#weds are for those things AND loki

[therukurals]

#gil watches vikram #YO LOKI WHY SO DARK LAH #also fafa's wife im so sorry i already know you're about to get fridged rip in advance #he's a 10 but he misses your wedding and he fucks you in a room with a crime scene wall thing #idk what those boards are called

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 52

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I always come back to Loki.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Loki lingers, his head against your arm as you sit in the hue of spring. You could be calm if he weren’t there, if he hadn’t just altered your irrevocably. His wife? 

You could’ve never imagined it. You can’t be his wife. You’re the maid. You’re lost and hopeless and unimportant. Yet he wants to marry you? You? Even your own father doesn’t want you. Until just then, you may have thought the same of man kneeling by your feet. 

Should it feel special? Should you be happy? Doesn’t every woman dream of her wedding day? You didn’t. You never expected a husband. You never had the thought to spare marriage. It just didn’t seem realistic to you. It was never a possibility you had to weigh. 

“You’re quiet,” he lifts his head slowly, looking up at you with his gemlike eyes, “aren’t you excited?” 

You suck in your lip then let it out, “yeah, I’m just... surprised.” 

“Mm, I’m sorry it wasn’t a better one,” he looks around, “no candles, no champagne... but there are flowers.” 

“Yeah, I guess, er--” 

You hear the doors and before you can face the intruder on your scene, Frigga’s voice unleashes in a shrill squeal, “did you do it? Oh, please, Loki, what did she say?” 

He shifts and clears his throat. He grips the arms rest and pushes himself to his feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead before he straightens. He lets out a breath as he turns to his mother. 

“We are getting married,” he says plainly. 

“Oh, how wonderful,” she chimes, “oh, a daughter-in-law!... Again.” She chuckles lightly, “it will be like a fairytale.” She flutters over to you as Loki moves out of her way, “darling,” she takes your hand, tugging you up to your feet, “this will be even grander than Walpurgisnacht. Oh yes, this will be unforgettable.” 

You look at Loki as he returns your helpless gaze. You pout in his direction as he shrugs. Your mouth curves deeper downward. Please help! 

“I’ve got some silhouettes in mind,” she pulls you away from the table, “Hela showed me this app, Pinterest I believe it’s called. I have all these splendid things saved.” 

‘Sorry,’ Loki mouths and turns his hands out as you’re dragged away from the sunlight and the serenity of nature. Back to the dark house where you can’t breathe. 

Inside, she takes you into the kitchen. She leaves you by the island as she flits around, dropping black tea into a pot and putting on the kettle to boil. She hums gleefully as you just stare. ‘Daughter-n-law'. That’s what she said. Would that make her your mother? 

“Dear,” she turns to you and exhales, her expression dampening, “I recall you said your mother isn't with us anymore. I understand that may make this bittersweet for you but I will be here for you. Whatever you need, whatever questions you have, I’ll be happy to help. A wedding is a big thing. There’s much to do.” 

You nod, “should we... should we hire a planner?” 

“A planner? Gods no! I fancy myself a bit of an amateur but more than adequate,” she tuts, “we could have it at the house. Or perhaps we might seek out a nice chapel.” 

You frown. It’s all so much so fast. She stops and puts her hand to her chest, “oh sorry, darling, I’m just so excited for you. I’m not trying to take over. Don’t be afraid to speak up. What do you think for a venue? Oh, perhaps a destination? Somewhere tropical?” 

You cross your arms and peer over, your eyes catching the sheen of sunlight. 

“The garden,” you murmur, “the gazebo. It’s all fixed up. We could put flowers around the rails.” 

“That’d be a beautiful ceremony but what about the reception? We need space.” 

“Oh,” you babble. 

“Certainly we could make it work. We could fit people into the garden, we may have to sacrifice a few hedges.” 

“Not many,” you mutter. 

“Pardon, dear?” She asks as the kettle clicks and she turns to grab it off the burner, “what do you mean by that?” 

“I...” your shoulders slump at the realisation, “I don’t have anyone to invite.” 

She’s quiet as she pours the steaming water into the tea pot, “that’s not true. You have us and oh, Bragi seemed quite fond of you.” 

“That doesn’t count.” 

“Why not? Dear, we love Loki because we have to, we love you because we want to,” she smiles. 

Your eyes drift away wistfully. She can’t understand. She has people, she has everything you ever wanted. Even with the promise of a pretty house, a gorgeous garden, and all that comes with it, it just doesn’t make you feel any different. 

You want a dad who loves you. You want a mother who’s alive. You want anyone who isn’t just obligated to you. 

“I’m sorry,” her voice goes low, “I’m not meaning to upset you. I’ll slow down. I understand it’s a lot--” 

“How could you want me to marry him? I don’t belong—I shouldn’t-- I can’t be your daughter.” 

“Why ever not?” She asks. 

You scoff and push your shoulders up, “I’m not good enough.” 

She laughs, but not a taunting laugh. It’s disbelieving. She takes you by the shoulders and makes you face her head on, “darling, let me tell you, you are. You... you have no idea.” 

“No idea?” You shake your head as you look at her from beneath your lashes. 

“About what you do to my son. No, you cannot see it but I do. My Loki. I’ve seen him married, I’ve seen him heartbroken, I’ve seen him through everything, but something’s different about this. About you,” he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and hairline, “you have a power over him. Once you claim it, this will all be so much easier.” She cups your cheeks and tilts her head with a coy smile, “that’s how a marriage should be, you will see. He’ll never admit it but my son is more like his father than you would think.” 

You scrunch up your nose. You don’t believe her. You can’t. You don’t have power. You’re just you. You’re not special or anything like that. You now what you are to Loki. The same thing you’ve always been to him, whether his maid, his plaything, or his wife; convenient. 

“You will see,” she assures as if she can hear your doubts, “and what always clears my mind is tea.” 

✨

Frigga expounds at length about all the possibilities ahead of you. She has grocery list that goes beyond a mere wedding. An engagement party, a bridal shower, the rehearsal, and not to mention, a scandalous bachelorette. You only sink further into anxiety. What have you gotten yourself into? 

Well, you never did say yes. You weren’t asked, were you? Doesn’t matter. It’s not like you have anywhere to go. 

You hold your chin, gnawing on your lip as Frigga rambles on about wedding colours. Green is nice but what about something subtle. Oh, or metallic. You simply nod, offering little to her monologue. 

Your eyes wander past her to the windows. The afternoon wanes as evening cools the air. You mourn the sunlight as it shifts and the curtains dull. 

“Ahem,” the clearing of a throat draws you away from your detachment. 

Frigga quiets as she glances at her husband. He stands in the doorway, greeting you both with a subtle smile. 

“I hate to interrupt, dear,” he says to Frigga, “but I was hoping I might be spared a moment with our future daughter before the sun sets. It has been a long day and I’d hate to keep her later than need be.” 

“Oh, uh, certainly,” Frigga pushes her shoulders back, her cheeks tinging a dainty pink, “time must’ve got away from me. I’m so sorry, darling.” She reaches over and squeezes above your elbow, “I have been going on and on.” 

“You will have lots of time to do so,” Odin chuckles, “but I feel the rain coming soon and I would like a walk in the gardens before then.” He tilts his head towards you, “may I have the honour?” 

Frigga nudges you dips her head, “go on.” 

You stand and swallow tightly, crossing the room to Odin as he waits patiently. You offer a sheepish look as he offers his arm. You thank him and walk with him into the entryway. He lets you retrieve your shoes before you go to the back doors and he ushers you outside. 

You’re quiet as you descend the steps and stroll between the hedges. You feel the cool dampness creeping in the air. He’s right about the rain. You cling to his arm as a shiver crawls up your spine. 

He draws away briefly, slipping off his thick cardigan, and he slips it over your shoulders. You murmur a thank you and he loops his arm with yours once again. You carry on, uncertain. You can sense he means to say something and you think you know what. He isn’t as happy as Frigga about this union. 

You brace yourself for it. For him to put all your doubts to voice. You’re not good enough for Loki. This is a mistake. You are a pretender and you don’t belong in this family. 

“My son is a fool,” he begins, shaking you with his soft but deep tone. You exhale, somewhat comforted that you were right. For once. “The way he’s behaved, foolish. And that’s to put it lightly, my dear.” He reaches to pat your hand in the crook of his arm, “you deserve much better than either of my sons.” 

You keep your chin low as you watch your feet. A twig crushes beneath your sole as leaves rustle to your left. You glance over and stare after a short tail before it disappears. It’s only then you realise where he’s leading you. 

The gazebo rises ahead of you with it’s domed roof. He stops you at the bottom and turns. He lets you go and lowers himself to sit on the step. He pats the wood next to him. As you sit, he looks up, admiring the structure. 

“You did a good job,” he says. 

“What?”  

“On this,” he touches the railing, “looks sturdy.” 

“Oh, well I... I only called the carpenter.” 

“You did what needed to be done. What my son would not.” 

“Mm, I guess,” you shrug. 

“You did,” he insists, “do you not see it?” 

“See what?” You twiddle your fingers. 

“You are much stronger than he thinks you are. Than you think you are,” he shakes his head, “you underestimate yourself. My son, as much as I hate to think I raised him that way, while whine and whine before he gets anything done. If he can avoid it, it won’t be done. But you, I see it clearly, you do things. You know what life is. You just get through it.” 

You hum and bite down on your cheeks. Not having a choice isn’t bravery. If anything, it’s the opposite. 

“You shouldn’t. Just get through it. You should have some joy. You shouldn’t be locked away in the dark away from the sunlight. You should flourish in it,” he leans against you, “don’t let this marriage be like everything else.” 

You dip your head. He sees right through you. 

“You’re wrong, I’m not strong. I’m weak. I only do things because I’m afraid,” you sniffle. 

“But you can admit that fear. You can face it. Not many people can.” 

You sighs and drag your hands up and down your calves, hunching over your knees. 

“If you want to marry my son, I will not say a word to stop you, but I do want you to make a promise to me,” he continues, “a small one. Rather, think of it as a promise to yourself.” 

“Okay,” you wilt as you look over at him. His eyes are a bluish grey with flecks of slate. His gaze is gentle. 

“It’s what we spoke of before,” he says, “you must tell my son no.” 

“No?” 

“Ah, yes, I do regret he didn’t hear more it earlier in his life but he does need to hear it. Especially from you,” he intones. 

“But I...” 

“You will. And when you do, he will listen.” 

“How-- no, he wouldn’t.” 

“Ah, I know. My son is isn’t very good at that but he will. He must. He has reason to listen now. You are not his wife yet,” he puts his hand over yours, just atop your knee. 

You give a strained look, somewhere between a smile and frown. You’re flattered that he believe in you but you don’t. He doesn’t know the way it. He doesn’t know the way you are. 

“Alright, let’s practice,” he pulls his hand away and claps. He pushes himself to his feet with a grunt and spins to face you. He adjusts his collar and lifts his chin, putting on face, almost a pinched look, “now, wife,” his voice is slightly off, “what I say is law and you will do as I say.” 

You stare at him, confused. You purse your lips and shake your head. What is he talking about? 

He grins and shows his palms, “I am him. Pretend I’m my son,” he lowers his voice, “now, we’ve had enough of this conversation and I have made my decision.” 

You pick your nail, watching him dumbly. 

He breaks character again, “say no.” 

“What?” 

“Say it,” he orders then once more his poster shifts. “Wife, I will not tell you again.” 

You blink and take a deep breath, “n--no?” 

He sputters, “pardon? What was that?” 

“No,” you say firmer, heart beating, “no, I—I won’t.” 

“But I said so--” 

“Oh, um, okay--” 

“No, no, no,” Odin waves his hands, “keep going.” 

