#loki laufeysin x f!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunarbuck · 1 year

Text

Dance With The Devil (2)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 5k

Summary: You see a dark side to the men holding you captive, but you won't let them break you.

Warnings: death, violence, injury, angst

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! I've loved writing it :) beta'd by the lovely @purpleshallot

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

When you wake in the morning, you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus. Your body aches and your head spins. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, what happened last night, and as it all comes back to you, all you feel is anger.

It consumes you; it lights a fire in your heart.

You stare at yourself in the vanity mirror and try to ignore how puffy your eyes are from crying last night. Right then and there, you decide that you won’t be the weak little prisoner he expects you to be. You tell yourself that you won’t roll over and take it when he wants you to.

You’ll fight him. You’ll fight him every step of the way.

It only takes you a few minutes to clean yourself up, splashing water on your face to reduce the redness of your eyes. You dress in a pair of plain brown pants from the dresser and a shirt you find, noting that they fit pretty well. You’re not sure how the raven-haired man knew what sizes to get or if he always keeps spare clothes in this room.

Either way, you don’t want to know, and you tell yourself that you don’t care.

You place your hand on the doorknob and take a deep breath. As you turn it, the metal is cool beneath your fingertips, a loud click echoing through your brain.

When you emerge from the room, you run straight into someone’s back, though they don’t fall over. Instead, the person turns around and catches you easily, steadying you. It only takes a moment to recognize them as the man you’d seen last night in the hallway, who directed you to your father.

“Good morning,” he says, removing his hands from where they’d been on your shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

Now that you’re closer to him, you let your eyes roam over his face and figure. He’s handsome, brown hair perfectly coiffed atop his head. His green eyes are bright despite the low light in the hallway, and he wears a perfectly pressed black button-up tucked into black dress pants.

“Hungry,” you end up saying quietly, letting your eyes connect with his. He gives you a gentle and knowing smile.

“Of course, come with me.” He extends his arm, offering it to you, and you surprise yourself by slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow.

The new man walks you through the halls, explaining the home’s architecture and art history. You find yourself hanging on to every word, soaking up all the information you can.

A few moments later, you arrive in a large dining room, a huge wooden table in the center with chairs lining the perimeter. The man pulls out the chair at the head of the table, and you warily sit down.

“What’s your name?” you ask as he helps you push in the chair. The man sticks his head into the kitchen, calling to someone before returning to your side.

“I’m Levi, and this is Cade,” he replies, gesturing to the man coming in from the kitchen. Cade seems to have a permanent scowl etched into his features, which doesn’t shift as he gives you a once-over.

“She’s not supposed to be here,” Cade says to Levi, not seeming to find it necessary to introduce himself to you.

Levi sighs exasperatedly, leaning against the back of your chair. “I don’t really give a shit. She’s hungry, and I’m not gonna let her starve.” Your heart warms at the sentiment; at least someone in this house cares about your well-being, even if the raven-haired man doesn’t.

“We have orders–” Cade cuts himself off, staring down at you as if he’d just noticed you listening. He returns his gaze back to Levi before lowering his voice. “If he finds out that she’s here, that we brought her here… I’m not saving your ass this time.” You mull over his words. Why does the raven-haired man care where you go? Clearly, he doesn’t want to see you since he hasn’t come to check on you yet.

“I won’t say anything,” you interject. Both men drop their gazes to you, Levi’s kind and caring, Cade’s frustrated and broody.

Levi reaches around the chair and squeezes your shoulder. “Perfect.” Two men venture back into the kitchen. They bicker the entire time, and you sit back in the chair, taking in the room around you.

It’s incredibly intricate, with so many details for your eyes to roam over that you don’t know where to start. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice another person entering the room. One look at the woman, and you know she’s probably the kindest person out there. Her hair is streaked with gray, eyes crinkled in the corners from years of smiling.

“Hello, my dear,” she says, placing a steaming mug in front of you. As the steam rises, you smell that it’s herbal tea. You wrap your hands around the ceramic, warming your skin. “It’s lovely to meet you. My name is Mrs. Peters, and if you ever need anything, no matter how small or insignificant you may feel it is, you just tell me.” Mrs. Peters sits next to you and watches you sip at the tea. Instantly, the liquid warms your whole body, ridding it of the chill from last night’s events.

“Thank you, Mrs. Peters,” you reply quietly, taking in her comforting demeanor. She gives you a bright smile, and a moment later, Levi carries out a spread of breakfast options for you. Mrs. Peters rises from her seat to help him lay out the food in front of you.

Cade leans against the wall a few feet away, clearly upset by the sight in front of him.

“Stop sulking,” Mrs. Peters chides, clicking her tongue at the man. “I don’t care what he has to say about it. I’m not going to let the poor child go hungry.” Cade rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

Mrs. Peters and Levi sit with you at the table while you eat, encouraging you to try different dishes they like. Cade stands to the side, watching with a disgusted look plastered on his face. It bothers you; why does he care so much? He had mentioned getting in trouble, but there’s no way that letting you eat could have that severe of consequences.

“Why were you not supposed to let me eat?” you ask, turning to Levi. He shifts a little in his seat but keeps his easy grin.

“You’re not supposed to leave your room without the permission of the big guy,” he explains. “Somethin’ about him not trusting you yet.”

“You know it’s more than that, Levi,” Cade grunts. “And they’re not orders. If you go against orders, it’s not that bad. This was a threat. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.” Mrs. Peters stands abruptly and strides over to Cade in just a few steps.

“Cade, I am shocked at you. She’s not our prisoner; she’s our guest. We must make her feel welcome here.” You shake your head at her words; you’re not a guest in this house. You’re the raven-haired man’s prisoner.

“I’m a prisoner,” you admit quietly, pushing away the plate in front of you. “I traded my life to save my father. I did it to myself.” The room goes silent, and you push away from the table and head to the hall. “Thank you for breakfast.”

The walk back to your room is quick, and when you shut the door, you chide yourself for not looking for a way out or more information on who the raven-haired man is.

Sitting at the vanity, you wonder what you’d do if you found a way out. Would you run? What would happen to you? The raven-haired man knows who you and your father are. He knows where you live; would he just come and take you back?

The thought of him knocking down the door to your home and dragging you back here sends shivers down your spine.

Now isn’t the time to think about hypotheticals. You must keep your head straight and figure out a way out of this mess.

The rest of the week, you don’t leave your room. Food gets delivered to your room, but you never see who brings it. More clothes had also appeared outside your door a few days ago. Everything is your size, somehow also your style.

You spend your day re-reading the one book you had brought with you. The prince saves the princess from the grips of the evil man every time. As much as you wish you had a knight in shining armor coming to save you, you know you don’t.

At first, you’d thought Griffin would come looking for you, but if the raven-haired man really is part of the mafia or mob or whatever, you imagine he won’t be able to do much on his own. You haven’t been able to find your phone, so it’s not like you can even call or text Griffin to tell him what happened.

A knock on your door spooks you, but you relax when Levi calls you from the other side. You pad over to the door and open it to reveal his thousand-watt smile.

“Hello, Levi,” you say, leaning against the door frame.

“Hello, ma chéri, how are you today?” You shrug, you could certainly be better, but you suppose things could also be much worse.

“I’m okay,” you end up saying. Levi nods, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you.

“Well, I wanted to apologize for not seeing you much this week. I couldn’t risk pissing off Cade more than I already had.” You nod your understanding, gesturing for Levi to come into your room. The two of you sit on your floor, facing each other.

“I understand,” you reply, digging your fingers into the plush carpet beneath you. Everything in this house screams luxury, old money. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Levi rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight you on what you’ve said,

“Cade just has a fuckin’ stick up his ass. I know who I work for; I know what I signed up for. Loki can take it up with me if he has a problem with me feeding you. I’m not going to let you sit here and wither away.”

Loki.

That’s the first time you’ve heard his name spoken out loud.

Loki.

“And what is it that you signed up for?” you ask, curious about what Levi’s job truly is.

“I am the right-hand man to the head of the Laufeyson Family Mafia.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. As if he’d just told you he’s a cashier for the local grocery store.

“Excuse me?” You stare at the man dumbfounded. How could Levi, the seemingly sweet and kind man in front of you, be part of such a vicious profession? And to be the right hand of the leader…

“Loki and I grew up together, he was always going to be in this life, but I chose to be in it. I do all the shit he doesn’t want to do, but honestly, he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. Most of the time, we do it all together.” He’s being too vague; it puts you on edge. You know he’s doing it on purpose, whether it’s to protect you or himself, you’re not sure.

“But why?” How could anyone willingly choose a life like this?

“I’m not a good man, ma chérie,” he says, cocking his head. “I like being in the thick of it; it’s what I’m good at. I tried to live in the ‘real world,’ and it sucks. It’s not for me. But this, it all makes sense to me.” You shake your head; this doesn’t make any sense. The image of Levi ending someone’s life and cleaning up the mess afterward doesn’t work. It doesn’t align with what you know of him.

But what do you really know?

Nothing.

You only know what he’s shown you, and you haven’t had the opportunity to see him in action.

“And what kind of man is Loki?” His name tastes like poison on your tongue. Levi lets your words sink in, mulling them over.

“You can’t be a good man in our world.”

Silence settles between you, and you don’t press him for more. “I didn’t come here to scare you, ma chérie. I was wondering if you’d like a tour of the rest of the house; I know you haven’t seen the rest of it yet.”

Your eyes light up at his proposition. You’ve been itching to explore. “Yes, I’d love that!” you tell him excitedly.

“Wonderful.” Levi stands, taking your hands in his to help you up. “I have to go on a job for a little while, but when I get back, I can take you. The house looks so much better in the evening anyways.” You deflate slightly when he tells you that he won’t be taking you right now, but you try not to show your disappointment.

“I look forward to it,” you say as Levi steps out of your room.

“See you then, ma chérie.”

The sun sinks below the horizon. It’s been hours, and Levi has yet to come back. You can’t help but think you won’t be getting your tour tonight.

But who says you need Levi to explore? You’ve never been too reliant on others; why start now?

You walk through the halls, expecting to get stopped, but no one is out right now, to your surprise. You make your way through the familiar areas of the house, but when you pass the large wooden doors to the west wing, you can’t help but reach out and brush your fingers along the ornate carvings.

You know the west wing is forbidden, but what’s in there? What could be so bad? Before you can convince yourself not to, you’re pushing the doors open.

Another hallway comes into view, though this one isn’t carpeted like the rest of the house, instead having dark wood floors. You take a tentative step across the threshold. When you don’t instantly burst into flames or whatever you thought would happen, you continue down the hall.

Paintings line the walls, but most are covered with dust cloths. When you reach the end of the hall, you find a portrait ripped to shreds. You reach out, pushing the pieces back together, and find it’s a family portrait.

The family is all dressed in black, sitting in a traditional pose. The raven-haired man, Loki, sits between who you assume are his mother and father. They don’t look happy, but they also don’t look angry. They look pleasant as if they’d all been thinking of a kind memory.

Loki’s eyes pierce into you, captivating you.

A loud shout steals your attention, and you notice a door you hadn’t seen a moment ago. A sliver of light peeks through the crack in the door, and you glance through it, unable to contain your curiosity.

Inside the room, Loki, Levi, and Cade all stand around a man tied to a chair. They take turns striking him with their fists, beating him without mercy.

Between each punch, Loki asks him the same question.

“Where is the shipment?”

The man never has an answer.

After another rotation of beatings, the man slumps over as much as he can in his bindings. Cade and Levi look at Loki for direction, and your stomach turns as you watch Loki pull a knife out of his pocket, flicking it open gracefully.

Loki grips the man’s hair, yanking his head upward. Blood oozes from his broken nose. It drips down his face, in his mouth, off his chin. Loki’s eyes are dark, but a smirk graces his lips. He’s enjoying this.

You hold your breath as Loki drags the tip of his blade down the bound man’s cheek, cutting it shallowly.

The bound man stirs, eyes flashing open at the pain of being cut.

“Please, please just stop,” he begs, trying to crane his face away from Loki’s knife.

“Just tell me what I want to know then,” Loki spits bitterly. He moves the knife down the man’s neck, not hitting anything vital but scraping the skin.

“I swear I don’t know anything. I wasn’t there when the shipment got dropped off. I was s’posed to, but I fucked up and was late. By the time I got there, it was gone. That’s all I know.”

Loki’s eyes connect with Levi’s, and they both shake their heads knowingly.

It only takes a second for Loki to drive the knife into the bound man’s chest, ending his life instantly.

