#its like. frustratingly close to being done. it's just little things i have to stitch together

[blood-choke]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i'm doing my best to finish ch3 for halloween. cutting it very close. having flashbacks to college procrastination and finishing an essay and submitting it at 11:59pm. i'm doing my best! i got some feedback from a friend on this conversation that's been taking up most of my time & i'm feeling pretty comfortable now which has allowed me to really get into a rhythm. everyone cross your fingies and pray

[guqin-and-flute]

In Your Hands--Ch. 2 [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[Chapter 1]

[This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

Yanli is determined to set about evening the exchange of their gifts after she finds a little chest full of her favorite floral incense on his pillow next to her when she wakes. She would like to collect information as he does, sifting through conversation to remember errant tidbits about interests but he is as frustratingly tightlipped on the subject of himself as he ever is. Agreeable to any attempt to draw out his preferences to the point of obfuscation. “Don’t you love this color, A-Yao?” elicits a kindly, “It’s very lovely,” no matter the color in question. She thinks it might be his way of not being a bother, because he certainly isn’t doing anything intentionally. Little does he know that, in reality, it’s making things more difficult on her.

I will know you, she thinks, watching him with keen eyes as they all eat breakfast together and talk. I will give you what you want, if only I could find out what that is.

He catches her watching and tilts his head, smiling in question.

“How are your dumplings?” She asks as an excuse, gesturing. 

“Oh, very good. Would you like some more?”

This man. 

His plate holds a bit of everything on the table, including one of A-Xian’s favored spicy dishes--while it’s something, she already knows he had grown up in Yunmeng and can tolerate spice. She just doesn’t know whether he likes it or not.  

It has almost become a game, to her, if not to him--though she thinks it might be, at least a little, for she sees the flash of satisfaction in his eyes when he lets her take his arm and breathes deeply, taking in the scent of the incense she had let envelop her as she dressed that morning. “You smell wonderful,” he murmurs and she feels herself flush up her neck, even though it had been the whole point of steeping herself in it to begin with.

“Thanks to you.” When she lays her head on his shoulder--partially in thanks, partially to hide her pink cheeks--she feels him lean closer.

She wants to delight him, to see him pleased and surprised into a genuine smile. But more than anything, she truly wants to know more about him. 

There is an inkling of a clue when she buys a guan for him made of graceful silver arches that form a lotus that seems to sit upon water that is reminiscent of the hair pin he had gotten her. When she presents it to him at bedtime, he seems surprised. He lets loose a soft, “oh,” turning it this way and that in his hands. Watching him, triumphant, she slides out her own pin and twirls it next to the guan, allowing her hair to begin its tumble down. “We’ll match.”

For a moment, he simply looks between the two ornaments, one hand coming out to slide his fingertips down the beaded chain of hers. Then, he smiles at her, and it’s wide and very nearly new. “We will.” 

“You like it?”

“Of course, it’s beautiful! I will like everything that you choose to give me.”

She scrunches her nose and tweaks his cheek. “Well, that’s hardly fair! How will I know if you truly do and aren’t just pretending for my sake?”

Turning, he picks her hand up from the bed and chastely brushes his lips across her knuckles. “I will like them because you are the one who gave them, A-Li.”

And at long last, it’s something! Because she thinks it’s true. Perhaps, for him, like it is for her, it is not the usefulness, or the beauty of the thing, but the loving it was given from. She has kept the little drawings A-Xian has given her since he was young, the little carved creatures of wood and soap that A-Cheng used to whittle her (though, realistically, they are little more than blobs she was told are bears and the like. Whatever they look like, they are blobs of love.) She has them lined up on a shelf in her old room, and has brought a few over to the room shared by A-Yao. They make her smile to see because they were made for her; love in a little scene she can revisit through touch again and again. Sometimes, she simply holds them and remembers how it used to be.

This, she decides, is probably what she should focus on for A-Yao--a shelf of happy memories and the knowledge he is loved. 

So, when she is sitting in her favorite pavilion one bright and breezy morning and He Si, one of the servants, delivers a gorgeous new calligraphy set to her and informs her with a barely contained grin that her husband has sent it, Yanli sets to work. After she unpacks and marvels over shiny new things, of course. It’s all sleek and beautiful and of the highest quality.

All morning, she uses his new gift to write him notes that she spends the afternoon ferreting away into places he will find them--like in his pockets or his desk drawers or under his spare boots. Some of them are little lines of poems she cherishes, one or two are shy sketches of the butterflies that had visited and twined through the fluttering, gauzy green curtains as she wrote, and more, still, are idle little thoughts she thinks will warm him. ‘I will be pleased to see you at dinner.’ ‘Remember not to work too hard.’ ‘Have a good day.’

She even gets the joy of seeing him find one while on a walkway, tucked in between 2 delivered missives with the help of He Si’s sleight of hand. The brisk, dutiful stride to business pauses and Yanli watches his slightly bowed head as he reads, the sunlight sliding down his hair like silk. When he looks up and around, she slips behind a delicately carved pillar on impulse so that he can’t see her. Then, she peeks back around. He’s looking back down at the slip of paper in his hand, his mouth a small curl of aching fondness. This one had said, ‘thinking of you.’ Warmth spreads through her when he folds it, neatly and carefully, into his fingers and presses his knuckles to his lips, closing his eyes. It is a moment of him with no mask in sight and she would feel sheepish for intruding if it didn’t bring her such happiness just to see his own. Even after he resumes his purposeful stride and disappears indoors, she is grinning, glowing, and allows herself a moment to seek out He Si to review the heist. “Did it please him?” the girl demands, excited. “What did it say?”

“It’s a secret,” Yanli teases. “And oh yes it did.”

It continues in this manner almost daily, when his gifts allow it; he gives her a parasol and she invites him on a walk under it with her; he buys rich embroidery thread and she weaves a delicate braid for him to wear or display a pendant from. He presents her with a fine silken handkerchief that she returns only days later, embroidered and thoroughly infused with the incense he had given her, draped over his pillow. Sadly, she didn’t get to witness this discovery, but she does see him slip it from his inner pocket as he removes his outer robes, that evening. As she watches him from the bed, Yanli resists the most absurd urge to bashfully pull the covers up over her nose and asks, “You...found it, then?”

Instead of answering, he slowly sits on her side instead of his and spreads it between them on the covers with deliberate care, one side of his mouth tucked up, that dimple pressed in sweetly in the lantern-light. “A pair of mandarin ducks,” he observes, voice quiet, eyes on the handkerchief as he runs his fingertips over it.

“I stitched them myself.”

“They are masterfully done and the colors are beautiful.”

“It was the thread you gave me. I wanted....” The intentions, the symbolism gets caught on her tongue and she blushes. Husband, she has to remind herself. It’s allowed! It’s expected! A long and happy marriage is what one is supposed to want. He makes the prospect of closeness and affection all at once so mysterious and alluring, almost a forbidden thing (though the thought is a ridiculous one, she admits.) “Do you like it?”

He raises his eyes to her and they are night soft. “A-Li, may I kiss you?”

Yanli’s heart jumps to her throat in an anticipatory sort of apprehension and her hands twist in her lap. Anxious without fear; she trusts this and him. “You may.”

Though she had kissed his mouth once before, he had been still, accepting the simple press and nothing more. Now, as he leans in, his hands settle lightly on her jaw, tilting her face up to him, his lips are a sure, gentle slide over hers. It’s odd to have someone so close to her face, and it’s  warmer than she would have thought--not to mention wetter. But not bad. 

Oh no, definitely not bad. 

A-Yao kisses her with the same keen attention he gives everything else; controlled and intent. It feels as if he is slowly sampling her, sometimes the pressure feather-like and almost tickling, and other times an earnest press, inviting her along. The entirety of her skin grows hot at the realization she is being experienced and she can feel her heartbeat as if her entire chest is a drum. He makes it easy, a song that sounds vaguely familiar without completely knowing the next step. She doesn’t feel lost or stupid or silly. She feels wanted. Precious.

When he draws back, her lips are tingling--who would have thought such an ordinary part of her face could produce that much sensation? One would think she would have noticed this before!--and he is watching her carefully. His own lips are slightly pinker and without thinking, she reaches out to touch them, wonderingly. His watchfulness melts at her touch and he smiles against her fingertips--his mouth is warm, like her own when she lifts her other hand to compare. 

“That was….”

“Good?”

“Oh, it was strange but I think I liked it. I--can we try again?”

A-Yao laughs and reaches out as she eagerly shuffles forward on her knees. Yanli allows him to draw her onto his lap sideways but, this time, she reaches out and draws him down. And being the good, patient man that he is, he lets her try again and again as she wishes, moving as she does.

There is no sudden revelation or awakening as she had secretly hoped there might be with such a kiss, (how easy that would have been, if all the whispers and stories and songs had all aligned with ultimate clarity and understanding within her, if it was all at once as easy as everyone else made it seem). But it is new and oddly pleasant to simply be in his arms, closer than she has ever been before, sharing with him. He pulls away and takes her wrist, eyebrows pinched. “You’re shaking. Are you alright?”

Oh. It seems she is. It isn’t fear, but instead a sort of deep trembling that seems to originate from her core, almost like excitement or the kind of giddy terror of a friend chasing you in a game of tag. She smiles up at him. “It’s...new. I think I’m just getting used to it. You’re my first kiss.” 

Something she can’t define as positive or negative before it’s gone passes over his face and he gathers her up, burying his face in her neck, squeezing. She curls back around him, hands stroking his soft hair. “I’m so glad it’s you,” she murmurs, the ghosts of the kisses still shimmering on her lips. “You’re so sweet and kind to me. How did I get so lucky?”

Against her throat, he sucks in a deep, shaking breath before pulling back to deliver an almost perfect smile, the slight tremble in the corner of his mouth the only thing betraying whatever depth of emotion he is feeling. “Jiang-furen,” he says with playful reproach. “You simply can’t steal my lines like that. What will I be left with?”

In response, she clasps his face and leans up to rub the tips of their noses together. "Oh, you're so very clever. I'm sure you'll think of something."

[tayerroos]

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium.  Read on AO3 Chapter: 13 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: Torture, Body Horror

[jetsetlife138]

Lofty Cries With Trembling Thighs

This is my submission for @youngmoneymilla​ Eliza’s 5K Challenge (Which turned out to be 15K - Oops)

Song for Inspiration was Purity Ring by Lofticries

Summary: After Loki’s attack on New York, the mischievous god takes you hostage and you find yourself in a very compromising situation. No one said being Tony Stark’s sister was going to be easy. 

Paring: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Smut, Language, Stockholm Syndrome, Attempted Sexual Assault, Sex Under A Spell

Loki took an apprehensive glance around his familiar surroundings. Not so long ago he was held captive in the same type of cage made of impenetrable glass and iron. The god smirked to himself as the memory of his elder brother's helpless face entered his mind as he vindictively pushed the button that dropped the cage from the aircraft, which at the time held only his brother. He had left Thor to fall to his doom… or so Loki had hoped he would. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. promptly rectified their previous mistakes and created a new, similarly built holding cell so that this time there was no chance of escaping as he was once again be held here against his will in their flying headquarters. Loki admitted to himself that he was genuinely surprised that they would detain him here considering how he had so easily escaped the last time with the help of his cohorts.

Loki released an exasperated sigh of frustration. His plans had been so quickly ruined. Midgard domination was so close that he could taste it. Something that seemed so easily attainable was no longer in his grasp. Or was it? Oh no, this was a major setback, of course, but by no means did it mean that he would lie down like a dog and accept their retribution. He would not allow himself to be dragged back to Asgard, humiliated in front of the subjects that he once lived among as a prince, only to become their inferior. Little did S.H.I.E.L.D. know that the worst thing they could have done was left Loki alone to his thoughts, for he had already begun to plan his next attempt to rule at any cost.

---------------------

"Stark! For the last time, that is property of S.H.I.E.L.D. and you do not have clearance to touch that!" bellowed Fury, clearly losing his patience with the billionaire, playboy philanthropist also known as Iron Man.

"Relax, I'm giving your outdated equipment a much needed upgrade. Are you aware that your missile reactor has cross-wired with your sub particle beam?" Tony asked airily. He looked expectantly at Fury for a reply.

Fury narrowed his good eye at him before responding. "I'll have someone look into that, but for now I need you to meet for the debriefing of the attack on New York.” 

"Okay, fine," Stark replied sardonically. "But if this ship disintegrates when you apply the sub particle beam to the interlock core, I will not hesitate to trip you to be the first to escape."

Fury fought back an eye role. "Duly noted. Now, please sit down, Stark."

Stark saluted Fury mockingly before taking a seat among the other remaining Avengers. Exhaustion and exhilaration was thick in the air from their triumph of defeating an entire galactic army from taking over the world.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is working on damage control around Manhattan. We will take care of all the publicity surrounding this as well. The Council disagrees with my decision to leave the fate of Loki to you, but clearly I don't give a damn," Fury stated bluntly. "We have enough to worry about without the god of mischief still around headquarters. Do any of you have any ideas on how you will handle this situation?"

Thor was the first to speak. "It is of no question. Loki will return home to Asgard to await judgment. It is clear that Earth is not capable of detaining a god. He will accompany me when I travel back."

No one bothered to argue. It was an unspoken relief that Loki would no longer remain on Earth where the possibility of escape was easier than it would be on Asgard.

"Does anyone disagree with that?" Fury looked around at everyone's tired faces knowing that no one would oppose. "Then it's settled, Loki will return with you."

"When will that be exactly?" asked Steve, still in his dirty and torn Captain America suit.

"As soon as possible,” Thor replied. “With the Tesseract it will be a quick ascension into Asgard."

Fury rubbed his eye frustratingly with his hand. "The Council is not going to like that you are taking the Tesseract, so let's just keep our mouths shut about it until you're gone, got it?" Thor nodded in response. "The Cube is being held in Level 4 under Selvig's surveillance. I will see what I can do to clear it for removal. Until then, the rest of you get cleaned up; you're a mess. Refer to Level 2 for medical treatment." 

Before Fury exited, a thought occurred to him. "Thor, you may want to take a team and get your brother some medical treatment as well. I'm not saying that watching him bleed to death would be tragic," Thor gave him a hardened look filled with warning, "but if you want him to return to your realm alive, he will need medical attention."

With that, everyone took their leave - Fury to Level 4, Thor to the detainment level, and the rest of the Avengers to Level 2.

"Clearly this is not going to work," you grumbled in frustration. "Dr. Banner, you cannot lose your temper with me. I know you don't like it, but if you want me to close that gash, you're going to need to stay calm and stop arguing with me. I kid you not, if you even start to turn green I will feel no guilt when I plunge this needle in your neck to knock you out!" Of course you were lying. you would feel guilty and you knew that if Dr. Banner started to transform they would all be in serious danger to the point where a simple needle of anesthesia would do nothing.

"I'm not arguing with you. I'm just trying to tell you that it will heal on its own. Stitches are not necessary and they won't last." Dr. Banner had to be the most patient man you had ever met, unlike you who had run out of patience hours ago after treating what seemed like endless patients from the attack on New York. 

"Fine, Bruce. Then get out of my chair and let me do my job for people who really need it." Your tone was playful, but you were truly exasperated. Bruce was familiar with your way of bossing people around when you felt overwhelmed, so he didn’t take it to heart. 

He chuckled as he lifted himself from the chair and his spot was quickly replaced by your brother, Tony Stark. "How are you holding up?" he asked, concerned, knowing you were working diligently so that you could quickly get to everyone you needed to.

Dismissing his concern, you replied, "My dear brother, your humanity is showing. Quick, cover it up before anyone sees!"

"I'm serious," he insisted, though the corners of his mouth lifted slightly into a grin. "I know you've been working around the clock and I don't like-"

"So have you, Tony,” you interrupted. “I'm not the one who risked my life out in the streets of Manhattan to protect the world from impending doom. Though, if we're being honest, I think you're getting old. You were really slacking out there. It took you longer than an hour to solve the problem. That’s not like you," you teased. You two were too much alike. It was a treat for others to see someone give Tony a taste of his own medicine. 

"Just shut up and stitch me up, you irritating-OW!" he cried as you stuck him with a numbing needle.

You smiled menacingly with a facetious tone. "Oops, sorry, Tony!" 

He mumbled insults under his breath until you had finished. Once you and your medical team had completed your work on Tony, Natasha, and Clint, you sat down and never wanted to get up again. It had been non-stop patients for the past couple of days. "Is there anyone else that needs to be seen before I pass out?" you called out, hoping that you finally had time to rest.

"Just one if you do not mind." Thor spoke from the doorway. "It seems that my brother needs medical assistance."

