, it hadn’t prepared you for the reality.

Looking around, you clocked each of your teammates in turn. Stark’s logic was thus – Avengers with a ‘harder’ reputation? Nice jumpers. And for those reputed to be on the softer side?-

“You’re wearing the wrong gosh-darn sweater, Laufeyson!” Steve hissed over your shoulder.

Both of you spun to face him. Steve’s arms were folded over the green version of the standard knit, the word Naughty emblazoned on his chest in white bobbling letters. Your shoulders were shaking now, too. “Don’t act like you're surprised, Rogers” Loki drawled. His coat hung off one long finger, before disappearing in a flash of seidr. “The public will not be fooled by Stark’s futile attempt at psychological subterfuge. I am simply getting ahead of the inevitable Tumblr edits.”

Steve’s chin snapped towards you. “Did you know about this?” he piped, flustered. You raised your eyebrows guiltily, making Steve’s hands fly in the air. “Perfect. Just heckin’ perfect. Why I outta-” “What seems to be the problem?” Thor’s voice boomed from behind. The words were accompanied by crunching, flecks of almond littering his green jumper like snow. You and Loki parted, making a four-square shoulder to shoulder and shuffling further towards safety from prying ears. “Laufeyson’s taken it upon himself to go against the agreed sweater-allocation and wear a Naughty, that’s what-” Steve bubbled bitterly.

Crimson had begun to creep up his cheekbones. A vein in his neck throbbed. Thor threw his head back with an almighty roar of laughter. Several almonds bounced from the bag in his hand from the force.

“Come now, Rogers ” he managed through gasps of mirth. “What did you expect? Tis just a silly rule, who cares?” He tossed an almond in the air, attempting to catch it in his mouth. It ricocheted off his eye. As Thor began blinking, Steve raised the clipboard in his hand. He tapped it violently. “I’m in charge of project managing this,” he hissed. “Laufeyson – change back to Nice.”

“Shan’t.” Loki quipped. Steve flushed deeper. “Laufeyson,” he warned. “Actually,” Loki started, enjoying the hushed tension. “I think you’ll find I am rather nice. You saw to that. So in truth, my sweater is fitting for this farce.” Steve’s eye began to twitch.

There was silence.

“Look at us, we’re like a little team," you offered, pointing to each of your green jumpers in turn. “Like the old days.”

Thor chuckled agreement as Loki and Steve stared each other down, a smile playing on Loki’s mouth that was irrevocably absent from the Captain’s. All four of you, it seemed, wore the Naughty uniform today. “In your case, as in mine, our knitwear reflects our essence perfectly my darling” Loki purred to you while his eyes narrowed towards a now vibrating super-soldier. “My naughty...naughty girl.” Steve sighed, hanging his head in resignation. “I told Tony this was a pooper of an idea,” he lamented. “It’s a disaster and it’s not even started.”

Thor’s hand clapped the captain’s shoulder in sympathy, lingering in a squeeze. Steve looked up at him, their eyes meeting.

The blonde god’s gaze widened slightly. You saw his fingers clench as his hand froze. In moments, he raised it; fluffing back his hair before sliding the hand into the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s only one sweater, Rogers” he muttered nervously. “Who cares?” Steve’s face fell, eyes darting to Thor’s crotch with a frown before rising back to his face. “I expected better of you, Odinson” was all he said before turning away.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh, elbowing his brother in the ribs. But Thor didn’t even flinch. His features had crumpled, spinning slowly as he watched the captain leave. His nuts? Forgotten.

But Steve didn’t see it. He was already making his way to the cluster of anxious looking Avengers huddled by the bandstand, examining carol music like they were Hydra files. “That could have gone better,” you whispered to Loki. The god frowned. His attempt to provoke his brother into siding with Rogers had not borne fruit. “Fear not,” Loki replied mysteriously as Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his jeans pocket. He tore off a chunk with a thousand-yard stare. Loki watched him in disbelief, continuing slowly. “There is still time to salvage this operation from the wreckage of my brother’s obstinance.” You gaze flitted between your team-mates. Bucky – Nice. Natasha- Nice. Clint – Naughty. Bruce – Naughty. Wanda – Nice. Sam – Naughty. Scott – Nice. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Loki swipe the half-ravaged chicken drumstick from Thor’s hold with hushed reprimand.

“What’s the big man wearing, I wonder?” you asked no one in particular. Loki snorted, “what else?” he said, nudging his head towards the Santa podium. There he was, Father Christmas aka. Tony Stark. Dressed in ray-bans and custom tailored suit, he looked suspiciously trim for a man in his position.

“Ah,” you smiled.

Loki’s smokey cologne filled your nostrils as he looped his arms around your body, pulling you tight to his chest. “It seems he will not be joining us in this public embarrassment,” he smirked before placing a warming kiss on your lips. Then to the corner of your mouth, then to the angle of your jaw. “Places!” a peaky-sounding Steve shouted, tapping a baton against the music stand at the head of the choir section. There was a deep line between his eyebrows that was decidedly un-Christmassy. “Norns,” Loki muttered. His hands slid down your body, fingers weaving through yours. “Ready?” he breathed nervously, your foreheads touching.

“Are you?” you replied.

Loki squeezed once.

The front row of the audience was made up of children, patients of the hospital. Cushioned folding chairs were laid in a half-crescent, two dozen of their smiling faces staring expectantly. Several of them sat in wheelchairs in the middle. Prime spot. One of them was wearing a pin-badge with Loki’s face on it. A young connoisseur, you thought with a smile.

Behind them, the growing crowd heaved. Sparkling Stark-Industries antlers filled your field of vision, handed out at the gates. There was a static hum, hundred of conversations and jokes and countless eyes inspecting each of you with anticipation. You could feel their excitement fizzing in the air while Bucky fidgeted beside you. Thinking about his solo you had no doubt. You rubbed his back sympathetically. He offered a weak smile of thanks. Steve tapped the pedestal again. “Avengers,” he announced with authority. The hushed whispers and small waves of the team to the crowd came to a halt. “One..two..” he mouthed the three.

All of a sudden, the air came alive with the sound of ten voices, stronger and louder and more melodic than you had expected. Unbelievably, it sounded...good. Hark! The Heralds, angels sing; Glory to the newborn king,

The brass quintet upon the bandstand soared. Even in practice, it hadn’t been this good. A Christmas miracle, you thought as you belted out the words in some semblance of tune.

Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconcile, Your gaze flickered to the other side of the semi-circle, catching Loki’s.

He held his carol-sheet diligently at arms-length, not looking at it. But rather, at you.

He winked.

Steve had rightly separated you. The chances of him squeezing your ass in front of the sick children was just too high. What if one of them goes into shock, Steve had said. But in truth, it was the deep, soulful magnetism of Loki’s singing voice that posed the real risk. If you were standing beside him, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain yourself. You winked back. Beside Loki, Thor craned towards the paper his brother held.

Thor had memorised every carol. Every modern classic. Everything in the repertoire. You knew that for a fact.

For the last two weeks, ever since your conversation in the common room – you’d been able to hear him before you could see him. And not in the usual way. You’d become accustomed to hearing his theatrical rendition of Silent Night bouncing its ironic way around the tile of the gym, the hallways, seeping through floors. And what he lacked in vocal melody, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm.

No - in truth, as the God of Thunder stared at the music sheet, he was avoiding Steve’s appraising stare which darted to each of them in turn. Joyful, all ye nations rise, Join the triumph of the skies,

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from your boyfriend, you focused back on the conductor. The crimson flush of his ears had ebbed. He was beginning to smile. Well, a little.

Hark! The Heralds, angels sing; Glory to the newborn king,

The carol continued. And then the next, and the next. Collection buckets that were being passed amongst the crowd began to overflow, the spectators indulging in a mix of swaying, singing, dancing.

With every song that passed, Bucky became more nervous, his voice a little higher.

You only faltered once during Winter Wonderland when you made the mistake of looking at Loki again. At some point, he had raked his hair back. Pink peaked at his cheekbones, his hip slouched casually, tapping his foot in time. One side of his sweater was concealed in the waistband of his dark chinos. A french-tuck, if you weren’t mistaken. It highlighted the sluttish creases that strained at his crotch.

Dark curls fell around the green knit, half-lidded eyes following each word as he sang it. You would fuck that sweater right off him later. Or maybe, he could keep it on...you mused. His smooth baritone slid over the words like a sled in morning’s first snow, to face unafraid, the plans that we made, walking in a- He looked up with a knowing side-smile in your direction. A sharp elbow in the ribs from Wanda made you realised you had lost your train of thought. Your mouth was open, but no words were coming out. “-winter wonderlaaaand,” you squawked out of time.

Steve’s eyes snapped to you, brow arched. He couldn’t complain, not really. Considering how well it was going. A brief erotically-charged moment of disassociation was the least he could expect, surely. As the song drew to a close with a flourish of conductor Rogers’ arms, the crowd burst into applause. With every passing number, it had become louder. You weren’t sure if there were more people, or if the mulled wine had been refilled. Steve spun to face the audience, growing darkness making the warm glow from fairylights create a halo around his blonde hair.

“And now...a very special treat,” he announced mysteriously to the expectant crowd. “Something very, very special indeed. I’ve heard it in rehearsal and golly, he’s just spiff.” Bucky’s feet began scuffing on the ground. He’s going to do a runner, you thought. But thankfully for Bucky, he had nothing to worry about.

The plan was for Barnes to perform a rousing rendition of Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Olivia Holt. Or Michael Buble, depending on the demographic. Backed up by the jingling ooo’s and aaa’s of the team of course. But despite Barnes initial enthusiasm, the thought of it had filled him with more horror each passing day.

Steve had been very excited about the whole affair. A grand finale for his orchestral debut, such as it was. And Bucky hadn’t the heart to tell him. “Buck?” you muttered out the corner of your mouth. You glanced at him, trying to be covert. He was sweating, staring blankly ahead. “Buck?” “Yuh.” Barnes mustered quietly as Steve began to move a microphone between the sick kids. Their little voices made your heart flutter. But you had a job to do. The weight of Loki’s concentration radiated from across the space between you. He was watching you and Bucky, completely still aside from one twitching finger and the small smile flickering at his dimples. You cleared your throat, leaning to the side towards the soldier. “In a few seconds you might feel a bit funny-” “I already feel a bit funny doll,” he murmured bitterly. “Yeah but...well, you’ll see. Just don’t freak out.” “Freak-what-now?” “Out-” “-Yah I got that-” he snapped, trying to turn towards you and failing. He tried to twist, but his shoulders wouldn’t budge. “What the-?” “Buck?” you repeated slowly. He met your eyes, the first shadows of fear creeping in. “When Steve calls you up, just shake your head. You have a little bit of movement in your neck. And you can talk a little. Just a little so I can check you’re okay. Okay?” Bucky raised his eyebrows in a grimacing caricature. You decided to assume that meant it was totally cool. “Who are hoo hurkin’ hor!?” he hissed in a wreckage of lisping syllables. His shoulders shook ever so slightly back and forth like a wound-up nutcracker as he tried and failed to move his feet. “Oh, no-” you said, realising he thought you’d been turned. “No, it’s just Loki’s magic. Don’t worry.” Bucky’s eyes widened.

‘Please welcome-’

“You’re off the hook with the song?” you chirped quietly, hoping it had the intended effect. Barnes stopped struggling. ‘-my friend, James Buchanan Barnes!’ A round of deafening applause snapped you from your bubble. Steve stood back at his podium, baton poised and ready for the band to begin.

Alongside the other Avengers, except Bucky, you bent down and picked up a sleigh bell carefully placed at your feet. You could beat someone to death with this thing, you thought as the chrome bells jingled beneath your hand. Wanda shot you a knowing glance, holding in a laugh.

The applause ebbed as James Buchanan Barnes remained rooted to the spot. His eyes darted side to side across the waiting crowd. He shook his head very, very slowly. Showtime, you thought. “I’m afraid he has a bit of stage-fright,” you explained loudly. Collective disappointment hummed in the air. Steve’s face flushed an immediate shade of fuchsia, features hardening. You could see the cogs in his brain turn, a victorious glittering finale slipping from his grasp. His lips puckered, sucking in his cheeks. “I’m sure with a little...encouragement,” Steve said with a grimacing smile, raising his arms. The crowd roared back to life.

