#Thor odin son imagine

[once-upon-a-fanfic]

What if...

You and Thor spent the five years after Thanos died drinking and partying together? You two were a hot mess together, but you relied on each other for emotional support while you were grieving.

#Once upon a time thor #Once upon a time avengers #Once upon a time marvel #Thor #Avengers #Marvel End game #Avengers end game #end game imagine #Thor imagine #Thor odinson #Thor odin son imagine #thor odinson imagine

[wolffoxnation2]

I said i was gonna rant and by the gods im gonna rant

[This is not gonna make sense and more me shrieking at the gods cus Loki is my blorbo and i hate that Rick fucked up and made him abusive when the first book was litterally implying that he cares about his kids and making him sympathetic.]

Love how i completely forgot Heimdall was there too between reading this in school and getting home lmao. My phone guy is just that forgettable.

ALSO THATS WHY YOUR DOING THIS? THATS THE REASON YOUR GOING WITH RICK?

They got roasted too hard so theyre gonna kill two innocent kids, mulitate their corpses and use those corpses to chain their father while dripping acid on him?

It was (slightly) more understandable when it was cus Baldur (even tho hes probably happier with Hel anyways) died.

Cus like an eye for an eye.... (even tho that was much more than an eye, more like two eyes, a heart and a leg.)

Actually no scratch that killing Baldur technically was an eye for an eye if you think about it.

(Odin took three of Loki's kids, Loki took his son, his daughter in law and then the same son again when he refused to cry to bring him back. Thats also three. Thats one of the reasons i excuse Baldur dying)

I know Magnus probably either didn't realise what was going on here or if he did it didnt register in his brain the whole story. Which, fair enough, directly after this he listens to Kvasir getting cut up by a chainsaw (good, its clear if it weren't for him Loki, Narvi, Vali and Sigyn would've been probably fine) and then watches Alex get thrown out by his.....sperm donor. So what happens to Loki is not at the top of his concerns rn but i really hope he confronts Frey about it later. Cus Magnus has been shown to emphasize with Loki on this. AND THOSE WERE FUCKING CHILDREN! AND THEY WERE KILLED BECAUSE THEY WERE LOKI'S CHILDREN!

WHO ELSE ARE CHILDREN OF LOKI THAT HE CARES DEEPLY ABOUT?

SAMIRAH AND ALEX

Basically i want Magnus to yell at the gods the way Percy does. Because like Luke everything was probably WAS the gods fault.

And before you come at me with the whole 'prophecy has to happen' thing. Save your breath because most of you have no problem with blaming the gods when it came to luke in pjo and this is kinda similar.

Who was to say that Fenris, Hel and Jörmungandr would have caused ragnarok if the Aesir (mostly Odin) didnt take them from their home and seperate them?

Whos to say Loki would start Ragnarok if Odin didnt break their oath and take his children?

Or :

Let his mouth get sewn shut after he got everyone shit (Sif's new hair, Mjollnir, Draupnir, Gungnir, Skidbladnir and Gullinbursti) because suddenly oaths matter now, Odin.

Kill his innocent children (its not stated in myth or mcga how old Narvi and Vali were/are but the general consensus is that they were young), possibly made him watch said children get murdered (Sword of summer its stated by Loki that the gods watched in amusement as Vali disemboweled Narvi but that could be hyperbole) and had a snake drip acid onto his face.

If there was any good in Loki at any point (which there might be. He actually seems pretty chill in sword of summer) then its been snuffed out now.

Thanks Odin.

You signed your death warrant.

Whats that saying again?

He who tries to prevent fate is doomed to cause it?

Or something like that i cant remember the phrase.

I have more to say yet i cant quite articulate it. So im gonna end it here.

Also i am really in the mood for writing a oneshot of the day they caught Loki in Loki's—or maybe Sigyn's? Pov.

#Imagine if Rick didnt fuck up and made Loki sympathetic instead of abusive and pure EVIL #frey mcga #Mcga Odin #Fuck that guy #loki mcga #mcga loki #Love that guy. Girl. Sometimes horse #wolffox speaks #Alot she speaks alot. #More yelling actually #mcga #magnus chase and the hammer of thor #magnus chase and the sword of summer #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #magnus chase and the ship of the dead #Imagine the fear Loki felt when he was caught #Or maybe he didnt realize he pushed to far this time? Maybe he thought it was gonna all be okay. #Then he saw his sons.

[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara angst #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #atvs spoilers #spiderman 2099 x reader #accross the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #x reader #angst

[deathmetalunicorn1]

You ever see those grandparent videos where the parent brings their newborn into the house, without the grandparent knowing they were born yet? Imagine adult! Reader inviting everyone in and to their knowledge she hasn’t gone into labor yet but to their surprise the baby is right there.

Bonus points if it’s multiple babies like twins or triplets and the family had no idea until the reveal.

-Your family was waiting for you and your husband to arrive, it was the normal routine for Saturday, when you both would come over, there would be a big barbeque or meal, and you would get to spend time with the massive family you called your own.

-It had been a little difficult for you lately as you had been pregnant up until just a few days ago, but only Brunnhilde and Eve knew this, as you had called them, letting them know but asking them to keep it a secret, as you wanted to surprise everyone with your twins.

-They agreed to keep it quiet only if they got to hold the babies first, which you and your husband agreed to while trying not to laugh, the four of you plotting the surprise.

-You arrived quietly and Brunnhilde was waiting by the side door so you both could sneak in the back door to drop off your babies in a side room to get them ready, getting them out of their carriers.

-Eve told everyone else that you both were here, but when Loki spoke up after running to the door, wanting to get a hug first, he pouted when he saw neither of you there, “Where are they?” she just smiled warmly, “Y/N had to run to the bathroom.”

-They all nodded in understanding, as you were due any day now, as Hermes questioned, “Is it a good idea for her to be traveling right now?”

-Brunnhilde was recording before she gave you both the signal. Your husband walked out, holding your daughter, before you walked out, holding your son, “I’m fine.”

-Everyone turned, their eyes growing to the size of dinner plates, except for Eve and Brunnhilde as you grinned warmly as the house was shaking with screams and cries.

-Your daughter got a bit fussy at the sound, almost crying which made everyone hold their hands to their lips, silencing their cries as your husband rocked her.

-Your babies were being handed around, everyone enjoying the new additions to the family as you were relaxing, sitting curled up next to your husband who was grinning, recording now.

-Obnoxiously crying, unable to stop their tears as they held one or the other of your babies, unable to form any coherent words as they would look down at the baby, then to you, babbling nonsense while sniffling loudly, which made you giggle warmly.

            -ARES, LOKI, Apollo, Nikola, Zerofuku, and Goll

-Only let a few happy tears slip out as they talked to your babies, talking so softly and sweetly, before turning to you and your husband, calling you both gremlins for pranking them, then turning back to your babies. They are overjoyed to see you and your babies, but how could you not tell them you had your babies already?!

            -Adam, Zeus, Hades, Kojiro, Jack, Hercules, Hermes, Aphrodite, Shiva, Raiden, Eve, Brunnhilde, and the rest of the Valkyries

-Panicking, please don’t hand him a baby, he doesn’t know how to hold one! You sit next to him, guiding him how to hold your son who smiled up at him, babbling cutely which immediately made him melt, even if he didn’t show it. You can’t help but lean into him, seeing his rare soft smile.

            -Thor, Lu Bu, Beelzebub, and Poseidon

-Expert baby holder, can easily put your children to sleep, all while trying to hide their smile that they were so good at it, despite others calling them out on it because they want to know how good there are, but they’re not revealing their secrets so easily, which causes you to laugh.