“Uh, okay, uh, no,” you say again. 

“No? You’re telling me no?” He puts on a display which does remind you of Loki. “How can you tell me no?” 

You look at him and blanch. His grey eyes stare back, goading you on. He bows his head slightly. 

“Yes, I mean, no. Yes, I am telling you no. No,” you steady your voice, “no.” He spins his finger and you repeat it again, loudly. 

He arches his brow and puts his hand to his chest, “no?” He sounds almost pathetic, “but darling,” he comes forward and lowers himself to his knees, one at a time. He takes your hand in his, “darling, please, don’t be mad at me.” 

You scoff as his theatrics turn ridiculous. You make a face and roll your eyes, “he wouldn’t...” 

“He will,” Odin assures. “If he knows you’re serious, if you don’t give him what he wants right away, oh, I think you could give him a right scare. As I have it, you already have done.” He lifts himself slightly and angles to sit beside you again, “just perhaps this time you needn’t scale the roof.” 

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers

[waywardcrow]

I’d do bad things with you.

Summary: The day after the wedding, Bucky and his new wife go to Stark's house to plan their next step because that's why they are married, right? Not because they love each other.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Stark!reader.

TW: Really not so many, talks of murder but very lightly, implications of mafia kind of stuff but please remember all I know about this I learned from SoC and fics lol, allutions to death, mention of cheating and sex, lots of angst, curvy!reader, no mention of y/n and reader's nickname is Bells (context coming soon), kind of enemies to lovers but not really enemies, arranged marriage, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Yours to lose series.

All eyes on us <<<

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything when his wife closed the door of the guest room, how could he? His dragă asked for one thing: help to protect her family.

That didn’t mean she owned him something, she was his wife but not his woman, not anymore.

If only he wasn’t so impulsive, if he weren’t so blind to recognize what he had in front on him, they wouldn’t be in this situation, their wedding wouldn’t be an arrangement, he would had ask her to marry him instead of trapping her.

Still, he had hopes, he would never give up in getting her back, and when Bucky finally did it, he would make up for the lost time.

Alone in her room, Bells felt the Barnes’ family ring heavy in her hand, not only for the rose diamond, it was heavy because she didn’t deserve it. She was well aware she only had it because she ended up being a Stark, there was no way this could ever happen to her being the mistress on turn for the Winter Soldier.

And even knowing it, she missed those times.

Everyone that worked in the restaurant knew she was sleeping with him, they also knew it was better for their tongues that she never heard them talk about it, Bucky made an example of the first and only one who tried, a jackass named Julian who liked to make women uncomfortable.

After that, everyone turned a blind eye when Bucky when to the bar and talk to her for hours, when he called her to his office and she used disappeared in there to don't go back to work for the whole shift, they saw them going home at night, both being walking proof of the affair.

Her friends sometimes looked at Bells with concern; especially Kate but no one said a thing.

She would get in the car with Bucky who would try to convince her to stop working so he could spoil her and Bells would gave him the same answer, she only wanted him, not his money.

It was so stupid of her, to believe he could feel the same one day but how could she not think it when he played his part so well? Treating him like she was something delicate, something beautiful, she wanted to believe he could want her, love her.

That was why she spent most of the nights with him during the months her fantasy ran wild, she was even familiar with his men, Steve and Sam adored her, Scott, Thor and Clint were sweet with her, even the stoic Loki smiled sometimes at her jokes.

Bucky made her feel at home, she had free reign in the house except for his office and they found their routine very quickly.

Even in the nights Bucky couldn’t join her right after work, he would find her sometimes eating alone in the kitchen or taking a shower and he would made up to her, he was so tender with Bells, making her feel everything was right, maybe it was because she never had a real home and she craved it that she was so easy to fool.

After taking the dress off her and removing her make-up, the girl curled in bed, refusing to cry again for him.

“Good morning, dragă, I made breakfast” was the first thing Bucky told his wife in the morning. His wife, he would never get tired of saying it even if it was only in his head.

She looked beyond beautiful, the ivory set of pants and jacket hug her curves and he was loving the cleavage cut he could see from his place in the counter. His wife looked like what she was, a Queen.

“Don’t call me that, James” hearing his name on her lips hurt but he deserved it, at least she didn’t call him by his last name.

Their last name.

“Does my lady prefer any other nickname?” he asked without stop smiling, serving her coffee like he knew she liked it.

“I have a name, stick to it”

Her name was beautiful, both of them, the one her parents gave her and the one he met her with but she was the woman he loved, dragă was really appropiate.

“You used to love when I called you that, I don’t think I should change it if we want this marriage to be believable” he shrugged, knowing well why his wife didn’t like it anymore.

“We made a deal, Barnes” oh, James was gone “you will not make anyone believe this after we deal with our enemies”

She really did believe he would give up on her, which almost made him smile. His dragă still had to learn a few things about him.

“You should eat, Mrs. Barnes, we have to be at your brother’s house in half an hour”

Bucky was the least happy about working with Tony Stark, he supposed they could have been friends in another circumstances but he hurt his sister, if Natasha would ever did the same to Becca, Bucky would never forgive her.

Thor drove them to Stark’s mansion and Bucky hated how at ease his wife was there, that wasn’t her home, not anymore.

Russo and Castle were waiting besides Stark who hugged his wife and kissed her cheeks, taking her away from Bucky, leaving him scowling beside Steve and Sam.

“You look like you drank your weight in alcohol, Billy” she giggled and Bucky’s heartache increased, when was the last time he made her laugh? He couldn’t remember.

“Are you trying to tell me something, topolina?” Russo inquired with an offended look while they walked to Stark’s office.

“Yes, she means you look like shit Bill” Castle answered before his wife could and they all laughed but Russo and Bucky, Sam and Steve were too busy talking with Thor to notice. He watched as they took her inside the house bringing back her sweet personality, all the love she felt for them that made him mad watching the “proof” of her betrayal slapping him in the face once again.

Maybe Hydra staged all that but it was his fault, his own insecurities and ghosts were what made her hate him and he couldn’t see the way out of the mess he created, not when the scars that piece of shit gave her in his murder attempt were visible every time Bucky could see her arms.

“Are you ok Buck?” Sam asked quietly, his gaze following Bucky’s, his dragă was smiling at Pepper and Tony, touching her sister in law’s bump. He might never get that with her and if it wasn’t with her- Bucky knew it now, if it wasn’t her, it was no one.

“I’m fine, let’s go”

Pierce had endless resources, deals with powerful people, enough money to buy himself a kingdom, lots of people who would kill for him without hesitation but with all that, he had an Aquiles heel.

“We know he feels like he already won the reelection for Mayor but I’m not so sure” Bells projected a picture of a handsome man dark hair. He had a kind smile and even the red sunglasses didn’t disminished his likable aura “Matthew Michael Murdock was born and raised in Hell’s kitchen, he graduated Columbia with honors with his best friend, Franklin Nelson, the current District Attorney and he was a champion of the people as a lawyer in his neighborhood despite he had multiple chances to work for a big firm, all of that changed when his soon to be wife, Karen Page, got in the way of Wilson Fisk”

Billy raised his hand as if he was in a classroom.

“Why does this sound like someone talking about their crush and how this helps us?” next to him, Maria hit him in the head and he yelped “I’m just saying!”

“She has a point, you would know it if you let Bells finish” his sister smiled at her friend “please go on topolina.

“Thanks Maria, you’re right as always” Bells winked at her and Maria blow her a kiss “Murdock it’s going to help us beat Pierce in the legal side and meanwhile dear Karen would help us convince him to let us give his campaign a hand” there was a mischievous grin in her face that Bucky had never seen before and it took everything in Bells to look away from him.

Pepper then cleared her throat and Bells took her seat, everyone looking at the ginger.

“Since Fisk got killed in jail, Miss Page got out of witness protection and Mr. Murdock reinforced his fight against the system from the political side” Bells helped her showing reports of Murdock’s popularity, his good press, all the people that supported him “we are going to destroy Pierce taking everything from him. Natasha and Yelena are working with Wanda and Maria to take more territory from him, Madani and Torres keep going after his most powerful lieutenants just like we talked about the last meeting.”

The map in the screen showed the comparison of the before and after, all the east side of the city that once was Pierce’s now it was all theirs, there were still parts resisting the change, it would have been quicker if the group didn’t tried to make the transition the less bloody as possible.

It wasn’t about power, even if it was what their line of work demanded, it was about revenge.

Pierce took something irreplaceable from each one of them, it would be only fair they’d leave him with nothing.

This time Bucky catched Bells eye and refused to let her go.

If not for Pierce, maybe they still would been together but maybe not, Bells was so afraid to tell him the truth about who she really was when Tony found her and it just added to the impending disaster they were, they would been living a lie, she would have been just the mistress, the toy on turn for someone that didn’t loved her.

Bells had to remind herself she didn’t need Bucky, she couldn’t, not after being the target of his cruelness, she couldn’t wash the memory of him fucking Jenna on his desk after telling Bells he loved her hours before.

She knew the truth now, she couldn’t forgive him, not when Bells’ heart was still aching for Bucky’s betrayal, for his lack of faith in her, for his lack of love towards her.

On the other side, Bucky was proud of her, his dragă was born to rule at his side and he didn’t care if he had to hunt Alexander Pierce himself, he would do anything to do this right.

If the murder of his father taught him something, it was that he wouldn’t fix anything feeling sorry for himself, Bucky had all the chances in the world to make amends and he would pay for every mistake with the blood of their enemies.

Tag list: learisa blackhawkfanatic queerqueenlynn calwitch pono-pura-vida

Hiya! This took me so long but it was only because I was stressing myself about it, then I decided to do whatever felt right and here we are! Also the nicknames I used here:

dragă: sweetheart.

topolina: little mouse.

Let me know what you think.

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst

[simplyholl]

Out of My System Pt 6

Summary: Loki doesn't understand Thor's attraction to Midgardians. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

W/C: 915

Out of My System Masterlist

The hot days of summer turned into the cool nights of autumn. Your hookup with Loki was on constant replay in your mind. Even though months had passed, you would never get over it. You’ll never forget how it felt to be tangled in the sheets with him. Bodies entwined like an intricate puzzle. How his fingers grasped you like he never wanted to let you go. How he called your name in those moments of ecstasy.

It was silly, but you felt special because you were the first and only Midgardian he slept with. He was actually brilliant to not sleep around. Loki slung dick like it was his job, and rent was due. You had no doubt that the people of Earth would lose their minds trying to bed him, if they ever learned of his talents. His fans were wild without that knowledge. You had seen the comments on his posts.

Things weren’t awkward between you, and for that you were thankful. It was almost like it never happened. If you hadn’t memorized every mark he left on your body, you would think it was all an erotic dream your horny mind conjured.

Tonight is Tony and Pepper’s wedding. You, Wanda, and Natasha are bridesmaids. You shimmy into the dress, beyond grateful that Pepper chose an elegant, sleek style over the one her mother favored. You were looking forward to the reception. It was going to be the party of the year. You text Rhodey to remind him he needed to make sure Tony didn’t bring an Iron Man suit with him.

The reception started off with a bang, literally. Fireworks lit up the night sky, loud music boomed through the speakers. Ben asked you to dance when the next slow song came on. You let him lead you to the dance floor. You had been seeing him casually, and he was more than happy to be your booty call.

He was a great guy, you just wished you liked him more. You often wondered if something was wrong with you because you didn’t. You couldn’t help that the only man you would ever have feelings for, would never return them. You didn’t mean to, but you found yourself comparing Ben to Loki.

