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luxora · 2 years

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Blackpink -> {Vampire AU} -> Falling in love with a human

Requested: Yes

Group: Blackpink

Genre: Fluff. Angst.

Warning: Blood. Drinking victims. General vampire stuff.

Jisoo

Jisoo propped her head up with her hand as she laid next to you, your body rising and falling rhythmically as you were fast asleep next to Jisoo. Despite the comparison to her in terms of looks, Jisoo couldn’t help but be taken away by your looks, your hair slightly ruffled, your mouth slightly opened, and a few drops of drool detected as soaked into the pillow case you were cuddling. You looked so human, no filters or makeup to try glam up your appearance, you looked completely and utterly regular.

And Jisoo thought you were the most beautiful.

She reached out and gently traced her finger down your neck and along your shoulder, take note to how your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the touch and unconsciously shrugged your shoulder to try get rid of the tickling touch, making Jisoo smile in the process.

“Cute.” She said out loud, rather saying it to herself than to you, even though it was about you.

Watching you sleep was one of Jisoo’s favorite pass times, even though it would sound rather creepy if she said it out loud, however being alive as long as she has, there is only so many things that can keep a vampire entertained, hobbies usually fading away within a few years. While Jisoo has accepted her life as a vampire, it didn’t mean that she didn’t miss some of the things she was able to do when she was human, like sleeping.

Sleeping was perhaps one of the few things which Jisoo did miss because to just rest her mind and body for a few hours, supplied warmth by a blanket, it was something that was so simple and yet so comforting. Jisoo is slight envious of humans to be able to escape the real world problems for a few hour with their sleep, their minds just being put at ease for a small while, just a small escape from reality. Jisoo was envious of that, because as she did not need sleep, she was forced to relive and stay with her thoughts and feelings, unable to have any escape for them, not even for a few hours.

But somehow Jisoo has found herself finding some kind of peace whenever she stayed the night with you, her eyes soaking in your sleeping sight as your slept in her company, feeling safe enough for her to watch over you and not do anything strange or overwhelming. At certain times during the night, you would shift closer to Jisoo and wrap and arm around her, sometimes tossing your leg over her as well to keep her in a vice grip, something which Jisoo always smiled at. She could easily remove herself from your clutches, but she chose not to, because the warmth of your body could be resembled to the warmth she felt under a blanket when she was human, giving her a sense of nostalgia of her past life.

But as expected, you would not cuddle with her for long because of her cold body, eventually becoming to cold to continue hugging her, so you would remove yourself and roll over in your sleep, choosing to cuddle with one of your many pillows than with her, which would give a twist to Jisoo’s undead heart as she would be unable to provide you with a warmth that a partner was supposed to.

Jisoo sighed sadly, looking at your forlornly as you cuddled with your pillow, rolling away from her not too long ago because your body became too chilled from cuddling with Jisoo for too long. She reached out to trace your hair line, keeping her touch light to make sure that she didn’t wake you up, a slight warmth in her chest as she watched you sigh in your sleep, snuggling your nose into your pillow.

You were precious to her, precious in a way that you have given her some kind of boost in her vampire life. While Jisoo has had conquests before, very short lived ones due to how fragile humans are, but you have a spark in you which Jisoo has not seen in a while. Perhaps its was because you reminded her slightly of how she was in the past, but no matter, Jisoo adored you. You were a special one to her, and even though she does not know how long it will last between the two of you, she will revel in the time that she has with you.

“Jisoo...” You mumbled in your sleep, muffled in the pillow but still easily clear for Jisoo due to her vampire hearing. Jisoo smiled.

“I’m here my love, I’m here.” She spoke back, twirling a piece of your hair around her finger, a look of endearment on her face.

Jennie

Jennie has always done whatever she wanted, even when she was still human, one of the upsides of being the daughter of one of the most powerful generals in the country. Whenever she demanded something, it was granted, and it was no different when she was given the chance of immortality, to not die and wither away like everyone else around her. It took little work to get it, and centuries after she was turned, Jennie has just taken whatever she wanted, lathered in luxury and capable of doing things that most couldn’t imagine doing.

And yet...

“Come on Jennie, we are almost there.”

Your hand was tight in hers as you tugged her up the mountain, a delighted smile on your face even though you have fall more than a dozen times trying to scale the rough landscape. Even though Jennie could have easily sped up to the top of the mountain with you in her arms with ease, you were determined to do it the right away, through earning it through your own labor and hard work.

How human, Jennie thought to herself, tugging you as you stumbled once again on the landscape, making sure that you didn’t fall flat on your face. You flashed her a grateful grin before leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks babe!”

Jennie crinkled her nose at the nickname. She did not understand why modern humans liked to call each other nicknames related to children and babies, Jennie no way resembled a baby and yet you liked to call her one. It confused her, and yet she allowed you to call her it.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted to do this so early in the morning.” Jennie stated, stepping over a protruding tree root which you had pointed out over tripped on it.

“Because the sunrise is going to come out soon! I don’t want to miss it!”

“It is not like you don’t see the sunrise every morning Y/N.” Jennie said, making you pause as you looked back at her with a surprisingly serious look.

“I see the sun rise everyday, but not with you. I want to watch it with you.” You said seriously, whipping around to continue with the hike, not realizing how flustered your words made Jennie.

While Jennie got a lot of benefits by being a vampire, one of the things which was a downfall was the fact that she could not walk in direct sunlight. Feeling like you are burnt alive is not exactly a pleasant feeling, hence why Jennie always hid indoors during the day or remained in shadows. So going out to see the sunrise was hardly something Jennie would do given her state of vampire, and yet she has allowed you to tug her on a morning hike just to see the sunrise.

The fact that you managed to make her do something which she never would have done herself says something about how important you are to her. While she has had many lovers in the past, vampires and humans alternatively, you were the one who managed to bring her to her knees, in more ways than one. Jennie Kim, someone who gave orders and never obeyed others, obeyed you so easily even though it could be to her own detriment. She would have thought she would change like she way she has changed since meeting you.

“We’re here!” You cheered, managing to get at the top of the mountain, or hill, without Jennie even realizing that the two of you were at the top. You then turned to Jennie and smiled before reaching out to gently grab her shoulders to move her in front of you. “Come on, its starting.”

Jennie moved to where you dictated and turned to look straight ahead, only to start when she caught sight of the sun rise. It was quick but slow at the same time, the colors of red, pink and orange filling the sky. She was slightly memorized at the sight, it being so long since she has seen one as she always just locked herself indoors to avoid the pain she could feel, and yet at the moment, she feels that pain would be worthwhile because even though many artists could paint a sunrise, it does not beat the real thing.

She felt arms wrap around her waist and a chin on her shoulder, air tickling the back of her ear as a nose nuzzled her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You said, eyes locked on the same sunrise Jennie was witnessing.

Jennie nodded. That was all that she could really do. Even though you and her both knew that she needed to speed back down the mountain to the dark tinted car Jennie had to keep the sunlight out in the next few minutes, you both held out just a little longer to enjoy the sight and each other.

Chaeyoung

Chaeyoung wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, scowling when she saw the blood smeared on her skin when she pulled it away. Her evening meal was a lot more feistier than usual, which of course resulted in her having to get a little messy with her eating. She glanced at the limp body on the floor of the alleyway, his neck open with no blood to ooze from the wound because it was all consumed by Chaeyoung, sating her for the time being.

“You couldn’t just stay still.” Chaeyoung grumbled, bending down and picking up the body with ease, carrying it until she dropped it into the dumpster in the alleyway. “It would have been a lot less painful for you.”

Chaeyoung has stopped feeling guilty about drinking from humans a while ago, its simply being something that needed to be done in order to keep her alive. While she did hate needless death, if the option was between her and an old drunkard who has wasted his life away in bars and casinos, then the choice was obvious. She probably gave him a better chance at life, because if she didn’t catch him, then it would have been the loan sharks or the casino owners who would have drained him out, and that would just be a waste of blood.

The phone in her pocket suddenly started vibrating, the personalized charm letting Chaeyoung immediately know who it was. A smile immediately graced her lips as she opened the message, being greeted with a meme of a tongue sticking its tongue out with rainbow all around it.

-You done yet?- Y/N

Chaeyoung smiled and immediately texted back.

-Yes. I will head over now. Get the movie ready.”- Chaeyoung

-Twilight marathon, here we come!- Y/N

-For the thousandth time, it is inaccurate- Chaeyoung

-Don’t ruin a perfectly good vampire saga with your reality. Movies are meant for an escape- Y/N

Chaeyoung just shook her head before pocketing her phone and speeding out of the alleyway, making her way back to your apartment in record time. She tested the handle and the door easily opened, letting her in and greeted with the smell of takeout pizza and popcorn, along with a sharp curse form your mouth along with a rattle, prompting Chaeyoung to walk into the living room where she saw you rubbing your knee while glaring at your coffee table as you sat on the floor.

“Did the table call you names?’ Chaeyoung teased, her smirk remaining when you turned your glare on her.

“It attacked me!”

“Sure it did.” She nodded, chuckling when you just flipped her the finger. Chaeyoung tugged off her jacket and felt your gaze on her shirt, particularly on where the bloodstain from her dinner was.

“Did you get into a fight or something.”

“He didn’t make it easy.”

“Ah.”

You said nothing else, and Chaeyoung appreciated that because discussing her meals was not exactly something she liked to divulge in, especially since it consisted of killing other human beings. Deciding to make things easier, Chaeyoung tugged off her shirt, leaving her shirtless in your living room, and you whistled at her.

“I didn’t know it was my birthday.” Chaeyoung laughed.

“You get this more than just on your birthday Y/N.”

“Do I?” You asked innocently, eyes twinkling as you winked at her as Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow at you.

Even though you were way more fragile than what Chaeyoung was, the two of you made it work and to say the both of you kept each other satisfied was an understatement. Rolling her eyes, Chaeyoung walked over and pinched your cheek lightly, although firm enough that you slightly winced.

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“I’m not.” You argued, tugging your cheek away and rubbing it while looking at her with pouted lips. Chaeyoung scoffed.

“Liar.” She said, turning around and walking out the living room to your bedroom, where she knew that you had more than enough spare hoodies to spare her for the evening.

Lisa

There was nothing more that Lisa loved than flying through the air, feeling the wind through her hair and being completely weightless in the sky was addicting. As one of the most important sayings for creatures of her kind, when the sun was away, the vampires came out to play, and Lisa was always that creature of the night that enjoyed reveling in her powers while humans wandered around the streets below.

Reckless was hardly something new that Lisa has been called before, it often getting her into hot water, especially with others who happened to be humans. Lisa couldn’t exactly remember how many times she had revealed herself to humans, but she knew that it was fair amount since she had to deal with them afterwards. That was one of the most annoying things about being a vampire, she couldn’t just be herself. The second some human saw a creature with fangs, them immediately screamed in terror and started talking with those big mouths of theirs.

Humans were annoying, but they were something which Lisa both loved and hated. Hated because she always had to deal with them if they found out what she was, as well as that she had to hide herself and be wary of her surroundings in order to not reveal herself. But she did love them in terms that they were positively delicious, and sometimes fun if they humored her long enough.

But while she was soaring through the sky from building to building, it was fun enough on her own, but it was even funner when she had company, and the weight on her back with their arms and hands wrapped around her body was the exactly the company she needed, especially since she knew that they were having just as much fun as Lisa.

“Keep going Lis!” You cheered, squeezing your arms even more around her neck as Lisa took another running start and all but dove up into the air like a rocket off its launcher, letting out a tremendous whoop while doing so.

Lisa honestly was surprised when she happened to stumble across you in on a rooftop the one evening, startling you so much that you nearly went toppling off the building. And against her better judgement, she sped over to you and caught you before you could fall, thus exposing her vampire twice. When she saw your eyes widen as you took in the fact that she had blurred at super speed before catching you from falling, Lisa fully expected you to let out a horrified scream and call her a monster, or a demon, or whatever, like most humans did when she accidentally revealed herself.

And yet you didn’t.

Instead of screaming, you started asking her questions, lots and lots of questions while she literally held you on the roof edge, not at all terrified that she could push you off to your unfortunate death, bringing your human life to an end. Even though Lisa knew she should, it being a rule in the vampire community that our existence should bot be revealed to humans, she didn’t.

Instead Lisa pulled you away from the ledge and answered your questions, actually becoming startled herself when you wanted to peer into her mouth to see her fangs, even going as far to bring your finger forward to see if her teeth were razor sharp or not. And then of course you managed to fluster her if it was sensually pleasing for a human when being fed off by a vampire, which of course then lead to you asking her to drinking from you for the answer, something which Lisa readily didn’t agree to.

Against her better judgement, or rather her better knowledge, Lisa decided to let you live, and month afterwards, the two of you became more than just a predator and a prey, or ‘friends’ as you would like to call it. The two of you became lovers, two peas in a pod, two idiots who were in love. And now instead of prowling the nights on her own, she had a partner in crime who was still very much human but seemed to forget about it at times, especially since you were soaring through the sky with Lisa, arms and legs wrapped around her back.

“Higher Lisa!”

“Got it!”

It was always a competition to see if Lisa could go higher in the sky, although it was hardly a competition when Lisa was the only one competing, but Lisa humored you and herself by doing what you requested. Lisa loved her powers, and she fell in love with someone who probably loved her powers more than she did. Strange, but Lisa loved strange. And when she finally landed on one of the rooftops and let you off her back, she tugged you to her to plant a passionate kiss to your lips.

“You’re crazy.” She breathed, smile on her face which you reflected brightly.

“Not as crazy as you.”

Lisa laughed and then pulled you into another kiss, tangling her fingers into your hair while you slid your hands under her shirt to grasp at her ice cold skin on her lower back, trembling from both sensations you were feeling in the kiss.

#blackpink scenarios #blackpink #blackpink imagines #blackpink reactions #blackpink jisoo #blackpink jennie #blackpink rose #blackpink lisa #vampire au #vampire blackpink imagines #vampire blackpink reactions #vampire blackpink scenarios #vampire jisoo #vampire jennie #vampire rose #vampire lisa

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sadistgalore · 3 years

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Chapter 15: Luther's Brilliant Fucking Plan

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams, @whumptakesthecake

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist.

CW: dehumanization, pet whump, lady whump, captivity whump, referenced torture (branding and burning), hair pulling/grabbing, referenced noncon, blackmailing, death threats, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, manhandling, shock collars, infidelity, creepy/intimate/delusional/sadistic/possessive whumper(s), noncon touching, noncon kissing, stabbing, implied torture/noncon

“So, how was she?” Dark asked as he sat down in the chair opposite Luther on the couch, both of their pets kneeling next to them.

He had returned from Maryland not even five minutes ago, giving a short greeting to his friend and a heartfelt kiss to his housewife.

“Oh, she was wonderful, Ed. You trained her well,” Luther said with a shit eating grin.

Dark chuckled, pleased that his defiant pet behaved so well for his best friend. Her hands were twisting and pulling the fabric of her dress, but he couldn’t care less at the visible discomfort on her face.

“I’ve noticed she has a few more scars than when I left her, including a brand,” he said in a low voice, face in a scowl once he stared at the designed burn on her right arm.

Luther didn’t look the least bit threatened at his friend’s dangerous tone. “Believe me, it was justified. She made a new friend,” he said in a mocking tone before harshly pulling at his pet’s hair.

Killian gasped as his scalp was pulled, every instinct telling him to sit still, though. His arms had healed fairly well, but the burns on his face would be deeply scarred for a while, if not forever.

“I see he had his own share of punishment as well,” Dark added, looking at the boy’s scarred face and arms.

“Your girl tried to feed him against my permission, then her defiance rubbed off on him. But I had them under my control soon enough,” Harper forced down a whimper as she recalled the horrific week of rape and torture she had spent with the man, who wasn’t sharing even a fraction as he should have with her captor. But she knew better than to say anything.

She then felt hands gripping her chin, taking her out of her thoughts. “Harper, did he touch you at all like the way I do?”

The girl swallowed as she stared at the familiar and possessive look on her captors face, before fearfully glancing over at the man on the couch. Luther’s face was emotionless, but she knew his mind was threatening her if she dared to tell the truth.

The kitty had finally stopped crying, knees tucked up to her chest on the bed. She and the dog, who was still tied to the chair, were staring at each other, regret in the dog’s and anger in the other.

“I’m gonna tell him, as soon as he gets back,” the kitty promised, throat scratchy and raw by the night they had shared together.

The man finished zipping his pants and rolled his eyes, not bothered to talk as he reached down to grab his shirt off the floor.

Kitty painfully sat up, pissed that he wasn’t paying attention to her. “I’m serious. He’s the only one allowed to rape me, he told you-”

Doggy screamed as his shock collar was set off yet again. Master grabbed his hair painfully, forcing him to look at Kitty.

“He. Is. Mine. Like you are Edward’s. Ed can do whatever the fuck he wants to do with you when I’m gone, just like I can do whatever the fuck I want to do with him. No one will care if I kill him, understand? If I even suspect that Edward knows what happened here tonight, and what will continue to happen, your precious little Ian is going to have a long and painful death. Understand?”

Kitty didn’t respond, just let out a small sob and rolled back over on the bed. The man smiled as he let go of the dog’s hair, walking out of the bedroom leaving two broken pets behind.

Harper breathed out, trying to not give away the emotion on her face, for Killian’s sake. “No, just the brand and a few beatings, Master. I was good for him just like you told me to.” It was forced, she knows, but best not to make him angry when he just got back.

Dark smiled, patting her head. “Very good girl. Sorry for the accusation, Lou, you know how I get about my pets.”

Luther laughed. “No worries, Ed. Besides, I would never dream of touching her.”

Killian’s heart dropped as he stared at the girl, watching her try so hard to keep a straight face and not tell what really happened.

All for him.

Dark changed the subject matter quickly. “Anyways, did you hear the news? Helene’s going away to Philadelphia for three weeks.”

Harper looked up confused. Helene? As in Congresswoman Helene McKinley? Beth’s boss?

“Really?” Luther questioned. “She never leaves DC.”

“Had to take care of a personal matter. She ensured the subject will be one of ours soon.”

