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roads-rise-to-meet-me · 1 year

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CP277NYEx: Scenes From A Watson Diner

Decided to step out of my comfort zone and signed up for the Cyberpunk 2077 New Year’s Exchange, and was very excited to see @just-a-cybercroissant’s name in my assignment! Writing for Johnny is a whole new ballgame for me, but I gave it my all and I hope I did him and Valerie justice for you! I hope you like it, and have a Happy New Year! ♥ @cp77nyexchange

Nearly every corner you turned in Night City, there was another stark reminder that living here was, among other applicable descriptors, disgusting.

And it was probably the reason Valerie’s apartment was kept near immaculate. If you were lucky enough to land a spot that wasn’t overrun with roaches, condemned three times prior, previously used as a drug lab, or a concoction all three, you held onto that place and treated it better than you treated yourself. Because everywhere else you went carried the inherent risk of stepping in some other gonk’s bodily fluids. Blood or…Something else. Not to mention the trash, or the smells. NC’s iconic street corner garbage piles were like hydras. Pick up one bag and move it to the nearest dumpster out of the kindness of your heart, then two more were sure to replace it by the time you turned around. And the air was always laden with a miasma of exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke.

To outsiders, it was shocking…If Takemura’s constant, full-hearted bitching was anything to go by. But to V, it just blended in with the rest of the scenery.

She was standing on the sidewalk underneath an overhang after the rain had started to fall. The kind of rain that made the smoggy air turn soupy, and the sky a sickly shade of red. Blood rain was hardly anything new; it and all the other interesting weather phenomena of NC were here long before she had come along. And if V stayed on her current trajectory, it was going to be here long after she was gone. It was a far cry from ideal, but it was also just a side effect of the place she called home. So she saw no reason to waste her energy complaining about it.

However, her other half always seemed to be in search of something to complain about. V didn’t need to turn and look when the rockerboy flickered into existence; she could feel him leaning against the wall behind her as clearly as if it were her own body in place of his. Perhaps it technically was?

“Told you it was gonna rain. Could feel it…In your bones.”

It was as monotone and condescending a statement as ever, but sometimes monotone and condescending seemed to be just about the only things Johnny had a solid grasp on. He never really managed to completely stick the landing when he was trying to be sympathetic, and choked on his apologies before he could get the last word out. There always had to be a bit of a bite to everything that came out of his mouth. But oftentimes his words were betrayed when V felt emotions begin to well up in her chest that she knew were not her own. And this time, they were accompanied by a playful flair that brought a grin to her face.

“Spoken like a true fossil, Johnny,” V teased right back, and she could sense his delight at her picking up the other half of the joke. Though she never turned to face him, she could see the toothy smile on his features that perfectly mirrored hers.

She reached out from under the overhang, allowing a few drops to land on her hand. Sometimes the term blood rain seemed a bit on the dramatic side for what was actually falling from the sky. More often than not it was nothing more than the same old contaminated water with an added rust colored tint. However, that was not the case this evening; and even V found herself recoiling in mild shock at the rich crimson color of the water that had started to pool in her palm.

“Nasty,” the engram grumbled, stealing the word right off the tip of her tongue.

V shook the water from her hand and did her best to ignore the slight stain it left behind on her skin. Much to her annoyance, the previously light shower appeared hellbent on evolving into a torrential downpour as it slowly began to drown out the sound of passing traffic; already the gutters and potholes were beginning to fill to their brims. And though it all resembled a scene from a horror flick, all she could think about was how her building was just a stone’s throw up the street. Sure, she’d be in desperate need of a shower by the time she walked into her apartment. But if she was quick…

V was about to step off the curb and attempt it until a hand roughly landed on her shoulder, pulling her back underneath the shelter of the buildings. It was still a strange sensation to feel herself begin to buckle under the weight of something that wasn’t actually there. And maybe that’s why Johnny’s grip seemed a bit heavier than what he was intending, as he softened it quickly.

“Oh come on, V. Don’t just walk out in that shit,” the rockerboy scolded. With his chin tilted up and his aviators shielding his eyes, it made it impossible for her to gauge his expression when she turned to face him.

“Well, I gotta get out of this storm, don’t I? What do you want me to do? Stand here and twiddle my thumbs until it passes?” V inquired, gesturing out to the bloodied street before them.

The same hand that had stopped her from venturing out into the storm came to rest on his belt as he spoke. “Could do that. Could even stand here with your thumb up your ass. Or you could wait it out in the diner you’re standing in front of. Just a thought.”

Ever since this whole debacle had started, scrambled was probably the most effective and blanketing term she could use to describe her thoughts. Keeping all her leads straight was enough of a challenge without Johnny’s endless commentary, especially when a chatty brain tumor apparently wasn’t enough to excuse her from merc work. Still, the fact that she’d forgotten how close Tom’s Diner was to her building was alarming. And it was difficult to tell just what was exhaustion, and what was the chip carving its way through her grey matter.

She had to admit, it was a more enticing option than walking home looking like a mass murderer. And it didn’t take much consideration for her to turn and start walking towards the door of the restaurant. “I guess that is a better idea, isn’t it?”

“Slightly,” Johnny retorted, apparently having the decency to not flicker completely out of existence as he turned to walk beside her; the flat tone of his voice was contrasted by the satisfied smirk that tugged at his lips.

---

The greasy heat of the diner mingling with the outside humidity caused Valerie to feel as though she’d just stepped into a sauna, and she did her best to ignore the way her shoes seemed to stick to the floor with every step she took before her and Johnny slid into the nearest booth. The window grabbed her attention immediately when Johnny leaned back against it in the seat across from her, as waves of deep red water swept down the glass. She did her best to try and convince herself that whatever was causing the gory pigmentation was just sediment.

Her rockerboy passenger was strangely silent on his side of the table. Night City was always a menagerie of interesting people, and the inside of Tom’s Diner was certainly no exception. But even as they people watched, Johnny suddenly seemed to be fresh out of his usual deprecating play-by-play; choosing instead to idly tap his hand against the table. But despite his silence, his mind was still going. Not that it ever really stopped. He was always scheming somewhere in the back of her head. The exact details, however, were fuzzy. And perhaps best left undisturbed.

Still, it had a way of making his silences rather uncomfortable. So she voted to instigate another wordless conversation to fill the rapidly expanding void.

“Nice of you to stop me out there. Kinda surprised you didn’t just let me go so you could laugh at me later.”

The tapping never stopped, but she wasn’t left without a response. “Plenty of other ways to die in this city without walking home with a mouthful of toxic water. Hardly a fitting end for a merc; even one of your caliber.”

“Well, thanks for looking out for me…I think?”

Johnny finally stopped tapping on the table long enough to force himself to sit up a little bit straighter posture, however it was subsequently ruined when he reclined back and lifted his legs to rest them across the table. It was a strange callback to the last time they’d been here. “Besides. You’ve got eddies in your pocket, right? Could eat a horse right now.”

Finally, the pieces were beginning to click in her mind. V rolled her eyes before leaning over the table and resting her head in her palm. “Ahh, I get it now. We’re only here because you’re hungry.”

“You’re fuckin’ starving. And if you’re starving, I’m starving. If we’re out of cigarettes, the least you can do is indulge me with some shitty diner scop.”

There was always room for him to put it a little more politely, but he certainly wasn’t wrong. Sometimes it was difficult to remember to not let herself run on fumes while she was chasing down leads all over the city. Plus, in recent days she’d gained a whole new understanding of the term “worried sick.” But despite his harsh sounding words, Johnny was hardly frustrated with her. In fact, he seemed to be in a unusually good mood. And because of their lovely little feedback loop, it was contagious.

Valerie couldn’t not chuckle at him, and his convoluted way of avoiding the dreaded word please. “Right away, your majesty.”

---

If it was shitty diner scop Johnny wanted, shitty diner scop was exactly what he was going to get. And she figured that the biggest plate of french fries the diner offered sitting in a lake of grease would satiate her outspoken tapeworm.

V waited for the waitress and her stained apron to walk away before gesturing to the plate with a triumphant little smile on her face. “A mountain of the finest fries Tom could dump out of a plastic bag and into a fryer. This good enough for you?”

The wave of approval she felt from Johnny told her that yes, this was exactly what he had been looking for. However, she doubted his actual answer would be that concise. “Fries…Don’t you mean frites?”

“You do realize that I wasn’t born in France, right?”

“You do realize that I can see all of your memories too, right? I know you weren’t born in France, V…But you’ve got expensive taste for a Heywood kid.”

Valerie raised a questioning eyebrow at him, hardly noticing as her left hand reached for the salt shaker at the end of the table and dumped about a quarter of its contents all over the fries. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The pastries. It’s all you’d eat if it wouldn’t kill you; especially the custard ones. Hard to find shit like that outside of some extortionate corpo joint.”

V shrugged as she took a small handful of the now salt encrusted fries and lifted them to her mouth. “Well, what do you want me to say? They’re good. Have good memories attached to them.”

She took a bite, and in a second realized she’d severely misjudged the amount of time she’d given them to cool as the roof of her mouth suddenly felt as if it was melting. It was a sight that was apparently humorous enough to warrant a genuine laugh from the rockerboy, and somehow his shiteating grin only grew wider when she lightly glared at him past all of her distressed panting. “Laugh it up; you won’t find it as funny here in a few moments,” she warned silently. Like he had said, the sensory delay was significant. But the burn would reach him too…Eventually.

He was still grinning when he turned his attention to the window again. It had already been growing dark when they’d entered the diner, but the only light outside now emanated from the neon signs and market stalls out behind the building. However, it was still more than enough for both of them to see that the violent looking rain was now being washed away by clearer water. Still dirty, of course. But perhaps not as toxic as it might have been when it first started falling.

“Well, would you look at that? Looks like I can walk you home now,” Johnny spoke before pushing himself to sit up straight.

“Such a gentleman,” V replied, making sure to blow on her food this time to spare herself another burn.

---

Valerie was parched by the time she was done eating; no doubt due to Johnny’s apparent desire for an obscene amount of salt with his grease. But, her need to get home before the weather had another chance to turn biblical was stronger than her desire for a NiCola. The rain was still coming down in buckets as she stood underneath the overhang again, and she had no doubt that the gutters and potholes still looked like pools of blood. But at least it was now too dark to be able to tell, and the signs and billboards of the nearby shops lightly illuminated the wet asphalt. Oftentimes many characteristics of NC needed to be sugar coated to make tolerating them easier. Romanticized, even…But she never found it difficult to romanticize a neon lit street during an evening rainstorm.

“Not even going to take your umbrella out for me?” she questioned in jest as her passenger walked up alongside her.

“My bad. Looks like I may have left it at home,” came the monotone response, and out of the corner of her eye she could see that smile again. She couldn’t recall one time tonight where it had ever actually disappeared.

Finally, she stepped into the street and started towards home without interruption. Johnny walked with a bit of extra speed to overtake her, and she found herself caught off guard that he still had yet to vanish, the way he always did.

It was odd. He was being odd. The fantastic mood was strange; usually she could always feel him brooding under the surface; like a pot of water preparing to boil over. And really it was no wonder, as he’d made it clear this situation was just as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. His good moods were few and far in between, and rarely came along on their own without him doing everything he could to really push her buttons. But he was downright jovial tonight, and it didn’t even seem like he was being agreeable because there was something in it for him to gain.

So what was the reason?

The lull in conversation between them seemed expectant, like there was more that needed to be said. Rarely was this ever the case; but he still hadn’t disappeared yet, and he actually was walking her home despite how unnecessary it was. The ball was on her side of the court, even if she had no idea what kind of court it was.

“You know, this has been a…Strangely nice night. Wish it was always like this,” she cautiously piped up as they walked. It would be a shame to spoil the mood now.

“And why’s that?” Johnny inquired, keeping his eyes firmly on the sidewalk in front of them as they inched closer to her building.

“Well, you’ve been in a good mood. Haven’t tried that hard to piss me off. Wish I knew the key to keeping it like this all the time.”

The rockerboy responded quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly for his own liking. “Well it’s not the first time a date has tried to poison me or burn me; at least you only did it by accident.”

Both of them came to an abrupt stop at the same time as they registered exactly what he had said, and the heart-dropping sensation in Valerie’s chest was only magnified by Johnny’s own dread. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d heard him correctly; there wasn’t any room for her to doubt it. But it didn’t make his words any less stupefying.

“Hang on, hang on. Did you just call me your…Date? Johnny?” V questioned as he finally turned back towards her.

He went out of his way to not look her in the eye. And his hand rested on his hip for a few moments until he suddenly spun on his heels and stormed into a nearby alcove. And she reached out for him, leaping forward as if to grab his arm like it would be enough to stop him from running. But he was gone; flickering out of existence once more like an apparition vanishing into a wall.

But they both knew that wasn’t enough to let him hide, because she could feel an amalgamation of emotions swirling in her chest separate from her own shock and awe. Frustration. Mortification. Her blood was running cold on his behalf, but at the same time she felt almost weightless. Relieved. Like she had just told a damning secret that she’d no longer have to shoulder the burden of alone.

And somewhere underneath everything else…There was adoration.

Valerie had a hunch that his reticence was to be expected after that exchange, so she didn’t waste her breath pushing and prodding him to speak again. It would come up again sooner or later, after all. He was tethered to her, and her to him…

But she allowed a pleased grin to take over her features as she resumed the walk back to her apartment, with a newfound pep to her step.

#cp77nyex #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk oc: valerie v attal #johnny silverhand x v #female v #streetkid v

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annwayne · 11 months

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MUSIC ASKS

because it looked fun :3 bagheerita did this a while back and I wanted to do it too, so >P

Edit bc I forgot to also include the credit: originally from @benedictervention-deactivated20

1. A song you like with a color in the title: Blue Lips by Regina Spektor

2. A song you like with a number in the title: One by Harry Nilsson

3. A song that reminds you of summertime: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

4. A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about: The Plagues by Mick Byram and Ralph Fiennes Less a person and more..a cult lmao but I still love it

5. A song that needs to be played LOUD: Teenagers or Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance no, I will not pick just one.

6. A song that makes you want to dance: Kissing Strangers by DNCE ft. Nicki Minaj

7. A song to drive to: Uptown Funk by Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars

8. A song about drugs or alcohol: Gasoline by Halsey (?) It mentions getting high and drinking lol another song that was pivotal in my self acceptance while in the cult.

9. A song that makes you happy: Pompeii by Bastille during track meets we’d play this song off one of our phones and sing at the top of our lungs… some good memories.

10. A song that makes you sad: Love Like You from Steven Universe Ft. Rebecca Sugar less sad and more I always cry when I hear this song?

11. A song that you never get tired of: Saint Bernard by Lincoln lol reclaim religious imagery who?

12. A song from your preteen years: Radioactive by Imagine Dragons this was the first song I discovered completely by myself, not from tv, movies, friends, or family.

13. One of your favorite 80’s songs: Africa by Toto (Ninja Sex Party Cover is my favorite)

14. A song that you would love played at your wedding: Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

15. A song that is a cover by another artist: Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Ninja Sex Party

16. One of your favorite classical songs: This isn't fair I listen to classical music the most and I know so many by just like a couple notes. Like. man. I was a band kid you can't do this to me. Alright I'm being a basic bitch- Für Elise by Beethoven

17. A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke: I'll Make A Man Out of You by David Zippel, Matthew Wilder, and Stephen Schwartz (Yes, the disney song I can always belt out a disney song)

18. A song from the year that you were born: Closing Time by Semisonic yeah I pulled a semantics lol.

19. A song that makes you think about life: Creature by Half Alive who asked for more religious iconography???

20. A song that has many meanings to you: Take Me to Church by Hozier

21. A favorite song with a person’s name in the title: Eleanor Rigby by The Beetles

22. A song that moves you forward: Bells by The Unlikely Candidates

23. A song that you think everybody should listen to: Devil’s Train by The Lab Rats I just think it’s a cool song

24. A song by a band you wish were still together: Yeah I don’t know bands so I couldn’t say. Heard MCR has a reunion tour going on rn so good for them.

25. A song by an artist no longer living: Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen

26. A song that makes you want to fall in love: It's You (specifically the cover by Road & Ashe, at least the video title says its a cover but I can't find who the og artist is like at all-this was the song I listened to daydreaming about falling in love when I was a teen)

27. A song that breaks your heart (in a good way): Hurt by Johnny Cash

28. A song by an artist with a voice that you love: Say My Name from Beetlejuice the Musical Alex Brightman is one of my favorite voice actors and singers out there like I always can spot him in animated media and promptly lose my shit. I had the chance to see Beetlejuice the musical last December and I can't say how amazing and cool it was to see this musical after years of listening to the soundtrack.

29. A song that you remember from your childhood: Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett

30. A song that reminds you of yourself: Weak by AJR I loved this song when it first came out, listened to it constantly as it was something telling me I could make mistakes and didn't have to be perfect (something unacceptable in the eyes of the fundamentalist cult I was born into) and just a few years later I escaped that cult. Now it's a song that shows me I knew. I knew before I knew.

#ask game #kinda?#I did it without the actual asks xD #music taste #song asks #music asks #recovering band kid

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rotweb · 9 months

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DOSSIER CHEAT SHEET. [QUICK TOUR!]

BASICS.