A loud ringing fills your ears, and bile rises in your throat.

You turn away from the door, stumbling down the corridor in the dark. You trip over your feet, landing against the wall.

A hand grips your arm, shoving your back to the wall. Loki stands in front of you, fuming.

“Why did you come here?” His hold on your arm is bruising, cutting off circulation to your hand.

“I– I’m sorry,” you stammer, still hearing the ringing in your ears. You feel like you’re about to faint.

“I warned you never to come here,” he shouts, eyes like fire.

“I didn’t– I don’t–” you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. All you want is for him to let you go. You somewhat get your wish as his hands move from your arms to grip your face. His fingers reach back around your head, tangling in your hair while cupping your cheeks.

“Do you realize what you could have done?” He angles your head so you have no choice but to stare into his eyes. He looks hungry, like a man starved.

You feel like the bound man.

“Please stop,” you whisper, tears springing in your eyes. You will them not to fall; you just want him to let go.

A cold look washes over his face, his entire demeanor shifts, and he shoves himself away from you. Loki’s hands fall to his sides, fists clenched.

“Get out,” he growls, seething. You don’t think as you run out of the dark hallway and out into the central area of the house. Your feet carry you through the halls, down the stairs, and out the front door.

No one stops you. No one chases you.

You don’t stop even as you run down the hill, out the iron-wrought gate, and through the neighborhood that had looked so far away from the house.

Your lungs scream at you, your legs ache, but you want to be as far away from that house as possible. As far away from Loki and his dark eyes, full of blood and lust.

You reach the downtown area of the neighborhood and collapse onto a bench, sucking in heaving breaths. Your thoughts spin through your mind, replaying what you’d seen Loki and his men do in that room.

The fall air is crisp and cool, quickly drying the sweat on your skin. You feel feverish, welcoming the breeze that blows through the trees. You bring your knees up into your chest and will your heartbeat to slow down.

Even though it’s dark out, the moon glows brightly in the cloudless sky. A street lamp illuminates the stretch of pavement around you. You scold yourself for not grabbing anything before running away; you didn’t even bother looking for your phone.

Now, as you sit on the bench, you wish you had a way of contacting someone, anyone. Maybe Griffin, he’d come get you. But you don’t have his number memorized; you’d just have to call the police.

As you think over your options, your eyes flick to a man walking down the street toward you. He scrolls through his phone as he walks, laughing at something on the screen. He walks past you on the bench but stops a few feet away before turning around and approaching you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tucking his phone into his pocket. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he looks genuinely concerned. You wonder if you should tell him the truth, if you should ask him to call the police for you.

“Um, yeah,” you say, squeezing your knees tighter. You don’t want to seem too vulnerable to this stranger.

“Do you need help?” he asks, crouching down so he can make eye contact with you. His brown eyes connect with yours, and the look he gives you truly conveys kindness. “You could call someone on my phone if you need to, here.” He places his phone on the bench beside you.

You pick it up with shaking fingers and stare at the keypad, unsure who to call. You should call your dad, but for some reason, you don’t want to. Maybe you don’t want to scare him; maybe you don’t want to put him in danger.

In the end, you decide the police are your best option. You look up the number for the police station Griffin works at, and as you dial it, you notice another man walking down the street. He’s not alone but instead flanked by three more figures.

They approach and stand behind the man who’d let you borrow his phone.

The phone rings and rings and rings.

“This one?” one of the new men asks aloud. Your heart sinks.

The line goes dead.

“Yeah,” the brown-eyed man says, grinning. “She’s the one.”

You’re surrounded, unarmed, and suddenly paralyzed with fear. “Who are you?” you ask, pushing yourself back into the bench as if that will save you from whatever they have planned.

“My name is Jack Rollins,” the brown-eyed man tells you. His hand reaches out, grabs his phone from your fingers, and puts it in his coat pocket. “You’re coming with us.” Two men behind the bench reach out and grip your arms, dragging you from your seat.

You kick and scream, twisting your body to get them to release you, but it’s no use. One of them slaps his hand over your mouth, silencing you.

“She’s fuckin’ testy,” one of the men grabbing you grunts, tightening his grip on you.

“Just how I like ‘em,” Jack sneers.

The men drag you down the street, and you notice a black van that must’ve been there the entire time; you just hadn’t seen it in your earlier panic.

You know you can’t let them get you in the van. If you get in the van, you’re as good as dead.

You let your body give out, becoming dead weight to the two men carrying you. Your body sinks to the ground, and you use their surprise to your advantage, getting one of your arms free. You kick and scratch, fighting tooth and nail to escape their grips.

Everyone freezes when two gunshots fire from behind you. The men draw their weapons, while one grabs you from the ground and holds you against his chest, a human shield. You realize it’s Jack, and you hold your breath.

Bodies fall all around you, gunshots ringing through the air.

You open your eyes, not realizing they’d been squeezed shut. When you’re finally able to focus on the people around you, you see Loki, gun drawn, taking out the men who’d tried to force you into the van.

His face is unreadable, but you can see fury flickering in his eyes. He turns his gaze to you, and his brow furrows.

“Let her go,” Loki commands, but Jack just grips you tighter.

“Stop shooting, and I will,” he responds, voice wavering slightly. “What’s so special about her anyway?”

Loki shakes his head, not deigning to reply. But honestly, you want an answer too. Why is Loki going through all this trouble to save you? Why does he care?

“Who do you work for?” Loki asks, cocking his head. His gun is still drawn, still pointed straight at you and Jack. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts walking the two of you back toward the van. Your legs drag beneath you, trying to slow him down, but it does nothing. Loki slowly walks forward, not letting Jack get too far away.

When Jack reaches the van’s passenger side, he uses one hand to open the door. You brace yourself for whatever comes next, but you don’t expect him to toss you to the ground like he does.

You land hard on your hands and knees as the van speeds away, tires squealing.

Loki tucks his gun into his waistband, and you look around, realizing no one is left to fight him. Everyone is either dead or escaped in the van.

You try to stand, but your legs wobble beneath you, and you crumple back down, though you never hit the ground. Loki sweeps you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

His heartbeat thuds against his ribcage, a metronome for your shaking breaths.

Loki carries you the entire way back to the house in silence. You don’t even think about escaping his grasp. Part of you knows he’d find you and drag you right back. It’s terrifying.

You think back to earlier in the week when you’d promised yourself that you’d fight him at every turn. You promised you wouldn’t let this be easy for him. What happened to all that?

In all honesty, you know what happened. You’re exhausted, and you don’t know what to think anymore. The world is becoming increasingly unfamiliar to you with each passing day.

Loki carries you across the threshold of his home, and you think he’ll put you down in the entryway, but he doesn’t. He keeps you in his arms until he gets to the sitting room you’d entered through when looking for your father.

A fire roars in the fireplace, warming the room comfortably. Loki sets you down on an ottoman near the fire with a gentleness you hadn’t expected him to be capable of. He stands at full height, rolling his sleeves up to reveal toned arms.

You take in his form, how his black clothes fit him perfectly, hugging his chest and thighs. As your eyes track down his body, you notice he’s bleeding from a large gash on his leg.

“You’re hurt,” you say, choking on the words. Loki’s head drops, investigating his wound.

He holds a hand against the cut on his leg, but you know he needs to do more than just keep pressure if he’s ever going to heal. He doesn’t question you when you step away and make your way to the en-suite powder room, digging through the cabinet under the sink.

You don’t miss the way he rolls his eyes when you return with a first-aid kit. It’s clearly been used plenty, but it’s restocked well enough.

It’ll have to do.

After you’ve gathered all the supplies you think you’ll need to take care of his wound, you return to the sitting room. Loki has taken a seat in a large wingback chair, though he sits on the edge, so he doesn’t bleed on the fabric.

You sink to your knees before him, face heating at the action. You place a hand gingerly on top of his, gently urging him to remove his hand from his leg.

“Here, let me,” you say quietly, moving his hand away. His pant leg is torn around the wound, and you can see that one of the men had probably slashed at him with a knife. You hadn’t even noticed him getting that close.

A small pair of scissors is all you need to cut the fabric of his pants away from his wound. Loki mumbles something under his breath about how expensive they were, but you need to be able to see what you’re doing. If he didn’t want to fuck up his fancy pants, he shouldn’t have gotten himself into this situation.

You carefully wipe the wound with a wet cloth. Loki growls at you deep in his throat, clenching his hands at his sides. “Just hold still.”

“That hurts,” Loki grunts, watching you clean the wound.

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much,” you snap, not caring about having an attitude right now. He can deal.

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run away.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at his words.

“Well, if you hadn’t scared the shit out of me, I wouldn’t have run away.”

Loki lets your words sink in; the only sound in the room is the crackling of the wood in the fire.

“Well,” he says after a moment, “you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing.”

You huff out a laugh at his words. Of course he’s still caught up on that. You know you shouldn’t have seen what you did, but that’s not important right now.

“Well, you should learn to control your temper.”

You wait for Loki to come up with a snappy response, but instead, he lowers his head, seeming to let the argument fade.

You’re satisfied with how clean the wound is, so you ready a needle and thread, trying to gauge how many stitches you’ll have to put in. “Now, hold still. This may sting a little.”

Loki says nothing to acknowledge what you’ve said, but you catch the grunt he makes when you stick him with the needle.

You end up putting six stitches into the wound, tying it up nicely, considering you’ve never done this before. As you place the antibiotic ointment and bandage on his leg, you feel his eyes on you, watching your hands as they graze his skin. “By the way,” you begin quietly, “thank you for saving my life.”

You look up at Loki from where you’re kneeling and see how beautiful he is this way. He is made of power, born to control. His gaze is like fire, licking at your skin.

“You’re welcome, my flower.”

Series Tags: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @apollonshootafar @apollonshootafar

General Tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @searchf0rtheskyline @writerwrites @late-to-the-party-81 @jobean12-blog @prettylittlepluviophile @prettywhenicry4

153 notes · View notes

lunarbuck · 1 year

Text

Dance With The Devil (1)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.4k

Summary: Your world turns upside down, but this is only the beginning.

Warnings: kidnapping, fear, swearing, violence

A/N: Yay first chapter!! I can't wait for y'all to read it :) please let me know what you think <3 Some dialogue is taken from the movie. beta'd by the amazing @purpleshallot :))) happy birthday my dear!!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

chapter 2

You have always preferred fairytales to real life. True love’s first kiss, fate, all of it. Not to be cliché, but it’s been your escape. From a young age, you found yourself wrapped up in worlds full of magic. Of happily ever afters and fairy godmothers.

As an adult, you still retreat into those stories for comfort. On difficult days, you lose yourself to mystical places, wishing you could be there, living those lives. You find it cruel, really, to open the door to other worlds like that and not let the dreamers in.

Today, the fall air is crisp and fresh as you board the bus after class. Leaves the color of fire fall from the trees and onto the street, crunching under people’s feet as they walk past. You lean your head against the window and pull out one of your favorite books. You always find yourself returning to it, no matter what happens in your life. You’ve read it so many times you have it memorized by now. The story takes you far away from New York to a place with deadly sword fights, disguised princes, and magic.

As you turn the page, your heart tugs in your chest, finding yourself at your favorite part of the book. The unassuming and quiet princess meets the prince for the first time. He falls for her instantly, but she doesn’t know who he is, as he’s disguised as a commoner.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the story, but when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you know you need to check it. You scroll through a few work emails, planning responses in your head when you realize what time it is.

You continue looking at the screen, expecting to see a text from your father that he got home from physical therapy safely. He should’ve been back at least 15 minutes ago.

But there’s no text, no phone call, nothing. Your heartbeat speeds up, you can hear blood rushing in your ears. You try to calm your nerves, telling yourself that maybe his phone died, and he forgot. Your father has always been a little bad with tech. There’s probably nothing wrong.

You repeat the words to yourself the entire commute home, unable to focus on the story that had captivated you just a few moments ago. You keep whispering them over and over as you walk up the cracked steps to your house. You even say them as you search the place for your father.

Your mind goes silent when you find the house completely empty and your father’s cell phone on the ground, the screen shattered.

Shit.

Your head spins as you try to figure out what to do. This isn’t like your father. He’s never disappeared before. He would never go somewhere without leaving at least a note on the fridge or the counter.

After a few deep breaths, you pull out your phone and call 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” You barely hear the words leave your mouth as you rattle off your name, address, and the fact that your father is suddenly missing. You tell the dispatcher when the last time you had seen your father was and that you found his phone cracked on the ground.

