#if he’s got red hair or white hair (or a variant of white hair) i’m already halfway there 😔😔😔

[recareels]

having absolutely deranged thoughts about luka

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[clemblog]

Caine’s Lesson - Part 20

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Gummigoo and Pomni found themselves in bodies which weren’t quite their own in this next adventure.

Pomni found herself a raccoon dressed in her same old jester hat. She had dark grey and black fur, the only resemblance of her humanity being the fact she stood on her hind legs and having her same old big red and blue eyes.

Gummigoo found himself now in the form of a human. A man. A guy. He had tan skin with blonde and green hair. He still had his cow boy hat, but now had a candy themed cowboy outfit to go with it. On his jacket was a little gator brooch. The only resemblance of his former self being his white eyes.

“Uh- Pommy?” Frowned Gummigoo, looking down at the familiar raccoon beside him.

“Y-Yeah- Gummigoo, what the heck happened-“ Chirped Pomni.

“Well- You’re some kind of cute fluffy little creature- If I had to guess some variant of a candycoon- And I’m a big buff guy- Instead of a big buff gator-“

“Yeah- I uh- figured- So… How do you think we fix this? Cause I don’t really appreciate this fur-“

As soon as she asked the question a puff of smoke engulfed the pair.

The two fell into a coughing fit, a maniacal laugh cutting through the air as the smoke aired out.

“Oh devious adventurers~ I see my curse has finally activated!” Giggled a beautiful cat lady with purple fur. She wore an obvious witch costume, so the two had to guess that she was a witch-

“If you want to fix yourselves~ You’ll need this whimsical necklace of mine~” She purred smugly, holding out a necklace which had appeared in her hand, swaying it just out of reach of the two. She was very tall.

“Great.” Grumbled Gunmigoo. “And I got a hunch you ain’t gonna give it to us, right?”

“You’d be correct, Gator Boy~”

He huffed at this, rolling his eyes.

“What. Do. You. Want. Then.”

“Mmmm, I’ll be nice~ Get me fifty gold and you can have this.”

She disappeared in another puff of smoke.

“Fifty gold?!” Eeked Pomni, pulling on tufts of her fur. “How the heck are we supposed to get fifty gold nuggets?! Is there some kind of mine shaft in this adventure or something-“

“Darlin’, I think the currency in this universe if called gold, like how we use peppermints. We need to try and have people give us money.”

“Oh- Right- Let’s go do that then-“

The two continued on the path they’d arrived at and found themselves headed towards a busy looking town.

“Ugh, I can’t pickpocket in this new weird body-“ Grumbled Gummigoo, surveying the bustling road full of humans and animals alike.

“Why don’t we just ask? We can explain what’s up.” Hummed Pomni, gently.

“…Alright Poms, we’ll give it a try.” Sighed Gummigoo fondly.

The two watched over the crowd for a few more moments, eventually deciding to approach a posh looking macaw fella in a top hat and suit.

“H-Hello? Excuse me- Me and my friend here need to make fifty gold- We got cursed by this witch lady-“

“Yeah, not falling for that one again lady-“ Scoffed the man, storming off.

“Oh-“ Pouted Pomni, turning to look at Gummigoo. “Any ideas on what we can do right now?”

Gummigoo thought this over, looking down at Pomni. She looked absolutely adorable right now with her fluffy little face. With her pouty face and sweet eyes, he couldn’t help but smile softly at the site of her. He’d do anything for her any day, but in this new look she could convince him of anything in a matter of seconds. …Bingo.

“Hey Pommy~?”

“Yeah?”

“How long do ya think you can keep up that cute little face you’ve got going on?”

“…Uhm- A little bit, why?”

“You’ll see.”

“Step right up! Come see my adorable comrade! She has the rarest, most beautiful eyes you’ll ever see on a raccoon~ For only two gold, you can get a picture!”

Pomni was definitely a little flustered at hearing him describe her so gently. She wondered if he thought this about her all the time- Where her eyes really that pretty? She doubted it-

“Oh how beautiful my dear! Your eyes must be a gift given to you by god!”

“Oh- Thank you-“

“Mama! Mama! Look at the pretty raccoon lady!”

“I see her baby.”

“Awe-“

“Oh Miss, my daughter has eyes just like yours! She’ll have to meet you one day, so you can show her how you care for yours so wonderfully!”

“Oh- Uh- Alright-!”

“Hey, you’re one cute little lady Miss~”

“Back. Off. Buddy.”

“I’m going-“

“Thanks Gummi.”

“No problem darlin’.”

“Honey, honey, you should stop by my shop sometime, your eyes are beautiful, they’ve got to have some kind of spiritual meaning~ Free of charge, I’ll get ya an examination!”

“…right-“

It took a long few hours of the two being out on the street, talking to people and casually mentioning their need for gold. Some people gave it. Some people where just their for a nice chat. Either way, they slowly scrapped the fifty gold together and walked back to where the witch had initially appeared.

“Ah! Well done my little gold gathering girl and gator~” She purred, watching with a giggle as Gummigoo caught the necklace with a bit of thumbling. The bag of gold was now in her hand and she was very happy with that, insisting that she needed to keep the extra the two had made as well.

In any other situation, Gummigoo would have argued with this, but they weren’t going to be staying long so she may as well have it-

She disappeared once more in a puff of smoke.

The two now spent the next twenty minutes figuring out how to use the necklace, the witch never bothering to inform them of how it worked. It took a lot of trial and error but with the necklace around both their necks and Gummigoo holding Pomni, they poofed back into their normal forms.

“There’s my darlin~”

“There’s my gator!”

The two were then whisked off to their next adventure, having completed their task for this one.

[crochetedblorbos]

"Dying's not so bad. It's staying dead that sucks."

Character Name: Gerard “Gerry” Keay

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Voiced By: Jon Gracey

Yarn Used: Skin: CraftSmart Value - Off-White Shirt/Trousers/Shoes: Red Heart Super Saver - Black; heidi & jo iron-on applique Hair: CraftSmart Value - Curry; Tulip Colorshot Fabric Spray Paint - Black Face: Park Lane 10mm plastic eyes - hazel; Red Heart Super Saver - Black Tattoos: Red Heart Super Saver - Black

Basic pattern here.

Okay, so if I’m being honest here, this particular Gerry is 100% influenced by the version in “Awake and Unafraid” by blasphemous-lies-and-deceit, who is amazing and deserves all the love. (Not that I don’t want to hug canon!Gerry too, but holy hell.) I will also confess that I had to undo him at one point; I’d been working on him steadily for a while, and then set him aside in favor of NaNoWriMo, whereupon he promptly got swallowed up by the hellscape miasma that is my room. I finally unearthed him in a moment that can best be described as “I have discovered every single godsdamned thing I have been looking for in the last six MONTHS and also the Ark of the Covenant and Jimmy Hoffa, and yet I cannot find the one specific thing I am looking for and which I only purchased a week ago” and started working on him again. Unfortunately, I had no idea where I was in the pattern and what variants I had actually done, so I unraveled most of his torso and started over. This is why it has taken me almost a year between Hux and Gerry.

Oh, well. At least I can confidently tell you that I altered the “base” pattern as follows:

Shoes: Black combat boots, baby! Like with Mini and Hux, I kept the color the same, but otherwise the shoes are the same as before.

Trousers: I was trying to give him baggy black jeans, so I wanted them to come down over his shoes. Thus, when I got to the top of the boots, I did a round in the front loop only to give myself a little ridge, then did a round of treble crochet in the front loops of that before going back to sc for the rest of the trousers. (I think. I forgot to write this down as I was doing it and it’s been, as previously mentioned, around six months since then at time of writing.) I also wanted to give him some artistic rips in the knees, so I switched to the white I’m using for his skin and did front-loop in the black around it to give it a bit of texture and make it look like they are, in fact, torn across the knees. Deliberately or not, your call.

Shirt: I wanted Gerry to be wearing a kind of baggy, shapeless shirt, and also to be a bit taller and lankier in the torso, with a slightly longer neck. I also put him in all black because that’s how he’s always described, so I worked him the same way as Joseph (just without changing color) up until R36, and then: R37: Ch 2, hdc in each fpdc around, sl st in first hdc (38 hdc). R38-48: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (38 sc). R49: Ch 1, [sc in next 17 st, inv dec over next 2 st] twice, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R50: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R51: Ch 1, [sc in first 2 st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R52-53: Ch 1, sc around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R54: Ch 1, [sc in first st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R55: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R56: Switch to skin color. Ch 1, sc in back loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R58-59: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18sc). I also added an iron-on patch to give him a design on his shirt. (Fun fact, I bought three different patches and kept losing them before I could find my iron, which I had stupidly put away where it belonged.)

Head: I always picture Gerry as having a long, thin face and a slightly larger nose, so I followed the base pattern for his head up to what is R60 on the original pattern (but is R64 on this pattern due to previously-made changes), and then: R65-70: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). R71: Ch 3, dc in next 26 st, puff st in next st, dc in next 15 st, sl st in first dc (41dc, 1 puff stitch). R72-77: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). Continue from R72 on original pattern. Unfortunately, I didn’t stuff him as much as I should have, so his neck is kinda floppy. I’m working on a solution to that.

I also used safety eyes for the first time here! And oh my God they saved so much time. I wasn’t sure they were going to work in the package, but once I got them in his face, I liked them a lot! I embroidered a little smirk for his mouth. Used yarn this time because I finally had a yarn needle to do it with and didn’t feel like digging for my embroidery floss by the time I got to his mouth, and I like it.

Hair: Yeah, I’m a ginger!Gerry convert, what of it. Anyway, because his hair is always described as “badly dyed”, I initially considered using a variegated yarn, but couldn’t find one that would do what I wanted it to do, I decided to badly dye it myself. I wrapped a hank of yarn around a piece of cardboard, tied it off, and cut it, then spread it out on said cardboard and sprayed it with black fabric spray paint I found in the clearance aisle at Joann Fabric. And, as if it knew why I was doing it, it just…wouldn’t…take. I must’ve sprayed, rearranged, sprayed again, let dry, untangled, discovered that I’d just done the surface, resprayed, moved, and sprayed again about twelve times before I thought I’d got it. I hadn’t. Finally, I gave up and sewed the mottled orange-and-black mess onto his head (which was a headache and a half, especially since I wanted him to have a side part), discovered that it was neither as long nor as thick as it had looked before I put it on his head, debated starting over, decided not to, took him back outside, and covered his face with a paper towel, then sprayed the hair again, this time while it was already on his head. That way a) it dyed the scalp as well, and b) I could hope it stuck. (It also occurred to me that I was doing this on the front porch, right on the EDGE of the porch, and that it was, if not raining, at least very humid, and I wondered if that was affecting it, so once I’d sprayed his head down, I brought him inside and let him cure that way.) The yarn still soaked up a lot of the dye, but at least it’s more or less evenly covered…and it does, in fact, give the effect of a bad dye job, so…success?

Arms: I did Gerry’s arms the same way I did Hux’s, except that I gave him short sleeves rather than long ones. I also made them a little bit longer than normal, partly because Gerry is a little bit taller and partly because I was an idiot and wasn’t counting properly.

Trenchcoat: I may have made this slightly more complicated than necessary, but I like how it came out, so: Ch 48. R1: Dc in third ch from hook, dc in each ch across, turn (46dc). R2-5: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (46dc). R6: Ch 3, dc in first 17 st, fpdc around next st, skip next st, inv dec, dc in next 4 st, inv dec. Skip next st, fpdc around next st, dc in same st, dc in next 17 st, turn (43dc, 2 fpdc). R7: Ch 3, dc in first 18 st, bpdc around fpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec in back loops, dc in next 2 st, inv dec in back loops. Skip next st, bpdc around fpdc, dc in st behind, dc in next 18 st, turn (41dc, 2bpdc). R8: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, fpdc around bpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec twice. Skip next st, fpdc around fpdc from prev row, dc in same st, dc in next 19 st, turn (39dc, 2fpdc). R9: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, bpdc around next 2 fpdc, dc in next 19 st, turn (38dc, 2fpdc). R10: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R11: Ch 1, sc in eacn st across, turn (40sc). R12: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in each st across, turn (39sc, 1ch). R13: Ch 3, dc in first 38 st, dc in ch sp, dc in next st, turn (40dc). R14: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R15: Ch 1, sc in first 38 st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R16: Ch 3, dc in first st, dc in ch sp, dc in next 38 st, turn (40dc). R17: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R18: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next 38 st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R19: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 18 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (38dc). R20: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 16 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (36dc). R21: Ch 3, [dc in first 8 st, inv dec] three times, dc in next 3 st, turn (33dc). R22: Ch 3, dc in first 6 st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 11 st, repeat *, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 6 st, turn (23dc, 4 extended stitches, 12ch). R23: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 13 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (27hdc, 12sc). R24: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, inv dec in back loops 3 times, hdc in next 13 st, inv dec in back loops only 3 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (33hdc). R25: Ch 1, sc in first st, hdc in next st, dc in next st, tc in next st, dtc in next st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 4, inv dec in hdc 10 times, hdc in next st, ch 4, repeat *, dtc in next st, tc in next st, dc in next st, hdc in next st, sc in next st, turn (13hdc, 2sc, 2dc, 2tc, 2dtc, 2 extended stitches). R26: Sl st in first sc, sc in next 5 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next 11 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next five st, sl st. Fasten off. Sleeves: Join yarn to st in armhole. For row 1, ch 1, sc in first st (mark starting st), sc in next 19 st around, join (20sc). For rows 2-10, ch 3, dc in each st around, join (20dc). Add buttons to sc rows of front opposite ch sp if desired. (I do so desire, I just haven’t done it yet.

Tattoos: Gerry’s tattoos are embroidered on in backstitch. I only did three (one on each hand and one on the back of his neck), because I was doing it in yarn and it was way too thick for anything tinier, but what the hey, he doesn’t technically have “joints”. (The ones on his knees don’t show because the holes are sagging below the joints. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)

[hakubunii]

hiiiiiiiii it's me carlee but tumblr makes me use my main for asks 🙄 bunny if u got to dress up any of the hakuoki characters in sanrio character themed outfits or onesies who would you have wear what 👀👀👀💖

Hiiiiiiii Carleeee!!!! Thank you so mf much for the ask! I’m actually so excited to answer this and am so glad you brought the idea to my attention. I’m gonna think of outfits but also treat this like it’s a Hakuouki Sanrio collab- I also wanted to try to use different characters from the ones we usually see with Sanrio collabs.

Here’s the ideas below:

Chizuru (and consequently Kaoru): Sugarbunnies- Shirousa and Kurousa. They are twins and Kaoru would be Shirousa, the older twin, while Chizuru would be Kurousa, the younger one.

I would dress Chizuru in an oversized, brown sherpa fabric sweaters with pastel pink leggings. The hood of the sweater would have floppy rabbit ears with pink detailing. They’d both wear pink converses. Kaoru would wear a similar outfits but the sweater being white with darker pink accents. I love Sugarbunnies, they’re so cute and also Kiki and Lala aren’t the only pair of twins from Sanrio!!

Hijikata: I wanted to pick a character that isn’t used much but I think Kuromi would be really cute! He’d probably refuse to wear anything too cutesy but might let me put him in a purple button up shirt. He’d just wear white pants but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t wear a Kuromi headband!! Specifically, I’d have him dress like the purple variant of her. She’s a little mischievous so I think he’s be on her ass lmao.

Okita: Masyumaro! Souji HAD to get a cat character! I think he’d wear white pants with a white, slightly larger, button up shirt. One top of the button up, would be a large, orange sweater vest. To emulate his bow, he’d would wear shoes of the same color. Ofc he’s in cat ears. You’ll find I’ll add animal ears to any given outfit in this.

Saitou: Hangyodon!! I desperately want more merch of this character and of Saitou! I would put him in a onsie of him too- it’d be really cute haha. Like Saitou, he doesn’t express a lot of emotion. Like Saitou, he’s still super cute. :)

Harada: Hanamaruobake!!! Omg! It’s be so so cute! He’s a little white ghost who treasures his giant red, pencil. He matches Sano’s color pallet perfectly and even has something that resembles his weapon. Hanamaruobake is shy but he really likes superheroes and loves encouraging his friends. He and Sano have the latter in common! I also think he’d think Sano was cool! Anyways, I’d dress him in themed t-shirt of him! He might wear red pants with it but I’d mostly want to give him a headband with a cherry on it to look like Hanamaruobake’s.

Heisuke: Usahana!!! Omg it’d be so cute and it’s not just ‘cause she and Heisuke are my favorites. She is so special to me! Her story is that she wanted to go play on a rainbow by a lighthouse but kept stopping to help her friends. After doing this, she saw all of her limbs were a different color of the rainbow! Her favorite season is summer and she loves sunflowers and orange sherbert. I’d throw him in a hoodie that matches her colors- it’s kind of look like one of those color block hoodies. I’d probably put him in normal jeans and yellow socks. As for the bunny ears, he’d DEF have a headband of them. I’d throw the orange flower in his hair just to be silly.

Shinpachi: Kobuta no Pippo!! Mostly because of his green shirt haha! I think I could convince Shin to wear a onsie of this character- mostly if I give him food. Pippo loves surprises, games, and playing with his friends. This reminds me a little of him haha.

Yamazaki: Chococat!!! He’s probably wear a black sweater and black pants and cat ears. I wanna put a blue collar on him like how the mascot has but that felt…odd…so he’ll wear a blue belt. Chococat’s whiskers work almost like antennas and is often the first to know information- I thought because Yamazaki gathers info, it’d be a cute match.

Souma: Little Forest Fellow!!! I’d put him in a matching hat to the characters and a big brown and white sweater!!! He’d also have a charm of the little guy somewhere. I think he’s think the little dude is so so cute.

Iba: Cogimyun! He’s think she’s so cute! She a flour fairy that wants to be a rice all! She crumbles into a pile of powder when she’s upset. He would be very protective of her!!! I don’t exactly know how I’d style him- I think I’d put him in matching headpieces to hers. I think I’d just have him in a white shirt.

Sakamoto: Chibimaru! He’s a cute lil puppy. Put that man in puppy ears rn!!! I think he’d just wear a brown jacket and a shirt themed to the character! He’d also wear normal pants.

Kazama: Lloromannic! I was going to choose them for Chizuru and Kaoru, but I think I’d just give Kazama both of them. They are also demons. He’s probably wear black to match them and a top hat with wings to look like Cherry, the pink one!! He’d also have horns like Berry, the black one. Now that I think about it more, it would have been really cute to use them for the oni twins but it’s okay.

[shelleylovesloki]

Time in Flames

Summary: Estrid Odrsdottir has experienced much tragedy in her life. When her fiance, Prince Loki of Asgard, is executed in front of her very eyes, she swears vengeance on those that took everything away from her. After killing the All-Father, she is taken into TVA custody only to be thrown into a mission to hunt down and stop a man similar to her, a man that has lost everything.

Mered Rainer, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., finds himself a wanted man when he finds out the the organization has been infiltrated by Hydra. Hunted by the Winter Soldier, Mered finds himself in the hands of the TVA when he kills his would be assassin. Teaming up with a few variants, he plots a way to escape the grasp of the Time Variance Authority without much luck. Can the two find common ground in order to save the known multiverse?

Chapter 5: Lies

“Is beige all you have as a clothing color?” Estrid commented as her nose wrinkled up in disgust. 

She looked at the TVA work uniform that Mobius had given to her in the mirror. There was a crisp white button up shirt with a brown and yellow striped tie to give some design to the outfit. A maroon knee length skirt covered her thighs with brown leggings underneath. And to complete the outfit was a beige leather jacket with huge orange block-like letters spelling out VARIANT on her back. 

“You think another color suits the Time Variance Authority better?” He chuckled as he finished pinning up her long hair into a functional bun. 

Estrid rolled her eyes. 

“I mean you could’ve used a more vibrant color such as blue or red.” 

Mobius smiled as he stepped out from behind her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. 

“Well, if we decided that then variants could see us from a mile away.” He joked, 

“Sounds great to me.” She responded. 

Mobius walked in front of her, shaking his head in amusement, as he took the controller to her collar out of his pocket. Estrid eyed the remote before looking at the agent. He stared at her as he took a slow breath. 

“Now, I’m going to remove your time collar. You should have control of all actions, but your magic will still be dormant.” He explained. 

Estrid nodded as he pressed the button causing the collar to magnetically release. She slowly reached up and grabbed the leather contraption, moving it away from her throat. The feeling of freedom resonated in her veins as she sighed in relief. 

She held out the collar to him as she said, “Why exactly does the TVA block magic? You could just use the collars to control the powers of a single variant.” 

Mobius chuckled once more as he retrieved the collar from her hand. 

“That is classified to you, Estrid. But if you worked here wouldn’t you feel safer if those who can throw fireballs at your head were unable to do so once you step through the glowing door?” He asked her. 

Estrid shrugged, 

“I was born with seidr Mr. Mobius. It’s not like I could relate to you in the exact ways you want. But to answer your question, it would benefit greatly.” She replied without much emotion, 

The TVA agent quirked a brow in amusement as the door opened behind them both. Estrid turned to see a man in a pressed white button up dress shirt and black slacks. His brown eyes stared at her with an air of apprehension. He must have heard of Mobius’ little plan to use her as a fake TVA agent otherwise he would probably not be staring at her like a bilgesnipe ready to strike. 

“Mobius, hunter B-15 says we’ve got another variant ready for interrogation at Theatre 3.” The TVA employee said timidly. 

Estrid almost smirked at the obvious nervousness in his brown eyes as he refused to pay her any mind. 

“Why can’t another agent take the job? I’m preparing ML-267 for her first solo field excursion, Casey.” Mobius huffed, his voice becoming strained with frustration as he spoke to the employee. 

“Rennslayer said you were the best option. The variant is not exactly cooperating with the minutemen.” He said, voice becoming more soft the further he spoke. 