“Very good. What does that leave you then?”

“I was thinking of taking Harper back to my base again,” Dark started, fingers flowing through his pet's raven hair to keep himself calm. “Possibly my manor, but you know how my gang loves to talk. And with how often Noah comes around, he’ll be sure to share my new pet with Noami. I’m afraid it’s too much of a risk to my marriage to take her anywhere but here.”

Luther chuckled. “Noami will never stop running her mouth to Helene if she finds out. ‘Helene did you hear? Your Edward found himself another slut to fuck behind your back! If you don’t murder his ass right now, I will do it for you!’” He finished the imitation with a smile, but Harper couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not when she stared at him.

Dark laughed at the scene, but continued. “Unfortunately, coming here to Delaware constantly prevents me from running my base in DC. I can’t let her be another one of my one-offs, she’s,” the man stopped to grasp her chin again, thumb running over her lip, “Special.”

Luther sat in silence for a moment, then spoke up as if a lightbulb had just casted a light over his head. “How about taking her to my building? The top floor is a private penthouse that I only have access to, with tons of rooms and space for you two to live. You’ll be easily able to travel between your base and there, and I could watch her while you’re gone!”

Watch her while you’re gone. Harper wished she had the nerves to scream her protests against the idea. But in reality, which one is the lesser of two evils? A sadistic man who sees her as nothing but a kitty, or a delusional man who sees her as a housewife that he can kill at any moment?

Dark scratched her chin, pondering the idea. Killian stared blankly ahead, a distant part of him hoping his Master’s idea would work; maybe he could see Harper more.

“You know, Lou, I think I’ll take your deal,” Edward said after a moment of silence. “Are you sure it’s not a problem for you?”

Luther waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I barely use it anyways. You can even use it after Helene comes back or for as long as you need.”

“Thank you, Luther,” Dark said with a genuine smile, not the creepy one he always uses on Harper. “I owe you one.”

Luther nodded, scratching his pet's hair one last time before getting up. “Well, I should be getting back. Give me a call when you’re coming, and I’ll be sure to sneak you in.”

Dark got up as well, going out to shake his friend's hand. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Luther. We’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”

You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Beth.

Luther shook back with a smile. “Oh, I know. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

I know, Harp. Now come on, we gotta catch the bus to get back home.

How do I get back home to you, Beth?

“Come on, Kill.” Killian rushed to get up, back hunched as he stood next to his master. As Dark walked towards the door to open it for him, Luther quickly turned around towards Harper, his dangerous gaze vastly different from his friendly one just a minute ago.

“If you say anything, I’ll kill him,” Luther whispered, hand gripping Killian’s neck as he raised an eyebrow at Harper.

Harper gave a slight nod, staring at Killian before mouthing, Goodbye, Ian.

The boy swallowed against the tight hold. Goodbye, Harper.

Luther rolled his eyes and pushed the boy towards the door, giving Dark one final goodbye before leaving. The said man closed and locked the door, loosening his tie as he walked back to his pet.

Harper’s instincts were screaming at her to run away from his predatory walk, but she stayed kneeling before her hair was harshly grabbed and she was pulled to her feet. “Oh, darling,” Dark said with a sick smile. ”It’s been so long since I’ve heard you scream.”

The pain on her scalp was relieved just before she was thrown across the room, back hitting the couch before falling to the floor. She shakingly looked up, expecting anger from her captor, but all she saw was lust. The extreme lust to hurt her.

Harper whimpered, lips trembling as she moved back until she hit the TV stand behind her. Why did this have to be her life? She was a good person- she was a detective for God’s sake. She devoted her life to searching for her brother who everyone said was dead. She worked to expose the most dangerous and corrupt people in her city with her best friend. And now she was a fucking pet for one of them, the same man that ruined her life seven years ago.

The girl heaved in before she broke down sobbing, her fight leaving as her reality came crashing down. The previous discussion was two sick men talking about moving her, so no one will know where she is. Or even alive. And if she wasn’t useful to him anymore, she would die.

Dark cooed as he kneeled down, fingers brushing the hair out of her face. “Oh, sweetheart, I know. You’re just so excited to see me. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the time we missed.”

Harper couldn’t even plead for mercy before her vision partially blacked out. Her head erupted in pain as it was slammed into the stand behind her. Through the fog that formed in her vision, she felt herself be laid down on the ground, and a heavy weight be placed on her waist.

She heard a murmur from above her. “Daddy missed his toy.” Dark’s face leaned down, lips trailing her neck. She felt his breath on her face that smelled of tobacco. Then she was forced to listen to her shirt being ripped open.

The man kissed her lips, passionately and with emotion that shouldn’t come from a man like him. His tongue slid in, trailing her gums and teeth and making sure to consume every part of her. Harper suddenly screamed when a knife was plunged into her shoulder, shrills and pleas being drowned out by the kiss as the knife dug deeper into her skin.

Dark pulled back, stomach filling with joy as he saw the tears cover her face, his finger going to trace the wound in blood. He made sure to coat himself in it before touching her face again, smearing her own blood there. He smiled maniacally as Harper’s scream almost shook the room when his thumb dug into the wound, every movement causing her face to contort in unbearable pain.

She’s never looked so beautiful.

“I love you, Evie,” he said before hungrily kissing the girl on the floor again, screams never stopping as she writhed under the man who would never let her go.

---

Nic almost fell off his chair as he heard a knock on his front door. His hair was a mess, eyes sunken and colored due to many sleepless nights, and clothes that had not been changed since five days ago. He scrambled to open it, seeing the familiar blonde and curly hair of the secretary.

“Beth,” Nic said in almost disbelief. From their falling out yesterday, he had figured she wouldn’t want to see him at all. But the girl looked at him with a sudden determination he had not seen the previous day.

“Let’s find Harper and expose these fucking bastards.”

Nic smiled and stepped back to let her in. “After you, Mrs. Carrien.”

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magebastard · 3 years

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nate x detective dana burke (pre-relationship)

day 3 of @wayhavenmonthly prompts: date

Nate has never known Dana to wear anything other than neat, straight, symmetrical lines. A subtle, jeweled pair of stud earrings, if she has to have an accessory—but her sense of style is business-like and no-nonsense, all the way down to the cleanly filed crescents of her short nails.

She’s sharp and neat. She’s beautiful.

Today, however, the detective has decided to steal the wind right out of his sails. In a number of ways. Unannounced and unprompted as Unit Bravo’s morning meeting concluded, she’d curled a hand in the crook of his elbow and whispered so quietly he might have missed it were it not for his heightened senses;

“Plans tonight?”

Nate tries to do right by her in his responses—he always has. He always will. This time having been no different; he’d waited an appropriate beat, regarded her tone, turning it over with care. The question had been served in a pointed way that said more, without saying very much at all. It’s a tone he’s intimately familiar with.

He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but he does have to ask when these questions between them arise. After the carnival, and the Maa-alused debacle, Dana asked that they take things slow. Nate has his own insecurities on the best of days, but he’d stamp down any doubts for the sake of preserving her comfort.

It scares him that he thinks he’d wait forever.

Swallowing past his hesitance, his lips had quirked into a warm—trying for charming—smile as he’d asked;

“Are you asking me on a date?”

It sounded juvenile and he’d wanted to wince as soon as he’d said it. But she smiled back—hitting charming with gusto—and it was fine. Better still when she’d said ‘yes’ with an assuredness that’d not been entirely expected, given their circumstances.

Nate’s own smile only grew (threatening to blind her, in radiance).

“Then I would most assuredly say that I have plans tonight, Detective Burke.”

The day, beyond her then quick—too quick—departure feels like it took place in a haze. He remembers ironing and gently pulling on a pair of fitted slacks and a fine, carefully pressed button up. He remembers showering, exfoliating, intricate skin care and careful, close shaving. He remembers pointed looks from Adam and smirking from Felix. He remembers an uncomfortable pep talk to himself in the mirror. “This is weird. It is weird, isn’t it? Remarkably weird.”

And he remembers air being forced right out of his lungs.

Dana’s wearing a sundress. The end of it floats around her ankles and there’s a high slit up her right thigh. Nate’s never seen so much of her leg before. He wants to capture it in memory. He suddenly wishes he were a painter—someone who could render an image to the page again and again. He’d commit himself to a single effigy; the slip of a single, soft expanse of skin.

Nate tries not to visibly shake himself.

It’s a second date.

Still.

Dana is authoritative and sharp and this is the softest she has ever looked to him.

Her brown eyes are wide and while he wouldn’t assume, Nate suspects she’s drinking him in, similarly.

“You look beautiful,” She says on a breath. He lets out a shocked, punched laugh.

“I was about to say just the same,” He replies softly. They’re stood in the middle of a public park. The sun began to set some time ago, and parents have taken to the usual evening method of exhausting their raucous children in the summertime; catching fireflies. There’s plenty of noise between the shouting and chatting of lower, more exasperated voices.

Still there seems to be a quiet hanging between them that neither feels inclined to break.

Eventually, with a nod, she gestures him to follow her. He does, and they walk.

There’s a less than comfortable quiet where neither of them quite know what to say. It cracks as he asks about her day and she launches into an impassioned recounting of her latest, frustratingly mundane case. Nate’s happy to respond in kind with some theories of his own. They then, of course, descend into outlandish ideas that could rival Felix’s own imagination.

It’s natural. They drift together with gravity. Dana reaches to loop her arm up through his and Nate’s smile brims over with gentle affection. He just barely wrestles his desire to kiss her temple.

She’s planned a lovely evening. A walk in the park—catching a firefly or two of their own, if they feel so moved to—making their way to the docks, where they’ll sit and watch the waves touch the shore. She’d been nervous, what with his aversion to sailing and the sea, but Nate’s just fine letting the salt water lap lazily at his ankles where they sit side by side on a low pier.

Dana pulls a bottle of the cheapest wine Nate’s ever laid eyes on out of a tote bag, along with a book of crosswords and book light. It’s delightful, and he tells her as much. She smiles and twists off the cap.

“I’ll decline, for now,” Nate chuckles. Her smile stretches into a lazy smirk as she tips the whole bottle back, long fingers clutching tight to the neck for a pull. Nate swallows.

They set to work, passing the book back and forth between them until any distance feels foolish and Dana has leaned heavily into his space so they both can see and utilize his markedly neater handwriting.

The evening is a dream. Conversation flows easily between them, banter and flirtation in equal measure. He can hear her heart stutter when he catches her with a bold compliment, and thud each time she shifts and re-registers their proximity. It doesn’t feel simple as Nate finds himself absorbed in a way that he’s terrifyingly unfamiliar with. But she cracks a joke and sips her wine and smiles at him and it feels like the easiest thing in the world.

“This is my favorite spot,” Dana speaks, quietly. She sounds cautious, and Nate tries to not to linger on her hesitance. He understands it. He lives with it, buried deep in his own chest. The fear of saying too much is a constant and clawing worry. The fear of not saying enough is an aching pit trapped behind his ribs.

He says nothing and politely, if not anxiously, waits for her to continue.

“I don’t know. Growing up here, if you were running away from anything,” She gestures vaguely with the arm she isn’t resting on. Her gaze stays fixed ahead of her. “You ran here.”

Nate attempts to wait out the pause that follows. He counts the seconds, making it to twenty-seven before breaking. “The view makes for pleasant company,” He supplies.

“I ran a lot.” Dana looks up at him. He meets her even stare. He holds his breath.

“Sometimes this feels too big not to run from,” She continues, as her eyes rake over his face, lingering for a hairs breadth of a second longer on his lips. Nate doesn’t need to ask what ‘this’ she means. All at once, he wants to trip over himself in agreement and hide his heart and the way it feels heavily rent open by and before her.

Dana sighs. Nate lets out his own sharp breath as she settles her weight fully against him.

“So, I wanted to take you with me,” She says, finitely, in that very matter-of-fact way that’s as precious and comforting to Nate as the rest of her.

He thinks she’s giving him permission to want more.

She’s wine-loose, however, so he chooses to want quietly for now.

Nate maneuvers himself to settle his arm around her, letting her back rest partially against his chest.

“Nine letter word for a steep rock face?”

Dana’s shoulders jump with a short laugh.

“Precipice.”

She tilts her head back to rest on his shoulder. Nate leans his cheek against her temple. He listens for a moment to the rhythm of her breath, pacing his own to match. It’s enough.

#nate sewell #n sewell #the wayhaven chronicles #fic #detective x nate #c: dana burke #im sure ill read this back in the morning and edit it a lot lmao #thank u for these fun prompts!!#when i say this is self indulgent #also im sorry if n’s characterization i s bad lmao #28dateswithunitbravo #nate sewell x detective #myfic

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satashiiwrites · 3 years

Photo

And a second wip wednesday since I did actually get some writing done this weekend.

From Ch 3, Buck POV. Family, Familia, ‘Ohana. Hawaii 5-0/911 crossover. Buddie. McDanno. Navy Seal Evan “Buck” Buckley.

Warnings: first draft. Oblivious McDanno mentions.

Meeting all the people whose names he knew from talking with Steve, Buck knew he was being pretty quiet but he didn’t want to make the same mistakes he’d made elsewhere. Kono was sweet but obviously had an impish nature given the way she’d talked about waves that made Buck’s suppressed dislike of water since the tsunami tingle with regret. He hadn’t been surfing in a year or two since he’d avoided the beach in general after that one day and his injuries had made that a no-go activity for a while but he had enjoyed it occasionally before. Had even spent some of his days off riding waves when he’d wanted some solitude and time to wrap his brain around things. Kono was obviously operating on a whole other level, the quick pearly white smile she flashed and the easy way she shifted into Hawaiian surf-speak with Steve before Danny interrupted them was amusing.

Her enthusiasm and the way she joked with her bosses was encouraging. Family-like.

It made his guts twist in remembered loss for the easy way he used to have with his own found family or his seal team with Steve.

Detective Daniel Williams was sharp and hadn’t missed anything. The sharp crystal blue eyes had pinned Buck the moment he’d laid eyes on him and Buck knew—just knew—that Danny had his number and possibly the number of everyone he’d ever met. Danno—er Danny—was just as... well... he was enthusiastic and bombastic. About everything seemingly. Buck found himself smiling internally at how the man easily pushed around Steve and how Steve just preened at the attention, mock fighting as he drove. It was subtle and if you didn’t know him you’d miss it but it was there. The way that Steve acted around Danny was so similar to how he’d been with Freddie before he’d gotten married and had to tone it down a bit. Buck had suspected it but now he had it confirmed—his old commander was in love with his partner and maybe wasn’t even aware of it. Freddie would box Steve’s ears if he was here and watching this..

Freddie.

The thought of his former teammate and the team XO saddened him. He missed Freddie—he’d been Buck’s first good role model as an adult and made him realize what he really wanted to do with his life. To help people. Freddie had been the one who’d talked him through the decision not to re-up his contract and instead pursue something where he could help people. The six months of wandering around South America between the end of his contract and getting into fire school had been at Freddie’s suggestion—readjusting to civilian life and learning how to not be in the navy.

Buck had maybe gone a little too wild if you asked Bobby when he’d joined the 118 but Buck hadn’t had a lot to go on for what was civilian normalcy vs military life and he’d maybe swung too far in one direction before leaving his Buck 1.0 phase as he called it behind. His childhood hadn’t leant itself to knowing how to be normal so he’d had to figure it out himself and he hadn’t felt he could ask anyone a lot of the questions that he’d had at the time.

Bobby had been his second Freddie. His second Dad if he was being honest and the distance between himself and his second Dad felt almost as bad as the distance between him and his first dad—Freddie.

Freddie who was dead for almost four years now. He wouldn’t have to worry about getting the day off this year—he was sure Steve would make sure both of them had time to remember their grief. Buck usually called Steve and Freddie’s widow on the day to check in and remember the best parts of their shared memories. That was one yearly phone call he made sure he always did.

#Family familia ‘ohana #911/hawaii 5-0 crossover #mcdanno #buddie #buck pov #wip wednesday #first draft #navy seal Evan “Buck” Buckley

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cherrywoes · 3 years

Text

— six

— angel dust.

OIKAWA WAS A DEVIL. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense—his peculiar behavior, the way he would appear more than human at times, how he knew so much about the world despite not being much older than you at the time. You could have slapped yourself for missing it in the first place. It had been so obvious—so why, then, hadn’t you noticed to begin with?

After he’d kissed you, he’d been roughly yanked back by the man who had stood beside you near the ring. You weren’t able to make even a peep, your emotions overwhelming you: anger, curiosity, relief that Oikawa wasn’t dead like you’d thought, and finally, settling on betrayal—betrayal that he hadn’t told you he was a devil when he’d had the chance.

“What do you think you’re doing, Shittykawa?!” The abrupt use of his name and a strong epithet in one sentence had you reeling. He was clearly someone close to him, another devil by the looks of it, and seemed to hold some sway over Oikawa because he had the nerve to look embarrassed about it when he realized what he’d done. “You can’t just randomly kiss someone with angel dust in your system! You idiot, what if you’d poisoned her?!”

Oh, so that was the issue. You glanced at the blood running from his nose again, tainted with that silvery gray powder, and tentatively touched your fingers to your face. Dried blood stuck to your face like a second skin, along with the odd substance of that dust; not grainy, but enough of a texture to feel like loose, silky sand. You rubbed it between your fingers curiously and watched it fall to the concrete floor in shimmering flakes.

“Sorry.” Oikawa’s voice was older, but still held the same sing-song notes, just in a different tune. He was looking at you now, a look of apology on his face; sincere, although it looked bizarre on his face, as if it didn’t quite belong there, or if he wasn’t used to it. His friend looked like he’d been slapped in the face with a pan and left reeling. “Did you inhale any of it, [Name]?”

He did remember you, then, and it wasn’t just a fluke like you’d thought. It warmed your chest for a moment, that he recalled who you were, and then you were warmed by a different emotion: fury. He seemed to detect the rapid fluctuation in your mood, stiffening up and gauging you with new eyes as if he was sizing up someone far more dangerous than he was. Devils had the unique ability to sense emotions, you’d read, and manipulate them for their own gain, the opposite of angels, who sensed them and enhanced the positive ones. You only assumed that Oikawa was sampling your mood to sense your reaction to him.

