#smooth criminal is stuck in my head now lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luminnara · 3 years

Note

I wonder what Dick would be like trying to flirt on the lead up if the mission, trying to be smooth and cool before screaming next to Weasel. The back track of trying to be cool again after than freak out would be glorious and I would probably fall for it, lol

Dick Hertz x fem!reader

This ended up way longer than intended and I am not mad about that lol

Sfw but raunchy!

Requests for oneshots and HCs are open!

You were no stranger to the concept of the suicide squad.

Thanks to your own colorful past, and powers that you couldn’t always quite control at first, you were stuck serving out a long ass sentence at Belle Reve, the shittiest shit hole of them all. Your only escape from the mundane, high-security monotony was the occasional mission from Waller.

The Suicide Squad—more officially known as Task Force X—was the latest installment in Amanda Waller’s series of highly classified, top secret, black ops teams. She chose Belle Reve’s most infamous criminals, many of whom had extraordinary powers and even more extraordinary reputations, and tossed them together on incredibly dangerous missions. You knew she didn’t care whether you lived or died, but successfully completing such impossible tasks always cut time off your sentence, and with nothing else to do with your time, you always thought it was worth the risk.

And besides...you hadn’t died yet.

So when Waller approached you during your daily yard time, you already knew what to expect.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumbled as you followed her into the exam room and plopped down in the same old chair. “I know the drill. I go off mission, you blow my brains out.”

“—with the explosive device implanted in the base of your skull. Correct.” Waller said, unimpressed.

“And what, you have to give me a fresh one?” You raised an eyebrow as the doctor made you lean forward. “Lose the button for the last one or something? Or are you afraid that just one won’t do the job?”

Waller looked even less impressed. “I suggest you put a lid on that attitude today.”

“Why?” You winced at the feeling of a thick needle pushing into the back of your neck. “Jesus, fuck! Seriously, how many little bombs do I need in my head?”

“Good luck, puppy.” The doctor sneered as you stood up to follow Waller back out into the corridor.

“This is a black ops mission.” She continued with her usual spiel. “Your commanding officer is Colonel Rick Flag.”

You gasped. “The Colonel Rick Flag?”

She turned to glance at you.

“I have no idea who that is.”

You could hear her sigh in exasperation. “Suit up and go outside to the transport. You’ll meet the rest of the team and fly out to Corto Maltese.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Yeah, the Suicide Squad was a nice distraction from your shitty everyday life...but putting your ass on the line for someone who didn’t give a shit whether you lived or died, and who was always hovering above the button that would splatter your brains all over the wall, wasn’t exactly the greatest feeling in the world.

Waller waited as you ducked into a room to change. There was a black box waiting for you, and upon opening it, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your old gear. The dark gray leather suit fit like a glove, and your gun had been cleaned and polished after your last mission, the painfully bright fluorescent lights reflecting off of the barrel with a gleam. You grabbed your gloves and strapped your ammo belts on before buckling a gray carbon fiber mask on.

Wearing your own stuff always lifted your spirits. It was the suit you’d been arrested in a few years ago back in Metropolis, and after seizing it, the feds had been nice enough to give it some upgrades with newer tech. Anything to make you a better government-sanctioned killing machine, you guessed, and it’s not like you were gonna turn it down. After all, killing was how you ended up in Belle Reve in the first place, and it was one of the only things you were good at...it just made sense for Waller to want to put your near-inhuman skills to good use.

You walked out to join her again, lugging a canvas bag of equipment and supplies along behind you.

“Pick that up and carry it correctly.” She snapped as the doors at the end of the hall opened.

“Why don’t you eat my—“

You interrupted yourself by groaning at the bright sunlight as it hit your eyes, raising a hand to shield your face as you managed to spot an armored truck waiting for you.

“You’ll have a lot of new teammates.” Waller called after you. “Be on your best behavior. I’m not responsible for anything they do to you.”

“Probably just a bunch of old farts like always!” You yelled back as you jumped up into the back of the vehicle.

Two guards sat down on either side of you as you got yourself settled in. There was another woman already waiting, her skin orange, her hair in a high ponytail that seemed to be pulled through the top of her helmet. She was regarding you with very little interest, and that was absolutely fine with you. You had a few friends within the Belle Reve prison complex, and you weren’t necessarily looking for more.

The ride was short and uneventful. You passed through a few gates that took forever to open, waited for a few security checks, the usual shit. When the truck came to a halt and you hopped out again, you were at a small airbase hosting a few hangars for planes and helicopters, one of the latter already sitting outside. Guards from Belle Reve were lining the circle of armored vehicles, and as yours joined them and the back doors were opened once more, you grimaced at the bright sunlight.

“Afraid of a little sun?” The orange woman laughed, baring her teeth at you.

“Hurts my eyes,” you mumbled, jumping down after her.

You landed on pavement, looking down at your feet in an attempt to avoid the oncoming headache you knew was imminent. When your shoulder rammed into someone, though, you had to look up anyway.

What you saw wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

A good looking blond guy was looking down at you, a cocky grin on his face. “Whoa, didn’t realize we were getting a babe this time!”

You glared at him, grateful for the mask covering the lower half of your face.

He couldn’t see you blush that way.

“Little girl’s got some ammo, huh?” He reached for one of the belts strapped across your chest,

Your hand flew up to grab his wrist and you held him in a Vice-like grip, your glare more pointed now. “Touch me, and you can see some of it from behind your eyeballs.”

Blondie whistled lowly, relaxing his arm. “You’re tough, huh? I like that in a girl.”

You dropped his wrist and rolled your eyes. “Still gonna like it when I’m ripping your balls off?”

You could swear he was swooning on his feet. “Baby, you are a goddamn tease...”

“Oy, Dickhead!” An Australian voice rang out, “back off!”

His grin faltered for a moment, obvious disappointment flashing over his face. “Oh. Got a man already. Damn.”

“Who, Boomer?” You grinned, unclipping your mask as you turned to wave at one of your only friends. “Nah, I’d never fuck that wanker.”

“I heard that!” The gold-toothed Aussie yelled.

You let out a loud laugh as you looked back to blondie.

You were caught off guard by the actual, genuine look on his face. He was admiring your smile now that your mask was off, his eyes lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second longer than they should have. He was trying to be smooth, you could tell, and most people wouldn’t have noticed something so slight...but you were an assassin working your way through a couple life sentences, and you weren’t most people.

It all only lasted a moment before the cocky grin was back. “So, after this, you wanna come back to my cell, maybe we could, you know...” he waggled his eyebrows at you, making a hip thrusting motion you almost couldn’t believe a grown criminal was making.

“Maybe focus on not dying first, slim.” You patted his chest before turning towards Boomer, leaving blondie to stare after you—or more precisely, your ass—with a dramatic, longing look.

Your friend was regarding you with an amused expression. “Flirtin’ on the job? Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Shut up.” You punched his arm a little too hard and he winced. “Who is that guy, anyway?”

“Dick,” Boomer said, rubbing his arm.

“Don’t call me a dick—“

“No, dumbass, that’s his name. Richard Hertz.”

“...very funny, Boomer, but there’s no fucking way his parents named their kid Dick Hertz.”

Boomer shrugged. “Believe me or don’t, I don’t care. Either way, it’s the truth.”

You scoffed and stole a glance over at your new admirer. He was tall and pretty well built, platinum blond hair short, lips pulled back in a grin that showed off straight white teeth. He was dressed in all black, two guns holstered to his chest, and as he messed with a Belle Reve guard by pretending to reach for one, he looked like an overgrown child who should not have been allowed to hold onto firearms.

“Please tell me he’s got a cooler name,” you groaned.

“Why? So you can scream it at night?” Boomer cackled. “He goes by Blackguard. He’s pretty strong from what I hear. Prolly pretty fun in bed, too.”

You wrinkled your nose and rounded on Boomer. “Shut up.”

“You like him.” Your friend grinned. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Just remember to name your kid after good ol’ Uncle Boomer.”

You gave him a rough shove and he stumbled back a few steps, laughing like a madman the entire time.

“Hey!” One of the guards barked at you.

Rather than pushing your luck with your armed babysitters, you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. More cars were pulling up, dropping off the rest of your comrades, and while Boomer was distracted with them, you stole another glance at Dick.

He was still messing with the same guard, and was receiving some harsh warning glares in the process. Was he a complete idiot, or was he so cocky because he could actually handle it? He had to have ended up in Belle Reve for a reason. It wasn’t the type of place you went to for innocent misdemeanors. And if he was chosen for a Suicide Squad mission, that meant that his sentence was long enough to warrant risking his life to lessen it...and it also meant that he was useful.

When he winked at you, you realized with a start that he had totally noticed the way you were checking him out.

Fuck.

“Time to load up!” A voice yelled, saving you from any further embarrassment.

A few minutes later, you were strapping yourself into your seat on the chopper, pretending not to notice as Dick struggled with his seatbelt across from you. The guy sitting next to him had to help, and when you finally couldn’t help yourself, you let out a quiet laugh from behind your mask.

Dick’s head shot up to look at you, that cocky grin plastered to his face again.

“Wish you were over here helpin’ me,” he said bravely. “Rather have your hands down by my—“

“Dick.” Colonel Flag warned as he stood above you all with his gun in his hands.

Boomer let out a loud laugh at the unintentionally dirty euphemism and you snorted.

“What? Just makin’ some conversation,” Blackguard said, leaning towards you with a wolfish glint in his eyes. “You don’t mind, do ya, Princess?”

Your cheeks were heating up behind your mask, and he could see the way your eyes crinkled slightly with your smile.

God, he wished he could see your smile again.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice said. “Had to go number two.”

“...Good to know.” Flag sighed as none other than Harley Quinn herself hopped in.

“Harley!” You called, reaching for her with grabby hands as she looked for her seat.

“Hey there, baby!” The pale blonde woman greeted, slamming her equipment bag into Savant’s head. “Hey, Boomer!”

“What’re you doin’ back in prison, Harls?” Boomer asked, hanging onto the nylon mesh cage behind him as he stretched his arms out.

“Got road rage. In a bank.” She finally found a spot between you and Javelin, and as Flag checked everyone over, the chopper took off into the air.

The lighting was dim and red, the thrumming of the helicopter blades blending in with the white noise of the pressurized cabin. Save for that, it was quiet for a while, everybody either sizing each other up, or, in Dick’s case, imagining how you looked under your suit.

“So, uh...how much longer you in for?” He asked you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I don’t exactly think I should be talkin’ about sneakin’ into your cell while Flag is here to rat me out about it,” Dick grinned.

You caught the colonel rolling his eyes.

“Hey, that never stopped anybody,” Harley said brightly.

“Boutta be in a whole big ass jungle,” Boomer elbowed you in the side. “Plentya room in there to be alone.”

You groaned as Dick gave you a sly grin.

“Y’know, this mission’ll be over in no time.” He said, stretching his arms out behind his head. “I’ve got some wicked ass powers. I got this.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, recognizing the way he was trying to peacock and impress you. “Not worried about anything?”

“Baby, I’ll carry this whole team. Just you watch.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Dick.” You bit his name out as more of an insult, but he didn’t seem to care, giving you another wink.

He obviously thought that his flirting and posturing was working...but you were pretty sure he was just annoying. Cute, but annoying. Maybe good for a hook up here or there...but that was about it.

“We’re in a butcher’s freezer, Harls!” Boomer called from the other end of the bench. “Surrounded by dead hogs hangin’ on hooks. Only they don’t know it yet.”

“Leave ‘em alone, Boomer!” She called back with a laugh.

You chuckled at your friends, leaning your head back as you settled in for the flight. Harley was complimenting Javelin’s accent, you still didn’t know what TDK stood for, and Boomer was just starting to mess with him about the fact that all names were made of letters when the freaky weasel-thing next to Dick stole everyone’s attention.

It was one of the strangest creatures you had ever seen. Human height, covered in mangy brown fur, with big bulging eyes and a mouth full of sharp little teeth all made it both fascinating and concerning to look at, and as it made a few disgustingly wet retching sounds, Dick nodded towards it.

“Yo, is this a dog?” He asked.

“...What?” You asked in disbelief. He had to be fucking with you, right? There was no way he meant it.

“Is this thing a dog?” He repeated.

“A...a dog?”

“Yes.”

“What...what kinda dog do you think it is, mate?” Boomer asked.

“I dunno, I’m not familiar with all the breeds.” Dick gave him an incredulous look.

“I’m gonna go with Afghan hound.” TDK said.

“Since when does an afghan hound have bloody thumbs?”

“Oh my god, is it a werewolf?” Harley asked excitedly. “I’ve wanted to meet a werewolf for ever!”

Dick was already up and struggling against his restraints. “Yo, they sat me next to a werewolf?!”

“That’s not right,” TDK agreed as his neighbor slammed into him in his desperate attempt at an escape.

Boomer was laughing loudly, and you couldn’t help but join in. “You’re seriously scared of werewolves?”

Dick glanced up at you as he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Yes, I fuckin’ am! So fuckin’—get me out! I do not fuck with werewolves, there is no fuckin’ way—“

“Maybe you should hop onto your new girlfriend’s lap!” Boomer cackled, jabbing a finger towards you.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, and as you saw the look in Blackguard’s eyes, you were pretty convinced that he was about to try to tear his way out so that he actually could.

“Hey, hey, he’s not a werewolf!” Flag yelled over the commotion. “He’s a weasel, he’s harmless! I mean, he’s not harmless, he’s killed 27 children, but I—I think we got him to—I think he’s agreed to this, so relax.”

“Thought you were super tough?” You asked as Dick calmed down and caught his breath. “Gonna carry the whole team?”

Rather than the snarky flirtation you expected, he actually looked a bit defeated. When you raised an eyebrow, though, he took the prompt, and the most desperate backtracking you had ever seen began.

“Yeah, well...” he scoffed, trying to give you a cool look. “Caught me off guard, that’s all. No big deal.”

“Off guard? Isn’t guard, like, in your name?” You teased, your smile genuine behind your mask. Alright...he was winning you over now. He was an idiot, but...maybe he was a lovable one.

He faltered for a second. “I-I mean, yeah, well...”

Flag was shaking his head. “Get into position to drop!”

Everyone unbuckled themselves and collected their things, lining up to jump into the ocean off the coast of Corto Maltese. When you saw that Dick was back to struggling with it, again, you smiled to yourself and leaned down in front of him.

“For what it’s worth...” you said as you pulled up on the metal tab, your hand dangerously close to his crotch, “I wouldn’t mind shacking up somewhere in the jungle with you.”

He stated at you with wide eyes, disbelief written all over his face. He really was cuter when he wasn’t putting on such a dumb, cocky facade, and he jumped up as quickly as he could to follow you.

You just laughed as you straightened up and walked away, Blackguard right on your heels. As the door opened and the big, dark ocean came into view below you, you felt a hand brushing against your hip and a firm chest press up against your back. You realized you could have stayed right there forever, patiently waiting to see how far he was brave enough to go...but you were both members of the Suicide Squad, and you had a job to do.

“I’ll see you down there, Dick,” you said, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

“See you on the other side, baby,” he grinned.