Mobius huffed before turning towards Estrid. She smiled at him as she assessed his anger. He was going to have to leave her alone now, and even he knew it. She could explore a way out of this place on her own free will. Pursing his lips he returned his attention back to Casey. 

“Alright, but escort the variant to the Library so she can look for research on her next assignment. Hopefully I can debrief her after handling the variant before she is sent out on her field mission.” 

The agent gave her a stern glare causing Estrid to purse her lips. Casey looked at her, getting the Vanir’s attention. Her annoyance turned towards him, making the timid employee sink slightly in his spot. She felt Mobius’ hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn back towards him. 

“Find what you can. I’ll give you what you will need before sending you out through the portal.” 

Estrid nodded before watching him leave silently. Once he was gone, she looked at Casey. The TVA worker gulped with obvious apprehension, his eyes going wide, before quickly waving her forward. 

“Follow me. The Library is a few floors down.” He said, walking down the hallway. 

Estrid followed without a word as she let Casey lead her to the desired destination. Inwardly, she was frustrated at how Mobius said she was in control, but yet the TVA treated her like she was still a mere prisoner. Technically she was, but if they desired for her to do their dirty work, then a little cooperation on their part would go a long way. 

Walking into an elevator, Casey pressed a button on the wall in front of him as she stepped inside. The doors closed as they dinged in reply to the lit up floor. Estrid clasped her hands together in front of her as she waited for the elevator to stop on the Library floor. 

“So…you’re the variant that lost a lover?” He spoke up, trying to make conversation. 

Estrid looked over at him. 

He was carefully side-eying her, stance rigid and hands positioned tightly by his sides. 

“Mobius told you about my file?” She monotoned as the elevator dinged once more, dropping down to yet another floor. 

“No, I-I read about you before the minutemen were sent out to your timeline. I’m sorry that happened to you. No one deserves to go through the things that happened to you.” 

Estrid only shrugged, indifferent to his sorrow. She didn’t need his sympathy or anyone else's for that matter. What was reaped was sown. Now, all the young Vanir desired was to be released back into her realm. She wanted to see him again. 

“What was done was done. I took my revenge. Now I only desire the peace I deserve.” She responded without much emotion. 

“And what peace is that?” Casey asked softly. 

Estrid stared at the floor, her mind flooded with memories. They gnawed at her, laughing at the torture they put her through. 

“To be with my fiance again.” She replied as the elevator doors opened once more. 

On the other side was the Library, with rows of bookshelves lining the floor. Tables that could sit six people each were positioned in front of the shelves with green glass encased lamps in the middle of the mahogany wood. Wooden chairs were pushed under the tables. A few agents and workers sat in the room as Estrid stepped off of the elevator, leaving Casey before he could ask another question. 

The elevator doors closed behind her as she walked up to the front desk. A middle aged woman with dark brunette hair that was bunched up to the back of her head sat at the desk, filling out paperwork as Estrid approached. She slowly met the princess’ gaze, a look of absolute boredom on her face. 

“Can I help you?” 

“I’m looking for information on variant L-001. Do you know where I could find his files?” Estrid asked, putting on a fake smile. 

The librarian’s expression never changed, as she replied, “Those are classified.” 

The Princess of Vanaheim frowned, her fists clenching in rage. 

“Mobius sent me to grab information for an assignment. I need to see the documents in order to carry out the mission. So if you could kindly show me where exactly the files are located, I would appreciate it.” Estrid replied, putting her hands on the desk table. 

The librarian adjusted her bifocals, raising a brow challengingly at the Vanir goddess. 

“Variants are not allowed to peruse through evidence and documents on what the Time Keepers have informed through storage.” 

Eye twitching with the rage she was bottling up, Estrid clenched her fists. This woman was getting on her last nerve. 

“Then what exactly am I allowed to possess?” She demanded, her voice straining to stay calm. 

The librarian walked to the shelves and came back with a small folder, dropping it on the desk in front of her. 

“Everything on the assignment you are allowed to acknowledge is in this folder.” 

Estrid looked at the small stack with a frustrated pause. 

How was she supposed to learn about the variant if she wasn’t allowed to find information on him herself? 

Snorting softly through her nose, she glared at the woman behind the desk before taking the vanilla folder and walking over to an empty table. Sitting down at the table, she turned on the green shaded lamp and began to analyze the files within the folder. Sliding them carefully from their pocket, Estrid began to go over the data. 

The first page was a copy of her variant file, variant ML-267. She wondered how many other versions of her were out there in this multiverse of sorts, and how their lives were compared to her own. 

Flipping the page, she found herself looking at the Loki variant currently running amuck among the timeline. Estrid stopped for a moment as her heart skipped a couple beats. She could see her Loki in this variant. Everything about him seemed the same to her. It was agonizing. The only change was the title Hvedrungr next to his name. 

Her breath hitched in her throat as tears began to appear in her chocolate orbs. Estrid tried to stop them, only to fail as a few watery droplets cascaded down her pale cheeks. 

“Don’t cry, love. I always hate to see you cry.” 

Estrid’s eyes grew wide as she yelped in surprise. Her eyes looked up to see none other than her fiance sitting in front of her. Patrons of the TVA Library immediately shushed her for her outburst before returning to their work. At this point, Estrid was too shocked to care about anything else except the long dead man currently in front of her. 

"Loki…" She whispered softly. 

Her fiancé chuckled as he nodded, that mischievous toothy smirk plastered across his slim face. 

“Hello love.” Estrid blinked, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. 

He was dead. 

How was he sitting in front of her? 

“How?” She whispered. 

Loki shrugged as he replied, “Let's just say that death is not the end. Life comes in multiple forms, even memories.” 

“Great. Now I’m hallucinating.” She sighed sarcastically, turning her attention back to the bundle of papers before her, trying to ignore her brains ill attempt to torture her with the memory of her dead fiance. 

“If you are trying to find information on myself, you will not find such there.” The memory commented. 

Estrid looked back at him, seeing his deep bluish-green eyes studying the pages in her hands. 

“Where exactly can I find them then?” 

The trickster smirked, the cunning plan ready to leave his lips. She had a feeling whatever it was would only hurt her more than aid her frustration. But at this point what did she have to lose? 

“Where else? At the source. If you desire the information you so desperately need, then go inside the variants realm.” 

Estrid raised a brow, prompting him to continue. 

“Those golden pads control portals to other realms, correct?” 

She nodded, slowly beginning to see where he was heading. 

“Swiping a time pad will allow me to see everything for myself without the interventions.” She finished for him. 

Loki nodded, happy with her conclusion. 

“Now where do I find one?” She whispered, discreetly looking around. 

Loki chuckled as his eyes glanced over towards the librarian. Estrid followed him, paling as she realized what he was getting at. 

“Oh, you mean-” 

The trickster smiled, confirming her suspicions. 

Estrid bit her lip as she silently assessed her situation. 

“Skíta.” She said under her breath, making Loki laugh. 

He got up from his chair and walked over to her. Estrid followed him with her eyes as he bent down, kissing her cheek. 

“I have faith in you, love. After all, I’ve seen what you are capable of. Let the TVA see that too.” He said, giving her his signature smirk once more before he walked out of the room. 

She mulled over his words before returning her attention back towards the front desk, an idea calculating in her mind. Looking at one of the agents near the librarian, she saw the stacks of papers and books on their table. She may not currently have her seidr, but Estrid still knew she could manipulate a situation just as well as in her youth. Getting up, she walked over to the agent. 

“Excuse me.” She called softly, getting the agent's attention. 

His almost amber looking eyes looked at her in confusion, possibly wondering why she was talking to him. 

“Yes?” He softly asked. 

“Do you have a pen? I seem to have misplaced my own.” 

The young agent nodded, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to retrieve the ink pen. As his attention was distracted Estrid discreetly took one of the sheets of paper poking out of the large stack at the edge of the wooden table and gave it a slight tug. The huge pile came crashing down next to her, looking as though it had tilted over involuntarily. The sounds of paper echoed throughout the Library as every person, including the librarian drew their attention onto the two. 

The agent frowned, putting the pen back into his pocket as he walked over to pick up the mess. Above the two, the librarian watched them both as Estrid bent over to help clean up the chaos. Handing him the papers that she had collected, he thanked her softly before going to put them back onto the mahogany table. 

“Don’t you think a folder would help prevent the pages from cascading to the floor?” She suggested innocently as the young man contemplated her words. 

Nodding, he asked, “Could you ask the librarian for me?” 

Smiling at how smooth her plan was going, she complied and turned to carry out his request. 

“Could I get another folder for the time files?” She asked softly. 

Huffing softly the librarian went to get one from the back giving Estrid the chance she needed. Acting swiftly, she reached over and took the golden pad laying discreetly upon her desk and slipping it into her inner pocket. She moved the papers beside it a few inches from their original location to distract from the missing tech and waited for the librarian to return. 

The librarian returned, handing her the vanilla folder as Estrid thanked her kindly. All that she received in return was silence but that didn’t deter the young Vanir goddess. Smiling as she turned, she gave the folder to the agent. 

“Thank you,” He reached back into his leather looking TVA jacket and took out a pen. “Here’s the pen you needed.”

Estrid nodded, still smiling joyfully. Walking confidently towards the elevator, she pressed the up arrow, ready to seek out the secrets of the TVA herself. The doors opened, revealing an empty elevator. Stepping inside, the doors closed behind her. Looking at the options available to her, she saw the symbols and letters that led to different floors of the Time Variance Authority. 

Mobius had seemed to navigate them with ease before. Estrid wasn’t even sure what they meant. Hitting a random button, she felt the elevator moving up. She pulled out the golden pad from her inner coat pocket and opened it up. The screen lit up a deep gold revealing statistics and timelines. Flipping through the pad, she found a bar that was titled SEARCH. Clicking on it, Estrid typed in the variants TVA ID. 

The image of variant L-001 appeared on the screen. Next to his image was his timeline. A red line was slowly going up from the base line at the bottom of the screen. The timeline was threatening to red line again. This was her chance to jump in. 

The elevator dinged, making her close the pad and put it back into her pocket. Walking out onto the floor, she made sure no one was able to look at her for long before slipping into an empty office room. Estrid shut the door behind her and locked it as she took out the time pad. It still had L-001’s timeline on the screen. A beeping sound began to resonate from the device as the line got closer to the red boundary. Clicking through a few more screens, Estrid found a way to open the glowing orange doorway. The door appeared in front of her at the command of her fingertips. 

She stared at it, hesitant at first to step through. Technically, she could go anywhere. The princess could return home to her timeline. But the TVA would arrest her once again, and this time, she would not be getting a slap on the wrist. She had no choice but to comply, but there were only so many lies she was willing to stomach before the charade got old. Suddenly a loud bang bashed the locked door behind her, causing her to jump in surprise. 

“Estrid? Estrid, come out! Give back the tempad so we can finish this assignment properly!” Mobius’ voice commanded from the otherside of the door. 

“Properly? Is that what you call leading me on a wild goose chase around the Library to find information below my status level?” She snarled as she stepped up to the portal. 

“I didn’t know that they wouldn’t have the variant in the file, Estrid! Just let me in!” The agent begged. 

Liar… A deep voice suddenly growled in her mind, making Estrid grit her teeth. 

Everyone was out to get her. It was better to brave the storm alone. Even if it cost her her life. 

“You lie!” She hissed as she took a step into the door. 

That was when the door behind her blasted open, raining shards of wood upon her. Estrid gritted her teeth as she snarled at the minutemen that were standing behind Agent Mobius with guns and batons raised. 

“Estrid, give me the tempad.” Mobius said calmly, reaching out to her as he took gentle steps forward. 

The Vanir backed further into the orange doorway, her body halfway through. 

“No.” She replied before stepping through. 

“Estrid!” Mobius yelled as the minutemen opened fire. 

She stumbled through the portal, falling onto her back as the shots screamed over her head. They hit a nearby tree behind her as she hit a button on the pad, closing the portal. Her head hit the dirt as she groaned in pain. 

Tops of trees and a blue cloudless sky met her hazel lit orbs, causing her eyes to soften with child-like wonder. A cool breeze brushed over her skin, making her shiver at its touch. Slowly sitting up, she waited for her eyes to focus before lifting a hand. Summoning her seid, she smiled triumphantly as a purple flame radiated out of her fingertips at her command. 

Suddenly a twig snapped from behind her, causing Estrid to turn towards the sound. A purple glow covered her form, turning her TVA clothing into a purple and silver hangerok. Her long brownish-red hair was freed from her bun and ran down her back in waves. Some of the strands were braided and kept in place with silver beads both in and on the edge of her intertwined follicles. The citizens of Asgard and even the citizens of her home realm wore something similar to the clothing she had chosen. Estrid could only hope that this realm had fashion of a similar sort. 

A man came out of a clearing nearby, looking around cautiously. Before she could even move his gaze zeroed in on her. Her heart skipped a beat. 

It was him, L-001, Loki Laufeyjarson. 

[anntonisspindleyspiderbod]

I agree that it matters a lot! But I also think there’s more to it than we realize. Because Crimson is not the only imp we’ve seen use magic. We got a more subtle use of magic in season 1 episode 2 (Loo Loo Land) and the only real reason I noticed it was because it was paralleled in season 2 episode 2 (Seeing Stars).

In Loo Loo Land we see this theme park worker flick his thumb over his fingers and spark a flame.

Octavia performs a similar feet of magic when she snaps her fingers. It’s simple magic but it’s something that sent me down a rabbit hole of considerations on what it means to be an Imp or Goetia.

The designs of the Goetia and Imps are actually very interesting when you break down their most prominent features. Though we really should start with a base for both—-let’s use Stolas, Stella, and Andrealphus for the base of our Goetia and Millie and her family will fit the base of our Imps ---(even though I’m pretty sure the littler ones might be the truest base of all. I’m taking Millie and kin as the closet we’ll ever get to common.)

To be a Goetia you need glowing eyes, sometimes pupil-less sometimes with white pupils, one must have a beak like mouth (in the case of the bird Goetia), one must be tall as shit, one must have bird legs, one must have talon like fingers.

To be an Imp on the other hand one must have yellow eyes, straight more human like legs. One must have a rounder facial structure and/or flatter faces. An imp needs a spaded tail and goat like toes. Imps have variants of red skin tones and sharp pointed teeth. In the case of Imps we do in fact see confirmed sexual dimorphism in their horns: male Imps have horns with wide white and black bands while female Imps have thin white stripes over black horns. We also see sexual dimorphism in their hair: white hair for male Imps and black hair for female Imps. (Also as an aside~ I truly love that we get trans rep in this show. We love Sally Mae in this household).

We can see with Striker (a known hybrid) that often times certain Imp features shine through as dominant. Like horns, hair, spaded tail, and to some extend redness though it’s significantly diluted red bordering on light pink. On the other hand we see that Striker does not have a rounded face but rather a shark like face. So perhaps rounder Imp faces is meant to be a less dominant trait in this genetic hellscape. So I bring you this question: with Blitz and Moxxie is it possible that that they are hybrids?

They have many prominent Imp traits but they seem to be offset by more unusual features. They both have imp horns and spaded tails. In the case of Moxxie, he has white hair like other male Imps.

However their faces are less round and flat compared to Millie's kin. Dependent on the lighting they are less red than many imps. Sure they both have sharp teeth but their mouths are actually more beak like.

Blitzo has unusual spiked on his heels and Moxxie has strangely angled legs. Their parents similarly have interesting features that make them unlike other imps.

Moxxie's mother shares his unusual legs. Crimson has a beak like mouth, and curiously can perform magic. Cash Buckzo has a beak like mouth and unusual talon like fingers. Tilla Buckzo has pure black horns and red iris much like her son. Both Blitz mother and father were unusually tall for Imps.

I actually think Blitz mother might have been a succubus/Imp hybrid as many succubus and their hybrid have colored iris and black horns. It would also explain in part why Blitz is taller than your average Imp. I wonder if Succubus might have spiked heels? it might be something to add to a list of unknown traits until it is confirmed.

Now here is where everything starts to get interesting: Crimson, Cash, and Moxxie's mother along with their sons. They all have features that don't line up with most common Imps. These feature however--are very goetian.

Crimson's Hands

Are talon like and look very much like Stella's

Moxxie and his Mother's Legs

bend similarly to Stola's legs

Everyone's Beaks

are beaks--very clearly designed as beaks and weirdly very similar to one another. Moxxie like Stolas, and Blizto like Andrealphus.

I might be getting a little off topic though and this post is getting long; yet I still have so much to say. My main point is Crimson may be able to perform magic because he is not your average Imp. Distant powerful blood might run through Moxxie's veins. It might even run through Blitz's if you look hard enough. Though one must look to the Circus for more on that....

so have we talked about Crimson doing magic yet

because i think we should talk about Crimson doing magic. can we talk about Crimson doing magic. because i feel like this is the first time we've seen an imp do magic, and i FEEL like this matters, lore-wise. world building wise. did we know imps could do magic? did i just miss this tidbit??

[peterbarnes]

Maybe Chapter 2

Summary: You work at the TVA as an analyst. Every day is the same- boring case after boring case- but your entire life changes one day when a new variant shows up.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I don’t know what happened, but the first post of this disappeared from my blog??? Anyway, here it is again. Hopefully tumblr won’t eat it this time. Enjoy the angst!!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

He was gone.

The first chance he got to escape, and he took it. And with his variant.

“You okay, [Y/N]?” You heard a voice say softly behind you. You didn’t bother to turn around, there’s only one person in the TVA who’d bother to check on you.

“Yeah, fine, Mobius… Have you found anything?” You swiveled around in your desk chair towards the white-haired man. He looked paler than ever, holding a file that looked as if it were permanently stuck to his hand.

Mobius shook his head. The hand that wasn’t holding the file went up to his face and rubbed his tired eyes. You could only imagine how calloused his fingers must be from all the reports he had to write for this case.

“Dead ends everywhere. It’s hard to detect them when they’re probably jumping from apocalypse to apocalypse.”

Your eyes made their way to the monitor behind him that displayed the sacred timeline. No new branches.

“We shouldn’t have trusted him-” Mobius continued.

“Trusting him wasn’t the problem,” you interrupted sharply. “The problem was not giving him an incentive to stay and help us. He would’ve done anything we asked if we promised him some sort of reward.”

“Always so logical,” Mobius sighed. “Can’t you just accept the fact that maybe he’s just the bad guy?”

You stared daggers at the man in front of you. If looks could kill, Mobius would've disintegrated within seconds.

“Nobody is good or bad, Mobius. We all do things of both natures.”

“I know you had a soft spot for him-”

“That has nothing to do with this- I’m an analyst. Assessing situations objectively and logically is my job,” you snapped. You gritted your teeth and your hands clenched. Who does he think he is questioning me like this?

“Except you’re not assessing this case objectively, [Y/N],” Mobius exclaimed, the frustration in his voice evident. He threw the file down on your desk before grabbing the back of your chair, forcing you to look him dead in the eye.

“Don’t lecture me about my job, Mobius. I know what I’m doing and I’m damn good at it.”

“You’re letting him get inside your head-”

BEEP! BEEP!

The disruption made both you and your co-worker’s heads snap towards the sound. You rushed out of your chair and towards the monitor, where a large orange branch grew from the sacred timeline. It was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Instead of a small, straight line, the branch was long and curved, its growth rapid and alarming.  

“Mobius…”

“Okay, that’s not someone stepping on the wrong leaf,” he let out, his voice getting excited at the possibility of a lead. “You ever seen a branch like that?”

“There’s never been a nexus event large or unstable enough to cause something this… chaotic.”

You watched in wonder as the branch continued to inch its way towards the red line at the top of the screen.

“Hunters!” Mobius hollered throughout the room. Within seconds, at least a dozen of them were circled around the two of you, B-15 present at the very front. Completely in sync, they all activated their pruning weapons, the glow emitting a bright, orange light throughout the dark room.

“What are our orders, Mobius?” B-15 asked, already in her fighting stance with her legs planted and her fingers tightly gripped around her weapon.

“Go get them.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You heard him before you saw him.

Since you had no combat training, Mobius told you to wait in the interrogation room while the hunters captured Loki and his variant.

The room was dead silent. So much so that you didn’t really know what to do with yourself as you waited. You could barely stay still from all of the anxiety you felt throughout your body. You had almost chewed all of your nails off before his booming voice sounded throughout the room.

“I should have an equal amount of security. This is insulting!”

As soon as his voice trailed off the double red doors flew open, banging against the beige walls adjacent to them.

When Loki stepped into the room, his eyes stopped on where you sat, right in the center of his viewpoint.

You gave him a once over, noticing how unkempt he looked. His raven hair was messy and fell unevenly over his face, and the TVA uniform he dorned was covered in what appeared to be dirt. His face looked the same, though. His features were still soft. You could’ve swore you saw an apology swimming in his ocean eyes, but you convinced yourself you had only imagined it. Get a grip, [Y/L/N]. Do your job.

“Take a seat, Mr. Laufeyson,” you told him, trying to keep your voice monotone and as professional as possible.

“Mr. Laufeyson?” Loki questioned before being pushed into the bright red chair across from you by the hunters gripping his arms. “I thought we were at least on a first name basis.”

“What would you prefer then? The God of Self-Sabotage? The God of Back-Stabbing?” You snapped.

You expected him to let out a bitter laugh and shake his head before making up some quip to mock you. But none of that came. Loki sat still in his chair, eyes trailing to the floor in what looked like shame.

The hard look in your eyes faltered at his vulnerable state. Why couldn’t you have just stayed here? With me? That’s what you really wanted to say.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he whispered, his eyes now off the floor and locked with yours. “Really, I am. I went with Sylvie because-”

“Sylvie?”

“The variant.”

You jotted that down on the notepad you had placed in front of you.

“Is that with an I-E or just an I?” You drawled sarcastically.

“[Y/N].”