The dispatcher stays on the line with you, but you don’t pay attention to what she says, instead staring at your father’s spot at the dinner table, a newspaper folded just the way he likes beside a cup of coffee, long gone cold. He always insists on having one in the morning, even though he hates the taste.

A few minutes later, a police cruiser pulls up to your house, lights on but no siren. You scramble out of the house and through the front door and find Griffin, your friend from Undergrad, leaning against the car casually.

He’s dressed in his police uniform, pressed and without wrinkles, but as you get closer, you can see the bags under his eyes. Knowing him, he probably was out late last night drinking. He’s always been that type. Even since graduation and getting a job, nothing’s changed.

Griffin has always been around, even when you didn’t want him to be. Him and his deep brown eyes that are always watching over you with a protectiveness that never seems to fade.

“Hey, Griff,” you say quickly, eyes shooting around the block for any sign of your father. Everything looks normal as if your world hadn’t been turned upside down.

Griffin scrutinizes you; the heat in his gaze is evident to you, and you try to shrink away from it. You know he’s always had a thing for you, but you pretend not to notice just like you always do. You’re too busy, too preoccupied with literally everything, to get into a relationship with him or anyone else for that matter.

“So your dad didn’t come home?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as if this were a regular conversation between the two of you.

“It’s more than that,” you snap, noticing they only sent one officer. Why wasn’t he with his partner? Why did he come alone? “Where’s your partner? Is he out looking for Papa?” The childhood name for your father slips so easily from your lips that you wouldn’t have noticed it had Griffin not made a face.

“No, it’s just me on this right now. I wanted to check it out before we declared him missing.” Anger bubbles in your chest, but you shove it down. Being angry won’t help right now. You need to focus. That’s the only thing that will help your father.

“Okay, where should we start?”

Griffin explains how a missing person case works, and you nod along with him, trying to make sense of it all. Your father has no enemies that you know of, no one that would wish harm upon him.

As you go through this with Griffin, your eyes wander away from him and over to the houses around you. It’s possible someone saw something; maybe they just didn’t know what they were seeing.

You cock your head, noticing your neighbor across the street has a camera above their doorbell. You start walking to the house, not bothering to explain your action to Griffin. He follows, though, seeming to understand.

To your surprise, your neighbor is more than willing to share the footage with you and the police. She brings out her laptop and rewinds the video until Griffin tells her to stop. Your hands shake as she plays it.

In the grainy video, you see a black van pull up outside your house. Four men dressed in black jump out and walk straight into your home. You know for a fact you’d locked it that morning. How did they get in?

It’s surreal. It’s like a movie. A terrible, shitty movie about men breaking into your house and kidnapping your father. The trees blow in the wind, a bird lands on the pavement, and everyone keeps moving like nothing is happening in the house.

A few moments later, the men emerge from the house, dragging your father between them. He’s fighting back as best he can, but he can’t do much in his weakened condition.

You want to scream, you want to throw up, you want to rewind time and make it so none of this ever happened.

The video has no sound, but you can only imagine his calls for help. How they went unanswered.

Griffin thanks your neighbor after getting a copy of the footage and walks you back to his cruiser. Your legs feel like jelly, unable to support the weight of everything any longer.

“Grab whatever you need for the next few hours and come with me,” he instructs, voice tight. “We’re gonna find your dad.”

When you arrive with Griffin at the police station, you’re surprised by the lack of urgency the other officers give to your father’s disappearance. Is this not important to them?

Griffin lets you sit at his desk while he shows a few people the video, trying to see what people know. The police station feels hospital-like. People rush around, calling out odd codes and names while you sit in the middle of the chaos. Everything smells like the floor cleaner they use. It burns your nose.

For a while, you scroll through your phone aimlessly, not really sure what you’re looking for before putting it away and reading your book instead.

You finally reach chapter 3. The princess has just discovered the true identity of the prince. The words make your heart flutter despite the noise and disorder surrounding you. You manage to lose yourself in the pages, the world around you fading away.

The prince holds the princess close, cupping her cheek in his hand. They stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, not yet knowing that they were meant to be. The universe had granted them the greatest gift of all, true love. You know what happens next, but that doesn’t stop your brain from coming up with all the ways they might be challenged in the future.

A hand clasps your shoulder, pulling you from the fairytale world and crashing you into reality. Griffin is at your side, a grim look on his face.

“What?” you ask quietly, not sure you want to hear what he’s found.

“Come with me.” He grabs your arm, tugging you up from the chair. Your book tumbles to the ground, but he doesn’t give you a chance to retrieve it. He guides you to an interrogation room and shuts the door behind him.

“What is going on?” you ask, ripping your arm from his grasp.

“I got an image of the license plate from the car your dad got into.” You want to interrupt and correct Griffin. Your father didn’t “get into” the car, he was kidnapped and shoved, but you keep your mouth shut. “I tracked it to a few fake identities, but I finally found something solid. All these fake guys work for the same very real mafia family. The Laufeyson family has a pretty big presence around here, and I think they’re the ones who have your dad.”

The mafia? No way. You shake your head, and Griffin gives you a pitying look. You hate it.

“Papa would never get involved with the mafia. He has no reason to. Even when he stopped working, we had enough money for treatments, his inventions always made enough…” your voice trails off when you think of the past few months. How stressed your father had seemed, the odd phone calls, you’d thought nothing of them at the time. But now…

“Look, your dad was sick and desperate. He probably thought he had no other option.” You hate how he talks about your father in the past tense as if he’s already gone.

“Where is he?” you ask before you can spiral into what-ifs and hypotheticals.

“I’ve got an address. There’s no promising it’s where he is, though.” You nod, and Griffin hands you a scrap of paper, an address scrawled messily on it. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. Right now, you need to lie low in case they’re looking for you.” You roll your eyes and scoff. Does he really expect you to wait until tomorrow?

He’s an idiot if he thinks that.

Griffin drives you back to your house and gives you an awkwardly long hug before getting back in his car and leaving. For a guy that claims to care about you so much, he has a funny way of showing it.

You quickly gather some belongings, unsure how long you’ll be gone, and put the address Griff gave you into your phone. It’s far, too far for you to commute or bike. You don’t have a car, so you decide to call an Uber despite the cost. It’ll be worth it to find your father.

The car arrives after 10 minutes, but honestly, it felt like hours. Every moment that passes, every second that goes by, feels like an eternity being stuck in the unknown. Not knowing what he’s going through.

Your driver is friendly enough, though as he gets closer to the address, he gets more and more cagey.

Your phone buzzes, and you spare a glance down at it, seeing that Griffin has texted you a few times.

Lmk if you need anything

You wanna get dinner? I got off early.

Hello? Whyre you ignoring me?

You groan inwardly at the messages. Griffin has never been the romantic type, and clearly, nothing has changed since the last time he asked you out. You don’t bother responding, tucking your phone in your pocket as you stare out the window.

The car comes to a stop before arriving at your desired destination. Your driver explains that he can’t go further than this, so you climb out of the car and thank him anyway, tipping even though he didn’t take you where you wanted.

In the distance, you see a giant gated mansion on top of a hill. Without even looking at your phone, you know that’s where you need to go. The place looks straight out of a movie; of course, it’s where the bad guys live.

You make the trip on foot, watching out for anyone suspicious. The gate around the house is tall, but you scale it somewhat quickly, surprising yourself with your newfound upper-body strength.

The sun has set by the time you’re crossing the well-kept lawn, chilling you to your core. You carefully creep around the house’s perimeter, looking for a way in. You find a window cracked open and are stunned at your luck.

The window slides open easily, and you slip through the opening, finding yourself in a large sitting room. The plush carpet dampens your footsteps, making you nearly silent as you creep through the room.

As you push open the door to the hallway, you lock eyes with a man down the corridor. You freeze, unable to move away even as you will your feet to move. The man doesn’t call for help, though. Instead, he tilts his head as if to get a better look at you.

He steps toward you, then furrows his brow, thinking better of it. You wait for his next move with bated breath.

“Your father,” he whispers, eyes darting around, probably watching for other people. “Go upstairs.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks in the opposite direction, seemingly content with pretending he never saw you.

How did he know you’re here for your father? They must not get many visitors that arrive on good terms; maybe this is a common occurrence?

You wait an agonizing few minutes until you’re sure the coast is clear before you dart to the staircase he’d gestured to.

The mansion is more extensive than it appeared from the outside, and you only realize the size as you climb the sweeping stairs to an upper level of the house. Corridors filled with doors leading to different rooms catch your attention, but you know that you must look for any sign of your father and avoid getting lost in the maze of the home.

A chill runs through you as you pass through the house. Even though you’ve seen signs of life here, it feels like a museum. It doesn’t feel like a home. No one really lives here; they just pass through. Existing and moving on.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you hear him. Your father coughs after every other word, barely getting the sounds out. He sounds so weak.

“Please, someone,” he groans quietly before breaking into another fit of coughs. You practically run down the hall until you reach a room at the very end, the door cracked slightly open. Not caring if anyone sees you, you push the door open to reveal your father.

Bile rises in your throat at the sight of him.

He’s tied tightly to a pole in the center of the room, hands cuffed behind his back around the bar, and feet bound at his ankles. From what you’ve seen, the rest of the house has hardwood or carpet. This room has concrete floors.

This room was built for pain, for bloodshed.

Even in the darkness of the room, you can see bruises bloom around his eyes and on his cheeks. Blood splatters on the ground. You can only imagine the pain he’d been through before your arrival.

Your father must not have heard or seen you come in because he continues to whisper his pleas.

“Papa,” you say gently as you cross the room and crouch in front of him. You place your hands on both sides of his face; he is so cold against your skin. “Papa, I’m here.”

Your father’s eyes open as far as they can with the swelling, but he finally sees you. “Oh, my, how did you find me?” he croaks. You shake your head, reaching around to see how his hands are cuffed. You hold one of his hands in yours and wince at the temperature.

“Your hands are like ice,” you whisper, returning your attention to his face. “We have to get you out of here.” Your father shakes his head, even though the action appears to pain him.

“Please, I want you to leave this place,” he begs, desperation lacing his voice.

You ignore his words, focusing on trying to undo the binds on his feet. “Who did this to you?”

“There is no time to explain,” he urges, “you have to go. Now!” You sit back on your heels and stare at your father in disbelief.

“I won’t leave you!” Your tone is harsh, but you don’t understand why he wants you to leave him behind.

Suddenly, someone grabs your shoulder, pulling you away from your father with incredible strength. You scramble out of their grasp and back to your father, unable to catch a glimpse of the person that grabbed you before they slip into the shadows.

“What are you doing here?” the person, a man, asks harshly, spitting the words at you.

“Run,” your father groans fearfully. You search your father’s face for something, anything, to help you through this.

You spin around, pressing your back against your father in an attempt to protect him from the new man.

“Who are you?” you ask the man cloaked in shadow.

“Who are you?” the man asks in response, his words sharp and deadly.

“I’ve come for my father. Please let him out; can’t you see he’s sick?” you reply, voice even and calm, not showing how terrified you are.

“Your father is a thief. He owes me.”

You shake your head; he must be lying. “But he could die. Please, I’ll do anything!” Desperation creeps into your voice, but you hold firm. You want to cry, you want to scream, but you don’t. You won’t, not until your father is safe.

“There’s nothing you can do. He’s my prisoner.” The words are swift, his tongue like a whip.

“There must be some way I can–” You turn back to face your father, searching his face for the answers. “Take me instead!” It takes everything in you to pull your eyes away from your father and face the shadowed man.

“You? You would take his place?” He sounds unsure, troubled by what you’ve proposed. As if you’ve caught him off guard.

Your father struggles against the binds, trying to grab onto you. “No! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Even though it pains you, you don’t look back.

“If I did, would you let him go?” You can’t see his face, but you can tell the man is mulling over his choices. He holds your life in his fingers.

“Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever.” Your heart sinks, but you know that it is for the best that you take your father’s place. He has access to the money you’ve been making, to his treatment services, everything. It would be easier with you there, but you know he’ll be able to care for himself until he finds a caretaker.

As anger burns inside your chest, you stare at the shadowed man in front of you. You want to see the man forcing you and your father into this fate. You want to look him in the eye as he sentences you to death at his hand.

“Come into the light,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. The man doesn’t move for a moment, but after a breath, he steps forward and into the light cast from the window.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. He’s tall, towering over you like a mountain. His black hair is slicked back in the front, though a piece has fallen out of place and covers one of his eyes. Dressed in an all-black suit, the man looks as though he is made of the shadows that had just been concealing him. Bright eyes stare down at you as if they can see right through you.

