slapping-purses

Across the Divide

TITLE: Across The Divide


CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Six

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki sneaking out of the palace as a youth to see the city and countryside, while out one day, he accidentally gets in trouble for something, but a young girl deals with the situation, allowing him to be left alone and his true identity be kept secret. She is a poor girl who is only in the city to sell goods with her father, so she does not realise it is Loki, even though she sees his face. They form a friendship as she shows him around the city, and tells him the date she comes to the city every month for a particular market.

RATING: Teen and Up 


NOTES: So many people kept asking me what ages Ariella and Loki were when I started this, I apologise for not putting it in sooner. 

To begin with, Ariella was about the age of a 14-year-old girl, but in Aesir years, which apparently is like 96 to 1 or something, and Loki was 15, now, Loki is about to celebrate his ascent to manhood at what I am putting down as the equivalent to an 18th birthday, but because of their lifespan, is actually far longer than 3 years.

Loki and Ariella met every market for years, their friendship becoming stronger at everyone, and as Loki’s milestone of his eight-hundredth birthday approached, they only became closer.

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Taking Back Control

A/N: Wow, 2 fics from me in one week!? That’s the power of Negan Smut Week for ya. This time I’m finishing up my last prompt for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash‘s 2K Writing Challenge: NeganxOlivia. This scene takes place before Spencer’s death (and I personally like to imagine Olivia doesn’t get killed because wtf AMC why do you have to take all my favorite characters away???) Depending on how you view Olivia, you might find this out of character for her but I kind of wanted her to show a bit of confidence and power over that bad boy we all love. So I hope you all enjoy, because I had a lot of fun writing this (especially because I relate with Olivia and I’d totally be her best friend) <3

Words: 3357

Warnings: Smut, some dom and sub stuff, light bondage, cunnilingus, Negan’s filthy mouth.

Originally posted by jdm-negan-mcnaughty

Originally posted by heartfulloffandoms

Silently, Olivia stepped into the empty guest bedroom after the most uncomfortable dinner she’d ever had, even more so than any holiday meal in years past. She exhaled a shaky sigh before removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. As hard as she tried she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. She cursed to herself, frustrated with how she couldn’t control the emotions that stress brought on.

Damn him, Olivia thought. Damn that smug asshole. Who did he think he was, making fun of her weight and then asking to fuck her the next? What kind of pathetic excuse for a woman did he take her for? If there was anything that Olivia was proud of, it was the fact that she had found some hidden power within herself to stun Negan with a simple slap.

Olivia replaced her glasses on her face and smiled to herself as she stared at her right hand. She swore that she could still feel the way that his cheek connected with her palm. At that moment, she had felt strong when she watched how Negan’s eyes widened in shock and he needed a brief pause to recover. Where was that inner badass when Olivia needed her so many times for bullies in her past?

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Tangled up in webs

Warnings: None, Spoilers (???)

Pairing: Spider-man x reader, Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You are one of the Avengers hiding in Wakanda. Being the youngest and the only one with a secret identity, you are sent to New York to be undercover in Queens. You’re supposed to be focused on the mission- but then a distraction pops into your life. Well- more like swings.

Pt 2 : http://mattstarrxfandomimagines.tumblr.com/post/145920979041/tangled-up-in-webs-pt2

Pt 3: http://mattstarrxfandomimagines.tumblr.com/post/146320034226/tangled-up-in-webspt3

Pt 4:http://mattstarrxfandomimagines.tumblr.com/post/146407727786/tangled-up-in-webs-pt4?is_related_post=1

Pt 5: http://mattstarrxfandomimagines.tumblr.com/post/147110402506/tangled-up-in-webs-pt-5

Pt 6: http://mattstarrxfandomimagines.tumblr.com/post/148644531836/tangled-up-in-webs-final