            -Leonidas, Buddha, Qin Shi Huang, and Odin

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror ares #ror loki #ror apollo #ror nikola tesla #ror zerofuku #ror goll #ror adam #ror zeus #ror hades #ror kojiro sasaki #ror jack the ripper #ror heracles #ror hermes #ror aphrodite #ror shiva #ror raiden #ror eve #ror brunhilde #ror thor #ror lu bu #ror beelzebub #ror poseidon #ror buddha #ror leonidas #ror qin shi huang #ror odin

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine your surprise when Thor brings Loki to Norway…

When you turned around, you were shocked to see Thor and Loki on the same hill. The blonde-haired prince approached instantly and gave your arm a gentle squeeze - his way of thanking you for being by his fathers side before leaving to speak with the exiled King. 

You locked eyes with Loki and rolled your eyes before turning your back to him, hoping to ignore his presence entirely. Unfortunately, Loki wasn’t one to be ignored and he intentionally positioned himself to stand beside you.

“I never thought we’d meet like this.” He said softly.

You said nothing in return.

“You’re upset about finding out that I’m alive, I get that.”

His statement made you shrug nonchalantly. “I’ve known you were alive for months. After I found Odin wandering around powerless, he told me exactly how he ended up on Earth.” 

Looking at the raven-haired prince, you squinted at him. “Do you know what I have to say to that?”

Before Loki could answer, your palm met his cheek and left a sting harsher than the winds lashing against the cliff. His eyes went wide at the contact, then a flash of anger washed across until he finally accepted that he deserved it.

“You earned that.” He said gently.

Wanting to hate him so badly, you couldn’t find the strength. In the months with Odin, the Allfather had taught you to be patient especially with Loki. He explained that he was not upset with his son. He then opened up about his greatest regrets and how his ego had damaged his relationship with his children and how it had carried on beyond to their relationships. 

Odin apologised for being the reason his son put revenge and vengeance above you, reassuring you that Loki loved you unreservedly.

“I wish you didn’t make loving you so difficult.” You confessed.

Just as Loki was about to respond, Odin called out for his sons to join him. You stepped aside to allow him through. The Allfather’s final moments were to be respected.

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

[dryad-druid]

Loosely based on this clip from DBS.

@thedawningofthehour has mentioned a couple of times before that if Draxum really had the opportunity to name the turtles, this one would have come out with the most grandiloquent names he could have imagined, which is like, dude, so true. I just couldn't stop thinking about it (I especially remembered that clip from DBS).

She also describes Draxum as Nordic (which I also love and now I can't stop thinking about Ninja-Vikings). So Nordic names it is! These are my ideas.

Raphael Thor Hamato.

Michelangelo Baldr Hamato.

Leonardo Víðarr Hamato.

Donatello Vali Hamato.

It's pretty obvious that Draxum is to some extent inspired by Odin, (his assistants are named Huginn and Muninn, for god's sake) so why not give the boys names of Odin's sons?

Also, to clarify, that's not how the name thing happens in my AU, but I still wanted to place it in this one.

#family chaos au #rotmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #lou jitsu #baronjitsu #baron draxum #rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #Youtube

[gayometer]

Can i request the such happiness in a dull place where the little reader is just so amazed at the war and battle stories ( obvi taking the violent stuff out) that odin and thor have with them being warriors. I can just imagine odin and thor silently trying to one up each other and loki just being riddled with jealously in the background. Thanks.

We're informing them! (They're flexing)

My bitch being jealous, what a sight man

Also not Odin's crusty ass trying to one up his son-

He was pleasantly surprised that you actually had an interest in his storys, so as the God of Thunder and the biggest warhead with stories longer then his hair, he started telling you.

Sure, he took away the violence and mightve shortened them to some degree but the most important points are still there.

Thor doesn't comment that he's trying to one up Odin, he is, but he isn't gonna admit it.

"Back in my day" ok no, he doesn't actually say that (but it would be funny if he did), he denies he tries to one up Thor, he just has more battle experience ya know?

Odin has told you plenty if stores, even the one about the wall and the horse, he lied about the distraction tho, but your laugh was worth it.

Even Hunnin and Munnin join in to this stuff, they find it amusing that such a sweet soul is so interested in war stories.

Odin has unofficially made war stories your bed time stories.

Look a lil closer and you might see the steam come out of his ears and head.

Thor says it's his brain damage

Don't get me wrong, he does enjoy seeing two ancient ass beings (mostly Odin) one upping each other, to him it looks like a petty human game.

He'll never say that out loud tho-

Loki has told you some stories of him causing trouble cause he was bored, he was surprised that you found them funny and not irritating. It was a nice lil suprise to him.

Not me coming back from the bed-

Writers block is a bitch

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #ror #snv #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv loki #ror loki #snv odin #ror odin #snv thor #ror thor

[liminalpebble]

Stray: Part 4

Masterlink

Stray: Part 4

After the poor human cried herself to sleep, she fidgeted restlessly as she napped. Somewhere in the fog of your stress dreams you heard the most beautiful voice; deep and silky and soothing. It said, “Oh darling, how dare he make you feel this way! You're so clever and unique and kind....and beautiful. Sweet mortal, I think you're the most beautiful creature I've ever met. Sweet dreams, little mortal. Just rest. We'll find a way.”

Loki was shocked when you said “thank you” as if you had heard him. He was certain his words only came out as a purr. Realizing this potential for communication, the great schemer of Asgard began to hatch plans as you rested; a plan to know you better and a plan to help you. But for now the little cat just grabbed the throw blanket (a difficult task when done with teeth rather than hands), dragging it up around you to keep you warm in the autumn chill. He summoned his magic with a green glow of his paw and rested it on your temple. Loki decided it was time for you to meet his true form; even if it would only be in dreams.

You had never had a lucid dream before, and the novelty of it stunned you. The storm clouds of your nightmares parted, giving way to a bright scene. An ornate bed cradled you in some kind of ancient palace. Everything felt so real; the sensation of your bare feet on the chilly marble floor, the warm sunshine and spring breeze fluttering in from the balcony doors, the shuffling of silk sheets as you rose to observe your surrounding. You walked gingerly towards the balcony and saw a lovely statuesque man with sleek black hair standing there, looking out over the landscape. His long green cloak billowed in the wind as he turned his broad shoulders to face you with a fond knowing smirk.

You had the vague sense that this man could be very dangerous if he wanted to be, and yet you didn't feel fear, especially when he smiled with a kindness that reached his large aquamarine eyes. Those preternatural eyes...they seemed so familiar but in your dreamy state of mind, you couldn't quiet place them.

“Hello, darling mortal,” he said in that alluring baritone.

“Your...your voice. I just heard it before. Didn't I?” you said, drowsily, not in full control of you mental capacities.

“Yes,” he said with an amused smile, and you could swear his paper-pale skin was blushing. This man who looked like a prince from a fantasy novel seemed nervous around you. You thought to yourself that that absolutely must be some dream logic at work.

You glanced around in disbelief, “I know this is a dream, but damn...my brain is really doing something strange here, conjuring you up, Prince Charming.” You reached up to touch his cheek as if not quite sure such a beautiful man could exist, even in a dream. Exploring, you stroked your fingers over the contours of his face, eyes wide with awe. He looked utterly shocked by your touch on his skin. Loki didn't expect that schoolboy giddiness to bubble up within him. You had stroked his fur so many times, but never his true face and the intimacy of it was overwhelming. He never wanted you to stop. He wanted that small hand warming his cold cheek forever.

You, however, saw the shock in his eyes and jumped back, putting your hands up in surrender. “Sorry! Sorry! That was rude. I didn't mean to scare you...” Then you huffed out a breath and put your hands on your hips, mumbling, “I'm going crazy. I'm apologizing to a gorgeous figment of my imagination.”

