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shreddedparchment · 3 years

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A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Not So Alone

Pairing: Loki x female teen!reader (platonic) Summary: Meeting a young fan of his gives Loki some renewed hope. Warnings: none :) A/N: Here you go nonny! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was never one any person thought of much note, a sad fact he’d near resigned himself to, setting his face and body into an unbothered mask. The outside, at least, convinced everyone else, though no amount of staring at an emotionless reflection could impress upon Loki that he didn’t care. His mind was far too tumultuous for that. Anyway, for being the God of Lies, Loki has never figured out how to effectively lie to himself.

Five years in the Avengers Tower was far more than enough for the downtrodden god, and now he lived in an unremarkable apartment building that held some kind of charm to him, if solely for the reason there was a small, privately owned bookshop beneath it. He enjoyed the neatly arranged books in the display window, greeting him as he walked up the three stairs to unlock the building crammed in with so many others every day. Once his courage had been gathered two months after his initial move, he’d begun frequenting the store often.

Regardless of whether he was able to escape the relative misery he found himself stewing in by living in the Tower, he still had to work with the team that still managed to hold some amount of contempt for him even after he’d proved himself repeatedly. Simply, they weren’t cut from the same cloth, and when trying to sew the fabrics together, they clashed something awful. A truly dreadful state for a team of superheroes to work in, remarked Loki to himself often, and had resolved to make himself as small and agreeable as possible, though the sharp wit never died in his tongue. Such an attitude as he adopted seemed to suit the others just fine, and missions were carried out successfully and without any major mishaps more often than not.

Today he was heading that familiar way up to his home after a trip to the supermarket, when he saw a young girl sitting on those slate steps he could take two at a time if he really wanted to. Midgardians aged differently than what he was used to, so he wasn’t much good at supposing someone’s age, but he thought you looked to be about in your teenaged years. You were sitting glumly upon those cold, grey steps, staring down at the blank, stark white pages of a sketchpad. Your eraser on the tip of the pencil made a dull thump-thump-thump as you tapped it against the emptiness waiting to be enlivened by strokes from the opposite, leaden end.

“Pardon,” he said, carefully moving on your side.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I-” you cut off with a heinous sort of gasp, the kind Loki would have thought fake if not for the raw feeling behind it. “Y-you’re Loki!”

“Ah, so I have been found out,” he chuckled, somewhat nervously. It seemed you said it with a sort of starstruck wonder, but he could hardly believe such a thing possible and figured it was wishful thinking on his part.

“Oh my gosh!! I’m your biggest fan,” you squealed before introducing yourself and brandishing your still unfilled sketchbook and pencil toward him. “If-if it’s not too much trouble, could I maybe get y-your signature... Please?”

Now the shoe was on the other foot, and he felt shock at this stuttered request. It felt almost like some long forgotten fever dream. Someone wanted his signature? At this point, it was a small thing for the other avengers at this point, but not so for Loki, who so many were still afraid to meet eyes with. He could have continued wistfully standing there as if reminiscing over some passed joy, but this was the present, and he did not want to disappoint his biggest, possibly only, fan.

“Alright,” he granted, putting down his bags of fresh produce and fish he was planning on cooking up for dinner that night. He took the offered paper and scrawled a quick note, made out to the name you’d given him moments before. He was never much of an emotional speaker, but he hoped it sufficed. He finished with his well-practiced, looping signature. “Here you go, little one.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Loki!”

He chuckled a little at the sound of the name. True, he went by no surname as he felt he didn’t belong to any one particular group or family, and would rather not be reminded of his lineage, true or otherwise. Still, hearing the honorific before his name was unusual, especially when your continued respect prompted you to offer to help with his groceries.

“I am certain you need to be running home soon, it is almost dinner time. But I appreciate it immensely.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you persisted, grabbing a bag anyway. “I lice in the building. We just moved here. But you save the city literally all the time, and your powers are so cool! You deserve a little extra respect.”

“If you say so,” he managed, still in a fit of disbelief. “If anything, it should be because I am elderly. Over 1,000 years old, you know,” he joked.

Indeed, you did know, and began to ask him a series of questions about things he might have experienced in history, though pausing to ramble about how you hoped you weren’t pestering and to stop you if you were, he interjected it was no bother at all. By the time you reached the third floor where his rooms resided, you were bubbling with uncontainable excitement, sharing that your new home was on the same level, just a few doors down.

Once you’d helped him deliver his things to his table, he showed you back to the door when you told him your father would be home from work at any minute, and the god thought it important to introduce himself to his new neighbor. In those few minutes, you began to shy away again, that stutter coming back, as if you’d realized anew just what exactly was happening.

Loki shook the hand of the man you’d identified as your father, a nearly middle-aged sir who was just on the cusp of graying. He exchanged a quick conversation with him that resulted in an invitation to dinner that weekend. The god was near sure you were ready to collapse with excitement when he said yes, but you managed to remain relatively calm, though there was a certain spark behind your eyes. Still, it was a school night, and you had some homework to complete, so you all said goodbye to each other and went your separate ways.

As Loki settled down for the evening in his favorite, comfy armchair with the book he’d started the night before, for the first time in a long time, he felt not so alone, and most thrilling of all, he felt appreciated.

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Finale

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 10 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; slight reference to past sexual abuse; fluff

Word Count: 6,700+

Author’s Note: Guys... the finale! I’m crying actual tears lmao. Thank you for reading my words. It means the world.

The New Compound, July 2025, 7:09pm

The extra hour of sunlight this time of year was the easiest excuse to use for lounging on the roof to watch the sun set slowly. The compound no longer touches the clouds, but it still provides a rich view of the landscape across. There is no blowing of horns or shouts of the road hecklers; it’s a simple hour of solace to rest your chin against your arms, eat your snacks, and watch the sky change colors until nothing remains but the possibility of counting the stars.

“Hey… can I sit here?”

Your heart does a little jump at the sound of his voice. Traitor, you want to say to the pesky organ, but remain quiet as Steve wanders over to stand by you. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Do what you will, Captain.” It’s simple enough of a response, you figure. You look down at the granola bar in your hand, turning it over a few times before rolling your eyes at the silly gesture. “Granola bar?”

He nods, watching as you snap it in half, and grabs the piece. “Thanks.”

You eat in cooperative silence. You take small bites, saving the granola bar so you have something to focus on during the length of time Steve decides to stay up here. He seems to be doing the same. “So what brings you out here? Another depressive episode?”

“I happen to have the perfect amount of depressive episodes, thank you very much.”

You snort, “Ditto.”

He takes a small bite and rolls the granola over his tongue. “No, I uh… I actually came out here to watch the sunset.”

“That’s sweet.” You shrug and admit your reason to him without a second thought. “I came out here to be sad, so.”

“Thor’s visit isn’t doing you any good?”

Thor is genuinely looking better. He’s started braiding his hair again, exercising with the help of Quill and Bruce, and participating in conversation without being addressed first. Seeing him makes you happy, but there’s still a glint in his eyes that reminds you of the lowest point of his life. And his lowest point was also yours. Sometimes you just want to forget. “He looks better. Healthier, got some light back in his eyes. It’s just whenever we look at each other we think of the same thing, I guess.”

Steve hums low and his shoulder brushes yours. “Loki.”

“It’s good to reminisce and all but I’ve got my limits,” you say.

“What was the special connection between you and Loki anyway?”

You grin at such an innocent question. Steve had never been close to Loki, didn’t really like him much, but he tolerated the God wandering about. You figure he genuinely wants to know. “I met him a little bit before I was assaulted. Everyone in the compound had their suspicions but no one asked. It was like they were avoiding me but also trying to help, I don’t really know. It was a weird time. And Loki, after we caught that dragon thing and really, really properly met, just straight up asked me why I was so distant all of a sudden.” Your chest warms at the memory. “I told him. And you know what the first thing he said to me was?”

Steve shakes his head a little and his eyes follow the tilt of your mouth. “‘What a cunt’.”

He startles himself into a laugh, the rough word not expected. You continue, “It was the first time I laughed in four months.”

Steve follows your gaze out to the sunset. He suddenly feels guilty, out of the loop, sad. You had only mentioned your assault to him once when you discovered Tony’s afterlife gifts, and he never brought it up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were-”

“Bucky had just moved into the tower and all of your attention was on him. I don’t blame you for not seeing me.”

It’s true, but Steve doesn’t forgive himself. He’s had two years to check up on you and because of his own selfish choice, he’s let you slip from his fingers. A question bubbles from the back of his mind — one that he doesn’t think twice about finally asking. If he does, he won’t ask. “Do you miss… me?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Sam put the idea in my head and—”

You sigh, “Steve, it’s the fact that he had to put the idea in your head. I can lie and say I’ve been all fine and dandy, or I can tell the truth and say I’ve been all fine and dandy. Take your pick.”

Steve stares at you for a long moment, mouth parting around invisible words. You’re staring at the sunset, avoiding his gaze but aware of his eyes on you, and he misses you. He truly, terribly, misses you. He decides he’s got nothing more to lose — he’s already lost you. “Well, I miss you. Do with that what you will.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes: wind in your ears, legs shifting when too much weight has been applied, tiny sniffs of the nose. You don’t really know what to do with that information. Steve misses you. And you miss him. But he doesn’t deserve to know that. There’s been no apology from him, just things he’ll do to appease Sam.

At the three minute mark, you groan quietly and turn to him. “Are you seriously still going to watch the sunset up here?”

Steve smirks and watches you from his peripheral. He really has missed being on the receiving end of your various tones of voices. “I have been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

His company isn’t all that bad.

Present Day, 2025, 9:07am

Perhaps there were good things that came from being locked up for over two weeks, alone. Last time you were locked up with the team and there was absolutely no special treatment after that. Now you’re resisting the urge to burst out laughing as Steve piles on the seventh massive pancake on your plate; or rolling your eyes as Sam keeps asking if you want more maple syrup — ‘What flavor? We’ve got six!’ — and Peter’s drowning Bucky with questions about who he encountered at the wedding.

“Is it the same as Netflix Narcos?”

“No,” you say bluntly.

“Is the Amazon series legit? Like, did Omar really kill the DEA agent?”

“No.”

“Is Omar as evil as they say?”

“No.”

“Damn,” Peter groans, piling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Nothing’s as exciting as it seems, huh?”

Everyone looks to him, then to each other.

Steve clears his throat, “I was literally shot.”

Mouth full, you follow. “And I was abused for years.”

“And I had to deal with them while with HYDRA,” Bucky says with his mouth full too.

“Man, they shot at me. That counts,” Sam adds.

“And I finally got to use the shield. While being shot at,” Scott says.

You interject, “Technically I was being shot at.”

Even with such a cloud of violence, with gruesome memories — memories that would just be shoveled into the pile of things that no one is ever going to talk about again — you all begin laughing. Poor Peter missed out on a lot, but he can put two and two together. He knows this is his only chance to ask before you all lock it away and call it just another mission. It doesn’t hurt to humor him.

And even though you won’t mention it to any one else unless they ask — this wasn’t just another mission for you or Steve. Things have changed and the both of you know it. The aches within your chest are no longer negative or a bother, but instead are blooming flowers that have laid dormant for years. You’ve been plucking petals for as long as the two of you can remember, and it’s about damn time you both end up on the same page.

Everything has been quiet. Sure, there are bounties on everyone’s head but when is there not? You’ve pissed off more cartel leaders and gang leaders and political enemies than you can count on two hands, so this enemy territory is not all that foreign. You recognize the high trees, the gray skies, the mud beneath your boots. But you’ve got friends on your team that know how to climb those trees; friends on your team that know how to move the clouds and make the sky the talk; friends on your team that would hump through mud and snow watching your six.

You can’t believe you even thought about leaving after the mission in the first place. This is where you belong, where all of you belong, because you’re the only ones with good hearts who qualify for the job.

As breakfast winds down, Steve takes the opportunity to sprinkle in moments of long-awaited public displays of affection. When you go to refill your orange juice, he sneaks a kiss on your cheek. When you go to wash your plate, he makes sure Peter is looking the other way before patting your ass. And when you’re the one to envelope his slim waist from behind, he melts in your combined warmth.

“So, about our date,” Steve inquires, cheeks turning pink but voice unwavering. He looks brand new, refreshed, and there’s a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen since forever. You can’t remember the last time you have, but you figure it must have been back when the world hadn’t yet swallowed him whole. Now, he’s burning bright with the youth his soul has missed.

You jump up and down, “Ooo, exciting!”

Steve takes you by the waist, swinging you in every direction. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and not exactly dancing but it’s pure. “Chinese? Pizza? Just fries?”

“¿Por qué no los tres?” Pursing your lips, you wait for his answer.

“That can be arranged.”

You gasp dramatically, “You’re spoiling me.”

“Well I have two years to make up for it.”

That startles a laugh from deep inside your chest. “That’s gonna be our inside joke now, huh? Two of the worst years of our lives and we’re joking about it.”

He blushes along with you. “I think that describes our relationship perfectly.”

“Our relationship…” Your voice comes out like a melodic whisper and Steve feels it in his bones.

He grins down at you but before he can respond, someone enters the common room rather cautiously.

“Oh, now what the hell are you doing here?” Steve demands, pushing you to stand behind him. The gesture is nice, but completely unnecessary. Friday would have alerted the team if someone entered the grounds armed.

Agent Kavert raises his hands, “Relax. I’m not here to arrest you or anything.”

Steve tries to move his shoulders in a way where Agent Kavert can’t see your head. But you maneuver around him, somehow ending up peeking your head through Steve’s underarm. “If I know the law, and I think I do, you can’t really arrest someone in their own house anyway, right?” You pat Steve repeatedly on his side. “Right?”

Before Steve can respond, Agent Kavert speaks. With Steve guarding you, it seems the only thing Agent Kavert wants to do is get in and get out as fast as he can. “I just came to apologize. Ballistics came back and the evidence does show that you didn’t kill Ernesto Vega. It was Ramirez’s issued gun.”

Yeah, you think. The gun Seda stole.

“Oh, what a breath of relief! I almost forgot I was there.”

He sighs and his lips pull into a small smile. “You’re not gonna tell me where Ramirez is, huh?”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave you two alone, but not before squeezing your hand on his way out. He nods over to Peter, who’s still crouching in the kitchen, unseen by Kavert. Peter gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, happy to spy for his Captain. But you know he’s really asking Peter to take care of you while he’s gone.

You let out a heavy sigh. Omar has been wanted for years for another murder he didn’t even commit. And now, he’s wanted for another. He may be a giant with morals, but even he can’t escape the gruesome reality that plagues the wicked.

“I don’t even know where he is. If you came looking for answers—”

“No, I just… Everything’s been so fucked up since half the universe came back. And the possibility of an Avenger being bad, having played us for years — I think it just scared a lot of people.” Agent Kavert actually looks sincere. He adjusts his footing and chuckles a little under his breath. There’s a fine line creasing his forehead, but it isn’t formed from stress. He’s smiling, an honest look, and his eyebrows pull inward. “And Shakespeare? Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug and lean back against the counter. “When half the world disappears and takes your family and friends with it, there’s really not much else to do.”

And besides, Loki was really into Shakespeare.

You continue, deciding at the last second to throw Agent Kavert a bone about your past. “Shield didn’t know but Nick Fury did. So did Pierce. And when Shield fell, Fury just hid it even more.” You give him a half smile. “We weren’t helping the cartel. We were slowly taking it apart.”

Agent Kavert nods, thinking it over. “The deal Jackeline made with us was pretty simple. She’d tell us all the inside secrets that she knew and in exchange, no charges against her and none so serious for you.”