“No.” You didn’t feel much else except the smear on your cheek from here his nose had pressed into your skin. There wasn’t any powder on your mouth either, just the faint tingling from where he’d brutally kissed you. “I don’t think so.”

His friend watched the interaction between the both of you with hyper focus. His face was contorted into one of extreme confusion and dawning suspicion, overlaid with a curiosity that needed to be sated. He looked to you then, those severe eyes narrowed in contemplation. “You should still get checked. Even the smallest particles could wreak havoc on human lungs.”

You recognized it for what it was—a way to keep you and Oikawa in the same room, technically alone, all for this devil’s curiosity and a need for answers.

“Okay.” You watched Oikawa visibly deflate in relief at your agreement; maybe not so much curiosity and answers, then. “I guess it would be easier to get it done here than pay the angels at the hospital.”

The hospitals were generally run by angels, at least in Eden. While their healing miracles were enough to cure stage two cancer, their magic was expensive—at least to human consumers. For devils, it was virtually unobtainable, ranking somewhere in the millions of dollars for a simple checkup. Kiyoko had told you that the devils had their own underground medical service, far cheaper and more convenient for humans, and that they only requested a favor in return, usually small things like to ferry a message between demon lords or play delivery human for a week depending on the severity of the wound or illness.

You wondered if you would owe someone a favor now.

Oikawa caught the look on your face, somehow ascertaining where your thoughts were going—or perhaps telling you what he thought you were worrying about. “You won’t owe anyone anything, [Name]. It’s fine.”

He was so… different from what you remembered. The same, but different; as if you’d walked into an alternate reality where everything was the same, but so changed from what you knew. You had to wonder what had happened to him in the years after you’d been adopted; obviously nothing good, judging by the tattoos on his body and the subtle scars raised underneath the ink.

“If you do, this idiot will just take it.” The friend thumped Oikawa on the shoulder, although it was hesitant. The devil didn’t seem to care, his gaze entirely focused on you. “Come on. I’m sure you’re starting to feel the angel dust take hold.”

He did look unsteady on his feet. Not only that, his pupils were starting to go wide, nearly obliterating the brown of his iris, and his fingers were twitching erratically against his leg. Your concern took precedence over your anger for a moment, watching him reach for his friend to support him when he stumbled.

You followed them to the back of the building. The crowd was already thinning out so you were able to make it through fairly easily without worrying about the safety of your wallet or poor feet. A medic met the three of you halfway, looking harried, and escorted you to a room sectioned off with curtains to hide the other injured from view.

You sat down in a plastic chair across from a bed laid over with white sheets and a cheap cotton pillow that had been stained with old blood and virtually given up on. Oikawa sprawled out on it moments later, groaning when his muscles seized up in an effort to fight off the angel dust in his system. You wanted to reach over and comfort him, if only because he looked like he was in so much pain, but his friend stepping into the room and standing beside your chair stopped you from doing so. You knotted your fingers in your lap, twisting them every time Oikawa hissed at a particularly painful muscle spasm.

“Iwaizumi, how much do you think he inhaled?” The medic spoke to his friend, who you now knew was Iwaizumi—the same Iwaizumi that Lev had been talking about?—while simultaneously peeling open Oikawa’s eyes to check his pupils. He waved a flashlight over them several times, clucking his tongue. “Minimal response.”

“I’m not sure; probably enough to inhibit his body’s motor controls. It didn’t seem to affect him earlier.”

The medic scoffed. “He was running on adrenaline. Now he’s paying the consequences; I don’t have enough mandrake root to cancel out the purifying effects. He needs to let his devil take care of it.”

“No.” Iwaizumi’s voice and Oikawa’s overlapped, with Oikawa going on,”It’s too dangerous. If [Name] gets hurt—”

“Then your human form will die and you will be sent back to hell,” the medic stated bluntly. “I’d think your options are pretty obvious.”

“Oikawa,” you said, drawing his attention before another muscle spasm could render him mute. “It’s okay. I’ll just step out and—”

His irises bled over red before you could finish.

You watched in awe and slight fear as horns curled up from his head in wisps of char black smoke, four sets of them, each one framing his head and curving upward in a wicked rendition of a crown. They were black, darker than you could comprehend, with deep grooves in them that glowed red and gold, like the embers of a fire. The heat emanating off of him was oppressive, pressing down on your shoulders like stones, and you could feel your legs sweating and sticking to the chair.

“There,” the medic sighed in relief,”now, he should be perfectly fine—”

Oikawa leaned over the bed and, seemingly unable to control it, threw up silvery blood all over your feet, particles of angel dust shining under the artificial light. He slumped back in the bed, unresponsive, the horns dissolving away into a mist above his head.

“Uh…” Iwaizumi inched away from you when the blood crept too close to his shoes. “I’m sure he didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, keeping your feet as still as possible. You couldn’t even be mad at him for it; you’d caught the slight panic in his eyes before he was leaning over the edge of the bed, vomiting up almost a bucket’s worth of blood on the floor and your feet. “I don’t blame him. Could I get a towel though? And maybe a shower?”

You felt gross, like you needed to scald every part of your body before you felt clean again.

“Yeah. Uh, we’ll just take Oikawa back to his place and you can shower there, since it’s his fault.” Iwaizumi couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, edging back towards the curtain and keeping an uncertain eye on the pool of blood at your feet. “Be right back.”

With the combined effort of yourself and the medic, you managed to clean up most of the blood besides the odd chalky stain on the floor from the angel dust, which the medic told you was common residue from demons stomach acid. Your shoes, however, were ruined, and you were stuck walking barefoot to Oikawa’s home while Iwaizumi carried him on his back.

The walk was quiet, as you’d expected it to be, but you didn’t expect the awkwardness that came with it. Iwaizumi always seemed on the verge of asking you something, looking at you out of the corner of his eye and then away again, grinding his teeth in frustration.

You had a hunch about what he was going to ask and said, reassuringly,”It’s okay, you can say whatever you wanted to ask me. It looks like it’s bothering you.”

“It’s not…” He sighed and shifted Oikawa’s weight on his back. “I’m not bothered. I’m confused. You… You’re obviously someone from his past. I just don’t understand who you are, or what you have to do with… him.”

“What do you mean?” He was confusing you now. “I’m not sure I…”

“Forget it.” Iwaizumi shook his head. “We’re here, anyway. Let’s get inside and get him to bed.”

Iwaizumi led you up several flights of stairs to an apartment overlooking Eden’s ocean front and the buildings before it. It was dark and somewhat sterile, as if Oikawa wasn’t really living there but just existing; he had no photos on the walls besides a small frame next to his bed, which depicted a group of men and himself and Iwaizumi standing in front of the fence in the fight club. He pointed you towards the bathroom while he gathered clothes to change Oikawa into, saying to avoid using anything with green labels on it because it was hazardous for human consumption, and left you at your own devices.

You took your shower in relative peace, eyes darting over the fairly plain yet occupied bathroom. It was obvious a man lived here, except for the odd feminine touch here and there—plush towels, rugs, decorative cups for toothbrushes, and even a toilet seat cap. You assumed it was to make it more appealing to guests, except Oikawa didn’t seem the type to have ‘guests’ from the appearance of the rest of his apartment. You tactfully avoided looking at anything else and changed into the only other spare set of clothes you had, which was a plain t-shirt and gym shorts that you’d planned on working out in later.

When you were dressed and clean, smelling of Oikawa’s shampoo which was oddly mute and consisted of downplayed notes of mint and jasmine, you exited the bathroom to find Iwaizumi sprawled out on the couch while on his phone, leaving you to sit in the chair by the glass wall overlooking the sea. Oikawa still slumbered away, so you retrieved your phone from your bag and sat down. Iwaizumi didn’t say anything to you, so you responded to a few messages from your adopted parents and screened over some emails from your college about classes resuming soon.

When you were done, Oikawa still hadn’t moved and showed no sign of waking just yet. Before you knew it, comfortable in the soft leather chair and tired from the day’s excitement, you drifted off, unaware of Iwaizumi’s observant stare from across the room.

MASTERLIST.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >

taglist: @dancing-in-the-rain54 @earphonekiyouka @lucyrocks86 @lerawynnn (i think i missed someone ooops, but lmk if you want to be in the taglist)

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#iwaizumi hajime

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agentfreckles · 4 years

Note

Hey, hello! How are you? I wanted to tell you that I like how you write and I really liked the story you wrote about Farah and the gender neutral detective! do you remember when F asked if they could have the goodbye kiss? Can you write one where Felix asks again about the kiss at the M!Detective, please? (I need some fluffiness sigh)

Thank you both so much for the kind words and these requests! This one was a little more challenging than I had hoped, but I really like how it turned out in the end so hopefully it was worth the wait. Enjoy!

Pucker Up

Rating: T for smooching and Mason’s potty mouth

Word Count: 1,724

Pairing: Felix x Male!Detective (Lucas Kingston)

Summary: Lucas gets called back to the station and forgets to give Felix a kiss goodbye before he leaves. Felix isn’t having it.

Notes: F is the biggest drama queen and you will not convince me otherwise. Based on Sera’s goodbye kiss ask that we all went feral for. I want to extend a massive thank you to @lilyoffandoms for letting me borrow their hunky detective Lucas for this. He really helped this story come alive and I can’t thank you enough!

Felix hates goodbyes. Like really, really hates them.

They’re sitting on the couch in the warehouse living room in their usual position, with Lucas’ arm slung around Felix’s shoulders while his hand rests firmly on the detective’s thigh. Conversation flows easily between the two of them and the rest of Unit Bravo — maybe even a little too easily for some of the team’s more senior members given some of the subject matter that’s managed to crop up here and there — but, hey, any gab session where he and Mason have managed to make Nat sigh in exasperation and pinch the bridge of her nose multiple times is pretty damn good in Felix’s book. Hell, even Ava, perpetual hard-ass that she is, managed to get in a joke or two. It’s been a great day, the best day. And it’s times like these where Felix takes a look around the room at his family and the love of his life and just feels...happy. Really, truly happy. And he knows in this moment that there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than right here.

But then that all too familiar buzzing noise pierces the blissful atmosphere in the room and Lucas removes his arm from Felix’s shoulders, taking the warmth with him as he reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone and Felix’s heart sinks because he knows what’s coming.

Lucas heaves a heavy sigh, frowning at his phone’s screen. “It’s Verda. I’ve got to get back. Apparently there’s a bit of a dispute going on at the station involving a couple of disgruntled fishermen and Douglas is the only one around to handle the situation. You can image how well that’s going.”

Felix visibly deflates. “You’re leaving? But you just got here.”

Mason scoffs from his spot perched against a side table in his preferred dark corner of the room, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. “He’s been here since this morning.”

“Well, it feels like he just got here. Not that anyone asked you anyway,” Felix retorts, tossing Mason an unamused glare before fixing his focus back on the detective. “Are you sure you have to go?”

“Duty calls, I’m afraid,” Lucas says with a soft smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he stands and begins collecting his belongings from the nearby coffee table.

Felix frowns at the sudden distance between them, eventually giving a resigned nod. “Yeah, I guess so.”

It sucks, but honestly he gets it. Lucas is a busy guy; he can’t just stay and laze around with Felix forever. But, man, does he wish he could just wrap Lucas in his arms and never let go instead of having to sit idly by as he gets called away once again to go off and be this badass crime solver extraordinaire. God, he’s amazing. And handsome and funny and smart and —

He misses him so much already and the guy hasn’t even left yet.

Felix shakes himself out of his lovesick haze before he makes things even worse for himself, instead rising up to his feet and positioning himself in silent preparation for the one event that makes these goodbyes even remotely bearable.

Goodbye kisses may be born out of less than ideal circumstances, but they sure are enjoyable. Especially the way he and Lucas do them. They’re soft and tender yet charged with heat and every one gives Felix just enough to get by in Lucas’ absence while also leaving him eagerly waiting for their next meeting so they can come together all over again.

“Let me get your coat,” Nat offers, reaching for the trench coat she’d folded over the back of a nearby arm chair and stepping behind Lucas as she helps him slip it on. He hums absentmindedly in thanks, his focus zeroed in on his phone and a deep frown settles onto his face as he reads through his texts — Verda’s updates on the dispute at the station, no doubt — but Felix’s focus is only on the excitement bubbling in his chest as the kiss draws near.

Any moment now Lucas will put his phone away and those blue eyes will lock on him. They’ll sparkle with heat as he strides over to Felix with slow and steady purpose and a small smirk will rest on his lips because he knows all too well the effect he has over him. Then he’ll take him in his arms and-

And…he’s heading for the door.

Wait, seriously?

“Babe!” Felix calls out automatically, mouth falling open in disbelief as the fantasy he was losing himself in shatters.

“Hm?” Lucas responds in surprise, spinning on the spot to face him. The phone in his hand chimes with another incoming text. His eyes fall back to the screen and he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Felix. I need to get back before Douglas gets himself killed. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” Felix presses, halting the detective’s movements once more.

Lucas’ brow furrows in confusion and he begins patting himself down and checking his pockets in earnest. “Uh, no…? I don’t believe so.”

Felix can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His head swivels around to the other members of Unit Bravo looking for someone to back him up on the cruel twist of fate life has handed him, but he’s met with three faces displaying the same sheer confusion as his boyfriend currently is. “Is anyone else seeing this right now? I can’t be the only one who noticed, right?”

“None of us have any fucking idea what you’re talking about, Felix,” Mason snarks, followed closely by a disapproving click of the tongue from Nat.

“Felix, the detective clearly has important matters to attend to,” Ava scolds and wow, okay, maybe Felix really is alone in this after all. “I suggest you save your concerns for-“

“You’re really just going to leave without a goodbye kiss? Babe!“

Felix swears he feels the ground shake under the combined forces of Ava and Mason’s groans. He ignores them, striding across the room with his head held high and determination set on his features as he prepares to confront his boyfriend for this most heinous of slights.

He comes to a stop in front of where Lucas stands by the door. Channeling his inner Ava, Felix folds his arms and tries his best to peer down his nose in disappointment at Lucas despite their rather large height difference. “Well, detective? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Lucas sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, his gaze sidelong and woefully apologetic. “It appears I was forgetting something after all.” His blue eyes shift back to catch his and Felix feels his breath hitch at the intensity in his gaze. “Please allow me to make it up to you before I go.”

Oh, well, now there’s a thought.

“I don’t know…” Felix trails off in faux consideration, determined to milk the moment for all its worth despite the somersaults his insides are currently doing at the implications of the request. It’s a little much, he knows —and Lucas really needs to get over to the station like now — but then again, Felix never has been one to waste an opportunity to charm his way into a larger payout. And something tells him this reward is going to be big if he plays his cards right. “That was a pretty big offense, babe. You’re going to have to come up with something pretty special for me to forgive you.”

“Special, huh?” Lucas grins, all too ready to accept the challenge Felix has laid out before him. He shortens what little distance remains between them, one hand snaking its way around Felix’s waist while the other gently comes to rest on his cheek. Felix swallows heavily under the heat of his stare. “I think I can manage that.”

Lucas closes the distance between them and Felix gasps in surprised delight as he feels himself being lowered horizontally into a dip, suddenly feeling very much like one of those couples from those black and white romance films they’d sometimes show on movie night at the Facility. He used to call such dramatic romantic displays cheesy and unrealistic, but this is…wow. It’s heady and delicious, a perfect blend of yearning and desire and love that’s just so right that his brain just kind of short circuits from the intensity of it. He hopes that Lucas will be able to resolve that problem at the station quickly because there is no way in hell Felix is going to be able to focus on anything else until he gets back.

Distantly he feels himself being placed upright again as Lucas finally breaks the kiss and releases his hold on him. The detective’s breath is ragged as he straightens his tie and runs a hand through his red hair before fixing Felix with a smile. “So how did I do?”

“I…uhh…heh,” Felix stumbles, unable to form words thanks to the pile of mush his brain has been reduced to. He blinks back the dense fog just enough to reply with a breathless, “You’re forgiven.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” A sharp ringing sound fills the air. Lucas swipes the screen on his phone and answers the call. “Yes, Verda. There was a small matter that needed attending to, but I’m on my way now.” And with a small nod of his head and one last dazzling smile, Lucas departs, the living room door closing behind him with a soft click.

“That was quite the parting gift,” Mason remarks, giving a small nod in approval as Felix all but floats back to the couch.

“The best gift,” Felix corrects him as he collapses onto the cool leather. His eyes flutter closed, mind dancing with images of red hair and blue eyes and impossibly soft lips that leave him breathless and aching for more.

Nat chuckles fondly nearby. “One that’ll make the wait much more bearable until Lucas’ return, I’m sure.”

The sentiment has a grin tugging at Felix’s lips. He’s not sure anything could ever make waiting to see the detective again not feel like an eternity, but straight-out-of-the-movies kisses are one hell of a good try.

Maybe goodbyes aren’t so bad after all.

#hopefully i did your boi justice oof #btw any gushing Felix does is me simping for Lucas through him #guys I kind of love how this turned out?#idk I'm just really proud of myself ngl #felix hauville #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #frecklesfic #ask freckles

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confusedgoldenflower · 3 years

Text

There is No Glorious Purpose Chap. 2

Hello, you beautiful Tesseract-loving bastards!

I've been meaning for a long time to update but I've been having a really bad time with the whole motivation thing, and what I had first thought of doing with this fic got thrown in a wood-chipper and sunk with the Titanic... so, I'm trying to pick up the pieces and decide where I want to go with this. I also wanted to do it episodically: Chapter One aligned with Episode One and so on. That has not worked partly due to the issues of the above so, well, I guess we'll find out together!

So sorry for any grammar issues, I did my best to look it over but got too sick of staring at it over and over again in my drafts.

Small Thor cameo!

Chapter Two: You Oafs

“Yeah, well, you’re a mischievous scamp--or at least, the other you is. Been killing our minutemen and stealing our reset charges. Been happening for quite a long time….” Mobius whistled lowly. Loki nodded slowly.

“If you know me or us as well as you say, what need have you of my help?”

