More realism studies as practice. I’m getting at least more familiar with Tony’s face but Loki’s face and hair are really, really hard to do. I guess I just need to familiarize myself with his face more. p.s. background elements sourced from random google images with some tweaking.
Summary: Life continued for the Justice League after Y/N’s death, but what happens when a member of the Avengers accidentally breaks their window during a fight? Meet Wicked Chaos, the newest Avenger addition, who distrusts the Justice League for some unknown reason, even for her.
Word Count: 11,634
Pairings: Clark Kent x Reader, Barry Allen x Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader, Tony Stark x Reader
Warnings: Amnesiac reader, A LITTLE angst, I’m pretty sure there’s swearing somewhere and I think that’s it.
A/N: FINALLY, THE DAY YOU ALL HAVE WAITED, JUST BEFORE 2016 ENDS!!! (In my time zone, so don’t come tell me that’s 2017 already, my computer still marks is 2016, period.) Hope you enjoy it since it’s NOT EDITED, SORRY. Therefore, any typos are on me (so let me know if you find any).
Imagine being into cosplay, despite being an avenger and 20 years old, and you do crossovers of things like beauty and the beast in a Harry Potter universe, Elsa if she was in the hunger games, pretty much Disney with a twist- Once when you were making armor for your Elsa in the hunger games costume, Loki comes in and sees you trying it on, admiring how tough you look in the armor in the mirror, he is aroused, and despite his better judgement he has to have you now- little did he know you had a crush on him for a while
Steven Grant Rogers had never been one to believe in ghost. When he came back, the only ghost he knew was Bucky, and he was alive and running from the government of several countries. But walking through walls and disappearing ghosts, well, those he never concerned himself with. They were all just a myth. After all, if ghosts existed he would see more of them.
He would have seen the Commandos.
But looking around in this green sky and purple ground, he might have been having second thoughts. He had been sent here by Loki and his dumb portal, and then captured by a knight who claimed he was a ghost. The walking through walls, disappearing type.
He was led by the silent knight to a large, medieval castle that was mostly white with a green trim. Strange.
The large (green) double doors opened, showing Steve the long red carpet and neat stonework of the interior walls. At the end of the carpet sat an empty throne, a staff leaning against it.
The knight pushed Steve forward harshly, and he was pretty sure he was going to have a bruise there. He probably would have fallen if he hadn’t been Captain freaking America. Unfortunately, the knight had taken his shield and wore it himself. The color scheme looked awful against the purple armor.
“Listen, I’ll take care of Fright Knight, darling. You go and have the housemaid give you a back rub. I’ll be there soon.”
It was only a few moments later that the voice came out. It belonged to a white haired man who had glowing green eyes. On his head was a crown with green and purple jewels, and on his shoulders was a long, dark cape.
“Fright Knight, let him go. I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding,” he said, waving the knight off. What kind of a name was Fright Knight? It didn’t matter though. The knight stepped away and the obvious king stepped forward.
“Hello, Captain,” he said politely, sticking out his hand for Steve to shake. It didn’t want to piss off royalty, so he shook the white glove that was outstretched. The king gave him a warm smile despite his touch being colder than ice.
“Where am I?” Steve asked. He didn’t want to come off as rude, but he needed to get back tot he fight. His friends were probably in trouble.
“You, sir, are in the Ghost Zone. Home of all ectoplasmic beings. Now, what brings you to the afterlife? You’re obviously not dead.”
Steve glanced behind the king at a portrait hanging above the wall. It was a photo of him and the Commandos and Peggy, all smiling at the camera and having a good time. So he was a fan.
“I’m in trouble. I was sent here by Thor’s brother, Loki. We were fighting him in South Africa,” he stated simply. He had no time for small talk. But the kng seemed to perk up at that.
“Loki? The Asgardian? Father of Hela?” He asked, bewildered. Steve nodded, sneaking another glance at the picture above the throne.
“Nice picture you have there,” he said.