#dick hertz #dick hertz x reader #richard hertz #Richard hertz x reader #blackguard x reader #blackguard #the suicide squad #the suicide squad x reader

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workofheart · 3 years

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proof

with whatever happens from here, our names will last far beyond our years

for my armin angst anon :) thank you for the request, i honestly love angst and write it all the time outside of fanfic so idk why i don’t do it more often!

pairing: armin arlert x reader

wc: 1.5k

genre: angst, fluff (happy end)

a/n: takes place somewhere just before the events of season 4. also, hi guys! this is lowkey word vomit and i’m a bit out of practice so if this doesn’t seem like me, that’s why lol

they say that time heals all wounds, but in your case, time does nothing but prolong the constant sting in your throat. it denies the sinking acceptance your weary heart pleads for. because as long as you have time, you don’t have to face the truth.

so what if you love him? so what if it’s been years? so what if no matter what you do, you can’t let him go? it’s not like it’s going to change any time soon. but even if it did, even if you had the choice to move on, you’re not so sure you would. he’s the last bloom of the season left that you pick out of selfishness, the butterfly you’re blessed to catch yet hate to let go.

because if not him, who else?

armin is everything. he’s your reflection and your opposite, late nights and early mornings, kind and then cruel across his commitment to morality. he’s there on good days and bad days, with a smile or sympathy. if you’re lucky, you get both.

he’s brutally imperfect, perfectly human, and so easy to love.

but when standing against the end of humanity, there’s no room for childish fantasies like yours.

you love him so bad it hurts. he’s at the forefront of your mind at all times, even when he’s standing right in front of you. you think of him visiting that girl in the basement, day after day, frozen in her cowardly crystal as she hides from retribution. he waits, staring, and she occupies his mind when you desperately wish it could be you. what is it about a criminal that intrigues him past rationality?

yet the worst thought is that one day, you might not feel so strong.

it’s something keeping you around. it’s something to imagine on nights when the sun hangs in the sky as low as your hope for the future. he’s something to bet on and pin your fleeting dreams to. however long this feeling lasts, you hang on with all that you can, because waiting at the end is the inevitable sting of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

it’s a realization you’re not ready to come to yet. for now, a little voice convinces you that there’s a chance. and a chance is enough, isn’t it?

you’re sitting by the docks, feeling the afternoon sun sear your skin, when gentle footsteps knocking on the wood alert you to his presence. when you crane your neck up to see him, he stretches his arms behind his head before sitting down next to you. it’s not surprising, considering armin makes a point to show he cares for all of his friends, but you still wonder if maybe how hard you were thinking about him somehow drew him in. you try to resist the heat burning at the skin of your cheeks fueled by his mere appearance.

“it’s a really nice night, huh?”

he sighs as he lowers his palm to the edge of the wood and throws his legs over, cementing his place beside you. you cling your knees close to your chest while your head rests upon them for support.

“yeah. i didn’t know it could be this pretty.”

tender rays of sunshine brush over his blond hair, making it shimmer like gold. it’s tentative, as if the great light source that keeps your world turning is even too afraid to touch armin arlert.

“me too, but i think i always hoped for it. expected it, at least,” he says with a nod. nostalgia swims in the pond of color in his eyes as he looks out across the water. “but that’s how it is when you’re a kid.”

you want to laugh. when you were a kid, you certainly weren’t concerned with the existence of an ocean beyond the walls. something tells you armin didn’t just expect it out of naivety.

“oh, please,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “you don’t give yourself enough credit. you practically know what’s going to happen before the rest of us have even started thinking about it.”

he lets out a breath of shy laughter through a smile. he’s too modest. “yeah, maybe.”

the blunt edge of your nail scratches at the fresh, amber wood to your side. you press a little more, digging it out like a miniature canyon while silence fills the air. armin opens his mouth and the proximity allows you to hear a rushed intake of air, like courage, filling his lungs before it hitches in his throat. it pauses there, contemplating, before he lets it out in faltered attempt to seem like it went according to plan.

but he swallows and tries again, because armin knows the world will always give him a second chance.

“speaking of… i wanted to talk to you in the first place because, well,” he cedes, rubbing his eyes, “i kind of get the feeling something big is about to happen.”

he chews at the corner of his lip, eyes darting to the side to gauge your reaction.

your head tilts in curiosity. “really? what makes you say that?”

you watch as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. his nails run along his cuticles, the natural folds in his palms, gathering his thoughts in preparation to set them all out.

his fingers tug through his bangs to soothe his tired roots. “well, it’s been a long time coming. with eren gone, sending notes, arranging plans. it’s coming to its climax, i think. and once it starts, it’s not gonna stop until it’s over.”

bright locks fall in front of his fact when a light gust of wind blows by. his cheeks are smooth and soft with a slight pink tint from the heat of the day, and his lashes are long and wispy, like the wings of an insect. you have to pry your gaze away though your heart pleads you for a second longer spent admiring.

“i really care about you. i just wanted you to know that.”

you’re not sure you hear it right at first. swept away with his image in the hazy evening, you almost miss that he’s talking to you directly. he cares about you. your pulse stutters.

he cares about you.

you blink, swallowing the apparent dryness in your mouth. “i care about you, too.”

after all this time, you should be used to it. the way how he cares will never be the same as how you care, it shouldn’t hurt you, but you still feel your eyes sting and throat tighten. you can’t help it.

you can’t look him in the eye. instead, you avert your attention to the place in the wood you’ve been indenting your nail. the pressure helps distract from the tears gathering along your lashline. it slowly forms the shape of your initial, a diminutive mark on the expansive docks soon to be walked over by thousands.

“is something wrong?”

your immediate reaction is to dismiss. the words are already slipping off your tongue, excuses that it’s the sun in your eyes and denials that you’re just tired, but they get stuck at the end. is it because the opportunity is here? something pushes them away from the edge as they desperately rock themselves back onto the safety of the cliff with flailing arms and wobbly legs.

hundreds of scenarios rush through your mind, of him getting up and leaving, of awkwardness, of anger and anguish, and yet it’s not enough to derail you. you can’t sit in your itches any longer. if the world is ending soon like he implies, then so be it, because god knows you’d take his word over anything.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, voice frail and barely above a whisper. “i just love you.”

you brace for impact, but it doesn’t come. the only sounds are the sawing of your nail, the squawks of distant birds, the waves crashing gently on the shore how they always do at dusk. then his fingers wrap around your wrist, still moving against the wood, to grasp your attention. his eyes are warm and inviting as you slowly lift your head to find them.

“i love you, too.”

a sad smile tugs at your lips. he doesn’t get it. honesty has never hurt so much. “no,” you confess with a sorrowed tinge, “like i love you.”

his eyes crinkle up like crescents. the grin adorning his cheeks is like a medallion, glowing and bright and entirely juxtaposed from the ache of yours. “i love you” he presses, eyebrows raising in emphasis.

“but…”

“but, what? you really doubt it?” he smiles with a breath, eyes crinkling shyly as he looks away. “i thought it was obvious.”

his thumb presses small circles into the back of your palm before letting go and brushing it away from where your hand covers your mark. his nail is much wider and blunt so it doesn’t take long for a faint ‘A’ to appear beside yours, a shade just lighter than the surface.

“if you think you were being obvious, you should have caught on to me earlier,” you laugh.

a coy smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, pressing a dimple into his skin. “maybe i did.”

“you did not.”

“okay, i didn’t. but,” he pauses, holding up his index finger, “i always hoped!”

it draws an airy, relieved laugh from your chest. armin leans down and blows the dust across the wood and sweeps away the extras with his hands.

your initials sit carved into the docks of your home with love, together. no matter if you are unable to return, they’ll still be here. if no one else is around to remember today, at least these letters will be imprinted with a story.

it’s proof of life, proof you lived, and most notably, proof that it was with armin arlert.

#armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x reader fluff #armin arlert fluff #armin arlert angst #aot fluff #aot x reader #aot angst #armin arlert imagine #armin fluff #armin x reader #aot fanfic

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 4 years

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We Met Within This Screen (chapt. 5)

[Donnie x fem reader]

sfw, chapt. 4 here

Just as Donnie had predicted, the night air was cold on his scales. Right upon leaving, Mikey brought up to Leo going in pairs this time, to cover more ground, he said. An extra thorough patrol. Donnie honestly couldn't make up his mind and so by then he was flying by the seat of his pants, not objecting to Mikey's plan, but also not agreeing. He doubted Leo would be convinced, anyway. They didn't do duo patrols that often.

"I was thinking we could split up this time, you know, me and Donnie, you and Raph?" suggested Mikey, closing the manhole behind himself.

"I thought you liked it when we're all together," Leo commented.

Donnie shot Mikey a look, trying to tell him to cool it, but he shrugged, "Come on, it'll be like some kind of training or...something," Mikey went behind Leo and shook his shoulders, "aren't you into that?"

Internally, Donnie facepalmed. Unless he actively tried to stop this, it was going to happen, wasn't it? One way or another, probably; it all depended on how Leo was feeling that night. Raph was indifferent. He didn't care whether they were all together or in pairs, just that he got to flex his combat skills some. If he could, he'd go out and do it on his own, even.

Leo looked around, considering Mikey's suggestion. "Okay," he agreed, eventually. "You and Donnie take East, Raph and I will cover the usual route and then—"

"No," Mikey interjected. Both Leo and Raph's brows furrowed as they stared at their brother. He motioned toward Donnie, "Me and Donnie can take that, you guys just go on ahead," he smiled. "You know I like checking out the skatepark!"

"No skating," Leo said.

"I'll just watch whoever's there, then." He pouted.

Raph snorted. "Yeah, make sure he actually pays attention, Donnie."

"As usual," Donnie sighed, and looked at Leo.

"Well, what do you think, Don?"

The decision is up to me?

Turns out it was his all along, but he wanted to feign innocence in saying that Mikey was the one to drag him through it. Easier to not take responsibility and let life happen at you rather than making a conscious effort, at times.

"I guess we can do that," Donnie answered reluctantly. He could have said no. Why didn't he? In the corner of his eye, he saw Mikey beam, giving him a discreet thumbs up.

"Alright, meet back here by four AM, and if either of you run into big trouble, call. We'll come," Leo said. "Same for us."

"Yeah, we'll holler for ya," added Raph dismissively. "And nah, a big dog doesn't count as trouble, Mikey." He sounded gruff, but in actuality, he was still chuckling to himself over that years later. After they got over being annoyed that he had called them from that far while they were on a supply run. Chased by a junkyard dog—some of their least favorite parts about visiting those places.

"Hey, it was mean! And way fast!" Mikey protested as they parted ways, them taking to the East and red and blue the opposite way.

As per course, Donnie and Mikey took their normal route, and his heart skipped a beat when they met the scene of their last run-in with criminals. Not because of them, no, but because of the familiar apartment building that was now more intimidating than he'd expected. They circled the area like they normally would have, but Mikey came to stop them on a roof just opposite of the complex, eyes searching each window. Obscured by the height of the building, he sat on the edge.

Donnie didn't know what to do with himself. He stood back a good ten feet, somehow paranoid of being spotted even though he knew it was not possible from their angle in the complex. Mikey was comfortable, and weirdly at peace as he sat there quietly on the edge, assumed to be waiting for his brother to make a move. But Donnie was stuck in place.

"What are you waiting for, D?"

The sudden question broke him from his stillness. It was true; he didn't know what he was waiting for.

"I—I don't know what you want me to do, what are you thinking?" Donnie asked in return, stepping back a little further as he noticed movement behind the curtains of a lit window.

"Get your phone out and talk to her," Mikey told him, waving his hand at the apartments. "What did we come out here for if you aren't gonna make it right, bro? Do some smooth talk, tell her you're sorry and you wanna get to know her better…"

"This is absolutely a ridiculous plan," Donnie said, though as if his hands had thought of their own, they reached for his phone, and a moment later he was looking at the messages. Still nothing. Radio silence on both of their ends. How would he approach it? "I'm sorry I went from hot to cold so fast. Please talk to me again." Too strong. "Sorry, can we get a redo?" Too casual. "I'd like to apologise for being a jerk." Okay, that's just not good. Reconciling was going to be as difficult as he'd thought it would be.

Mikey came over and looked at his phone screen and his brother floundering, thumbs stuttering across the keyboard, deleting the text, retyping it over and over again for perfection where he wasn't going to find any–

"I got this, let Love Doctor Mikey handle it," he said, taking the phone right from Donnie's hand.

"You've never been in a relationship, not even talked to anyone, how would you—"

Mikey shushed him. Donnie was going to snatch the phone away but he spun around, draping himself over his shoulder. "Just let me work my magic, dude!"

Donnie couldn't watch; he had to turn away. How sure he was that Mikey was going to say something uncalled for, something weird or bone-headed, and the wait was killing him. What if she didn't even respond? Was that better than doing damage control for Mikey's shenanigans? For someone usually decisive, he could not for the life of him make up his mind about what he wanted at that very instance.

The phone vibrated.

Mikey cheered. "Got her on the line, now you just gotta reel 'em in," he grinned, handing the phone back to Donnie.

"Hey :/

I thought you wanted to stop?"

Mikey kept trying to lean over to catch a glimpse of the screen, but Donnie felt that it was a personal moment, so without skipping a beat, he activated the electric current in his staff and poked it behind him into his brother's plastron.

"Fine," Mikey whined. He stepped in one last time, "But don't hold out on me here!"

Trying to find an graceful way to patch this all up, Donnie replied:

"I apologise for that, and I know you probably want an explanation, but it's hard to explain

Moment of weakness?

I guess...

Anyway. I'm not expecting you to suddenly be cool with it, if you don't want to talk to me I understand

Sorry."

Mikey noticed Donnie's dismal expression and he mellowed out accordingly, standing close but not putting a hand on him, nor saying anything. He didn't watch the phone, but Donnie's face and slumped shoulders. He'd thought it would have been going better by now.

"I won't lie, I'm still confused

But if you're going through something, I'm right here for you

Don't worry about it. Just don't give me a spook like that again, I thought it was me

lol

Okay it's not funny but this is a little awkward"

Donnie's heart sank reading that. He'd made her feel bad, even question herself over his problem. Never had he wanted to make her think it was her that drove him off.

"No, no, it was never you

Again, I can't really explain…

Is it okay if we just try this again?

I understand if not."

"Jeez Bo, I already said it's alright

I WANT to keep talking to you, you're cool

So let's forget about it, yeah?

Friends again :) "

And like that, his heart took a leap. A smile slowly spread across his face, and without looking away from the screen, grabbed Mikey by the shell, pulling him toward. "Look at this!" he exclaimed.

"You see it too?" he quirked, pointing at the apartment complex across the road.

Donnie paused and looked over his shoulder at him, "What?"

On one of the balconies sat a lone girl, on her phone, and if Mikey looked hard enough, he could see a smile. Definitely a smile.

"Ah!" yelped Donnie quietly. He scurried back against the wall of the attached building behind him, as far as he could.

"Dude! Come on, this is perfect!" Mikey nudged him, and when he didn't hop up onto his feet, dragged his brother near the edge of the roof. Donnie was boneless but unwilling, his mind stuck on the fact that she thought he was cool. Him, cool. Was he? She didn't know even the half of it. She didn't know he was a martial artist, technically a genius, and that he'd gone against some of the worst the city had to offer. And without that, she still thought he was cool, as an average guy.

As average as what my circumstances will allow me to be.