Loki smiled his most stunning broad smile and chuckled a deep velvety laugh of pure amusement. He stepped closer saying, “Oh you are even more delightful this way...but, pardon me, where are my manners? I am Loki, Prince of Asgard,” he said kissing your hand. Those exquisite eyes never lost contact with your own as if, of all the beauty in this room, you were the most fascinating thing.

“L...Loki...Loki as in, the Norse god of mischief...”

“Brother of Thor, son of Odin and Frigga. The very same, dear lady.”

“Wow...” you said in an awed whisper, “Look at you! You're...gorgeous. You're like a sculpture.”

He laughed at that. “Thank you, darling. You are so adorable when you're in a state of abject wonder. This is a new side of you and I quite like it,” he declared as he stroked his long cool fingers through your sleep tousled hair.

Just that small touch felt so pleasant that it nearly derailed your entire train of thought, and his. “Wait...wait...a new side? Do we know each other, uh...Your Highness. Is that what I should call you?”

“You, my dear, should just use my name. I love the sound of it from your lips. In a sense, we do know each other, but that will all become clear in time. Please, trust me.”

“The God of Lies is asking me to trust him?,” you said with a skeptical arch of your eyebrow.

He laughed. “I assure you, darling, the irony isn't lost on me.”

“This...this is too much...I feel so foggy. What is this? This is a dream, right? You're not real. Why does it feel so real? What...”

Hearing the mounting distress in your voice, he placed the pad of his finger lightly against your lips, and whispered, “Shhh, shhhh, Shhh, darling, all in good time. There's nothing to worry about. Come here.”

He gestured his lovely hand for you to come closer, close enough to hold. You hesitated. You'd never been a hugger, but perhaps the buffer of dreaming allowed you to feel comfortable with and hungry for touch..especially from him. He wrapped an arm around you and urged you to put your tired head on his shoulder as a deeper haze enveloped you. As he enchanted you into a deeper restful state you could smell his alluring scent of mint and pine, feel the swell of his breathing and the strength of his muscle supporting you, the rumble of his voice as he spoke. It all felt so real.

Loki loved the feeling of holding you up as you drifted. As your eyes closed you mumbled in your sleep, “You know, I named my cat after you.”

The god laughed a full breathy musical laugh and the memory of the sound lingered with you as you awoke on your own couch and stretched, rubbing your bleary eyes. Once reality settled back in, you noticed Loki (the feline) was watching you intently from the arm of the sofa. You stroked him softly saying, “Hey, lovie. I just had the strangest dream about your namesake. I think I feel a little better now. Let's fix us some dinner, huh? You hungry?”

“Meow.”

“I thought so,” you said scooping him into your arms as you went to the kitchen. “Chicken or fish today?”

Chicken “Mrowow.”

“Chicken it is, friend,” you said, then stopped in your tracks, wondering how you knew. Finally, you just shrugged your shoulders, assuming it was your imagination as you reached for the can opener.

----

A/N: Oh my gosh, everyone, thank you for all the love for this work. I'm trying to tag all of you who have asked and doing my best to thank you all individually for your engagement but as the numbers increase I'm losing track of that a bit...so anyway, I'll say it here. Thank you. I see it. I love you. It means the world to me. You're all so lovely.

@averagetmblrusser @primroseposts @fruityfuckerr @arunabrak @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokihiddleston @chokeanddagger @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @littlespaceyelf @little-wormwood @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @coldnique @sarahscribbles @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @peachyjinx @mischiefmaker615 @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @madi0987 @buttercupcookies-blog @annoyingsweetsstranger @primrosesposts

#lokitty #loki fanfic #D.B. Cooper Loki #loki fluff #pre-Thor 1 Loki #loki x reader #lovely fanfic friends

[visionsofmagic]

✦ mini masterlist: video games version

➤ info.: contains video games [pc, ps/xbox, & phone games]. requests are open [but don't forget that it can take long]. characters I write can be differ from these main games, so, always open to ask about any other games & characters apart from this list too. enjoy!

⭒ main masterlist.

✩︙call of duty

‣ simon “ghost” riley

⤹ four times ··· four times you think about how simon ghost riley will fuck you and one time he actually does. [link, one shot]

✩︙resident evil

‣ leon s. kennedy

⤹ staring ··· just a drabble. [one shot]

⤹ only I··· leon gets jealous.[one shot]

✩︙mortal kombat 1

‣ drabbles & headcanons [various]

⤹ mk1 men using their powers while f*cking you ··· [link]

⤹ how mk1 men will carry you ··· [link]

⤹ mk1 men breaking the bed/headboard while fucking you ··· [requested]

⤹ mk1 men when they get hard in public because of you ··· [link]

⤹ mk1 men show their kinks to you ··· [link]

⤹ older ··· I think I need someone older [link]

— favorite place to kiss on your body. [link]

— calling them with the nickname of “boy” [link]

— what he calls you, what you call him. [link]

— how loud they are [link]

‣ johnny cage

⤹ you’re the prettiest ··· [link]

⤹ fuck you on tropes ··· [link]

‣ lin kuei brothers

⤹ saving [kuai liang, smoke] ··· they save you from an attack of lin kuei and propose you join shirai ryu. [link, requested]

⤹ they like to share you [lin kuei brothers] ··· [1] [2]

‣ liu kang

⤹ past lover, new era ··· you’re liu kang’s past lover. [requested]

✩︙god of war

⤹ pick one pick fav [mini game, special to my bhd] ··· heimdall & kratos headcanon/imagines [link]

‣ heimdall, baldur & thor

⤹ destiny [mini series] ···  sons of odin always found it hard to come to a conclusion with the same decision but this was one different; they agreed on that they were all fucked up because when odin sent them for a mission, together; bring a goddess, who forgot about her past, back to the asgard, he just gave them description of the goddess but they never expected… you. they never expected someone who will touch their souls, bodies and minds. [plot & masterlist]

‣ heimdall

⤹ one in nine realms [mini series] ··· after atreus’ sudden disappear you decide to bring him back to home. to bring him back, you visit the asgard and so many advantures at the door. however, the most unpredictable one is to fall for odin’s right hand man, heimdall. he is something else and eventually, you find yourself wanting him to be a good boy. maybe he will listen? [1][2][3] [4][5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

⤹ impossible to reach [mini series, requested] ··· being both daughter of zeus and sister of kratos bring unbelievable events with them, but even them wasn’t as astonishing as falling for heimdall, the son of odin who saw you as his second wife. ragnarok is at the door, odin is ready to manipulate you, kratos is there to fight for you and atreus is being a normal teenager who gets trouble. and you – you just see only him, god of foresight. what could be worse? [plot] [1] [2]

⤹ wet dreams [oneshot, requested] ··· after a mission, heimdall and y/n travel around the realm as they get rid of the exhausting fights come within the mission. however, an accident occur and y/n falls to the water. being all wet in front of heimdall, she gives him no choice but just watch. [oneshot]

⤹ falling [oneshot, requested] ··· heimdall falling for a midgardian and being protective over her. [oneshot]

‣ oneshots, headcanons, drabbles & requests

⤹ FREYA, hate or forgive ··· no, ragnarok wasn’t any of your concern. you world already had its ragnarok when freya left you, promising to kill you because of what you did to save her. as you made your way to follow atreus’ wish, she came to your life again. but this time, you decided to give her what she deserves, even if it meant your death. [oneshot]

⤹ KRATOS ··· kratos writes about you in his journal. [oneshot]

⤹ ATREUS ··· fenrir wants to see atreus, and because of being mommy of him, you can’t stand to his sad eyes. you decide to visit atreus who is lasty seen in north side of the midgard. the little boy you saw 6 years ago is not the same and seeing him after a long time, hidden feelings come to surface.[oneshot]

⤹ THOR ··· a request from lovely anon: Could I ask for some (GOW) Thor fluff? Perhaps the (GN) reader standing up for Thor when Odin is being a dick to him?? I just feel he hasn’t heard one good word about himself in a long time. I think he needs it. [oneshot]

⤹ KRATOS, GRANDFATHER!MIMIR ··· escaping from odin’s long prison days, y/n manages to take a visit to the tree where odin kept her grandfather, mimir but there is no one. mimir is gone and now, she seeks for him as she follows trials of red colored marked man and a child [part I of II] [part II of II].