“Like I said, mischievous scamp. And I know what makes a Loki tick, sure, but even Sherlock needed Watson sometimes--you do know about them, right? Really fun stories with a super smart detective and his below average side-kick--.”

Loki ignored the rambling, “I agree.” Perhaps then… after… peace? “Just tell me, please… is it true that I directly led to my mother’s death?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, definitely. Thor was pissed and then he dragged you along to Svart--Svartle… anyway, the planet of the Dark Elves with Jane because she absorbed the Aether. Then you faked your death, again . There’s that ‘doing a horrible thing then getting away,’ again. But Thor totally gets you back on Sakaar with those Obedience Disks. Yeah, yeah… oh, right, you don’t know--and won’t. He slaps one of ‘em on you when you betray him again, then dials it up all the way while he returns to Asguard. For a god, you get put down a lot .” Mobius chuckled.

Loki sucked in a shuddering breath, reverently laid the Tesseract down and stood, “let us catch this scoundrel then.” He faked a smile for the agent.

“Ok,” Mobius clapped and rubbed his hands together, “what a therapy session!”

Loki had a fleeting thought of, “he must be some Midguardian fool, possibly in some relation to Thor,” before he remembered that the all powerful Time Keepers had created the oaf in front of him.

“Ya know, for the record, maybe ‘undying fidelity,’ wasn’t the right thing to say to Thanos. Just saying. But this is good! We’re gonna be a great team.”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

“Loki,” the orange clock whined on his ‘gifted’ desk. Though still somewhat transparent, Miss Minutes was a fairly good illusion.

“Yes?” He replied pleasantly, blue hand turning the page of a magazine. His slack-clad legs were propped on the desk, fine business shoes not too far from where she stood on a rather large book. The suit replacement of the prison wear wasn’t bad, he, of course, would have done better had he access to his seidr. But it was fine for the time being.

“Are you paying attention?” The angry little clock motioned to the old Midguardian computer screen which read in that same horrible orange color:

LET’S SEE WHAT YA KNOW!

Q2. Thanos has two apples. He eats both but realizes he wants more. He goes back in time 20 minutes and eats the apples again. Does this mean the apples will not have existed in the timeline he left?

No, because time is constantly happening

The question doesn’t matter because a branch cannot change another time branch

Thanos would’ve been hungry prior because the Grandfather paradox already accounted for the change in matter before it’s move.

TVA FILE EDIT VIEW MODE HELP

Of course he was paying attention, and of course he chose not to amuse them! One order after another; feeding off of each other even. He may have bowed to Thanos but he had never kneeled. Not truly. And he clung to that remaining dignity.

“Naturally,” he returned pleasantly. She sighed.

“What happens when a nexus event branches past red line?”

“Ragnarok.”

“Come on, Loki. What is it?... Loki!”

“It is when the TVA can no longer reset a nexus event. Are you satisfied?’

“Right. And that would lead to the destruction of the timeline and the collapse of reality as we know it.” He lowered the magazine lower into his lap and took his feet off the desk.

“Yes, indeed. Are you alive or a recording? Clearly, you can hear me.”

Her big cartoonish eyes moved around, “uh… sorta both?”

“So not an illusion or projection?” He swiped at her with the rolled up magazine.

“Ah!” A small smirk ghosted his face and he went after her again.

“Watch it! Where are your manners? Oh! Hey! Quit it! That is not nice, ya jerk!” She floated and then fazed back into the computer. He gave that ugly thing a few whacks as well. She pouted on the other side of the screen.

“Trainin’ going wel--is that my jet ski magazine? Put it down, Blue-Raz.” Mobius ripped the magazine from him, swivelled to his desk then swiveled again to flop a jacket in front of Loki.

“Gear up, there’s been an attack. Let’s go.” The agent commanded. Loki picked up the jacket. It unfolded from the collar, back facing him. “VARIANT” was emblazoned across it.

“Ah,” was all he commented as he moved to slip it on before his handler got any ideas while he was led down hallways. Norns knew the agent would have plenty of examples in his own life up to that point, much less his future or other variants.

“Good. Yeah. Smart.” Mobius commented with his fists in a move reminiscent of excited warriors as said human stopped to look back at his charge and the newly bestowed article of clothing. B-15 gave her usual droll stare. Her minutemen stood around her in a group.

“ C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant.”

The “actually dangerous” sort, Loki groused silently. Then Mobius opened his mouth.

“Here's the deal. When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant. And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include shape-shifting, illusion-projection, and my favorite... Duplication-casting. Illusion-Projection.”

Mobius gestured to him when applicable in his little speech, also projecting other variations of Loki with his TemPad--all assumedly pruned likewise. Variation 8: L6792 looked exactly like he would now had he’d been afforded the luxury of keeping his clothes, but also with slight differences that led Loki to think that that variant must have been favored royally in some way he was rejected.

Variation 8: L1247 looked like a Midguardian sportsman happily holding a trophy of some kind. Variation 8: L6792 was an atrocity of him and the Hulk combined. Variation 8: L8914 was more strongly built with more prominent hair curls in their longer hair. They stood like dignitary with their hands behind them. Variation 8: L7803 looked like an oaf. A full, half-face helmet emblazoned with the horns in the wrong direction and even a piece of turf over the shoulder like a cape. Oh, dear….

“No.”

“...Huh?”

“Those two powers are completely different, although, I am unsurprised you cannot comprehend it.”

“Loki, what are you talking about--look, I’ve dealt with more of you than you’ve dealt with yourself.”

“The truth remains that those powers are not the same.”

“Then, please, Loki, tell me.”

Loki smiled easily and supplicatingly at the contempt and patronization, just like talking to anyone in Asguard.

“ Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure.”

“Ok, take a breath. Noted. We’re gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki here”

B-15 still looked unamused and dubious.

“Whoever the Variant is, we haven’t been able to find them so I’m the Sherlock and he’s my Watson. Look, this’ll work.” Mobius said to her. She side-eyed Loki, Loki who had nothing but a branded jacket to protect himself with.

“And so my agency in this is to… tell you how brilliant you are.”

“Go outside, maybe touch some grass.” Mobius returned with a tilted smile under his twisted nose.

“Ah. I shall protect myself with your wit, then, should this superior being choose me as a next target.”

Mobius chuckled and mimed “talky-talky” again.

He passed through the portal B-15 had summoned, closed in on both ends by TVA agents. Immediately, he could feel his seidr swell within him again and redonned his Aesir glamor. The choker chafed as he glanced around, and he found himself much preferring the biting metal of the chains he was usually imprisoned in. The place they passed into was a celebration of old Midguardian times, further back than what the TVA modeled itself after, in direct juxtaposition of the modern technology with the humans held in their hands, and had used to both get to the location and create their sometimes elaborate costumes.

“Apex of nexus signature located, ma'am,” a minuteman said as they walked.

“Allow me to ask you this, why do we not travel to the moments prior to the Variant’s attack, to when they arrive.” Loki asked as the tent grew ever nearer.

“Nexus events destabilize the time flow. This branch is still changing and growing, so you gotta show up in real time. Did you watch any of the training videos you were supposed to?”

The minutemen twisted their batons, the ends glowing a shade that seemed to haunt the TVA as they neared.

Loki chuckled a laugh that was never and would never be heartfelt, “my dear Sherlock, you should know I am quite the scholar. But these ‘reset charges,’ they ‘prune’ a branched timeline which ‘allows time to heal all wounds.’”

Mobius made an odd gesture towards him, “he’s on it.”

Within the dark, torch-lit tent, limp minutemen laid about the displays which held real weapons and a large, stepped seating construct. Their bodies were splayed out in obvious struggle. Unactivated batons laid around as well, a few clenched in hands. A helmet bearing “C-20” laid, discarded within the scene. Loki hovered a hand over one display as he passed and they grouped around the scene.

“So he's taking hostages now?” B-15 spat.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before,” Mobus returned.

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her,” a minuteman remarked.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.” B-15 returned.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 ordered, her minutemen immediately moving to obey.

“Let's go. She's right.” A peon echoed.

Mobius concurred, “Come on.”

“Wait….” Loki said, brow knit as he studied the scene.

“What do you see?” Mobius asked as he stepped away from the entrance.

“I see wolf’s teeth.”

“Yeah, ok,” Mobius motioned for him to hurry and Loki got brief satisfaction that the human had no idea what he was talking about.

“‘Where there are wolf’s ears, there are wolf’s teeth,’” Loki echoed one of many sayings he heard during his childhood, especially before bed. He swallowed down the thought of a certain story about blue, darkly lined and vicious monsters.

“Ridiculous, really,” he laughed hallowly, “my people are gullible fools by nature. You remind me of them; the Time Variance Authority and the great gods of Asgard. One and the same. Drunk with power, blinded to the truth. Those you underestimate will devour you, and we’ve just walked into a wolf’s mouth.” He raked his eyes across his audience as he spoke, kneeling down in front of the helmet and stroking his hand in the grassy turf. The minutemen seemed to falter ever so slightly, B-15 rolled her eyes, and Mobius stared.

A TemPad beeped, “two units, he’s wasting our time.”

“No, step outside this tent and my other Variant will devour you,” Loki stated plainly. It was easy, nearly in a terrifying way, how he fell into the usual routine he had had with his oaf of a brother and his lackeys, who, similarly, never headed his words.

“We need to look for C-20.” B-15 repeated.

“Come on, Loki, we don’t have time for your lies.”

“Oh, I am not lying, and out of curiosity, when you find them, will you prune us both seeing as you will not have any need of me?”

Mobius sighed and gesticulated like a frustrated middle-aged Midguardian, “he’s lying.”

Loki’s head turned to the side minutely, in a ghost of a head shake. His stomach turned the way it usually did when he knew things were about to--.

“Aghr!” A minuteman had exited and had been consequently slaughtered. A brawl broke out just outside the small entrance. Innocent event-goers made exclamations outside as well. Batons revved, and B-15 and Mobius stalked to the opening. Loki walked behind them.

“The charge!” Someone yelled. The fight continued. A cloaked figure with amazing skill in combat fought them all while a crowd of civilians formed around them. There were a few smiles and jeers, no doubt thinking it was all a show.

“On behalf of t-... the Time Va-...Variance Authority, I hereby-... arrest you for-... for crimes against the… Sacred Timeline, V-… Variant!” B-15 huffed between blows.

“Ergh!” A minuteman got pruned. Loki’s cloaked variant said nothing, only continued fighting. He backed back into the tent, took aloft a jousting lance, broke it half and reemerged. For all their combined ability, the TVA was losing. The glow of pruning swung around arbitrarily. He dipped into the fight and caught his counterpart’s cutlass in the cross the two ends of the lance made.

“Pardon me, I mean no intrusion,” he said calmly to his other self, noticing a similar collar of metal that had adorned his own garments. He could feel the other’s tension as they reclaimed their sword and focused solely on him. It proved more of a poor decision than anticipated and he found himself holding his breath in pain more than he’d wanted. The wood was also useless and even though both it and he put up a valiant fight, his other self had taken hold of a baton along the line. His weapons were useless as they continued to share blows. He lowered the stubs of wood and opened his arms. The glowing end came close.

Then it wasn’t.

The grunting that followed was B-15 and Mobius disarming the variant of the baton and nearly restraining them.

“About to redline!” A remaining minuteman nearly yelled. B-15 and Mobius shared a look. A door was opened and Loki found the cloaked figure disappearing into a flurry of gold.

“What in the Rolling Stones was that, Blue-Raz?!” Mobius had him hard by the shoulder of both his jacket and dress shirt.

Loki blinked once then made eye contact with Mobius, “what ever do you mean?”

“He was about to kill you!”

“Prune,” Loki politely corrected. Mobius gawked.

“I kno--what were you thinking?!”

“Your only use of me is to capture me, I was assisting in that.”

“By letting you be killed by yourself?!”

“A mere distraction to the larger goal, Mobius.”

“And it almost worked,” B-15 piped from somewhere beside them. Her voice had dropped a tone or two.

“Yeah… almost had ‘im too.” Mobius admitted, letting Loki go. “But seriously, man, what was that?”

“Nearly fulfilling my role, as you yourself stated.” Loki replied pleasantly.

“We also barely pruned it in time and got outta there with our lives.” B-15 stated.

“Yeah…” Mobius rubbed the back of his head with his other hand on his hip as he stared at the floor. I was not lying, Loki wanted to say. To push. To scream. But he instead focused on the ache in his back. It should be fine in a matter of a few more hours given the time he had for recovery before the Tesseract opened the portal in New York and he was knocked from the Mind Stone’s, and thus Thanos’, direct influence.

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki subconsciously touched his hideously blue palm as he waited outside of the judge’s office for his handler. The doors were decorated with sandglasses. How quaint .

Mobius finally emerged, stalking right past him. Loki fell in step behind him. He realized such only after he’d done it.

An angry finger wagged in front of him as they walked, “one thing, Loki, that’s all I asked.”

“The ‘talk’ from earlier.”

“No! Catching the superior version of yourself. We lost guys out there today-- good guys!” Good, yes, ‘good guys’ who also happened to have erased who knows how many people from existence.

“There would have been a lot more had I not been there and, likewise, a lot less had I been heeded.”

“And there you go again. That narcissism! Do you ever stop? Get tired of yourself?”

Loki didn’t respond as Mobius stopped and whirled on him, only gave him his schooled expression.

“I’m on thin ice ‘cause of you. I saved you, remember that? Didn’t that mean anything to your Asguardian standards or personal morals or anything?”

“If you recall, I was about to meet that fate regardless as I helped you bring in my Variant. I also have little doubt you will delete me if I survive assisting you in their arrest either way.”

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy? Ok. Well that other you is worse, remember that. He’s killed a lot of people--more than you. You’re just a little blue ice runt, crying in the cold.”

Loki chuckled and didn’t even need to bite back the urge to correct this “Loki expert.”

“Ever get tired of playing this same old part?” Mobius continued bitterly, “I’m getting sick of your constant need for sympathy, Loki!”

“Mobius?” He asked after allowing a few minutes to pass.

“What?” Mobius mumbled.

“This other Variant is after reset charges, why not supervise another ‘pruning’ in case we find the correct branch they target. How many happen in a day, usually?”

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

Loki almost choked when they entered into an Aguardian hall. The was beautiful and towering and held stones and architecture he could rewrite the books about. For one blissful second, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of his homeland--or the place he was raised. His glamor fell over him unconsciously.

Then he had to play follow-the-leader with the TVA peons. He rounded a large corner and immediately knew how many steps it would take to get to his room, his mother’s and Thor’s.

“Loki?” A familiar voice boomed. Loki tensed. Mobius cast him a “good luck” glance and mumbled, “I’ll be back for ya, Blue-Raz”

Loki had the urge to run him through followed by his brother who should not—it didn’t matter, the timeline would be reset. The Thor bounding up behind him would be pruned with everything else… why did that hurt? He turned to face his adopted sibling.

“Loki, it is you? Isn’t it? I mean you look horrendous in that getup, but it’s you!” Thor held his hands out in what could only be described as reverence. But the esteemed Asguardian Prince was wearing dirty Midguardian clothes and had a beer gut to match. How? Barely any time had elapsed between that moment and when they were facing down in New York.

“It is me but what happened to you, brother?”

A shadow came over Thor’s face. His hands lowered and he reached out to Loki.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispered, “did you just escape the dungeons?”

Loki held his gaze for a few long moments. The timeline will be reset. There is no harm in it.

“No, Thor, I never—this me never went to the dungeons. Never came back to Asguard.”

Thor hissed an inhalation of breath as his eyes widened.

“Thor what happened to you? Why do you have mismatched eyes? Where is your armor? Or Mjolnir?”

“Oh, Loki! Loki. Loki. Loki.” Thor’s voice trembled with false laughter and an emotion Loki didn’t know, “what--you look horrendous. What in the Nine Realms are you wearing?”

“Thor, it is good to see you, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time for a chat.” Loki returned, clipped. Redline grew ever nearer.

Thor’s face fell again, “Loki… just tell me you’re alive. That I didn’t fail you on the Statesmen--Thanos is dead now, I-I killed him! I-... I killed him… I avenged you.”

“Oh, Thor,” Loki found himself saying as Thor’s eyes shined and tears spilled onto his cheeks. He allowed himself to be squeezed in the other’s arms… and found it to be the best hug he’d ever received… or the only hug….

“Thor… Thor, are you listening?” Thor only sobbed into his shoulder, holding Loki up against his beer gut and off of the actual floor.

“Y-yes?”

“Very soon, this timeline will be reset which means you will have never seen me here. So tell me, what happened to you?”

Thor whined in the back of his throat and plopped Loki back down, it was just hard enough to make pain spike up his nearly healed spine.

“I--You--Thanos--.”

Loki laid his arms on Thor’s biceps, squeezing gently, Thor shuttered then took a breath and smiled fondly at him. Fondly. Thor never did that. What sort of--how is he not the Variation?

“So after Ragnarok, Thanos… had all the Stones and killed half of what was left of Asguard including you. I wasn’t able to--I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me, Thor, I am right here.”

“Then I was found by the space morons and went to Nidevelir to forge Storm Breaker because Hela broke Mjolnir before Sakaar--Ragnarok happened because of her. Then we battled with the Avengers in Wakanda and… I didn’t go for the head! How could I have not gone for the head?! Thanos snapped and…. It was horrible, brother. Absolutely horrible. The whole universe. And so many extinctions followed and more tragedies. I-....” He hung his head. “I tried to drown my worries like the ‘oaf’ I am….”

“I thought your annoying little group was the ‘Avengers’ not the ‘Alcoholics.’”

“... Ha!” Thor slapped him on the back. The statement seemed to have brought about the intended reaction.

“Yes! Of course! So five years later, we found him and I slayed him! But Tony and Scott found a way to move through time to get the stones to undo it all, and so we did, and we succeeded! But still, Thanos haunted us and we had a final battle--which we won!” Thor seemed to have noticed himself that he was about to go into one of his long winded stories of victory, and cut it short.

Then his smile abated and his beard fell, “Loki, Steve and Tony lost the Tesseract in 2012 to you…?”

“Yes, yes, that would be me, brother.”

A gasp of breath as Thor readied himself for the most bone crushing hug in the universe was all that was afforded to Loki.