Bucky shook his head, a bit faster this time. Rogers head lowered, the breath from his sigh of exasperation clouding around his face. “If I may...” came Loki’s calm drawl from across the line-up. It dripped with sensual showmanship, treacleish tones sending an immediate flood of desire leaking into your panties.

Men and women in the front rows grasped at each other, gawking as if suddenly seeing him for the first time. It doesn’t get any easier folks, you thought with a smile. “My brother here knows the arrangement by heart,” Loki continued. “The lyrics and suchlike- I’m sure he would be happy to relieve Barnes of his duties-”

Mutters of excitement spread through the crowd like a mexican wave. Thor immediately turned his back to the audience, muttering something at surprisingly hushed volume in his brother’s ear. Loki listened diligently, holding up a penitent finger to the crowd. Steve’s arms were folded, storm-clouds knitting his brow. The foot had begun to tap. “My brother makes the valid point that of the two of us, I am the more musically inclined-” Loki began, gracefully gripping Thor’s shoulders and spinning him back to face the audience.

He brushed his brother’s collar, removing the last of the almond crumbs which resided there. A smile you knew all too well stretched across Loki’s lips as he looked deep into Thor’s eyes, willing him to understand. “But alas,” Loki purred, “I know not the words.” And perhaps these words will heal, Loki thought.

Loki held his breath as Thor began to gingerly shuffle forwards, tugging at the hem of his Naughty- emblazoned jumper. If father could see us now, Loki mused with a shiver as his brother gripped the microphone.

The crowd was beginning to stomp in appreciation, driven into a frenzy by the turn of events. Thor gave a small wave, bashful smile growing wider as people began to whistle. Loki turned his attention to Rogers, standing stiff and poised with baton in the air. He gave it a singular flourish, counting down from three. The crowd fell silent.

Loki saw the moment that Steve and Thor’s eyes met. It seemed to make every fairy bulb glow a little brighter in the darkness, sparks of hope spreading like embers from a fire, fluttering upwards in a night sky. Please brother, Loki pleaded silently as he raised his sleigh bell. Don’t arse this up. He suddenly wondered if Thor had felt this way during their time at the cottage. Loki supposed that he had. The brass band sprang to life, drums making an entrance. (Christmaaaas) Loki sang suddenly with the others. Nine voices harmonised as one.

Thor panicked, pulling the microphone to his mouth. “Snow is...coming down...uh-oof-” he spluttered, the cable tangling around his shoe. (Christmaaaaas) they sang, cringing slightly.

One line in, and Loki had almost lost all hope. “I'm watching it faaaaall” Thor crooned in bass – a little more tunefully. (Christmaaaas) “Lots of...very lovely and festive, yes – you...people aro-hounnnd,” (Christmaaaas) Loki sang, a smile beginning to spread as his brother came alive. He was pointing at the children, giggles and squeals peppering the air. The sleigh bell beat against his palm in time with his brother’s voice. “Baby, please come ho-hommmme,” Thor sang. Loki looked up, catching a look on your face that he hadn’t seen before. There was something different in that look. Some deeper variable of your smile that ignited his heart. But there would be time for overthinking it later, he surmised as his brother launched into the chorus with a glottal barrage of enthusiasm. For now, he had a love to nurture.

As Loki released his practised backing harmonies with the rest of the team, his brother got into his stride. ‘Owned the stage,’ Loki believed was the term. Steve didn’t take his eyes off Thor for the whole number. And if Loki didn’t know better, which of course – he did, he would swear that the captain was blushing.

(Please) they sang, sleigh bells jangling in time. “Pleaseee” echoed his brother. (Please) “Please” (Please) “Please” (Please) “Please Baby, please come hommmme-” You were surprised the operatic efforts of Loki’s brother didn’t make the ground shake.

The crowd were beside themselves, singing and jiving and waving their hands in the air. Thor worked the big crescendo, falling to his knees on the ground. His thighs spread, and whether it was his intention or not, you saw Steve grip the podium as his sensibilities buckled. Just a bit. The captain’s lips rolled together, stifling what you were sure was a bite. Thank god Thor wore the tight jeans today, you mused as you held the final note. With a swiping flourish of the conductor’s baton, the song was over. The cheers were deafening.

Thor stood and gave a small bow, sudden bashfulness descending. He waved, backing off to the side. His eyes met Steve’s, giving him an understated nod. The captain returned it slowly, a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. You watched him mouth two words, thank you, before Thor collided into Loki.

There was only one more song to go. You watched as Loki patted his brother’s shoulder across the semi-circle, pulling him into a hug. His face was alight with pride. It melted your heart. Despite the passing of the months, you couldn’t get over how different his smiles were now. Open. Genuine. Real. He’s finally opened his heart.

Have you? The thought came intrusively. Fairy lights shone all around as Loki tussled his brother’s hair. Thor couldn’t stop smiling. And neither could Steve, you noticed. One more song. Rogers tapped the podium for the final time, raising the baton. The mellow sound of the saxophone twisted in the air, followed by strings.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas Just like the ones I used to know” you sang. Loki’s eyes met yours, sparkling with the glitter of mischief well done. “Where the treetops glisten, And children listen, To hear sleigh bells in the snow,”

Bucky’s voice began to grow louder beside you. Released from his bodily prison at last. On cue, the Avengers began to peel away from the semi-circle, mingling with the crowd. Of course, any production orchestrated by Steve Rogers would end in a collective heart-melting communal singalong. Nothing else would do.

You watched as Wanda cosied up to a older man holding a mulled wine. He offered it to her immediately, stunned as he mouthed the words to White Christmas. She took it.

For your part, you made a beeline for the children sitting at the front of the audience, joining them in their sway. This whole thing was for them, after all. Loki’s shadow crept behind you, falling over the little girl with his face emblazoned on the pin badge.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write” Loki purred melodically as he lowered to his haunches. He paused, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. You watched her face, transfixed in joy as all her daydreams came true. The God of Mischief in person, his shadowed blue eyes looking into hers as though she was the only person in the world. That never gets old, either, you thought. He took her hand, pressing her tiny palm against his own. “May your days,” he sang with the crowd as his fingertips glowed green, “be merry and bright-” You couldn’t tear yourself from the look of absolute sincerity on his face. The utter determination painted on softened features to give this sweet girl a memory that would last for the rest of her life – however long that was.

Tears began to prick your eyes, seeing the crane of her neck upwards as her mouth fell open in wonder to the sky. Loki smiled. The green shimmer of his palm pressed to hers grew stronger. A glow flashed across the inky night, a billowing flourish of northern lights erupting over central Manhattan seeped in emerald and pinkish hues. They twisted in waves, swirling like a cloak which moved and rolled. It was alive. Loki's voice was quieter now, but no less beautiful as he sang. “And may all your Christmases, be-” “white,” the little girl gasped as snow began to fall. He did that, you thought in wonder as the crowd began to cheer, hugging each other. All sets of eyes were turned upwards to the sky. All but yours. They stayed fixed on Loki as the band played on amidst a flutter of newly swirling snowflakes. The man I love.

“The tie, brother-” Thor muttered nervously, “is it..?” “It is well done, brother” Loki replied.

He dusted the lapel of Thor’s crushed velvet suit jacket a final time, a deep red the shade of fine merlot. The blonde released a trembling sigh, pulling at his fingers.

It was Christmas Eve. “Did you take the pharmaceuticals as instructed?” Loki enquired quietly as the elevator bounced to a halt. Thor nodded, patting his breast pocket. “The Tums? Yes. I have some on my person should the gaseous beast rear in my belly.” Loki nodded, satisfied. All the bases were covered. He had done all he could do. Now, it was up to Thor. Well, almost. It had been Loki’s idea for the brothers to dress together for the party tonight. And although his initial plan was to ensure that Thor was in peak condition for this eve of great import, Loki would admit that he had enjoyed it. Very much.

He wore a suit matching his brother’s in all but one detail. Loki’s was a crushed velvet of richest emerald green. Thin silk ties of gold adorned them both, fastened tight to the white shirts beneath with a pin bearing their respective emblems. Loki’s gift to his brother. The Asgardian Princes were showing up, tonight. Loki had made sure of it. Mother would be proud, he smiled as the elevator doors opened. Thor’s Yuletide offering to him had been a gift certificate to the Cheesecake Factory, but Loki paid it no mind. Gifts had never been his brother's strong-suit.

The rest of the team was already gathered by the Christmas tree, festive beverages in hand. A rolling cheer of greeting sounded as the duo strode towards the scene. Loki grabbed two glasses from the bar, passing one to his brother who necked it immediately. The dark god swirled his finger, refilling it. Loki felt his brows rise as he saw you, standing with one finger curled over your lip and an entirely too sensual smirk on your beautiful face. Beneath the perfectly cut trousers of his suit, Loki’s cock twitched. “You look handsome,” you coaxed quietly as he slid an arm around your waist, releasing a breath he’d been holding as a charged grunt of need.

“If we had gotten ready for tonight together,” Loki growled hot in your ear, “I fear that dress would never have been seen by another intact.” He pressed himself to you with a lingering kiss, an appreciative thrust of his hips rubbing against your own. He sighed into your open mouth, feeling your fingers dig into his shoulders. “God,” Natasha muttered with playful scorn under her breath, shuffling over to give you both space. “Can’t take them anywhere,” she murmured to Sam. Sam grunted in agreement.

“Presents!” Tony cried, clapping his hands together. “Party starts at eight, tick tock. Cutting it fine thanks to Paris and Nicole here.” He nodded in Loki and Thor’s direction. Steve checked his watch. “One cannot rush perfection, Stark” Loki smirked, releasing you. He watched as Rogers turned and adjusted a decoration on the tree. A plush rabbit wearing a santa hat. He was nervous. Tony knelt down, reading each gift tag and throwing it to the corresponding team-member. An oblong package whizzed past Loki's face, hitting his brother square in the mouth. 'Ooft,' Thor grunted as mulled wine slopped over the side of the glass. He stumbled, catching the present. Loki sighed, flexing his fingers and removing the stain from the front of his sibling’s suit. His brother nestled the empty glass dangerously within the tree branches to his side, inspecting the package. “Tis soft,” he muttered seriously. Across the circle, Loki saw Steve’s anxious gaze darting upwards at his brother in intervals. He noted you offer the captain a comforting nod while Thor tore at immaculate wrapping, ripping off the red ribbon and casting it aside. “Odin’s beard…” Thor gasped as the final sliver of paper fell away.

The team fell silent, looking up from their various body massagers and associated tat. He raised the item in his hands like Simba, slack-jawed in awe. The amazed god stared at it, eyes glossy.

Bruce frowned towards the blonde, peering over his glasses with an oversized posing pouch dangling from one finger. “Is that-?” “-A chicken drumstick?” Nat gawked. “Tis’ soft…!” Thor breathed in wonder, twirling it in his hands. He clutched it to his chest, eyes darting around the group. “A thousand thanks upon whomever bestowed this plush poultry treasure upon me,” he murmured, unable to resist holding the cushion proudly at arms length.

“Truly whomever be my secretive santa knows me to my core-” he continued dreamily, looking to each avenger in turn. They all looked befuddled. All except one. Thor’s brow creased, doing a double take as Steve’s cheeks plunged to new depths of crimson. “Rogers?” the blonde god whispered, so low only Loki could hear it. “Open yours Steve!” someone probed. Captain America still held his own package in his hands, toying with it gently.

Loki maintained his stoic expression, tossing his newly acquired bottle of luxury dry shampoo between his hands as he noted horror descend on his brother’s face. Never fear, brother; he thought smugly. Thor thought that Steve was about to open a small box containing yet another gift certificate to the Cheesecake Factory. But Thor was mistaken. Firstly, America’s saviour was lactose intolerant. Any internet search would have told him that. But despite his brother’s poverty of imagination where presents were concerned, his heart was in the right place. And for the cunning plan his love and he had concocted, there was only one gift which could bring the two men comfort and joy this Christmas. The truth. “Wait, wait-” Thor yelped as he took several panicked strides across the room. He knelt down to Steve’s level, placing his hands over the box that Steve had only just revealed through the wrapping. “It’s not-” Steve looked up, meeting the god’s panicked stare with practised indifference.

