#“LOVE IN THE AIR? ABSOLUTELY. FLOWER FOR YOU SIF!!!!”

[anxiousapplepie]

kinda curious abt the reaction researcher sif reacts over how isa reeks of burnt sugar in like around act 3 or 4

Sif is definitely going to be sniffing around and no matter how hard Isa tries to dodge the suspicious Researcher, and they'll keep doggedly circling the trail of Burnt Sugar and Emotional Turmoil until Isabeau distracts them with a flower or something

[just-the-hiddles]

Fic Teasers | March 4, 2020

So two new Loki one shots this week!  I know everyone is excited for a double shot of the Trickster!  Tomorrow, is the first of the three 2000 followers celebration!  It is the follow up story to Secret Garden.  And then Saturday is a fun story with Loki helping the reader get some revenge on the one Sam Wilson.  Here are the sneaky peekys. 

AS ALWAYS PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED!

No Delicate Flower

Thor, once again, got the better of Loki during sparring later that week.

“Brother, you are losing focus.” Thor commented as he pulled Loki to standing.

“Nonsense.” Loki smoothed out his tunic. “I am letting you win.”

“Unlikely, seeing as you hate to lose. Is your girlfriend not attending to your properly?” Thor casually threw Mjølnir in the air. “It’s been what… six months?”

Loki fought to hide his embarrassment. “Of course, brother. In fact, we were up all night with our… activities.” he lied.

Thor clapped Loki’s shoulder hard. “It is understandable, brother. She is a beautiful woman. What she sees in you, however will never understand.”

Loki shrugged Thor’s hand off of his shoulder. “Clearly she discerned I am better looking prince. Now…” He drew his daggers. “… attack.”

-

You groaned as you rolled over in bed later that morning. You loved Loki but you can not continue as things are. You needed more heat, more passion. Your efforts to move the relationship along were unsuccessful.

You rose and dressed for the day, on a mission to bring this dry spell to an end. You hoped to ask Lady Sif for some advice but she was nowhere to be found.

“Milady,” a voice echoed from behind a pillar. “You appear as though you have lost something. Perhaps I may be of assistance?” Fandral appeared, eating an apple. 

A Cold Dish

“One!” You stabbed your finger at Sam. “One prank birthday card and I deserve the Great Flood in my bedroom?”

“You started it,” Same rose from the couch, brushing past you, “You can finish it.”

He disappeared from view, and you flopped onto the couch, throwing daggers at Steve.

“Sorry, kid. I’ve fought enough wars to recognize when to stay out of the firefight.”

He left too, slapping you on the shoulder.

You glanced around for any other potential allies. “Loki!” you screamed as you scrambled off the couch to approach the Asgardian as he entered the kitchen.

“I beg the pardon. To what do I owe the joy of you screeching my name as you come hurtling towards me?”

“Help me get even with Sam.” you gasped.

“Absolutely not.”

You stomped your foot. “Aren’t you supposed to be the God of Mischief? This is right up your alley.”

“And yet, I am saying no.” Loki poured himself a glass of water and took a long sip.

“Why the hell won’t you help me?”

Loki tilted his head as he contemplated your words. “What can I say? I’m mercurial.” He walked back towards his living quarters.

[okimargarvez]

HURT- open wounds

Original title: Hurt.

Prompt: Luke’s dark thought, destiny, contrasted love.

Warnings: sexual content, dark thoughts.

Genre: angst, drama, romantic, smut, dark, mistery, frienship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, BAU team, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: multichapter.

Legend: 💏😘😈🔦🐶❗🎈👻.

Song mentioned: La tua vita intera, Tiziano Ferro.

Hurt- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

Chapter 4

 Roxy is your dog?

In the exact moment when he sees the meeting between the only living being that for some years he was granted to love, his dog, and the woman he identified as his healer, but to whom he has so far shown only the worst sides of himself (and certainly not love), he realizes he is screwed.

Because her face is so soft, as she bends to allow Roxy to fill her with kisses. She's so sweet and tender, so innocent, and she is lost in a smile that doesn't have anything built. He had told her: he was sure that she would have liked her. But he couldn't imagine what would be his reaction to such a thing. It's too much, she's too maternal. Too much concrete. Real. No longer Sif, she isn't an unknown and distant deity. She is a very real woman, with which it's too easy to imagine a future that can't only provide for night raids and ambushes near her car.