Feet dragging all the way, Donnie's stomach did a flip as they met the ledge, peering carefully over it in a crouch. They were prone, watching the girl who was completely unaware of their presence. He was, simply put, enraptured, for a second there, studying her features as much as he could from where they were. The details of her face were not distinct due to the distance, but he could tell she was both nothing like he'd imagined and so much more. For once, he didn't immediately question the validity of the situation; there was no "it could be a coincidence", or "it's too unlikely that she would be out just as they were". Not right away. But it hit him when Mikey spoke.

"You're so lucky, D," he said wistfully. "Really." Head rested on his forearm, his gaze fell on not one thing, but the whole scene, a somber smile gracing him. He was excited, happy for his brother. But deep down, Donnie knew that though Mikey wasn't envious of him in a resentful way, it had to have stung to witness such a thing unfold for someone not himself. Their youngest had always craved connection the most. He looked away from the girl, "I wasn't gonna let you throw away an awesome chance, was I?"

Releasing a heavy breath, Donnie crawled away from the edge, but his eyes remained on that balcony. It was weird to watch someone who didn't know they were being watched. Not in that context.

"I...guess I may be," Donnie responded. But it would only get more complicated from there. His phone vibrated, breaking his trance, and the message he found read:

"Anyways, with that out of the way, what are you doing?"

Just watching you from a roof, nothing much, Donnie thought.

"Currently out enjoying the night"

"Isn't it kinda cold?"

"What about you?"

He knew what he meant, because he was there watching her as a chilled breeze rolled through, but she told him she wasn't doing anything. Only relaxing and talking to him.

It took him a few minutes to get his bearings. To know that he now had tangible evidence that she was a girl, an ordinary person, and that said person really thought he was cool. Worth the effort. He felt exceedingly difficult for not being able to give her a rightful explanation, but comforted by the fact that he wasn't being demanded of one. He felt light. Almost weightless, with Mikey next to him instead of his other cynical, skeptical brothers. For a moment, he had nothing to worry about.

From across the roof, he could still see the yawn escape her mouth. Probably an indicator that it was time to wrap things up. He didn't want her to stay up too late; it was already odd that she was up at such an hour, almost two AM, but glad nonetheless.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah

I think I'm gonna hit the hay

So goodnight, Bo

Talk to you later (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞"

She got up, leaning on the railing which faced them.

"I want to stay up with you but—"

Donnie sucked in a sharp breath as she looked up, just barely able to see from underneath the balcony above her. He snagged the strap on Mikey's shell and yanked him back with him away from the edge of the roof, taking cover behind the wall.

"Shit," hissed Donnie, "do you think she saw us?"

These shells, they make us look so big!

"Relax, bro, even if she did, it was only a little bit. Besides, we could be anyone from this far, they don't have pigeon vision."

"You mean 'eagle vision'?"

"They're both birds!"

Donnie deadpanned and peeked over the wall. She'd gone in. Three minutes later, he hadn't gotten any texts yet about something weird on the rooftops, so he could finally relax, groaning lightly. "Too close," he breathed out, "Mikey, we need to go, Leo's going to notice we're not back in time if we don't hurry up and get the rest of this route done."

"Already on it," he whooped, vaulting onto the next roof.

As Donnie was scaling the wall of the attached building, he felt his phone vibrate, and curious, he checked it one last time before getting on his way.

"One question before I go

You ever see stuff you can't explain but even if you did you'd sound crazy?"

Oh, no.

"No, I don't."

Chapter 6

#donatello x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #donnie x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #donatello #leonardo #raphael #michelangelo #fanfiction #leo #donnie #raph #mikey #tmnt

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imaginedhaven · 4 years

Text

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Eleven

Link to Masterpost

Holy crap, we’ve cleared 50,000 words of this. Things are really starting to pick up now, so if I had to guess this will probably wind up being... maybe around 75k-80k in total? It still has to be WRITTEN, though, so... lol.

Also, we’re going to start earning that warning in the masterpost for canon-typical violence from here on out. Just so you’re aware.

Enjoy!

~*~*~

“So, let me make certain I have this absolutely clear,” Aedion drawled in a way that immediately set Rowan on edge.

Rather than reply and risk growling rather than speaking, he nodded, the movement tighter and less smooth than he would’ve liked.

“Aelin came here to Rifthold fully intending not only to continue her relationship with the prince, but to apprehend a criminal—not just any criminal, but an assassin—who was originally from Terrasen and moved to Rifthold.”

Rowan gritted his teeth and gave another silent nod.

“She elected to do this for reasons you are aware of, but that she has not told me and that you refuse to tell me.”

Another nod and another clenching of his jaw.

“And so the two of you have been sneaking out at night, which Captain Westfall”—the name came from Aedion’s lips as though it were a curse in and of itself—“condoned, if not outright allowed.”

The captain spoke up then. “Given the information presented to me, I had little other choice.”

“I’m not finished,” Aedion snarled, and the captain fell silent. “While you were sneaking around the slums of Rifthold, you got into more than one brawl, and you destroyed at least one business, which as of now still has yet to recover, if it ever will.”

This time it was harder to stifle the growl, but as Aedion’s expression didn’t change he must have managed it with at least some success.

“And then last night, it all finally comes to a head when Aelin allows herself to be abducted by said assassin. And you allowed all of this to happen.”

Rowan’s grip on his temper, already tenuous due to the nature of the situation, finally slipped enough for him to snarl at the other warrior. “Do not presume to think I made my decisions lightly,” he growled, “or that I have not spent a single moment wishing it could have been myself in her place.”

The shifter—Lysandra—delicately cleared her throat, and Aedion immediately turned his attention toward her. “If we’re done yelling at each other about whose fault it is,” she said pointedly, “then perhaps we can come up with a plan for how to handle the fact that our princess is missing?”

Rowan nodded shortly, and unfurled a roughly-sketched map of the city over his desk. He watched as the captain’s brow furrowed, likely at the idea that a foreign soldier had been able to acquire this much information about his city, but Rowan chose instead to focus on the plan he had been given. “Aelin’s request was that she be given twenty-four hours as a head start,” he began, “and I see the merit in that. If she’s not able to get the information she requires now, this assassin will go to ground and it could be years before we hear of him again.”

“It likely won’t be years,” the captain interrupted, ignoring Rowan’s scowl. “I did some research on my own into the man she’s hunting. He’s too proud to go completely unnoticed for that long.”

“Be that as it may, this is our best opportunity.” Rowan tapped on a building on his map. “She was taken here. Her captors didn’t notice me following them. It appears to be a stronghold of some sort, almost a guild hall for cutthroats and killers. I think it’s unlikely that they would move her from this place.”

“Unlikely but not impossible,” Aedion retorted. “We should keep an eye on the place.”

“Once you’re satisfied with my explanations, I intend to go there myself. If you can promise to adhere to the plan, you may join me.” He had long since given up on keeping the frosty bite from his tone, but he fisted his hand at his side to keep it away from his blades.

“And how can I trust that this is actually her plan?”

It was the mark of a good soldier and guard, to be skeptical of his statements. If this were any other situation, Rowan would even be grateful that Aelin had someone such as this as family and protector. But this was not any other situation, and Rowan carefully called up a hint of the ice that swirled within him in the hope that it would cool his temper before he killed Aedion. “Whatever Aelin did or did not tell you is between you and her, and I refuse to be pulled into that fight. The only thing that matters right now is making certain that she exits that building safely. Are you going to help with that or not?”

Aedion growled, eyes glinting in a way that strongly reminded him that this male was indeed related to Aelin of the Wildfire, but nodded. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as we’re finished here. Captain? Lysandra? Anything to add?”

Captain Westfall cleared his throat. “If I may, I can’t keep Dorian from noticing she’s missing all day long. Do we have a plan for that?”

Rowan frowned thoughtfully, and Aedion and Lysandra glanced at each other. “That’s a terrible idea,” the shifter said as if in response to some unspoken question.

“It’s the best one we have,” Aedion replied. “This entire plan, such as it is, hinges on secrecy. And you had best believe I’ll be having words with Aelin about coming up with better plans later, but right now we’re stuck with the mess she left us in.”

“Have we considered just telling Dorian?”

“No, he’s right,” the captain interjected. “The less Dorian knows about this for now, the better. He’s terrible at keeping secrets like that from his expression; if we tell him everyone will suspect something is amiss.”

Rowan quickly turned his attention to the guardsman, frown deepening. He very much suspected that this was not actually true, and that the prince was far better at keeping secrets than he wanted anyone else to believe. Perhaps the raw magic that lived in his core was less well-controlled than he had believed?

Ah, of course. The magic. It wasn’t public knowledge that the crown prince of Adarlan was burdened with such a strong gift of magic. It was likely the captain was aware of the secret, and didn’t want any upset to risk a flare-up of the young man’s power at an inconvenient time.

Rowan carefully set aside the thought that Aelin’s disappearance would possibly cause an emotional disturbance in the young prince that was severe enough to unleash his magic. Better to think his control was simply a work in progress like Aelin’s rather than wonder how close they could’ve possibly gotten in a few short weeks.

Lysandra sighed, interrupting his thoughts, and when he looked up at her he froze for a moment as Aelin’s face looked back at him.

It wasn’t truly Aelin’s face, though. Lysandra was trying to adopt her usual confident smirk, but the gesture looked stiff and unpracticed. If he looked more closely the color of her eyes was ever so slightly darker as well, and the scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose was in the wrong pattern. It was deeply unsettling to be looking at this face that both was and was not his carranam, and Rowan quickly looked away. “It should be close enough to fool the prince, for a short time,” he managed.

“So we’re decided, then,” Aedion declared.

“I still hate this plan,” the shifter cautioned.

Captain Westfall scowled as he stood. “It’s the only plan we have. I’ll do what I can to limit your interaction with the prince. I’m assuming you don’t want a guard sent to the building?”

Rowan nodded. “Best not to call attention to our movements. But be ready, in the event that we do not return.” He suspected all would be well, but it never hurt to have a backup plan.

The captain nodded, the motion tight and precise as he would expect from a soldier of the man’s status, and quickly left. “You can get there on your own?” Rowan asked Aedion.

The younger male stared at the map carefully, then nodded. “I can get there.”

“Good,” Rowan said. And then he flew from the room in a flurry of wings and frosty air.

~*~*~

“You take me to such nice places,” Aelin purred as Arobynn led her into another chamber, slightly larger than the previous one. Her arms and legs remained chained, but with slightly more freedom of movement she could carefully roll her shoulders and her ankles in preparation for moving quickly should an opportunity arise.

“Such a valuable player in the game should be treated with exactly the respect she commands,” Arobynn replied smoothly, though Aelin carefully suppressed a shudder at the bite beneath his words. She needed him to keep talking, to give her time to find the truth beneath the layer of lies she knew he would present.

“Well, I do believe the next move is yours. I await it eagerly,” she smirked.

She glanced at his face, focusing on the way his eyes didn’t move at all when he smiled. “I have a proposition for you, my dear.”

Oh, how she wished she could free a single arm. It was all she would need to make him regret the way he was speaking to her, as well as the bargain she believed he was about to suggest. Instead, though, she relaxed into one of the chairs as he sat in the other. “I’m listening.”

“See, we each have something the other wants,” he continued. “I have information I know you seek, and I would very much like you to stop being a pain in my ass.” Again, that undercurrent of rage slipped through his ironclad control, and Aelin hid another smirk. Riling people who claimed to have excellent self-control was a talent she had developed from the moment Aedion had come to their home from across the sea. It seemed this man was no exception.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she replied.

“Ah, so you weren’t aware when you and your… companion… trashed the Vaults that I had a significant investment in the business?”

“One of your hulking brutes didn’t like that I beat him fair and square. I could hardly control what happened next.”

“And the safe being cracked open before you left?”

“Complete coincidence, I assure you.” She was well aware that he would have no proof it had been her who had broken open the safe, and she knew that refusing to admit to what he suspected would only make him more angry. That was good. She needed him angry enough to let information slip.

“I see. Then I presume you don’t want to know how your parents died?” Another biting remark overlaid with false sincerity, velvety smoothness underlaid with sharp fangs and claws.

Aelin went cold, sensation fading from her limbs as she stared at him. “I was there. My parents died of an illness.”

“Ah, yes,” he drawled, kicking his legs up and over the arm of his chair. “An illness no healer could cure, or so I heard. I had left Terrasen by then, of course, but word spreads quickly when rulers fall.”

Aelin bit her tongue to hold in a sharp reply before glancing back over at him, expression carefully uninterested. “And assuming I can believe you’re telling the truth,” she said, “what would you ask in exchange for this information?”

“Why, what could any man want from a lovely princess such as yourself?” he asked, and Aelin once more carefully mastered her own expression to hide any disgust. “You have power, and yet you cannot access it without aid. I have that information and more, and yet I lack the power that would ensure my own safety. I’m certain we can come to some kind of… arrangement.”

“That’s a high price you ask,” she replied. “And you haven’t done nearly enough to prove you’re worth such an arrangement. After all, it is I who would need to convince the lords of Terrasen to accept you. If you can’t convince me…” Aelin deliberately yawned, and cheered internally as Arobynn gritted his teeth, silver eyes alight with anger.

“If knowledge regarding your own parents isn’t enough to convince you,” he snapped, “then what about information regarding your former lover?”

“It’s quite bold of you to assume I did no investigating when I discovered his body,” she retorted.

“Ah, but I would wager you have yet to learn who bid me send him to Orynth in the first place, and who gave the command to cut his life so tragically short.”

The callous admission that he had passed that command along lit a fire in her veins, and she reached for it before recalling that she was bound in iron. The wildfire fizzled, mere sparks that slipped from her fingers. “And what assurance could you give me, that you would tell me and that you have proof?”

Arobynn stood, and Aelin did finally cringe as he slid two fingers under her jaw to tilt her head up. “My dear, do I look like a man who leaves anything to chance? You’ll have your proof once I have our agreement.”

Aelin jerked her head back, freeing herself from his grip. “That’s a shame, for there will be no agreement until you’ve presented your proof.”

Almost immediately, Arobynn’s casual expression melted into steely anger. “What a shame indeed,” he murmured. “Perhaps you would care to enjoy some more of my… hospitality… first.”

As the man stepped away and opened the door, someone else entered the room. Aelin carefully stood as well, but even with a single glance she knew this wasn’t a fight she would win. Not with her limbs and power both bound by the iron chains clamped around her ankles and wrists.

At Arobynn’s nod, the newest arrival to the room gave her a predatory grin and dragged her toward the wall. Her face made contact with the wall as he shoved her against it with a hand between her shoulders, and while she was stunned by the impact he attached her chains to hooks affixed to the wall. “Do let me know if you decide to change your mind,” Arobynn called, and then the door closed behind him as he left.

Aelin heard the sound of a whip cracking, and as if from a distance she heard herself screaming as fire spread along her back.

~*~*~

Lysandra finally relaxed into her role as she sat beside the prince for the evening meal. True to his word, the captain of the guard had kept him busy for most of the day, giving her time to overcome her nerves at having to pretend to be someone like Aelin. Oh, she had acted before. She had played roles for clients and courtiers alike, and she had certainly changed her face many times.

None of them had felt nearly as important as this. Everything was on the line, completely dependent on Dorian believing her performance as his potential future wife.

It’s only for one day, she reminded herself as her fingers twisted around each other. She had complete faith in Aelin’s ability to execute a plan, as well as Aedion and Rowan’s ability to keep her safe. It was up to her, now, to give them the time they needed.