“Let me open it, will ya?” he said calmly. Thor sank back, head bowed as he waited for the axe to fall. With every careful unlatching of sellotape, Loki saw his brother’s heart sink a little more into his stomach. “Good gravy, what’s this? A pocket-square?” Thor looked up, regret turning to confusion as he clocked the handkerchief dangling between Rogers slender fingers. It was familiar, heavy with otherworldly silk and trimmed in thread ground from the most precious jewels of nine realms. On one side, deepest burgundy melting to crimson. But on the other, a rich navy which faded to shimmering azure.

Red and blue, not red and green.

The two colours met in the middle, threads glittering and overlapping like foam on the shore. They seemed to move. To change and ebb in the light like a living thing. And stitched across the handkerchief in the finest gold,

En sannhet byttet mot en sannhet. “Jeepers,” Steve muttered as he pulled the silk appraisingly through his fingers. “Someone definitely went over the twenty dollar limit.” Thor twisted his head incredulously towards his brother. Loki narrowed his eyes briefly in response, coupled with a small nod. The blonde god cleared his throat, finally catching up to the scenario unfolding before him. “A truth for a truth,” Thor breathed quietly, looking to the floor.

Steve’s concentration broke, as if suddenly seeing the person kneeling beside him on the floor for the first time. “P-pardon?” he stuttered. There was a sudden wave of green hued light through the room, reminiscent of the northern lights which lit up last night’s sky at the jamboree. “My apologies, Rogers…” Loki purred, stepping forwards. “I feel it best to inform you that the others cannot see nor hear us at this moment. As far as they are aware, you are both by the bar.” Loki nodded to where a slightly glitchy duo of duplicates stood behind Tony’s counter, clinking glasses of tequila. “Just myself, and she-” he nodded to you, “are witness.” “W-witness?” Steve spluttered, trying to stand and finding his knees starting to buckle. He looked at Thor, eyes wide. But all he found was softness. “Say the words, Rogers” Thor urged gently, gesturing to the handkerchief. Steve frowned, as the blonde god pulled the silk from his grip.

“A truth for...what was it? Truth for a truth?” Rogers asked, confused gaze darting between the men and you.

Loki clapped his hands together quietly. “Wonderful. You are now bound to the Accords of the Kerchief.” Steve frowned deeper. “Accords of the what-now?” “Kerchief,” Loki repeated formally, nodding towards the silk in Thor’s hand.

“You have both held it while the other spoke the words. And now, you must exchange the truth which causes the conflict between you – so that it may be resolved.” “And what if I don’t wanna?” Rogers sniffed, ears burning. He avoided Thor’s eyes. Loki released a whittling hum of discontent. “Unfortunately, failure to comply with the Accord of the Kerchief once initiated means instant smiting at the hands of Heimdall.” “Smiting?! You can’t be serious,” Steve scoffed with gusto. “Oh yes,” Loki nodded very seriously. Thor was nodding too. Also very seriously. “The penalties are most grave, Rogers.” “You tricked me,” Steve hissed to the blonde opposite him.

“Technically I tricked you,” Loki smirked apologetically. Rogers eyes narrowed in his direction, his lip trembling with what looked suspiciously like a swear. “Laufeyson,” he warned. Loki extended his forefinger, waggling it slowly side-to-side. “It will do not a jot of good, Rogers. You can thank my mother for this one. Now -” he gestured expectantly between the men. Thor took a deep breath. “Rogers-Ihavefeelingsforyouwhichcannotbeexplainedin,mere...Norns-” “Slow down, Thor-” you cooed gently.

Loki felt your hand slide into his. The nerves roaring in his belly soothed as your fingers interlinked. Despite maintaining an exterior of calm, he was terrified.

“Rogers,” Thor began again. Steve stared at him, transfixed. The aura of suspicion which surrounded him was fading, his stiff spine slackening as he looked at the god. Really looked at him. Saw him.

“I have feelings for you, which run deep to the heart of me. Which I cannot deny any longer. And if you feel that you cannot return my interest, then I shall understand. But I cannot spend another night unable to sleep, thinking that you believe me to hate you. And I apologise for my boorish behaviour these past months.” There was a pause as the god took a breath before continuing. “It was self preservation, you see-” Thor rumbled quietly, before sighing.

Steve looked down, still except for his fingers fidgeting with the wrapping paper in his lap. “That was well done, brother” Loki soothed. Thor shot him a sad smile. “I-” Rogers started.

The three of you held your breath. He looked up, just at the moment Thor curled a blonde tendril behind his ear. “I-” Steve choked, shifting on his knees. “It’s okay Steve,” you coaxed from the side-lines. It was the final nudge he needed. “I feel the same,” was all Steve said. He looked up, meeting Thor’s widening eyes. “Truly?” Steve nodded shyly. “I got myself in a tizz, about a whole bunch of things which weren’t really to do with you. Or….us. Not really,” he stammered. "It wasn't a mistake. And I was a dummy to say so." Loki felt your fingernails dig into his palm, both of you craning forwards as the captain continued. His voice was serious, a slight waver just audible between the words. “For a while, I thought you thought I was just some kinda tart. Some kind of loose Jack. Well lemme tell you Odinson, Steve Rogers is no one’s tart.” “You were never my tart, Rogers,” Thor uttered with gravitas, gently cupping Steve’s jaw. The captain’s eyelids fluttered closed, leaning into his hold. In seconds, the space between them closed. Rogers arms wrapped around Thor’s shoulders, Thor’s hands sliding around the captain’s waist. They fit together like a glove, Steve’s fingers winding in the god’s hair like a spindle through spun gold. Low mutterings of apologies cascaded from their lips between kisses, small gasps and sighs as unpleasantness of past months were forgotten. “What the fuck?” Tony spluttered. Every set of eyes in the room was fixed on the God of Thunder and Captain America’s passionate embrace. Hel, Loki thought with a shock. In all the excitement, he had neglected to hold the spell which shielded them. The kiss ceased, but still their arms were wound around each other. “Sheesh,” Wanda laughed, grabbing a bottle of the good stuff on her way past the bar. “It’s about time.” A murmur of agreement rolled around the room, a chorus of whoops sounding as each teammate stooped to offer a clap on the back to the newly outed couple. And for the first time in living memory, the colour of Thor’s cheeks rivalled his lover’s. “Maybe you guys won’t be the public embarrassment at parties anymore,” Nat quipped as she passed, tapping Loki and you lightly on the ass. Your laughter lit up Loki’s heart. And there was that look in your eye again, the one he couldn’t place yesterday.

‘We did it,’ you mouthed silently to him. Loki winked in response, just as the clock chimed eight. With a spring in his step, Loki made his way to the men kneeling awkwardly on the floor, noting their interlinked fingers with a wave of pride. He offered both hands, and each was taken. He heaved, pulling the men to stand and immediately into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, brother” he whispered in Thor’s ear. “Do you need the handkerchief back?” Thor muttered through a smile. “I am assuming the revised colours were only temporary.” Loki chuckled, pulling him and Rogers tighter. The captain released a strangled ooft as the air was pressed from his lungs.

“I think not that we need such a trinket to ensure our bond. Not anymore. Do you, brother?” Loki murmured into his sibling’s hair.

From deep within the embrace, in a hold which seemed to melt the centuries, Loki felt his brother shake his head.

The party was a roaring success. And in the early hours of Christmas Day, you and Loki stumbled back to your apartment upstairs.

It was tiredness, mostly – and happiness. Strands of tinsel poked from Loki’s curls. You pulled one out with a giggle before unlocking the door and pulling him inside. “Finally,” he growled longingly as one slim finger toyed with the strap of your dress. Making quick work of pushing the velvet suit jacket from his shoulders, your fingers were halfway down his shirt buttons before you suddenly remembered- “-your present!” you cried, making Loki flinch back from where he had been buried in your neck.

“Can’t it wait?” he whined with feigned impatience. You waved an excited hand, scurrying to the cupboard. “No.” you shouted, head popping out behind the cupboard door. “I’ve been dying to give it to you.” Loki sighed, a reluctant smile spreading across his beautiful face. “I thought we agreed no gifts,” he huffed as you ran and sat cross-legged on the bed.

You bounced on your knees while he swaggered over, undoing the last of his buttons with a knowing grin as he enjoyed the roam of your hungry stare across his skin. His carved abdomen flirted into view, obliques visible with each stride as the thick cotton folded to his movements. Loki sat on the bed, legs spread at the edge. His thighs creased the material in a way that made your mouth water.

He picked up the box, inspecting it before throwing you a lingering smoulder. “Mischievous elf,” he purred. “It’s just a small thing” you bargained, biting your lip as the first side of paper was torn. “I stole it, actually.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Open it!” you said, chewing on your thumbnail as you watched his eyes drop to the package. Suddenly the god’s face changed.

Playfulness melted to a frown, his smirk fading. He swallowed thickly, staring down at the mug in his hands before looking up at you. “-with the yellow bear,” he said quietly. “and the eyepatch!” you beamed. “I took it from the cottage. I noticed you always used it, I thought you might like the-”

Before you could finish, Loki’s hand had cupped the back of your head and pulled you into an all-consuming kiss. He bore down on you, the passion of his adoration sinking through the air and deep into your soul. Every circle of his tongue against yours, every caress of his breath as he repositioned his mouth over your own. He broke, panting. “Darling,” was all he could muster in thanks as he looked down at the ceramic with adoring eyes. You couldn’t stop smiling. His gaze snapped up, a click of his fingers making a perfectly wrapped present appear beside you on the bed. Golden paper shimmered before becoming whole. It was flat, and light. “No presents, huh?” you goaded sweetly. Loki smiled. “Open it,” he echoed. You complied. And inside the paper was a perfectly folded nightdress, adorned with autumnal leaves. The very same one. You hugged it to your chest, a dopey smile on your face. “I knew it was the one thing in that room you would miss,” he rumbled apologetically.

You reached for his hand, thumb running over the veins taut and thick on the back. “I hope this doesn’t mean I’ll be sleeping alone,” you whispered with a smile. Loki placed his mug on the side table, before reaching for the nightdress and placing it beside. “God forbid,” he growled. Loki pulled another errant strand of tinsel from his hair, making it vanish. Without breaking eye contact, he lowered you back on the mattress, the pad of one fingertip tracing down your cheekbone. Memorising it.

The way he was looking at you, the silence that hung where words should be. You knew which words they were. He was holding back, even now as he inhaled against your pulse-point. Holding back for you. As dark curls blanketed your vision, you thought of the excitement in his voice as the cunning plan was formed. Of the way his fists clenched as he silently cheered his brother on, how his face fell when he thought that it was all for naught. How his eyes had swum with joy as it all came together. Not for himself, but for them. And you thought of the smile on that little girl’s face, joyful in the midst of Christmas lights and magic that shouldn't be possible. But for her, and for you - with him...it was. Yes, you’d thought about that a lot. “I love you, Loki” you whispered slowly in his ear.

Loki’s kisses against your neck faltered. You heard a sigh rack his chest, breath hitching as his heart-beart quickened on top of your own. “Truly?” he murmured in response.

It was cautious, wary. His eyes came into view, concern clouding them. You slid a hand up his jaw, kissing him gently. “I love you,” you repeated solemnly. He pressed his forehead to yours, a choke of relieved laughter accompanying a long inhale of breath. “Gods,” he whispered on the exhale, “what have I done to deserve you?” “Everything,” you replied quietly. It was a truth.

He kissed you as though he was trying to absorb each atom of your breath, capture each flutter of the three words he’d longed to hear. As though they might vanish if he did not mark the moment with the seal of his touch. But they wouldn’t. You knew that now. How could they? “I love you,” he whispered back. And you believed him.

A/N: Thank you again so so so much for coming on this journey with me and the gang. I'm so happy with how this ended, even though the expansion was a bit unexpected(!) and I really hope you are too! Although the 'main' story is chapters 1-7, it felt like there was more to explore. Please let me know what you thought, any insights or additional HCs you have - they are always welcome ❤️ Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fluff #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki x yn #loki x you #loki gif #loki series

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alicealmost · 1 month

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Jax once said to Ragatha:

"You, me and a bunch of ragbunnies."

