#the desperation in loki's voice just fucking kill me

[dilfmobius]

Lokius moments that altered my brain chemistry [6/?] ↳ "I don't know you."

[icarusredwings]

Meanwhile, In the poolverse:

Piotr's Wade: Has anyone figured out a plan for me to see my mistress for longer than 3 minutes yet? Im so desperate im about to fuck a skeleton.

Nathans' wade: Okay so heres what were going to do, Okay, were going to go through time and steal the stones before he can-What the fuck are you doing?

Clint's wade: *subconsciously signing most of the cinversation* Oh sorry its a habit. But wouldn't that involve stealing from Loki?

The wade that has tried to get with Mobius and now is ashes with eyeballs: That's not gonna work... trust me..

Theresa's wade: Why does it even matter? She probably thinks were ugly anyway, I mean honestly why even bother?

*Both Tony's wades are fist fighting because both of them disagreed with each others plans*

Matt's wade: *trying to guide Bobbys wade, whos confusedly just glad to be incuded but has no clue how he got here* Come over here before I have to deck some motherfuckers. WATCH WHERE YOURE GOING!

Vanessa's and Val's wade: *Having a deep conversation about pegging in the middle of everything*

Harley's wade: Oohh!!! Lets smash him with a big hammer!!

O'hara's wade: You guys we cant just smash him with a big hammer, and even if we did somehow get the time stone from Loki, Its already a canon event.

Peter's wade: But guys, Peter says killing is wro-

All of them in union: WE FUCKING KNOW

Moonnight's wade: I think its ironic that both me and my 3 other boyfriends both are practically a god of death's muse... does anyone else think about that? No? Just me? Okay....

Shikla's wade: I think about it. I think about it a lot..... I miss my wife tails.

Tony's wade: I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT FUCKER MADE US IMMORTAL SO NOW I CAN'T KILL YOU

Other tony's wade: Kill me? HA! You can't even touch me!! You're too slow, old man.

Logan's Wade with his fat little dog and boyfriend on the couch: Babe can you turn up the channel? The voices are planning to try to kill Thanos again.

Logan: Tryna get revenge on him for forbading you from ever actually dying?

Wade: yyyuuppp........been there done that..

Logan: What?

Wade: Oh- Nothing..

[virgil-upinthestars]

like a little prayer - chapter one

Pairing: Loki x Mobius, Deadpool x Wolverine

Words: 2,585

Summary: Mobius and Sylvie pull some strings to contact some of the only people who might be able to get to Loki, proposing a plan that could help them all.

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, somewhat insincere threats of violence, light shenanigans, angst, pining, gay bickering

header/ch 1

---

Into the sparkly sling ring portal, out onto a squeaky black marble floor. Wade’s forehead collided with it, which was less than courteous, and he made a mental note to ask Cassandra what the fuck if they ever met again, but he dearly hoped that would never happen. 

“Ugh, rude!” he groaned, getting his knees under him and grabbing Logan’s quite muscular arm to pull himself up. Logan promptly shoved him into what felt like a desk. 

“Hello,” said a dry, faintly raspy voice. “If you two could sit down and not knock over your drinks, that would be nice.”

Wade grabbed a chair, steadying himself and squinting at a frankly dumpy-looking middle-aged man in a brown suit. “’Scuse me?”

“We’re back,” Logan muttered, his eyes darting around the ceiling beyond the cubicle, and yep, that orange lighting was unmistakable. “She sent us back here. Why’d she do that?”

“Well, I’d assume it’s because you can go anywhere from here, but I’d like to hope it was because I asked nicely,” the man mused, sitting on the other side of the desk and pushing two paper coffee cups towards them. As per usual whenever someone else bought him coffee, Wade popped the top off to check the contents. Once he saw the whipped cream and sprinkles, he gave the drink an approving nod and lifted his mask to down half the contents.

Logan didn't touch his, as he apparently found much more joy in glaring at the man who had so graciously offered them caffeine after a fight. “Nicely?”

“Mm, yes,” The man took a sip of his own coffee, those eyes flicking between the two of them. “The TVA’s had a deal with Cassandra Nova, ever since a few of our operatives ended up in the Void. I’d be the first to admit that a large majority of the Void’s inhabitants probably don't deserve to be there, but unfortunately, that doesn't apply to everyone.” 

“Yeah, Nicepool definitely deserves to be down there," Wade snorted, wiping whipped cream off his face. "Not Mary Puppins, though, can we go get her?”

The man opened one of the orange files on his desk, and turned it around so they could see its contents. “Pyro. Decent kid, but he's taken a deal with your department head, Paradox, to kill Nova. Which I imagine went over fantastically.”

“Yeah,” Wade sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Remind me what this has to do with saving my universe?” Just to be nice, totally not because he felt guilty, he jabbed a thumb towards Logan. “Or fixing his?”

“Well, I've been watching the two of you for a bit, and . . . .” The man folded his fingers on the table. “I think you can help me.”

Immediately, Logan’s eye twitched. “Why should we?”

A smile just flickered on the other man’s face, and he looked up from Pyro’s file. Something about those eyes gave Wade pause, even though they were set in the face of what looked like a middle-aged dad. 

“Okay,” Wade sighed, and he decided that this guy looked like his name would probably be Phil. Or Kyle. Ooh, or John, or — “Owen. We’re on a bit of a mission right now, and unless you’re willing to help me save my universe from that Tom Wambsgans-looking guy — don’t get me wrong, I loved Succession, it was like watching a house full of sex offenders burn down, but —”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” the man said, closing Pyro's file and brushing it to the side. There was a hard light in his eyes, one that Wade recognized: desperation. “Yes, Paradox wants to destroy your timeline, but from what I'm guessing, Nova would be perfectly happy destroying all of them.”

“You people like your guesses,” Logan grumbled.

Wade sighed. “For the last time, peanut, it was an educated wish —”

“Call me that again, and I'll shove that double-whip diabetes bomb right up your —”

“Okay,” the man said loudly, now looking very much like a middle-aged dad. Possibly also a jet ski salesman. “I’ll just cut to the chase. Also, your coffee has Irish whiskey in it, so please do me a favor and drink it.”

“Really?” Logan muttered, lifting the drink. He took a hesitant sip, but it soon turned into chugging the whole drink in one go.

“Thank you,” the man sighed, then cleared his throat. “You two have been dealing with middle management this whole time.” His eyes flickered with a new sort of light, something like hope. “How would you like to go all the way to the top?”

---

Mobius M. Mobius had been having a very rough few months. First, he finally manages to catch a Loki, then fucks up by getting attached to him, then gets betrayed by him, which, honestly, what was he expecting — only for that Loki to come back, wide eyed and pleading with him. Then Sylvie went and committed some good old-fashioned murder, and the multiverse started falling apart, tearing Loki into pieces across space and time as he desperately tries to help, and eventually decides that the best way to solve it was apparently to go fuck himself off into oblivion without discussing it with any of them.  

Mobius could’ve killed him.

He also would've given anything to see him again.

He also didn't know whether Loki would feel the same, ‘I did it for you’ or not.

He also was about two inches away from ripping his own ears off so he didn't have to hear these two assholes keep going at each other in some kind of weird, extremely violent, seventy-two hour long foreplay. 

“So, it's a tree,” said Wade Wilson, holding his empty coffee cup like a drag queen as Mobius led them down the hall. Logan was trailing behind, silent for now, but still looking like he was debating whether to slam Wade against or through the nearest wall. “You fancy-pants time CIA bastards take orders from a tree?”

Mobius took a long breath. He could almost hear Loki snapping back that we used to take orders from three lizards who turned out to be robots, how’s the tree sound now?

It was making his heart ache.

“We don't take orders from the tree,” Mobius said, forcing himself to maintain an easy tone. “We protect it. It contains all timelines, all possibilities, branching out into infinity. We can't control it, it can't control us, we can only protect h—it. And if the tree were threatened, the fabric of space-time would start to unravel.”

“Oh, so that’s why you're open to stopping Tom Wambsgans from destroying my universe!” Wade laughed. “Finally, there's a threat big enough to the precious tree for you to acknowledge the fact that my whole life —”

“I didn't know about your timeline, okay?” Mobius sighed, shoving open a door marked NO ENTRY. He led them down a curving stairwell, to where Sylvie had agreed to meet him. “No one knew, until five minutes ago, when unsanctioned time-ripper activity was detected in your universe. B-15’s running through the normal channels to shut it down, but until then, I'm trying to arrange something that will help both of us.”

“Oh, both?” Wade said, tossing his empty cup into the abyss. He promptly sat on the railing and began to slide down it. “Do tell.”

“Yes,” Mobius said, gritting his teeth. The line between his thoughts and his words were quickly becoming blurred. “I get you to the guy at the top, you get him to sustain your world while we deal with Paradox, and then you get him to come the fuck out of his little self-imposed isolation hermit hole.”

Precious silence hung for a few seconds, only to be punctuated by a soft “ooh”.

“So,” Wade slid to Mobius’s side, somehow balancing like a goddamn French girl on the railing. “This guy at the top, huh? You two have a history?”

Mobius glanced back at Logan, who just snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who gave him coffee.”

“Couple of hand brushes?” Wade was saying, his voice needling into Mobius’s ear. “Lingering hugs? Old married couple banter? Maybe even a soft, gentle, unforgettable night on an office couch —”

“Like you two didn’t basically hate-fuck in that Odyssey!” Mobius snapped, making the white eyes of Wade’s mask go wide.

“Pervert,” he said at last. “That was a very private moment.”

“I will throw you down this stairwell,” Logan hissed, an honest-to-God vein popping out on his forehead. “Say another word, I fucking dare you — ”

“Fergalicious,”

Logan swung a fist towards Wade. Mobius barely had time to think the claws aren’t out, that’s an improvement before the Wolverine’s blow was stopped by a swirl of green light.

“Oh, my!” called a familiar voice. Mobius leaned over and caught sight of Sylvie on the landing below, her eyes fragile with a hopeless sort of amusement, like a man set for execution laughing because he had sixty-nine days to live. “This is them?”

“I’m afraid so,” Mobius called back, unable to hide the relief in his voice that he was now one step closer to getting these repressed disasters out of his sight. “Do you have it?”

“Of course I do,” she snorted, flicking He Who Remains’ TemPad out of her jacket pocket as she climbed the stairs towards them. “I held my end of the bargain. The real question is if they’ll hold theirs.” Her lips twitched slightly as Logan yelled for her to get your fucking magic off me, and directed his arm back to his side before releasing control. Her eyes flickered as she met Mobius’s gaze. “You really think this will work?”

“I hope so,” Mobius replied, forcing a smile to compensate for the slight shake in his voice. “I really hope so.”

“Right,” Sylvie muttered, turning the TemPad over in her hands as she surveyed the two men. “Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett. Gifted with extraordinary healing powers.”

Wade slid off the railing. “Among other things,”

“Good.” Sylvie’s eyes flashed. “We’ll be testing them today.”

“Hold on,” said Logan, the first time he’d really spoken without provocation. He shouldered his way past Wade to scowl at Mobius and Sylvie with equal force. “Whatever this is, I’m not doing it for free.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Mobius sighed, frantically running through a meager list of things the Wolverine might be willing to risk his life for. An overaged bottle of Jack Daniels probably wouldn’t count. Neither would another Irish coffee. Maybe —

“X-23,” Logan said, his voice brusque. “Laura. She’s in the Void. Get her out.”

Mobius blinked.

“Oh my God,” Wade whispered. “I knew the dad instinct was in there somewhere.”

“Shut up,” Logan snapped, before refocusing on them. “Get her out of there and I’ll do it.”

“Uh, sure,” Mobius glanced towards Sylvie, who gave an easy shrug. “Where, uh . . . do you want us to bring her here, or —”

“I don’t care.” Logan’s throat bobbed. “Take her to this idiot’s world if you want, just don’t take her to mine.”

“His is in danger, though —”

The man’s eyes hardened. “Well, it won’t be.”

For a moment, Wade was actually speechless. The Merc with a Mouth was staring at Logan like he’d just dropped out of the sky, white eyes of his mask wide and hands hanging listlessly in the air. 

“You got it,” Mobius said, pulling his TemPad out of his pocket. Ever since he’d come out of the Void himself, he’d tried to keep a closer eye on anyone who might be surviving down there. He hadn’t even been sure that X-23 was still alive until he’d caught word of her with these two, and now that she’d raided Nova’s place with her friends, they’d all be easy to find. “Sylvie, you wanna give them the speech?”

“Love to.” Sylvie held up the black and gold disc, shocking Wade out of his trance with a shiny thing. “This is a TemPad. With it, I’ll be sending the two of you straight to the trunk of the tree itself, where hopefully, you’ll be able to withstand the Gods-awful amount of temporal radiation long enough to get the attention of the annoying prick at the center. Sound good?”

“Ooh, temporal radiation!” Wade let out a whistle. “I’ve never experienced that one before. What does it do?”

Sylvie’s lip twitched, but there was no humor in her eyes. “Turn you into skin spaghetti.”

“Oh.”

“The levels around the tree would be very lethal to me or Mobius, but we’ve been hoping for a while that you two would be able to complete the job for us.” She twirled the disc in her fingers, and at a sharp look from Mobius, she rolled her eyes and continued. “And we’ll be sending this with you, for your way back.”

“Really?” Wade brightened, holding out a hand. “Yes, please — ”

“Not you.” Sylvie pointed at Logan. “You. You actually seem like the responsible type.”

“Oh, we are truly in catastrophic times,” Wade groaned, leaning back against the railing. “So, about this ‘annoying prick at the center’ —”

Mobius’s TemPad began to buzz. He flicked the notification away from the approximated map of the Void he’d been building, but then there was another alert, and then another, and the thing was nearly buzzing out of his hands. Over it all, highest priority, was a message from B-15.

If you don’t reappear sometime in the next thirty seconds, the whole multiverse is fucked.

Mobius’s heart shot into his throat as he scrolled through the hundreds of alerts, then dropped right down into his stomach.

“Shit,” he whispered.

“Mobius?” Tense worry spiked in Sylvie’s voice, nearly shocking him out of his haze. “Mobius, what’s happened —”

“It’s Cassandra Nova,” he choked out, fumbling up the stairs. “She’s — she’s heading for the Time-Ripper.” His heart pounded in his ears. “She’s — she’s going to —”

She’s going to kill him.

Sylvie hissed something in an old Asgardian tongue, flicking her TemPad and opening a door in front of him. “Get to the war room, I’ll make sure these idiots make it to the tree.”

“Just —” Mobius turned back to Wade and Logan, two men in bright primary-colored suits standing in a TVA stairwell, two men who were as likely to try and kill each other as they were to fuck, two men who were each certified mental disasters but as it stood, his only chance of ever seeing Loki again. 

He’d been watching them for more than a while. He’d gone looking for variants who could withstand the tree’s temporal radiation the second he’d gotten back to the TVA, since Sylvie had told him she could pinpoint the tree’s location, but he hadn’t been able to convince any to help him until now. Here were two men, just as desperate as he was, two men who were now looking back at him with that mirrored, last-ditch determination.

Because fuck it — if this didn’t work, nothing would. 

Mobius swallowed, managing to say, “Just — tell him I miss him, would you?”

If he’s even still alive when you reach him. If any of us are still alive.

Wade nodded. “You got it, Lightning McQueen.”

His lips twitched. “Mobius.”

“Oh!” The white eyes of his mask widened. “You’re Mobius! Which means the guy in the tree has to be —”

Mobius didn’t even care how Wade knew, he didn’t want to hear that name said out loud. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Instead, he turned and bolted up the stairs. 

Towards the one thing he could do.

header/ch 1

more here on ao3

[sserpente]

LOKI SEASON 2 FINALE ... LET'S DO THIS

One last time. Let's do this. *hands out tissues*

HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE UNDER THE CUT!

Okay. Let's face it. I was sobbing, you were sobbing, we were all sobbing, right?!

This episode was so damn good. An absolute cinematic masterpiece and a finale worth a beloved character like Loki.

If you've seen my Instagram story today you'll know that I was ugly crying and struggling to breathe.

Honestly. I was a mess. I still am a mess. I'm tearing up again as I'm writing this. I'm still processing. And I have so many questions!

First of all... Loki learned everything O.B. knew about the Temporal Loom and the mechanics of the TVA, spent fucking centuries doing this? Can we please talk about the commitment? I realise there was a comical aspect to this but UM?! The commitment!

The winks throughout killed me. Betcha. His calm professor-like voice had me feral, thank you very much.

When he realised that there is nothing that could fix the Temporal Loom... I immediately thought he's gonna have to stop He Who Remains from dying. When he went back there... my heart almost stopped.

For a moment, I honestly believed that he would kill Sylvie. I thought that's where the conversation he had with Mobius (which was so damn heartbreaking and epic and such an amazing verbal conclusion to Loki's way of thinking and realisation... you could practically see him struggling with the right decision and the fact that he went to ask Mobius for help is just so damn heartbreaking and sweet!) was leading. That he'd sacrifice the one person who was truly like him, who he was on one wavelength with, an outsider like him.

(That conversation with He Who Remains... him saying he paved the way for him to be able to manipulate time... and Loki outsmarting him and finding a way to keep everyone alive?! PLEASE CAN WE JUST?!)

But instead... damn, talk about a sacrifice. Loki is a fucking hero. Even writing this is so damn satisfying. Loki is a hero. And you know why that is so damn special? It's not because we wanted to prove that he's not a villain, it's not because we desperately wanted to see something in him that we obviously knew was there but it's because we didn't need him to be. He's our Loki, our cheeky God of Mischief. We loved him regardless. And now he is a hero.

Loki, the God of Stories. Loki, the God of Time.

The very moment he went down there I started sobbing. I knew at that moment that there was going to be a sacrifice of some sort. As he walked out there... and the cape appeared and those HORNS. THOSE HORNS that looked just like the cracked marble of the Citadel and He Who Remains' TemPad... I was screaming, sobbing, ugly crying... is it silly when I say that I was actually struggling to breathe?!

Can we please talk about how powerful Loki is? The fucking most powerful being in the entire multiverse? He practically became the Temporal Loom. He controls everything now, sees everything, protects everything... I still can't wrap my head around this!

It is epic. It is so fucking epic and such an amazing conclusion to his arc. Is it the end? I'm not sure. I don't want to think so. There's gonna be a multiversal war, there's gonna be Kang Variants...

We saw purple light when Renslayer woke up in the Void and I'm sure as hell that was a Kang Variant who came to pick her up. So she's gonna make another appearance for sure. So I am 100% sure this is not the last we've seen of Loki or Sylvie or Mobius. There's gonna be more, I'm sure of it.

But it was epic. Epic, epic, epic. I loved it so much. When that throne turned golden and he sat down on it, I lost it. That last scene where he smirked? THE MUSIC? The fact that his cape turned into fucking time branches?!

I have so many damn questions still. Will he be there forever? Will he be alone? Loki said that he's afraid of being alone... and now he is and that is so fucking tragic and heartbreaking. Is that the true sacrifice? The true act of heroism here, the Loki lesson to be learned? Is that how it has to be for the rest of his existence? He doesn't deserve to be alone even if this was the most selfless thing of him to do. Selfless. Loki. Beyond him saving his family I never thought I'd write something like this. Gods, damn it. And what will happen once the multiversal war breaks out which, inevitably, it will?!

Guys... let's do a group hug. I think we all need it after this epic finale.

EDIT: I forgot to mention how epic I thought the Yggdrasil reference was. I immediately cried out Yggdrasil when I saw it!

[gyll-yee-haw]

can you write an angsty smut that obviously has a happy fluff ending (because my heart wouldn't handle if it didn't) where the reader ends up getting hurt during sex and uses their safe word? You can choose the man 🤭 I was thinking loki or Jake but it can really be any of his characters

I'm gonna be honest, idk about this one, it got... personal 😖

But I hope you like it, baby <3

Warnings: blood, mentions of a terrible ex-boyfriend (implied SA, but not described), use of safeword, lots of angst with a happy ending <3

Like 2.3k words

---

You knew David had one of those days at the station by the way he barely spoke before he was all over you.

It wasn't uncommon for him to come home from work and immediately start a make out session. Somedays he would drop to his knees and eat you out for hours. Sometimes he would rip your clothes off and manhandle you like a doll... doggie style was his favorite for this occasions.

That's where you found yourself now. It was very late and you were very tired. Still, when he walked into the room, you knew you weren't going to sleep so soon.

You didn't mind. Obviously, even when he acted like that, he always, always made sure you came. Made sure you felt really good... he didn't ignore for a second the spots he knew you liked. Pleasing you was probably the part that calmed him down the most.

But tonight you didn't really... feel like it? It was weird, David always lighted up a flame in you with the touch of his hand. And that's why you allowed him to do what he needed to do. Well... you wouldn't have to do anything, just... let him have his way, and you would get tons of pleasure from it, so why not?

You weren't sure why not... why you were not wet. Why the pain was so unbearable when he entered you. It hurt more that your first time with him.

"Ouch!" You complained.

"Sorry, baby, just..." He tried to start moving, but the friction was just... so uncomfortable. "Are you okay?"