Dorian’s parents seemed to be completely unaware of the swap, and Lysandra had spent enough time listening to Aelin’s tutors to be able to follow the light political conversation that was taking place. Even Dorian was engaging with her just as he would with Aelin, and when he grinned at an offhand remark she awarded herself another point for her acting.

As the meal came to an end, Dorian looked over at her again. “So tell me, did you want me to do something terribly predictable and show you the gardens? Or can we skip that part?”

Lysandra laughed in reply as Dorian grinned. “Perhaps another time. I still have to read several of the books you’ve loaned to me, if I hope to finish them during this visit.”

Dorian stood, then, and turned to face her with an ostentatious bow. “Then I hope you will grant me the honor of allowing me to escort you back to your rooms, Your Highness.”

Lysandra chuckled and shook her head in what she hoped came across as a fond gesture. “You’re impossible,” she accused.

The prince laughed in reply. “I assure you that I am not,” he said. “I am here, after all. Unless you’d care to discuss the philosophy of such a statement, of course.”

“I rather suspect we would be here all night,” Lysandra grinned back as she stood, allowing him to take her arm and lead her away.

It was easy enough to allow Dorian to escort her back to Aelin’s room after the evening meal, though she couldn’t help a moment of surprise when he followed her into the main seating area. He glanced at the book Aelin had left open on her desk, humming thoughtfully as he read a few sentences. “Ah. I thought so,” he muttered.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, mimicking Aelin’s easy grin as she relaxed into a chair halfway across the room.

He turned to her then, and a chill in the air matched the frost in his eyes. “If I invited you to share my bed tonight, shifter, would you demur like the princess you claim to be? Or would you say yes, believing she’s already given into my charms?”

~*~*~

In another situation, or if he were simply an observer and not a participant in this conversation, Dorian might have been amused at the nearly-comical widening of not-Aelin’s eyes. Instead, though, he only felt a cold rage at the deception.

To the shifter’s credit, she immediately dropped the guise of Aelin and returned to her usual appearance. “I told them this was a terrible idea and we should just tell you,” she grumbled. “What tipped you off?”

“A few things,” he replied, “though the most suspicious to me was that this book is open to where Aelin left off last night when I left. She hasn’t read it today.”

The shifter—Lysandra, if he was remembering correctly—nodded. “I didn’t think you would come back here,” she confessed.

Dorian sighed. “Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what it is you’ve all been keeping from me today, and why the captain of my guard appears to be working with you.”

That was the part that was the most shocking to him, if he were being truly honest with himself. He had never once had cause to question Chaol’s loyalty, and he didn’t want to begin now. He only hoped there was a reasonable explanation for why he had been so eager to ensure he spent as much time as possible embroiled in his training and studies.

As he thought about the possibility that his captain and friend was conspiring with these people, as good as he believed Aelin’s intentions to be, he had to take several deep breaths to stop a layer of frost from forming on his hands. His control over his magic was much better than it had been when it had first manifested, but strong emotional responses still riled the power that slept within him. Unless he wanted to entrust his deepest secret to agents of Terrasen, he needed to keep his feelings in check.

The frost finally ebbed, and the shifter began to speak. “Your captain is only involved insofar as to keep you removed from all of this,” she said quietly. “We provided him with enough information to ensure your safety, nothing more.”

“That still leaves a foreign princess, her most loyal soldier, and a blood-sworn of Doranelle in my capital city, with a purpose of which I am not aware, causing an unknown amount of chaos.” Dorian fought back a sigh at the thought of the headache this would no doubt cause for him, and that was if he was fortunate enough to avoid worse fates.

“They’re… dealing with a threat that could bode ill for you and Aelin both.” The woman was clearly trying to decide how much to reveal and how much to hide, and if he wasn’t the person she was trying to deceive in this manner he would have respected it far more.

“What is the nature of the threat?” he asked.

She sighed. “A former crime lord of Terrasen, who left a few short years before her parents died. He’s created a new home for himself in Rifthold, styling himself the King of the Assassins. She’s been attempting to find him for years, to bring an end to a career that’s gone on for far too long already.”

Dorian sighed. “And I presume if I ask you’ll have absolutely no idea why a crown princess of Terrasen is involved in hunting an assassin, and didn’t simply leave it to her warrior cousin.”

“It isn’t my story to tell,” she replied, looking away.

“Of course it’s not,” he grumbled. “Apologies. I believe you when you imply that this wasn’t your idea and that you’re only involved out of necessity. But this puts me in a… delicate situation.” That was an understatement; if word of Aelin’s actions got out it could be disastrous.

“I understand,” she sighed. “Which is why I wanted to tell you what I could.”

Finally, he nodded. “And when do we expect her to return?”

“By morning,” she answered.

“Very well. I will do what I can to keep this quiet and out of the public eye. But I will be asking Aelin about this later.” It was the best he could offer, and by the look on her face she understood completely.

Without another word, Dorian turned on his heel and returned to his office, asking a guard on the way to send Chaol to him. It appeared they had much to discuss.

~*~*~

“I detest this plan,” Aedion hissed in the direction of the hawk on the nearby roof as the sun began to set. “We should be going after her.”

The hawk took flight, circling the square before landing behind a box and turning into Whitethorn in a soft flash of concealed light. “We have to trust that Aelin can get herself free,” the warrior said. “We’re foreign actors in Adarlan’s capital city. If we break into that building without cause, it puts Aelin and her prince both in a difficult situation.”

It was interesting, how a subtle difference in Whitethorn’s tone was able to so clearly indicate that he wouldn’t mind causing a little trouble for the Adarlanian prince. “You don’t like Dorian,” he realized.

The statement earned him a scowl from his Fae companion. “I have no feelings one way or the other about the prince.”

“You realize my senses are better than a human’s, right? I could hear that you don’t like him.”

Whitethorn’s response was the carefully crafted words of someone used to diplomacy. “I have no reason to dislike him. And we’re not talking about this. It’s almost time.”

Finally. He’d hated sitting in this alley waiting for something to happen. “Time for what?”

“If Aelin is going to keep to her schedule, she’s about to make her next move.”

“You think she can get out of there without us?” It wasn’t that Aedion didn’t trust his cousin’s abilities. No, he knew she was a capable fighter and a powerful magic user. But he knew that she would be unlikely to use her magic unless absolutely needed, given the possibility of a tense political situation if she were recognized.

When he turned to face Whitethorn, the other male wore a small but ferocious grin, eyes positively glowing. “It’s not her I’m worried about,” he responded. “Anyone who crosses her on her way out will deserve exactly what she gives them.” And judging from the look on his face, Whitethorn would revel in their suffering.

The house they watched over was quiet, its occupants likely asleep given that their profession meant being out at all hours of the night. Aedion sighed. “I still don’t like this,” he admitted several minutes later.

“Given that I don’t like it either, I could hardly expect you to.” For all his posturing, and for all the strange glee that had come over him when he had spoke of what Aelin would do to those who crossed her, now the warrior was tense, eyes dark with what Aedion suspected was worry.

Even though the Fae beside him was sworn to a queen that was not his own, Aedion realized he wouldn’t rather have anyone else at his side for this particular mission. He had watched Whitethorn and Aelin grow close over the previous weeks, closer than anyone would’ve suspected. He didn’t know much about magic, but he suspected that sharing it as they could was a rare gift. If he could trust anyone to feel the same urgency he did to ensure she got out of this alive and as unharmed as possible, it would be this warrior.

Suddenly Whitethorn’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed, much like Aedion would have expected in the male’s other form. “What is it?” Aedion asked, only for the other male to gesture for his silence.

Soon enough, Aedion could hear it as well. There was shouting coming from inside the house, at least two masculine voices. He couldn’t make out the words, and based on Whitethorn’s expression he couldn’t either, but something had changed. As he watched, the warrior pulled two knives from his boots and twirled them gracefully around his fingers. It was a good choice, and Aedion went for his own knife as well, knowing his sword would be nearly useless in these cramped alleys. “We stay here,” Whitethorn was saying. “Those are male voices. I haven’t heard Aelin yet, which means they haven’t discovered her. We only go in if it’s absolutely necessary. When she leaves, she’ll come this way. If anyone else makes it this far…” The grim smile on his face indicated their fate clearly enough.

Three men burst through the door of the building, exchanging panicked instructions before departing in different directions, and Aedion and Whitethorn crouched behind a cart to conceal their presence. One man ran for the alley they had chosen for their hiding place, and before Aedion could do anything the Fae warrior was already in motion, clutching the man to him in a twisted parody of a lover’s embrace before drawing a blade across his throat. “They’ll notice when this one doesn’t come back,” he whispered as he dragged the man behind their cart. “We don’t have much longer.”

A slim figure stumbled out of the door next, and Aedion grinned. “We don’t need much longer. That’s Aelin.”

She was almost unrecognizable, golden hair turned red with blood and darkened with ash, but there was no mistaking the eyes that met his, pained but determined. Then those eyes shifted away and he knew she had seen Whitethorn standing beside him. From the sharp intake of breath at his left he knew the warrior had seen her as well, and soon he had abandoned all talk of secrecy to cross the small crossing in several quick strides.

Aelin moved, trying to meet him halfway, but her motions were fumbling and clumsy. She said something to the warrior that Aedion couldn’t quite hear, smiling up at him…

And then as he watched, she collapsed into the male’s arms.

Whitethorn quickly lifted her, carrying her into the alley and out of sight. By the time they reached Aedion she was already unconscious, either from pain or from exhaustion. Judging by her face, Aedion suspected it was a combination of both. “Get her out of here and back to the palace,” he said quietly, adjusting his grip on his knife. “I’ll stay here and make sure you’re not followed.”

Green eyes met his, clearly searching for something. Aedion didn’t know what the warrior was looking for, but finally he nodded and adjusted his grip on Aelin.

Before he could get far, though, Aedion called to him again. “Oh, and Whitethorn?”

“Yes?” he replied, expression tight with concern.

“Take care of her.” And then Aedion turned his attention back to the house with a grim smile. He didn’t know what its inhabitants may have done to his cousin, but he had absolutely no problems with delivering justice to any of them foolish enough to come his way.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows

#haven writes #rules of engagement #rowaelin

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Text

5 Favourite Works

YAY! I got tagged by the amazing @chained-to-the-mirror, and I was tickled pink because I was feeling left out, seeing everyone tag everyone and then me just... over here. Thank you, Lovely. Seriously, you always know when I need a smile <3. I like happy posts today.

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Well, I haven’t done a lot of works in the past year (not even Meta, and I’m not happy with them all), so I’m going to choose my five fave works I’ve ever done because I still am happy when I see them :) In no particular order:

1. Secret Episode Meta Ficlet

This came to me after S4 and while I was riding on the bus to work. It was my theory for what I wanted to see for a secret episode. I want to eventually clean it up and expand it to a full one shot, and then add it to the Sherlock fanfic I’ve been plotting out for years but never wrote. One baby step at a time, LOL.

Excerpt:

Sherlock looks up at John, his pale eyes wide in fear. “I almost lost you, John. After everything I did, I almost lost you. I wasn’t good enough and – ” Sherlock’s voice is starting to rise in panic.

John brings their heads closer together, and that seems to settle Sherlock down enough for him to continue.

“You were shot, John. In the head.”

It still makes me tear up.

2. The Mind Palace Theories of TAB Meta

This is the meta that cemented my place initially in the fandom, and it’s still one of my faves not because of how close we got to predicting TAB, but because it was a COMMUNITY meta, that we all made and speculated on and it turned into a beast all its own. It helped me essentially have people take me seriously as a meta-writer in my own regard. I’m fiercely protective of it because people have tried to claim parts of our meta as their own and that’s just not on, because it was a COMMUNITY effort speculation. It was OUR meta, and it helped me create this little corner in the fandom. I’ve never considered myself “popular” but I know that I was considered a BNF for a while because of this meta Nowadays I’m not much of anyone, but without this meta, y’all, without YOU guys, I would probably not still be as steady a presence as I am now. I wish I was more known for my art, but I am glad that my “claim to fame” was a team effort that was built upon from one single night of me writing a meta with a cracking headache, thinking it was just a crack theory to not be taken seriously.

3. Corndog Daddy || [Ao3 Post]

It’s stupid and silly and I love the fuck out of this ficlet I wrote as a gift. I don’t often promote my own writing (nor does anyone else, but I digress), so I don’t have a lot of kudos’ or bookmarks on this, but it’s so ridiculous and cracky and I love it. Essentially, John and Sherlock go to a county fair and Sherlock cums in his pants XD

Excerpt:

John ordered [a corn dog] for himself, and asked Sherlock if he wanted one, who nodded. John took the two corn dogs and handed one to Sherlock as John put the tip of the dog in his mouth.

Sherlock nearly dropped both bee plush and corn dog as his cock made a bold attempt to let Sherlock know it was interested in the current proceedings.

John raised an eyebrow, grinned devilishly, and started suckling the tip of the corn dog. “Mmm,” John hummed. “I do like a sweet meat stick.”

Anyway. XD

4. SHERLOCK - :Winter Kiss: by @stephdrawsjohnlock

(Click link for full image)

My favourite Johnlock anniversary pic (2018) I’ve done is also one of my most noted, which also makes me happy. I wish I could get even a quarter of notice on all my art, but this one is particularly good. I’m much better at Black and White than colour I think, and it was an experiment with new brushes I got with updated photoshop.

5. Smooth Hat Detective by @stephdrawsjohnlock plus Inspired Ficlet by @johnlockismyreligion

(Click link for full image)

Okay, the name is so stupid... I had Smooth Criminal stuck in my head when I was drawing this (and now I do again, lol) and that’s why it’s named that, but I love lingerielock and I wanted to contribute my own, so this was the result, which was a practice piece for shading. In turn, I was surprised by a gift fic inspired by this picture called Your love it feels so good by Hotaru_Tomoe and it forever made this pic worth being proud of because someone was ACTUALLY INSPIRED BY MY ART. That’s never happened, and even thinking about it today still makes me cry happy tears, so Thank you forever, Lovely. <3

-------

Anyway, so yeah, I hope you guys like them as much as I do <3

Anyone who hasn’t been tagged, and really wants to do it, like I did, I TAG YOU, so please do it and let me know you did!! <3

#tagged blogging #about me #happy posts #5 things #my blog #my art #my writing #long post

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baronessblixen · 4 years

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I’ve been struck by, I’ve been struck by A SMOOTH CRIMINAL ! ! !

(this song is in my head now thanks to you lol)

I’d say I’m sorry, but I’ve had it stuck in my head ever since I mentioned it, too, so 😂

You’re welcome, anon! At least it’s a good song.

#lovely anons #i love the song actually #i read a word #my brain comes up with a song #it happens #Anonymous

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floatingpetals · 6 years

Text

Boys in Blue || Pt. 1

Pairings: cop!Stucky x F!Reader

Warnings: language, frustrated reader(she’s a little ridiculous tbh), road rage(kind of)

Word Count: 2300+

Summary: (Cop AU) There was just one crappy thing after enough that happened to her. It possibly couldn’t get any worse, or so she thought until she saw the dreaded flashes of red and blue behind her. Could things get any worse?