Bro wasn't joking

Man, including Jaiden, Bunnydoll has around 65 kids! 65 KIDS! AND those are only the ones I know, it might be more out there.

I am addicted to Jax and Ragatha fankids. I guess it's because all creators have one thing in common, shipping bunnydoll (at least, most of creators). At same time, whenever someone create a shipchild, we are able to explore people's creativity and traits of their personality.

I will try to draw Jaiden with each one of her siblings before tadc ep 3 is due, if you guys allow me (if don't, ease tell me, there is no prob) I don't know if I will get it, as I don't have much time or ability.

Fankids mentioned belong to (this gonna be long)

*inhales*

Scruffy -> @lumineary-arts

Ruby, Jesse, Jett-> @ruemodes

Andy (girl) -> @sorascribbless

Lux-> @naitmeir

Klyukva-> @yakkuo13

Andy(boy) and Aba -> @eryberry594

Onyx -> @pxnky-prxmise

Jeager -> @michiruxbna

Patch, Sugar, Duffy-> @kodaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Maggie, Vivi, Benji, Roger -> @this-old-bee

Daisy, Nibs, Frankie, Periwinkle and Seymour -> @candy-heart-brew

Cole, Juniper and Loo -> @beanandberry / @raggedypina

Ellie, Ethan and Owyin-> @livi-in-digital-circus

Abby -> @fizzyellouw

Jinx -> @ese1anime

Rachel and Jayden -> @kansuda2478

Mopsy and Buster -> @raggstosketches

Rix -> @karikorii

June and Reggy -> @artzy-sketchy

Wink -> @zapperona

Randy -> @starquarck

Chucky -> @saffiroll

Velvet -> @snowthedemonfox

Randall and Mimo -> @Ra1bow-echo

Mimi -> @kazee-acxbi

Shuji and Ruthy -> @lazyxkazee

Donnie and Richard -> @fraudefiscal

Ralice -> @valentinbelleyh505

Anne, Rose and Andy -> @switcherooreo

Annie-> @lovelyragdolly

Kit -> @sh4tt3rg1rl

CJ -> @royalion9

Hope -> @groovygladiatorsheep

Needle and Thread-> @redvelvet-choclatecakes

Riska -> @iverylike-coffe

Wisteria -> @frazzledpixels

Marionette -> @whomstress

Wildyx -> @rayndis

Sabrina -> Star Blossom (pinterest)

Juliet -> this_person-does-art (pinterest)

Edit:

Quick apologize for marking Needle's creator wrong... I saw a drawing of her in another account and thought she was from that said account. And then I saw Needle has a brother and @lindseynicole1999 has designed fankids too, so...

It's more than 65 in the end of the day

Funny... haha...

Edit: two important announcements

1° Wildyx real creator is @rayndis and I can't apologize enough for the mistake. I marked a person in pinterest, but his real creator is rayndis. I am sorry

2° more kids, lol

Maelisa and Kelsey -> @naive-bunbun

Patcharicia -> @xxmia0wm4yh3mxx

Rajany and Athax -> @vanillakkat

Judy, Lola and Briar -> @wondwaeland

Rascall and Ann -> @lindseynicole1999

Raggit -> @6hstz

Hue, Lace and Denim -> @devilgem

Randall -> @krislgfox

Bonbob, Showee and Peabs -> @that-weird-skeleton-bastard

Randy --> @sillyseaveerablogs

Minx, Jinx, Jayce and Andy --> @aleesianicool

Clover and Jolane -> rasyleaf (devianart)

Janny --> PinkHiu (devianart)

Angora: @eldritch-muppetshow

Emma -> skelefun (instagram)

Rob ->There.Real.Lim (Twitter/X)

#bunnydoll fankid #bunnydoll shipchildren #bunnydoll siblings #dude has over 65 kids #so does girl #Jax true bunny #Jax and Ragatha kids #bunnydoll family #tadc #and the litter keeps growing

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jeannineee · 11 months

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Kinktober Day Nineteen: Praise

Rhysand x Reader

warnings: praise kink, p in v, soft Rhysie, cowgirl, size kink kinda? cockwarming at the end. kinktober masterlist

“So beautiful,” Rhys panted, adoration flooding down the bond as he watched you ride him. He sat up, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“I love you so much,” he breathed, peppering wet kisses across your skin.

“I love you too,” you murmured, raking a hand through his onyx hair. A soft moan escaped you as he squeezed your hips, guiding you.

As Rhys laid back, you braced your hands on his chest, slowly bouncing on his cock.

“That’s it,” he said, thrusting up to meet your movements. “You feel—fuck—so good. So perfect, darling.”

Your face flushed at the praise, with your mind going hazy as his cock brushed against your sweet spot over and over. "R-Rhys, Rhys, please," you mewled, barely able to keep upright.

"I've got you," Rhys cooed, helping you lean forward until your head rested underneath his chin. "Just let me take care of you. I've got you."

Rhys placed one hand on the back of your head, and the other on your waist as he thrusted into you, cursing as your walls clamped down around him. "Such a good girl," he praised, his abs tensing beneath you. "Taking me so well."

You were reduced to little more than a whimpering mess, grazing your teeth along his neck, sucking little marks into his skin as you attempted to stifle your lewd moaning. It became impossible as that familiar heat began coiling in your gut.

"Rhys, I can't--gonna--"

"I know, darling. Let go for me."

You chanted his name as your orgasm tore through you, your pleasure heightened as Rhys coaxed you through it, murmuring words of adoration against your hair.

A few more thrusts, and Rhys buried himself to the hilt, spilling into you with a groan. He remained inside you as the two of you began to relax, running his hand down your spine soothingly.

You melted into his touch, quickly drifting into that sweet darkness.

Taglist: @azriels-shadowsinger @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @bbycowboi @ghostofnightcrawlerpast @fendyr @thegirlintheshadows101 @icey--stars @exoahgasebby @cassiefromhell @missusbarnes-rogers @danikamariewrites @cmay25 @anpacax0 @georgiastars13 @hannzoaks @impossibelle @harrystylesfan2686 @bookishbroadwaybish @girl-who-writes-stuff @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @iron-collector-traveler @captainsbaby @strawberryshortcake143 @glitterypirateduck

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acotar smut #smut #rhysand smut #rhysand x reader #rhysand

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metakazkz · 1 month

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Which Animal Kevin should have as friend?

Katherine has a black cat named Onyx. James has a golden retriever named Roger. Kevin needs an animal friend.

#me and my moonside #metakazkz

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flickys-courage-club · 10 days

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[This is my AU of Straight Outta Nowhere: Scooby Doo Meets Courage The Cowardly Dog movie, I included my CTCD OCs Barry, Onyx, Carnelian, Kameron, Francine, Bunitty, Crister and Bard in it]

[While Mystery Incorporated met Courage and the Bagges, Muriel and Eustace. Courage heads up to the attic, Scooby and Shaggy follow him up the stairs. In the attic, Courage's new friend who is a black cat named Barry is asleep and holding his plush rabbit. There, Courage opens the door, and he, Shaggy and Scooby enter. As they enter, the three approach the sleeping cat]

Courage: Shh– [he whispered to Shaggy and Scooby] Barry? Barry? [he responded quietly, then he pokes Barry's nose]

[Barry opens his eyes, he sees Courage, Scooby and Shaggy all looking at him. Barry yawns and stretches his arms out]

Shaggy: Like, pal. He's now… speaking to his rabbit he has with him?

Barry: [he sees Courage] Oh, Courage! [Then his eyes move to Shaggy and Scooby Doo. But that causes him to get scared and he screams, which is from his anxiety. Barry pulls out his toy gun underneath his blanket and he points at Shaggy]

Shaggy: ZOINKS! Like, that lil guy HAS A GUN RIGHT AT US SCOOB!

Scooby: Ruh roh, Raggy! WE'RE ROOMED

Shaggy: Like, listen little dude. We're both like, pretty cool dudes. Ain't that right Scoob? [Barry lowers his toy gun down]

Scooby: Rah! We ratch a road of creepy monsters and a road of rad guys

Barry: Oh… right. [places his gun down behind him] Sorry that I pointed my gun at you guys. I genuinely had to do that if there is anything that is trying to kill me in this household.

Shaggy: Like, that's ok pal. Like, I thought I was gonna get shot

Barry: Look, don't worry about it. It's actually a toy gun that shoots corks instead of real bullets. [Scooby and Shaggy's eyes look at eachother, then at Barry]

Scooby: …Right

Courage: Barry, would you like to introduce yourself to them?

Barry: Oh right, I didn't even get to do that at first. My name is Barry! I am a new friend of Courage here in Nowhere.

Scooby: Roh– But how did the two of you meet? [Scooby points at each of the two]

Barry: He met me at a hospital, I was with my mom, after i am now born. Courage came here to see us. We became very close, and we have many things in common. [Scooby and Shaggy nod to that] we do get scared at things really easily, but we have a brave heart and by that we save the ones we love.

Shaggy: Like, that's so cool dude. [to Courage] Your actually a cat that acts like you dude

Courage: [nods] Mmhmm

Shaggy: Like it's nice to meet you Barry man. I'm Shaggy, Shaggy Rogers

Barry: It's nice to meet you too Shaggy

Scooby: I'm Scooby Doo

Barry: Scooby… Scooby Doo? As in the famous Scooby Doo who solves the most greatest mysteries with a crew of… mystery solvers?

Scooby: Yeah? [Courage is confused]

Barry: [places his paws on Scooby's and he looks up at him] I can't believe this, I.. I watched many of your shows!

Scooby: [gasps] REALLY?!

Barry: Yeah! You guys are in a van, running around doors, and unmasking monsters who are now people dressing up in costumes. You have given me inspiration Scooby Doo, to become a mystery solving detective around the streets during the 50s [his eyes are sparkling with excitement]

Scooby: Wow! [his eyes sparkle with excitement too]

Shaggy: Like lil man, I now really noticed how much of a fan you are to Scoob [places his arm around Scooby's shoulder. The three together chuckle along, while Courage watches Barry with an embracing smile, since he has found new friends to interact with]

Shaggy: [spots Barry's bed behind him] Huh? Like, never seen a bed placed in a attic like this

Barry: Oh, yeah. That's where I sleep in

Shaggy: Like, in the attic? [to Courage] Like does this dude have a home and a family, man?

Courage: Yeah, he does. But he stays in here a lot, since his parents are busy with stuff

Barry: Lemme put this up with you Courage. [he holds out some pictures of his family to Shaggy and Scooby] My family all appear to be in mafia teams. The first being my ancestor Nathaniel. After he married Miranda, they had their son Barrett

Scooby: Oh wait! He rooks like you

Barry: You could say that we are much alike to our ancestors. By time passes, the three families start with my great grandparents; Carnelian and Onyx, Gerald and Lillie, and Piperita and Cinnamon. My maternal great grandparents had my grandfather Matt and great aunt Maria. And also great grandparents had my maternal grandma; Lauren. My maternal grandparents now had my mom named Teresa, and my uncle who is called Oliver. Great grandpa Piperita and great grandma Cinnamon have grandma Marie, who she met my grandpa Brandon and they have my dad named Nathan. And finally my mom and my dad are married and they have me! Which I am the final of the bloodline. [Shaggy and Scooby's jaws dropped by the whole family tree explanation that Barry has told them]

Shaggy: Like man, THAT WAS WILD! Like I didn't even know that you are like part of such a huge family line like this. [Barry raised his eyebrow at Shaggy while he lets his breath out]

Barry: Yeah, since my father runs a mafia business, he and mom had to do their work, so with their trust to Courage. They now acquire him to be my caretaker [Courage smiles at this response, and chuckles. Then Shaggy, Scooby and Courage head down the stairs. Courage and Scooby Doo turn around to Barry]

Courage: Barry? Are you… coming?