LEGAL NAME: amanda valentina monteiro NICKNAME[S]: mandy, the widow \ the black widow, the night crawler, spider-woman, “the vampire spider” / “spider-bitch” [those outside of her world or her villains], little spider [mandy’s vd. symbiote: vex] DATE OF BIRTH: december 20th. (mid to late 20s) GENDER: female. PLACE OF BIRTH: são paulo, brazil. CURRENTLY LIVING: los angeles (e-1994) \ nueva york (e-928b) —— the spider society (temporarily) \ vd. SPOKEN LANGUAGES: english, spanish (la dialect), brazilian portuguese. EDUCATION: she attended a variant of the prestigious california institute of technology in her universe where she was in her final year of study when the incident occurred that turned her into what she is now. additionally, she was an intern at alchemax labs, an association with oscorp, where she studied biogenetics under the tutelage of this earths norman osborn. HAIR COLOR: black EYE COLOR: dark brown (pre-mutation) \ permanent luminous amber (post-mutation) HEIGHT: 5'3" / 160cm WEIGHT: 132lbs / 59kg

FAMILY INFORMATION.

SIBLING[S]: alba monteiro [older half sister, alive] PARENT[S]: valentino monteiro [father, deceased], carmen nee salamanca monteiro [mother, alive] RELATIVE[S]: n/a. CHILDREN: none. PET[S]: has a “cat” named jupiter but it might not be a cat. jupiter might get their own meta.

RELATIONSHIP INFORMATION.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: a raging bi! RELATIONSHIP STATUS: verse-dependent! while i’d love to explore different romantic scenarios for this one, by default she continues to grieve the death of her girlfriend at the hands of one of her villains and is still healing. she’s an angsty one. SINCE WHEN: they met in her first year of uni and started off as friends until they became more. mandy doesn’t like to talk about it.

tagged. @dhaakarhai ! tagging. @orbweave , @lyrates , @spxtr , @leringks , and you 🫵 !

#study.#prompt.#this serves as a little preview of her full character sheet #i got wild ideas while writing this #but i'll explore them later djdjdj #my sad daughter everybody 🫴

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melodyofthevoid · 2 years

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“ holy shit... how long have you gone like this? “

- with whoever you want ^_^

These lovely robots are courtesy of @shmunter

Another patrol of guards scanned the building, making their third round of the block in the last few days. Illiana didn’t like giving Pricilla anything close to props for anything, but she was persistent. Annoyingly, infuriatingly persistent. Thankfully Illiana was definitely worse in that department so if the purple bitch thought that she was going to keep Illiana cooped up with some shows of force, she was dead wrong.

She just- she just needed to put a half decent plan together.

Which was easier said than done with Milo just coming back to full capacity only a couple days prior. The shots were brutal, meant to completely incapacitate and kill her and he’d gone and dove in front of them without a second thought. The idiot. She ran a hand through her wires, wincing at the still exposed gaps in her shell.

Capable and deadly assassin? Check. Completely infallible? Unfortunately no. She took them down but the lucky bastards got in a good hit or two.

Her nanobots should’ve patched this up by now, but she wasn’t exactly going anywhere fast so no harm no foul. A day or two of extra rest would be fine.

A slight buzzing hum forewarned Illiana of the incoming beetle-bee hug. A yellow blur barreled into her side and chirped merrily.

“Hey Vin-vin, what are you doing out of the lab?”

The little yellow bot shook his head and motioned for someone behind him, and Milo stepped out, new faceplate piece fully secured. Illiana nodded in approval bringing a hand to her chin.

“Going for the contrast look, I like it, I like it.”

Vinnie gave a small thumbs up too, revving his wings.

“Haha, very funny. You only like it because it’s your color.”

Milo rolled his eyes as he walked into the room, steady on his feet and with both optics working. Illiana gave him a wink.

“I have excellent taste, what can I say? But seriously, I am glad to see you up and about. Vex finally cleared you?”

“They couldn’t wait to get me out of there. Said something about wanting to do something new with their face plates now that I’ve got them all ‘inspired’.”

“Yeah that sounds about right for them. Hopefully with all the commotion going around they won’t make us attend another fake funeral. The first couple were fun, but now I think they’re testing how much they can get away with.”

Blinking, Milo turned away, peering down to the street below.

“I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“Better not to,” Vinnie scuttled up onto Illiana’s back, hitting one of the still healing wounds. She twitched with a shudder that ran up her mainframe. Shit that hurt. The little guy was heavier than he looked. Scooping Vinnie up, and away from any other open wounds, she cradled him and gave him a few good head pats.

“You didn’t know it’s okay,” Illiana muttered to Vinnie.

Warm liquid ran down Illiana’s back, and she swore slightly. They’d opened up the wound and it was leaking now. Great. She really liked this outfit too, but now she either had to destroy it or clean it quickly enough that no one would notice the stain.

“Oh bolts, Illiana are you hurt?!”

Damnit he noticed the stain.

"That? I got nicked a little but it's totally fine.

Milo's face fell and Illiana remembered that he could, in fact, do scans for injuries. They helped him with his job. Right. He stepped closer and sat down on the window bench beside her, holding a hand up and looking to Illiana for permission to examine her injuries.

She took off her (his) jacket, giving him a curt nod.

Better to get this over with.

“Holy shit… Illiana how long have you gone like this?!”

Milo traced a hand over the cuts and wounds, face switching between a look of soft concern and concentration. She couldn’t help but twitch whenever his hand came near, the sensation almost like touch but not. Like phantom electricity. Not exactly unpleasant though. She could almost feel his focus on her.

“Getting you here was a bit trickier than I planned for, but then again I didn’t exactly plan for you jumping in front of a blaster volley like an idiot.”

Light pink flickered on Milo’s screen, “It felt like the right thing to do at the time. But… thank you for saving me. You didn’t have to but you did.”

“Of course I did. Any enemy of Miss Priss is a friend of mine.”

“Friend huh?” Milo smiled, “That sounds nice. And as a friend I’m going to drag you to Vex.”

“What? Come on, it’s not that bad. They have more important things to worry about.”

A hand wrapped around hers, and Milo pulled at it slightly, nodding towards the door. It was a familiar gesture, one they’d used in more than one crowded place but it felt more… she didn’t know.

Frankly she didn’t want to look too hard into it. But she let him tug her into Vex's lab.

At least they wouldn't be making their next plan alone. It was... nice to have a team.

#melody rambles #my writing #thank you!

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bytchysylvy · 2 years

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“good enough for artfight for now” sheets

dev notes

everybody’s colors are more saturated because just like sf im making them more copic friendly. however the pinks are being a bitch to me.

simplification since TH 2019 art but thats more on the fact I havent made any proper updates since then. do you have any idea what my life irl has been like. leave me alone

SHORT TAIL RYDARA SHORT TAIL RYDARA I also let him wear his coat like this when not in the lab now.

dathevar and vokutlvek remain the same except i dont think ive ever properly shown vokutlveks updates. whore.

the only thing i changed with azrem is his sleeves but i think they’re very pretty and want to point that out. he’s such a pretty character. he has got to be in the top five designs.

i hate qamkii’s shoes. whatever. completely fucked up his look. his dress is so ugly, i love it.

medinyolv’s color make me want to puke, idk why, ough, but I’d imagine once I come crawling back to sou i might give them an overhaul anyway. feels overdue for it. idk. idk what im doing here. get me off this ride i want to go back to sf im being held against my w-

udysna 🙌

i did all this within a day and a half im getting soup poisoning now. i had zero intention of doing this then went complete bonkers, manic monday meltdowns, i didnt drive to my childhood home, dont worry about it. Anyway

#my ocs #rydara #dathevar #vokutlvek #qamkii #medinyolv #udysna #my art

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virmillion · 3 years

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#lab bitches and moans #do//n.t re/bl.og #uh. more tags so the next thing i say isnt in the preview #bc i dont want the words to be easily visible #and i dont want to have to tag for them #that should be enough #im. my cat is old and. im realistic okay. im not dumb i know how lifespans work. i know. trust me ive googled cat lifespans enough times #but for a good while now shes been peeing in places besides her litterbox. fine. like gross stinky but fine. no cause for concern #and it was right around the kickoff of the pa/nd.emic so not like we could get her into the vet anyway #but lately theres been blood in her pee like. not a TON but little beads on top of the pee clumps in the litter box #and shes been peeing on the floor a little more which. would be fine. but now its the wrong color #it used to be yellowy (/dried like that anyway bc on tile) but now it is Very Much Orange-Red #and i just saw a fresh puddle thats a Deep Red like. you cannot miss it #and we have an appointment for her tuesday (theyre squeezing her in bc blood pee is cause for concern)#which is. im. im so fucking terrified for tuesday but also the runup thereto #because the last few days she hasnt been coming out from behind the couch as much. and her balance is wobblier. and shes drifting rightward #and a couple months ago her right side gave out entirely under her. shes been stepping heavier on the right ever since #and usually when i go to bed shell follow me to the bathroom to hang out and such right #or if not ill nudge her and shell get up Then (bc i need to close up the room wed been hanging out in)#but tonight when i went to do that she hardly budged. and like. her front half Kinda sat up but she just plopped right back down #and i didnt wanna try harder for fear of hurting her obviously but im so #like. what am i supposed to do. what do i do!! because either we make it to tuesday or we dont. like. Realistically. tuesday is the deadline #bad choice of words but. like i think i know how its gonna go. its. i think i know and i think im. i have no fucking clue what next #and its SO GROSS OF ME that like. i cant even consider it i just go -ah shit so i better do that quiz before the appointment huh-#bc i know that whatever happens during the appt will screw over my ability to focus on the quiz #im just so fucking scared of whatever might happen tuesday #my earliest memories start After This Cat (which is something to be said abt my memory but i digress. we’re Close In Age ok)#and i cannot fucking imagine the reality that i know is coming #im so fucking terrified about what may (or may not!!! even) come to pass on tuesday but like. theres nothing i can do #tuesday is hurtling toward me with a breakneck speed while also moving slower than a goddamn snail and i dont know what to do

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whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

( this lovely gif is by @janesfoster from this beautiful set ! )

FROM THE VOID, WITH LOVE | the beginning.

summary: torn from time, you have to navigate the t.v.a. with the one person who singlehandedly ruined the entirety of nyc’s week. turns out you & him have a future-past. time is weird. loki, god of mischief (disputed) is infuriating.

listen to while reading: “movies” by weyes blood

word count: 13.4k

pairing: loki / f!reader, references to established future romance

tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki (2020) spoilers

a/n: so here it is — a revist to my well-loved series i wrote forever ago about these two idiots. nothing like an athiest and a god in love. this is so fun, and this fic will serve as a foundation point for the drabbles i’ll write throughout the loki series run.

this collection is based on my already-existing drabbles about this pairing, which operates as the basis of their sacred timeline. that masterlist is here, and once more, the biggest thank you to @kostovas for keeping a chronological masterlist over the years — with over 90+ pieces, this pairing is such a large part of my blog and my growth as a writer.

as always, let me know what you think — tick, tock, bitches.

MASTERPOST | AO3 | SPOTIFY

This is not how you thought your week would go.

No, this was a little much.

You started your Monday with Loki, God of Mischief, crash landing through the lab you’d been completing your summer placement at, brainwashing your boss (and the nice agent guy who watched over the glowing nuclear cube), and, finally, stealing the one thing you’d been studying for the entirety of summer 2012 for your first official research journal outside of undergrad while pursuing your doctorate.

By Thursday, Midtown had been reduced to debris, aliens were confirmed real, the Avengers were a household name, and you were desperately trying to wrangle a stir-crazy Erik Selvig off the rooftop terrace of Stark Tower in the aftermath.

“Erik, where are your pants?!”

“They were burnt.”

His eyes aren’t a milky blue anymore, so you suppose that’s a good thing — he is, however, off his metaphysical shits and you’re really trying to get him to calm down in the Stark Tower lobby when the aforementioned Avengers pull a glorified perp walk for the reporters clamoring outside.

You try not to stare — but it is a little bit hard when he stalks by.

It’s not because you’re aware of the future implications your friendship and, in turn, relationship will have on the proper flow of time. No, it’s because you’re lucky enough to say your previous encounter in the week with him left you unscathed (if not a bit traumatized), which seems to be the exact opposite case for the majority of Downtown.

As someone who knew Thor — and decently well at that — you found it difficult to see the two Gods being related at all. It’s as if one was born by the sun, and the other the moon, and while everything about Thor seemed like a thunder storm in July, his brother clearly lacked the warmth and gilded personality of his Avenging counterpart.

You suppose that, maybe, that’s the whole point.

Y’know, age-old storytelling and all that.

Swathed in the colorful team of superheroes, the infamous Loki towers over them all. His cape, emerald and tattered, follows him like a shadow and you have to fight the urge to snarl. He’s tall, a little bit like a shade, and regal in a way that’s totally different from the other Asgardian royalty you’re familiar with. He’s imposing and even when he’s muzzled, you can see the cunning flash of a smirk when he spots your manic, half-dressed boss by the lobby’s main desk.

Loki looks less sickly since you last saw him – he’s all sharp angles and split lip now, though.

It’s funny that, in about an hour’s time, everything about this moment will be different.

It’ll hold different weight, different context.

The God is smug.

Erik notices.

Annoyance bites at your nerves as Erik begins to slip into a Norwegian diatribe directed at the fallen Silvertongue. You groan, deciding right then and there that you’re exhausted beyond comprehension and that today has been all too long. You move quickly. You let out a curse as you push yourself between the now stopped group of Avengers and the angry, pants-less astrophysicist.

“Erik, c’mon, why don’t we go for a walk—”

“Yep, go ahead, pal,” Tony Stark, clearly just as exasperated as you are, chirps, “Walk it out. Half a’ New York has a bone to pick with Hot Topic over here.”

“He is a disgrace! A-A cosmic buffoon!”

You’re pressed between Tony and Erik, feeling the eyes of the God bore into your skull as you try to save him from the delirious verbal smackdown your boss was looking to serve. You can pretty much confirm that Erik definitely has a head injury. Or… You dunno, he’s always been weird. But, in the last hour you’ve heard a little bit too much about Ufology to call this Erik’s normal baseline.

You plant a hand on his tattered dress shirt, pleading quietly with a mildly horrified look at the realization that people are staring, Erik.

“Can’t we do this somewhere else?” you grit out with a sense of urgency.

It’s at that moment that you do a double take at the doors of the lobby. There’s a bustle. You note the sudden appearance of Alex Pierce – the resident member of the World Security Council who, no doubt, had a bone to pick with Stark. Judging by the tightening of Tony’s grip on the briefcase in his hands, he’s aware. The man is parading through the doors of the lobby, surrounded by agents in crisp suits.

This is a nightmare. The clowns are running the show.

Right now, you could go for a glass of wine.

And ice cream.

And maybe some more wine on top of that. It’s a whole bottle kinda day.

You blink around Erik, deciding no, no fucking way, this is so above your pay grade, before exasperately groaning, “Why don’t we go get Starbucks — you like those frappuccino things they have, right, Erik?”

At this point, you’re just desperately trying to not discredit you and Erik’s research journal with his antics being broadcast by the Newsweek and CNN cameras lurking outside alike. All in front of the World Security Council. And S.H.I.E.L.D.

…This is bad.

Meanwhile, Loki can’t help but think this is all so very curious… Midgardians are quite cute.

He’d been made aware, from eavesdropped pieces of Romanoff’s and Barton’s conversations, that the hierarchical food chain is quite complex when it comes to cosmic interferences like the one he’d so wrought upon New York. So many acronyms… S.H.I.E.L.D. and S.T.R.I.K.E. and W.S.C., he’s sure there’s probably about six more, but he’d be lying if he said he’d bothered to listen.

Loki, absentmindedly, wishes he’d maybe done this whole world domination bit 200 years sooner – certainly there wouldn’t have been much stopping him then. No Iron Men, at least.

(He doesn’t know it yet, but if he’d done this 200 years earlier, he would have never met you. Not that it matters right now. He doesn’t know the future, that’s more of his mother’s bit. Somewhere in the stars, Frigga is painfully aware of you, a fiery comet, dodging her son's orbit at this moment.

But, Scott Lang’s verified Time Heist is about to send you both careening towards one another like a boomerang. And… well. The Time-Keepers won’t be happy about this part of your story.)

“Not to interrupt—”

“Great, more suits,” Stark chirps, “Here for the case? Too bad.”

“Mr. Stark,” Pierce begins, “This is a matter of global security. We’re here for the case and… the prisoner.”

Pierce is like a vulture. You decide quickly you don’t like him.

Erik, then, sees it as his turn to verbally maul the next person in line — the words that fly from his mouth don’t make sense and you’re trying to pry him away from Pierce as Stark’s voice escalates and Thor booms out a deep: “Woah, woah woah!” as Nat tries to step up and shove off the rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agents clambering for the case. It’s a shit show, an absolute mess, and you’re being jostled in the middle, trying to pluck the agents away from your summer research project with an irritated look.

And then Tony Stark drops to the floor.

Panic quickly floods the space that anger had created and the case is long since forgotten. It clatters to the floor and skids away from Tony, and, consequently, the huddle forming around him as he convulses on the pristine tiles of the lobby.

Your eyes follow the case from your spot knelt beside Tony, mirroring Loki’s exact motion – you’re both trained on the case sliding across the room and... into the hands of a man posted by the door to the stairs.