He thought all he had to do was prepare you better. He spit on his fingers and began to stroke your clit. But God, it felt TERRIBLE.

He pulled out. Shoved two fingers inside. Your head started to spin. You were almost disgusted by it all... so overwhelmed... the room was suddenly too hot and you couldn't breath...

"RED!" You yelled.

David froze. You had agreed on a safe word very early on the relationship, since you had... a little trouble with intimacy. But it never even crossed your mind using it... you never needed it. What the hell was going on? He removed his fingers quickly, and sat you up, desperately looking for any signs of bruises on your body.

"Dave..." you called, feeling sick.

His eyes followed your gaze to the sheets under you. There was blood. Not a lot of it, but still... it triggered your most horrible memories. And David knew that.

Before you were able to give yourself completely to him, you confessed that you didn't have the best experience with intimacy during your previous relationship. Your ex just didn't know how to get you into it and you were too afraid of saying no to him most of the time, scared he wouldn't love you anymore... and all that caused you to get hurt sometimes. Bleeding was almost routine in your sexual life. But it never had happened ONCE while you were with David. He was the complete opposite from your abusive ex. He cared about your pleasure more than about his own. He never forced you to do anything. He studied every little reaction from your body, to know what you liked. And he never made you afraid to tell him how you felt. But seeing that little red stain on the mattress made you sick. No, this can't be happening again...

"Fuck, baby, I'm so sorry, hey... look at me, please..." The pain in his voice was obvious. He was thinking the same thing as you. He hated your ex more than you. When you told him about all the things he did, he wanted to kill him. And now... he was disgusted with himself.

You were numb. You didn't even want to cry. You simply disconnected from reality. You weren't sure how much time passed, but the growing desperation in David's voice indicated it was a lot.

"Talk to me, please, please, baby..." He grabbed the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to grab you instead, bring you close and apologize for hours, but he wasn't sure if it was okay to touch you.

"You said..." Your voice was low and weak as you spoke. "You said this would never happen to me again."

"Angel..." Part of him was relieved that you spoke, but those were definitely the most painful words he had ever heard. "I can't tell you how fucking sorry I am."

"Want to be alone." You requested, emotionless.

"No..." He shook his head. "I can't leave you alone like this, you're not okay, baby, let me help, please..."

"Just need some time." You insisted, not looking him in the eye.

You went through so many things during these years you and David had been together. And during every single one of them, he was there to help. But how could he help now, when it was all his fault? That's all he could think of. Of course you wouldn't want him around. You're a fragile, precious flower, while he's was a violent, cruel, heartless man... he thought he could leave all that at the station everyday to come home to you, but he can't. That's who he is.

"Alright." He whispered, getting out of bed. He fixed his clothes and his first instinct was to kiss your forehead as he stood up beside you. But he couldn't do that. He felt like you would break if he touched you. And the worst part was that you felt the same way.

He walked away from the room, and you waited until he shut the door behind him to let the tears fall. You were so confused. He hurt you. Never in a million years you'd imagine that.

At the same time... it wasn't like it used to be with your ex. He stopped immediately when you asked. He didn't know... still, should he be this rough without a warning? Shouldn't he check for signs before anything? Was it fair to be the one he used to relieve his anger when you weren't the one who made him mad?

Well... it can be hot sometimes. When you are in the right mood, it's something you really enjoy... and you have a safe word for times like this, so... can you blame him? How would he know this time was different?

It was all too confusing and you had no idea how you actually felt. You didn't know what to do. You trusted David with your entire heart and you knew that he would take a bullet for you, it was obvious he didn't do it on purpose. But miscommunication is the most dangerous thing in a relationship and you can't let that happen again.

You stood up and removed the stained sheets from the bed, putting all of your anger on this task. Then you put on your clothes and sat on the floor, beside the discharged sheets. You were so mad that your past continued to haunt you. That it was affecting David, who had done nothing but help you heal. Now he wasn't there with you because of the crimes of another man.

You cried until you were exhausted, and ended up falling asleep right there on the floor.

When you opened your eyes, you were lost. You didn't remember why you were on the floor until you saw the sheets. You shivered. How much time had passed? Where was David?

You gathered all your strength to stand up and opened the bedroom door. The house was completely dark. Shit. What if he got himself in trouble somewhere? If he had left the house on the state he was earlier... he probably would.

Then you heard something. The TV. You rushed downstairs. David was asleep on the sofa. You sighed and walked towards him. Kneeling on the floor, you placed your hand softly on his face. But he was absolutely exhausted, he didn't wake up. You felt you were going to cry again. He was so beautiful... even though you hardly saw him looking this peaceful while he was awake.

You laid on top of him on the sofa, snuggling on his chest, legs intertwined with his. He still didn't wake up. It was crazy to think that man would ever hurt you... you never felt as safe as whenever you could feel him like this. You fell asleep again.

When he woke up, if it wasn't for the tears on his shirt, he would have thought it was all a nightmare and none of that actually happened. His body was tense under yours, he still wasn't very comfortable with touching you again.

"Y/N..." He called, hands slowly caressing your arms, trying to wake you up as gently as possible.

You opened your eyes, but it was quite hard to adjust... they were swollen from crying so much.

"Dave." You said, sitting up. He followed your movements, sitting beside you. "Dave, listen... I'm so sorry, I..."

"Don't you dare." He interrupted. "Don't you dare apologize."

"I overreacted." You insisted.

"No, you didn't." He took a deep breath. "I fucking hurt you. Could have been a lot worse."

"But it wasn't." You furrowed your eyebrows. "We have a safe word. I used it and... that's it, it's okay now. It didn't end up badly."

"How can you say it didn't end up badly?" He shook his head. "It ended up with you fucking bleeding and crying. Fuck, I'll never be able to get out of my head that look in your eyes... fucking scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you. If you put that gun against my head I wouldn't be scared. I trust you." You assured him. "I just panicked... got... bad memories. That look in my eyes wasn't for you, was for my past."

"I brought it back." He reached on his pockets for his cigarettes. David never smoked inside the house, but by the way his hands were shaking, you could see he was nervous.

"Well, I..." You were desperately looking for the right words to calm him down. "If I had used the safe word earlier, this wouldn't have happened. It's not your fucking fault, David."

"Yeah? Then why didn't you?" He replied, cigarette in his mouth, looking for his lighter. "Fuck..."

"Fucking look at me." You grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the floor.

It was the adrenaline. You didn't think before doing it. He looked at you absolutely stunned. No one dared to say a word.

"Right... I can see you're not scared." He finally broke the silence.

You started laughing. Hard. Was it that funny or was that nervousness? It didn't matter, because it put a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry... I was just trying to be heard." You shrugged.

"Well..." He went back to a more serious tone. "Then why don't you answer my question? Why didn't you tell me to stop earlier? You didn't even need to say the safe word, if you just told me 'no', I wouldn't... I wouldn't have laid a finger on you, you know that, right?"

"I do." You replied. "I really do, I swear... but I... I guess I didn't realize how I really felt until it was too late, you know? I was happy that you were home and I wanted you around... wanted you to touch me and you know I like it when you're rough, so... I was confused. It wasn't anyone's fault. Specially not yours, okay?"

"I don't know..." He looked at the cigarette on the floor. "I feel like I could have read the situation a little better, you know?"

"You stopped when I asked you to stop, that's all you could have done." You grabbed his hand, caressing it with your thumb. "Everything else that happened... could only be avoided if you changed my past."

"I could still kill him." He joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking...

"Does that change the past?" You rolled your eyes.

"No, but it would be pretty fucking satisfying." He shrugged. "You know, I don't believe in this kind of justice. I promise I never killed anyone, but... for you? I wouldn't think twice."

"Well, you don't have to." You got closer, sitting on his lap and placing both hands on each side of his face. "What really helps me get through it all is all the love you've given me. All the respect. Just how fucking much you care... nothing else is gonna fix me. The way you made me believe that I deserve to be loved and taken care of... and that there are good people out there."

"That just can't happen again, baby... I can't do it." He sent you a pleading look.

"It won't, look..." You promised him. "If I ever feel uncomfortable again, I'll tell you right away, okay?"

"Please." His voice came out so weak. "If I hurt you I will never be able to live with myself."

"You won't hurt me. That isn't you." You assured him. "You're gentle and sweet... even when you're rough, I promise I always feel safe."

"I don't think I'll ever be that rough again." His eyes widened.

"David. Don't say that." You almost whined. "I want you to!"

"Y/N..." He sighed. "Let's just... take a break from that, okay?"

"Hm." You smirked. "Okay, baby, I'm not complaining about making sweet love to my wonderful boyfriend... it's just that... when I want it rough... I'm gonna tease you until I get it. I know how to break you, you know that."

"For fucks sake... you're a fucking menace." He rubbed his face with his hands. "Where's my cigarette?"

"Come and get it..." You giggled.

[lemonnsss]

Moral of the Story: Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry I took so long posting this, a family friend got diagnosed with terminal cancer and my grandpa died soooo… coping with humor right now.

Feedback is always appreciated!

MotS Masterlist

Taglist: @vicmc624 , @mostlymarvelgirl,@yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy , @moonlightreader649 , @whattheduckisupkyle , @chrisevans-realwife , @nekoannie-chan , @mrsbarnes32557038 , @imyourbratzdoll , @weallhaveadestiny, @oldsoulmagic

Word Count: 2.3k

Steve and I walked onto the bridge. Three people stood out, with no sign of Tony.

"I see you found the runaway," the red-haired woman spoke.

"They weren't too far off. Only the other side of the plane." Steve replied, an air of laughter in his voice

"Well, it wasn't intentional," I said, perhaps a bit too defensively.

"At least I'm not the only one getting lost." A brunette man commented.

"Guess not. Oh- I'm Mr. Stark's secretary, Mx. Eirsson, Kyrie Eirsson."

"Eir? So you are a healer, no?" The tall blonde said expectantly.

"No, not really." I'm starting this off with a lie, lovely.

"Ledan Eirsson, I am Thor, son of Odin, Prince of Asgard." He extended his hand, a warm smile on his face.

"Prince...?" I worriedly glanced at Steve.

I looked back when Prince Sunshine over there started laughing, "Yes, although I would prefer if you called me Thor, just Thor."

"Pleasure to meet you, Thor."

Steve placed a hand on my shoulder, "That's Natasha," he gestured to the redhead which she promptly responded to with a curt smile, "she doesn't talk much."

And then there was one. He didn't notice until Natasha nudged him in the side.

"Oh, um. I'm Dr. Banner."

"Pleasure to meet'cha, Doc." A sound came from under the table, Steve quickly found a tablet with what seemed to be live footage from Loki's cage.

By the time I heard the first comprehendible piece of what Fury was saying my attention was grabbed by the hatch underneath Loki's cage being opened.

"Thirty-thousand feet down in a steel trap. You get how that works?" Fury closes the hatch with a press of a button on the control panel.

Fury outstretched his arm, gesturing to Loki, "Ant," then pointing to the control panel, "boot."

Loki smirked, "It's an impressive cage." he looked into the camera, "Not built, I think, for me."

"Built for something a lot stronger than you."

"Oh, I've heard."

The doctor seemed very tense, for what reason- I didn't know.

"The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man." Loki sauntered towards the camera, "How desperate are you that you call upon such lost creatures to defend you?"

“How desperate am I?” Fury set a hand on his hip, agitation growing in his voice, “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace and you kill ‘cause it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

“Ooh. It burns you to come so close.” Loki began taunting Fury, “To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power.” Loki smirked into the camera, “And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share, and then to be reminded what real power is.”

Fury forced a smile, “Well, let me know if ‘Real Power’ wants a magazine or something.”

Our room falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Fury walked away saying, “Well, let me know if ‘Real Power’ wants a magazine or something.”

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?”

"Loki's gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what’s his play?”

Thor seemed distant as he responded, “He has an army called the Chitauri. They are not of Asgard or of any world known.” The Prince walked back to the table, “He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect for the Tesseract.”

“An army? From outer space?” Steve seemed to question what the fuck he’d been dragged into.

“He’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

Erik who?

“Selvig?” Why does Thor recognize this guy's name?

“He’s an astrophysicist.” The doctor explained.

“He’s a friend.” Thor asserted.

“Loki has him under some kind of spell, ”Natasha looked away, “along with one of ours.”

She really does speak. More importantly, she’s familiar with the agent Loki brainwashed.

“I wanna know why Loki let us take him.”

“I don't think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy's brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him.” Banner was pushing it.

“Have care how you speak.” Thor said, anger rising in his voice, “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he's my brother.”

So the Prince is a himbo with a temper, good to know.

“He killed eighty people in two days.” Oh.

“...He's adopted.” Ah, yes. That changes everything.

“Does he pose any threat? Just because he’s in a cage doesn’t mean he’s harmless.” I didn’t know if I’d just asked a dumbass question but it’s better to ask than have that as an unknown variable.

“No. There’s no way out from the inside, besides that, it’s built to withstand more than he can throw at it.” Natasha answered, seemingly knowing more than the rest.

“Iridium, what did they need Iridium for?”

Tony walked in, “It’s a stabilizing agent. Oh, Kyrie, been lookin’ for ‘ya.”

“Hey, Tony. Coulson?!” I got up and walked over to them, a beaming smile plastered on my face, “I had no idea you’d be here!”

Phil placed a hand on my shoulder, “I would have let you know if I had a way to contact you.”

“Guess I’m chopped liver.” Tony feigned hurt, before whispering the next bit, “Anyways, I’ll fly you there. Keep the love alive.” He spoke at full volume again, “Means the portal won't collapse on itself, like it did at SHIELD. No hard feelings, Point Break. You've got a mean swing. Also, it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants.”

Tony walked over to what I can assume is Fury’s position on the Bridge, “Uh, raise the mid-mast, ship the topsails.” The crew looked at Tony like he’d grown a second head, “That man is playing GALAGA! Thought we wouldn't notice. But we did.” Tony covered one eye and looked around, “How does Fury do this?”

“He turns.” A female agent responded.

I looked at Phil, a light whisper escaping my lips, “Who is she?”

He leaned in, “That’s Agent Hill, sh’s Fury’s right hand.”

“Mhm… thank you.” I gave him a small smile.

Coulson grinned in response, “Never a problem.”

“Well, that sounds exhausting,” Tony said in the most annoying voice he could get away with. “Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty much easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source. A high energy density, something to kick start the cube.”

Agent Hill spoke again, “When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?”

“Last night.” That I could attest to, “The packet, Selvig's notes, the Extraction Theory papers.” It’s always funny when Tony speaks seriously, most of the time I forget he’s a genius, “Am I the only one who did the reading?”

“No, you made me read them too.” I said with a pointed tone.

“Anyone else?” Tony said practically ignoring my comment.

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?”

“He's got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.“

Ah, yes, words.

“Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.”

“Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

Wow, those two were made for each other.

“Finally, someone who speaks English.”

Steve looked around, “Is that what happened?”

Tony and the doctor shook hands, “It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Banner looked down, “Thanks.”

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him.” Fury says as he walks in.

“Let's start with that stick of his. It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.” Steve had an obvious bias and curiosity.

“I don't know about that, but it is powered by the cube. And I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

“Monkeys? I do not understand-”

“-I do. I understood that reference.” Thor was cut off by Steve, obviously excited by the fact he understood some of our jargon.

“Shall we play, Doctor?” Tony asked.

“Let’s play some.” Banner responded.

After I waved to Phil I followed Tony and the doctor out of the bridge, hoping to not get lost again.

I had been sitting in a spare chair in the “Science Bro’s” lab for what felt like an eternity. Man, I regret not taking advanced science courses in uni.

“The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig's reports on the Tesseract. But it's gonna take weeks to process.” Bruce, as I had learned, said.

“If we bypass their mainframe and direct a reroute to the Homer cluster, we can clock this around six hundred teraflops.” Tony replied.

The two of them had gotten into a groove. The sounds of the machines whirring in the background made great background noise, so I couldn’t really complain.

“All I packed was a toothbrush.”

“You know, you should come by Stark Towers sometime. Top ten floors, all R&D. You'd love it, it's candy land.”

“Thanks, but the last time I was in New York I kind of broke...Harlem.”

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension. No surprises.” Tony said as he poked Bruce with a mini-taser.

“OW!!”

Tony studied Bruce for a reaction, “Nothing?”

Steve walked in, “Hey! Are you nuts?”

Tony ignored Steve,” You really have got a lid on it, haven't you? What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are.”

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny.” OH, HE DID NOT, “No offense, doctor.”

“No, it's alright. I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things.” God bless Dr. Bruce Banner.

“You're tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut.”

“As someone who used to work with far more dangerous people, and teach them too. I concur.”

“Kyrie?” Steve sounded surprised, “And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark.”

“You think I'm not?” Tony pulled out a bag of blueberries from god knows where. “Why did Fury call us and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

“You think Fury's hiding something?”

“He's a spy. Captain, he's the spy. His secrets have secrets. It's bugging him too, isn't it?”

“Can’t argue with Tony this time.”

“Uh...I just wanna finish my work here and…” Bruce fell silent.

“Doctor?”

“‘A warm light for all mankind’ Loki’s jab at Fury about the cube.”

“I heard it.”

“Well, I think that was meant for you. Even if Barton didn't post that all over the news.”

“The Stark Tower? That big ugly,” Tony shoots Steve a glare, “...building in New York?”

“It's powered by Stark Reactors, a self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?” Bruce turned to Tony.

“That's just the prototype. I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now.”

Bruce looked back at Steve while pointing to Tony, “So, why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project? I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?”

“I should probably look into that once my decryption programmer finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files,” Tony mentions offhandedly.

Steve looked shocked, “I'm sorry, did you say...?”

I let out a breathy laugh, “Yup, it’s at least a weekly occurrence.”

“Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide. Blueberry?”

“Yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around?”

“Oh, no. He’s fully aware, he just finds it funny.”

“An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not awesome.”

“I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them.”

“Following is not really my style.” Tony ate a mouthful of blueberries.

“And you're all about style, aren't you?” Steve said, smiling.

“Of the people in this room, which one is; A. wearing a spangly outfit, and B. not of use?” Tony retorted.

“Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?” Banner tried to push Steve to think.

“Just find the cube.” Steve said before he walked out.

“Well, that went splendidly.” I laughed from my seat. The benefits of being a third party.

“That's the guy my dad never shut up about? Wondering if they shouldn't have kept him on ice.” Tony looked over at me only to be met with a glare.

“The guy's not wrong about Loki. He does have the jump on us.”

“What he’s got is an ACME dynamite kit. It's gonna blow up in his face, and I'm gonna be there when it does.”

“And I’ll read all about it.”

“Uh-uh. You’ll be suiting up like the rest of us.”

“Ah, see. I don't get a suit of armor. I'm exposed, like a nerve. It's a nightmare.”

“You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.”

“And I knew a kid who could turn himself into a nuke.” Both of the men in the room looked at me, confusion written all over their faces.

“O-kay? Moving on. But you can control it.”

“Because I learned how.”

“It's different.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Not forever at least.” I tried to add, though they seemed to be stuck in their own world again.

“Hey, I've read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should have killed you.”

“So you're saying that the Hulk... the other guy... saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for what?”

A moment passed, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“You might not like that.” Banner sounded scared, scared of himself and scared of whoever the ‘other guy’ was.

“You just might.” I trained Tony well.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 27

First of all: look at this beautiful banner @i-own-loki made for my fic! It's amazing, I love it and she is my saviour since I cannot figure out Canva! I'm going to go back and update all the previous posts so this will now be the official fic banner.

Also, chapter 27! I've been looking forward to this one for a while and I hope you enjoy!

Series Master List

Chapter 28 - Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10k

Half the morning passes before you stir, only moving because Frankie slips away to the bathroom. When he comes back you stretch, yawning widely as he wraps around you, his hand running down your side. 

“I woke up wondering if I’d dreamt that Will was back,” he mumbles, “I can’t believe you found him, couldn’t fucking believe my eyes last night.” 

“Imagine my face when I saw him, they put a hood over my head and Will pulled it off, he’d recognized my voice and I was just dumbstruck, started crying straight away.” 

“You’re in good company, I’ve never seen Benny that emotional before, except,” he hesitates “except with Hannah, at the end.” 

“That was hard, telling Will about Hannah,” you sigh,” I wonder if Benny told him the whole story, all the details, or if maybe he wants to spare him that? I’m not sure I’d wanna know, it can’t be changed.” 

“I’d wanna know,” Frankie says, shifting in bed so that he can look at you, “It would fuck me up, but I’d wanna know anyway.” 

You shudder, shaking the thoughts off you, “I don’t wanna think about it, I’m happy Will is back, I wanna leave it at that.” You go to push yourself off the bed but Frankie grabs hold of you, his hand behind your neck, and pulls you down to his lips in a hard kiss. There’s an edge of desperation in the way he grips your neck and holds you close to his mouth while his tongue licks into you, all teeth and urgency.  