“Hey (f/n), wake up.” You blink your hazy eyes and sit up rigidly, blankets falling off.
“What?” You ask, sagging forward when you see Steve standing in your door way, holding a large messenger bag.
Steve walked in and sat on the foot of your bed, almost crushing your toes. You pulled your feet in, curling your legs to tuck under your chin.
“We need to talk about your next assignment.”
You blinked, last nights late night briefing registering blearily in your mind.
The undercover mission.
Crap.
You scowled and pressed your face into your knees, a low groan emitted  from under a cloak of (h/c) hair. You heard Steve snort and rub your shins.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. It’ll give you some experience being a normal teenager.” You scowled deeper under your hair curtain. Biologically, you were fifteen years old. But in reality, you had only been alive for three years. Your growth from a fetus had been excelerated, so you lacked real memories of a childhood.  But on the bright side of being a biological weapon, you’ve never had to go to school. All your intelligence was artificially uploaded, so there hadn’t been need for education.
Social skills though… That was another thing all together.
“I think I can manage without going, thanks.” You stated angrily. Steve sighed.
“(F/n).”
You didn’t respond.
“(F/n). Hey. Look at me.”
Begrudgingly, you looked up and pouted.
“Going on this mission to Queens requires a teen. And someone with a secret identity. You’re the only one here who really tried to keep your civilian persona a secret. So my main reason if sending you is because you’re best for the job. The life experience is just a bonus.”
You scowled deeper and glared at Steve, trying to stay angry at him. Everything he said made sense to you logically. But not emotionally.
“I wanna stay in Wakanda. It’s so much cooler here.” You said as you laid back on your bed and covered your face with a pillow. Steve stood up and walked closer, staring at you from above your bed.
“So are you saying you reject the mission?”
A large feeling of guilt leaked into your mind, and squeezed your heart. You hated giving up on things, or saying no when people needed you. It felt like your conscience refused to give you any slack.
“No… I’ll go.”
“Great. You leave in three hours.”
You groaned and turned over onto your stomach.
***********************************
“ I hope you have a good trip (F/n).” You stopped in front of the Quinjet, seeing T'challa waiting for you.
Over the last six months you had grown to think very much of the Wakandin king. He was cool. At first you were mad at him for going after Bucky with little evidence and siding with Tony, but quickly after escaping the Raft your harsh opinions of him had melted away.
You smiled half heartedly and stopped near him, lugging your bag of laundry onto your shoulder.
“So do I. Believe it or not, I don’t really want to leave.” You said, looking out to the end of the hanger where you could see green, misty jungle stretching out to the horizon.
“I could see that, knowing how much some of the natives have attached to you.”
You snorted, knowing what T'challa was referring too.
Maybe during the… second week(?) of staying in Wakanda, you had stumbled upon the royal panther habitat. There had been no signs, but they also hadn’t been expecting anyone so deep in the jungle. You had plummeted straight into a pit of wild cats. Anyone else would have died. You however, didn’t.
When T'challa finally got there, he expected to see some poor jungle hiker scattered in pieces. Instead, he found you in a circle of adoring panthers. It was a scene straight out of a princess story.
“Thanks, the adoration of big cats has a special place in my heart.” You said, suddenly feeling wistful for the feeling of fur under your fingers. You almost asked if T'challa could send a  cat with you to New York. T'challa smiled and clapped you on the shoulder.
“All joking aside, I will miss you Miss (L/n).”  You looked up, feeling slightly embarrassed. You didn’t think people thought much of you. Especially given your company in the past- they never did anything to you close that was close to positive.
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say T'challa.” T'challa patted you on the back and led you halfway up the Quinjet’s ramp.
“Take care of yourself, make sure you don’t get caught.” You turn and smile, seeing genuine care in the kings eyes.
“Bye T'challa. Make sure everyone behaves while I’m gone.”
“Of course.” And with a smile and wave you walked up the ramp, which slowly closed on you, sealing your view of Wakanda.
You were going to miss this.
****************
Stepping into your small Queens apartment, you weren’t expecting anyone to be there.
Instead, Scott Lang stepped out of the kitchen in an apron.
You dropped your bags and slapped the sides of your face.
“No.”
“Hey sweetheart daughter of mine.”
“NO.” You insisted and threw your small purse, slapping it against the door. Scott made a face and gestured at the door.
“Watch were your throwing a fit (F/n)!” He pouted and placed one hand on his hip, the other holding a box of eggos.
“Whatever.” You huffed, and picked up the purse and hung it on the door handle, then turning to face your new “father”.
“Want some waffles?” He asked, holding out the box. You snorted and then nodded, walking past him. He tossed you the box and you pulled two frozen waffles and shoved them in the toaster.
“I thought my parental unit was going to be some trusted agent. Not-”
“Antman?”
You furrowed your brows and pulled down the lever on the toaster.
“Sure… Arn’t you supposed to be in California with Cassie anyway?” You said and turned around, seeing Scout leaning on the counter. His eyes widened, and Scott scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeah… About that-”
“Daddy!” You looked around Scott and then have him a look. Cassie came around the corner of the island, toothy smile littered with gaps.  She clamped onto Scotts legs, clad in a frilly tutu and tiara. Scott patted her head and looked back at you.
“You have a sister. Forgot to tell you.” You scoffed, even though you were still smiling. Of course he had brought Cassie. It was a good thing she was cute- and besides, she added good cover. She tipped her head back to look at you, tiara hanging tangled in her hair.
You smiled and wiggled your fingers at her. Her small mouth broke into a smile and she ran over to you, eyes wide.
“Are you (F/n)?”
You smiled and nodded. Cassie’s cute face looked happily shocked and then she crashed into your legs, wrapping her small arms around you.
You looked up at Scott, giving him a silent plea for help. How were you supposed to react?
“Your my new sister. I’m Cassie. I’m six. My Dad told me you can make weapons come out of you and you have to plug into the wall.” You blushed and rubbed your arm.
“Yeah, I do that…”
“Why?” You blinked, eyebrows furrowing.
“I guess because I have to… Recharge?” You said, unsure of how to reply. Scott walked over, pried Cassie from your legs and scooped her up.
“I think that’s enough questions for now Cass, (F/n)’s had a long trip. Why don’t we let her get settled huh?” He said as he adjusted the tiara as it slipped down his real daughters head. You nodded and slipped past Scott.
“Make sure my eggos don’t burn.”
“Sure thing. Daddy’s got it all covered.”
“Stop.”
“What? I’m joking!” You close the door to your room and look around. It was a normal sized room for an apartment, set up with a bed, desk and dresser. You nodded, taking in your environment.
This was yours.