⤹ FREYR ··· kratos’ daughter find love with freya’s cute brother; freyr. [oneshot]

⤹ SINDRI ··· sindri and y/n confess to each other with help of atreus.[oneshot]

⤹ HEIMDALL··· what it would look like to have heimdall as a bff [headcanon]

⤹ HEIMDALL··· sub!heimdall [headcanon, requested]

⤹ HEIMDALL··· how heimdall would flirt with reader [headcanon, requested]

⤹ HEIMDALL··· jealous!heimdall who shows his jealousy to the reader [oneshot, requested]

⤹ GOW CHARACTERS··· where gow characters like to kiss reader the most [headcanon] – when they see you covered in blood [headcanon] – when they meet someone smaller than them [headcanon, requested]

✩︙star wars jedi: fallen order

‣ cal kestis

⤹ little touches ··· you and cal are sharing lots of touches that seem little to you in the first place but they begin to grow from just little to something more. [link, one shot]

✩︙king’s choice

⤹ a night in the kingdom ··· a sweet night with your right-hand man, Lance [oneshot]

⤹ from sweet to hot ··· as being the new queen of the island, y/n, has some sweet moments with her inventor, darren, but sweet moments turn into hot ones. [oneshot]

⤹ become queen of the kingdom ··· y/n take throne to rule the kingdom. she has enemies that want take her down from the throne but her unique knights and especially lovers always watch her back. however, things begin to change when a certain threat to the kingdom come to the light. now, y/n should be careful. she can’t trust anyone that easily. those who are able to gain her trust will fight by her side; knights and lovers. [plot]

VISIONSOFMAGIC, 2024. 🍏

#🍏 mini masterlist: video games version #☁ enjoy! #― contains: #god of war #gow x reader #gow masterlist #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 x reader #mk1 masterlist #call of duty #cod x reader #cod masterlist #star wars jedi: fallen order #sw x reader #sw masterlist #resident evil #re x reader #re masterlist #king's choice #god of war: ragnarok #mortal kombat #resident evil masterlist

[11queensupreme11]

Do you remember that platonic poseidon au where Percy is married to an Atlantic nobleman? well imagine this:

all the gods are eagerly awaiting the birth of the baby and when it is born they all collectively recreate that scene from "House of Dragons"

SPOILER ALERT !!!!!

that scene in which moments after giving birth to her first child, Rhaenyra is summoned to see the queen, Alicent asks if the baby has a name and then Leanor says the name (I forget what it is) Alicent comments that it is a strange name for a Valeryano (everyone knows that the baby does not have Valeryan blood, it is clear from the baby's appearance that he is not Leanor's biological son although he loves him very much), so Viserya just replies that the baby has the same nose as the father (HAHAHAHAHA)

just imagine Percy's first child is born with silver hair and small vine marks on his body, Percy's husband expects Poseidon to punish her as soon as he arrives in the delivery room and sees that his daughter was an adulteress but as soon as the Poseidon arrives, the husband is totally ignored since Poseidon is only interested in his daughter's health and in seeing his first grandchild, he picks him up and simply says that the Chrhonos genes are too strong to have skipped his daughter's generation and have reappeared in his grandson

In the second pregnancy, the baby born has black hair and red eyes, Poseidon just looks at the baby and says that he looks like his "father" even though the husband's hair is not even black and his eyes are far from red

In the third pregnancy, a child with pink-blond hair and slightly shiny skin is born, the justification is that this time the child took after Poseidon's own blonde, since this is the child who most resembles him.

the last child has green hair, all Poseidon says is that the child has the same face shape as his "father"

It's an open joke that the husband is not the father of any of Percy's children, it's an open secret and everyone knows the truth but if anyone even tries to suggest that Percy is an adulteress and deserves to be punished the person will be tortured by dozens of different gods

absolutely EVERYONE defends Percy's honor and is offended on his behalf if anyone casts a questioning glance at his children's appearance and powers

Does the first son spend a lot of time with Hades? well they are just a very caring great uncle and nephew pair, great uncle hades is just teaching his great nephew how to use death powers that "probably" skipped a generation

Is Beelzebub spending a lot of time with his second son? well the child showed interest in the art of research and as a good "friend" of percy he offered to teach the child about the best methods of torture research

Is Apollo always in the presence of the third son? well he is a really cool cousin who offered to babysit so that his LOVED niece has time to rest

Is Loki spending a lot of time with his fourth son? well this baby is the youngest and is very spoiled and mischievous, their personalities just "matched" and they are both just having fun together

Are the babies calling the children of Hades/Apollo brothers? children like them so much that they think they are related, oh how adorable childish "innocence" is

Are the babies playing with Odin's beard and calling Thor their uncle and grandfather? they are just affectionate nicknames

NO, THERE IS NOTHING SUSPICIOUS ABOUT THIS, IT DOESN'T MATTER if the children have similar powers to yanderes this is just a coincidence, you DARE insinuate that precious Percy is an ADULTERA!?!? HOW DARE YOU!!!! you must pay with YOUR LIFE!! The Gods sentence you to DEATH AFTER A LOT OF TORTURE

what do you think?

what do i think??? WHAT DO I THINK??? I THINK I FUCKING LOVE THIS LMAOO 😭💖💖💖💖💖

THIS POOR NOBLEMAN THOOO LMAOOOOO. while poseidon 1000000% accepts his grandkids and would never say out loud that he's aware that none of the kids are from the husband, he's still FURIOUS that the nobleman failed to protect his precious daughter from hades, beelzebub, loki, and apollo

(which is ridiculous cuz they're a bunch of insane all-powerful gods, what do you want this man to DO??? 💀)

I LOVE HOW EVERYONE'S ON PERCY'S SIDE TOO LMAO!!!!! SHE REALLY IS EVERYONE'S FAVORITE 😂😂 everyone is part of the percy protection squad/fanclub they won't accept ANY slander about her 😍

I ALSO LOVE HOW THE YANDERE DADDIES ARE SPENDING TIME WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE KID OMG THATS SO CUTE 🥺🥺🥺🥺

but the nobleman.... that poor guy.... he's literally just a 4x cuck now 💀💀

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

[shuttershocky]

God of War Ragnarok was first and foremost a Dad fantasy and what I mean by that is that it was very specifically about letting dads who actually love their kids live a fantasy of being the coolest shit imaginable to their children no matter how awkward and emotionally stunted they are.

You can tell it was what they were going for because one of the most memorable one-liners in the game is Freya attempting to convince Kratos to start a war with Asgard. Kratos says his only concern is the safety of his son Freya then says he could be the champion of all oppressed under Odin, and then he replies very firmly "I am no one's champion but his."

Also the earth-shattering climactic showdown was a literal 'My dad could beat your dad' bossfight, as Kratos and Thor beat the shit out of each other in front of their children while yelling about being dads

[art-ro-vert]

People chill out about Odin-Mobius rumors! Last week we were sure he is Thor or Balder!