“No,” your father says, sputtering and coughing. “No, I won’t let you do this!”

It’s as if you’re in a trance. You can’t break your eyes away from the man in front of you. “You have my word.” The promise slips from your lips as if not yours.

The man cocks his head, grinning slyly. “It is done.”

All it takes is a quick knock on the door behind him, and the man has summoned two more people to the room.

They rush in, moving you aside and grabbing your father. You try to catch him, to hug him, to just let him know that everything will be okay, but the raven-haired man grabs your arms and pulls you away, holding you against his chest. One arm brackets around your front while the other covers your mouth, muffling your yelling.

You struggle against him, willing him to just let you say goodbye, but your efforts are futile.

It doesn’t take long for the two men to drag your father away. You can’t help but feel like you’ll never see him again. The feeling lodges itself deep in your gut, making you feel a heaviness like you’ve never experienced before.

When it is just you and the raven-haired man left in the room, he releases you. You crumple to the floor, finally allowing your tears to fall freely. The ground is cold and hard beneath you as you wet it with your tears.

The raven-haired man says nothing for a long time, letting the sound of your sobs echo between the walls.

When your throat is dry, and you have no tears left in your body, he moves to stand in front of you instead of behind you.

“Come,” he says curtly as if speaking to a dog.

You shake your head, holding it in your hands. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye. I’ll never see him again.” Finally, you look up at the man. Fury rips through your veins. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

If the man feels bad or feels any remorse, he doesn’t reveal it. “I’ll show you to your room.”

His words take you by surprise. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Is he going to give you a room? It wouldn’t have shocked you if he’d just told you to sleep in this torture room. “My room? But I thought–”

“You want to stay here? In this… cell?” he asks, tilting his head. The faint light from the window makes his eyes shine. You search his face for any trace of emotion but find nothing. His blue eyes stay trained on you, his lips pressed into a line.

“No,” you reply, annoyance clear from your tone. That earns you the smallest of smirks. His right eye ticks. He must not like being on the receiving end of an attitude. Well, he better get used to it.

“Then follow me.” The raven-haired man doesn’t help you stand. He doesn’t provide you any support as you wobble on weak legs. He just stands by the door, waiting for you to catch up.

You walk a few steps behind the man, following him like a shadow as he guides you through the corridors. He points to different doors, other paths through the home, but you don’t really hear him.

It’s like you’re underwater; everything is muted and warped. Your thoughts spin through your head, and you’re barely able to process them as they fly past. It all happened so quickly, you’d acted without thinking through all the possible outcomes, and now you’re stuck here alone forever.

The man comes to a stop in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors. He stares down at the handles, but you stare at him. He’s yet to tell you anything about him; he is a mystery to you.

“You are to never step foot in the west wing,” he says through gritted teeth, shifting his eyes toward you. “Do I make myself clear?”

You take a shaky breath and look at the carvings on the door. They seem to tell a story, but before you get a chance to look for the start, you find yourself speaking. “What’s in there?”

“It’s forbidden.” You flinch back from his harsh tone, dropping your eyes to the floor.

The man turns away from the door and guides you down a new hallway. You notice more art hung on the walls in this area, lots of classics. Your heart tugs when you see some familiar paintings; it’s barely a comfort, but it’s something.

“If there is anything you need,” he says, pushing open the door to a bedroom, “my people will attend to you.” The room is simple, with only a bed, a dresser, and a vanity, but it looks clean from what you can tell.

He doesn’t wait for you to get settled, doesn’t even tell you where the kitchen or anything else is. The second you step into the room, he shuts the door with a thud.

You barely make it to the bed before your legs give out. You throw yourself onto the blankets and pillows, a sobbing heap as you come apart.

You don’t care how loud you’re being. You don’t care that the man might be standing outside listening. Your sobs rip through you, releasing emotions you haven’t felt in ages. This is bigger than just your father, bigger than being trapped in the home of a man you’ve never met before.

It’s only the beginning.

please message me to be added to either taglist! you must be 18+ to be added

Series Tags: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @sarhabee @apollonshootafar

General Tags: @searchf0rtheskyline @writerwrites @late-to-the-party-81 @jobean12-blog @prettylittlepluviophile @prettywhenicry4

192 notes · View notes

lunarbuck · 1 year

Note

Hi love! Could I request a Loki X reader where reader has a rough day and Loki plans a cute little dinner or something to relax? 🤍

Thank you so much for the request, I had so much fun writing it!! I decided to have this take place in my Dance with the devil AU so I hope thats okay lol

Beauty and the Beast Retelling | Mafia AU

pairing: mafia!loki x f!reader

wc: 890

summary: Loki takes care of you after a hard day

warnings: none!! just fluff

dance with the devil masterlist | my masterlist | reqests are OPEN

Flower

You fall to the couch in a heap, feet aching and head pounding from everything that happened today. Typically, you don’t let a bad morning set the tone for your day, but things just kept going wrong. You got to work late, you spilled your coffee all over yourself, your boss was particularly critical of your work, and every time you tried to take a few seconds to breathe, you were pulled away. It was non-stop.

So, the second you got home, you dragged yourself to the library and collapsed on the couch. Though the library has always brought you comfort, you can’t relax. Your head spins as you recall every stupid mistake you made, every snappy comment your boss sent your way.

You curl into a ball and pull one of the little throw pillows to your chest, hugging it tightly. You want more than anything to call Loki and have him come down here to make you feel better, but you know he’s in a meeting. You respect what Loki does and know that interrupting won’t help in the long run.

It feels like it takes hours, but you eventually fall into a fitful, restless sleep.

Loki

I’ve been sitting in this meeting for nearly four hours, and we have yet to make any progress. My flower got home an hour ago, and it kills me that I haven’t seen her. I try to always greet her when she gets home, at least see her for a moment before I get pulled away.

I glance at my computer and pull up the security feed. I already know she’s in the library; it’s where she always ends up after work, but when I see her tossing and turning on the couch, trying to sleep, my mood sours.

“Leave,” I say, not looking up from the footage. Cade raises an eyebrow at me, as do the other men in the room, but I don’t care. I flash my eyes to Cade, and he doesn’t question me.

A moment later, the room is empty, and I can get to work.

Flower

You wake up covered in a thick blanket, and you snuggle deeper beneath it, not wanting to leave its warmth. As you burrow into the warmth, you feel fingers brush over your forehead, bringing you back to reality. A brush of lips follows, and you hum, content.

“How’re you feeling?” A faraway voice whispers.

“Better,” you reply groggily. As you regain consciousness, memories of your awful day resurface. You want to fall back asleep and forget again, but the voice has other plans. Hands slip beneath the blanket and hoist you into strong arms, blanket and all.

“I have a surprise for you, my flower,” Loki whispers, holding you against his chest. You rest your head against his shoulder as you convince your eyes to open. Loki presses his lips to your forehead as he carries you to the west wing, taking each step carefully so as not to jostle you.

Even though Loki brings you great comfort, you can’t help but wallow in the frustrations of your day. Something about it just drags you down.

Loki walks into his office and sets you down on the couch that faces his desk. You pull the blankets tighter around you as Loki flits around the room, lighting candles and turning off lights.

When he seems pleased with the room, he returns to your side. “Are you hungry?” He asks though you assume he probably already knows the answer. You normally have a snack after work, but today you’d skipped it, opting to sleep away your problems instead.

You nod slowly, and a gentle smile spreads across Loki’s face. “That’s what I figured.” You sit up, letting the blanket fall from your shoulders, and take Loki’s outstretched hand. He carefully helps you to sit down at a little table set up beside the entrance to the balcony.

The weather has been warming up, so the doors are open to let in the breeze.

“What’s all this?” You ask, taking in the simple dinner set up. There’s a bouquet of red roses as a centerpiece, surrounded by a few tea-light candles. Your dinner is already served, and you sigh happily at the sight.

“You had a bad day,” Loki says, as if it were obvious, even though you hadn’t told him about any of it. “I wanted to help.” Warmth spreads through your body at the thought of Loki noticing without even interacting with you.

You smile down at your meal as Loki pours you a glass of wine. Music plays softly from the speaker system, and as you eat, you feel your worries melt away. How Loki always manages to take your mind off of things is beyond you, but you’re grateful nonetheless.

When you and Loki finish your meals, Mrs. Peters drops off a bowl of ice cream for you, and you practically smother her with your hug. She presses a motherly kiss to the top of your head before leaving you with your treat.

Loki watches you enjoy your dessert with a pleasant smile on his face. Life with him is easier than you ever imagined. Even on the hard days, even on the days when nothing makes sense, you have Loki.

And that’s more than enough for you.

please message me to be added to a taglist! must be 18+

General: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @searchf0rtheskyline @writerwrites @late-to-the-party-81 @jobean12-blog @prettylittlepluviophile @prettywhenicry4 @nekoannie-chan @chibijusstuff

Series: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @sarhabee @apollonshootafar @harlequin-hangout @mocswift @phantombaby @blog-the-lilly @vickie5446 @samsgirl93

94 notes · View notes

lunarbuck · 1 year

Text

Dance With The Devil (7)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 1.7k

Summary: There's something there that wasn't there before.

Warnings: smut (p in v), choking, blindfold, fluff, happily ever after <3

A/N: it's the last one!!! i'm not crying, you are 😭 i hope you guys enjoy,,,, thank you guys so much for reading!! my author's note is the next chapter so feel free to check that out, I love and appreciate you all so much :)

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

Chapter 6 / Author's Note

Epilogue

Flower

Loki’s talented lips kiss down your torso to your panties, goosebumps erupting on your skin. He’s insatiable. Ever since that day a few weeks ago when you’d been reunited, he hasn’t let you out of his sight or out of his bed. You’ve spent days wrapped up in Loki and his embrace, though you have to admit, you don’t mind.

You gasp as Lok’s fingers tug your panties down, leaving you exposed for his tongue to taste you. Your fingers spear into his raven-black hair, pressing him even closer to you.

Loki is a man starved, he devours you, plays you like a fucking fiddle. You’re entirely at his mercy, but that’s how you like it. He works you up easily, circling your clit with his tongue in a way that makes your legs shake.

“Come for me, pet,” he groans against your pussy, sliding two of his slender fingers inside of you. You burst at the seams, putty in his hands. Loki grins, biting your thigh just enough to leave a mark, but not to break the skin. He’s left dozens of marks on your skin, so many that they practically are tattooed on you now. He’s showing everyone you’re his, and you love it.

Loki climbs up your body, biting and kissing your skin until he reaches your lips. You kiss him, tugging his lip between your teeth and giving him a taste of his own medicine. As if spurred on by your action, Loki roughly pulls his pants down his legs and thrusts into you.

You both release strangled moans at the feeling of him inside of you, at the feeling of you tightening around his cock.

Loki begins to set his pace, hitting you hard and deep and you can’t hold back the noise you’re making. He grins at your sounds, drinking them in.

A knock on the door makes your blood run cold but Loki’s smile just widens. You stare up at him as the person on the other side asks him a question, but you’re too caught up in Loki to hear the words.

“Go away,” he says, thrusting his hips hard, not turning away from your gaze. “I’m busy.” You hear the footsteps retreat and Loki fucks into you faster now, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, heat flooding to your face at the idea of someone hearing Loki fuck you. Your head falls to the side, suddenly aware that his men might be able to hear your wanton moans.

“No,” Loki grits, fingers gripping your chin to turn your head back to him. “Look at me. Look at what you do to me. Focus on me, on my cock and the pleasure I’m giving you.”

Your eyes screw shut, trying to tune out everything except Loki. It works for a moment, but the thoughts start to creep back in. Loki must notice, because for a moment, he draws away. When he returns, he has one of his black silk ties in hand. He holds it up and without even thinking, you nod, sitting up so he can tie it around your eyes.

The fabric is soft against your skin, pulled tight enough to not let any light in. Your breaths come faster now that one of your senses has been stripped from you.

“Loki,” you say, unsure of where he stands now.

“Now you have no choice,” he whispers in your ear. “You have no choice but to focus on me and the way I’m going to use your body. I’m going to wring every ounce of pleasure out of you until you’re sated and unable to go on. Is that what you want, pet? You want me to take all you have to give me?”

“Please,” you whimper. “Please, Loki.” You feel his hands grip your ankles, opening your legs back up for him. His fingers slide up your legs as he positions himself on top of you.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re begging for me, pet,” he grunts, pushing back inside of you. Every touch feels electric when you can’t see what he’s doing.

Loki’s breath fans over you, sending shivers through your body. You feel the tickle of his hair on your chest as he dips his head down, taking your nipple between his teeth. He grazes it lightly before running his tongue around it.