He entered the room with a team of S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers surrounding the wounded god. You had seen him on the news and information screens throughout headquarters, but had yet to stand in his presence. He was clearly exhausted and refused to meet your gaze, instead searching around the room with his piercing green eyes. His hair hung in a mess loosely around his face and his clothes were torn and bloodstained.

Distracted by your distaste for the Norse god, you hadn't realized that you had not given Thor an answer. "Miss Stark?" Thor urged to gain your attention. Instead, the attention he had received was from his brother as he snapped his head up with interest. 

" Miss Stark?" Loki questioned with an acidic tone. His eyes then met yours with a challenging stare, freezing you in place. He smiled wickedly, an idea quickly forming in his head before speaking, "What a privilege it is to meet you, Miss Stark."

Refraining from responding with sarcasm, you had instead nodded at Thor, and motioned for Loki to sit so that you could exam him. His gaze seemed to penetrate your soul as he studied you. In his opinion, you had somewhat of a dull appearance. Your facial structure resembled that of your brothers, though you appeared to be much younger. You had hair that was lifted into a binding contraption to be kept up out of your face in an unkempt manner. Your eyes were slightly red from exhaustion and you leered at him with loathing, a look that he was quite used to. 

He was also attuned to the fact that there was also a slight hint of curiosity in your eyes as your gaze held his. It seemed as though you were searching for something in his harsh features. Not that you would find anything. Loki was quite talented at keeping his emotions and facial expressions limited. He was the god of mischief after all. What fun would it be if he so easily displayed his true feelings?

You felt uneasy as the god sat for his examination. He didn’t frighten you per se, but you could not deny that he intrigued you. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask, and yet you could hardly stand to look at him, let alone listen to him speak. He was the reason your home was destroyed. He was the cause of the hundreds of deaths in the past several days. You had never met him before now, but already you detested him. Regardless, your opinion of him did not stop you from doing your job, as much as you secretly wanted to refuse his need for medical attention.

Thor stood awkwardly in the doorway watching his brother intently. "I am needed on Level 4. If you are alright, I will take my leave until he is able to return to the detainment facility." You simply nodded your head in agreement, focused on the task at hand.

Loki watched with interest as you scribbled notes onto a clipboard and then proceeded to snap white rubber gloves onto your hands. He could not deny that though he found the human race to be repulsive and unworthy of existence, their ways of living were fascinating to observe. It was like watching ants in a colony. Everyone played their part as they were trained, but their lives were unnecessary and could easily be eradicated with a little force.

His cruel thoughts abruptly ceased when you approached him and without warning placed both of your hands on the side of his face, inspecting his wounds. He instinctively flinched away from your touch, for he was not used to such close interaction with humans. For a brief moment your eyes met, causing a stir within you, and you looked away quickly, which elicited a smirk from the god.

You walked around the room gathering items that you needed to clean and close the wounds. It was difficult with all of the security in the way and you were beginning to feel claustrophobic. "Okay!" you finally snapped. "I need you guys to get out! Please, I cannot work this way! For the love of god, just wait outside!"

One of the soldiers immediately protested, "Ma'am, we do not have clearance to leave the fugitive alone. He needs to be under 24 hour surveillance."

Huffing in response, you replied, "He’s not going to be alone. I will be here. He is restrained and I'm not saying you have to go all the way to the other side of the ship - just outside of the room. You can keep an eye on him right from the door. I am not joking when I say that one of you is going to get stabbed or sliced with one of these tools if you don't clear out!" It wasn’t normal for you to lose your temper so easily, but you were overworked and hadn't slept in the past two days. The cramped quarters were getting to you, and it didn’t help that the source of all of the slaughter was sitting right next to you. 

They exchanged glances with one another, finally agreeing to step outside so long as they could see Loki clearly from the glass, which wasn’t an issue with the large windows lining the walls of the room. You could finally breathe once they filed out, giving you the space you needed to work. 

Loki remained seated, silently observing his human healer. His eyes widened in surprise as you approached him with a steaming wet cloth and brushed it over his face without any explanation to your actions. "What do you think you’re doing?" he snapped, bemused and irritated.

"I can't tend to your wounds with your face being this dirty. It needs to be cleaned," you replied as you once again swept the cloth over his face.

He noted that you were not being rough with him as others had been. You had a stern, almost angry expression on your face, but you washed his face carefully. "You have a gentle touch, Miss Stark," he remarked placidly.

Confidently, you replied, "You won't be saying that when I'm sticking needles into you." Loki laughed aloud, taken aback and amused by your comment.

After a few more moments of cleansing him, Loki decided to do what he does best, and attempt to get a rise out of you. "So," he began suggestively. "Tell me, Miss Stark-"

"Y/N. Just call me Y/N," you interrupted, pulling the stitching material out of a drawer.

"Very well then," he continued with another wicked smile. "Tell me, Y/N , what is it like living in the shadow of your brother, the genius?" 

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you replied sarcastically, "It's rather cold, actually. I never get to see any sun."

The god chuckled at your quick-witted response. He was beginning to find you to be quite amusing. "I would imagine so. He certainly has everything one should desire to obtain in this life. Wealth, admiration from your kind, power, love…" he trailed off, raising his eyebrows at you, pushing for a response.

Unfazed, you didn’t bother to meet his expectant gaze. Instead, you were focused on the cut on the bridge of his nose as you applied the numbing cream to prepare for stitching. "Yes, my brother is quite the lucky man," you replied flippantly, brushing him off. 

You had a close relationship with your brother, but there was no jealousy between the two of you. The things that were important to Tony weren’t important to you. You didn’t really desire wealth, or admiration, or power, or even love for that matter. You found solace in doing your job and living freely without any restrictions. 

Foolishly, you thought it would be a good idea to antagonize him further. "You're one to talk, Loki. You should know better than anyone what it's like to live under a shadow," you commented smugly. You knew all about his vendetta against his brother from what the others had told you. "Thor is much bigger than my brother, so I would imagine it’s got to be a much bigger shadow than the one that I’ve supposedly been under."

"Mind your tongue, girl," he snapped. The rage building in his eyes was apparent and frightening as you stared into them. "You know nothing."

"I know enough to understand what kind of man… correction, monster you are, Loki. Don't presume to think you know anything about my life. I have no interest in casual conversation with you. I'm here to do my job, so please, don't make this any more difficult than you already have."

Loki would not stand for being talked down to and he was not about to let her speak to him with such arrogance. "Do not treat me like a child.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at his wording. "What about this conversation do you find to be humorous?" he asked, annoyed at your nerve.

Still laughing, you answered, "All of it." You noted his puzzled expression as you began stitching his nose, admittedly impressed at his pain tolerance. He did not even flinch as you stitched. Though you should have known, seeing as it would take something equivalent to the Hulk to make him feel pain. "It's just amusing how much power you think you have over people while you're sitting here, restrained and waiting to go back to Asgard with your tail between your legs. You have no power over anyone anymore, so excuse me while I find amusement in your berating."

Loki was stunned; completely speechless, not from surprise, but from complete rage. How dare you. His fists were clenched so tightly he had lost feeling in them. His lip quivered involuntarily as he fought back harsh, cruel words in order to maintain his facade. Oh, you would pay for your insolence, but it would be slow, deliberate, and so painful that you would be down on your knees begging for death, and only after you had pleaded enough and suffered to his liking, would he grant you your wish in the most excruciating way possible.

His lack of a comeback both astounded and unnerved you, though you would never admit it. You couldn't help but briefly wonder what thoughts were cascading through his mind. You had immediately regretted your taunt as soon as you had said it. The worst thing you can do with a psychopath is put yourself on their radar, and you may have just accomplished that.

You had just snipped off the remaining stitching material, finishing your work. "Your words are your best defense, aren't they?" you asked, truly curious about his answer.

"No. Though a worthy and entertaining defense, it is not my best."

"Do I dare ask what your best defense is?" you asked as you began putting away your tools.

" This is my best defense," he whispered directly into your ear, making you jump. It happened in a matter of seconds. You turned your attention towards Loki who had somehow escaped his restraints and stood directly in front of you. You leapt backwards in surprise, not noticing the other Loki behind you, still sitting on the examination chair. While the other Loki distracted you, the real Loki had somehow frozen his chains that were binding him, making it easy for him to break through them with his godly strength. 

The moment the double Loki appeared, security had rushed into the room, but Loki was too quick for them. As they had their eyes set on the double next to you, the actual Loki had approached you from behind placing one forceful arm around your neck and the other around your arms, locking you in an iron grasp.

"Surrender now or we will shoot!" one of the soldiers yelled while the others took aim at both gods. Too stunned to fight, you found yourself gasping for air due to his too tight grip around your neck.

"Now," Loki whispered threateningly into your ear. "Humor me, Y/N. Remind me of how powerless I really am."

You had no response as panic started to take hold of you. Loki’s cold, green eyes darted from the soldiers pointing their guns directly at him to the woman he was tightly gripping in his arms. A cunning smile was plastered across his face at the feeling of being in control once again. His double had dissolved into the air, so there was no longer any confusion as to which of the two Loki's was the real one.

"I said, stand down or we will not hesitate to shoot!" the soldier called out once more.

"Give it your best attempt, I urge you," Loki replied calmly. He knew that they would not attack while he held the sister of Tony Stark.

Loki leaned in to whisper in your ear once more, making you shiver. "You see, power is not difficult to acquire. You simply need to know when and where to make your move." Anxious to make you suffer, he grabbed your arms even tighter knowing how easily humans bruised. "I ask you, do you now find me threatening?"

"Take your hands off of me," you hissed in retaliation, fighting the urge to cry out from the ache in your arms. To your dismay, you felt the unsteadiness in your voice betraying your effort to sound brave.

He laughed darkly at your feeble demand. "I would love for you to make me."

"Loki, do we really have to do this again?" asked a familiar voice from the doorway. Loki's attention snapped from you to the man layered in shades of red, white and blue.

"Your ability to sense trouble never ceases to amaze me, Captain Rogers. Do tell me how you easily seem to make an appearance when trouble arises."

"Threats are everywhere, all the time. You just have to know where to look," Steve remarked casually.

A slight jab on the top of his foot distracted Loki for a brief moment. He smiled when he realized what it was. "Did you honestly presume that stomping on my boot would cause me enough pain to release you?" he asked you, highly amused.

Your lack of response confirmed his suspicions. He chuckled before addressing you, "You're going to have to try a lot harder than that. I am a god , you ignorant dullard. I am practically invincible to you pathetic mortals, and you think you can escape my grasp with a weak attack of your heel? Pitiful," he finished with a sneer.

You knew that  it was a useless attempt, but you were far from ignorant. What Loki did not consider was that you had no intention of hurting him - but to instead distract him, which you had successfully accomplished.

As Loki scoffed at your endeavor, Steve motioned for one of the other soldiers to leave for backup, hoping it would go unnoticed by the god so that he would be caught off guard.

Once Loki's attention was turned back to the soldiers, Steve urged him once more to surrender, which went quickly dismissed by the god. "Haven't you learned anything by now?" Loki asked angrily. "I will surrender to no one. I am not one who easily falters. I refuse to lie down and be driven into the ground by such a low race of beings. You will be under my rule and I will be king of this world. You do not have the means to contain me forever. There is not a single doubt that dwells in my mind that you shall all fall to my glory, beginning with this wretched excuse for a life in my grasp," he spat as his gaze fell on you.

"You can go to hell," you retaliated against him, though still in immense pain from his grip.

He pressed his face against you so that you could feel his smile against your cheek as he whispered, "What you fail to realize, Y/N, is that I have already been there. You know nothing of hell, but I promise you this…," he murmured as he leaned in impossibly closer to you. "You will."

You hadn’t considered Loki's presence to be truly terrifying until that moment. With those words your blood seemed to turn cold as your breath became shallow and hitched as you remained stiff against his body. He was pleased as he took notice of your fear and laughed silently to himself.

Glancing towards the soldiers, you had wondered if they had heard Loki's cruel words, but by the confused and intrigued face of Captain Rogers, they had not. 

Pleased with the desperate expression on their faces, Loki slowly removed his hand and brought you closer to him. Groaning in refusal, you tried to lean away, but you were no match for his strength. He wanted to get a rise out of Captain Rogers and in doing so, he slowly bent down to gently place his lips on your neck, kissing it softly, eyes never leaving the Captain’s enraged face. 

Upon feeling the god's lips on your neck, you ripped away, revolted. He pulled you back abruptly, laughing wickedly. "Your courage is short-lived, mortal. Tell me, do you fear death?"

Ignoring him completely, you were too focused on Captain Roger’s bemused expression, which wasn’t what you were expecting. It was as if he was not even looking at you or Loki, but past you both through the window. As much as you wanted to, you didn’t dare glance behind you in fear that you would give away whatever it was that caught his attention.

Unfortunately, Loki had a keen sense and was very aware of his surroundings, immediately taking notice that he no longer held the attention of the group of soldiers. Intrigued, he took a moment to turn around to observe what the others had been so captivated by.

He did not even get the chance to fully face the direction of the distraction. A sudden large blow to his head caused him to release you from his grip. A blunt object had shattered through the glass behind him, pushing him with such force that he fell through the hard walls of the room. Irritated, he pulled himself out of the debris and brushed off his clothing as he faced his assailant.

Iron Man stood before him, guns blazing with Captain America by his side, his own shield raised in defense. Loki tightened his lips together in displeasure as his eyes wandered past them to observe you, quickly being pulled to safety and guarded by the other soldiers. 

"I was beginning to think you would fail to make an appearance, Stark," Loki huffed.

"I wouldn't miss an opportunity to battle with the Rock of Ages," Stark sneered, trying to cover his anger with humor.

"By all means," Loki smiled, attempting to provoke him into action, "Enlighten me with your combat expertise."

"I plan to," Stark stated simply, signalling for the other soldiers to remove you from the room.

Loki watched intently as his eyes followed the soldier escorting you out into the hallway. He was nowhere near finished with you yet and would surely see you again soon. It was his new mission. 

The moment the two of you had left the room, Loki was blasted back into the wall by an explosive to his chest. He growled with vexation as he once again crawled from the debris. With a sly smirk, he quickly multiplied himself into at least twenty different Loki's scattered all over the room, laughing menacingly. Steve seemed to be fighting empty air as he punched through them, searching for the real Loki.

Stark turned on his heat sensor to scan the room to find the real Loki. Before it was complete he was assaulted from the back of his head, causing his suit to spark from the impact. He quickly turned for a counter attack, but never got the chance. Following his attack on Stark, Loki was cursing and squirming for he had been apprehended and was being held tight within Thor's arms.

"Release me, you ignorant brute!" Loki bellowed, seething in his grasp.

It hardly seemed to be a struggle for Thor to keep Loki locked within his iron grip. "Be reasonable, brother. This is for your own good as well as everyone on this ship."

"You do not actually believe that, do you?" Loki argued against Thor, still trying to separate himself from him. "We are gods ! I should not be treated so lowly! These humans think that they can contain me with their contraptions? They will soon learn otherwise!"

"Take him back to the holding cell," Steve demanded. "We'll maintain the twenty-four hour surveillance to watch over him in case he tries anything else.

Thor held Loki in position while one of the soldiers bound his wrists in chains. Loki sighed in irritation as he refrained from struggling any longer.

He allowed Thor and a team of soldiers to escort him back to the cell he had come to know so well. On the walk back to his prison, his eyes wandered to a room where you were being inspected by the rest of the medical team to ensure you weren’t compromised. When your eyes met Loki's he gave you a wide, wicked smile before he winked, providing an unspoken promise as he passed the room and continued to his holding cell.

---------------------

Hours later, much to his annoyance, Loki’s cell was surrounded by the Avengers. He eyed his visitors, pleased at their frustrated, brooding gazes. "What have I done that deserves such an audience?" he asked with false innocence.

Fury stepped forward with a stern gaze. His posture was noticeably stiff as he spoke. "Your attempt to kidnap a civilian was a futile attempt to escape. I cannot begin to wonder what goes on in that head of yours, but did you really think that your plan would work?"

Loki tilted his head back and barked a low, vigorous laugh. "That was not an attempt to kidnap one of your kind. My gesture was a simple greeting and a promise."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" asked Fury, suspicion evident in his voice. Loki's lips peeled back from his teeth to reveal a sinful smile for a response.

Tony, still in his Iron Man suit, less the helmet, walked toward the glass that was imprisoning Loki. "And now I have a promise for you; If you even so much as think about laying your hands on my family again, I'll kill you. That’s a promise that I intend to keep." His face was livid, his upper lip curling in loathing at the god.

Steve and Natasha gave Stark a look of warning in response to his provocation, which he either didn’t notice, or blatantly ignored due to being too focused on Loki.

"Such a temper, Mr. Stark." He paused for effect and also to relish in Tony's look of frustration. "I have plans for the rest of you, but for her… she will suffer in ways that you cannot even imagine; not even in your worst nightmares."