Your shoulders slump and you shoot him a blank stare. “Was it really that simple? Like, I could have just used her as my one free call?”

“Joke all you want. You should have called us when Shield fell. The double agent thing was risky and everyone needs help taking down a giant like that.”

“I did have help. Involving more people was never planned.”

“He was just as much our mission as he was yours.”

Agent Kavert, as sorry as he looks, still doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s fine, you think. Not everyone can. And you’re not in the mood to argue anymore. “No… he wasn’t.”

He seems to read your mind because he simply accepts your answer. “I really am sorry for accusing you. And for the government arresting you alone and letting the white man go free.”

A tiny snort tickles your nostrils. Agent Kavert is white, and it’s even more amusing considering he’s being serious. “Thanks… I guess.”

He turns to leave, seemingly normal, until he spins on his heel and claps his hands. “Oh! And by the way — don’t leave the country. The charges of conspiracy and murder have all been dropped. But there’s evidence of drug smuggling. So, you’re on house arrest.”

Your eyes widen and you reply with a sarcastic yell. “Thanks!” He turns to leave again. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

He glances over his shoulder, “Could not have let you just get away with it. Some of that smuggling was under no order from Shield at all.”

“You know I can easily disable that ugly ass ankle bracelet you’re about to give me?”

He chuckles low, and finally waves goodbye. “Goodbye, Agent Y/LN.”

You stand dumbfounded, slightly annoyed, but you figure it’s better than actual jail time. Peter rises from his hiding spot and walks over to you, blowing air from his mouth. “Friend of yours?”

You whip around to point a finger, scream and laugh mixing into one. “No friend!”

Peter finally hears that accent Steve can’t stop talking about.

It’s a tiny portrait, sealed in a tiny frame and hidden in a tiny room. The frame is black with professional wooden carvings that make the sides look like perfectly detailed tree trunks. It’s in between the portrait of Tony and Natasha’s bracelet. Tony wears the same AC/DC shirt Steve has somehow stolen and claimed as his own. He’s got this sarcastic grin, some type of wrench in one hand while his other rests on his hip. He stands in his lab, glasses pushed up onto his head and black soot smudged on his cheek. You think Peter snapped the photo back in 2017.

But the middle portrait is your favorite. It’s the only photo he ever allowed to be taken of him. Brushing your index finger against the glass, you trace the small outlines of Loki’s jawline, to his thin pink lips, to the bulb of his nose, to the waves of his hair. He sits caught off guard, book in his hand and in regular human clothing. He shoots a rather annoyed but joyful look over his shoulder as the camera was shoved in his face. You know for sure Wanda took that photo.

“You’re not dead,” you say as you study the blue of his frozen eyes. A God doesn’t die, you remember him saying. Loki was wrong about a lot of things, but you pray he wasn’t wrong about this. There’s a small part of you that wants to speak the same words to Tony and Natasha, but there’s only so many times the world’s axis can shift for a miracle. You tap the glass, sighing a breath of acceptance, and finally let go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Smiling up at the ceiling, you think you’re right about this one.

It’s quiet. The only sounds are the mild ripping of wrapping paper and small ‘thank you’s’ from the team. Everyone got each other something — granted, everyone got something small for everyone. No matter how much Tony joked about still splurging on Christmas shopping, his promises weren’t exactly kept. He’s gotten everyone things they actually need or wanted. Steve, a new drawing pad; Natasha, a bright pink knit sweater; Rhodey, a new watch; Bruce, a pair of sunglasses; Nebula, a dark blue knitted sweater that she immediately presses against her cheek, eyes focused on the ground as she savors the soft brush; you, the full collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. And he finally presents the baby’s crib to Pepper, constructed three weeks after she originally asked him to.

“I know how much you like to reenact A Midsummer Night’s Dream in your room,” Tony grins at you. Biting your bottom lip, you throw yourself at him and hug him tight. He returns the hug with just as much strength, if not more.

As the night goes on and midnight rings, your small group exchanges tight-lipped merry Christmas’s and happy holidays. Natasha retires to her room, a distant look in her eyes as she says goodnight. No one knows where Clint is.

Steve nudges your elbow with his once the room empties. He holds out a box with festive wrapping — snowmen with carrots for noses and a variety of pebbled smiles. “From me and Okoye.”

“You got me a gift?”

Steve’s brow furrows as he nods like it’s obvious. “Of course. You’re my friend.”

“Well, now I feel inadequate,” you laugh. It comes out wet and it’s then that you realize you’re tearing up. “I promise to reenact Midsummer for you, okay?”

Steve chuckles, “You got it.”

You unwrap it slowly, half wondering why Steve and Okoye teamed up to get you a present. You. Your stomach churns an innocent whirl.

It’s a long sleeved vest… or sweater. You can’t really tell until you pull it from the box. It’s intricately designed and it takes a moment for you to finally see it, to finally understand, and the moment you do you exhale a wracked breath.

It’s not Wakandan fashion. It’s threaded with the colors and swirls of a place you haven’t called home in years. It has red flowers down the vest portion and multicolored rows down the sleeves and back. It’s made from a thick fabric that’s rarely used this century. Vintage — home.

“Steve…”

Steve clears his throat, “Now, I only did the flower parts. Okoye found it unfinished in… um…”

And there, where tags from brands would usually be, is a small threaded engraving.

‘From Bucky, To our muñeca.’

“He didn’t get to finish it so I thought I would — you know, help? — so it’s really from Buck. Probably an apology for not letting you visit him in Wakanda.”

Steve tries to push out a laugh at his poor joke, but you can see how he’s faltering. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down so his knees bend, and pour as much nonverbal thank you’s into the hug. He hesitates at first, arms floating awkwardly, until he swallows his fear and wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you to him tightly and breathes in the sweet scent of your vanilla shampoo.

“Thank you.” Your voice is small, but Steve regards the delivery as powerful.

You wear it once, that Christmas night, enveloped in its warmth as you slept. In the morning, you hang it in the back of your closet.

A knock on your bedroom door sounds through your headphones. Bucky peeks his head in, “Is now a bad time?”

Sitting up, you pull the headphones from your ears. “Nope. Just thinking about how I’ve lived several years in the span of one week.”

Bucky lugs in a sports bag in one hand and a manila file in the other. He places them at the edge of your bed and proceeds to bounce in the available space near you. “Yeah, that can be annoying.”

You attempt to shove him away as he tries to steal your blanket. “Did you need anything?”

“Yeah.” He lets you take it, and simply turns on his side to face you. “What’s gonna happen between you and Steve?”

It’s an innocent question, but you know Bucky well enough to notice when he’s stressed. Steve probably told him to mind his business. “We’re good.”

He inspects your face with squinted eyes, “I know what you’re thinking so cut that shit out. This isn’t one of those missions where the feelings will just go away.”

“Funny thing is, I believe you,” you admit, watching as his face does something unexpected. His smile drops suddenly, like he didn’t expect you to agree with him, and then it’s immediately back full force.

“Peggy and Steve - right person, wrong time. You and Loki - right person, wrong time. You and Steve, all those years ago — right person, wrong time.” A weird thing happens: you agree with him again. “But now, after everything — right person, right time.”

“It’s just weird feeling like it’ll actually work.”

“That makes us seem like we’re all broken, doll. We’re not.”

You turn so you’re facing him; two mismatched parentheses. “We’re just tired.”

“We’re just tired,” Bucky agrees, smiling. “I’m not saying don’t look over your shoulder whenever you feel like it. Hell, I still look over mine.”

Snorting, you roll closer to hug him. He pulls you into his chest. “You give amazing pep talks.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they gave that trophy to Steve.” Bucky shares the intimate moment for as long as it takes before the blanket starts overheating. He groans as he sits up to retrieve the things he brought with him. “By the way, our mutual friend sends one last warm regards.”

Bucky throws the sports bag onto your lap. “What’s this?”

“Your shit.”

You don’t even want to ask him how he packed your things without your knowledge. “Kicking me out, Barnes?”

“Clothes, toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, pads, the quilt I just finished knitting thank you very much,” Bucky lists and hands you the file. “Maribel found him.”

“Ramirez?”

“Your dad.”

You snap your head up to look at him. Bucky expects to see anger, hurt, maybe even betrayal. He was prepared for it. But you just look confused, lost for words, maybe even scared. “Goes by Richard these days. Lives with his wife in Wisconsin, no kids, keeps to himself.”

You flip through the files, holding your breath. The file is small, Richard’s information only covering the first page, the rest just drabble. He seems relatively normal, looks normal even; normal job, normal credit score, normal upbringing. It doesn’t even seem real. You close the file and set it aside. “So you are sending me away?”

Bucky smirks, “It’s a suggestion. But I took the liberty of doing the hard part for you.”

“Yeah, because packing my lady products is the climax of this story.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that Bucky called Richard your ‘dad’. Everyone either referred to Ernesto as ‘your father’ or by his name. Steve had said ‘dad’ a few times before he met him, then he never said it again. Hell, even you did sometimes.

It’s a sweet distinction and you’re certain Bucky said it on purpose. Bucky takes your hands in his, “It’s been a long time coming. But at least we can both say that the people who hurt us can’t hurt us any longer.”

You can. You really can.

Bucky’s already packed Steve’s shit as well. Steve’s just shoving extra socks into his bag when someone knocks on the door. He expects Bucky or Sam, final words of encouragement, but it’s Scott. And he’s standing there grinning like a mad man.

“So, what’s the verdict, Rogers? You going after her or not?”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Think you already know the answer to that, Lang.”

Scott closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He shoves his hands in his sweater pockets, “Not that it should matter, shut me up if I cross any line, but everyone supports this.”

“Weirdly, I think it does matter. We’ve had you guys picking sides for two years. Selfishly. Like we were having a fucking civil war after everything.”

“Yeah, well.”

Steve huffs a laugh. It’s always going to surprise him just how comfortable Scott is around him now. Not afraid to tease him or call him out on something he doesn’t agree with. It’s refreshing.

“I’m not giving up on her, Scott. Not again.”

Scott nods. Perhaps breaking the mission ethic code wasn’t a bad thing after all, Scott thinks. He gives Steve a proud smile, genuine. “Then I hereby declare our hanging conversation officially closed.”

Steve wanders from his bedroom, to the conference room, to the main living room without an end destination in mind, seeming to just follow his quick feet as they lead him around the halls of the compound. He’s proud of himself, really, because he truly believes he’s learned to swallow his pride, has opened himself up to the possibility of being happy, and accepted that the world has changed and will continue to alter whether he likes it or not. He was, is, and will always be a man out of time — he’ll never fit but goddamn does he feel settled. He hasn’t felt this sane since before the war — which one? — so he relishes in the feeling for a few calm seconds.

He feels tears well-up on his water line and feels the pressure in his temples. He’s at a crossroads — both proud of himself for finally choosing the path he wants and relieved that this week, this mission he has dreaded for almost ten years, is over. He doesn’t know if he should sleep for a month or occupy his time with other things awaiting repair. A build up of five years, grief and loss and happiness all weirdly mixed into one pot, and Steve simply hasn’t noticed the improper portions of each ingredient.

It’s too much.

He thinks about his mental health. Shot to Hell, he jokes with himself. He’s already got the virtual therapy appointments scheduled. He figures he’ll get better with time and if Steve knows one thing for sure, it’s that he’s got a whole lot of that.

He thinks about Sam and Bucky and Scott — his three best friends that have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for him, and who would proudly do it all over again. He thinks about their kind words, their gentle touch, their devotion that Steve still sometimes feels he doesn’t deserve.

And he thinks about you. To anyone else, this was written in the damn stars. No, there wasn’t anything extremely obvious in the first few years. You were friends. Friends that grew to consider each other teammates. Teammates that drew a drop of blood while fighting on opposite sides. Teammates that recognized the true endgame, teammates that helped each other escape, teammates that went silent for two years. Two years of no contact, no signal of survival. Then again, teammates who stood by as their world crumbled around them. Teammates who grew to be friends again, leaning on free shoulders and seeking help through happy conversations and long nights. Friends that brought the world together again, only to rip each other from their own. Friends into the most bizarre of enemies. And enemies back to teammates.

Steve wipes a hand down his face as he fixes the strap over his shoulder. The common room is empty — he likes it this way. That means everyone is either napping, getting food, visiting friends or family, simply living life. The silence is therapeutic.

His eyes fall on a crooked picture frame near the television. He tries to ignore it, almost to the door and ready for another road trip, but he steps back. Then forward, then back again. He groans in frustration of himself and moves to turn the frame back in place, holding it for a few seconds until it stays. But as he lets go, it tilts once more. He tries again — it tilts back.

He pulls the frame from the hook and turns it over. He rightly freezes, the presence of a small pink paper airplane taped near the edge knocking the wind from his constricting lungs. He pulls it off, careful to not tear the delicate post-it.

He never found it. Natasha probably placed it behind this very picture frame in the other compound for him to find. Surely the explosion should have destroyed it — but it didn’t. It’s right here, perfectly intact, just a smudge of dirt on one of its wings. The frame hadn’t been damaged either. It’s real.

He holds the thin piece of paper like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Steve turns it over between his fingers a few more times, before he carefully folds it back in half and puts it in his wallet. “You’ve got some nerve, Nat. But I hear ya.”

Steve decides to write you back. He hides the letter in that sweater he knows you don’t wear anymore, in the far back of your closet, and marvels at the intricate stitching while he can. He poured his heart out, even if it’s not guaranteed you’ll ever see it.

‘Yes, I found your letter. I found it when I was looking for perfume in your suitcase. The tape was loose and I violated your privacy. I’m truly sorry for that.

But I felt compelled to write you back, in case the reverse happened and I died instead of you. I didn’t write it then, when you were drying your hair in front of that impossibly small mirror you so weirdly called ‘a stupid little bitch’. And you looked so beautiful. But I’m writing it now and maybe I’ll share it with you in person when we’re both ready.

When the world turned to dust, I held on to you. I know exactly why. Natasha bugged me about it also, teasing me whenever I would glance at you too long, or give you the last remaining Oreos I was planning on eating, or whenever I would leave your room in the mornings after a nightmare. She knew nothing was happening between us, but she had this smile whenever she caught me. Like she was happy I was comforting you, and in turn seeking comfort for myself.

You remember how her smile would tilt up more on the left side?

There isn’t a proper way to truly apologize for hurting you. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it. You at least deserve that.

I returned a different man. And I think that was for the better.

Yes, I wanted the quiet life. I still think I do. And I think you know this — you have always seen right through me.

I now know what Natasha saw. You irritate me, you damn near make me want to choke myself out, but I care for you. We hold each other up, and I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

You’re my best friend — I hope I’m one of yours.

Steve.’

There’s no one currently in the compound who really knows how to change the battery in your car. Bucky tries, does a rather good job too, but he claims he’s winging it and that you should call a mechanic just in case. He leaves you there with two random batteries on the ground, hood of your car open, and without any idea of what to do next. So you chill and wait for the mechanic you hope isn’t going to jack up the price just because he knows who you are.

But he doesn’t seem fazed by you at all — or at the fact he just had to drive through countless checkpoints and security checks just to get on Avengers property. He changes the battery and changes the oil, hooking you up with as many upgrades he can. He even offers to wash it until you thank him repeatedly and that Really, really, you don’t have to do that. Thank you so much!

“Quite a garage you got here.”

There are unfinished projects and random wires falling from the ceiling and enough tools to supply five garages. It’s messy, but it was Tony’s. You accept the compliment and see him out.

“Eh, make sure those windshield wipers work. I hear it’s gonna rain tomorrow.”

You thank him again. The clouds to the west are gray, getting darker as the expanse stretches, but from where you’re standing everything’s blue. You figure the mechanic was right: it’s gonna rain, and it’s gonna rain hard.