Loki’s voice had lost all of its gentleness as he spoke your name. He sounded determined, and when you looked up from your notes you saw that drive reflected in his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m glad you found me and that I was taken back here, even if I’m a prisoner, because there’s something I need to tell you.”

“And what’s that?” You asked, dropping your pen and leaning forward on the table. “You’ll help us now? You’ll never betray me again? Honestly, just save your bullshit for someone else-”

“The TVA is lying to you!” He exclaimed, hand slamming down on the table in frustration. “And if you would just quit your snarky comments for two seconds, I could explain to you how.” He took a breath, trying to calm down the fire that ignited inside him as you had egged him on. “I messed up. I know. I know and I’m sorry. I-I never wanted to hurt you. Betrayal has always been second nature to me, but I’m trying to be better. I’m trying to make it right. Please let me make it right.”

For the first time, Loki looked truly desperate. But not desperate to get some sort of reward or glory. He was desperate for you to believe him. It was written all over his face- in his furrowed brows, his pleading eyes, and soft voice that was so light it was close to cracking.

You felt the walls you had built up inside you before you saw him slowly start to crumble, brick by brick. You turned to the hunters who stood by the door, preventing anyone from getting in or out.

“Leave us, please,” you told them.

“Ma’am are you sure?”

“That’s an order.”

The hunters wore skeptical looks on their faces and made questioning eyes towards each other but obeyed nonetheless. Once they had cleared out you turned back to the demigod in front of you.

“I- you told me you were gonna stick around. And then when we went to Roxxcart, you protected me from the Variant. All of that was obviously just some show to you-”

“No, it wasn’t-”

“Even if it wasn’t, that’s what it felt like to me, okay? So why should I believe you now?”

Loki paused and looked unsure, as if he was trying to form the right words to say in his head.

“Sylvie told me…”

“Sylvie? The variant?” You scoffed. “So now I’m supposed to trust the word of two Loki’s? Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“You know, you never sweared this much before you know. You had a much softer demeanor.”

“That’s what happens when I’m angry. And, frankly, I’m pissed.”

Before you could understand what he was doing, Loki reached across the small, round table and took your hand in his. His hands were cold to the touch, but smooth nonetheless. And they were so gentle. For a man who always talked about conquering and battle, you expected his hands to be like another weapon of his, sharpened and calloused. But as his thumb rubbed circles over your palm, that thought completely evaporated from your mind.

“Sorry. I-I’m just confused,” you whispered, interlacing your fingers further with his. “I don’t know what to do, or what to believe anymore. Everything here has been strange since you left. C-20 went crazy from whatever the var- sorry, Sylvie did to her. And Ravonna won’t tell me anything.”

“That’s because she’s keeping secrets from you,” Loki told you, head turning from you to the door continuously as if he was afraid someone was gonna barge in any second.

“What secrets?”

“You’re all variants- everyone at the TVA. The timekeepers didn’t create you, they stole you from the timeline. You had a life. Maybe even a family…”

You slowly removed your hand from his and sat back in your chair, closing your eyes.

“Loki, you do realize what you sound like right?”

“I might be the God of Lies, but I’m not lying. Not to you. Never to you.”

Suddenly, the doors of the room flew open with a large thud, and you nearly jumped out of your seat. Loki actually had and stepped in front of you, ready to fight off whoever came in, even with the collar on that blocked his magic.

“Relax, it’s just me.”

Mobius strutted towards the two of you, but this time, instead of a file in his hand, he held a TemPad.

“You couldn’t have walked in like a normal person?” You asked, your hand on your heart trying to calm it down. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I like the theatrics.”

You and Loki rolled your eyes at his childish antics.

“Look,” Mobius started. “I heard you guys outside… he’s right.”

“What are you talking about, Mobius. I don’t have any memories from the sacred timeline.”

“They must have been erased somehow. I took Ravonna’s TemPad,” he said, lifting the device in his hand.

“You what?!”

Both of the men shushed you at your outburst, and you let out a weak sorry in response.

“She killed C-20.”

Silence overcame the room. It was all-consuming, as if you were trapped in a box filled with rising water, about to drown.

“What?” Your voice wavered at what your friend had just said. “That’s not possible.”

“Sylvie enchanted C-20, showed her memories from her life on the sacred timeline. She started to act up and rebel. She was too much of a risk to the order of the TVA… so they axed her.”

Mobius was very clear with his words, but your brain was scrambling trying to comprehend them. You had just seen C-20 a few days ago. You had eaten lunch together, laughed together. Is it really possible for things to go so bad in such a short time? For everything you thought you knew about yourself and your life to completely shatter before you?

“I’m a variant?” Your voice cracked. You could feel the tears stinging your eyes as you imagined the life that had been stolen from you. It was as if you could feel it sitting in the back of your mind somewhere, stuck, trapped. And no matter what you did, how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach it.

You felt Loki take your hand again, but this time he pressed a quick kiss to your knuckles in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” he said, his lips still close enough to your hand that you could feel them move over your skin.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” you told him.

“Well I can hardly blame you for that,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but beam at him. He came back. He came back for you.

“What do we do now?” You asked, determination lacing your voice.

“We burn this place to the ground,” Loki growled. “Come on.”

He pulled you out of your chair and the three of you made your way towards the double doors before they flew open for the third and final time.

Except, instead of a friend stood four hunters, pruning weapons lit up and ready. And in the middle of them stood Ravonna herself, Mobius’s TemPad in hand.

“I think you have something of mine,” she spoke to Mobius. Her face and her voice displayed no emotion. It was like she was a soldier. But who’s her commander?

“Yeah!” Mobius exclaimed, face lighting up to sell his act. “I got all the way down here before I even realized I picked up yours.”

He handed it back to one of the hunters that stood in front of Ravonna.

“What’s the problem, Ravonna?” you asked, smiling at her. On the inside, you were really thinking of all the torturous things you could do to her. Gun? No, too quick. Poison on the other hand…

She glared daggers into you. And when she didn’t respond, you could tell the act was up. There was no way you were making it out of here alive. But Loki, Ravonna needed him to give to the timekeepers. She wouldn’t prune him here. You squeezed Loki’s hand before turning to him. He shot you a look, as if to say what are you doing?

You pressed a kiss to his cheek and made sure to linger there long enough to whisper in his ear, “stay strong, darling. Everything will work out in the end, I promise.”

“You know where I’d go if I could go anywhere?” You asked, turning back to the woman who stood before you. All of the fear and hesitation left your body. You weren’t going to die without finally speaking your mind. “Wherever it is I’m really from. Wherever I had a life before the TVA came along.”

You spoke every word with conviction and passion as you thought about what could’ve been. You felt Loki watching you, but you couldn’t tell if he was proud or if he was hoping you would put your head down and lay low.

But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter because you’d barely finished your sentence before you heard Ravonna roar “prune them!”

And then there was only darkness.

Tags:

@naturallyathief

@burntchicken231

@imabadbiatchh

@heelsh1re​

@poubxlle

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Demon Shit [part 6]

Warnings: foursome, threesome, blood, dubcon(ish)

word count is ~8600

This isn’t the end for the series but it is the end of the initial adventure before everyone was present! 

Tomura demanded to carry you again, slinging you onto his back effortlessly and letting you cling contently to him as you wound through streets yet again, leaving Dabi to carry the bag of supplies. The journey was much shorter this time, though, and it was only a few minutes before he was setting you in front of another creepy back-alley door and shoving you inside. That was where the similarities ended.

This room was much bigger than you’d expected, already lit by candles scattered around on various surfaces. Instead of a chalk circle on the floor there was an altar with chains dangling off it and a knife in the center that had you nervously looking to Dabi. He ruffled your hair and snorted,

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not gonna hurt you or anything,” he pinched your cheek, “It’s not for you, little sacrifice,” he began setting the engraved candles he brought on the floor around the altar. The smell made you grimace and Tomura pinched your side teasingly. He joined the raven-haired demon, scattering most of the red feathers in a pattern along the altar and haphazardly flinging the rest to the floor.

Dabi turned his attention back to you while Tomura lit the candles, an odd scent slowly permeating through the room and making your skin crawl and head spin. You started to lose your balance as you inhaled the smoke, stumbling into his arms and almost drunkenly leaning into him. He removed all the outermost clothing from your pliant little body, cradling you when you slumped against him in only your dress and stockings.

“Feel good?” he chuckled, brushing his fingers against your warm cheeks. You hazily beamed up at him, a floating sensation making your skin tingle and bringing a dopey smile to your face as you nodded. He kissed you and you moaned freely into it, inhibitions growing smaller and smaller by the second. You wrapped your arms around his neck and when he hoisted you into his arms your legs immediately locked around his waist, hands roaming his shoulders and chest more than you’d allowed yourself before, trying to seem polite despite how stupid that seemed in retrospect.

He groaned when you forced your tongue into his mouth for a change, desperation having replaced all traces of shyness as heat started to build in your body. You cradled his face, gently trailing your fingers along his stapled skin as he held you. You felt feverish, close to delirium and unable to hold onto any thoughts other than an incoherent string of “Dabi, fuck, Tomura, fuck, kiss-” his tongue pinched yours between its split, toying with you for a few more moments before he pulled away, steam practically rising from your lips as they parted. You panted, half-lidded and out of focus as he set you down on the altar, the cold metal nearly enough of a shock to your skin to make you regain some sobriety.

Tomura coaxed you gently onto your back, stealing his own small kiss from your lips before linking the cuff on the end of one of the chains around your wrist. He laughed as you whined softly, trying to reach for him and pull him back only to be stopped by Dabi repeating the action to your other wrist. They each cuffed an ankle as well and Tomura held the knife out over your body, taking Dabi’s wrist in his free one.

The second the knife touched his disfigured skin, every candle aside from the ones carved in runes on the floor went out. You couldn’t see much at all with all the smoke clouding your vision and almost no light. You could hear the slice and feel Dabi’s blood hitting your abdomen, a drop and then a light splash, hot liquid instantly seeping through your dress and nearly burning your skin. You whimpered, feeling several more drops trail up your chest before registering the sound of the knife being passed and another sickening slice.

Blood seeped through your dress all the way from your shoulders down to the tops of your thighs. You heard wet, sloppy drinking sounds and what seemed to be an equally messy kiss before a pair of rough lips sealed over yours, tongue parting your lips and forcing the unexpectedly sweet liquid down your throat. You choked, not expecting the volume that flooded your mouth, swallowing as much as you could but still feeling some dribble down the sides of your face. You gasped as he pulled away and it happened again, Dabi’s lips this time forcing demonic blood into your mouth.

Then they were gone, the last of the light from the candles snuffed out in their absence and a chill biting into your skin. You shivered, instinctively trying to pull your arms back to your body but being unable to, shackles clanking against the increasingly cold metal of the altar. You struggled despite knowing it was in vain, mind still a mess from whatever that smoke was. Your eyes strained in the dark, feeling a presence but unable to perceive it any tangible way. Your breaths came out in panicked bursts, chest heaving slightly as adrenaline pumped into your veins. Then you felt the breath blowing back on you. Directly from above your face.

“Boo,” he whispered. You screamed, kicking weakly and struggling against the heavy chains anchoring you down. The druggy haze made your body feel heavy and your meager movements took enough effort to leave you exhausted after just a few seconds.

“Dabi!” you cried, although it sounded much more like a moan than you’d meant, as the figure above lowered his face to your neck before stopping abruptly. The lack of movement stilled you, tears rolling down your face as you hyperventilated and sobbed quietly. A long silence passed and then you got to properly hear his voice,

“Dabi?” His voice sounded lighter, somehow sweeter than the ones you’d become used to. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, when light blinded you as all the candles reignited, making you clench your eyes shut for a brief moment until they settled back into a dim glow. The being hovering over your shaking body was unlike anything you’d ever seen. Ethereally beautiful; his golden eyes pierced into yours. Every angle of his face was sharp, as though he’d been carved from a precious stone into the form of perfection. In a strange way you couldn’t place, he reminded you slightly of Dabi.

He terrified you a little. More than Tomura had at first. A hand came from behind, gripping his blonde locks and jerking him back and off of you. You noticed the rest of him was perfect, too, but his wings were what made you stare. They were brighter than the feathers Tomura had scattered around, shimmering variants of red visible even in the low light. He swiftly ripped two of them out, holding them like swords as they stiffened in his hands. Tomura had pulled him off you, baring his sharp teeth at the winged demon, who seemed to calm at the sight of him.

Dabi was suddenly beside you, releasing you from your chains. You sat up, immediately flocking to his arms and cowering in his chest. He trailed a thumb along your cheek bone, collecting the lingering wetness on your skin and licking it off. Despite fear flooding your veins you sill found yourself resisting the urge to stroke his skin under his shirt. Tomura came to your other side, pulling you from Dabi as he started slowly towards the blonde.

“Kei…” he started, holding up his hands in an attempt to seem nonthreatening. Tomura pulled you to sit in his lap, head resting against his shoulder as he pet up and down your back. You shifted slightly, nervously watching the exchange. You shivered, burrowing closer into the white-haired demon whose touch also seemed to set your skin on fire. You nearly purred when his hand came up to stroke your hair. If the whole situation didn’t have you so scared you’d have been pawing to get his clothes off.

“You… fucking… asshole,” Keigo spat, fury tainting his perfect face.

“Fuck, man, get over it already,” Dabi sighed, “it was forever ago! I said I was sorry!” Keigo lunged, knocking him on his back and hovering dangerously close to his face.

“He was mine!” he shouted, rearing back and punching him in the face. You gasped, lurching forward only to be held back by Tomura. He hit him again. And again.

“Please stop!” you screeched, managing to get one hand free and frantically reaching. Keigo looked up at you and in the second he was distracted Dabi got loose enough to kick him, sending him into the wall and making him cough from the impact to his chest. Their fighting was oddly...sexual? There was certainly a lot of tension in it that wasn’t just fueled by anger, but you wondered if the smoke was making you imagine it.

“It’s fine, doll,” he gave you a wink, making another obvious swing Keigo easily stopped. He grabbed his arm, twisting it behind Dabi’s back and using his other hand to pull his head back by his black hair. His lips ghosted the seam held together by his staples as he muttered something you couldn’t hear. He gripped his hair harder, pulling his head back further while Dabi’s free hand made its way to one of Kei’s wings. You expected him to set it on fire or something, but instead he gave it a tug.

The moan that slipped past Keigo’s lips was divine, sending a throb directly through your core. Your eyes went wide as you watched them struggle, still hurting each other as they wrestled to the ground. You looked to Tomura who just shrugged and made you stand so he could untie his shoe and pull it off.

He grumbled to himself for a moment while he worked the laces before throwing it at the two writhing on the floor. It hit Keigo in the back of the head and he glared up at Tomura before seeming to remember you were there. He swatted once more at Dabi and shuffled to his feet, approaching you as though he was trying not to seem too eager. He took his time eyeing you up and down, taking in the blood on your dress, dried tears on your face, and lack of shoes.

“I thought you said you were gonna take care of your next sacrifice,” he scoffed, “What the hell is this?” He turned to give Dabi a snide look, only to be smacked again with the same shoe from the opposite direction. His feathers bristled and he shot one at him, lodging it in the side of his face and smirking as he pulled it out with a grimace.

Keigo stooped to your level and let his eyes roam your face. Your brows furrowed and you started to sink back towards Tomura, but he stopped you with a firm hand on your back, forcing you to stay up for inspection while he took his shoe back. Kei reached up and trailed his fingers along your cheek, eyes intensely focused on yours. You trembled, feeling small and cold and messy after his comment. You could also feel warm wetness seeping through your panties from the effects of the smoke and would rather die than have him see it drip down past the hem of your dress. If he could tell, he pretended not to.

“So you’re actually gonna share for once, huh?” His golden eyes locked onto Dabi behind you. You assumed he must’ve nodded, because Kei set them back on you again, “Don’t think this makes up for what you did,” he leaned closer, prompting you to unconsciously do the same. His lips were soft when he finally closed the distance, almost unsettling after how used to rough textures you’d gotten. He kissed you like you were made of glass, gently wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to draw you closer as his tongue breached your lips. That too was weirdly normal with no added length or split down the center.

You kissed him back stiffly, wringing your hands nervously despite every cell in your body screaming at you to throw yourself at him. Dabi hadn’t encouraged this like he did when you met Tomura and it felt weird. Not that you could deny it felt good too, though.  The sensation made you shake and feel as though you might collapse. When he pulled away he sighed,

“Relax, baby, I don’t bite,” he trailed kisses along your jaw, gripping your neck loosely with his thumb over your artery, “...too hard,” he muttered, nipping one of the many hickeys littering your neck. It hurt less than when the other two did it since he lacked fangs or an entire mouth full of pointed teeth, but you yelped nonetheless, reaching a hand back to Tomura. He pulled you out of Keigo’s hold and into his lap when you stumbled and fell back. You were at least grateful the fabric of your dress could soak up some of the copious amounts of fluid threatening to drip onto the floor.

“Ease up, pretty boy,” he grumbled, stroking your arm. The contact made you nearly moan, but you stifled it. Tomura scoffed at Kei, “Since when am I the responsible one?”  

“Do you not remember your first interaction with her?” Dabi snickered. You turned to look at him, feeling more secure the second he glanced at you. He’d been wiping the blood and feathers up, shoving everything back into the bag he’d carried it in before and flinging it to the side when he was satisfied. Then he came to you, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he looked you over before tilting your face back towards his friend. The gentle yet authoritative action only worsened the growing problem between your legs and it was all you could do to stifle another whine threatening to fall from your lips.

“C’mon, Keigo, look at her,” he cooed, “Isn’t she pretty?” Your eyes flicked back to Kei, watching him appraise you again as he grumbled. You could feel the lust hazing across your eyes as you gazed at him more openly than you’d intended, making his expression soften.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Pretty enough to stop being mad at me?” he teased, showing off how eagerly you responded to the lightest of his touches, “Sorry about your boy toy but I promise you’ll love her even more.”

You squirmed a bit, discomfort growing by the second. He sighed,

“I’m still fucking mad at you,” he sneered unconvincingly, expression softening further as he helped you to your feet again. Dabi handed him Tomura’s long jacket and he put it on you, closing up the entire front to cover the mess made of your dress. It drew your attention to the fact that he was naked. You’d been scared before, much too confused, and it was still pretty dim so you hadn’t really looked. With only candles lighting the room the light flickered against every rigid curve of muscle. You forced yourself to keep your eyes up, only stealing a glance when he turned to grab your shoes.

You weren’t surprised it was big. You nearly sighed, thinking how good and warm it would feel if you reached out and touched it. How heavy it would be and how much your body would ache when he was done with you. When they were done with you. A small shudder ran through your body as Dabi offered his hands to you. You held them for balance as Keigo slid your shoes onto your feet.

“I saw that, dove,” he smirked, pinching your thigh as he stood up, “You got my clothes?” he asked Dabi. Tomura threw a pair of pants at his head,

“Hurry up,” he grumbled.

While Keigo got dressed Dabi fixed your hair and wiped off any remaining blood from your face, making you presentable enough to go back through to the portal home. Whether it was part of his powers or not, he certainly had a knack for knowing exactly how you felt at any given moment, reassuring kisses being placed to your cheeks just how you needed it. You leaned into his touch, focus still evading you as you tried to hide your desperation.

“Be sweet to Kei for me, yeah?” You nodded, both of you knowing you’d give into any request he gave you if he kept stroking your head and letting you cling to him.

You didn’t watch Keigo get dressed, opting to turn back when he at least had pants on. It was weirder with him, he wasn’t as ...unhinged as Tomura or as familiar as Dabi. He struggled getting on his shirt, groaning as he tried to stuff his wings through the slits in the back and awkwardly thanking Tomura when he halfheartedly helped out.

Dabi stuck Kei’s jacket in your hands and nudged you forward to where he sat, lacing his boots. You stumbled slightly, nearly bumping into him and then trying not to stare as you handed it to him. He ruffled your hair and thanked you, practically beaming when you offered back a small smile and “you’re welcome.” When he was finished struggling to get that on too he slung an arm over your shoulders, the touch enough to make you squirm as your panties finally became unable to contain your arousal. You pressed your thighs together as you took notice of Keigo’s hand closest to your face. For a second you couldn’t place what seemed strange about it.

“This doesn’t make up for what you did but damn she’s cute,” he pinched your cheek, smiling at your flustered face. That wasn’t really what concerned you, though.

“You don’t have sharp nails,” you noted, peering at his hands. He grimaced,

“Er, yeah, I wasn’t born a demon or human,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “I was an angel before I met Dabi,” he chuckled.

“Tomura’s the bad influence here,” Dabi shot back, “Don’t try to blame me,” he laughed along. Tomura just shrugged,

“Not my fault you two make terrible choices.”

You looked between the three of them before Dabi elaborated,

“I was originally human but Tomura was always...like that,” he smirked, poking his side. Tomura gave a half-smile back. Their friendship fascinated you. It was kind of nice to see them interact like this, you thought as you rested your head lightly against Keigo. You were eager for more contact with the three of them, struggling to keep it together as tears began to well in your eyes. Your blood seemed to burn in your veins from how badly you needed to be touched.

You had questions, but it was hard to hold onto thoughts about anything other than getting home and to bed. Dabi gathered up the bags on the floor and started ushering Tomura towards the door, Kei putting a hand on your back to prompt you to do the same. When you got back outside it was dark, thunder rolling in the distance and rain softly falling onto the pavement. You didn’t see which, but one of your demons flipped your coat hood up for you.

The rain quickly soaked you to the bone as you walked, clothes sticking to you and the others as you held Kei’s hand tightly, trying to control your shaking. Eventually your knees gave out, buckling as your cunt throbbed almost painfully. Keigo tried to catch you, pulling you up by the hand he was holding so you didn’t fall too hard on your knees. You could still feel them scrape on the pavement, though, the small amount of pain an almost welcome distraction from the sensation between your legs. It was so intense and unbearable you couldn’t contain the tears anymore.