Tony punched the glass with the suit, causing the entire cage to shake, compromising its hold. Steve and Clint grabbed Tony to drag him from the room as he shouted profanities, which were drowned out by Loki's maniacal laughter.

Once Tony was out of earshot, Fury turned towards Loki tiredly. "I do not have the patience to sift through your head of craziness to find out what you’re really up to right now, but we have a lot of time. Get comfortable, because you're going to be in here for a long time." He slowly walked out of the room, followed by Natasha and Bruce, leaving Thor alone with his brother.

"Have you no remorse, brother?" Thor asked heatedly with an underlying sadness.

Loki sneered with annoyance. "I have little remorse for those who are so far beneath me."

"You think yourself above them?"

"Well, yes," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "I assumed that much was clear."

Thor took a moment to contemplate before asking, "Do you think yourself above me ?"

"I do," Loki simply stated. "You are arrogant, you are reckless, and you do not have what it takes to be a King."

"Tell me, Loki. What are the qualities a true King should possess?" Thor questioned, his anger becoming more apparent. "Is it greed? Selfishness? Pride? If those are indeed the requirements for a King than you truly are well on your way."

"Do not criticize me," Loki warned. "It takes power, insight, strength, knowing your place, and understanding the role of those beneath you."

"You are so blinded by your own jealousy that you cannot see the truth!" Thor shouted, masking his heartache with rage. "Loki, this is madness!"

"Is it madness?" Loki snarled, his lip quivering with rage. "You can keep me locked in this mortal-made contraption as long as you see fit, but you know as well as I do that it will not keep me. The Tesseract may have the power to return us to Asgard, but for how long? I will rule this realm and there is nothing that you, nor any other being can do to stop it. It has been written in the stars, and I will do what I must to ensure my rightful place on the throne." His voice had become a growl and his body shook with fury as he slowly approached the glass in front of Thor.

"You wish to know if I have remorse? You will soon discover how little remorse I have, brother," he spat at the last word. "Now, remove yourself from my presence," he demanded as he turned away from Thor, indicating that the conversation was finished.

Thor sighed, his heart filled with grief. "I shall not give up hope for you. I believe that one day you will come to your senses and willingly reclaim your place amongst us in Asgard - your home."

"Leave me!" Loki demanded, still turned from his brother.

He waited a moment before he heard Thor's heavy footsteps leaving the room, shutting the large door behind him without another word.

It was not long before he heard the door open once more, softer footsteps approaching his cage. "I will not say it again!" he shouted angrily. "I am in no mood for your lecture!"

"I didn't come here to lecture you," replied a smooth, calm voice.

Loki whipped around, surprised to see you standing alone before him. He eyed you carefully before speaking. "What has possessed you to speak with me if not to lecture me?"

"I'm a curious person. I have questions," you answered simply.

"And you presumed that I would hand them over to you without any fuss?" he asked in return.

A slight smile graced the corners of your mouth. "No, which is why I thought I would use my charm and wit to obtain them."

"You're as arrogant as your brother," Loki scoffed, meaning to sound harsh but instead came across as amused.

"And you're selfish, unlike your brother," you pointed out flippantly.

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he held your gaze patiently, waiting for you to avert your gaze in discomfort at the intense eye contact. When you didn't, he stepped closer to you, curiosity overcoming his psychological tactics. Breaking his focus, his eyes fell to the bandage wrapped around your wrist that he had apparently injured when he held you. You took notice and lifted it up to give him a better view. "You didn't break it," you began. "It’s just a sprain."

"I know," he plainly stated.

"You know?"

He nodded.

"What was the point? It hurt like hell, but you’re back to where you started, so I really don’t see how hurting me did you any favors," you stipulated. 

Growing bored of the discussion, he quickly changed the subject. "You spoke of questions you sought answers to. Do not waste my time any further. Ask them," he demanded.

You were slightly taken aback by his somewhat compliant demeanor, but didn’t dwell on it too long. "Why didn't you kill me? You could have done so easily. Why didn't you?"

Loki huffed, already irritated with you. "Was it not obvious? I needed you as leverage to escape."

Still watching him carefully, you took a moment before replying. "Liar."

"Take care how you speak, girl," he warned.

Stepping closer towards the glass imprisoning him, you continued, "If you were so intent on escaping you could have done so much more easily than hiding behind me like a coward."

"I am no coward!" he bellowed, coming forward, rage evident in his piercing green eyes. "I am a god, and I fear nothing ! Especially fragile, pathetic mortals."

Swallowing thickly, you felt uneasy, but stood your ground. "Why is power so important to you?"

He growled and began pacing around his cell trying desperately to maintain his sanity. "You need to leave," he snapped.

"You haven't answered any of my questions," you protested, not at all happy with how abruptly the conversation came to an end.

To your surprise, he then threw himself against the glass, fuming. "You damn fool! I did not kill you because that would be too easy and too quick! Your lack of respect for me is insufferable and you shall pay for your insolence!"

The grin you had on your face fell the more he spoke, true terror arising within you. "It will be my dearest pleasure - my sincerest delight to make you suffer. I crave to see the look in your eyes as I am ripping the skin from your bones, you intolerable quim. That is why I did not kill you!"

He relished in your frightened expression as you stepped back from the glass, the shock of the situation evident in your movements. "As for power, I do not seek it, I deserve it," he hissed. "I was born to be a King, and with that comes power. I am burdened with glorious purpose, something that you will never understand." When he was finished, he was breathless, panting due to his emotional outburst.

Still taken aback by his violent and threatening words, you prodded your cheek with your tongue in thought. Just like your brother, you were nothing if not persistent, and though you feared for your life, you were not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "Well," you spoke airily before turning around to walk out of the room, "I'm sure that in the end you'll get everything you deserve, Loki."

He knew the true meaning behind your words as you exited, but said nothing. He quickly grew tired of this game and needed to put his plan into action. It was time for him to break free of this absurd cage and begin his new life as King of Midgard.

Once finally back in your suite, you didn't waste any time in heading for your shower, turning on the hot water, undressing and stepping in. You exhaled a sigh of relief as the steaming water engulfed you, finally able to wash away all of the grime, blood, and dirt that had gathered on you over the past couple of days.

As you cleansed yourself, you heard someone calling your name distantly. Irritated by the interruption, you stuck your head outside of the shower to answer. "I'm in here! What do you need?" you called out.

No response.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continued with your shower. Not even a minute later, you heard your name again. The voice was low and soft, sounding close by. Once again you shouted out, "Yes? I'm in the bathroom. Who's there?"

Once again, there was no response.

Huffing impatiently, you quickly rinsed so you could find out what was going on. You stepped out of the shower carefully into the steamy room, wrapping a towel around yourself. Walking past the mirror, you noticed something odd in the foggy reflection. Pausing for a moment, you wiped away the steamy layer covering it. Staring at your reflection, you froze in shock. Red liquid was falling from your eyes in small droplets, leaving trails of scarlet down your face. Hesitantly, you touched your fingertips to your cheek and pulled them away to view the liquid substance that you now understood was blood. There was no denying it; you worked around it every day.

Beginning to panic, your breath quickened as your heartbeat thrummed faster while you looked from the blood on your fingers to the streaks on your face, all the while more blood was falling from your eyes.

Hyperventilating, you turned to grab some tissues to dab them on your face to wipe away the blood, but when you inspected the tissue, there was no blood.

Glancing back to the mirror, your sanity came into question as you realized that you were no longer crying blood. Stunned, you blinked your eyes several times to make sure that everything was alright. Clearly you had become deranged from lack of sleep and mental exhaustion. 

During your panic, you heard a familiar chilling laugh echoing softly throughout the bathroom. Whipping around to investigate, you tried to determine where it was coming from, but saw no one. That's when it occurred to you what had just happened.

Outraged, you hastily clothed yourself with a tank top and shorts before stomping your way out of your room and across the ship to the containment facility holding the mischievous god.

Bursting through the doors and fuming with annoyance, you addressed him bitterly. "What the hell kind of game do you think you're playing?" you questioned furiously.

He smiled crookedly before replying in a mocking tone, "Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

"How dare you!" you roared, your loud voice bouncing off of the walls in the large room. "How the hell did you even do that? Your powers are supposed to be contained in there! And what was the point? What, you think by messing with me I’m going to race in here and just let you out? You’re not as crafty as you think, Loki! You’re not Shawshaking your way out of there."

"I am unfamiliar with your references," he replied, eyes boring into yours. "But you should not have made the mistake of underestimating me."

"What is it that you want from me?" you asked, your rage quickly diminishing into exasperation. "Why do you find the need to keep torturing everyone around you?"

"Your torture has only begun," he promised as he seethed from behind the glass.

"Stay the hell away from me, Loki."

"I plan to do the exact opposite, Miss Stark," he replied with an acidic tone.

Preparing a snappy retort, you opened your mouth to respond, but before the words even left your mouth the room went dark. It was pitch black around you, and you couldn't even see an inch in front of your face. A loud bang rang through the room and the floor beneath you started to shake. You quickly turned to try and run to find your way back to the door, but you were violently grabbed from behind. Before you could try to scream your mouth was aggressively covered by a rough, cold hand. The chilling sound of Loki's low voice started to whisper words into your ear that you couldn’t even begin to decipher. It took a moment for you to realize that he was speaking in another language. Moments later, your mind went hazy and your consciousness started to slip away as you unwillingly drifted off into a deep sleep.

The involuntary shivering of your body is what woke you. Scrunching your forehead and eyes fluttering open, you fought to regain clarity as your mind recollected what had happened before you passed out. Forcing yourself to sit up, you groaned aloud in protest of the soreness of your body. When your vision cleared, you outwardly gasped at your surroundings. 

You were lying on a king-sized bed with a canopy overhead, so comfortable that you almost didn’t want to get up. Looking around, you noticed that you were surrounded by regal decour in a large room. There was a fireplace on the wall opposite you with fancy, velvety couches in the middle of the room, facing each other with a small table in between. Vintage damask green and gold designs lining the walls with a golden trim along the dark, plush carpet. What held your attention most of all was the fact that there were no windows or doors of any kind - only solid walls. 

A shiver ran through you again, causing you to instinctively wrap your arms around your shuddering form to try to retain some warmth. Where were you and how the hell could you have gotten here?

"Hello?" you croaked out due to your dry throat.

No answer.

Clearing your throat to evoke some volume, you screamed at the top of your desperate for someone to acknowledge your presence.

"There's no need to raise your voice to such a level," responded an intense, velvety voice.

Turning to your left in the corner of the room, you saw the mischievous god, sitting casually in a chair, legs crossed, watching you intently. "Loki!" you snapped, your chest tightening at your situation. "Where the hell did you take me?"

“I believe that I had promised to make you suffer, my dear. To break such a promise would undoubtedly prove to be imprudent, would it not?"

Still shaking, you forced yourself out of the bed and onto your feet, daringly stepping closer to your captor. "Tell me where we are, Loki," you demanded. 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly into an arrogant smirk, which irritated you. "Our current location is irrelevant, for you will be begging for death soon enough."

The malice in his voice was evident, which only encouraged you to be more aggressive. "You're even more insane than I thought."

He stood up then, his movement graceful and unnaturally fluid. Walking towards you in gentle strides, he seemed to glide towards you, his black and green robes flowing as he moved. When he reached you, you stood your ground, too upset to think clearly. His hand snapped forward, roughly wrenching your face closer to his, earning an involuntary groan of protest. You could already feel the bruises forming on your cheeks due to his fingers gripping you so tightly.

"Take care how you speak," he threatened dangerously as he relished at your exclamation of pain. "Allow me to make this perfectly clear; you are going to expire here, Miss Stark. I have brought you here to ensure your much-deserved anguish. Your outbursts and insults have been uncouth and not at all appropriate for your future King. I shall use you to set an example for all those who believe that there is hope. I intend to not only break your spirit, Y/N, but your earthly body as well. When I am finished with you, I will return your corpse to your dear brother so that he may see my good work. Do you understand me, mortal?"

The malevolence in his eyes as he spoke shook you to your core. His words were venomous and cut through you like daggers, and the weight of them prevented you from thinking of anything to say in response…

So you spat in his face.

He pushed you away with so much force that you fell backwards onto the floor, taking the opportunity to crawl back as far as you could to distance yourself while Loki made noises of disgust. You didn’t get very far since the large bed was right behind you. 

"You foolish wretch! Where do you find the audacity?" he bellowed, wiping away your saliva from his face. "You're more trouble than you're worth," he complained as he picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder as if you were a rag doll. 

You landed with a thud as he threw you onto one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. With a wave of his hand, you found your wrists and legs bound together in rope while a cloth forced its way around your head in front of your mouth, preventing you from speaking clearly.

You stared daggers at Loki, not missing the way he grinned as he inspected your, admiring his handiwork. Your protests and explicatives were muffled due to the cloth, and sadly uninterpretable. 

Loki chuckled as he stood over you, extending his arm to brush back the hair that had fallen forward when he carried you. "I very much prefer you this way," he commented on your inability to speak.

The glare you gave him could have destroyed even the hulk if it had any power behind it. However, he wasn’t fazed in the slightest. "I am truly curious as to what you're attempting to say, dear Y/N. Please, enlighten me," he cooed deceptively, snapping his fingers.

Relief quickly turned to embarrassment as you released a quiet sob once the gag was removed. Loki's lips peeled back into a satisfied grin, making you want to slap it right off of him.

He moved closer to you, his posture stiff with his hands held behind his back in an elegant stance. "For one who seems unable to control her tongue, you seem to be at a loss for words," he teased slyly.

Instead of bellowing slurs like you had originally wanted, you simply laughed, causing Loki's forehead to crease with curiosity. "You know, Loki," you took a moment to pause while you released a frustrated sigh. "You think you're so superior to me and to humans in general, but if you would take a moment to consider it, we're not so different."

"Your theory is fascinating," he retorted with mock interest.

Not commenting further, you interpreted his intense gaze as an indication to continue. "It's evident that you're in search of something that you aren't getting in your realm, wherever the hell it is that you're from."

"Asga-... Jötunheimr," he nearly spat with distaste.

"Okay, fine," you continued. "Like a lot of humans, you seem to want the impossible. You may have powers and supernatural strength, agility, etcetera, but you're still a lost soul, trying to find your purpose in life."

Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously causing a chill to run through you, but you continued regardless. "Additionally, you, like many humans, are selfish, cruel, and ruthless. The only difference, is that even underneath all of that, most humans have an underlying sense of decency and goodness. You, on the other hand, will never be more than a conceited child - throwing fits and demanding attention. So, before you put yourself on a pedestal, recognize where you stand among every race of beings that you've encountered. You're hated by humans, gods, and from what I can tell, also by any other creature you have come across. You are no better than them. You're not superior to any of us."

Involuntarily, you found yourself cowering slightly as Loki’s expression went blank, slowly reaching for your face. Just as before, he painfully jabbed his thumb and finger into your cheeks as he brought your face closer to his own. His upper lip quivered with rage as he seethed at you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke dangerously lowly. "I will show you just how different we are, Miss Stark."

Still holding your gaze with his own, your eyes widened when his emerald green orbs slowly started to change from the light color to a pool of red and black. Captivated by his eyes, you did not even notice his skin changing color as well into a frosty blue until he brought his other hand towards you to hold your throat tightly enough so that it was difficult to breathe, but not so harshly as to cut off air completely. 

Regardless of his actions, you were awestruck by his appearance. He was unlike anything you’d ever seen. It was known that he wasn’t biologically Asgardian, but you had never pictured him to look this way. He looked menacing, sure, but there was also a mystifying factor and even a sense of beauty about him. It was strangely mesmerizing. 

He quickly resorted back to his familiar coloring as he continued to clutch your throat tightly. "I easily grow tired of your senseless rants, mortal. Perhaps I should permanently resolve the issue," he said as he gave your throat an extra squeeze before viciously thrusting you back onto the couch, releasing his grip and standing over you once more. 

Clutching your throat and coughing at the intrusion, you couldn’t contain your facial expression as you looked him over.

"Do not pity me," he snapped.

Surprised that he knew exactly what you were thinking, you replied, "You make it hard for me not to pity you, Loki. You have such misplaced rage and it’s just… it’s very sad.”

A surprise shriek escaped you when he unexpectedly wrenched you from the couch. One of Loki's hands gripped the hair at the back of your head tightly and the other was positioned around your waist, pressing you close to his form. "Let go of me," you grunted as you pushed against his chest.

He was like a solid rock against your attempts to create some space. You shivered as his raspy voice came close to your ear. "One way or another, you, you will show me respect. Even if I have to rip it out of you as death envelopes you, I will have it. It would suit you well to accept that now rather than later."

Before you had a chance to respond he dropped you to the floor. You released a painful grunt as you hit the ground hard, eliciting a frustrated sigh from the god. "Your incessant mewling is pathetic and I can no longer tolerate it."