Then, you see her.

There’s no words to describe the way it makes you feel — it’s like looking into a sad, broken mirror. It’s you standing there, albeit a little older and a little wiser. This other you is frozen at the sight of the towering God to your left. Her face is set in something mournful and there’s no doubt in your mind that that’s you. You know your face. Your cheeks, your eyes, your chin.

You go rigid, mind running 99mph down the interstate of confusion. The other you… Her hair is a little different, and she has glasses settled on her face. She’s posed in a lab coat and heels, looking like she belongs. Like… Like the path you’d set out had come to fruition. All your hopes and goals, staring you right in the face.

With a broken sound, she suddenly calls out:

“Loki.”

She’s looking at him like she knows him.

Loki is… Well. He’s also confused. Not that he would readily admit it but — something else is happening. It’s clear from the chaos and the magical slide of the tesseract that someone is trying to write a different story entirely on this day.

This woman, however, is the most confusing part.

It’s rare to hear someone say his name so kindly.

So… gentle.

Loki looks at her, then behind him. His brows raise, chained hands moving to gesture at himself.

...Me?

You gawk. What the fuck.

“No, no,” calls the agent gripping the case; the voice is familiar and he moves to stop her – er, you – as she moves forward, “No, c’mon kid, don’t—”

From your spot on the floor, you blink, exchanging a look with the God of Mischief who’s currently also riding the mind-fuck train.

He realizes that’s… you. Not the current you, but you.

Curious.

You jump six feet in the air when suddenly Hulk makes his appearance — he slams the door to the stairwell open with a ferocious roar. It clocks the agent in question, sending the other-you to the floor and shattering the briefcase on its hinges.

You watch it all with wide eyes.

The cube, hot and azure and pulsing, slides back across the floor like a terribly dangerous game of air-hockey and your breath catches in your throat as it collides with the towering God’s boot adjacent to you.

Another exchange of glances between the two of you.

And then, Loki bends to snatch it up.

You yelp, spitting out an embarrassing mosh of Thor and Tony’s name at once, and launch yourself after your summer research project. Your fingertips brush the cool, smooth surface of the stone and suddenly, everything is blindingly blue.

In a blink, you tumble into a roaring, glittering, dizzying tailspin through time and space.

Your yells mingle with Loki’s as the balance of the travel is thrown off, rocketing you both across the stars in a haze of panic.

Then, black.

✶ ✶ ✶

Quiet.

A breeze tickles your nose.

…Birds?

You don’t know how long you were out for — or even where you are. All you know is that your head is pounding and, from your spot on the forest floor, you can see hints of the blue sky through broken branches when you crack open your eyes.

It’s humid. There’s a slow roll of thunder calling out somewhere over the horizon.

… Is that a fucking toucan?

It takes you a second to wade through the mental fog, but… when it clicks, you sit up straight, and you’re greeted by a crackling batton being held at your throat.

You come eye-to-eye with a man in some sort of militarized armor — and three men surround you. One has some sort of spectrometer, and the others are posed to taze the everloving soul out of you. At least… Those things look like tasers.

Your breath catches and you immediately raise your hands.

The man eyes you for a long drawn moment, then looks down at a device in his hands.

“Standard split from the timeline. Slope is stable, the branch is strong.”

You blink at the people around you. Your head is pounding.

Hoarsely, you speak up.

“I’m sorry,” you ask gently with a bit of an anxious bite, “Who the hell are you?”

The bearded man spares you a look that mingles between pity and amusement. He pointedly ignores your question. So do the others. You look around at the lot of them with a biting sense of paranoia. Were they some sort of militant police force?

What the hell is ‘TVA’?

…Who designed those jumpsuits?

“Variant identified.”

Before you can ask one of the seventeen questions floating around in your head, you’re being ushered to your feet. You comply — apologizing, even, when you accidentally stumble into one of the agents on weak knees. Your whole body hurts. Like you were stuffed into a washing machine with the spin cycle speed set to spin-me-right-round.

It’s like you were a goose and the tesseract was a Boeing 474 engine.

It had, rightfully, chewed you up and spit you out.

You have to admit Loki was sort of your last thought. Staying alive and not pissing off the armored men with jabby sticks was sort of at the top.

“Hands at your sides.”

Suddenly, there’s a strap in his hands. You stiffen.

He pauses and gives you a look that stills you completely — it means business. And it measures you up. You find, between your crippling headache and mental fatigue, you lack the capability to even possibly cop an attitude with this dude. You find, frankly, you don’t think you’d want to anyways.

You do, however, snap an angry sound out when a literal collar is strapped around your neck and you’re muscled around.

“Excuse me—”

“Reset the timeline.”

There’s a low whir, a howl, and a satisfying little sound — then, what looks like a fogged glass door materializes in front of you.

That’s… new.

You put the brakes on, digging your heels into the dirt floor of the forest, as the myriad of men begin to drag you toward this thing like it’s just a normal Thursday. But, today is not a normal Thursday and honestly, you’ve had your god damn fill of cosmic travel. If that’s even what this was. Could very well be a souped up guillotine for all you know.

So, yeah, it’s a little embarrassing when you’re shouldered through and — and, yeah. You’re standing there, wincing tightly and screaming, when you realize the acoustics have changed and you’re in… a lobby?

A lobby.

There’s a man behind a desk. Someone else in the same collar as you — a… not a human. That’s… Okay. Sure. Blue skin. That’s cool. Either way, everyone is staring and now you feel like a fucking fool — so you clear your throat and place your leg down, uncurling from your standing attempt at a fetal position.

You offer a sheepish look to the staring gaggle.

“... Sorry.”

“Quiet,” sighs the man who has a grip on your shoulder, “Step forward.”

“Sorry to… y’know, keep asking questions, but,” you try your best to remain amicable as you look over your shoulder at him and the surrounding lobby, “Where the fuck am I?”

You can’t help but stare at the decor. It reminds you of… What does it remind you of? The 1960s? Mad Men? Grandma’s living room?

“Welcome to the Time Variance Authority!” comes a voice from behind the desk. It’s a man, younger, who is dressed in an outfit you’d place for a normal office job. He seems chipper enough and your terrified expression does little to dissuade his welcome, “Oh, hey, I know who you are...”

Your brows knot themselves in confusion.

However, before he can give an explanation or a directive on the paperwork being slid your way, the sound of boots on burnt-orange tile floor distracts you from the unsettlingly bright disposition of the man behind the desk. You stare, when out pops Loki on the opposite side of the room. He’s being muscled around by a woman in matching attire to your own personal guard — and he’s got a collar on, too.

Instantly, your jaw drops.

“You.”

Loki’s eyes snap to you, recognition and fear dissolving for a facade of irritation — if only for a moment — before he’s ushered forward.

“Lovely to see you again, bug,” comes the sardonic drip.

Your eyes snap to the pen on the desk in front of you.

Quickly, and with a stale expression on your face, you unceremoniously throw the pen directly at Loki’s forehead.

Thwack.

“Ow...?”

“This is all your fault,” you hiss as Casey (as his name tag reads) groans, digging into his desk for another pen so your booking papers can properly be filled out.

“You’re being childish,” Loki gripes with mild surprise at your sudden outburst; he rubs his forehead before snarling at you from across the desk, “How dare you—”

“How dare I?” you snap back, “How dare I? Me?”

“Yes, you—”

“You’re the one who got us into this mess—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he battles back, “I don’t even know where we are!”

“That makes two of us!” you yell, only to be muscled away by the guard after he seems satisfied with the information he’s processed on your paperwork.

Loki, now, is beginning to feel a bit of guilt. Not an enormous amount. Enough, though, that it’s nagging at him. His eyes widen for a moment when he realizes you’re being whisked away to some sort of… elevator? You, his only reference point to where-you-were-before you were here. You, insignificant, but also his real only compatriot in this whole ridiculous charade.

His voice is tight with fear.

“Now hold on,” he steps forward, moving to follow, “Where are you taking her?”

You wince as you’re shoved, rather roughly, towards the door — and throw a look over your shoulder at Loki.

…Only to see him quite literally rewind through time.

What.

On.

Earth.

Your eyes snap from him to his guard to him once more — and you watch as he tries to near you again, only for the same outcome. You spy a little device in the woman’s hands. The saaaaame one your guard is holding in his left.

Oh, today was weird but it just got weirder.

“Move along—”

“Hold on—”

Ding!

The doors swing open, you’re shoved into the tiny room, and all you see as the doors close is the panicked expression of the God of Mischief.

The next ten minutes (or, so you think? Time is weird here) are a complete and total blur. You, really, can only comply to the best of your ability — and apologize profusely along the way for every inconvenience your confusion begins to cause. You can’t help your curiosity because… well, normal was thrown out the window when you were signed onto the Avenger’s science roster, it seems.

Your jumpsuit isn’t exactly comfortable, and that stack of everything-you’ve-ever-said-ever was frighteningly small when you were confronted with it, and you’re still seeing stars from that temporal aura device the shorter man urged you through. The doors part, and once more you’re faced with another room in the never-ending pantheon of a maze this place is.

A little ticket holder with TAKE A TAB stares you in the face. There’s a maze of rope, two kiosks, and televisions on the same faux-wooden walls from the other lobby. You stare up at the sea of lights on the ceiling as you step forward and toss a frightened look at a stern faced guard in the corner.

There’s another man in here, making a fit, and you watch as you move around him to take a little, orange ticket.

God, this is one weird dream.

Then, the doors behind you ding.

You’ve never been more relieved to see Loki in the short span of minutes you’ve known him.

“Nice outfit.”

He stands there as you tuck your ticket neatly into your pocket — and stares with a deadpan expression. The guard nudges him, tells him to take a ticket, and he does so without breaking eye contact from you.

Loki ignores the kid weaving his way through, only to loudly proclaim halfway through the maze of rope: “There are only three of us in here! What’s the use?”

He meets you halfway through the maze. You cross your arms. His nostrils flare as he sizes you up.

Pointedly, he speaks. “Where are we?”

“Oh, let me just pull out Google maps — oh! I can’t, because the smiling robot melted my clothes and my phone with a plasma beam. So! Sorry!” you snark as you turn on your heel and continue to weave through the maze of rope.

Loki follows, starting after you with a confused look. “This has to be a mistake—”

“Oh, you’re perceptive—”

“It’s in your best interest not to mock me, bug,” he growls.

Loki is, frankly, a little surprised when you turn on your heel and rear right up in his face. He staggers backwards, startled by your tenacity. You follow him, backing him up against the ropes.

“It’s your fault we’re here,” you bite, raising your finger and prodding him roughly in the chest, “Honestly, I shouldn’t have even tried to stop you — then, maybe, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you. So, get over your massive, miserable ego and let’s just do what we need to do to get out of here.”

Oh.

Oh, he misjudged you. You’ve got a bit of fire in your spirit.

Then, as he picks his jaw up from the floor, you turn back around and eye him haughtily.

“I also hate the color green.”

Loki’s brows twitch and you move through the ropes.

This is exhausting. This is… This is ridiculous. It has to be some cruel joke. Punishment, maybe? Is his mother at the root of this? No, no, maybe not. Why would you be here?

Frustrated and put in his place, the raven-haired God balls his hands tight and groans.

“This is a mistake! I shouldn’t even be here!”

Then, the PA chimes alive.

You jump, eyes widening.

“Hi there! You’re probably saying ‘this is a mistake, I shouldn’t even be here’—”

You turn, sharing a confused look with Loki as the televisions bloom to life.

“—Welcome to the TIme Variance Authority. I’m Miss Minutes, and it’s my job to catch you up before you stand trial for your crimes!”

Hold on… What?

“What?” you shake your head, looking panicked at the guard in the back, “Hold on, ‘stand trial for my crimes’?”

Loki moves past you, staring at the television as you loudly proclaim: “I was never even read my rights!”

The television program does little to quell your fear — in fact, it furthers the dawning realization that whatever happened with the tesseract was, in fact, worse than you initially thought. You had a basic understanding of the stone’s ability to alter space around it; and even more so, you had extensive knowledge of the subject at hand. But… concepts like this, like multiverses and time travel were all theory. Speculation. Unknowns ruminated about on lunch breaks with cohorts.

Variants, sacred timelines, and TVA, oh my.

Then, like the icing on the cake, that asshole yelling about how his dad works at Goldman-Sachs and wait until he hears about this is evaporated before you and Loki’s eyes.

You both procure your tickets at the same time, holding them in the air.

✶ ✶ ✶

As it turns out, Miss Minutes was being completely truthful about the whole ‘on trial for your crimes’ bit. The courtroom’s decor matches that of the entire TVA’s scheme — but over a single judge, beyond the pews and murals, are three heads of those supposed ‘Time-Keepers’. It’s imposing, and despite your hesitation, Loki seems keen on getting the ball rolling.

You’re both ushered up at the call of: “Next case!”

The judge, from her high spot overlooking the drab court, begins speaking as the two of you approach the bench.

“Variant L1130 and Variant X1131 — both charged with sequence violation 7-20-89,” she says, voice crystalline in the quiet room, “Approach the bench, please.”

You both share a look, then step into the small booth.

“How do you both plead?” she asks, flipping closed her notes on — apparently — your case.

“I’m sorry, there must be a misunderstanding,” you say quickly, gesturing between you and Loki, “We… We are not… Not pleading together, your honor.”

Loki leans over, waves you off. Quietly, he says: “Let me handle this.”

You glare.

Leave it to the self-proclaimed Silvertongue.

And sure enough, he tries. You’ll give him that. It’s almost impressive.

Even trying to pin it on the Avengers impresses you — because his little quip about them time traveling somehow connects all the dots in your head about that other-you… But still leaves you feeling like you’ve picked up a book half-way through and begun reading. You’ve missed a few chapters.

Then, Loki tries to… conjure magic? In the middle of the court?

You watch, mouth falling open, as the folks in the pews watch with amusement and scoff.

When the judge questions it, and Loki’s guard explains he’s trying to use his magic, you’re quick to swat his arms down. You give him the millionth unamused look of the day, in a very pull-it-together way, and tilt your head to the side.

What the hell?

Loki’s face falls. He slams his hands on the stand. You shake your head as his outburst, like clockwork, begins — and then the threats, and then the yelling, and then the guards are muscling him away as you rub your forehead and try to find out a way you can recover this absolute blunder.

“Your honor—”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” you say tightly as you find her gaze, “This… All of this, to Loki’s point, was a genuine mistake — our intention wasn’t to... disrupt the Sacred Timeline.”

“As reassuring as that is,” she chirps as she moves to raise her gavel after sparing the now in-custody Loki a look, “Intention does not matter, Variant. It’s the crime itself.”

You deflate.

“That being said, that court finds you both guilty and I sentence you to be reset.”

“Reset?” you ask, eyes wild with fear.

“What does that mean? ‘Reset’? Is that bad?” Loki asks, being pulled towards yet another room, “Hey! You ridiculous bureaucrats will not dictate how my story ends!”

You step down, letting the officer who had originally apprehended you lead you to an opposite door from Loki.

“It was never your story, Mr. Laufeyson — It never was.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of!”

Enter Mobius M. Mobius.

“I… I think I might. Both of them, actually.”

You don’t know it now, certainly not as you stare wild-eyed at the chaos unfolding with a creeping sense of doom, that he will become some sort of friend in this new world. But, when he steps up, file folder in hand, you’re not sure how you’ve managed to skirt yet another brush with whatever the end of this system has in store. Somehow, the mustached man with the crooked nose says the right thing.

The judge’s eyes soften when they land on him.

You watch, trying to parse through the hushed discussion but — then you’re released.

And this man waves you on with a smile.

✶ ✶ ✶

This man is kind — or, so far he is.

You aren’t exactly keen to trust him, nor is Loki from his apparent scrutiny of everything the man does and says.

And while he weaves you through the facility that has so many more rooms and elevators and doors than you can begin to understand, you’re in awe. Everything is… Complex. Intricate. Like woven-time itself.

Then… the skyline.

Loki finds himself staring at you.

You step up to the railing, face bathed in pure awe.

…It’s rather... cute.

Loki crosses his arms tightly. He grits his jaw, pulls his eyes from you and the skyline, and stares at the grey-haired man looking on at the both of you with a knowing smile.

“I thought there was no magic here.”

Mobius continues watching the two of you. There’s half a smile there.

“There isn’t.”

“It’s not real,” you breathe out, “It can’t be.”

Mobius’ hand is gentle on your shoulder. “It is. And so is the paperwork. C’mon, both of you.”

“This place is a nightmare.”

You look back at Loki, measuring his palpable disgust for the place. “...I sort of like it.”

“I figured you’d say that,” Mobius says with a wink as he pushes open the door to another set of elevators, “It’s that science brain of yours.”

You try to hide the offputting feeling that knowledge strikes you with. How does he know you? You don’t even know this man’s name. You scoff. “...Well, I like magic, too.”

“As you should,” Loki deadpans with a displeased expression, “Magic is supremely powerful.”

��Not here,” you chirp back, “God of Jazz Hands.”

Loki ignores the jab — and, like he has for the last handful of hours, lets these people parade him around. Going from one custody to another has little to no appeal. Already, the God is trying to figure out how to leave this place… But, it isn’t an easy concept to parse.

The elevator dings.