The mechanic did good, all things considered. You never thought your old, beat-up Honda could look a few years younger. You flick one of the wipers lightly, testing its strength. It holds, as does the other, but when you go to lift it up it stops halfway. Without wanting to break it, you don’t force it. There’s something blocking the switch.

You grab it before it can accidentally fall into a deep slot; the figurehead of a man, curly hair and beard that matches Steve’s, who also has a prominent and strong nose. You turn the coin over a few times before looking around the garage, down the street, at the remote area where the mechanic has just left. Standing there, mouth agape, you wonder just how in the world you missed the mechanic placing it there.

You were lacking in the spy department nowadays. Oops.

You know you’re not going to find Ramirez. But him giving this back to you? It was his way of saying he’s alright and that he owes you many thanks.

You pocket the coin and accept the fact you just got bested.

It should take a few hours before you hit the first motel. Wisconsin isn’t that far, but you do have to pass through about hundred “middle of nowhere’s”. You pull out of the garage and check your mirrors — completely unaware of the super soldier running full speed to the passenger door. Steve carefully throws it open, somewhat aware of his strength, and lands into the seat beside you.

You hit the brakes hard. “Oh my! Rogers!”

Steve sucks in a few heavy breaths, like he literally ran across the compound to make it. “What? I startle you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing? Aren’t you on house arrest?”

You squint at him, “Touche.” Putting the car in park, you turn your whole body to face him. “Answer my question.”

“Thought you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Steve asks, expression much more teasing than serious.

“I’ll be gone for three days tops,” you say, waving your hand in the air. Steve smiles at you, seemingly waiting for you to speak again. You roll your eyes, “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

Steve lifts up the small duffel bag you hadn’t seen when he first got into the car. He throws it into the backseat and smiles lovingly at you. “I’ve been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

“Rhodey said that the ankle bracelet they gave me wasn’t a trusted model. Easy to break off, like they did it on purpose.” You lean toward him, holding your chin up with the palm of your hand. “Should be able to drive free for a few weeks before they suspect anything.”

“Already booked us a cabin for Thanksgiving.”

“What makes you think that I even want you to accompany me on this road trip? Did you like the first one?”

Steve clears his throat and mimes like he’s writing on paper. The next words out of his mouth make your legs turn cold. “No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.”

You blink multiple times, as if that would fix your ears. “...You. Fucking. Didn’t.” Steve reaches over to try and hug you. “No, don’t.” He squeezes harder, smooshing your face in his chest. “Steeeeve!”

“It fell out of your suitcase during the mission and I just… looked,” Steve reasons. He allows you to escape his grip.

“You just looked?”

Steve sighs. He really does look guilty. He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers tickle your skin. “I’m sorry I read it. I’ll get out of this car for real if you want me to.”

You arch an eyebrow, “You’re a little shit, but I’m not mad. No one understands privacy these days.”

Steve smiles wide enough for his dimples to pop and his eyes to crinkle. “I’d follow you anywhere, doll.”

“Anywhere?”

“Just name it.”

Humming low, you lean forward. He follows your direction like you’re a lighthouse beaming with light, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. He hooks a large hand behind your head to press you to him harder. You smell like that vanilla scented shampoo he loves so much and feels his heart constrict with a pleasant pulse.

You pull back for air and smile against Steve’s soft lips.

“Well, I’m headed for the middle of buttfuck Wisconsin—”

“Just drive!”

Bursts of laughter fill the car until you’re past the checkpoints and well onto the long roads. The clouds continue to turn darker but they’re inviting, alluring, and it’s not insane that both of you desire thunderstorms because they remind you of family.

Steve watches you from the passenger seat, memorizing the contours and edges of your profile. The roots in his heart begin spreading again; the meat of his heart filling with a soothing promise that his time on earth is no longer rootless. He’s dug his feet in, he’s watered all he’s needed to water, and he feels it spreading within him like newly blossomed flowers in the spring. He has a sudden urge to take out his drawing pad to immortalize the way your mouth tilts higher up on the right side when you smile, to record it forever.

But he’ll remember it. He’ll remember well into this timeline, several years down the road, and even when he’s resting in his grave. So he leans his head back against the seat and chooses to watch the curves of every expression you grace him with. He immortalizes the sound of your voice, the taps of your fingers against the steering wheel, and the accented way you say his name.

There’s a long drive ahead, but he’s excited for it. He’s excited for you. Steve promises himself that he’ll ask you a million questions, and give you a million answers, and share a million more stories.

Right now, he just needs to sleep.

THE END.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-3 @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#captainsimagines #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfic #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #chapter ten #to topple a giant #to topple a giant finale #avengers mob fanfic #by Moni

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auroralwriting · 4 years

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Fagr

Anon Request: hi love ur fics! Could you do a Loki x reader where the reader always tags along with Loki and tries really hard to be besties with him (also could you make her pan) and he’s on the other hand all soft like does her really want to hang out with me???

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/n: I wasn’t really sure how to add in the pansexual bit, so I’m sorry about that! I did try my very best bby <3 (translation for the word comes into play later in the story!)

Masterlist

You had a good amount of friends within the Avengers. Natasha was like that older sister you loved, Wanda being your twin who understood you better than anyone, Peter being your annoying little brother you love. Steve was the fun yet serious uncle and Tony was the overprotective yet loving dad. Okay, it was more like a family, but you all were friends, too.

But there was that one person who stumped you; Loki. He arrived a few months ago with Thor. They had given the kingdom to their friend (well, more Thor’s friend) Valkyrie and wanted to be Avengers. Thor was already one, but you could tell Loki was nervous about being here on Earth again. He really didn’t have a choice.

So, you decided to try to make him feel more comfortable around the compound.

You would make him his tea - just the way he liked it, with a splash of milk - in the mornings, leave books in front of his room that you thought he’d enjoy, and you had even began to show up wherever he was in the compound. If he was in the lounge reading, you’d go and sit by him while scrolling through your phone. If he was training, you’d go in and do some simple yoga.

As you continued doing these small gestures, you couldn’t help but wonder if Loki noticed. When you tried to make small talk, he simply ignored you. He’d never even turn to look at you.

But he did notice. The only reason he didn’t get up sooner to make his own tea was because he liked you doing it for him (it tasted better when you made it). He liked the books you left for him, even going as far as to reread them multiple times. He liked it when you would show up and give him company, whether it being when he was training or simply relaxing with a book in the lounge.

Loki had begun to wonder if you actually did want to hang out with him. Everyone saw him as a monster, a murderer, but did you? Could you really be the one to see past that and try to gain his liking?

So, one day, he got up early to go for a stroll around the compound. When he noticed you hadn’t gotten up yet, he took it upon himself to make you your favorite drink and put it in his mug. Once he got done with that, he went on his way to go for his walk.

Once you had woken up, you went to do your usual routine and make Loki his drink when you noticed his cup was already out.

You looked to the three people in the room, wondering if they had made him his drink for you.

“Hey, Nat, Sam, Wanda, did you make Loki his drink?” you asked, walking over to the green and white cup.

“No, I thought you did.” Natasha replied, taking a bite of her eggs.

Sam laughed. “I don’t even know what he drinks.”

Looking to Wanda, she simply shook her head. You picked up the cup and noticed the drink wasn’t the usual dark, rusted color. It was a different color, one that looked oddly like your drink. So, you pushed the edge of the cup to your lips and let a small flow of the liquid flow down your throat. It was your drink in Loki’s cup. He never showed up to breakfast.

The next day, Loki once again woke up before you to make you your drink again. Only this time, he left a book outside your room. A fantasy book from Asgard. He thought you would enjoy it.

After you woke up and went to walk out of your room, you almost stepped on an old, brown book sitting in front of your door. Picking it up, you could practically smell the old book smell. It was nice, comforting. You flipped through the pages, seeing a few words you didn’t understand. You picked one, reading through the lines carefully.

Through the vast valley of large, echoing mountains, the sky had looked fagr, the colors radiating the hue of the warmest colors.

Fagr, that had to be a different language. You’d never heard it before, seen it. So, you tried to use context clues to figure it out. Amazing? Magnificent? Radiant?

You were so intrigued that you put the book on your nightstand. You’d read it later tonight.

A couple of days passed by, and Loki decided he’d take it one step further and accompany you wherever you were that day. It was around seven, the sky had begun to turn a darker blue indicating that the sun would be setting soon. Loki found you sitting on the roof, looking up at the clouds.

You heard someone walking up to you, so you turned your head to see Loki sitting down next to you.

“Your legs are dangling off the edge. If you were to fall, I’m sure you’d be injured.”

“I’m sure I would be, but I’d never fall off. Willingly, at least.” you replied, your head turning back to the sky. “There are more constellations, right? More than what we can see here on Earth.”

Loki nodded. “Indeed there are. It’s a shame your planet has so few.”

It was silent for another moment, until you remembered the book. “You left that book outside my door the other day, right? And the drink in your cup?”

“Yes, you are correct. Did you enjoy it? The book, I mean.” Loki asked.

You looked at him now, he was already looking at you. “I did. But it had words in it, uh, Old Norse?”

“You’re a smart one,” Loki acknowledged. “It is Old Norse.”

“There was this one word that stuck with me,” you began. “I memorized the beginning of the line. It was ‘Through the vast valley of large, echoing mountains, the sky-’“

“’The sky had looked fagr, the colors radiating the hue of the warmest colors’.” Loki finished.

You nodded. “That word, it described the sky. What does it mean?”

“Ah, yes. I thought you would have questions. Fagr, it means beautiful.” Loki answered. “You could use it in another way to describe. Like describing you.”

Your whole body froze in place, your eyes went wide. Did you hear him right? Had he just called you beautiful?

“Describing.. me?” you asked.

“You, yes,” Loki replied.

“Why?” you inquired.

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed together. “You just asked me why, why fagr describes you.” he stated, but you hear the confused undertone in it. “Do you not see how beautiful you are?”

You were stunned. You couldn’t find the right words, and the ones you tried to stumble out were frozen in your throat.

“You mortals truly do fascinate me. But that? Do most mortals not see their true beauty?” Loki wondered.

“Some,” you forced out. “Some of us,”

Loki shook his head, his eyes momentarily fluttering shut before he looked at you again. “I’m amazed that a being as gorgeous as you cannot see how perfect you are.”

Loki’s words left you stunned once more. Did he just compliment you again? By the look on his face, he was patiently waiting for you to reply.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “I’ve just never been told that before. I’m not really sure.. what to do.”

It seemed that you left Loki stunned by the way his jaw fell slightly slack. “Are mortal men fools? They don’t appreciate what’s right in front of them. It’s sickening to hear that you have never been told of what a wonder you are.” Loki sighed. “So it seems I must be the one to remind you of just that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I’m attempting to court you. Or as you humans say, ‘ask out?’“ Loki guessed.

“Yes,” you replied. “I don’t know how Asgardians do it, but I would love to be your girlfriend. Only if you tell me more things in Old Norse.”

Loki chuckled as his hand intertwined with yours. “I will do my best, minn ásynja.” You raised an eyebrow. “My goddess.” Loki translated as you smiled brightly, head leaning onto his shoulder.

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki one shot #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #loki fluff

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ghostofpolaris · 3 years

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Paid Deity Reading Review from @ad-astrum

This is a review I am doing out of my own will for a paid reading that was done by @ad-astrum ! I highly recommend you check Adelaide’s account out! She just is amazing. <3 Tis long so I am adding a cut-off to help. Please note that I am not being paid to say any of this and I want to be as honest as possible with this review!

TW for: Long post, Personal Topics

To start, I (for a very long time) have been in a place where I was lost. I have had a lot of trials and tribulations in my life and where I know I have made some contact with the deities I (had) followed and worked with, I know I have not always been able to fully comprehend what is needing to be said.

At least with these last six years, I have had so many ups and downs and quite a few times, I genuinely wondered what the point was in continuing onward with life. I had spent quite a lot of time even contemplating whether I was truly a “spiritual” person and worthy of being a witch. I hadn’t been able to keep up with my gifts I had been providing and I haven’t really done any spells. Maybe a few sigils were made here and there, but the unworthy feelings I harbored along with depression spiraling in from working 40 hours a week, being in school full time, and my mental and physical health continuing to drag me down.

So, I got desperate as one does when left to their own devices after being paid a nice juicy paycheck and seeking answers and solidarity from others online. Though this was not the main reason I had sought for answers, it was a good portion of why. Primarily, I had noticed signs that were familiar to me, but also not. I had begun noticing crows coming in twos and occasionally threes, I noticed almost everything I turned to, would have some kind of Norse imagery or content involved, and quite a lot of it involved our beloved AllFather Odin.

Now mind you, I NEVER saw myself as a Norse Pagan. I thought Loki and Thor were cool in the Marvel movies and myths, but I never exactly saw myself being a Norse Pagan. I also was never one for Greek Mythology and Hellenic Paganism either but here we are after receiving aid from Ares and Aphrodite a couple of times in my life. Truth be told, I was the kid that was (and still is) obsessed with the King Arthur myths and Celtic Paganism. I also was obsessed with Egyptian mythology (yes, I was the kid who had the Egyptology book growing up even though I wanted the Dragonology one but that’s okay!).

For me, I tend to be quite dense. I tend to be someone who is unable to really see signs unless they are hitting me right in the face (spiritually I have felt blocked for quite a while and if anyone has any tips for that I am down to listen not gonna lie). With all of the signs I did keep seeing though involving Odin, I knew I needed to start doing my research and find someone who could help shine a light within the darkness that was my uncertainty. Was this truly Odin I was being called to? Why? What did I need to hear?

I stumbled around and I did scroll through various sources until I crossed Adelaide’s tumblr page. I understood her focus was on Hellenism, but after speaking with her in the DM’s about doing a reading, I felt safe and comforted by the fact she was so kind, patient, and informative on what I needed. Absolutely one of the sweetest people I had met on here and I absolutely will keep following her because she is so kind and helpful.

Like anyone who was hoping for answers, I happily paid the amount we agreed to for the details I was hopeful for. Though apologies now, but I genuinely underestimated Adelaide and her capabilities. I mean, I severely underestimated what this reading was going to be like. If you need detail, and are happy to pay her what she deserves, Adelaide will provide and she sure did.

I opened the pastebin link I had gotten and I didn’t even make it through the first paragraph without breaking down into literal tears. I wasn’t sad at all and it usually takes a lot for me to cry. I had been alone at work so far that night and it wasn’t entirely a bad day, but not exactly a good one either. It was going to be just another night where I went home and unwinded until I felt tired.

Though this, this really just knocked me off my feet in a way I wasn’t expecting. I always was hesitant with deity readings, I have had someone scam me out of my money and just never provide what I requested and so I was almost worried it was going to happen again. I am so thankful I was wrong.

To give a small bit of background about me, I originally had worked with Danu and Brigid. They were my first goddesses I had actually met and they both had welcomed me with open arms (though I never really understood why). That seemed to set a foundation of how my other encounters would be as I simply seemed to stumble into the contact of the deities I met and I would find every way to give them the respect they deserved. In turn, they nudged me further down the path that I now am on.

Back to Brigid and Danu though, they were with me for at least a couple of years and both of them to me are basically like my mothers. I still hold so much love, respect and adoration for the both of them and I felt awful for even thinking, “Should I give my statue of Mother Brigid away to someone who may have more use for it than I?” I am glad I didn’t.

Just reading that first paragraph was what did me in though and I don’t typically cry as I mentioned before.