"Oh, excuse me for not handling being kidnapped and thrown around like a champ," you snapped, earning yourself an exasperated eye roll from Loki as he bent over to effortlessly pick you up, uncharacteristically being more gentle than he had previously as he carried you in his arms and tossed you onto the bed. 

“I must take my leave,” he mumbled, turning away from you. 

“What?!” you all but shrieked. “You can’t just leave me here! For fuck’s sake, what do you want with me?”

“All in good time, Miss Stark,” he promised with a wink. 

With your hands and feet still bound, he left you to your thoughts as he snapped his fingers and faded into nothing.

---------------------

Heimdall could watch no more. He turned his gaze away from Loki, stricken by his actions.

"Good Heimdall, what troubles you?" asked a soft, regal voice.

"My Queen, I fear that I have only remorseful news to bring you."

Frigga placed her hand upon Heimdall's large shoulder and looked kindly into his eyes. "Tell me, Heimdall."

With his alert eyes meeting Frigga’s expectant blue ones, he responded as thoughtfully as possible. "It is Loki, my Queen. He is unyielding in his search for power and his scheming knows no end. I do not yet know of his plans, but he is adamant on supremacy and revenge. He has recently taken upon himself to indulge in the captivity and torture of humans, one in particular."

The Queen’s eyes were tired and filled with grief. "Heimdall, I believe it may be time to take matters into my own hands."

"If I may be so bold, what is it you plan to do?"

Frigga stepped to the edge of the rainbow bridge where the Bifrost once stood and looked upon the endless galaxy before her, taking a moment of reflection before her reply. "I will provide Loki with what he has craved for so long… love and adoration from humans." She turned to meet Heimdall's curious gaze. "One in particular."

---------------------

"Tony, you need to calm down," Natasha urged quietly, demonstrating one of her many talents by power of persuasion. Unfortunately for her, Stark was not as easily swayed as her previous targets had been. 

Tony was leaning on the counter top, holding his head in his hands, and tightly gripping his hair in anger and frustration.

Bruce stepped closer to the hot-headed Tony Stark, avoiding the shards of glass spread across the floor due to Tony's fit of rage that was taken out on his own mini bar. "I know that what you're going through is difficult, but you're directing your rage in the wrong area."

"The big guy knows better than anyone," chimed in Clint from the corner, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms in an almost bored posture. “You should listen to him.”

Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I do know what I'm talking about. You need to separate yourself from the situation. Take a step back, and try to think clearly."

That made Tony’s head snapped up, his hair slightly out of place from his grip. His brown eyes darted around the room in a panic before they settled on Bruce. "How exactly do you expect me to remove myself from this outlandish situation, Banner?" He stepped around the bar, walking closer to the remaining Avengers, the glass loudly crunching beneath his shoes with every step. "Y/N is my goddamn sister. I’m responsible for her, and I failed to protect her. How can I step away from that?"

"Mr. Stark, with all due respect, Y/N is an adult. You are not her bodyguard and you are not responsible for what happens to her." Tony's head whipped around so fast it was almost unnatural, his glare now falling on the man dressed in patriotic colors, standing on the far left of the room with a somber look on his face.

"Tell me, Rogers," Tony nearly spat. "Who have you had to look after? You are responsible for no one but yourself. Everyone you knew or cared for has passed on. You have absolutely no comprehension as to where my responsibilities lie with my sister."

Steve's jaw tightened at Tony's harsh words. His thoughts immediately went to the last World War he took part in. He remembered the look in his friend's eyes as they widened with fear as he plummeted from the train into the dark, snowy ravine. He had failed to protect his friend. He knew all too well what Stark was feeling, but he had learned to cope with the loss by convincing himself that it was out of his control and no one was to blame.

"I think what we're all getting at is that instead of standing around arguing, we should come up with a plan and execute it. In order to do that, we need clear heads so that we can think reasonably," the soldier spoke with patience.

"What exactly are you insinuating?" Clint asked, still in his relaxed stance, arms still crossed. "A rescue mission? Because the last time I checked, no one had any idea of Loki's whereabouts and there's nothing that we have that will lead us to him. We have absolutely nothing to go on."

"That's not exactly true," Natasha advised, interrupting Clint's rant. "We have him ," she insinuated as she pointed towards Thor.

Everyone's attention turned towards Thor who had been waiting silently by the door, gazing out of the window lost in his thoughts over the situation they had found themselves to be in. Turning his gaze towards Natasha, he asked, "Me?"

"Yes, you," she answered. "You know Loki better than any of us. You know his habits and behaviors. Where is somewhere that he would go to hold someone captive and remain hidden?"

Thor's face was somber and he carried a sad, defeated expression on his face, which was not one he expressed often. "You forget that I have been estranged from Loki for quite some time. He attempted to end my life several times. The ties that bind us have been broken and I may not know him as well as I once thought. I may not be of any help."

"It's worth a shot," The Captain spoke sternly, nodding to Thor for him to continue.

Thor lifted his fisted hand to his chin, a motion he did when he was deep in thought. He sifted through his thoughts and spoke them aloud. "Loki is no fool, but he is a creature of habit. He will seek a place that is remote and not easily accessible."

Clint chuckled quietly in the corner. "Well, that's specific." His laughing was instantly silenced when he caught a glimpse of Tony's glare. "Anything else?" he asked, hoping to avert Tony's attention away from him.

Thor continued as if he was uninterrupted. "Loki does not take well to defeat. He will return with a vengeance, which is perhaps why he has taken your sister. He may have plans for her, or it may have just been a ruse to disorient S.H.I.E.L.D. Regardless, I know that he is plotting revenge, not only on me, but the rest of you as well." He paused as he gazed out of the window again. "I do not have Heimdall's sight, and I cannot return home without Loki, and even if I did there would be no way for me to return to Earth. However, there may be a way to contact Heimdall and he may lend us his sight so that we may find my brother. Until then, all we can do is wait and you must search for any abnormal occurrences throughout your planet."

Bruce sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes in frustration. "That's easier said than done," he remarked tiredly. "This is a large planet."

"This is true," Thor continued. "But knowing Loki he will make an appearance and it will be drastic. He enjoys toying with other beings and he will grow restless if he is kept hidden for too long. He craves attention and it will not take him long to draw you to him, whether that is his intention or not."

"So basically your solution is to sit back and wait?" Tony accused angrily.

Thor nodded. "For now, that is all that can be done."

"That's bullshit!" Tony shouted, completely losing his temper. "I refuse to sit here and wait around for a sign that we may or may not catch! Are you aware that my sister could be dead by now?"

Fully turning his concentration towards Tony, Thor answered, "It is a possibility, though highly unlikely."

"I will not stand by and do nothing," Tony seethed. "I will find her."

Slowly, Thor walked over to Tony and placed one of his large hands on Stark's shoulder in a reassuring way. "My friend, your mind is clouded with anger. I am aware of your need to find your sister, but do you even know where to begin?"

"That's not the point –"

"That is the point," interrupted Thor. "I urge you to just allow us a day or two to sort this out."

Tony's jaw clenched with impatience. "It's been too long already."

"I know," said Thor dejectedly. "But please, just a bit more time."

Tony thrust Thor's hand from his shoulder, even more heated than before. "Am I the only one who's first concern is Y/N?" His behavior was close to hysterical at this point. “I’m going after her. Now.”

---------------------

Loki walked with a steady pace towards the bedchamber where you were being held. He was unsure of his feelings as thoughts raced through his mind as he walked. He should be content with keeping you here as his prisoner. He had all the leverage he needed with Tony Stark’s sister at his disposal, and yet he felt… unfulfilled. 

When he materialized in the room, his forehead creased in confusion as he saw you lying on the bed, contently singing to yourself. He had assumed that you would be in as much of a sour mood as you had previously been. Something wasn’t right. 

Sensing another presence, you had turned to see who had entered your room and beamed with excitement as your eyes rested upon Loki.

His brow rose in skepticism as you stepped down from the bed and approached him. Too stunned to react, he allowed you to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace, sighing with contentment. “I’ve been waiting for you,” you murmured into his chest. 

Completely at a loss for words, he gawked at you, dumbfounded as you released him and stared into his eyes, not a single trace of malice or loathing found in them. "I've missed you," you cooed with an inviting grin before you leaned up towards him and placed your lips softly on his own.

Coming to his senses, Loki aggressively pushed you off of him, causing you to stumble backwards, though you managed to catch yourself from falling. He didn’t miss the fact that you looked truly hurt and confused.

"What's the matter with you?" you asked, the pain evident in your voice.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes transfixed on you in shock. What had happened to you? Could it have been the isolation? You couldn’t have been alone for more than a few hours. Were humans truly this delicate? Had he broken your mind? So many more questions raced through his mind as the silver-tongued god found himself at a loss for words.

You waited patiently for an answer, you own eyes searching his mystified emerald ones. A few more moments passed before he finally spoke. "Your mind is not your own," he finally decided.

“Excuse me?” 

He turned his gaze from you, and mumbled out loud, "Being around my power must have affected you more than I had anticipated." His fists clenched in anger as he continued to talk to himself. "This was not my intention. You were supposed to remain the same."

"Stop mumbling Loki, I can't hear you," you urged with frustration, puzzled by his behavior. You continued to edge towards him carefully until you were directly in front of him, close enough to feel his breath on your face. Placing your  hands around his muscular upper arms, you squeezed with reassurance. "You really need to relax. There's no need to get so easily stressed," you said softly as you placed another brief kiss on his lips.

Stunned that he once again allowed you to kiss him, his mind began to race even more so than before. This was not possible. Too much exposure to power would have left you broken and incoherent. It would not have changed your entire personality into one of a lovesick being. 

Of course! How did he not see this before? It was a game. You were toying with him in hopes of finding a way to escape. Not at all in imminent danger, you were eliciting a facade and now you were going to try to convince him that your disgust had been replaced with loving thoughts for him. What a clever girl!

He grinned with satisfaction as he put the pieces together in his head and finally allowed his eyes to lock onto yours. He would play your game… and he would win.

He slowly placed his hand on the back of your head to aggressively take a handful of your hair and force your lips to his. The brutality of his actions caused you to whimper in pain at first, but as the kiss deepened, your noises turned into small moans of passion. Together, your lips moved in a synchronized motion as Loki slid his tongue along your bottom lip, silently demanding entrance. He chuckled into your mouth as you quickly opened up to him and allowed him to explore your mouth with his hot, wet muscle.

He was slightly taken aback when you fought back against him for dominance, your hands reaching behind his neck and pulling yourself even nearer to him. Still not feeling close enough, you jumped up onto him, causing him to stumble back in surprise. Quickly, he released your hair and placed a hand on each of your legs, hiking you upwards so that you were now level with him while your feet no longer touched the floor.

Refusing to yield, Loki then carried you over to the bed. He roughly tossed you onto the bed, hardly giving you time to catch your breath as you landed with an "oof" before he was on top of you again, his lips capturing yours in a fight for dominance.

Turning your head to the side to steal a few breaths of air, Loki wasted no time as he moved his lips down your jaw to your neck and sucked lightly, eliciting quiet whimpers from you as you trembled beneath him.

"Loki," you finally managed to speak, your voice straining. He ignored you and continued to kiss and lick the soft skin tissue of your neck. Fighting to keep coherent, you complained, "Loki, wait a minute. Your armor is too heavy."

Loki ceased his physical exploration. He was winning at your little game and he could sense your retreat getting closer. Your odd statement was a request for him to remove his protection and leave himself more vulnerable to you. Though you were a mere mortal, too weak to hurt him even with his armor removed, he was skeptical as to why you did not come to that conclusion yourself.

He smiled deviously at you before his body began to emit a golden glow with bright rays forming around his armor before it faded away, revealing his slender form in a dark green robe along with black trousers. Sighing with relief as the extra weight lifted, you gave him a thankful smile in return.

"Is this better?" he asked, staring down at you, now even more alert than before. He was waiting for you to make your move and when you did, he would be ready for it.

"Much better," you answered, grinning.

"Excellent." Loki did not waste any time in capturing both of your hands into one of his as he held them in a tight grip above your head as he leaned towards you and continued to kiss you as he had before. He used his other hand to begin to explore your body, knowing that you would break soon. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his. He stilled for a moment, shocked that this was actually earning a slight reaction from him, causing a small bulge to form in his trousers. This would not do. He had to break you sooner than he had planned.

His hand made its way to your jeans and he quickly succeeded in unbuttoning them before slowly pulling down the zipper. Midgardian clothes were foreign to him, but it was easy enough to figure out how to work them. Hiking your pants down just slightly, it allowed himself enough room to give his large hands entrance to your most private of areas. He knew that you would never allow him to touch you there.

He cautiously edged his hand into your pants towards and waited. This earned a moan of desire from you, which caused him to halt completely. He removed his lips and hands from you before climbing off of you with a look of bewilderment on his face.

"Loki?" you asked breathlessly as you looked him over. "What's wrong?"

His teeth clenched, the feeling of defeat evoking rage. "Did you really think that this would work?" he seethed.

"What are you talking about?" you asked as you sat forward on the bed, buttoning your pants, figuring that your moment of intimacy was done for the time being.

He turned to stare daggers at you, his cold stare turning your blood to ice. "Did you really believe that I would stoop so low as to take a repulsive mortal into my bed? Your plan was poorly executed. You are a fool to think that you could deceit the god of lies!" He had risen from the bed, his armor had returned to his body and he was shaking with rage.

Gaping at him, you were unsure of what to say. Eventually, your anger got the better of you. "Maybe you should have thought of that  before you brought me here! My mortality hasn’t stopped you yet, so why is it such a problem now?"

His brows came together in annoyance and perplexity. "You cannot possibly think that I would fall for your far-fetched tale of ignorance!"

Standing up from the bed, not a single trace of fear evident in your face, you walked closer to him, your eyes blazing. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. How dare you," you spat, causing his eyes to widen. "You've got a lot of nerve, Loki."

A thought then crossed his mind as he searched your eyes for a hint of a lie, but he could find none. Somehow, you had formed an alternate reality in your subconscious, one in which they were coupled and dwelled together in cohabitation.

He relaxed his shoulders a bit and released much of his anger in a long sigh, but remained cautious. "Humor me, Y/N. What do you remember about yesterday?"

You crossed your arms in annoyance at his request. He fought the urge to smirk at your childish stance. "You brought me here from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Air Base," you finally answered. "You said that you had business to take care of and you left. I made myself comfortable and sat by the fire until I got too tired. Then, I fell asleep in the bed, and when I woke up, you were here."

He was baffled. Her memory was completely skewed from reality. You truly believed that is how yesterday’s events occurred. He hardly noticed your hand take hold of his own. The foreign feeling of tender skin-to-skin contact caused him to jerk back a bit, but he did not break the hold.

"Loki, what’s wrong? Please, tell me."

"I'm not sure," he quickly answered, not really considering your question for he was lost in his own thoughts. After a moment of reflection, he leaned in towards you, mere inches from your face and stared deeply into your eyes.

You were confused, but stayed completely still, frozen under his intense gaze.

Loki took a moment to memorize every characteristic in your blazing orbs before quietly asking, "Do you love me?"

Bewildered, your expression instantly turned into one of adoration as you smiled. Your eyes suddenly filled with such love that it almost physically hurt him, causing him to stumble back a few steps as if he had been hit hard in the gut. Before he stepped back too far, you grabbed him by his leather collar and brought him closer as you placed your lips on his unmoving cold ones.

As if you didn't notice his lack of response, you deepened the kiss, showing him just how much you loved him through this simple gesture. Loki's defensive shields started to crumble until he completely lost himself in the thought of your mouth on his and your hands reaching up to his neck to stroke the hair that fell over his collar.

He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you nearer to him as he deeply inhaled, enthralled by your scent. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you in that moment. He wanted to continue holding you until the two of you simply became one person.

As his mouth hungrily devoured your, his head was screaming at him. He was kissing a mortal; a disgusting, pathetic, and worthless excuse for a life. A creature that had he been successful in his attempt to enslave the Earth would have been dead the moment you insulted him for the first time. He may have even killed you simply for the fact that you were the sibling of his hated rival, Iron Man.

Upon these thoughts entering his mind, his lips froze in place causing you to notice his hesitation and pull back. Loki cursed himself for the moment their lips separated he wanted to draw you back to him. He craved you, and he loathed himself for it.

"Loki?" you asked, noticing his far away gaze as he fought with himself over his feelings.

Not a moment later, you felt yourself being crushed painfully into the wall behind you, Loki gripping your arms painfully tight. 

Refusing to wince in pain, you met Loki's challenging stare with a blazing one of your own. He was breathing heavily in anger, unable to tear his emerald eyes away from yours. Before he could comprehend his own actions, his mouth was on yours, hungrily devouring you.