Someone just spreading nonsense rumors for fun, to see how quickly they escalate and people believe in them.

If he was indeed planned as Odin variant, they would have taken another approach for Loki and Mobius interactions. I think we would have clearly felt the age and status difference at least. Mobius would have been more like mentor than a friend.

Now just imagine that Mobius is Odin and replay some scenes from season 2 (that’s hilarious):

Loki and Odin riding the tandem

Loki and Odin playing touchy feet under the table and eating Pies

Odin pointing out that a toy has Loki’s shape

Loki smiling and stuttering like a dork infront of Odin

And honestly, that all would even work for best friends trop, but not for freaking father-son relationship!

#Loki #loki mcu #loki season 2 #loki series #lokius #loki x mobius #mobius m mobius #mobius

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Requesting a crack scenario please (✯◡✯). So imagine Reader and ROR character are married and they have a lovely son and daughter. One day, their children approach their grandpa Adam/Odin/uncle Zeus/aunt Aphrodite and would cry to them saying that their papa is hurting their mama. However it was all just the kids misunderstanding things because one day they saw their mother exit the bedroom with bite marks, hickey (which the kids thought was a bruise), and couldn’t walk properly if you get my drift (¬‿¬).

Humans - Kojiro, Lu Bu, Jack

Gods - Poseidon, Hercules, Hades, Thor, Loki.

-Your darling daughter and handsome son ran into the kitchen from the backyard, their arms going around your legs, “‘Mama-mama!!’” you smiled, moving the mixing bowl off to the side so it wouldn’t get knocked over and you bent down, pecking both of their foreheads, greeting them.

-They greeted you back with kisses of their own as you grabbed them each a banana, peeling it, “Where have you two been?”

-Your son lifted his hand, like when he was in class, “We went to see (Parental Figure)!” you turned, a bit confused, “Oh- why did you two do that if you don’t mind me asking?”

-Usually, when they went off to see (Parental Figure), it was so prepare a surprise for you, like for Mother’s Day, wanting to prepare their own gift for you.

-Your daughter then spoke up, “We tattled!” you turned, even more confused, “Tattled? Who did you tattle on?” they both beamed brightly, speaking in unison again, “‘Daddy!’”

-You blinked, coming over to pet their hair, “Why did you tattle on daddy?” you weren’t prepared for them to turn, giving you puppy dog eyes as your daughter spoke, “Because daddy hurt you!”

-You kneeled, concerned, trying to keep them calm, “Hurt me? Daddy’s never hurt me.” Your son sniffled deeply, trying not to cry, “But you were limping the other day, and we saw bruises and bite marks on your neck!”

-You turned white in shock, freezing as your face turned bright red, you couldn’t explain what you were doing with daddy without scarring your children.

-You smiled gently, consoling them both, “Thank you for tattling on daddy for me, but next time, come to me first. Some things you don’t tattle to others about.”

-Your son beamed, “Because mama’s the boss right?” you giggled softly, “Yup, mama’s the boss.”

-(Love) came in, curious as to why you were talking about who’s the boss and went to speak before a knock came at the door. Instantly your kids covered their mouths, “Ooh~ you’re in trouble~”

-He was confused and went to the door.

-He was not expecting to find Adam there, surrounded by pure fury, black flames surrounding him, “How dare you- how dare you attack my daughter in such a way?!” (Love) was instantly running, trying to figure out what he did, trying to flee from the very furious Adam. It took almost twenty minutes to pull Adam away, after he chased your husband up a tree, and with a bright red face you apologized to him, embarrassed that he was bothered in such a way. Adam pecked you and each of your kids on the cheek before sending a glare to (Love), silently threatening him to be more careful with you. (Love) was not overly pleased to be in trouble, pouting that he got tattled on, but at least you thought it was funny.

            -Kojiro, Lu Bu, and Jack

-He was not expected to be greeted by Zeus who was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, holding onto the doorframe while Aphrodite looked exasperated, holding her cheek. She explained what your children told the two of them, telling Zeus first, but when he started laughing and couldn’t stop, they went to Aphrodite. She explained, without giving too many ‘certain’ details, that sometimes adults don’t know when they’re playing too rough and (Love) didn’t mean to hurt you. The kids were pleased with this answer, but Zeus insisted on coming over. (Love) stomped back in once the other two Greek gods were gone and came to you, acting like a child, “They tattled on me!” you were quickly mimicking Zeus, you couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard as he and your two kids started to playfully argue about tattling.

            -Poseidon, Hercules, and Hades

-Odin was the last person he expected to see but within moments (Love) was bright red, which Odin did think was rather amusing. He told (Love) how your children came to in tears, saying that he was being mean to you, leaving bruises and biting you. He patted (Love’s) shoulder, “Next time, do it in places they can’t see and go easy on Y/N, she told us both last week she’s not ready for more kids yet.” Once Odin left he came in and hugged you close, trying to drag you away from the kitchen, “I’m not sharing mama anymore!” your children were quick to run, grabbing onto his legs, demanding that he set you free. You laughed softly, managing to get free and left the three of them in the living room, play fighting with each other, as you were hoping they would tire each other out.

-Thor and Loki

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror kojiro sasaki #ror lu bu #ror jack the ripper #ror poseidon #ror hades #ror heracles #ror loki #ror thor #ror adam #ror aphrodite #ror zeus #ror odin

[holdmytesseract]

The Beginning 》 The Baby Fever AU

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Loki Laufeyson for the first time in your life.

Warnings: uhhmm... none, I think?

Word Count: 1,6k

a/n: Have I ever told you, how my BabyFever!Loki and Y/N met? 🤔 I think not and therefore, I wrote this little fic... ☺️

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @theaudacitytowrite @lady-rose-moon @aagn360 @fictive-sl0th @mostclevermiss @linaax @peaches1958 @simping-for-marvel @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

MASTERLIST

A loud knock sounded against the wooden door of your little office, before one of the secretaries appeared in the door frame. "Agent Y/L/N?" You looked up from your desk. "Yes, Connie?" The brown-haired woman with glasses gave you a small smile. "Sorry for the disturbance, but the prisoner is ready." You nodded. "Alright. I'm coming." Connie nodded in return as well, before she left the office once again. You took a deep breath and stood up, taking the files of the newly taken prisoner with you. Loki Laufeyson. God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard. Adoptive son of Odin Borson and his wife Frigga; brother to Thor Odinson - which was actually a good friend of yours, due to the fact, that he was a Avenger - just like you... Sometimes. He was royalty - and a war criminal. The God had tried to take over New York, just a week ago with an army, called the Chitauri. S.H.I.E.L.D, the Asgardian council (especially Odin) and some other important people had decided what was going to happen with him. What his punishment was going to be, and well... You were the chosen one to be the bearer of the bad news for the Asgardian prince.