How he spoke, the way he dressed, how it felt when he kissed you. The worst was while you were hooking up. Your mind always went to how it felt when you were with Loki. It was like you were made to fit together. It didn’t feel like that with Ben.

He holds you closer as the song’s chorus echoes over the crowd. You’re startled when you hear Loki’s voice. “May I cut in?” He asks Ben. His large hand rests on Ben’s shoulder. He looks up at the god who hovers over him. He immediately releases you, letting Loki take his place.

Loki tugs you toward him. “You look beautiful tonight.” he tells you, guiding you through the dance. You glide around the dance floor enjoying being this close to him again. You look at his mouth, thinking of how his lips were now intimately familiar with your body.

You lift your eyes, noticing that he’s doing the same. “I shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as I do.” he confesses. You sigh, “Loki, you can’t say that to me. It was a one time thing, remember?” Loki curses himself for not giving into you sooner.

He doesn’t believe in love. But he’s terrified of falling for you. His heart almost stops beating at the realization that he already had. You consumed his every thought. It was more than just desire. He craved your company. He needed to be around you.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I should have known it would be more with you.” You listen intently, letting his confession sink in. “I’m in love with you. I think I always have been.” You press your lips to his excitedly. “I’m so in love with you Loki.” You tell him in between kisses. You hear a throat clear, realizing the music had faded out, and the intro to the next song was really quiet.

You glance around, and all eyes are on you. “Let’s go!” You take his hand, leading him to the bathroom. You can’t keep your hands off each other. He pins you to the wall with his body. “Do you know how out of control you make me feel?” he pants in your ear.

You throw your arms around his neck, holding on as his fingers dip into your panties. He runs his finger through your folds, feeling how turned on you are already. “All this for me?” He smirks, lifting his finger to his lips. “Only for you.” You confirm.

He unbuttons his pants, hard cock jutting out. You help him by lifting your dress up your thighs. He slides your panties to the side. You gasp when he enters you, stretching you deliciously. His tongue starts at your collarbone, licking a trail to your jaw. “I’ve missed being inside of you.”

~The next week~

Loki and Thor were being sent away on a mission. They would be gone for a few weeks. Your heart ached. You just got him, and now he would be off fighting without you. You’re sitting on Loki’s kitchen counter with him standing between your legs. You pull him to you, placing kisses all over his face.

Thor barges in, telling Loki it’s time to go. You wish you had five more minutes with your new boyfriend. Loki kisses you goodbye, rubbing his nose against yours. “I don’t want to leave you.” he whispers. You know Thor heard him when he smiles knowingly, looking between the two of you.

Part Seven

Tags (cont. in comments)

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @sheris532 @lokixryss @multifandom-worlds @javagirl328 @assemblingavenger @lilibet261 @lemonadygirl @joyofbebbanburg @bellajg21 @ladymischief11 @kats72 @evelyn-rathmore @innebulae @alexakeyloveloki @princess-ofthe-pages @xorpsbane @itssomeonereading @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @navs-bhat @fire-in-her-veinz @crimson25 @darkserenity24 @mischief2sarawr @nikkig496-blog @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki x yn smut #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki marvel #loki tom hiddleston #out of my system

[randomshyperson]

Another Love - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being late doesn't always mean you lost your chance. Wanda might not be yours now, but if there’s something an Eternal can do is wait.

Warnings: unrequired love, hints of mutual (?) pining; mild angst with hopeful ending, friends/team partners, canon divergence, fluff, some tension, language. |

Words: 4.046k | Part Two

A/N-> The author was missing Klaroline and instead of dealing with it in a wholesome way, I wrote angst (ish) with Wanda. Send help. Those who haven't seen TVD may know lines from tik tok edits. Cry with me, dear ones. And good reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

You didn't know that a piece of paper had the ability to hurt the invulnerable until you received Wanda Maximoff's wedding invitation.

It arrived at your newly sold apartment by mail - You would have missed it if you hadn't made a last check on the boxes of furniture that were to arrive in China shortly after you.

Meeting the new leader of the Ten Rings Society was an indispensable business necessity, you had convinced yourself of that. Much though you had the impression that deep down, leaving New York had little to do with work and a lot to do with a certain former teammate.

Your history with Wanda went way back - all the way to Sokovia, where, as usual, you were guaranteeing the mission Arishem had given you, even if with each century, you doubted your vocation for it more. The Judge was clear in his instructions, on what you represented. A Homo Immortalis, in all your magnitude, chosen to oversee the rest of your people. You were gifted with a little of each of the others; having what was necessary to hold more power than any other, a mortal and superior combination of all the abilities of the other Eternals. 

And while the others lived out Arishem's mission in their own way, you were actually working towards it. Ensuring that humanity evolved, and that applied to making sure that Infinity Stones were not used to exterminate them, everything from helping Captain America with the fools of Hydra disguised as Shield to joining the Avengers to recover Loki's scepter.

Your participation in the team was hidden from the rest of the world for a long time. You had no interest in gaining fame for your work or any financial recognition. These material and superficial things came naturally to you, but they meant little in the magnitude of the life of an eternal, the kind that could run and fly and destroy the world with a breath. The one who could see these, and many other universes, from a palm's distance.

When the Mind Stone fell into your hands, you had two lost and angry orphaned twins at your feet. The Maximoffs were young adults with a lot of anger and hurt towards the world, and while you guaranteed them safety in a new country, they gave you something in return that you had long since allowed yourself to feel.

The vulnerability of having a family scared you. Even then, the Avengers were limited to you just as the Eternals were - co-workers toward a common goal, a shared function. 

Loving Wanda changed all of that.

She melted away your age-old defenses - Centuries of loss and betrayal, dispassion in your mind with the comfort of her presence. Wanda was a ray of light, hope, for humanity you hadn't recognized within yourself in a long time.

Through her friendship, you were inspired to have other friends. To reconnect with the rest of the Eternals, and with the remaining Avengers. Ensuring that humanity evolved, as Arishem instructed you, was almost a secondary plan. Your priority was to guarantee the safety of these people who had become important to you.

The Stones were protected - You would have suggested their destruction, but even Phastos had been against something so raw. The problem was not the stones, knowledge, and evolution never are, the issue was the way these species wanted to use these heavenly blessings. Keeping these objects away from such primitively violent races should be a priority, and so, you made sure. 

The Stones were kept away by you, and when the Mad Titan tried to steal them, he was defeated like the grain of sand he always was before the multiverse.

But soon, you would realize that Thanos' death caused the inevitable revelation of the Celestials' true motives. It was a very sad unveiling - Tragic even, for everything you believed in. Years of ensuring that humans prospered only to destroy them. Luckily, the vast majority of your team agreed that this was too absurd to be allowed.

Not all of you survived, and there was a sigh of greater threats knocking at the door, beyond the promised judgment of Arishem on the humanity your family betrayed his teachings for, but for now, there was peace.

The world was flourishing and spinning, the Avengers were growing stronger every day, recognized as Protectors of the Earth, respected and loved all over the globe. Despite all that had happened to the Eternals, at least this gave you a sense of duty fulfilled.

When it came to Wanda, you hesitated. Not in your heart, because the certainty of your feelings was always clear to you, even before you could admit it to her. The feeling bloomed in your chest every day in her company, and to deny it would be foolish. But at some point, perhaps when work occupied your time, and priorities of making sure Dreykov was dead or stopping other lesser villains that seemed to sprout in the earth like cancer, you put Wanda aside. She grew close to someone else and fell in love with him, and Vision was the one she would marry in a few weeks.

The invitation surprised you, no, it hurt you. At first, your instinct, in a moment of anger and indignation, because Wanda knew - everybody knew - about your love for her, and yet this didn't stop her from reserving a seat at the celebration of her choice. The choice that was not you.

The invitation ripped in a tug, and you gasped. Your mind filled with nostalgia and longing, memories of the team, and of her, made you sigh. The item floated from the floor until it was rebuilt and returned to your fingers.

Greater foolishness would be for Wanda not to invite you. Even though she had been nothing but understanding and kind in rejecting you so many months ago, it would be rude not to include you in this now. Everyone was invited, Eternals, Avengers, Shield agents, and so on. not inviting you would have hurt even more.

You kept the fancy paper in your jacket pocket. You weren't sure if you would have the courage to show up, but all it took was one phone call to a certain widow who said she would shoot you if you upset Wanda on her special day, was all it took for you to make sure you went to the party.

Your return to the United States was bittersweet. Despite all the good memories as an Avenger, the feeling of losing Wanda still ached deep in your chest at every thought that flowed into your mind about her. And traveling to New Jersey for her wedding guaranteed a lot of them.

You purposely missed the ceremony. First, because delays were impossible for someone like you, and second because you didn't want to watch her swear her love to another. 

For the party, Wanda was supposed to change her white dress into something lighter, that would allow her to dance with everyone. 

You knew you shouldn't, but your feet made their way upstairs to the Wedding Venues just the same.

Manners be damned, you would be selfish one last time. 

The floor was quite busy, many familiar faces like Nat, Maria, and Carol, and some distant colleagues were there. You just greeted them politely, ignoring the hesitant glances at your presence at the party, when everyone knew and imagined that you were not coming.

Wanda was frantic in the make-up room. She was smiling so much when you entered, that you barely noticed the gold wedding ring on her finger.

She noticed your presence through the mirror as Nat and Yelena helped her with her jewelry and immediately hesitated.

"Y/N."

You smiled, looking at her, and her solemnly. "Hello, Wanda."

Nat exchanged a glance with Yelena, both by their proximity, realizing how a simple greeting made Wanda shudder from head to toe, and the color of her cheeks not limiting the makeup now.

She turned, twiddling her fingers. "You came."

Your smile didn't falter, but your hand left the doorknob to touch the pocket of your jacket. "You invited me." It is an obvious and tender statement, almost a tease. Wanda smiles shyly, looking away from your intense eyes before she embarrasses herself further in the presence of others.

Nat clears her throat and gestures to everyone in the room. "Let's go see if everything's all right downstairs, shall we?" Most of them practically run out of the room. Yelena makes a confused face.

"She hasn't even changed clothes yet-" She starts to protest, but you step forward.

"Don't worry, Yelena, I'll help her with her dress." You say in the most respectful and least insinuating manner, but still, you get a warning look from Wanda and blush about the way Nat holds back a chuckle.

The door closes as only you and Wanda are left inside the room. You smile at her, and she sighs affectedly.

"I wasn’t expecting you." She starts, but seeing your expression, she blushes as she corrects herself, "I didn't mean it like that. Of course, I wanted you here, or I wouldn't have sent the invitation. But..."

"Wanda, it's okay." You cut her off, aware of the heart pulsing at high speed in her chest. You did not wish that to give the bride an anxiety attack - You promised Nat that she would have an amazing day, and so it would be. "I'm sorry I missed your vows, I'm sure they were beautiful."

She smiles shyly, adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. If you used telepathy, you could watch her fondly review the last moments, but you would rather burn your eyes out.

Moving closer to the bed, where the change of clothes had been placed, you smiled at her.

"I'm glad you liked the gift."

Wanda frowned in confusion, then understood. She opened her mouth to say something but didn't know exactly how to thank you. You grinned.

"Forgive me, I should have written a note on the box." You joked, wielding a weak, affected laugh from her.

Her cheeks are rosy and she looks lovely like this. "I-I didn't realize it was you who sent it. I didn't... I thought it was a gift from Yelena or even Stark, considering how expensive it looks..."

You hum in understanding, your hands busy unfolding the dress. "I told Yelena to cover for me." You explain, hiding from her curious expression. "Don't look at me like that. I was under the impression that if I put my name on the gift, you might reject it."

"Y/n..."