“Yesterday, before you came back,” he says, pulling back a little so that he can look at you, his eyes almost black, “I imagined what I’d do to them if they got even close to doing what Myers did to Hannah. I’d wanna know every detail, because I would do a hundred times worse to them.” His tone is rigid, harsher than you’ve heard from him before, and the intensity behind his words makes you frightened, not for you, but for him. 

“Don’t go down that route, Frankie, please,” you say, taking hold of his hand, “don’t even think about it, it’s not a good head space to be in.” 

“I can’t help it, the thought of that happening to you…” he trails off, you feel his fingers flexing around the back of your neck, “I just wanna fucking make them-” 

“Stop, Frankie,” you cut him off, “I don’t want you thinking about it, and if anything was to happen to me, I don’t want you doing anything,” you take his hand from behind your neck, putting the other one on his cheek. “If I go missing, come find me, please, tear the world apart if you have to, I’ll do the same for you. But don’t lose yourself to revenge, I don’t want that for you.” Frankie’s eyes soften at your words as you run your thumb over his cheek, “You’ll break my heart if you let hatred take over, I want you to be my sweet Frankie, even if I’m not here.” 

“Please don’t talk about not being here,” he says, his voice thick, “that thought fucking kills me, that’s what scares me more than anything.” 

“Being without you scares me the most too, Frankie, but promise you won’t wreck yourself trying to get revenge if something happens to me.” 

He takes in your worried face, your eyes searching his for assurance. The very thought of someone hurting you, or worse, makes his heart stutter, his first instinct is to think of all the ways he can bring retribution. But your pleading eyes, your hand on his check as you beg him to promise you a different path, makes him squash it down, he can’t deny you anything, even this. 

“I promise, cariño, I promise I won’t lose myself.” His kiss is gentle this time, his arms wrapping around you, as you cup his face. You let yourself stay wrapped up by him for a few, quiet minutes, breathing in his warm scent, his soft lips and hands on your skin. 

“We should go downstairs and see the others,” he mumbles, still close to your lips, “see what Will has to say about the smugglers.” 

You nod and pull away a little from him, taking his hand and tugging him off the bed. It’s a couple of quick showers for the both of you and then you go downstairs. Will and Benny are on the couch as you walk in, Pope making coffee in the kitchen. 

“Morning, sleepy heads!” Benny greets you, he’s got a wide grin, looking happy and relaxed next to his brother. 

“Morning,” you say as Will pushes off the couch and comes over for a hug. 

“Did you sleep ok?” he asks, tilting your head up to check on the cut his men left on your cheek. 

“Out like a light,” you say, and it was true, you hadn’t even had a nightmare. “You ok?” you ask in a lower voice and he catches your meaning, giving you a nod and a small crooked smile. 

“I’m good, it’s surreal to suddenly have breakfast with you guys like nothing changed, and about Hannah…” he shakes his head a little, “I always hoped, a little at least, that she was still ok. But to know that she was alive until just a few months ago…that’s gonna take some time to process.” He shrugs and you nod, leaving it at that for now. 

Will, Benny and Pope have obviously been talking before Frankie and you arrived and they fill you in on the details while you have breakfast. 

“So, the thing with Conway yesterday,” Will says, “had been brewing for a while. The guy’s an asshole, he was only part of the crew because he had good connections when we first started out. He’s been pushing for us to start smuggling and trading drugs, opiates mainly, but I’ve said no to that from the beginning, not happening.” 

“We heard that from Jodie Graham, she said you guys wouldn’t sell any to her,” you say, refilling your coffee mug.

“Jodie’s good to trade with but that was always our disagreement, but she was fine with it, didn’t push it.” 

“So what’s the plan for your crew now?” Frankie’s looking over at Will, “We talked about approaching you guys and working together before but now,” he glances over at you, “I’m not gonna trust them, they attacked us and we’ve taken out a lot of your guys, there’s gonna be bad blood.” 

“Yeah, the idea of you joining my crew died when you killed Conway’s brother in the warehouse,” Will says, shaking his head. “They had orders to scare you, ‘bit of intimidation, not kill you, but that obviously backfired.” 

“Ok, so collaboration is out of the question,” Benny says, “then what the fuck do we do? Take them out?” 

Will sighs and leans back against the counter, uncrossing his arms to rub one hand over his face. “I don’t think that’s gonna work, I mean, yeah we can take them out, we can handle them, no problem. But first off, I don’t wanna, not all of them are bad like Conway, and I’ve been working with some of them for years, I don’t wanna turn around and kill them, or give them a reason to kill me. But,” he shifts on his feet, crossing his arms again, “the guys who you’ve killed, they had family, and friends, in this QZ. And I’m not saying you did the wrong thing when you killed them, they attacked you,” Will’s holding up his hands as both Benny and Pope start to object. “But, as a result, the guys in the crew are out for your blood, and as they start spreading the word about who killed their friends and family, we’re toast, we can’t stay in this QZ.” 

You breath out a low fuck….and sink your head into your hands. You’ve just settled in New York, you just fucking got here, and now you’re all stuck with either leaving, or watching you back at every step.

“Great, back into no man’s land,” Pope growls.

“We should’ve just come to you straight away, Will,” you say, looking over at the other three guys, “We were being fucking stupid.” 

“I’ve been keeping a low profile, and my guys wouldn’t have trusted you, you’re new in the QZ, unknown, too risky. And,” Will shrugs, “what’s done is done, and the Conway situation would’ve blown up anyway.” 

“So we need to leave again,” Frankie says, seemingly shaking himself out of inactivity, “when, how and where to? We need to figure out where the fuck we’re going this time.” 

“I think I can answer the ‘how’,” Will says, “I talked to Jodie in private the last time I saw her. She was willing to let me sail with them up to Dartmouth, outside Providence. They trade up there. Their ship is big enough for the five of us, and them, so as long as we pay our way, they’ll take us.” 

“That gets us a long way away from New York,” Pope says, “sounds like a good idea. And getting to Orchard Beach is no problem, we’ll just have to be extra cautious and avoid your guys, Will.” 

“And then what?” you ask. “Is there a QZ in Providence?” 

“Yeah, there is,” Will nodded, “Jodie says it’s small but decent, might be good to check out, if not, the Boston QZ isn’t much further north and that’s a big one.” 

You look over at Frankie who nods at you, “I’m in, if we have to leave, that sounds like a solid idea.”

“I’m in too, and sailing sounds like a really nice way to travel,” you look back at Will, nodding your agreement. 

“Alright, if everyone’s in, I’ll get in touch with Jodie, set it up. In the meantime, we need to lay low,” Will says and everyone agrees. 

The next few days are spent collecting supplies and going over the resources you have while trying to stay out of sight. Frankie and Pope do a short trip outside the wall to clear a cache they’ve got stashed. You pace the apartment while they’re gone, glancing out through the window every time you hear a noise. When they get back you breathe a long sigh of relief, pulling Frankie in for a long hug. He tangles his fingers in your hair as he holds you close, letting his solid body under your arms sooth you. 

You choose to leave just after the curfew comes into effect at six pm, jogging through the empty QZ until you get to a tunnel you rarely use because it’s broken up and slow going. Slipping into it, the five of you stop just inside the entrance, waiting for anyone who might’ve followed you. After fifteen minutes you continue on, nothing moves behind you. You get through to the other end without any issues and quickly make your way through the Bronx towards Orchard Beach. Nothing stirs in the night and it’s almost worse, you’re expecting something to happen, something to go wrong, but you arrive at the beach with plenty of time to spare.

You camp out on the side of the beach, waiting for Jodie and Damon to show up. You’re nervous while you wait, pacing back and forth until Frankie stops you by pulling you to the side and wrapping his arms around you. He doesn’t have to say anything, you just bury your face against his soft flannel shirt, and let him rub his hands up and down your back. 

By the time the ship sails into the bay, a thin new moon has risen over Long Island and there’s a steady breeze. Jodie comes in with the small dinghy and gets you all out to the ship, it takes two trips to get you all and your bags onto the sailing vessel. Once you’ve climbed onboard and look back towards the shore, you feel your shoulders relax, leaving New York QZ and the exposed world outside the walls behind. Damon and Jodie get the sails up, helped by Pope, the only one of you with any kind of sailing experience, and the ship starts moving north. Damon sets a course that takes the ship out through the Long Island Sound and as it widens the shorelines on both sides disappear from view. 

“I’ll take the first watch,” he says, “Jodie will take the second one so you’re all welcome to sleep in the bunks below deck, might be a bit cramped though but there’s plenty of room to sleep on deck.” 

Benny, Will and Pope disappear beneath deck and you poke your head down too. There’s two bunk beds set up on either side of the narrow hull. At the aft of the ship there’s a small bedroom where Jodie and Damon sleep. 

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping up on deck, what about you?” you ask Frankie, eyeing the one single bunk bed available. 

“Sounds like a very nice idea,” he smiles, “Will snores.” 

“I do not,” Will grumbles in reply from the top bunk he’s climbed into, already inside his sleeping bag. 

Frankie chuckles and pulls you back up top. There’s plenty of room on deck and you roll out your sleeping mats, cushioning them with a few thick pillows Damon offers you, and zipping your sleeping bag together. The night air is cool but fresh and salty as Frankie pulls you close, your head on his arm as you both look up at the sky. The stars are impossibly bright out here on the water and in a low voice Frankie points out the different constellations, showing you the north star, a bright light in the sky. 

“It’s less than one degree away from the north pole, so if you see it, you always know where north is.”

“Did you ever use it to navigate with?” you ask, tilting your head to get a better look at it. 

“Several times, it’s a quick reference when you’re moving at night.” 

“You’re such a boy scout, Francisco,” you tease him, “Big, scary, Delta Force boy scout.” You giggle as he growls into your ear, his fingers finding the soft skin at your waist and tickling you.

“If we were in a bed I’d show you how I got my knot tying merit badge,” he chuckles as you squirm under his fingers. 

“Pretty sure we’ve already done that,” you smile as his hands return to their soft caresses over your skin. 

“Pretty sure you really enjoyed it too,” Frankie smirks, the memory of several occasions when he’d used his one tie to restrain your hands making you squeeze your legs together. Something to remember for when you’re next in a safe location and on your own. Right now you’re getting sleepy and you turn, your back pressed up against his chest.

“Sleep well, hermosa, te amo.” Frankie nudges his nose against your neck as he gives you a soft kiss. 

“I love you too, my sweet Frankie,” you mumble, his arm a warm weight over your body. 

Damon and Jodie make sure the ship sails safely through the night and when the early morning sun wakes you, the ship has already passed New Haven. It’s another full day of sailing before you reach Dartmouth according to Damon and you’ve already agreed to spend a second night on the ship so that you can disembark the next morning in daylight. A whole day on a sailing ship turns into what feels like a well deserved holiday and you’re starting to think Jodie and Damon really have the best idea about how to live in the apocalypse. 

“Do you ever see other ships out here?” You ask as Damon brings out the fishing rods after breakfast.

“Not much anymore,” he says, “in the beginning there were a lot of boats around, both sailing boats and motor ones, nowadays we only see sailing ships but even they are rare. Might get one passing on the horizon.”

“Do you ever approach them, see if anyone is alive?” you ask as he hands you one of the rods and a tub of homemade bait. 

“Sometimes, depends on how badly we need supplies or gear. We follow them for a bit, see if anything stirs, most times the ships are empty or have infected on them. In the past year we’ve only come across two other ships with people on them. Trade with one of them, the other one wanted nothing to do with us.” 

You cast out, following Damon’s instructions, the other guys are also casting out around the ship, Frankie’s next to you, he’s been listening to Damon speaking. 

“Do you ever go ashore?” he asks, “For supplies?” 

“No need any more, we trade for what we need most times, scavenge ships for the rest.” 

“And eat a lot of fish,” Jodie sighs from the steering wheel, “I used to love eating fresh fish, now I’d be happy if I never ate fish again in my life.” 

“I’ll see if I can catch a burger for you, Jodie,” Will jokes from the stern and everyone laughs, it’s a nice relaxed, holiday feeling on deck. Frankie insists on you wearing his cap as he sees you squinting at the sun, it smells like him and you give him a grateful kiss on the cheek. The sun has already given him a deeper tan and more freckles and he looks irresistible as he pulls off his t-shirt, he catches you staring and winks at you with a grin. 

“You look like a snack, Frankie,” you whisper into his ear as you kiss his cheek again and he smiles, turning his head and kissing your lips. 

“Never thought I’d be getting a tan in the apocalypse.” 

Between the six of you fishing, you catch plenty, more than you need. But Damon has figured out how to extract salt from the ocean water, and shows you all how he preserves the fish by drying and salting it. He gives you plenty of what he’s already dried as extra rations, and prepares what you’ve caught while the best catch gets grilled straight away. 

None of you have eaten fresh fish in years and it feels like a feast and even more like a holiday when Damon serves up what you’ve just caught. You stuff yourself, tipping back on the deck after lunch with your hands on your belly, groaning at how full you are. Frankie smiles down at you from above, his unruly curls waving in the breeze as his eyes crinkle at the corners with a smile, sunlight filtering in and out between the sails and lighting up his tan skin. You’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia, a memory of your first date with him, lying back on his blanket in the park, your belly full of tacos and smiling up at this gorgeous man who’d just taken you up for your first helicopter ride. 

“Do you remember when we had tacos in the park?” you ask and put your hand up to his curls, running your fingers through them. 

“How could I forget,” he smiles, “our first date. I fell asleep on your chest and if you keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep again.” 

You smile up at him and rake your nails across his scalp, always his favorite thing. He drops down and puts his arm over your waist, head on your chest just like he did in the park and it doesn’t take long before you can hear his soft snoring. You catch Will glancing over at the two of you with a smile but when he turns away it slips off his face, replaced with something more doleful. He turns and looks out over the empty ocean and you see his hand curl, white knuckled, around the railing and you know what he’s thinking about. You blink back sudden tears as you look up at the blue sky, dotted with little white tufts. You’d give anything to have Hannah safe on this ship with Will too. 

By the time the sun slips under the western horizon, you’ve reached Dartmouth, the old town dark but still relatively unbroken by the looks of it. Damon takes the ship out further into Buzzards Bay and anchors up. You’re sleepy and relaxed after a day in the sun when you curl up next to Frankie on deck, falling asleep almost instantly as the ship gently sways on the waves. 

The following morning the fog is thick over the bay, but Jodie and Damon have sailed here many times and they easily navigate to the shore, bringing you in at Nonquitt Beach outside Dartmouth. Jodie rows the dinghy in, bringing Pope, Frankie and you in last. 

“Thanks for everything, Jodie,” Pope says, as he unloads the last of the bags. “Safe sailing, we’ll try to get word to you about where we end up.” 

“Take care of yourselves now,” she gives you all a final wave before pushing off the shore again. 

“Ok, back on dry land,” Benny says, looking over across the beach, towards the residential area behind it, “What does the map say, what route?” 

“We head north up to route six, follow that to Taunton River, route six crosses it but if that bridge is out, there’s another one just to the north,” Pope says. “After that it’s a straight stretch into Providence.

Will looks over Pope’s shoulder and points at the neighborhood beyond the beach, “I suggest we try to get through this area and then go inland up to route six. Less houses when we’re away from the coast here.” 

Pope nods in agreement and pockets the map while the rest of you ready your guns. You’ve got three rifles between you now, and you’ve each got a handgun. In silence you all start moving across the beach, Pope in the lead, Will bringing up the rear. It’s not fast going but the neighborhood is empty and quiet. Jodie and Damon had left you here because it was a regular spot for them to meet traders and the area was regularly cleared by people who moved through it and it shows. The buildings are empty, looted, and nothing stirs. 

Finding route six is easy and then you turn west, following it to the river. The trek takes most of the day, a few detours necessary to avoid infected and by the time you see the river, it’s too late to go further, but at least your first day off the ship has been uneventful. Finding a safe looking building to stay in for the night, Pope, Will and Benny go through it, making sure it’s empty, before you make camp in the top apartment. You all divvy up the watches and despite being outside the wall in an unknown city, you sleep fairly well after your watch, and the night passes quietly. You wake up on your side with Frankie’s arm around your waist and his solid body pressed up against your back, by the sound of his heavy breathing, he’s still sound asleep. Desperate for a pee, you carefully move away from his arm and step into your boots. Will is on watch, the final one for the night, and he gives you a warm smile as you step out of the apartment after a quick bathroom visit. He’s standing at the top of the stairs and you lean against the window ledge next to him. 

“All quiet?” you ask in a low voice, not wanting to wake the others still sleeping inside the apartment. 

“All quiet,” he confirms with a nod, “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah, it felt pretty safe here, and having you four around helps,” you smile, “It’s really good having you back, Will,” you give his hand a quick squeeze and he smiles again. 

“It’s good being back with you all too,” he says but then hesitates, falling silent for a minute while you watch his mind work, and you reflect over how Will was always more like Frankie with his words, never speaking just for the sake of speaking, they always consider what they want to say before they speak. 

“It’s good being back with family,” he offers eventually, “and not just Benny. You, Frankie and Pope too. I had people I trusted to a certain degree in New York, mostly because I had to trust them. But they were never friends, never family. I’d forgotten what it feels like to be with family.” He looks over at you again, “I missed it more than I realized.” 

“I’m sorry we didn’t find each other sooner. We heard rumors about a guy who sounded like you in the months after the outbreak, but we didn’t think it could be you because it was all the way up in New York.” 

“Yeah, Benny told me about it, I don’t think I would’ve believed it myself.” He shoulders the rifle and comes to stand next to you, leaning back against the window ledge. “I...I feel guilty for not trying harder to get back to Hannah, to Arlington. Things might’ve been different if I had.”

“Or you could’ve died on the way there, there’s no point in thinking you could’ve changed anything. We did what we thought we could do.” 

Will stays silent for a few minutes, you turn to glance out through the window, down at the street, it’s slowly getting lighter now. As you turn back you hear him exhale slowly.  

“Benny told me about Lucía, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to Frankie about it yet,” Will says, his voice even lower, looking over at you. “I’m really sorry, Ben told me it got pretty bad.” 

“It did, we were at Denny’s cabin after and he shut off, barely even spoke. I…I had moments when I wasn’t sure we’d make it, it would’ve been so easy to just stop trying to survive. Frankie didn’t seem to see a reason to live either, I had to keep him alive.”

“What got him out of it?”   

“He got kinda jolted out of it when we got attacked on our way to the Franklin QZ, we were attacked by raiders, we got separated but Frankie killed them, burnt their place down and got us out. But what he had to do…to Lucía…” you trail off, exhaling slowly, “He’s…there’s something darker in him now, it changed him.”

“I think we’ve all changed, forced by circumstances,” Will says, keeping an eye on the open door to the apartment down the hall, “but that kind of trauma would break anyone, and Frankie had been through a lot even before it.” He looks over at you again, “He’d be a lot worse off if it wasn’t for you though, you know that right?” Will gently nudges your shoulder with his own, “You were good for him from the start, before the outbreak, and anyone can see now how you ground him, keep him centered.” 

“I hope it’s enough,” you sigh. Frankie’s darker moments were less frequent after the years he’d spent getting help from Herb, but you’d seen them flare back up when things got heated. The anger was closer to the surface than ever, never directed at you, but always present if he perceived a threat to you, or the violent thoughts he fell into when he thought of revenge. 

“Morning guys,” Pope comes out of the apartment, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, “all quiet?” 

“Yeah, we’re just catching up,” Will says and you push off from the window ledge. 

“Morning, Pope.”

“Morning, hermana,” he gives your shoulder a quick squeeze, “Please go wake Fish, he responds so much better to your morning kisses than mine.” 

“Tonto del culo,” you smirk at him and he chuckles. 

“He really is only teaching you the bad ones.” 

You find Frankie still sound asleep and you almost don’t want to wake him, he looks peaceful and younger, splayed on his belly with his arm as a pillow, the other one thrown over where you’d slept. Benny has stirred across the room, sitting up and scratching his chest. 

“Is it morning?” he asks, his voice drowsy. 

“Yeah, the others are up, I’m just gonna wake Frankie,” you whisper and Benny nods, pushing back his sleeping bag. You sink down on your side, next to Frankie, and run your fingers through his curls, pressing your lips to his scruffy cheek. His nose twitches and a low rumble comes from his chest. 

“Keep doing that, hermosa,” he mutters, his voice rough with sleep and you smile into his patchy beard, your nails scratching across his scalp. 

“Time to wake up, love,” you whisper and he grumbles again, his arm coming up to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, his nose buried against the soft skin of your throat. 

“Despiértate, el pececito,” Pope says, coming into the apartment again, grinning at Frankie’s grumbling. 

“Don’t fucking call me that, I’m bigger and older than you,” he mutters, rolling over on his back as you sit up. 

Coffee and breakfast is quickly done and then packed up before you all head down to the street again. Route six leads right up to the river’s edge, but that’s where it stops, the huge six lane bridge has been wiped out by the bombing after outbreak day. The twisted blue girders lay rusting in the water next to the USS Massachusetts.

“Alright, plan B,” Pope says, pointing north, “there’s another bridge about two miles upriver.” 