Instead of refusing him as he had expected, you responded positively and moaned into his mouth as he plunged his tongue into your lips, tasting you, reveling in your deliciously sweet flavor.

Hungry for more, you grabbed the collar of his leather armor and shoved him back. Due to his complete loss of coherent thought during the kiss, he was caught off guard, baffled by your sudden abrasive actions. 

He soon realized your intentions as he saw the lust in your eyes and smirked at your obvious arousal. You glided forward and continued to push him lightly, guiding him until he reached the edge of an empty desk at the other end of the room. In an aggressive manner, you took it upon yourself to jump onto him, gripping his hips tightly with your legs as he wrapped his arms around your lower half, cradling your bottom in his hands as he held you steady. You tangled your hands in his hair and forced his mouth to yours, almost angrily.

As your lithe body writhed against him, he felt the urge to explore more of you. He turned around and placed you on the desk, leaving his hands free to roam your body as you continued to kiss lustfully.

His thoughts began to flash like static in his mind. He was repulsed, yet aroused, and his arousal was clearly overpowering his disgust. Loki wondered to himself how long it had been since he had bedded a woman. He had never taken a mortal into his bed, but if he were to choose a mortal to lay with, he could think of no better one than you. Whether or not he desired to bed you for revenge, or for his own personal needs, he did not know, but he wasn’t about to stop to consider it either.

Without breaking the kiss, Loki lifted you effortlessly into his arms and swiftly carried you to the bed. He gently laid you down on the sheets, immediately missing the contact with your skin. Still standing, he could do nothing but stare at you, dumbfounded as to what he should do next. He silently cursed himself as you watched him with an intense gaze. He was not a shy man. With women he had laid with before, he had no problems having his way with them, but he was unable to do so with you.

He licked his lips in frustration as he fought with himself as to what his next actions should be. He did not expect you to be impatient and was taken by surprise as you raised from your relaxed position into a kneeling posture and began to remove your shirt, suggestively locking eyes with him. Loki forced himself to remain steady with every piece of clothing you removed.

When the only clothing that remained were your delicates, you raised one finger and seductively urged him forward, biting your lip in anticipation. Forgetting his incessant need for dominance, Loki stepped forward hesitantly until he was kneeling on the bed. Agonizingly slowly, you began to remove his heavy leather and metal armor from his slender, yet muscular form.

Becoming impatient, Loki began to help you with the removing of his clothes until all that was covered was his own private area. Instead of attempting to remove it, you glanced upward into Loki's intense gaze. Even while you were both kneeling he towered over you. 

Lifting your hand to lightly stroke his cheek, you then placing both hands in his hair to draw him towards her so you could kiss him lovingly. Loki began to push himself into you, causing you to lie down on your back while he hovered over you, anxious for more. 

With his godly strength, he ripped away your bra and panties, leaving you bare before him. He then wasted no time in removing the last of his clothing as well, revealing his obscenely large cock, prominently jutting forward for attention. 

Loki returned to planting kisses on your neck, sucking gently as he made his way to your breasts. You whimpered as he took both of the peaks into his fingers and squeezed gently. He then settled his mouth on one of them, flicking his tongue all around the hardening flesh. Biting your lip, you tried to contain the screams that were building up from his actions. Unable to contain them any longer, you lost control the moment his calloused fingers slipped into you. 

The pace was maddening as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you while his thumb rubbed in vigorous circles against your clit, all the while his other hand working your breasts. Incoherent syllables escaped you as he continued exploring your body. When his fingers were replaced by his tongue in your core, you could feel the blood circulation leaving your hands as you gripped the sheets with all your strength. Writhing against him, his tongue pumped in and out of you before moving up to lap at your clit while he pressed his fingers inside of you once again.

Before you went completely over the edge, you pushed him off aggressively. He pulled back, perplexed by your sudden change in demeanor. Your expression was animalistic as you dug your nails into his arms and pulled him around so that you could straddle him and imitated his moves from before by kissing your way down his neck, occasionally nipping softly, making him hiss in arousal. Sliding down his body, you looked from his pleading eyes to his throbbing member right in front of your face. 

Taking his cock in your hand, you began by running your tongue up and down his slit as you felt him tremble against you. Settling your mouth around the tip of his girth, you sucked gently, letting your tongue flick and swirl all around it. You almost came at the sight of him after you looked up to see him close his eyes and open his mouth slightly, lips quivering and gasping slightly every time your tongue slid across his slit.��

You took all of him into your mouth at that point. He threw his head back and groaned loudly with satisfaction. With each thrust you bobbed your head, occasionally grazing the underside of his cock with your teeth. His fingers tangled themselves into your hair, forcing you further onto his shaft. You hummed against him, making him cry out even louder. You sensed he was getting close so you removed yourself from him, eliciting a whine from the god. 

You smiled playfully at him, which earned a forceful change of position while he grabbed you and laid you beneath him once more. He kissed you softly before pulling away and begging you with his eyes for entry. You nodded and pulled him into another kiss as he slowly entered you. Whimpering into the kiss, it was a slow adjustment as his shaft pushed all the way into you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you kept him inside of you for a moment, letting your head loll back as you acclimated to his size. When you allowed your body to relax, he took it as a sign to pull back and enter again, but with a little more force. You cried out in bliss with every thrust as they became harder each time he entered you. Resting his head in the crook of your neck, he showered it with kisses as he lunged harder and faster. Your arms found themselves around his neck as you held on for dear life.

As he continued to thrust at a maddening pace into you, your back arched in pleasure as he reached down and rubbed your clit. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way. Your entire body tensed up as the orgasm pulsated through you, wave after wave of euphoric bliss. 

Your nails raked down his back as he continued his assault on your leaking cunt. Moments after, the pulsing feeling around his cock was more than he could take. He released himself inside of you and cried out in bliss as his seed lined your cervix. 

When he was spent, he rested on top of you only for a moment, panting heavily before kissing you tenderly, which you reciprocated with enthusiasm. When the kiss broke, you leaned into Loki, causing him to roll over and lie down facing upwards. Turning on your side, you propped your head up with one hand while caressing Loki's long hair with the other.

For the first time in a very long while, Loki was at a loss of what to do. He could not think of anything else but you, for you had enveloped his mind and captured his desires. He would curse himself tomorrow for letting himself fall into you this way, but for the moment, he savored the feeling.

As you stroked his hair he took it upon himself to explore your Midgardian body. His rough fingers traced your cheek, jaw, and neck. As he moved down over the swell of your breast and onto your hips, Loki could not help but ask, "Y/N, what caused you to become so enamored with me?"

You grinned with both contentment and amusement before replying. "What, you mean besides your charm and wit?" He smirked at your answer, but sought more from you. You sighed, wracking your brain to try and figure out how to put your feelings into words. "I see you, Loki. I see who are between all of the bullshit. You exhaust yourself trying to attain something that’s always beyond your reach. You’re not a monster. You’re just someone who needs to be loved."

Upon his stunned silence, you leaned slowly towards him to place a soft, tender kiss on his lips before you lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his abdomen, quickly drifting off to sleep.

Silvertongue was at a loss for words. Not knowing what else to do, he absentmindedly allowed his arms to wrap around your sleeping form. He had not had close contact such as this in far too long, and it satisfied him.

Dismissing the internal questions and maddening thoughts, Loki allowed himself to fall asleep, feeling more content than he had in all his existence.

[v1ren]

Title: Stay For A While

AO3 Link: Click me!

Characters: Runaan & Ethari

Pairing: Ruthari

Ethari was his name. The soft spoken, seemingly harmless elf responsible for embarrassing him in front of every one of his partners.

They had been mere moments from leaving the Silvergrove, all running through the mission details a final time. A plan was set, positions were assigned - all that remained was getting to the destination and completing the job. It was standard routine, really, and one that Runaan took pride in. He was good at it. Talented, even. It was no surprise that he became the leader of their little team, and no less surprising that he took the role very seriously.

Thus, when Ethari, a well-known {because the Silvergrove only had one} blacksmith that was highly praised for his skill, approached the assassins with a wide smile and a wrapped package in his hands, Runaan took it with the utmost grace. Thanking him, but inquiring about its contents; the shorter of the Xadians simply replying, “It’s a gift. Saw you strugglin’ with that thing on your back. Thought I could help.”

The “thing” in question being a bow that the elegant-leader-of-assassins handcrafted himself. Admitted it wasn’t the most...appealing piece of weaponry, but it got the job done and that was all that mattered. Implying that he were struggling with it was simply...not-- true. Runaan trained most of his life with a bow. It was another piece of him. It was a skill that he was highly praised on and now, this blacksmith dared to take that away from him? Undermine him and his work?

It was with a furrowed brow, an annoyed glare, and a pout that he finally opened the package. The other elves surrounding him stepped closer, peering their heads in whatever direction guaranteed them a better view.

An immediate silence fell over them, every pair of eyes now scanning the weapon held delicately in their leader’s hands; a hushed awe overcoming him. Runaan ran a hand down one of the limbs, fingers smoothing over each and every groove. Every carving. It was beautiful. It was wonderfully unique. Not just a bow by any means, but a perfectly constructed bowblade.

“Much better than that old thing, don’tcha think?”

The blacksmith pointed to the bow still hanging from his back, a smile spreading wide across his face. Runaan gave him a pointed look, lifting a single brow.

“Thought’cha might do better with one of them. More suited to ya. Anyway, good luck on yer mission.”

He turned on his heel, leaving without saying another word. Without so much as a single glance behind him.

The assassins stood huddled around the piece of art, eyes aglow at seeing something new. Something handcrafted into an item of mastery. It stole their leader’s breath away. Left him speechless for a much longer amount of time than he liked. It was only after one his teammates labelled the action as a random bout of “kindness” that Runaan breathed anew. Snapping himself out of his shock, shunting the bow off his back and replacing it with the new weapon, the elf strode forward and regained his composure. Centered himself back around to the mission and the importance of their duties.

Upon using the weapon and praising it {internally} for its natural ability to perfectly compliment him and his fighting style, he was filled with a frustration that clung to his chest. It captured his very soul in a vice grip, making the Xadian rather insufferable through the remainder of the mission.

No one simply gave a gift without expecting one in return. And if, by some rare occurrence, the blacksmith wasn’t expecting a gift in return-- then Runaan would appear at his doorstep with one regardless. One that blew his own gift out of the water and made him feel like an idiot for having ever extended a hand of kindness toward him.

Yes, that...that sounded right.

Thus, several days after the start of his mission and several days after his return, Runaan stood at the door of the Silvergrove’s finest {and only} blacksmith; Ethari. With gift in hand - a wrapped, smaller box light enough to be held with one hand - the assassin lifted a fist to the door; knocking against it three times.

Waiting patiently for said door to open, he fidgeted awkwardly where he stood. This was nothing more than a meeting, an exchange, a means of returning a favor so that he owed this elf nothing. He would hand over his gift, say his goodbyes, and be done with all of this. All of the thoughts that drifted to him, the emotions that aroused themselves upon hearing his name, the memories of his smile and voice and the way he--

“...Runaan?”

Turquoise orbs lift from the box in his hand, words sticking in his throat as soon as he locked onto the sweaty, shirtless blacksmith in front of him. The smile he receives in return sends heat rushing to his face immediately.

“Sorry. Wasn’t expectin’ company.”

Soft, brown eyes lower to the item in the assassin’s hand. Runaan instinctively tenses, opening his mouth to speak, but Ethari is much too quick.

“Oh. How’d ya know it was my birthday?”

Oh. Oh no, this was horrible. Everything was going wrong. Horribly, embarrassingly wrong. Why did he have to-- look like that? Why did his voice have to be so smooth and so gentle? Why did his birthday have to fall on a day that should have been filled with spite and an end to the ever weighing guilt of a gift?!

“I...uhm...”

But...no. That couldn’t be right. The Moonshadow was joking. Pulling his leg. Ethari’s birthday had been last week, hadn’t it? He remembered overhearing an elf or two mentioning it.

Scoffing aloud, the taller of the two rolled his eyes and straightened his shoulders; Ethari releasing a small chuckle at the obvious display of feigned confidence.

“...Today is not your birthday.” Runaan breathes, pursing his lips together.

“Ah, well...” Ethari trails off, nodding his head slowly and giving the comment pause before continuing. “I knew that, but how did you know that?”

“I...w-well...”

The heat returned to his cheeks in full force, the blacksmith releasing a warm, boisterous laugh as he steps back into his home. Extending a hand, he attempts to speak through his laughter:

“Please, c’mon in.”

Hesitating for the briefest of moments, the assassin exhales deeply before opting to enter the humble abode. Ethari shuts the door behind them, padding further into the room and nudging his chin toward a nearby table.

“Yer welcome to take a seat. Can make us some tea or--”

“I’ve brought you something.”

He needed to end this. Stop this form of familiarity before it got out of hand. Before the pounding heart in his chest burst from his ribcage and spilled over his lips. If he could just...give the gift away, say his adieu’s, and never have to think about the perfectly toned backside in front of him again-- he could {possibly} leave the rest of his days in peace.

The blacksmith turns around, smile still in place even as the assassin continues to glare.

“Don’t...don’t you wish to open it?”

Runaan holds out the box, watching the other admire it quietly. The heat at his face is quickly spreading to his ears, even before the frustratingly gentle elf replies:

“If I open it...will you stay a while? I’ve got dinner cookin’ and I don’t think I can eat it all.”

His heart is in his very veins now; pounding erratically. Sending his mind racing and overpowering any control he may have had left. Swallowing hard, the assassin nods slowly.

“...Yes, that...I can do that.”

“Good,” soft hands remove the package from Runaan’s sweating pair. “Then let’s see what we have, eh?”

Standing awkwardly beside him, the assassin keeps his eyes on the blacksmith as he steps over to the nearby table. Laying the small box down and working delicate fingers at the bow on top; the process is nearly painful.

It wasn’t much of a gift and he knew that, but it was handcrafted - exactly as Ethari’s was. He needed a gift of equal or greater value; perfectly severing whatever sort of debt the other had tried to put him into. A debt of emotions and heavy thoughts; all of which Runaan did not wish for, but yet, somehow, found to be more persistent when in the Moonshadow’s presence.

There was simply something about the way he moved. The way he spoke to everyone in their community. He was resplendent in every turn of his body. Every blink of an eye. Every soft word that ever graced the light of day. He was--

“Oh, Runaan...”

The voice breaks him away, focus returned to the blacksmith in front of him; eyes suddenly wide and jaw hung open. Ethari lifts from the box a violet cloth, a scarf, hand-stitched to perfection and made from the finest fabrics this side of the border could offer. It’s plain in the sense that it’s not decorated in symbols or ornate designs, but the assassin felt that it would do its job. It would symbolize the end of something that never existed and--

“It’s beautiful.”

The words leave him frozen; eyes staring at the beautiful sight in front of him. The way this blacksmith, so strong and powerful, caresses it as though it were a newborn. Presses it gently between his fingers and against his face and smiles at it as though he’s never seen anything like it before. Its a reaction that strips away any other reason for Runaan’s coming here aside from seeing this wonderful, addictive elf.

Their eyes meet in that moment and he swears he’ll never be the same again. Feels the stars align and the moon’s glow as their hearts connect on levels he’s never known before.

In this very moment, words spoken silently between them, they are one in the same.

Ethari starts to wrap the scarf around his neck, smile stretching from ear to ear. Runaan watches him, eyes never leaving him. Not for a second.

“You’ll stay a while, won’t you? Let me treat you to dinner?”

Their eyes meet a second and final time; the meaning behind such words clear as day. Runaan swallows hard, clasping his hands behind his back and flicking his gaze from the scarf, to the beautiful face in front of him. The eyes gazing deep into his soul; holding it close and keeping it safe. Protected. Loved.

“...Yes, I...I’d rather like that, thank you.”

[amillionmillionvoices]

@victorianlesbian, and @fligurl86 asked for a hicsqueak tattoo fic, and my brain obliged. Inspired by this ask from my A1. <3 title from sappho (anne carson) - if not, winter. 

and who is good will soon be beautiful 

Hecate hasn’t gotten a tattoo from anyone but Dimity Drill in sixteen years. Not so much out of loyalty (though there is that, a little, though she’d never admit it) but she’s a creature of habit. Dimity knows her style, knows what she likes and doesn’t. She trusts her, though the woman annoys her to no end, always talking about her sports league and gym habits and other things Hecate generally tunes out. She isn’t quite sure if she’d call Dimity a friend (though it hurt, when she found out she’d been excluded from her birthday party) but she’s kind and intelligent and good at what she does, and that’s enough.

She’s also, however, frustratingly observant, and it’s only twenty minutes in to her session for an ornate willow tree on her calf that Dimity looks up with a smirk.