“ I do not believe any of these deities have truly left you “

Reading this made me realize I was silly to think that I was alone. I had spent so much time wondering why I was alone and left to try and fight by myself. I know I was doing better in life, but I knew I was starting to feel consumed by my fears of being alone. I continued onward after settling down again emotionally, but boy did the water works come back when I read,

“ For parting words, she simply said that she was pleased to have been with you and will always be around. “

This helped me realize that I needed to buckle up and get ready for a ride emotionally. There was a lot that would need unpacking, and I still have much to unpack from it all.

After that paragraph, we moved onto Danu who had a similar response as Brigid. Aphrodite herself was as graceful and kind as she always has been, and I still feel I owe a lot of my progress to her as well. Without her, I would have never let go of the toxic and abusive relationships I had been in. I know personally, I should make a better attempt to reach out to her more and thank her over and over again. Ares though, I felt slightly intimidated by him, but at the same time I wasn’t entirely afraid. He just is a much quieter individual than I had expected and that is okay. From what I recall (and this reading proves it to me), he speaks when he feels it is necessary.

Father Lucifer came next and I definitely cried again at the end of his paragraph. “ Lucifer simply said that he sees the light in you. “ That made me cry like a small child all over again and truthfully I was surprised that I had not known him since I was younger. My timing was off, but I am glad it was actually him as I felt I was not actually speaking to him at some points.

I have much to thank him for, and I hope me even writing this will show others my love, adoration and respect I have for my deities. My deities, I cannot believe I get to say this and say it with such joy.

Though with those fears, I just assumed I was just making my interactions up and I feel my self-doubt and mistrust of my own feelings has hindered me (even to this day) communications wise. I once again am glad to know I was so horribly wrong.

The very last, was the most unexpected, and Papa Odin himself had just known that this reading was coming along, and he had been around the longest. Thinking about it now makes me want to cry all over again, but to me I feel this really reassured me because I know I had moments in life where I would see things involving Odin and feeling comfort in them. Internally, I would ask myself on occasion, “I wonder what it is like to just sit with him and talk. What is it like to work with him and learn from him?”

Sure enough, here I am now laughing and almost crying at the fact that he was with me all along. I just needed to focus a bit more. I genuinely didn’t believe that I had mistaken him for The Morrigan (so sorry Papa Odin!) and yet he still took everything with good strides. I still am having trouble putting it in words how comforted and rejuvenated I feel to have this kindness, love, and support.

For Odin himself, I cannot thank him enough for what he has done in my life so far. It makes me want to reevaluate my life and see just how many times I could have mistakenly missed him and signs he has given me. For someone who has been around for so long and has had a formative role in my life, I owe so much to him and am grateful to be blessed with his guidance and wisdom. I remembered for ages I wished I had a dad that would love and care for me and here I had Odin all along. Physically I may not be able to see him or hug him, but he was here all long and that is what matters so much to me.

At this point, Adelaide, thank you for all of this. Your words have brought me such joy, comfort, and inspiration and I had trouble thinking of how to even respond to all of this for a good bit of time. I even wondered what I needed to do at this point and I feel I have a solid idea of what I need to do now, but I just am still scrambling around to figure it all out.

Little by little, I will walk towards my deities and I will do my very best to honor them. Thank all of you for the strength you have given me to stand back up, dust myself off, and continue on. This was what I needed to keep going and keep trying. I had made my username “mirroredpaladin” because I wanted to fight not only for the good of others, but for myself as well. It is about time I start actually doing that.

From here on, I do want to find a way to properly and more consistently reach out to Odin, Lucifer and Ares. I want to find a way to properly thank them along with Brigid, Danu, and Aphrodite and it is about time I start looking where I can to do so. I know I need guidance, I never was properly educated on what to do with deity work, but I have to try for their sake and mine.

Thank you all for reading this. To also give some more love, I also want to thank @scarletarosa @thepastelpriestess and @its--in--the--weave and @blood-and-bunnies (I thought they had another username of @/rosegoldtunic before but I don’t remember) because these people have actually helped me get to where I am now along with Adelaide. <3

#paid reading #deity reading #divination review #ad-astrum #thank you again!#I have a lot to work on #and this helped so much #hellenic polytheism #thepastelpriestess #scarletarosa #its--in--the--weave #blood-and-bunnies #giving thanks #norse paganism #theistic luciferianism

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 4 years

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Frostbitten: Chapter Five

Y/N L/N is a child of a Jotun and an Asgardian. She spends her life hidden in the dungeons of Asgard, with no one to talk to other than one of the princes- a man who seems completely incapable of leaving her alone and entirely unable to give up on helping her. Y/N and Loki Odinson have always been inseparable, it seems- even when there is a cell wall, or a village, or an entire kingdom between them.

Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.

okay, quick note:

there have been at least 3 VASTLY DIFFERENT drafts for this chapter, where I’ve incorporated different aspects of the story in different measures. I felt this was the best way to continue the story, but a lot of the previous writings for this part still have important details may or may not answer long-standing questions. For that reason, my ask box is open! If there was anything in the previous parts that made you think weird flex but ok or but why tho or what the shit is happening, do not hesitate to ask, because it’s probably intentional. If it’s not, even better. I always need to edit :).

Also, marching season!! No sleep. Big mess. Sorry for lack of update. I promise I'm not abandoning this!

Tag list: Open

-----

Loki curls up beside your cell, knees to his chest, back to the wall. You cannot see him from your spot on your bed, so you don't acknowledge him. You sit, flipping quietly through a book he had given you and sipping lightly at the death-soup Asgard gave you for food. And he’s there, eyes unblinking, trying to remember how to speak.

In his hands is a small dagger, dabbled with dry blood and dirt and dulled from use, and he flips it twice over, staring at the gentle curves of the blade. He has made mistakes today, and he needs to tell someone, but he can’t tell his family and he’s not ready to tell you. Pretending everything is alright on the other hand, is equally unacceptable. Loki is sick of lying. He’s sick of... well, sick of having to lie.

He presses the flat of the blade to his palm and closes his eyes, and the weapon disappears in a flash of green. You peek up from the pages and set the book on your bed, now aware of his presence.

“Are you hiding from me, now?” you jest, smiling softly and standing. “You look tired.”

Your voice draws him in from the first syllable, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

Your smile fades as quickly as it came, and you heave a deep sigh. “You’re doing it again,” you comment, looking away from him. “Loki, please talk to me. I’ll listen. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s no one for me to tell your secrets to. They’re safe with me.”

He looks at you, and through his eyes you see that your words have inspired anger. He hides it well, speaking even and low. “You’re worth more to me than my secrets."

“Alright, then. Tell me why you did it. Whatever you did, or whatever you said.”

“I don’t know. That’s the worst part.”

You stay silent, awaiting an explanation. He looks toward you, clearly doing his best not to give anything away. “I have a very helpful resolve to only play practical jokes," he says, "and if they get out of hand I fix my mistakes. I didn’t do that this time, and I made things worse instead. I got angry.”

“At what?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m always angry, always plotting- it’s in my nature to be the epitome of wrongdoing. When I’m good, there’s no reputation for me to lean on like there is my brother. We demand on good versus evil for security, because gods forbid two good people have a disagreement.”

“Why do people expect you to be bad? Why not Thor?”

"Thor is the heir to the throne, so obviously he's perfect. I'm his opposite, so I'm the awful one."

You fiddle your hands together, entertwining your own fingers. "So you're angry because you have to fill this role?"

"No," he pauses, and shame crosses his face. He looks away from you, closes his eyes, and exhales, his entire body going slack against the wall. "No, that's not it. I'm angry because I'm so good at playing it. I'm uncontrollably good at playing it."

"Oh." You shift, turning your head to stare at the wall. "I can't imagine why. You're the kindest person I know."

"And how many people do you know?"

Sif, and Fandral, and Thor, and Odin, and the other guards. All of them different, all of them horrible in their own special way.

"Enough," you mutter.

Loki must read your mind, because he seems to regret his words after he hears you speak "That's fair," he murmurs, lifting a hand to push back his hair. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't be emptying my heart out to you. You're not my therapist."

You scoff, recoiling, and cross your arms. "When I was six, a woman grabbed me by the wrist, angry with my lack of compliance in training. She had gloves on, and managed to keep me under control. I didn't want her to keep touching me, so I used my other hand to grab her wrist. When she tried to run, her arm frostbitten, I shot an icicle at her shoulder and knocked her to the ground. Then I left her there, locking her in the room and running about until eventually being captured," you say, bluntly. Loki blinks, surprised.

"I didn't know all that," he says, mildly fearful.

"I know," you reply, smiling slightly. "A secret for a secret. You dump your feelings on me, I'll return the favor. Deal?"

Loki sighs, eyes wandering for a moment while he ponders. Then his face softens, lips curving upward, and he looks back at you. He has forgotten the reason for his hesitance in speaking to you. "Are you sure you can keep up?"

"With the amount of times I've kept my thoughts from you?" You chuckle. "Absolutely."

"What do you have to keep from me?" he asks, mildly amused.

"What do you have to keep from me?"

-----

Loki did not mean to kiss you last night. No strings were meant to attach. The encounter was meant to be short, and friendly, and consisting of comforting hand touches and maybe, maybe a kiss on the cheek- something very forgettable. Instead of being casual, however, you had refrained from contact, afraid of touching him, of hurting him, and this made the confrontation more... well, more something. Loki got a little too close, a little too eager. Now he has to come to terms with the reason why he wanted so suddenly to kiss you, and why he wants to kiss you again. It's all he can think about, which is unfortunate considering the fact that he needs to figure out why he's still trapped with his brother on Jotunheim.

He grunts noisily, trying desperately to shove you into his pile of secrets, and steers his thoughts back on course to his main suspect. If he's right, the culprit is Arvid Erikson, since when everyone was through the Bifrost, Arvid was left behind in close proximity to Heimdall and the key. In those moments, he could have killed the gatekeeper and stolen the sword- the only way the Bifrost should remain closed. Arguably, the Allfather could summon dark magic to get everyone home, and regretfully, Loki has yet to figure out why that hasn't happened.

Erikson has always been strange, of course, but never showed any ill intent, so Loki is asking himself the very repetitive question: why? Why do this?

Of course, this question is relatively meaningless if he's trapped in his cell. He'll die, of starvation or dehydration or boredom or all of the above if he doesn't make his escape, which he will. If not to survive and bring the guilty to justice, he'll escape to see you. To touch your hands, or embrace you, or maybe, maybe kiss you again. On purpose and with purpose. To figure out whether you share these strange emotions, and if you do, to indulge in them.

This should be happening soon, because Loki is no longer in his cell, but right outside, brushing the dirt off his clothes. How? you might ask, and to that I offer no response. He's Loki. He's... special.

“Thor,” Loki grunts, cautiously peering around the corner and starting toward where he thinks the other cells are. “Thor, are you still in there? We’re getting out.”

Quiet, then a crack.

“Loki?” a voice calls in answer, but it’s not Thor’s. It’s Sif’s voice, high and dry and hoarse, coming from a cell just a couple feet away. Loki struts up to the bars and peers through them, using the sparse blue daylight coming in through the cell window to try and make out her shape. There is blood dried down her chin, and down her arms are purple bruises, marks of swollen blue. Also in the cell is Thor, his hair dried with sweat to the sides of his face, skin covered in dirt. “Thor, your brother is here.”

“Then let him be. We can’t leave either way,” speaks Thor, casting a glance toward Loki through the bars. “Brother, she’s wounded, I’m wounded, and they’re coming for you. The two of us can’t afford to risk another escape when there are so many of them and so few of us.”

“That sounds logical,” Loki muses, scoffing gently. “Who are you and what have you done to my brother? Get her up. This may be our last chance to get out of here, Thor.”

“Loki,” Sif says, maybe a bit too loud. She opens her mouth to speak again, but when she breathes in she is caught in a fit of violent coughs, clutching her stomach like she might throw up. When the coughing ceases, she meets his eyes. “We need to wait for the Allfather. He’ll come and get us.”

“Have you considered that maybe this wasn’t an accident?” Loki furrows his eyebrows, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “I think it was Erikson. The Professor. I'm sure you can figure as to why."

"Arvid is harmless."

"Arvid is a genius, Thor. I wouldn't doubt him."

"Do you have any proof?"

"He didn't try to kill Y/N. You know how horribly he spoke of Jotuns when he taught our history- not to mention he obviously would have known if I was sneaking through the-"

“Speaking of whom,” Thor cuts in, suddenly alert. “You’ve been conspiring with a prisoner or war this entire time?”

“Y/N is not a war prisoner, and that’s beside the point. The point is that Erikson is from Vanaheim, and I believe he may have the gift of foresight. It’s quite common amongst his people.”

“So,” Sif frowns, blinking slowly, wiping her chin. “You think that Arvid has stranded us on Jotunheim for a reason? To fulfill some sort of prophecy?”

“Or to stop one,” Thor breathes, barely audible. “If we we’re stranded here, then we’re long dead, brother.”

“Says whom?”

“Says the corpses rotting in the cells beside us.” With a deep grunt, Thor rises to his feet, walking steadily up to the bars and staring toward his brother. “But I don’t believe we’re stranded. Best to wait. Odin won’t be overpowered for long. But if you do run, then run fast, and run silent.”

“Are you alright?” Loki asks, frowning. “Thor, I can turn the lot of us invisible. I can do magic.”

“We’re not going.”

“You’re being frustratingly reasonable.”

“Loki!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you be. Just- the both of you had better not go soft. Then, we will die.” He steps away from the cell, turning his back, but pauses. “And is that all? Anything else you'd like to ask before I disappear?"

Thor contemplates in silence for a moment, and then says: “Do you love the Jotun?”

There is a heavy, far-too-long silence, and Loki’s faint wittiness fades. Without turning back to his brother, he mutters a suddenly harsh “What’s it to you?”

Thor leans the remainder of his weight on the door. “I saw the two of you speaking when we first arrived. You were like old friends. Speaking and smiling.”

“And what does that imply?”

“It’s unlike you to be so friendly with others. But all of your absences- times when you’d be inexplicably missing- you’d return lighter, gentler. I want to know what makes a monster in a cell so appealing, so softening to you.”

He spins slowly around, striding quickly back up to the door. “This monster, Thor, is the only thing currently leaving your body attached to your head. I’d choose your words more wisely.”

“Fine, then. Why is Y/N so much more interesting than any regular Asgardian?”

He stares- a stare that is less a look than a threat, and then says. “Y/N is different because in all my time on Asgard, as a prince, as a son, or as an ally, no one else has paid me more mind than you. Y/N values the pages over the cover- the mind over the body. Do you understand that?”

“But the prisoners have seen so few people that they’re probably desperate, don't you think?” Thor stares pitifully at Loki, breathing deep. “I don’t want you to end up in love with someone who has had no choice but to love you back.”

“How naive can you be, Thor?!” He’s suddenly loud, and Loki takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again, fists clenching. “I was just as alone as Y/N was. The only ones other than our mother willing to speak to me would speak in brute, snobbish comments, and nothing more. If anything, I came to Y/N out of desperation. You were all so enthralled with your own lives that you hardly noticed me leave.”

Thor shakes his head, dismissing the very idea. “We would have let you- you isolated yourself, brother. Separated yourself from the rest.”

“Is that what you've been telling yourself?” Loki spits back. “I clung to you like a shadow, Thor. It was the only way you’d let me, and with Y/N I finally have someone to cling back. We both have wills. We both make choices. If you’d like to speak about forced love, take a look at the throne. Look beyond your own glory, just for a moment.”