You sobbed as he lifted you back onto your feet, but crumbled again, unable to support yourself as tears spilled down your face. He looked shocked as he lifted you into his arms, looking you over for injury. Your knees were slightly discolored and your stockings had ripped but it wasn’t anything someone would normally be so upset over. You cried into his neck, clinging to him as your chest heaved. Dabi’s warm hand ran down your back,

“The smoke doesn’t usually make it this bad,” he mused, encouraging you as you sank further into Keigo’s neck. They picked up the pace but you kept your face buried against his skin until you felt the rush of snow from your pocket surround you. The walk up to the house was brief and you were placed on one of the downstairs beds almost as soon as you entered.

“I wouldn’t have spent so much time trying to hurt your dumb ass if you’d told me you used bone candles for the ritual,” Keigo said through gritted teeth, kicking his shoes off and shaking out his wet hair. Tomura wrung his out, letting the water fall onto the floor and earning him a glare from Dabi. The black-haired demon looked you over, wiping tears from your cheeks before kneeling and removing your shoes. When he stood he inspected the damage to your skint knees, ignoring your pouting until you reached out to grab him.

“Have you ever summoned a former angel? Shit’s more work,” he shot back, giving you his full attention after.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, pulling him closer until he got the hint and kissed you, allowing you to practically suck his tongue as he started stripping you, pulling Tomura’s wet coat off your trembling form. You lapped along the insides of his mouth, the sweet flavor of demonic blood still vaguely present. He halfheartedly chuckled against you as he pulled away, immediately being replaced by Keigo so he could undress himself.

When you reached out to touch Kei’s unblemished skin you found it bare again, his shoulders and neck pleasantly warm as you glided your fingertips across them. His hair was silky when you threaded your fingers through it and you sighed against his lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He cradled your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs against your cheekbones before trailing lower and wrapping loosely around your throat and squeezing gently.

You gasped at the restriction to your arteries, moaning softly into his mouth as you felt arms wrap around you from behind. White hair spilled over your chest, still slightly damp as Tomura worked the back of your dress open, nipping and kissing along your shoulders as he worked the fabric down. You pulled back one of your hands from Kei to hold his hand, rough texture and claws calming you down as the former angel rattled your nerves.

Tomura and Keigo lifted you together as he slid your dress down your legs, letting it drop to the floor. You shivered as the air contacted your bare skin, the slight draft in the house adding to how real the pocket felt and making you wonder if that was something that had to be added. Your nipples pebbled and you felt sharp teeth ghost against one, followed by Tomura’s mouth latching on and suckling. You whined into Kei’s mouth, stroking his and Tomura’s hair as he finally broke the kiss, panting softly against you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, trailing his fingers along your jaw, “Yeah, she’s pretty sweet,” he gave Dabi a smug grin before winding his fingers into his black hair and pulling him in, kissing him an inch from your face and nudging you forward into his disfigured neck. You obliged, sucking and kissing at his skin while they made out, Tomura still toying with your breasts.

Dabi slipped a hand under the side of your panties, ripping the fabric and doing the same to the other side so they fell off, leaving you in torn stockings and drugged-away bashfulness. You continued to kiss his neck, trailing your lips lower until you passed his staples and latched onto some of his normal skin, sucking until you were certain you’d left a mark.

He groaned into Keigo’s mouth and the two parted, strings of saliva connecting them before he wiped them away, setting his sights on you again. Tomura pulled away with a parting kiss to your chest and suddenly you could feel your face heating up as three pairs of demonic eyes stared you down. You felt like fresh meat lain before a pack of starving wolves. And then they pounced.

Tomura sank his teeth into your neck, just painful enough to make you cry out as Keigo swallowed it, kissing you deeper than before and exploring your mouth with his tongue without any regard to your need for breath. Dabi pushed everyone back so you were lying down and he could dive between your legs, teasing you with his unnaturally hot breath and making you squirm under Keigo. You writhed, already overwhelmed before they’d even really started.

Your body was already so riddled with splotchy bruises and bite marks, but that didn’t stop Tomura from adding to them anyway, sharp teeth drawing blood out of your still-fresh wounds. You whined into Keigo’s mouth and he pulled away, dragging his tongue along your skin from the corner of your lips to your jaw, planting wet kisses and bites on your neck. His lips eventually met Tomura’s and the two shared their own sloppy kiss just above your skin.

Dabi finally closed the distance to your twitching pussy, continuing to torture you with feather- light flicks of his tongue to your swollen clit. You groaned, reaching for his hair to pull him closer but being blocked by his hand catching yours and pinning it to your side. He finally obliged you, slipping his long, hot muscle into your drenched cavern and lapping at your insides greedily. His lips unevenly kneaded at the rest of your folds as he stroked along your thigh. You bucked against his face, whimpering just as Tomura released Keigo and your mouth was smothered once more with his.

He defaulted to his preferred method of kissing and shoved his long tongue down your throat until you sputtered, gagging slightly but reciprocating nonetheless. Your free hand came up to tangle in his pale hair, sharp teeth just grazing your tongue as you held him close. Keigo moved his lips along your ribs, kissing and biting indiscriminately as his hand trailed downwards. Two of his fingers found your clit, rolling the swollen bud as Dabi fucked you with his tongue, filling you enough to feel nice but not be what you needed.

You moaned as Tomura pulled his tongue from your mouth, air finally filling your lungs. You pulled him closer when he tried to lean back, planting several soft kisses along the corner of his mouth and cheek. He smiled but broke from your grip and moved behind you, letting your head rest against his chest. With the new angle you could see Dabi’s face between your thighs, his warm hands curled around the limbs and resting softly against your skin.

His eyes were closed, his focus entirely on working his tongue against your g-spot. He looked up and gave you a wink just before Keigo straddled you and blocked him from view. When he moved back Dabi took the hint and parted from your heat with a few light kisses to your thighs, allowing Kei to slip back. The blonde settled his hips between your legs, letting his heavy cock rest on your stomach to see how far it’d reach.

You squirmed slightly, holding onto Tomura’s arms as they wrapped around your shoulders and crossed your chest. Dabi slid his hands up along Keigo’s sides, murmuring something into his ear you couldn’t hear. The sight of them together made heat rise to your cheeks, and you wished they’d go further. They didn’t, though, instead Dabi pressed a lingering kiss to the side of his neck and joined Tomura behind you.

Keigo lined himself up, stroking along your folds with the head of his cock before pressing inside tortuously slow. Your mouth fell open as he stretched you open, gritting his teeth just as his tip bumped against your cervix. Your head fell back against Tomura’s chest as you groaned, eyes clenched shut and writhing a bit trying to get him to move.

When the initial shock wore off and he continued to lie still inside you, you looked up to see him smirking down at you. His gaze made you clutch Tomura’s arms tighter.

“What’s wrong, sacrifice? You look flustered,” he teased. He leaned forward, hovering over your trembling body until his face was centimeters from yours, “If you want something, you can ask for it.” You stared up at him with wide eyes, feeling a few tears gathering in them. You wondered if he could tell, but as his shit-eating grin widened you knew.

“Please,” you said softly, voice trembling. He intimidated you, his beauty and the lack of more demonic traits made him feel too familiar. He quirked an eyebrow as though he didn’t understand what you meant. You sighed in defeat, shifting under him in discomfort, “Please move.”

He gave you a single, leisurely thrust; pulling out nearly all the way and slowly filling you again. Then he stopped again,

“Please what?” he taunted, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. You hesitated, unsure if he wanted you to use his name or tell him exactly what you wanted.

“Please fuck me, Keigo,” you whispered, looking up into his golden eyes. You finally released the death grip you’d had on Tomura, timidly reaching forward to ghost your fingers along his cheek. His taunting expression softened, and he kissed you properly, soft lips gently pressing against yours as he gave you several shallow thrusts.

His hands roamed your form, squeezing at your hips and stroking along your stomach. You moaned softly into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair. You heard a scoff from behind,

“You can do it for real, she’s not gonna break,” Tomura said boredly. Keigo pulled away, cupping your face and looking more angelic than ever.

“That’s a shame,” Kei smirked again, trailing his thumb along your cheek. He kissed you again, softly cupping your face as he increased his pace, working you both up steadily. Two of his fingers encircled your clit, making you gasp against him. He took advantage, slipping his tongue between your lips.

Tomura fidgeted behind you and you felt his cock press into your back, twitching as you assumed he jerked it. He pulled you further up his body, lying back so you could rest on top of him. Your head fell back against his shoulder as Kei broke the kiss, leaning back to hold up one of your ankles as he pounded you harder. Moans fell from your mouth as you clenched around him, both of you throbbing and twitching as you got closer and closer to your ends.

His moans were so pretty, like his face and wings and the look on his face as he papped his hips against yours. The blush dusting his cheeks got more intense as he went, building speed. He got rougher with your clit, giving it a couple of light smacks as he lost himself in pleasure. You jolted at the hit, yelping and throbbing around him.

When he spilled inside you he forced himself as deep as possible, pinching your clit just hard enough to both be painful and make you climax. You spasmed, crying out as you fell limply against Tomura. The demon under you wound his arms around your waist and pressed his lips into one side of your neck while Kei bit the other. The blonde broke your skin with his teeth, making you cry out and cling to him as he marked you. You whined as Kei slipped himself out, leaning up and admiring the sight of his cum dribbling down to your ass.

Tomura lined himself up from underneath you, smearing himself in yours and Kei’s cum and spearing you unceremoniously fast. You gasped, feeling his massive girth stretching your walls. He only thrusted a few times before pulling back out and lining himself up with your ass, the immense amounts of fluid spread over his cock making it slippery against your puckered hole.

Your eyes widened and you squirmed, panicking slightly, “Tomura, wait-” He shushed you, cooing softly into your ear as he started to press against your tight back entrance. Dabi held your hand, letting you squeeze it as he pressed several light kisses along your face and lips to hush any protests. Keigo watched intently, already filling back out at the sight. You whimpered against Dabi as he started to press in.

You choked, feeling like you couldn’t breathe as his gigantic head penetrated your tight ring of muscle. Tears spilled down your cheeks as he continued, slowly working more of himself in with surprising care. He stroked along your sides and cheeks, swiping away your tears and trying to get you to relax.

“Stop clenching,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to restrain himself, “I’m not even half way in yet.” You tried to do as he said, relaxing as his hand snaked between your legs to paw at your throbbing, leaking cunt. More of the lubrication dripped down, helping keep Tomura wet enough to continue.

He thrusted shallowly, getting more and more in with each cant of his hips. When he finally bottomed out you were out of breath, leaned back into his shoulder and panting. He groaned, unable to stop himself from moving as he bit your neck. You could tell he was holding back, but he was really bad at it, his whole body twitching with pleasure as he gently thrusted.

A soft sob left your lips and Dabi hushed you with his lips again, softly kissing you as a distraction.

“Damn,” Keigo breathed, still engrossed in the show. Your face burned at the realization he’d closely watched the whole thing. It seemed to spur Tomura on and he got rougher, holding your hips and bucking up into you. You groaned, letting your head fall back away from Dabi who snickered slightly and gave your cheek a peck.

He whispered with Kei some things you couldn’t make out over your gasps and sobs or Tomura’s grunting in your ear and the two started positioning themselves between your legs. Tomura held your thighs apart as they worked out how to approach you from that angle. They bickered for a moment and settled on Kei up top and Dabi behind him, the former giving himself a few strokes before plunging back inside your pussy.

You caught on, whimpering but unable to form a coherent sentence with Tomura ravaging your ass. Dabi pressed himself against Keigo’s base, easing himself into your already stuffed hole until he passed the tight entrance, drawing a scream from you. The stretch hurt, even more intense than when Tomura and Dabi took you together last time. Your eyes rolled back into your head and your scream ended in a choked whimper before you went silent aside from gasps and occasional broken moans of their names.

They didn’t move in any kind of rhythm with each other, each choosing their own pace at which to destroy you. Tomura continued kissing along your neck and whispering mostly creepy but occasionally sweet praises into your skin as he reached to toy with your clit some more. Kei groaned and pulled Dabi into a kiss, one hand stroking your hip and thigh and the other gripping Tomura’s. Dabi’s hands were occupied with stroking Keigo’s chest and your leg respectively; you weren’t sure when you’d let go of it. You gripped at whatever you could, out of focus and barely recognizing that the strangled groaning and choking sounds were coming from you.

Tears streamed down your face an unknown amount of time before you noticed them, only realizing when Tomura licked them up and said you were pretty when you cried. The pleasure was just as white-hot, if not more, than the pain. It drove thought from your mind just as the initial wave of that smoke had. You could swear the room was spinning when Kei leaned down and kissed you, moreso playing with your tongue than actually kissing due to how out of it you were.

Dabi directed Tomura’s fingers around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to send you into an intense orgasm. You clenched around the three of them, a slightly painful feeling for all of you as your muscles contracted. Keigo hissed and Dabi and Tomura groaned, the latter biting into your shoulder to muffle it.

Tomura finished first, angling his hips up to ejaculate inside as deeply as possible. He fell limp under you after, his whole body twitching now and again and drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. He kept his arms loosely around you, occasionally gasping as he felt the others moving inside you and overstimulating him. He must not have cared, since he didn’t bother to move, choosing to stay buried in your walls.

Dabi was next, but the overwhelming heat of his semen made Kei finish too, both their cum mixing and filling your cunt until it overflowed, joining Tomura’s in the puddle beneath him. He shivered at the contact, but otherwise stayed still, still attempting to plug your ass. One of them – you weren’t sure which anymore – rolled your clit past your first orgasm and into the next, making you convulse.

Kei shuddered as his high ended, slumping forward and lying his head on top of your heaving chest. Dabi pulled out from behind him, leaving Kei’s dick to lie in the mess they’d made. He crawled up, hovering over the blonde so he didn’t crush his wings or your body any further, and kissed you. He brushed a few lingering tears from your cheeks.

“You did well, little sacrifice,” he said, his breath already level. You continued to pant, holding his hand to your face. “Think you can handle a little more?” he kissed your forehead, grinning wickedly when you gave him the tiniest of nods.

Kei rolled off you, his still semi-hard length slipping out and making you whimper. He sat up and fluffed his wings out, letting them stretch before he stood up, dragging Dabi up and forcing him on top of you. You both looked at him and his eyes narrowed as he leaned in, whispering to Dabi despite how you and Tomura could both hear,

“I told you earlier,” he growled, “I was gonna fuck your sacrifice and then fuck you.”

Dabi gave him a look you couldn’t see as Kei stood, positioning himself behind and kicking your legs further apart. He gripped Dabi’s hip, reaching around to line him up with your entrance and forcing him inside. You both groaned and then Dabi’s eyes widened and rolled back and you heard him make a noise you wouldn’t previously have thought he was capable of.

Tomura wriggled underneath you, pulling himself out of your stretched hole and crawling out from under you. He kissed your cheek and got out of bed, fluffing out his hair as he went for the door. He muttered something about watching “Staples” get wrecked and you turned your attention back to Dabi, watching his expression.

His face twisted as Keigo started thrusting, rolling his hips roughly against his ass and forcing him in and out of your abused cunt. The blonde easily kept his composure, occasionally landing a slap to Dabi’s ass or your hip with a cocky expression. Dabi, on the other hand, looked how you felt as he got pushed around for a change. His eyes glossed over and his forked tongue flopped out of his mouth, cheeks pink as he drooled for it. He’d never looked so pretty.

You licked his saliva from his face and took his tongue in your mouth, making him groan as Keigo forced him in and out of you. The two of you moaned against each other, one of his hands gripping the sheet and the other bruising your thigh. He moved his grip to your shoulders and then your neck, trying to regain some form of control.

Your moans came out as hoarse cries and pants, almost no sound coming out anymore as he bumped against your sore cervix with every press of Keigo’s hips. He came faster than before, flooding your already filled pussy until his fluids gushed out around his base. Kei didn’t stop, though, pounding Dabi’s ass until he got hard inside you again and he collapsed on top of you. His face rested in the crook of your neck as he panted and groaned, releasing your neck in favor of clinging to you.

You came again next, the friction from his pubic hair on your clit sending you over the edge. You openly sobbed at the overstimulation that followed, reciprocating Dabi’s hold as he shuddered and pumped another load into you. As you felt it taper off he was shoved forward onto you harder, Kei’s wings bristling as he finished.

With no regard for you already being crushed under Dabi’s weight he fell forward, sandwiching the black-haired demon and pressing your sweaty, barely conscious form deeper into the mattress. You groaned, but almost no sound came out. Dabi continued to pant into your neck for a time until his breathing slowed, but he stayed still. He relaxed his grip on your shoulders, finally letting his entire body relax on top of you. You felt him go soft inside, more cum flowing out without his full size to block it.

Keigo pressed several light kisses along his back, paying special attention to where his staples separated the distinct separate colors of his skin. He fluttered his lips against yours softly and then withdrew, leaning back and standing to admire the view. Dabi stayed still, and you stroked along his shoulders gently while you waited on him to let you up.

“Too much for you, Dabs?” he teased, ruffling his hair. Dabi groaned softly, his words muffled by your skin and the blankets. He seemed to curl in on himself as you petted him, almost like he didn’t want you to touch him. Kei gave his thigh another light smack and said he was gonna clean up, heading off to look for a bathroom and leaving you alone with Dabi.

You squirmed slightly after a while, starting to feel sticky and needing to pee. He kept you pressed down, buried in your neck. You gently nudged him, kissing the side of his head and trying to coax him up. He groaned again and finally relented, sitting up and immediately turning away from you. Your eyes immediately went wide as you reached for him, convinced you’d done something wrong.

“Dabi?” you softly called, voice barely above a whisper. He winced when you said his name. “What’s wrong?”

He looked at you over his shoulder so you couldn’t fully see his face. His eyes looked a little red.

“I didn’t really want to do that in front of you,” he turned away, “or inside you,” he trailed off slightly. You leaned up, trying to ignore the pain that shot through several joints and various other places on your body. You reached out and took his hand.

“I-I liked it,” you muttered, averting your eyes as blood rushed into your face. He looked at you, and his eyes seemed brighter than before. “I like seeing you with Tomura,” you admitted, “and Kei.”

He cupped your face, his usual serene expression present on his face now. You shifted slightly, both physically uncomfortable and waiting on him to say something.

“What a sweet little sacrifice you are,” he cooed, stooping down to your level and pressing his lips to your sweaty forehead. He tilted your chin up and you looked at him. “Guess we’re both a little dumb for demon dick, huh?” He laughed, and you joined him, still smiling when he kissed your lips.

You threw your arms around his neck, opening your mouth when his tongue prodded at your lips. His warm hands caressed your back, trailing down to briefly squeeze your ass and then support under your thighs. You rested against him as he carried you, a hand over your weeping holes to stop you dripping on the floor. You hid your face in his neck, heat rising into your cheeks.

“Hm, maybe we could get you some plugs to keep it in,” he mused, chuckling when you gripped him tighter in embarrassment.

He set you down in the bathroom and let you go take care of your bladder while he got the bath running and set the shower temperature. You felt so weird pissing in front of him since you were pretty sure he didn’t even do that himself, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to you. You finished up and he sat you on a stool in front of the shower head, detaching it and rinsing out your hair and all the cum off your skin.

“You’re getting used to it,” he said, tending to your hair, “Interacting with demons and moving through pockets and such. You didn’t pass out this time,” he noted. You winced, remembering how brutal it had been with Tomura the first time.

He shut the water off, kneeling in front of you and looking you over for injuries. Tomura’s teeth marks were the worst since all his were sharp. The wounds from that and the countless bruises and hickeys the three of them had left littered your skin, splotches of irritated skin all over your body. None of it needed any specific attention, though, and Dabi just sighed and helped you into the tub.

He sat down behind you, coaxing you into his arms and stroking you as you snuggled into his chest. You intertwined your fingers with his and raised his hand to your lips, kissing the back of his hand and the staples along his wrist. He hummed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You like the routine, doll?” he asked, resting his cheek against your head. You nodded, sighing contentedly. It wasn’t long like that before the door cracked open and two pairs of eyes peered in at you.

“Got room for two more?” Kei asked, pushing the door open and entering without bothering to wait for a response. You reflexively brought your knees up to your chest, blood rushing into your cheeks despite the fact everyone was still naked. You noticed his wings were much smaller as he climbed into the thankfully large tub, facing you as Tomura entered without a word behind him.

“Someone’s shy,” he teased, giving your leg a poke, “You know I saw everything earlier, right?” You curled up tighter, only relaxing slightly when Dabi leaned up and put his arms around you.

“This is the usual when she’s not tripping on those candles,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Cute,” Kei pinched your cheek. He leaned back against Tomura, making him grimace but embrace him nonetheless, “You’re pretty lucky, man, aside from the whole skin thing.”

They chatted for a while and you relaxed, leaning back into Dabi and resting for a bit. You woke up, not realizing you’d fallen asleep, just as they were getting out. Kei wrapped a towel around you and kissed your forehead.

“Why are your wings smaller now?” you asked, letting him dry you.

“Oh, I used some feathers to get rid of those sheets and then left them lying on one of the couches,” he shrugged. He summoned them back as a demonstration, his wings filling back out as he let a few stray feathers fly around. You watched with wide eyes and he chuckled, pulling you into his chest and squeezing. You wrapped your arms around him in return, fingers just barely brushing where his wings attached to his back.

He tensed up, pulling away and petting you, “They’re kinda sensitive,” he smiled, “Probably not a great idea to touch while you’re sore.” You nodded, slightly embarrassed. He seemed unfazed quickly, though, excitedly asking Dabi about what you guys had been doing so far. The last of the tension between them dissolved when he explained they’d been trying to summon him for days, making preparations and such.