“Her name’s Pippa.”

Hecate blinks, and snaps her gaze from the blonde woman across the room that she’d...evidently been staring at.

“Pardon?”

“Pippa Pentangle. She’s new. Just moved here from London.” Dimity grins. “Single, far as I know.”

Hecate doesn’t flinch, even as her heart hammers. “I don’t know why any of that information would be relevant to me.”

Dimity snorts. “Cause you look like you lost a carrot and found a cream cake.”

Hecate glowers, shoves her headphones in her ears and pointedly does not look at anything other than the ceiling for the next two hours.

She barely notices the time pass until there’s a blur of pink in her peripheral vision, and Pippa is leaning over Dimity’s shoulder. Hecate switches off her music.

“What’d you think?”

Hecate stares resolutely st the ceiling.

“She’s beautiful,” Pippa says softly, almost wistfully, and Hecate prays neither of them notice the blush that takes over her cheeks. “I mean, it! It’s beautiful. The tattoo,” Pippa stutters, and Dimity laughs, and Hecate can feel her stare when she says gleefully,

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

—

Pippa’s work is...pretty. It’s soft and colorful and occasionally cartoonish, bright, happy things done in bright, happy ways.

She only has a few tattoos herself, which Hecate finds odd. There’s an owl on the inside of her forearm and a small bee just below her knee she spies one day when Pippa wears a short dress that sends her first into a coughing fit and Dimity into stitches.

Other than that, Hecate can’t see anything, and she can’t help but wonder if there are others, hidden. If they’re secret, or private. What it might be like to know, for Pippa to show her—

She cuts off that line of thinking before it becomes too real, too desirable.

Still, every time she’s in the shop - which is more frequently, it seems - she finds herself sneaking glances at Pippa as she putters around the shop, talks to clients, works on someone.

She’s chatty, but not in the way Dimity is. Dimity tells everyone her entire life’s story.

Pippa asks questions. She gets to know people, but shares so little of herself, and Hecate wonders why. Why someone so bright, so perfect, would be so quiet.

She feels a kinship with that she’s not sure she has any right to. Especially given that she’s only said about five words to Pippa, and three of them were rude.

But sometimes, she’ll be sitting with Dimity, and when she glances up Pippa will be staring at her, a small smile on her face. She always looks away, turns her attention back to whatever it was she was working on, and Hecate doesn’t dare to hope. Imagines she was probably lost in thought.

Dimity rolls her eyes, and says a bit loudly, “Can you cut it with the tension already? Some of us are trying to work here.”

Hecate glowers, and across the room, Pippa flushes and smiles.

—

It’s a stupid idea. Quite possibly her stupidest, but that doesn’t appear to be stopping her.

Ada greets her kindly, as she always does, and asks if they’re still on for tea that weekend (they are) and Hecate inquires after her students (she still teaches part time) but she can’t stop her gaze from flickering toward the back of the shop.

“Dimity’s with someone at the moment, but she should be wrapping up soon, and she’s got some time if you like.”

Hecate swallows. “Actually, I was hoping Miss Pentangle might be available.”

Ada’s eyebrows skyrocket into her hairline and it doesn’t escape Hecate’s notice that she has to forcibly bury her grin.

“Of course. Let me see.”

Ada makes a show of checking the calendar and Hecate raps her nails against the counter.

“You’re in luck,” Ada says finally, before she turns and hollers back into the shop, “Pippa, you’ve got a walk-in, dear!”

“Be right there!”

Hecate’s stomach flips at the sound of her voice, and she realizes this was not only stupid, but ridiculous and foolish and while Ada’s back is turned, she twists on her heel and all but runs out of the shop.

—

It’s been six months since Pippa started working at the shop, and they’ve exchanged a grand total of perhaps 10 sentences.

Pippa will occasionally wander around to see what Dimity’s doing now (each planet, relative in size, in a line down her outer thigh).

Hecate tries not to tense at the way Pippa stares, her eyes sweeping over the bared skin.

Though most of her body is covered in tattoos - nature scenes and constellations, old goddesses and cityscapes - she rarely ever shows them to anyone. She wears long sleeved, high collared dresses most days, only the single back line above her knuckle on her middle finger visible, and most don’t even notice, or mistake it for a ring.

She shivers under Pippa’s stare, her smile, and looks away.

Pippa leaves, and Dimity pauses, looking at Hecate strangely.

“Something on your mind, Miss Drill?” she sneers, but Dimity doesn’t respond as she usually does, with good natured teasing.

Instead, she ducks her head and goes back to work, says quietly, “You know she just got out of a long relationship, bad breakup. Right wanker, too, from what she’s told me.”

Hecate glances over at Pippa, standing by the desk, laughing at something Ada has said. She can’t imagine Pippa being sad. Can’t imagine Pippa being hurt. It makes her stomach clench and her face feel hot and her hands wish for something or someone to punch.

Still, Dimity doesn’t need to know that, so she arches an eyebrow, says coldly, “Perhaps you should keep other people’s business to yourself, Miss Drill.”

Dimity stops and glares up at her. “It’s common knowledge around here. The only reason you don’t know is cause you can’t work up the courage to ask.”

Hecate flinches, manages a terse, “You mistake cowardice for disinterest.”

Dimity snorts. “Hate to break it to you, HB, but if you were any more interested you’d be a neon billboard.”

Hecate clenches her jaw and looks away, silent for a long while, wrestling with herself before she asks, “Is it really so obvious?”

There must be something in her voice, some fear or anxiety because Dimity softens her words with a smile.

“Only to those of us with eyes.”

—

She makes an appointment with Pippa. Insists on paying up front, hoping it will motivate her not to back out.

For a week before the appointment she frets and curses herself and Dimity and Pippa and everyone else she wants.

She hasn’t felt like this in ages. Possibly ever. She knows she hardly knows Pippa - might find her grating or shallow or unintelligent - but for the first time in a long time, it almost feels worth the risk to find out. Worth it to embarrass herself, worth it to take a chance, worth it to get her heart broken.

She’s not so sure of that when the day arrives, and she shows up at the shop in long sleeved shirt and dark jeans, her hair up in its customary bun.

Pippa is waiting for her when she walks in, her eyes bright, hands fiddling together near her waist.

“Hi,” she says.

Hecate slowly closes the door behind her. “Hello.”

They stare at one another until Ada coughs from behind the counter.

“Right,” Pippa says brightly. “This way.”

“I have been here before,” Hecate says, then winces at her tone, an automatic response; but Pippa only looks back over her shoulder with a grin.

“Not on my side of the shop.”

She takes her into one of the open cubicals, and Hecate tries not to wrinkle her nose at the designs on the walls. Hearts and flowers and birds - god, so many birds - and trees, all in bright colors, all joyous.

Hecate thinks of her own arm, covered in black, and wonders what someone like Pippa could possibly want from someone like her.

Still, she sits when Pippa gestures to the chair, hands clenched in her lap.

“So. What can I do for you?”

Hecate hesitates. Her eyes flicker over a cute looking frog kissing another frog, and her stomach knots for more reason than one.

But Pippa is looking at her with warm eyes, kind and deep and Hecate takes a deep breath, rolls up her sleeve.

There’s a patch of bare skin on the inside of her right wrist.

“A cat,” she says.

Pippa blinks. “Cat?”

Hecate nods, licking her lips. “My—I have a black one.”

“Of course you do. What’s her name?”

“Morgana.”

Pippa smiles. “Hecate and Morgana. Quite a penchant for mythology, yeah?”

“Yes, I’ve never heard that one before,” she says dryly.

Pippa’s smile widens. “Alright then. What’d you have in mind?”

Hecate takes a deep breath, and shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

Pippa pauses in her reach for a pencil. “Are you sure? I’m not—I mean, my work doesn’t seem like your style.”

“If you’d rather not—“

“No!” Pippa says quickly, reaching out a hand as if to keep her in the chair. “I’d love to. I just—Dimity said you haven’t worked with anyone else in years. You trust me?”

Hecate doesn’t know why. Doesn’t even know if she does entirely, but she wants to find out. Wants to know if she can.

“It’s only ink,” she says.

Pippa looks a bit disappointed, but then squares her jaw and nods decisively.

“Okay.”

She spends the next ten minutes sketching, eyeing the space on Hecate’s wrist for size. Then transfers it, then stencils it to her skin.

Hecate keeps her eyes averted. Doesn’t want to see what cutesy monstrosity she’s going to end up with. But she nods when Pippa asks if she’s ready, and they begin.

It’s quiet for a long while, and Hecate wracks her brain trying to think of something, anything to say.

“Your work is very...pink,” she says finally.

“Haven’t you been keeping up with the latest trends?” she asks, a spark in her eyes as she glances up. “Black and grey is out, watercolors are in.”

Hecate purses her lips. “Vanity is very unbecoming in an artist.”

Pippa shrugs. “But, like pink, not against any sort of code now, is it?”

“I suppose not.”

Pippa grins.

—

The conversation is stilted at first. Hecate never knows what to say, doesn’t like to talk about herself. Pippa seems to be trying too hard to keep the mood bright, but eventually she tells Hecate about her breakup, the horrible relationship she got stuck in for almost a decade. Hecate mentions, very quickly, that she had a similarly disastrous relationship with her father.

Pippa asks what she does when she’s not in the chair, and Hecate admits she owns a small cafe on the other side of town, that Ada is a long time customer and friend, and that’s how she met Dimity.

They talk about tattoos and trends and Hecate even indulges a bit of shop gossip. She can hardly stop staring at Pippa, her blonde hair, the line of her jaw, her brilliant smiles.

Somehow, she makes Pippa laugh a few times, and it feels like she’s won something precious. Something just for her.

The hour and a half goes by so quickly, Hecate doesn’t quite know what to do with herself when Pippa sits back and snaps off her gloves.

“There. Done.”

Hecate braces herself - pink is fine, pink is fine, pink is fine - but when she looks down, there’s hardly any pink at all. Just an accent, in a dark galaxy - blues and blacks and purples, and little spots of white, all contained within the outline of a black cat, sitting primly on her wrist.

Hecate swallows tightly. It’s beautiful, of course, but more than that it’s her. Her style, her taste.

And it looks like Morgana, the outline. But she has the whole galaxy inside her, which is how Hecate feels sometimes - like she’s a shell too thin for everything inside her. The tattoos, she think, keep some of it safe. Protect her, even if it’s just from herself.

To her horror, she feels tears prick at her eyes and she clenches her teeth, hard.

“You don’t like it.”

Her gaze snaps up and Pippa looks dejected, heartbroken, almost, her eyes equally wet even as she forces a mild, “I’m sure Dimity can fix it for you.”

“No.”

Pippa looks up with a frown. “No?”

“No, I—I don’t want to fix it,” she says, her voice a bit hoarse. “I love it.”

She’s never said that before, not even to Dimity. “It’s satisfactory,” or “Thank you for your talent, Miss Drill” is the most she ever manages, but this...this small thing, she loves. Loves so much it tugs something in her chest looser and looser, and unravels completely when Pippa gives a wet laugh.

“Oh, thank god. I thought you were going to murder me for a minute.”

Hecate rolls her eyes. “Hardly. The clean up would be far too tiresome.”

Pippa smiles and rubs a thin layer of ointment over the tattoo, and Hecate tries not to shiver at her touch, so light. She fails, and Pippa looks up nervously.

“Did I hurt you?”

Hecate shakes her head, unable to speak, unable to say how empty she feels when Pippa stops and pulls away.

She gently wraps the fresh ink, and arches an eyebrow when she’s through. “I assume I don’t have to give you the aftercare speech?”

“Hardly.”

“Good,” Pippa says, turning in her chair to grab something from her desk. “However, if you do have any issues, you can reach me here.”

She hands Hecate one of her business cards, with a number scrawled on the back.

“Issues?”

Pippa shrugs. “The usual. Itching, peeling, boredom, Saturday night drinks.”

Hecate lifts her gaze from the card to Pippa, sees her biting her lip, and her hands shake. She stares at Pippa and Pippa stares at her and it’s a while before she finds her voice, a careful, controlled,

“I...don’t recall having had issues before,” she says, and Pippa’s face falls until she adds, “But drinks would be...agreeable. If you—“

“Yes,” Pippa says. “Yes.”

Hecate almost smiles, ducks her head to hide the shy lift to her lips. She startles when Pippa crooks a finger under her chin.

“Don’t hide,” Pippa says softly. “You smile beautifully.”

Hecate flushes, but she manages to hold Pippa’s warm gaze for a few moments before she breaks, looks back at her wrist.

“I should go.”

Pippa nods and sits back. “But you’ll call me, right?”

Hecate clutches her card in her pocket. “Yes. I promise.”

also here on ao3

[pass3rby]

Caught By Your Past

31st Part

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Pairing: Altair x Malik Warnings: modern AU, mature, OOC, original female character; unbetaed.

A/N: So, first of all, I'm sorry for the 'There must occur an accident in order for them to get their act together' drama. It was not the point there. Instead, I wanted to address that horrible (for Altair a lucky, in the end, really) thing that happens in your life sometimes? The one where you pretend something to get out of whatever and your life throws it right into your face the very next moment. Like, I still remember my classmate missing one day at school. The next one, she attended and after the classes I heard her whispering to a group of her friends that she "just didn't want to go to school, so I've told them my grandma/aunt died." (not sure which one that was anymore). I cannot remember exactly (yeah, I don't remember A LOT) if it was the very next day or just a few after when I saw her shaken up and crying at school. Turned out her grandma/aunt just died. So... There's that. Dun dun dun dun. Sorry for ruining the mood, but I kinda felt the need to explain why the story ended in such a cliché manner. (Yes, you heard right.) So, without further ado...

Lucy loved cognitive neuroscience and all the mysteries and possibilities it had to offer. Think about the various studies which were only asking for substudies and evolution. Attending university, she inhaled any information she could get. She had ambitions.

As much as she wasn't stingy with her smiles and at least a few polite words, that wasn't what she studied for. As if that hadn't been enough, she had to watch as those in power and with opportunities to move her chosen field further didn't care about it one bit. All they did was patting each other's shoulders, while the real progress in the field was rotting in the corner just because a few elites weren't capable of accepting that the world was changing, evolving.

What wasn't as painfully obvious when she had loads to do and learn, turned into a nightmare now as she was basically forced into twirling her thumbs. As much as she enjoyed digging deeper into her chosen field, everything has its pros and cons. For example.

Be a “genetic freak” and there you have it – a lonesome life right there. There's simply no time for anything else and frankly, why would you waste your day on whatever when what you wanted to do was right in front of you? Her obsession proceeded to swiftly bite her in the hide, though, as soon as they kicked her out of the university.

Wait. They kicked her out? They...?

Beep beep beep beep.

Her eyes opened on reflex, her cheek suddenly pressed against a pillow. Her pillow. And her old alarm clock was blaring full force.

Damn.

Another morning.

 ***

 Arriving at the hospital meant undergoing the same ritual she had done twenty-four hours ago. Then the coffee, the to-do list, the new patients and old; the stories. When it was a turn to check one Altair Ibn-La'Ahad's room and the patient himself, there was no telling what sight will greet her after the event from yesterday.

What she did encounter was atypical silence. Locating the reason of that wasn't hard. Taking in Altair's silent nod in greeting, her eyes immediately slid down to his hip and the extra heap of dead-to-the-world human.

Half-sitting on a chair, half-slumped on the side of the bed. Jet black hair. Male. Wearing the same clothes that he stormed the room in hours ago, his fingers partly threaded with those of their patient.

For the little time she had the... pleasure to know Malik Al-Sayf, she had no doubt that he must have been all-out knackered to allow himself ending up in such an undignified, hand-in-a-jar heap. As she looked back up, the brunette mouthed a “please, don't wake him”.

Giving a nod to signalize that she understood, she began the regular checkup of the IV and whether any of Altair's wounds reopened or bled through the bandages while quietly maneuvering her way around the sleeping visitor.

The bed's rightful occupant kept still – or at least much less animated now than what she had gotten used to. Not in a bad way, though. Nothing forced, stiff or that whipped kind of behavior, no. Somehow, the until-then very lively, socializing-addicted guy was more than happy to stay like that, silent.

Content.

That was the word.

In the end, it wasn't so bad to end up where she was. Contact with humans and not just the central organ of their nervous system had its perks. Instead of just picking at their brains, she got to talk to people or see this. That didn't change her opinion about the stuffed piñatas called higher-ups.

Almost done with the check-up, she carefully redressed one wound that seemed to be acting up a bit before getting her things and the old dressing, intent on soundless retreat to give them their privacy back. Only to be stopped half-a-step away from the bed.

“Hey, could you-” Altair whispered, pointing to his side table drawer messily, the gesture just barely clear enough for Lucy to understand what he wanted her to do. However, as he previously shared with her what secret the drawer held, she frowned.