He thrusts into you slowly, making you feel every inch of his cock and you moan loudly. Your hands fly to his hair, tangling in it to hold him close.

“More, please, Loki,” you groan. All his touches are soft and fleeting, he’s torturing you and he knows it.

Loki releases your breast from his mouth and kisses up your chest, up your neck, all the way to your ear. “What do you want, pet? Tell me what you want from me.”

Your jaw falls open as he nips at your ear, soothing the marks with his tongue.

“I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is hoarse and low, but you can hear Loki’s breathing pick up. “I want you to use me, take everything from me.”

Loki laughs darkly, one of his hands circling around your neck. He presses lightly, hinting at what he could do, what he’s capable of. It just makes you even more needy for him.

“Your wish is my command, pet.”

Your senses are heightened without your sight, each touch more sensitive, each sound more precise. Loki loses control, fucking you like he never has before, drawing the pleasure from you viciously.

Your body is tight with the promise of your orgasm, your belly floods with heat. Your mouth is stuck open on an “o” and all you can do is take it. Take the pleasure he gives you, take the love he pours onto you.

You come like you’re exploding, like you’re flying. Your eyes screw shut and your body shudders, but Loki just keeps going.

“So fucking beautiful for me,” he grunts, squeezing his hand tighter around your neck. “But so filthy, pet. So fucking filthy.”

Loki follows you over the edge, holding your heaving body close to his, desperate for the connection. “I love you, my beauty,” he whispers against your ear, kissing the shell.

“I love you, Loki.”

Loki pulls the car up to your house– your father’s house, and cuts the engine. It’s been a few weeks since that dark night, and you’ve seen your father nearly every day. The day Loki’s doctor cleared him, he challenged his uncle for control over the Laufeyson mafia. You watched from the sidelines as men loyal to Loki’s father decided how to proceed. Cade explained the agreement Loki had with his father, about marrying for love, and it made you think about Loki in an entirely new light.

He could’ve forced you to marry him, he could’ve forced another woman to be his bride. But he didn’t.

You testified before Loki’s Uncle and family about your love for him, you told them about that night and how Loki fought, how you begged him to live.

In the end, Loki won. You can’t lie, you love watching him be in control, watching how he so easily commands a room of powerful men. He’s given more responsibility to Levi and Cade, leaving him plenty of time to fuck you on every available surface.

You officially moved in two weeks ago after Loki hired in-home healthcare workers for papa.

So today, as the two of you walk into the house, you’re greeted by one of your father’s nurses, Carrie. She and all the other healthcare workers are trained in your father’s treatments, which are all covered by Loki.

You didn’t ask him to pay, you never planned to, he just did it. Part of you knows it’s because he feels guilty about the debt papa had been in to the Laufeysons, but the other part of you knows he’s doing it because he loves you. Papa’s debt has been forgiven, the money refunded to him so he can continue to pursue his passions while doing treatment.

Loki holds your hand while the two of you sit on the couch across from your father, who is currently tinkering with his newest invention. Since getting better treatments, he’s gained back more of his mobility; it brings tears to your eyes to see your father able to return to his passions. He’s not cured, there is no cure for Multiple Sclerosis, but he’s better than he has been in a long time, and it’s something to be thankful for.

Your father explains what he’s doing as he adjusts a few of the pieces and you nod along, squeezing Loki’s hand. Loki just watches you, a pleasant smile on his face.

Loki

I watch her face light up as her father talks. I never tire from seeing her smile, seeing her eyes brighten as he speaks. Maurice has been through so much, all of it my fault, yet he welcomes me into his home, he allows me to love his daughter. I am forever indebted to him.

I never thought I would have this, her . I never thought someone would love me, that someone would learn to see past the dark parts of me.

Though every day I wish we had started out differently, I am grateful that she came into my life. I am a changed man for her, I would go to the ends of the earth if only she asked.

My love for her feels like destiny, like fate, though for so long I thought them to be simply stories. My flower talks about love like she talks about fairytales, and I am starting to understand.

She is the beautiful princess and I’m the hideous monster, instead of falling for her prince charming she’s fallen for me, and for that I am thankful. She doesn’t need a prince charming, she doesn’t need a knight in shining armor. She is strong and capable and far superior than any knight.

She is my flower, my beauty. My love, and I am hers.

She will be with me evermore.

Certain as the sun

Rising in the east

Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme

Beauty and the Beast

The End.

please message me to be added to a taglist! must be 18+

Series tags: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @sarhabee @apollonshootafar @harlequin-hangout @mocswift @phantombaby @blog-the-lilly @vickie5446 @samsgirl93

General tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @searchf0rtheskyline @writerwrites @late-to-the-party-81 @jobean12-blog @prettylittlepluviophile @prettywhenicry4 @nekoannie-chan

104 notes · View notes

lunarbuck · 1 year

Text

Dance With The Devil (5)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 5.7k

Summary: You and Loki are running out of time.

Warnings: fear, illness (hospitals), swearing, abduction

A/N: we're getting to the end my friends!! I intended for this series to only have 7 chapters with #7 being the epilogue. We'll see how that actually turns out lol but I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

Flower

When you wake up, the soreness between your legs makes itself known. You decide to soak in the bath to ease it, but honestly, you don’t mind how it feels. You enjoy the reminder of what Loki did to you yesterday.

Something came over him when he was fucking you, something primal and needy. You loved every second of it. You’ve never felt that way before, never wanted someone that much. Just the thought of it sends heat shooting through you. You’re tempted to reach your fingers beneath the water to soothe yourself. Maybe Loki will come barging in again to watch.

You’ve never wanted someone to watch you touch yourself before; you’ve always been quite shy when it comes to intimacy. You don’t know what possessed you not to close off when he made his presence known, but truthfully you liked it. You liked the way he looked at you, the way he so desperately wanted to replace your hands with his.

You sink below the surface of the water, submerging your head, and try to clear your mind. Now isn’t the time to spiral into your fantasies.

That little voice of doubt in your mind has been getting louder and louder since you woke up today. You’ve let your thoughts stray too far. You’ve forgotten why you’re here in the first place.

Loki was going to kidnap your father, possibly kill him, if you hadn’t traded your life for his.

Your heart sinks as you think of papa. You haven’t been able to contact him, and guilt pours through your chest as you recall the state you’d found him in.

Part of you wants to think that Griffin would help out, considering he was willing to help you find your father in the first place, but since you made no arrangements before throwing yourself at Loki’s feet, there are no guarantees.

You decide that today you’ll demand that Loki at least let you speak to your father; if not visit him so you can make sure he is taken care of.

With that, you finish washing and get ready for the day.

When you step out of your room, the mansion is bustling with nervous energy. Loki’s men hurry through the halls, speaking frantically into their phones. You’re barely able to make it to the kitchen without being trampled.

Mrs. Peters greets you with a kind smile, though you can tell she is worried about something as she stirs some sort of batter.

“Good morning,” you say, gathering the materials for a quick breakfast.

“Morning, dear,” she replies, watching you with careful eyes.

You make your breakfast and try to ignore how Mrs. Peters looks at you. What is she so worried about? “What’s going on?” Mrs. Peters stops her mixing and drops her eyes.

“Just the start of a busy week, is all,” she announces a bit loudly. You raise your eyebrows but decide not to push for more details.

Tense silence settles in the kitchen, and Mrs. Peters becomes visibly uncomfortable with it. “It’s Loki’s birthday at the end of the week.” She says it more to the batter than you, but you hear it anyway. Why does his birthday cause such a strain on the household?

“What’s the big deal then?” Mrs. Peters shakes her head, but you know she will answer.

“It’s not my place, dear…” She pours the batter into a pan and flits around the kitchen, gathering new ingredients. “But this birthday is significant. There’s a lot riding on it.”

Pieces of the conversation you’d overheard the other day come back to the forefront of your mind.

He’s running out of time.

“Are there any special plans for Friday, then?” You ask, trying not to sound too curious. Mrs. Peters worries her lip between her teeth.

“No, Loki detests his birthday. We try not to draw attention to the date. Even though this birthday is important, we are doing our best not to dwell on it.”

How could someone hate their birthday? Though, you suppose if someone is going to hate their birthday, Loki fits the bill. You continue trying to put the puzzle together in your mind as you eat but don’t get far. Loki has done a good job of keeping you in the dark when it comes to his personal business.

You haven’t dared to step foot in the west wing since the night you witnessed him kill the bound man. That doubtful voice has gained confidence, and it makes sure to remind you that you gave yourself to that same man. He has blood on his hands, and you let him touch you. You let him in and allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him.

Your head pounds with guilt and confusion; you’re torn. This angry side of you knows how awful it is that you’ve let Loki get so close. But this other side, this soft and comforting side, knows that you’re only human. Loki is caring; he isn’t cruel to you.

He is such a different man to you than he is to the outside world. Why does he have to make this so hard for you?

You wander through the halls after cleaning up your breakfast dishes, unsure of where you’re going. Your feet lead you to the library, and your chest tightens at the sight of the chair Loki fucked you in. Heat settles in your belly at the thought, making you clench.

Levi startles you with his presence as he pops his head out from behind one of the shelves, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

“Salut, ma chérie!” He coos, tossing himself unceremoniously onto the couch. You join him, picking up a book on your way over.

“Why aren’t you out stressing like the rest of Loki’s men?” You ask, flipping open the book. Levi rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his already slicked-back hair.

“Because I don’t give a shit.” His blunt response surprises you, but you try not to show it. “I think everyone is overreacting. It’ll be okay in the end.” Levi winks as if you’re in on the secret and grins to himself.

“Well, have you seen Loki? I have something I need to ask him.” Levi huffs a laugh while he shakes his head.

“The boss man is holed up in his office; you’re not gonna see much of him anytime soon.” You deflate a bit at that. You can’t really bargain with Loki if you can’t find him.

You and Levi remain in the library for most of the day, only getting up to find food or hide from Cade, who apparently is on a mission to get Levi to do his job.

On days like this, it’s easy to imagine that you could do this forever. It’s easy to forget that Loki is the man who holds you captive. This beautiful mansion is your make-believe home, not your prison. How long will you be able to keep up the illusion?

Loki stays cooped up in his office for days, and to be honest, you don’t know what to do with yourself without him. You read, draw, and explore the mansion, but you’re itching for something new.

It dawns on you that at this rate, the only time you’ll see Loki is his birthday, when he’s bound to be in a foul mood. He’ll probably deny your request the second you say it if he’s already angry.

Well, screw that.

You recruit Levi and Mrs. Peters to help you with your plan, even though they’re hesitant. You can tell they’re desperate to make the week go well, and if everything comes together how you hope it will, he’ll have a good birthday for the first time in years.

Loki

Though it brings me great pain, I do not see my beauty for most of the week. I spend my days locked in the west wing, pacing, furious. My father’s men are relentless; they constantly remind me of the arrangement and how I have failed to find a bride.

The mere sight of my flower, that beautiful woman, makes fire stream through my veins. It would be easy enough to force her to marry me, but I have no desire to force her into that. I have done enough to her while she has been captive here. I’ve already taken advantage.

Cade has shown me the files of a few women to marry that my father’s men won’t be able to find an issue with, but I shoot him down. I want no one, just her . She is the only one for me now. I’m ruined.

So delightfully ruined.

Thursday rolls around sooner than I had hoped, and I have not found a way out of my father’s idiotic deal. Why the man had to make my life so difficult from the grave is beyond me, but I know truly he just wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to be able to take care of our legacy.

I have never had friends or companions outside the people working for our family; he wanted more for me. I want to carry on our traditions and be the head of our family’s mafia, but if it means marrying some woman I don’t give two shits about, I won’t do it. I will refuse if it means I can no longer be with my flower.

The rose she gave me all those days ago in the garden still rests on my desk. It has not wilted, and none of the petals show any sign of aging in the slightest. It’s as if she put a spell on it, dusted a bit of magic upon the thing.

My fingers trace over the stem, feeling the thorns as they threaten to prick my skin.

An obnoxious patterned knock on my door draws me away from the flower, already knowing who is about to waltz through.

Levi strolls through the entryway, a mischievous gleam in his eye. I don’t like it.

“Good evening, Boss,” he says with a sing-song tone.

“Good evening, Levi.” I turn my attention to my computer. If he wants to say something, he’ll say it, but I don’t feel like poking the bear right now.

“You got plans tonight?” He asks, laughing. He knows I don’t.

I raise an eyebrow in response.