"And I couldn't let that happen." You interrupt her gently, making her shut up because you approach. Your smile is tender and your touch on her cheek makes her breath hitch. "I chose it especially for you with the world's greatest stylists, each desperate to please me the most."

Wanda swallowed dryly, trying to keep her gaze in your eyes. You licked your lips, and she almost gave up. But your hand moved away, and so did you. 

"Turn around. Let me help you with the zipper." You instructed, and Wanda was so mesmerized by your presence that she did so immediately. 

The ease with which you opened the locks of her dress suggested magical assistance, but Wanda was too busy keeping her own body under control to pay attention to this. The dress was loose on her, and she held it up in front of her, turning to thank you.

The closeness of your face made her gasp softly.

You kept your gaze low, resisting as she did, the urge to break the distance. Wanda put a hand on her stomach when she had the impression that this distance got smaller.

When she spoke, her voice was husky and affected. "I just got married."

It was a warning, a reminder. For both of you, in a way. Your heart broke, and unbeknownst to you, so did hers.

Despite this, your smile was easy on your lips, even if they didn't reach your eyes.

"I am aware." You retorted with a slight tease, stepping aside to grab the dress and hand it to her. "Go get changed, love. I would like a dance before I go."

She refused to acknowledge the nickname, honestly used to them from day one, but not the request. 

She raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you ordering me to dance with you?"

You pouted, a posture reserved for Wanda and Wanda only. "I wouldn't dream of ordering the Queen of Chaos to do anything."

Wanda snorted in embarrassment, shoving your shoulder gently. A distant version of her, a friend you have long since lost, was visible in your eyes. It made your chest ache.

"Shut up." She giggled shyly, clutching her dress against her body.

You didn't mind, your eyes shining with an adoration that made Wanda warm. "What, Scarlet Witch, no need to get modest with me. I'll be seeing you on a throne yet, I'm sure."

Wanda giggles away, her face very red. "God, you're the worst." She complains embarrassedly, fleeing to the makeshift fitting room in the bedroom while you amuse yourself with her clumsiness at her inevitable fate.

When she returns, she looks as stunning as you knew she would in that dress. She must think so too because she sighs at the glimpse of her own reflection.

"It was really thoughtful of you, Y/N." She commented softly, staring at the mirror. "I loved it from the first moment I put it on."

You were leaning on the window now, having spent all the time Wanda was getting dressed, looking at the guests at the party. Watching the happy groom downstairs. Your face turned to hers, and for a moment, Wanda saw only the cold Eternal she met years ago. She didn't have time to hesitate, because your gaze softened and your smile emerged.

"I knew you would look even more beautiful than usual in this one piece, Maximoff. Red really is your color." You compliment, moving away from the window to approach her. "How are you feeling? Is it comfortable enough to dance in?"

You are assessing the dress, but Wanda is looking at you when she replies; "It's perfect."

She looks away before you can notice. There is an exchange of shy glances before you nod to the jewelry you were going to help her put on. Wanda stands back, busy with rings, and when she hands you the necklace she has chosen, you deny it with your head.

"Not this one." You say, moving your hands to your jacket pocket. She stares at you with confusion through the mirror, but holds her breath at the item you begin to fit around her neck. 

"Y/N, that's gorgeous." She gasps in surprise at the sparkling jewel, but as soon as she feels the soft weight, she flinches. "I-I can't, it looks too expensive-"

Your hands hold her by the shoulders, and Wanda chokes, blushing and burning with the feeling of your touch being firm and gentle at the same time. Your fingers adjust the necklace, and your chin rests on her so that she stares you in the eyes.

"It's yours." You assure her, enjoying her perfume and the way Wanda sighs before raising one of your hands to touch the jewel, feeling it on her fingers. "All the best things for my favorite girl."

Although with rosy cheeks, Wanda smiles at your reflection. "Oh, so there are other girls?" She teases, and it's dangerous to do that, alone in a room with you, so close you could just turn your face and take her right there and now, while Wanda has the impression she would let you, even if the party was going on downstairs, but she does it anyway. And you love it.

"None quite like you, Maximoff." Although you return in the same tone, there is a striking truth in your words. Wanda licks her lips, and your grip tightens, making her choke softly on her own breath.

"You're just trying to boost my ego." She retorts, struggling to keep her eyes open when suddenly, your lips are brushing over the amount of exposed skin. Your breath tickles the back of her neck, and Wanda trembles all the way to her tiptoes.

"And why would I do that?" You challenge her as affected as she is, running your hands down her arms until you intertwine your hands over her stomach. Your body embraces hers, and it's as warm and comforting as all the hugs that you two ever shared at the compound and post-battle, and as full of lust as all the few stolen moments in road motels and training sessions. 

Wanda's knees go weak, but you hold her, close and tight. 

"N-no." She gasps, making no effort to pull away, but with the last vestige of sanity in her mind. "Please, Y/N, I can't. I do love him." The statement throws a bucket of cold water on you, reality back.

You try not to be hurt so much, but it is inescapable. You let go of her gently, and by instinct, Wanda ends up with her face turned to yours. For a second, both you and she think the kiss is inevitable. But you offer her a sad smile and pull away.

Wanda speaks before you can, "I'm sorry." She says, and you know what the apology is about because she has tears in her eyes. You shake your head, quickly bringing your hands closer to your cheeks to make sure your makeup doesn't get ruined.

"Hey, no tears now." You ask as tenderly as you can handle, and despite your own request, your eyes are also teary. "It's your special day. No crying, unless it's from happiness."

"But-"

"I mean it, Maximoff." You say in a falsely serious tone, a smile playing past your tears. "Both Romanoff and your brother will break my ass if I make you sad at your wedding. No tears because of me, alright?"

She gave a tearful laugh, nodding her head. She really wants to hug you, but you just kiss her forehead and walk away.

You look like you are going to add something when you face her, but a knock on the door interrupts the moment. Wanda retreats further away, unsure of what she is trying to hide.

It's Pietro at the door, suspicious and clumsy. "Hey, Y/N. What's up? Everyone's waiting for her..."

"And she's ready now." You say to your old friend, coming closer to hug him. "Wanda will be right down. In the meantime, why don't you accompany me to the bar? I have some Makkari stories to tell you..."

Pietro is immediately excited by his new speed rival, and you offer Wanda one last wink before leaving the room with her brother.

The party is so lively and your friends are so happy in their celebration that it is contagious to have fun too.

It is inevitable, however, that you avoid Wanda. She is the star of the night, and she dances with almost everyone and has everybody's attention, and this keeps her busy long enough to look for you. And with Vision there, you figure she wouldn't.

The celebration must go on through the night, so you get distracted by all the other people. When it is almost 3 a.m., and many of the guests have already left, leaving space for the more intimate friends, Natalia Romanova prepares a martini for you at the bar.

"I'm surprised, you know?" she begins, drawing your full attention away from the slow dance that Vision and Wanda share in the main ballroom. "You behaved very well tonight."

With a small smile, you stare at her. "And when haven't I?"

Nat chuckles softly, serving you both. "Good point, friend."

You nod in thanks for the drink, and you toast before Nat asks about where you were going. Your first response is to shrug before you clarify:

"I imagine we'll have a few months of peace before the next supervillain shows up." You joke, getting a chuckle from the other, "Maybe I'll just work. It's been a while since I've wanted to have a better relationship with the witches on this planet."

Nat raises an eyebrow. "I can't even imagine why the change of heart." She implies, receiving a soft hearty chuckle.

You fall into casual conversation after this - Nat updates you on the full rescue of all the widows she made with Yelena, how they both would now have time for a normal life, and that Yelena was going to study at NYU next semester. She also comments that she is thinking about proposing to Agent Hill, but she might wait until spring because she was under the impression that Tony and Steve were about to announce a wedding on the same date as well. You were sincere when you said that although your love life was turned upside down, you were very happy for her and everyone else.

It was almost morning when the party was officially over. Except for the few drunk people around, and that included a high Clint Barton trying to shoot arrows without being able to see in his current state that Pietro was using speed to prevent it, the venue was being dismantled by the wedding team.

Vision wanted to do something special - He went back inside the house to get blankets so that he and Wanda could watch the sunrise together. You didn't want to be listening to the conversation but it was inevitable.

If you manipulated a little bit of probability so that he wouldn't find the items so soon, it was a harmless prank.

Wanda was waiting for him at the pier on the lake. You approached in short strides, and the lack of disappointment in her gaze as she realized it was you and not her husband made you sure of what you were about to say.

"Hey." She greeted gently, her arms crossed. "I guess I owe you a dance, huh?"

You smiled at her, and as you stood close enough, your hand went to adjust the slightly tousled strands of her hair behind her ears.

"I'd be happy to charge that." You begin, your fingers fondling her skin. "At a masquerade ball in Italy."

Wanda hesitates, surprised before almost upset. She opens her mouth to repeat her apology, but you give her a sad smile before continuing, "But I know what your response to this invitation would be."

She swallows dryly. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I wanted to... I really wanted to feel the same way."

"Oh, sweet girl, don't martyr yourself for it. Ever." You ask her gently, the palm on her cheek so gentle that Wanda has to use all her power not to lean in completely. "My feelings aren't going anywhere, Wands."

She sniffles lightly. "That doesn't help-"

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head. "No, you don't understand." You begin, and she holds her breath as you approach. The kiss is on her cheek, but it is so close to her mouth that Wanda's mind stops for a full minute. Your eyes are full of tenderness as they stare at her. "Vision is your first love. I intend to be your last. No matter how long it takes."

She stares at you, static in surprise. Something in her chest burns and screams, and Wanda recognizes this feeling from many years ago, one that she swore she had completely undone with every goodbye she ever had to give you.

But you are here, looking at her and promising to love her for eternity, and she can't help the ghost of a recurring feeling in her chest.

She feels like the worst person when she sees Vision holding blankets outside the house, and the luckiest as well.

"My congratulations, Wanda." You whisper to her. "I wish you nothing but happiness. To both of you."

Wanda gives you a tearful smile, nodding in gratitude. You smile at her before turning your back, knowing that this will not be the last time.

You would wait for her. Another thousand years if necessary.