You shrugged off the drawstring backpack on your shoulders and dropped it on the bed. You followed suit, spreading eagle style on the purple comforter. The comforter smelled like clean laundry. You turn your head, taking in a lungful of the relaxing smell. You opened you eyes, seeing you were facing your bag. Spilling from the top was your mask. You grabbed it and sat up, drawing a finger down the edge. Your mask was ivory white, and looked like something you would see in Japan. It covered your entire face, making you look like a statue. The eyes were framed in black reflective material, covering your eyes but enabling you to see out of your mask. Blue and red markings adorned your identity protector, spicing up the white space. You drew your thumb across the surface of the mask.
You were sent here to scope out Queens. Recently, many reports have come in about super powered villains and the Avengers in Wakonda wanted to get to the bottom of it. So that required you to act as a normal teenager and snoop around. You sighed, pressing the mask to your chest.
You wondered if this was how kindergartners felt.
************************************
You hopped out of Scott’s car, shouldering your backpack.
“Have a good day!Hey, if anyone tries to shove your head in a toilet- don’t maim them.”
You gave Scott a look as Cassie giggled in the backseat.
“Ha ha. See you after school.” You said, hissing through a grit-toothed smile.
“Of course sweetheart.” You turned away and slammed the car door, rolling your eyes with a smile. You walked away looking up at the large building of your new school. You made a face and shrugged.
‘Here goes nothing.’ You thought, jogging up the steps of the school. As you passed you saw all types of people. Some wearing high fashion, others wearing casual, some even wearing pajamas. You thought you respected the pajamas the most. If You could have, you would just wear pajamas too. Instead, You wore something that would make you stand out less. You wore a black romper, with a long, white, unbuttoned boyfriend shirt. Your hair was pulled up in a loose bun, (h/t) strands falling loose and framing your face. It was something you assumed was right in the middle- not  too fancy and not pajamas.
Sadly.
You passed quickly through the hallways and came to your first classroom. You entered and sat down at an empty desk, right next to a window. You hung your bag on the back of your chair and peered out the window, taking in the crowd of people on the lawn below. You scowled and put a hand to your mouth. Anyone could be dangerous. Right now, there was no telling who was holding back sinister intentions. You tapped your foot and then turned, heading for the door. Right as you laid a hand on the door handle, a boy slammed the door open and crashed into you. You yelped and stumbled back, bringing your hands back to catch yourself.
You didn’t hit the ground. The boy had caught you, hands gripping your upper arms. You looked up, eyes wide.
The boy looked down, still breathing heavily from what he had been doing before he plowed you over. He blinked, like he just realized what he was doing.
“Oh- uh, sorry about that.” He said, lifting you to your feet. You looked him over quickly, touching your hair like you were afraid your bun had fallen off.
“It’s fine. I’ve gotten knocked down more times then you think.” You said absentmindedly. The boy squinted at you, like something was bothering him.
“Have we met before?” He asked, giving you a once over. Your cheeks flared. Something about him looking you over made you uncomfortable.
“No- I’m certain we haven’t. Believe me…” You trailed off- you didn’t know his name.
“ Peter. Peter Parker.” He said and held out his hand, smiling. You blinked, staring at his hand.
“Oh!” You shook your head and took his hand, shaking it. You hadn’t been sure how teens introduced themselves.
“And your name is?…” Peter ventured when he let go if your hand.
You felt like hitting yourself.
“Crap, sorry. It’s (F/n) (L/n).” You said quickly, glancing up at the ceiling.
'Help me.’ You thought bitterly. Your gaze fell back from the ceiling and landed on Peter- who was looking at you.
“… You were homeschooled weren’t you?” He asked. Your eyes widened and you nodded. This was something you knew how to answer. Something you had actually been briefed on.
“Yeah- my whole life. It’s a bit different then what I’m used to. My fri- family is a bit overprotective.”
“So overprotective that they wouldn’t let you go to school?” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed as he digested what you had said. You had almost let it slip about your team. You pursed your lips.
“Yeah. But I guess I agreed with them?…” You said, hating the excuse as soon as it passed your lips.
“Huh. Well I can’t say I don’t understand. My aunts pretty protective too.” Peter said, adjusting the backpack strap on his shoulder. You furrowed your eyebrows at the bead of sweat trailing down his neck. As you walked back over to your seat you tried to make small talk.
“Busy morning?”
“Huh?”
“Your sweating.”
“Oh I guess you could say that.” Peter said quickly. You furrowed your eyebrows. Funny reply- avoiding what he did. You pretended to look through your bag, in reality you were deep in thought. You needed to stare at something without looking weird.  Peter dropped his bad on the desk behind you.
“Do you mind? I might not look like it, but in this class I won’t have many friends, and I take it you won’t mind if I sit here…”
“So are we friends then?” You asked as you turned to him, bending your right leg and sinking your knee into your chair.
“Well that would be-”
“Look at this! Spider-man went up against this weird jungle man today!” A boy stampeded into the room, followed by other students as the bell for class rang. You looked up, watching the boy select a desk and collapse onto it, like he owned the place. Behind you, Peter groaned and sat down. At the front of the room, the boy paraded his phone for the the group of students. The picture was small, but you could see it. It was a picture of Spider-man fighting an orange clad muscle man, adorned with dark hair and a mustache.
“See? Totally awesome!”
“Sure Flash. But didn’t Spider-Man get his butt kicked?”
Peter had begun to hit his head against his desk.
“No! Him running away was a tactical decision. Spider-Man is just letting this guy think he has the upper hand- then WHAM! Spidey has him right were he wants him.”
“The guy got away with museum artifacts.”
“Shut up Parker.”  You craned your neck to get a better look at Flash. Blonde, huge, and relatively good-looking. But kinda an idiot. Flash then stood up and stalked over, all the while glaring at Peter, who seemed much smaller then him.
“Why? That’s what happened.” Flash scowled at Peter, fists clenching up at his sides.
“Really? I dunno. Maybe you can’t see without your dorky glasses on.”
“I got contacts.”
“Well, in a minute your not going to be able to see-”
“Hi. Um, can I see that article?” You asked, tapping Flash on the bicep. The bullying teen looked down at where you where sitting, giving you a once over.
“Who are you?”
“Nobody important. Can I see the article?” You dismissed his questions and kept your eyes on the phone. Flash furrowed his eyebrows like he was confused, but then shrugged and handed you the phone. You scrolled down the article, deciding you needed to find out who Spider-Man was fighting. But how were you supposed to do that? You turned the phone over looking at the case, and then the teacher entering the room.
“Cool case.” You told Flash and then tossed the phone back at him, smiling as he realized he had lost his opportunity to bully Peter some more. Flash frowned as the teacher began to start class, having to stomp back to his seat.
“Thanks.” Peter whispered for behind you. You smiled.
“No problem.”