“Yes, thank you. You can;t tell, but I’m in between Dugan and Barnes. Just invisible. You guys were an inspiration. Anyway, I can take you back to your friends and take care of your little Loki problem. He’s disturbed my realm and Hela’s for long enough now.”
He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. Steve blinked, and somewhere in that split second they had gone from the throne room to a charred city where Iron Man was being blasted into a building. Steve’s shield was back on his arm where it never should have left.
“How did you do that?” He asked. The king scoffed.
“Please, I’m the king of the Ghost Zone, man. And call me Danny. King sounds to formal if you’re not Fright Knight.” With that, he winked and then flew straight up and towards wherever Loki was. Steve followed him on foot.
“Loki! How are you doing?” Danny called, his cape billowing in the wind. Loki actually looked intimidated.
“It’s been a while, Dragaur,” he said snidely.
“Yes but I’ve become much more powerful since I took thr throne. Now, we could do this the easy way, where I send you back to Odin, or I can beat you within an inch of your life and send you back to Odin.” His hands errupted into green energy, making him look all the more powerful. “It’s your choice.”
Loki rolled his eyes and stood up. He pointed his staff at Danny, thought for a moment, and lowered it again before placing it on the ground and holding out his wrists.
“As I thought. Now, Captain, I believe he is all yours. And if you guys ever need anything just stop by. There are natural portals to the Zone everywhere. Buh-bye now.”
He gave a little wave and disappeared, leaving them to take care of Loki on their own. Clint sighed in awe.
Was it requested: Kinda but not really? Idk, it’s yes and no. Fandom: Marvel/Sherlock Pairing: Loki/reader, Moriarty/reader Rating: Your gran’s gonna beat the shit out of me with a bloody used tea bag, and I don’t think that’s my cup of tea, so don’t show her. Warnings: *vague shrug*, smut, angst, swearing, smoking, drinking, ANGST, more angst, love triangles, all that jazz. Summary: Rock song prompts: System Of A Down + 14, “You free your life”
Biffy Clyro + 5 + 10, “Wouldn’t go there without you”, “Nothing lasts forever, except you and me”
Good Charlotte + 4 + 11 + 12 + 13 + 14, “I could never live the way they’d want” “I will wait for you” “I will stay” “Motivate me” “That’s what I’m told”
Five Finger Death Punch + 6 + 8, “She was a princess” “This is my time to shine”
Steel Panther + 5 + 12, “You’ll be screaming my name” “My love is pure and true”
Of Mice & Men + 7 + 8 + 14, “It’s always been you and me” “You know what I’ve been through” “Thank you for this”
Alestorm + 7 + 10 + 13, “We’re hoisting the flag to be free” “All we can be” “What I need”
A Day To Remember + 1 + 8 + 10 + 11, “Not afraid of anything”, “None of that ever seems to matter when I’m holding you”, “You had me at hello”, “Get me through another day” Aerosmith + 1 + 3 + 4 + 10 + 11 12, “It started with a little kiss” “Never judge a book by its cover” “Dude looks like a lady” “Without your love I’m just a beggar” “The light at the end of the tunnel may be you” “You’ll be alright” Shakespeare prompts:
Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love
Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
Person A: You are a villain! Person B: You are a senator!
“…So what’s the plan? Do we even have a plan?” You rubbed the grip of your sword, palms sweaty.
Loki leaned against the massive, mossy boot of a scowling dwarven statue flanking Erebor. “I will distract him, and you drive your sword through that fleshy bit on the beast’s chest.”
“We are not prepared. There are too many variables, too many unknowns-”
“I’m sure we will improvise as needed.”
Loki, ever the optimist.
A line of elven soldiers stood high on the mountains away from Erebor, their leader astride a white Elk. Thranduil and his men would be here to witness the deed, but not intervene. The thought of them abandoning you if ever there was a time of need irked you, but it was the terms Loki and Thranduil had agreed upon. Without you present.
You could have said no. Walked away from this ludicrous mission. You supposed Loki could have commanded you to do it regardless, but he had never forced his will upon you before.