A/N: This idea came to me after such a bad day. I can say this didn’t happen to me, but it would have been ironic if it had. It also might not help that I’ve been watching a lot of Live PD and America’s Dumbest Criminal’s compilations. However, the frustration is and was real. This might only be three parts to this in total for this story as well. I haven’t quite decided yet. Let me know what ya’ll think!! Enjoy!! Also, don’t do what the reader did if you do get pulled over. It might not work out like this lol

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Series Masterlist

Today sucked. This had to be the worse day Y/N ever had to date. First, it started off with her waking up late, almost half an hour later than she should have. It created a snowball effect where she had to rush to get dressed, put on a quick face of makeup, make sure her hair didn’t look crazy and be out the door in less than ten minutes to not get stuck in traffic. Fortunately, she made it with five minutes to spare. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to eat breakfast and she left her lunch bag sitting on the counter beside her cup of coffee she had thrown in the travel mug. Of course, she hadn’t realized she left it behind until she was already on the freeway and couldn’t possibly turn back to get it.

Second, it wasn’t until she sat down that she realized she grabbed two different pairs of black shoes, on with a pointed toe and the other a rounded toe with a cute bow on the top. not something she could exactly hide. She stared blankly at the articles of clothing for a good ten minutes before she let out a heavy sigh. That wasn’t enough to really drag her day down yet. However, once she opened her emails from clients, she knew she was in for a hell of a day. Throw in the constant badgering by her boss and her coworkers poking fun at her flustered and mismatched appearance, Y/N was overwhelmed and nearly in tears by the end of the day.

Now after nearly eight hours of the most grueling day to date at her job, Y/N was trying to get home. There was an accident on the highway, so she hoped to avoid traffic by taking side streets. She was just ready to get out of her mismatched shoes, drink a glass of wine and take a relaxing bubble bath. Apparently, the rest of the world didn’t get that memo.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” She slammed her fist on the steering wheel, screaming out for the tenth time in five minutes. “The speed limits 40! Not 30! Let’s go!”

She had been stuck behind the same jackasses for the past twenty minutes in the middle lane, locked in on both sides by equally frustrate drivers beside her. In all three lanes, there was a trio of cars matching speeds with each other, clearly keeping the traffic back considering there wasn’t a soul in front of them. All while going ten under the posted speed limit. Y/N tried to be patient; she really was. It wasn’t like she was asking them to speed, she really just wanted them to go the damn speed limit. But her nerves were already frayed and if these jerk wads didn’t go, she was seconds from slamming into one of them. Not to mention people kept honking at her for some reason, which only added to her already high level of stress.

“Oh, my sweet fucking lord!” She snarled for the nth time. Finally, the car in the right lane slowed down to turn, giving Y/N a chance to flip on her blinker a few seconds before she switched lanes and went around the 80-year-old woman in her unnecessarily giant Dodge pickup. Putting her foot to the floor, Y/N shot off ahead, finally hitting the speed limit. She switched her blinker back on the to signal her passing back into the middle lane, all while muttering oaths under her breath and keep her speed constant.

She thought she was finally clear; she was right down the street from her left turn to get to her apartment when a black and white Dodge Charger pulled up behind her. She shot a glance down to her speedometer, the little red line one ticks above forty. Surely, he wasn’t going to pull her over for going 42 in 40. Her stomach dropped when she saw the red and blue lights flash on. Of course.

“God damn it!” She cried. Tears started to form in her eyes as she slowly signaled to the right and turned into a parking lot. The cop followed right behind her, stopping two car lengths away. She kept her hands on the steering wheel, willing herself not to burst into tears. This was just icing to the cake.

There was knock on her window, startling her. She took in a deep breath to hope calm herself before she rolled the window down. Any ordinary day she would have swooned over the sight of the man standing beside her car. But today, she wasn’t in the swooning mood.

Standing beside her was a giant officer, his uniform seemingly a size too small stretched over his massive muscles of his arms and chest. The officer's dark hair was shaved close to the sides of his head, the top left longer and slicked back, one stray hair curling on his forehead. His dark glasses hid his eyes, but she couldn’t get over that jawline and cheekbones, strong and unworldly sharp. Alright, maybe she was in the mood for swooning.

“License and registration, ma’am.” His smooth voice sent a shiver down her spine, momentarily short-circuiting her brain. He raised a thick eyebrow, tilting his head to the side when she took too long to answer. “Ma’am?”

Reality crashed around her, and the fury she felt before came rushing back to the surface. The officer instantly noticed her shift, his face hardening as he waited.

“And why exactly am I being pulled over?” She bit, narrowing her gaze at the officer. He didn’t seem slightly deterred, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Ma’am. License and registration first. Then I’ll tell you why I’ve pulled you over.”

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her purse from beside her seat and plopped in her lap to dig out her wallet. The officer waited patiently with a hint of amusement as she grabbed her registration from the glove compartment with a huff. Just as she went to hand them to him, she jerked it back.

“Look, I don’t know what possible reason why you decided to pull me of all people over for, but you clearly weren’t paying attention to the two people behind me that were going ten under the speed limit causing the backup, which might I add is illegal and more dangerous than someone switching lanes to get around them. As much as I wanted to make a show of going around those jackasses, I didn’t. I had my blinker on for the two seconds I needed before I safely got into my lane, made sure I was in it before I turned it off. Then when I got back over, I did the same exact damn thing.” She couldn’t stop herself if she wanted to. The officer seemed almost impressed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as she continued her tirade.

“I have dash cam footage that can back me up; I did nothing wrong. It also has my speed limit on the video, and I can guarantee you I wasn’t doing anything illegal. None of my lights are out, my license plates are valid, registration is up to date and I have no record. So, I’ll ask you again. What the hell could you possibly be pulling me over for?”

The officer seemed at a loss for words. He shot a look over his shoulder to his partner that appeared behind him, a tall blonde that seemed to be made from the same tree. Where the hell did this precinct get their officers? A modeling agency? He was possibly the next best looking eye candy, that wore a size too small for his build, she’d seen right beside the gorgeous brunette in front of her. The blonde office had pushed his sunglasses up, his bright blue eyes growing wide the longer she went on.

She figured steam was billowing out of her ears at this point. Logically she knew this was the stupidest thing she could have ever done, arguing with a police officer. But this day was out to get her, and she wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. Drop dead gorgeous officers be damned.

“Listen, ma’am-.” The officer started again, laughing softly as he rested his palm on the roof of her car. Y/N wasn’t having none of his honeyed voice.

“Don’t give me any of your bullshit. Why did you decide to pull me over?”

He was quiet, looking over to the second officer who had to step away to laugh in private once again. He let out his own snicker, shaking his head as he pushed his glasses up off his nose. Y/N’s heart stopped when she locked eyes with his eyes, the grey-blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Ordinarily, I would sit here and demand for your license and registration again, but I can tell you’re a handful, aren’t you?”

Y/N glared at him not liking his tone. She gritted her teeth, clenching the steering wheel with one hand and balling up her license and registration in her other. It’s illegal to hit a cop, it’s illegal to hit a cop, she chanted silently to herself.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself, Barney. I was already in a shit mood, you’re just the lucky one who gets to deal with the brunt of my frustration.”

There was a bark of laughter coming from the blonde officer on the other side of her car, any sort of control slipping away at her quip. Good, at least the blonde had good taste in television shows. The brunette glared at the blonde over the top of the car before returning back to Y/N, a lopsided grin sliding smoothing on his face.

“Alright. We clearly got off on the wrong foot.” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes. He ignored her and continued. “I’m Officer Barnes, this is my partner Officer Rogers. The reason I pulled you over today isn’t because of you’re driving but because you have a couple bags sticking out of your back passenger door.”

Y/N blinked.

“What?”

He bit his lip and motioned to where Officer Roger was at the other side at the back door. Y/N twisted around to look at the back seat, noticing her reusable grocery bags weren’t sitting on the seat like they should have been. She vaguely remembers opening the door earlier that morning to grab her lunch bag if had been there, and apparently, she missed grabbing them and putting them back before shutting the door on the handles.

Office Rogers tapped the window, pointing at the lock. When Y/N could only stare, her face growing hot from embarrassment, Officer Barnes reached in and hit her unlock button. Officer Rogers opened the back door and gently placed the surprisingly still intact bags on the floor before shutting the door, grinning widely at Y/N as he did.

Y/N slowly faced front, shame and embarrassment washing over her. It took her a second to recover, she mindlessly passed the paper and license through the window to Officer Barnes, who only glanced at her name before returning his attention back on her. Y/N let out a long groaned and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh my god. That’s why people were honking at me.” She whined. it all clicked. Now it was Officer Barnes turn to lose control of his laughter. If she wasn’t so mortified, she’d have melted at the sound of his amusement. “It’s not funny! I just chewed you out for fucking grocery bags! Oh my god! I’m such an idiot!”

“Not an idiot, just a little tightly wound.” Officer Rogers chuckled, now back beside his partner on the driver side. He had a dazzling smile spread on his face, his head tilted to the side as he observed Y/N having yet again another meltdown.

The tears won out, Y/N realizing that she really was a moron and should have just shut up. instead, she put her giant foot in her mouth. The two men’s behavior shifted right along with her, neither liking the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Hey, okay.” Office Barnes began uncertainly, looking at Office Rogers with wide eyes. He could handle giant drunken men with guns and knives, hell he could handle screaming, hysterical angry women. But a genuinely overwhelmed not mention pretty woman balling her eyes out was a whole different story. “It’s okay. We’re not gonna give you a ticket. It’s just procedure to ask for a license and all that. You’re okay. I should have just said it was ‘cause of the bags first.”

“Try not to take it too hard. My partner doesn’t have the best of tact.” Officer Rogers tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Y/N didn’t hear him. Risking a move he knew he probably shouldn’t, he reached in the car an placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath and once you’ve calmed down, you’re free to go.”

Y/N sniffed loudly, wiping her runny mascara and tears with the palm of her hands. Great, she thought bitterly, I already made them think I was crazy and now I look the part too. Nodding through her tears, she took in a deep shuddering breath.

“I’m still an idiot.”

“No,” Officer Barnes repeated firmly. “You’re not. You’d have been an idiot if you smacked me like you wanted to though.”

Y/N let out a watery laugh, a smile growing on her face. The two men grinned, their shoulders relaxing at the sight of her wobbly grin.

“I wouldn’t say I wasn’t impressed with how eloquently you put your argument early, but maybe next time let the office say his reasoning before you start an argument.” Office Barnes said gently, passing the papers back into the car. She frowned, wondering when she gave him the papers but took them quietly.

Officer Rogers clapped a hand on his partner’s shoulder, nodding to Y/N.

“If you can, take a bubble bath tonight. Have a good night, Y/N.” He winked, flashing her another one of his dazzling smiles before he turned to head back to his car. Y/N face burned, his wink doing things to her insides. Officer Barnes stepped back in her line of sight, grinning widely.

“Drive safely. And double check your doors next time before you get in your car.” He chuckled, his crooked grin and insufferable cheekbones causing the butterflies to explode again. She nodded numbly, melting into the seat as the officer turned and headed back to his cruiser. She couldn’t help but stare at his backside as he moved. Sweet lord, he must live at the gym when he’s not at work.

Shaking her head, she put her stuff back in its place before putting the car in drive. As she drove away, she eyed the two Chargers that contained the most attractive set of officers she’d ever seen. And damn it all if she didn’t kick herself for not asking for their numbers, stupidity be damned.

Perma Tag: (CLOSED)

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(Let me know if I missed you, the strike means I can’t tag you for some reason.)

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ghoulgeists · 4 years

Note

I HAVE QUESTIONS!!! ABOUT FLINT!!!! a lot so have fun :D 4, 9, 10, 12 :) 13, 14, 17, 23, 27, 42, 44, 50, 56, 57, 59 (i think i asked this before but i forgot the answer lol), 61, 63, 67 !! also i ask about seaweed boy !! 3, 5 lol, 11, 18, 21, 30, 40, 44, 51, 59, 61, 64 !!! and a few for cadma !! 11, 19, 30, 36, 48, 53, 64, 69

UM HEWWO?!?!? THATS A LOT OF QUESTIONS! I am so excited to answer these...

Answers are under the cut! This will be... Long

Flint

4. If they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Magic in their setting is a little different, and these questions are dnd centric, but I think I can still answer this! Flint would probably be VERY interested in divination magic, of any kind. So spells that could divine futures, locate objects, or show hidden things.

9. Do they care about their appearance? How much effort do they put into presentation?

In public, appearance is a top priority. They mingle with plenty of people whenever they can, and it's important to them that they give others a good first impression, so Flint's grooming is off the charts compared to most people.

When they're crawling around in the ancient dust of a tomb, however, the way they look isn't nearly as important as grabbing as many valuable burial goods as they can!

10. How often do they lie? What situations cause them to be dishonest?

Flint's no saint, and lies plenty enough to prove it. Most of the time it's white lies to spare feelings or to get out of doing something, but the bigger lies come when people probe about their past. It's pretty obvious they don't want people to know about who they used to be, and the bigger the secret the bigger the lie they tell to keep others off their tail.

12. Have they ever been in love?

Plenty of times! Enough to count on a few hands. It's infatuation that strikes them most often, but they have been serious on occasion too.

13. What do they dislike about themself? Why?

They dislike how weak they can often be, as well as how easy it is to take advantage of them sometimes. It drives them to take the easy way out of difficult situations no matter the cost.

14. What is something they love about themself?

They love their body! All the little details from the way their hair curls, the blue of their eyes, their stature, etc. They're very comfortable, proud, and happy being themselves!

I think this is the first character I've ever made who wouldn't want to change anything about their body for any reason :'D

17. What do they dream about, when their dreams are their own?

Beyond gold and riches, they dream about travelling to destinations both new and old, discovery, and about what stories they'll tell when they're old.

23. How do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? How do they feel about their name?

Nicknames are encouraged, but only between close friends and significant others! They don't have any titles or labels because they're not quite that infamous. Everyone who knows them refers to them by their first name, and that's what they're comfortable with because it's what they're used to!

As for how they feel about their name, they don't have strong opinions either way. It's the name they grew up with so they can't just toss it aside, but it has bad things attached to it as well. I'd say they think it's a ledger of all their (mis)deeds, and that's about it.

27. How do they mourn?

They carry on. But they swear to do better.

42. What are three words they would use to describe themself?

Confident, gorgeous, and amicable!

44. What do they need to learn?

To stop sticking their nose into trouble.

50. Can they sing? Can they dance?

Yes, Flint can sing and sings often! They will occasionally busk for lodging funds if they are ever scarce a few dollars, and have a very soothing voice that ensures at least a few people will toss them some coins. As for dancing, it's not something they're interested in, but you could always coax it out of them you can promise you'll be a good dance partner :)c

56. What animal do they most relate to?

Probably a dog? Fiercely loyal and trusting, but with a good nose (figuratively) for who they should let in on their vulnerabilities to.

57. What makes them angry?

Injustice, and the ideology that law and order outweighs the importance of the human condition.

59. What is a quiet passion of theirs?

While not exactly quiet, they have a passion for music! Singing and playing the guitar is one of their favourite pastimes.

61. What kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

This is impractical, and they also aren't exactly found in meadows, but they would go for sunflowers. Something big and bold and bright!

63. What fight has scared them the most?

They haven't gotten there yet in the story I'm building around them, but any fight where someone almost dies and they're powerless to help is always terrifying! :^)

67. What makes them laugh?

Clever jokes, outrageous stories, and the thrill that comes from doing something dangerously stupid and getting away with it.