“Loki, I-”

In a shimmer of green magic, Loki disappears from sight, his footsteps light thumps across the soft, dirt dungeon floor. He walks past the guards, flinging open doors in his wake as he storms out of the crumbling palace. He steps over glass and ice and stone, walking as far and as fast away as possible. When he stops, he pulls himself behind a rather large stone, slumping and leaning his back on the solid surface. His blood is still humming with anger, and with it he calls to the sky.

“Heimdall,” he groans, looking hopefully upward. “I know you can see me. I know you’re not one to stay dead, and I seek your guidance, seer. If you cannot bring us back, let me see.”

Silence. Loki sighs, then throws his elbow back into the rock, splitting it where he hit. “Heimdall! Bring us back!”

Then, the youngest prince is hit by yellow. He stumbles back, caught in the sudden sensation, vision blurred. When his sight clears, he’s no longer on Jotunheim, but in the darkening, deep woods of Asgard. Heimdall is leaned against a tree, looking extraordinarily annoyed. “Hello, Loki,” he grunts, unamused. “You are aware that you’re supposed to open your mind when calling, right? I had to fight my way into your head. I do not wish to repeat that experience.”

“Where are you?” Loki asks, ignoring the comments. “Why are you in the woods?”

“I’m dead,” he answers simply. “Can’t you tell?” Heimdall signals to the red blotches on his chest, the bandages around his upper half. “What better place to dispose of a corpse?”

“This is no joke, seer! My brother, Sif, and I have been trapped on Jotunheim, and if the Bifrost is not reopened..." Loki steps toward him, misplaced confidence in his swagger. “You’ve no time to be dead.”

“You’ve no time to be empathetic. Be logical. Put your emotions behind you, as you seem to be so gifted at doing, and find things you will need to survive. I will try to retrieve the Bifrost Sword. I know where it is, but I need time to heal.”

“Did Arvid Erikson do this to you?”

“That he did. He’s a very dramatic fighter, in case you were wondering. He talks a lot.”

“What did he say?”

Heimdall pauses, looking over the prince, and then sighs, turning his back and beginning to walk through the undergrowth. “I'd expect you'd know by now."

"Prophecy? Foretold evils?"

"That's the one."

Loki rolls his eyes. “And that’s all?”

“Well, of course not. He’s also trying to kill you.” He stops at a smaller, shorter tree and kicks it square in the base, effectively knocking it over. Small, round fruits topple from its branches, rolling across the ground. Heimdall kneels, gathering several of these fruits into his arms. “If I recall correctly, you’re to attempt to overthrow the throne. Mind enlightening me as to why?”

The prince hesitates. “Overthrow the throne? That’s, I’d not want that. I’d make a much better king than my brother, but I wouldn’t...” he trails off. Heimdall looks up from the fruits, raising his eyebrows, and Loki turns his gaze to his palms, scratched and bare. He takes a deep breath, gritting his teeth. “And this is to bring about some horrible fate?”

“Why?” he asks, ignoring Loki’s question. “You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Loki glares slightly, rubbing his palms together. “Thor doesn’t deserve the throne in his state. He’s reckless, and arrogant, and dangerous.”

“That’s not all you have to say.”

“That’s all I care to say.”

“Does what you don’t care to say have anything to do with your parentage?”

Loki shrugs and doesn’t let on that he’s at all confused. “Doesn’t everything?”

Heimdall stares, holding his gaze. Then he looks away, satisfied. “Not in the way you think. Survive, Loki. I’ll come and get the four of you-”

“Four of us?” Loki cuts in. “So, you’ll-”

“They’ll kill your beloved once they find out Y/N isn’t Laufey’s missing child. I’m under the impression that you don’t want that to happen. Am I mistaken?”

“I don’t want Y/N imprisoned again. Father will forbid we speak to one another.”

“Your father is in Odinsleep. He has more important matters to worry about. Now go, you’re giving me a headache."

Frostbitten Tags:

@natalia-rushman @what-inspirational-name @jessiejunebug @fandomdestroyer @a-new-schematic @iris-suoh @pandacookieowo @givememyskittlesback @awesomefandomsunited @itsanallygator@arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fire-treasure-iii @strangerliaa @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @woohoney @itsanallygator @rosesarestriped @justyuuhi @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @loser-alert @egos-obese-anorexic-minds @themusingsofmany @lokiboomer

#loki laufeyson #infinity war #thor odinson #avengers #loki x reader fluff #loki #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki series

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littlesliceofmarvel · 5 years

Text

Him

Request/Synopsis: The reader is a Shield agent, the one who was assigned to help him when he woke up from the ice. Years later, Steve finally gets the courage to ask her out.

Warnings: None

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: I don’t really know where I went with this one, but oh well, enjoy! My inbox is always open for requests and as always, gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner. xx

2010

“Agent Y/L/N, I’ve assigned you a new task,” Fury’s voice mumbled over the phone at 3 in the morning, snapping you out of a beautiful, peaceful dream you were having.

“Now?” You asked, your voice groggy, coughing slightly to clear it up.

“Yes, I’m going to swing by your place in approximately ten minutes, I need you to be ready to go,” he spoke before hanging up, causing you to let out a frustrated groan, slamming your phone down on your night table and flicking on your lamp, throwing the covers off of your body as the sudden cold sent goosebumps rising on your skin. You hopped out of bed and threw on your leggings and a tank top, throwing a leather jacket on as well and placing your knives in the inside pockets, prepared for whatever Fury was going to throw at you. You tied your hair back and rushed into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee to wake up before going out to work.

A knock on the door made you chug the remainder of the hot liquid and put the mug in the sink, grabbing your gun from the table and placing it in your waistband before opening the door to Nick Fury, who stood silently, handing you a file.

“Good morning to you too,” you smiled sarcastically and grabbed the file from him, opening it up to see the words STEVEN GRANT ROGERS - CAPTAIN AMERICA in bold letters on the front page, attached with a picture of a scrawny blond kid, and the same kid in a star spangled spandex suit, much bulkier than the first picture.

“This is the ice dude, right?” You asked Fury, looking over the pictures and the endless list of information about the man in the picture. Fury nodded at you and you raised an eyebrow, “So, what am I doing?”

“He’s currently staying at a small apartment under this address,” he gave you a small piece of paper with said address, “I’m going to need your help catching him up to the 21st century, you’re the one most fit for the job.”

You nodded, “Got it, Director, is he expecting me at his place at 3 am?”

“No,” Fury said bluntly, “Also, don’t act like you’re there on my behalf. Make him feel safe, comfortable. Good luck.”

With that, he was off, leaving you scanning over every bit of information about Steve Rogers, taking it all in, and preparing yourself for what was to come.

2014

You and Steve were the closest out of everyone in the compound, you trusted each other more than anything, and you had gotten to know each other more than you knew yourselves, and you loved every second of it. You had developed feelings for the soldier, and it was tough to come to that realization when he had spoken about Peggy being the love of his life, and although you didn’t know her, you hated the effect she had on him nearly 80 years later, but for him it was just five, really. You noticed the way Steve seemed calmer around you, and how he treated you differently from everyone else, in a good way.

He was kind, caring, and picked up on all the small details of your life that went unnoticed by everyone else. You were there to help him after Loki, and you really did want nothing more than for him to feel safe around you, to know that you had his back at all times, even if you weren’t an Avenger. He made you feel strong, he made you feel worth everything, and he just made you feel good. It was always him.

When Steve found out Bucky was alive, he grew distant, the past life he lived came swarming back to him and he didn’t know how to cope with it. You had stayed up for hours at night, trying to comfort him about it, but finding out his best friend was alive and not only that, he was also trying to kill him, it was enough to put a decent strain on your friendship with him.

He didn’t want to be distant from you, he had grown to quite like you, but the last thing he wanted was to drag you into this messed up chapter of his life.

“Please, Y/N, Bucky’s out there under some mind-spell Hydra has on him, he’s an assassin, I need you to stay back, I can’t have him hurt you,” he pleaded with you, but you wanted none of it.

“Steve, this is my job, ok?” You reasoned with him, “The Winter Soldier is currently one of our biggest targets, we need to neutralize him, get him back to Bucky, Fury trusted me with this, you should too.”

Steve nodded, “Fine, but you’re not doing this without me. Sam and Nat are with us too, we need to work together.”

2015

You had sat back and watched impatiently as the events of Sokovia played through the large screen at Shield HQ, your heart thumping out of your chest as the large block of land soared higher and higher from the Earth, the buildings and rubble falling to the ground and the number of casualties too high to count.

Fury had immediately whisked you onto the helicarrier and took off for Russia, lending a hand in the Avengers fight against Ultron. You rushed out, guns blazing as Ultron’s little robotic minions made their way to the newest arrivals, not standing a chance. You knew your arrival would shock Steve, but you didn’t care about what he was going to say, you just wanted to see him, to save him, to save all of these people.

“Hope you guys aren’t enjoying the fight too much,” you smirked, approaching Steve and Thor who guarded the arc reactor, “We’re hoping to put it to an end soon.”

Steve’s eyes almost bulged out of his head seeing you up here, “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He was almost upset you were here, wanting nothing more than to have you safe and sound on the other side of the world, but seeing your smiling face and determined eyes brought him to slight ease.

“Coming to save your asses, as always,” you smirked, firing your weapon at the robots approaching Steve, going unnoticed by him as his attention was on you. He walked over to you at an impressive speed and wrapping you in a hug, trusting Thor to watch your backs as he did so. You laughed at his reaction and when he placed you down, his eyes looked into yours with so many emotions, most of which you couldn’t read, but relief was the one that stood out to you. He was relieved to see you.

2016

This was the year when everything changed. The team had separated into two, the Sokovian Accords ripping them apart from the seams. You had sided with Steve, hating the idea of having anyone but Fury tell you what to do. He was grateful to have you there, telling you so non-stop, but when Bucky got dragged into this after being framed, you knew Steve’s attention would get switched over to him.

This time, it didn’t. Steve did everything in his path to protect you, making sure no one knew you were even with his team when the airport fight broke down. You hid away in a jet, waiting to take off with Bucky and Steve safely inside. No one even expected you to be there, and when you brought the two soldiers to safety, Steve did what you least expected. He pulled you in for the kiss of a lifetime, Bucky smirking proudly at his friend for finally getting the balls to do what he had been wanting to do for years now.

“Sorry that was so late,” Steve mumbled against your lips as you felt your heart literally soar out of your chest.

“It was worth the wait,” you sighed in content as he pressed his lips up against yours once more, your breath picking up speed due to the increase of your heartbeat, your legs turning into jelly when Steve cupped your face, the amount of passion he was kissing you with was insane.

“So, dinner after this?” He smirked once he pulled away, slightly out of breath as you nodded at him, cheeks flushed and a huge smile on your face.

There were many things you had been proud of doing in your life, but keeping your composure when Steve asked you out had to top the list. He gave you a sparkling smile and took off with Bucky to finish their mission, leaving you a giggling mess in the jet.

You couldn’t wait for this date.

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers one shots #captain america #captain america one shots #captain america imagine #captain america imagines #captain america x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #the avengers #avengers imagine #avengers imagines

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crazymarvelsuperfamily · 5 years

Text

you dont have 2 if u dont want 2

if you write stuff you should do just a random irondad and spiderson thing but like loki is de-aged to like peters age and the avengers take care of him and when he meets peter they're like instantly bffs and at some point loki is like "hey pete could you paint my nails?" and peters like "what if i ruin it?" and lokis like "psssh nah it'll be fine" then peters like "ok!!!"

Yoooo sorry this has been in my inbox for such a long time - I haven’t had a laptop for a while, and I’ve finally got one now, so I also need to apologise for the poor writing quality, I think it might take a while for me to get back into it. I hope u like it tho! Xx

“Peter, for the last time. Sit down. You’re giving me whiplash just watching you.” Loki sighed exasperated, slouched in a beanbag.

“Peter, you will have done amazingly - you always do. Besides, AP results aren’t the be all and end all of life. I have terrible grades, and I do just fine.” The other boy shrugged, taking a deep slurp of Diet Coke.

Peter rolled his eyes and gave a weak smile, before refreshing his laptop screen once again. “I know, but I can’t stop thinking about them. I studied so hard - and I just really don’t want to let Mr Stark down, not after all the help he’s given me.” Peter flopped backwards onto his king size bed with a strained heave.

Loki, as usual, was the first to speak. “Hey Pete?” He sat up, gaining the other’s attention, “you need to relax a little.”

“How?” Peter whined, looking up anxiously at Loki, whose face bore that distinguishable mischievous grin. “I have an idea...” he said knowingly as he stole out of Peter’s bedroom.

Peter fidgeted impatiently for almost 5 minutes, until Loki returned, holding what Peter thought was a large pencil case. “Huh?” He raised an eyebrow, to Loki’s satisfied grin.

“What you need,” the boy said, dumping the bag next to Peter on the bed, and retrieving a fresh pair of towers from the bathroom, “is a spa day.”

Peter couldn’t contain his amusement, and with a giggle. “A what?” He questioned as Loki tipped out the contents of his bag out across Peters blanket.

“A spa day.” Loki repeated sincerely. “You’re stressed out - you need to relax. This is what everyone does in movies and stuff.”

Peter scoffed again, picking up a small pot of velvety purple nail varnish. “Where did you even get all of this?”

“Wanda’s room. Natasha has nicer stuff, but it’s way harder to steal.” Peter’s eyes widened, “borrow I mean...” Loki laughed nervously as Peter disapprovingly eye rolled. “Anyway, you gonna paint my nails or what?”

Peter looked uncertain, “what if I ruin them? I’ve never done anything like this before?”

“Psssh nah, it’ll be fine, besides, I’ve got nail varnish remover just in case.”

“Oh, okay then.” Peter smiled and set to work. Loki laid a towel across the bed and gave Peter his hand. The other boy diligently inspected his slender fingers, before coating his nails in the rich purple. At least, that would have been the case if Peter had the slightest amount of artistic talent. Instead, the boy more like smeared varnish across the majority of Loki’s hand and finished with an apologetic grin. Loki shook his head smiling, daintily reaching for the polish remover, so as not to mess everything up.

It took nearly half the bottle to clean his hands up, by which point, Peter had nearly fainted from the strength of the remover smell. With a splutter, he reached over to his laptop to refresh the page again, to be tackled down to the bed by Loki. "Okay, maybe that didn't go to plan, but that doesnt mean that youre off the hook. Im still trying to distract you - you know your results wont be out for another hour." he paused for a second with a knowing grin, "Here, I'll paint your nails." Peter looked uncertain, "What, it won't hurt?!"

Loki picked up Peter's hand and rested it on top of his knee. Taking a sleek red nail polish, he carefully coated Peter's nails. Once Loki finished, Peter made a move to reach for his laptop again. Loki slapped his hand back, "No, if you move, you'll mess it up - you need to wait 10 minutes for the polish to dry."

"But what am I supposed to do for 10 minutes?" Peter whined.

"Just sit still." Loki whined back, playfully mocking. "Here, let me do your eye makeup."

"Wait, what?" Peter looked confused.

"Your eye make up, you know, your lashes, brows, put some liner on and stuff. You have really pretty eyes, please?" Loki blinked innocently. Peter didn't know what it was, but for some reason, he always gave in to his sweet English accent, and within moments, he found himself kneeling with his eyes lightly shut, while Loki stood over him with an assortment of brushes and things that Peter didn't know the name of.

He had to admit, it was relaxing. Allowing himself to be still and quiet, while Loki cupped his face in one hand, and gently applied eyeshadow with his other. Loki worked slowly and meticulously, explaining each phase of what he was doing. Peter couldn't remember at least half of the words that were coming out of his mouth, but it felt nice, distracting, if a little weird.

Mascara, brow gel, primer, setting powder, fake lashes... Wait... Those were definitely all in the wrong order... Not that it mattered much.