“Thor,” he wheezed slightly, “I know I was not kindest to you but must you kill me prematurely?”

“Oh, Loki! I never threw you off the Bifrost, and I-!”

“Charge is set, we gotta boogie!” Mobius interrupted, jogging over.

Thor allowed the interruption if only to interrogate him, “and who are you? How and why do you command my brother? If you are with Tha-!”

To Loki’s astonishment, a few electrical charges emanate off of his brother.

“No, time to talk. Put Loki down We gotta get outta Dodge.”

Thor’s grip tightened, “Thor, just do it!” Loki groused. Thor did. Mobius opened the portal.

“Sorry, big guy, big fan but I need your Buddy. You ever think of trying Old Spice?”

“Ah--I just--Loki just returned to me as he always does and you expect me to just give up?!”

“Thor, do not follow us, I would rather not see you get deleted.”

Heavy feet crossed through the yellow threshold and left 2023 Thor in 2014 with a gaping mouth and tear stained cheeks.

“So no Loki!” Mobius announced as he clapped his hands together, “that means we gotta get to work!” He went on to walk at a brisk pace. Loki trailed after, blinking back the stinging in his now red eyes.

“I was of the understanding that is what we were doing,” he put a hand over his throat while he cleared it.

“I need you to go over each and every one of this Variant's case files, and then, give me your... How do I put it?... Your unique Loki perspective. And who knows? Maybe there's something that we missed.”

Seeing as how you are so hypocritical, I would be surprised if you had not missed anything. Honestly, “all you Lokis are the same” yet in the same breath, “no Loki variant is exactly alike.” I think as I do.

“You are the expert, I trust your judgement” Loki said instead.

“That's why I'm lucky I got ya for a little bit longer. Let me park ya at this desk. And don't be afraid to really lean into this work. Here's a good trick for you: pretend your life depends on it. I'm gonna get a snack.”

For all his countless hours spent in not only the Grand Library, but others around Asguard and the other Realms, he found himself having little interest in sifting through all the instances in which that other version of him overcame the great TVA and triggered more animosity against themselves--and all other Lokis.

“Any motive, Sherlock?” He asked dryly.

“That’s what you’re for!” The agent chuckled, poked at his chest and walked away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the agent walk away then turned his attention to the paperwork. The pattern was known to begin with but became… inane the more pages he flipped through: nexus event, dispensed TVA agents, the team goes silent, they’re found dead and without the reset charge, Mobius, the expert, is called in for investigation and then the branch is reset before redline.

One Loki… only one to best their happy little teams. I was bested, but I also have extenuating circumstances of the past year. Without Thanos’ interruption, could I have?... Yes, I fought alongside Thor and his foolish troup of warriors, I would have been able to exact my own damage. For a ‘timeline protection force,’ how are they schooled in combat?

“Pardon me,” he tapped the librarian’s bell. She turned to him with a nonplussed expression.

“Could you show me to the combat regimens of our dear agents?”

“No.”

“Infographics?”

“No.”

“Battle end-games?”

“No.”

“Well, you have been very helpful, thank you.” It was still a library after all and he more than knew his way around one seidr or not; his mind was still intact--somewhat intact and that had always been his greatest weapon.

So he sat back down at the table to form a plan of action, so to speak, of how he could find the files he wanted in the fastest and most assured way. But, he still had all the paperwork of this other Loki, dripping in red. Oozing. Gushing. Like Thor’s cape as yet more enemies were put to ruin under his brother’s sheer might. He never envied that red; never thought he could own it or have it become him… yet this other version had jumped--leapt into that pool of blood and ended all who stood in their way. Incapacitation would have sufficed. Has sufficed in innumerable cases. He’d both saved lives of his comrades and stupid brother, and saw the end goal in such a way.

He gasped and leapt up, running along the railing of the library.

“Mobius--.”

“No, I said, ‘don’t bother me until you’ve read all the files,’ and I know you don’t read that fast.” Mobius set his Js\osta down with a hard thonk .

“I have, but unimportant--.” Loki slid into the seat across from the agent in the cafeteria.

“No, read every file pertaining to the Variant.”

“The answer does not lie in the files, it lies on the timeline!” Mobius gave him a dangerous look at the slight raising of his voice. Loki took a breath.

“Look,” Loki began again with his arms fanning over the table, “they’re hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which one? There’s, like, a million?”

“Take Ragnarok, I assume you are familiar?”

“Yeah, total destruction of your weird coin planet and most of its people because of your sister Hela. I’m sorry.”

Sister? Hela? Thor mentioned her--unimportant now.

“Yes, well, that recent visit with Thor got me thinking…?”

Mobius regarded him but eventually sighed and sat back, making a small gesture, “yeah, sure, ok.”

“Nexus events happen when someone does something that is not meant to happen--.”

“A bit more complicated but yeah.”

“These can culminate into entire other timelines--.”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.” Loki did his best to ignore the interruptions. He forced animation into his movements as if trying to explain it to Thor. That was best, pretend he was explaining something that now seemed so basic to the warrior.

“Alright! So this is Asgard,” he plundered the agent’s salad bowl. Said agent gave sad push back. Loki continued.

“I could travel back to Asgard preceding Ragnarok and do whatever I wished; switch crowns, resoil linens, topple some columns. I could destroy the Rainbow Bridge.” He grabbed the small salt shaker and started pouring some in. Mobius mourned his food. Loki was not fed.

“None of this would matter. Not if I set fire to the courtyard. Or even killed the Allfather!”

“Why--Lo--God, Loki!”

“Excuse me,” Loki greeted Casey kindly at an adjacent table, “are you finished with this?”

Casey, who had his bunched napkin thrown on his plate in clear sign of being finished looked from his crumpled juice box to Loki, “you!”

“Yes, very nice to see you again,” Loki took the drink container and poured it into the salad, secretly relishing how the agent utterly deflated.

“Due to Surtur!” Loki finished.

Mobius rubbed his hand down his face, “what am I lookin’ at?”

“Apocalypses, Holmes.”

“Loki, you just apocalypse my lunch, I wanted to eat that!”

“You want my other Variant.”

Mobius leaned onto the table, “cut to the chase.”

“That is how they have escaped you for so long; no matter what happens, an apocalypse negates anything that would otherwise summon the TVA.”

“Oh, not bad. Not Bad. Hey, so, how do you weigh over five hundred pounds?”

That was a “jackknife”--as Midgaurdians may say--that he did not expect.

Mobius raised his hands, “hey, I’m not judging, just curious.”

“Focus, Mobius, please.”

“Ok, ok. My salad. Destroyed.” Another despondent hand waved at the bowl.

“I can show you my theory is true.”

Mobius laughed, “I’m not letting you go.”

“You come with me, naturally,” Loki pushed.

“Well, I’ve had enough of your troublemaking for one day.”

“No one has to know unless I am correct--which I am.”

“TVA agents can’t just go running around anyway. Waltzing into the White House would be a Nexus event.”

You are not listening!

“Pompeii, for instance, you Midguardians like talking about that catastrophe, we could go there!”

“Pompeii?”

“Pompeii. Everyone died and that town was not even the worst hit of the eruption of Vesuvius.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Talk, talk, talk. Oh, you’re so smart!” Mobius sneered and wiped his mouth with his napkin despite not having spilled anything much less eaten enough to make a mess of his face. No food for either of them it seemed.

“If I go along with this and you stab me in the back, you’re getting erased. Capische?”

“Understood,” I am fully expecting that regardless.

#loki #loki series #loki show #Loki Show Rewrite #loki series rewrite project #loki series rewrite fanfic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #cannon non-compliant #gentle reminder that just because a character says something doesn't make it true

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

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☁ Drifting Away (Giotto) #01

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Mystery, Comedy, AU, Fluff, Family

Word Count: 1,385

Pairing: Reader x Giotto/Vongola Primo

World: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Author’s Note: I don’t speak Italian, so I trusted google translate to help me out here. Hopefully it’s not too far off lol This is another series I started a long time ago that I don’t know if I will finish, but here ya go haha

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☁ Abyss ✗ Meeting ✗ Shock ☁

It was dark. Pitch black with no source of light. There was no sound, like the world had been put on mute. A black abyss of the mind and heart. You tried calling out only to find that you had lost your voice. Your eyes refused to adjust to the darkness surrounding you and your body felt as if it were floating inside a black hole. Had your eyes been blindfolded? Your ears plugged?

‘What the hell is happening?’, you wondered.

With a groan, your eyes slowly slid open, moving in and out of focus. The darkness began to fade and sound slowly reached your ears. Sitting up, your eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright sun that was beaming down onto your body. The heat seeped through your hoodie and the scorching pavement your body sat on seeped through your jeans.

After your eyes finally adjusted, you stood up and took in your surroundings.

A cobblestone path was what lay beneath you. The street was alive with the chatter of passersby. You weren’t sure if it was you or just your mind on overdrive but you couldn’t understand a single word that left their mouths. It was a foreign language, one that seemed familiar yet you couldn’t give it a name.

Everything was laid out in a sepia tone, like in those old-timey movies, from the buildings to the sky, the ground and the trees and even the people. This made you blink rapidly and rub your eyes with the palm of your hand. Slowly, the sepia tone began to fade just as the darkness had and the color returned.

This was no Namimori.

Where were you? And more importantly, how the hell’d you get there?

You pulled yourself to your feet, feeling like a ghost. Not a single person looked in your direction. You expected some strange looks at the way you were dressed, so differently from them, but you didn’t even get that – it was like you weren’t even there. Did they ignore you because of the way you were dressed? Or could they really not see you?

Anxiety rushed over you, but you bit it back.

Shaking your head, you took off walking. You had no clue where you were going but anything was better than just standing there like a moron. The headache you had was finally beginning to fade, reduced from a stabbing pain to a lighter, numb pain. You let your feet guide you, pulling you away from the crowded street and into a dark and deserted alleyway.

You needed to gather your thoughts and figure out what was going on and in order to do that, you needed someplace quiet where you could be alone. The alley was the perfect place for that.

You didn’t know how long you had walked for but you were brought roughly from your swirling thoughts by a loud scream aimed toward you. “Hey! Voi!” A black-clad man appeared before you, grabbing tightly onto your arm.

“Dove lo pensate state andando?” Another black clad man appeared behind you, gripping your other arm.

“State venendo con noi.” They chorused.

So much for being alone. What the hell were they saying? You didn’t even know what language it was but it was making your headache worsen. You glared at the two men before reaching your foot up and kicking the first male in the side. He let out a grunt of pain, his hand releasing your arm. You then bent down, slamming your elbow into the second male’s stomach. He also released you and you turned around to run off.

Before you had the chance, the now recovered male number one re-grabbed your arm, twisting it behind your back and holding a gun to the side of your head. The second male grabbed your free arm and did the same as the first before binding your wrists tightly. If it didn’t bruise, you’d be thoroughly surprised. Not that you cared about that at that moment.

Your suspicions of the two men who dragged you roughly through several different alleyways were that they were Mafioso. Either that or they were men in black and thought you were an alien – which honestly wouldn’t surprise you, considering how out of place you felt. The latter seemed a lot less likely, though.

Your suspicions were proven correct when they dragged you into a large mansion-like building, whose halls were filled with black-clad men and women. Option three just made itself known inside your head. Maybe they were part of some cult and used magic to summon you, like England from Hetalia.

The two men roughly dragged you through the winding halls of the three-story home until you reached a set of large oak doors. Man number one knocked, waiting.

“Entra,” came a smooth, male voice.

The men opened the door and dragged you inside.

The man who sat behind the desk looked up as you entered the room, being pushed to stand a foot or so in front of said desk. Man number two didn’t miss the glare you sent him, causing his grip on your arm to tighten to a painful degree. The man behind the desk had golden blonde hair set in a spikey fashion, while his soft orbs were a mix of red and orange. His blonde locks fell into his face, but the strict expression wasn’t blocked by them.

“Boss, we found this suspicious-looking kid snooping around,” Man number one announced, his grip tightening to the same degree as his partner.

‘Asshole,’ you cursed. ‘Wait, these fucks can speak English?!’ “I was not snooping around, you prick!” you growled in response, glaring at the man on your left. “And I ain’t no kid.”

“Quiet,” he hissed, glaring at you through his black sunglasses.

“Che. Don’t tell me what to do, baldy. And who the fuck wears sunglasses indoors? You tryin’ to be cool or somethin’? ‘Cause it ain’t working, let me tell you.”

“Why you – !”

“I see,” the man behind the desk cut the bald man off, his elbows on the desk and his hands folded to cover his mouth. “You can both leave. I’d like to speak to our guest alone.” The blonde’s voice was soft, but the demand was easily detected. His deep voice flowed like honey and the deep accent was clear when he spoke.

‘He looks so familiar, I feel like I should know who this man is. Damn, Reborn was right. I really don’t pay enough attention to things,’ you scowled at the carpet below you. His accent was familiar as well, but you just couldn’t place it.

“But Boss – !” Man number two tried to protest, but quickly shut his mouth when his boss held his hand up, a clear sign that his mind would not change; it was not up for discussion.

With reluctance and a few dirty glares aimed at you, the two untied your wrists and left the office. Before the door closed, you caught the crest on their suit jackets. You hadn’t noticed it before. Your eyes widened in shock.

‘That’s the Vongola crest… They called this man the boss but… he’s not the ninth and he sure as hell ain’t Tsuna,’ your gaze returned to the blonde before you, narrowed in confusion and suspicion.

“My name is Giotto,” he introduced softly, watching your expression change from confusion to disbelief. As soon as you heard his name, an image of said blonde appeared in your mind. Things clicked into place and you finally remembered who he was.

“Giotto… Vongola Primo?!” ‘What in the hell is going on…?’

“You’ve heard of me?” he questioned, his eyes shining with traces of curiosity. He found himself feeling confused. You seemed like a normal young adult, so how did you know about him? Why did you know about the Vongola? Were you an enemy?

“This isn’t happening,” you muttered, backing away slowly. “There’s no fucking way…” you turned quickly, pulling the large doors open and stealthily dodging the guards before jumping out a nearby window. You stumbled slightly when your feet hit the ground from the strong impact, but quickly regained your balance and took off. ‘Who knew all that training with Reborn would help me successfully jump out of a three-story window mostly unscathed?’

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firebirdsdaughter · 4 years

Text

Random Writing Tidbit-ish Well…

… I said I was thinking about them.

@fluttering-by I dunno if you’re still thinking about this from like, last week (or was it the week before? my memory is a sieve sometimes), but it got stuck in my head.

You know how they killed the horizontal line and it was the worst thing ever? I suffer every day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuwa slammed the door behind him, stomping across the floor to dump his bag onto the armchair, the primary piece of furniture he still felt like he could consider his after Jin had laid claim to the sofa (when he wasn’t off patrolling the rooftops, jumping in and out of windows as he pleased, much to the annoyance of Fuwa’s neighbours), with a little more force than necessary, making it jump slightly. A brief glance in the direction of the couch, in a small break from scowling at the floor, revealed that the younger HumaGear wasn’t there now, at least—the only one present was his father, looking up from a book. Fuwa didn’t remember having many books—at least, not any Horobi would be interested in—but the fact that the HumaGear was doing something besides brooding about the apartment blankly was… Reassuring. He wasn’t in a particular mood to be relieved about anything, but the discovery still generated a soft ball of warmth in his chest, interfering with his attempts to stay angry. But the day had just been so…

“What is it?” Horobi’s voice sounded completely calm, but Vulcan prided himself on being able to detect the mild curiosity in the tone.

Fuwa groaned. “It’s… Politics.” He spat, giving the chair a sharp push with his foot in displeasure that still came out rougher than he intended, making it skid a small way across the floor. “People… Are…” He looked back up at the HumaGear and hesitated.

Horobi was gazing at him with that innocent, simple interest that was so indescribably beautiful it always made him lose his train of thought for a moment. At the same time, though… It fuelled his temper—especially since he had been upset on the HumaGear’s behalf in the first place.

He was pretty sure he knew why Yotagaki had it out for Horobi so badly—the man had had a permanently displeased look on his face ever since Horobi had both fully restored his son and been repaired himself (Yaiba had been sour for days after the dressing down the HumaGear father had given her, even while heavily damaged, for everything she had done wrong in trying to restart Jin’s AI). He scowled every time Horobi came up, and made pointed comments, generally about how he was a ‘dangerous influence’—which even Fuwa, who Horobi had nearly killed, could easily see was bullshit. Even if the two hadn’t moved into his apartment uninvited, or the… Other developments… But, especially after all the time he’d spent with the HumaGear, all it took was watching him for a bit to know that Horobi was very different than before—completely free of the Ark’s influence and with even just a bit of proper support, he was eons away from the picture Yotagaki loved to paint. Without a doubt, what the bastard actually meant was that Horobi was a threat to his coveted control over Jin, who had refused to speak to the ZAIA executive since reviving.

Now the man was demanding that there be regulations placed on Horobi’s movements, because the HumaGear had been ‘too quiet,’ because there were rumours of ‘good HumaGear’ looking up to him—even to the point of insisting he be tracked permanently, clearly with the intention of making Horobi as vulnerable as possible. It had been all Vulcan could do to not punch the guy—no, he hadn’t even managed that, it had been Yaiba who came to the rescue, grabbing his arm before he could swing and backing him up that distrust and aggression had been what made things go wrong the first time.

He looked back up at Horobi, still watching him with that soft, naive curiosity, and a myriad of emotions swirled in his chest. Horobi was definitely in a better place than he had been back then, but… He’d seen the HumaGear turn on himself before, and recently the episodes he still had were always in that vein; tipping him back over the edge could result in… There was a sharp pain in his chest before he could even finish the thought. He remembered clearly the scene he’d come upon that night, something that had unexpectedly burned into his memory—though the results had turned out to be… More than pleasant, in the end, the experience had been… Terrifying. To the point that he was still reluctant to leave Horobi alone in public spaces.