Tangle

3. What is their goal right now?

Two things: serve their unfathomable god to the best of their abilities, and get sweet, delicious revenge on the fishermen that almost killed him. The former is his current priority, because he knows he has plenty of years to hunt down his would-be murderers. Revenge is a dish to be savored :3c

5. Do they follow a higher power? What are their thoughts on divinity?

Before he met his patron the only thing he was concerned about was surviving. There's no time for gods when you're eking out a poor life in some nowhere village, after all!

After meeting his patron, there is honestly nothing in this world he could devote more time and attention to. So their relationship with higher powers and divinity etc all are attached by one string to a single entity!

11. What skills are they proficient in? Why?

Arcana, religion, and insight for obvious reasons! However he's also proficient in intimidation, because while he may look like a sweet boy he's actually kind of creepy (in an insane cultist kind of way), and that's sufficiently off putting enough that he can be rather intimidating.

18. Do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

lmao… definitely a follower.

21. Do they follow their head, their heart, or their body?

HMMM, I am not too sure about this yet, but probably his heart! He seems like he would be easily emotionally driven.

30. What do they seek out from others?

Open-mindedness! People who would be -cough- willingtosubmittotheoldgods -cough- -cough- I mean, people who won't judge him for his faith.

40. Do they enjoy poetry?

Nope! Not that he's had any exposure to the arts, though. I guess it would be more accurate to say he doesn't have an opinion :'D

44. What do they need to learn?

That he's not special, and his devotion to his god means barely a thing. He has in his mind this idea that he's some kind of glorious, special vessel through which his patron does its dark bidding, but in reality he's just a pile of meat labeled "minion." Until he learns that awful truth, he's got an ego about his position.

51. What is the most beautiful thing in the world, for them?

The rotten bones of shipwrecks stuck deep in the sand. They're a good source of materials, a home for the night, and they make lovely silhouettes against stormy seas.

59. What is a quiet passion of theirs?

It's done out of necessity, but they enjoy sewing up and mending clothes!

61. What kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

Nothing specific, just any bud or bloom he can find :'D

64. Do they value mercy or justice more?

Probably justice! Although he's indifferent to things that happen to others, he is technically seeking justice for what happened to him, in his own… special way.

Cadma

11. What skills are they proficient in? why?

Athletics, performance and acrobatics because he's an active, swole boi! As well as that he's proficient in stealth and slight of hand because he is a smooth criminal, and he's also proficient in religion for a reason I cannot fathom or remember the reason for.

19. What haunts them? What doesn’t?

Like most of my characters… the past lol… specifically, the people he's abandoned on a whim, and more pressingly his former captain, who kind of wants to spill his guts :')

What doesn't haunt him is his decisions to leave. In every instance he's left people he's found himself in a grander adventure, and he's thankful and at peace with those life decisions!

Essentially, he has the mentality that people only stay in your life for part of the journey. There’s no such thing as a lifelong partner or friend, so while he does remember people he’s left behind he thinks that charting his own course in life is more important that unbreakable bonds.

30. What do they seek out from others?

Damn good company! If you're an interesting person in any capacity Cadma will probably take a shine to you. He can't stand a stagnant lifestyle, and wants to surround himself with people who will bring adventure into his life.

36. What’s a secret they’ve kept?

It's not exactly a huge secret or anything, and anyone with eyes can tell because he has scales, but Cadma is very hush hush about his dragon ancestry and blood. It's caused him no end of troubles and he'd really rather people see him as a person rather than the inheritor of a rare bloodline.

48. What do they see in their future?

Adventure, and lots of it. Maybe a couple near death experiences too, which he is not so keen on but it comes with the job :')

53. Which is more frightening to them: day or night?

Night. Visibility is low and it's too quiet. Fires burn too bright. You have to let your guard down eventually.

It's not a fun time.

64. Do they value mercy or justice more?

Definitely mercy! Cadma believes in second chances, and sometimes thirds. He's needed his fair share of them, so everyone else deserves chances too

69. How would they describe their party members?

Good fun and better friends! He's never been with people so easy to latch onto emotionally, and MAN is he attached to them…

---

Thank you so much for the ask, ilu!! It's so much fun talking about my characters, I love them a lot and the opportunity to get it off my chest has been really nice uwu

I am still accepting asks! And I finally have a page with links to my character's tags, in case anyone wants to peruse!

pwease... talk to me...

#ask #ask meme #sydney-jielin #flint locke #cadma #tangle #ilusm....#wild weast

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spideythot · 5 years

Text

Criminal AU part 3

Third installment of this au I’ve been working on; definitely more to come (sex must happen lol) But Enjoy!

Warnings: Kidnapping, coercion/blackmail, dubious consent, general criminality

———

They were late - 15 minutes was not enough time for Peter to get Tony off, especially when the man attempted to choke Peter with his cock. Peter ended up just using his hands and sucking on the tip until Tony came. Then the man insisted on getting Peter off, since they’d been interrupted, which Peter wasn’t going to say no to. After Peter had to wash his hands and change into one of his suits. Thankfully, Ms. Potts only glared at Tony and not Peter when they finally arrived a few floors down.

Peter sat next to Tony, Starkpad in his hands, and with Friday’s help, tried very much to keep up with note taking, future schedules and general coordinating in the meeting. Tony did his best to distract him, casually placing his hand on Peter’s leg from time to time. He would drag it up to the younger man’s thigh testing how far he could get before Peter pushed his hand away.

He tried to escape with the rest of the board members when it was over, but Tony caught him by the waist and dragged him to an office. They were thankfully followed by Pepper. “You have to make a decision on these projects and tell me whether or not we’re hiring an intern.

Tony pouted at her and then held Peter between them. “Personal assistants take care of Pepper,” he said.

Pepper rolled her eyes, but she handed Peter a Starkpad. “Just pick one,” she said. “I’ll deal with the internship.” Peter tapped on one of the folder files on the screen. She left them then, glaring at Tony as she did.

Peter slapped the man’s hand away after the door to the office was closed. Tony tried groping him again, and he even stepped away. “Stop,” Peter protested, “Don’t I have training or something?”

Tony shrugged. He grabbed Peter again and pressed him up against the desk. “I’ll train you...” he purred. “Train you to be the perfect little slut for me.”

Peter rolled his eyes and pushed him away. “No, thanks...” he grumbled.

“Then I’m sending you to get us food, and coffee,” Tony retorted. He handed Peter some cash. “I expect you back within the hour. If I have to track you down, I’ll be locking you up.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he took the money. He left the office and Stark Tower headed to his favorite deli - he’d be back right before the end of the hour, but he figured Stark could sweat about him running away. Unfortunately, when Peter returned with food, Tony didn’t even look up at him. He plopped Stark’s sandwich down on to the desk, then Peter dropped himself on the couch against the wall. “I’m keeping your change,” he announced.

Tony hummed and continued to ignore him. Peter ate on the couch, probably wrinkling his suit but he didn’t care anymore. He supposed in terms of captivity and servitude, this wasn’t terrible. Peter could even take a nap... just laying here, stomach full...

He was just dozing off when he felt a hand on him. Peter’s eyes snapped open and then narrowed at Stark, who was caressing his cheek. “Sleeping on the job?” The man teased, “I think I’ve got a reason to punish you.”

Peter scoffed and sat up. He pushed Tony’s hand away. “What else am I supposed to do?” He asked.

Tony shrugged and handed Peter his Starkpad. “Friday has some modules for you,” he said. “I’m going out, so behave yourself.”

Peter was about to ask where Tony was rushing off to, but the Iron Man armor began slipping out of its home to encase the man’s body. Peter stared, entranced by the silver trickle of the nanotech. His gaze met with Stark’s icy blue eyes and he immediately turned away, face flushing. Tony caught Peter’s chin and turned him back. He pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s lips. “Don’t wait up,” he purred, chuckling when Peter sputtered and pulled away from him. Peter hid his face behind the Starkpad, ignoring Tony until the man opened the office floor-to-ceiling window and flew off.

He played around with the training modules for almost an hour. Then he sat down at Tony’s desk and pretended he ran the place. The chair was plush, but had a bold modern design. It made him feel powerful, which is how he imagined Stark felt while sitting in it, staring down at whoever was in front of him. Probably some nervous intern... Peter shuddered. He opened up the Starkpad again and attempted to dig into Tony’s program files. Tony’s AI stopped him a few times, but Peter found a temporary way to bypass her programming. His digging got him a handful of projects: files on spending, engineering work, and some blueprints. All valuable, if Peter wanted to sell them to one of Stark’s rivals... but that would probably get him killed. He closed out of the programs. If he had his laptop with him, he could try to mess with Stark’s security - upload his own program and hack into more sensitive information. Maybe Peter could find something to level the field between him and Tony.

He was startled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. Before he could answer - or take his feet off the desk - Pepper was entering. “Mr. Stark isn’t here...” Peter stammered, standing up as she approached him. Had he really just said Mr. Stark? God, the man was getting to him.

“I know,” Pepper replied. She set a stack of manilla folders on Tony’s desk. “These are for Tony to look at when he’s back. It’s now your job to make sure he does it.”

Peter nodded. She raked her eyes over him and Peter had never felt more inadequate in his life.

“Friday notified me that you were trying to hack into Stark Industries’ mainframe,” she added. Peter stiffened and was about to explain, but Pepper held up her hand and continued, “You won’t get in, so I don’t care. But she sends those notifications to Tony as well.”

Peter honestly hadn’t thought about that. Pepper broke their gaze when he didn’t reply and left him alone. Peter sat back down, slumping in the chair. He’d dug himself a bigger hole. Shit.

He glanced at the files on the desk. Maybe Stark would let it slide, if he could distract the man with work. Peter began flipping through them, wasting time until he deemed it acceptable to return to the penthouse. Peter did attempt to go down in the elevator, but Friday blocked him. And then she locked the stairwell down for good measure. Frustrated and outsmarted by an AI, Peter returned to Tony’s home. He changed into some comfortable clothes - leggings and an old sweater Tony has bought him - and set up with his laptop on the couch in the living area. He worked on his own programs, wrote some codes, and checked his personal funds. He actually had money, since he didn’t pay rent this month and wouldn’t have to for a while. Peter perused some online stores and then turned on Tony’s tv to stream a movie.

He must’ve fallen asleep, because he woke up with fingers stroking through his hair. Peter glanced up at the television, some movie he didn’t recognize on the screen, and then his eyes darted up. Tony’s eyes were on the tv, glowing bright blue in the light. Peter’s head was in his lap, body curled up on the couch next to him. Peter shifted slightly, ready to get up.

Tony’s fingers lightly pressed on his scalp,

and the man held him in place. “It’s alright,” he murmured, “Stay here.” He massaged Peter’s head, and the boy relaxed against his legs again. It felt good, Tony stroked his scalp and even moved his hand down to Peter’s neck to rub it. Peter felt himself slipping back to sleep. He shook his head to clear it and sat up, despite Tony’s protest.

“What time is it?” he asked with a soft yawn.

“Nearly midnight,” Tony replied. He was still wearing the Iron Man armor, legs splayed wide as he sat on the couch. Peter’s laptop was still sitting open on the coffee table, but the screen was dark. He sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I should go to bed then,” he said.

Tony hummed in response. He grabbed Peter’s wrist and stood, hauling the boy to his feet. “Good idea,” he finally said.

Peter allowed Tony to walk him to the master bedroom. He stopped at the doorway though. “Can’t I have my own room?” Peter whined.

“No,” Tony answered. He tugged Peter forward. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at the man, but he was too tired to really care. He entered the room and flopped down on the bed. He watched the armor on Tony’s body slip away. Then Tony was stripping out of his clothes, tossing them to the ground. Peter’s eyes trailed down the man’s well muscled back as the clothing came off. Tony was so unfairly attractive... but Peter wasn’t going to be lured in by that. Tony glanced over his shoulder at Peter, and the boy quickly diverted his gaze. Tony climbed into bed with Peter, just in his boxer briefs. He pulled Peter into his arms. “Did you enjoy the show?” He purred into Peter’s ear.

Peter humphed and stuck his nose upward. “You wish,” he replied.

Tony chuckled and tucked Peter against his body. He was warm and Peter found it frighteningly easy to curl up in his arms. He yawned again and met Tony’s blue eyes. They were... still glowing? Impossible. Peter directs his gaze to the arc reactor on Tony’s chest. That’s where the glow came from, it had to be. He hesitantly touched the machinery as Tony watched him. It was a remarkable piece of technology - the most powerful armor in the world all housed in a neat little box. He stroked his fingers over the smooth surface and felt himself yawn again.

Tony kisses his forehead, large hand slowly stroking over Peter’s back and shoulders. “Go to sleep,” the man insisted.

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut and all he could offer in terms of a snarky comeback was, “You go to sleep.” Moments later, he was resting comfortably in Tony’s arms.

#starker #peter x tony #au #criminal au #supieror iron man #ironspider

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megarywrites · 1 year

Text

find the word game

I was tagged by @thewriteflame and my words were: improve, judge, keep, and lied (funnily enough, these snippets all come from around the same time in the book, so they're sorta interconnected. Also, they're not in order. (the actual chronological order would be keep, improve, judge, and then lied)) and, me being be, the snippets are all stupid long lol

I'll tag: @isherwoodj @aninkwellofnectar @pinespittinink @daisywords and @bebewrites and your words will be: nasty, never, nifty, noble, and nudge

improve(ment)

Solera stayed next to me as I trudged through the orchard, returned to the path, and started back toward the bluff. Dread pooled in my heart, and it sank further with every step. By the time we reached the top of the cliff, I slowed, my steps dragging until I kneeled in the grass, tears wetting my cheeks. She would be fine. She would get better. There was already so much improvement in the few hours we spent with her. Right? With Kolette looking after her, there was no way she would deteriorate like that again. I covered my eyes with a shaking hand, the vision of her curled up etched in my mind. In such obvious pain. So frail, too. Like the slightest breeze would have carried her away. A choked sob escaped, and I quickly covered my mouth, but it was too late. Solera had already noticed, and she was beside me again, arms around me, the sound of her voice soothing, even if I couldn’t focus on the words.

judge

He let out a long, clearly impatient sigh as I wrapped it around his waist and came around the front to tie it off in a limp bow. He reached up to preen his wavy hair into place as I returned to the wardrobe to grab a pair of his sandals. When I turned back, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, foot extended expectantly. So I knelt before him, slipping the first sandal on before weaving the straps around his calf. “We’ll head straight to the inner courtyard. I have quite a few criminals to judge today,” he said in a droll voice. He stood just as I finished tying off his second sandal, and I stuck close to him as he returned, inspecting himself in the mirror. He leaned closer, smoothing the mustache of his gray-peppered beard, then turned away, heading for the innermost door. I followed two steps behind, closing the door to his chambers behind us before quickening my steps to catch up to him.