Walking down one of the long hallways in the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, you felt how slight nervosity swirled around in the pit of your stomach. You had never met this man before in your life. Well, you would've met him during his attack, if you wouldn't have laid knocked out at home in bed after catching the flu... Sure, you could look after yourself and you had actually no reason to be nervous, but after hearing everything he had done, Loki seemed to be quite dangerous. The rain clattered against the big window panes on the 60th floor, as you pushed down the door handle to room number seven. With another deep breath, you stepped inside, past the two security guards. The first man you noticed, was the blonde God of Thunder, who gave you a bright smile, "Lady Y/N..." and a nod. "Hey, Thor." You greeted him back, smiling as well. Then you stepped closer, towards the table in the middle. That was when you saw the Asgardian prince for the first time in your life. He was standing behind his brother, arms crossed over his chest and an annoyed expression on his face. You expected Loki to be a lot - but certainly not an incredibly attractive man. One look at him - and suddenly you couldn't breathe. The first thing which immediately hit you like a truck, were his stunning oceanic blue eyes. They were looking straight at you - almost piercing you. Next thing was his face. Thin, but defined lips, paired with clean shaved porcelain skin, razor sharp cheekbones and a jawline to die for. Framed was his gorgeous face by long raven locks, which curled themselves in gentle waves over his shoulders. You couldn't help yourself, but to let your gaze travel lower. He wore a beautiful green tunic - clearly Asgardian, which left little to imagination how well-built his upper body must be underneath the snuggly fitting piece of clothing. The muscles in his arms bulged from having them crossed over his chest; long fingers wrapped around his biceps. Your eyes wandered further south, landing on the perfectly fitting green trousers. Tight trousers - and... Was that... leather? strong thighs peeked out from underneath the tunic, holding his body upright. Long legs led down to his leather boots clad feet. You blinked and swallowed hard, clearly needing a moment.

Normally, the smug and witty God of Mischief noticed immediately, when a woman was drawn in by his undeniable attractiveness. It happened often to him; and therefore that he had a feeling for the female gender, he could clearly tell when a woman was attracted to him. Not uncommonly sexually. But not today. Not this time. Not with Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Why? Because Loki was completely taken aback by your stunning beauty as well. It felt like he could suddenly think straight for the first time in weeks - months... Norns, he would have never ever imagined, that a partially S.H.I.E.L.D agent, partially Avenger was able to look that stunningly beautiful. Never ever had he seen such beauty before - and he had seen a lot. He could've marvelled you longer, no... He would've loved to marvel you longer, but then his oaf of a brother ruined the moment, caused the bubble to burst and brought the prince back down to earth - just like you.

"Shall we start?" You blinked quickly, redirecting your gaze onto Thor. "Of course, sure." You more or less stammered, before you cleared your throat and stepped over to the table, sitting down on the cushioned chair. "P-Please take a seat, Mr. Laufeyson." Usually, Loki would chide you now, for not calling him properly - prince, god, or even king, but he couldn't. His mouth was like sewn shut, voice stuck in his throat. The silver tongue literally had turned to lead. As if remote-controlled, he sat down on the chair, which was opposite you at the table. Thor remained to stand behind him. "I, uh, I think you know why you are here, Mr. Laufeyson?" Loki couldn't even bring himself to say a single word. He just stared at you. Thor frowned, confused to see his brother speak so little. What was wrong with him?

"Mr. Laufeyson?" You tried again, but the raven-haired god still just stared at you. You swallowed hard, unable to read his expression yet. What you thought was pure ignorance and defiance, was actually pure astonishment and overextension. After all, the god never found himself in a situation like that before. You took a deep breath and opened the file with slightly shaking hands. Better to get this over with, you thought - at least one part of your brain. The other was highly intrigued with the mysterious, dark prince sitting across you at that big table. "The state of New York, the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division - in short form S.H.I.E.L.D and the high council of Asgard hand down the following punishment for the Asgardian prince and God of Mischief, Loki Laufeyson." You started reading aloud from the paper laying in front of you. "You are not allowed to return to Asgard for an indefinite time - neither to other realms. You are bound to stay on the earth - Midgard. In addition, your punishment is to join the Avengers initiative, in order to make up for the destruction you caused and the lives you destroyed. For the first five months, you will stay under supervision. If there are no complications occurring within those five months, you are allowed to join the Avengers on missions." Your words managed to snap the God out of his trance like rigidity. That he was banished from Asgard was one thing, but that he had to join the Avengers was something entirely different. Loki blinked violently, now looking at you incredulously. "I am forced to join this bunch of clowns and would-be superheroes?" "Brother-" Thor immediately interjected, trying to cool Loki down, but you lifted your hand. "It's okay, Thor. Let's give him time to adjust." You didn't know where those kind words were coming from, but a part inside you could understand Loki. You may not know him 'privately', but you read his files. Abandoned by his biological father as a baby, left on a rock to die. Saved by the Allfather, only to grow up as the 'second best', living in the shadow of his older brother and being lied to his whole life. That man hadn't an easy past.

"This is ridiculous." His loud voice cut through the air. "Would you rather end up in the dungeons in Asgard, brother? Damned to never see the light of the day again?" Loki knew his brother was right, but his pride couldn't accept that. "Well, maybe it would've been for the best! Just lock me away in that rotten cell, so nobody has to worry about me anymore! All I ever was in my whole life was anyway nothing more than a burden for-" "Loki, please don't. I-" Thor said, shaking his head, as the two security guards stepped inside the room, cutting him off. They must've heard the noises. They pulled him rather roughly up from the chair, handcuffed him and gagged him, before they pulled Loki with them. You watched with wide eyes and opened mouth, unable to say or do something. You saw how they dragged him away - such a strong, majestic man suddenly so weak and small. Loki took a last look over his shoulder at you, before he vanished through the door. His eyes so troubled. "Agent Y/L/N, are you alright?" Nick Fury's voice suddenly urged to your ears, ripping you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head up to meet his eye, nodding. "Sure." It was exact in that moment, that you realised, that this man wasn't evil like everybody else stated. Maybe this man was just heavily misunderstood - and one thing was certain... You would get to the bottom of that.

Little did you now at that time, that you just met your soulmate. Your best friend. Your future husband and father of your children.

#the baby fever au #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #marvel loki #loki imagines #loki oneshot #mcu fanfiction

[itspercyintime]

I think it would be absolutely hilarious if there's a scene 10 years in the future or something and Percy's visiting the museum again and Nancy of all people is the curator.

YES I LOVE THAT

I can only imagine this like that scene in thor ragnorak that goes

"Thor, son of Odin"

"Surtur, son of..a bitch you're still alive!"

so do with that what you will

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #nancy bobofit

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: outfits & portraits

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: before the main story; decades before 'at first sight'

Summary: While on a vacation in Midgard with your friends, you encounter a beautiful stranger.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); a few cuss words; Astrid (pre-antagonist era); implied smut [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: the last part takes place in Season 3 when the spell's lifted and they're happy & married

"Princess, what in the Nine even possessed you with the idea to purchase this…apartment? And when?"

You turned to face Halley, a lady in waiting for your grandmother, Queen Frigga, who had been sitting comfortably in an arm chair inside the living area of your apartment on Midgard. On a whim, you and your friends decided that perhaps you could all take a trip to the realm simply to have a break from the duties that swamped your daily schedules.

"Well a few decades ago I'd presented the idea to the Allfather that perhaps I could find a way to make my own wealth separate from the House of Odin, and naturally he had quite the colorful opinion about his only grandchild toiling away at the mercy of inferior laborers." She, along with your other two friends from the Queen's ladies in waiting, Narda and Astrid, laughed at your impression of your Grandfather.

"Could you truly blame him, Your Highness?" Astrid countered with a giggle. "Imagine the gossips that would spread about in Asgard if its citizens saw their darling crown princess…a merchant in one of the shops that they frequented?"

"Funny enough, that's almost exactly what Odin said." You gave them all a shrug, continuing with your story. "So he told me that perhaps I could explore a way to earn this wealth…in a way that he deemed fitting of a royal. I did my research and found that there truly wasn't an opportunity in Asgard that he found suitable enough, so I explored earning it here in Midgard. With a currency conversion system in place between the two realms, I figured perhaps I could explore my options here."

"And so you've acquired a job that allowed you to purchase this place for us to lounge when we vacation?" Narda asked you, a toothy smile gracing her features as she continued to take in your surroundings. "I must say, Y/N, this is magnificent! It's nearly as opulent as your own chambers!"