Even if he would have no shot at killing the beast without you, he gave you a choice. And the promise of freedom.
Slay the dragon for me, and I will release you from your life-debt.
You sighed. Then you drew your sword, and stepped into the gaping crevice in the side of the mountain. You felt an invisible hand squeeze your shoulder, then the warmth of Loki’s breath near your ear.
“My talents are better hidden in shadow; even if you cannot see me, know that I am always near.”
“As opposed astral-projecting from a safe distance outside the mountain?” You snapped. Loki didn’t answer.
The stench of mold and decay hung ripe in the bowels of Erebor. You silently stepped past the charred, crumbling husks of dead dwarves down the ashen stone stairs to the treasure room. Gold gleamed and glittered, piled high and shimmered low like rolling hills far as the eye could see. For a moment you stood gaping at the hoard.
Such staggering wealth. Such insatiable greed.
The gold began to sweep and swell, like a rolling ocean of dazzling light, the clinking and tinkling growing louder and louder, until it was thunderous waterfall of gems and jewels and gold, revealing a puckered, leathery beast of burnt rust and blood, speckled with glints of melted gold. Its wings fanned out, wide and billowy like sails. Its talons were black and wickedly curved. Its jaws were the gates of hell; a yawn was all it took to melt the glitter of gold into a steeping pool of molten death.
You knew then, why the elves stayed far, far from the mountain.
You felt the shiver of adrenaline rush through your veins, let it wash over you and ignite your core. You felt your senses heighten, your entire flesh wound tight and ready. You grinned, feeling delicious. You had found your greatest adversary. If you died tonight, it would be worth the fight.
THIEF! It rumbled, its voice like the grating of iron. ASSASSIN!
You danced across the slick quicksand of cascading gold, and leapt onto the dragon’s tail. You could feel the radiating fury from his glowing scales. The creature was brutality and death encased in armor. As it twisted, you grabbed ahold of one of its bony spines, wrapping your legs around it tight and slamming your blade in the jagged spaced between its scales. It glanced off in a shower of sparks and snapped in half between shifting scales, the pieces clattering uselessly down the side of the beast and swallowed by the rush of gold below.
The tender spot at the serpent’s breast, then.
You leapt from one spine to the next, clinging for dear life as the monster writhed and roared, wings conjuring winds so fierce they threatened to rip you away.
THERE WILL BE NOTHING OF YOUR REMAINS BUT DUST!
You crawled down towards its shoulder as you would scale the side of a volcano. The world shook about you, your ears ringing from its bellows. Finally, you see it. A tender, pale patch nestled between two scales the size of palace gates. You only had one sword left; you had to make it count.
As you raised your blade, the beast screeched and smashed its claws down upon you, closing you in an iron grip.
I WILL POP YOU LIKE A TICK! It hissed, its claws bearing down and crushing you. You felt your shoulder crack, your left arm folding in on itself in a sickening crunch.
Valhalla, you thought. But you knew the gates would be closed for you. The traitor. The dishonored.
“Let’s make a trade, shall we?” Came a familiar voice. Then the beast bellowed. Through the crimson haze of pain, you are vaguely aware that all the treasure, the mountains of gold, were suddenly gone. All that was left was the bare, grey stone of the empty treasure chamber.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! Smaug shrieked, its voice cracking. THIEF! The thought of losing all its treasure at once would likely drive it mad.
“Release the Valkyrie, and I shall restore your gold,” Loki said calming, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. It was Loki’s magic, you realized. Merely a mirage.
Suddenly you were tumbling through the air, down into darkness, fire, and stone. Landing in the warm, open arms of a familiar figure.
In your haze, you reached and touched his cheek. Then you blacked out.
The moment I saw this gorgeous print at Momocon I was in love. This lovely print is made by @wingogo she was such a nice and lovely artist alley neighbor. Seriously go check out her amazing art she had so many lovely merchandise at the con . Also had a fantastic time with @nocturnalhimesama@rairechu for this trip !