-&-

Part Two

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #canon divergence

[birdybirdnerd]

👀 bifrost incident stage play????

youve opened pandoras box my friend. get ready

okay so i had this idea back in 2019 when i first got into the mechs and specifically first heard tbi. im a theater kid and have chronic amv/animatic brain where i visualize things real easy, so when i first listened to this album i was SLAMMED with the realization that, actually, tbi is PERFECT for a stage adaptation

imagine, if you will:

inspector lyf, at his desk side-stage and in front of the curtains. stalking across the stage, talking direct to the audience as he waves the black box, setting the stage and the story ahead and theorizing as to whats going on

the first chords of odins launch speech are heard, and the curtains open wide on the exterior of the train, odin at a podium, and a crowd listening intently

during each of lyfs speaking parts (cold case/person of interest/etc), he walks across the stage and explains things, as the set changes behind him. new characters arrive, spotlights shining as lyf wonders what theyre doing there, if they were the one that sabotaged the train

in the style of kabuki theater, the stagehands are dressed all in black, silently moving the set around the actors, changing things and completely invisible, the audience accustomed to ignoring them at this point

lokis song comes, and the whole time she sings, she is beset by these stagehands, dragging her around like another set piece, harassing her, interacting with her but still invisible to everyone else. sigyn tries to get her attention during her song, tries to pull her into their wedding dance- but the stagehands keep pulling loki into dances of their own, all while sigyn has no idea why her wife wont so much as look at her

losing track, lyf is losing track and the suspects are lined up onstage, singing, taunting as lyf stalks among them, grabbing their arms and faces and demanding answers. as he loses his mind, falling into despair, they turn to him and grab him back, pull him down, yell the only words they have left at him as he despairs.

the live band is dressed in theme, all steampunk-ed up, on a mini stage off opposite lyf with minimal lighting on them, until- expert testimony comes by, lyf bemoans having to go to the imprisoned bandits that annoy him so, as he crosses the stage, only for the lights to rise on the band and guess who theyve been the whole time!

red signal. lyf stands center stage, frozen in place as he chants, summoning that squamous something from beyond the veil, as those stagehands, all-black, all-invisible, shift and change before the audiences eyes, pulling out rainbow scarves, makeup once hidden shining bright and vivid in sudden black light. they dash off the stage as the rip between worlds widens, run amok the audience, slamming through doors and screeching as lyf voice raises higher, higher, until-

intermission

and when the audience comes back, the stage is... wrong

more black light, the set has warped and twisted. rainbow lights shimmer brighter on the backdrop, splashing in pools on the stage and the actors faces. the stagehands run free now, the monsters from behind the veil, the unholy things now attacking the actors directly, tearing them apart as the train falls into chaos

thor confronts the all-mother, transformed; she stands at the top of a podium now, the top of a platform while her costume has expanded around her, grandiose robes melting into a massive, writhing puppet manned by the stagehands, a bright and staring eye projected behind her head, staring at the audience, watching. thor fights off the hands, loses, and finally throws his hammer at the eye- replaced with a bright, white crack as the stars claim them both

loki and sigyn share a final tender moment in the engine room, they get their dance in before sigyn slips the line into her wifes arm. they share a final kiss as the curtains close on them, leaving...

lyf, standing center-stage. bottle in hand, exhausted, terrified. he bids the audience good luck, laughs wryly about the bandits disappearing - at some point, the live band quietly disappeared from their side-stage - and slips behind the curtain

terminus

the radio static fizzes, and as we hear the panic spread across the galaxy, the curtains part for bows. the bell tolls, flashing that bright, staring eye back as all other lights go off, plummeting everyone into dark and stark relief

-

so yeah, ive thought of this a normal amount

#the mechanisms #the bifrost incident #personal #my writing #technically?? #anyways i havent actually opened the doc this is all in in years #but ive thougth about this and turned these thoughts and visuals over in my head enough times #that i completely one hundred percent was able to just rattle all this off the cuff #can you tell im autistic. anyways if i had unlimited budget i would one hundred percent make this #but theres so much that i just cant see happening on your average local theaters budget. so

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Kindergarten/Daycare au

pretend marriage

Female child reader and child record of ragnarok characters watching a movie and it comes with a wedding scene

Female child reader: I want those too. I also want a beautiful wedding. What if we played family? (⁠●⁠´▽`⁠●⁠)

Boys think playing family is the same thing as “practicing the future”

-Your eyes were sparkling, watching the end of the movie play where the main characters got married, “It’s so pretty! I want a wedding!”

-The caretakers of the kindergarten class you were in, the Valkyrie Sisters, thought you were adorable, while your fellow classmates were all staring at you before immediately glaring daggers at each other.

-There has been some pretty intense rivalries for your attention here as of late, not only between the gods and the humans, who only wanted you to play with their side of the classroom, but also amongst each other, not wanting to share you with anyone else.

-Loki immediately was holding a toy ring, rushing over, “Marry me Y/N!” the others were quickly outraged, yelling at Loki while you took the ring, putting it on not only the wrong finger, but the wrong hand as you beamed, “Do you want to play wedding?”

-Everyone shouted that they wanted to play with you, which made you smile, oblivious to their reasoning behind their enthusiasm, while the Valkyries were all face-palming, you were too cute for your own good.

-All of your friends were quickly arguing with each other, each of them giving you a ring or a bracelet or necklace, asking you to marry them, and soon you were decked out in lots of play jewelry, a warm smile on your face, “I’m so happy I get to marry all of you now!”

-Goll looked up at her eldest sister, “When should we stop this?” Thrud and Brunnhilde did think it was rather cute, seeing it as children playing before Brunnhilde spoke, “Snack time is right around the corner. Food always distracts them.”

-Food did not distract them.

-When snacks were called they were quickly grabbed and brought over to be a part of the wedding feast as you took turns dancing with each and every one of your classmates.

-When Adam picked you up, you almost knocked out, extremely tired as you hugged him, after the Valkyries helped you take your jewelry off, telling your papa that you got married to all your classmates today and even had a wedding with lots of dancing!

-All of your classmates, even those who had been picked up already, felt a shiver run up their spine, suddenly terrified for some reason.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki

[sarahscribbles]

hello, can I please request a drabble happening in a library? I already had this idea in my head some time ago, and the bookstore date question made me think about it again today :D

Of course!! I'm not sure if this is what you envisioned, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless! (And sorry if it's really bad)

Loki Masterlist

Loki x f!reader

The familiar musty scent of old books wraps snugly around you like a mother's loving embrace. The scent is safe and comforting and you associate it with the best thing that's ever happened to you, but, even at that, it's nothing compared to the heavy feel of his arms while he holds you.

Loki has you cradled close to his chest on the soft velvet loveseat, his cheek resting on the top of your head while you both contentedly watch the colourful explosions lighting up the night sky.

The obsidian darkness is the perfect backdrop to watch the emerald green sparks dance joyously with pale lilac ones - both your colours intertwining endlessly for all of Asgard to see.

A surprise from the Allmother to mark your wedding day.

A contented sigh floats from you as the sky continues to explode with colour and the music from the Great Hall below rises up in waves. Loki shifts beside you and you feel the gentle kiss he presses to the top of your head, and somehow it feels that much sweeter now that he's your husband.

"I kissed you for the very first time between those shelves." Loki breaks the silence, but you don't even need to raise your head to know which shelves he's speaking about.

You were sure you could find your way to them blind.

You curl tighter into his chest and his arm squeezes your shoulder. "Mm, how could I forget. You made the shelves shake so terribly I was sure the books would collapse around us," you tease him.

His soft laughter has warmth blossom in your chest. You want to make him laugh every single day.

"Darling, you looked so ravishing in that gown that I couldn't restrain myself. For weeks I had been dreaming of how it would feel to kiss you," he says softly.

"And did it live up to your expectations?"

"It surpassed them," he answers, taking your left hand in his to kiss the gold metal band he placed there only a few hours before.

He tucks your hand in his while you nuzzle your face into his chest. Your heart is brimming with so much love for this man you feel that it might burst. Today, he's made you his wife, his Princess, but even an eternity together doesn't feel long enough.

"We should return to the celebrations," you say finally, not wanting to leave the warmth of his embrace, but not wanting to miss a second of your wedding day either.

Loki hums his agreement but wraps himself tighter around you. "Soon, my darling wife. You're going to need every second of this rest with what I have planned for you tonight."

Drabble taglist: @the-lady-amphitrite @cheekyscamp @muddyorbsblr @lunarnights95 @joyful-enchantress @kinky-faerie @currish-rosewolfe @loopsisloops @liminalpebble @holymultiplefandomsbatman @coldnique @fictive-sl0th @goddessofwonderland @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @simplyholl @joyful-enchantress

#loki #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki imagine

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: what could be done

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 13; moments after 'plans & protestations'

Summary: Loki and Frigga look for a way to prevent you from being married off to the Prince of Alfheim

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Prince Damien (yes he's a warning)

Things to be aware of: sad Reader hours; stressed Loki hours

Queen Frigga paced back and forth throughout her workroom, perturbed at the information that Loki had just relayed to her. Royal Child Bearer? The nerve of that insolent inexperienced child of a prince.

She should have nipped this visit at the bud the moment she held the letter from the Royal Court of Alfheim in her hands. Seen the unease with which the palace staff looked upon him whenever she witnessed him crossing paths with one of them. Or now overtly guarded and secretive so many of them had become when she would try to ask them if the visitors were treating them well.

Perhaps she could have even prevented the visit from happening altogether had she spoken to her husband about it rather than entrusted that the future she'd seen of you and Loki being happily married to one another would prevail regardless of hindrances in the form of seedy visiting princes and memory spells. She had no indication to tell her that so many obstacles would have stood in the way of your happiness.

"We must do something, Mother," Loki pleaded, tears filling his eyes even at the mere thought of you leaving Asgard to become that repugnant prince's wife. "I must do something. I cannot simply stand idly by and watch as this insipid excuse for a prince courts her and gains Father's approval. Watch as Y/N's wish to marry for love is taken away from her and she is forced to wed a man that will not treasure her, swear his fealty to her, the way that she deserves. And all in the name of fortifying alliances with the insurgent realm of Alfheim. Even if I do not become her husband and your vision ultimately proves false, all that matters is that she does not enter a marriage where she is used. Unappreciated. Unloved. I cannot bear to see her unloved."

"Let me think, my boy," Frigga said, doing her best to calm her son as his thoughts began to spiral picturing the bleak marriage you would have to the elven prince. And rightfully so, those images were nearly enough to make her send the visiting party home. Invoke her power and authority as Allmother in the name of doing what was best for her granddaughter and for Asgard as a whole. "I have faith that she would be capable of thwarting his attempts in the short term--"

"But what of the long term, Mother?" Loki stood from the armchair he'd slumped into minutes earlier, nearly pacing a hole into the floor from his visible anxiety. "Father seems to be determined to stave off the insurgence that the Royal Family of Alfheim has been rumored to be organizing, and an alliance between our families might just be the compromise he seeks. What if he is willing to disregard Y/N's wishes to accomplish that?"

Frigga resumed her pacing as well, a deep worry taking place in her that the peace she'd seen in her vision of your future was farther off than she'd initially thought. That the contentment and joy meant for you and Loki would serve as the end of the fight of your life. "I will do what I can do postpone any decisions of your Father that would lead to Y/N's hand being forced into this marriage. Meanwhile you, my boy, will do what you can to keep her time occupied. The less time she is around this lecherous disgrace of a prince, the better for her sanity. And yours."

"Postpone," he whined, shaking his head as he were shaking off the short-sighted intention. "We need to stop these efforts entirely--"

"And we will," the queen insisted, pulling her son into her arms. "You give me the next few days, I will find a way for us to stop this fraudulent courtship completely. I swear to you, Loki, on my life. She will not be subjected to a life unloved. She will not be relegated to a stepping stone for this urchin of a prince to ascend to the role of Allfather."

The days following Loki's panicked consultation with his mother were spent on high alert, the god's behavior dangerously leaning toward petulant as he did what he could to prevent you from spending time with the elven prince short of flat out refusing to conclude his time with you. Thankfully you seemed to be more than willing to let the behavior slide as you preferred his company rather than Prince Damien's, and you would even offer up your own thinly veiled excuses if only to lessen your time with the boy of a prince that was all too forgetful of decorum and insisted on touching you with an air of familiarity that he had not earned. And likely never would.

Today was no different, the god sequestering you in the corner of the library that you'd settled into sharing. You were all too gleefully working on the plans for the ball that would culminate the Yule festival, deciding on what would serve as the night's main event.

Meanwhile, his mother Queen Frigga had given him a specific task in their mission to thwart the courtship efforts of the crown prince of Alfheim. He was to look into the customs and traditions that would be expected of a member of the royal family of Asgard if they were to marry. The objective was to make you privy to their intentions once they had found something that could keep you in Asgard, and the three of you could put your minds together into negotiating your way out of the courtship.

Unfortunately all that he could find so far was that the only way to make a clean break from Prince Damien's efforts to marry you was to have it expressly declared by the Allfather that the courtship was concluded and any and all efforts from the Prince would no longer be welcome. And bringing Odin to this decision would take a great deal of convincing. He would have to be offered something much more irresistible than fortifying alliances between Realms and indefinitely hindering the threat of an insurgence.