"Not quite…" you trailed off, taking a walk around the apartment and waving your arm in a dramatic flourish. "I do not simply own this apartment as a reward for the wealth I'd already amassed. I own…this structure. The whole thing is one of many that I own around Midgard." You found yourself unable to fight the satisfied grin pulling at the sides of your mouth at the sight of their dropped jaws. "This is the source of my wealth, not the reward of it. I am almost certain that this reveal was the only time I'd heard Odin tell me that he was impressed with my mind. Even told me it nearly rivaled his son's."

"Your father's?"

You laughed at Halley's innocent enough query. Truth was you loved your father Thor dearly but it was common knowledge to anyone who'd seen you growing up that your intellect surpassed his early on in your youth. "No no, the other one. The one that's been gone for centuries on a realms-wide mission."

"Ohh him! Norns, what was his name again?"

"Don't know," you answered the fire-haired lady with a shrug. "I suppose I'll meet him eventually. His mission has to conclude sometime, right?" Your friends nodded their heads at your logic, finally giving you enough  opportunity to segue into a new topic of conversation, making a motion with your hand as if to wave the current subject of the ever mysterious dark prince of Asgard away. "I did not bring us here to speculate about elusive members of my family. Truthfully, I'd arranged for this trip so that we may bring to reality a certain topic we'd discussed a fortnight ago? Something that Astrid mentioned about…wedding outfits?"

"Ooh, do tell, Princess." Halley sat up straighter from the edge of the bed, visibly bouncing with excitement.

"Well, we'd discussed all about what we would wear at the ceremony. Giving our vows of fidelity or what ever other tradition we would choose in its place, considering that some of us are rather averse to the sight of blood in general, let alone drawing their own." You threw a playfully pointed glance at Narda who simply giggled and shrugged her shoulders at you in agreement. "But that had me thinking…what if we had a wardrobe that was only for the eyes of the one we would spend the rest of our lives with?"

"Your Highness, how deliciously salacious," Astrid cooed. "Perhaps it could even be for the one we're destined for!" she squealed, clapping her hands together with a childlike mirth about her.

"Oh Norns, Astrid, this again? Fateds?" She nodded excitedly at you. "'Tis nothing but a pretty tale weaved by our parents and their parents before them to give us something to yearn for when we were but children. Heart's mates and red strings--oh, apologies, crimson threads…They're all nothing but an illusion, my friends."

"But Y/N, a seer in Vanaheim told me that my thread was already crimson!" Narda exclaimed. "Perhaps it is true?"

"My friend if your thread is truly crimson then I wish you all the happiness in the Nine." You walked over to the reddish-blonde to pull her into a warm embrace. "How about this, when we return home I will consult with my grandmother about these threads of ours and I will know the name of your Fated. Then, I will keep that information to myself and give you only confirmation on whether you've already met them or if they already play a role in your life."

The lady in waiting hugged you back with fervor. "Oh thank you, Y/N! Oh I do hope that it's Fandral. That would just be a dream. A wonderful, beautiful dream."

"Well then perhaps you should acquire a special wardrobe in his colors," you offered with a smirk. "A touch of optimism never hurt anyone." You turned to address your other friends once more. "And perhaps we should all see each other's choices? So that in the future if we were to ever cross paths with one another while donning these specific robes, we would know the significance of the event? And know better than to disturb each other?"

The three ladies nodded their agreement as you all raced out of your apartment to scour the more tantalizing clothing that Midgard had to offer, your conversation before parting ways purely consisting of the color and how much lace or satin you all pictured in the attire.

"No," you grumbled at the reflection looking back at you, the color of the satin negligee somehow disagreeable with the image you had in mind when you were thinking 'only for the eyes of the one you would love forever'. It was in your colors, but somehow it felt as if it was the wrong choice…

"Maybe you could try another color, sweetie?"  the sales clerk offered. "You have such a lovely skin tone for dark jewel tones, so maybe a nice sapphire blue, or maybe even a lovely burgundy--"

"Not the burgundy," you cut her off, your voice taking on a distinctly Midgardian accent from this region of the realm, pinched but with a slight lilt and flattening your vowels to rid yourself of your Asgardian tone. There will be nothing even remotely alluring about the occasion if I choose an attire set in my father's colors, Norns help me, you thought to yourself. But as you envisioned the color wheel in your mind's eye, an idea suddenly struck you. "How about emerald?"

You exited the lingerie merchant satisfied with your purchase, albeit a touch perplexed that the set you ended up purchasing was not set in your own colors but rather a color that hadn't been present within Asgard since at least before you were born. In truth, it seemed as if it had been a taboo to don a color that was the opposite of the House of Thor.

And yet somehow when the color was placed against your skin, the resulting image felt almost…

"Oh fuck, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, your Midgardian accent still on full display as you turned to face the towering man you'd surely bowled over. "I wasn't looking where I was going it was completely--"

"I was at fault, I wholeheartedly apologize."

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the man before you. Norns, what a beautiful specimen. The angled features of his face that resembled not only the sculptures set in marble by the great creators in Midgard's history, but also the statues set in bronze and gold throughout Asgard. The slicked back raven hair that cascaded down to his shoulders in loose curls. All of it culminated in a man that had effectively stolen the air from your lungs.

"You must be made of quite the strong stock," he commented at you with a chuckle, walking towards  you with a brilliant smile gracing his features. "Most individuals I cross paths with like that usually don't stay on their feet."

Norns help me, his voice…I could drown in a pool of just his voice. "I was…about to say the same thing," you returned with a giggle that had you inwardly slapping yourself. You are the crown princess of Asgard, Y/N, you best act the fucking part. "I usually knock people over if I bump into them like that. Oh gosh I hope I didn't--cause you to spill anything on yourself." You began to motion toward his suit, set in black with gold cufflinks at the ends of the coat sleeves. "It'd be a shame to ruin such an impeccable suit."

"No worries, milady, there was nothing spilt." You had to fight with everything you had to stop yourself from swooning as an effect of his accent and vernacular that suggested he was walking among the people of the wrong century. He began to motion toward his suit as well. "In truth I do not usually gravitate towards these colors but today somehow it felt--"

"Right," you finished for him, your smile stretching even wider across your lips as he nodded at you, his own smile becoming more brilliant as the sun's light caught it. "I kind of…had a similar experience just a while ago." Before you could make a further fool of yourself for staring so blatantly at the stranger's face, undoubtedly complete with your eyes glistening with lascivious thoughts as it was known to do, you broke your gaze away from the man and stammered, "I--I should get going. Friends waiting for me and all." As you were stepping away backwards from him, you called out, "Sorry again!"

Hours later and you still couldn't rid your mind of the face of the handsome stranger you'd bumped into, blankly oohing and aahing at Halley's and Narda's chosen wardrobes and committing the images to memory for the moment you were to ever come across them wearing such garments.

All the while you found yourself sketching the man's face in your journal, deciding that if you couldn't banish his visage from your mind, then perhaps you should immortalize it somewhere instead.

"Norns be good, Y/N! Who is that absolutely delectable gentleman on the page?" Halley rested her chin on your shoulder, trying to get a better look at your illustration. "Please don't be cruel and tell us he's simply someone you envisioned in your mind's eye."

"No no, my friend, do not worry. He is quite real," you said softly, a smile finding its way to your face as you stared at the man's visage on the pages. "I crossed paths with him earlier on my way back here. Didn't even stumble one bit when I did."

"Hmm…perhaps he's not Midgardian," Narda offered, wiggling her eyebrows at you as she spied the smile that hadn't let your face quite yet.