You watched them kiss, a small, content smile on your lips as Tomura took your hand, muttering how he still wanted to explore the pocket with you. You rested your head against him and nodded. Dabi and Kei separated, the four of you heading out to get dressed.

You sat on the edge of a bed in a different room while Keigo and Tomura rifled through your clothes. Dabi dressed himself and started fixing your hair, watching with amusement as they argued over whether or not to give you panties.

“There’s no point, one of us will just take them off,” Kei reasoned, eyeing over the white lacy number Tomura was clutching.

“But it’s fun to make her take them off,” Tomura pursed his lips, glaring at him.

You pulled Dabi closer and he leaned in, offering his ear if you wanted to whisper. You took the invitation, cupping your hands and quietly asking,

“I thought Keigo would be angrier?” He pulled away with a snort, stroking your head reassuringly.

“He was, but he’s really just a soft bird that likes the sound of his own voice too much,” he smirked as Kei flipped him off, “Little sacrifice likes panties.”

Tomura grinned, setting the ones he’d picked aside as Kei groaned. You giggled at the exchange and Dabi gave your head a pat to signal he was done. You leaned forward to watch them select your clothes. Occasionally they’d give you options when they disagreed and you’d get to choose, but it was all so similar it didn’t make much difference.

They got up and got dressed, sneaking glances at you as Dabi pulled your towel off and started dressing you. He kissed every nasty bruise or bite mark he came across, gently moving you to get some relatively tame lingerie and stockings on you followed by another white dress that reached just past your knees and had sleeves you really liked. He didn’t put any shoes on you, though, and you stood there for a moment waiting before you realized he wouldn’t.

Tomura and Keigo headed downstairs, playfully insulting each other and talking about what games they were going to play. You felt slightly uneasy, like you had something to do. Or maybe something was supposed to happen. Dabi snapped you out of it,

“Relax, doll,” he gave you a soft smile and ruffled your hair, “There’s nothing else you have to do. Just be a good girl, yeah?” You nodded and he kissed your cheek. His hand took up yours and he lead you downstairs, starting to explain more in-depth how the pocket worked and what stuff he’d put in it for you to be entertained.

When you got into one of the sitting rooms Kei and Tomura were already there, sitting on opposite ends of the same couch and scrolling through options for movies on the TV. Dabi sat between them and pulled you into his lap where you happily rested against him. You grazed your fingers along his cheek and he kissed you, holding you just how you liked. It really felt like home.

@krystalwithakay @soup-forthesoul @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @vermeilies @babayaga67

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

SAME OLD LOKI ; PART 6 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k (oops) SUMMARY: You find yourself venturing deeper into finding the Loki variant on the loose with the help of Mobius and Loki while maintaining your temper around the God of mischief and fighting with your own demons. A/N: Downtime apparently lasted for more than a week. I had absolutely no motivation to write but I eventually came around. There’s alot going on in this. Please tell me what you think, what you love, hate and look forward to. Thank you so much for showing so much love to d&m. gif from this gifset by @sersi WARNINGS: Swearing. Imagery relating to death (i think?). You and Loki’s relationship fluctuating like the goddamn economy. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

Blue. Your flight suit is blue.

Your eyes sting with worry, ticking to a pair of hands buckling the straps that lay across your chest. A man secures it tightly, forcing your back against the cockpit chair. Your gaze drifts to the concentric steel rings of yellow, red, and white that stretch overhead and around you—being suspended within a 3-axis gimbal sends another churning sensation within your abdomen.

You hear a voice. It courses through the room and vibrates within your ears like fluttering echoes in a tunnel. It’s a man. He calls out your name from below.

“You ready?”

In your periphery, you see him, tall with slicked-back hair, standing with other men that adorn similar flight suits of blue. You nod, inhaling deeply as your hands reach for the controls. Suddenly, a metallic clang echoes through the room and the machine whirrs to life. The rings begin spinning in tandem, tossing your body in all directions. Your grip tightens around the controls, clicking with every push and pull as you struggle to analyze the spin. But, the machine spins faster.

Faster and faster and faster.

The machine continues to whirr. Your hands are still shifting the controls.

Faster and faster and faster.

Your eyes begin to droop, nausea taking hold of your body.

Faster and faster and faster.

You only hear your breaths; every inhale and exhale—they're loud.

Faster and faster and faster.

Too fast.

Stop.

...

Click. Click. Click.

Footsteps. Not the clicks of the controls. You hear them clicking against tile floors from afar. From darkness, your eyes meet the color brown, shiny and polished—it’s wooden. The sound of the vast building’s acoustics hum in tune with the occasional chatter and echoing thump. You recognize the ambiance and it comforts your hasty thoughts as your brain tries to wreck itself in comprehending your current surroundings.

It’s one of those dreams again. The ones that kept you awake at night since the Sakaar incident, as if reliving the memories of another life. It isn’t yours but the realism to it makes it so complex that your brain cannot even comprehend the experiences during these dreams that occur.

To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste. Do dreams exceed the limit of disconnection and logic? Are dreams to be so immersive that it feels more like a memory, an echo of the past?

Through the turmoil of parsing between what’s real and what’s not, a tap on your shoulder hauls you back to reality. You turn to see Mobius, looking ridiculously exhilarated. Behind him lingers an amused Loki, hands tugging into the pockets of his jacket. The analyst says your name with a tone of equal exuberance to his manner.

“I thought I’d find you here. Do you always sleep at the archives?”

You snort, seizing yourself up as you wipe your face with your palm in hopes of feeling slightly more awake and alive than you were before. “No. Sometimes, I sleep at my desk too.”

Exhausted and sarcastic. Typical you.

Mobius rounds the table to sit beside you, gesturing Loki to his previous spot before he got up and ran away from you without any explanation. He shoots you a smile, lips pressed together, almost hesitant to sit across from you. You watch him through narrowed eyes as you address him with folded arms. “And here you are, back here again.”

Loki cannot fight the growing grin upon his lips, knowing all too well that you're referring to how he led you into an unnecessary chase down the corridors of the TVA for the sake of his entertainment. Well, it was not unnecessary. Things were turning out to be a bore and with the sudden thought of a proposition to help with his case, it doesn’t mean he has to drag out the fun of irritating the hell out of everyone else.

And you are not a bore.

-

“Loki! Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

You’re outright screaming at him but his long legs only stride faster than yours could handle, slumber still clinging to your face like a thick, waxen mask. He’s so quick, weaving through tangerine hallways, skidding across the tiled floors.

He saunters down the hall with quick feet but doesn’t sprint, clever enough not to draw any attention.

He ought to answer you. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he flashes you a cheeky smile. He swears he saw flames burning in your eyes for a moment.

As you wind another corner, you already see him making one last quick dart through the elevator doors that slide open as it dings unceremoniously. Through your wide-eyed gaze, you signal him with eyes that carry a warning.

“Don’t you dare close that fucking door.” you snarl, voice booming from down the hallway and so does the clicking of the heels of your Oxford shoes as you march towards him like you’re on the hunt for prey.

Loki jams his finger onto the button to close the doors, unable to wipe off his grin. “Don’t you trust me?” is all he says to you, sending you a wink through the closing gap of the elevator doors as he raises his palm to wave you farewell.

-

You decided Loki wasn’t worth the time he has already taken from your assigned paperwork. So, you returned to your desk with a trace of bitterness in your tongue while attempting to suppress the regret for actually feeling sorry for Loki. Only because you know how it is like to be alone.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. He makes you think he is capable of change, capable of compassion. He makes you think he cares from the way he looks at you with those eyes that flicker the spark of hope in you. This Loki is the same old Loki.

Well, maybe the one in Sakaar had a good chance of earning your trust. But that’s gone now.

You shift in your seat, elbows now leaning against the edge of the table. “And to answer your question, no. I do not trust you. And I never will.”

Famous last words of the variant turned analyst.

Nobody trusts you either.

Except for the grey-haired analyst with the obsession for jet skis and you never understood why. Maybe, it’s because you’re the only one who is willing to put up with his ramblings.

Mobius eyes you and Loki’s interaction as the two of you seem to fall into the rhythm of making things even more complex than it appears. It's all part of his grand plan. Mobius knows you well enough to know you are possibly enjoying Loki's company no matter how much he irritates you. And Loki, it's clear how he admires you and how you constantly surprise him every time he crosses paths with you.

“What would I ever do without your trust?” the God sneers, each articulation of every word wrapped in mockery paired with dramatically placing his hand to his heart. Your eye twitches, the spitfire of your personality ready to fire back with a probable nasty insult. Yet, Mobius places his hand on your shoulder, while the other outstretched towards Loki as if trying to keep the two of you apart.

“Okay, okay. No need to get all riled up now. We only just had a breakthrough in the case, and I’m not letting you kill each other just yet.”

Your anger seems to immediately wash away, replaced by curiosity. You blink at your colleague. “Breakthrough?”

“Yes, and it was surprisingly Loki’s theory. Now—”

“Why do I smell...sulfur?”

You cut his sentence short as a strong whiff of a reeked scent began to descend upon you, billowing in the air. You inhale deeply, brows furrowing in concentration and confusion. An overpowering scent of a decaying body, faint but strong enough to seem out of the ordinary. The archives never smell rotten, always floor polish. Mobius and Loki share a look. Mobius is the one to speak up, attempting to distract you from your sudden strong sense of smell. “Sulfur? What, like when there’s a demonic manifestation? I mean, we are in the presence of Loki—”

“You went to Pompeii, didn’t you?”

In all of the time he has spent with Mobius who had a constant laid-back and confident nature to him, he has never seen him so red in the face. As the situation unfolds, he wonders why Mobius has made it a point to hide that information with so much eagerness which now has proved to be useless. You’re not only intelligent but also quick—only in terms of the mind rather than your physical capabilities.

You can hardly run, but your brain outshines everyone else he has met in the TVA.

Mobius is now waiting for the imminent chaos and mayhem you’re about to bring. You’re going to call him insane like every other time he has suggested an out-of-the-ordinary idea. Causing a scene is one of your talents. He has his hand on your shoulder again.

“You hate Pompeii, Mobius. Why the hell would bring him—Wait.” Your eyes are wide and blinking. “You went to Pompeii. Alone. I know that from the look on your faces. Which means no reset charge...No Nexus event.” You pause, pursing your lips. Then, you avert your gaze to Loki who watches you curiously. “Are you suggesting the variant is hiding in apocalypses?”

Mobius’ laugh comes off like a puff of air. He pats you on the back like a proud uncle. “Back on the game, Agent!”

Loki is slightly impressed. Only slightly.

“Okay, you two stay here. I’ll go get the files. Great work, you two.” Mobius gestures to the both of you with an outstretched index finger, grin so wide as he scurries off. Mobius loves a good case, especially when there’s a breakthrough. And with you finally familiarizing yourself with working together with Loki, everything is finally starting to look up.

The two of you end up finding each other’s gaze and for the first time, you smile at him. It’s small but genuine.

“You know you could have told me.”

“I would have, but you don’t trust me, remember?”

You hum, raising a brow. “And running away was supposed to gain my trust?”

Loki chuckles, eyes flicking to the table. “I never said anything about gaining your trust.”

Your smile grows wider, and Loki decides how he prefers you like this—relaxed and amused.

He oddly sees his mother in you. It’s the way you look at him. Like you know him.

Right, you have met him. Once.

“What was I like? The one you met at Sakaar.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his sudden question that hasn’t got to do with insinuating you.

“The same as you—barely tolerable,” you say tightly, heaving a sharp exhale. ”Just…a lot sadder.”

You hadn’t mentioned how he willingly helped escape your execution because a part of you still believes it all to be a lie. The TVA has your complete fidelity but ever since the Sakaar incident, your trust in the way the system works has been swayed. After years of being trapped in your mind, the question of whether your capabilities in logic have been damaged due to loneliness still begs. Judge Renslayer believes in your incompetence but you believe she hides a secret about the Time Keepers.

The three beings, creator of the TVA, personally convicted you as innocent, allowing you to maintain your job. Nothing of this makes sense.

Maybe Judge Renslayer lost all her faith in you, her second-best analyst because your Nexus event relates to Loki. The one variant that has been causing havoc to the Sacred Timeline. And this Loki, the one that seems to be very curious about your place in the TVA and the Time Keepers, is no different than the others.

You find yourself feeling an uncalled sense of sadness that dwells in your chest at the thought of leaving the only friendship you secretly wished to have maintained back at Sakaar. Before you let yourself fall into the abyss of melancholic wishful thinking, you swiftly direct the conversation elsewhere.

"I’m sorry Mobius referred to you as the devil,” you say coyly. “You really aren’t.”

Loki, who seems to catch on with the sarcastic tone of your voice, leans farther into his seat. “Really?”

A smirk returns to your face. “You're worse than the devil." He snorts, noticing the vague hint of crimson growing upon your cheeks and how your eyes seem to crinkle a little more than usual.

He finds himself swallowing under your stare, fiddling his fingers in an attempt to calm his sudden erratic heartbeat. A stutter under your now kind gaze—no one ever stares at him with a smile. "You are not the first to say that."

There’s another pause; Loki’s face is set with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest in remembrance of how you’re not the first to have treated him the way you did. He’s dangerous but, there’s no reason for animosity. Yet, it all boils down to the lives he has willingly taken. It doesn’t differentiate him from the rest of the TVA.

Mysterious variant.

The devil is always in the details.

Strangely, the work of the devil may prove to be useful in times of cul-de-sacs as an idea comes to mind. “I think...I think I know where you’re at right now.” Your voice is light, distracted by your now running thoughts. You’re on your feet, chair squeaking as you push it back. Your pen is in your grasp and you wave it in the air, reflecting the gears that turn at high speed within your brain.

Frankly, you’re not making any sense. Loki furrows his brows, slowly standing. “What do you mean? I’m right here—"

“No. The other one. The variant. And it has to do with gum.”

You’re still not making sense and it’s clear that in your eyes, he is invisible. You’re the only one in that frenzied mind of yours.

“What?”

You don’t answer him, feet quickly bringing you down the passageway along the vast rows of shelves that stretch along with the floor’s pristine balcony of white and the two of you are back to playing chase and run. Only this time, the roles are reversed.

-

Mission Haven Hills: not successful.

Really not successful. Far from successful.

You witnessed the doom of bombing the Sacred Timeline, firsthand. Employees scramble at the controls as you watch the screen that looms over the control room. What was once a single line, running along with time has now grown like a tree with fruits of chaos, caused by Nexus events scattered across time and places.

You wished the dust would settle and this was all simply a dream but you realize this was his plan all along.

Bomb the timeline. Distract the TVA.

There is one thing you know about Loki. He is moved by revenge and resentment.

As if you possess some sort of telepsychic powers, a part of you feels that danger itself is within the vicinity of the TVA. The variant is here, you just know it.

You hope Mobius is okay.

Scurrying down the winding hallways, past the hurried time hunters, and past the time theaters, you find yourself heading towards the golden doors of the Time Keepers’ chambers. In a time of uncertainty, your gut is your only source of guidance.

At the end of the hallway, you see bodies on the ground, nearly lifeless—time hunters, either unarmed or batons missing. You plucked one of the sizzling batons from the ground as you cautiously stepped around the laying bodies. You clutch it tightly to calm the blood rushing to your head, pounding along with your heartbeat as you take on the venture into the foyer of the grand chambers with secrets not wanting to be unveiled.

You round the corner, following the wooden panels for walls laid along the entrance. The glowing end of the baton within your grasp reflects off the black porcelain tiles beneath your careful feet. You hear voices, grunts, and shouting as if in combat.

Then, you see them. Loki in his variant jacket and a woman with locks of blonde and streaks of black. She adorns a headpiece of golden horns—one broken off.

Isn't Loki supposed to be at Haven Hills?

Recognizing the presence of another, the two turn to you, daggers still held to each other's throats. Loki eyes you with wide eyes, a silent plea whether to help or stand down, you’re unsure. Your gaze shifts to the woman once more who watches you with an equal resemblance to the other.

Then, it hits you. You recognize the dark emerald cloak she wears. You know exactly who she is. You just never thought it would be a she.

“You!” Your exclamation is bitter, and it’s directed towards the woman who seems to be strangely expectant of your remark as if she already knows who you are. She is L1190, a Loki variant. The one who slashed you with the TVA’s baton, scaring your left cheek. The one who hauled you through the time door and left you stranded in Sakaar for thousands of years.

You know exactly what she has done. She knows what she has done.

“You did this to me!” you gesture to the scar on your left cheek, eyes fixated solely on her, nearing the two with caution. You’re angry. Very angry. All pent-up rage begging to be set free.

Before Loki could even perceive the current situation he landed in between two women who very much want him dead, you’re already swinging the baton to her face with full force but she blocks it with her sword but slightly staggers in her step. You glare at her. She seems a little surprised. In an instant, you take a step back and go for another strike to her rib, but she blocks you again, sliding away and dodging your hit by a mere second. You growl out of frustration, seething through your teeth, and without hesitation, you strike again. The fight goes on—strike, block, strike, dodge. And with every blow, your intensity escalates, each a little harder than the one before. Loki stands there, watching, speechless and frozen.

You strike again, the baton crackling less than an inch away from her face but she dodges just in time, swinging her sword across your face. It grazes your cheek, now a gash of crimson on top of your scar, and with the sudden blow of searing pain, you lose your balance.

The variant spins into a kick that sweeps your legs out from under, knocking you hard onto the ground. The baton rolls out from your grip. Your hand flies to the gash, trickling with blood.

“Hey!”

The brawl comes to a halt. You seize yourself up from the ground, back and head aching, turning to see Judge Renslayer accompanied by two hunters, batons held up in defense position. You were about to reach for your own that was a stretch away when suddenly, you felt a hand grip you by the collar, hauling you to your knees. Her sword held to your neck.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Go for it.”

Your eyes are wide in shock, all anger towards the variant now turning into this churning feeling of betrayal that resides within your abdomen. Judge Renslayer doesn’t look at you, focus fixated on the two variants—it’s like you’re not even there.

The three start to charge towards you and you involuntarily shut your eyes. Then, as quick as a rattlesnake, Loki grabs the tempad hung at her waist and sends the three of you falling through the ground.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. Now, with your back landing hard on top of him, all you could think about is wanting to strangle him to death.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

@kashasenpai

[allthingskakashi]

8 please🥺🥺🥺

• Under Grey Skies •

[ Kakashi x Reader] // 3k

Fluff Prompt : “No, like... it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes” // Kakashi x Reader

A/n: This was supposed to be "short" but i unfortunately do not comprehend that word. Dunno what that is mate never heard of it, and i also haven't written in a month and have become quite rusty so here i hope you enjoy this 3k worded hot pile of stinking poo 👍🏼😃

When you left your house at 10 am this morning, the skies were clear as glass. No clouds in sight, and a brightly glowing Sun perched high overhead. That was the very reason you’d chosen today to get done with your errands, the hundreds of errands you’d been putting off for weeks now.

Not so surprisingly however, fate had been pulling a dirty prank on you. Soon after you left the house, dark grey splotches appeared across the sky, engulfing the sunny rays and shortly afterwards, the streets began to ring with the sound of splattering rain.

So here you are now, standing on the roadside under the shed of Ichiraku Ramen with a hand full of heavy bags, watching the thundering rains which show no sign of stopping any time soon. You are unquestionably without an umbrella, and the handles of the big brown bags in your hands are beginning to leave painful red lines across your palms.

You have no idea how long this wretched rain will go on for and by the looks of it, you’re in for a long haul, so you decide that you might as well make yourself comfortable.

Letting out a loud sigh and muttering a string of expletives under your breath, you put your bags down on the counter of the ramen shop. Your stomach grumbles as you take a seat on one of stools, your eyes falling upon the menu chart stuck to the wall, with names of all sorts of ramen variants written on it, complete with matching bright pictures alongside.

Hot ramen. That sounds so good right now.

But taking a peek inside your purse, you’re met with disappointment. You’d only come out with enough money for your errands and with what you have left, the best you can get is one candy. And not even the good kind.

You sit waiting with your drenched clothes sticking to your body, drops of water rolling down from the tips of your hair to your lap. Out ahead, the rain is creating puddles of water on the street, and you watch the rush of pedestrians hurrying to get home, eager to avoid ending up in your state.

If it weren’t for all these bags, you might have been able to do the same.

Someone runs past you, sending a big splash of water to your feet as you retreat further into your stool, letting out another sigh.

Of course, this happens to me.

Your plan was to finish all your errands and pick up some stuff for lunch. Your busy schedule hadn’t allowed you to cook yourself a nice meal in a long time and you really wanted to use this weekend off to cook yourself something delicious, have a glass of wine, read a book and relax within the comfort of your home. The home which you barely got to spend any time in these days. But of course, you’re stuck out in the streets in the pouring rain instead.

You remain sitting for you’re not sure how long. The streets have long cleared up. The same however cannot be said for the rain, which has only grown worse in the past half an hour. You’re frustrated out of your mind, counting sheep in your head when suddenly, the frame of a familiar figure on the road catches your eye. Your heart instinctively does a flip at the sight of the silver haired man, who seems to be walking towards you in slow, careless saunter.

You feel the panic in your throat rise and steadily grow into a lump. This day has been horrible enough already, without the disaster of Kakashi seeing you in this pitiful state to add to it. You’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of him more times than you’d like to admit, thanks to your awkward, clumsy self and you don’t need it again, especially not today. There’s just something about Kakashi that makes the wiring in your brain go completely haywire, causing you to end up acting like an imbecile every single time you're around him.

You straighten up in your stool as you see him nearing, tucking a clump of wet hair behind your ear as the thud inside your heart grows louder and louder with each of his approaching steps. But before you’re able to steady your breath, he’s right outside the shop, lifting the white banner to let himself in.

“Y/n?” he exclaims, folding his umbrella and shaking it off as takes your sight in. “What are you doing out here in the rain?”

He’s standing closer to you than your heart can take and you clear your throat before answering.