“No need to look so menacing, sweetheart.” Loki murmured in your ear. “This is the elven king I am treating with, not a horde of orcs.”
You bit your lip, trying to ignore the tingles down your spine.
The flush on your cheeks, the quickening of your breath. There was nothing that made a Valkyrie’s blood run hotter than the prospect of danger.
He had insisted on your company this night. For protection, he claimed. The Mirkwood elves were lean, war-hardened creatures with wild, dangerous temperaments. A valuable asset in Loki’s quest in gaining his rightful place as king and ruler of Asgard. But it was yet to be determined whether the king of the Woodland Realm was ally or adversary.
The elven procession was approaching, and the last thing you needed was to be distracted by his throaty sensuality, the electrifying warmth of his close proximity. You pulled from him in annoyance, adrenaline rushing. You had to focus.
The elven king strode forward in his brocade robes, hair cascading down his shoulders like a silver waterfall. He eyed Loki with a cool disdain, his nose upturned.
Loki gave him a charming grin and bowed, half mockingly. “Thranduil.”
Thranduil narrowed his eyes, looking hard at the Asgardian. Then his gaze fell on you.
You had not expected to see fire in the piercing blue. He tilted his head ever the so slightly. Suddenly a red-haired elf by him leapt towards Loki, silver blade flashing.
You blocked her sword with your twin daggers, inches from Loki’s face. You could hear the pounding of your heart, feel the maddening heat racing through you. She ducked as you swiped at her, and kicked your legs from under you. As you fell, you threw a dagger at her face. She knocked it from the air. You used the distraction to slam her in her shins. Her arms were pinned down with your knees, your remaining dagger against her throat. You glared triumphantly up at the elven king. Your breath was ragged now. Your lips were parched, your chest tight and heaving against your breastplate.
A faint smile played on the elven king’s lips. “…Quite a fighter you have protecting your mirage, Loki.”
You ground your teeth. The bastard. He brought you here not because he couldn’t protect himself, but to watch you burn. And he was enjoying every minute of it.
There was a rush of wind behind you as the mirage vanished. A warm, familiar hand grazed your shoulder. The sensation was almost painful. The real Loki had materialized, wearing his full regalia. Slowly, you released the elf and pulled yourself to your feet, every cell on fire.
“It seems as if elves are not easily deceived by Asgardian magic,” Loki laughed, shrugging. “I am impressed. Although I still don’t know what the fuss is about. I thought we had already reached an agreement.”
“We had. But you have yet to fulfill your side of the bargain.”
“Killing a dragon is no easy task; you know firsthand the dangers of facing such a beast. Surely there is something else I can offer in the meantime for a few thousand men.”
Thranduil was quiet, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to you and stared you dead in the eye. “…The Valkyrie, perhaps?”
Loki narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “I’m afraid the Valkyrie is not mine to give,” he lied smoothly. “She serves me on her own free will.”
“I see,” Thranduil said softly, his gaze lingering as if he were drinking you in. “I will give you time to consider a counter proposal. You and your Valkyrie are welcome to stay in Mirkwood in the meanwhile.”
He turned on his heel, his elven guards following after him deep into to the woods.
“Your rise to my defense was unusually slow tonight,” Loki said gruffly, cupping your chin and tilting it towards him. “You seem…distracted.”
Your senses still simmered from the brush with violence. He was too close, his lips a sensual flick away. His breath was warm on your face, his grasp firm.
“I promised to defend you. I was not aware I was to defend your shadows as well.“
He trailed his fingers down your face. “…I gave you freedom to choose how you serve me. If you’ve chosen to protect me, then protect me.”
You swallowed a low moan. Stupid hormones. Stupid Loki.
You swatted his hand away irritably. "Are we heading to Mirkwood?”
“You’ve but just met the king of elves, and now you’re so anxious to go to Mirkwood,” he said sourly, wrenching his gaze from you.
“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fine then.” He snapped. “We will go to Laketown first. Watching you fight has me worked up to quite an appetite.”