“I’m Agent Mobius, by the way.”

While Loki ignores the handshake, you take it. It’s hesitant.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Mobius says, nodding as he shakes your hand.

You’re uncomfortable. He’s the second person to act as if… as if he knows who you are.

Loki watches.

“Are you taking us somewhere to kill us?” he interjects with his skeptical glare driving a wedge between you and the grey-haired TVA agent.

“No, no,” he exhales, shaking his head, “No, we’re going somewhere to talk.”

“Talk?” you ask, shifting on your feet in front of the two men. You eye the jumbled letter on the panel of the elevator and wonder what sort of system this place uses to organize their departments. This place, the TVA, is vast. The view outside the balcony proves that much. You watch the floors zip by on the overhead panel as you speak, “Sounds ominous.”

“Talking, and killing us, then.”

“No,” Mobius tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, “That’s where you just were. We’re going to have a little chat about some things I’m curious about.”

“Then what?” your brows furrow. You and Loki share a look of worry.

“We’ll see.”

“I don’t like to talk,” Loki offers up, defensively.

You almost scoff.

Mobius, however, does. His amusement is clear as day. “But you do like to lie, which you just did.”

“—How long have you been here?” Loki asks quickly, derailing the introspection into his behavior like it’s second-nature.

Mobius sighs, looks at you, then the elevator floors. “I dunno know. It’s hard to say, y’know, time passes differently here in the TVA…”

“I noticed,” you mumble.

Mobius’ eyes light up.

“What does that mean?” Loki looks between the two of you.

You shrug. “Think about it, how long have we been here?”

Loki squints down at you.

“Hours? Minutes? For a place that’s keen on managing the proper flow of time, I haven’t seen one clock.”

Mobius waggles his fingers in the air as the doors slide open — and he’s smiling at you with a look that reminds you of professors you’ve had in the past. It’s a blend of pride and interest and… near affection. “Nice catch, doc.”

You snort quietly. “I’m not a doctor.”

“Not yet.”

You spin, and stare at Mobius.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be,” it’s cheeky, “I’ll explain later.”

Loki distrusts this little interaction immediately. He steps between you and Mobius as the three of you enter a new floor. This place is the most crowded you’ve seen yet — and though the workers here are all fitted with the same monochromatic uniform schematics, you can understand that there are indicators for different roles. Officers, guards, office clerks, judges… A whole workforce bustling around you.

“So you’re a part of the TVA’s dedicated and courageous workforce?” Loki spits out as Mobius leads the way through the hall. His tone is mocking, and his swagger is pronounced with an annoyed slump of the shoulders.

“Yes.”

“And you were created by the Time-Keepers—”

You fall behind, brushing past agents. You eye their armor, and those batons on their belts.

“Yep.”

“—To protect the Sacred Timeline.”

“Correct.”

You speed up, matching pace with the two men as they begin to round a corner toward some sort of amphitheater. Over the door, it reads Time Theater.

Loki lets out a cynical laugh as you eye your surroundings.

“You think it’s funny?” asks Mobius, holding his two stacks of manilla folders under his arm. His eyes are curious. You try to find any maliciousness there… But you fail to see anything other than genuine wonder.

“The idea that your little club decides the fate of trillions of people across all existence at the behest of three… space lizards? Yes, it’s funny. It’s absurd.”

Mobius, at the bottom of the stairs, squints.

“What about you, doc?”

Loki’s gaze turns to you at the top of the steps. You open your mouth, close it, then exhale tightly.

“Honestly?” you say, after a beat of a moment, “I don’t know what to believe.”

Mobius rocks on his heels.

“What about coincidences? Do you believe in those?”

You puff out a haughty laugh from your nose. “I prefer synchronicities.”

“Because they’re more analytical,” Mobius probes, tilting his head, “Right?”

“It depends who you ask,” you falter down the steps as you cross your arms, “To me, coincidences are random. Synchronicities hold logistical bearings. Purpose.”

“Sort of like fate?”

“If fate was a math problem,” you grin, “Maybe.”

Mobius nods. There’s a twinkle in his eyes.

“C’mon. Both of you. Come inside.”

Loki spares you a long look — one that’s laden with mild surprise and interest. For a Midgardian, you’ve proven to be able to handle yourself rather well. Again, you certainly aren’t his first choice to be trapped in this time-maze with, but he supposes you will do. You could prove useful.

You meet his eyes for a flash of a second. You ignore it. You follow Mobius.

“For the record, this does really feel like a killing-us kind of a room.”

Loki’s right. It does. You watch Mobius move to place his belongings on a table in the center of the room with three chairs gathered around it. There’s some sort of wall that begs to operate as a screen, and once more the patterned lighting choices make the space seem eerily symmetrical. It’s large, mostly empty, and your attention is fixed to the little device on the table that reminds you of an early Macintosh monitor.

“Not big on trust, huh?”

“Trust is for children, and dogs,” Loki scowls, stalking past you and moving to the table, “There’s only one person I can trust.”

“Her?” he asks as he gestures to you in a moment of genuine questioning.

Loki falters. Mobius smirks. You frown.

“No. No, myself—”

“Sure, sure,” Mobius smiles, “Come on. Both of you, sit down.”

But, Loki isn’t finished. “If the TVA truly oversees all of time, how have I never heard of you until now?”

“‘Cause you’ve never needed to,” Mobius says as he leans and turns on the projector, “You’ve always lived within your set path.”

Loki’s tone rises sharply. “I live within whatever path I chose—”

You interject, raising a hand as you step between Loki and Mobius. Your brows are knotted tightly as you shake your head. “Hold on… But, when Variants break from the Sacred Timeline — you reset the Variant, and the timeline. So, who’s to say we haven’t met you before?”

Mobius stands up straight. Again, another sly smile.

“Y’know, doc,” Mobius pulls his chair out, and presumably one he intends to be yours, “You’re impressive.”

“Time is impressive,” you volley back, sitting down, “And finicky. And... weird. And, if I’m being completely honest here? I have a headache.”

“Understandable. And, now I’ve gotta know,” Mobius says as he takes a seat and gestures, once more for Loki to sit down beside you, “How would you reason that repeated instances of the same Variants occur?”

“...As in the same person?” you ask as you cock a brow and lean back in the cold, steel chair.

“More like the same two people.”

Oh.

Mm. There it is. You got it. Mobius sees it.

He inhales, and leans forward.

“You two are what we call Recurring Variant Anomalies,” Mobius says pointedly, “It’s rare that we find Variants that break from the Sacred Timeline twice — even rarer when it’s the same two people both times, at the same time. Causes quite the hiccup. Lots of mental math. Time stuff. It’s a lot.”

You and Loki connect gazes.

“RVA’s, or… y’know, you two,” Mobius continues as he waves between the two of you, “Are, uh… Think of it like soulmates. For whatever reason, you two are tied together in time. Variant or not. Sort of comforting, right?”

“Not at all—”

“Hardly,” Loki chirps as he crosses his arms.

“...Riiiiight,” Mobius says slowly, gaze dancing between you as he spins some sort of tuning dial on the monitor, “So… 2012… That’s… You two have just met.”

Suddenly, there’s an image on the wall. It’s conjured with delicate palettes of light building into a background, painting a picture you recognize almost immediately.

It’s the lab. It’s you, it’s Loki, it’s the Tesseract. It’s last Monday.

“What is this?” you ask, leaning forward in your chair as the projection begins to fast forward through the week, through each time you and Loki’s paths seem to cross — and in the lobby. It stops.

“Think of it as your greatest hits,” Mobius shrugs, “This tape is dedicated to you and him, and I’ve got two others here that are independent reels of your time alive.”

“This is all a load of bunkum,” Loki snaps with a scowl as sharp as a blade.

“... If looks could kill,” muses the TVA agent as he cracks open a cola can and takes a sip.

You let out a long sigh as Loki sharpens his gaze even farther. He speaks with the hissing vibrato you’ve come to know well in however long you’ve spent tied to his hip through this whole process. He’s irritated. “What do you want from us?”

“How about some cooperation to start?”

“Not my forte.”

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, rubbing your face.

“I specialize in the pursuit of dangerous Variants,” Mobius says after another long sip. He moves through the manilla folder on top and you notice your photo there.

“Like myself?” Loki asks.

“No, no — particularly dangerous Variants. Like her, maybe,” he nods your way and you blink, “Not you, Loki, you’re a little pussycat.”

You can feel the anger rolling off the God beside you without even looking.

“I’m confused,” you say, cutting through the tension with a wave of your hand, “Why us?”

“Why you, indeed!” Mobius nods, scrubbing through time to… you’ve never seen this before. This is — well, it’s like watching a movie. A movie of someone you know.

“What is this?” Loki asks, squinting at the projection, “This never even happened. This isn’t real.”

“This,” Mobius explains, “Is what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t disrupted the Sacred Timeline. Loki, you’d be being escorted back to Asgard for imprisonment, and Doc, you’d be back to that tiny little apartment of yours — but, Loki, it’s this part that’s important.”

Suddenly, there’s a woman.

“Hello, Mother.”

Your eyes widen by a mile.

Mobius sits back and crosses his arms.

“Pause it.”

Loki’s longing look is pulled from the screen and it drifts to you; you’re standing — the recognition that burns in your gaze is hard to ignore and Loki follows your figure across the room with his eyes.

“...Who is she?” you ask after a long moment.

“That,” Mobius says as he points, “Is Lady Frigga — right, Loki?”

“It’s my mother—”

You blink back at the screen.

You know her.

Not — I mean, not like you’ve met, but you know her from your dreams. You’ve had dreams about a woman with that face, with that voice, with that kind look for years; ever since you were a child, actually. You always assumed she was your father’s mother or a distant aunt you only had the bones of a memory of. You figured your brain had made the connection, filled in the gaps. But… That’s her.

The back of your head tingles.

“You’ve seen her before,” Mobius says. It’s less of a question, more of a statement of a fact.

“That’s impossible,” scoffs Loki with a roll of the eyes.

“In my dreams,” you whisper, far-away and taking in the beauty of the woman, “I have.”

Loki’s tone is sharp like a whip when he stands. “What’s the meaning of all this? To lie to us, to craft illusions?”

“I’m just trying to understand you two.”

“Why?” you ask, turning on your heel and shaking your head. It’s a bitter sort of anger that rises in your voice — and you can’t help but feel like you’re being toyed with, “There isn’t even an ‘us’. He’s a narcissistic, self-obsessed liar who thinks he was born to rule the galaxy in cheap leather—”

“—I beg your pardon—”

“Then beg!” you snap at Loki, throwing your hands at him before turning back to Mobius with a scowl, “What’s the point?”

“I’m trying to understand you,” Mobius says, “And how much you mean to him. And vice versa.”

Your gaze meets Loki’s. There is a shared irritation for this game Mobius is playing with the two of you.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Loki drawls, low and threatening, “And you’re proving such by insinuating I’d be emotionally attached to some lowly human. Midgardians are a pest. Ants to be crushed by a boot.”

You ignore the dig. You can’t really say you expected much more than that from him. It’s in character.

“Maybe I’d like to learn.”

You circle Loki, and plant your hands on the back of your own chair. You don’t sit.

“Listen, I’m not trying to make this difficult — for either of you,” the TVA agent in question leans back and looks between the two of you, “I am trying to understand what makes you both tick. Let me ask my questions, and I’ll show you why it’s so important for me to figure this out. Then, I can get you both out of here. After all, that’s what you both want, right?”

You exhale tightly.

Loki blinks. Dark lashes kiss his high cheekbones. He chews the inside of his lip, irritation bleeding into the bouncing of his leg.

“Fine.”

“Right.”

You sit down.

“Let’s start there, Loki — should you return, what are you gonna do?”

Mobius puts his head down and readies a small piece of notepaper in a flipbook. You can see the tattered, yellowing scraps of past-notes flipped behind this one. The pen has the TVA logo emblazoned on it in that same burnt orange that followed you through every hall.

Across from him, Loki tightens his jaw and straightens his posture. He then leans back, with his arms crossed, and answers.

“Finish what I started.”

“Which is?”

He wet his lips. “Claim my throne.”

Mobius nods. “You wanna be… king?”

Suddenly, there’s a sneer on the God’s lip. “I don’t want to be, I was born to be.”

Whether or not that admission was purposeful, you find your brows raising a bit in the tiniest of microexpressions. It’s surprise. The way he says it makes it seem like it’s the only right answer there is — like it’s been practiced.

“I know, but… King of what exactly?”

Loki, frustrated and clearly exhausted already with the line of questioning, scoffs.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

The veneer of irritation melts — if only a little bit.

“...Midgard.”

You roll your eyes. He notices.

“AKA… Earth…” Mobius notes as his pen moves quickly across the paper, “Alright, now you’re the King of Midgard, then what? Happily ever after? All on your own?”

“I don’t need anyone to help me fulfill my purpose.”

“Must be lonely.”

“I can assure you,” Loki snaps like a wounded dog in a trap, “I do not care.”

“But, there’s the thing — you do,” Mobius raises a finger, “That’s one thing I know about you, Loki, that you do care. That being alone does bother you. I know that — and I’m not trying to belittle you. Listen, I’m a fan. I’m just trying to understand how this big picture falls into place.”

Suddenly, the tape is being scrubbed once more. Light and picture dances on the wall adjacent to the three of you, and suddenly it’s a still image of what looks like… a library? No. No, that’s not right. It’s an older building, and Thor is there, and you’re holding a spectrometer and looking horribly out of place.

Mobius presses play.

Suddenly, a black-clad Loki falls from some sort of sparking portal.

“I have been falling! For thirty minutes!”

The visage of you on the screen yelps; hand flying over your mouth at the sudden appearance of the man you now know well. He hits the floor with a resounding thud! and looks… less imposing now, flat on the floor with wild black curls flying about. He’s swathed in a well-tailored black suit and you can’t help but think he’s the exact opposite of Thor. The God of Mischief pushes himself upwards, eyes wild with anger.

Thor, on screen, hides a chuckle at his brother’s expense.

That future-you blinks with wide eyes between the unknown man and Thor, wondering why the hell no one seems to be as off-put as you are.

“Do you just…?” you make the same sort of gesture the… — wizard? Right, let’s go with wizard — had just done in order to open the portal Loki had fallen out of with a confused look on your face, “Do that normally?”

Your voice crackles from the speakers. It’s eerie.

The wizard shrugs.

He turns to Thor then, shaking hands and gesturing once more to sling open another portal.

“I trust you can handle it from here,” he says to Thor, “Good luck.”

This portal, unlike the one Loki had fallen through, overlooks the ocean. You feel a bit like you’ve opened a book in the middle of a chapter — you’re not sure what the hell is going on and before you can ask, Loki is honing in on you like a predator at his next meal. He’s standing before you, leering with an angry look that should have probably sent you for the hills.

Instead, you pull another face.

“What is this? A wretched little pest, here to help?”

“Brother—”

“Have we met?” Loki sneers, lip curling as he hisses, “Or do you simply bear resemblance to every other disgusting worm on this planet?”

You push your glasses up again. Suddenly, you’re aware of the behavioral tango you’re locked in. It’s like a psychological game of chess. You decide to move your pawn.

“We have, actually,” you chirp with an uncanny amount of unamusement. Thor’s eye twitches behind you, “You tried to blow up my lab station…? But, uh, I doubt you probably remember that, huh? Yeah, you were, uh, kinda busy terrorizing my boss and half the other staff on call… No, no, I get it. I’ve gotten a haircut since, so—”

“Doctor, please, ignore him—” Thor tries, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, you’re one of Selvig’s wenches then.”

That doesn’t get the rise out of you that Loki had predicted. You frown, hands in your pockets. Your body language is guarded. Loki’s lip twitches.

“That’s an awfully misogynistic thing for you to say.”

There’s a glimpse of a recoil in his eyes at that. He takes a step forward, as if to challenge you – to which Strange clears his throat. The game is stopped, if only for a moment, and Loki’s anger is redirected towards the wizard with a new-found malice.

“And you must be the second-rate sorcerer—”

Mobius pauses the tape.

You blink.

“This never happened.”

“Not to you, not yet,” Mobius says, “Had you not broken from the Sacred Timeline, yes. It happens and it happens again, and again, and again. You two meeting again is the proper flow of time. Everytime.”

“How…?”

“The TVA doesn’t only know what should happen. We know what does happen — on these tapes I’ve got both of your lives from start to finish, all according to what the Time-Keepers have willed to happen in accordance with the Sacred Timeline.”

“Do you believe this?” Loki asks you suddenly as he narrows his eyes, “This is completely and utterly ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Mobius asks, “Because, frankly, I think what is a little ridiculous is your frequent belittling of those around you. I mean, c’mon, you’re the God of Mischief. I’ve got hours worth of footage on here of you hurting others. Invading cities, killing innocent people, plucking eyeballs out. I mean that right there is a prime example. Why are you being so cruel to her? She’s done nothing to you.”

“She’s a human.”

“Is it because you think she’s pretty?” Mobius plucks at the God like he’s some sort of child, “She is — we all know it — but, c’mon, really? She’s very far from a worm… That’s just plain old mean, pal.”

You feel sheepishness prick at your cheeks. You stare ahead at the screen.

Loki growls. “Your commentary is useless.”