He can't afford to make such conjectures. Because she could even fall in love with him now. Because she doesn't know everything. But he is not able to stay in a relationship declared, in which one of the two hides something so important to the other, who says he loves. And as much as she is... well... special, not even Penelope can understand certain aspects of its past. Things that he had to do. Things that he saw. Or at least, she wouldn't be able to look at him the same way. And it's not only compassion, as he thought at first. He doesn't care that she doesn't think more about him like macho fearless. But when (if) she was to find out certain things, she would run away. No one has the courage to face this. And if she would remain, it would be only for that her innate maternal spirit, her desire to see other people happy... but not for love. And this means that in any case, she would break his heart.

And probably it'll shatter even hers. And that absolutely he can't allow that.

Because if he can't (he isn't able) to protect her from his more impulsive part, he must at least protect her from his black part. Dark.

 -I know you didn't want to like me at first, so I figured I'd make it easier on you...- he refers to the earliest days, before anything happened between them. It was so obvious her effort to keep him at a distance. He doesn't have time to think about it: he asked at JJ, the one that was seemed the most rational and the blonde had explained the "complex" situation, the kind of special relationship that Penelope had established with his predecessor. And, in retrospect, he understood how this factor had an impact on what had happened. But at the moment he wasn't yet aware of.

-So you profiled me?- but already her expression is playful. Her smile lights up her face.

-Luke Alvez, behavioral analyst. That's what I do.- and the exact moment when the elevator doors close, almost like a curtain, she throws herself on him, kissing him passionately, completely overwhelming him. He is in shock. Breathless. Unable to take control of the situation. But both before and she put her lips to his, he tangibly feels the love, yes, love, not something like that, just the love in the air. He must not give in. He can't.

But he is human. He is made of flesh. He is weak.

 With a hand he grasps the leash, the other in that of the woman. He turns the key, he opens the door, he loose Roxy and he nods her to enter. She, between timidity and curiosity, advancing slowly. She scrutinizes every detail. The walls are almost completely bare. Not a photograph. Not a painting. If not the standard ones that real estate agents use to make the home more appealing.

The furniture is essential ones: a low table in the living room, a sofa and two armchairs; all the classic appliances in the kitchen, table and chairs; a bathroom with shower, bathtub, sink, washing machine; a room by equally empty with only one bed. He follows her along the tour, saying nothing. He is aware that this place doesn't say anything about him, just as his desk in the BAU offices, as Prentiss had noted. But even the absence means something, for those who want to go further. For those who want to strive a little more. And Penelope has exactly this intention.

There is one last room. The door is closed. She turns to him, seeking his approval. He simply nods. She puts her hand on the knob and rotates. His fingers go confident toward to the switch. The light blinds them for a moment. She waits that she acclimatizes. And what she sees, surprising her, although perhaps it should not. It's full of boxes. They will be at least twenty, not all the same size. And each bearing an inscription, some dates for her incomprehensible. Some date back to six years ago.

Curiosity is a lot strong, but not so as push her to invade his privacy. If, when, he wants to, he'll tell her everything. Maybe one day he'll open them and reveal the contents. She starts to turn to him, to let him know that she'll not interfere, but fails in the movement, because she encounters an obstacle. His back.

-Luke...- he makes a sign that she doesn't need to say anything. The darkness goes back to reign. He closes the door behind them. He lets go of his past.

 -... and then we were in the mall, there were people everywhere, from my height this looked like a forest of legs. I was afraid, I held the very strong my father's hand. I was terrified of losing me. It was a time that children were kidnapped, at least one a week. My mother was very upset. Maybe she had passed me this fear. I've only realized long, long time after.- she pauses, without looking at him, she rest against his back better. He strengthens the hold of arms between her breast and her hips. -With this anguish I found myself in a row, along with many other children, to have my time with Santa Claus. And the man...- another pause. This time lasts longer. She can't continue. Perhaps she could stop here. No need to add all the details, because he understands what happened. Her eyes are shiny. It's been so many years, yet that trauma, that bullshit, stood there, on her heart, in her soul.