“Well, you do now.” Levi wiggles his eyebrows in a way that makes me feel quite unsettled but provides no further information. He motions for me to stand, and for some reason, I do.

I follow Levi out of my office and the west wing. As we walk, nerves tighten in my chest. I fuss with my shirt collar and my hair, ensuring everything is in place, but really I just need something to do with my hands.

Levi leads me into a quiet room on the opposite side of the mansion that I haven’t been in for years. When my parents owned the home, it was somewhat of a study. With my office, I have had no use for it. So when I walk in and see a dining table set for two, I’m shocked.

I walk over to the table and find a simple homemade meal, though I can quickly tell that Mrs. Peters hasn’t cooked it. Levi’s fading steps alert me to his departure, but I don’t bother to say anything to him.

The table has a dainty bouquet of roses as the centerpiece, and it dawns on me who has put this all together. I turn around and step out of the room to look for her when I spot her at the top of the staircase just down the hall.

She looks beautiful; an angel sent down from heaven to save me from this hellish world. I make my way to the bottom of the stairs and watch as my flower descends toward me.

Her dress is long, trailing behind her on the stairs as she walks. Pieces of fabric fall off her shoulders, making her look like a princess straight out of one of her fairytale books. The color suits her skin beautifully, as if it were created just for her. I have never seen anyone or anything more stunning.

I am shamelessly staring at her, and she drops her eyes sheepishly as if she isn’t used to the attention, as if she is unaware of how I have watched her since she arrived.

My beauty reaches the floor, and I offer her my arm. She wraps her hand around my elbow, her dainty fingers sending shivers up my spine. Up close, I can see the way her dress shimmers. The bodice is form-fitting, showing off her curves, and I can’t help but imagine what it would look like on my bedroom floor.

The two of us walk back into the study-turned-dining room, and I do all the gentlemanly things, like pull out her chair and serve her first. This seems to fluster her, and I can’t get enough of it.

“Do you like it?” She asks, a hint of nerves in her words. The candles on the table create a warm glow, bathing her in soft light.

“Yes, my flower, this is lovely.” She smiles, and it warms something deep inside of me. I want her to always look at me like this.

“I’m glad. It wasn’t the easiest to set up, but I wanted to do something special,” she says, sipping her glass of wine. I cock my head, thinking about the mess that’s been created by me not having completed my end of the deal with my father.

I must make a face at the thought because her eyebrows come together; she’s worried.

“I know you don’t like your birthday, but it’s not your birthday, so this isn’t a birthday thing. Don’t start twisting it around, okay?” Her words are stern, and a genuine smile plasters itself upon my lips.

“Well, thank you for the not-birthday dinner. It’s a nice break from all the shit going on in the house.” My flower nods as I return to my meal. I notice her get up and walk to the corner of the room, where she places a record on a turntable. Music plays through hidden speakers, filling the room with new warmth and energy.

We eat the rest of our food in silence, listening to music. After eating my fill, I sit back and watch her. My flower’s head bobs to the beat, and her fingers tap the table to the melody as if she’s playing the piano. There is still so much I have to learn about her, so many secrets for me to uncover.

As I blatantly admire her, she stands and walks over to me, brushing her hands down the skirt of her dress.

“Loki,” she begins, taking a big breath. “Would you dance with me?” I’m taken aback by her request. Even though we’ve shared such intimate moments, we have never exchanged simple touches. I have never held her in a soft, gentle way. I hadn’t thought she’d want it.

“Of course,” I say, standing beside her. I tower over her, but she does not shrink under my gaze.

If anything, she blooms .

I take her hand and walk her to the more open side of the room. My hands find her waist while her fingers settle on my shoulders.

The piece playing through the speakers is slow, so we sway to it. I lead us in the only dance I know, occasionally twirling her around. Her eyes sparkle despite the dim light, and I practically drown in them.

Holding her so close to me, being able to feel her pressed against me, makes me want to pour my heart out to her. I want her to be here, to be mine, forever. Not my prisoner, not my captive, but mine .

And I want to be hers, to be the one she relies on in this life. Not her captor, but hers . I’ll show her just how much I trust her, just how much I need her.

The piece ends, but she doesn’t pull away. She continues to look up at me, watching my face. I kiss her. It's more gentle than anything we've done together. The way her lips part for me, the feeling of her pressed against me, it's almost too much. But it's not enough all at the same time.

The soft smile she wears doesn’t fade even as I guide her out of the room and toward the west wing.

When we arrive at the doors, we open them together. With one of her hands held in mine, I lead her down the hall, through my office, and out onto the balcony. The clouds have parted, revealing a sky full of stars for us to gaze at. The air is unseasonably warm, but I enjoy it.

What I actually enjoy is her.

Being out here with her brings me great peace, something I have not experienced before. I reach into my pocket and feel the velvet box I’d put in there earlier.

Her hands rest on the balcony railing, and I bring out the box from my pocket. Inside is a simple silver necklace with a green stone pendant on it. It’s delicate and dainty; I don’t see her as the flashy jewelry type.

“Loki,” she questions. “What’s going on?” I give her a small smile and show her the necklace.

“Do you like it?” It had been my mother’s, once upon a time. It feels right to give it to her.

“It’s beautiful.” I step behind her and fasten the necklace around her neck, letting my fingers linger on her skin as I brush her hair away.

She looks perfect. The necklace suits her, and I love seeing her in my favorite color.

“My beauty,” I say quietly, trying not to ruin the moment. She looks up at me, eyes reflecting the stars. “Are you happy here with me?” She hesitates, tugging her lip between her teeth. Despite this, she smiles.

“Yes.” Her eyes drift to the town below, and I can tell her thoughts are far away. While I am thrilled that she is happy here, whatever is pulling her away is clearly upsetting her.

“What is it?” I hold one of her hands, rubbing my thumb back and forth over her soft skin.

“If only I could see papa again. Even just for a moment,” she whispers. I reach out my other hand and cup her cheek, turning her so she looks at me. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them away, not allowing them to fall. “I miss him so much.”

Guilt and disappointment pang in my gut. But I want her to be happy. I want her to enjoy life here with me. I brush over the soft skin of her cheek with my thumb. “There is a way.”

I leave her side and walk into my office. I have surveillance software installed on Maurice’s phone, though I’m sure he’s unaware of it. I pull up his information on my laptop and bring it onto the balcony.

“What’s this?” I don’t want to explain it to her because I know it will upset her to remember why she’s here in the first place, but there is no way around it.

“Surveillance software on your father’s phone. One of my men installed it a while ago when he started missing payments to us.” Her brows furrow, but I continue explaining what we see on the screen. His location and where he’s been throughout the day, texts, emails, and phone calls.

“Where is he now?” I go to the map that shows his exact location, and my chest tightens.

“He’s at the hospital.” I won’t sugarcoat it; I won’t hide this from her. A notification pops up to indicate he’s active on his phone. “We can call him if you’d like.”

My flower nods quickly, chewing on her lower lip. “Yes, please.”

I pull out my phone, dial his number, and hand it to her. She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly in silent thanks. I bring that hand up to my lips and kiss her soft skin. This will change everything, I already know.

Wanting to give her privacy, I step back into my office. I don’t shut the doors. I sit at my desk and wait.

It feels like forever before she returns. When she comes into my office, tears stream down her face. Her chest heaves with her breaths. I quickly go to her side and place my hands on her face, wiping away her tears with my thumb.

“It’s papa,” she hiccups. “He’s sick; he may be dying. And he’s all alone.” I feel my stone heart crack at her words. My eyes drift around the office as I think about this place. Over the years, the house has become my prison; it only felt like home when she arrived.

I surprise myself by speaking. “Then-- then you must go to him.”

Her eyes go wide. They’re glazed over with tears, but I can practically see stars in them. “What did you say?

I take a deep breath, moving my hands to cup the back of her head. “I release you. You are no longer my prisoner.” A new round of tears spill onto her face as she rests her head in my hands.

“You mean... I’m free?”

“Yes.” The word is a dagger in my heart.

“Oh, thank you.” I watch as her tears leave shiny tracks on her soft skin. She turns her attention to the phone in her hand and speaks to it as if her father can still hear her. “Hold on, Papa. I’m on my way.” Her words are solid and sure despite her tears.

Her fingers move to grip her necklace’s pendant before finding the clasp at the back of her neck. She begins to remove it, but I place a hand over hers to stop her.

“Take it with you, so you’ll always have a way to remember me.” She sucks in a shaky breath and nods.

“Thank you for understanding how much he needs me.” I swipe my thumb over her damp cheek, unable to form a response.

She slowly steps out of my grasp and turns to leave. Just as she steps away, she reaches out her hand and places it on my cheek. Her lip quivers, but she does not speak.

I watch as she rushes back into the house and out of my life.

Levi and Cade move out of the way as she runs past them. They both walk quickly to catch up to me while I step onto the balcony.

“Well, Boss,” Levi says excitedly. “I must say everything is going according to plan. I knew you had it in you.” He claps me on the shoulder, but I do not turn to face him. Instead, I stare out at the land in front of me.

“I let her go.”

Cade scoffs. “You what? How could you do that?” I should scold him, reprimand him, but I can’t. Not right now.

“I had to.” My words must convey my feelings, my heartache, because he backs down.

“Why?”

“Because,” I say quietly, watching as my flower makes her way across the driveway. “I love her.”

Cade and Levi stand in stunned silence before leaving me to my thoughts. I don’t even notice their exit, too focused on what I have lost.

It is impossible to tear my eyes off her as she runs. She is bathed in moonlight. It washes over her in an ethereal way, making her look as if she were created from the stars. She doesn’t look back when she makes it to the front gate. She keeps moving.

She runs away from me, from everything I have given her.

Though she leaves her possessions behind, she has ripped my heart out and brought it with her. She clutches it between her little fingers.

As much as I yearn to follow, as much as I wish I could chase after her and pull her into my grasp, I am rooted where I stand.

I cannot move; fate will not have it. Destiny has leashed me, tethered me to this spot.

A strange peace washes over me as she fades from my view, melting into the skyline.

She will never truly leave me. Even if I never see her again, she has a piece of me, and I her. I will never forget it, the moments spent in her embrace, no matter how I may try. No matter how painful it may be.

Her stubborn nature, her laughter ringing through the air, it will be part of me forever.

I do not move; I barely breathe as I wait. I know she will not return, but I cannot convince my heart of this truth.

I take my first step when the sun begins to rise, and the moon has fallen. My bones ache, screaming at me to wait just a few moments longer, but I quiet the thoughts.

I find my way to my room, seeing the ghost of her in the corridors. Her footsteps pressed into the carpet, her fingers trailing the trim on the walls. I step into the room I’d given her when she first arrived. The blankets are still rumpled from the last time she slept on them. No one has changed them.

As if in a trance, I find myself climbing into the bed, surrounding myself with her smell.

It hasn’t faded yet.

I pull the blankets around me and tug the pillow from under my head, clutching it to my chest.

My heart aches for her as I bury my head in the pillow. In this moment, I know that she will torment me forever.

I wonder if I will torment her.

I hope so.

Flower

You run until your legs feel like jelly, and then you run some more. Despite feeling like you're about to collapse, you push and push until you get to the hospital. It's a miracle that you didn't pass out on the way.

When you arrive, a woman directs you to your father's room. Relief washes over you as you walk into the room and see your father lying on the hospital bed.

"Papa?" You ask gently. He stirs from his sleep, and his eyes shoot open when he sees you. "It's all right, Papa. I'm here."

Tears pool in your father's eyes as you sit beside him on the bed. You carefully wrap your arms around his shoulders, not wanting to cause discomfort.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he whispers.

"I missed you so much." Beneath the smell of hospital, you find the comforting smell of home.

"But, what about Loki… How did you escape?" You pull away and shake your head, wiping your father's tears from his cheek.

"I didn't escape, Papa. He let me go." Your father's brows pull together skeptically.

"That horrible man– he let you go?" You cringe at his words and the way your father eyes the beautiful dress you’re still wearing. Even though you probably should’ve changed out of it, you find comfort in knowing that Loki got it for you.

"But he's different now, Papa," you explain gently. "He's changed somehow." Your father shakes his head, but he's not denying what you're saying. He loves and believes you, but it might take time for him to understand.

A sharp knock on the door startles you and your father. A man you recognize as Jack Rollins, the one who attacked you all those nights ago, barges in along with four other men dressed all in black tactical gear.

Before you can even call for help, they pounce, dragging you and your father from the hospital bed and onto the ground. Fabric is shoved into your mouth, which is then duct taped shut before you're hauled up by one of the men. Your father receives the same treatment, and you thrash against the man holding you.