No one held such ammunition. To Loki's knowledge at least. He could only hope that his mother was more fruitful in her searches.

"Would you be willing to participate in an auction?" you asked, sitting up from your slouched position from earlier while you were penning down your thoughts on various parchments. When you started to clench and unclench your fingers, Loki took your hand in his, massaging your skin in small circles, causing you to let out a satisfied sigh as you relaxed into the cushion. He had to fight back the salacious thoughts that began to infiltrate his mind, thinking of more pleasurable ways to elicit those sounds from you.

"It depends on what exactly would be up for auction, darling," he answered, pressing a fleeting kiss to your knuckles when your hand had fully relaxed in his hold.

"A night's worth of dances." You rested your head on his shoulder, your eyelids drooping when he began to stroke your hair and you fully allowed yourself to take a few breaths and relax. At least until your ever irksome suitor would burst through the doors and announce that it was time for your daily walk around the palace.

And you would have to don your collar piece that the god knew must be warmer than was necessary. All for the sake of shielding your body somehow from Damien's wandering hands.

"If it means keeping you safe from a certain elven Prince with wandering eyes and hands, I would gladly outbid--"

"No no, Loki, you misunderstand," you cut him off with a slight giggle. "The men would be up on the stage, I was asking if you would be willing to auction off your dances for the ball."

"I see," he mused, making a point to turn to a random different page on the book he was reading through to keep you from discovering what he and his mother may be up to. "If it aids in the success of the ball, then…I would be happy to."

His heart beat violently in his chest as you squealed and turned to throw your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you!" You excitedly left his embrace, his arms now feeling hauntingly empty without you in them, and wrote his name down on the parchment.  "At least I know I would be having a good bit of fun before I get shackled down and shipped off to Alfheim to do little more than sit still and look pretty," you sighed, placing your pen down on the table before slumping back into the cushion.

"Darling, if you do not wish to marry this prince, you are very much within your rights to refuse his proposal. I see how you are whenever you have to return to his company, you need not endure this attentions if you do not feel that he would be good for you," Loki attempted to console you, taking your hands in his once more, his heart fracturing at how rife with tension they were again.

"I couldn't," you argued, the furrow between your brows making an appearance as your mouth formed into a pout. "Grandfather would force my hand, tell me that this is what's good for the realm as a whole. Spew some drivel about how sometimes great leaders must make personal sacrifices for the good of their people." A tear began to roll down your cheek at the mere thought, trying to blink them away as you refocused your attention instead on the book laid open in front of him. "Loki? Why are you reading up on Asgardian bedding rituals?"

He wanted to slap himself at the section he turned to. "The information might come useful one day," he tried to wave your queries away.

"You intend to court someone?" A playful look entered your eyes before you put your hand to your temples once more, another migraine pounding away at your head.

"Norns no," he hissed almost instinctively. The only one I would ever wish to court is beyond my reach, he lamented internally, replacing your hand with his and trying to soothe you by massaging away at your temples in slow circles. He decided the best course of action was to offer you a sliver of the truth. "I'm looking into royal Asgardian marriage traditions, trying to find a way to keep you from leaving the realm if it ever comes to that."

"I will need to be dragged to the altar kicking and screaming if the Allfather forces my hand. This prince does not love me, Loki. He loves the throne that would be promised him if he were to marry me. I'd like to believe that I am worth more than a throne." The sullen tone your voice had taken on tore at his heart, making him unable to resist the urge to pull you into his arms once more in an attempt to soothe you.

"You are, Little Princess. Any fool that fails to see that does not deserve you." No one in these Realms could ever love you as I do, he thought inwardly. I would have cherished and spoiled you if I were your husband. You would have wanted for nothing.

Before either of you could say another word, the doors to the library flew open, revealing his mother on the other side, an excitement in her expression as her gaze roamed the area before landing on the two of you. A soft smile graced her features finding you resting comfortably in your fated's arms.

"My son, I may have found something. Come with me." She jerked her head in the direction of her workroom before turning her gaze to address you. "Granddaughter, a certain elven prince is bounding his way down the halls to steal you away from your present company." You let out an unrestrained chortle at the face the Queen made after her statement, clearly disapproving of Damien herself. "How goes the planning for the Yule festival?"

"Progressing quite nicely, Grandmother," you responded, removing yourself from Loki's embrace and putting away your parchments, gathering everything into a satchel before standing upright. "The culminating ball will make for quite the night, if everything goes according to plan. We are to have an auction. Proceeds will go into funding for new weapons for soldiers old and new alike."

He stood from his seat, taking out the collar piece from inside your satchel bag and helping you into the garment. Your eyes had a bleakness in them as he framed your face in his hands, placing a light kiss to your forehead. He slipped his dagger into your bag, whispering a rather mischievous offer against your skin. "If he behaves in a way that renders you uncomfortable, you could always use that on him and say it was me if you are questioned. Stay safe, Little Princess. I love you."

You briefly wrapped your arms around him before muttering back, "I love you, too." You took a step back, mustering a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "How do I look?"

"Your smile could convince just about any audience, perhaps in another life you were made for the stage," he quipped, briefly touching his hand to your chin. "You can't quite fool me, however."

"Of course I can't." You scrunched your nose at him. "You know me far too well, Loki." You smoothed your hands over your dress and turned to face the door, squaring your shoulders ever so slightly, as if preparing to assume a warrior's stance. When Loki turned his gaze to the door he could see exactly why; the Prince was already waiting for you a few feet away from the Queen, jaw visibly tense.

And because of the god's enhanced senses from his Jotun blood, he could hear the impudent prince grinding away at his teeth. No doubt brought on from seeing that once again you were spending time with someone that he deemed 'competition' for your hand.

The elven prince offered his arm to you once enough distance had been closed, the muscles in his face tensing even worse when you maintained your stance, leaving his arm empty. He opted instead to place a hand at your lower back,  holding on to you a touch too tight that it caused you to visibly tense and flinch when his fingers dug into your side.

Loki hadn't even realized he was about to approach you to offer his aid somehow until he felt his mother grab hold of his elbow with a firm yet gentle hand. "If we wish to help her completely, then we must have faith she can hold her own in this moment. Soon enough she will be free of his advances." She gave him a gentle tug in the opposite direction. "We must go now, my boy. You will have much to think about once I tell you what I have found."

He took one final glance back at you, your fist clenched behind your back as Damien walked you farther and farther away from him, and he attempted to reach out to you with his mind. Hoping you would hear his sentiment. "If he ever hurts you, little princess, you call for me. Call for me and I will be there for you in a heartbeat."

Once they'd made their way to Frigga's workroom, he could no longer hold in his words, blurting out his question with little control over the volume of his voice. Or his frantic tone.

"What have you found, Mother? Tell me how we can save Y/N from--"

"You could marry her instead." His eyes widened to the size of saucers at how she chose to lead with her findings, eyeing his mother with thinly-veiled incredulity. "I have combed through every possible scenario that held even a sliver of a chance to get Odin to repudiate his intention to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and Alfheim, and in my search I chanced upon your reports. From your mission that kept you away from us for nearly a millennium."

"My reports?" he parroted lamely. "But those merely stated that the people of the Nine held less faith in our house's power to rule, what help could that offer us in this predicament?"

"If Odin seeks to arrange a marriage for Y/N that will fortify her claim to the throne, then perhaps the only way is to offer him something that would yield a stronger claim," she offered, walking towards her son when he slumped down into his usual armchair and grasping his hands in hers. "If you use your reports to reason with him that this marriage will be more beneficial to the realm than a union with Prince Damien, we can save her from this sham of a marriage he intends for her."

"Father will not so simply agree to this, Mother," the god argued, his mind already firing off scenario after scenario wherein Odin would reject this proposal outright. He'd fought so ardently to ensure that all generations of the royal family that succeeded him would no longer have to adhere to the archaic traditions, and now here he and his mother were, looking for a way to return them somehow. "For him to agree to a negotiation like this, I would need to offer him something in return."

"And what would you have to offer that could hold a similar value to a quelling of an imminent insurgence, my boy?"

Loki ran through everything he could potentially offer for your hand, searching frantically for something that symbolized a significant enough loss on his part that perhaps it would satisfy the Allfather. Nothing of monetary value would suffice, and he would never wish to make it seem from any potential angle that he was buying your freedom.

He held no title other than God of Mischief; he was no crown prince, he had no clear path to the throne. At least until his impending duel with Thor, assuming that the most unlikely of scenarios would occur and he would win over his larger, stronger warrior of a brother.

And then it hit him.

"My claim to the throne," he sighed, feeling a sliver of hope that perhaps this might actually work. "I could surrender my claim as Odin's heir. Cancel the duel between me and Thor so that we may never have to shed the other's blood on the battlefield." He looked to his mother, a calm smile gracing her features as she let her pride shine through. "You already came to this conclusion, haven't you, Mother?"

She walked over to her desk, signaling for her son to follow so that she may show him the parchments in which she penned down her findings. There were the words, by her own hand. Loki's surrender in exchange for Y/N's hand. "I needed you to come to the decision yourself, my son," she explained to him. "Surrendering your chance at becoming crown prince is something you cannot take back. Something that thwarts any ambition you may have to become Allfather yourself."

"What value would a throne have for me if I won that duel?" he spat out, hot tears stinging his eyes as he picture what his life would be like. "My brother would be dead by my hand, Asgard's people carrying a burning hatred for me for slaying their beloved prince. Y/N would hate me for taking her father away from her. And my heart would forever be burdened with guilt for Thor's death, and the crippling knowledge that the woman I love is living a bleak life married to someone who views her as little more than a plaything he could discard and betray time and time again. She is worth more to me than a chance at the throne."

He felt his resolve strengthening with every passing moment, already crafting the words he would use from the moment he announced his surrender to his negotiations to become your husband. He knew the words to utter and when; this was his domain, his words a weapon he wielded with the same mastery as he did his magic and his daggers.

But there was one simple fact that weighed heavy on his heart. He was about to lay out his heart on the table for everyone to know. Including you.

And you…you didn't return these affections. You never had. And you realizing his true feelings toward you would ruin your image of him forever, tainting every single memory you two shared.

"She would despise me," he choked out, clenching his fists shut as his eyes filled with tears. "She will know how I have loved her since the beginning and she will loathe me."

"But she will be safe," Frigga insisted, reaching for her son's hand again. "She will be safe and she will remain here in Asgard. With a husband that loves her, that will not shackle her to such a base and primitive purpose." She seemed as if she were about to say more, but decided against it, pursing her lips instead. "Remember what I told you before, Loki. You two are fated. Marriage was always in your future, I just…" She let out a deep sigh. "I just never imagined that this was how we would arrive at this point."

Tears began to fall from his eyes, already bracing himself to burden your hatred of him for what he was about to do. The life he was about to choose for you. "If having her hate me for the rest of our days is the price I must pay to keep her safe from a wretch like that Prince Damien, then so be it."

With those words he strode out of the Queen's workroom. And as soon as he left, Queen Frigga scrambled through every grimoire in her possession, looking for a way to lift the spell that veiled your memories herself.

Loki blazed down the halls of the palace, looking for his brother and his father, finally finding them in deep discussion in one of the war rooms. His loud bursting into the room caused both men to jump slightly at the sound.

"Ah, Brother, perfect timing," Thor addressed him, a grim tone in his voice as he motioned for him to take a seat. "Father has decided that it is time for us to discuss the ceremony that shall appoint his heir."

"There's no need for that anymore, Brother." He made his way to the seat across from the blond god, doing his best to remain the picture of calm and collected. In truth he was a mixed bag of emotions, each so strong that he could feel himself being pulled in vastly different directions and if he failed to control himself it would tear him into pieces from the inside out.