“Oh, I just… came out for errands and didn’t anticipate the rain.” You say, rolling your eyes and glancing at the cluster of bags behind you. You watch his eyes dart towards them before returning to you. “You look like you did, though” you say, pointing at the umbrella in his hand with a smile.

He looks down, shaking his head, “Ah, that’s just my ninken. They have a nose for this sort of thing, so they let me know beforehand.” He says, returning your smile.

You watch the way his mask creases as he smiles, the air surrounding you falling into a comfortable silence as you watch him in awe, a stupid grin plastered across your face. It almost feels like you’re having a moment, and it could’ve been a good one, had your stomach not let out a loud, hungry growl in the middle of it.

Your demeanour changes immediately, the grin on your face receding as your eyebrows shoot up and you feel a warm rush creep its way to your cheeks.

Kakashi lets out a chuckle, looking otherwise unaffected. “It seems like you’re hungry.” he says, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, I uh…” you fumble, averting your eyes to avoid looking at him, “didn’t have breakfast today.”

“Well, come on then.” Kakashi replies flatly, nodding his head towards the direction of the street. Beyond him, the clouds are grumbling, the rain still falling in a steady splatter.

You look up at his words, the thud in your heart making itself known once again. “Come… where?”

He looks at you as if you asked him what the color of grass is.

“Well you didn’t think I was gonna leave you out here, did you?” he asks, his tone implying that you shouldn’t even have thought of such a stupid question.

“Well i was actually pretty much preparing to spend the night here today” you reply with a relieved chuckle, before jumping down from your stool.

"Sorry to spoil your plans, then" he says and you turn around, reaching for the bags on the counter but Kakashi gets to them before you. “Let me” he interjects, pulling the heavy bags down from the counter as if they were cotton.

“You take this” he commands, holding the umbrella out to you as he distributes your bags evenly between each of his hands.

In spite of the somersaults that your stomach is making inside your body, you feel pretty grateful to have run into him.

“I have to say, I’m kind of glad you came along” you say, flashing him a big grin and watching his eyes beam with a shy smile as you take the umbrella from him, turning around to face the rain outside, which all of a sudden, doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

Kakashi stands close behind you as you stretch out the umbrella and hold it above your heads, both of you stepping out onto the wet slippery street.

You balance it high enough so it covers Kakashi’s head and make your way ahead, trying your best not to step into any puddles.

“My place is just around the corner” he remarks, crouching ever so slightly and nestling close to you to fit himself under the umbrella. “We’ll be there within five minutes.”

That’s a damn shame is what you want to say, but instead, you just nod.

The umbrella is too small for the both of you to be cramped under, and you can’t help the constant bumping of your arms with each alternate step.

Every nerve in your body is high on alert, exceedingly aware of Kakashi’s proximity to you and with every light brush of his bare forearm against yours, you feel a shiver run through your skin, the hair in your arm standing up in consequence. You wonder if Kakashi can feel it, but you suppose even if he did, it could just be blamed on the strong gusts of cold wind.

“The rain is kind of beautiful though, isn’t it?” you interrupt, more to distract yourself than anything else.

Kakashi turns his face, peering down at you as his mouth drawls into a slow smile. “It sure is.” he says, and it almost feels like he wants to add something more, but he doesn’t.

Raindrops pound heavily down on the umbrella covering you, its rhythmic sound matching the beats of your own heart. You continue walking without exchanging any more words, the silence between you cut only by the rain, your heartbeat and the squeaky noise of your slippers.

You put all your concentration into fixating your gaze on the ground, attempting not only to make sure you avoid an embarrassing slip or a fall, but to ignore the little voice in your head. The voice that has constantly been whispering into your ears, planting all sorts of seeds in your mind about what it would be like, to just reach your hand out right now and grip Kakashi’s hand, which is so so close to you, intertwining his long fingers with yours.

You shake your head, shoving the temptation away and look up at Kakashi, scooting closer to ensure you don’t push him out into the rain.

For someone cramped under a small umbrella in the heavy rain, carrying another person’s bags, you notice that he looks quite…unbothered. Up this close, you cannot help observing how beautiful his eyelashes are, and you resist, for the hundredth time, the urge to press yourself against him and litter his face with kisses.

Your reverie is broken, and thankfully so by the sound of his voice. “We’re here”, he says, stopping in front of an old building and pushing open the small iron gate with his foot, stepping aside to let you in first.

You might be making this up, but you think you heard him sound almost disappointed.

You gaze up at the white four storeyed building in front of you. The jounin headquarters. Being a chunnin yourself, you’ve never been here before. And until today, you never thought you would any time soon, especially under this kind of a circumstance.

Stepping inside under the shade, you close the umbrella, finding yourself wishing that the jounin quarters weren’t quite so close by. Kakashi follows in after you with the bags and the both of you make your way up a long winding staircase. The metal bannister looks rusty, like it hasn’t been furnished in a long time. You climb up three flights of stairs, before stopping outside a door on the fourth floor.

Looking around, you notice that there are two more doors other than Kakashi’s on this floor, but they seem to be unoccupied. Your damp clothes cling to your skin and you can feel a small chill run through you.

“I feel kind of bad, intruding upon you like this” you say, rubbing your arms and waiting as Kakashi scours his pocket for the keys. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Just a lonely afternoon”, he answers reassuringly, before jamming a key into the lock and pushing the door open.

“Come on in”, he says as you step inside, taking the view of his living room in and telling yourself again and again that you really are in Kakashi Hatake’s apartment. It’s a small one, but well maintained and with minimal clutter. Behind you, Kakashi hangs his wet vest on a hook in the wall and keeps your bags down on the floor.

“y/n you’re shivering”, he says in a concerned tone, looking up at your shuddering body dripping water all over his floor.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I’m making such a mess” you say, noticing the small puddle of water that has formed near your feet. “Do you have a towel or anything I could wipe this off with?” you ask, your face borrowing the look of an apologetic dog who’s made a mess on the carpet.

“Leave all that to me” Kakashi says, waving you off and guiding you towards his bathroom by your shoulders. “Go take a hot shower and get changed into some warm clothes. Can’t have a shinobi of the Leaf fall sick under my watch.”

His tone is enough to make you melt into a mush and you comply, stepping into his bathroom as he disappears into another room. “Towels are in the shelf!” you hear him yell as you study his bathroom cabinet. Like his living room, his bathroom cabinet is also devoid of any clutter and only occupied by the bare essentials.

You turn the switch to the geyser on, waiting for the water to get hot as Kakashi reappears in the doorway, clutching a pair of his clothes. “Here”, he says, holding the clothes out to you. “I suppose they will be a little loose on you, but—”

“It’s perfect.”, you cut him off. “Thank you, Kakashi. I’m really… I’m really thankful for this.” You say, taking the clothes from him.

“It’s no big deal” he smiles. “I’ll be outside” he says and you nod, closing the door.

The water is just the right amount of warm and you take a blissful shower, the bliss of the moment only intensified by the realisation that you, Y/n, are really in Kakashi Hatake’s house. Not just in his house, but also in his bathroom, using his towels and wearing his clothes.

You wipe yourself dry, hanging your discarded clothes on the rack beside an already hanging trouser and slip yourself into the fresh pair of clothes. It’s a baggy grey t shirt and navy blue trousers, both quite loose against your frame. The t shirt runs past your thighs but the trousers thankfully have strands which you have tied tightly enough, so you hope they won’t slip down any time soon.

You catch a glimpse of your face in the cabinet mirror and find yourself glowing. But more than your skin, it’s probably your heart giving you that glow. You pull the shirt up to your nose, inhaling the smell in. It smells just like you thought Kakashi would. Comforting… familiar, like something that makes you feel at home. Like the smell of crayons from your childhood, or freshly baked cookies.

Smiling to yourself and revelling in the pure comfort and warmth of his clothes, you step out, fanning your wet hair out with your hand

A delicious smell hits your nose almost immediately, and you’re reminded of how completely starved you are.

You step further into the dining area, and find Kakashi in the kitchen adjacent to it, doing something on the gas. You notice that he’s changed into a pair of fresh clothes too, and seeing him in anything other than his uniform for the first time makes something flip inside you.

He turns around, his eyes lighting up immediately as he catches sight of you. You watch him look you up and down, before breaking into a boyish chuckle.

“What?” you ask confused, looking at him and then down at yourself. “Oh crap, I’m wearing the shirt inside out, Jesus!” you say, huffing as you attempt to make a turn back towards the bathroom.

“Oh, no that’s not it” you hear Kakashi object behind you, shaking his head.

You stop at the sound of his voice, turning around as he speaks. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Although… you do look a little funny”

You narrow your eyes at Kakashi and he raises his hands up in defence. “Just a little!” he protests as you make an eyeroll in reply, before pressing on. “What is it, then?”

You watch his muscles tense up ever so slightly, as he flips something on the pan a few times before looking back at you, his dark eyes sombre.

“No, like...” he fumbles, “it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” He says softly.

You feel a warm rush of blood creep up to your cheeks as you look down, burning under the intensity of his gaze. Your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt as you scour your brain to come up with something, anything to say.

Thankfully for you, the oven timer dings, attracting his attention away from you and putting you out of your quandary.

“What’s that?” you ask, drawing nearer to him to take a peek at everything he seems to have strewn about on the kitchen counter.

His words still ring at the back of your mind, lying in a thick cloak around you, making your heart beat faster than it usually does, even around him.

“It’s nothing much, you were hungry, so…I just whipped something up.” he says, but judging by the smell, you’re pretty sure that it’s nothing he has “just whipped up”.

“It smells delicious, Kakashi”, you say, almost feeling yourself choking up. You cannot recall the last time someone had prepared a meal for you. And now, here you are, standing in Kakashi Hatake’s kitchen, and he had not only saved your pitiful ass from the rain and invited you to his house and let you shower at his place but he had also cooked a meal for you. For YOU, with his own two hands.

You feel your stomach twisting and turning in all sorts of ways, but it’s not just the hunger. It’s something else and the realisation dawns upon you that if it’d mean ending up in Kakashi’s kitchen in this way again, you’d gladly be stranded in the cold rain out on the streets a thousand times over, and then a hundred more.

His voice breaks you out of your trance for the second time that day and you look up at him, his beautiful face formed into the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. He holds a hand out, gesturing towards the table where he seems to have carefully laid out two plates.

“Come on, let’s eat?” he says, and you follow along, thanking the universe silently in your heart for making it rain today.

[mimiwrites2000]

Blue Meeting Blue

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

Side Pairings: Jean x Pieck / Gabi x Falco:

Words count: 2010

* spoilers for ending of  manga

inspired by this fanart by Bella (_superspicy on twitter)

Summary:

When Annie looked in his eyes, the world stopped spinning, time froze, air halted. The waves in the ocean quietened, the forests' rustles ceased, and the wind subsided. For a moment, peace engulfed the world, the chaotic place wrapped in a fragile silence.

To witness the blossoming love in the youthful hearts.

the day of their wedding was finally here, Armin and Annie, the world waiting for them, and they were ready to face it, as one.

Husband and wife.

a one-shot about Aruani wedding, based on fanart by Bella (_superspicy on twitter)

His heart drummed in his ears. The lump in his throat enlarged into a coarse rock, impossible to swallow. His throat tight on his windpipes he could barely breathe.

He tried to compile the tips he read a few days earlier; deeply breathing and a smile.

He failed miserably at both.

“Armin?” 

He brushed his suit.

“Armin?”

He shifted his weight from one feet to the other.

“Armin!”

“Yes!” Armin jumped, searching around him, catching a few glances from the small crowd.

“Why are you not responding?”

Armin turned around and-

“Oh, Connie, I’m sorry, I’m just- you know, I was just-” Armin shook his head, waiting for Connie to somehow decipher the concoction of words he threw at him.

“It’s ok,” Connie chuckled, running his hand up and down Armin’s back, “it’s your wedding, it’s ok to be nervous.”

Armin thought about it for a moment, clicking his sharp crispy shoes on the wooden floor: “I’m not… I’m not nervous…”

“Excited?” Connie retorted, raising an expecting eyebrow at Armin.

At that, Armin blushed.

“Oh come on,” Connie laughed, nudging Armin, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Armin turned around, combing his hair down with his palms, his eyes scrutinizing the invited. Less than twenty people seated in rows, the joyous anticipating guests shifted in their seats, smiling at Armin and waving. The humble place densed with close friends and family. As ambassadors, their compulsory position obliged them to have another big, huge wedding, inviting the allied nations and every political face ever. A just-for-show kind of celebration, glazed in fake smiles and formalities. Armin and Annie had an innate dislike for these occasions. But they would have to do it either way. For now, they would live every moment of this homely, small wedding. 

They didn’t go venue hunting. Historia offered her own warehouse (that was attached to her farm house) to hold their wedding; they couldn’t say no to that. 

The warehouse transformed into a cozy, traditional hall, rows of velvety pink chairs aligned in straight lines, breaking in the middle to form a path overlayed with a shiny white carpet, leading up to where Armin was waiting. White flowers decorating the humble place, with golden fabric draped in soft curves. It gave off the family atmosphere Armin and Annie strived for. 

They couldn’t have it any better.

Gabi and Falco settled in the last row, Falco shamelessly and most likely unaware of himself openly-swooning over Gabi, both in summer outfits, Gabi’s dress flowered from the top to the bottom, Falco clad in a brown modern suit. Gabi was either oblivious to Falco’s hypnotized state, or she acted oblivious. Armin decided it was the latter.

Jean was sitting beside Pieck, facing away from each other. Armin sighed, they probably got into another fight. Since they started dating two years ago, their relationship had been on and off all the time.

Armin moved on, but the movement of Pieck’s hand took his attention. Slowly, she slithered her hand next to Jean’s, touching it slightly… a moment passed, before Jean sighed, intertwining their fingers.

Armin couldn’t stop the smile pulling at his lips.

A few seats next to them sat Reiner, his mom by his side, passionately whispering something in his ear. Reiner looked so out of it. 

When Reiner noticed Armin’s eyes, he smiled, paying him a small wave, with a gesture to his ring finger.

Ah

His mother’s whispers were nothing but pestering him about when he’ll get married. Armin laughed, shaking his head.

Armin’s eyes halted on the first seat at the far right, where his childhood friend sat, clad in a crimson red dress, her hair touching her shoulder, a dust of make up adorning her face. Mikasa smiled at Armin, a proud smile. The proud-mom-smile she wore whenever he did anything she was proud of.

She was proud of everything he did, every single thing he did since they were only nine.

He waved at her, she nodded in response.

He could never forget Mikasa’s reaction when he told her he would propose to Annie.

The tears, the hugs.

Happiness overflowed out of her.

But soon enough, they both crumbled on the floor, hugging each other, sobbing, lamenting whispers escaping them. Eren’s name slipped every now and then.

Armin swallowed, looking at his feet. The bitter sweet roughness of that night would remain in his mind for as long as he lived.

Someone joined the seat beside Mikasa.

It was Hitch.

Gorgeous.

Armin thought. She did look so pretty, her hair slightly curled, in an off the shoulder navy dress that overflowed in a soft skirt.

She waved at him, he smiled and nodded.

Then she winked, raising her thumbs.

Armin furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t understand, but nodded anyway.

Connie was having enough of Armin’s ignoring game; he cleared his throat and said: “Hey, by the way, how did you ask Mr. Leonhart for his blessings?”

“Oh, uh, well…” Armin started, flashbacks of that day at the forefront of his mind.

Even though they had been engaged for over a year, Armin still remembers that day as if it was yesterday.

Well…

“Well, he said that if I don’t treat Annie well, he will take my life with his own hands,” Armin said, shrugging his shoulders, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What?” 

“Yeah, I mean, it was easier than I thought, if I’m being honest with you.” 

“Oh God.”

“No it’s not that shocking, besides, he supported me and Annie from the beginning,” Armin replied.

“I can’t believe it,” Connie’s eyes fixated on a spot behind Armin.

“Well, I don’t know what you exactly think of Mr. Leonhart, but-”

Connie clicked his tongue, pointing behind Armin.

Armin turned around and-

It was her.

“Annie…” he whispered.

Standing there, arms tangled by her father's.

A simple dress, a peasant dress; puffy sleeves with ruffled edges that beautified her updo hair. Pastel pink contouring the dress’s folds, adding a variant of flowery accents to it. A tight brown bodice hugged her waist, making the flowy skirt finely pleated into cascading silky waves. Something about it reminded Armin of a field of pink flowers in a spring afternoon.

The slight blush on her cheeks, her bangs framing her face, boldening her beauty.

The memory of gazing at a crystal in a cold basement from a few years ago struck Armin.

But the cold was replaced by warmth.

A warmth that traveled from Armin's toes to the tip of his nose, a feeling he never experienced before. He wanted to scream, jump in his spot, like a toddler in a candy store, but he also wanted to hug himself, cage himself in a corner, and cry.

When Annie looked in his eyes, the world stopped spinning, time froze, air halted.

The waves in the ocean quietened, the forests' rustles ceased, and the wind subsided.

For a moment, peace engulfed the world, the chaotic place wrapped in a fragile silence.

To witness the blossoming love in the youthful hearts.

The warmth reached Armin's eyes, his sight blurring.

His lungs caught fire, and despite feeling suddenly hot, his hands were freezing cold.

A thousand thoughts swarmed his mind in the short period of Annie walking up to him. It took approximately a minute, perhaps two, but for Armin, it felt like eternity. A labyrinthine he was very willingly getting lost in.

When she reached him, at the altar, not a single breath left him. His sight was blurry and eyes burning. His whole body shook with every sob he tried to suppress.

Someone held his hand, Armin looked down, and through his blurry eyes, he saw Mr. Leonhart’s gripping his hand, his hold a bit tight.

Mr. Leonhart took Armin’s hand, raising it. In his other hand, he held his daughter’s hand.

He guided Annie’s hand to Armin’s, placing them on each other, before clasping them in his strong grasp, holding them for a while. He looked at Annie, nodded at her with a smile, before he turned his gaze to Armin.

Mr. Leonhart leaned towards Armin, whispering in his ear: “I would kill you.”

Armin laughed, though his mouth opened but no voice came out.

Mr. Leonhart descended, walking to his seat, dabbing at his eyes.

At that moment, Armin’s world muted into a deafening, incomprehensible line. He took Annie’s hands in his. His eyes went up, from their intertwined hands, up to her collarbone; she wore a simple necklace, a small, silver circular metal hanging from it.

To anyone who wasn’t familiar with Annie, it looked like a normal necklace. 

But it wasn’t.

It was her ring.

Her infamous ring.

Armin’s wandering eyes reached Annie’s.

Blue meeting blue.

And that was the last trigger.

Sobs escaped Armin’s lips. He cried, tears flowing and cascading on his cheeks. He didn’t want to cry, it made his eyesight blurry and he wanted to see Annie clearly. He brought his elbow to his eyes, wiping his tears, only for new ones to flood.

He tried to stop them, gritting his teeth, biting at the inside of his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut.

He couldn’t, all his attempts leading to more sobs and tears.

Warm hands on his face made him flutter his eyes open. With a handkerchief, Annie softly dabbed at his cheeks, a smile small on her lips. Her eyes were glistening as well.

Armin focused on her eyes, and slowly, took deep breaths.

Sobs subsided, and tears stopped streaming down his face, clearing his vision.

She cupped his face in her hands, and brought him down, capturing his lips on her own, a quick kiss, lingering for a bit. Armin kissed her back, closing his eyes briefly, before she pulled away. She pulled far enough to look into his eyes, but close enough to feel his breath on her face.

“Ahem ahem.”

Both almost jumped at the sound, turning their heads. The priest stood there, a smile on his lips.

Only then did Armin and Annie realize that the small crowd was giggling.

“You jumped off a few steps there,” the priest said, nudging his head towards them, eliciting extra chuckles from the crowd.

Armin pressed his lips, looking at Annie. She was already looking at him, her lips pressed as well. They exploded in a fit of laughter, before they calmed down, and the ceremony went on.

From the priest’s concise sentences, Armin presumed that the priest knew that Annie and him couldn’t wait to get married.

Rings slipped in their fingers, in their left hands, so smoothly, as if they were always meant to be.

Armin’s heart beating faster as they tiptoed closer to the ending of the wedding.

“And now,” the priest announced, taking a step back, “you, Armin Arlert, may now kiss the bride!”

They held each other's eyes, before Armin wrapped his arm around Annie’s waist, pulling her closer to him, and kissed her.

They kissed many, many times before.

But that kiss felt different.

Their first kiss as husband and wife.

Armin pressed his lips against Annie’s, feeling her heartbeat against his own wild one.

Cheers and claps erupted from the crowd, quiet sobs mixing with them.

They pulled apart, fighting against the magnetic force drawing them together.

Armin held Annie’s hands in his, running his finger on the ring, glistening in the light.

Annie was his, and he was hers.

“My husband,” she whispered, her voice an inch from breaking into tears.

An involuntary smile pulled at Armin’s lips, before he leaned towards Annie, resting his forehead on hers: “My wife.”

She shook her head, rubbing their foreheads together.

“My wife,” he said again, “my wife,” his voice getting louder, before he turned to the crowd, lifting up their intertwined hands victoriously in the air, screaming out: “my wife!!” 

Laughs and more claps burst, guests standing up in the process.

As the bride took the groom’s arm, the newly married couple made their way, taking a new step in their lives, together, forever and ever. 

.

.

first time writing a wedding, well, that was a wild ride hahahaa

I tried to write the feelings I got when I first saw Bella's fanart, I hope I got them right! this was a sudden one shot that I'm so glad I gave a shot and wrote, it was a very blessing experience thank you so much for reading!! If you guys liked this, I might write a second chapter but from Annie’s pov, sooo tell me what u think uwu aaand of course, any feedback is much appreciated!!