The men carry you and your father out of the hospital, and no one, not one single person, does anything to stop them. You had no idea Jack and whoever he works for are so powerful. They throw you into the back of a van, binding your wrists and ankles to prevent your escape and drive away.

When the car finally stops moving, you’re pulled out and dropped on the ground in an old lot with only a freight container in it. You try to take in your surroundings to figure out where you are, but you have no clue. Nothing around here gives you hints about the location. Everything is happening too fast; your brain doesn’t have time to catch up.

A fleet of black SUVs pull up to the lot. Out of the first one climbs Griffin.

Bile rises in your throat at the sight of him. He was supposed to help you find your father; he was supposed to be one of the good ones. You should’ve known that his golden retriever personality was a façade.

Griffin walks toward you, concern written all across his face. He reaches down and picks you up, untying your binds and carefully peeling off the tape from your face. The second your hands are free, you push him away.

“What the fuck is going on?” You shout, tossing your gag onto the ground. Griffin places a hand on your shoulder, and you shrug him off, hating the way his hand feels on you.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he says, getting close to you again. This time, he grips your arm so hard you think it’ll leave bruises.

“And to answer your question,” a new man says, approaching you from where he’d been leaning against one of the cars. “We’re here to collect you and your father.” The man is tall, but not as tall as Loki, with short chestnut brown hair.

“Collect?” You size up the new man and try not to show your intimidation. You can tell just by looking at him that he’s wealthy. His clothes and shoes are high-end. He’s practically broadcasting how rich he is.

“Yes. Collect. My name is Helmut Zemo. You and your father are of great value to the Zemo Family. With your help, we can take down the Laufeyson Family permanently, ridding this town of his filthy ways.” Your heart practically stops beating in your chest.

That night Jack Rollins had tried to take you was because of Zemo. He’s trying to take down Loki using you.

“I won’t let you,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you truly are. You have no idea how you’ll stop them.

“He’s an awful man,” Griffin says from beside you, using his grip on your arm to turn you back toward him. “He’s done despicable things.”

Helmut pulls his phone out of his pocket and comes closer. He hands you the phone, and you see footage of Loki beating up a man and then killing him. Over and over, but each time, it is a new man on the receiving end of Loki’s fury. Levi and Cade are there, throwing punches and assisting their boss.

This is the side of Loki you saw that night in the west wing. This violent version of him is the one that killed the bound man.

You’ve always known Loki is not an angel; he’s done awful things in his life, but you know he would never hurt you. And he’s changed. He’s kinder to his staff. He just seems… better.

Your voice catches in your throat at the sight of Loki in the footage. “I know he seems vicious, but he’s kind and gentle.” Your heart tugs in your chest. “He’s not the beast you think he is.” The men around you burst out in laughter, Griffin the loudest of them all.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had feelings for this monster.” He rips the screen from your hands and stares down at the image of Loki.

“He’s no monster, Griffin. You are!” You spit the words at him like fire, trying to burn him.

Griffin turns to the men around him, an incredulous look on his face. “She’s as crazy as the old man.”

Helmut leans down in front of you, so you have to look into his eyes. “Loki had no issue taking you; what makes you think he won’t come for other women? Other daughters? He’ll come after them in the night like the boogieman.” His voice is calm, so eerily calm.

Your eyes flit from man to man, hoping to see something, anything to show that they don’t believe any of the shit he’s spouting, but all you see is them nodding. Agreeing with Griffin and Helmut’s lies. “No,” you whimper as Griffin’s smile grows, stretching across his face.

“We’re not safe until his head is mounted on my wall,” Griffin spits. “I say we kill him.” His voice sounds nothing like him; this is not the Griffin you thought you knew.

Helmut’s men cheer and laugh at the announcement.

A few men approach Helmut, who switches the screen from old footage of Loki to blueprints of the house. They exchange plans on how best to infiltrate the house, how to make his death slow and painful.

A sob wracks your body at their words. “No! I won’t let you do this,” you shout, drawing Griffin’s attention back to you. He pulls you toward him, so you land on his chest, and you push against him, forcing him back a step. He just laughs at you.

“And here I thought you could be so helpful.” Griffin grips your chin and squeezes it like you’re a child. “If you’re not with us, you’re against us. Bring the old man.” Griffin grabs your upper arm again, and you claw at his grip. It is no use. As you fight against him, you see Helmut grab your father, dragging him toward the freight container.

“Get your hands off him!” You scream, voice laced with pain. Zemo and Griffin throw you and your father into the container and bolt it shut before you have the chance to even stand.

“We can’t have them running off to warn the beast,” Griffin taunts, knocking loudly on the metal container.

“Let us out!” You scream, but no one responds.

You set your father free of his binds, instantly able to see that he’s in pain.

“How will we get out of here?” Your father asks, rubbing his wrists where the binds had been.

“I don’t know, Papa. I don’t know.”

please message me to be added to a taglist! must be 18+

Series: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @sarhabee @apollonshootafar @harlequin-hangout @mocswift @phantombaby @blog-the-lilly

97 notes · View notes

lunarbuck · 1 year

Text

Dance With The Devil (6)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.3k

Summary: Sacrifices are made, and realizations come to light, but is it too late?

Warnings: violence, severe/fatal injury, blood, death 👀 (not really specified, implied i guess?), angst, crying, fluff, smoochin'

A/N: Even though I thought I wouldn't be able to post, I pulled through!! yay :) I'm sad that the series is ending... we only have one left after this 😭 thank you for sticking through it :)))

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

Chapter 5 / Chapter 7

Loki

I hear a quiet knock on the door, but I do not turn at the sound.

“Pardon me, Loki.” The voice of Mrs. Peters carries across the room.

“Leave me in peace,” I reply, staring at the rose between my fingers. My flower had given it to me the day we’d spent all afternoon in the garden. As if it is aware of her absence, it has started to wilt and die, but it is all I have of her now.

“The house is under attack!” She says, her voice full of urgency. I hear the sound of tires on the pavement, footsteps on the driveway, guns being loaded. “What should we do?” She isn’t really asking me what they should do; she knows. She’s only asking to try and get me to join in the fight. But I don’t want to fight. Not anymore.

“It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come.” A petal falls from the rose, and I can’t help but find it poetic, fitting for this moment.

Mrs. Peters storms out of the room, clearly upset that I’m not jumping to defend the home. I am rooted where I stand, unable to move, unable to continue on.

Flower

You throw your body against the freight container door, but it’s no use. It won’t budge. You have no idea how long you’ve been trying to get it open, but your body aches, and it feels like it’s been hours. Days even.

Your father is curled up in the corner, shivering so hard you can practically hear his teeth chattering.

There’s no way out, and the reality of it all hits you like a brick. You sink down against the wall and press the heels of your hand to your eyes. You have no idea if Loki knows what’s happening. No one is going to look for you; no one is going to find you.

You shuffle over to where your father lays and rub his back, trying to bring him even an ounce of comfort. He can’t be in here for long; he needs to be seen by a doctor.

Time passes slowly as you wait and wait. Eventually, your father falls asleep, but you refuse to. You refuse to let your guard down for even a second.

Suddenly, footsteps crunch on the dirt outside the container, and your head shoots up. You’re standing in an instant, protecting your father from whoever is on the other side.

The lock clangs as someone tries to unlock it, but a moment later, you hear a loud snap, and the door swings open. A man dressed all in black stands on the other side, a pair of bolt cutters in hand.

“Come with me,” the man says, gesturing with his open hand. You shake your head, stepping closer to your father. “We don’t have time for this,” he grumbles, stalking into the container.

“Don’t touch him!” you shout, pushing the man away. He doesn’t flinch; he easily slips past you and gently picks up your father.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man says, turning toward you. “We need to go before someone comes to check on you.” He walks out without another word, and you stare, stunned for a moment, before jogging to catch up with him.

The man places your father in the backseat of a car and buckles him in before opening the passenger’s side door for you. Hesitantly, you climb in and try to calm your breath.

“Who are you?” you ask as the man starts the car.

“Charlie Peters,” he replies, pulling out of the lot and onto the road. You still don’t recognize the area; Zemo’s men took you and your father so far away from town. Your jaw drops as you connect the dots. This is Mrs. Peters’ son.

“I met your mom,” you say, settling into the leather seat. “She’s a wonderful woman.” Charlie’s eyes crinkle in the corners at your words; that’s probably as much of a smile as you’re going to get from the man.

“Yeah, she is.” You stare out the window and watch the road speed by.

“How’d you find us?” Charlie turns onto the main road toward town, and you finally start to recognize your surroundings.

“Well, I work for the Laufeysons, but I’ve been watching Zemo for a while. None of his men are good at keeping shit to themselves, so I heard about your capture and knew I had to come get you.”

“And where are you taking us now?” You know he’s not headed in the direction of your house, but he’s also not headed back toward Loki’s.

“The Family doctor,” he says simply. The rest of the ride is spent in silence, and 10 minutes later, he pulls up outside of a single-story home. On shaky legs, you help your father into the home. Charlie talks to the doctor, who quickly begins taking your papa’s vitals. It’s nice to know that he’s being taken care of, but you’re still on edge. Your mind constantly drifts to Loki and what could possibly be happening to him. Zemo and Griffin are out for blood. You know Loki is strong but is he strong enough to take on this attack?

Charlie nudges your arm with his elbow, offering a steaming cup of tea to you. You mutter a quiet thank you and sip it, letting the warmth fill your chest.

“Thank you for bringing us here,” you whisper, watching the doctor administer some sort of treatment to your father. Charlie just shrugs.

“There is no need to thank me, I know how important you are to Loki and everyone at the house.” Your heart stutters at the thought of everyone else at the house. Levi, Cade, and Mrs. Peters have become your family in the short time you’ve been in Loki’s care. You can’t imagine what you’d do if they were hurt.

“Do you know if they’re okay?” You ask, chewing your lower lip. This time, Charlie’s brow furrows, and you can tell he’s hesitating to tell you

“Please, Charlie, I need to know.” Guilt creeps through your bones, settling in your gut.

Charlie shifts uneasily on his feet and pulls out his phone, scrolling through until he finds what he wants. “They haven’t been able to get into the house yet, but it’ll happen soon. Loki hasn’t mobilized anyone yet, I don’t think he will.”

“What?” You can’t believe this. Loki is just going to sit there and let it happen.

“That’s all I know, but Loki can handle himself. You don’t need to worry about him.” You shake your head; there’s no way you won’t worry about Loki and the people in that house. Charlie steps away from you to talk to the doctor, and you don’t give yourself time to think. You blow your papa a kiss and quietly walk toward the door. Charlie must not have expected you to try to leave because as you approach the entryway table, you see his car keys. You grab them and dart out the door before he can notice you’ve disappeared.

The second you start the car, Charlie bolts out of the house, yelling at you to get out. You just grit your teeth and ignore him, pulling out of the driveway and out onto the road.

The car’s GPS doesn’t have any locations saved, but you’re able to figure out how to get back to Loki’s mansion without too much trouble. As you pull up to the house, you see the fleet of black SUVs that had surrounded you earlier, the ones that had stolen you and papa from the hospital.

Men dressed all in black fire at each other out on the lawn and within the house, sending bodies falling left and right. You stumble out of the car and onto the pavement. Rain beats down on you, soaking you to the bone, but you don’t care. From where you stand, you can see Loki watching it all happen from the balcony of the West Wing, almost as if he hasn’t moved from where you left him.

It’s hard to believe that not even a day has passed since he gave you the necklace you now clutch between your shaking fingers.

You watch as Loki turns and walks into his office as if in a trance. Once he’s out of sight, you scramble toward the house, ducking behind trees and cars for protection. As you get closer to the house, you see Cade tending to a wounded man a few feet away. You slip on the wet pavement, and his eyes shoot to you.

“What– what are you doing here?” He asks, patting the man on the shoulder before jogging over to you. Cade helps you up and holds your shoulders tightly, scanning your face with a kind of care you hadn’t expected him capable of.

In all honesty, you’re not really sure why you’re here. It’s not like you can stop the attack. Deep down, you know that you just want to be with him. You want to be here with Loki no matter what. He’s been alone for so long; you don’t want him to be alone in this too.

“Where is he?” You ask instead of explaining. Cade shakes his head but grips your hand in his, tugging you behind him toward the house. He covers you when you’re spotted, but he doesn’t let you get hurt. As he guides you through the battlefield, your eyes catch on the balcony of the west wing again. Though this time, you see Loki and a figure behind him. You don’t even think as you pull yourself from Cade’s grip and run toward the balcony.