“I wonder if anyone thought to make camp on the warship,” Benny says as you walk past it. Nothing stirs and it looks uninhabited but also like it would make a regular fortress with a few guards.

“Probably, but I prefer Jodie and Damon’s idea,” Frankie says, “be far out on the ocean, away from everything, that’s how I’d like to do it.” 

“Wish I could sail,” he adds in a lower voice so that only you can hear, “then that’s what I’d do, take us out there, maybe find a small, uninhabited island down south for shelter during the winter.”

“I’d like that, Frankie,” you whisper back at him and he gives you a quick wink, before he turns forward again. 

“ ‘Veterans’ Memorial Bridge’, how appropriate,” Benny says as you approach the smaller bridge, “But it doesn’t look too good.” 

“Looks like it should hold though,” Pope says, “Let’s get a closer look.” 

The bridge is low and flat and used to open in the middle to let ships through, the center section splitting in two parts and standing straight up. Most of the bridge is still in place and looks solid, but the part that opens hangs below the bridge, as if the two movable slabs have collapsed and sunk lower than their hinges should allow. You all walk up to the edge of the bridge and look out over the tilting road surface. The opposite side of the bridge sits lower than the eastern side, you have to jump across and down to get to it but it seems doable, even to you. 

Benny takes a cautious step onto the part of the bridge that slopes downwards, it doesn’t move under him and he tests it by bouncing on his feets, as if he was on a trampoline, finally jumping up and slamming his boots down onto the surface. The bridge doesn’t budge and Benny looks up at the rest of you. 

“Seems solid enough,” he says, bouncing a few more times. 

“What’s our option, Pope?” Frankie asks, eyeing the gap at the end. 

“Next bridge is twelve miles north of here,” Pope replies, “Doable, but it takes us a long way away from Providence.” 

Will steps out on the bridge next to his brother and does a few test jumps, moving further out from the solid section. 

“It’s not moving an inch, I say we go this way, the jump at the end is easy enough.” 

“Ok,” Frankie agrees, “But let’s go slowly and carefully, I don’t want a fucking bridge collapsing under me.” 

“Too many arepas, fishsticks,” Benny taunts and Frankie flips him off. 

Slowly you all move down the sloping road surface, it remains solid, even when you get to the end of the section and look down at the jump. 

“That side tilts a bit more, be careful when you jump, Benny,” Will says, eyeing his brother as he gets ready to jump. 

“Nothing to it, Ironhead,” Benny says and takes a gigantic leap, overshooting the gap by several feet and slamming down onto the road surface with a grin. 

“Beat that, bro!” he calls, flexing his arms, posing for imaginary cameras. 

Will chuckles and backs up, “Watch me, Benny boy.” Will takes a running start and launches himself over the gap, landing a clear foot further than Benny who scowls. 

“I didn’t have a running start, that doesn’t count.” 

“Yeah, whatever, big bro beat ya, kid.” Will smirks and dodges Benny’s playful swipe at his head. 

“I’ll jump first, you follow me, cariño, ok?” Frankie says, “I’ll catch you when you land.” 

“Ok, but it’s a tiny jump, I’ll be fine, Frankie,” you smile and he gets ready to jump, he’s not going to take part in the Miller brother’s pissing contest. He takes a few steps back and clears the gap, landing just in front of Benny who whoops. 

“Still in the lea - oh fuck!” 

The bridge groans and drops, the section screeching further down towards the water, the angle suddenly sharp. 

“Grab the railing!” Will yells, yanking Benny towards the side while Frankie scrambles to find purchase on something. 

“Frankie!” you yell, you see his boots scraping across the asphalt as he slips down the road. “Will!” Pope shouts, “Grab Fish! Grab him!”  

“Take my hand, Benny!” He grabs Benny’s hand in an armlock and Benny hooks his other arm around the railing, Will reaching out towards Frankie. 

Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest as you watch Frankie scraping along the road, slipping further down as he tries to get to the railing and Will’s hand. You can hear him cursing as his boots slip and he skids down closer to the edge. The bridge groans again and Frankie stumbles, at the last second launching himself forward and grabbing hold of the last part of the railing, his boots dangling over the fifty feet drop. 

“Pull me up!” he shouts, “Pull me the fuck up!”

“I got you,” Will calls, scrambling down the railing, using it as a ladder, “I got you!” He hangs on with one hand and reaches down to Frankie, grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling him up. Benny manages to hook his arm around Will’s waist and together they get Frankie high enough so that he can get his feet up on the railing too. 

“Climb!” you yell, “You’ve got to get off the bridge!” You can hear it groaning under them. Benny is already scrambling up the railing, Will makes sure Frankie’s got a good grip and then they both start climbing, rushing as the bridge section slips lower. It’s hanging at almost ninety degrees now and the screech of the metal hinges makes you and Santi yell at them to climb faster. 

Frankie heaves himself over the ledge, Will and Benny holding on to his arms, dragging him up. They scramble to their feet and run backwards as the section rips loose and crashes into the water below. 

“Fuck…” you hear Benny gasp, Frankie’s bent double, his hands on his knees as he looks over to the other side where you and Pope are now stuck. 

“How far did you say the next bridge was?” you ask Santi, your eyes still on Frankie. 

“Twelve miles, four hour hike if we don’t run into trouble.” He gives the guys on the other side a wave, “You guys ok, no injuries?” 

Frankie shakes his head and Benny gives a thumbs up, they’re both standing up now, a safe distance from the ledge. 

“Pope!” Will calls from across the bridge, “what’s the name of the next bridge?”

Pope pulls out the map, “Berkley Bridge, twelve miles north,” he calls back, “Follow the one thirty eight, along the river. There’s a high school next to the bridge, on the west side.” 

“Alright, we’ll meet you there,” Will calls back, “we’ll leave markers if we get there first.” 

“See you there, stay safe!” Pope calls back, giving them a wave. Frankie’s eyes meet yours and despite the distance you can see the anxiety, you know you’ve got the same look. 

“Pope!” he calls, and Pope cuts him off. 

“I know, hermano, I’ll keep her safe, I’ll get her back to you, don’t worry about it.” You feel Santi put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze, pulling you back towards the eastern shore. You raise your hand to Frankie, and he does the same. 

“Stay safe, Frankie, I love you.” 

“Te amo, mi vida. Stay safe!” 

Pope and you head back to the eastern shore, you feel your legs shaking, the adrenaline leaving your system and you stumble slightly. Pope reaches out and grabs your shoulder, holding you steady. 

“Take it easy, hermana, you doing ok?”

“Just a bit shaky after all that,” you say, “that was way too fucking close.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Santi gives you a squeeze and keeps walking, “thank fuck Will and Benny were there too.” 

“I wish I could be as cool as you guys in situations like that, and then just brush it off and keep going.” 

“We had years of training, remember? And it didn’t always do us a lot of good, trained to do some fucked up shit but no one taught us how to deal with the aftermath.” Pope pulls out the map and scans the street for any landmarks. “We basically just need to follow the river but it curves around a bit so I’m gonna try to not get us too lost.” 

Off in the distance you hear the tell tale sound of infected and you both freeze in your tracks before Pope grabs your arm and pulls you into an alley. Skirting around, moving slowly and carefully, it’s slow going for the rest of the day. You end up spending an hour hiding inside a building while a horde of at least fifty infected shamble past on the street outside. 

“It might’ve been the noise of the bridge falling that attracted them,” Pope says, peeking out through the window at the last infected stragglers. 

“I hope there's no more heading this way,” you say, it��s already been three hours since you left the others at the bridge and you’ve still got a long way to go. At this pace you won’t get the next bridge before nightfall. 

Together you carefully leave the building and move quickly away from the horde, checking every street corner and blind spot before you move on. You manage to move a few more miles, but then a chilling screech goes up close by and Pope pulls you down behind a car, crouching down. It’s in the nick of time, four runners stumble out of an alley across the street. 

“Fuck, they’re everywhere today,” Pope breathes. Glancing behind you he motions you backwards, into a shop, “In here, we need to get off the street.”

It looks like a small mom and pop dry cleaning business inside, you see racks of empty coat hangers behind a counter as Pope scouts forwards and finds the door to the second floor. The door opens up with a small tap of his boot and you both make your way up the stairs slowly. Whoever ran this shop clearly lived on top of it, the stairs leading to a small landing with a closed front door. Pope pushes it open without resistance and quickly scans the small hallway that it opens to. He motions for you to close the door behind you and it shuts with a soft click. Nothing stirs and you quietly follow Pope towards what looks like the living room. You’ve both got your guns out, Pope in front as he steps through the doorway and sweeps the room. He spots the man a split second before the butt of a rifle comes down on the side of his head and he’s thrown to the floor. The crack to his skull disorientates him but he manages to hold on to his gun, rolling onto his back and aiming at the man now advancing on him, a shotgun raised and cocked. His head throbs and he blinks rapidly to clear the fog threatening to envelope him. 

“Lower the gun or your girl gets hurt.” The growl comes from a second man, holding you firm, your arm twisted up behind your back and a large hunting knife pressed against your throat. He’d grabbed you as Pope stumbled to the ground, twisting the gun out of your hand as he yanked you into the room and bent your arm painfully up behind your back. You can feel the cold blade press into your throat, just shy of nicking your skin. 

You see Pope quickly scan the situation, the determination in the two men, the knife against your throat, and he drops his gun, sliding it across the floor.. 

“Check him for any other weapons and tie him up,” your captor orders the man with the shotgun. “On your belly, hands behind your back,” he tells Pope. You see the anger in Santi’s eyes as he rolls over, gritting his teeth. The man holding you doesn’t relent his grip, your shoulder is screaming, another half an inch and he’ll dislocate it. 

“Please, my shoulder,” you whimper, “you’re breaking it.” 

“Don’t worry, darlin´, as soon as he’s secured I’ll loosen my grip.” He’s still got the blade tight against your throat, forcing your head back, his voice is close to your ear and the deep drawl of his rough voice makes your skin crawl.

The man with the shotgun quickly secures Pope’s hands with a cable tie, patting him down and stepping back. 

“He’s clear, Joel, now what?” 

He looks over at the man holding you and your brain goes into overdrive, putting the face of the man in front of you, older now, more worn, together with the deep Texan drawl of the man behind you. 

“Miller!” you gasp, your throat scraping against the knife as the man’s eyes snap to yours. “You’re Tommy Miller! We met, fourth of July, at Denny’s cabin.” You feel the man behind you tighten his grip on your arm, bending it just a little bit further back and you sob, “You’re Will and Benny’s cousins!”

“You’re Frankie’s girl!” Tommy blurts out, his eyes suddenly wide with recognition, “And you,” he looks at Pope, still belly down on the floor, “you’re one of the Delta Force guys.” 

“Yeah, I’m Pope, get these fucking things off me, man,” he spits. Tommy takes a step forward but Joel barks. 

“Tommy, wait! What the fuck are you doing, we can’t trust them!”

“C’mon, Joel, we know them,” Tommy says but he stops in his tracks. 

“Yeah, we knew them, for a weekend, six fucking years ago!” Joel snaps back, Now the-” 

“We’re with Will and Benny,” you interrupt, moving your head back as much as you can from the sharp blade. “We got separated this morning, they’re on the other side of the river, we’re trying to get to the next bridge to meet them.” 

“Will and Benny are alive?” Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and he shoots Joel a hopeful look before he quickly schools his face back into neutrality. 

“How do we know you’re not just lying? Who else is with you?” Joel growls from behind you. 

“Why the fuck would we lie about that?” Pope growls right back at him from the floor, “We’ve been with Benny since Arlington, at the beginning, and we just found Will in New York about a week ago.” 

“Frankie’s with us,” you say, “It’s just us, Frankie, Will and Benny.” 

“Joel…” Tommy says, “We can’t walk away from this, we gotta see if they’re telling the truth:” 

Joel remains silent behind you, you can see Tommy’s eyes on him but his grip on your arm is still firm. It’s like the two brother’s are having a silent conversation, deciding your fate as your shoulder screams in protest. 

“Fine,” Joel finally spits, “but if they fuck us, it’s on you, Tommy!” He removes the knife from your throat and releases your arms. You collapse forward, stumbling away from him with your arm cradled to your chest. Tommy kneels next to Pope and cuts his ties and Pope gets to his feet with a grumbled thanks. 

“Lead the way then, you two in front,” Joel says as you glance back at him. He’s changed more than Tommy, a bit more gray around his temples and on his jaw, but it’s his face, the expression in his eyes that’s made him almost unrecognizable. The Joel you knew for a long weekend six years ago had a friendly, warm face. You still remember his belly laughs when his daughter and Lucía brought him down with tickles, a friendly giant who didn’t even protest when Lucía lay flat across his legs with Sarah over his chest. The man scowling at you now looks dangerous and feral, angry lines carved into his face and a hard set jaw. 

“Sure, I’ll take the lead,” Pope says, accepting his gun back from Tommy, much to Joel’s dissatisfaction. “Let me just check her shoulder first, you twisted it pretty hard by the looks of it.” The sharp tone in his voice isn’t lost on Joel and he only answers with another low growl. 

Pope gently prods your shoulder and you wince under his touch. “Feels like the muscle has been torn, like a sprain,” he says, “I’ll make you a sling when we get to the others, keep your hand hooked into your jacket for now.” He briefly cups your cheek with his hand, “You ok, hermana?” he asks in a low voice and you’re reminded of how similar his eyes are to Frankie’s when they share the same look of concern. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say, giving him a small smile and he smiles back. 

“Ok, we’ve got about two hours I think, to the bridge,” he says, looking over at Joel who gives a curt nod. “We good to go?” 

“Yeah, take the lead,” Joel says and motions to the door. 

Pope quickly finds the back door of the shop, scanning the narrow alley before stepping out. You stay behind him, then Tommy, with Joel covering the rear. You move as fast as possible through the streets, eventually coming out into the countryside and cutting across fields. Twice you have to hastily hide from groups of infected, still moving south towards the broken bridge but after the second group has passed you see no more. By the time you see the river again the sun has just sunk below the horizon, it’s taken you almost the whole day to cover the twelve miles and you’re exhausted. As the Berkley Bridge finally comes into view you’re dead on your feet, hungry and thirsty and your shoulder aches. 

“Hang in there,” Pope says to you in a low voice, dropping back and giving your uninjured shoulder a squeeze, “the high school is just on the other side of the bridge.” 

“I can’t wait to just lie down and sleep,” you reply, “I really hope the others got there ok.” 

Pope nods in response and steps forward again, taking the lead as you all step onto the bridge. It’s in one piece and you breathe a sigh of relief when you’re across it. It doesn’t take long to reach the high school and Pope quickly finds a marker carved into the gate post. 

“Back door,” he says and leads you around the building. It’s fully dark now and it’s slow going, but you finally see a half open door to a smaller section of the school and as you approach you hear the sound of a weapon cocking. 

“Stop, identify yourself!” you hear Frankie’s low voice, stern and commanding, he’s expecting two people, not four, and he’s raised the rifle, aiming at you through the darkness. 

“Catfish,” Pope calls, “stand down, it’s us.” 

You see Frankie lower his rifle a little bit as the four of you come out of the gloom, his finger is still near the trigger and he doesn’t put the safety on. 

“Who’s with you?” he asks, his eyes landing on Joel and Tommy behind you. 

“Joel and Tommy Miller, Ben and Will’s cousins,” Pope replies and you see recognition flash across Frankie’s face before his eyes widen. . 

“Holy shit, what are the odds of that?” 

“Pretty high I’d say,” Tommy replies, stepping forward and extending his hand, “Good to see you again, man.” Frankie shakes his hand and then Joel, who, a bit more reluctantly, grabs Frankie’s hand as he extends it.

“Come inside, and we’ll bar this door for the night,” Frankie says, stepping to the side and motioning the men towards the door before he turns to you. His eyebrows knit together as he sees your arm, still hooked into the opening of your jacket to support your shoulder. 

“You’re hurt, what happened?” He shoulders the rifle and steps forward as gently reaches for your wrist. 

“It’s my shoulder, Pope says the muscle is torn a bit. He’s gonna make me a sling.” 

“How did it happen?” he asks, moving his hands up to your shoulder, his eyes searching yours for any discomfort. 

“I’ll tell you later, I just wanna get inside and sit down, I’m exhausted, Frankie.”

“Of course, c’mere, I’ve got you,” he leads you inside and helps you off with your pack as Pope and Tommy shut the door and slide a heavy iron girder in place.  

“We’re just a bit further in, we found a room with shuttered windows so we can have some light.” Frankie leads you all down a hallway and turns right, pushing open a door he steps into a classroom. The desks have been pushed up along the walls and in the middle Will’s got a couple of camper stoves set up, the smell of food making your stomach growl. 

“Look who we found,” Pope grins as he waves Tommy and Joel in through the door. You can’t help but smile as you see Will and Benny look up, confusion on their faces at first and then, almost simultaneously, shift into huge smiles as they recognise their cousins. 

“Holy shit, what the actual fuck?!” Benny whoops and jumps to his feet, grabbing Joel into a bear hug, “Where the fuck did you come from?!” he says as he tries to pick Joel up off the floor under loud protests. 

“Put me the fuck down, Benny,” he laughs, slapping him on the back. Will and Tommy hug, big grins on both men and then Benny pulls Tommy into another bear hug, laughing as Will embraces Joel. It’s good to see the tension melt away from Tommy and especially Joel. He’d been guarded the whole way, not quite trusting that Pope and you were telling the truth. But now, seeing the four Miller cousins hug it out with big smiles, even Joel looks less intimidating. 

Frankie gently takes your uninjured hand and leads you over to where his sleeping bag is rolled out, helping you sit down. You sink down gratefully and lean back against the wall, finally relaxing. 

“Let me get your boots off,” he says in a low voice, the Miller boys still catching up and laughing behind him. You nod and rest your head against the wall, closing your eyes. Your shoulder is throbbing, you’re going to have to dip into your small supply of expired painkillers soon. Frankie pulls your boots off, and your damp socks, gently rubbing the soles of your feet as you sigh and shoot him a pleased smile. 

“Thanks, Frankie,” you mumble. 

“Anything, hermosa,” he smiles back, letting go of your feet. “But I need to check your shoulder, might be less nice.” 

“Do what you have to do as long as I can have food afterwards, I’m starving.” 

“You took a long time getting here, what happened?” Frankie asks, making you sit up so that he can slide your jacket off. 

“There were infected everywhere, we had to stay hidden for long periods of time. Pope thinks maybe the noise from the bridge collapsing attracted them.” 

“Yeah, we saw some on our side of the river, but not that many. How does this feel?” He gently prods the joint of your shoulder and you wince as he carefully moves your arm. 

“Hurts and feels very stiff,” you say, glancing down at it. There’s a dark bruise forming and you can see the swelling around the joint.. 

“If we had an ice pack I’d put it on,” Frankie says, “But for now, keep it still, I’ll get you that sling.” Frankie steps over to his pack and rifles through it, coming back and setting your shoulder more comfortably against your chest. You watch his deft hands as he works and when he’s done you lean in and capture his lips in a soft kiss. He hums against you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. 

“I’m so happy you’re ok, Frankie,” you whisper, “Did you get hurt on the bridge?” 

“Just a few scrapes,” he says, his mouth still close to yours as he turns up his palms and shows you a few angry looking lines. “I had to clean them with alcohol, that fucking stung,” he chuckles, “but they’re fine now. How did you hurt your shoulder?” 

“Promise you won’t get mad?” you say, pulling back a little so that you can see his face clearly and he frowns at you. 

“What happened?” His eyebrows come together in a frown, his body stiffening under your touch.  

“We, Pope and me, had to hide in a building when a group of infected surprised us.Turned out Joel and Tommy were already in there and they grabbed us, Joel twisted my arm behind my back. But they didn’t know it was us,” you say hastily as you see Frankie scowl and look towards Joel. “Frankie,” you pull his eyes back to you, “they just did what we would’ve done if someone unknown walked in here now.” 

“Yeah, ok,” he relents, his face softening again, “Let me get you some food, should be done now.” 

As Frankie stands up Joel comes over, he’s got a bowl in his hand and as he crouches down he hands it to you. 

“How’s the shoulder? Sorry ‘bout it,” he says, looking at the makeshift sling Frankie’s put together. 

“It’s sore, but it’ll heal, don’t worry about it,” you reply, gratefully accepting the bowl of stew and rice. 

“Alright,” Joel responds, clearing his throat, “Good, and thanks for…” he waves his hand over at where Benny and Will are deep in conversation with Tommy, going over what’s happened in the six years since they last saw each other. “It’s good seeing them in one piece.” 

“I’m glad we were able to bring you guys together,” you say as Joel gets to his feet again, nodding to Frankie.

“Good to see you too, Frankie.” 

“Yeah, same, Joel,” Frankie replies as Joel turns and begins rolling out his sleeping mat.

Frankie grabs a bowl for himself and sinks down next to you, you’re almost done with the stew, wolfing it down. 

“Got you some painkillers too, cariño,” he hands them to you with his water canteen and you gratefully swallow the two pills. Once they kick in you slip into your sleeping bag, drifting off as Frankie helps Ben take care of the dishes. You barely wake as he slips in next to you, careful to not disturb your shoulder, but you reach for his hand as he puts his arm over your waist, turning your head towards him as he places a soft kiss on your cheek. 