Loki’s “appetite” tonight was a voluptuous brunette and a lean, spritely red-head. You stood by in silent indifference as he hooked the tavern girls with the slightest crook of his finger, the seductive curve of his smile. How effortlessly the gods enthralled the mortals.
He spirited the four of you to the Halls of the Woodland King, where the elves were expecting your company. The elven guards raised their eyebrows at the humans but said nothing, showing you to the guest quarters.
Once in his room, he threw himself on the plush feather bed and gathered the two giggling women into his arms.
“Such delightful hospitality!” He drawled mockingly, grabbing a pillow. “Silks! Satin! Courtesy of the splendid elven king Thranduil, the only elf in the whole galaxy with a stick permanently up his arse!”
The red-head guffawed too loudly.
“They say a dragon shredded half his face,” the brunette rasped dramatically. “He uses magic to mask his disfigurement.”
“Oooh, battle scars!” Loki snickered. “Is that why you couldn’t take your eyes off him earlier, Valkyrie? He’s just your type!”
“…It’s late. I’ll take my leave.” You said flatly, heading towards the door.
The way he looked at you then, like a storm cloud had swallowed engulfed the sun.
“…You know I brought them here in jest,” He said quietly, the laughter gone from his voice. “Stay, and I will send them away.”
Spiteful, petty, jealous god. You can play that game too.
“…Good night, my lord,” you muttered, and closed the door.
The Mirkwood guards let you out of the cold stone halls and into the fresh silence of the woods. You leaned over railings of woven branches, overlooking the waterfall, the water crashing down against jagged rocks.
It had been three years since Loki claimed your life-debt. Six months since he began following you with eyes of forlorn longing.
Were he not in exile, he would never have given you a second glance. You knew it was only his loneliness that drove him to you.
A part of you hated him for it. Another part of you secretly yearned.
“It is not safe in these woods alone at night.”
The voice was low, soft as distant thunder. Your hands were on your blades, your breath caught in your throat. It was the elven king, pale under the moonlight like a silver ghost. He leaned against the trunk of a gnarled tree only a few feet away. You did not know how long he had been standing there, watching you.
You should have sensed his presence. How could you not have seen him? The base instinct of fight or flight took hold, adrenaline streaking through you like lightning as it did earlier in the night. Danger, your body purred. Delicious, delightful danger.
“I can fend for myself,” you murmured.
He drew closer. He was very tall. With broad, muscular shoulders and heavy-set chest. There was something very carnal about the way his robe flashed blood orange against blackened silver, and you could not help wonder what sort of man one would find beneath the brocade.
“I have seen for myself how a Valkyrie is a force to be reckoned with. Odin must truly regret having lost one of his finest warriors.”
“He regrets nothing,” you growled, your temper rising at the thought of the tyrannical old buzzard. “If he had his way, I would be burning alive on a pyre. Loki smuggled me from Asgard, before I could be executed.”
"A Valkyrie’s life spared is her life owed. So you do belong to Loki.”
There was that slight smile again. You could feel him studying you, a tiger eyeing its prey.
"He holds my life-debt. I belong to no one.”
“But you are precious to him.” His words dripped from his lips like honey. “Guard, soldier, assassin. Bound by honor to fight, to kill as commanded by whomever holds your debt.”
You nodded. “To go against the honor of a life-debt is lethal for Valkyries. Our hearts would stop mid-beat should we refuse to kill or defend as ordered.”
“Can a Valkyrie life-debt be transferred?”
The elven king’s expression was unreadable. You bit your lip.
“…Why do you ask?”
There was no mirth behind his smile. “I have a twisted dagger scar that runs between my shoulder blades. A jagged parting gift from one who had, up until then, been my confidant and most trusted bodyguard. I have made many enemies over the years, and I need someone I can trust. Loyalty, like trust, must be earned. But honor…” He took your hand and raised it to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “Honor is intrinsic. If it is honor that binds you to your god, then I will have that same honor bind you to me.“