[op-sheepy]

ok so I'm particularly interested in

Bellamy Law

Law and Bible stuff

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

shichibukai applications

reverse hanahaki disease (?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

if you feel like elaborating on any of these!

This is gonna get long and I actually contemplated posting them separately but would that have been more work? Yeah, that felt like more work so for anyone interested, check under the cut. :D

---------------------------------o

---------------------------------o

Bellamy Law

Hm… This would be an attempt to explore the parallels and contrasts between Bellamy and Law. I've always found it fascinating that the former was a foil to the latter.

They both come from well-off  towns in the North Blue.

Bellamy left because of boredom. Law had no choice because Flevance.

Both ended up seeking Doflamingo  because of  his notoriety as a pirate. Both admired him initially

Doffy favored one over the other though. Bellamy always sought his approval but was never really part of the inner circle Doflamingo cared about.

Law got the dubious privilege of being part of the family despite being absent for so long. Even offered one of the highest seats by Doffy's side for seemingly nothing.

Law had no trouble turning his back on Doffy once he realized the man's nature. Bellamy tried to stick to his principles until the end despite admitting that he new he was wrong.

Bellamy can (and did) quit piracy after his ordeal with Doflamingo. Having the option to live peacefully, perhaps a return to his previous life (the one he considered boring). Law can't do that quite as easily what with his Devil fruit and his reputation.

I thought it would be interesting trying to explore what Bellamy was thinking. Did he hear the Donquixote Pirates talk about their missing 'family'? Did he get to see Doffy be amused at Law's rise as a Supernova while he kept being reminded of his own status? Did Law save Bellamy partially because he also saw what he could have been had Corazon not saved him?

On principle, Bellamy should have hated Trafalgar Law. Does. Bastard even saved him without him wanting it. But there was something about the shadows haunting those eyes and Bellamy started to wonder.

He had heard the family talk about Law before. The child personally taught by Doflamingo, chosen to be his right hand. Never was he compared to the man because Law was just obviously better. Smarter. Stronger. Bellamy was ever just an uncouth thug.

He was allowed to 'borrow' Doflamingo's symbol while Law had an empty seat waiting for his return–a seat Bellamy had wanted enough to risk everything for.

Maybe he had resented, Trafalgar Law for carelessly rejecting the things he had that Bellamy had always desired. In the end too, Trafalgar Law did prove to be better. He'd done as a child what Bellamy had trouble doing even as he was now.

But having been given the chance to observe the other man as they all recovered, he wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether despite Law being better than Bellamy, Bellamy had had it better–barring the poor life choices.

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Law and Bible stuff

This is just me wanting to know how many biblical parallels and themes I can draw from Law, the Donquixote brothers, the characters associated with them, and his backstory. Honestly not sure whether this would become a fic and in what style or I'm gonna give up and just make it a post.

Not gonna elaborate on them much but here are the ideas in more bullet points (yay):

Law gets familiar with all four horsemen of the apocalypse: conquest, war, famine, and death. He even survives them.

Law is like the son in the parable of the prodigal son to the Donquixote pirates. Except the themes are inverted.

Doflamingo and Rocinante -> Cain and Abel

Ope Ope no Mi -> Granting eternal life by sacrificing one's own life

Gods descending or living among humans. Also, Homing and his family being prosecuted for other people's sins.

That scene where they were hanged by their arms outstretched looks like a crucifixion. Also, Rocinante was on the right while Doflamingo was on the left. Similar to how the penitent thief was on the right and the unrepentant one to the left.

Flevance being considered a paradise with walls/fences/gates and somewhere Law cannot return to.

In the panel where the Donquixote pirates are seated at the table, there were thirteen of them with Doffy at the center. Same as The Last Supper

There are a lot more of these (David and Goliath, Solomon, Jonah, Job, etc.) but I kinda lost the notes and some are more visual so I can't really explain it too well. This would is a drabble series to emphasize or highlight the parallels so no proper snippet for this one.

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Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

Originally an idea to get around most of the Heart Pirates being nameless but evolved to include other characters as kids. Chopper is a kindergarten teacher and he convinces Law to take over his class for a week because somehow Law has the qualifications to and free time. Naturally, he wasn't able to say no.

Unfortunately, despite not being terrible at handling children, Chopper's class is filled with menaces. Also, despite not being terrible, Law can still be awkward so...

"Mr. Trofao–fargar—"

"Trafalgar."

The kid—which one was this one again? Shit, he should really get them name plates or something—scrunched up his face and tried harder, "Tar-pal—"

"Law. Just call me Law."

"Mr. Low"—eh, close enough—"can I go to the bathroom?" Wide imploring eyes stared up at him.

"Sure, go ahead." Law gestured towards the exit of the classroom with his head.

The kid just stared expectantly at him and he tried to suppress the need to narrow his eyes.

"Is there… anything else?"

"Mr. Chopper always comes with me to hold my hand."

Really?

"Mr. Chopper isn't here. You should practice doing it on your own now." He said after a deep inhale.

"But the monsters might get me…"

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Before the kid could open his mouth again to argue, he added, "Besides, children taste terrible so you're safe."

The kid looked stricken and took a step back from him. Uh oh. Glistening eyes, wobbling lower lip… "Alright! I'll go with you." The kid did not look reassured. In fact he looked like going alone with Law was the last thing he wanted to do. Guess, he kinda implied that he ate children didn't he? Oops.

Well, the kid needs to go and he's not going to be cleaning up after him if he wets himself.

Law glanced at the rest of the children. It was Arts and Craft time and they seemed preoccupied enough. Still, Law doubted Chopper ever left these kids alone–already he could see some of them glancing up at him, waiting for him to leave no doubt to cause trouble. That Monkey kid in particular looked extremely suspicious.

He stood up from his crouch and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Fall in line. Single file."

There was some grumbling and questioning directed at him. "What's going on?"

Law shrugged. "You're all going to the bathroom."

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Shichibukai Application Forms

Crackfic where the World Government and relevant parties review various Shichbukai Applications. Most submitted by the pirates applying themselves, some produced by their own staff. They discuss and debate. As well as judge pirate resumes.

She scanned the document. Terrible format, really. If you fail to impress within the first page, you've failed entirely. There just wasn't anyone promising enough in this batch of applications or any of the other ones before. The last one had been that clown. "Apprentice to the Pirate King," was a pretty hefty credential.

"Oh, how about this one? Three years experience pillaging, and they even listed all the towns they looted." One of the newly transferred administrative staff said.

"None of these are worth considering at all. You know, when Mihawk was asked to submit his application, he hadn't bothered with all of this. He just sent us a card with his name on it and the title "World's Strongest Swordsman," underneath."

The staff perked up. "Oh, there was an application like that." There was scramble and some shuffling before a plain white card was produced. "Here."

"'From Trafalgar Law'. What does this even mean?"

"Well, it did come with a big box..."

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Reverse Hanahaki Disease

(?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

Haha. At first it was going to be that way (because it is hilarious) but the inflicted would probably choke to death too soon. Or if both enemies had it, they'd end up just coughing flowers at each other until they stopped being enemies.

The version I ended up going with was that this variant of Hanahaki, instead of afflicting those with unrequited love, affected those in denial instead. The reverse part comes from the original idea that this would usually happen if you somehow fell in love with your nemesis (someone you originally hated). So it's not the thought that the other person can't love you, it's that you can't accept that you love that other person. You get cured by confessing to the person sincerely.

This is actually another KidLaw (surprise!). And the flower coughed up directly represents the person they're in love with (I went with Oda's flower representation for them because I found it funny for plot)

So the idea is that, you get sick but you don't automatically know (maybe) who it is because that's part of being in denial. Kid and Law have many enemies after all. In this story they both get it though not exactly at the same time and not known to the other.

He survived Amber Lead Syndrome only to be killed off by a stupid flower disease that apparently knows more about his own feelings than he does.

He glared at the petals. Tulips. Red.

An image of a cocky grin and a shock of red hair flashed through his mind and—nope. That's not right.

He coughed harder, tears stinging his eyes with the effort. More flowers. Now he has enough for a bouquet.

Alright, he was a doctor. He could do this. Differential time.

First, which variant does he have. He doesn't particularly feel unloved or hopeless. There wasn't anyone he wanted in particular to love him. Ok, nothing. It was maybe safe to say he had that other variant.

Which was stupid because Law had many enemies and he hated all of them.

And cue the racking coughs. More red. He was very familiar with that particular shade.

New theory. This was a new variant that somehow makes you sick when you think of the person you hated the most.

Yes, that had to be it. He thought as he all but collapsed on the floor from the sudden paroxysm.

I knew this was gonna get long. :) Oh well...

Thank you for playing. :D

[crochetedblorbos]

“Sometimes the present and the past need to stay separate.”

Character Name: Dr. Aster Huxley

Fandom: Mnemosyne [Podcast]

Voiced By: Varis Zima

Yarn Used:       Hair: Red Heart Super Saver - Black       Skin: CraftSmart Value - Coffee       Shoes/Trousers: CraftSmart Value - Dark Chocolate       Vest: CraftSmart Value - Taupe       Shirt: Lion Brand Vanna’s Choice - Dusty Purple       Lab Coat: CraftSmart Value - White       Eyes/Mouth: DMC #310

Basic pattern here.

This man is an absolute disaster and we love him for it. The head neurologist at Mnemosyne Space Prison, Huxley is, in his own way, just as much a prisoner as the people he experiments on, and I for one am terrified of what’s going to happen in the rest of this season. (By the way, y’all are sleeping on this podcast - go and listen to it here.)

One thing in particular that I did with Huxley, mostly because I found out it was an option, is that he’s stuffed with black polyfill rather than the traditional white stuff. They had it at Michael’s and I decided it would work better for him. I also realized I pulled my stitches tighter with him than I did with Joseph, so even though I used the same yarn and same size hook, he’s still just slightly smaller than Joseph. Somehow, though, it feels fitting. Other ways Huxley deviates from the standard pattern are as follows:

Shoes: Like with Mini, I didn’t change colors for his soles, so his shoes are a solid dark brown. Otherwise, they are made exactly the same way as Joseph’s. The official art on the Brainrot Presents Patreon shows that his pants don’t quite go all the way to his shoes, so for R8, I switched to his skin color, ch 1, and sc in the back loop of each st around, then did R9 in the same color before switching to his trousers.

Trousers: I did the trousers the same way I did Joseph’s, just beginning with R10 instead of R8.

Vest and Shirt: I followed the same variant for Huxley’s sweater vest as I did for Joseph’s hoodie up until R51. In R51, when I got to the center front of his body, I switched to the shirt color for 1 stitch, then switched back to the vest color around. For R52, the first sc and first inv dec were done in the shirt color before switching back to the vest color. In R53, the first 3 scs were in the shirt color and the rest done in vest color.       R54: Switch to shirt color. Ch 1, sc in front loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc).       R55: Switch to skin color. Ch 1, sc in back loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc).

**NOTE: Because of the extra round for Huxley’s neck, all steps from this point on are one round higher than on the standard pattern.

Hair: I once again probably made this way harder on myself than I needed to, but it’s Huxley, so frustrating is kind of the order of the day. I essentially did the same procedure I did with Mini, with two key exceptions. One is that I did the weave all the way up his scalp - Huxley isn’t really the man-bun type - and the other is that, starting with R64…mostly because that’s when I thought of it…I started pulling from both ends of my skein of black (this is a terrible idea and I don’t recommend it if you have literally any other options) and using black for both the scalp and the hair. It probably made things unnecessarily complicated, but I decided I liked the effect. (After a while, things were getting super tangled, so I cut off a small ball from one end and used that for the hair bit.) I also accidentally did an extra round of straight sc in the middle because I lost track of where I was, so his face is a little longer than normal, but it works.

Arms: I did Huxley’s arms the same way I did Joseph’s (using the shirt color rather than the vest color), except that I didn’t do the row of back loop scs after front loop hdcs, so he doesn’t exactly have cuffs on this shirt.

I also put magnets in his hands. To get them to stay in place while I stuffed the hands, I put another magnet on the outside to just hold them in place. It worked.

Lab Coat:  I improvised this as I went, but it worked out. (I also didn’t write it down as I went because I’m an idiot, and trying to count it I have no idea what I actually did where, so.) Basically, I did a ch38, then did rows of dc back and forth until the rectangle went from Huxley’s ankles to his waist. At that point, I started doing an invisible decrease at more or less the midpoint of his back (or as close to it as I could get) until I got up to where his underarms would be. To make the armholes, I worked up to where I wanted them to be in dc, then did a ch 9 and skipped three stitches, joined with a dc, and kept going in the other direction. The next round I did a sc in each chain stitch but dcs in the dcs. I topped it with a row of sc, then another row of sc in back loops only to make the collar. For the sleeves, I joined the yarn to the outside of the armholes and worked six rounds of dc to make them long enough (six rounds was just about perfect).

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x f!reader x oc)

i. ikigai.

— the reason for being; the reason you wake up in the morning.

rating: mature for sexual content, violence, blood, gore, etcetera.

warnings: violence in this chapter, graphic descriptions of viscera and gore, murder.

a/n: i caved and finally wrote it. feedback is appreciated (adored *cough*). next on my list is a chapter for the girl in the foxes’ den. <3 

THE SMELL OF BLOOD would make some people gag. But you—sitting complacently in the small, cramped room offered to you by the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College’s higher ups, the only thing they would even deem appropriate to allow you to own—were used to the faint tang of iron, the putrid odor of someone’s bowels spilling out of their body through a horizontal gash between their hips.

It was a regular occurrence, or at least a daily chore, that you had to clean blood out of the tatami mats and replace the shoji doors entirely. Most of your tiny allowance, collected from the bodies of the assassins who had been paid to kill you, was enough to pay for it, but sometimes you had to wonder if it was just as much a chore for the janitors to make the bodies vanish as it was for you to try to get blood out of tatami mats—which was hilariously difficult.

Staring at the decapitated head lying at your knees, you dodged a spurt of arterial spray coming from the stump of the neck, following the trajectory with your eyes and internally withering away as it struck at yet another set of shoji doors, rendering you up to two sets you would be replacing in the next couple of days. Masamichi Yaga would be disappointed in you; at least, you figured he would be. It wasn’t as if he was paying you many visits lately, not with the way your Curse was acting up lately.

Ama-no-Kagaseo slumbered away peacefully in your arms. Held by a sash wrapped around your shoulders and back with Shinto charms woven into the very seams, he was virtually hidden from sight so only you could see the small, chubby face within, and the wisps of pale hair curling at his forehead. He looked almost innocent like this, if you could just ignore the body bleeding before your kneeling form and the way an invisible breeze brushed hair away from your ear to whisper an unintelligible term of affection, as if you were oblivious to his presence.

“Another body, [Name]-san?”

The gentle touch at the back of your neck vanished. You looked over to the now opened shoji door to see your teacher—over qualified executioner, you liked to call her—Fujiwara, Sayaka standing at the threshold. She wore the typical black uniform of the college, personalized into a sleek and form fitting pant suit embellished with charms and cleverly woven Jujutsu spells to shield her from Ama-no-Kagaseo’s temper. While you had never told her they wouldn’t do any good, as he had tore through higher grade spells like paper before, she seemed to be aware of the constant danger she was in by just being around you or in your personal space. Sayaka was sketchy and dodgy at best, but she could match Gojo, Satoru on a bad day, so you trusted in her power at least only marginally. Your fondness for the woman was probably the only thing keeping her alive.

“Yes.” The carefully crafted speech of the Shiraishi clan was something Sayaka hated and you used as a security blanket. The elders couldn’t say anything if you were polite, respectful, and kept Ama-no-Kagaseo on a leash; which was foolish, you’d wanted to tell them, because the malevolent god was not above overpowering you and waking from his sleep if he so wanted. “This would be the sixth one this month. Do they ever run out of bodies to slaughter?”

“I’m afraid not.” The woman’s pale pink hair shone in the sunlight peeking through the broken roof that the assassin had launched himself through. It had been a comical sight; you’d even dropped your green tea in shock, even though you shouldn’t have been surprised with how often it happened. “Well, you can’t stay here—not now, anyways. I’ve been given new orders to secure your lodging on the college campus, effective immediately.”

You raised an eyebrow. You had never been allowed to set foot on the campus ever since you’d taken your position as Ama-no-Kagaseo’s vessel. You vaguely remembered the people there—Fushiguro, Megumi and Panda to name two—and what it looked like, though it had been so long that you wondered what they looked like now. They had been young, like you, when you met them, Panda being an adorable presence that had raised your spirits if only for a little while. Ama-no-Kagaseo was considered a threat to all life and, as such, you had to keep away from the main populace of Jujutsu sorcerers for their safety… or the higher up’s whims. So to hear you were going there, immediately, without question, raised a few red flags for you.

“What’s going on?” You asked, though the demand in your voice was clear. It was something you had picked up from Ama-no-Kagaseo when he had first started speaking to you through your linked souls. Sayaka always seemed unnerved when you demanded something of her, as if seeing something you couldn’t, not that you would be surprised if she could. She’d seen a manifestation of Ama-no-Kagaseo’s essence around you more than once and nearly lost her eye for it; the scar running lengthwise down her face was proof of it. “You know as well as I do that they would never let me set foot on those grounds unless something more important than keeping Ama-no-Kagaseo sealed came up.”

Sayaka squinted at something over your shoulder right as you felt the jade pins in your hair tinkle like windchimes. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

You offered her a sheepish smile. Ama-no-Kagaseo was fond of getting on every single one of Sayaka’s nerves through you, since you wouldn’t let him kill her without shunning him entirely. It was an unusually innocent form of torture for him, one you never took for granted. That didn’t mean that she understood exactly how lucky she was that he didn’t resort to his more cruel methods of torture.

“He’s been calm today,” you said in lieu of reassuring her. You deliberately left out the fact that he was more occupied with playing with the anklet around your sock clad ankle, a Shiraishi family heirloom that hadn’t been worn since Ama-no-Kagaseo had been sealed. The malevolent energy it gave off was distinctly Ama-no-Kagaseo’s and you doubted any of the other women before you had been comfortable wearing it. “You’ll be okay for today.”

“Like that’s supposed to be reassuring,” she scoffed. You had to begrudgingly agree; he had been calm the day he’d given her that scar, although the incident leading up to it had been… extenuating, to say the least. She eyed the still form of his human body in your arms and then looked away. “How far does his domain extend now?”

You recognized the question for what it was: a distraction. Clearly whatever was going on was something you weren’t privy to, or were ever going to be privy to. You pressed your lips together and Ama-no-Kagaseo stopped playing with your anklet to swipe an invisible finger over your mouth, unpleased with your dour expression. You attempted to relax your facial muscles ever so slightly and that seemed to satiate him, because he went back to fiddling with the charms on your anklet. If Sayaka noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“It’s extended.” You adjusted the sash around your shoulders uncomfortably. Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain was not something you wanted to talk about; Sayaka reported everything to the higher ups, and as a consequence, what little freedom you had was suppressed with every little progression that Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain made towards more leeway. You had a feeling that he repressed his malicious urges for your sake, but you couldn’t be entirely sure—he never spoke in entire sentences, just fragments of words and quiet terms of endearment. “I think maybe a few feet. I’m not sure.”

It was more like another mile, rolling his total up to two miles, but you kept that part to yourself. Sayaka seemed to accept your answer, still eyeing the space that the Curse was occupying beside you, and then looked at your kimono like she always did. It wasn’t as if it was exactly normal.

When you had gained Ama-no-Kagaseo’s trust—or affection?—your wardrobe had been sliced to ribbons and replaced with shimmering kimonos of the highest quality silk, imbued with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s Curse energy and embroidered with his personal sigil. You had been distraught over your lost possessions, many of them belonging to your mother, the former vessel before you, but you had grown to appreciate the garments for their beauty and comfort. The silk seemed to have a permanent projection of the night sky upon it so that when you moved, the stars would shift as if in a time lapse recording. Ama-no-Kagaseo only let you remove it when you went to bathe or got ready for bed. By the time you were awake and moving out of bed, the kimono—sometimes a variant with thicker layers or thinner ones—was already wrapped around your body again as if it had never left in the first place.

“I’m guessing you won’t be allowed to wear the uniform,” she sighed, indicating that you’d need to blend in for whatever it was that was going on. “Damn. Okay, well, we can work on that later. Right now we need to get you packed and moving before—”

“Kelp.”

You hadn’t noticed the new presence at the door, or even within Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain. Your eyes darted to the door, instinctively bristling as if an assassin was awaiting you, and all at once, you felt the temperature in the room—once a comfortable sixty-five degrees—drop significantly. Sayaka’s eyes widened and almost a second too late, she shoved the white haired male to the floor. A fraction of a second later a harsh gust of wind blew the wall behind his head out, the roof slumping down and crumbling into a pile of debris.

“Inumaki-san!” Sayaka growled, gritting her teeth in frustration. She got to her feet and when she was sure that Ama-no-Kagaseo’s curse energy wasn’t fluctuating for another hit, she pulled the male to his feet. He seemed a little shell shocked, or at the very least surprised, and his dark gaze drifted to you in minute curiosity. “Didn’t I tell you not to come in until I explained everything?”

“Salmon. Mustard Leaf.”

What? You fluttered your eyes open and shut in disbelief. Was he talking in… ingredients?

“Of course. I guess I should have expected that.” Sayaka rubbed her face and crossed her arms. Then she looked at you. “Shiraishi-san, this is Inumaki Toge, a second year student. Inumaki-san, this is Shiraishi [Name]. She’ll be on campus for the foreseeable future.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied, feeling Ama-no-Kagaseo’s hostility dwindle with your calming heart rate.

“Kelp.” He bowed his head slightly, but for the most part remained straight and standing. That allowed Ama-no-Kagaseo to calm down completely and you had to wonder why, but your attention was quickly ripped away when Sayaka spoke again.

“He’ll be standing in for me when I am unable to attend to you.”