Barry: I'm coming Courage

[Barry joins along with the three as they go down through the attic, then, downstairs to the living room where the rest of the others]

Muriel: Oh– Barry! Your here in time for my special Scottish dream cookies. [she hands one to Barry, which makes him giggle with joy. He then eats it]

Shaggy: Like dude, you get along with the sweet old lady here

Barry: [gulps it down] Yeah, Muriel is like a grandmother to me

Scooby: We seen that ranky old man here

Barry: Who– Oh… you mean Mr Bagge? I don't like him

Shaggy: You don't like him cuz of how cranky he looks–

Barty: I prefer not to say about it

Scooby: Ok

[Scooby and Shaggy's friends; Velma, Daphne and Fred see Barry, though he backs a little, nervously]

Barry: Uh, Shaggy? Scooby Doo?

Scooby: Oh! Their my friends

Fred: Hey!

Daphne: Hi!

Velma: Hello!

Barry: Hi? I'm… Barry. Who are you guys called?

Daphne: Daphne, Daphne Blake

Barry: Oh, so your Daphne the… the Beautiful! Daphne the Beautiful! It's nice to meet you Daphne, I'm Barry [walks to Fred]

Fred: I'm Fred Jones

Barry: Fred Jones! Or Fred the… Leader! Fred the Leader! It's nice to meet you as well [the two shake hands. Then he walks to Velma] and your…

Velma: Velma Dinkley

Barry: And you provide the intelligence. Which has me to call you Velma the Tech Intelligent! I'm Barry

Velma: It is an honoured pleasure to meet you Barry. And we would like to welcome you to the Mystery Incorporated where we solve the biggest mysteries around the whole world [Barry's eyes sparkle with wonder when he is welcomed to the Mystery Incorporated]

#straight outta nowhere: scooby doo meets courage the cowardly dog #ctcd #courage the cowardly dog #scooby doo #ctcd x scooby doo #ctcd oc #ctcd oc barry #courage the dog #shaggy rogers #muriel bagge #eustace bagge #fred jones #daphne blake #velma dinkley #story #story prompt #main au

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starksbabie · 9 months

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Here are all my Steve works, listed alphabetically, including brief summaries and warnings when warranted.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Here for You - Steve Rogers x Reader - Hurt/Comfort - After weeks away on a long mission Steve comes home to find you feeling the big sad and does his best to let you know how much he cares. (400 Words) Warnings: Depression, Depression Messes

Button - Massage Therapist!Steve Rogers x Reader - Smut Drabble A smutty little drabble about 6'4" massage therapist Steve Rogers. I originally sent it to a friend's ask box, but I'd like to have posted on my master list as well. (350 Words) Warnings: Smut, inappropriate massage therapist, MDNI 18+ @babyjakes this is for you

#Steve Rogers #onyx writes things

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 2 years

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Obedear

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Graves x Shadow!Reader

You see a new side of Graves and the Shadows that's much darker than what you were used to, as a bad situation during your mission only grows worse...

TW: Torture, Blood, Somewhat Explicit Violence, Swearing, Dark, Bone-Breaking

Tags: Action, Drama, Thriller(?), Partly Pre-Canon, Swearing, Violence, Torture, Dark, Graves and Shadow Company are villains, Angst, somewhat villain Reader, Character Study, a little edgy, slight melodrama, it's just a somewhat tense situation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: A little different than what I type normally: no romance, more action-oriented drama. Might be dumb. I just wanted to type a little villainy action stuff for Graves and Shadow Company because I'm brain dead and like writing about bad people sometimes. Let a villain be a villain, I say. (Not that I'm condoning!)

Definitely a chapter meant to demonstrate only some of the measures I feel Graves would take for the sake of covering up a fuck up. He just seems like a guy who likes to dabble in a little torture, but that's just what I think. I also like making the Y/N character person go through it. ┐( ˘_˘)┌

ԅ (≖◡≖ԅ) anyway...

Masterlist

Chapter Thirteen - Obedear

Death.

That’s what runs through your enemies minds when they see your coat of arms -- the Rook insignia of Shadow Company -- the certainty that the end has come.

The Shadows were nothing more than a frightful whisper in the night to those unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of things. The rumored name their enemies traded after discovering yet another bloodbath left out for display.

It takes a special type of depravity to earn a title like that one; the kind of rep' that runs your blood cold. Under Phillip Graves' command, they were the hideous embodiment of the big, dark shadow in your closet. Boogeymen within the PMC ring. Beastly, merciless, and unforgiving.

Death.

Tonight, you would be the bringer of that destined death, as your target remains oblivious to the impending doom heading his way now.

"…Three, two, one. Execute!"

A small charge blows the handle off a large, metal door, breaking it from its hinges, as it sways open with an eerie creak. The noise attracts the attention of a barking dog in the distance; none from any humans however, nor passing vehicles.

You, Percy and Jeremy stand in a cramped alleyway between two neighboring apartment complexes. The lack of street lamps and available moonlight peaking over the tall, stone buildings, made the alley near pitch black in the night.

This part of Kavala wasn't as populated as the other tourists-filled spots in the city, allowing for you and your men to move in the night with little fear of attracting attention and tipping off your target. With any luck, you could be in and out with Onyx in a matter of minutes.

You flip your night vision goggles on, a hazy green hue overtaking your senses, as you take a peek into the room you'd just broken and entering into -- the back stairwell to the apartments.

Whoever runs this place didn't bother having any of the lights running in this part. You weren't likely to run into anyone this way, at least. Not without you having the upper hand.

"Shadow-1, this is Canary," you say in your comms. "We've breached the building. Entering now. How copy?"

"Good copy," Graves radios in. "Onyx's room is on the fourth floor, room 213. Radio in once you're done. If you run into any "problems", go ahead and dump 'em. Just keep it quiet, yeah?"

"Roger that, Commander. Out here."

Jeremy begins to mutter beneath his breath, "Of course he's on the fourth floor."

The man stands at the foot of the stairwell, using his rifle's scope to look up ahead. He hasn't had much to say to you since you parted from the rest of the team. It's probably the quietest you've ever heard him, which was fine by you.

"You could use the exercise," you poke at him with a whisper, moving past Shadow 2-0 to start making your way up. "Let's move."

Percy follows close behind, silently covering you, as Jeremy follows with a huff.

The stairwell was a tight squeeze, given how far up it stretches, people leaving loose laundry to dry, and their belongings scattered about. You move up quietly, listening for every possible noise.

Dim lights from the small door windows beam in like thin rays, cutting through the dark, as you advance up another set of steps. You hear the faint noises of TVs and chatter echoing from other rooms down their respective halls, unaware of your team creeping by. Indeed, this building was actively being lived in.

The sounds grow less lively as you ascend the steps, before they're replaced by the creaking of the stairwell, and your increasing pulse.

The stairwell eerily blocks out the sounds of the world outside itself, leaving you with the muted steps of your boots against the hard floor, and your low breathing.

The heavy burden of your task at hand grew more prominent.

The adrenaline rises slowly. It made your heart ring in your ears, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up beneath your mask and clothing. You'd only remember the presence of yourself when you would unconsciously swallow.

You reach the fourth floor, removing your night vision so you could peek through the door window.

Taking a small gander of the hallway, you check for signs of roaming residents. This floor seemed to house more empty rooms than the ones below it, with little to no traffic; a deliberate choice by your target no doubt, and one Onyx would soon regret.

The coast looked clear enough.

You turn to your team and give them a small nod, before opening the door and piling into the hallway. As quick as you can, you begin skimming the room numbers, keeping your rifles lowered and your heads on the swivel.

209… 210 … 211 … 212…

Room 213. The last room down the hall.

The three of you huddle around the door, your backs pressed against the wall, and your ears locked in. There's laughter erupting from inside, along with some blaring rap music, too unidentifiable from where you stand to make any of it out.

With how loud it was, there was no way Onyx, nor his men, would hear your team closing in. The chatter grew more rambunctious, multiple men's voices picking up through the walls now.

Your team all share glances with one another, running by the next plan of action with a single lock of the gaze. You recall what was discussed in your briefing hours ago, and prepare yourself.

You lift your hand up and silently begin to count down from five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Percy shoots the door handle, his silencer making the shot a "Plink!" noise, as the door lightly swung ajar. The moment it opens, Jeremy lifts his boot and kicks it in, raising his rifle and rushing into the apartment. You and Percy follow suit, your guns aimed and ready, fingers hovering over the trigger.

In a few short seconds, you take in your surroundings: One exit, a single, curtainless window across from you, a kitchen to your left -- divided by an island counter, and a hallway to your right going towards the bedrooms.

It smelt of cigarettes and dust. The apartment was small and overstuffed with tacky, old furniture and décor. Immediately, you shift your sights to the occupants of the apartment. Your target.

A group of five men sat at a round dining room table off to the left of the entrance and living room. You immediately identify Onyx by his black tracksuit and gold chain, sitting at the table's center. The man's a lot more lanky up close, scrawny even. Though his brown eyes carried the look of a seasoned killer.

They're heads all snapped to the sound of the door crashing open, startled gazes quickly twisting with rage. They reach for their pistols on the table, ready to draw, only they're a few seconds too short.

Jeremy shoots the first shot, riddling one of the guards with bullets and planting him permanently in his seat. The flash from his gunfire lights the room at each pop, as Percy joins in shortly after, taking care of the man next to him who tried to reach for his gun.

You shoot the last two men with swift precision, making a clean shot through both their skulls back to back, and leaving Onyx as the last man at the table.

"Ahhh!!"

There's an intense scream that comes from the kitchen to your left.

Instinctively, you turn both your body and rifle to the sound, prepared to shoot down this unknown assailant. However, you freeze at the sight of the culprit, your hands locking in place. You see a woman.

Her brown hair is long and curly, her makeup as put together as what she wore. She stands in the kitchen, staring at all the dead bodies, with her hands clasped tightly over her mouth in fear, the tears already streaming down her face.

Suddenly, you come face to face with your own humanity, having switched that part off the moment you stepped through the door. Only you hadn't noticed until now.

The woman screams again, and this time it attracts the attention of the others on your team. Jeremy's in particular.

Shadow 2-0 whips his rifle towards the woman's direction, and without much thought at all, pulls the trigger.

POP!

You watch the bullet slice over the woman's shoulder, just barely missing the major part of her arm, as her blood splatters against the white refrigerator behind her like a paintball pellet.

The woman cries out, grabbing at her arm hysterically. She begins to cower over in fear, suddenly attempting to grab at something near her knees, just below where you couldn't see over the kitchen counter.

You hear tiny footsteps begin to bolt, and to your absolute horror, you see the small shadow of someone bolt from around the counter.

A child.

The kid weaves through you and your team, making a beeline for the hallway, as the woman screams in Russian for him to come back. This sends Onyx in a tizzy.

With no regard for his own safety, the man stands from his seat and attempts to chase after the child, only to be stopped by a bullet to the calf from Jeremy.

Onyx crashes to the floor, only barely catching himself from face-planting onto the ground. Percy takes this opportunity to apprehend Onyx. He drops his knee down onto the man's back until it digs in his spine, swinging his fists down at him a few times before grabbing hold of both his arms.

Amidst the chaos, Jeremy turns his attention back to the belligerent woman, who was seconds away from going completely off the deep end.

"Hey!" Jeremy raises his rifle, threatening to swing it down on her, as though that would help things. "Quit your screamin'!"

She ignores him, crying more, and using her good arm to shield herself from him. It's very likely the poor woman didn't speak English.

The woman's sobbing pleas only seem to further erupt Onyx into a fit of rage. He squirms beneath Percy's knee, cursing and yelling in Russian, making a loud scene.

You step over to Jeremy, attempting to salvage what little Russian you did know to try and get the woman to calm herself. For her sake, she needed to; others in your company would not be as patient.

"Quiet," you tell her. "You need to be quiet."

The woman hears you, but struggles to manage her blubbering, just barely being able to keep from hyperventilating. You couldn't blame her either; Jeremy made this situation more difficult right from the jump. Not that you expected any less from him. Shadow 2-0 was as brutish and uncaring as mercenaries came, the kind of man who shouldn't be in this line of work, and yet thrived in it.

You quickly step back over to the entrance, peaking outside to make sure the commotion hadn't attracted any attention. The hallways remained as empty as you had left them, surprisingly enough. With the music inside still blaring like it was, most of this ordeal was probably drowned out and ignored by the neighbors. Hopefully.

You make sure to shut what remains of the front door behind you on your way back in.