You chewed in the inside of your cheek. You had finished your first day of school. It wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be, but most of this stuff you already knew. At the moment you stood in a subway car, hanging onto one of the rails. Peter stood next to you. Turns out that you both had a similar subway route, Peter just got off later. So you both had decided to ride together. Actually, Peter had been the only one you had met all day. You hoped that was normal enough. Instead of your cheek, you started to chew your bottom lip.
How were you supposed to find Spider-man? Sure, you could stage a bank robbery- that would work, but then you would be a criminal.
You could don your costume and search for him that way.
But that wouldn’t work either- you were supposed to be undercover. You blew air through your nose and glared at the ladies purse across from you, biting your lip harder.
“Are you okay (F/n)?…” You turned and looked and Peter, realizing you had been visibly brooding. You blushed and turned away, mentally kicking yourself. They should have sent Bucky. Sure he wasn’t a teenager and he was wanted- but he would’ve been better at this then you.
“Yeah,” you finally answered, “I just need to find Spider-Man.”
“What?” Peter exclaimed, bug-eyed.
You looked around the mostly vacant subway car, making sure Peter hadn’t drawn much attention.
“I need to find him and I don’t know how.” You muttered.
Peter looked at you like you had just suggested that Trump would be a great president.
“Why? Isn’t he kinda dangerous? Why would you need to find him?” Peter’s right hand ghosted over your shoulder, like he wanted to grab you and shake you back to your senses. You bit your lip again, thinking.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?!”
“You’re biting your lip. That’s a bad habit.”
“No.”
“Will you stop if I help you?”
You snorted.
“Is it really that annoying?”
“It’s concerning- and yes, especially if you break skin.” You made a face at him but did as he asked, releasing your lip from its white bricked prison.
“Now how are you supposed to help me with this Peter?” You asked as you watched the subway pull into a station. Peter pulled on one of the strings of his sweatshirt.
“First you need to tell me why you want to meet him.”
“Do you need to know?”
“Yup.” You mentally cursed, spitting out the first thing coming to mind.
“I need to interview him.”
“Interview? Like a reporter?”
“Sure. I like to interview people. And who better to interview then a superhero?”
“Someone who doesn’t fight crime on a daily basis.” Peter said, nodding like he had seen everything.
“Oh, of course. Now how are you supposed to help me? Do you know him or something?”
“You could say I take a lot of his glamour shots.”