“Because I’m right,” Mobius battles back with a wave of his finger, “You know it. I can see it — between this, and the murder and the torture and the general atrocities? I don’t see anything mischievous about how you act, Loki.”

Loki’s lip curls.

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

“And neither does she!” Mobius says, wagging his pen your way, “I mean, really, she’s the love of your life—”

“I am not—”

“She is no such thing—”

“No?” Mobius leans forward, “You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

It comes out of both your mouths, stressed and unamused.

So, Mobius scrubs again. This time, through a long stretch of time. There’s colors, people, space, and…

A penthouse apartment.

Suddenly, as the grey-haired man presses play, Loki’s voice fills the room. The cadence is warm and gentle. It’s unlike you’ve heard him speak before. There’s a timbre to his words that makes your heart involuntarily flutter.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

On the screen, his voice rouses you mid-chew and you blink up at the dark-haired God over the dinner the servants had brought you mere minutes ago. You swallows, knotting your brows. You can see worry on your own face.

You’re not wearing something Earthly. It doesn’t look Asgardian either. It’s black, with a deep neckline and your hair is intricately done. You can’t place where this is. It… doesn’t seem like Earth. Not New York City, for sure.

“What is it?” you ask, eyes scanning Loki’s face. The lie-smith opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Your face falls. “You’re married already, aren’t you—”

“What?” Loki blinks, nose scrunching in distaste, “No, I’m not married—”

You seem to deflate with relief. Loki would have laughed had his chest not felt like Mjolnir was resting atop it.

In his seat in the TVA, Loki squirms.

“Then what haven’t you been completely honest about?”

He stands, disregarding his dinner and folding his hands behind his back. He then begins to pace. Your eyes follow him with every step.

“I… I have never found myself in a position where I have grown to trust someone as much as yourself. You have gained my affections in a way I had never seen possible,” he offers. It’s slow. The other-you smiles at him and it spurs him to continue, “And because of this, I must apologize for behavior at times. I can be rude and crass… and yet you still sleep beside me at night.”

Oh.

“In all fairness, there is only one bed and I am not sleeping on the floor.”

On the screen, Loki laughs, quick and breathy, as he drops his head and sighs.

“But, I am… not who you think I am.”

You give him a look as you stand, abandoning your plate. “I am well aware of that much, Loki. You’re infuriatingly complex, and just when I think I have you pegged, you sock another wrench into my calculations.”

“I think I might be about to do exactly what you just said.”

“Spit it out, Loki.”

“You remember the story I told you of Jotunheim?”

“That’s… the ice planet?” your eyes fleet about as you rack your brain, “Jötunns were the frost giants, right? With blue skin and red eyes? That book you showed me had beautiful illustrations –”

And suddenly, the pale face of the God on the screen is gone and his skin has an icy hue. Those green eyes you know faded away to fiery red orbs. Markings of a foreign kind swirled about his skin and you couldn’t help but yank your hand away. He looks just like the illustrations from the book on Asgardian history Loki had given you. You regret pulling away nearly instantly.

In your seat, you wince. You feel like you’re watching some soap opera on daytime television and… you’re invested. For fuck’s sake, you’re the lead star.

The hurt is visible on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I should have not shown you—”

Suddenly, Loki to your left, speaks up.

His voice is rough.

“Shut it off.”

Mobius raises his hand. “Shh. This is the good part.”

You blink between Loki and the screen.

On the screen, Loki is trying to quell the growing rage in his chest. He turns and knots his fingers in fists. Curse Odin. Curse Frigga. Curse them all. He was a monster. They should have just let him die on Jotunheim as a baby.

“Loki.”

Your voice is so warm it snuffs the anger in his chest out almost immediately.

You weave around him, eyes wide with a different type of admiration – one he hasn’t seen on you before (is this love?) – as your hands reach to ghost along his now pastel cobalt cheek bones. Your fingers feel like freshly smelted metal against his skin. He loves it.

“You look like sapphires,” you breathe, “I never thought blue was your color, and yet here I am. You’re – Why do you hide it? Why keep this beautiful secret hidden?”

“I am a monster.”

“Loki, no.”

Your eyes are so full of affection he wants to cry. He drops his gaze to the floor only for you to pull it back to your own gaze again. Your fingers curl along his jaw.

“It hurts me when you say that, you know. I don’t think you’re a monster. Not before, not now. You cannot be so cruel to yourself, Loki.”

He’s silent. You speak again, your voice stern.

“You’re not a monster. You’re my husband, remember?”

Mobius pauses the Time Movie.

He’s smug. “That is love. That’s what I’m trying to figure out here. You two.”

You stare at the sight on the screen. The two of you curled close.

Loki, on the other hand, feels like crawling out of his skin.

This isn’t possible. This is — this is some cruel, cruel joke put on by the powers that be. Perhaps that punishment he considered earlier. There was no way this could possibly be true.

No, he can’t even look at you.

Anger, bitterness, and fury takes over his tone as he pushes himself back in his chair.

“I know what this place is.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes, it’s an illusion.”

He moves to stand and you notice Mobius’ hands twitch on the Time Twister — however, the TVA agent remains interested in Loki’s reaction and less on reprimanding the sudden movement.

“It’s a cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear,” he hisses as he stalks about. Pointing at the screen, his voice runs hoarse as he shakes off the possibilities implied by the sight of the two of you, curled into one another, in love, “My mother taught me plenty of them.”

“Your mother, right,” Mobius says, raising a finger, “That’s a great point to circle back to — y’know, since you were the one who led the Dark Elves straight to her. Why?”

The woman with the kind eyes and golden hair is back once more, but this time she’s speaking to Loki — and immediately the God in the room steps forward. His expression is marked with confusion, with fear.

“What?”

“The Dark Elves,” Mobius continues as he sips his cola, “You think you send them to Thor...—”

“—You might wanna take the stairs to the left.”

“But instead, you send them…”

“—I’ll never tell.”

Your heart stops when the dagger is run through Frigga, when she gasps, and when she crumples in a heap of gilded armor and skirts. The ache you feel in your heart is tight and sharp and vengeful.

You can see the tension rising in Loki’s posture. His breath shudders.

“Shut it off,” you snap at Mobius before Loki interjects.

“Where do you have her?” he is beginning to sound panicked, “Where is she?”

But Mobius stands, and with ill-timed nonchalance, he waves his hands as he shrugs and watches Loki.

“You lead them right to her.”

“I don’t believe you,” Loki’s voice rises as you stand, “You’re lying. It’s not true.”

“It is true. That’s the proper flow of time and it happens again and again and again because it’s supposed to. Because it has to. The TVA makes sure of it—”

“Where is she?” Loki is almost like a wild animal now, ignoring the way you completely block his attempts at nearing Mobius. He’s blinded to you completely.

“—Now, why don’t you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people?”

“—I don’t believe you,” he says as he stalks from foot to foot, “I don’t.”

“Do you enjoy killing people?” Mobius is nearly yelling now.

“I’ll kill you—” Loki snaps, as if a reflex.

“What, like you did your own mother?”

Then it all falls apart. Loki breaks for Mobius, and you’re shoved out of the way. You stagger back, catching yourself on the table as the God of Mischief unceremoniously whips the chair in the agent’s direction with a flick of his wrist. It sends the image of Frigga scattering in dancing particles of light that quickly rearrange. An image that cannot be erased.

Mobius flicks the Time Twister.

In a blink, you’re back in your chair and Loki has landed, hard, on the ground.

He hisses in pain and you press your fingers to your temple. The vertigo is brutal — only for a second — and then you resettle into the current flow of time.

“Sorry, the Time Twister loops the both of you — not the furniture.”

You ignore Mobius as he rounds back to the holoprojector in favor of offering up a worried glance Loki’s way. His gaze is far away from here. Shame and guilt have replaced his anger.

“You weren’t born to be king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that’s how it will be.”

The agent presses a button, and the Avengers roll on into the room. They paint it all sorts of heroic colors as the Chitauri hiss in the background.

“...All so that others can achieve the best versions of themselves.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then you push to stand.

“Enough.”

It’s stern.

Mobius watches as you turn to the God on the floor and offer a tentative hand.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t know why you do it. Maybe because you suddenly feel for the God — maybe because in this flash of a moment, you can see the downtrodden regret pouring from his eyes as he shakes his head from his place on the ground. He’s a fallen God; yet, so horribly human.

Loki’s eyes follow the delicate hand offered to him with genuine surprise.

He is, however, incredibly thankful. He can feel it in his heart. He will hide it, of course.

He takes your hand and you lean back, helping the tall God off the floor as the TVA agent watches. Mobius finds it curious how the two of you have natural inclination towards one another already despite strong opposition to nearly everything about one another. But, that’s fate he supposes.

And this little interaction tells him a lot about Loki, about you, and about what either of your Variants might do without the other.

Suddenly, the doors rattle open.

Loki looks down on you for a moment. You hold his gaze. Then, he nods, and you pull away from him.

“What are you doing?” comes a voice you recognize as one of the officers from before. She’s the one that had apprehended Loki — a tall, strong woman with piercing eyes.

Mobius deflates. “My job. Is it yours to interrupt?”

“We have a situation.”

“There’s always a situation,” he grumbles as he pushes off his feet and moves toward the doors. He turns back, raises a finger and gestures to the two of you, “Don’t go anywhere.”

He calls out over his shoulder again as he nears the doors.

“Take a look at those tapes. I mean — It’s all there. I’m not lying about any of it.”

Then, the doors close.

And you’re left alone with Loki, the holoprojector, and two lives worth of film.

The silence is heavy.

Finally, when you turn around from the door, you let out a long sigh and settle your attention on the God in the center of the room. He’s looking at his hands, back turned to you. The sharp angles of his face are lit with the image from the Time Movie. Golden and mournful.

Your voice is gentle. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, bug,” he snaps without even turning to look at you, “You need not busy yourself with worrying over a God.”

It’s scathing.

You scowl.

“I’m trying to be nice,” you explain as you cross your arms tightly over your jumpsuit and tug at the collar around your neck, “Or is that such a foreign concept to you?”

That earns you a calculated glare over his shoulder.

You watch, keen on measuring his reaction.

“Why?” he asks, voice hot like a knife held over a fire — it’s reactionary, “What does being ‘nice’ get you in the end, bug?”

When your face falls, however, Loki realizes that you just made a rather painful point. Your eyes go soft — and the God recoils in discomfort at the sight of pity. It makes him turn away once more and ignore the delicate frown that sweeps across your features.

Behind him, your tone is soft. “Nevermind then.”

Loki steals another glance. He watches as you begin to pace — your white sneakers follow the line in the tiles as you move back and forth across the room. His brows are twisted in a horribly curious way. He despises himself for it.

“...I am a God. Words of mortal men mean nothing to me.”

He says it like he’s trying to convince himself. You pause midstep.

“It doesn’t matter who says something,” you mumble before gesturing to the holoprojector, “Words are the oldest weapon in the book.”

“Oh, please,” Loki chirps, cocking his head to the side as he, like a snake, shows his fangs to deter a threat. His words are a desperate attempt at a stinging bite, “I don’t need your pity. You’re a pest. A soon-to-be-subjugate.”

There’s hurt, there. You can hear it in the subtle crack of his words.

“You’re the Silvertongue,” you shrug, “You’d know.”

Hm.

He’s quiet for a while longer and you trade in your pacing for settling in on the steps before the exit to the theater. Your gaze is rooted on the film sitting neatly atop Mobius’ files. There’s one there with your name on it. The canister glimmers in the light.

“...Do you believe what Agent Mobius says about me?”

It’s a quiet question.

You watch Loki.

His posture is sharp. It’s the way he asks it that betrays his intention.

You fiddle with your fingers.

“...I don’t know if I believe anything Mobius says,” you begin, tucking your knees close and leaning forward, “But, I know you’ve done terrible things.”

“You think me to be a monster.”

“Is that a joke?” you chirp as you scoff, “Please, continue to berate me, and weave along your little manifest destiny monologues about ruling my planet — and do you want me to ignore the last week? The failed attempt at leveling New York? I thought you said you didn’t want my pity.”

“Enough,” Loki hisses as he is beginning to even regret pushing you for an answer, “You’ve said your piece.”

“No,” you stress, raising a finger to signify you aren’t finished; anger settles into your words, “I haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because you’re so self-absorbed you can’t even listen to what I’m saying.”

In truth, it’s shame that’s making the God’s fingers tremble, not anger. In complete honesty, it feels easier to let you believe it’s some self-aggrandized notion and not the dawning realization that he may not be able to keep up this illusion forever. He… He never meant for it all to end up like this.

His back is still to you. He’s glad. He doesn’t want you to see the crack in his stalwart composition.

“This is ridiculous.”

His whisper bears an inkling of his frustration. You watch him.

“Yeah,” you mutter to yourself as you stand and rock on your heels, “Worst Thursday of my life.”

That earns you a scoff.

He stops his fiddling long enough to trace your figure with his eyes and realize that, yes, that woman from before in the lobby of the Avengers tower was indeed you — and from the films Mobius had shown, he can see why you would have called out to him like that. It’s clear that in this other time, in the ‘Sacred’ flow of time, the two of you weren’t meant to find one another.

It’s… laughable, almost.

By Odin’s beard — not for lack of trying, his mother and father had never been able to find him a suitable match. Thor was easier; he wasn’t so critical of companionship. Loki yearned for intellectual connection even as a young boy, and found it harder to play with kids his age. Perhaps that’s why he so readily threw himself into magic, into Frigga’s teachings. She had insisted that fate was a beautiful thing. That it was wound like ribbons of silk in the stars, falling into place with every rise and fall of the moon.

He rather liked the image.

…And if you were being truthful about seeing his mother? In your dreams?

Well, she always did seem one step ahead of everyone else.

Was this how it was written all along? Did he not have any say in how his life panned out? Was this detour a part of his ascent, or… or was it all in vain? Was he supposed to find you now? Later? Has he gone and ruined what time had set in motion for him?

Suddenly, Loki finds his heart aching for something he cannot have:

That life. The one that rolled by like a movie.

And yet — he’s angry.

It’s not possible. No, he’d never find himself falling in bed with a human. Not for life, not for love, not for… some unending thing that has supposedly transcended time. You are beneath him. Unworthy of even the simplest of his affections. Frigga was wrong.

His mother was wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

He didn’t need this clouding his intent, either. He had one goal — the same goal that has remained since falling from the Bifrost. It’s glorious purpose, a burden he’s carried since he was a boy.

Odin’s burden.

The burden of a forgotten son.

“If you don’t mind,” when he turns around, you notice that he wasn’t looking at his hands at all. Infact, he’s got a disassembled Time Twister in his hands. Confusion consumes you when you realize you have no idea how he even managed to snag that thing off Mobius — or when he could have — but… that’s mischievous, “This little talk has been lovely, but I’m not intending to stick it out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Hardly,” Loki chirps as he takes a step forward, “I’m going to find the Tesseract and leave this place.”

You mimic his stride and step up beside him. “They’ll fry you before you even get the chance—”

“Oh, please,” the God croons with a horribly charming smirk, “Watch me, bug.”

And, just like that, he’s gone.

And you’re left alone with the tapes.

When Mobius M. Mobius returns to the Time Theater, he has to admit he’s a little surprised to find you there, sitting in a chair you’ve pulled right up the holoprojector’s screen. You’re alone. He watches you there, curled tightly in the chair with your knees to your chest, and Mobius realizes you look younger than before.

Hunter B-15 scowls. She moves to step forward but — Mobius stops her.

The scene unfolding before you clearly holds some sort of sentimentality.

Your father follows you closely as you begin to pedal, to push, to venture farther from his balanced grasp as you fly from the safe confines of training wheels and into the world of balance — it’s the first time you’re riding that electric blue bike he’d gotten you for your fifth birthday. It’s the brightest time in your life; before the academic pressure to keep up, before the ever increasing weight of expectations, before the denial to Cornell, before hearing the words ‘I am so proud of you’ became a rarity.

Mobius lets out a quiet sigh as the man on the tape booms with laughter and hauls you into the air.

“Great job, kid! Look at you!” he’s laughing, and Mobius notes the gentle quiver of your figure in that chair, “I’m so proud of you!”

Mobius pauses the Time Movie.

You don’t notice. You’re too busy furiously wiping away the tears, trying to regain your composure and sniff back the homesickness.

He speaks gently. “He is proud of you, y’know.”

Mobius isn’t making it easy.

You blink up at the ceiling.

Then, the grey-haired man rounds the chair and kneels.

“Look at me, doc.”

“I’m not a doctor—”

“You wanna know how I know who you are?” he asks urgently, before gesturing to the stack of paper, “And not because of this whole fiasco — I knew who you were before this.”

Oh, be still his heart. Mobius’ heartstrings tug at the sight of you, broken-hearted and alone.

“You,” he says, pressing a gentle finger to your heart, “Are one of the brightest minds to ever mark life on Earth. You are one of the ones that helps unlock the key to Time Travel. You’re — Look at me. You’re incredible. And I know that man is proud of you. I know he is.”

You swipe at your face with the back of your hand.

“Time Travel?”

“Sure puts a bit of a wrench in our lives in the TVA,” Mobius jokes, “But… Yeah, doc, Time Travel.”

Your mouth falls open. Then, you laugh. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not,” he chirps as his hand lands on your knee, “Actually, Loki plays a — hold on.”