The HumaGear frowned slightly, head tilting, and Vulcan quickly looked away, embarrassed. Pushing the chair with his foot again, knocking it further out of place, he groaned loudly, stalking to the other end of the sofa, acutely aware of Horobi’s gaze following him. “Just…” He struggled to find the words as he began to pace in short, quick steps, raking a hand through his hair, the other stuffing into his pocket. How much could he say? Yotagaki was already a tense subject for the HumaGear, who would always immediately look around for Jin whenever the man was so much as mentioned, like he was terrified the human was coming to take his son again. Fuwa didn’t want to cause him undue distress, that was the whole point—but lying to Horobi was equally dangerous. He was already on his sixth pass in front of the sofa by the time he continued, “Just… Yotagaki… ZAIA, being… Augh!” With a growl, he furiously dragged both hands through his hair, mussing it up completely in his outburst, “Being… Stupid!” He aimed another kick at the chair as he turned and missed—with another snarl, he whirled back around to continue pacing.

On his eighth pass in front of the sofa, fingers closed around his wrist and there was a soft tug on his arm stopping him short, followed by another, stronger one. The next thing he knew, he was being pulled down into Horobi’s lap—he squirmed instinctively, resisting out of residual anger—but the HumaGear’s arm curled around his waist, the other hand drifting up to cup his face, and he turned his head to nuzzle into the palm on an even stronger instinct. Horobi pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw, the upper hand moving up to comb slowly through his hair, fingertips trailing over his scalp. It was impossible to stay tense like that, especially when Horobi continued brushing lips up and down the side of his neck in slow, lingering kisses. The HumaGear’s long fingers carefully worked their way through his curls, hitting all the sensitive spots on his head—it wasn’t long before Horobi reached the particularly tender place right behind his ear, drawing a soft moan from his lips, making Vulcan sag against him.

“You know I enjoy watching your emotions…” The HumaGear’s voice was warm murmur right next to his ear, a musical, mesmerising sound that made his eyes flutter closed, his hand drifting up to hang onto Horobi’s sleeve, “… But you’re going to break your furniture.” Vulcan grumbled discontentedly—only it came out a bit more like a whimper. Twisting around, he snuggled against the HumaGear’s chest, pulling his legs up on the sofa and tucking his head into the crook of Horobi’s neck while the HumaGear continued stroking his hair, finding out the same spot on his head again. “I know, I know…”

Fuwa pressed closer, letting his eyes close completely. There was still a slight tug in his chest in moments like this, when he remembered what Horobi had originally been built for, because of how comforting it was. There was a small part of him that felt like a child again, curled up safe in the HumaGear’s lap, arms wrapped around him, a hand smoothing his hair—but the stronger, more dominant feelings were very different. With a little shifting, he leaned forward, nuzzling past the Horobi’s collar to press his lips to the HumaGear’s throat, unable to resist a small smile at the soft gasp he heard above him in response, the sound and the way Horobi’s arms tightened around him spurring him to continue. Keeping one hand holding securely to the HumaGear’s sleeve, he let the other drift up to lay against Horobi’s face, fingers brushing across his cheek, felt the HumaGear tilt into his touch, sending a wave of warmth through him.

Slowly, his hand crawled up, fingers brushing Horobi’s hair—until the tips connected with the HumaGear’s new earpiece, and he felt Horobi stiffen. Fuwa’s eyes snapped open, lifting his head slightly, “Sorry,” He whispered quickly, hand stopping, “Did that hurt? Do you want me to-”

“N… No.” The word was shaky, but firm, and the HumaGear even tilted his head into the touch slightly, closing his eyes. “… Don’t stop.”

Fuwa swallowed, hesitating for a moment just to be sure, but Horobi still didn’t pull away. So, very slowly, he traced his fingers along the metal rim of the earpiece, feeling the HumaGear shudder in response—but it felt different than the first one. Encouraged, he continued, exploring further, fingers moving across the area that used to be open mechanics and cracked artificial skin. Horobi’s mimic breathing caught, speeding up, and he made a soft noise that sounded wonderfully like a moan, fingers weaving deeper into Vulcan’s hair, pressing again to the sensitive spot on his head, making him sigh deeply as well.

They stayed that way for a long time, or maybe not so long. It was impossible to think about time when he was tucked in the HumaGear’s lap, one of the most comfortable places in the world, those amazing fingers tangled in his hair, gently massaging his scalp while his hands did the same on Horobi’s head. At some point, however, the HumaGear felt relaxed enough, curling around him like they were moulding together, and he didn’t feel like he could wait any longer.

“… Yotagaki wants to track you.” As he’d feared, Horobi went still, fingers freezing in his hair, and he quickly reopened his eyes, trying to sit up more and failing completely because of the tangle they had become. “He’s not going to! He’s not… He’s not going to.” He gave the HumaGear’s arm a squeeze, trying to be reassuring. “Yaiba-”

“It’s…” Horobi’s voice was unexpectedly steady, cutting him off with a firmness that was both reassuring but also slightly concerning because it sounded a bit like he did when he zoned out, “It’s… Okay.”

Fuwa frowned, giving the HumaGear’s arm another, even tighter squeeze, “No, it’s not.” He muttered, the words edged with a growl, “He’s…” For a moment, he almost got lost in the anger again, and pulled closer to Horobi to fight it off, “He’s a bastard.”

The HumaGear was silent for a long time. “I…” With a little shifting, Horobi repositioned so that they could see each other’s faces again, his hand in Vulcan’s hair drifting back down to his cheek. The vulnerability in the HumaGear’s expression felt like a stitch in his chest, but the hand on his face set a finger to his lips before he could say anything, “I don’t want to talk about him.” The finger disappeared, but was quickly replaced by Horobi’s lips in a determined, intense kiss, the hand dropping down from his face to trail along his chest. In an effort to keep his balance, Fuwa hooked an arm around the HumaGear’s neck, relishing how good Horobi’s touch felt even through the fabric of his shirt—and then there were buttons being pulled open, the magnificent fingers slipping in to brush his skin.

Vulcan gasped loudly, breaking the kiss, glancing down at the hand half inside his shirt then back up at the HumaGear questioningly. “Horobi…?”

Horobi’s head tilted forward, pressing his forehead to Vulcan’s. “I don’t want to talk about him.” He repeated, even more firmly, “I… I want…” The HumaGear’s hand moved slightly, tracing a tiny pattern over what he could reach of Fuwa’s abdomen, “I want you right now.”

Vulcan stared at him for a moment, searching his gaze for any uncertainty, panic, or glassiness. Even if Horobi was being point blank about it… After that night, he always wanted to check. The HumaGear’s expression, however, was completely clear and quite calm, eyes fixed on Fuwa’s face. Vulcan took a deep breath—after all, he would have been lying if he claimed he wasn’t feeling the same way. “… My room?”

Horobi hesitated for a moment, looking away shyly, and Fuwa almost backtracked to try and give him an out, but—“… Our room?”

Vulcan couldn’t keep himself from grinning. “Yeah.” He pulled himself up to give the HumaGear another quick peck on the lips, “Our room.” Just saying the words made a large ball of warmth form in his chest, made everything feel different.

Horobi didn’t respond, instead moving his arms to wrap around Fuwa’s shoulders and tuck under his legs, then lifting him easily as he stood up from the sofa. Vulcan pulled closer to the HumaGear’s chest, leaning his head back against Horobi’s shoulder and nuzzling lightly against his neck as the HumaGear started down the short hallway toward the bedroom—their room—closing his eyes again. Anger was already a faint memory that it was easy to put aside, especially as Horobi was already depositing on the bed, making a soft, surprised sound when Fuwa didn’t let go, pulling him down on to the mattress, too. It was impossible to hold onto it when they were tangled together, trying to manoeuvre to undress each other while also getting distracted by the urge to kiss again. Besides, it felt a little like poetic justice to be putting Yotagaki’s bullshit on hold to focus on making love, making Horobi feel good, especially when the HumaGear was showing even more signs of recovering.

They could worry more about ZAIA later. Much later.

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I have no idea what time of day this is happening… They probably have plenty of time before Jin gets home.

I think.

#Firebird Writing #Random Writing Tidbit #Kamen Rider Zero-One #Kamen Rider Zero One #Romance #HoroFuwa #my precious evil stoic scorpion dad #my precious angry wolf dad #it's a little long for a tidbit but it got away from me #I just #Fuwa in Horobi's lap #mah dudes #listen #I had a mighty need #Binary Retro Rider

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timelordthirteen · 4 years

Text

Killing Time 22/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle is frustrated, tense, and annoyed with the case and with life, but Weaver once again knows how to get her to relax. .

Notes: So this chapter was not just an excuse to write some more hot smut between these two, I swear. Also the plotty bits that I intended for this chapter are now moved to the next one. The number of planned chapters is not changing however. Please note the additional smut tags for light spanking and a little anal play, which I am very nervous about. It just happened and I hope it doesn't turn anyone off. Sorry.

Warnings: Mention of miscarriage, light spanking, anal fingering

[AO3] Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21]

Weaver sighed and pushed the folder away from him, shoving it across the conference table.

Belle sat at her desk across the room, her shoulders hunched as she typed and her eyes moving back and forth between a printout of Nevada adoption law and the laptop screen. She was, what Weaver would call, cranky. Of course, getting the information on Molly Macreedy’s adoption wasn’t as simple as calling up and asking for a favor, one ADA to another. First papers had to be filed locally and approved by a judge, then a request had to be processed through the Washington State AG’s office, which then came back to Belle to be filled with the Clark County District Attorney’s office, requesting, very nicely, one state to another, for them to open a sealed adoption record.

That had necessitated another call to Molly’s adoptive parents to get their signoff on opening a potential can of worms. They were very accommodating, though Weaver felt like every time he reached out, it was ripping the bandage off the wound again, one that he knew would never heal.

Since her meeting with Dr. Hopper, she’d been out of sorts. It was more than the tedious paperwork or the weight of serial murder case. Weaver got the sense that something had happened at her appointment, but he was hesitant to ask. He didn’t have a right to question her about her therapy, especially when he could see that she needed to talk to someone. He only wished she would talk to him as well, let him know what she was thinking and feeling, both about the case, about her own trauma, and about him.

She’d said she loved him.

Yet since that moment, it had felt like there was a ‘but’ waiting, a shoe that hadn’t dropped, and when it did would put them right back where they started. They hadn’t talked about where they stood, about what this continuing period of living together really was in the long run. He knew what he wanted, but it seemed like Belle did not. She’d been through a lot in the last few weeks, they both had, and perhaps she just needed time, though the more time that went by the less sure of that he felt.

He was tired of walking on eggshells, but loathed to stir the pot too much for fear it would push her away.

Belle muttered a curse, drawing Weaver out of his thoughts. He twisted his chair and met her annoyed gaze over the screen of her laptop.

“Interstate legal wrangling not going well?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and then sat back in her chair, her body sagging against the leather. “It’s going fine, just at the same rate of speed as a glacier.”

“Did they say when they might get back to you?”

She made a face and shrugged. “Records that far back aren’t digital yet, only 2010 and after. Which means some poor county worker gets to dig through boxes in a warehouse. So...if they can find them yet this week, they’ll be reviewed Monday or Tuesday, scanned, and emailed to me by maybe Thursday? If we’re lucky.”

She sighed, heavily, and leaned forward again, closing the email she’d been glaring at. Weaver pushed to his feet and crossed the room, meeting her tired look of annoyance with what he hoped was sympathy. He came around behind her chair as she braced her elbows on the desk and put her head in her hands, her fingers sliding into her hair to hold it back from her face.

“I hate waiting,” she groused.

“I know,” he replied, fighting a smile.

Belle and patience were not things that went together, and that saying something coming from a cop who had been known to bend some rules in the past in order to speed up an investigation. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“There’s plenty to do in the meantime,” he continued, gently pressing at the lump of muscle connecting her neck and back. “We should find out if any of the other victims were adopted, besides Molly and Nick, just in case that’s the connection we’ve been missing.”

She exhaled and bent her head further forward, encouraging his hands to work their way further up the tension in her neck. “Yeah.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, with her leaning on the desk and him kneading at her sore muscles, until he abruptly stopped. She made an unhappy sound and threw a look at him as he stepped away.

“I’ll happily keep going,” he said, smirking, “but at home. It’s half six already.”

Belle frowned and glanced down at her laptop screen, noting the time in the bottom corner. “Shit.”

He picked up his leather jacket from its customary spot, draped over the arm of her sofa, and turned back to her. “Frank’s tonight?” She tilted her head, already imagining the satisfying taste of the bacon chicken burger that was her usual order. “Split some mozz sticks?”

Weaver’s eyebrows lifted. “Split? Or I get two, and you get the remaining eight?”

She crumpled an extraneous piece of paper and tossed the wad at him before pushing back from her desk. He caught the paper easily, laughing, and shoved it in his pocket, to be deposited in the trash can on their way out.

Belle blew out a breath and closed the lid of her laptop.

They ate dinner at the counter in the kitchen while she searched county and state foster records for the names of the victims, but found nothing. Adoption records would take more effort, paperwork, and time. While it didn’t mean that wasn’t the connection between the victims, it was nonetheless another disappointment. It felt like the case was stalling, that the momentum they had after capturing Jack Branson was losing the battle with friction.

After dinner, she moved to the living room, and sat on the floor in front of the sofa with her laptop on the coffee table and papers spread out around her. She rolled her head to the side, frowning when it didn’t crack as she had hoped, and leaned back against the front of the sofa. Sitting on the floor had done her no favors. Ever since her appointment with Dr. Hopper there had been a vague tension in her body that if she just moved or twisted the right way would pop and bring sweet relief. Unfortunately, she knew that wasn’t the case.

Talking to Archie had been both cathartic and nerve wracking. She was glad she had told him about the miscarriage, and that someone other than Ian and her knew, but at the same time she wasn’t sure what kind of rabbit hole that would lead her down. There was no doubt that Archie would bring it up at her next session, which she hadn’t actually confirmed yet, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. Revisiting that old wound, even in a small way, had taken a toll on her. She wanted to tell Weaver about it, yet held back. If she brought it up, he would want to talk about it, the same as Archie did, and all she wanted was to shove it down deep and pretend it never happened.

Obviously, that had been working well for her the last two years.

Weaver finished cleaning up in the kitchen, and sat down on the couch behind Belle.

“Still no luck, huh.”

“Nope.” She sighed, ignoring his question, and tipped her head back, resting it on the sofa cushion. “So about keeping that shoulder rub going...?”

He smiled and waited until she scooted forward before he moved over and settled behind her. Belle turned off the TV, which had been left on after the six o’clock news was over, and let her head fall forward as he laid his hands over the tops of her shoulders. His thumbs ran along the line of her neck, pressing harder on the way up than on the way back down, fanning out over muscles that feel as though they’ve been cramped for hours. He felt an unnatural hardness at the junction of her neck and shoulders, and worked his fingers into it in slow circles with steady pressure.

She breathed out and her head bobbed forward in relaxation when his fingers slid through her hair, nails scraping deliciously over her scalp, before trailing back down her neck.

"You're too good at this," she said as he eased her further forward, kneading the inside edge of her trapezius muscle.

His palms pushed gently, rubbing at the hidden tension. "And you're too tense.”

She exhaled again. “Yeah, must have slept wrong or something.”

He let out a grunting sound that was somehow both disbelief and agreement, in that order. It made her chastise herself that she still hadn’t brought up what she’d told Archie, and that she hadn’t called to make another appointment.

Weaver reached down, trying to find the spot at the base of her shoulder blade that always seemed to knot up, but the angle from the couch was awkward and there wasn’t enough space between her and the sofa to make it work.

He pulled his hands away and sat back. “Up.”

She frowned over her shoulder at him, and he repeated the command as he pushed to his feet.

“Where are you going?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.

He paused and turned around in the doorway of the bedroom, smirking, and she rolled her eyes even as she stood and followed after him. He coaxed her out of the t-shirt she’d changed into after they arrived home, pulling up over her head to reveal the lace bralette underneath. His tongue pushed at his bottom lip when she undid the clasp and let it fall to the floor, followed by shoving her yoga pants down over her hips.

“You want me on the bed?” she asked with a cheeky quirk of her lips.

Weaver rolled his eyes, which made her giggle as she stretched out over the duvet, and moved to open the bedside table where a small bottle of her preferred body lotion was stashed. He popped it open, catching a whiff of vanilla and jasmine, and applied some to his palms, rubbing them together to warm it up before he touched her.

He knelt with one knee on the bed and began to slowly rub her back from shoulders to waist, up and down, slicking up her skin until it was soft and slippery. She groaned as his thumbs ran up her spine in a steady, even pressure that rolled over the muscles along her vertebrae. His fingers pressed against the prominent cliffs of her shoulder blades, jutting out as she rested her head on her bent elbows. Finally, he found the knot he’d been seeking earlier and kneaded it carefully, feeling the cramp in the tissue eventually give way and push a deep sigh from her lips.

His hands glided along her curves, easing away the tension in long, slow strokes, drawing out more little sounds. She shifted as he moved over the outside of her hips, massaging down the back of her thighs and calves, spanning them with both of his hands at the same time. She let out another low moan as he worked his way back up from her feet, and shifted her legs apart to work his thumbs into the muscles of her inner thighs.

He swept his fingers over her skin again and again, inching closer to the edge of her panties, and she let out a small whimper. The sound made his cock twitch, and he bit back a groan.

"So do I pay extra for you to keep going?" Belle asked, grinning as she stretched her legs against the bed, spreading them slightly.

Weaver’s hands moved slowly up the backs of her thighs, kneading the flesh gently and rubbing the last of the lotion in as she lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at him. He stopped below the curve of her backside, feeling the heat emanating from between her legs as she raised her hips.

He licked his lips. “Maybe, but I have some very flexible terms.”

His fingers slowly trailed up between her legs, lightly rubbing her there, her folds already swollen and wet beneath her underwear. She parted her legs a little more, and he pressed and teased her opening with his fingertips. Slipping under the inner elastic, he pushed a finger into her, sliding all the way into the knuckle, loving the way she squirmed and moaned, her eyes squeezing shut.

"This part of the massage too?” She tried to push back against him, but he pulled his fingers away to start tugging her panties off.

He tossed them aside with a grin, and leaned over her, pressing kisses up along her spine as his hand worked its way back between her legs. “I’m very thorough.”