The dull throbbing in your shoulder wakes you early next morning and forces you to get up, just to get some relief. There’s thin slivers of light shining through the shutters, giving you enough light to move around and pad out into the hallway in your socks. You’d missed any talk of having a watch roster last night but it seems you were allowed to sleep through the night. Tommy is sitting on a bench close to the door you came in through, playing cards with himself, a rifle next to him. 

“Morning,” you greet him and he looks up. 

“Hey, how’s the shoulder?” He scoots over on the bench, making room for you as you carefully move your arm. 

“Sore and swollen, it’ll take a few days to get better, but don’t worry about it,” you say as you see his apologetic face, “you did what we would’ve done in the same situation.” 

“Yeah, I suppose, we all have to assume the next person we meet is either infected or the enemy.” 

“Not much trust going ‘round these days,” you agree, watching him gather up the cards and shuffle them. 

“I wanted to ask you,” you begin cautiously as he starts dealing. “Joel’s daughter, Sarah?” 

Tommy nods, his hands stopping as he looks up at you, “She didn’t make it, she died that first night,” he says, his voice low and you sigh and close your eyes. 

“Fuck...I’m sorry, Tommy,” you look up at him again as he leans back against the wall. “I didn’t wanna assume but when she wasn’t with you, I had to ask.”

“Yeah, of course, just don’t mention it to Joel,” Tommy tilts his head so that he can look over at you. “He’s not one to talk about it.” 

You nod, rubbing your hand over your face, “I get it, more than you think.” 

“Frankie’s girl?” Tommy says and you hear the question in his voice. 

“A few days after the outbreak, she got infected.” 

Now it’s Tommy’s turn to breathe out a low Fuck as he drops his head back against the wall again. “I’m sorry, for you and for Frankie, she was a great kid.” 

“So was Sarah,” you say, giving Tommy a weak smile, “Lucìa wouldn’t stop talking about her after we got home, she was bugging Benny to invite you guys over as soon as possible so that they could meet again.” 

Tommy chuckles softly, “Yeah, I remember them thick as thieves at Denny’s, Lucìa following her around like a puppy.” He absentmindedly shuffles the deck of cards in his hand as you both stay silent for a few minutes, the soft snores of the still sleeping men coming from the classroom. 

Tommy suddenly laughs softly, keeping his voice low, “I remember how annoyed Frankie got when I flirted with you that weekend, he got really possessive, those hickeys the next morning,” he grins and you feel your cheeks getting red at the memory, even all these years later. 

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” you say and Tommy nods. 

“Poker? I promise I won’t suggest the strip version,” he grins, dealing out the cards again. 

You play a couple of rounds until you hear people stirring in the classroom. Frankie pokes his head out of the door and comes over when he sees you. 

“Morning, sweetie,” you smile up at him as he bends to give you a kiss. 

“Morning, cariño, you sleep ok? How’s the shoulder?” He lets his kiss linger a little bit longer than usual, his hand cupping the back of your head, before he pulls back and sits down on the bench next to you. 

“Sore and swollen,” you say, shifting it a bit. 

“I’ll get you a better sling today, just need a piece of wood to support your arm.” 

“What’s the plan, down to Providence?” you ask, “I don’t know if you guys made plans after I fell asleep last night.” 

“Not Providence,” Tommy says immediately, “we were on our way there but the QZ’s fell, overrun by infected.” 

“Shit, what happened?” you ask, “We heard it was fine just a few days ago.” 

“Not sure, but we ran into a survivor a week ago and he said FEDRA got challenged by another group when FEDRA kept cutting rations. FEDRA took out the other group pretty harshly, imposed martial law and people tried escaping or rebelling, it had been going on for a couple of months.” Tommy gathers the cards up and shuffles them before putting them back in the box. “The survivor we talked to didn’t know how it had happened, but infected got in, or someone who was infected slipped through the checkpoint, it started spreading on the inside anyway. FEDRA lost control and started executing everyone, so riots broke out and FEDRA left, just took the last working trucks and just took off.” 

“Did you get to Providence, what’s the situation like there now?” Frankie asks, leaning forward to look at Tommy. 

“We didn’t get to the gates, got told to not go anywhere near it, too many infected.” Tommy glances up towards the door as Joel looks out. 

“Morning, Joel.” 

“Morning, coffee’s ready if y'all want some,” he says and you can smell it wafting through the hallway now. 

“So what’s your plan then?” Frankie asks as you go back towards the classroom. 

“Boston, I think,” Tommy says, “It’s the nearest QZ from here, big enough.” 

You sit down next to Will who gives you a quick smile and a mug of coffee, Frankie sinks to the floor next to you too. 

“Thanks, Will,” he says, taking a second mug. “So what’s our plan then, if Providence is a no go?” He looks over at Will and Pope, “Boston for us too?” 

“I don’t know about you guys,” Benny says, “but I think we should stick together, with Joel and Tommy I mean.” 

You see Pope frown, he hasn’t warmed up to Joel after yesterday, and by the way Joel stiffens and scowls at his coffee mug, you know he’s not all for it either. 

“I think it’s a great idea, Benny;” Tommy says, glancing over at Joel, “You guys are family and we know you and Will consider the rest of y’all as family too, we can trust each other.” 

“What do you say, Joel?” Will asks, he can sense that Joel’s not totally onboard and the older man looks down at his coffee, jaw working as he seems to go over the options in his head. 

“Yeah, might be a good idea,” he says eventually, but there’s still hesitation in his voice, “there’s safety in numbers and y’all are ex Special Ops, and like Tommy says, we can trust each other,” he says the last thing looking over at Pope who holds his gaze for a few seconds before nodding. 

“Yeah, we can trust each other.”

Joel nods to Pope, the two men seeming to come to some sort of silent agreement. 

You think it seems like a good idea, it makes sense. You can’t see Will and Benny just walking away from their cousins now, even if they’re maybe not the same people they were six years ago. And like Joel said, there’s safety in numbers and it’s forty miles to Boston, lots of bombed out suburban landscape to cover. You shudder at the thought, your shoulder aches, you’re in no shape to take on anything and the thought of having to cover forty miles on foot makes you miserable. Frankie notices your body shiver and slips his arm around your waist. 

“What’s up, hermosa?” he whispers softly in your ear as he leans his chin on your good shoulder. 

“It’s a long way to Boston,” you whisper back, looking over at him with worried eyes, “I’m scared, so much can go wrong.” 

“We’ll go slow, be cautious, and not let Benny jump on bridges.” The last thing he says with a crooked smile, nudging your nose with the cool tip of his own.  

“No more bridges please,” you say, giving him a small smile. 

“Maybe I should lay off the arepas,” Frankie chuckles softly, his hand now rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back. “Amor de mi vida,” he whispers after a while, “I can’t promise everything will be fine, but I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, I promise that.” 

“And keep yourself safe,” you add, “you’re the love of my life too, Frankie.” He gives a little nod before his soft lips press against yours. You’re still sitting next to Will, right by the camping stove, but you’re in a bubble of your own with Frankie. The others talk about Boston, the route and possible dangers. You don’t notice Joel watching you with a frown, his fingers tapping on his thigh, before he glances down at the broken watch on his arm.

Chapter 28

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446

[lokisprettygirl]

Lose me to Love you (Loki x Female Reader) (AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 11 here / Series Masterlist

Chapter 12

Summary: Loki finds himself stuck between his feelings and fears.

Trigger Warning: Extreme dark themes, Sexual abuse, physical abuse, public sex, Rough violent sex, 18+, Steamy stuff, Rough language, mention of suicide, talk of virginity and slut shaming, manipulative behaviour, mention of trauma, smut, toxic relationship between main characters. Dark themes, cult stuff.

"No not her… not her Thor…not her please" you were hiding in Loki's closet, he put you there because they were all looking for you, he asked you to not come out of there no matter what. Loki told you that they were playing hide and seek but if you're caught they'll hurt you so you had to keep quiet and stay hidden.

"Where's she? Brother? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Have you lost your mind?" You heard brother Thor yelling at him and it made you flinch so you placed your palm over your ears so you wouldn't have to hear their yelling. You hated it when people yelled at each other, reminded you of how daddy and mommy used to scream at each other. Why was Thor upset? Where was your mommy? Loki said she'll be back but it's been a week and you haven't seen her anywhere, you missed her alot. 

"Thorr listen to me for once, please brother I'm begging you, just for once, they'll be here soon, I have already tipped them" Loki said to him and Thor's eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"Tipped who Loki? What did you do?" Thor grabbed his collar as he questioned him, it's not that he didn't want to get out of this hell but it felt impossible under Odin's reign.

"The cops, I gave them everything, the pictures of the sacrifices, the fucking orgies, every fucking thing, enough is enough" Thor punched Loki as he finished his words.

"You fool. We will go to Jail too, you participated in those rituals, you didn't think about that?" Loki chuckled as Thor said that.

"I won't..they promised me I won't" 

"And what about me?" Thor's eyes teared up and so did Loki's, he didn't want to betray his brother but he didn't trust him either.

"Take mother and run..as fast as you can, as far as you can, never come back, I'll never tell anyone" Thor took a step back in disbelief as Loki said that.

"All of this for that girl?" 

"She's just a child Thor, she's so innocent and so were those other children we watched get hurt and killed" his voice choked on his own tears as he spoke, he was broken but he won't allow you to suffer or get hurt by the hands of his maniac father, he has sinned enough, he has been quiet for so long, not anymore though "She trusts me to keep her safe, and I'm going to protect her, I won't fail her like everyone else did, not her" 

"He won't stop loki..you know that, you know how desperate he's to go to As–" 

"I don't care..I never cared, you can believe the lies he had fed us all our lives but I'm done now, I'm not going to stay quiet and take this shit anymore"  

The last thing you remembered from that day before you woke up in that den was that Brother Clint and James had found you and you saw Lolo being beaten up.

He went back to the apartment as soon as he realized that Odin didn't escape just for revenge but he also wanted to finish the ritual.

As he reached home it was quiet and he was grateful to not bump into Jolene again, he stood outside your door for a moment contemplating if he should go in or not, what would he say to you? What were you expecting from him now? He twisted the knob and entered the bedroom, you were on the bed still awake so you sat up and looked at him,

"I want to shower" he said to you so you nodded.

"Why don't you use your bathroom?" 

"I don't want to see her" he mumbled as he took his jacket off, then his shirt followed, he grabbed a towel from the closet and headed towards the bathroom. When he came out with just a towel wrapped around his waist you couldn't help but gawk at his glistening wet muscles.

"You are drunk"

"Not really darling..give me something" 

"Whatt?" 

"Underwear, boxers.. anything of mine, I know you have it" you crossed your arms and glared at him for a moment before you decided to drop the act, you were obsessed with him and you weren't even ashamed of it, you got off the bed and took out a boxer briefs you had kept of him, you worn it sometimes when you felt like a bitch in heat and wanted to have something intimate of him to rub against. You also had his sweatpants so you handed him that as well.

"Turn around" he asked you and you looked at him shocked. Since when and why?

"Okay now you're making this weird for no reason..can we just..get back to being normal?

He sighed as you said that.

"Nooo not after what we talked about" 

"Nothing has changed you realize that right?" 

"It has changed now that I know you have been lying to me all this time..I don't want to be the same old condescending ass to a fucking virgin..I'm done playing this game with you" he said to you as he dropped the towel and quickly put the briefs on.

Your eyes teared up as he said that, at least you got to flirt with him and be a part of these erotic games, now because of your big mouth he was taking that away from you too. He looked at your sullen face and his heart clenched but he had to take control of the situation. He was about to step out the door when he heard your voice,

"I swear I'll never talk to you again if you step out of the door at this moment" your voice trembled as you spoke. He has been breaking your heart unknowingly all these years but now that he knew the truth he was continuing to do it. He turned around and glared at you at the threat,

"Don't you threaten me with that you hear me?" He walked towards you angrily and it only made you want to cry.

"I love you" you screamed 

"Stop saying that" he raised his voice too.

"I doo.." your voice broke 

"No you don't..you're infatuated there's a difference" he sounded desperate. 

You sniffled between your cries so he walked even closer to you and cupped your cheeks, you got on your tippy toes and kissed him right on the lips but he pulled away from you immediately, 

"Stoppp" 

"Why?" 

"I have to stop us darling..this will ruin everything" 

"Whyyyy?" you kissed him again and he grabbed your hair in his fist to pull yo away.

"Because it's you and me for life, we can't be together if we hate each other and are sick of being around each other all the time, that's what thissss will do to us"

He shook you gently by the shoulders as he spoke.

"Noooo..I could never hate you..I have yearned for you..I have prayed for you to return to me loki…please" you kissed him again and he pulled you away again, he opened his mouth to say something but he felt so weak, then to your delight he kissed you back this time. He placed his hands on your hips as he lifted you up in his arms, your fingers curled around his neck and he walked towards the closet press you against it.

You have never had such a feeling that you did at the moment, he tasted sweet, a hint of whiskey washed over you and it only intoxicated you further, his lips felt so soft against yours, he placed his thumb on your chin and opened your mouth so his tongue could clash with yours, he didn't ask for permission and you loved it, you belonged to him and you wanted him to take you however he wished to, fuck you were so in love with him that you'd do anything and everything he'd ever ask from you. 

As your sweet taste invaded his senses he was a goner. 4 years, he had spent 4 years trying to avoid this very moment but he failed, he might regret it later but for now he was in complete bliss, the sound of your muffled moans felt like music to his ears, he knew he'd be addicted to this feeling from this very second onwards. He licked a stripe with his tongue over your lips before he pulled away a little to breathe, placing his head between the crook of your neck he sucked on your neck softly which made you moan again, you couldn't believe this was really happening, it felt like a dream and dreams always seem to end sooner or later.

He put you down slowly on the floor and he was avoiding your gaze but you couldn't stop staring at him. It all felt surreal that you kissed him and he kissed you back. He didn't stop you and he didn't push you away.

Your arms wrapped around his waist and you pressed yourself flat against his chest, peppering soft kisses on his flesh, now that he had allowed you to cross that line with him, you didn't want to stop. The bruises from his previous sexcapade were still visible and they made you extremely jealous but like always you were concerned too. Why did hurt himself so much? This can not be pleasurable at all.

"What are you thinking?" You looked up as you asked him so he wrapped his hands around the back of your neck and kissed your forehead.

"Just thinking of the mess we are going to make of our lives now" his eyes teared up as he said that, he was scared and he had his reasons, he didn't trust you but it wasn't your fault anymore, his feelings had more to do with him then you, he thought this would make your relationship complicated and his fear wasn't baseless but how could you have made him believe that you weren't just in for the sex, how were you supposed to tell him that he defined your whole existence, it must not be healthy but you didn't give a shit about that, you were way past that.

"Am I attractive?" You asked him as you bent down on your knees slowly, his eyes widened at the gesture. Your palm rubbed over his bulge and he let out a shaky little moan. 

"You are so god damn beautiful darling" he barely whispered as you continued to rub your hands over the hardness of his cock.

"But you find me attractive? Sexy? Fuckable?" You were about to pull his pants down but he stopped you.

"I wouldn't have kissed you like that if I wasn't attracted to you" you bit on your lips as he said that. He was attracted to you, oh!!! lord he was attracted to you.

"Let me do this for you.. please " 

"Nooo babyyy noooo not–" he paused as he bent down a little and wrapped his hands around your waist to pick you up effortlessly "Yet" 

He placed his lips onto yours and your legs encased around his waist, he put you down on the bed slowly and then he laid down next to you. He didn't say anything and neither did you, well at least not for a little while.

"Please don't allow her to disrespect you like that, you're not hers anymore.. Whatever we have between us is not disgusting or unethical. I'm an adult Loki, I have been for years now, you didn't watch me grow up, I'm not the girl you had saved years ago, don't let anyone make you feel like a pervert for this" you mumbled to him softly so he pulled you closer to him, the warmth of his body lulled you to sleep but he couldn't sleep that easily, he kept thinking about what had just happened between you two and he didn't know if he was ready for all of this. Also he didn't need other people to tell him that he was a disgusting monster that had ruined lives, he knew his reality.

Next morning you woke up all alone again, ofcourse, you had to be at an audition so you got off your ass and got ready.

"How's your leg?" He asked Jolene as he entered his bedroom,

"It's fine..why?" She put her phone down and looked at him, she probably should apologize for last night, she came here to get him back and not lose him again. 

"Because I need you out of this apartment" he told her straight away, he didn't want to beat around the bush and make this more awkward than it already was. She definitely got offended by his tone. 

"Ohhhh you do huhh? Am I interrupting the privacy of the perverted love birds?" She smirked as she said that and it only irked him further 

"Well quite frankly..yes. You have no right to be here and judge us like this so pack your shit up and leave me alone like you did before, I'll drop you at the place, when that bastard is caught you can get back to NYC or wherever you want to be at except here" he raised his voice a little and her eyes welled up with tears. She was so stupid, he wasn't even hers for her to be so rude with him last night, why couldn't she control her jealousy?

"Wowww really? And I thought you cared about me but you never did.. Did you?  All you have ever cared about is that whore, makes sense that you abandoned everyone you loved for her" she spat at him and his jaw clenched in anger.

"Stop insulting her, you hear me? You don't fucking know anything about her" 

Her eyes teared up as he snapped at her, he didn't even wait for a response as he stormed out of the room. He was treating her with kindness because he hasn't been kind to her before but what she said to him last night had truly made him angry. He's also not going to allow a third person to come into his home, your home with him, and insult you like this again and again.

You couldn't have been happier about the prospect of her being out of your life. He dropped her off at the safe place and she got dramatic again. She hugged him and cried furiously but he didn't melt this time,

"Bye Jolene..See you never" you smiled at her and she gave you the death glare. After she was dealt with he took you to the audition.

"Talk to me please" you whispered softly to him as he was sitting right next to you while you waited for your turn to go in.  

"Just try to ace it, they saw your work at the set and are very impressed, you–" 

"Lokii" you cut him off mid sentence so he looked at you,

"Look y/n..I ..I just can't do this okay..what happened last night shall not happen again" your eyes teared up as he said that, you really had a hope that things would turn around for you both but he wasn't ready to take that step. 

"Finee..I get it" 

"What do you mean?" You shrugged as he questioned 

"I get it okay..it sucked, you didn't enjoy kissing me, or whatever–"

"That's not the reason –" 

"It's fine..I mean I get it..why would you want to stay stuck to me when you're so used to sleeping with all those beautiful women in the world" His eyes teared up as you said that "Oh btw which one you're going to take back home from here huh? The one in the black? She's your type right?" You spoke venomously, you didn't want to hurt him but you felt too hurt yourself to think rationally at the moment. They called your name so you got up and left him to think about the whole conversation.

The audition went well, you had to enact being heartbroken and it came real easy. On the way back home he didn't say anything and neither did you, this is the type of situations he didn't want to get involved in, one kiss and you both were already fighting like a couple, he felt anxious and afraid, he didn't want to lose you but now he was afraid this will be the final nail in the coffin.

He was able to keep you hooked through the sly manipulation before but even that felt evil now that he knew about your true feelings regarding him, you didn't just lust after him, he knew that now. He dropped you home, the cops were outside the apartment on the watch and he really needed some time away to get drunk and clear his head. 

He was drowning his sorrows with a drink when he heard the song playing in the background, it brought back some of the memories.

I know nobody knows

Where it comes and where it goes

I know it's everybody's sin

You got to lose to know how to win

 His mother used to play this at home, sometimes it felt like one when he and Thor were just kids and she wasn't as delusional as Odin was but with time Odin ruined everything and everyone.

His phone buzzed so he took it out of his pocket , it was a message from you 

His eyes teared up as he read the text so he put the phone back inside. He felt someone sitting next to him so he looked to the side, the woman gave him a smile and started a conversation with him, she was sexy and very much interested in him he could tell, pretty perfect distraction for his usual nights. 

 "So let's cut to the chase..are you taken handsome?" She whispered to him as her nails caressed through his cheek in a flirtatious manner. He grabbed her hand and she smiled at him but it faltered as he put her hand away from him. 

"Yes… yes I am" he chugged on his drink and stepped out of the bar to make his way back home. Home to you. 

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

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[ltbarnes]

Resurrection Chapter I

Summary: Bucky Barnes was only nineteen when the lives of his parents and little sister were taken right in front of him by the ruthless members of the Odinson mob. His father’s mistakes have turned Bucky into a vengeful and cold shell of the charming boy he once was, now deeply rooted in the criminal lifestyle of the Stark mafia. Sudden attacks ignite the conflict between the two forces of the city, refueling the rivalry that has been rather tame for years. Nine years since Bucky’s life fell apart, he finds it shattering once more when what was supposed to be long dead returns to the living.