“So you’re telling me that this kid knows Spider-Man?” Scott asked as he looked at you across the table. You nodded and typed something in on your laptop.
“Yeah- and besides, if Peter is lying it won’t be a huge deal.”
“Sure. Or he could jump you.”
“I highly doubt he would. He’s nice.”
“And cute?” Scott asked, smirking.
You glared at Scott.
“That doesn’t matter.”
Scott gasped.
“You do think he’s cute.”
“I do not.”
“Oh sure, of course. Whatever you say.” Scott said as he got up from the table and crossed into the kitchen.
“If you ever bring him home he’s going to need to be good enough for my approval.”
“Scott for the last time- your not really my dad.”
“You’ve never had a Dad, how would you know?” You scowled and were about to reply when a notification popped up on your email.
“Finally.” You said, glad to have an excuse to stop the conversation.
You opened the email and saw it was from Peter, giving you an address to meet Spider-Man.
“Huh. That easy?” Scott asked. You shrugged, just glad to be making headway.
“I gotta go.” You said, grabbing your sweatshirt and heading for the door.
“Hey don’t forget your phone. Your interviewing remember?”
“Oh- whoops.” You stopped and ran back to the table, looking for your phone. Scott held the device up in his hand, the laptop now in his possession.
“Thanks.” You said and ran for the door.
“Hey who’s this guy with the mustache?” Scott asked, eyes on the computer screen.
“I dunno! That’s what I’m trying to find out!” You said and ran out the door.
If only you had known then what your were getting into.