Mobius’ eyes snap around the room.

“Loki… Where is Loki?”

You drop your face into your hand. “I wish I could say I tried to stop him but — honestly, it was just nice to be away from him for five minutes.”

Behind the two of you, Hunter B-15’s calm demeanour snaps as she snaps her taser to life. “You let him escape?!”

You exhale and let your eyes fall shut. “I know, I know — but, he’s going for the Tesseract. I knew he wouldn’t get far.”

Mobius is busy feeling his pockets, digging through and trying to find his Time Twister but… you offer up the one tied to your own collar with a regretful look. Mobius looks at it, then you, and turns back to Hunter B-15.

“C’mon, doc.”

“No — no way,” the hunter says, “She is a liability. She’s extremely dangerous—”

You stand, and toss her the Time Twister. “Here. I step outta line, you get to — y’know. Do that weird time thing you do.”

She catches it, looks at you with a bit of shock, and then pockets the device. In one smooth motion, she’s radioed for back-up. Like clockwork, troops in the same outfit as her arrive outside the Time Theater. You slip Mobius one more apologetic look as he barks out orders to track Loki down.

“Prune on sight —”

“No! No pruning, no resetting!” he snaps, leading you back to a set of elevators, “He can still help us!”

As the doors close, you let out a sigh. “Where the Tesseract is, he’ll be. It’s his only plan.”

“How do you know?”

“He did the villain thing. Y’know, where they announce their plan before they do it.”

“...God damn debutant.”

You wave an unimpressed hand through the air as the elevator drops. Mobius snorts. He tucks his free hand into his pocket. The other holds that… scary baton. The elevator doors swing open and you follow Mobius as he begins to sweep the… storage rooms? Or, at least, that’s what you can gather from the rows and rows of shelves with marked TVA boxes. Some are glowing, some are tattered, some items catalogued are too big to fit in the boxes. You spy a set of armor, Hulk-sized and emblazoned with a red mohawk, on a back shelf in a room labeled H 1999-3000.

A man in a suit and tie carries by a box that hisses.

You flinch.

“You really don’t like him, huh?” Mobius asks, preoccupied with his search into each room but still keen on conversation.

You follow him closely. “Can you blame me?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, “But that’s not how it always is with you two. There’s, uh… a connection.”

“My fist to his face, maybe.”

“Good one.”

“Thanks.”

You reach the end of the floor and Mobius ushers you up a stairwell to an additional floor labeled Storage, but this time it’s a narrower hallway with less people milling about. It’s quiet up here.

“Really, though, you’ve gotta see something in him. I mean — you do. Later on, maybe, but it still happens.”

You wince. “I still don’t believe you.”

“Oh, you think I went and wrote a winding tale of romance, huh? All for you and the God of Mischief? Seriously, doc, you see how busy I am trying to make sure this place doesn’t implode?” Mobius chirps with a smile as he flicks on the lights to a room, peaks around some shelves, then ducks back out, “You saw your life. That was all real. Why would I fabricate the rest?”

You frown.

Mobius eyes you over his shoulder. “Did you see how it ends?”

“My life, you mean?”

He nods.

You scowl. “No — I don’t want to know that.”

Before Mobius can reply, the radio on his hip crackles to life. You recognize the voice as the woman from before, the hunter. She sounds angry. Livid. Nearly unrecognizable amidst her tirade.

“He’s in Time Theater 5.”

You and Mobius share a look, and back you go.

She isn’t wrong — Loki is still there by the time you and Agent Mobius burst through the doors. But, this time, the reel that rolls by reads END OF TAPE. You can see that it’s the one Mobius had shown you before — the one where you and him and your lives have played out. It’s been finished, alongside the one with his name on it.

Mobius slows up. You linger behind him.

Against the far wall, Loki has his head in his hands. He doesn’t look up when either of you enter — nor does he reach for the Tesseract at his feet. Instead, he pushes his hands through his hair and exhales.

“Loki?” calls Mobius, “Nowhere left to run…”

“I can’t go back, can I?” he asks suddenly, looking up and clasping his hands together. He leans on his knees, posed on the tile floor, “We can’t. Back to our timeline?”

Mobius’ gaze lingers on Loki, then moves to you. There’s sadness there.

He doesn’t need to speak for you and Loki to know the answer.

You close your eyes and shakily exhale.

Loki presses his palms to his eyes.

There’s quiet between the three of you for a while then. You move through the room, settling in the chair Mobius had claimed in the beginning. You pick up your tape, inspect it, and then remove the one labeled with you and Loki’s names, with the start and end year, from the holoprojector.

He’d watched it all through.

When you look up, he’s staring at you.

His expression is mournful.

“I don’t enjoy hurting people,” he struggles out, head shaking as if to refuse the words coming out of his mouth. He sighs, “I… don’t enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I’ve had to.”

He holds your gaze.

“Okay,” Mobius says quietly, nearly whispering, “Explain that to me, to us.”

Loki exhales. He gestures, then, with delicate hands to himself. “Because it’s part of the illusion. It’s the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”

You place the film reel down carefully.

Oh.

“A desperate play for control… You do know yourself.”

Loki’s fingers rub his lips. You see now the echoes of sadness etched into his face. He sniffs, rubs his cheeks, and then drops his hands.

“A villain…”

He scoffs. He shakes his head with a cynical expression of frustration; all with himself.

Mobius frowns. “That’s not how I see it.”

You watch Loki reach for the cube. It warbles, shimmers and glitters with power — but does nothing. No puffs of smoke, no disappearing acts, no cosmic happenstance. No, Loki holds it up to the light and it simply glows.

Like an overrated paper weight.

“You try t’ use that?” Mobius asks with a smirk, lowering his baton.

“Oh, several times,” Loki nods as he turns it over in his fingers, “Even an Infinity Stone is useless here.”

He spares you a disappointed look, then tosses you the cube. Best to give you a chance to admire the very thing he’d stolen from up close before it’s, no doubt, reseized and tucked away. Maybe that Casey character will decide he’ll use it as a glorified coaster.

You catch it. Immediately you’re surprised at the weight.

You turn it over in your hands.

Loki watches.

“The TVA is formidable.”

“That’s been my experience,” Mobius replies, “But, listen, I can’t… I can’t offer the two of you salvation, but maybe I can offer the two of you something better.”

Your attention turns to Mobius.

Loki stands.

“Two fugitive Variants have been killing our minutemen.”

You push back from the chair, toss the cube in the air, and step forward.

“And you need the God of Mischief and a little scientist to help you stop them?” Loki cracks, tilting his head as he speaks.

Mobius smirks. “That’s right.”

“Why us?” you ask, for what feels like the thousandth time today.

“The Variants we’re hunting are you two.”

Loki’s eyes snap to you, and yours snap to him.

The look you share is one that, suddenly, makes sense.

#from the void with love #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki odinson imagine #mcu imagine #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki/reader #loki/you #prince loki imagine #marvel imagine #loki series imagine #tva imagine #avengers imagine

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

Flufftober - Day 17

17 - Domestic Fluff

Pairing: Loki x gn!reader

Written for @flufftober2021 's event.

Word count: 1K

A/N: I wrote half of this in school, until the fire alarm set off and we all had to evacuate. Argentinian schools everybody.

A/N 2: BITCH I FORGOT TO PUT THE TAGLIST

Trigger warning: I hate matcha.

Loki looked over his cup of coffee with a carefully controlled gaze. He observed the steam roaming around his face, the foam of the milk drawn into what he presumed was the attempt of a snake.

He didn't dare sipping it yet.

The common room was empty, he was the first one to get up —or the second one, apparently. The coffee was still hot, and it was placed exactly on his seat. There was a cup on each seat. Whoever did it must have been near.

He heard footsteps, and soon James Barnes and his brother walked in, finding their own cups of coffee in their respective seats.

"Mornin' Lokes", greeted Barnes. His eyebags screamed in need of caffeine, and he smiled tenderly at the cup of coffee with a drawn hand on it. "That bitch. A hand? Really?", he chuckled.

"Oh, it appears I have my hammer!", chanted Thor, admiring the Mjölnir on his cup, right before downing it in a few gulps.

"Do you two know where this is coming from?", asked Loki, frowning his eyebrows.

"It's another one of your sweetheart's new interests", said Barnes, sipping the coffee and almost moaning out of pleasure "and Lord, this is heavenly".

"My coffee is… green", pointed out Loki, even more confused.

"That's not coffee, it's actually matcha", you sang from the kitchen. "Wasn't sure if you'd like the taste, but I felt like it had to be green for you, you know".

"Oh. Morning, darling", he said, now getting the cup near his lips and taking a sip. He frowned in disgust, the bitter taste getting a little bit too similar to grass, and quickly forced a smile, just in case you were looking. "It's very good. Thank you, love".

"Aw, I'm glad you liked it!", you walked in with another two cups and kissed his cheek. Bucky and Thor chuckled knowingly, and Loki threw at them a murderous look. You placed the cups on Tony and Pepper's seats and sat on your own. "How did you sleep?".

"Very well. Although, I woke up before sunrise and you weren't there. Since when were you gone?", he asked. You sipped your own cup and it didn't reveal in your face whether you liked it or not.

"I wanted to make sure I had everything ready before anyone woke up. I had to be there before Tony. Do you know how early this man wakes up for the lab?", you sighed, and Loki chuckled. "Besides, I wanted to design each beverage individually".

"The care you took for this astonishes me", he smiled, kissed your cheek, and pecked softly at your lips.

This went on for another week. Loki was glad you decided to change his beverage to coffee with a pump of mint, and everyone was just grateful your changing interests in quarantine ended up benefiting them at some point.

At the beginning you engaged in longer activities. You started knitting, and dedicated some time to embroidery, too. It was funny to see Tony Stark's most professional gala suits with the iron man face in shiny colors embroidered, to say the least, but he loved it.

You knitted Bucky a pair of gloves, to Thor a handle for his hammer, to Loki a pair of knee-tall cozy socks and a scarf with pockets in the ends for his daggers, and to everyone else different hats and beanies in their preferred colors.

After that, you started painting. Loki would spend all day long in the library and you'd paint him reading in various positions. He was more than flattered to be portrayed in ways he didn't consider to be so flattering in real life, but you insisted you only painted what you saw, and he had all the charm on him already.

Now you hadn't much more time to do all of those things, so you started changing to smaller things, like the coffee in the morning, and baking in the late night.

The first one to notice was, of course, Loki. Because you've been away for too long in bed, and he wondered what on the Nine could you be doing rather than sleeping soundly in his arms —and honestly, true—, so he followed his instincts and walked to the kitchen. There you were, carefully placing batter in each cupcake holder, with a concentration that he couldn't break by walking in, even if he tried to.

"Darling?".

You jumped in place and some batter went straight to your face and hair. He chuckled and apologized, walking slowly towards you.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up. I've been wanting to…", you began explaining, but the heat in your cheeks had you pausing in your words. He passed a finger through your cheek, collecting batter, and licked it off.

"It's really good. Even raw", he smiled, and you chuckled, still blushing.

"You'll kill me someday".

"If I keep eating raw cupcakes, yes. Does it have egg?".

"Yes".

"Ah".

"But I doubt a little bit of salmonella could kill a godly God like you", you teased, and he pulled you in for another kiss.

"What other choice do I have? You're covered on it, I'll have to help you clean up, darling", he said, jokingly passing his tongue through your cheek.

"Eugh!! Gross!!" you laughed, trying to break off his grip.

"Mmmh, delicious!", he laughed too.

"Could you two lower it down?", said Steve from the door. Bucky was behind him, and walked in enthusiastically.

"Oh God, are you baking? Can we have some?".

Bucky was the biggest enthusiast at the face of every single habit you've ever had. He always was ready to try everything, no matter how awful it was. But, how much could you mess up cupcakes?

Soon, the smell got to the whole floor, and instead of just Loki, Steve and Bucky, you had almost every single Avenger on the kitchen floor, waiting for the batches of cupcakes to be ready.

Quarantine was crazy, but these things… these tiny things made you understand where you belonged to.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson @theaudacitytowrite @bi-andready-tocry @alorev @justasmisunderstoodasloki @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @theetoastyghosty @lokiprompts )sleepy loki

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki fic #loki x y/n #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x you #loki x gn reader #loki friggason #loki fluff #domestic loki #domestic fluff #loki domestic fluff #flufftober2021

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stanknotstark · 3 years

Text

Curse Her (No Really)

So that’s the look i imagine is on Loki’s face when he’s like “Can’t know what?” Anyways I had this idea yesterday after thinking about how I grew into an allergy to acrylic. It started off as an idea to grow into an allergy to gold but then i was like NO what if Amora cursed you instead and just ran with it lol Also Uno is totally the Monopoly of card games, I play it with my friends online and there is constant back stabbing and yelling 😂

P.S. I nearly said pus-y but spelled it as pu$$y and just barely caught it holy cow that could have been bad 🤣

Summary: Amora curses you so you can’t wear gold anymore, the metal being Loki’s favorite type of jewelry to gift you and see you wear with pride. You don’t want to tell him because you’re strong and independent and can figure this out without him, right?

In hindsight you should have seen this coming, honestly.

You sit in the lab with Tony, you on his table, your legs dangling, and Tony in his seat looking over the holoscreen in front of him with a frown. Bruce is out of town being the humanitarian he is so Tony is left with the job of running scans on those who are affected in battle. You’re just lucky Loki joined the team and helped Tony and Bruce make machines that can scan magic.

“She cast a spell so you can’t wear gold anymore?” Tony says, his frown deepening. “That’s...a stupid curse.” Tony says looking a bit bewildered.

You let out a bitter chuckle. “She’s jealous that Loki is with me and knows that he loves to gift his sweethearts gold jewelry,” You tell the genius with a roll of your eyes. You look at the ground and sigh. “I suppose I should keep this a secret because if Loki finds out he’ll hunt down Amora and attack her. The last thing I want is Amora teasing me for not being able to fight my own fights.”

“That is a horrible idea,” Tony pips up looking at you sympathetically. “However, as the resident, number one placeholder of bad ideas, I say do exactly that if you’re really that turned off by some teasing.” Tony says, half heartedly trying to convince you to not follow through with this plan but knowing he failed by the pinched look on your face.

It only takes two days. Two. For Loki to realize you’re not wearing his jewelry.

You’re lucky he realizes while in the middle of a team bonding activity, card games.

“Darling, where’s your necklace?” Loki asks lightly as he watches Steve put down a reverse card so instead of being Clint’s turn it’s Tony’s. Clint responds by calling Steve a buttface causing Steve to laugh out of shock.

Your eyes flick over to Tony’s, whose eyes meet yours for a second before you’re both looking at the cards on the floor again. You don’t notice it but Loki definitely noticed the look you both shared but chooses to ignore it.

“I’m letting it soak, it needed to be cleaned and polished.” You easily slip the lie out of your lips. When you look at Loki you’re lucky he isn’t looking at you at first because he can usually read your lies. As he skims his eyes back over to you you let a soft smile slide over your lips to which the god answers with a tilt of his lips.

When he looks away you swallow, Tony catching your eyes and raising his eyebrows.

Tell him. Tony’s eyes flash.

Not right now! You push back through your eyes and a small shake of your head.

Tony rolls his eyes and that’s the end of that silent conversation.

The subject isn’t brought up again until the fourth day.

You know Loki has definitely caught on to the fact that you stay in Tony’s lab a lot recently but you’re thankful he doesn’t ask questions about it.

“Where are your rings?” Loki outright asks, grabbing your hand and rubbing over your fingers with his thumb, his face in a slight frown as he looks at your bare hands. He notes that you wear silver bangles instead of your usual gold.

You both are getting ready for a press release about Amora’s attack and usually you love to flash your jewelry to the public, as if yelling from the roof tops that Loki is yours when you’re adorned in his colors and gifts.

“I, uh, lost them,” You mutter out, playing it up and acting ashamed with your flushed cheeks and pulling your hand from Loki’s to hug yourself. “I’m sorry, I’ll find them though.” You bite your lip looking at Loki’s face. The god smiles tenderly and brings his hand up to caress at your jaw.

“It is fine. I will help you look for them when we have the time.” Loki tells you, his hand falling from your face to grab your hand and lead you from the room.

You totally miss the disappointed frown that passes over Loki’s face as you pass the dresser in the room and he sees the rings laying there.

By the sixth day Loki hasn’t said anything else about your missing jewelry. However, yesterday, a day after the press release, Loki had left your rings on your night stand without another word about them.

You can tell Loki is pulling from you, putting up walls that you had worked so hard to demolish. He seems more standoffish and irritated now if his scathing remarks to the team are a tell. You really should just tell him what’s going on but you’re stubborn.

Today, you sit with Tony in the lab hoping he’ll find a way to make this stupid curse just disappear. While you could wear the gold it would leave you with a noticeable rash within a few hours and if worn long enough pockets of pus appear. If Loki noticed that he would start asking questions you can’t, or rather don’t want to, answer

“I think we need to tell him, I’m honestly lost,” Tony says swiveling in his chair to look at you. “Magic isn’t my forte, it’s Loki’s.” He explains as if you don’t know that.

“Tony, Amora will never let me live this down. She will always belittle me for being weak and having to ask for help to figure this out.”

“Technically you’ve already asked for help...” Tony points out hesitantly.