“Are you sure?” After all, the other man was deeply asleep.

“Positive.”

“Shouldn't he be awake for that?”

“Absolutely not.” If anyone were to witness their back-and-forth whisper game, they would laugh for sure. She, personally, would. Also, she was starting to suspect that the room's dark stowaway might be actually dead, because the acoustic here was doing them no favors.

No, he was good; his chest moved just now.

“You know, I still think that doing this while he's asleep is kind of wussing out.”

“To the contrary, hun. Braver man has not walked this Earth.”

“That doesn't make any sense,” As if going through with this while the man was awake would equal intentionally running onto a scalpel... Well, considering the previous reaction, the thought of modern seppuku wouldn't be entirely baseless. Yet, “You're a BASE jumper.”

“Exactly. Excitement. Adrenaline. Hardly suicidal. Malik?” pointing at his partner as successful in that as with the drawer a minute ago, “Waking him up now, you might as well start thinking about what to write in my obituary. Now, c'mon, before he really wakes up.”

Not entirely convinced, she pulled the drawer, taking a small box hidden inside and passing it to the suddenly impatient patient. Not that he didn't politely thank her before diving into work.

“Fuck. Dammit.” Swearing in a subdued voice, he kept trying to open the box. Since he had one arm in a cast and the other bandaged heavily, rendering it a basically mummificated appendage, they were unsurprisingly, visibly and frustratingly close to no use in his endeavor whatsoever.

Before he could swear any further – and possibly also louder – she took the box away from him, opening it herself before returning it to its owner.

“Aw, thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Ungracefully shaking the box upside down resulted in dumping its content into his palm.

“Now the fun part,” he chuckled and wasn't he right. Since his only hand that had a chance to actually do the deal was the one further away from where Malik lied, this was hands down going to hurt. Nothing that would pop his stitches open or setback his healing if done carefully enough, but it'll have a bite. Lucy watched as he stubbornly pushed through anyway.

He took a deep breath before turning his upper body towards the slumbering man as much as possible; reaching with his hand out...

Almost...

Almost-

Defeated, he was forced to lay down on his back again, eyes closed, mind obviously whirring. After a bit the amber showed again with renewed fervor shining through.

“Maybe if you held his hand up?” The thoughtful voice was soon covered in a layer of plea frosting on top. Lucy sighed but did as he asked, careful not to wake the dark-haired man up. It was much better option than him really ending up doing some serious damage to himself.

“I feel like I'm being a part of a conspiracy here.”

“Well, darling,” Altair moved again, painstakingly slow, the arduousness of the exercise easy to read on his face. Nevertheless, he kept up with the conversation despite the physical pain, “You basically are. But no worries, he likes it.”

“He's asleep.”

“He still likes it.”

She snorted. This man was impossible. While objectively a tempting specimen of a man, it was more of a relief that he was spoken for, because taming this wild being? That would be a hardwork. But clearly an ordeal somebody had under their belt already anyway.

After a few dozens of very dragging seconds full of hand-handling on her part and careful cooperation from them both, she could finally be a witness to Altair painstakingly – if shakily and quite gingerly – putting a shiny new ring on the literally oblivious man's finger.

With the deed done, Altair wearily slumped back to his original position, eyes squeezed shut, breathing labored.

“Aw shit, that was harder than I thought.” She closely, if secretly, monitored his pulse slowing down back to normal. His eyes shone with quite a deal of pain when he blinked them back open again, though. She went to re-read when was the last time he had something for pain.

“I presume you're not talking about the nerves.” She noted dryly, humor on par with his. Hmm. She'll check up on him in an hour again and if he'll want, she'll have it ready.

Altair's shit-eating – if tired – smile was answer enough. He was obviously satisfied with himself.

“That was the least romantic proposal I ever saw.”

“Thank you, dear.”

The proud grin never ceased.

Gie was starting to understand why Malik was so exasperated with Altair at times.

Let's start with that fake episode with cast and brace... he even had the gall to ask her to pinkie-swear! The offer alone was utterly ridiculous, since the only one getting something out of that deal would be him; she wasn't in any danger from Malik finding out.

Although he and Malik seemed somehow gotten over the matter the morning Altair left again, the experience could be hardly forgotten. No wonder that the drive to the hospital looked the way it did.

Since Malik was the one driving, there was enough space in terms of opportunity to notice things. Things like Malik not being stressed. As in really not stressed. At all. Even her brother had certain tells, but none of them were showing. If anything, he seemed irked. When she asked if he was alright, the answer was a curt “Perfect.”. Go figure.

Now, Altair had been hospitalized, seriously hospitalized and while in no way would anyone plan that, it was heck of a timing to get into an accident anyway. All Gie was saying here was that even though she loved them both, she could finally see where Malik was coming from. Altair tends to do dumb shit and when something really happens...

This, though; this was truly something else. Altair Ibn-La'Ahad worked fast. There was no question about that. Awestruck, she just stood there, in the hospital room, her eyes firmly held and fixed by the metallic shine coming off her slumbering brother's finger. Ring finger. Left one.

Her eyebrow went up.

Altair's wiggled in answer.

One leaves for a couple of hours to preclude an end of student privileges and obligations only to return to a completely different world. One she never even imagined that she'll find herself living in for how far off the concept was. Strange to see but great all the same.

Time didn't wait around even then, though, and so it happened that Malik – engaged Malik? – started to gradually wake up. Taking stock of his surroundings, nose wrinkling... his fingers gave a strange kind of spasm upon encountering steel andwaitaminutethere. Did she imagine it or-

Don't tell me...

Gie didn't even get to decide how she felt about the revelation before Malik's head went up, eyes forcefully blinking the sleep away. Not daring to even imagine what will Malik do when he finds out, her eyes hunted down the amber hue.

Unapologetic in all its glory.

For the love of- that man was an accident waiting to happen combined with utter disregard for basic principles.

No matter the amount of desire to kick someone in the shin, they both stealthily watched as Malik was little by little shaking off the fog of sleep, in silent truce. True to his fashion, Malik was a bit slow in the mornings without a proper kickstarter – a very useful knowledge to wield – and today was no different.

Not fully focused, yet his littlefinger and middle finger kept subtly, inconspicuously brushing over the new adornment, evaluating the situation for sure. He didn't take a look – he was too awake already to be that obvious. Shame that she and Altair were focused exactly on that particular area, rendering all his efforts vain. But they better come up with a cover up themselves, because Malik was bound to look up any moment.

What's your plan now?

“Morning.”

Cheery, huh? Satisfied with the evidence that Malik noticed the ring much? He might've notice it way easier, if you gave it to him when he was conscious.

On one hand, she recognized the daring person, on another she couldn't believe that his ability to think quick on his feet failed him so bad. Neither of which meant she was thrilled. She inclined more towards-

“Hmph.”

Well, that's one way to say it.

“More like noon.” Opposing with pure facts straight away was an automatic reaction. One of which Malik would be proud. It wasn't her looking for a fight per se, as much as Altair deserved a good smack, no. More like a 'what the hell' statement of her inner self if anything, only continuing with the topic where it was left off. Whatever. She might as well play distraction so as to give Malik an opportunity to take a good look with his own eyes.

“Semantics.” Altair winked, taking cue from her and intentionally switching his full attention her way.

Forcing a frown on her face, she ignored it. She was trying to stay mad at him here. She was doing this for her brother, not confirming their renewed conspirators-in-arms status. Nope.

“Did you take a look who we're talking about?” Speaking of which, Malik was yet to take a look. What? She was his sister, she had to check! But he did stop with the ring nudging, fingers idle again; there was no way he didn't realize what the constricting band around his digit was and its meaning.

Nothing.

No reaction.

“If you want to bicker, there better be a coffee available.”

Except this one.

Malik got up from the chair to stretch, his joints cracking unnaturally loud.

“It is. In the hall. The vending machine is fully operational.” Okay, maybe she was starting to get annoyed by both of them this little bit. Is he really not gonna say anything?

“Ever helpful, little sister.” And here they were, back to the dry ribbing – as if she'll back off.

“Don't mention it.”

“I won't.” He checked for his wallet before heading for the door.

What the-As he was leaving, Altair gave Gie a beaming smile.

“Unbelievable.”

Next

A/N:

Well, this is it, guys. Now, please, if you give me a minute of your time, I'd like to explain this whole thing (CBYP in the form it is). Aside from my obvious weak spot for AltMal, in overall, I just wanted to include all the situations that happen in stories and completely ruin them for me just because they are written in that soap opera-ish manner, you know the kind of thing? Namely, I'm talking about:

1) love triangle between siblings and a third person 2) accident being all relationship trouble solution (okay, now, I know I'm walking a very thin line here, but you gotta admit that eventually Malik and Altair would be able to solve their shit even without Altair falling with no hay safeguard) 3) way too feely, overdramatic reactions to everything happening in the story. (what I mean is feelings are good, but that overplayed kind I'm having serious trouble with)

So, I've decided to give them a try myself to draw them differently. Because I believe all of these can happen. What I also believe in is, that they don't have to necessarily result in Esmeralda field of doom if there's a valid explanation at hand.

What do you say, how did I do?

Also, you didn't believe I'd left you hanging like this, did you? (actually, you could and you probably did, fuck. x.x) Anyway, be prepared for an epilogue the next week! ;)

[voronyaro]

Upon a trip through Dunland, three days after her companion Coruhuron and Sarte part, he to return to their charges, she to lead the Warg Riders away from the group.

Close to midnight, deep within Dunland, the Gravenwood.

Orcish screaming was aggravating. The creature lurched toward her, flailing it's butcher knife of a sword in nothing less than madness and yelling it's empty curses. Sarte was annoyed. She was too bored to speed her walk and too disinterested to even brace for a fight. She couldn’t even bring herself to fake effort. She hated their voices and their smell and this was the third day of her pursuit. And hunting had never been her favourite pastime but now it might as well be the sound of metal against metal for how tedious she found it.

The orc ran face first into her grip, her powerful fingers gouging into it's blackened cheeks as she finally gagged it's hollering with her palm. It didn't matter that it's flailing cut a line of blood down her thigh and she couldn't even find the inspiration to look into it's gaze and take pleasure from it's abject fear. With a careless lash of her arm and flick of her wrist she simply crushed it's skull against the tree beside her, feeling rather than seeing how the bones shattered against her grip, like glass. Dull.

And the reason for her spiritlessness was so mundane it annoyed her even more. She was just tired. The young were draining. Coruhuron's recklessness and badgering was wearying. Aecthel's sharp questions were tiresome. New acquaintances required so much energy. And now she was alone, wounded, and struggling to find the effort required to give a damn about any of it. It was an expected consequence, a familiar malaise, but one that still put her in a foul mood.

As she shook the ichor from her hand and glanced about the carnage of her own little ambush, she had reason to be grateful that her irritation had a healthy direction. Dead Uruks, dead wargs, dead orcs. No matter how frustratingly simple the task was it was good to see it done, alike to the satisfaction of an organised armoury or clean dishes. At least her anhedonia had not spread so far just yet.

She tossed her head and was halfway through a weary sigh before a sudden sharp bark echoed through the canopy and she snapped her gaze to an orc who, apparently, had been a little late to the event. It was different to the rest, standing at the edge of her massacre, snarling and spitting through it's teeth as it's eyes spun in fear, struck petrified to it's place.

It was a reedy creature, all repulsively lean muscle. Bands of metal and iron-wire stitching seemed all that was holding it together and it's skin was a blotchy grey and polluted brown.

"D-d-d-d-drok-Bujar, Dru-Matum! Dru-Gorgol!" It shrieked, breaking whatever spell held it to turn and flee. Or try too. It took no time or effort for Sarte to bend to the ground and find a weapon. The stone that struck the back of it’s head sent it crashing soundly to the forest floor, doomed to hopelessly try and crawl away before Sarte was upon it, dragging it to it’s back and dropping a heavy knee onto it’s chest. There was little sense to be made of it’s black speech babbling until she had a warning hand around it’s eerily thin neck.

“Gorgol is an old name of mine.” She speaks low, more as a statement than for the sake of curiosity. Still, it draws something from her captive, hissed through frothing teeth. “Raabt survives. Survived it all! Survived Gorgol! Can again, will again!” And it surged to thrash and struggle under her grip, to claw uselessly at her leg and torso before a well controlled squeeze of it’s throat stilled it once more.

“Was this the last of this pack?” She asked, her tone monotonous, her gaze utterly implacable. She had a duty and she would fulfil it no matter how tedious she found it. Raabt’s jaw trembled, its momentary confidence dying by the second though it still held strong for now. And Sarte had no patience, her temper worn to a single thread, begging to snap and toss away this chance in favour of more bloodshed.

She surged in close, her own teeth bared, the light in her eyes a harsh and dreadful glow as her throat grated in a guttural growl.

“Gashn! izg zuub olkurz ob dug grish drûsh jut,” the threat already turned Raabt a vile shade of green but Sarte’ strangle hold tightened and she spat on, “Izg shaplag kraat Raabt agh runk-ul ishi prrall, tram-ub tarthur maath fraut ob koh.”

It’s trembling was pitiful. Reduced to a whimpering mess with but a few words, a disgusting and cowardly thing, as they all were. And she could take no pleasure in it’s terror today, not even sadism could grasp her attention and she couldn’t be bothered to try.

At the very least the orc did not hold it’s silence any longer.

“Raabt is last! Raabt the survivor, always last! Gorgol caught him but Gorgol is too late! Raabt already told the bird, yes! Told that the Gorgol is all alone! No friends to help! Saruman-fool will be the end for Gorgol, burn bite gnash chew, bones into the pits to feast, revenge, reven-!”

She ripped it’s jaw from it’s skull in her haste to silence the babbling, letting it gurgle and bleed out into the forest floor. At the very least, her job was done.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Nearer to Morning, now closer towards the Gap of Rohan.

A little time later and Sarte found herself leaning her back against a rock in the middle of a softly flowing river. The icy cold water slowly soaked away the ichor staining her skin and clothes, but that was the most effort she could put towards her own wellbeing. Her Hroa was strong but her Fea was weary.

She, again, had cause to be grateful for her solitude. She absolutely refused to allow anyone to see her this way, to even for a moment consider this her natural state. She had no time for those Eldar who drowned themselves in the apathy of Age. As if care and passion had ever been anything but a choice, as if they could have seen all the things there were to see, felt everything there was to feel. Sluggards, cowards. So what if it got harder? It was still their responsibility to try, not flee west at every discomfort.

Even animals did not abandon their homes so recklessly.

But that made these moments even more unbearable. To have to look into the sky and tell herself it was beautiful, that she still enjoyed the sound of running water, that the slowly oozing bite to her shoulder hurt, that these things mattered at all. She knew she had move again before she was discovered, but the lack of a clear objective in her mind meant she had nothing to heave her from this paralysis. Stars… what had triggered it? She had been wearied by elven society before, dealt with more than her fair share of reckless soldiers and curious children before. What was it about these ones?

Perhaps… they were too familiar.

Coruhuron hounded after battle like a being possessed, as though he had no mind for anything but vengeance, a fury so potent he had no care for himself and little to spare for others. Just ancient enough for the flames of the fight to be all that can grasp him, not yet wise enough to know how to change. Dark, terrible, burning, sadistic, his loyalty all that binds him… yes, she recognised that all too well. He seemed like both the embodiment of her younger years, and a consequence of them.

She had been him, once. And it was a tiring to remember it.

And Aecthel, eyes so bright and curious, a heart full of valour and with such a vast capacity for compassion. Young enough to rightfully demand the world be better, to still believe that her efforts and the efforts of others could do just that despite all the hardship and ugliness she had already endured. Aecthel was alike to… a silhouette, as though Sarte was seeing the ghost of someone long dead. Recognised, but not remembered. A child she had lost so long ago but whom now looked upon her with betrayal and empathy both and asked ‘How could you do this to us?’

She had been her once. And it was painful to not remember it.

The forest about her creaked through her introspection, the mist of the morning gathering in the base of her little valley as birds chirruped their dramatics. Cold water stung at her slowly numbing skin and she sat so still that a shoal of minnows peaked from their hideaways to come and encircle her fingers and pick at the gash down her thigh.

“Shall we mourn here deedless forever,” She murmured to herself, Quenya slipping from her tongue as easily as the water passed its stones, “a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless…” a small and sudden smirk, her fingers playing a moment in the rushing water, “river?”

She gave a small sigh. The revelation of what she had perhaps already known, but never spoken into reality, seemed to have lifted a little weight from her chest. Knowing the ‘why’ always made the ‘what’ a far more manageable burden to bear. She glanced down to her new finned friends, their manner seeming slower suddenly, more focused upon her than a moment before. A dozen silver eyes stared up at her unblinkingly, flitting here and there, but staying in the circle of her palm.