Her eyebrow arched as she clenched around his finger, her hips pitching up off the bed. "Yes you are, Detect - oh -”

A second finger pushed inside her, and she heard the shuffling sound of his belt being undone, followed by the rasp of his zipper.

"You’re pretty tense here too, Counselor," he says, his voice low.

She can sense the smirk on his face just from the low, teasing tone of his voice, and she shivers with pleasure. Shifting up to her knees, she backed up against him, her bare ass rubbing against the front of his boxers and the hard ridge of his cock.

"Think you can rub that out too?" She smiled and turned her face to the side as he shook his head.

His hips jutted forward as she pressed against him, and he let out a light chuckle as he stopped touching her just long enough to remove his clothes. “Naughty.”

She hummed in agreement, smiling into the pillow as he returned to stroke her slowly. His cock slid between her legs, bumping against her clit and drawing out a shudder and a soft sound. Her legs spread further, her hips rocking back as he teased her. Her back and shoulders felt much better, the tension in them eased, but a new ache was building elsewhere each time he hit her swollen nub.

Weaver’s hands grabbed her roughly, holding her by the hips to still her movement. She let out a frustrated growl which slipped into a sharp gasp as he brought his palm down on her backside. He rubbed the spot, flushed pink and warm, and then continued up her back, tracing the same paths he had earlier when he soothed her muscles. She groaned and arched her back as she tried to push back against him at the same time, the contrast between the looseness of where he touched her and the burn inside where she wanted him made her head spin.

He drew his hands back, her skin silky from the lotion, and gave her another light spank. Her fingers curled against the sheets, nails scraping lightly as she bit her lip. The sting was a pleasant, prickly heat, a sensation she had felt in a long time. A part of her wanted to urge him to keep going, until she was shaking and crying out for him, but there was so much still between them that held her back even now.

He seemed to know that was all she could handle, and a moment later her legs were pushed apart by his knee, spreading her wide. She tensed at the first push of his cock, the head just breaching her entrance, teasing her with the idea of being stretched and fucked.

"Ian..."

A spark ran through him at the sound of his name, and he inched forward, thrusting into her in one long, slow stroke. She gasped when he hit the end of her and started to draw back, her breath catching on another gasp before he pushed back into her hard. Everything was tight and hot, and he groaned as she started rocking her hips back against him, begging him to move.

His thumbs rubbed little soothing circles on her lower back as he started a slow, steady rhythm, filling the air with the wet sound of their bodies moving together with the backdrop of the music from the other room. He drew his fingers down, brushing over the cleft of her buttocks, and she squirmed, flexing her pussy around his cock. She claws at the sheets as his does it again, panting and pushing back against him.

"I could..." he started to say, circling her ring with his fingertip. "If you want..."

He couldn’t complete the thought, the feeling of her fluttering around his length almost too much to bear.

"Yeah," she squeaked, with a thrust of her hips against his hand, against his cock. "Please."

He pulled out of her and leaned to the side, fumbling with the drawer on the nightstand to retrieve a small bottle of lube. She tried to slow her breathing, but even the sound of the lid snapping open had her pulse thrumming as she stayed there, bent over on the bed with her arse in the air. The bed shifted as he moved, and then there was a warm slickness between her cheeks, and his fingertip spreading it over her. She tried not to move, to fight the urge to force her hips back as he worked his finger inside with achingly slowness. Pressure gave way to pain which gave way to a fullness she hadn’t experienced in so long, and she let out a long, low moan.

Weaver was being as gentle as possible, waiting after each small bit of his finger slipped inside her arse for the little impatient wiggle that told him she was ready for more. Finally, when it was fully in, he turned it carefully, pulling back and stretching her before he pulled it back part way.

"Okay?" His voice was strained and he clenched his jaw at the tight, warm feeling of her flexing around his finger.

"Yeah," she whispered.

He took his cock in his free hand and eased himself back inside her pussy, groaning as his hips met hers.

"Fuck," he groaned, thrusting once to test the waters. “Tell me."

Belle took a breath, exhaling it slowly as he started to move, the rhythm between his finger and his cock just disparate enough that she couldn’t do anything except let herself feel everything that was happening.

“Belle -”

"Yeah,” she answered quickly. “Good, really good."

She started working her hips harder, encouraging him as he slid his finger almost all the way out of her ass, and his cock out of her pussy, only to push them back in, a little bit harder each time. He held onto her hip with his other hand trying to steady himself as his eyes rolled back, feeling his finger press through her inner walls, creating another sensation along his length.

Belle pushed up on her hands, and gasped out a shaky curse. She pushed her hips up against him, and he thrust harder into her, a warm rush of pleasure washing over her from head to toe. She tightened around him, crying out with each movement, her legs and arms beginning to quiver as the tension grew in her core.

"Oh fuck..."

The sound of her voice was louder than expected, and she bit her lip as she slammed her hips back against him. The pressure of his finger amplified the friction from his cock, letting her feel every inch of him, and every time he bottomed out inside her, a little squealing gasp was forced out of her. Full and stretched, she tried to keep up with his movements, but then her arms gave, and she turned her head to the side, resting it on her folded arms as he fucked her to the threshold of a blinding orgasm.

The twinges along his cock was driving him spare, and through gritted teeth he managed to slip his free hand around her hip and press two fingers against her clit. She came with some kind of groan and a bit of a squeal, a delicious sound he’d never heard her make before, but knew he’d love to hear again. Bracing on the bed, he pulled his finger out of her arse as he thrust one more time and came buried inside her, his thrusts slowing along with the twitch of her inner muscles.

They collapsed together on the bed, quiet save for hasty breaths and the lingering thrum of his heart in his ears.

"Damn," she sighed.

He smiled and kissed her shoulder. “Yeah.”

They cleaned themselves up, and then moved back to the bed in silence. He sensed there was something Belle wasn’t saying. She stretched out on her side, facing away from him, and he slipped into the bed, shifting until he was right behind her without touching her body with his. It felt much the same as it had that first night, when she’d woken up in a fit, scared of every shadow. She’d needed him close then, but he didn’t know what she wanted now.

“I told Archie,” she said quietly, “about the miscarriage.”

He felt the breath rush out of him and his throat tense, but at the same time there was relief in knowing what had been bothering her for the last few days. She moved, inching back towards him, and he reached out to pull her against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and felt her squeeze his arm where it lay around her torso.

“Okay,” was all he could manage.

Belle swallowed. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his face rubbing against her hair. “S’good. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Weaver’s arm tightened around her, and she felt his lips against her neck and then her bare shoulder. She’d managed to say the words twice in one week, and, strangely, it seemed to help. Perhaps tomorrow she’d call Archie and see if he was available on Tuesday. Maybe it was the intensity of the sex or the fact that she’d finally told Weaver what had been bothering her, but her body felt more relaxed than it had in months. As she breathed out, it felt like something more than just air left with it, something that maybe she didn't need to keep inside anymore.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #my woven beauty fic #fic #killing time

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Indignity

Part 3 to Indecent and Indentured

This is a dark!Loki and OC fic. It will contain noncon content and possibly other sensitive matters. Please mind the trigger warnings. Explicit content, 18+.

In this chapter: um, sex, some oral, a little bit humiliating.

Note: Thank you to everyone who’s been following this rare Loki fic. I hope you guys enjoy this latest part. It might not be updated as much as my other stuff in the future but I’ve made a little bit of progress in writing.

Please let me know what you think and please reblog if you can. <3

Summary: Sigorna is forced to face her new master.

Sigorna stared out the window. It was too high to jump and the stone was too smooth to climb down. An hour had passed, or so she thought. She hadn’t done more than look out onto the cityscape. She missed her old life already. Wished she had Audun to make her smile. Everything seemed so dire yet so surreal.

She felt as if she would be sick. She finally pulled herself away from the window sill, tentatively approaching the far door. She stuck her head inside, a small bath chamber within. A large marble tub was inset in the floor and a commode in the corner was hidden within a closet. The counter had a basin atop it and shelves lined with vials beneath. Everything was so prepared. It was rather eerie.

Sigorna stepped into the bath chamber and closed the door. There was no lock nor latch on it. It stayed loose in its frame, ready to open at the slightest breeze. There was a pump at the head of the tub, when she pressed it water spewed from several holes along the side of the tub. The basin filled quickly, steam rising in the chamber, almost suffocating her. Or was that her anxiety?

She slipped out of her dress and shivered despite the heat which had filled the room. She folded her clothing over the counter, her shoes beneath, and turned to the tub. She usually washed in the river, but more often than not she used a rag and a small basin. Peasants didn’t have the time to worry about their hygiene as much as the nobles. It was a luxury, one she would have relished otherwise, but all she could think of was Loki. How he had ordered her to wash for him. There could be no mistaking why.

She sunk into the hot water but it hardly made her feel any cleaner. She suddenly had the urge to scrub herself raw. She couldn’t have said otherwise what was the alternative? To lose her brother; her only kin. If only Giermund hadn’t been such a tosser. If only Audun not so gullible. If she let herself drown, she wouldn’t have to do any of it but she doubted Loki would accept that. She couldn’t be certain he would go retrieve her brother and punish him instead.

She climbed out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her body. She gathered her clothing and returned to the main chamber. Her heart was in her throat as movement frightened her. A slender woman was setting down a tray of food on the round table near the hearth. She stayed silent as she approached Sigorna and made to take her clothes from her. She fought for a moment but relented when the woman did not cease her struggle.

“Wait,” She called as the servant neared the door, “Please, what is the hour?”

The woman shook her head and continued to the door. It locked behind her as loudly as before. Is this what it would be? Torturous isolation as she waited for her gaoler to visit. She hugged the towel closer and neared the closet. Within were silks, satins, muslins, and all types of fabrics in various tones. She pulled out what looked to be the longest garment but it did not offer much modesty. The neckline dipped low over her cleavage, the back was almost non-existent, and the silk felt scandalously thin. She searched the single dresser but there were no slips or underclothes to be found. She sat as her stomach twisted painfully.

She sipped from the water, ignoring the bottle of wine brought with her breakfast. The toast was all the could stomach and she left the rest untouched. She crossed to the door, fruitlessly trying to turn the handle. She knew it would be lock but she didn’t want to give in. She was restless. That little voice in her head told her to at least try. She tried looking through the crack beside the door but she only needed to listen to know that no one else was out there. She was suddenly very alone.

She relented as the sun passed it apex. Noon had come and gone and she sat under the desk, her feet stuck out. She knew she couldn’t hide but it felt better. She didn’t have to look at the chamber; the bed; the closet of scant clothing. The servant returned to clear her tray but still did not speak. She wouldn’t even tell Sigorna her name. Perhaps it was better that way.

She crawled out as the sky began to soften outside her window. Her stomach growled but even so, she would not have been able to eat. The servant had left the wine behind. Sigorna uncorked it and dumped it from the window. She set the empty bottle back on the table and sat in the chair, her leg shaking.

She stilled her nerves when she heard footsteps. They were light but determined. Chillingly familiar. The lock slid open and the door followed, revealing the dark-haired prince; her new keeper. The air felt colder on her skin, touching those spots uncovered by her gown. Her exposed cleavage and back forming goosebumps.

“My dear,” He closed the door behind him. He crossed to the table and lifted the empty bottle. He squinted at her curiously and bent to put his face before hers, he sniffed as she breathed. “I do not detect wine on your breath.” He weighed the empty vessel in his hand, “I suspect you dumped it from the window then.” He gripped it before tossing it at the wall over her head, the glass shattering around her.

“Now Sigorna, I’ve been quite accommodating thus far. Your thief of a brother still breathes and all you have to do is live in much better condition than you did before. I truly don’t see why you are so miserable,” His fingers tapped on the table as he loomed over her, “You have your meals brought to you, a selection of activities to keep you busy in my absence, and a lovely view.” She stared up at him, shards of glass settling in the tails of her hair. “I ask for little in return. A little gratuity here and there, and we’ve barely gotten to that just yet.”

“I told you I do not like wine,” She said evenly.

“I never thought a peasant would be so preferential,” He slithered, “Stand.” He backed away, “Now. Before me, dear.”

Sigorna didn’t move for a moment, measuring as she considered his order. His green eyes warned her against disobeying. Slowly she rose, shaking the glass from her hair as she moved forward and stopped before him. He smirked, his hands hovering along her arms as he looked her over. “You washed yourself and dressed. The least of what I asked but it shows potential. I should hate to have to break you entirely, just a little bending.”

He brought his fingers up under her chin so that she looked at him. “Why didn’t you just have him executed? Or me?” She breathed, “Why bring me here?”

He rescinded his hand, his fingers fluttering down her neck briefly. He turned away, looking through the window as he set his shoulders. He inhaled before he spoke, seemingly basking in the situation. He had his own personal pet to taunt. He was drawing it all out in such a painful manner. She was not entirely unhappy for the delay of the inevitable.

“You may have realized by now but this was not entirely spontaneous. This chamber has stood empty for quite some time. I’ve merely been searching for the proper occupant. There were a few servants I had thought to keep here but I found them entirely too dull.” His profile was limned in the setting daylight as he turned, “And the slaves they sell in the underground are too brittle. Far too lifeless.

“Truly, our meeting was entirely chance but it seems now it was serendipity. Your brother needed saving and I needed a bed warmer.” He faced her once more and she stared back speechless.

Having it all laid out made it even more real. She gulped and her nerves split. She turned and darted for the door. She hadn’t heard the lock after his entrance. She pulled it open, the handle turning easily but she was seized around her waist and yanked away from her escape. The door slammed as Loki held onto her with one arm. It locked audibly as he snapped his fingers.

“You’re quick,” He grunted as he struggled with her, “But not quite fast enough.” She tried to pull away from him as he clung to her waist. She could feel a prod as she reached out to grab onto a chair as he dragged her into the room. Her struggle had her wriggling flush against him and it was only enticing him further. “Go on,” He shoved her towards the bed, “I don’t want to tie you down, but I will.”

“This...this can’t be. Please, I could be a chambermaid or...or work the kitchens. The laundries,” She pleaded desperately, “You’re a prince. I’m sure there must be noblewomen eager to court you.”

“I have enough maids,” He said, “And noblewomen bore me. Now, if you don’t start fulfilling your side of our bargain I will have your nitwit brother dragged here and flayed before you and then I will take you anyway.”

She looked at him and knew he could see her surrender. She knew he wasn’t bluffing. She had agreed to this to save Audun and now she would dangle his life once more in the balance. She stood stalk straight, stilled herself and resigned her body to what was to come.

“Now, now, don’t be so dour,” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips, “We can take this slow. I prefer a little anticipation.” He loosed her hair from its tie, “One step at a time.” He tugged on a curl, purring at the feel of her thick hair in his hand, “You may undress me.”

Sigorna swallowed, watching his pale hand release her tresses. He stood before her expectantly, his eagerness apparent through the leather of his trousers. He was entirely unashamed of his blatant desire. “Go on,” He said impatiently, “Or we will make this as painful as possible.”

She narrowed her eyes and nodded. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. She reached up and blindly began to unbutton his jacket, fumbling with the first button. He grinned and she fought to keep from showing her discomfort, though it must have been obvious. She pushed the leather down his arms and hung it over the chair before turning back to him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and raised his arms as he pulled up his tunic. She freed his head he watched her intently, “You should’ve had that wine.” He chided.

“I’m fine,” She insisted as he put a foot out. She knelt and unlaced his boot, pulling of one after the other. He stood, towering over her as she numbly brought her hand to his belt. She unbuckled it and freed its from its loops. She put it on the night table and picked at the laces of his trousers, she could tell he had no undershorts on.

She started to push his trousers down his hips and he leaned into her. He caught her hand, loosening his fly, and shoved in inside the leather against his member. He moaned and she fought not to pull back. She waited for him to release her before she continued to lower his trousers until they pooled at his ankles. He sat back on the bed and kicked them away, leaning back on his hands as he put himself on display.

“I don’t need to talk you through this, do I? You look like you’ve handle your share of men before,” He teased.

I know how to castrate a man, she thought but did not speak. She merely nodded and stepped closer to him. He sat up and his hands found the sleeveless shoulders of her dress, pulling the halter over her head roughly. The silk rushed from her body as he let it go, only catching on her hips briefly before leaving her fully exposed.

“Better,” He said, his hand resting on her hip. He traced along her waist, the curve of her stomach, his green eyes hungrily taking in her breasts. She wanted to cover herself. Wanted him to cover himself. She wanted it to be over. It would be easier if she just let him get it done with.

“Take a step back,” He ordered, “Let me have a better look.” She clenched her jaw as she did as he bid. “Turn,” He twirled his finger, his other hand inching closer to his cock, tickling along his base. “Good,” He praised as she turned her back to him, “Now bend. Fingers to toes.”

She pushed back her shoulders before she found her wits. She hesitantly stretched her arms and bent forward, reaching to her feet. He breathed out audibly at the movement and she cringed, closing her eyes. She made to stand but he tutted. “Stay, like that.” He was humming between words.

The bed shifted and she heard him near. She tried not to tremble as she remained prone to him. His hand brushed along her backside and he cupped her rear, squeezing it with growl. His cock brushed her lower back, just above her butt. He dragged it down her flesh, cloyingly pressing on her outer lips before pulling it back.

His hands continued down her legs as he adjusted behind her. She opened her eyes and looked around her legs, he was on his knees. His finger lingered on her thigh before he pressed deeper. “Legs apart he ordered.” She reluctantly parted her legs and he pushed beneath her folds, past her opening and found her clit. She twitched at the sensation.

He circled her bud and she winced. His hair whisked along her thigh as he put his head between her legs, his nose tickling her as his tongue searched. She pulled away without meaning to at the cool feeling of his mouth and he grunted. She tried to step back into place but was shaken by a sudden smack across her backside.

“On your knees,” He slapped her again, the strike stinging her flesh. She lowered herself to the floor and he nudge her lower back. “Bend,” He guided her, “Arch your back,” He grabbed her hips and set the higher, “Mmmmm,” He purred, “Now, Sig,” She inhaled sharply at his use of her pet name, “I don’t want this to be too difficult for you, so let’s be a good girl and stay,” He smacked her ass again, “Still.”