This was news—frankly shocking news, if you were being honest—to you. Sayaka had not left your side since you were ten. She had to be in her early thirties, your latest estimate may be in her forties, not that she would tell you. She saw any personal information as a weapon to be used against her by Ama-no-Kagaseo. She was adamant that it had nothing to do with you, personally, but the Curse who you carried against your chest as if he were your own child. You admitted it was a smart thing to do, but you also knew deep within your heart that if Ama-no-Kagaseo wanted to hurt her, he wouldn’t need her life history to do it.

“What do you mean?” You inquired, phrasing it as delicately as you could without appearing you were about to fly into a murderous rage. Sayaka was your only friend—not that she’d even let you call her that—in the entire world. You considered Ama-no-Kagaseo a protector, in a convoluted way, and a companion, since he would be with you until the day you died. You couldn’t call anyone else a friend in the way you could her.

Sayaka almost looked uncertain about telling you. She looked to Inumaki for confirmation and he shrugged, indicating the decision was up to her. You watched the interaction with keen eyes, noting the slight familiarity and the way Inumaki was deferring to her with his body language. Clearly he knew something you didn’t, something he shared with Sayaka. Before she opened her mouth, she waved for him to leave the room; obviously she was concerned whatever she was about to say would earn him another blow from Ama-no-Kagaseo.

“Long story short—Ryoumen Sukuna has been incarnated into this era.”

Bound to Ama-no-Kagaseo as you were, you were as in tune to his ‘emotions’ as he was yours. So when Sayaka let that little piece of information hang in the air like a guillotine ready to drop, you felt Ama-no-Kagaseo’s rage bubble up inside you like a potent poison. It was all consuming, hateful, and everything you dreaded when he got truly furious because once he was angry, and you panicked because he would—

And you were gone, taking a backseat in your own conscious. Ama-no-Kagaseo was too infuriated to apologize to you properly, barely managing to even sweep an illusory breeze across your cheek before taking control of your body. You knew he wasn’t angry with you, but this man Ryoumen Sukuna who he seemed to know well that he was beside himself.

Ama-no-Kagaseo had dressed up your shared consciousness to resemble something of a palace of stars and a night sky. The few times he did take control of your body (usually to stop you from tumbling over cliff edges, falling out of trees, or skinning your knees) you were granted access to this mysterious place, and yet it seemed you had a permanent residence despite only being present for a few times. You had a little mat seated beside his at a table; your favorite flowers were littered around the metaphorical palace in porcelain vases; you even had a closet full of star studded kimonos, which was where you assumed he got all of the kimonos he manifested upon your person now.

You appeared upon his throne, which was bizarre since you usually wound up somewhere near the entrance to wait for him to escort you back to your body, a pale metal contraption adorned with blue, green, and purple gems and silk that was smooth and silky to the touch. Since he stayed here often, he had made it comfortable; you had only seen his personal representation of his physical appearance once, and you had been so flustered that you immediately hid your face in your sleeves while he laughed in amusement. Besides that one time, you had only ever seen it in paintings, which were much different than the real—metaphysical?—thing. Ama-no-Kagaseo abhorred earth and for the limited time he was willingly present within it, he was usually only there for you.

A bright blue orb appeared in your lap, hovering just above your legs. You grasped it, worried it would fall and shatter, and found yourself staring through your own eyes at Sayaka.

Her face was contorted into panic and sheer terror. You knew that your appearance changed when he took control—your eyes completely blacked over from corner to corner and appeared as if they had stars in them, and two delicate dark blue dots appeared beneath your eyes to signify your soul and his—but you were curious what you actually looked like. You couldn’t be that terrifying, could you?

“Ama-no-Kagaseo.” Sayaka’s voice was strained. “Where is [Name]?”

That was the first time you’d ever heard her say your name without honorifics. Your surprise must have been evident, because Ama-no-Kagaseo allowed a brief flicker of wind to run down your neck. It was chilly, indicative of his anger, and you pulled your kimono closer around you as if it would help.

“She is present.” That was also the first time you’d ever heard him speak more than a single word. “I am allowing her to watch to reassure her I will not harm you in my anger.”

You would have been dying at his usage of full sentences if you weren’t so worried about Sayaka doing something foolish. You knew she would report this to the higher ups, but you had a feeling this intentional. Ama-no-Kagaseo picked up on your thoughts as well and agreed, gently tugging a jade pin out of your hair. The physical version of you was untouched, but you lost the pin in the metaphysical world.

“I see.” Sayaka carefully sat down, locking her knees and tucking her feet underneath herself. It was the complete opposite of the one she took when you were around. “I’m sure you heard, but—”

“Yes,” Ama-no-Kagaseo interrupted her, using your hand to pick up your discarded cup of green tea. “Ryoumen Sukuna. It has been over a thousand years since I’ve heard that name.”

Sayaka ignored the cup. “I am aware that he played a vital role in sealing you to this realm.”

That was news to you—you seemed to be discovering new things at every turn of the corner. You furrowed your eyebrows and brought your knees up to your chin, watching the globe more intently.

“Not Sukuna himself,” Ama-no-Kagaseo sneered. In your voice, it was a strange thing to hear. “His followers. But he was the indirect cause, so I am attributing the fault to him since I strung their corpses upon his precious temple.”

You could tell that Sayaka found his logic extremely concerning by the twitch in her cheek. A stream of sweat crept down her temple.

“You can’t kill him.”

“And why not?” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s tone went frosty. You watched a shudder roll over Sayaka’s shoulders. “Do not presume to tell me what to do, mortal.”

“He will keep coming back.” Sayaka backpedalled, clenching her fists. “We don’t have all twenty fingers. His host, Itadori Yuuji, is too good of a chance to pass up—if we can get him to intake all of them—”

“You can raze Sukuna from this earth and get rid of him for good.” Ama-no-Kagaseo inferred. “Except it will not be that easy.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Ama-no-Kagaseo didn’t answer her. You felt a telltale pull of your lips and were slowly pulled back into your own body.

“I bore of you,” he said, after a moment, and then allowed you control once more, the darkness bleeding away from your eyes.

You felt him settle into a doze within your consciousness and simultaneously found yourself staring at Sayaka. When you smiled at her in apology, she collapsed back and blew out a harsh breath.

“For a minute there I thought he was going to kill me,” she sighed, then sat up and fixed you with a glower. “You didn’t tell me you could see when he takes control.”

You shook your head and raised a hand, keeping the other firmly rooted against Ama-no-Kagaseo’s physical form’s back. “This is the first time I was able to. I didn’t even know I could.”

Sayaka narrowed her eyes and then looked away, seemingly in thought. “Well, I guess there’s no use in telling the higher ups right now. They have bigger fish to fry at the moment. And it’s not like we didn’t know all of that about Sukuna… Ugh. This is giving me a headache.”

“Me too,” you sighed, unnervingly aware of the way Ama-no-Kagaseo’s fingers were following the collar of your kimono, deceptively docile compared to moments before. He had decided to give up on his nap after all. “So, when do we go to the campus?”

“Right now. Pack up your stuff and meet Inumaki and I outside.”

When Sayaka left the room, you carefully began putting back your tea pot in its box and wandering to find something suitable to put your clothes in. You found a cloth bag, blank except for a few flowers embroidered on it by hand, and had just enough room to pile on your box of jewelry—all of it Cursed with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy—on the top. You didn’t have a lot of belongings because of the higher ups, but what you did have you treasured greatly; your favorite piece was an elaborate diadem of foreign make, decorated with diamonds and crystals that were made to turn into weapons if you willed it. You tucked it safely beneath two of your kimonos and found a ring lying on your nightstand where there hadn’t been one before.

You walked over to it, drawn by Ama-no-Kagaseo’s familiar energy. The jewel glimmered with power and visibly made the air around it ripple; you picked it up and found it warm to the touch.

“Protect. Sukuna.” He was back to one or two words again. You were almost disappointed but went back to examining the ring, wondering what finger to put it on. You eventually decided on your ring finger and it was a snug fit, as if it had been made with exactly that finger in mind.

“Thank you, Ama-no-Kagaseo.”

An affectionate ruffle of your hair was all you got in return.

                                      masterlist | next chapter. >

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[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Ours

Extremely late and I’m EXTREMELY sorry!😭 @bluboothalassophile happy belated EVERYTHING! And just thank you so much for being the incredible friend that you are!!!! 🥰You know what this is 😏and I hope you enjoy because this is the first of three parts. Three just seemed to fit... I had a ton of fun writing it and hopefully it’s not rubbish.

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It took time and patience with an unpracticed key guided by an unsteady grip. A petite, pale girl caught her lip between her teeth, a tiny grunt escaping as she finagled with the door.

"Raven, is that you?"

But she was starting to get used to this.

There was a concluding click as the key's metal ridge caught the groove in the last lock of the six panel apartment door. When it opened, in wandered a wearied Raven Roth.

And Raven would have liked to think she wandered in gracefully, but she knew she was dragging. It was impossible not to while wearing shoes so abhorrently impractical they should have been illegal. So violent was the aching in her heels, that by the final stretch of half-block, they were nearly numbed. Gods and her back—it was practically killing her.

If she was being honest, Raven felt like something one of those city sweeping trucks scraped off the sidewalk at four-thirty in the morning. One could only hope she didn't look like it.

"Roy," Raven winced, eyelids squeezing shut as she spoke. "I'm alive—but barely."

"Jay?" Roy called out from somewhere in the foreground. "Where are you?"

As expected a low, disembodied grunt ushered out in lieu of a response.

"Didn't you hear—Raven's back!"

The door slid closed and a gust of air entered the foyer behind her, carrying with it the heady notes of brown sugar, nutmeg, and melted butter. And like a Pavlovian response, she forgot the discomfort and led herself up by the nose. Spine straightening, legs lifting, then posture rising. It was like her whole being had been revitalized in an instant. Who knew the promise of a home-cooked meal could do that? A wistful smile steered into her face as Raven thought about how evenings after work used to transpire.

Weeks ago, one foot in the door usually meant bra optional. And flattening into a decompression on the couch was a non-negotiable.

Needless to say, a welcome like this one would never not catch her off guard.

"Something smells like you've outdone yourself again," Raven spoke loudly over the faint sounds of sizzling, curiously craning her neck and sniffing the air distractedly.

And then Roy appeared. He was peering out into the foyer, red hair bleeding out against the backdrop of a white walled interior. "Dinner will be ready soon," he supplied and beamed at her. The brightness faded in increments as his deep pine eyes floated downward and he took what she was holding.

"Again?"

"Yep." Raven gave a single solemn nod and Roy let out a dramatic sigh.

"But it's Friday. Those bastards..." he muttered in disbelief and Raven smirked. Suddenly, he inclined his head toward the other room and inhaled suspiciously. "Do you...smell that?" Roy went rigid in realization. "It smells like I forgot the flip."

"It smells like...that one's Jason's," Raven corrected.

Red eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. "Right." He marched back briskly toward the kitchen, only pausing to point at the heavy bag full of file folders teetering on her shoulder. "You'll have to tell me and Jaybird all about...that."

"Yes, please." Raven let out a huff, lower lip quivering. "You're an angel..." Roy winked at the pout topped by pleading purple and disappeared.

"The irony," a low drawl called from just around the corner. "Are you always such a sight for sore eyes?"

It was Jason walking over with arms out as wide as his grin. Even without the sarcasm, his aura and footsteps were distinct—a dead giveaway. They were oddly as heavy as they were silent.

"Whoa…" he looked as concerned as Roy had moments ago. "Or are you just sore?" Strong, steady hands removed her bag from her shoulder. "That's better." Raven rolled her stiff arm muscles.

It was a relief, to hand off her burden for a moment, to no longer be dragged down by the weight of her work—and the world.

"How was our day?" he pressed like a man who knew the answer.

"Rough—and long..."

Quickly Jason knelt down, hand reaching out for her calf. "I've got you, Princess." And Raven placed a balancing hand on his shoulder while he undid her shoes, a grateful half-smile stitching across her face.

"Come, come."

He took her hand, twirling her around past the living room to deposit her right onto a stool next to the island. "Sit. Harper's making crepes." Jason pulled her stool close and spun it around, so he was faced with the back of her.

"Take it from me, they'll help with the tension. Of course... I also believe in a hands-on approach." Jason then cracked his knuckles—mostly for effect, because boy did he know what he was doing. His hands slid up her arms, to her shoulders and worked them over, then dug into the surrounding muscles with his fingers and kneaded hard with his thumbs.

"Mmm..." Raven's tension began to ebb and wane. "Well, that helps a little..." Jason turned up the pressure a few more degrees while his breath grew heated on her neck.

Aroma clouds were wafting around their heads, while Roy flipped another crepe in slow motion. And in an instant, Raven was transported to some sort variant of a Jason and Roy spa she didn't know she needed.

"Okay, that helps a lot." And she moaned in spite of herself. All her stress was melting away, turning into liquid and evaporating off of her, faster than the French butter Roy was melting on the stove. He tilted the bright red crepe pan in all directions, getting an even gloss of sweet, golden goodness in every crevice. And Jason's hands continued to manipulate each one of hers, until all the tightness in her upper body unknotted itself.

"Hmm, where else—where else? Ah." Jason's rough hands took hold of the chevron patterned lace covering her ankles and he began to massage away. "Did I tell you, how much I like these stockings?"

Raven seemed not to hear him. "Harder," she whispered. His knuckle pounded gently down her arches, then ground fixedly into her heel and, painstakingly along the sides. By the time he took her other foot into his lap, she was practically cooing. "Did I tell you how good you are at that?" The tip of Jason's tongue edged over the corner of his smile.

Gods.

"That really is a shame..." he said and Raven lifted her head towards him in question. "About your day? How rough and hard it was..." His hand was lowering, slowing, but lingering. "Normally when you put those two adjectives together... It could be a good thing."

"Okay...!" Roy had come over suddenly with his spatula proffering a piece of crepe, still steaming hot from the pan. "I'm testing something out tonight, so I've added a special ingredient to this batch."

"Oh good. Raven did have one of those days. She could use some..." Jason pantomimed a flippant gesture. It could have been taking a long drag or it could have been—

"Not that kind... A different kind of special..." Roy shot Jason and Raven a long once over. Something in the way he said special made the air around them begin to bristle with titillation, anticipation. "A few drops of...lavender extract..." His voice dropped another octave. And he began to blow on the bite while Raven and Jason watched his full lips. It seemed cooling the steam from the crepe had an opposite and equal reaction. As if each breath was fanning the flames rising between them, like a bellow into charred embers in the hearth of a fireplace.

"Let me know what you think of it." Gently, he fed her piece from his fingers and Jason leaned his face close to hers, like he was attempting to steal it straight from her lips. Just before the point of contact, Roy clicked his tongue playfully.

Almost like he was calling him off.

"If you want some you'll have to wait." Dazedly, Raven blinked at Roy. He shook his head of chin length crimson hair, half of it was up in a bun with the rest hanging in his face. "I'll be back with the rest." Teasingly, Roy waved the spatula like a stake to ward off his dark-haired, undead roommate.

"Jason..." The brunette inched nearer to her at the sound of his name. She kicked his stool with her foot so it swiveled further away. Ultimately, it only caused him to move even closer. "Aren't we in rare form tonight?" she sighed.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Jason insisted bemusedly, doing his best to appear impassive. "I'm always like this." He examined her wrist with his forefinger and thumb. "As for you... That office of yours must be working you damn near to the bone. Did you somehow manage to get tinier, Raven?" The left corner of his lips curled up.

She tore it away and glared at him, aghast. "Insufferable, patronizing," Raven muttered under her breath, nursing her wounded forearm. "Ass."

"But this ass speaks the truth," he raised an eyebrow loftily. "If you would just join our firm..."

"Your firm?" Purple orbs narrowed to slits. "Just because you guys are mercenaries for hire—"

"Mmm... We really prefer the term 'vigilantes,'" Jason punctuated with air quotes. "Actually, from a branding perspective, it's Heroes for Hire™—Roy's got a whole...thing..."

"Whatever you're calling your 'backwoods operation'." Raven's air quotes didn't disguise the disdain in her voice. "The point is, I like my non-profit just fine... And I am not tiny."

"Alriiight." Roy arrived with a huge ceramic serving dish full of crepes with powdered sugar dusted on top. "Eat them while they're hot. Raven..." He slid a plate over to her. "Eat up."

"I thought I would always get the first bite," Jason teased. Then quickly lunged forward, stopping short of Roy's smirk, hip cocked toward his. "What've you got for me, Harps?"

On a delay, the redhead drew back, as if he just remembered Raven was in the room. "Don't be greedy, Jay," he said at last.

The ebony haired man, raised an eyebrow, but began to unload fresh food onto his plate. Once every inch of real estate was covered in crepe, Jason started to attack with his fork.

"So, when have I ever been greedy?"

Was that besides the fact that his plate was loaded up with most of the food the archer had just cooked? And besides the fact that he hadn't really helped?

But then... neither had Raven. Unless licking the batter and 'testing out' a crepe or two counted.

"Well, Raven's barely eaten a crepe and you're drifting into seconds. Where's your hospitality? Shouldn't you share with our guest?"

"I can be hospitable..." He chuckled. "I'd rather just...share our guest."

Roy shot him a warning glare on his way back to the stove. Jason shrugged before closing in another crepe and filling his mouth with another forkful.

"You're amazing," Raven deadpanned.

"Aren't I? But I've got nothing on the food. I have to say, this is the best batch by far," he announced. "Roy, do you have any more of those blueberries you got from the farmer's market over the weekend?" Jason started to smirk at Raven. "Or strawberries? I know how much you enjoy them."

"Try the table," Roy yelled over his shoulder, mild irritation edged in his tone.

"Well..." Raven shrugged, her expression coy as she reached over for the blue container. "They are in season..." There were few things that could enhance Roy's crepes, except fresh berries. Raven puffed out her cheeks as she rifled through an almost empty berry basket. "And... there are only three left... You sure helped yourself," she accused heavily under her breath.

"I didn't see your name on them," Jason returned. "So it was fair game, like anything else in this apartment."

Raven folded her arms. "I thought Roy got them for me, didn't you Roy?" He glanced up at her as he moved around the open kitchen.

"Sorry, we're low, Rae," Roy said regrettably. "I should have picked up more. You'd think after a couple weeks, I wouldn't still be acclimating to having an additional mouth to feed. What can I say?"

"Yes, we're very sorry." Jason pinched her stocking-clad leg, eliciting a gasp.

Raven cut knife-sharp purple eyes at him before the redhead came around to her stool. Roy wiped a hand across the words Banging Redheads & Banging Brunches printed in a large black font on the apron.

Probably a Christmas gift.

And one for which Jason must have been responsible.

He ruffled the purple strands at Raven's crown with his spatula free hand. "I hope that's okay."

"Don't be ridiculous." She brushed the strings fastening the charcoal colored apron and tugged. "Now go take that off and come eat with us." Roy planted a kiss on the top of her head, and shuffled out of the kitchen.

"Hmm...I guess I could have blueberries..." Raven mused. "Now that I think about it, they'd really compliment the lavender. I don't know that strawberries would in the same way."

"Do you know that for a fact?" Jason took a small sip from his cup, eyes trained on her through the glass. "Or have you ever considered...both?"

With a startling scowl, Raven looked up from the melted whipped cream atop the remaining crepes on the granite counter. "Have you ever considered why I like Roy more?" She retorted. "It's this."

"Really?" And Raven pushed his stupidly handsome, smirking face away from her own. "Little bird, don't tease," Jason moaned, dragging out the last syllable. "I promise to be good, I'll share—I certainly don't mind sharing with Roy." She rolled her eyes, popping a blueberry in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

Jason was mostly euphemism on a good day, but this was different. He'd been dropping these odd hints all week. But Raven told herself it was another unexpected caveat about living here. She didn't think she should breach the subject or even read too much into them.

After all, she was only crashing with Jason and Roy for a little while longer.

This was purely temporary, until the super in her building got around to fixing the circulation unit in her water closet of a studio. Or that was what she told herself at first. She was quickly growing accustomed to the perks of living with them.

Being spoiled was... Well, it was nothing short of wonderful.

Gone were the days of scrounging up sad boxes of cereal for breakfast, schlepping together leftover takeout for lunch, or unearthing bags of nearly expired popcorn for dinner. Roy and Jason worked out a ton and ensured their fridge was always stocked. Even on the off-chance that it rained and the farmer's market wasn't open in the park so they could do locally-sourced organic.

That, and they could actually cook.

At a moment's notice, Roy could whip up an amazing French toast, or a hearty stew. If they were feeling wild he'd make them breakfast for dinner or vice versa. Even Jason's most experimental chili recipe could be redeemed by a few generous grates of cheese or a dollop of sour cream.

And clearly business was great, because their apartment was fantastic. It was spacious, but had all these homey touches, like a handcrafted breakfast nook Roy and Jason built together.

But tangible things aside, Raven found she actually didn't mind the company. So gone were the days of being alone.

The moments where he wasn't an insufferable tease, Jason loved attending their two person book-club. They talked books, trashy to classic and everything in between, often punctuated by an impromptu neck or foot rub.

When Roy wasn't working out, planning a job, or doling out heaps of domesticity onto her and Jason, he was a hopeless romantic. He reinvigorated Raven's secret love of rom-coms. But he also liked to learn from her. So he played chess, scrabble, even backgammon, and once in a while they were able to rope in Jason for monopoly. Roy was a very graceful loser at board games, but he was amazing when he got his hands around a deck of cards. And Raven was finding, she had a lot to learn from him.

But Raven's favorite nights were the ones where they could all just be. Listening to something old or indie in the background and talking until the three of them simply passed out.

The apartment just felt full—of fun, of food, of friends. Of laughter and love.

It was a wonderful life, but it was a shame it wasn't her life. Raven was a realist, she knew she'd have to go back.

But for now, she was going to enjoy every single second of it.