keep

Water sloshed in the kitchen and I glanced to the door, the rim of my vision obstructed with forming tears. If I had to guess, Solera was making tea. Quickly too, from the sounds of it. I closed my eyes and pressed my head against Ma’s, any other possible solution nonexistent in my mind. The kettle whistled, my eyes flying open. She poured something, her footsteps approached and when she appeared in the doorway, she carried a large mug. “I made some tvinsta,” she said softly, glancing between us, her gaze settling on Ma. “Do you think you’ll be able to keep this all down?” When Ma nodded, she set it aside. “You have such a nice selection of potions, I was able to combine a few that I think will help you feel better.” She sounded so calm, so soothing. I could almost allow myself to relax. Just a little. She looked up at me, her warm gaze capturing my attention. “We should probably try to clean up a bit.” She was right, of course. I helped Ma into a new change of clothes and she took her tvinsta tea out into the living room and arranged the cushions for her to be comfortable while we cleaned the house. Ma murmured pained apologies as we bustled around, but we were quick to shush her and remind her to keep drinking her tea. She only retched once, but Solera already had a bucket sitting beside her so it didn’t get everywhere. My hands shook as I tipped the sick over the wall, tears springing to my eyes again. Did no one here care about her? Were they too caught up in their families and livelihoods to pay a now-childless widow any mind? I sloshed a bit of well water into the bucket, swishing it around, cleaning the vomit from the sides and bottom of the bucket before I dumped it out again. Should I even go back to Katania, now that I knew she’s sick? Laughter from inside was carried out on the breeze. Ma’s laughter. I grabbed the handle of the bucket and hurried back in to find Solera sitting with Ma, who was now all wrapped up in our biggest, warmest blanket, on the sooty edge of the hearth. Both of them looked up at me, then at each other conspiratorially, Solera breaking into a grin. “What?” I asked, my gaze darting between the pair of them as I placed the bucket down by Ma. “Oh, nothing.” Solera, taking the cue from Ma, tried to school her expression. Unsuccessfully.

lied

“There’s been something that I’ve been thinking about all day, and I’ve been meaning to ask you when I had the time.” He glanced at me again before picking up his goblet to take a long sip of his vina. Then, after clearing his throat, he continued, “About your mother.” My brow furrowed slightly, and he nodded, cutting off another bite of chicken. “You implied earlier that you hadn’t heard that she was ill, and yet”—he stuck the piece of chicken in his mouth, watching me as he chewed it with agonizing slowness. He knew…he had to know… “Sosta wrote to me to say that you had fled to Psari to visit and tend to her?” I sat forward, my mouth open to retort, only for him to hold his fork up, waving it back and forth between us. “Don’t speak.” I bit my tongue, thoughts of Osmari flooding back in my head. Instantly I released it and sank away from him, though my gaze didn’t leave his. Did Sosta reveal that Solera had been with me? Or did he just want to implement me in this. “So, you lied to me.” My breaths were coming shorter now. “You saw what happens when someone lies to me today.” I clenched my trembling hands even tighter, my tongue suddenly heavy in my mouth. “I don’t necessarily appreciate being lied to, Thala.” His attention dropped back to his plate, and he made me sit in perfect silence as he enjoyed several more bites. Until his plate was cleaned. Then he looked up at me, expectantly, and I reached out to grab his plate, cursing my shaking hands as I returned to the side table with the bowl of shaved fruit and a glazed mespoli. He picked up his knife and fork, gesturing with the knife for me to return to my seat. “Now,” he said as soon as I was settled, “I’m not without mercy. It’s understandable that you would be worried about your mother. It speaks to your devotion to her. However, if it happens again”—he paused, holding my gaze for a few seconds—”I’ll rip your tongue out myself. Is that clear?” I nodded immediately, eyes widening involuntarily. He cut off the tip of his mespoli, glancing over at me. “Why are you still sitting?” I hurried to stand, returning to the welcoming shadows, willing myself to melt into the wall as he finished his dessert.

#tag game #excerpt: seafoam #wip: seafoam #mc: thala galanis #sc: solera aurado #sc: mitapi galanis #sc: geros kyriaku #i wasn't expecting to reveal that her mother had become ill yet but here we are #anyways i hate Geros #but he's an interesting antagonist lol (hopefully)

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years

Text

Trust -- part thirty-five

It’s been a moment, hello! My mood took one of worse turns it has in a while the past couple weeks, but I think I’m back on track now (go to therapy, kids).

Also! I move into college in three weeks, and I won’t have as much free time. My goal is to finish this story before I move, though, so this is your warning that the end is near. Love you guys xx.

(Listen I don’t really like this part and idk if it’s my brain still in the weird mood or if it genuinely does suck, so be gentle lol)

“Sherlock,” you call, tucking your legs underneath you on the sofa.

“Hm.”

“When was the last time you went out?”

He gives his violin a strange look – he’s tuning it before he plays – but you know that look was meant for you if he wasn’t preoccupied. “What do you mean?”

“A case,” you clarify for him. “When was the last time you and John went out on a case together?”

“We just did a case last week.”

“No, that wasn’t a case, that was a small outing and you solved it in five minutes,” you reply tiredly. “I mean an actual case.”

“Oh,” he hums, lifting his violin to his chin. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you didn’t like not knowing.”

A glare is the next expression sent your way as he picks up his bow and begins to play. He’s been working on a waltz for John and Mary. He’s told them (promised, more like) he’ll play it for their first dance at the wedding, which, again you try not to think about the dreams you had. But it’s incredibly hard when life is appearing to imitate them in the smallest of ways.

“I’m just saying,” you speak over his playing. “I think it’d be good if the two of you got out and did a case together.”

The violin falls from his neck as he gives you a pointed stare. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you chuckle. “I just don’t want to be the reason you’re stuck in this flat for the rest of your life.”

“You’re not,” he replies firmly, lifting his instrument once more. “If I wanted to leave, I would. My brother’s security won’t be reason to stop me.”

“I know that,” you breathe. “Speaking of, if you were to go out, I’m sure Mycroft would send an extra guard. Or I could ask Mary to come over. Speaking of Mary, what time did they say they were coming over?”

“Noon,” comes Sherlock’s short reply.

It’s barely ten now. This is one of the rare mornings where you and Sherlock are actually awake in the morning.

“Well,” you heave out a sigh, standing to your feet. “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to make the waltz minor. I can hear it drifting that way.”

You’re not trying to annoy Sherlock necessarily, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t trying to push his buttons a little more.

He’s been cooped up in this flat with you for two weeks now. Yes, you’ve gone out occasionally, but after one instance of cameras swarming the two of you in a café, you’ve kept the outings to a bare minimum. The “case” last week was less hectic, you’re assuming because reporters didn’t want Lestrade arresting them, but it was short lived.

You’ve both become somewhat of a celebrity couple since returning from the hospital. It became known that Sherlock and his girlfriend – that’s you, even though, again, you and Sherlock still haven’t discussed labels – investigated and brought down a religious cult right here in London.

The case alone was intriguing enough for people to praise Sherlock, but throw in the fact that this seemingly emotionless human being has a romantic partner? Everyone is all over that now, and it hasn’t died down like John had hoped.

Which is why Mycroft still has security stationed at the bottom of the stairs, and eyes all on Baker Street at all times. You’re – meaning you and Sherlock – are no longer allowed to take cabs. Mycroft has a driver – his name is Ed, he’s nice – for the both of you and that is how you are supposed to get around. You think the only reason Sherlock doesn’t protest is because he knows how much of a concern your safety is – especially to him.

But still. You and Mary have been talking. Even John is a little antsy. The wedding planning is in the final stages, and the last thing really to tackle is seating and fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Mary has her wedding dress, John has his tux, as does Sherlock, but the bridesmaids – you included as Maid of Honor – don’t. You’ve got the color, at least.

The point is, you and Mary have seen that both of your boys need to go out and work a case together. Just to get them out. And to give you two some girl time, but that’s irrelevant. You need to get them out of the house again, like they used to do.