"Shadow-1, we've apprehended the target," you call in. "Awaiting orders."

Radio silence.

You tap your foot impatiently, guessing at what it was that kept your commander from replying. Shepherd, most likely. He's been going out of his way to hound and micromanage you and your Company as of late, almost as though he did not trust you. Which was insulting, given what you knew of him.

After everything the Shadows have done already, trust felt more than owed.

"I told you to keep it down!" Jeremy yells at the woman.

"Screamin' at her's not gonna help any," you say.

Percy cuts in now. "She's probably cryin' for her fuckin' kid."

"Why don't you go get it then, Canary?" Jeremy turns his frustrations to you. "Since you're just standing there."

You would argue, though you couldn't find it in you to do that right now. Your mind felt a bit scattered suddenly.

"Copy that, Canary." Graves' voice brings you back into perspective. "Run into any trouble in there?"

You begin to take in more of the details around the apartment, catching the occasional child's toy on the ground, and family picture on the wall. Onyx's wife and child. The woman and that kid. It makes sense that he'd live with his family, though it's not what you anticipated on barging into when you came here. You hadn't put much thought into that at all, actually.

"Negative, Commander. No issues from us. But…" you're a bit hesitant to mention it to him, knowing what would come of this family if Graves knew. You eventually decide to speak however, some subliminal sense of duty pushing you to. "There are civilians in here, sir."

"Sounds nonessential," Graves says.

Nonessential. Just what you wanted to hear. You sigh in relief. However, it is short-lived.

"They look like they might be his wife and kid, sir," Jeremy radios in. A game changing piece of information in this event. One which quickly sank your heart at your Commander's sudden silence on the other end.

"They still breathin'?" he asks plainly. Quite a question to have on his mind, though it does not surprise you in the least.

"Yes, sir," you say. "Though, the wife's been wounded."

There's another long pause from Graves. You begin to think he may be relaying this back to Shepherd as you speak, seeing as the assignment was entirely dependent on what the General saw fit.

"Tie 'em up and meet us out back," said Graves. "Bring the whole family with ya while you're at it, and make it snappy. Shadow-1 out."

The comms shut off, and the silence which follows feels deafening.

Percy hoists Onyx up aggressively, as he quickly zip-ties the man's hands behind his back, placing a black sack over his head. The whole time, Shadow 3-1 made sure to keep the barrel of his rifle pressed to his back, reminding him not to try anything.

"I said on your fucking feet!"

You hear Jeremy yell at the woman again. He yanks at her wounded arm until she's standing, the poor lady crying out in pain from her injury. Not that he cared for her condition, just that he could quickly have her subdued and blindfolded.

"I'll go look for the kid," you decide.

You venture down the dark hallway, peering into each room you pass, trying to keep your mind at ease.

Any time you pause for even a short second, you feel your lungs shake in your chest. It was as though they were filling with some sort of fluid, drowning you from the inside out. It made it hard to swallow.

That kid is in here somewhere. Confused. Terrified. Your black silhouettes seared into their little eyes. To this child you search for, you were the boogeyman of the night. The shadowy figure come to haunt their dreams for the rest of their life. Death.

Suddenly it didn't feel as prestigious holding such a title.

You've widowed and orphaned your fair share of families; you're more than aware of that. In this line of work, you're so aware of that, in fact, that you no longer thought about it. The families involved were very much out of sight and out of mind. That's what made the job so doable, because it's easier to shoot bad men when that's all you see them for.

Coming face to face with that reality had you more shaken up than you'd wished. You thought you'd be more prepared for something like this to happen, it was bound to. Yet your hands won't stop shaking.

A few cynical lines of encouragement pop in to your head, as you try to rationalize things and put them into some kind of digestible perspective. It's all you really can do.

Bad people have families too, this is obvious. You have a job to do and a home to keep safe. Had the roles been flipped, you'd be shown the same treatment, if not worse. And you don't deserve to feel any type of way about this. You're the one holding the gun.

And it's not like you're doing this because any of you want to either.

So long as AQ is around and those missiles remain on the loose, your life is gone. You'd know no peace until this situation is resolved. Black Bag left you with no other option. If you want your life back, then this is what must be done.

That's what you keep telling yourself.

You reach the last room at the end of the hall, a child's bedroom. It's not the most lavishly decorated, but you could tell that whoever set it up put a lot of care into making it a suitable space for their kid.

You look around, checking the obvious hiding spots: the closet first, then behind the door. You then check underneath the bed. You admit, you jumped a little when you actually saw the kid hiding there.

The child is tiny, no older than maybe six or seven, with large eyes struck with fear from the sight of you. They don't scream however, too terrified to. Perhaps hoping you would not see them if they remained still.

With your mask on, you looked about as shadowy and hostile as the rest of your team. However, you keep your distance from the kid, looking back to see if the others could see you.

Not a soul stands in the doorway behind you.

It doesn't take you long to decide your next move.

You turn to the child, and simply bring your finger to your masked lips. "Shh."

You tell them to be quiet, praying they stay put, and wishing they had not been here to see this happen. It breaks your heart to see the child's eyes on you like this, and for you to be so helpless at remedying the pain you've caused.

"Shh," you tell them. "Stay."

The kid doesn't budge, though you get the sense they understand you.

You stand and slowly leave the room, shutting the door behind you. With any luck, the others wouldn't come to look themselves. You're sure you'll get chewed out for this, but you were prepared for it. It was needless to involve the man's family in this.

You re-emerge from the hallway, finding Percy and Jeremy standing by in the living room with the target and his wife. They're both apprehended, bags over their heads and arms tied tightly behind their backs. It appears they'd been yelled at enough times to remain quiet, for now. Though the woman still sobs quietly.

"You find the kid?" Jeremy asks abruptly.

Quickly, you run with the best argument you can come up with at the spur of the moment.

"They're hiding around here somewhere," you say. "But we've gotta move. Just make do with what we got."

"Stay here and I'll go look for the little fucker," Jeremy volunteers. "Since you can't do it."

"That's not necessary," you say.

"It ain't like this place is big," he retorts.

"We move out," you put more bass into your voice, standing up tall. What you were not about to do was debate with Shadow 2-0 on whether or not he can personally acknowledge you as his superior. You didn't need his acknowledgement, you are his superior. "That's an order."

Jeremy stands there for a moment, neither speaking nor moving. Almost attempting to intimidate you, seeing if you'd break composure before he did.

You matched his energy however, neither speaking nor moving yourself. Waiting to see if he'd openly disobey a direct order from you.

"We ain't got all night," you cut in. "Now let's move."

Jeremy grabs hold of the collar of the woman's shirt and starts bringing her around to the entrance. "Yup-yup."

Percy follows Jeremy out of the room, bringing Onyx with him, and leaving you in the apartment alone. Your eyes linger down the end of the hall, where that child's door remains shut.

You wondered how long they would wait before they open that door again.

…

You drive a ways out of Kavala, until your surroundings become a deep abyss, the only other vehicles on the road being miles away from where you are. When you've reached a small patch of woods, Graves has the van veer off road. You drive until the woods submerge you, parking off to the right someplace more open.

This far away, you and your company were granted with complete solitude, where no one would be able to hear the impending screaming and crying to come.

You all exit the vehicle in near unison, Jeremy pulling Onyx out from the back of the van. He struggles to stand properly, his leg having been bleeding from the bullet wound on his calf since you left the apartments.

Jeremy merely drags Onyx, bringing the man out in front of the van's headlights. He then throws him against a tree, watching his back slam into the hardwood sharply.

He pulls the sack from Onyx's head and his eyes squint from the bright lights. With his vision still adjusting, Graves and his company appeared as shadows in the black of night.

Graves makes his way over to the arms dealer, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He observes as the man works himself up again, standing to his feet.

"What is this?" Onyx snarls. "You're American, right? Military? You can't do this to me!"

"Who said anything about us being military?" Graves says.

"If you're not military, then who?" Onyx demanded.

"How 'bout I ask the questions from here," Graves gets close to the man, clapping his hands together. "Alright?"

Onyx spits at the commander. "Fuck you, you dog!"

You slowly brace yourself for the inevitable now, remaining some distance from the scene, away from the headlights, within the dark. Graves always liked to give off this cavalier attitude to start things off, but you knew it only hid a man who held incredibly little patience for bullshit.

Graves wipes the spit from himself and shakes his head, smacking his lips together disappointedly. He then proceeds to bring his fist down fast, his gloved knuckles colliding hard against the man's nose.

The man's head whips to the side violently. The sheer force causes him to lose his footing, as he crashes to the ground, only to then be brought back up to his feet by Shadow 2-0.

"Now," Graves says. "I've got a few questions, and you've got two options. You tell me what I want to hear, or I put the fear of God in you and then you tell me what I want to hear."

Onyx doesn't reply, his nose beginning to drip with blood. Graves takes his silence as an invitation to continue speaking.

"You did business with Ghorbrani, once upon a time," Graves says. "As one of his dealers. One of many, that is. Only he's kicked the bucket, and you're still trading with someone who's got ties with Ghorbrani's old friends. Someone I'm interested in gettin' to know."

Onyx really takes in Graves' question, and chuckles. "I see now," he says. "You're not military but you're with America. You contractors then? Mercenaries?"

"All you need to know is that I want the name of the man you're trading with. The asshole threatening my country. I've got good intel saying you know 'em. So you're gonna tell me."

"You'll see him soon enough," Onyx taunts. "As will your shit stain of a country, dog."

Graves' eyes travel down to the bullet hole in Onyx's calf, which has been steadily bleeding this entire time. The commander looks around at the rest of your team. "Who shot him?"

"I did, sir," Percy answers for himself.

Graves kneels down by it, Jeremy keeping his gun trained on Onyx so that he doesn't attempt to kick and fight his way out of this. The arms dealer helplessly looks down at the commander, fearful of what may come next. You share the sentiment.

"Good on you." Graves takes the tip of his index finger and sticks it into Onyx's bullet wound. The man jolts and squirms and yelps in pain, but Jeremy grabs hold of his arm, keeping him standing in his tight grip.

Onyx's cries echo throughout the woods. It makes you nauseous listening to it.

"Give me a name," Graves tells him.

Onyx can barely talk through the searing pain shooting up his leg "…I'm a dead man either way."

"That might be true," says Graves. "But I'd say you've still got about an hour left in you. Tell me what I want to hear. Who's supplying AQ?"

Onyx doesn't speak.

Graves gives him maybe five seconds before he's pushed his finger uncomfortably far into his wound again. A pained scream gurgles from Onyx's throat, filling the entire area with his mangled voice.

The Commander continues this vicious cycle of asking Onyx the same few questions, and causing him some variation of pain when he wouldn't answer.

Who have you been working with in AQ? Another finger in the wound. Who's trying to replace Ghorbrani? A small series of fists, boots, and knees rumble against Onyx's head and chest. A nose breaks, some ribs crack. His blood begins to stain the ground around him. Give me a name.

In the midst of this brutality, Onyx does let slip a few short answers, but nothing that wasn't obvious or too useful. Someone was trying to replace Ghorbrani, some new, wannabe despot. Whoever they are, that's who's been working with Russia and arming AQ. If they can get a name, that would already be enough for them to take back to Shepherd and Laswell.

Barely a half hour passes before Onyx looks like a pale comparison of himself. His face is littered with various lumps and discolored bruises, his eyes so swollen it was a wonder he could still see, let alone be conscious. If Graves keeps things up like this, there wouldn't be much of him left to work with.

Graves seemed to comment a lot about the way you work as of late, yet you've almost forgotten what it was like to watch him at work, in his prime element. The real him; and how second nature his cruelty could appear.

It comes as a cold reminder.

Graves eventually grew bored of picking at the man's open wounds or beating him, opting for Onyx's fingers instead. He starts with the pinky first, then the ring finger, and then his middle, taking each one and bending it back with a resounding snap. A sharp noise in these quiet woods, one which made you cringe at each break.

You could not understand how unphased and far removed Graves could be with another human. Yet, you know what must run through his mind right now -- the same thoughts you've been trying to remind yourself of all night. You have no choice. Only you see Graves now, and you know those words you've been trying to convince yourself of believing were true in his mind. He had no doubt about it.