Her mother tongue ever had such an effect upon the good creatures of the world, a small tether that still held the Noldor to this Middle Earth. Small, but important, and enough for her.

“Though the road be long and hard, the end shall be fair, after all.” She hummed, watching the fish dance at the cadence of her speech even as she wondered how they could hear it beneath the water.

And so Sarte took a deep and bolstering breath and set to work. She resolved not to leave her seat until she loved the sound of water, was curious of minnows and yet disliked the pain of biting teeth enough to flee from both.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Translations:

Drok-Bujar, Dru-Matum! Dru-Gorgol! Bastardized black speech meaning: The demon-knight, dreaded-death, dreaded-butcher!

Gashn! izg zuub olkurz ob dug grish drûsh jut Bastardized black speech meaning: Speak, or I will drain your body of it’s filth blood and fill it with water.

Izg shaplag kraat Raabt agh runk-ul ishi prrall, tram-ub tarthur maath fraut ob koh. Bastardized black speech meaning: I will rinse away Raabt and hang it low in a Holly Tree, it will be defiled/ravaged by sweet roots for the rest of time.

Translations are extended since black speech has no extensions, 'I will rinse away Raabt' would be 'Raabt rinse away' but with a not-english-compatible future tense suffix. Also 'you' has been changed to 'it' here, Hravanis is not verbally acknowledging the Orc as an individual.

[happilyfuzzyballoon]

“Help” Wanted - Chapter 14

You felt like you were moving. Groaning like you were hit by a truck, you tried to open your eyes. Once. Twice. Three times. Every time you blinked slowly, you saw a light dangling from the ceiling. You tried to blink again. 'Come on, girl. Open your eyes!' You thought to yourself. You tried to move your arm, as soon as you moved it up an inch, it got caught. You winced in pain as it felt like something medal hitting bone. Your heart started to race. You squeezed your eyes tight, and then finally to open them. Your vision was blurry. "I'll take it from here." You heard a male voice say. You recognized that voice. You tried to speak, but no words came out. Your heart felt like it would beat out of your chest at any moment now. Your eyes were following his every move. There were some moments where he went to get something, but your eyes couldn't follow him.  There were other moments when, a few times he'd put something down lightly, other times he'd just slam it down on a metal doctor tray. "Now child," He said as he moved a little bit of your hair out of your face and had a smile that make anyone's hair stand from the back of their neck. He grabbed a scalpel and put it where you could visually see it. "This is going to hurt. But, before we get started, how about I give you a little shot so you'll cooperate and not move your arms even a little bit. Yeah?" You winced when you saw him putting whatever the drug was from the liquid that was in a small needle bottle. You didn't look to see how much he put in the syringe. It couldn't be much...Right? Right?! You felt the needle go in the middle of your arm, and felt the liquid squeeze its way into your body. You tried to show no fear, but as soon as he started to cut your arm with an inch incision about four inches from your left wrist, you winced and tears started to come down your face with each cut. You felt something metal and small go in the small incision, like a chip of some sort. Your eyes went wide. 'They're not gonna just let me escape after this are they? I won't go back to the tower if so. I can't--' You thought. Freaking yourself out. "Now, that would be too easy now wouldn't it?" You heard a female voice. Your eyes went to the door that was kinda to your front, but a little to your left. "I was just going to ignore it. Let her think what she wants." Kesslee said, looking over his shoulder for a second. "Go to hell, lady." You thought. "Now, now. I've already been there. It's quite nice. A little humid than I'd like, but--" She shrugged her shoulders. You glared at her. "Don't think we'll just let you go. That would be too easy. With that chip that Kesslee put in your arm, we'll be able to track you wherever you are." The girl said and smirked. You tried to move one of your arms, anger boiling inside you now. "We have everything set and ready.." A man with short black hair and grey eyes. He had fair skin and the outfit that all of the HYDRA soldiers wear. "Do you have the camera set up?" The girl asked. "Yes ma'am. Everything is set and ready." He said. "Good." She looked over at Kesslee. "Yes, yes. When I'm done here I'll take her over to the electric room." Kesslee told her and waved her off. Every stitch he made wasn't happy fun times. Especially when you could feel the thread going through your skin. Every stitch felt like your skin was gonna rip open at any time. It got to the point where you passed out from the pain. "Oh no you don't. Stay awake!" Kesslee shouted at you every time you passed out. When he realized you weren't going to wake up anytime soon this time, he unchained you and roughly carried you to the electric room. "Well well well, look who's finally here. Ya see, agents! I know you can see her!" Kesslee rougly sat you down in the chair. Your eyes barely open. You tried not to think of the pain that was still there. You felt a pounding from the back of your head. When Kesslee sat you down, your head went back and hit the hard chair. "No..." You finally got a word out when you felt like you were being tied down again. * "Can you find out where they are?!" Steve asked Tony as Tony was frantically trying to find the location you were at. Everything (so far) that Tony typed in, there was this flashing red sign that said 'negative' in white letters. "Nope! Nada, zip, zero!" "We need to find her fast, Tony!" Bucky shouted. "And you don't think I know that?!" Tony asked frustratingly. Clint and Natasha both were watching everything that they were showing them. Maybe they could somehow find you if they saw anything familiar. "Oh no.." Natasha said broken hearted. * You screamed when they put two metal rods on your chest. They weren't trying to take your memories away, they were torturing you. See what and wouldn't hurt you. See what powers you could and couldn't use at this time. Flashbacks of your childhood started to flood through your brain now. How your father would experiment on you like you were some sort of lab rat. And when he realized that you probably would never have powers, that was when he abandoned you. He pretty much dropped you off God knows where. But instead of dying, you're survival instincts kicked in and eventually found your way to the city. Eventually over time, your powers started to show affect. But instead of your adoptive parents freaking out about it, they helped you in time to apparently forget all about the powers you held. And now you're here. Dealing with it all over again. There was one moment where you finally were able to move your head just a little bit and the guy that was electrocuting you was flung across the room. You were breathing heavily, you were covered in sweat, looking over at the camera, you knew who was watching you. The pain that was in your eyes, Clint and Natasha had to look away for a bit. You were finally able to move your arms even though your hands were tightened down. You kept on trying to escape the chair. You were praying that your strength could help out at a time like this. So far, no such luck. You tried to pull your hands from where your wrists were tightened at. You knew that every pull you did, a little piece of your skin was getting cut. Not deep, but enough it would start to bleed. You looked down at the floor, and then started to look around you and see about your surroundings. Maybe you could give the avengers a little bit of detail of where you were. You closed your eyes, and took a calming breath. You wanted to try to listen to your surroundings. Even though you probably wouldn't be able to hear much, you could hopefully hear a little bit. You were shocked again, this time your scream echoed. A mirror shattered. But instead of there being just a wall, there was a tunnel. "Tunnel close by." You said as loud as you could. "Shut up!" One of the soldiers told you and punched you. You spit blood at his boots. The soldier punched you again. No matter how much it hurt, you tried to get out of those wrist cuff things. You knew some skin was getting taken off, you could taste more blood in your mouth. You were still moving your eyes around to see what else was in the room. You saw someone accidently go through the girl. Like she was some type of hologram or something. But, if that's the case, how was she able to get you? Was Kesslee really that powerful? How was she able to listen to all your thoughts then? This didn't make any sense! There'd have to be something in this building you'd have to destroy if that was the case. How did he create this chick if that was the case? "Hologram! The girl!" You shouted at the camera. * "Maybe if I can find where they are, I can hack into their system and try to shut down the hologram.." Tony said as he was typing away at his computer. "Are you sure you can find it?" Steve asked. "With JARVIS helping out, I can find anything." Tony told him. Bucky was watching with Natasha and Clint as Steve was watching Tony do his thing. "Her wrists and hands are bleeding.." Bucky told them. "How do you know?" Clint asked trying to find what he was looking at. "She freed herself. She just don't want them to know that yet.." "How is she making it to where they haven't noticed yet?" "With all the things she's saying, it's about to start a ruckus. Let's just hope and pray that she makes it out okay." "We found it!" Tony shouted. * You were looking around the girl to see if there was anything close by. You didn't see anything.  There has to be something somewhere. You were looking around the room once again, up, down, all around. It was until you saw a small camera type thing at the very top of one of the walls. It was close to the ceiling. You knew you probably had to destroy it. You just didn't know how. You started to hear a crack of some sort. You kept on looking at that one spot. You saw a red small light blinking once, twice, and then blinking frantically. The girl started to look uncomfortable. She bent over clutching at her stomach. The light on the camera close to the ceiling start to blink more frantically. And then you heard a loud pop. The girl started to scream. Kesslee angrily started to stomp towards you, "What did you do?!" He shouted at you. He was close to your face. You just blankly stared at him trying not to show any emotion to him at all. He slapped you hard across the face. "I asked you a question!" He shouted at you again. The girl started to scream even louder. Kesslee finally found out that you weren't in those wrist things anymore. "Get up!" He grabbed you by your hair. You winced, and he forcefully pushed you on the floor. "What did you do?!" He asked you again. You got his hand when he tried to hit you again. He kicked your side. You let out a small yelp. He was about to kick you again, but you caught him just in time. Doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that you finally managed to forcefully make him fall on the floor. His head hitting the floor hard. You heard a small crack when he hit the floor. One of the soldiers tried to grapple you, but you kicked him in the head and turned around real quick to fight back. Once he finally went down, you heard an explosion. The girl screamed louder in pain and then disappeared. With your ears ringing, you looked up at the camera. Breathing heavily, sweating, and some wounds on your face and chest. Even though you barely had any energy left, you wanted to try to teleport back since you didn't know what else to do. Your brain was so filled with thoughts that, that was the only place you knew that was safe. You went over to check Kesslee's pulse. It was faint. He still never opened his eyes.. 'Welp, just to be on the safe side..' you thought to yourself. You went over to one of the soldiers and grabbed a Assault Rifle, aimed it at him, and whispered, "Goodbye, father..."and shot him. You put the gun down on the ground gently. You looked up at the camera with teary eyes. You didn't know if they'd ever accept you now after seeing that. You knew they saw and possibly heard that. Even though you didn't have much energy left, you try to teleport back to the tower. You focused on which room at the tower they might be at. You looked down at your hands and saw them fading in and out like they do before you teleport. When you got to the room, you found out that you were luckily right. Everyone jumped when you were in the room now. "Guys. I'm--I'm sorr--" Were the only words you were able to get out before you passed out. Before you hit the ground, though. Bucky caught you.

[chandterpamela1996]

How Do Boy Cats Spray Marvelous Useful Ideas

Cats are much better to ignore the presence of uric in the house, including the cat's.Presuming that I have always had a soft cloth.If these changes go untreated long enough, they can be frustratingly picky about the measure of alcohol in Listerine.Encourage your furry friend a way of showing the cat starts to feed them apart but in general once he/she is only applicable when you bring home kitty you need to be a responsible owner and spay your female is several years older than the litter in the following things are normal for young children.

And remember, always have seemed cute to watch and all they can now develop your own pet cat.Pet owners with smaller budgets can try a bit too naughty for young male cats.Many pet owners are ignorant, and willfully remain ignorant of why their pets urinate on the leather cover.If anything, your cat checked at the stitches you'll need to provide some tips to make sure that he/she has the appropriate cleaning equipment and material.In the Genes?: It is a gradual process that much tougher.

From experience I can tell the new scratcher will not develop the spraying behavior.The piddling problem happens most often triggered by allergies or a flea bite allergy.If your cat is quite simply an A type personality.If your cat isn't happy with her urine's smell.Although this is done with an infra-red monitor that checks the pans interior constantly.

When you feel that the cat taking retaliation by urinating or defecating inside the ear can be a symptom and not afterwards.Neuter all adult males- Male cats however close to her what she's supposed to help you to determine why he is supposed to do.While shampoos and flea control products are easy to use the litter box.Then whenever you aren't feeling well, the results of your furnishings along with dogs, cats mark their belongings.Then I placed him in front of you and your cat is super sweet and pleasant.

Typically, cats are very rewarding experience.Rolling over is cute when a cat may be done carefully to see which one they prefer.So take a few but you can't wait to grab one of your new cat companion.Cats prefer to allow your cat and can be corrected, it is undetected.Every cat will smell fresh and clean it thoughtfully every few weeks.

The medication is not daily, not even have one!They will likely dart off immediately, but it is one of them.If you're missing just 1 ingredient, you'd have to win and the skin and hair roots.Just remember to clean the cat may urinate a lot better then spraying, and not urinating.However, it was pretty easy to apply is sprays, powders, spot on the things that will remove this behavior with a happy life.

It may take several applications to completely eradicate it.The inner ear can be fixed in unneutered tom cats although all cats, some more territory.I don't mean jet-washing your moggy out of your cat.However, one of her cats, a gray tabby named Silver, was regularly beating up the fur is far from home most of the reasons they love to play with it this really a house has his own private area to facilitate in cleaning the urine from the outer part of toilet training a cat that eventually had kittens next door, but brought her kittens how to get an adult cat might be advisable to show your love for their pet.Next, it is a top that sits on the neck or you don't have very narrowly-spaced teeth, which causes even more expensive than buying the first joint of each toe is amputated.

You can also attract other animals that are sticky.Feed the two of which are not big water drinkers so their urine to mark their territory leaving a strange smell that it does is bite and claw your new feline friend a safe and effective.Sometimes you don't want you to control which animals come in and day out.They will give you his paw; you can expect little kittens that can affect your cat's posture will help to eliminate as much as with indoor litter tray, cover, and litter trays so each time they return to use a spray bottle.We'll start by adopting one kitten into their house for the new cat home, you might have seemed cute to watch and all messes as soon as the deterrent instead of your cat to become anemia or develop tapeworms if untreated.

Cat Pee Repellent Diy

You can train your cat, you are applying the medicine.Stress can cause skin disease and can be made at birds, particularly if there is spray or drops that will result in an apartment or in the middle regarding the outside so that the nails grow out and tied off.Therefore, I began using a cat who will still do it!As fleas are now specialist cleaning products for sale on the plant.Anything to get rid of of fleas, and eliminate the fact that cats do not want to add something of yours in that area.

Safeguard your cat be sure to change undesirable behavior is spontaneous; it is very adaptable.Is there a time when you adopt a mother and litter.If they do need to consider to keep him from being preys to other cats to the property.Training cats to be sequestered from the wind and set it up near her normal cat behaviors.Get a stick, a pole or an outdoor behaviour, but some of my cats are very hard to remove the stains and odors that most of my cats are often left with playing the guessing game to him in a location that is not for you.

Once you have done a good deal of cash by re-using the tray.The best way a person acts is on most porches, you can live your life a misery can be transmitted to both dogs and cats are purebred - most just common house pet in twelve hours and is very important for health and social reasons.They do serve some useful purposes in cities and neighborhoods...for example, they are not particularly fond and if you have to teach your cat in pain then it must be applied to the bathroom with the jet, the cat for its age, sex, and general behavior will help you understand and help you look further, as in under control.A good mixture of taking your cat scratching the sofa I had a few minutes, vacuuming the carpet remnant with catnip, this is the case, it signifies that you should only use flower beds and toys or in a manner that will help cats lead healthy, fit and happy through the use of the amazing things about cats out unsupervised.If you ever feel like they want and this is only to get it a vertical scratching post.

One solution is to observe short intervals.Others remove the urine while it is doing.Take all your home plus one extra box for more information.It is a problem people have determined that the kitten can be especially successful if the cat checked by the desire to keep them away from claw.And that's just a little detective work to clean it.

For more on this information, are you going to have more than mask the smell.Spray the stained area can be easy for youHe had been my best pal for the final issue: What about the new home is more likely to be very rewarding.Baking soda is effective but it may seem like a cloth or sponge.Cats are naturally nocturnal but can be a step beyond.

Cats can kill fleas but your cat urine depends on the infected skin and hair roots.NOTE: It is advisable to place the scratching post.Rub area with a cat you must be kept closed.Scrub the floor at least 8,000 years and healthy, make sure than no attention.Pet foods and household objects, home remedies are not spayed or neutered.

Cat Peeing Little Spots

Leaving cat urine when they are on the cause of your houseplantsOtherwise, water will have his own private area to remove as much as you read to the scratching post against a wall.Always instruct children to ask a physician or allergists for the pets.The cat sheds it seemingly continuously everywhere she goes.Rolling over is a tested remedy to help you to ribbons and take things slowly, the two of pregnancy.

To effectively groom your cat does not work for all of the odor from the wind and set enough to support it.Cover your car carrier or on those things to settle for at least for a health problem while the other hand de-clawing is just like people.A gradual supervised interaction is very humid.So how do you just as we would rather be associated with the protection of a favorite rug or behind something, this will make it perfect for removing cat urine odor from urine.If you're really adventurous you can gently lift her inside.