Pairing: brother!mafia!Bucky Barnes x adopted!sister!reader, mafia!Thor Odinson x reader, mafia!Loki Odinson x reader, eventual Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: violence, language, mentions of death of family members and murder, talk of trauma and injuries, blood

A/N: first chapter!! i really recommend that you read the prologue before this though, since a lot of background information is revealed about Bucky and what happened prior to this chapter. makes it all easier in the future <3 he’s a real grump in the beginning but bare with him!! it’s going to get soft and protective!! also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list just write to me!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

PROLOGUE

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

"Where the fuck did you put my holster?!" a voice calls out, booming through the space, forcing hairs to stand up straight and birds to flee the sky. "Barnes! I will cut off your dick and make fucking tartar out of it!"

It's hard to understand for some that so much violence can be packed into such a small figure. For many Natasha Romanoff is hard to understand in her entirety, but Bucky thinks it's so inevitably obvious. Of course that little redhead is the one running around killing Stark's enemies and making the murder scene look like a piece of art pulled out of Musée D'Orsay.

And it was a long time ago that he understood that the words spilling out of her mouth don't actually mean anything. Not when it comes to him, or Pietro or Wanda or Clint or Yelena. Bleeding scratches, purple bruises that last for weeks and sprained ankles come with the friendship—but his dick will be in behold for the foreseeable future, at least.

The holster is thrown at her face a dozen of seconds later, the usual indifferent expression stuck on Bucky's face. He doesn't acknowledge her anymore than that, she doesn't say anything in response. A mission is waiting for them just around the corner and small talk has no space in the hour before something like that.

Like so many times before, he weaves the shoelaces across and straight over his combat boots that are in desperate need of a wash. He's had them ever since his days in the military. It's something Sam gives him shit for—that he's somehow trying to relive his days as a sergeant—but the birdbrain doesn't know how damn practical they are while breaking noses and smashing in people's heads.

"What did this one do?" Bucky mutters, throwing the door open while stomping over towards the sleek black car parked on the other side of the street. Stark really needs to realize that the expensive cars he throws around to his henchmen need to be deep-cleaned after each use. Blood soaks the seats to their very core, stains the windows and console and steering wheel.

"Fucking spy. Caught selling intel about our shipments to Banner," Natasha answers, ripping the car door open before sliding into the passenger seat.

Bucky grunts, shaking his head to rid himself of the strands hanging over his eyes. The car quietly comes to life, taking the two of them away on the streets with one of Bucky's hands on the wheel.

Him and Natasha never talk particularly much. Not that he has anything against her—in contrary to that, actually—but there's just not anything to be said. They can read each other with only a breath, a flick of their hand, a mannerism. Both of them have been forced and molded into picking up on every little detail surrounding them through the years. It's merely a habit at this point.

"Moved the 1:30 on Tuesday, then?" he asks, taking a turn to the right.

"Yeah. Stark wasn't feeling keen on having a run in with Thor and his men on a weekday."

To this day, on each time, Bucky has a hard time remembering how to breathe when he hears their names. Anything with a connection to the people that took everything from him steals his functions away. And it's hard living like that in this business. The Odinsons are all you hear about when you live in a town partly controlled by the notorious family and their loyal men.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Natasha is well aware of his past. Everyone is. Not because he told them, but because things like that get spread around in this world Bucky's found himself in. They knew even before he stepped foot in Stark's territory. And now, when he's family, his bloodlust is theirs and the tragedy of your murder lays heavy on all shoulders.

It's not a secret that Bucky has a shitstorm of trauma left unprocessed in the back of his mind, locked away to the point where he can go days without feeling anything. He's a good asset for that reason, getting the job done quickly and cleanly without any trace left behind. It's nearly clinical, while extracting as much pain and suffering as he possibly can.

The truth is that Bucky is an assassin, a really fucking good one at that, and killing is the only way he knows how to deal with what was taken from him. When he joined the military just after his whole family died, there was still some form of patriotic hope and righteousness in him. It died as quickly as it took for that first bomb to kill four of his fellow soldiers and twenty-two civilians.

Five years later he lost his arm in combat. It was inevitable that he would get severely injured. By then he had become so reckless that Steve would ignore him for weeks until he would apologize and clean up his act for a short while before falling into the dangerous patterns he had become so used to.

He had nothing left to fight for, to live for, except that goddamn blonde that he had to keep alive. The punk had grown ten inches and gained 100 pounds of muscle by then, but he still had that everlasting hope inside of him, the belief of the good in humanity. That made him dangerous too.

Steve is a firefighter now. Saves kitties from trees and puts out bonfires for a living. And Bucky is glad that he didn't follow him into this life—he almost had a heart attack when the jerk showed up all those years ago with a shaved head and combat boots on his feet, deployed to the other side of the world just because Bucky had done so.

He knows about what Bucky does. And he doesn't agree with it, not at all, but he doesn't do anything about either. Maybe because he wants to keep all his body parts intact, despite how many times Bucky has told Steve that he is under their protection. Has been so since the first day. He's pretty sure Natasha has a soft spot for the tall blonde too, with how she plays his buttons and makes him blush each time they cross paths.

"Rogers got that promotion he was talkin' about?" Natasha says, stoically, as she ducks underneath Bucky's arm holding up the rusty door to the warehouse.

Bucky almost scoffs in amusement. His thoughts always seem to predict whatever is going to be said—reality following the intricate pattern of his spiraling anxiety. Real fucking sweet and crippling simultaneously.

"Yeah," he answers, quietly closing the door behind them again while adjusting to the damp darkness of the concrete hallway. "The punk's a Captain now. Youngest ever in the city."

"Good for him," she mumbles under her breath, walking forward without making a sound because that's just how she is.

Gruff voices ricochet off the walls, echo into Bucky and Nat's ears. She walks in front of him, he always makes sure she does. He can keep her in his sight then—it's easier to stave off an attack you see coming than one going on behind your back. The little spitfire is more skilled in punching down enemies than he ever could be, but Bucky likes to know where his close ones are ever since that day.

"Fucking finally!"

Arms are thrown up into the air, accompanying the roll of eyes only Yelena Belova can muster up. There's a streak of blood smeared out over her forehead, but they know better than to assume it's hers. The guy sitting strapped to a chair would be long dead by then if that was the case—Pietro would never allow someone to touch his best friend and live to take another breath.

"You took so long, svoloch'," Yelena whines, throwing down the rag she dried her bloody hands on.

Bucky learned some Russian during the time he was captured by some weird up-and-coming mob group a few years ago. He honestly doesn't remember a thing from that year except the Russian words still lingering in his mind. Most of it he's sure he has learned from the two sisters, permanently making his life a goddamn pain.

"Malyshka, you sent the text eight minutes ago. Give us a fucking break," Bucky answers, drying away a drop of water from the ceiling that has landed on his forehead.

He puts down his gun in the back pocket of his black jeans, giving a nod of acknowledgment to Pietro.

"Is this really a four person job?" Natasha speaks up, glaring at the half-conscious man strapped down. The guy isn't exactly going anywhere.

"You wouldn't think so, no?" Pietro says, arms crossed over his chest and smirking that complacent smirk of his.

"We have a lot of goddamn things to do, you know?" Bucky says, staring down the young man and woman he unfortunately has to work with. He loves the shit out of them, but they really are fucking annoying.

Yelena kicks the chair, waking the man up with a startle. He coughs, spits out blood onto the concrete floor. Ten years ago Bucky would have thrown up, probably. Now it's routine.

"This is the guy we caught sneaking intel on our shipments to Odinson three days ago," Pietro tells them, nodding towards the heaving man. "Go on. Tell them what you told us, buddy."

Natasha raises an eyebrow, a questioning glance towards her sister with a sigh. It must be something really fucking good that man is about to disclose.

"It wasn't the Odinsons," he chokes out. His eyes are nearly glued shut by the swollen skin around them—it took some encouraging before he opened his mouth. "They didn't hire me to give them info. H—"

A series of deep coughs rasp from his lungs. Bucky is starting to lose his patience.

"Hydra did."

Chapter 2

[isleofdarkness]

Dude- you can't do this to me. Oh my god, that was AWESOME. I'm literally shaking. What the hell.

I can feel the desperation and anguish in that room so fucking well. Your writing is just so cosmically good. Can't wait for this chapter to be complete.

I don't know what to say other than how the fuck I didn't realize Sunshine was already born, I'm so stupid.

These fuckers break my heart, they love their babies so much. Bonus points for Diego's Spanish line, my mexican ass loved that.

So many people are getting involved, this is going to be wild.

Your character designs are so cool, everyone is so different and it's a breath of fresh air from the "every character has white features and normative bodies" shit media has been doing forever. Justice is strong and she LOOKS strong and I love that.

I also love the fact that Ben refers to Justice as "the tank" and I'm dying to know what she would think of that.

Hatti is great, I just knew I was going to adore her since I saw she was Loki and Circe's daughter. Loved her chaotic energy, too. She's not like that because of who her parents are, that's just the average 13-years-old girl/j

LYDIA IS HEREEEEE JWODNQIDNQKSKQMSKQ KAKDKADNKAJDAKKSAKKS AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I love that she's so tiny that Ben confused her with a ten-year-old.

“ "I got two hours or else Constantine..." she grimaced. "Yeah, you know." ” Are you trying to kill me or what. Because if you are, is working.

I don't know what it is but I love the way Lydia talks, it's quite similar to Maverick's speech but at the same time different(? Her speech is just so outstanding to me and it's weird because it's not really different from the rest. I don't know if you did that on purpose or if it's just my obsession for her doing its thing, lol.

Now I really want to know what your process is when giving your characters a voice and differentiating that voice from the rest (considering the number of characters you handle, too).

This does not reflect the emotional damage this has had on me so I will proceed to AAHHHHHH HELP IM IN PAIN AHHHHHHHHHH HELP ME AHHHHHHH MY BABIES AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-Dante.

Gods please give me the strength to finish this chapter just so I can see how Dante anon will react.

I mean, she's a newborn and my old posts did have her not even born yet, so that's on me.

Oh boy, you're going to murder me.

All these people and no one has had more than two hours of sleep in the past three days.

Thank you. I love describing Justice because she's taller than literally everyone and usually bigger. The girl looks like she could bench-press a tank and she can and I love that.

Oh, she would go on a whole rant. She doesn't mind it when Isle people do it but King Ben? She would spend fifteen minutes yelling at him about how she wants to dress all feminine and grow out her hair but no, she's locked on the Isle of constant war and all of that stuff would put her in danger so she can't do any of that. She likes being a tank to the Isle people, but it's poking a bruise when it's Ben

I am so glad you love Hati

If Lydia had time she would have gone on The Whole Rant but, unfortunately, they have to get Riah off of the Isle as fast as possible.

Oh, I'm not trying to kill you. I'm trying to kill Ben/lh

The Isle has a lot of different dialects and ways of speaking and Lydia's trying to adopt the same one as Maverick and Mara, but her speech is different because she grew up with a different dialect. Honestly, the language on the Isle could be its own post.

I just keep their personalities in mind. It's hard to explain but maybe I'll do a post about it sometime

Oh man, I can't wait to finish this chapter

[littledark11]

“Would it have mattered? I expect you’re quite desperate to see me like this.” He tilted his head, voice sharp, eyes tired."

He sounds like he rather give up on himself versus knowing that someone actually wants him.

this is how I imagine the loki to be.

"How hard did you try?’ Steve had sniped. ‘We’re in a pickle now, thanks Laufeyson. A real pickle indeed. Typical."

Steve, you are literally a super soldier; you could just knock someone out with another person.

"One day, everything was perfect. The next—it was over."

My hearts hurts 💔 💔 💔 😭😭😭. imagine just connecting with someone and thinking you have a true honest relationship until it's over.

“Please,” Loki snorted. “They would not have killed me. I’m offended that you would even imply it.”

*Flashback to the first avengers movie* Well to be fair while they were saving the city of New York; They literally did a bunch of damage and probably killed a bunch of people unintentionally, so they shouldn't really be judging Loki.

“You were literally sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.”

“It’s an Asgardian victory custom"

In America we have alcoholism, I should have not laughed at that lol

"I’m afraid I’ll never be good, he’d whispered in the dark; that I’ll always be stained with the curse of my past."

That actually hurt to be honest 😟

"Fat droplets of water roll over the tips of his cheekbones, streaks of pale skin beneath the dust and dirt of the mission."

Fuckkkkkk 🫦🫦🫦🫦 even when he is at his lowest,he's still fine.

"Oh god, he doesn’t want it. You’ve fucked it up."

“Why did you stop?”

Hehehehe that's adorable, they wanted the same thing.

"Water pooled in the crevice where your skin met, Loki’s kisses sliding over your lips—one slipping into the next—pants of devotion wisping down your throat. He lifted your thigh, manoeuvring himself inside with one, liquid movement. You clasped to his shoulders, nails digging in to his flesh like he might vanish. All you could feel was his body, his presence, his faint moan of relief in your ear."

You always know how to write the juicy stuff 😉😉😉

“Together,” you said.

“Together,” Loki replied.

AHHHHHH!!!! I generally did feel bad for Loki; that everyone was giving him shit for doing something out of his control and saying "technically you shouldn't have done that" I'm like "shut up!", they would do the exact same thing if they literally have no choice.

I love reading your stories and I finally had the time to read it.

I didn't have the best week but life's a bitch yet we have to live on.

But thank you 😊

Clean [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After a difficult mission, your ex Loki has a revelation. (w/c 1.6k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mild angst. Pining. Feelings. Smuttish. Loki x Fem Reader. A/N: I'm planning some filthy stuff soon - but for now, we're still in angsty romance era. 😇

Loki sat hunched with his back against the bathroom wall, head in his hands. Blood was smeared over the white shirt: his own and not his own. It was ripped in several places, sleeves folded up to the elbows.

“It wasn’t locked,” you said stiffly, fingers tightening around the knob. “Would it have mattered? I expect you’re quite desperate to see me like this.” He tilted his head, voice sharp, eyes tired. “Don’t you wish to capture the scene on your device? Surely Rogers would relish a commemoration of my ineptitude.”

Loki had made a scene as the team exited the Quinjet, throwing his ruined suit jacket off the roof of Stark Tower and kicking a fire bucket for good measure. His voice was choked with anger.

“Let me be,” he’d roared after Steve shouted something about medical in his direction. The Captain had turned to the rest of you with a defeated shrug, but your eyes hadn't left Loki's back as he waged a path though the doors and they slammed behind him in a flash of green.

Loki had taken the worst of the heat from the Hydra agents working undercover in downtown Chicago. He’d been cornered by three of them, and soon a capture order had turned into a triple kill—but not before taking some punishment for his efforts.

‘I tried to subdue them humanely,’ Loki had muttered afterwards, inspecting a deep gash on his forehead in the Quinjet’s sheen. ‘They wouldn’t listen to reason.’ ‘How hard did you try?’ Steve had sniped. ‘We’re in a pickle now, thanks Laufeyson. A real pickle indeed. Typical.’ To that, Loki had said nothing. He’d refused all clean-up on the way home, sitting in a fury-riddled silence that tainted the re-circulated air.

You took a step over the bathroom’s boundary, and then shrank back.

Relations between you had been frosty since you’d gone your separate ways: to this day you weren’t quite sure what had happened. One day, everything was perfect. The next—it was over. You’d chalked it up to the god settling in to life on Earth; him realising you weren’t the only person on the planet who thought the sun shone from his perfectly formed arse…but that had never felt right. Despite snooping, you’d never got a whiff of him shagging anyone else. Based on your experience with Loki, that was especially odd.

You took a deep breath, crossing the floor and extending a hand. To your surprise, he took it and heaved himself up. Fuck, you’d forgotten how heavy he was; how his forearms bulged when they flexed, how his body felt pressing down on yours as he railed you gently on the bed you’d shared.

Ok, maybe not that last one. You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back. Loki sighed, eyes cast to the floor.

“I’m filthy,” he said with an air of disgust, reflexively running a hand across his waist. Pain rippled across his features.

“You’re hurt, you need to go to—” “I’m quite well.” “Loki,” you warned. His lashes fluttered up, nailing his gaze to yours. An eyebrow cocked. Feeling your cheeks heat, you turned and switched on the shower. “Steve shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier,” you said, trying to keep the flurry of nerves from your voice. “You did what you had to do—they’d have killed you.” “Please,” Loki snorted. “They would not have killed me. I’m offended that you would even imply it.” You glanced over your shoulder. Even in his dishevelled state, he was giving every inch the haughty, regal snob that you’d fallen desperately in love with. And that was the problem, wasn't it? It was the only version of him you'd ever been granted.

“Then why are you in such a state?” Loki’s brow furrowed. “A what?” “Why are you upset?” “I’m not upset.” “You were literally sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.” “It’s an Asgardian victory custom.” “Loki…”

His jaw clenched as you leant against the sink and his keen eyes darted over your face. “I…tried not to kill them,” he said through gritted teeth. It was the same voice he’d used when the two of you had ‘the conversation’—you hadn’t heard it since. An icy finger trailed down your spine at the bitterness in his voice as he said, “I failed.”

Understanding blossomed through your mind. You remembered a cold winter’s night, Loki curled naked against your back, confessing his deepest secret while he thought you’d slept. I’m afraid I’ll never be good, he’d whispered in the dark; that I’ll always be stained with the curse of my past.

You realised the mask of stoicism had slipped from your face at the exact moment Loki’s expression shifted. His gaze broke, returning to the floor. “You should leave,” he said. “You’re not safe with me.” The echo of the last time you’d been alone together—the same words. Does he remember?

Pushing off the sink, you shuffled towards him, cupping his forearm. The grit of dried blood rubbed beneath your fingertips as you squeezed. “You can’t think that. It’s been years…”

Suddenly Loki’s hands ran up your cheeks, thumbs pressing into your jaw as your back met the wall. He’d pinned you under the shower, speckles of water hitting off his shoulder and splattering your skin. His eyes searched yours: all fire, and destiny.

“I’ll never be free,” he said. His gaze dropped to your lips and back to your eyes. “I’ll never be clean.”

You caressed the well-trodden path his buttons made up the front of his shirt. Still beautifully tailored despite the dirt, and sweat, and blood. “Not with that attitude,” you said, and his brows peaked. “Everyone knows your history, Loki. We need you here. We want you here.” “And you?”

The shower seemed very loud all of a sudden. Especially me. “You really have to ask?” You brushed the sides of his shirt apart and Loki swallowed, his eyes closing a heartbeat too long as your fingers lingered on the bruise forming over the flat of his abdomen. “Loki…” you chided, tracing the blossom of indigo across his alabaster skin. “Steve was right, you should be in medical.” He snorted, hands falling by his sides. “If you’d come five minutes later, it would have been gone.” Fat droplets of water roll over the tips of his cheekbones, streaks of pale skin beneath the dust and dirt of the mission. You’ve never seen him like this. He never let you see anything other than the perfect prince; the unshakeable god. “Doesn’t it hurt?” You circled higher on his chest, appreciating the taut skin firm beneath your own. You'd swear you could see the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Always,” he said sadly, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t talking about the injuries. God, I miss this. I miss him. Now, finally, you could admit it to yourself. The weight of the confession slid from your body, circling the drain as Loki shivered, and the dark pools of his pupils spread wider.

Cautiously, your hands ran up his chest, over his shoulders, peeling the soaking shirt from his back and down his arms. It fell with a slop to the shower floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a faint narrow of his eyes. You licked your lips, unsure of what how to answer. What are you doing? But it was now or never. This kind of vulnerability was a particularly rare ship to dock in Loki’s harbour.

Running your palms up his neck, he groaned softly as they slid up the sharp prow of his jawline, up the bladed cheekbones and into the slick of his sodden hair. He closed his eyes, a low sigh rattling his chest. For a moment, there was only the patter of water against porcelain.

“Showing you how to be clean again,” you whispered before your lips fastened to his. Loki’s eyes shot open, one hand slamming to the tiles behind your shoulder to steady himself as you pulled away. Your heart thumped between your ribs.

Oh god, he doesn’t want it. You’ve fucked it up. Memories of the longing glances you’d seen painted on his face across the room, the brush of his touch on your arm which lasted a second too long, the anger simmering beneath his skin when he thought you’d moved on. It had all been in your head. The thought was almost too much to bear.

“Why did you stop?”

Breath caught in your throat as his words soaked through the rising steam; low and smooth. The response fell from your mouth in breathless stages, hyper-focused on the shirt plastered to his skin. “I didn’t think you wanted it, I’m sorry I—” A soft, disbelieving chuckle rumbled in his throat before he said, “How could I not want you?” Your eyes rose.

The god was fully soaked now; hair plastered to his neck like ink, shirt and trousers moulded to the sinews and meat of his body like a second skin. The last traces of dirt from his skin were gone, and the water around your feet ran clear. You pulled the back of his neck towards you.

Loki’s kiss was an eruption of desire, of pain, of need; his palm slipping on the tile behind your head before switching to your waist. It worked over your hip, your breasts, your ass, never staying in one place, never lingering too long. “Gods, I missed you, I've missed you,” he murmured wet against your cheek. You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling the sodden top over your head. “So soon?” A soft smile curled at his mouth. “We’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?”