“Loki!” You scream, the sound tearing from your chest. “No!”

Griffin throws himself at Loki, nearly toppling them both over the edge of the balcony. Though you know both men are armed, you know Griffin well enough that he’s a cocky bastard and will try to win with only his strength.

Loki doesn’t even fight; he just lets Griffin take him down and beat him with his fists. You can’t tear your eyes away, even as Cade rushes to your side. He grabs your arm, but you’re stuck where you stand. You scream up at Loki and Griffin, but either they don’t hear, or they don’t care.

“Come on,” Cade grunts, trying to pull you away. You push at his arm, tears streaming down your face.

“Why isn’t he fighting back?” You yell partially at Cade but mostly at Loki. Cade doesn’t respond. He just pushes you behind an overturned car as another round of gunfire blares through the air.

Griffin, seemingly fed up with Loki’s lack of fight, pulls out his gun. You watch, bile rising in your throat as he fires down at Loki. His body shudders at the impact, and you scream again. You fight against Cade’s hold, but he won’t let you go.

Loki

Blood pours from my wound, and I cradle my arm, rolling up onto my knees. He fires a few shots into the air, clearly trying to scare me and anyone else on my side into submission. But I’ve already succumbed. There is nothing left for me with her gone. Today there will be a changing of the ranks; I will be cast out from my family and everything I’ve known.

Griffin yells at me as I grip my shoulder. “Get up! Get up! What’s the matter, Loki? Too kind and gentle to fight back?” He’s angry that I won’t give chase, that I won’t turn into the monster he knows me to be. I look down at the ground below, rain dripping from my hair into my eyes. Thunder claps loudly, but it doesn’t mask the sound of Griffin reloading his gun.

“Griffin!” someone screams, the sound ripping from their throat. “Stop!” Griffin turns to look, anger rolling off of him in waves.

The thunder doesn’t mask the sound of my flower’s voice shouting at him to stop. I see her out on the lawn, fighting against Cade’s hold.

A smile tugs at my lips at the sight of her, disheveled and furious in the rain. “My beautiful flower.” I manage to stand as Griffin stalks to the other side of the balcony.

“Griffin, don’t!” She screams again, breaking out of Cade’s arms and running toward the house as quickly as she can.

Griffin uses my distraction to his advantage, swinging his gun at my jaw, but seeing her has lit a fire in my heart. I catch his wrist, forcing him back as I stand at my full height. I knock the weapon from his hand and hear it clatter to the ground below us.

Without his weapon, Griffin is weak. I swing at him, my fist connecting with his face. I am stronger than him, but my wounded shoulder prevents me from using all my strength. I push him back enough to slip away, hiding in the shadows as I cover my wound.

I hear Griffin’s footsteps approaching, the section of roof we are on is large, but he will find me in a moment. “Come on out and fight!” He stops walking and begins laughing to himself. “Were you in love with her, Loki? Did you honestly think she’d want you when she had someone like me?”

A growl rips from my chest as I lunge at Griffin, tackling him.

Griffin backs away from me, holding his arms out. “It’s over, Loki! She’s mine!”

I shake my head. Fuck him. The thought of her hands on another man, the thought of someone else tainting her skin with their touch sends fury ripping through me. Now that I have had her, that she has slipped her way into my heart she is mine. I am hers, she owns me heart and soul. No one has ever made me feel this way, I don’t want anyone but her.

I tackle him once more and grip him by the throat, whipping a large knife out of my belt. I shove it through his shoulder, pinning him to the roof. He howls in pain as I remove my pistol from its holster and place it against his forehead.

Griffin goes pale, shaking beneath me, unwilling to take the punishment for his actions. Like a pussy, he starts begging me for his life. “Don’t kill me! Please, don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything! Anything!”

I click the safety off and put a bullet in the chamber. My finger rests on the trigger, ready to press, but I don’t. I stare at the man below me and shock myself as I stand, stepping away from him.

From the balcony above me, I hear a voice call to me. “Loki!” I turn and see her. My beauty, tears and rain streaking her face.

I call back to her, choking on her name. I climb up the roof to her, pulling myself up on the side of the balcony. She stands in front of me, gripping my shoulders. I don’t even feel the pain in my wound. She has erased it all.

“You came back,” I whisper, unable to believe she is here.

She stares back at me, shaking her head and smiling softly as if she, too, cannot believe it. I feel her tug on me, trying to pull me over the ledge, and I move to help her when something tears its way into my back.

I cry out in pain as Griffin lodges the blade I’d stabbed him with into my back. My flower grips me as I sway with the movement of Griffin pulling it out. He tries to stab me again, but this time, his grip slips. He doesn’t have someone on the other side to hold him steady.

Griffin falls for what feels like an eternity, and I do not look down to see where he lands.

My flower doubles her efforts to pull me to safety, and I do my best to climb up, but I feel the strength pouring from my wounds.

Black invades my vision as she lays me on the balcony. Her face is all I see as I fight to keep my eyes open. Her beautiful bright eyes, her kind smile. The pain overcomes me, and I finally give in, letting my eyes fall shut.

Flower

As Loki’s eyes close, you feel the world cave in.

“Loki,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face, melding with the raindrops that soak your skin.

Loki’s eyes flicker open, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “You came back.” This time it isn’t a question; he doesn’t doubt what he sees before him. His hand reaches to your cheek, fingers fitting around your jaw and back into your hair, holding you how he always would.

“Of course I came back. I couldn’t let them-- This is all my fault. If only I’d gotten here sooner--” You lean your face into his hand, placing your fingers over his, trying to get closer to his embrace.

“Your beauty has started wars, my pet, and you think I would not fight for you?” You shake your head, this never should have happened. “Maybe it’s better this way,” Loki grunts, a slight smirk upon his lips. His thumb brushes the tears from your cheek.

“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be all right. We’re together now,” you sniffle, trying to hold your voice steady. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see,” you can’t hide the way your words crack, but you want to be strong. For him. For Loki.

“At least I got to see you one last time.”

As his hand falls from your face, your world shatters. Your heart stops beating, the Earth stops turning.

“No... please, no...”

The rain beats down on you as you collapse on top of Loki’s quiet form. You sob into his chest, holding onto the lapel of his jacket.

You are oblivious to the watchful eyes of Cade, Levi, and Mrs. Peters on you, the sad glances they exchange, knowing their fate is sealed.

“No, no,” you sob, lifting your head to look at Loki’s face. You touch your forehead to his, wishing he would just open his eyes and smile at you as if it were all some stupid joke. “Please don’t leave me. I love you.” Tilting your head, you press a final kiss to his lips, still soft and warm.

Thunder cracks loudly above you, and footsteps scuff against the wet cement. Warm hands press against your back, and a loud sob escapes from your lips. Mrs. Peters crouches beside you, moving your soaking hair from your face. Even though you’re draped over Loki’s body, she still embraces you.

“I’m not going to make you come inside,” she whispers, gently running her fingers along your spine. “I’m not going to make you do anything, dear.” You nod, sobbing into Loki’s chest. New footsteps, and then Levi is crouching down on the other side of Loki. He places a hand on Loki’s forehead, a mournful look stitched into his features.

“Zemo’s men are either all dead or contained. There’s a doctor here, though; she should come out here,” he says gently. You nod, and Levi waves out the doctor. She looks young, but if she’s employed by the Laufeysons, she must be trustworthy. You hold onto Loki’s hand as she examines Loki. You don’t know how he can be saved at this point. His wounds are too severe.

Cade steps out as well and crouches beside you and Levi. “They’re here.” His voice is low and gruff, it’s filled with grief. He turns to you and gives you a sad look. “Loki’s uncle,” he explains. “He’s here to take over since the contract wasn’t fulfilled.” Contract?

He’s running out of time.

You shake your head, not ready to admit all that this means for Loki’s people.

“You love him?” The doctor asks you, pulling your attention.

You stare at her, head foggy from tonight’s events. “Yes,” you whisper. The doctor nods, then calls over a man. They speak in hurried whispers before two more men come to the doctor’s side.

“We need to bring him inside if we’re going to help him,” she tells you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You nod, and the second you do, the men lift Loki and carry him back into the west wing.

You wake slowly, eyes struggling to open fully. Your body feels heavy, but your head is clear. It takes a moment for your eyes to focus, but when they do you see Mrs. Peters in the chair beside the bed. You’re drowning in pillows and blankets; part of you wants to settle back in and go back to sleep.

The other part of you doesn’t let you forget what happened to Loki.

You shoot upright, head spinning at the movement. “Loki,” you whisper, throat dry.

“It’s okay, dear,” Mrs. Peters says, quickly moving to your side. “Shh, shh.” She places her hand on your head and eases you back into bed.

“What– what’s going on?” You ask as she brings a glass of water to you.

“You’ve been asleep for quite some time, dear. You were sick, so surely that was part of it, but I think the rest was fear.” You sip the water and nod, images of Loki’s lifeless wounded body on the wet balcony flashing through your mind.

Mrs. Peters opens her mouth to speak again, but you shake your head. You don’t want to hear more about that night or what happened to Loki.

Even though your head protests, you shuffle out of the pile of blankets. You slide out of bed on unsteady legs and take a deep breath. Mrs. Peters follows close behind, and you walk out of the room and into the hallway. Even though each step feels impossible, you finally make it to the kitchen.

Mrs. Peters jumps into action, making you a quick breakfast while you stare out the kitchen window to the yard outside. It’s hard to believe that a few days ago, it was a battlefield littered with bodies. When she places the food in front of you, you eat despite not feeling hungry.

Time passes strangely, your thoughts muddled. What happens next? Where do you go from here?

You move through the days in a trance, each day bleeding into the next. It takes almost three days for the fog in your mind to clear. Something has been happening in the house, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Levi and Cade have been checking in on you, but you don’t want to talk to anyone. You just sit with your thoughts and wait for something to change. Wait for something to get better.

Tonight, the sky is clear, and the stars shine brightly through the darkness. You find yourself on the balcony in the west wing.

You stare out at the sky, looking for answers. Even just standing out here makes your throat tight with emotion. Images of Loki bleeding to death in front of you flash before your eyes. You can practically feel him, his presence with you now.

You tell yourself there’s no use standing out here, so you turn around to leave when your breath catches.

Loki leans against the entry to the balcony, a hand braced against the wall, the other pushing hair out of his face. Tears bloom in your eyes, and you make no effort to hold them back. You want to run to him, but your feet don’t move.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, cocking his head and grinning mischievously. Loki slowly walks toward you, masking his injuries well but not well enough to deceive you into thinking he is fully healed.

You spring forward when he is only a few steps away, practically launching yourself at him. Loki catches you in his embrace, enveloping you with his long arms.

“It’s you,” you whisper into his chest, hearing his heart beating wildly beneath his ribs.

“It’s me,” he whispers, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your tears are wetting his shirt, but you don’t care.

“You’re alive.”

“Yes, my flower, I’m alive.” You tilt your chin up and find Loki already looking down at you, bright eyes shining with adoration. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes gleaming, and kisses you.

He lifts you off your feet, not breaking contact, and takes your breath away. His kiss is all-encompassing. It scares away any doubt you ever had of Loki’s strength. It’s a balm soothing your wounds.

It’s all him.

The fairytales might’ve gotten something right. The feeling of being in Loki’s arms again, of his hands holding you, of his lips pressing against yours, is magic. Right now, you’re invincible as long as you’re with Loki.

Even though the day you met him, you thought Loki was a monster, there’s something there… it’s always been there; you just weren’t ready to see it.

“My beauty,” he whispers, breaking from the kiss. He still holds you, still doesn’t let you out of his embrace. “I thought I’d lost you.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “You could never lose me,” you reply. Loki smiles that mischievous grin that makes your heart thud and laughs.

“I love you,” he says, voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. “I love you.”

“Loki,” you can barely speak, barely breathe, at his confession. His bright eyes stare deeply into yours, seeing right through you, and you melt. “I love you.”

All is right in the world as Loki kisses you breathless. He carries you back into the home, through his office, and to a room you’ve never been into before. A large bed catches your attention, and Loki wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, sending laughter bursting through you.

He tosses you onto the bed and climbs on top of you, crowding you with his larger body. Your heart sings with the feeling of truly being at home. At peace.

Papa always told you that home is where the heart is. Truer words have never been spoken.

please message me to be added to a taglist! must be 18+

Series Tags: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @sarhabee @apollonshootafar @harlequin-hangout @mocswift @phantombaby @blog-the-lilly @vickie5446

96 notes · View notes