Time seemed to freeze, and it felt unusually comforting to have his makeup done. The ticklish sensation, the way Loki held his face, but most of all, the feeling that he had a friend he trusted. AP results faded from his mind, and were replaced with peaceful bliss.

"There." A proud voice jolted him from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to a grinning Loki, holding a hand mirror in front of his face. He looked different. Not a bad different - just very different to what he was used to. His brows actually looked like they belonged on his face, and his massive doe eyes seemed to pop more than usual, edged with black eyeliner and surrounded with gold.

"Dude! That looks incredible! Where did you learn to do that?" Peter asked in awe.

"just practice I guess." Loki shrugged, "Though, it is really weird putting make up on someone else." Loki turned around to start packing the makeup away when Peter's laptop caught his eye. "Peter - your results have come through on your emails! Open them!" He near shouted.

Peter leaped from where he was sat and dove across the room to open the email. He turned back around to see Loki standing over his shoulder. "All A*s?!" He beamed.

Loki smiled back to him, "See. You didn't need to stress - you've done amazingly - you always do!"

They were about to hug in celebration, when their moment was ruined. "Alright, where's my stuff boys?" Wanda stood in Peter's doorway with a stern look across her face.

Peter's eyes widened in horror, and he turned to Loki, who had somehow already disappeared.

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abzzz3 · 5 years

Text

Let Me Prove You Wrong (Part 15)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: You have to make the most heart breaking decision of your life

Word Count: 1,847

Warnings: Small amounts of swearing

Author’s Note: Sorry I’ve been on hiatus. I honestly wasn’t a fan of the last chapter but so many of you are still enjoying the series so I have decided to suck it up and work out where to go from here :)

-- 2 MONTHS LATER –

“(Y/N), we need to talk”

You looked up and saw one of your colleagues, Marie, walking towards you, a somber look on their face.

“What’s the matter?” You asked

“The book is a fake”

“Which one?” Your stomach was in knots

“The Norse one from Bulgaria. Aleksander’s.”

You dropped your head onto your desk and groaned “How did you find out?” You asked

This book was your biggest accomplishment and the reason everything went to shit a few months ago. There had been absolutely no reason for anyone to believe that the book was a fake, so there had to be some undeniable proof.

“We finally got around to testing the ink and paper of it, to get the origin time and the ink is a replica of stuff that was used 300 years ago. This book should be 3,000 years old. The paper was also made only a few decades ago.”

You wanted to cry and hide from everyone, at the humiliating defeat presented before you.

“So we’re back a square one then. It makes sense I guess, he gave us the book too easily for it to be real. I’m so stupid”

“No you’re not, none of us had any idea it was a fake. There’s one other thing . . .”

You lifted your head to look up at the middle aged woman in front of you, her kind eyes watching you carefully.

“Thor is here to see you, again” She said

You’d been putting off speaking to Thor since you got back a few weeks ago. When you arrived back on Earth (you still weren’t sure how you survived) you landed in New York city with a lot of your memories missing but as the weeks followed, they all slowly came back to you and you contacted Steve for help and to let him know you were back and safe.

Thor had already gotten a hold of the Avengers though and so they were all convinced you were dead because no one had seen you for about a month. They also had no clue what actually happened because neither Loki, nor Odin would tell Thor, Sif didn’t even dare speak about it, in fear of aggravating Odin. So, once you got back to the facility and told everyone what happened, Loki was out of the good books again and you had been dodging Thor every time he showed up.

“Okay, do you mind telling him I’ll meet him in conference room C? I’ll finish this page and meet him there” You asked

“Sure thing, darling” Marie was always so kind and helpful to you, she had an absolute heart of gold.

You didn’t finish off the page you were on, instead you took the long walk to meet Thor. You didn’t have a problem with him, you just didn’t want to talk to him about your whole experience, or hear anything of Loki. Loki has had weeks to get in touch with you. The Avengers would have told Thor that you were alive, almost straight after you called Steve, who then would have told Loki and Odin, but you’ve heard nothing so it was safe to say that Loki really had move on.

You were within eyesight of the conference room, the door slightly ajar, when you heard Steve’s voice.

“Hey, (Y/N)! What are you doing down this end?” He asked, walking over to you

“I’m meeting Thor, I’ve put it off long enough and he doesn’t deserve to be ignored” You explained

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” He asked

Steve really was one of your closest friends here and ever since you had ‘come back from the dead’ he was always looking out for you.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Odin’s not here so it’s not nearly as daunting as it could be.”

He nodded and head to wherever he was going and you turned back to the conference room, taking the last 10 meters before opening the door. Thor was standing there, looking down in deep thought, until he heard you opening the door. He let out a huge sigh of relief and came towards you, pulling you into a hug without saying a word.

“You had us so worried (Y/N), why have you been ignoring me?” He asked, pulling away

“I haven’t wanted to talk about it. I nearly died because of your father, Thor, and when everyone found out I was still alive I didn’t hear a word from Loki. Do you know how much that broke my heart? Especially on top of finding out he was still married and hadn’t said a word to me about it. He led me on, just to hurt me, because that’s all he ever does.” You answered, your voice conveying distaste and heartache at the same time. You were glad Thor was still hugging you, because you really didn’t want to look his in the face as you spoke.

“Do you know how terrifying it feels to not be able to remember significant chunks of your life? I had to live like that, when I got back here.” You added

Thor pulled away to look you in the face, but kept his hands on your upper arms as some form of comfort he was trying to provide, you guessed.

“My father’s actions are inexcusable and he does regret them-“

“No he doesn’t, don’t lie to me. He hated me from day one, purely because I’m mortal. And what of Loki? What excuse do you have for him?” You snapped, now realizing that what you wanted more than anything was to hear how Loki was. Because once you did, it meant you could fully move on.

You watched Thor, waiting for an answer, as he stood there looking back at you as though you were blind to the most obvious thing.

“There’s no excuse”

Only after you heard the voice could you smell him in the room. You slowly turned around and saw Loki standing there, in the doorframe and watching you.

“Loki . . . what are you doing here?” You asked, your voice cracking

“The same thing I’ve been doing here for weeks. Trying to see you.”

“No you haven’t. Thor has.” You replied, willing yourself not to believe him and suppressing your want to hold him, because hating him was easier than the pain in your chest right now.

“I’ve been here, with him, every time he’s tried to see you. Some days it was even me as Thor, because I knew you wouldn’t agree to be in the same room as me, but you’d agree to speak with Thor.”

His explanation made perfect sense and you wanted to say sorry for not seeing him sooner, but you weren’t in the wrong. He was.

“Why did you hide her from me?” You asked, leaning against the large, glass table that was in the center of the room as your legs shook.

“Because she wasn’t in my life anymore. Sigyn did something that destroyed my trust and faith in her, so she left Asgard and we told the public her mother got sick, so she left to go spend her mother’s last years with her. There was never any intention of her ever coming back into my life, it’s just as Asgardians we cannot divorce.” He explained

You watched him as he spoke, slowly his voice began to show more and more signs of pleading for you to forgive him. He had taken a few steps into the room and was now close enough for you to take two large steps and be in his arms.

“What did she do?” You asked, if there was ever going to be any chance of you forgiving him, then he had to tell you everything

“She left me alone in that cave to have the serpent’s venom cover my body, while she had an affair with my Jotun father. She was in that cave with me, just long enough for everyone to think she would stay there with me.”

You couldn’t believe a woman so beautiful and gentle looking could do something so cruel to someone. The history books were all wrong about her, if this was the case.

“But you still hid her from me, why?” You asked again, wanting to know why he felt he couldn’t tell me about her

“Because I didn’t want to lose you. There is no way that I can marry you without being a widow, and I was convinced that if I told you that we cannot marry, you would leave” He explained

“You thought about marrying me?” You asked dumbfounded

On Earth, marrying this quickly isn’t normal, so in the eyes of Asgardians it was sure to be as though we had only ever said hello, before marrying.

“Before the events in Asgard I wasn’t sure, but after believing I had lost you forever, my one regret was not reminding you every single day how much I care for you and how I want to spend as many years as possible with you, as much as the universe would allow us”

You were speechless at Loki’s expression of his feelings. You, personally, had never thought about marrying Loki because you knew you would die long before he did and you just wanted to enjoy the time together that you would have. You weren’t sure how to respond because your mind was now whirling with all this information, unable to process it all.

“Please, say something” Loki took a cautious step towards you, his arms reaching towards you

“What do you want me to say?” You asked

“Anything, whatever you are thinking”

“We’re still back where we started.” You weren’t aware of the words coming out of your mouth until they were already there, hanging like a weight in the air “You’re a married man, and I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be the center of all of Asgard’s gossip.”

Now, Loki was speechless as this was not how he had dreamed this would go. He had hoped you would make up and agree to work this out, or at least take it day by day. Instead, you were saying to him that there would be no moving forward while Sigyn was still in the picture.

“Go home Loki, go home to your wife. I’m sure you’ve got kids somewhere too that need some attention” You said, leaving without another word

You hated yourself for the things you had just said, you wanted nothing more than to tell him that you will work through this together. That wouldn’t be true to yourself though, you had always said that no matter the person, you would not be the reason a marriage fell apart. Even with the dynamic between Loki and Sigyn, you refused to be part of the reason they couldn’t move forward. After all, neither could remarry so they were stuck with each other until the end of their days. It’s a shitty circumstance but there’s no way out of it.

@thricethechrises @marvel-fan-queen @fire-in-her-veinz @staringmoony @lokilvrr @arielletheavenger @mimijim09 @kayleighfreeman @zenithzendaya @itsasdfghjklstuff

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antaresproject · 5 years

Text

Is This Seat Taken?

This is a Tom Hiddleston/original female character fanfiction written by me. This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, and the first time I’ve ever publicly shared my writing.

Tessa Alpin is a university Theology professor who moved to a new city in the last few years to avoid dealing with the sudden tragic death of her late husband. She lives with her gay male friend/roommate, but has few (if any) other close friendships. She is working on a writing project at a busy local cafe when she meets someone she didn't expect. He is curious about her writing - although truthfully, even more curious about her - so he invites her to dinner.

She sat at an outdoor table in a noisy, crowded coffee shop, ignoring all the chaos and voices surrounding her. She tapped the end of the pencil absentmindedly on the page of the yellow legal pad held in front of her, other pages of notes scattered about the table top, some crumpled, some smooth, others held down by empty coffee cups. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice him approach.

“Is this seat taken?”

Tessa jumped and glanced up at the voice, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun. It didn’t help. All she could see is a tall, slim silhouette. She glanced around the busy patio. Standing room only, it seemed, except for the one empty chair across from her.

“Sure,” she said, gathering handfuls of paper and stuffing them into her bag. “Sorry, let me get some of this mess out of your way.”

“It’s no trouble,” the softly accented voice said, as he moved around the chair to sit. “What are you writing?”

Oh, great, she thought, small talk. “Oh, nothing, really,” she said aloud. “It’s just bits of screenplays I’ve been working on for years. Nothing terribly interesting.” She still couldn’t see his face for the glare of the sun off of a parked car somewhere behind him. She bent over the legal pad again, hoping the small talk was over and he would simply drink his beverage and leave.

“It sounds interesting to me,” he said. “What are they about?”

“Ah. Well, they’re based off of Norse mythology mostly.” She chuckled self-deprecatingly. “You probably don’t even know what that is. Sorry, I’m kind of a nerd.”

“Actually, I do know a little about that mythology. Is there any part in particular you have interest in?” He took a sip of his drink and shifted slightly in his chair, but not enough that she could see his face clearly. He was casually dressed in jeans and a hoodie, but that’s all she could really see of him.

Tessa put down her pen, hiding a small sigh. Usually when people said they knew the Norse stories, they were referring to the Marvel movies with Thor and Loki that came out a few years ago, which were delightful as far as cinematics go, but really not anything like the actual stories that were translated from the Eddas. But it was obvious that the gentleman across from her was feeling chatty and that she wasn’t going to get any more work done for moment. British, she thought, his accent is British. I think.

“All of it, really. I started writing these when the Marvel movies were hitting theatres. Those movies, while they were really good movies and very well casted, really had nothing to do with what we actually know of the Norse beliefs and stories. I guess I always dreamed of telling those stories a little more authentically, if not as flamboyantly as Hollywood would do it.”

He chuckled at that. “Fair enough,” he said. “I agree with what you said. I’ve learned a fair amount about the stories too in the last while. I’d love to read what you’ve written sometime.”

She demurred, embarrassed. “Oh, no,” she said, blushing. “It’s really just for my own fun. No one needs to waste their time trying to read my chicken scratch.”

Just then, a large bus stopped on the street beside the patio, blocking the glare off the vehicle window across the street. She could finally see his features, a ball cap hiding reddish brown curls and shading his sapphire blue eyes. Across the table from her, smirking slightly, sat Tom Hiddleston.

“Oh, no,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry – I couldn’t see your face for the sun – I didn’t mean…” Blushing profusely, she took a deep breath. “Honestly, I meant no offence. You were wonderful in the Marvel series.” She wanted to crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.

He was grinning broadly now. “Thank you,” he said politely. “Although I must say, I still agree with you that the stories they told were nothing like what was translated from the Eddas. Which might be a good thing, really, in some ways. At least I didn’t have to tie my testicles to a goat’s beard.”

In spite of herself, she laughed. He did know some of the stories at least. “I see your point, that might have been….uncomfortable for you.”

Still smiling, he gave her an inscrutable look. “I have somewhere I need to be shortly, but I really would be interested in hearing more about your work.” He held up his hand as she tried to object. “Perhaps we could discuss it further over dinner? Say, tomorrow around 7? I haven’t your address so I’ll pick you up here?”

Speechless, she nodded. He smiled at her again and walked away.

***

Chas looked up from the paper he was reading as she closed the apartment door behind her. “What happened to you?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been beaten with a loaf of bread.”

She smiled at his unique analogy. He always had the most outrageous way with words. It was one reason they had become friends a number of years ago.

“I think I might have been,” she admitted. “Actually, I think I have a date tomorrow night, and you’ll never guess with who.”

“Oooh, I love it when stories start this way!” Chas tossed down the paper and bounced excitedly on the sofa, patting the seat beside him, indicating for her to sit. “And it must be some story if it ends up with you accepting a date. So, tell me all about this mysterious and alluring stranger.”

Briefly, she told Chas about the encounter she’d had with Tom at the coffee shop. He laughed aloud when she told him exactly who it was she’d met.

“Oh, Tess, leave it to you to try to chase off a would-be suitor with your imperious knowledge of all things nerdy,” he said, breathless with laughter. “Only to have the suitor be Tom Hiddleston himself!” Chas erupted into another fit of laughter, wiping his eyes.

“I really don’t know how you find this so funny,” she smiled. “Now I have to go for dinner with him and talk about my work! You know I never really meant for anyone to read them! I barely let you read them!”

Chas sobered up a little at that. “I think it’s an amazing chance, honestly. Who better to critique your work than the man who played Loki himself?” He grinned again. “And when movies based on your screenplays premiere in Hollywood in a few years, you can invite me! I promise I won’t show you up on the red carpet. Well, I’ll try not to anyway,” he said, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of the sleeve of his patterned purple dress shirt. With Chas’s colorful personality and dress, he’d have to try really hard to not show up everyone there, she thought.

“That’s not going to happen!” she said, feigning outrage at the idea. “I mean, if it did, of course I’d take you, but - !” Fidgeting, she stood up and started tidying the already spotless table. “My plays are nothing but a barely cohesive collection of vague ideas. They’re not ready to be read, never mind by someone I don’t even know!”