But he takes her for the chin with two fingers and forces her to look at him directly. -Penelope...- he is now also allowed to use her name. It brings so many things behind. Maybe it's random, maybe not. He'll ask her one day. Who knows if her mother was fond of the Homeric poems. -You don't have to...- but she nods.

-No, I can. That fake bearded gave me a nice palpated on my breast (if I can call it that, I was flat as a board), making the sound of a horn.- she closes her eyes, and she relives that scene, now blurred in her mind, cause the time was elapsed. -Maybe that's why I don't love Christmas, don't get me wrong, I love the holidays, stay with the people I love... the colors, the lights, the tree... the decorations... Christmas spirit... but I hate the idea of going to a mall looking for gifts. It shouldn't be a commercial festivity. But now all are such. Easter is chocolate eggs. Valentine is chocolates and flowers. Even the feast of the dead, chrysanthemums and night-lights.- he is surprised by the way she took her speech, the annoyed tone that took her voice. But she profoundly right.

-So wouldn't you want to receive chocolates for Valentine's Day?- he asks playfully, trying to lighten the mood. He doesn't know how to comment on her words, it's such a serious and precise speech, that he was impressed. She grasps his effort and chuckles.

-I think it's much more important to love each other for the other 364 days, or behave, or treat women well and not just give them mimosas on March 8... I think it's a much greater effort, than acting different briefly. And those who complain all year of how life sucks make me laugh, they seem almost ready to commit suicide, and... when approaching the December 31, they are the first to write stereotyped phrases about how this year was magical and special...- Luke squeezes her harder to himself, feeling her (and his) needs warmth. She rests her head on his chest. She could fall asleep there, yes, who cares of back pain that she'll have tomorrow.

They remain in silence after so many words. The Penelope's voice is like music to the ears. A banal and yet an unavoidable truth. He could listen her for hours. He loves the way her opens with him, without expecting him to do the same thing, without expecting it. He loves her spontaneity and sincerity. And discover every nuance of her personality: with the team he had only got to know of her "crazy" part, the one that always had a joke ready, to make less tragic tolerance of the worst cases. For a laugh or a smile. And at the same time this help them to not go crazy, not to be absorbed by the dark world around them. How she did, to see those colorful, that rainbow, he still didn't understand. But tonight, he had discovered that she wasn't just a flower child, a hippy exalted, a positivist with blinders on. She was able to grasp even the gray shades of life, but she had the great ability to take even the smallest flash of light from the darker room.

-Penelope...- he only repeats her name. One time. And then another. Because he can't do anything else. -Penelope...- because before he didn't ever do, and now he has to compensate. She is no longer a Scandinavian god and distant, no, she's a woman, the woman who wants next to him.

Perhaps out of embarrassment, perhaps for fear of the effect of the power to hear him say her name had exerted over her, she begins to speak. -Before I work for the BAU I was a hacker. I'm still on the blacklist of the CIA. I got caught, although I never said it clearly to anyone. I was tired of that life.- why she told him such a thing? What the hell he will think of her, now that he has discovered that she was a criminal?

-What did you do to be arrested?- he asks without loosening his grip, with quiet and careful voice. Penelope sighs.

-I would sneak in large companies that used the animal testing. I'm not ashamed to have it done. I'm not ashamed of that part of my life.- she turns to face him clearly. -But the environment around me, it wasn't healthy. There was a strong desire for rebellion, but against what? The company, the world, our parents. They were just excuses. But this did feel us alive...- Luke understands that she refers not only to a group of friends, but one in particular. Now, however, he doesn't want to know. He only wishes that her face softens into a smile. He takes her face in his hands, and relaxes some wrinkles cause from the tension. He massages her shoulders, going gradually toward the center. With the eye he sees they are almost three in the morning.

Despite some mild protest by her (to the worry that he gets hurt, because of her not lightweight) he manages to carry her to his bed. He lays her gently. She expects him to go straight to the point. But is not so. He spends at least twenty minutes to explore every fold, every single centimeter of her body, devoting himself exclusively to her pleasure, slowly stripping her (before with his eyes). Snatching thousands of groans from her.

There are no one "I love you." No one "I have fallen in love with you." It's not yet time.

But the next morning, the first thing they see opening their eyes, are those of the other.

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