"Perhaps he's a frost giant," Astrid jested from inside the bathroom, earning chuckles from the rest of you outside waiting for her to emerge with her chosen wardrobe. "Then again you'd know straight away, Your Highness. Blue skin and storeys high and all." A few moments later, she spoke again. "Alright my friends, I hope you're ready…"

The garments she'd chosen took you aback, with it being a black satin negligee with detailing in gold lace. "Considering our friendship and Asgard's customs about wearing colors I'm going to have to ask--"

"Norns, no!" she cut you off with a cackle. "Beautiful as you are, Highness, my devotion does not run that deep--"

"Astrid, relax. I'm simply poking a bit of fun." She let out a sigh of relief, the panic subsiding from her face. "But once again considering our friendship, I'll allow it." You gave her a cheeky wink before she closed the door on you all again to change back to her regular clothing.

"Did you get his name, Y/N?" You turned to Narda, furrowing your brows at her question. "The handsome stranger you've been sketching. Did you get his name?"

You placed the heels of your palms to your temples in a show of self-directed abasement. "I am a complete fool! Never even crossed my mind to give him my name, or get his." You groaned as you buried your face in your hands, grumbling, "Chances are I'd never cross paths with him again regardless. Besides, if he's Midgardian then any chance we even remotely had to last are doomed. I'd outlive the poor mortal."

Several decades later…

The numbers were starting to blur together in your vision as you grew tired from computing for the budget for new training equipment for the fledgling soldiers of the realm when you heard the doors to your chambers opening, a familiar audible pattern of footsteps causing an elated smile to stretch across your face.

"Hello, husband," you called out, not looking up from your work desk, your grin growing wider as you heard his footsteps fast approaching where you were seated. A faint giggle escaped you as you felt him rest his chin on your shoulder before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "How fortunate of me that you've concluded your duties early today."

A satisfied sigh slipped from your lips as he proceeded to press kisses down to your neck, lightly sucking on the juncture to your shoulder and smirking against your skin as you relaxed against him. "I've missed you, my darling."

"Missed me?" you chuckled, his fingers lightly grasping your chin to turn your head to face him so that he could press his lips to yours in a tender kiss. "You saw me last this morning, Loki, it's been mere hours."

"Hmmm yes…and already it has been too long," he murmured against your lips. "Did you truly think I was exaggerating when I once said I wished to spend every moment with you for the rest of your lives?" You could only let out a whimpered moan as he kissed you once more, slipping his tongue past your lips to glide against your own, his arm moving to wrap around your waist and pull you tighter against him.

His words caused your heart to swell that you feared it would burst from sheer bliss. The thought that once before you would have squirmed away from his touch because of the spell that you begged the Queen to place on you had the strong sting of regret niggling away at your mind. Especially now that you even shared his sentiments of missing each other if you spent even mere moments apart, that there were moments throughout the day when you would instinctively reach for his hand and have to hide your visible dismay when your mind reconciled that he wasn't there.

You found yourself smiling against his lips as you could hear the reluctance in him as he pulled away. "You're quite a distraction, my love," he cooed in between kisses. "I distinctly remember coming here to ask you something."

"If I recall, I was simply sitting by my desk, staring at numbers when you walked in and you distracted me," you retorted, smirking at him as you pulled away, appreciating the amused grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked upon you. "What did you need to ask me?"

"I was perusing the list you'd given me on your journal and I came across…an illustration." Your journal suddenly materialized in his hand and he flipped through the pages with his magic, the pages glowing with the telltale green hue of his enchantments. "When did you draw this portrait of me?"

You looked upon the page as he placed the journal atop the scrolls and parchments that you were analyzing, your breath hitching as tears welled in your eyes. "It was you," you uttered with choked back cries.

"I don't quite follow, little Princess." You felt your body relaxing against him once again as he pulled you close, pressing tender kisses to your hair as his free hand lightly stroked up and down your arm.

"Decades before we'd met, I visited Midgard with my friends. I had to attend to some of my investments there and turned it into a…bit of a vacation. While I was there I'd crossed paths with this beautiful stranger whose face refused to leave my mind. So I drew him." You turned your gaze back to him, the air leaving your lungs as you saw the wonder shining in his own eyes. "And now here you are."

As the moments ticked by that he remained staring at you, fingertips lightly tracing the features upon your face, you could feel the crease between your brows beginning to form as confusion washed over you. "It couldn't possibly…" he trailed off before promptly stepping away from you and walking toward his side of the study, to the shelves that housed his tomes upon tomes of journals.

"Loki?" You rose from your desk and made your way toward your husband, the astonishment unwavering from his features as he seemed to have found the page that he was searching for. "What is it?"

"Y/N…my darling wife…" He reached for your hand and raised it to his lips to kiss once you stepped close enough. "Decades before we'd met, I visited Midgard as a brief intermission between my surveillance assignments. I crossed paths with a beguiling woman I'd assumed was an astoundingly strong Midgardian because I hadn't bowled her over. I wore a suit in colors not my own purely because it felt…it felt as if I should. As if the Norns had been guiding me." He let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, holding you close against him. "Your colors."

"Husband--"

"Her face refused to leave my mind. So I drew her." He showed you the page his journal had been opened to, containing an illustration that held a near perfect likeness to you. "It was you." Your vision blurred once again as the tears welled in your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you tried to blink them away; all you could see was the silhouette of a wide grin stretched across his face before he pulled you into a kiss that stole the air from your lungs, weakening you so that you would have been on your knees if he hadn't been holding you up. "Even before we met it was always you. My little Princess. My dear heart."

Your journal materialized in your hands with a flash of green and you raised it next to his, putting your illustrations of one another side by side. "Now they're together," you said softly, letting out a soft giggle as both journals disappeared with another flash of green, his fingers intertwining with yours as he turned you to face him.

"Now they're together," he echoed your words, his tone taking on a darker tone that sent a shudder throughout your body as he effortlessly lifted you off your feet. The only sound that left your lips was a whimpered moan as you hooked your legs around his waist, a smirk tugging at the corner of your husband's mouth as he began to walk you both toward your bedchamber. "Just like us," he husked as he laid you down on your bed, proceeding to press kisses down the column of your neck, stopping his descent at the neckline of your dress to suck a bruise over your heart. "I was made to be yours."

"And I yours," you breathed out, repletion washing over you as you felt his hands running down your sides, fingers tracing teasingly slow circles once skin met skin.

"I wish to make love to you, my darling wife." You found yourself becoming crazed for his touch the moment your gazes met, his eyes darkened with lustful intent and yet a tenderness still peeking through as he wordlessly asked for your assent.

A low humming sound of appreciation reverberated through him as you ran your hand through his raven locks. "Yes." You felt a smile pull at the sides of your mouth as you sighed the word, feeling the layers of clothing separating you two from one another melting away in a tauntingly slow wash of green. "My darling husband, as long as I am breathing the answer will always be yes."

A/N: I want you all to remember Astrid's chosen outfit that's gonna come into play again sometime in Season 2. That thing that YN mentions about crimson threads will also come into play in another companion piece that I'll be writing soon-ish…from Queen Frigga's POV. 👀✌️

This one took me embarrassingly long to write because of how slow I was moving this entire last week due to being hit with a big sick for days. 🥲 But my breathing's back to about 98%, I don't feel like I have a marble helmet weighing down on my head anymore, so I'm jumping straight into the next thing I'm writing, which is summoned part 2! After that it's gonna be a juggling act between requests, Season 1B, and a whole bunch of other things because I already know that I just can't help myself 🫠

'everything' taglist @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017

Loki taglist @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @ozymdias @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @cheekyscamp @lokisgoodgirl @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #relinquish the crown #muddyorbs writes