“This is different. She will call me dependent on Loki, like I wasn’t a threat before he came along and I’m his little damsel in distress,” You say letting out a frustrated growl and covering your face with your hands. “I don’t know how to explain what I mean, ok, I just can’t tell Loki.”

“Uh...” Is all Tony says as you failed to notice someone else came into the lab.

“Look, I love Loki but he can’t know.” You say with finality, letting your hands drop.

“Loki can’t know what, exactly?” Loki asks in a smooth but dangerously low tone.

You gasp, jumping a little in your spot on Tony’s work table. Your eyes are wide as saucers and you’re sure you can feel the blood from your face leave.

Loki stands a few feet away with his arms crossed and a pissed look on his face.

The room is incredibly silent, the tension able to be cut with a dull butter knife. You’re lucky Tony comes to save you.

Tony sighs, brings a hand up to rub through his hair and looks at Loki with a grimace as if dreading to tell Loki a, false, secret.

Wow he was a great actor, shouldn’t be surprising considering he grew up under the paparazzi’s thumb but to see it in action? It’s shocking.

“She wants me to build her some armor. Says she feels inadequate next to all of us since she doesn’t have powers or anything cool other than pistols.” Tony, falsely, admits.

Loki frowns at Tony before his eyes slide over to you looking to see if Tony speaks the truth. You quickly make yourself believe Tony’s lie, putting on your brave face as you look at the God of Lies in the eyes.

You know you’ve succeeded because Loki drops his arms and walks over to you. Tony moves away to tinker with something else in his lab, giving you both space, and quickly flicking the holoscreen he had been looking at away before Loki gets a close look at it and it reveals your secret.

Loki spreads your knees so he may stand between your legs and brings a hand up to grip your chin and make you look up at him.

“You will never be inadequate. You deserve a spot on this team, powers or not. You are a formidable warrior and I’m honored to be able to fight by your side,” Loki tells you, his voice strong and confident, his eyes filled with love. “Why would you hide this from me?” He then whispers, his eyebrows stitched together in a hurt look.

You swallow the lump in your throat and consider telling Loki the truth as you look into his eyes and see how much he truly loves you. How much it hurts him to know you’ve been lying to his face.

“I-”

Suddenly the tower’s klaxons are roaring to life and causing the moment to be broken. You, Loki, and Tony stand at attention.

“Sir, Amora has breeched your defenses, she is fighting Mr. Rogers and Odinson on floor 84. I believe they have it handled though.” Jarvis supplies you all.

You and Loki quickly make your way to the floor, Tony lagging behind to put on his suit.

When you get there Steve and Thor have Amora bound with magic resistant cuffs as she kneels on the ground between them. When she sees you her eyes light up at the fact you are without any jewelry and gives a dark laugh.

“You haven’t rid yourself of my curse? I figured Loki would break it within 24 hours. You’re losing your touch aren’t you, mage?” Amora says looking over to Loki with a perfectly coiffed eyebrow raised in question.

Loki looks over to you with confusion on his face and you sigh. Of course the bitch had to ruin everything you’ve been avoiding.

“Oh,” Amora says, her face slack with shock. Then it splits into an evil grin. “He doesn’t know?”

You glance at Loki who is looking between the two of you with avid interest. Steve and Thor look confused as well. Tony’s suit clanks over to Amora and slaps a magic resistant gag over her mouth, giving you a look that tells you you need to tell Loki everything, now.

Steve, Thor and Tony leave with Amora leaving you in the silent room with a very confused Loki.

“What does she speak of?” Loki finally asks when you refuse to give him anything as you stand there looking at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re cursed?” Loki asks, concern laced in his words causing you to feel worse.

You let a tear drop from your eye, blowing out a deep breath and looking at Loki.

“She cursed me so I can’t wear gold without getting a bad rash and pus pockets.” You let the words tumble out of your lips, a small hiccup coming out of your mouth at the end of the sentence.

Loki frowns at you, obviously wanting to comfort you but doesn’t reach for you yet. “That is why you haven’t been wearing my jewelry?” Loki asks for confirmation.

You nod, bringing a hand up to wipe at your tears.

You don’t expect it but Loki quickly envelops you into his arms in a crushing hug. One hand holding your head to his chest, the other rubbing over your back. His body relaxing into yours as if relieved.

“You’re not mad?” You ask the god shakily, your words hitting his chest as puffs of air from your mouth. You bring your arms up and hug Loki back.

“Darling, I thought you had grown tired of me, that you were slipping from my grasps, that you were going to ask to split any day now.” Loki says into your hair where he litters kisses. “I thought you had fallen for Tony.” Loki explains his own voice wavering a bit at the confession.

“What,” You say shocked, your arms squeezing Loki tighter at the realization of the hurt you put Loki through this past week, “No, never, Tony is my friend. I just didn’t want to have to be saved by you all the time. I don’t want to be your damsel in distress. I want us both to be dependent but also independent, that’s all.” You explain into Loki’s chest, your body now shaking with the emotions that overwhelm you.

Loki lets out a relieved laugh, pulling away just enough so he may look down at you. “You will never be a damsel in distress, with need of my help or not. I told you, you are formidable on your own, a warrior with a brave spirit.”

Suddenly you feel really stupid. Amora had gotten inside your head and screwed everything up. Loki was right, as he usually is.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Can you please break this curse so I can wear your jewelry again? I miss it, a lot.” You ask of Loki who only smiles at you fondly and nods.

“Of course, darling.”

#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #my writing

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ackerfics · 3 years

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hi, rory! <3 what majors would the sc veterans take if they were in the modern world?

hi, anon !! thank you so much for this ask, this is heaven in disguise from all my schoolwork. tbh, the whole time i was working for a lab report, my mind will go back to this ask bc i wanted to have the association as accurate as possible hhhajshw

i asked one of my friends for help and thank God for them bc my single brain cell really said 'it's time for you to rest' after staring at one backlog. without further ado, here are the veterans' majors if they're studying in university:

first off, hange zoe, because if you ask me this question in real life, they would be the only one i can answer. every damn time i would think of them in a college setting, being a biology major is really hange's forte. at this point, this is what everyone would associate them with.

hange is all about experimenting and doing brilliant breakthroughs in any field of science but knowing that they have this unparalleled fascination with the unusual and unexpected life-forms (ahem titans ahem), the biology lab would be the surest place where you could find hange. i feel like biology is too broad so i will add that microbiology or bacteriology are just some of the specializations they will be taking in their time in college.

imagine, being lab partners with hange and immediately knowing that you will have one of the highest grades in the class because they're that well-versed in a specific lab report. and if you're partners with them for the rest of the academic year, you might as well have a shot at an immaculate grade. i'm not saying that you should depend on them too much though hHHHH, hange is still a member of the majority of the student body who relies heavily on caffeine to keep them invigorated. who isn't at this point?

so far, some of the biology majors that i encountered (well, more like chatted behind a screen — online classes suck), they have this energy that could drain my social battery too quickly and hange fits that description. (note that this doesn't apply to any college bc i observed this in mine soooo 🤭) they're the type to always go on a tangent on a certain science article or coerce you into joining this org thing. i can imagine levi just looking at hange like they're the one sucking his brain cells out whenever they speak about a documentary in bbc they watched the night before.

and if you're stuck on anything biology-related, hange will be the best person to ask help from. they're the first ray of sunlight you get while waking up. they're that approachable.

okay, so erwin smith.

don't come at me but he just radiates this ceo vibes and with that, one of his probably majors is business administration. i know this is so stereotypical of me but let's face it, erwin is a smooth talker through and through and if he doesn't take up marketing, business is one way to spend his college years. knowing his personality in attack on titan of establishing deals easily with a determined resolve, he fits the broadest description of being a business administration major. (again, don't come at me because my consultant for this statement is google and nobody comes after google sometimes hhhhh)

just for the benefit of myself, i will add what google says about this major, "[they] learn the mechanics of business through classes in fundamentals, such as finance, accounting and marketing ... students find ways to solve problems using data and they develop communication and managerial skills." and i thank you.

he's also probably the most well-spoken and most professional when conversing with others among his friends (and i'm not saying this to drag the other characters but this is what i pick up on) and that is exactly the qualities his major specializes. it is expected for them to strike deals and be a people person and who better character for the job than our very own erwin smith 🤩

now i mentioned 'one of the probable majors' and yes, aside from business administration, philosophy just exudes erwin smith. ngl, when i imagined erwin in a college setting, this major will always come first. his mind is just so sexy to me??? and i hope you guys think the same, too, because i don't want to be the only one who thinks that 👀 kidding aside, erwin is one of the smartest people in attack on titan and every time he speaks in one episode, my brain will instantly go mush, and that's what i feel when i hear philosophy majors talk.

philosophy majors (according to any other youtuber who does lookbooks for various majors hhhhhh) challenge what is unanswerable and analyze questions with no right answer. i feel like erwin, like hange, will talk all night to explain a theory. just imagine a date with him and you just listen to him rant about a topic that they should be making a report on. just listen to this man, okay?? it's adorable when he lets his guard down to include you in his little bubble of philosophies. he would also mention random things that he learned in classes, sometimes finding joy in knowing the philosophies of other people, or even deciphering levi's dream of an apocalyptic world. (it pisses levi off but he just leave him be.)

if you want a man who can do both of these majors, erwin smith is the answer 😉

sigh, mike zacharias.

this man holds so many talents and will forever amaze me.

i assume all of us here watched the movie perfume. and no, i'm not saying that mike is going to be a murderer but just like the main character of that film, making perfumes will be his forte with that sense of smell of his. and here, i conclude that mike will definitely take up chemical engineering.

he gives me the vibes that if it covers the one thing he does best, he will love his major. (mr. zacharias, can you please spare me that quality because i really need that now 😩) being in the labs while experimenting mundane things that can be found in the environment to create different scents is also a likely situation you can find him in, again, very much like hange. he's the type of student who really puts so much effort in staying afloat the honors list, even to the point of topping midterms in his major, for the sake of his dream. there will never be a moment where you will catch him complain about his major and professors.

he's that type of friend in college who agrees to any rant you say but in reality, he's got his life easy 😭

i headcanon mike owning a perfume shop after college just like how levi always dreamed of having a tea shop.

okay, imagine this little scenario if you're dating mike where he creates this unique perfumes as random gifts for you. they're not the typical perfumes that can seep through the room and can make you gag for no reason, they're subtle scents that will stay for the duration of the day. because again, he's got a sensitive nose, so making perfumes according to what his sense of smell dictates will always result in a revolutionary experiment. if you're randomly blurting out that you want a fusion of flowers and fruits as your perfume, say no more, he's your man.

now, the veteran who i find the hardest to associate a major with — levi ackerman.

after much deliberation and a break from plant physiology, i see him taking up law or criminology.

(i asked some of this from my mom because she attended law school :>>>)

levi is so organized and detailed in the things that he do and he fits in either of these majors since they require tedious memorizations and analysis of laws and crime scenes while being assertive enough to defend someone. he's the typical person who blurts out the true situation of a crime scene when watching film adaptations. yeah, he's that person, the one who sucks the enthusiasm out of you while watching a movie because he just had to correct some of the scenes. nevertheless, he means well though, he just wanted you to understand the reality unlike how films portray gruesome murders. movie nights always end up with levi ranting about half-assed mystery clichés.

levi's binder of readings are always too bright for everyone's good. his notes are full of highlighters and scribbles that it can blind someone. for one, he's always up all night studying his readings and cases for a practice court so by choosing neon highlighters, it's a way for him to wake up. there isn't one book in his possession that he doesn't highlight like it's a fricking coloring book. hange once jokingly said that his binder now acts like his bible and for once, he agrees because he was never seen without one. hange had a field day since levi never agrees with them.

when doing practice courts though, his go-to resting bitch face always come in handy when carrying out his role as one of the lawyers. he's just so sexy with his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he tries to justify his supposed client. the way he questions the accused definitely isn't hot because he's like one of the panelists in your thesis defense, the one who just comes up with questions that have you melting on the spot. he's dangerous i tell you. it also doesn't help if you accidentally hurt one of his friends or just landed randomly in his blacklist for being annoying as hell. relax though, he doesn't mean harm other than the fact that he's ready to throw some hands from all the pent-up rage he gathered in his body.

of course, i couldn't forget how he dresses up like a typical dark academia fanatic so look out for eye-candy.

if you want someone who can recite articles from the constitution, this man is perfect for you 😌

i had so much fun doing this !! again, i'm not generalizing every major i've talked about in these little headcanons, this is all for fun and based on the people i encountered in college. if you want more of this, don't hesitate to ask !! 😚

#attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #snk #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan headcanons #hange zoe #hange zoe x reader #mike zacharias #mike zacharias x reader #erwin smith #college au #erwin smith x reader

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spending-life-pretending · 2 years

Text

Watching the Sam Raimi Spider-Man for the first time in the year 2021 is a TRIP oh my god my dad and I only made it through half tonight so here are my thoughts so far:

If I’d had to guess how this movie opened on a multiple choice test, I would not have gone with “Peter Parker delivers a rom-com monologue via voiceover that somehow sets Mary Jane up as the main character of this movie and then laments not being a guy with gelled spikes in his hair”

This bus driver is the worst and probably should be fired

Peter kept pace with this bus for like,,,multiple streets?? Pre-spider bite????

He gets on and is immediately told “ugh you can’t sit with us” by characters who are confusingly styled to look way more Classic Nerd than him. Meanwhile Peter is the blandest looking dude I’ve ever seen. Why do they hate him. He is literally just some guy

Kirsten Dunst’s wig looks like it’s made from the same material as my sister’s old Ariel doll’s hair. It’s so synthetic it’s shiny

So in the beginning Peter’s like “Mary Jane Watson, the girl next door” and she helps him on the bus so I thought they were kinda childhood friends, but then on the field trip he’s all “no I could never talk to her what would I say” and later has a practice conversation with himself where he’s like “hey MJ, idk if you know this but we’ve been neighbors for seven years” so I was like um ok maybe she just…somehow hasn’t noticed that her classmate’s bedroom window is like literally six feet from hers? BUT THEN WHEN HES TAKING OUT THE TRASH she’s just like “hey Peter what’re your plans after graduation also your aunt and uncle seem so nice” so I guess she DOES know him?? I’m confused

Everything in this movie is so colorful. I am a 2010s movie child and ive long since forgotten all but the grimdark greys. I’m like a starving person shoveling food into my mouth at a feast. My overwhelmed eyes are burning, and yet I cannot look away

The screen in this lab just reads GENETIC RESEARCH INSTITUTE and it’s my favorite part of this movie so far.

Oh my god they didn’t even know about CRISPR yet

I may only have been a genetics major for three semesters but my god the science in this movie is bringing me indescribable levels of joy. “We used the tDNA to fuse all 3 spider genomes into one spider” YOU DID WHAT

“Oh all the mice were fine except this one group that got aggressive and went insane” “well sounds like the next step is human trials” BITCH?!??

The other scientist dude is like “no willem dafoe we cannot safely move to human trials when one of the mice groups went insane!!!😫” SIR YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT AND BY THE POINT I MEAN THE STEPS THAT COME BETWEEN TRIALS ON LAB RATS AND TRIALS ON HUMAN BEINGS

I’m having a great time

This is great because he wakes up and has super-spider DNA which apparently means he gets Cool Spider Traits such as: webs! climbing hook stickers! spidey-sense and reflexes! But then also it just made him super buff for no reason

Mary Jane: omg your glasses covered up how blue your eyes are! Me, who hasn’t seen a color on a tv since 2011 and literally thought ‘holy shit his eyes are so blue’ within 5 minutes of starting the movie: MJ what the fuck are you talking about

Practical special effects my beloved

Outrageously cheesy visual effects my beloved

I’m sure it’s not, but I do love that the web ropes—when they actually exist onscreen—look exactly like the fake spiderwebs you can buy at party city for halloween

MCU cowards WISH they had the balls to make Peter Parker stick his perky little ass out every time he climbs a wall

Octavia Spencer

I did NOT know he canonically gets his name from an off-brand WWE announcer at a somewhat underground fighting ring (I say somewhat bc they advertised in the paper and also it appears to be taking place at 2pm)

Speaking of that fighting ring, the writers get Peter there by making him desperate for money. Oh, is it because his beloved Uncle Ben was unfairly laid off at work, as we were told in his first scene, and the family is struggling? No it’s because Peter has decided via the power of montage and overlay that the only thing keeping him from being irresistible to MJ is his lack of a car

This movie. Is something else.