"And why is there no longer a need for this discussion, Loki?" Odin prodded, back ramrod straight in anticipation for what might come next.

"Because I relinquish my claim to the throne of Asgard."

A/N: Besties omg omg omg we are heeeeeeeere 😳👀 When I tell you I got literal chills writing that last line holy fuckque things are gonna be changing from here on, we're finally in the events of the 6k word shoulda been a drabble piece that I wrote over a year ago and Reader's attitude toward Loki is about to be hugely different 🥺

Only two more chapters until Season 1 is finished and then we're heading off into the angst-fest that is Season 2 😳

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

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

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡5k Follower Celebration｡⋆. Closed

I may be pushing myself with this one but I will fill 50 requests from these prompts as a massive thank you for all the love and support you all have given me these past two years. I love you so so much ❤️❤️❤️

Drop an ask with your ideas!

Prompts

“My fucking wife!”

“Do not. I said no. Those puppy dog eyes don’t work every time. Fuck- fine.”

“How could I ever leave you? You’re everything.”

First look at a wedding

“Keep talking babygirl. I need to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Fuck, why do you smell so fucking good?”

“How are you this fucking annoying?”

“That’s it, I told you that you could take it.”

Their first real kiss

“Why are you being so quiet?” “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re a bottom! You’re not allowed to talk like that!”

“How. Dare. You.”

“Did you just… slap my ass?”

“Why him? Why couldn’t I be the one you picked?”

Gently running their fingers up their partner’s back

“What the fuck is sex pollen?”

Grabbing them by the hips unexpectedly 

“Tell me the truth.”

“Wear that out, I can fight.”

“Oh you’re getting pregnant tonight.”

“Wanna share?”

“Stop kissing me for a minute, I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“Whatever you want, it’s yours. All you have to do is ask.”

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

“Break me.”

“Keep bouncing like my good little bunny.”

“After midnight, that’s your kid not mine.”

Showering together

“You make me want something more.”

“I see galaxies in your eyes.”

AUs (optional)

Bakery/Coffee shop

Mob

Werewolf

Royal

Soulmate

Characters

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Thor 

Loki

Eddie Brock/Venom

Peter Parker

Jason Todd

Bruce Wayne

Clark Kent

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Derek Morgan

Aaron Hotchner

Negan Smith

Castiel Novak

Sam Winchester

Brahms Heelshire

Halsin

Astarion

#5k celebration #5k followers #5000 followers #plus size reader

[nerdieforpedro]

🦴

🍓

🥤

Please!

🦴 = a piece of media that inspires my writing?

Not really one set piece. More like music in general does. I often listen to lofi beats when writing or my writing playlist to set the mood of what I’m trying to write. Or it could be music I’m listening to in the car or waiting somewhere could lead to some bullet points that become a fic. 😆

🍓= what led me to write fanfic in the first place?

Going deep here aren’t you Em? 👀 lol I’ve enjoyed writing since I was little as an extension of my love of reading. First with poems and the anime fanfiction when I actually watch more anime. Now I read more manga and don’t write fanfiction about it. If one squints on A03 - I may have dabbled in Marvel characters and actors for a short time. 🫢 The took a long pause as life happened. Sometime last year as my mental health improved so did my love of writing and I hyper focused on Pedro Pascal so here we are. 🤣 I write more the better my mood is. Maybe a bit too much background 😵

🥤= recommend and author or fic you love

Ugh just one? Dammit. 😒 I shall not! I’ll do eight because there are no favorites! Only peeps we support! And I can’t really call any of them number one I enjoy them all too much. 🥰

1. @morallyinept Pretty much anything you read of Jett’s will be beautiful, sensual, take you to a far away place or have needing to remove clothing - possibly from reading the same fic. 😆 She covers a wide variety of Pedro characters and is a wealth of knowledge on them. She also is just really talented and sweet.

2. @maggiemayhemnj Sure Ms. Payday doesn’t have a long Masterlist but every fic on there is worth reading for her turns of phases, vivid descriptions and her love of both Joel and Ezra. 💕

3. @megamindsecretlair One of my fellow black writers who keeps readers thirsty and eager for more with her Sam, Bucky and Loki series (all of which I need to catch up on or finish 👀) and is a hilarious person as she is kind.

4. @soft-girl-musings Another fellow black writer who’s “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” 1920’s or 40’s (I’m not great with telling time obviously 🙄 ) has me wondering what’s going to happen next, what is going on in that club and where else am I going to see curly haired Marcello is going to pop up at. 🤣

5. @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin The Mistress of Agnst. Her masterlist is for those who aren’t afraid to explore the darker side and stories that may not have happy endings but you’ll still feel satisfied that to finished it. To feel another type of satisfaction, you’ll need to read her smut and seek your other completion there. ☺️ You’ll be thankful for both rides.

6. @pedroshotwifey A newer moot to me who has equal parts smut, agnst and dabs of darkness in there. What can I say? I like dark fics if they’re just right. Like I like my crime dramas and cop procederals. 🤣 She and I have a good time supporting each other and exchanging thots. Her “To The Flame” series has set the reader up for what may be a spectacular fall or maybe she’ll find her way out? Only she knows.

7. @magpiepills Ezra’s second wife (because @morallyinept is his first wife and I think @maggiemayhemnj is the paramour - because it sounds fancy) The amount of filthy things she’s had him do both with one arm and two is something everyone should read twice. I also especially enjoyed her fic “Aquarius” which a whore version of Javier Peña that spoke strongly to me. Or maybe parts of me, let’s not split hairs. 🤭

8. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine She’ll say she’s not a writer. BUT as all writers know, we don’t do very well if someone isn’t reading stuff we toss out into the ether. Hemmy is as supportive as they come, reblogging and offering many a thot as both the High Chancellor of the Horny Delegation and as a friend. ❤️ Plus she supports my very soft bois Dieter and Javi G. 😆 She I think was one of the main reasons I wrote more of “Weddings 101 with Dieter.” She asked me something along the lines of, “is there more to this? This is a very cool or unique premise.” As she well knows, just tell me I did something well and I’m happy as a pearl in a clam. 🤣

Fanfic author ask game

Thanks for the ask Em! Just know I pretty much write paragraphs because I gotta explain. 🤭 I’m Nerdie and I’m wordy. 😚 I had to make one bad joke. You have to be able to tell it’s me.

#fanfic authors #fanfic author ask game #fanfiction #such fun #i wanted to make sure I answered as best I could #there’s so many more writers I could mention #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[cake-writes]

A Dutiful Disaster (Part Seven)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Story Tags/Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Royalty, Pre-Thor (2011), Smut, Angst, Drama, Slow Burn, Odin’s A+ Parenting, Cis Female Reader (she/her), No Y/N Usage, Second Person POV, POC-inclusive descriptors, Toxic Relationship (lil bit of abuse from both parties - mostly screaming matches with the occasional physical thing but he never like slaps her or anything), Smut, Slut-Shaming, Mommy Issues, Reader has anxiety, 18+

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, reader is super bitchy in this chapter, and so is her letter, oh my gosh you guys they actually talk shit out like MATURE ADULTS

Word Count: 3.8k

Snippet: “I do not wish to be kissed. It’s too great an intimacy for our,” you pause to consider the word, tapping your finger to your chin, “unique situation, wouldn’t you say? We are the furthest thing from lovers.”

“Oh?” Loki sounds amused by your answer – and then he drops his feet back to the floor with purpose, taking advantage of your startled jump to pull you further into his lap where you can feel the hardening length of him against your clothed core. “If not lovers, then what are we?”

“Married,” you gasp, arms clutching around his neck for fear of being dropped – or so you tell yourself.

Master List / Spotify Playlist / Part Six

A/N: And we’re back! This chapter finally ties us in to the prequel one-shot, as well as the argument between Loki and his father in part two. You may need to read them again for a refresher because it’s been a fair few months (in real life) since those were posted. Enjoy :)

You study your husband from above the gold rim of your teacup. It’s suspicious, the certain ease to his demeanour as he discusses today’s breakfast offerings with his servant.

Loki is manipulating you. He must be. It's the only conclusion you can come to.

You haven’t forgotten the nasty things he said about you to his father the day after your wedding. Loki made it crystal clear that he can't stand you, that he finds this sham of a marriage as torturous as you do, to the point that he'd even referred to it as a life sentence – much like your own thoughts on the matter. Yet, it bothers you in a way you can’t quite explain.

What’s worse is that the Allfather thinks you disloyal to the Crown, and you still haven’t been able to figure out why. You’ve been nothing but loyal, the events of last night notwithstanding. It makes you feel uneasy, knowing that the King has tasked Loki with ensuring your loyalty to Asgard, like he actually expects you could ever be a traitor—a proper one, that is.

Even so, you find yourself begrudgingly admiring the way your husband’s dark, glossy hair perfectly accentuates his sharp cheekbones – during which he turns his attention to you. 

“Is that acceptable?” Loki questions, just as you take another sip of chrysanthemum tea—your favourite, and all you can think is that it can't be just a coincidence.

You hate how infuriatingly attractive he is. Even now. Especially now, with his pretty green eyes so focused on you, like he actually cares what you have to say. 

“That would be lovely,” you answer amicably as you set down your teacup, even though you have no idea what you’ve just agreed to. Something about smoked salmon and capers.

Loki seems to accept your answer, and when he engages once more with his servant, you lose yourself in your thoughts. Two ragged, albeit manicured fingernails tap an anxious rhythm against the side of the porcelain cup in its saucer, each fingertip sounding its own melody.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

It worries you how easily Loki plays the part the perfect husband. Sitting here in his chambers is unnerving; you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he seems perfectly content, like he isn’t at all bothered by the contents of your letter. Nor does he seem to hold any opinion of the events that transpired last night. 

For now.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

The daylight streaming in through the open windows offers a glimpse of the fine lines near his eyes and the dark circles just beneath. While he always appears as though he’s never been able to get enough sleep, courtesy of his fair skin, you’re starting to think that Loki might have slept about as well as you did last night—in other words, scarcely at all.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

You conceal a yawn with your free hand as the servant bows and makes his way to the exit, and then you’re alone with your husband again. That knowledge should set you on edge, but you’re more focused on the rich accoutrements of his sitting room. It’s the first time you’ve been here since that awful argument following the attack; no sign of shattered glass in sight, but then, it has been a week since then.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

A vase full of fresh flowers sits upon the entry table. You’d bruised your hip against it that self-same night. How suspicious that the blooms are the colour of plum wine, a deep reddish-purple that makes your heart sing: your colour.

Tink, tink—

You stop tapping the instant you notice him watching you, and snatch up your teacup as if you meant to do so all along. Then you take a larger sip than you intend. The hot tea scalds your tongue, and his lips twitch in silent laughter as you try and fail to pretend it doesn’t.

“What?” you snap irritably.

“How did you sleep?”

“Why act as though you care?”

Visibly amused by your bristly demeanour, Loki retrieves his own tea, his slim fingers pinching the gilded handle with more finesse than you could ever hope to achieve. “I cannot help but wonder, petal, if you haven’t slept a wink. Were you worrying about how this conversation would go?”

You set your teacup down in its saucer with force, the loud clink of fine china resounding through the room. “Considering the events that transpired during our previous one, I’d be a fool not to worry. I expect that you will have me imprisoned the very moment you manage to lull me into a false sense of security.”

He doesn’t bat an eyelash at your vitriol, instead opting to take a sip of his tea. You can scarcely tell what kind of tea it is anymore, what with how he's drowned it in cream and sugar. Some things never change. It’s comforting, in a way.