“Bah!” Chas dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Your ideas are amazing! And if he doesn’t see that, he’s a no-talent nobody and doesn’t deserve your time.”

“Chas!”

Chas walked over and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I’m serious, Tessa, you have real talent, and it shows in those plays. I think this is absolutely the fox’s fish, that they’ll be read by someone who actually works in the industry. Who knows where it could go from there?” he said, exaggeratedly shrugging his shoulders. “Now, get your things, we’re going shopping.”

“We are?”

“Well, of course we are darling, you need something to wear for your date!”

***

Sitting on the patio of the café the next evening, she felt awkward and overdressed. Her auburn hair was pulled into an elegant chignon, and Chas had helped her settle on a fitted black dress with lace on the shoulders and an open back. Over that she wore a soft grey knit shawl with tiny rainbow colored beads dripping from the bottom. Gods, how she hated being out of her comfort zone like this! He likely forgot as soon as he walked away, she thought grumpily. He’ll never show up. She was at the same time hopeful and worried that he wouldn’t.

“You really need to stop glowering,” said Chas over his latte. “You’re curdling the steamed milk.” He took a sip. “You know, most people would be thrilled to be in your shoes tonight. I certainly would.”

She sighed and tried to relax slightly. It didn’t work. “This is silly, Chas. Why am I here? You know I don’t date. He likely won’t even show….”

Her words trailed off as an expensive looking vehicle pulled up to the curb. The rear door opened and a tall, well-dressed man got out.

“That’s my cue,” Chas murmured, standing up and walking into the café. “Do try to have some fun tonight, would you? For me?”

Tessa barely heard him. I can’t believe this is happening! She thought, her mouth dry with something approaching panic.

Tom walked over to where she was standing and smiled. “You look lovely,” he said. A small crowd was beginning to gather, excitedly whispering to each other. A camera flashed behind him, blinding her momentarily.

He saw her blink and offered his arm to her. “My apologies,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m afraid this is somewhat of a hazard of being seen in public with me. Shall we?”

She ducked her head, suddenly feeling shy, and let him lead her to the car. At the curb she looked back into the restaurant, suddenly wishing Chas were coming with them. She felt completely out of her element. He saw her looking and waggled his fingers at them, grinning. Stupid! She berated herself. Since when do you need Chas to hold your hand? Or anyone for that matter?

Tom followed her glance inquisitively. He saw Chas waving and waved back, then opened the car door for her. Several more camera flashes went off as she slid into the dark interior, and Tom followed. “A friend of yours I assume? He looks charming.”

“Chas is my best friend and roommate,” she said. “We met at a writing event a few years ago, just after…that is, shortly after I began working at the university.” She looked out the window at the passing scenery, trying to compose herself.

Tom was silent for a moment as he watched her, then laughed. “I’m truly embarrassed to say so, but I do believe I quite forgot to ask your name yesterday. Tom Hiddleston, at your service,” he held out his hand, his eyes twinkling with humour.

Tessa took his offered hand. “Tessa Alpin,” she said.

“Utterly charmed,” he whispered, kissing the back of her hand lightly. She blushed again and took her hand back. I haven’t blushed this much in literally years! She thought, upset with herself. What am I, fifteen again? Try not to make an absolute fool of yourself, Tessa.

***

The restaurant was a small upscale place on the west side of the city overlooking the water. Tessa had never been anywhere quite so fancy before. She let the staff take her shawl before they were shown to a table near the windows. The city lights spread along the water’s edge to either side of them as the sun dipped low across the water. The first few stars were beginning to make their appearance in the sky.

“What a view,” she commented, suddenly nervous as he held her chair for her.

Tom smiled at her. “Indeed it is,” he said warmly, looking at her rather than out the window. She felt her cheeks warm again.

Tom selected a wine for them and they ordered their meals. He was an attentive date, charming and funny, and despite herself Tessa began to relax. They talked and laughed about many things as they ate their delicious meals. As their plates were being unobtrusively cleared away, an easy silence settled between them.

Darkness had fallen outside the windows, at least, as near to darkness as the city ever saw. “Tell me about yourself, Tessa,” Tom asked. “Have you always lived here?”

A shadow crossed her features briefly. “No, I only moved here after…a few years ago,” she said. “When I was offered a job writing for the university here.” Don’t think of before, Tessa. All that matters is now. ”It’s beautiful here though, and I try to make it out into the mountains at least a few times a year.”

“Yes, I love the area,” Tom said. “I haven’t spent much time here so far, but there’s a lot here to keep me coming back.” He smiled slightly and leaned back in his chair. “You know, skiing and surfing and, perhaps the coffee…”

She laughed. “Perhaps,” she agreed.

“Do you have family in the area as well?”

There it was. The question she’d been dreading all evening. The one that made her avoid letting people close. Chas was the only person in her new life who knew all the details of the old.

“Not nearby, no,” she wished she could leave it at that. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have twin sons, both in college. They chose to stay when I moved here rather than change schools and leave their friends.” It had been a hard decision, for all three of them, when she had chosen to accept this job and move halfway across the country.

“It must have been hard for you to leave them,” Tom said softly. “What of their father?”

“He passed.”

Tom was quiet for a moment. She waited for the awkward platitudes that always followed that admission, the looks of pity, the empty sympathy as people shied away from the less beautiful parts of life. “You have such strength,” he said finally. Surprised, she looked up. “You were dealt a terrible hand, no doubt about that. Yet you chose to move to a brand new place, away from everything familiar, and build anew. If that’s not strength, what is?”

She thought about his words for a moment. To her it always felt more like cowardice, not strength, that found her running away from all of the dreams that had been shattered with a single phone call. Even if she had found new dreams when she got here.

The band shifted into a slower song, and Tom stood. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?” he asked, holding his hand out to her.

How could she refuse? He’d been so charming all evening, the perfect gentleman. She stood and took his hand and they walked onto the dance floor. As she moved into his arms, she became aware of how small her hand felt in his large one, his other hand resting lightly at the small of her back. And he was so tall! The soft hair of his carefully trimmed beard brushed her temple as they swayed gently to the music. Tessa found it hard to think of anything but his presence with him so close. She wasn’t sure she appreciated the sensation.

The song ended and they made their way back to their table. Tessa found herself relieved at the physical distance across the table. She tried to put her thoughts back in order as Tom ordered coffees for them.

“So you’ve said you work at the university here. Do you teach?”

“Yes,” she answered, grateful for the safety of the topic. “I teach modern theology.”

“Modern theology, like religion?” Tom asked.

“Mmm, well, kind of?” Tessa thought how best to describe it. “It’s not that I’m teaching how or what to believe as far as religion goes, it’s more like comparing the differences and similarities of various religions around the world and throughout the ages. Where did they come from and why might a group of people have believed what they did, and where those beliefs may have come from.”

“So almost world history in a way, too. Fascinating. That must be where the interest in the Norse comes from. How did you become interested in screenwriting?”

She smiled a little. “Well that’s a relatively new thing. I’ve always loved theatre, and I’ve written books and dissertations and articles over the years for various topics. When I moved here and I didn’t know anyone I found myself with a lot of free hours to fill and decided to see if I could combine the two.” She grinned into her coffee. “And Thor had just come out and the world was wild about it. It gave me the idea for where to start.”

Tom chuckled. “Always happy to help. I really hope you’ll let me read some of it one day.”

“I never really meant for anyone to read them, to be honest, I mean I’ve hardly let Chas read much of it, unless I get really stuck and need a different viewpoint. It’s just a personal project to fill the hours. Although if you’re really interested maybe I can email you a few scenes. I can’t promise any of it will make sense though!”

Tom threw back his head and laughed. Gods, what a beautiful man, she thought, then mentally shook herself. Stop that, Tessa, that’s not what you need to be thinking about.

“I would, I really would like to read it, if you’re willing to share. So you just haunt random coffee shops and make a mess on their tables to work? Don’t you have an office?” His eyes twinkled as he teased her.

“I don’t like the quiet,” she said. “It gets too loud and I can’t think. I do my best work surrounded by that kind of chaos.”

“I can understand that. Do you often get harassed by curious strangers that ask too many questions?” He favoured her with a mischievous grin.

Tessa laughed. It felt good to laugh, she decided. She hadn’t done enough of it lately. “Not often,” she admitted. “And usually when I do I just ‘scare them off with all things nerdy’ as Chas puts it.”

That made him laugh again. “Your friend Chas sounds like a very interesting person. I should like to meet him someday. Seriously though, that does work. People seem to be terrified of intelligence these days. It’s unfortunate.”

“People are afraid of anything that might make them stand out from the crowd. If you’re seen as smart, you could also be seen as dumb. So if they fly under the radar, so to speak, and aren’t seen as either smart or dumb, they feel safer. At least that’s my observation.”

“A very valid point. Although, a very sorry state the world is in, when average is seen as the best thing to strive for.” Tom glanced out the window, seeming almost sad for a moment. “’When we are born, we cry, that we are come to this great stage of fools…’” He turned back to Tessa. “Do you fancy a walk along the water? We need not go far if you’re tired.”

“Sure,” said Tessa, smiling at his quote from Shakespeare’s King Lear.

The restaurant staff brought her shawl as Tom settled the bill and they left the restaurant. Again, Tom offered her his arm. Together they walked, quietly, each enjoying the night, their own thoughts and each other’s presence. They wandered to the end of the pier where they stopped, looking out over the calm, moonlit ocean.

“Thank you for agreeing to dinner with me tonight, Tessa,” said Tom, turning towards her slightly. “Believe it or not, it isn’t every day that I pick up intelligent, attractive women from coffee shops.”

She laughed quietly. “Well it’s not every day that I get that sort of offer, or would accept. Not that you gave me much chance to say no.” He grinned sheepishly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Especially by men like you,” she finished quietly.

Tessa felt, more than saw, him flip in and out of his Marvel persona. “There are no other men like me,” he said, quoting his character, Loki.

They laughed together. “That’s a kind of magic itself, how you are able do that. Amazing!”

Hand in hand they began walking back to the car. All the way to her apartment Tom regaled her with anecdotes of life on the set. They were still laughing when the car pulled to a stop outside her building. He stepped out of the vehicle and held out his hand to assist her.

Tom offered his arm to her again as they walked to the door of the apartment she shared with Chas. As they stopped outside, Tessa turned to face him, suddenly nervous again. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Tom,” she began, then stopped, having no idea what to say next.

“As did I, Tessa,” said Tom, taking her hands. “I have to fly out tomorrow afternoon, but I’m back in a couple of weeks. I’d really like to see you again. Would it be okay if I called you?”

She wanted to say no. She knew it would only lead her to more heartache if she said yes. It’s why she avoided dating in the first place. Besides, he was Tom Hiddleston, a gorgeous, talented, A-list actor who could probably have almost any woman in the world with only a devilish smile and a crook of his finger. She was a widow with two grown children and a lot of baggage. There was no way this could go anywhere. She opened her mouth to tell him so.

“I’d like that,” she said, surprising herself.

Tom’s smile was like the sun splitting the clouds. She couldn’t help but smile back. He leaned down brushed her lips with his, ever so gently.

Tessa felt a million different things at once. She felt on fire, although the night air surrounding them was cool. She felt lightheaded, and thought she might fall if he let go of her hands. She felt other things too, and was trying to ignore them.

He pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes dark. He bit his lower lip then moistened his lips with his tongue, as if he were still trying to taste her there. “Good night, Tessa,” Tom murmured.

“Good night,” she whispered back, unable to find her voice. She watched him walk slowly away. As he opened the door to his car he turned and blew her a kiss.

Tessa pulled out her keys, then leaned her forehead against the door for a moment, feeling completely off balance. Please let Chas be asleep, she thought, then unlocked the door and went in.

#fanfiction #tom hiddleston #original female character #first writing project #angst #tell me what you think

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aurorawest · 3 years

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⭐️Can you please also do a director's commentary for "Foundations" chapter 3? Thank you for your commentary on ch. 2, that was fantastic btw, :D I love that chapter!!

Yes! Thanks for asking! Link to AO3.

I used to write such short chapters, haha. This one is under 2500 words! I talked a bit when I did chapter 2 about why I wrote Foundations. Chapter 3 was actually the first chapter I wrote. It was The Scene (you know, the one you see in your head that’s the whole reason for writing the thing in the first place) for this fic, but when I write, I usually write The Scene first, haha.

Loki shifted in his camp bed, reaching up to pull the orb of light floating next to him closer before he turned the page of his book. Wind rattled the walls of the tent, but the storm outside wasn’t enough to drown out the rising and falling swells of sound from the impromptu feast that had sprung up several tent rows over.

I remember really struggling to get the atmosphere of the setting of this chapter...mainly because I didn’t really care that much, haha. I wanted to write a fraught conversation between Loki and Thor and what to you mean I need to describe where they are? Though I actually think it turned out well in the end.

He paused for a moment, listening, knowing the right thing to do—the expected thing to do—was to be there himself. Eating, drinking, bragging and inflating whatever deeds he’d accomplished in battle that day. And singing, apparently, if the sound he could hear was any indication—and if one was extremely generous with their definition of ‘singing.’

I don’t think I’d come up with my head canon yet that Loki hates to sing at this point.

They were on Alfheim, one of the Nine Realms, which was facing a minor insurrection; nothing that Asgard’s forces couldn’t put down in a week or two.

Sneak peek! Alfheim features prominently in the sequel to The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy.

They’d been there three days and the tide of the war was already turning in their favor. Still, it had been a shock when the Bifrost had brought them there. Years ago, Mother had taken Loki and Thor to visit, and Loki had found the planet breathtaking. Asgard was beautiful, of course, the pinnacle of the Nine Realms, but the lacy architecture of Ljosalfgard and the forests twinkling with lights was captivating. Thor had wanted to capture a unicorn and ride it;

I draw a lot of inspiration from the comics when I write about Alfheim, since we’ve only seen one very brief shot of it in the MCU. Ljosalfgard is the capital (Ljósálfar is Old Norse for Light Elves). Unicorns are native to Alfheim in the comics.

Mother had forbidden it, and added for good measure that if he was gored, he’d have to sit in bed for the duration of the trip and wouldn’t be allowed to have any fun.

The forests were nowhere to be seen now, though. Or the unicorns, for that matter, though during that long ago visit, neither Thor nor Loki had gotten anywhere near one, anyway. The rebel army was moving towards Ljosalfgard, burning everything as it went, and the tall, graceful trees that had fascinated Loki as a child were nothing but smoldering stumps now. Whole towns had been reduced to rubble, with the bodies of those who had been unable to flee lying amid the wreckage.

In the last such ruin they’d passed through, Loki had stopped to stare down into the face of a dead elf. Her legs were pinned under the collapsed wall of a building, crushed beyond repair, but what had killed her was the discharge weapon that had been fired into her stomach. Tarry blood, turning black as it dried, was spread around her. Not a quick death, or a painless one. He’d knelt down and closed her eyes, but he couldn’t do anything about the howl of pain that twisted the rest of her face.

I added this paragraph about the dead elf during editing, feeling that my description of war was too impersonal and sanitized. Since writing this, my body count in my fics has multiplied. Now I kind of look for excuses to describe corpses.

A crack of thunder brought him back to the present with a jolt. He realized he’d been staring at the same sentence on the page, reading it over and over again.

Mood, Loki.

With a yawn, he closed the book and set it aside on the small, ornate table he’d carted to Alfheim from Asgard.

My pocket dimension head canon wasn’t as well developed at this point. I was imagining the table physically being carried. I’ve actually always intended for this table to make an appearance in my fic again, like Loki chucked it in his pocket dimension and sort of forgot about it, but I try to limit the amount of Asgardian stuff he’s got in there for angst value, so I’ve never had it show up again.