In answer, Loki ran a finger from the hollow of your neck between your breasts. A chill skated across your skin as your trousers dissolved— his too. He pressed his body to yours, warm against the sharp sting of the tiles. Water pooled in the crevice where your skin met, Loki’s kisses sliding over your lips—one slipping into the next—pants of devotion wisping down your throat. He lifted your thigh, manoeuvring himself inside with one, liquid movement. You clasped to his shoulders, nails digging in to his flesh like he might vanish. All you could feel was his body, his presence, his faint moan of relief in your ear.

“No more living in the past,” you panted. “Loki, promise me.” He tilted his cheek into your wrist, water droplets falling from the ends of his hair to the curve of your breasts below. “A fresh start,” he said quietly, kissing the delicate skin. You groaned as he thrusted gently inside you. “Clean,” he panted, “New.” “Together,” you said. “Together,” Loki replied.

And then, among plumes of steam and the slide of bodies and wordless promises, there was no more talking.

Tags in comments ❤️

[assbutt-writes]

A Heart Of Iron Chapter 11

Chapter below cut

TONY

Tony slumped back in his bed. Why didn't Loki tell him? Loki knew about the accident and that the Soldier was probably there for Tony, so he deserved to know. He had to have had a reason. He had to.

Tony was mentally going over the past few days, trying to see if he had said anything to make Loki not trust him, when he heard shouting coming from the hallway. His head snapped up to see Steve in the hallway, desperately trying to hold off the Winter Soldier, whose mask was gone, revealing a man that Tony knew. After all, who wouldn't recognize the famed Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, war hero who fought alongside Captain America and helped win the war.

Steve was obviously struggling to keep him back, so Tony frantically pressed his panic button to alert Loki and the others. Natasha, Thor, Bruce, and Clint all came running to the room withing minutes, but Loki was nowhere to be found. Tony started to panic. What if Bucky had hurt him, or worse? What if he was dying and Tony couldn't do anything about it because he was trapped here, useless in his hospital bed.

Tony was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Steve shout "Fuck!" and the door slam open. He barely had enough time to think "Holy fuck I'm going to die" before he saw Loki, hair a tangled mess and face streaked with tears, teleport in and press his fingers to Bucky's temple, knocking him out cold.

"That should last longer," he said, and, after glancing back at Tony, teleported back out. It was silent for a minute while everyone processed what happened.

"Why is the fucking Winter Soldier unconscious on my floor?" Tony yelled, breaking the silence, "Why is he Bucky Barnes? And what the fuck is going on with Loki?"

"This isn't how we wanted you to find out," Steve said guiltily, "And I'm just as confused about Loki as you are."

"And how exactly did you want me to find out?" Tony asked, glaring at the gathered heroes, all sporting similar looks of guilt. "Let me guess, you were 'going to tell me eventually'," Tony continued, putting air-quotes around the last part.

"Tony, I'm sorry, but can you blame us? I mean, look at how you reacted. We didn't want-" Natasha started, but Tony cut her off.

"You do not get to make that decision for me. He killed my fucking parents and was probably coming back to finish the job!" Tony shouted, eyes filling with tears.

Bucky stirred, making Tony flinch. "Get out of here. All of you," he said, indicating the unconscious man on the floor.

"Tony-" Bruce started, but Tony cut him off.

"No," Tony hissed, "Get out."

One by one, the others left the room, Steve leaving last carrying Bucky. Once they were all out, Tony buried his face into his pillow and screamed. He kept screaming until, finally, he fell asleep.

LOKI

He had fucked up. He knew that, but seeing the look of pure terror on Tony's face, all because of that one stupid lie, made it finally sink in. He couldn't fix this. He had fucked up the one real friendship that he had. Everywhere he went, destruction followed.

He locked himself in his room, and 2 weeks passed. Every day Thor would leave food outside his room, and every day the food would go untouched. Eventually, Thor grew concerned, and one day he knocked on Loki's door.

"Brother, you need to eat. You can't stay in there forever, you know," he asked, concerned.

"Go away," Loki said forcefully, voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Loki, it's been 2 weeks, and neither you nor Tony have spoken to anyone," Thor said, voice filled with worry.

“Please, just go away," Loki said, voice cracking.

"At least talk to Tony. He seemed really worried about you the last time we spoke," Thor asked him.

"He probably doesn't want to talk to me. I fucked things up, and now he probably doesn't want to even look at me," Loki said miserably.

"Loki, believe me, you couldn't be any farther from the truth. He cares for you, anyone could see that," Thor assured him, but it did nothing to quell the fire of self-hatred burning in his gut.

"How could he? I lied to him!" Loki said stubbornly.

"Yes, but there is no way that you could have predicted this. You were just trying to help," Thor assured him, and that actually kind of made sense.

"Fine," Loki said, giving in, "I'm not talking to anyone else, though, only Tony."

"Okay!" Thor said, smile audible through the door.

Loki walked to the med bay, avoiding everyone's gazes and whispers of "Finally" and "Is he okay?", and when he finally made it, he took a breath to brace himself for the worst before knocking on the door and walking into the room.

TONY

Tony froze when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

"Loki?" he said hesitantly, not believing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I'm so fucking sorry," Loki said, bursting into tears.

"I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn't tell me," Tony apologized at the same time, making Loki freeze.

"What? No, you have nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong. I should have told you, and I was worried that you would get upset, but me not telling you only made you more upset. I fucked up, and I am so unbelievably sorry," Loki rambled, tripping over his words.

"Hey, Loki-" Tony started, but Clint came bursting in.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we have a bit of a situation outside," he said hurriedly.

They looked outside, and saw an orange and gray spaceship hovering right outside the window.

Fuck.

[whirlybirbs]

"Your mind games don't work on me." is such a Loki and fake wife prompt

FROM THE VOID, WITH LOVE  |  pester pester

summary: spending time with him is... painful.

pairing: loki / f!reader

a/n: today's episode really cemented my lifelong headcanon that loki really is just desperate for some sort of self validation but preens when he gets it outwardly. anyways, here's him being the fucking worst. gif by @samsbarnes from this beautiful set!

[   MASTERPOST   ]

He is...

For fuck's sake, he's exhausting.

Spending the entire day essentially tied to his hip during a series of TVA trainings really only furthers the point — and, honestly, you're beginning to wonder how someone in the thousand years this God has been alive hasn't killed him just to shut him up.

But it's, what, going on hour three? That's when you begin to realize he's doing this on purpose.

It clicks when you're sitting there, chewing on that greyish meat-slab Mobius had marketed as meatloaf when showing you both the cafeteria, as he goes on and on and on about that one time he came to Earth in 909 AD and was worshipped for a month straight. This is about the fifth story of this genre — complete with some rather questionable embellishments that make you want to try and cut your own head off via paper cut.

Mobius' jet-ski magazine is looking like a great way out right now.

But of course Loki noticed your annoyance. Clearly. Despite it all, he isn't stupid. Now he's capitalizing on it.

You sit back, deadpanned and expressionless, and chew.

Y'know, he'd be pretty handsome if he wasn't the fucking worst. Truly. He's tall, dark, great bone structure, nice voice. 'Nice voice' is a subjective compliment, though.

Really subjective.

Loki — yes, he knows you're irritated and have been irritated — believes this little game is a bit of necessary evil; spending all this time with you has given him a finer appreciation for your intelligence, patience, and genuine curiosity. And he hates it. He hates it to the Bifrost and back a thousand times because — well... It would mean Mobius is right. That the TVA is right. That he isn't the Arbiter of his own future.

He cannot and will not follow that decree they've set. You and him are nothing alike. You're hardly compatible. You're...

Well, you. And he's Loki. God of Mischief, Son of Odin, Prince of Asgard.

...Piece of shit.

Earning the cross look he's being given now is all part of the plan.

(He's surpised how far he was able to take it. I mean, really? Palm fans and rose water soaks by viking wives? They didn't even have palms. They were woven fans — but that's beside the point.)

You swallow and then reach for your cup of water.

Mobius had made himself rather scarce — something about meeting with the Judge from before about 'field trip permission slips'.

It's at a time like this that you wish you had someone else to drown out the chattering madness of the chaotic tangle of raven hair across from you.

"And then — well, you know how Midgardian women are..."

If he wanted to get a rise out of you, he does.

"I feel sorry for your friends."

His mouth snaps shut.

He blinks.

Loki's brows knot tight and he watches you take a long sip from your cup. There's a look there of genuine confusion — because this is not the sort of reaction he was looking to coax out of you. No. No, no, no. Are you...? Is this...?

"I just..." you begin slowly with a lack of any sort of bite, "Do you? Have any friends, I mean?"

"I have friends," he says immediately. It's rushed, "I do. Plenty. What makes you think I don't have friends?"

You wish you could allow yourself to smirk. But, this little reaction is too good.

"I mean, it's so sad when people don't have friends."

"I have friends."

"Yeah."

"Stop that," he says, sitting up and eyeing you up and down, "Stop insinuating that I don't have... Oh."

You let the smirk slip in. It gives you away.

You stand up and snatch your lunch-tray as you do. Loki follows your figure as you drop your cup onto your tray and tip your head to the side. He sees now. You were toying with him. And now, he feels like the fool. He...

Eugh.

"Well played, bug."

"Your little mind games," you toss over your shoulder as you stalk away, heels clicking neatly on the tile floors, "They won't work on me forever, Loki."

"It was fun while it lasted."

"Safe for you to say."

[justsomeclintasha]

It happens quickly.

The movie is playing on the screen, a bad syfy flick with even worse acting. Natasha is laughing at the ridiculousness. There’s no way a spider could be that big.

Steve grabs another handful of popcorn. The hunter in the movie should have better aim. He shoots.

A flash of blue light illuminates the room.

Clint can’t breathe.

It’s Loki all over again, and he’s in his head, he’s going to kill her with his bare hands, he’s going to have to watch, he’s going to-

Something crashes. The coffee table?

A sharp pain shoots down his arm and he cries out, suddenly on the floor.

He can’t see.

“Fuck- no- no- Natasha!“

His eyes squeeze shut and he grips his hair so hard it hurts.

“Get her to safety!”

The voice that rips from his throat is loud and hoarse at the same time. Desperate and begging.

Strong arms wrap around him.

He can’t breathe.

Someone is speaking but his ears are a tunnel and everything is muted and swimming. He wants to scream. Maybe he does.

The hold tightens and he can’t get away. A sick sense of relief twinges in his gut. This is where he belongs. He can’t hurt her.

“Breathe, Clint. Come on.”

He tries, he really does. Sweat soaks his t-shirt. The heartbeat in his chest is hammering rapidly. It’s in his throat. Distantly, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Natasha.”

“Breathe.” The voice is softer now and in front of him. Fingers cup his chin and he flinches instinctively, waiting for the hit that doesn’t come. He forces his eyes open.

“Nat?”

“Inhale.” Her hand moves over his heart to steady him. “Clint, you gotta slow down and breathe with me.” The person behind him loosens their grip. It’s Steve, he registers.

It takes him a long time to catch his breath. Finally, he eases away to sit alone, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He’s surprised to find that his face is wet.

Everything hurts.

The muscles in his body are wound tight from stress and nausea pushes at his throat.

“I think-“

Before he can finish the sentence, the empty popcorn bowl is pressed into his hands. He heaves into it, fresh tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Natasha takes it to the kitchen. He curls his knees to his chest and breathes slowly.

Steve is looking at him with pity and concern. He hates it. He should be stronger than this.

“It was the light,” he whispers. “The blue. I thought-“

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“None of that.” Her voice is gentle as she returns from the kitchen, exchanging a wordless look with Steve. “Come on. Bedtime.”

Clint doesn’t argue as he gets to his feet. The unsteady feeling lingers.

“Thanks for..”

His voice trails off, but the Captain just nods. Not knowing what else to say, he follows Natasha to their room. She lays down first. He strips his sweaty shirt and pulls on a clean one. He joins her in bed.

Without hesitation, she curls up behind him and wraps him in her arms. They don’t have to talk about it unless he wants to.

He’s so tired.

Her thumb traces patterns around his wrist, on the back of his hand, and he focuses on the motions.

It’s hard to keep his eyes open.

[sserpente]

A/N: That Hyundai ad hit different. *chuckles*

Words: 3097 Warnings: kidnapping, hostage

New York smelled pretty bad, come to think of it. You had almost forgotten the hustle and bustle of this huge city that never slept and if there was one thing you had not been missing at all after spending a few months in Morocco for work, it was the constant traffic jams.

It was hot, unbearably so. You’d been a sweating mess ever since your cab driver had picked you up at the airport and the fact that the air conditioning in the cab was broken didn’t exactly help with that. Your thighs stuck to the leather of the backseat, your forehead glistening and your make-up… well, it used to be make-up.

The cab driver seemed nice, at least and since the long snake made entirely of cars had not moved for at least an hour now, he had offered to park on the side of the road and get you both a bottle of water. Ironically, you were only a few yards away from Stark Tower.

Perhaps you shouldn’t complain about the traffic jam. Half of the city was a mess after the atrocious battle you had been fortunate enough only to have witnessed on the news on the plane. You could only hope that your tiny studio flat was still intact and quite frankly, it was short of a miracle that a cab service had actually agreed on picking you up so shortly after an almost-war—not to mention that the plane had actually landed.

You sighed, brushing a strand of hair sticking to your cheek out of your face. You were unbelievably tired—even more so knowing that you had dodged a catastrophe that would go down in history all thanks to work. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned against the car window when suddenly, the driver’s door was all but yanked open and someone who certainly did not resemble your cab driver, started the car and clutched at the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

Your lips parted. Shackles and a muzzle, along with a blue glowing cube landed on the passenger seat with a loud clatter, followed by an annoyed groan. It was him. The man who had attempted to take over the entire planet only moments ago, he was here in this car and he was currently kidnapping you with it.

A scream escaped your lips, a mixture of shock and fear spreading in your body and fuelling the rising amount of adrenaline. It was only then the God of Mischief glanced at the rear-view mirror and spotted you there panicking—but by then, he had already stirred the car back on the road, straight towards the traffic jam.

“You… you are… Let me out! Let me out at once!” You screeched, the heat around you—along with your miserable appearance—all but forgotten. Loki rolled his eyes. Great. Another mortal.

“I am not stopping this car,” was all he said. Your eyes widened in utter shock.

“Then don’t! Fuck!” Danger was radiating off of this man like heat from an active volcano; so if necessary, you would jump out of the moving car as well. Biting your lower lip and wondering if you should go through with this risky stunt at the speed he was going, the wheels squeaking over the asphalt with every abrupt turn he took, or if that would be a suicide mission. It was probably the latter, and when you reached for the handle of the back door, it took the God of Mischief only a mere second to lock it, trapping you inside.

“Let me out! Let me out!”

“You’ll kill yourself.” Loki spat. You did not miss the patronising tone in his voice—stupid. He believed you stupid.

“And if I stay in here with you I won’t?” You retorted hysterically. And it was justified, really—for when your gaze drifted back to the road ahead of you, you could see him racing straight towards a long line of cars waiting for the traffic to clear up.

“Watch out! The other cars, watch out! Oh my God…” You screamed, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face with your arms but the imminent crash never came. When you opened your eyes again, Loki had all but moved through the other cars as if by magic. God, what was this, Harry Potter?

With your heart in your mouth, you brought your trembling hands to your thighs and pressed down on them in a desperate attempt to fight off the panic attack rising within you like the forthcoming eruption of a volcano.

But even when you reached the suburbs, ironically moved closer to your home, and the car finally slowed down to a reasonable speed, making you wonder how a god from another realm knew how to drive a car in the first place, your dread kept growing steadily. What would happen once Loki decided he had reached his destination? What would he do with you? Would you end up as another casualty? You’d know where he was, after all, and only God knew how he had managed to escape after the Avengers reported his capture—not to mention that he was in the possession of that mysterious blue cube you were certain bore even more chaos and destruction in the wrong hands.

“I take it this vehicle is supposed to be a means of transport in exchange for payment?” He suddenly said.

“What?” You gaped at him, swallowing. “Yes! I mean, yes, it’s a taxi. That’s… I was…”

“Where do you live?”

“Excuse me? What, are you going to drop me off and expect me to tip you?”

Loki smirked. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why but he did like your feistiness. “I need a place to hide.”

“What… no! No! I am not giving shelter to a criminal!” You snarled, swallowing your fear of him—and then you made the mistake of peeking at the navigation system the taxi driver had set up next to the steering wheel, with your address on bright display to show Loki exactly where he’d have to go.

The God of Mischief tilted his head. “You don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear.”

You took a deep shaky breath, digging your nails into the backseat. If your lower lip was trembling, you didn’t notice. “P-please… please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone where you are or where you went. Please.”

“I am not going to kill you if that is what you are worried about.” He replied after a long pause. When you said nothing, too stunned and scared to come up with another snarky comment, silence spread in the car like wildfire.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you closed your eyes, hoping that this was a bad joke, a terrible nightmare and any moment now, you would wake up safely on the plane, yet to land in half-destroyed New York City—but the end of slumber never came. You were wide awake; even more so when, after what felt like hours, Loki finally stopped the car. Of course, you had not noticed him observing you repeatedly through the rear-view mirror, almost as if to check if you were still alive.

Your eyes met and then, finally, he unlocked the doors. Only now, you did not move an inch. You had no idea what to expect if you stepped out of this car.

Naturally, Loki disagreed with your cautious decision. He yanked the car door open when he saw you frozen in place, grabbing your upper arm so fast you didn’t even have a chance to react, and all of a sudden, seeing the entrance door of the apartment building you lived in did not at all look as appealing as it had at the airport anymore.

His grip around your arm was firm but when you whined in pain, the God of Mischief actually softened it—if only a little, barely noticeable.

“Unlock the door, my dear, will you?” He inquired, smiling sweetly at you. Right beneath the surface, you could hear that there would be dire consequences if you failed to comply.

Surely at this point, he could hear your rapid heartbeat. Shaking, you fumbled for the keys in your bag until they were jingling in your palms all the while Loki watched you like a hawk. You had dismissed calling the police on your phone in the car already—for now.

Fuck, you had been kidnapped. You were about to be held hostage in your own flat, or… or… was he just going to enter and kick you out? Had he been lying about not killing you? Would he fling a dagger at you any moment now like you had seen him do on TV?

Loki followed you when you approached the door and unlocked it clumsily. One floor up and to the left. For just a brief moment, you wondered what would happen if you started screaming bloody murder, alerting your neighbours but even when you opened your mouth to attempt it, not a single sound would escape your lips.

Even a little further out and farther away from the centre of New York City, rent prices were horrendous. Your salary was not bad but your apartment was no more than a small studio equipped with a humble kitchen, a separate bathroom with a tiny shower and lastly, your double bed in the centre of the room, posing as your sofa during the day.

Loki looked around unimpressed when he entered. “Well… it will do.”

“N-now what?” You choked out.

Loki raised his eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Right—because that was going to be so easy. He sighed and rolled his eyes when you only stared at him in horror.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“W-would you? You tried to subjugate our planet like ten minutes ago!”

“And for good reason too. This realm is lawless, your people slaughter each other day in and out and you feel threatened by me? I would have given you a new purpose.”

He had a point… but… “And what is that so-called purpose? Slavery?” Loki’s expression darkened, making you flinch back.

“S-sorry… I’ll… I’ll be i-in the bathroom taking a shower. Please just… I mean… whatever.” Would he stop you? Hesitating, you made your way to the bathroom, waiting for him to yank you back, press you against the wall and threaten you? Threaten you with what, exactly? Could you trust that he wouldn’t kill you? Loki felt like a ticking time bomb in your flat.

But a painful yank never came and when you locked the bathroom door behind you, you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, trying to process the fact you had a war criminal in your home.

Once you had gathered enough energy to do what you had come to the bathroom for and, an hour later, returned to the main room, Loki was sitting on your bed cross-legged, the Tesseract right before him, glowing away.

“I roamed your ‘kitchen’”, he said without glancing up to meet your eyes, “Do you have anything edible at all?”

“I was away for a whole month.” You argued. “I haven’t done any shopping yet because I was kidnapped by a space Viking.”

Loki smirked. Amused, he finally looked up. “Well, perhaps I should take you back to Asgard with me then. I could use a diligent little servant.”

Your reaction did not disappoint him. Chuckling to himself, he slid off the bed more elegantly than you could ever muster, the Tesseract disappearing into nothingness.

“What I am trying to say is that even gods need to eat and I am, quite frankly, starving.”

“That sounds like a you-problem.” You grumbled. And then, as if on cue, your stomach growled. Damn it.

“Fine. I’ll order some pizza.”

-

Loki had all but watched you like a hawk upon calling the local pizza place. Everything inside of you had screamed to let them know about your predicament, to beg them to call the police and send them to you instead of the pizza.

But as soon as the food was delivered, the mood in your apartment changed so rapidly it left you wondering if the only reason for Loki’s world domination attempt had been his hunger. The man devoured a family-sized pizza in but what felt like two minutes and, upon realising you were done with yours, leaving three pieces in the box, he devoured those as well. And never before had you seen someone eat pizza so gracefully.