Sigorna twined her hands together as she supported herself on her elbows. She rested her forehead on her hands and closed her eyes, bracing for what came next. Loki’s fingers were exploring her again, on her clit in an instant as he stoked her fire higher. She squirmed even as she fought not to and felt herself growing wet. She didn’t want this but her body paid no heed to her mind.

He drew circles and pressed harder and hard. He dragged another finger back and forth along her opening, spreading her dampness along her folds. He pushed two fingers inside, still toying with her clit as he did. Sigorna bit into her wrist as he began to work in and out of her. She felt the tension building. The heat radiated along her thighs and her muscles clenched and suddenly released. She couldn’t help but arch deeper as she came, her teeth digging into her flesh as she held back a whimper.

Loki removed his hands, wiping her juices along her rear. He sighed and tapped her butt, this time softer. She could hear him moving and felt his warmth dissipate. She gulped and looked back. He was smirking as he sat back down on the bed. “Come on then,” He stroked his cock.

She rose and neared him, the bite mark on her arm burned. He removed his hand and gestured to his member. “Go on,” He leaned back, legs splayed. She reached down and lightly touched him. She inhaled and urged herself on. She gripped him tightly, bringing her hand up his shaft. She repeated the motion, slowly at first. As she quickened her pace she looked at him, his head lolled back as he moaned. She dragged her palm over the head of his member and he twitched, groaning loudly. Maybe if she could finish him then and there, he would leave her.

She stroked him faster, firmer and he caught her hand suddenly. His head was tilted, his eyes alight. “Not so fast,” He pulled her hand from his cock, “Sneaky, sneaky,” He tisked, “Turn.”

She sighed silently as she turned. She shook her head at herself. This wasn’t ever going to be easy so why was she trying? He pushed his legs between hers as he led her back with his hands on her waist. His cock poked at her bottom and released her line to himself up with her opening.

Her legs were spread wide and he lowered her slowly, his head entering her slightly before he pulled her back up. He did it several more times, every time only letting is tip inside. He did it once more and paused as he was about to remove himself. He shoved her down suddenly, his girth filling her sharply and she couldn’t help her yelp. He chuckled and lifted her again. He started the motion, guiding her up and down.

He let go of her hips and let her move on her own accord. She knew if she stopped it would only be worse. He grabbed her elbows and pulled her arms behind her and thrust up into her harder and deeper. Her legs were too short to keep herself steady with him moving below her like that. He leaned back and pulled her with him, continuing his motion as he held her over him.

He turned her over beneath him onto the bed. Her legs hung off as she was bent over she edge. He released her arms and grabbed her hair in both his hands, gathering it and tugging her head all the way back as he pounded her mercilessly. His legs kept hers apart and she felt herself throbbing, already sore from him relentless fucking. He carried on for what seemed an eternity but was still not done.

He flipped her over again, lifting her onto the bed further as he pushed her legs up. He let them rest against his shoulders and climbed onto the mattress and entered her again. He leaned over her until her her knees were almost at her breasts. He lowered his head and his teeth nibbled at her throat before sinking into her flesh. She tugged at his hair as he bit her, the pain unbearable.

“No, no,” She rasped, “Please stop.”

“Stop?” He lifted his head. He thrust into her sharply, hitting her cervix painfully. She gritted her teeth, holding in the pained cry. “Oh, I’m just getting started with you.” He buried his hands in her hair again and pulled back so that her neck and back were awkwardly arched beneath her and her legs still bent to her chest. He didn’t let up and she couldn’t help the groan which escaped her lips between each breath.

He rutted and pulled himself from within her suddenly, aiming his cock so that his seed spewed up her pelvis and along her stomach. He stroked himself until he was finished, purring as she covered her face in shame. He spread his cum across her chest and pulled her hand from her face. He pressed a finger to her lips and she clamped her them shut. “Open.” He ordered dangerously. Reluctantly she obeyed and he slipped his finger in her mouth, wiping his semen along her tongue.

Content, he removed his hand and leaned back. Sweat glistened over his chest and Sigorna felt her body revolting. She was going to be sick. She sat up and pushed him away, scurrying to the other side of the bed. She wasn’t going to reach the bath chamber. She scrambled to the chamber pot and wretched as she heard laughter erupt from behind her.

When she finished, her hair was pulled and she was forced to look up at Loki as he knelt beside her. “Go wash your mouth out,” He commanded, “I’m not done with you yet.” He let her go and stood. His cock was already growing hard again. He yanked her up by her arm when she didn’t move and he shoved her towards the door, “One more infraction and I will tie you down…” He smacked her ass so roughly that she nearly tripped, “And I might not even unbind you when I make my leave, so be quick.”

Sigorna fled into the bath chamber before he could hit her again. Inside she shuddered and wiped the dried cum from her flesh. It would be over soon, she told herself. At least, she hoped it would be.

#loki x oc #loki #dark!loki #dark loki #mcu #marvel #fic #series #indecent #au #oc #dark!verse #darkverse

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thewardlowcollection · 5 years

Note

hi! i loved the recent "poor jack" post and was wondering if there's a similar one for phryne? basically just a collection where she's hurt/injured/sick/etc. thanks!!

In Sickness And In Health

Way back in December we did indeed do a post on ‘poor jack’, there wasn’t one for Phryne but now - thanks to you Anon - there is!

Flu/Cold

Chaff and Grain Together (2015) by @gaslightgallows - Even the most amazing and wonderful of detectives can be laid low by a cold.

But Come What May (I Do Adore Thee So) (reposted 2017) by @firesign23 - Jack follows Phryne to London, but what he finds is very different from what he expected.

The Great Escape (2018) by @scruggzi - Phryne’s convalescing from a bad bout of influenza and after weeks in bed her boudoir is starting to feel like a very hostile environment…

Down by the Bay (2015) by beadedslipper - Phryne catches a cold. Jack steps in to nurse her back to health.

Phryne’s Flu (2019) by RositaLG - When Phryne comes down with the flu, Jack visits to help pass the time.

Small Intimacies (2018) by afteriwake - When Phryne gets struck with food poisoning, Jack takes care of her.

Drowning

Breathless (2018) by @adverbally - Phryne Fisher did not give up, she reminded herself as her fingernails scrabbled at the edge of the barrel in search of leverage. Even as her vision began to dim and splinters dug their way into her palms and her movements grew more sluggish without oxygen to fuel them, she continued to struggle against her attacker, hoping against all hope that this wouldn’t be the last fight of her life.

Amnesia

Memory is a Stranger (2014) by detective phryne - When Phryne’s memory is wiped back to the time of her childhood, Jack comes to the rescue.

Shot

A Second Shot (2018) by @whopooh – On the ship in “Unnatural Habits”, Jack fires his gun. But he’s not the only one.

Abduction/Captured

White scarves (2016) by RositaLG - Phryne woke up slowly, her face pressed against a cool metal floor. She could already feel that her face was bruised and swollen, and she was more than certain she had a concussion. She sat up slowly and found herself in a makeshift prison cell, really more of an over-sized cage.

Irrevocably (2015) by beaded slipper - Phryne’s luck was bound to run out sometime. It was only ironic that it happened in a casino of all places.

Physical Injury

Head - Sketchy Details, Clear Hearts (2018) by @mercurialbianca - She had followed the sound of his voice. She could feel her pulse begin to race remembering the running. All the twists and turns. Is it all a dream?

Ankle - Wonderfully Reckless (2018) by hyenateeth - “You need to be more careful,” he scolded, still holding her stocking-clad ankle in his hand.It wasn’ broken, luckily, but it did seem to be badly twisted. Phryne sat above him, perched on the edge of a writing desk, beaded cobalt gown draping over the edge. “And maybe wear more sensible shoes.”

Rib Injury - He Has A Way (2019) by isingonly4myangel - Skidding around a corner, she was suddenly and violently thrown off balance. The man she was chasing had caught her as she came around the wall of the alleyway and used her momentum to throw her to the side. Straight into a waist-high brick wall.

Bruises - Bruises (2018) by @scruggzi – She didn’t often feel this fragile after a fight, but sometimes, once the adrenaline withdrew and she had time to catch up with herself, it would hit her hard. She made a point of not letting anyone see if she could help it.

Broken Leg - Dreams and Murder (2019) by Oracle of Doom - Phryne is more incapacitated than usual, but murder follows where she goes, regardless.

Concussion - Concussion (2016) by PlayfulMay - Phryne’s been hurt, and Jack Robinson finds her. Fluffy angst.

Explosion/Shell Shock

Two’s Company (2017) by @flashofthefuse - It could just have easily been him lying there, Mac knew. In which case, she’d still be standing here, consoling the other half of this unlikely, but somehow inevitable, partnership.

The Best Laid Plans (2017) by RositaLG - Jack and Phryne’s first date gets sidetracked. Mostly hurt/comfort with some case fic sprinkles and a happily ever after cherry on top.

Shell Shocked (2015) by Shamashe - Phryne and Jack are wounded during an investigation and relive a war memory in states of shock. Mac suspects foul play.

Domestic Violence

These fics reference the physical and emotional abuse Phryne endured during her time with Rene and how that experience is part of the person she has become.

What’s Past is Prologue (2016) by LadyRoxie

Not that chained up little person still in love with you (2018) by Meldanya - During Murder in Montparnasse, Phryne can’t sleep after her house has been burgled, as she faces the ghosts of the past.

Ungentle Reminders (2017) by @omgimsarahtoo - Our intrepid detectives are undercover, trying to solve a pair of murders, when their alter egos bring Phryne back to a less happy time.

You may also want to have a look at the fics in the Whumptober Collection.

Thanks for the ask Anon and, as always, if we’ve missed any please share in reblogs or comments.

#3.1: ask the librarians #in sickness and in health #poor phryne #injured #ill #mfmm fanfic #miss fisher's murder mysteries #ask us about fanfic #the wardlow collection

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kewltie · 5 years

Text

The Midoriya residence is a sprawling estate that stretches across an entire city block. It styled itself in the memories of the architecture masterpieces of the Edo period with raised wooden pathways that lead through a maze of smaller buildings and teahouses, koi and water lilies ponds run under it, and elaborate gardens of green surround them in all direction.

It’s grand, complex, and so rooted in history for a second Katsuki almost forgot where he is. Almost. The moment he’d stepped in the Midoriya’s compound, he’d noticed the numerous security cameras tucked away in every corners and crevasses, the armed guards that are station all over the grounds, and the sharp edges to the servants’ smiles that greeted him.

He knows the Midoriya Clan is old. Ancient by some standards. Blood begets blood and no blood run as deep as Midoriyas who’d once served as a retainer of the Imperial Royal Family before they found out it was more profitable to rule from the shadow and built their criminal empire, the Jaaku-gumi, from the ashes of their enemies.

The Jaaku-gumi is neither the largest nor the most famous. Despite being one of the oldest syndicates to exist, they are shrouded in secrecy and their current head, the Godaime, is even more mysterious and confounding as the group, but their power and influence reaches beyond the border of Japan and they are the silent hand that dictates the pace of this country.

And here in the private chambers of the Jaaku-gumi’s tightly secured fortress veiled in normalcy, Katsuki ironically finds himself caught right in the center of it all because of one person. Fuck.

“Come on, Kacchan! Papa is waiting for us,” Izuku says, smiling brightly as he tugs Katsuki forward through the winding hallways of the Midoriya grounds.

This here is Izuku’s home, but it’s also the base of the Jaaku-gumi and as the treasured son of the Godaime, Izuku is the pulsing heartbeat of the group. And Katsuki is a dead man walking.

Katsuki frowns, keeping pace with him despite the hesitance in his own steps. “You’re twenty-three and not a damn kid anymore. Cut it with the papa bullcrap.”

Izuku grins, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I would if I could,” he explains, “but Papa would sulk for days if I don’t call him that.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Something about missing out on my childhood ever since he’d sent my mom and I away.”

Katsuki makes a face, twisting up in disgust. He can’t imagine Midoriya Hisashi, the fifth generation head of the largest yakuza organization in Japan, would ever settle for such a childish, sickenly sweet title, but Katsuki recalls in his memory the way Hisashi had gently cradled Izuku’s bloody body up in his arms and how he’d quietly murmured to calm Izuku’s painful whimpers. That singular moment had said more than any a hundred page thick report could ever hope to say about the crime lord; he’s a father first.

They stop right in front of a fusumu door and Izuku slides the panel open. The first thing that reaches Katsuki right away is the array of enticing smell hitting him in the face. The sweet and intoxicating aroma of the various dishes laid out on the large table is enough to make his mouth’s water.

“Mom and Papa, I’ve brought Kacchan,” Izuku says, stepping in as Katsuki trails after him.

“Katsuki-kun, hello! I’m so glad you can join us,” Inko greets him from her seat. Her face lights up at his appearance. There’s no edge to that smile and Katsuki warms up instantly under her presence.

“Inko-san,” Katsuki replies, lowering his head in return. He has little respect for those that haven’t earn it yet, but the Inko is his memory is dyed in the color of sunset. She was the image of strength for him with her dutiful care of her son and the shoulders that bared the burdens of raising Izuku through hell and fire, knowing that one day his father will come back and claim him.

The person right beside her doesn’t say a word, but his eyes follow every one of Katsuki’s movements with careful intent and Katsuki’s lips thins as he approaches the pair with Izuku.

Izuku plops down on the seat opposite of his parents and gestures for Katsuki to do the same thing. Katsuki drops down on the cushion next to Izuku, crossing his legs underneath the table. Trying to get himself comfortable, he lets himself take it all in for a second, the grand décor of the room that reminds him of a museum exhibition with old stylized paintings and furnishings littered about and the food generous pile all in front of him. From the chicken katsu and curry crab, he quickly counts at least over ten dishes right in front of him and immediately this feels less like a dining room, but more like a banquet hall with an enormous table that could easily seat twelve people and more.

And right in front of him is Katsuki‘s worst enemy. Midoriya Hisashi is—deceptively young and handsome in the way that he looks like someone who isn’t marred in darkness and whose hands had stay cleaned despite the bloody massacre he had made of the sub-group from Toja-kai who had stolen Izuku away just a few months ago.

Suddenly, it’s all too suffocating. The four of them alone in this large room with no others nearby and Katsuki is already looking at all the exits he can find. It’s dangerous to assume that this is only dinner with his not-boyfriend‘s parents.

Noticing Katsuki’s discomfort, Izuku gives him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, we usually have more people joining us for dinner, but since I was afraid that might be a little too overwhelming for you so it’ll be just us four tonight.”

Izuku had said that the Jaaku-gumi‘s members are like family to him. Katsuki doesn’t know how that could be when Izuku’s personal bodyguard is the Red Queen, Toga Himiko, who has a rap sheet as long as his arm and her reported bodies count are numbered in the hundreds, but the charges never stick long enough for them to put her away permanently. She’s a fucking psycho, but she looks at Izuku with a deep fondness that had ended more than one life who’d tried to take Izuku away from her. Her devotion for him is beyond a fanatical and while Katsuki doesn’t trust her enough to even turn his back to her, but he’ll trust her with Izuku‘s life.

Izuku was born here and though he spent most of his childhood away from this place out of his father’s concern for his safety, Izuku seems to have very little qualm about the fact that the people he is surrounded by on a daily basis all have blood-stained hands.

Family, sure. A crazy, murderous family that Izuku is at the center of and Katsuki can’t even drag him out.

Katsuki grimaces. He hates to admit it, but he wouldn’t be able to eat comfortably in front of murderers and career criminals. Not that eating with Hisashi will be any better.

And at that moment, Hisashi smiles coolly at him. It’s thin and razor-sharp. “Katsuki-kun, it’s so good for you to finally joined us,” he says, and his voice is just as icy cold as Katsuki remembers. “I thought I would be rolling in my grave before Izuku would let me meet you.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Katsuki shoots back. “And I don’t think you would ever die that easily, sir.” He pauses. “Though it would make our job at the Keishicho much easier if you do.”

Silence kicks in as Izuku squirms next to him. Inko hums as she piles on rice in Hisashi’s bowl.

Hisashi laughs. It’s not funny. “You surely have a way with words, Katsuki-kun. No wonder you made Detective at such a young age,” he says unsmilingly.

Katsuki grins just as sharp as his. “You and your compatriots made it hard, but,” he shrugs easily, “thanks to their own incompetence I was abled to climb the rank pretty easily.”

Hisashi’s eyes go dark. “Indeed,” he says, voice dripping in venom. “I’ll take that under advisement then.”

How someone as kind and generous person as Inko had managed to snatch the heart of the underworld king? The question alone is enough to give Katsuki a headache.

Appearance-wise, Izuku takes after Inko and his personality is much like his humble mother. Katsuki fervently hopes Izuku keeps it that way. If Katsuki has a say in it, and he’ll make sure of it too, Izuku will never follow in his father’s footstep. The Midoriya line will end here with him.

“Papa woke up early this morning to prepare dinner for us,” Izuku pipes up, quickly trying to defuse the growing tension between Katsuki and his father. He gestures excitedly too the various dishes on the table.

“It was hardly any effort,” Hisashi says dismissively from across the table, but his eyes are warm when they fall upon his son.

“He even made some of spicy curry to your liking!” Izuku adds in, scooping a bowl of curry for him. “Try it, I think you like it.”

Katsuki tries not to grimace as he stares at the nefarious bowl of yellow curry in front of him. Anything from Hisashi‘s hand can never be good.

“It’s not poison, Katsuki-kun,” Hisashi says disinterestly. He lifts a brow thoughtfully. “Not for the lack of trying though, I promise you.”

“Papa!” Izuku shouts, aghast. “You’re being rude to Kacchan!”

Hisashi shrugs. “I’m just stating facts.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate it,” Izuku retorts, not backing down one bit.

Hisashi raises a palm up and gestures for Izuku to go ahead. “Do tell then,” he says dryly.

Inko, unruffled by the father and son bickering in front of her, smiles wholesomely at Katsuki. “Would you like try some of my chicken katsu instead, Katsuki-kun?”

Katsuki can feel he’s in a rough ride tonight.

#fic snippet #bakudeku #fic: fire on fire we're normally killers

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