The book was a treatise on astral projection, wherein the author theorized that with the proper source of power, the range of the projection could be amplified infinitely.

I still think this is clever, haha. This is a reference to Infinity Stones! Specifically the scene in Avengers where Loki astral projects and talks to the Other. I head canon that Loki really can’t astral project very far (maybe, maybe, a mile or two), but that the Mind Stone allowed him to do so in that scene.

Interesting, but not the lightest reading after a day of battle. He’d brought other books—and been roundly mocked for it

Whether Loki was being mocked or teased is open to interpretation. He can’t see it as anything other than mocking, though.

—but his focus was shot to hel. Whatever he picked up, he’d only end up sitting with it open on his lap while his mind wandered.

At that moment, the tent flap burst open, letting in a spray of wind and rain. “It’s pissing down out there,”

The fact that Loki and Thor both have English accents makes me desperately want to make them speak British English, but I don’t because they don’t in the movies. Sometimes, sometimes, I allow myself to throw something in.

Thor said, apparently to no one in particular, because when his eyes fell on Loki, he added, “Ah. I thought I’d find you hiding here.”

“I’m hardly hiding,” Loki said. “Anyway, I was tired.” He flicked his light orb higher and expanded it with a twist of his hand so that it illuminated more of the space.

This is the first time I wrote about this spell of Loki’s, which I now use alllll the time. It’s one of my go-to spells for him. If you’ve followed me for any length of time you’ve probably seen me talk about this fic I have where Strange goes into Loki’s mind (still unposted)—this spell is actually a major part of one section of that fic.

Thor looked at it, shook his head a little, and switched on the lights on his side of their shared tent. “What?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow.

Generator? Asgardian tech? Who knows!

Glancing at him, Thor replied, “Tricks.”

Uh oh.

With a slight smile, Loki said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, brother, but one of my tricks prevented an axe from lodging in that thick skull of yours earlier.”

Thor snorted. “Not so tired that your wit’s dulled, I see.”

“Well, no. Never.”

Obviously, I try to capture the characters’ voices when I write, especially their dialogue, but I do it to the point where if there’s a kind of really distinctive delivery of a line, I’ll take that and turn it into almost like, a verbal tic? You know how you’ll catch yourself saying certain things a certain way, little phrases, that sort of thing? This is an intentional echo of Loki’s line in Avengers, where Thor says, “You think yourself above them,” and Loki responds, “Well yes.” I use this one all the time.

Removing the vambraces from his forearms,

The amount of time that I have spent looking up what different pieces of armor are called, UGH. And I never remember. When I edit, I always have to double check. The only one I know for sure now is demi-gaunts because I use it so often, haha. Those are the things Loki wears on his hands in Ragnarok.

Thor chuckled, then said, “You should have joined us. No party is complete without your troublemaking.”

Loki put a hand over his heart, a grin twitching at his mouth. “I’m touched. I had no idea I was so appreciated.”

“That,” Thor said, “and the fact that Fandral couldn’t stop bragging about how many more rebels he slew than the both of us combined. I could’ve used your help knocking him down a peg or two.”

I wanted to show a few things here. One: Loki is used to Thor being dismissive about his magic, and he doesn’t actually dwell on it too much in conversation. Two: Thor’s attitude about Loki’s magic isn’t actually awful. He could certainly be nicer about it and have more respect for something that Loki is really good at it, but this isn’t something that Thor feels really affects their relationship. He’s mildly contemptuous, and he forgets immediately. And three: Thor enjoys Loki’s mischievous side. The two of them still have a decent relationship, though the cracks are showing.

“Mm. Sorry to disappoint you,” Loki said.

Thor snorted. Removing his cape and slinging it over a chair back, he asked, “What are you reading, anyway?”

With a glance at the book, Loki said, “I don’t think it would interest you.”

“I don’t think so either.” Thor smirked at him. “I’m just trying to show some interest in the things my little brother’s interested in.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Loki said, “Ah, I see. Mockery, then patronization. What a day.”

Thor chuckled and came over to pick up the book. “Astral projection,” he said, then looked at Loki. “You already know how to do this.”

Really trying to hammer (haha, pun intended) home the point that Loki is an extremely unreliable narrator. Thor asks Loki what he’s reading, then shows that he knows what Loki can do. And then:

Loki raised an eyebrow. It was always a surprise when Thor demonstrated that he knew what Loki was capable of.

Yeah but, is it, Loki? Is it?

“You already know how to swing a sword, but you still train.”

“Hm.” Thor put the book down. “Once Father gives me Mjølnir, I won’t have to.”

Still pre-Mjølnir.

Right. Mjølnir. It had been heavily implied, when Father had sent them to quell the uprising on Alfheim, that the reward for success would be Mjølnir. For Thor, of course. For Loki, well, he supposed the reward was the satisfaction of a job well done. Once, when they’d been children, the two of them had snuck down to the weapons vault to see if they could lift the hammer. Thor hadn’t hesitated; he’d strutted up to it and yanked on its handle. It had come off its stone pedestal easily, and Thor had crowed and brandished it while Loki had stood there grinning.

Then, Thor had set it down and said, his face flushed with happiness, “You try it!”

Loki had reached for the handle. But he’d stopped, his arm outstretched, and closed his fingers around nothing but air before withdrawing his hand. What if he couldn’t? What if he wasn’t worthy?

To this day, this bit hurts me. I find it so relatable. If you try, you might fail, so maybe it’s better to not even try? At least you won’t feel like a worthless failure that way. And on a broader character note, this is Loki as a child already feeling that he isn’t living up to expectations.

So he shook his head and had said, “Father will be angry if he finds out we came down here.”

This was a thin excuse to put off learning something about himself that he didn’t want to learn, but even at a young age, Loki had been all-too-cognizant of his own failings. Thor had looked crestfallen, which almost made him feel guilty enough to try lifting Mjølnir, despite his misgivings.

HE’S NOT THOR. This is something that I definitely address in my fic series, this idea that he’s not Thor, so he’ll never be good enough. And yes...it is something that he gets over. He stops worrying about the fact that he can’t lift Mjølnir. He begins to see the value in his way of doing things, and not in a defensive way, but in a way he’s actually proud of. He realizes he doesn’t need to be Thor because he’s Loki.

But this is waaaaaay before that, haha.

Almost.

Rain beat on the tent, which luckily was imbued with enough Asgardian technology to keep all of it outside. Winter on Alfheim, at least in this hemisphere. If the blood didn’t turn the battlefields to mud, the rain would. Loki glanced up, his brow furrowed, as thunder rumbled and a gust of wind made the canvas billow like a sail. “The weather could be better.”

“If it doesn’t stop, it will just make the battle more glorious,” Thor said.

Smirking, Loki said, “I think I find dry clothing more glorious than battle.”

Thor shook his head at Loki, looking like someone had just told a wonderful joke, but only he was in on it. “You enjoy it, admit it. You can pretend you’re above it all you like, but I see it in your eyes.” He paused, clearly wanting his punchline, or thesis, or whatever this was, to really land. “That’s the rage of battle, brother.”

This was the first bit of dialogue I thought of for this fic. I remember it coming to me while I was sitting in bed one night.

Loki somehow hadn’t expected that. Taken aback and hoping it wasn’t showing, he said, “You’re mistaken.”

[...] Thor chuckled and laid down, his hands laced under his head, but Loki remained sitting, staring at the opposite wall of the tent and fidgeting with his hands. The rage of battle. Ridiculous. If there was one thing that Loki was good at, it was not letting his emotions get away from him.

OOF. If you thought to yourself while reading this, That doesn’t sound like the Loki I know, then you are correct! Frigga has that line in TDW where she says, “So perceptive about everyone but yourself,” and that line is one of my guiding stars for writing Loki. He’s very, very good at reading other people...but terrible at knowing his own mind. And then his read of what other people think of him gets filtered through his skewed perception of himself.

Anyway, I very much believe that Loki is horrible about keeping his emotions in check. He absolutely, when agitated, thinks entirely with his heart and not at all with his head. Here’s the thing...

He was as collected in battle as he was any other time.

He wants to be a Good Asgardian. So in his mind, it’s controlling your emotions in battle that’s important. Other times? Not so much. As long as he does it in battle, nothing else matters. And Loki is very good about keeping his head in battle. He’s an amazing warrior, just as good as any other Asgardian.

To lose your head was to invite costly mistakes. Absently, he ran his thumbnail over his other fingernails. He feared losing himself, anyway. Sometimes he thought it would be all too easy, when he wasn’t always sure who he was to begin with.

This is one of the core elements of Loki’s character to me. He doesn’t know who he is. He fears a loss of control. I absolutely keep these things in my head at all times when writing him. These things affect everything in his life and hold him back from things he wants. Love? That’s a loss of control.

“You’re quiet, brother,” Thor said.

Loki glanced over at him. “Just thinking.”

“You think too much.”

“Possibly.”

Another intentional movie dialogue echo. “Are you mad?” “Possibly.”

Propping himself up on his elbow and facing Loki, Thor said, “This is war, Loki. You get up, you slay the enemy, you drink, you feast, and then you go to bed so you can do it all over again the next day. There’s nothing to think about.”

Life was definitely simpler for Thor back in the day.

With a slight smile and a mirthless exhalation of laughter, Loki said, “I’m not like you, Thor.”

“Really? That’s so shocking, whatever could you be talking about?”

Loki gave his brother a sidelong look. Once in a while, Thor displayed a snideness that came directly from Mother. While Loki was truly their mother’s son, some of it was bound to rub off on Thor, too.

I’ve never liked the idea that Thor is stupid, and I do like those moments where he’s sarcastic and clever. “I thought you liked tricks,” from TDW comes to mind, and obviously a lot in Ragnarok. Loki has a tendency to think in binaries. Father=Thor, Mother=Loki (in the sense that they take after their parents, not like, Loki is maternal). He has trouble seeing that Thor also takes after their mother...and he has even more trouble seeing how much like Odin he himself is.

“I don’t mind battle,” he said. “I’m perfectly happy fighting to protect Asgard and the Nine Realms.

It’s really important to me to show that Loki isn’t squeamish about killing people, but also that he sees it as a duty.

But you know I’d rather be sitting by the water, reading a book.”

“The water” is what I’ve come to call the body of water that surrounds Asgard’s land mass. It’s not an ocean, it’s not a lake. Here, I’m literally just saying ‘sitting by the water’ the way you’d say that if you were like, sitting on a dock or on the beach or whatever, but since then it’s become my official name for it. I like the idea that Asgardians really do see themselves as superior, and this body of water sitting around their planet is The Water, like there’s no other water.

“Or causing mischief,” Thor said without missing a beat, which made Loki shrug in acknowledgment of this point. Thor stared at Loki for a minute, and then he said, “Perhaps you should…” But then he trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Perhaps I should what?” Loki asked, a sharp edge to his tone that he knew would put Thor on the defensive.

A flicker of irritation crossed Thor’s face. “Perhaps you should take greater pains to be more like a warrior. We’re Asgardians, Loki. We don’t hide in bushes and cast spells. We face the enemy head on.”

Aaaand there it is. Thor definitely feels this way, but he’s also more of a dick than he has to be, because Loki purposefully needled him—and Thor’s quickness to anger is one of his flaws.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “A dead rebel is a dead rebel. It doesn’t matter if I stood in front of him and ran him through with a sword or if I distracted him with an illusion while I threw a dagger through his windpipe.” Tilting his chin up, he said, “And I hardly ‘hide in the bushes.’ Don’t be insulting.”

“The men talk,” Thor said, still sounding prickly.

Loki is the one we think of as being the one who feels like he doesn’t fit in and as though he has to maintain an image of someone he isn’t...but I’m really partial to the idea that Thor feels the exact same way. The two of them have actually had this in common their entire lives, but they never talk about it or see this basic fact about each other. They’re both trying to live up to something, and it isn’t who either of them are.

Ah. So that was the issue. There Thor had been, just trying to get drunk with the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif while they compared body counts, and it had been interrupted by the troops questioning Loki’s prowess on the battlefield. Or perhaps even his commitment to the battle itself. What an inconvenience. How embarrassing. “Do they,” Loki said, his tone flat. “And do you defend me, brother? Or do you let them talk?”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Don’t start this.”

Does Thor not really answer the question because obviously he defends Loki, or because he doesn’t, and it embarrasses him? I left this purposefully ambiguous here. Loki certainly knows what he thinks.

Loki held up his hands, his eyes widening a little in an expression of sarcastic innocence. “I thought you started it. Didn’t you just tell me to stop hiding in the bushes?”

With a frustrated sigh, Thor said, “You take everything the wrong way.”

“Perhaps you should choose your words more carefully,” Loki shot back.

Their whole relationship, summed up in two lines.

For a long moment, Thor glared. Loki tried to return it with a look of cool haughtiness. Finally, Thor said, “Of course I defend you. But when even Hogun and Sif—”

At this, Loki’s mask dropped, he knew it did, and he knew that for a split second, the hurt showed on his face. Thor’s glare slipped as well and guilt flashed across his features.

They’re so good at hurting each other. It’s exactly what they’re trying to do, and then they instantly regret it. But it doesn’t stop them from doing it again.

Well, Loki had just told him to choose his words more carefully. It would do his brother good to listen. Otherwise you ended up saying things that other people didn’t need to hear.

Loki snorted derisively, a hard twist of a smile on his face. “I see.” The fact that Sif was bad-mouthing him stung more than he cared to admit. His feelings towards her toed the line between platonic and something more on and off for years, though he knew he’d never stand a chance with her.

Loki definitely had a thing for Sif for a long time. He’s being wishy-washy here.

Thor was her type. Blond, muscle-y, typical Asgardian male.

Loki’s type, when it comes to men, certainly involves muscles, just not the like, bulging bodybuilder muscles.

Which made her just like everyone else. Loki held out his hand and snapped his fingers shut, and the orb of light hovering over him snuffed out.

“Loki—”

“Good-night, Thor,” he said, his voice tight. Anger and resentment coiled in the pit of his stomach like a viper, slithering up his spine to the base of his skull so that it sat there, an intrusive otherness scratching at his mind.

Some purposeful snake imagery; and the use of ‘viper,’ which has connotations of treachery, was also deliberate.

As he laid down, he knew it would keep him awake, and that Thor probably wouldn’t be fooled by his stillness. He could cast an illusion, so that it looked like he was sleeping, and then leave his slumbering form here and roam the dark encampment, if he wanted to.

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to not feel like an outsider amongst his family and friends. He wanted ‘Asgardian’ to encompass his particular gifts too.

Loki is definitely arrogant about his abilities, which is an interesting thing to balance, since he’s also so deeply insecure. A lot of his bitterness comes from the fact that he knows he’s good at things, but they aren’t the right things. And even when they are the right things—like being great in battle—he doesn’t do it the ‘right’ way.

“Loki,” Thor said again.

He ignored his brother and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, Thor would have forgotten about this. Thor never had any trouble forgetting the things he said and did that wounded Loki.

This is true. Thor thinks before he speaks, but he also puts more stock in actions than words. Loki is the opposite.

That was a gift, he supposed, his face twisting in the dark. A very particular gift to be able to let go of words that hurt, one which he both hated and longed to have. Of course, Thor didn’t need to remember hurtful words, because the only person who ever flung any of them at him were Loki himself, and very little that Loki said was worth remembering in the eyes of his family and friends.

This is not true. Loki is being an unreliable narrator.

Fine. Thor would forget. Loki would try to, as well.

Thank you so much for asking!! 😄

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

#loki #thor #brodinsons #Anonymous

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