And you’ve got a plan.

~~~

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.”

You roll your eyes at Sherlock’s statement as Mary answers him. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends, that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

You reach over and squeeze her hand gently, earning a small smile. Mary’s past has always been a sore subject, and one that isn’t brought up often – except by Sherlock, in moments like these.

“We should have the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48—”

“But the rehearsal’s not for another two weeks, just calm down.”

“Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

“Sherlock, love,” you chime in, ignoring the way your brother’s eyebrows raise at your use of the word love. “I’ve never seen you more stressed. Just – take a deep breath.”

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary suggests, ushering him over.

You nod your head, urging him to join her. You sit curled up in his chair with a book, planning to help Mary after Sherlock and John leave, but of course neither of them know they’re going to be leaving just yet.

“John’s cousin, top table?”

Sherlock scrunches his nose. “Hm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

“Seriously?”

“Second-class post. Cheap card. Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp. Three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Aw, let’s stick her by the bogs.”

“Oh yes.”

You watch at Mary discreetly looks over her should, clearing her throat before asking, “Who else hates me?”

And of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, he hands her a list.

“Oh great, thanks.”

You snicker at Mary’s way of dealing with family troubles, not that John cares either way. He’s been scrolling through his phone the entire time.

“‘Priceless painting nicked.’ Looks interesting.”

“Table four?” Mary continues.

“Done,” Sherlock replies quickly.

John chuckles. “‘My husband is three people.’”

“Table five?”

“Major James Sholto. Who he?”

“Oh, John’s old commanding officer. I don’t think he’s coming.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of him. You’ve always known John was in the military, but he never talks about it all that much. And he’s especially never mentioned an old commanding officer before.

“He’ll be there,” John speaks up, so he’s clearly listening.

“Well, he needs to RSVP, then,” Mary counters.

“He’ll be there,” John assures her once more, still gazing at his phone.

Sherlock looks about as confused as you feel. He’s clearly curious about this and you’re almost certain you’ll find him Googling Major Sholto later.

“‘My husband is three people.’ It’s interesting.”

You give John a strange look.

“Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

“Identical triplets. One in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat,” Sherlock speaks quickly as he suddenly stands and floats (as you like to say) down to the floor. “Now, serviettes. Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Mary’s excitement and surprise is clearly written all over her face as Sherlock proudly displays the napkins. You even crane your neck to see.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation—”

“Fibbing, love,” you call out, shaking your head.

He sighs. “I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of…”

“We’re not John, we can tell when you’re fibbing,” Mary interrupts.

“Okay, I learnt it on YouTube.”

You snicker. “That’s more like it.”

“Opera House, please,” Mary chooses, satisfied that she got the truth. “Oh, hang on, I’m buzzing.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly. That’s the first code phrase.

“Oh, hi, Beth!”

And there’s the other.

You close your book, standing and following Mary into the kitchen. Sherlock is too busy folding serviettes to notice you’ve gone, and you smack John lightly on the shoulder as you pass.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t see why not,” Mary continues the act.

You stand over by the kettle, actually putting it on because you would like some tea, which gives you a plausible excuse for being in here.

“Actually, if that’s Beth, it’s probably for me, too. Hang on.”

John walks into the kitchen a second later, giving both you and Mary a tired look.

“He knows we don’t have a friend called Beth. He’s gonna figure out that it’s code.”

“He’s YouTubing serviettes,” Mary hisses.

“He’s thorough.”

“He’s terrified!”

“Of course he’s not.”

“He is,” you mutter from the kettle, looking up to John. “He is.”

“Right, you know when you’re scared of something, you start wishing it sooner just to get it all going? That’s what he’s doing.”

“Why would he be scared that we’re getting married?”

You leave the couple to continue bickering, part of you wanting a small private moment with Sherlock while they’re occupied.

You walk over to Sherlock where he’s quickly folding, and you make him pause, your hand smoothing over his shoulder. He turns his head to look up at you, his free hand bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“Would you fold me a swan?” You ask.

“Of course,” comes his reply, and you didn’t exactly mean for him to fold it for you right then, but he does, and a few seconds later, he’s handing you a swan.

“Thank you,” you chuckle. “I love it.” You carry it gingerly over to the mantle and place it next to where he’s got something stabbed onto the wood. “What is it now, love?” Upon closer inspection you see it’s a note. “Another one?” You ask.

Sherlock barely nods and hums.

You sigh. “And how long has this one been up here?”

“Two days.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Homeless network.”

“Someone in your homeless network handed you a note with ‘I O U’ written on it? Are you joking?”

“No,” Sherlock replies. “But Mycroft has them now.”

“So, your brother knew, too,” you mutter. “Lovely.”

“Don’t be cross. It’s only out of—”

“Sherlock Holmes,” you turn around to glare at him. “If you tell me you’re trying to protect me, I’m going to throw you out that window.”

He smirks as he stands, ushering you to come over to him, which you do. He’s like a damn magnet, this man.

“No need to throw me out the window,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to look in his eyes. “I only didn’t want you to worry.”

“You realize to me it seems like you’re keeping things from me.”

“I apologize.”

“Hm,” You fight back a smile. “Not good enough.”

He hears what you’re implying, so he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. “Better?”

You nod. “Better. One more.”

He grants your wish, pressing a kiss to your lips once again, pulling your body up against his in a way that would promise something more if John and Mary weren’t in the kitchen.

But they are, so you pull away, grinning. “I forgive you.”

“Seriously?”

“No,” you shake your head. “But you are a good kisser.”

He hums again, getting interrupted by Mary practically shoving John out of the kitchen. Your older brother stumbles into the room, giving you and Sherlock a weird – but not disgusted for the first time – look.

“Uh, kettle’s just boiled.”

You nod. “I’ll go help Mary with the tea.”

Leaving Sherlock and John in the living area, you disappear into the kitchen to help Mary with tea. When you round the corner, she’s sitting at the table, sipping tea and looking through a newspaper.

“They’re talking,” you whisper. “Fingers crossed.”

After a few minutes, Mary taps you on the arm. Time to see if they ever decided on anything.

You wrap your hands around the warm mug, raising your eyebrows expectantly as Sherlock and John fumble through an explanation on where they’re heading.

“Why don’t you go with socks?” You ask.

“You’ve gotta get the right ones,” Mary adds, earning a serious nod from both men. “It’ll take a while, right?”

“Yeah, my coat…”

“In there,” you nod. You flash Sherlock a smile that he returns. “Have fun.”

“Text me if you need me.”

“Mary is going to be here with me, Sherlock. Go out and have fun. And don’t come back for a while. We need some girl time.”

“Okay. The guard is just downstairs, and Mycroft—”

“I know!” You laugh. “Now get out of here.”

Sherlock and John disappear down the stairs for what seems like the first time in absolute ages. You and Mary let out of a shared sigh of relief as the front door closes.

“Now,” Mary begins, giving you a look. “Now that he’s gone, I have to ask, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you reply, sipping your tea as you sit down on the couch. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, with all this marriage talk, I just wondered how that head of yours was dealing,” she moves to sit next to you. “Have you mentioned it to him?”

“No, God no,” you laugh. “We haven’t even talked about whether or not we’re ‘dating,’ which sounds ridiculous. The papers say I’m his girlfriend, but he and I haven’t even talked about it.”

“I think it’s safe to say he is your boyfriend.”

“It sounds so primary school when you say it like that,” you grimace.

“Well the two of you act like you’re in primary school because you haven’t talked about it!”

�� “Okay,” you give her a look. “I don’t mind that we haven’t talked about it.”

“You don’t want clarity?”

“Maybe?” You shrug. “And maybe when I do, I’ll ask him, but right now, I’m happy with where we are. I’m content just being with him.”

“Alright,” she pats my leg. “I can tell he makes you happy. And I think John is coming around.”

“I think so, too,” you smile. “Or I hope he is, at least.”

“No, I think he is,” Mary nods firmly. “I’ve talked with him about it and I think he sees how protective Sherlock is and he values that. John wants someone that’ll keep you safe. And Sherlock does.”

“I feel safer than I ever have when I’m with him,” you admit quietly. “I felt safe with Tony, sure, but never like this.”

“And that’s what I like to hear,” she smiles brightly. “Now, what’s for lunch?”

You sigh. “I might be able to convince the guard to let us out.”

She grins, a bit mischievously. “Let’s do it.”

#i'm too lazy to really tag #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock fanfic #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #john watson #mary morstan #the sign of three #the bloody guardsman #half-sibling!reader #soft #a bit of tender romance

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rinakat · 5 years

Text

tagged by @doontpanic , thanks for tagging me! <3

Nicknames: Kat is one of them

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Last thing I googled: Slytherin traits LOL I wasn’t sure

Favorite musician: hm well lately I’ve been listening to Yesung and some MJ

Song stuck in my head: at work I always have “Ain’t No Sunshine” playing in my head

Following: +80 ppl, I mostly see my mutuals & some aes blogs

Followers: +200

Do you get asks?: Not really lol

Amount of sleep: I usually go for 7-8 hours

Lucky number: I don’t have one either

What are you wearing?: A shirt and sweatpants lol

Dream job: Idk. Something easy LOL ;;

Dream trip: I’d love to go to Japan

Instrument: Piano

Languages: I only really speak English, but I know some Tagalog, Spanish, Japanese, etc

Current favorite song: Tbh?? I listened to Smooth Criminal again one morning and now I can’t stop listening to it when I drive

Random fact: I like keeping up with basketball news but tbh I haven’t really watched a game since last year

Aesthetic: Ocean waves, blue skies, flowers & plants

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sighingstarbeam · 6 years

Text

Spies and Gods - Chapter 7

Summary: Reader wants to try and befriend Loki, but turns out he's a bit more difficult than expected.

Word Count: 3,051

A/N: Hi starlights (that's what I'm calling you lovely people for now on lol)! Sorry for the super later update, classes have gotten busy and quite a lot of personal mishaps occurred, but don't worry! I have a lot of plans for fics including this one, I'm even going to have a schedule to try and upload at least once or twice a month until I can get stabled with my irl schedule, then I could try and go for every other week. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

The next day you woke up with a to-do list fresh in your head.

First, you were going to fulfill your promise to Tony by helping him with his prototypes. He’s been working on new gear the last month for the team, he wanted you to jot notes down and maybe try one of the devices that won’t blow you up.

Secondly, you wanted to try and decipher your new neighbor, find out what it was that made him so mysterious. You could go with the direct approach, but you didn’t want to seem like an idiot and bug him. Perhaps inching your way little by little into his circle you could eventually discover more about the tall, dark haired demigod.

Before you could check anything off of your list, your stomach begged for something to eat. You changed into a new set of clothes for the day while sending continuous text messages to Lilly and Maya about the deity next door. Their response was what you would’ve expected, with them wanting to meet him and if he was cute. You rolled your eyes and made your way to the kitchen for some breakfast.

There you found the god of thunder drinking coffee from a mug that looked puny with his hand wrapped around it. Thor grinned ear to ear the moment he saw you walk through the doors, “Good morning, daughter of Stark!” He boomed, taking a sip from the tiny mug. “I hope you rested well.”

“Morning.” you forcefully smiled, you didn’t want to tell him of you and his brother’s awkward encounter the night before. You mentally cringed at yourself for going to Loki’s room in the first place. Speaking of which, looking around the room you didn’t see Loki, or frankly anyone else. It was just you and Thor, the god of thunder. This moment sparked an idea, since Thor grew up with Loki he could tell you everything you wanted to know about this god of mischief living next door.

“So, how are you and your brother adjusting here?” You asked, nonchalantly. You didn’t want to appear desperate.

“It’s been splendid!” Thor beamed, “I learn something new about your people’s way of life everyday. Yesterday, Stark showed me this thing called an ‘app’ on my cellular phone where I can match these small, colorful candies and they explode if I match certain ones.” The look on his face when he explained something as simple as Candy Crush made you smile, it was like watching a toddler discovering their reflection for the first time. “As for Loki, he’s taking it steadily. It has not been easy since his first visit here was… unpleasant.”

“Right, with the whole alien invasion thing. Why’s he staying here then? These people kind of did fight and defeat him.”

“Wasn’t entirely his choice,” Thor’s smile slowly descended, yet he still kept his positive vibe and attitude, “since my people have been here, Loki and I have tried our best to get them settled in and accustomed to your culture. We are no longer a kingdom, but I will still visit at the end of the month to make sure everyone is sustaining. I entrusted my good friend Heimdall to keep watch over my people while I help here. After we were done, I wasn’t sure of what to do with Loki. Obviously I couldn’t let him roam on his own, for he is technically a war criminal on this planet, yet I don’t wish to see him locked in prison for eternity. I spoke with Stark and Rogers and they both agreed to keep him here where he will be watched closely but have some freedom.”

“Yet they will still treat me as a prisoner.” A voice broke between you and Thor. There stood the god of mischief in his black and green Asgardian attire, “Pardon me if I’m interrupting your gossip about me, brother.” This was the first time you heard his voice. It was smooth with a touch of roughness when he spoke certain syllables, his accent similar to his brother’s.

“We were not gossiping, Loki, lady Y/N was simply asking about our adjustment to her society.”

Loki looked at you as if he didn’t realize you were there in the first place. His green eyes shifted up and down examining you, “The daughter of Stark. I expected something, different, when I first heard Stark had a child.” The way he spoke was almost demeaning, as if he was deliberately trying to demoralize you.

“What kind of different?” You questioned.

Loki let out a single, breathy laugh, “All mortals are pathetic, but there are few who have exceeded my expectations since my first arrival, including Stark. I would imagine that if he were to have any offspring they would live up to his degree of glory, but I was mistaken. Underwhelmed, as a matter of fact.”

Your blood started boiling in your veins. Who did he think he was to say those things to your face? Loki’s a prince, big whoop. He’s not on his planet now, you’d think that he would have a little more respect to the inhabitants, especially the one across the hall. It took every ounce of your mental and physical state to not sock this guy on the nose. Instead, you clenched your jaw and grabbed your favorite cereal from the cupboard with more force than you intended to. You didn’t care, you continued to get the bowl and spoon while you tried to calm yourself down and ignore Loki’s comments.

“Loki, remember, we are guests. There is no need for such words.” Thor tried to alleviate your anger by taking your side, except it would take a lot more than a stern talk with Loki to calm you down, “These people offered you a home when you know well they could have taken you to their authorities where you would be locked away for the rest of your life. The least you can do is be polite to lady Y/N.”

Loki slowly shook his head, giving Thor a disapproving look, “Is there a difference whether I’m in this prison or another here on Midgard? Either option I am trapped on this wretched planet.”

You paused as you opened the refrigerator, your face hidden behind the door. He really did think of Earth as a prison. But why? From what the rest of the team told you Loki was taken back to Asgard after the attack on New York to pay for his crimes. He acted as if he wanted to be back home to serve his time, or anywhere in fact. Did he feel remorse for the devastation he conflicted all those years ago? No, that couldn’t be it. Still, you thought the same thing when you were with Hydra, desperately wanting to get rid of the cause of your greatest guilt. You didn’t care if you were sent to jail, as long as you were far away from Hydra, the facility you lived in, Kilcher, or anything that was remotely tied to your past. Loki was now stuck on the planet he tried to conquer, constantly reminding him of his own past.

Quit it, stop feeling empathetic for him. Not even a moment ago Loki mocked you, your species, your planet- now’s not the time to feel sorry for him.

Thor glared at his brother, “Brother, you may sulk all you want, but I demand that you apologize to lady Y/N.”

Loki turned his gaze on you, lips pursed in a thin line, “My apologies…” Loki’s eyes looked down before he revealed a coy smirk, “My apologies that my brother has fallen for your filth of a planet.”

The sound of Thor smashing his mug on the counter startled you, fragments of ceramic scattering everywhere. “Loki! I swear by the-”

If Loki was going to be difficult, might as well have fun with it. “It’s okay, Thor,” you reassured him, Loki gave you a puzzled yet intrigued look, “Earth might not be the greatest, and I might not be like Tony, but at least I get to leave the building whenever I want, to wherever I please.” You could see Loki’s jaw tighten, his eyes widen in anger and disbelief while he clenched his hand into a fist. You were able to leave the god of mischief with a silver tongue speechless. What you would do to get a picture of this moment.

You grabbed your bowl of cereal and headed towards the doors, not before giving a peace sign to the Norse gods while you used your foot to open the door. You couldn’t see it from the other side of the closed doors, but you knew that Loki would be throwing a fit. Then you realized you probably shouldn’t have pissed off the powerful being next door. So much for trying to be friendly with Loki.

You tried not to think about Loki or your “discussion” with him and his brother, instead you helped Tony all morning with new prototypes he’s been working on. Most of the devices were add ons for his suits, but you did get to witness a few toys for Steve’s shield like adding an extra force field like thing around it. It had a scientific name, but it was too long for you to remember even the first half of it.

Sitting on one of the worktables, you were doodling on the notepad Tony gave you to write down what happened during the tests to the prototypes. You would take notes, but everything Tony told you to write down were scientific words not even a spelling bee champion could guess to spell it right. So instead you put down words like “thingy” and “sciencey stuff” for every word you couldn’t spell and drew poorly drawn sketches of the devices as well as random patterns along the border.

You were so absorbed in one of your designs, you barely heard Tony call your name. “Hey, Y/N!” Tony snapped his fingers in front of your face, jolting your attention back to reality, “You alive? I’ve been rambling the last five minutes. Did you catch any bit of it?”

“Huh?” You let out, “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I guess I zoned out for. What time is it anyway?”

“Wanting to ditch class, can’t blame you.” Tony looked at his shining watch on his wrist, “It’s been a few hours, I guess we can break for lunch.”

Your stomach growled at the thought of food. Tony waved his hand at a few hologram monitors to turn them off, an idea sparked in your head, “Hey, if you want we could go out to eat. I know this great sandwich shop a few blocks from-”

“Sorry, can’t. I promised Pepper I’d meet with her and the wedding planner when I got the chance.” Something inside of you sank. You’d hope that you’d get to know your dad a bit better in an environment where he wasn’t fiddling with some device larger than a phone. “Okay… What about tonight then?”

Tony hissed in a breath of air, “That’s a no go either, got a meeting. Boring stuff for a mission, but it’s gotta be done.” He saw your obvious shift in mood, “But uh- We can rain check, if you want.”

You shrugged in disappointment, “Sure, rain check.”

Tony was clearly oblivious to your emotions, he winked and left as if nothing happened. You understood that he was a busy person, but he was the one who wanted to connect with you. For the past month you’ve only seen him about once every other day, every day if luck was on your side. When you did see him he was still working in his head, barely paying attention to what anyone was saying, but only chimed in with a snarky Stark remark. You wouldn’t be completely discouraged that he wasn’t paying attention to you as much as you’d hoped if the rest of the Avengers weren’t busy as well. The team either went on missions, meetings, training S.H.I.E.L.D recruits, or some sort of research. At the beginning of your stay you felt as though everyone was together, like a family. With your luck you should’ve figured there was a catch to living with the world’s mightiest heroes.

You left the lab not too long after Tony to find something to eat in the kitchen, suddenly not feeling the urge to go out for food like you intended. Walking down the long corridor with only the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls filled you with a sense of loneliness. Even though you knew there were people scattered around the building somewhere, there was still that empty pit somewhere deep inside that felt familiar. The last time you’ve felt this hollowness was when you were with Hydra when the rest of the children avoided you after you were thrusted with the role of executioner. Your peers stopped talking to you, sitting near you during meals, even went out of their way to not look at you as if you were a monster who would attack at any moment. They were right. The fact that you are a monster created by monsters was what isolated you, not only from the children, but from becoming someone else.

The sudden twinge in your chest slowed your footing, the memories of Hydra, of Marcus, flooding back. All of those children... You took a deep breath. You needed to find someone to get yourself out of your head.

You barely remembered arriving to the kitchen, but the moment you closed the doors you felt a

moment of relief. Until you saw who was sitting in one of the lounge sofas with a magazine in hand.

“Oh, sorry.” you told Loki, his eyes only shifting at you for a brief second before going back to his magazine, “I didn’t think anyone was here, I thought everyone was out-” his green eyes glared at you as you stopped yourself from speaking anymore. You realized what you said now and your earlier conversation, you thought it would be best to shut it entirely before making things worse. “I’ll just… get something to eat.” You shuffled away as Loki rolled his eyes, going back to the magazine.

The kitchen was usually well stocked, but your stomach couldn’t decipher what it was in the mood for. You looked through the cabinets, drawers, fridge, nothing you saw sounded good, even your favorite leftover takeout. As you searched for your lunch, you glanced to Loki who was still silently reading. You were surprised he was out here instead of cooped up in his room like you were your first week. Maybe Thor forced him out as a start to bond with the others. Speaking of which, you thought you should try to make amends. Not that you were going to apologize since he totally started it, but an act of kindness might suffice.

“Did you want anything while I’m over here?” You asked, taking out the bread, “I think I’ll make a sandwich if you want one.” He didn’t say a word or even acknowledged you, Loki continued to read. You looked closer at what magazine he had, “I didn’t take you for a Cosmopolitan guy.” Still nothing. “I’d think you’d be more of a TIME magazine type.”

“I wouldn’t be reading this garbage if this prison had a decent library,” Loki snapped, “or even an actual book or two.”

“Oh.” Don’t pay attention to his attitude, play nice. “What do you like to read?” Good, small talk, that’s a start.

Loki scoffed, “As if you actually care. Did my brother put you up to this?”

You inhaled to try and keep your cool, as Loki was making this difficult yet again, “You don’t have to be skeptical whenever someone is trying to be nice to you.”

“You call mockery kindness?” He tossed the magazine on the coffee table before standing up, finally facing you, “You have a hilarious sense of humor for whatever game you’re trying to play.”

“What are talking about?” You question with folded arms.

“Don’t act so daft. One moment you act like an innocent creature, then the next you-” Loki paused, meeting your eyes with his. You could see rage building behind them, and something else? Could it be sorrow? No, it couldn’t be. Yet again, you don’t know his full story. But you do know that he was about to call you something nasty.

“Next I what? Act like a total bitch because you’re acting like a bratty kid complaining about their life?” You took a few steps towards him. Loki stood his ground as you approached, only a couple feet away from him. “You could be in a worse situation than this you know. You could be in prison with walls barely taller than you with no magazines or your own time to get food, or even the luxury of having a conversation, even if it’s just me getting pissed off!” You stepped closer until you were face to face with the god. You could see the details of his green eyes that are now filled with distress, his face remaining stoic. The two of you ended up in a staring contest for a few moments, both of you silent which was getting on your nerves even more, “Well? Please, say something!”

Loki opened his mouth as if to speak, when you feel something in the air shift. Not tension, but something you couldn’t explain. Physical? Emotional? Whatever it was, something lifted around the two of you like a heavy weight on your shoulders. Was it all in your head, or did Loki have something to do with it?

Suddenly, a faint sound that you couldn’t tell what it was began to form underneath you. By the look on Loki’s face he heard it too. As the sound grew louder, you both realized the source was coming right beneath not just you, but Loki as well. A ring of what looked like yellow-orange sparks formed at Loki and your’s feet, “Not again.” Was the last thing you heard Loki breathe out before everything went dark and you felt yourself falling through the air.

#spies and gods #spies and gods chapter 7 #chapter 7 #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #reader inser #marvel #the avengers #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #avengers #mcu

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