Pretty sure Peter doesn’t understand what people are saying to him 90% of the time. Or the script is just full of non-sequiters. Aunt May’ll be like “Peter what are you doing in here? We heard loud noises” and Peter’s like “ok thank you” and shuts the door

The whole script is like that, actually. They said on GOD we will communicate some exposition to you right now

The maaaaaybe 1.5-minute long scene of Green Goblin blowing up the Quest jetpack man has made me the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I want to marry this scene. It’s only made better by the immediate hard cut to a bunch of teenagers graduating

Willem Dafoe is the hottest person in this movie and it’s making me kind of uncomfortable tbh

SURRENDER DOROTHY

Had an out-of-body moment when I realized my brain recognized the sound of Mary Jane screaming because it matched the way Amy March screams in Little Women (1994) as she falls through the ice. This makes sense, considering Kirsten Dunst plays both characters; however, I watched LW 94 so much as kid that for a brief moment my brain pinged the sound as familiar on a personal level and it somehow surprised me to hear Kirsten Dunst’s voice coming out of Kirsten Dunst’s mouth

The amount of butt shots in these action scenes is genuinely astounding

That’s all for now I cannot wait to finish this rollercoaster of a film tomorrow

#me #spiderman #sam raimi #tobey maguire #Peter Parker #marvel #guys it is just amazing to me how much this genre has changed in 20 years #and Hollywood as a whole #this feels like a fucking comic book brought to life!#is it deep?#no!#is it nuanced?#not particularly!#but it isn’t 3.5 hours of depressing CGI aliens and greenscreened suits of armor and dehydrated men #all colored in a beautiful greyscale with the same two beats of music played over it #so you know what?#I’m enjoying myself!!

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean celebrate Tessa’s birthday with a big surprise before making a drastic change to their relationship...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Dean, jumping up and down in the driveway as he read over the letter in his hands.

“Dr. Dean that’s a bad word,” said Emily, the five year old three houses down. Dean slapped a hand over his face as she rode past on her bike, her father laughing to himself.

“Hope it’s good news, Dean,” said Chris.

“Very. Sorry about that,” said Dean, Chris waving him off as Dean jogged back inside. He read over the letter again and looked through the packet. “Alright. As long as you keep a B average or above you’re golden kiddo. You get straight A’s anyways so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean smiled and gathered up all of the documents, getting them together with Tessa’s birthday present. Y/N had tried to tell him that giving away his old iPhone was too much but all it did was sit in a drawer now when it worked perfectly fine. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be thinking about the phone at all once she found out about the grant.

He looked back at the bag on the table and frowned. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, like he was trying to save her sister or their family or something like that. He could have given them the application and had them fill it out. They would have probably gotten it still. Dean knew his letter he’d included didn’t hurt but he didn’t want to be that guy. He was already a doctor, already helped Y/N with a job, already paid for dates and things. It was no issue for him at all and he knew she didn’t care about the money but he didn’t want to rub it in her face that he could help more than she could.

Dean grabbed his phone and called Cas, Sam stuck in some network client thing all night he’d told him. It rang a few times before it picked up, the echo in the background telling him he was on speaker.

“Deano!” said Benny. “Gonna make it over tonight after all?”

“Hey guys,” said Dean, sitting down on his couch. “You got the crew together?”

“Nah, just us and the girls. They’re still out shopping. What’s up?” asked Cas.

“You know Y/N?” asked Dean.

“The girl you’re clearly in love with? Yes we know her,” laughed Benny. Dean was quiet and heard them shift on the other end.

“Everything okay?” asked Cas.

“I think I fucked it up. I think I’m going too far too fast.”

“What do you mean?” asked Benny.

“Tessa, her little sister, she’s in high school and I applied for a grant on her behalf for her college and she got it,” said Dean.

“That’s a problem how?” asked Cas.

“I don’t want it to come off as me trying to save them or anything. I’m nervous she’s gonna get mad at me,” said Dean. His friends were quiet and knew a teasing comment wouldn’t come. “Guys.”

“Tell her you applied on a long shot and a grant is what helped you with school. You’re not saving the day, just sharing a benefit you got,” said Benny. “Shit I wish I’d had someone do that for me.”

“What’s going on Dean? You’re normally the last person to freak over shit,” said Cas. Dean sat back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Talk to us bud,” said Benny.

“I like this girl and it’s been years and years since I had a girlfriend. You guys know I’m not good for more than a fuck,” said Dean.

“Lisa was a super bitch and you know that’s not true,” said Benny.

“I am in my thirties and I’ve never had a real relationship. I don’t even know how. I’m gonna fuck this up so bad. I know it.”

“Contrary to how often I call you a dick, you are one of the best people I’ve ever met,” said Cas.

“I agree and you know all our friends and especially Sammy would say the same thing. Brother you gotta relax. This girl from what you’ve said and everybody else says, well we ain’t never seen you so happy so stop freaking, go get ready for your date tonight and put some faith in this girl that she’s not gonna hurt you back,” said Benny.

“I didn’t say-”

“Dean, we’ve known you forever. We know when you’re scared. I know most people in your life end up hurting you but take it from us, not everyone will. I got a good vibe from her,” said Cas.

“Me too,” said Dean quietly.

“You doing okay?” asked Benny. “In general you know.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I’m great now. The past few weeks have been awesome. I think maybe that’s why I keep freaking out over this girl. It’s like, fucking finally, I understand what a good relationship can be.”

“You been to Ketch lately?” asked Cas.

“No, not as a patient. I’m okay.”

“Well still go for a tag up every once in a while for us,” said Benny.

“I know. Never would have gone without you assholes getting on my back in the first place.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Cas, Benny chuckling. “So where you guys going tonight?”

“Monico’s.”

“Fancy,” they both said and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Goodbye assholes,” said Dean, hearing them laugh before he hung up. He sat up and took a deep breath. “Alright. Shower. Shave and fingers crossed tonight goes well.”

Reader’s POV

“Okay, presents before or after dinner?” you asked as you carried in a bag to Tessa’s room.

“Before, obviously,” she said.

“Alright, well I know you wanted something really badly this year,” you said. “Why don’t you open the green one first?”

“This feels like an iPhone box…” she said with a big smile. She tore off the paper and grinned. “Awesome! What one is it?”

“It’s a ten. It’s used but in really good condition. I got you a case and extra charger too,” you said. “We can swing to the store and activate it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Y/N, really,” she said. She grabbed the card next and her eyes went wide when she saw the cash inside. “Y/N.”

“It’s your money you gave me. It’s yours. Buy whatever you want, okay?” you said. She nodded and unwrapped a few more small things, a book she’d been talking about, some make up you knew she’d use, a new pair of her nike running shorts that’d been on sale thankfully. You smirked when she picked up the last two presents in the bag. “Alright. I hope these are...suitable for you.”

She tore off the wrapping on one and started to laugh.

“It’s hot pink,” she giggled. “Why is it hot pink?”

“Cause vibrators come in a variety of colors,” you said with a laugh. “I will let you read through the charging instructions on your own and same for the other box. There is toy cleaner because yes you need to wash these things properly and I got some water based lube. Go with water based. It dries up faster but it works better to me. Oh and wash everything like five times before it goes anywhere near anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you actually bought me this stuff.”

“Can’t get pregnant off a toy,” you said.

“Definitely can’t do that,” said Dean, Tessa wide eyed as he popped his head into the doorway. She shoved the boxes back into the bag and he laughed. “I’m a doctor. Sex doesn’t bother me and I think your sister has a point.”

“Oh my God, I forgot he was here,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to,” he said. He stepped inside and pulled out a box from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. She undid the bow and paper, smiling as she opened the box. There was an envelope inside but she picked up the headphones and shook her head. “Dean I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I already know the iPhone must have been yours.”

“You are smarter than you look,” he said. “But I can’t accept your refusal of my present. I have new ones and those never get used and I’m bigger than you so you’re gonna lose this argument one way or the other.”

“I’d listen to him, Tessa. He gets his way when he wants it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Thank you. People haven’t been nice to us the past couple years,” she said. You glanced down to the floor, Dean leaving his arm wrapped around your waist.

“People weren’t all that nice to me either for a long time,” he said with a nod. “Someday when you’re able, you help somebody else out, understand?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“Open the envelope. This one’s a present to you both,” he said. You cocked your head as she tore it open, reading for a long time before she pulled out a paper and handed it to you.

“Dean,” you said, sitting down on her bed after you’d read it a few times. “Dean this…”

“It’s a grant. It’s very similar to a scholarship. I’m an alumni of Elmdale and the medical school there. Tessa you qualify and so I applied on your behalf a few weeks ago and you were accepted. The grant will cover half of four years of tuition,” he said.

“What does that mean?” asked Tessa.

“It means we will have to pay very little with financial aid,” you said. She was beaming and you shook your head. “You applied weeks ago?”

“After I met you two. This house seemed familiar to me for some reason until I remembered. Y/N I told you someone helped me when I was eighteen?”

“Yeah?”

“I think his picture is hanging in the hall,” he said.

“Our dad?” asked Tessa.

“He got me a job and helped me pay for part of my school. I came here once when I needed his help. Your father was a very good man and it’s clear his daughters are the same. Neither one of you deserves to go through all the pain I did. I don’t want you to. It was no trouble at all to do, I swear.”

“Tessa, I work at Dean’s office as a lab tech,” you said. She turned her head and you saw Dean nod. “I lost my job before. We were scraping by. Barely. We’re okay now but without this grant...it would have wiped out our inheritance. That was for weddings and down payments for houses. We can keep it now...we can keep the house now.”

“You hate this house though,” she said. “I hate this house.”

“Tessa-”

“We can downsize,” she said. “Y/N, every night you stare down at their bedroom door. It’s like we live with ghosts or something. It doesn’t have to be so tight. Do we really need a five bedroom house?”

“It’s not as tight anymore. We’ll talk about it. Let’s go celebrate all the good news,” you said. “I’ve been dying for a Monico’s steak.”

“She seemed pretty happy tonight,” said Dean as you sat on the front porch a few hours later. You hummed and rocked in your seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did I overstep?”

“No. You were the boy in the mailroom, weren’t you. Dad used to talk about you sometimes. Mostly when I didn’t want to do something. He told me some people my age have it so much harder.”

“True. But you can’t compare one person’s struggles to another’s. It’s not fair to either one.”

“Would you sell this house if you were me?” you asked.

“I like that you live close by. I’d miss that. But it’s a lotta house for the two of you and it sounds like a change might be a good thing. You could downsize to somewhere else in the neighborhood and probably bank a good chunk of money for later on.”

“We could.” Dean was quiet, gears turning in his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“My house is a five bedroom too.”

“Yours is also newer,” you said. “And bigger.”

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line but...you guys...could stay there if you decided to sell this place. Temporarily. Or not temporarily,” he said. You stared up at him and he looked away. “Like I said, I’m sorry, I know it’s...I should go.”

“Hey. I’m not afraid of you.” His head turned back towards you and he swallowed thickly. “Tell me another secret and I’ll you one.”

“I think I I’m falling in love with you and I’m afraid I’m going too fast and that you think I’m creepy or weird deep down and I’m up to something when all I really see is me and my brother in you and your sisters places and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts and I know you protect her from stuff she doesn’t even know about. I’m sorry for saying that about the house just now. I’d still like to see you though if that’s okay.”

“I think this is fast too but I also think that part of me fell for you the day you carried her home. You don’t want anything from us. Just to help and it’s not because you pity us or anything like that. If I’ve learned anything yet in life it’s that you don’t know when it’s gonna stop and there’s no use in wasting time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You willing to put up with a teenager, a service dog and someone who has not had a moment to themselves in two years?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” he smiled. You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t like this house anymore. If she doesn’t want it, I don’t want it. Maybe we can do some test runs, stay over for a weekend or two, see if we want to make it a not temporary thing.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“I’m home,” you said on the way back from the store. You’d been staying at Dean’s for two weeks now after a nice couple closed on your old house. So far it’d been great and you were perfectly happy to stay there with him and Tessa for the foreseeable future. “I picked up some-”

“He is not my dad. I am eighteen,” said Tessa as she stormed over to the foyer. You glanced back to where Dean was over in the kitchen and sighed. “I want to go to Paulie’s tonight.”

“Who is Paulie?” you asked as you kicked off your boots.

“A friend,” she said.

“You’ve literally never mentioned him before,” you said, carrying some groceries through the family room and to the kitchen.

“That’s what I said,” said Dean as he peeled a potato at the island.

“I thought I said you’re not my dad so you can shut the fuck up.”

“Hey!” you shouted, Tessa freezing up. “Apologize to Dean.”

“He-”

“We are stable for the first time ever because of him. I trust Dean to make decisions for you when I’m not home. If he said no, then the answer is no. Go to your room,” you said. She grumbled and pounded her feet upstairs. You washed up and gripped the countertop. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy,” he said as he picked up another potato. “Paulie what’s his face doesn’t sound like he wants anything other than in her pants so she can swear all she likes at me.”

“What’d she say exactly?”

“She wants to go over to Paulie’s tonight to hang out with some friends but I overheard her and Hailey talking earlier this week about a party and I don’t need a medical degree to put it together.”

“If she sneaks out I’ll kill her,” you said. You glanced down to Toast’s dog bowl and paused. “Dean what would happen if she drank on her medication.”

“She can’t drink alcohol on that stuff,” he said.

“What would happen if she did.”

“She could have a seizure,” he said.

“Tessa!” you shouted. You jogged upstairs and found her bedroom empty. “Tessa!”

The house was quiet and you put your hands on your head.

“Toast!” you shouted, the dog trotting out from Dean’s bedroom. You immediately ran inside, Dean already upstairs and you saw her sitting out on the balcony in a chair, her face in her knees.

“Can I…” said Dean and you nodded. You followed him outside, Dean walking over and squatting by her seat. “Tessa, what are you doing out here?”

“I wish I was normal, didn’t have a fucked up head.”

“I got one too,” he said.

“Do you have to take medicine for seizures? No?” she said.

“No but my dad used to beat me up,” he said. She turned and he nodded. “He would try to beat up my little brother too sometimes but I would take the hits when I could. Tessa, you can’t drink when you’re on your medicine. You just can’t.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out and leave Toast behind either. It’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Y/N and I get scared too is all.”

“You just pretend to like me cause you fuck my sister.”

“For the record, I don’t fuck your sister. Relationships are complicated. You might not realize this but I care about you for you. If I didn’t I would not want you in my house, in our house, and I wouldn’t get scared about you going to parties with guys that just want to use you for sex. I give a shit about you Tessa whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t care,” she scoffed. “You feel sorry for us. Nobody on earth would ask two strangers to move in unless you-”

“Tessa you can think whatever you want about me. I’m not your father and I’ll never try to be him. But I sure as shit know how to be an older brother. So be pissed off and be rude and whatever else you want to. I’ve done this before with my own brother. You don’t scare me. The only thing that does is you getting taken advantage of or you getting hurt and Toast isn’t there to help. Someday you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours what the truth is but until then, I’ll be the asshole who doesn’t let you go to parties you’ll get hurt at.”

“You pity us.”

“I’m jealous of you.” She stared at him and you swallowed in the doorway. “Your parents loved you. Mine didn’t. You want to talk about being fucked up? I’m here anytime.”

She nodded and he sat up on the bench with her. You went inside and finished preparing the potatoes, mashing them up and saving them for later. It was nearly ten by the time you heard the stairs creak and Dean walked down them.

“Y/N,” said Tessa. You got up from the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, Tessa glancing down. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted today and treated Dean lately. I was…”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back.

“I was scared when we moved in here a few weeks ago. I don’t want to lose you too and Dean takes up time that it used to be just us and I know the accident wasn’t my fault but I feel guilty still sometimes and I know your life is different because of it too and I want you guys to be happy, I do. I just get scared you’ll forget about me. I don’t wanna be alone. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t ever have to be alone, Tessa,” you said. She nodded and looked up at Dean.

“I know. I was silly. But I’m better now,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said.

“I know,” she said.

“Why don’t you head to bed, Tess. Tomorrow I can come to your session with you like we talked about,” said Dean. She nodded and walked upstairs, Toast trotting into her room. You walked upstairs and into your bedroom with Dean, shutting the door after yourselves. “I should have...change is difficult on kids with PTSD. I should have realized that’s why she’s been so snippy. I thought it was just hormones.”

“Probably both,” you said, climbing onto the bed. He lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “You care for her.”

“You two are a package deal, sweetheart,” he said with a light chuckle. “Can’t love one without loving the other.”

“Like you and Sam,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

“Me too.”

“Is Tessa okay? You guys talked a really long time.”

“She was afraid I would replace her, push her out. Granted I do like spending alone time with you and everything but she needs you and I’m not here to take you away from her. I think she understands that now.”

“Dean why haven’t we had sex?” you asked. He sat up and you shrugged. “We’ve dated nearly three months and you don’t even try to cop a feel. For how fast certain things are between us, that one feels a little slow. I just want to understand. I don’t...I’m not saying it’s a problem I just want to know.”

“You asked me on our first date, or you made a comment, that I don’t seem like the shy around women type.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t use to be. A smidge, especially if they were the one that seemed to be controlling the situation but it was always good. I had some girlfriends, had some hookups. More than my fair share of hookups. The girlfriends…”

“The bitch one?” you said, getting a chuckle out of him.

“I stopped thinking I was relationship material for a while. So I did hookups for a long time and that was good. Until about two years ago. I haven’t had sex since.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I just...I asked her to stop and she didn’t.”

“Dean she hurt you.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said. He put his back to you and you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know we sleep in the same bed and…”

“And I don’t need to have sex with you. Would I like it? Sure. But my sister and I aren’t the only ones in this house that need to be taken care of. You’ve done a really good job of that lately and I’d like to start pulling my weight in that department. When you’re ready for sex, you tell me, otherwise, I will just cuddle you real hard until then, okay?”

“Alright,” he said quietly. He reached behind himself and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his neck, Dean taking slow breaths. “I don’t really know how to let someone take care of me though.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you said. “Like maybe with you being little spoon tonight.”

“Alright. I can try, sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

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