The Hard Way...Part 2

I have had a few people request this since I wrote this one-shot, so I’ll give it a little wrap it.  I hope you enjoy it, because here it is, comin’ ‘atcha!

(Part 1)


The wrap-up was a haze.  Hotch’s lecture sounded far-off.  Everyone’s faces were static blurs, racing through time as they all struggle with the reality that they faced.

The reality that they were wrong, and that the unsub outplayed them all.

You all.

Staring at the mound of paperwork on top of your desk, you feel your head begin to sway back and forth, your mind blank as it refuses to try and attempt to sift through the information needed from this case to begin the paperwork needed for your moves.

For your mistakes.

For your deaths.

“Y/L/N?” Hotch calls, your head slowly raising to his gaze as he beckons you with his hand.

“My office,” he says.

Standing slowly as your body sways, you blankly make your way to the stairs, tripping up just about every single one of them as you steady yourself before entering your boss’s office.

Closing the door behind you, Hotch motions you to sit down in front of him.

“I’ll make this quick,” he says as you slump into the seat.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I told Reid,” he starts, “I’ve put in for two weeks of paid vacation for you.  You will take it.  It is an order.  Finish your paperwork, take some time to get your head on straight, and come in ready to work with the team.  Everyone on the team.  Otherwise HR will have to mediate.”

He blamed you.

He blamed you both.

And you couldn’t hold that against him.

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks sternly, your gaze hooked onto his desk as your head begins to sway again.

“No, sir,” you reply.

“Y/N?”

His change of voice caused you to slowly raise your gaze to his.

“The fighting pulled the team taut, but there was no way in this world we could’ve ever known that his mother was still alive.  That responsibility fell on Garcia, and records were falsified very well.  This is not your fault.”

“No, sir,” you respond.

“Y/N…” Hotch trails off.

But all you did was sit there and stare.

Sighing as he sits back into his chair, Hotch excuses you from the room as you slowly meander out, your feet carrying you haphazardly back down the stairs, your arms trembling as they try to hold you steady against the stair railing.

It was going to be a long day of paperwork.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks.

Staring at your laptop screen as you watch the social media news feed scroll past on your screen, your mind tries to wrap around the idea of two weeks.

You hadn’t taken so much as a long weekend since you had started your career-hopping at 22.

What were you going to do?

Where were you going to go?

Hearing a dinging sound, it whips you from your trance as your eyes trail the screen, a blinking chat box right in the middle of the screen catching your eye as you look at the name.

3PhD3Ba

How humble.

“Y/N?”

“Hello, Spencer,” you respond.

“How are you?” he asks.

How do you respond to that question?

“Garcia help me set this up.  Gave me your screen name in case we wanted to talk.”

“Figured that’s what porches and stoops were for,” you respond.

“You know, if you say your screen name out loud, it sounds like a botched attempt at C-3PO.”

“You a Star Wars fan?” he asks.

“No.  Trekkie all the way, but I’m not unfamiliar with the basic concepts of the franchise.”

He took a while to respond, and the silence online was just as awkward as it probably would have been in person.

This was stupid.  People were dead because of your fighting and incompetence and the two of you were discussing nerd ventures.

“I’ll talk to you later,” you type, ready to exit out of the chat screen.

“Wait wait wait wait,” he types.

“What?”

“What are you doing with your two weeks?” he asks.

“Don’t know.  Got a suitcase packed.  Figured I’d just go to the airport and pick a flight.”

“Sounds like fun,” he responds.

“I don’t know.  All I do know is people are dead because of me and I can’t just sit here and twiddle my thumbs for two weeks.”

“You think they’re dead because of you, Y/N?”

“Obviously,” you type.

“Y/N, you didn’t detonate that bomb.”

“But I should’ve seen his tricks.”

“Y/N…” Spencer types.

“Goodbye.  Airport bound.”

And with that, the chat box closed and your laptop was prompted to power down.

You were tempted to take it, but you settled for your phone and the charger, leaving the rest of the electronic world behind for a destination you were unsure of, and two weeks worth of self-pity to indulge before stepping back into the hardened world of criminals.

Maybe you’d pick a place with some drinks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking up at the flashing billboard of flights, you walk over to the desk as the woman asks you for your luggage.

“Actually, I haven’t booked a flight yet,” you state.

“Well, what can I help you with?” she asks, cocking her eyebrow at you as you sit your ID and debit card up on the counter.

“You have any flights with a seat left that takes me somewhere with good drinks?” you ask.

“You got a passport?” she smiles slyly.

Removing your passport from your over-sized purse, you slap it on the counter as the woman begins typing in her computer.

“You a partier or a sight-seer?” she asks.

“Sight-seer,” a voice pops up behind you.