It didn’t exactly make it feel like you had been kidnapped anymore. Perhaps… perhaps he hadn’t been lying about not wanting to kill you after all. Perhaps he wasn’t as evil as you… no, stop. He had literally just tried to take over the planet!

“What are you pondering on, little mortal?”

You shivered, the nickname affecting you in a way it truly shouldn’t, especially after he had lost his armour and magically exchanged it for more casual clothes—they still looked like they were from a different time period altogether but it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as before.

“W-why did you really do it?” You found yourself asking. It was a risk—but you were feeling braver now that your stomach was full even though part of you was surprised you had managed to eat at all.

“What?”

“Why did you really try to take over the planet? Did you… do you really want to enslave us all?”

“A lack of freedom does not equal slavery. It offers protection from failure and bad choices.” He said. You frowned.

“You truly believe that?”

“You fight wars over opinions, religions and race among your own species. Your choices are suffocating the whole of Midgard. I would have changed that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

You looked down, reaching for the sweet treat that had come with your pizza to stop your fingers from trembling.

“What is that?”

“Oh, uh… those are marshmallows. This pizza place always packs them with your order, don’t ask me why.”

“What’s that?” He repeated, frowning at the plastic wrapper.

“It’s candy…”

“Well, it doesn’t look very natural.”

Woah. How had this conversation just gone from “humans should not have freedom of choice” to “marshmallows look unhealthy”?

“They’re… I mean they’re not. They’re made of pure sugar and artificial flavouring.”

“Then why do you eat them?”

“Because… because they taste good?”

Loki gave you a taunting look. See? It said. This is what I meant.

But when you opened the package and handed it to him, he took one out nonetheless. It looked tiny between his long fingers—as tiny as you must have looked next to him.

You gulped when it disappeared between his lips. When you reached out to take the package back, he snatched it away from you.

“They are quite delicious, actually.” Your jaw dropped when he popped them all into his mouth at once, winking at you. Not quite sure how to react to this, you averted your gaze, taking a feigned interest in your digital alarm clock on the nightstand instead.

It was only 5 PM but you were positively ready to pass out. Where would you even sleep tonight? Where would he sleep? Would he even sleep?

“You are tired.” He suddenly stated as if on cue. He couldn’t read your mind… right? He did have that weird cube of his, after all.

“Well, yeah… I got kidnapped, experienced a live remake of ‘Fast and Furious’ and I have a criminal in my flat.”

“I only understood half of what you just said but I can ensure you that I will not harm you when you sleep.” There it was again, that frown that almost made it look like he was offended. As if the very circumstance of him hurting an innocent for no reason other than malice insulted him.

“So by all means, retire to bed.” He went on, gesturing to the bed and eventually, standing up to make space for you. The pizza boxes disappeared in but a green shimmer of light and you watched Loki, albeit still suspicious, heading over to the small kitchen table. To be quite frank, it was the last thing you remembered.

-

Loki was gone, no trace of him left. It was as if he had never even been here. It was already past noon—the exhaustion from your flight as well as the racy car drive and last but not least, your shining time as a hostage had worn you out to the point you didn’t even remember falling asleep anymore.

You only realised now that it was your doorbell that had woken you up. Jumping out of bed and moaning when your vision turned black for a moment, you headed over to your speaker and pressed the button. Perhaps it was Loki. Perhaps he had locked himself out but then again… would he not be able to magic himself back in? Why had he insisted on you unlocking the door yesterday in the first place? You shook your head.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Henry, I’ve got your delivery.” A boyish voice responded.

“W-what delivery? I didn’t order anything.”

“You did, ma’am, would you come open the door, please?”

You sighed. “Fine, I’ll be down in a second.”

You had fallen asleep in your clothes from last night, so one quick glance in the mirror was all you had before you headed back down and opened the main entrance door.

The delivery boy was holding both your suitcase and a jumbo-size package of marshmallows in his hands. Big marshmallows—the bonfire kind, to be precise.

“Who…” But you knew. You knew the moment you made the connection and knew the moment you looked straight into Henry’s eyes and noticed them glowing unnaturally blue when he handed the items to you.

It had not been a dream then. Loki had really been here. You had been eating pizza with the God of Mischief and now… the gesture was almost sweet. Was that his way of saying thank you? For what? You hadn’t exactly done much except for trembling in fear.

“He instructed me to tell you that you will meet again soon.” Henry announced and then, before you even had a chance to respond, he turned on his heel, hopped back into the delivery van parked in front of the building and left. You only realised now that the Hyundai taxi was gone too.

[emeraldiis]

Double Vision

A/N: this is so self indulgent i should be ashamed of myself

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader, President Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary:  You and your boyfriend, 2012 Loki, are trapped at the end of time. But you're not alone. President Loki just got two new toys to play with.

Warnings: threesome, DUBIOUS CONSENT, dom/sub, sub!Loki, bondage, name calling, rough sex, mild knife play

You had been pruned seconds after Loki had in the battle in the TVA’s headquarters. Strangely, it didn’t hurt like you had expected. Just a faint sensation of completely and utter emptiness, and then everything went dark. Just like falling asleep. When you came back to your senses, it was just as gentle. You awoke in a bed of grass, staring up at a cloudy sky. A wave of relief calmed the rising panic in your veins when you turned to see Loki lying next to you.

You took in your surroundings slowly. The clouds looming above you looked threatening, like an impending storm, and far off in the distance was what looked like a ruined city. Crumbling skyscrapers pierced the horizon like jagged teeth. Heart speeding up in fear, you quickly shook Loki awake. “Wake up,” you hissed. “I have no idea where the hell we are.”

Loki grumbled and raised a disoriented hand to bat yours away, but still cracked open his hazy eyes to squint at you. A smile lit up his face when he saw you staring back at him, and you’d have been touched if it wasn’t important that he wake up right now. Upon seeing the anxiety written clearly on your face, he furrowed his brows and sat up, shaking his head to chase away the lingering confusion. You could tell the moment he realized something was very...wrong with the realm you found yourselves in, as his eyes widened and he was instantly on guard.

A deafening roar shook the ground, alerting the both of you to a looming danger, and you turned around to see a purple mass bearing down on you. You’d seen your fair share of fucked up things to know that this was not something you wanted to stick around for. Around you, small, bird-like creatures fled from the shadowy monster. In a flash, you were on your feet, tugging on Loki’s arm to pull him up with you. “Come on,” you yelled, raising your voice to be heard over the wind that had suddenly picked up speed.

Loki whipped his head around, desperately searching for shelter, then pointed at the city. “There, run!” He took off in a sprint towards the buildings, with you stumbling along behind him. The head start you got seemed to be enough to out run whatever was chasing you, but you didn’t dare slow down as you ran full tilt to safety. As the city drew closer, a sense of dread crept into your limbs, but you pushed it down. Better to race towards the unknown when the known was actively trying to kill you.

Your legs burned and your lungs were screaming out in protest, but Loki’s panted encouragements kept you on your feet and moving long enough to reach what looked like a half-collapsed hotel. Loki rushed inside the dilapidated building, holding the door open for you to scramble inside before slamming it shut. Another roar made the building tremble, and you bit your lip. As the ceiling shook and spat dust into your hair, you prayed that it would hold. Out of the frying pan, you thought to yourself.

Fortunately, it seemed as if the monster had moved on in search of easier prey, and you took the moment of fragile peace to sink against the wall and finally catch your breath. You dropped your head into your hands, trying to force your breathing back into a normal rhythm and figure out what the hell was happening. You’d just about calmed down when you heard Loki chuckle. “What’s so fu-funny?” You asked, still panting.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Huh?” You looked up, then felt your newly regained breath leave your lungs as another Loki emerged from the darkened hallway. He was dressed in what looked like a suit tailored after your Loki’s Asgardian armor, and he wore his horns proudly. A “Vote Loki,” pin sat crooked on his suit jacket. The flickering lights above him illuminated his grin, making him look like, well, a villain.

“You’re a variant,” your Loki said, stepping in front of you and eyeing his twin warily. The only ever Loki variant you had encountered was Sylvie, and she was questionable at the best of times. Loki was right to be on guard.

“I suppose you could call me that,” President Loki drawled, tracing a finger along the dusty wall as he stalked towards you. It left tracks on the wallpaper.  He leaned to the side to peer around you Loki, and you felt naked under his predatory gaze. You shrank further behind your boyfriend.

“My, what do you have here?” He asked, eyes lighting up in a way that made your hair stand on end. “What a pretty toy, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I had a turn?”

Your Loki groweld protectively, and he took a step forward. “Do not lay a finger on her.”

President Loki frowned. “That’s no way to treat the superior version of yourself.” He continued his march forward, then slowed to a stop inches from your Loki’s defensive frame. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a beautiful woman.”

You were horrified to find a confusing sort of arousal settling into your stomach. This was, after all, just another version of Loki, the man who’d spent so many nights taking you apart and putting you back together again. You’d seen those same hooded eyes so many times, seen that same smile as Loki made you squirm. Despite trying your hardest to fight it, you could feel a dampness soak into your panties, making you shift uncomfortably.

Just as perceptive as your own Loki, President Loki seemed to sense your growing interest. His frown broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, you want it, don’t you? Go on, tell your guard dog to back down, so we can play.” He nodded towards your Loki, who had turned around to look at you with perplexed, hurt eyes. 

“Really?” He asked, flicking his gaze from the blush on your face towards your tensing thighs. He instantly recognized the arousal he’d seen so many times before, and his expression grew bewildered. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimpered, trying to defend yourself. “He looks just like you, I mean, he is you, and I…” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

This was all so fucked. Just minutes ago you were running for your life in a strange new world, and now all that adrenaline had shifted into a violent desire to be broken to pieces. Just so you didn’t have to think about the horror that was your current situation. President Loki was still staring at you, pupils now blown and tongue running across his bottom lip in blatant want.

“Oh, love. There’s nothing wrong with you,” the variant purred. His voice was a bit deeper than your Loki’s, but it still had that velvet smoothness that always made you weak in the knees. A bright flash of green shot out from his fingertips, ensnaring your Loki in glowing rope.

He gasped in surprise, and immediately began to struggle against the magic, but it was in vain. You cried out and reached for him, but President Loki was faster. He grabbed your Loki’s arm, then began to drag him away from you and down the hallway. With a sharp whistle, he motioned his head for you to follow, and found yourself standing and trailing behind the two Lokis like an obedient dog.

President Loki pulled yours into the depths of the hotel, you following anxiously. Your Loki shouted threats and harsh words, but the magic bonds kept him nearly immobile as he was guided by President Loki. You didn’t dare try anything stupid; you weren’t a fighter, and you suspected that this variant far outmatched both you and your lover in combat. All you could do was obey and hope he showed mercy.

You were led into a suite that seemed more put together than the rest of the hotel. Everything looked much cleaner, especially the bed, and most of the walls appeared to be stable. President Loki shoved your Loki into an armchair at the back wall of the room, and then positioned it so that it was facing the bed. “Well?” He asked, lazily gesturing towards the bed.

A gush of wetness seeped from your core at the same time as fear gripped your chest. Two conflicting emotions warred within you, and you felt hot tears stinging your eyes at the confusion of it all. On one hand, you loved your Loki. There was not telling how trustworthy this variant was, if he was going to hurt you or your boyfriend. On the other, this was the once in a lifetime chance to experience a threesome with only Loki. A fantasy that most likely no other person had gotten the chance to experience outside of their dreams.

You cast a helpless glance over at your Loki. When you weren’t looking, President Loki must have gagged him, because there was now an emerald piece of fabric stuffed between his lips. Your pussy throbbed in appreciation at the sight while your heart ached at the terror in his eyes.

President Loki rolled his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a version of me quite this soft,” he said, walking to his clone’s chair. “Let me help you relax.” President Loki straddled your Loki, chuckling at the muffled whimper that spilled from behind the gag. The variant brought his head down to bite at Loki's neck, and your mouth dropped open.

To your surprise--and hesitant delight--your Loki seemed to be almost enjoying the treatment. His head had fallen back against the chair, and he was breathing in that strained way that he did when he was turned on and trying to hide it. Kinky bastard, you thought to yourself.

President Loki paused his assault on your Loki’s neck to look back at you. “See? He likes it, dear. Now be a good girl and get on the bed,” he commanded. The growl in his voice let you know that he would not tolerate being disobeyed again, so you nodded and clambered on top of the bed. 

Sliding off Loki’s lap, the variant gave him a quick pat on the head and then made his way over to you. “Mmmf!” Loki mumbled, earning a sharp look from President Loki.

“I won’t hurt her. If you stay quiet like a good boy, I may let you have a turn.”

That sent chills down your spine. The thought of both of the Lokis having their way with you was almost too much, and your shaking knees finally gave out to send you sprawling onto your back against the pillows. Seemingly amused, President Loki snickered and crawled onto the bed. He crept forward until he was hovering over you, dark blue eyes raking across your trembling form.

You squirmed under his piercing gaze. The shivers making their way up and down your spine were unrelenting, no matter how hard you tried to keep still and quiet. “What happens now?” You squeaked out.

President Loki’s mouth opened in a wide green, revealing stark white teeth that almost looked sharp. “Now, we play.” Green light appeared at his fingertips again, and your hands shot up uncontrollably. You yelped in surprise and tugged on the rope that had appeared on your wrists. You were bound to the headboard, completely at the mercy of this variant. And fuck, it was exciting and terrifying and arousing all at the same time. What a mess.

There was that green light again. This time, it revolved around itself until it took the shape of a jet black dagger. President Loki ran his thumb along the handle, eyes leaving you to gaze lovingly at the knife. Your breath quickened in fear. “Stay still,” he purred. With deft fingers, President Loki raked the tip of the dagger down your shirt, cutting it open at the front. You let out an embarrassingly high pitched squeal as cold metal came in contact with your bare skin. But, as he promised, the variant did not hurt you. He made quick work of your pants as well, abandoning the knife in favor of simply yanking them down your legs along with your panties.

The cold air hitting your bare skin made you gasp. You tugged uselessly at your wrists, wanting to cover yourself in embarrassment at your sudden nakedness. Your frantic squirming made President Loki chuckle, and he leaned down to nip at your ear. “Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll warm you up.” His hot breath against your ear sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress a soft moan.

Suddenly remembering your restrained boyfriend, you managed to peer around President Loki to make sure he was alright. Your Loki was still bound and gagged, but now his face was alight with a crimson blush. Your eyes drifted downwards to the prominent bulge in his pants. When he caught you staring, Loki dropped his gaze away from yours, ashamed.

President Loki watched the silent conversation, amused. He trailed a thin finger up your thigh, then sat back to straddle your hips. “He’s enjoying himself,” the variant said confidently. He grinned at you. “I know because he’s me, and he likes what I like.”

All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, naked and defenseless underneath his weight.

“Oh? Surprised, are we?” President Loki drawled as he waved his hand casually. His suit faded away with his gesture, leaving him bare as well. His long cock mirrored your boyfriend’s, and it was swollen and dripping. You licked your lips. “I’ll take it you two haven’t fully...explored his interests. Us Lokis crave dominance, to be left at the mercy of a pretty thing like you.”

“So why aren’t you-”

He cut you off with a gentle slap to your inner thigh. When you sucked in a harsh breath, he chuckled. “Because there’s something else we love. Power.” WIth that, President Loki moved to place his legs on either side of you. He grabbed your ankles roughly and pressed your legs back until they sat atop his shoulders. You groaned at the stretch, then sighed heavily as he titled his head to the side to mouth at your ankle. “Ready, slut?” He growled.

You didn’t get a chance to answer. The air was stolen from your lungs as the variant plunged his hard cock into you, the stretch burning. You screamed out in pleasure and pain, listening to what sounded like both Lokis moaning in unison. The version that was currently buried deep inside of your heat rolled his eyes back in pleasure at the feeling of your pussy flexing around him.

“Oh, it’s been so long,” the variant moaned. “I want to make this last.” He began thrusting his hips lazily, more grinding into you than anything. You whimpered as you got used to the size of him. It felt like you were dreaming with how overwhelming it all was. Your core throbbed again and again as new gushes of arousal spilled from your cunt, and your head was spinning with the knowledge that just feet from you, your boyfriend was being forced to watch another version of himself tear you apart. And he loved every second of it.

From behind President Loki, your Loki whined, and you could just barely see him twitching his hips up into nothing. “Please,” he begged, and you noticed that he had managed to slip the gag from his mouth. You weren’t sure what he was begging for. To be touched, to touch you. Probably both.

President Loki looked at you with lidded eyes, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he ground his cock deep inside of you. “Should we let him play, too?” He asked, voice ragged.

You nodded frantically. Words escaped you, but you desperately wanted your boyfriend here. You longed for his touch, wanting to feel them both. President Loki nodded and waved his hand back towards the chair. Loki’s bonds vanished, and he was scrambling onto the bed as soon as he was free. 

He crawled up to the top of the bed, hands outstretched to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss. Your Loki gasped desperately as President Loki grabbed him by the hair, pulling hard so that he stopped just short of reaching your lips. Your Loki whimpered and went nearly limp in submission.

The variant let go of Loki’s hair, tsking at him like he was scolding a child. “You may not touch her without my permission.” His voice was surprisingly even, given how he was still thrusting into you. “Are we clear?”

Your Loki opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and nodded obediently. President Loki grinned wolfishly. “Good boy. You may kiss her.”

In a flash, your lover was leaning over you, pressing his mouth clumsily to yours. His tongue sought entry, and you let him in enthusiastically. You could practically feel the desperation seeping from his every pore. You’d never seen him this worked up, and silently wished you had discovered this kink of his a little sooner. “You look beautiful like this,” he panted into your mouth.

When you began to reply, it was cut short by a yelp as President Loki’s hand dropped down to play with your clit. Your Loki kissed you again, drinking in all of your moans as his variant brought you higher and higher with those deft fingers. With a growl, President Loki snatched your Loki’s hair again and dragged him away from your lips. Loki’s pitiful whine matched yours as you both gasped for air.

“Fuck her mouth,” President Loki commanded, increasing the pace of his thrusts with a growl of pleasure. His fingers kept up their assault on your clit, and you fought to crane your neck up and open your mouth to be ready for your boyfriend’s cock.

Loki hastily yanked off his pants and pulled out his weeping dick. He shuffled over to you, then leaned forward until he was close enough to guide himself onto your tongue. This was familiar, the heavy weight of Loki’s erection stretching your jaw. You closed your lips around him and began to suck, gritting your teeth against the cries of pleasure that threatened to break free from your throat.

President Loki let go of the other Loki’s hair and instead gripped your hip roughly as he began fucking you an earnest. “So tight,” he hissed. “Cum for me, little slut. Cum for your god.”

Helpless to do anything but obey, you felt your back arch up as your entire body convulsed. Pleasure ripped through you and left you a whimpering mess, drooling around you Loki’s cock. Your boyfriend cursed at the sight of you cumming, and began to pump himself in and out of your mouth. “I-I can’t help, fuck, help myself, darling. Ah, oh gods.”

“Such a good girl,” President Loki praised. He groaned at the tightening of your walls, then removed his hand from your clit to wrap a long arm around your Loki’s neck. Your Loki was forced to lean back against President Loki’s chest, only able to keep his cock in your mouth because of his lanky body.

Your Loki cried out, the sound broken up by his variant cutting off his oxygen. His hips stuttered violently, and you felt thick cum spurt into your throat. Somehow, you were able to force it down instead of choking, and you heard Loki whimper at the feel of his sensitive length being constricted by your throat. “Love, fuck,” he keened.

Seeing the two of you cum proved to be too much for the variant. “Oh, Norns, I can’t,” he groaned out harshly, then slammed himself into you and held his hips there as his cock pulsed within you. As he came, the magic binding your wrists dissipated, and you brought your arms down to rub at the sore muscles. Hot seed spilled out of you, running down to your ass. President Loki watched his cum drip from your swollen pussy in appreciation, panting softly. 

Your Loki had collapsed next to you, and was now snuggled up against your side. The variant frowned at the sight, and you could almost detect a rueful look on his face. You hissed in a pained breath as President Loki slowly lowered your aching legs from his shoulders. He sighed as he pulled out of you, a rush of liquid gushing out and wetting the bed. Most of the dominance gone from his demeanor, he shifted awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure where he fit in this dynamic.

His sudden insecurity didn’t surprise you. After all, he was a Loki, and they were notorious for their false confidence. It tracked. After a moment’s hesitation, you reached up and grabbed his arm to pull him to lay down next to you. He stared at you in slight confusion, but obliged, leaving you sandwiched between the two Lokis. You turned to your boyfriend, who was already drifting off, too fucked out to keep his eyes open. With a soft smile, you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

President Loki cleared his throat, catching your attention. “I, uh. It’s a bit sad. Seeing what I could’ve had. I can’t help but be envious.” He chewed on his bottom lip and looked away, bravado completely gone.

You rolled your eyes and threw a tired arm around him, feeling a rush of satisfaction when he purred happily and cuddled against you. “I think I have room in my life for more than one Loki,” you whispered. And it was true. If Loki was born to be a villain in every timeline, then you were born to love each one of them.