To Graves, this is just what needed to be done. To Graves, this man deserved this. And to Graves, it was just another loose end. When that's all he sees you as, it no longer mattered what else you once were. That is simply what you will always be to him.

SNAP!

Another finger gets folded and crunched, sending Onyx into a screaming, rocking fit.

"We've still got plenty o' fingers to go here, bud'," Graves says. He leans in close to Onyx, until his face is only about an inch or so from him, masked and black goggles reflecting back to the man his tattered state. "Give. Me. A. Name."

Onyx's eyes dip, falling to the patch on Graves' arm. He has a realization to himself suddenly. "…That insignia… I recognize it from somewhere… the Rook piece, with the Ace of Spades… I've seen it before…"

"Is that right?" Graves backs away, allowing for him to keep speaking.

"…Back in Al Mazrah."

You see Graves freeze.

"…Konni never put a face to the bodies, but it was your company right? A month or so ago… Yeah, the Shadow Company… That's what those patches said on those corpses…"

The woods around you grow bone chillingly cold suddenly, as the silence screams at you. Onyx picks up on the sudden change in Grave's posture, taking this moment to breathe.

The others stand around silently, unsure of what it was Onyx was referencing, and exchanging small glances. You look to your Commander, who only looks back at you. You can’t see his eyes, but you know exactly what he's thinking.

Black Bag.

This changes everything.

Graves takes a step away from the man, though he doesn't turn his view from him. He reaches up and turns his comms on. "Gold Eagle Actual," he says. "You pick all that up?"

"I did…" Shepherd replies. "Find out what else he knows, get that name from him, and bury him some place deep."

"Copy that, Actual."

Onyx laughs more to himself. "Ah, so that was you from that night… I should thank you. AQ wouldn't be what it is now without your help."

"Shadow 2-0," Graves looks back towards the van. "Go 'head and bring the missus out for me, will ya?"

You watch Onyx's expression waver and drop, beginning to regret the last few things he had said now.

Jeremy drags the woman out to where everyone is standing, throwing her to the ground in front of Graves. She falls chest first, her hands still tied to her back and a sack no longer over her head. She shivers and cries there, feebly waiting.

Onyx begins to speak Russian to his wife, his voice broken and frantic; though you're not fluent in the language, you pick up a few small phrases. Attempts to comfort her.

The woman's voice sobs at Onyx, her words broken by her tears. She isn't allowed to finish before Graves' has grabbed a handful of her brown hair. He grabs her hair tightly and hoists her up to her feet, as she yelps in pain.

This makes Onyx jump up from his spot, mustering that last bit of strength he had in him. It's only cut down by Percy, who sends his foot into the back of Onyx's injured leg. The man falls back down to his knees.

"Leave her out of this!" Onyx demands.

"Or what?" Graves taunts. "I seem to recall my men not being given the same mercy back in Al Mazrah. Ain't that right? You know about it after all."

He pulls the woman closer, watching the way her mascara stains her cheeks, her knees buckling beneath her. She'd tumble over had he not had such a tight grip in her hair. She grits her teeth to mask the pain.

"Meeting you is about to be the worst decision she's made in her entire life," Graves states. "You think on that the next time you call me dog, you fucking scum. You brought this on yourself. Now give me a fucking name!"

Onyx shares a look with his wife, his expression sinking. You can see in him somewhere, he wants to speak up, if not just for the sake of his wife. But the powers above, whoever it was he worked with, the fear of their retribution was enough to keep him silent, even now.

Graves sighs, and brings the woman over so he could whisper in her ear. "Get on your knees for me, honey."

He uses his boot to press into the back of her leg, bringing her down to her knees as he nonchalantly continues to grip a handful of her hair like a loose rope. His hold on her keeps the woman's head up and her eyes forward. He didn't want her to miss that frightened look on her husband's face.

"There you go," Graves coos. "Good girl."

And then, he pulled out his pistol and placed the barrel right at the back of the woman's skull. She feels the harsh coolness of the barrel, and begins to cry and pray silently in front of her husband.

Graves begins to count down. "Ten. Nine."

Onyx starts to argue with Graves as he counts down, unable to move or do anything without Percy seating him right back in his spot.

"Eight. Seven. Six."

The woman's sobbing grows louder the lower the countdown gets. At this point, you've memorized all the pitches her frantic voice could create, as for that twisted look on her face.

"FIVE. FOUR."

Onyx has turned to pleading with Graves now, but you knew that wouldn't work. There would be no begging with your Commander. He's told Onyx already what it is he wants, his wife is expendable.

"THREE. TWO-"

"Ghorbrani's second in command!" Onyx shouts out. "One of his former colleagues. They lead the charge."

"Their name."

"Hassan Zyani…"

Graves lowers the gun from the woman's head and immediately radios into Shepherd. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" he quipped. "Gold Eagle Actual, we've got a name. Ghorbrani's second in command, a Hassan Zyani. How copy?"

"Copy, Graves. Good hit,” Shepherd praises him. You watch Graves’ shoulders slack with relief, as though he’d been waiting to hear Shepherd say that to him. Which he most definitely had been.

“I'll have Laswell look into this Hassan and see what she can find out about him,” the General continues. “He'll join the list of other names we've collected, but we'll keep a sharp eye on him ourselves. Sounds like he might be our next stop on the hunt."

"And hopefully the last," Graves says.

"Finish up there, we'll go over the next move when you get back. Nice work. Gold Eagle out."

"Rog'," Graves says. "It was a pleasure, as always, Gold Eagle. Shadow-1 out."

Graves shuts his comms off, and turns back to Onyx, who continues to kneel on the ground. "I told you what you wanted," Onyx says. "So where does-"

The commander cuts Onyx off with a bullet to the back of his wife's skull, as her body drops to the ground. Dead. You hear Onyx scream unlike anything he's let out the entire night.

Graves responds to this by putting a bullet in Onyx shortly after, shooting two more into his lifeless body as it slumped over, just for good measure.

And just like that, your mission was done.

"Whoo," Graves sighs. "Guy was really startin' to get on my fuckin' nerves."

"Him and his dumbass wife," Jeremy chimes in.

They all laugh, only you can't really bring yourself to join in. You're too focused on the two dead bodies lying a few feet from you, their lifeless forms lit by the headlights.

"Well, let's wrap this up here and get goin'," Graves says. "Canary, why don't you help Percy with this."

The sound of your callsign reminds you that you stood amongst these men at this moment. You stood there the entire time.

"Yes, sir."

You make your way over to the bodies, Percy grabbing hold of Onyx as you go for his wife. You take hold of her limp arms, trying not to look at her face too much. Though your eyes unintentionally drop to them from time to time.

Each time they did, you thought about her kid at home. Were they still hiding under that bed, you thought to yourself. Waiting and wondering. Wondering and waiting.

"Do you know what he was talking about?" Percy asks you suddenly. "About Al Mazrah? Was that a job or somethin'?"

You and Percy find a small lake, where you throw the bodies into it. If anyone finds them, it wouldn't matter at that point what was done about it. They would just be another death in the underbelly of some hidden crime ring drama, and your company but another whisper in the night. One more loose end taken care of.

"Ask Graves," you say.

"Yeah, 'cause I'll get an answer from him about it," Percy says sarcastically, before walking off. You watch the bodies submerge in the water, before they vanish deep into the black, liquid abyss below. Gone forever.

You thought of the kid once more. Scared under their bed. Thankful, despite other painful things stirring in you.

It would have been worse, had it not been you here. Both a blessing and a curse.

...Chapter Fourteen Here!

#phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #shadow company #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #modern warfare ii #mwii #codmwii #mw22 #modern warefare 2 #Spotify #control

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changingplumbob · 5 months

Text

Pancake Household: Chapter 9, Part 2

Are we hosting a dinner party because we need to increase our charisma level? Why yes we are

CW: Unicorn zombie with minor carton gore

Nicknames: Bob = Sleek, Eliza = Jumble

Onyx: Alright Ginger, are you ready for the best walk of your life

Fergus: I don’t know that she is

Onyx: Well I’ll put on her harness, then she’ll get in the zone. I’m always in the zone when I put on my cheer outfit

Fergus: Remember mother said the dinner party will start at 5

Onyx: And she’ll never let me forget if I’m late, thank Fergus, I’ll set some alarms on my phone

Following his afternoon romp in bed with Eliza, Bob pulls on his robe and heads to the kitchen to start baking. First up, some bread and butter puddings. While they cook he cleans out the fridge when he hears strange sounds coming from the lounge.

Bob: Umm… hello?

Fergus: Sorry dad, just me. We’re meant to practice acting out animals this week

Bob: Right…

As he checks on the puddings he hears Fergus continue to make fake chimp noises mixed with bizarre howling. He’s not sure what animal his son is trying to impersonate but he’s not going to let Fergus know that.

Bob should probably do a livestream to work on his fame but he knows Eliza would kill him if he did a video in his sleepwear. Eliza may like the way he looks when he’s taking care of himself but that doesn’t mean she wants him sharing that with the world. He makes cottage pie and shepherds pie and to be honest once they’re done they look exactly the same.

The walk went well and once back home it’s Ginger time!

Onyx: What trick did we start on last time? Was it shake or lie down?

Ginger: *barks* lie down

Onyx: Give me your paw, shake

Ginger: *barks* nope

Onyx: Lie down Ginger, lie down

Ginger: *barks and lies down* I got this

Onyx: Well done! Another trick learned

Dinner party time! Guests arrive and Carson tries to give me a heart attack by almost having an asthma attack. Ginger has a snooze on her favourite camouflage surface. Everyone heads into the kitchen. There’s only enough seats for the adults though so the teens and Fergus take their servings into the lounge to eat while the parents have time to catch up.

Harvey: This is good! I mean I was expecting some classy nibbly bits

Eliza: My husband serves meals, he’d rather people were full than fancy

Calista: An excellent philosophy

Kayleigh: I don’t suppose you could tell us how you got such a rich taste in this

Bob: Sure. It’ll be on page 42 of my next book

Aaron: Why tell people at all

Eliza: The royalties pay the bills

Harvey: Perhaps but if you tell too many people how will you launch the restaurant

Bob: I’ll figure it out

Artemisia: Your dad always make great food. Fergus you should bring me leftovers for lunch after you age up

Fergus: I’m trying to, I want to get to high school

Onyx: It’s not that fabulous

Carson: You just say that because Mr A doesn’t like us

Onyx: Apparently there’s been a renovation over break, I guess I’m excited to see that

Artemisia: Oh and Fergus you’ll have to meet Roger so you know who to throw paper airplanes at

Onyx: Real mature

Artemisia: May as well use the “I’m young and don’t know what I’m doing” excuse while I can

Fergus: Hey Ginger, want some food?

Ginger: *whines* For me? You shouldn’t have

Artemisia: I can’t believe you’re just throwing food on the floor Fergus

Onyx: You’ve no problem tormenting some kid but you draw the line at food on the floor

Artemisia: *sighs* I don’t torment him and he started it by making fun of my dyslexia

Onyx: So those weeks that you both needed to be collected by parents at home time were because you were too kind to him

Artemisia: It’s because he’s a peacocking coward

Bob: Besides, I haven’t settled on a restaurant theme yet

Kayleigh: But a restaurant is still the plan

Eliza: Eventually. He wants to reach the top of the career ladder first

Calista: Maybe you should work at that level for a while Bob, a restaurant must be a lot of money

Harvey: Just remember it’s cheapest to catch your own fish

Aaron: Why can you bring every topic back to fish

Bob: It’s his secret talent

Kayleigh: Wish it would be a little more secret sometimes

Harvey: When did this become “pick on Harvey” dinner

Eliza: Supply costs will be a big thing to consider though, and location

Calista: Well the bay here seems lovely

Harvey: Plus you get good fishing here

Aaron: Will you offer friend discounts

Eliza: The idea is to make a profit

Calista: Your business experience should be helpful

Bob: She is the perfect partner

Harvey: Smooth

Calista: That dinner was delicious, grazie Bob

Eliza: He’s a pretty perfect partner to, I don’t have to lift a finger in the kitchen

Onyx: Hello mother may I take your plate to clean

Aaron: What are they trying to convince you of now

Eliza: They want a horse, don’t you Onyx?