Feeling your shoulders pull taut, you slowly turn your head as Spencer strides up beside you, setting his ID, credit card, and passport as well down beside yours.

“Preferably flights with two seats left,” he says coolly.

But as the woman behind the desk darts her eyes over to you, all you could do was stare at him.

“Well,” the woman says, clearing her voice as you whip your head back around to face her, “I’ve got a flight leaving in an hour for the French Polynesia, one stop off in an airport for 45 minutes, entire trip there is 17 hours and 40 minutes, and while you’re here I could book you a hotel or resort suite so it’ll be ready for you when you get there.”

“Sounds good,” Spencer says, taking the reigns as your eyes begin to water, “can you split a resort suite down the middle in terms of price?”

“Not here, but at the hotel when you check out you can, yes.  I just need a card to hold the room for you.  Nothing will be charged until you check out.”

“Perfect,” he says, “Put the airfare tickets going there on my card, put the ones coming back on hers, and use mind to hold the suite for us.”

As the woman gives you another look, you finally meet her gaze with your watery eyes as she removes her hands from her keyboard.

“This consensual, ma’am?” she asks, her attitude coming forth as she flicks a fiery gaze over to Spencer.

“We’re just, uh…FBI agents, ma’am.  Been uh…rough past week.  Mandatory leave for both of us.  Just uh…do what he says,” you breathe.

You watched the woman’s face soften a bit as she nods, taking your respective cards and booking your flights to and from as well as reserving what would be a very nice suite room for you both for when you arrive.

“Here you go,” she says after a while, prompting you to hand her your luggage as you grasp your ticket tight in your hand.

And as the two of you grab your materials from the desk, your body turning to head for the security part of the airport, the woman calls out behind you as you stop and turn your head.

“And sweetheart!?  They have fabulous drinks.”

me on a date:how do you feel about captain america?
them:from the avengers? he’s such a boy scout. he’s so boring. girls only like him because he’s hot.

me, shoving breadsticks into my purse after slapping them: i’m sorry but i need to go because you are a top grade-a asshole.

LOVE POWER PARTY!

THIS FRIDAY! 1/14/11 

10pm - 4am @ the Love Power Building (1407 Washington Ave S. MPLS, MN)

Marijuana Deathsquads 
Mystery Palace
Slapping Purses
STNNNG
LO MATTIN
DJ Andrew Broder
DJ Jonathan Ackerman
Plain Ole Bill
Solid Gold DJs (feat. Magic Brad)
Baby Pizza + King Latifah
Spyder Baby Raw Dawg & 2% Muck
Ghostband
Lush Sports
MAKR n FRIENZ
+++++++++more that we can’t even talk about. 

21+ to party 
$10 @ door
$12 after 1am



Adventures with Milton

@queenofchildren requested bellarke and “Call me now; it’s urgent.”  Special thanks to @reblogginhood for inspiring some of the details.


“Bellamy, it’s Clarke. Call me as soon as you get this.  It’s urgent.”  Clarke hung up and drummed her fingers on her countertop, glaring at the offending envelope.  Just one week ago she had been a little anxious about joining Miller and Monty’s joint bachelor party in Vegas because she didn’t always get along with Bellamy.  Or more accurately, they fought all the fucking time, but Monty asked her to come and she didn’t want to be a dick, so she sucked it up and agreed to go.  But now not only did she have his number but his contact had a stupid selfie of the two of them grinning like maniacs.

And really, the trip was mostly fun.  Bellamy shared her habit of fussing over the group, and since dealing with their friends while drunk was like herding cats it was nice to have someone to help.  The first few days went off without a hitch, but on the last full day in Vegas their friends held an intervention.  Apparently, “being responsible so no one loses all their money and/or accidentally pisses off the mafia” made them ”killjoys” who were “incapable of being spontaneous.”

And, well, Clarke never backed down from a challenge and neither did Bellamy.  So when Bellamy whispered in her ear to trust him before he dropped to one knee in front of the Bellagio Fountain and asked her to marry him she caught the gleam in his eye and said yes, of course with feigned trembling joy.

The rest of the crowd cheered while their friends exchanged looks.  “Hilarious,” Miller said after Bellamy had scooped her into a hug.

“Sorry to steal your thunder, man,” Bellamy said and wrapped his hand securely around hers.  “But you really shouldn’t be surprised.”

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