Onyx: Yes! So I’m showing I can help out, oh and I walked Ginger earlier

Eliza: Well done

Fergus: Do we have time to play some MySims racing before Emi goes home

Bob: I should think so, I made dessert after all

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #my sims #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0904 #ElizaPancakes #BobPancakes #OnyxPancakes #FergusPancakes #CalistaYork #AaronYork #ArtemisiaYork #HarveyFoster #KayleighFoster #CarsonFoster

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delightindarkness · 8 months

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WELCOME!

This is an Indie, Semi selective, RP blog for multiple characters and fandoms. I tried separating my blogs and it just never worked, so....here we are. Mun 21+

All characters are open to AU settings

⚠️HEAVY TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️

Dark themes will be written.

No God modding

Give me time, I work 40+ hours a week

Minors DNI

Muse list under the cut.

Supernatural Muses

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

John Winchester

Castiel

Joanna Harvelle

Onyx Snow (Faith)- SPN based OC Hunter

Ryat - SPN based demon OC

Gavin Saar - SPN based werewolf OC

Charlotte Daniels - SPN Fox Shifter OC

Micha Collins - Hunter OC

Elijah Hargraves - Fallen Angel OC

Alexander Sterling - Incubus OC

Marvel Muses

James "Bucky" Barnes

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

Annalise Dubois - OC

Stranger Things Muses

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Nancy Wheeler

MISCELLANEOUS...

Donovan LaSalle - Serial killer OC

Peter Rumancek - Hemlock Grove

Roman Godfrey - Hemlock Grove

Louis De Pointe Du Lac - Interview with a Vampire

Farkas - Skyrim - headcanon based

John Seed - Farcry 5

MacCready - Fallout 4

Piper Wright - Fallout 4

Lucy MacLean - Fallout TV Series

Johnny Silverhand - Cyberpunk 2077

#welcome post #rules #muse list

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muddyorbsblr · 9 months

Text

onyx pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Thor's return to the Compound reveals that your new pet kitten wasn't quite what you thought he was

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language (it's like 2 cuss words but i'm still not sorry, Rogers); the lightest sprinkle of angst [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: himbo Thor hours

You couldn't believe what you were hearing from Thor. Implying that the sweet tiny kitten on your shoulder was actually the god that wouldn't even spare you a single glance sideways. The one that barely even registered that you existed.

"Thor no. It can't be. This little bub is small and baking biscuits on my cheek. He purrs. He's cat-shaped. Onyx is a cat. He's my cat. And right now you're scaring him being all up in his face like this. I say this with so much love…Thunder? Back the fuck off." Your kitten shivered even harder as he snuggled into your neck, keeping his little face buried in your hair.

"Lady Y/N, I know my brother's eyes anywhere. Especially after he disguised himself as a snake when we were merely eight years old and--"

"Changed back and stabbed you. Bleh it's me. I know the story, Thunder," you finished for him, suddenly exceedingly aware of the weight of maybe-Onyx-maybe-Loki on your shoulder despite the tiny feline frame. "But I'm telling you there's just no way that my cat is--"

You looked into Onyx's eyes and immediately your shoulders dropped, realizing that it wasn't a coincidence that his eyes were a familiar shade of blue. Thor was right; he knew his brother's eyes anywhere. The kitten embraced your face, pressing his nose to your cheek repeatedly.

"Onyx, look at me." He stilled against your cheek, his wide pleading eyes looking into yours with something that looked akin to resignation. "You were hissing at FRIDAY and Shaun about getting chipped because you understood everything we were saying. Am I right?" He didn't move, the pupils in his eyes growing wider and the corners of his eyes starting to fill with tears. "Because you're Loki?"

He took a deep breath, this little chest puffing up with air and suddenly looking significantly less cat-like than he did a minute ago. Onyx -- actually, Loki -- pressed his face to your cheek again, the action now making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Then finally he nodded, and the air left your lungs.

You walked over to your apartment, Thor's heavy footsteps following just behind you, and placed Onyx/Loki on your desk in front of a notepad and a pen. "Talk." He looked up at you again with those wide pleading eyes. "Please," you added, unsure of what to feel now that the last few hours you spent with your newfound pet was being colored with the context of who he actually was.

Too many thoughts, too many questions, floated around your head, nearly overwhelming you, as your last round of pain meds began to wear off and the discomfort you were feeling gradually became a throbbing pulsating sensation throughout your left side.

Most of them revolving around why he acted the way that he did in this tiny form with you, and how long this could have gone on if Thor hadn't revealed his identity within ten seconds of seeing him. The blond god pulled out a chair for you to read along as Loki's green magic surrounded the pen and words began to form on the paper.

I made a misstep while practicing my magic and cast a spell that turned me into this diminutive feline form. I had exited my quarters earlier today to find assistance in retrieving the spell I require to reverse its effects.

"Hold on." The pen stopped mid-stroke, the cat looking at you with your hand held up. "If you can make things move with your mind, why couldn't you just get the spell book--"

"Grimoire," Thor corrected you. "He gets a bit testy when you use the other word."

"Right then, why couldn't you just move the grimoire down and reverse the spell on your own?" The pen lifted again, you and his brother crowding around the paper to read his answer.

When I scale down my form to something so vulnerable, my magic is not as potent. In theory the grimoire is only just at the limit of my powers' reach in this form and I run the risk of crushing myself with the tome.

"Loki, are you telling me you need help reaching the top shelf?" Thor chortled at the question, sounding like he was struggling to keep his chuckles at bay. "Can it, Thunder, it's not that funny." The cat nodded at you, starting to stand on his back legs again. "Okay, so why not ask your brother? He's way taller than me."

"Oh that I can answer for him, Lady Y/N," he quipped, raising his own hand up in the air. "My brother doesn't trust me around his possessions. Something about how I have a tendency to break his things."

"You know what, that tracks," you muttered, standing and presenting the kitten your hand. "Come on then, let's get you back to normal." He hopped onto your hand and you were about to put him on your shoulder before you stopped, keeping him perched on your hands instead. He meowed at you, starting to climb up your arm before you picked him up again, keeping him in your hands.

"Think my brother wants to be on your shoulder, Lady Y/N. Seemed quite comfortable there," Thor spoke up, letting out a soft chuckle when the kitten started nodding enthusiastically, agreeing with him. "Perhaps you should--"

"I let him stay there earlier because he was my cat," you shot back. "Now he's your brother, it's not the same thing." He whimpered, his little cat body shaking in your hands, taking every ounce of strength you could spare not to give in and just place him back there. He kneaded at your palms the entire way to his apartment, Thor carrying around your stepping stool.

You all got to Loki's study, setting him down on the desk as he guided you to the grimoire he needed, shaking his head at each tome on the shelf that you'd pointed at so far.

"My word, Brother, your attention to detail in these sketches is remarkable, you even got--" Loki hissed at his brother, who was currently standing by a stack of journals, a small sketchbook in his hand. "Alright alright I desist. I shall take my leave. You shall be the one to divulge this information once you are yourself again."

The blond Asgardian's heavy footsteps sounded throughout the apartment until he left, then a few moments afterward you faintly heard his booming voice as he rejoined the rest of the team. You pointed at another grimoire that finally had him nodding his little head, stepping aside on the desk to make room for you to set it down.

"Okay then," you spoke up once you stepped back down to the ground, suddenly feeling more awkward as you stood alone with him in his apartment. "I'll uhh…I'll leave you to it."

You made it to the door of his study before you heard his tiny meow again, seeing him standing on his back legs at the edge of his desk, grabby hands outstretched towards you.

"I'll see you when you're…you again. Later, Loki." The sound of his little meows tugged at your heartstrings, nearly making you turn around and…honestly you didn't even know why he'd want you there with him but you'd stay if only to wipe the sad look from his face. You couldn't deny the adorable little cat much anyways in the hours he was yours.

Then again, you probably couldn't deny him anything in his Asgardian form, either.

An hour after you walked out of Loki's apartment you were hobbling your way back to yours, having eaten enough to take your next round of medications and toting a compound that Banner whipped up in his lab that could maybe help your injuries heal a touch faster. You had half a mind to just cut the sweatshirt off of you once you got inside to avoid the lingering discomfort, but ultimately decided against it.

That wasn't a good enough reason to let a perfectly good forest green sweatshirt go to waste.

You were about to start using the compound on your ribs first when a voice stopped you. "Darling…"

That voice. You recognized that voice anywhere. Giving you butterflies whenever you heard it in mission briefings. Haunting your vivid fantasies regardless of the time or appropriateness. The voice that had you incapable of forming words on any other day.

"Good to see you back," you said, trying to keep your composure around the god.

You reached for your sweatshirt again to cover yourself from his piercing stormy gaze, but before you could, he stood before you, his hand gently grasping your arm while the other rested on your waist. "I received a message from my brother while I was in my feline form, asking if I could check on your injuries. Aid in your healing somehow, if I feel inclined. His words, not mine." Your breath hitched when his thumbs stroked at your skin more tenderly than any of your former lovers had ever touched you. "I would have done it regardless."

Your pulse was thumping in your ears from his proximity, from the way he held your gaze. From the way he held you like he was fighting every urge to pull you to him. Like he would let you step out of it if that was what you wanted.

But all you wanted at the moment was to ask him, "Why didn't you tell me who you were the second you saw me in the pantry?"

The journal Thor was holding earlier materialized on your desk, diverting your attention to the open page. Probably the page that he was commending earlier that made the raven-haired god hiss at him in cat form. The image on the page had the air leave your lungs.

It was a sketch of you.

"My refusal to look at you before was not from disdain, little mortal," he spoke, taking a step closer to you, his hand traveling up your arm and framing your face. You could feel his breath on your skin. "It was because every time I would look upon your features, I had to fight back every compulsion to do this."

He tucked his finger under your chin, turning you to face him before pressing a tender kiss to your lips that had you weakening in his hold, your stomach violently fluttering as his lips moved against yours. You whimpered against his lips, making him pull you into his arms, weaving his fingers into your hair.

"I've longed for you, precious mortal," he whispered once he pulled away, pressing kisses along the side of your face while you caught your breath. "To know the taste of your lips on mine. The feel of your supple body pressed against me." He kissed you again, lifting you off your feet and carrying you deeper into your apartment. Into your bedroom. He laid you down on your bed, briefly licking into your mouth before pulling away, making light wash over the room with a wave of his hand. "May I heal you, darling?"

Words failed you at the sight of him hovering over you, eyes wide and pleading as he looked on at the bruises and cuts that colored the left side of your torso. You wordlessly nodded your head to grant him the permission he needed to go forward, giving you a soft smile before he leaned down and pressed his lips to your bruises.

"Much better," he breathed out, nipping at your skin before moving his hands down to the waistband of your leggings, lips traveling down to your thigh and kissing you over the fabric. "Once I have seen to your injuries, you should know that I have every intention to make you mine." He kissed you just below your belly button, humming against your skin as you squirmed underneath him, deft hands working the tight fabric down your legs. "If you wish to be, that is."

"I do," you gasped out, ceasing to give a flying fuck how desperate and wanton you sounded at the moment. "I'm yours, I'm all yours."

He smiled against your skin, kissing away at the injuries you sustained on your left leg before making his way back up your body. "You've no idea how delighted I am to hear those words from you, my darling." You felt what remained of your clothing melting away along with his, your moan when skin met skin muffled by him slanting his mouth over yours.

You woke up the next morning to the feel of Loki's nose brushing against yours, pressing kisses along your face until you let out a soft giggle from his attentions. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Your response had him running his fingers along your sides, turning you into a squirming giggling mess as you tried to wrestle your way out of his hold. "Good morning, Onyx."

A/N: I heavily debated w/ myself if I was gonna put smut in this but ultimately decided not to because it's a fluff story and I wanted it to stay a full fluff story 🥴 Just know that he did, in fact, give her plenty a mango ride 😏😏

This is probs the last story I'll post for 2023, so I'm gonna wish you all a Happy New Year and here's to the whorish insanity we'll all get up to in 2024. I have a whole lot planned out, starting with more horny bitches cuts and…a certain celebration I've been putting off because I'm drowning in a sea of WIPs 😂

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

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