Your husband savours the too-sweet taste for a moment before he speaks. “I will not have you imprisoned. You have my word.”

You scoff. “I threatened you.”

“Indeed.”

“With a knife.”

“A dagger, actually,” Loki corrects, and when you cut him a withering look, he gives you a shit-eating grin. You hate how stupidly reassuring it is that he’s just as insufferable as ever. Then his expression shifts to something a little more serious, his eyes softening at the corners. “You felt that I posed a threat to your safety, and you acted in self-defence. A sleepless night is punishment enough.”

You don’t buy it. “And my letter?”

“I suspect that you would never have sent it, had your fear not driven you to do so. No one in their right mind would call me—what was it, an animal?—among so many other insults that I cannot even begin to fathom them all, in a letter signed with one’s personal seal. That alone could have landed you in the dungeons, yet you did so with little regard for the consequences.” A puff of laughter escapes him. “You have always had an impulsive streak, darling, but never to that extent.”

He sees right through you. You despise it. “Yes, well—”

“If you truly think me an animal, then I can only imagine that you would indeed feel safer in another part of the palace.” He mentions the request you’d made in your letter so nonchalantly, like the two of you are merely discussing the weather. “Where did you have in mind?”

That does it.

“How—How can you be so calm about all of this?” you sputter. “Forgive me, husband, but I do not trust how willingly you would turn a blind eye to my transgressions!”

The precise manner in how Loki returns his teacup to its saucer betrays him. “Don’t you?”

You glare at him. Something is simmering beneath the surface of his suspiciously mellow exterior, but you can’t quite discern what it is. Not yet.

“If you think that I am calm, darling, then you couldn’t be more wrong—unless, of course, you honestly believe that I have any penchant for forgiveness.” His tone may be cordial, but every single one of his movements is calculated to the nth degree. The tactician.

No, he isn’t calm at all. He’s plotting. You should have known.

“Or is there another reason that you would arm me with more than enough ammunition to have you imprisoned?”

With that single question, the conversation becomes an interrogation. Your palms turn cold and clammy at the knowledge that he very well still could, and when you start to fidget with the white napkin in your lap, the cloth sticks unpleasantly to your skin.

“Is that what you want me to do? Arrest you for a rash, impulsive decision? A crime of passion?”

You can feel your blood pressure rise under his rapid fire, your anxiety and sleep deprivation giving way to anger. “No,” you bite out. 

While part of you feels that a life in the dungeons would be infinitely better than one bound to him, your more reckless side likes to push boundaries – to your own detriment. And Loki knows it as well as you do. His mouth sets in a firm line, his expression unreadable.

“Then you do trust me,” he says, tone neutral. “And that, dear girl, is the worst transgression of all.”

You stare at him, disbelieving, before you let out a loud peal of laughter – like he’s just told the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. It just might be. “I trust you, do I? No, husband,” you spit the word like it’s a curse. “I loathe you. If you have mistaken that for trust, then I pity you.”

If your venomous tirade affects him at all, Loki does well to hide it. A prolonged silence falls over the room as he rests his elbows on the table and laces his fingers before him, no less patient with you than he has been for the rest of the morning. He studies you – studies your reaction – studies every single flaw you try so hard to hide, and he says nothing.

You look away first. You always do, when your temper gets the better of you.

Only then does he finally grace you with a response. “I am amenable to your request. Choose whichever chambers you’d like.”

Your eyes snap back to him in shock, only to watch as he procures a small envelope from beneath his place setting. Your letter.

Casually, he extends it out to you between two slim fingers. “I wish to return this to you as well. I refuse to hold something so incriminating over your head. It is neither fair to you, nor to our marriage.”

You stare at it, then at him, stunned into silence by his magnanimity. The Loki you know would never do such a thing. He’d hold onto it for leverage.

Your husband rolls his eyes, almost like he knows what you’re thinking. “If you do not take it, then I will destroy it in a similar manner to the gift you so graciously decided to bestow upon me, after…” he shifts uncomfortably in his chair, then, “after what I did to you that morning.”

He means his own letter – the one you’d returned to him, torn to shreds after he’d all but thrown you into the entry table. The very same entry table upon which those lovely flowers now rest.

You sit up straighter at the memory. It sets you on edge, and though you’re tempted to cower, instead you overcompensate. “Oh? Go on, then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“It is incredibly cathartic, you know,” you drawl, delicately picking up a biscuit between your thumb and forefinger to examine its intricate design. The sugar granules glimmer in the light. “To destroy one’s heartfelt letter in a fit of anger. Though I must confess,” you hold your head high, smug as can be, “I did not read what you’d written before doing so.”

That doesn’t seem to faze him either. “You say that as if you expect it to surprise me.”

You scrunch your nose at him in annoyance. “Well? Go on. Or will you not follow through on your promises?”

His promise not to harm you. His promise not to touch you. His promise not to lock you away.

Maintaining eye contact, you use your teeth to break off a piece of the biscuit with a crunch.

Your challenge isn't lost on him. “Very well,” Loki sighs. He swiftly opens the letter to pull out the fine stationery upon which you’d so hastily scrawled all manner of insults, after which he makes a point to show it to you, front and back, to prove its authenticity. “I’ll not have you thinking I’ve stowed it away to use against you later on.”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “I see you’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“Charming,” Loki comments dryly, but you don’t miss the humour in his tone – nor in his eyes as he skims them down the page. “I must say, darling, you have quite the talent for castigation. It would be a waste not to read such a heartfelt letter aloud.” His eyes flick back up to yours, then, and you know for a fact that he’s taunting you. “For posterity. You understand.”

Posterity. There is no doubt in your mind that he knows you only wrote it yesterday. You’d even sealed the envelope with the ink still wet, as evidenced by the dark smudges littering the page.

“Stars above,” you grouse. “Get on with it, then, seeing as you are positively chomping at the bit to humiliate me.”

“Humiliate you? No.” Loki holds your gaze, resolute, and for once, you’re inclined to believe him. “I want you to acknowledge exactly what you’ve said of me before we put all of this to rest.”

Of course he does. Gracelessly, you wave a hand at him as if to say go ahead.

Loki clears his throat before he begins to read your letter verbatim, surprisingly in a manner that befits its serious nature. His voice holds not a single shred of mockery.

“To my dear, despicable husband,” he arches an eyebrow at you, “I fear I cannot stand this any longer. My chambers are in such close proximity to yours that I’d sooner return home than sleep here for another night, knowing that a wolf in sheep’s clothing rests his weary head so near to mine.”

Whether he intends it to be or not, it is humiliating to hear what you’ve written become spoken word. All too soon, you feel your face start to flush.

“I find myself ill with the knowledge that the Einherjar would allow such a predator to prowl these halls while I remain entirely defenceless. Nay, it is hardly reassuring to know that not a single soul shall protect me from the animal who would bring me harm, either in his own chambers or in our marital bed.”

When Loki pauses, you immediately recognise the real reason behind this exercise. Though you’d written the letter to be purposefully harsh in order to invoke a reaction, in the light of day, your spiteful words seem to imply something else.

You haven’t just told him of your fears in a general sense, using your marital bed as an example. You’ve alluded to a significantly more heinous act.

“You will not see me become your prey, thrilling though the chase may be to a brutish man with little regard for others. I refuse to become the spoils of a war you’ve so savagely waged upon me and my body for no other reason than your own entertainment.”

No wonder he’d been so angry with you last night. The implication that he would assault you in such a way is bad enough on its own, but there is another layer.

For centuries, the two of you have harboured a forever unspoken secret. Neither of you have acknowledged it outright, but it’s there. You’ve seen each other at the den – the covert, invitation-only club which caters to the niche sexual preferences that both you and Loki seem to share. Namely those that are, and have always been, less than socially acceptable.

“One cannot expect an animal to behave in any way but his basest nature. As a scholar of grey morals, you have always preferred books to people, but a snake, however erudite, is still a snake.”

There, on multiple occasions, your rooms have been next door to each other—through no fault of your own, though you suspect Loki has done it intentionally. After all, what he’s seen of you through the window in between are things that you’d never tell another soul, and you’re sure he relishes in holding that over your head, if not your letter.

But then, you’ve also seen similar of him. His proclivity for consensual non-consent is just one of the great many things you’ve witnessed, time and time again, and you realise, now, that Loki thinks you’ve used that forbidden knowledge against him. He thinks you’ve used it to hurt him in a way that most others could never.

“No ruffian should ever be permitted to walk freely as you do. Until such a time that you do not, for my continued health and wellbeing I have made arrangements to return to my family’s manor.”

Of course he’s bothered by what you’ve implied – albeit unintentionally. And he has every right to be.

“I will only be persuaded to stay if you grant me a new set of chambers as far from yours as possible, for I have no desire to encounter any manner of beast in the wild.” Loki snorts derisively and drops the letter down onto the table between the two of you. “Disrespectfully yours, your dutiful wife.”

There is no laughter to be elicited, now, nor anger, but something else entirely. Loki hides it well, but the implication has clearly gotten under his skin. You can see it in his eyes, and in his posture, how guarded he is as he looks to you for a response.

Thoroughly humbled, you swallow the lump in your throat and focus upon your lap. “I… I did not mean what you’ve understood my words to mean.” 

When you glance back up at him, you immediately have to look away again in shame when you find him watching you, jaw set, waiting for a proper apology. 

“Of course, that does not matter when they have made such an impact,” you rush to add. “I sincerely apologise for my thoughtlessness. I did not mean to imply that you would do something terrible.”

Silence stretches uncomfortably between the two of you as you begin to pick at the skin around your nails. At the very least, you should have reread your own letter before you sent it. Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so guilty.

After a prolonged few moments, he asks quietly, “What else could you have possibly meant?”

“I meant to paint a picture of my fears.” You accidentally draw blood from a hangnail, and it stings. “My intent in mentioning our marital bed was to offer an example of one such fear—not that sort of fear, mind, but I fully understand how it could have sounded like an accusation.”

“I see.”

Finally, you muster the courage to look at him again, impassioned because you would never, ever use what you know against him. “You’ve been nothing but a gentleman in that regard, Loki. You respected my wishes on our wedding night. You have asked for my consent during every one of our trysts. Please know that I would never accuse you of anything untoward.”

His eyes search yours for a long time, trying to discern the lie, but there isn’t one. Then he exhales a long, weary sigh and leans back in his chair, the tension visibly lifting from his shoulders. “Norns,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, I suppose not even you would stoop so low.”

A jab.

You respond with the opposite: a jest. “Ah, but how could you know for certain? What with our—” you clear your throat, nearing ever closer to openly acknowledging the forbidden secret that you both share, “our history?”

It’s the closest either of you have come to doing so. You and Loki have been playing this game for centuries, trying to see who will cave first, but you continue to tiptoe around it.

Just as you predicted, the layered meaning instantly captures his attention. “Our history?” he repeats, as if he doesn't quite believe he's heard you properly, before his lips curl up into that same insufferable grin you so adore. “Oh, do go on, sweet. I’m all ears. What about our history?”

You try to give him a deadpan look, but find it impossible to keep the smile off of your face. “Only that we have never enjoyed each other’s company, you and I. You know that as well as I do.”

It isn't at all the history you’d originally mentioned, and you’re well-aware he recognises that when his voice takes on a note of smooth, persuasive silk. “In what way do you intend for me to take that, darling? Because I suspect that there are many things for a husband and wife to... enjoy.”

His insinuation is absolutely not what you meant, and he knows it, but your heartbeat quickens all the same.

Just in the knick of time, two rapid knocks resound on the door. 

“Enter,” Loki calls out, never taking his eyes off of you. Something about the heat within them, however slight, makes you think he isn’t done with you just yet.

You find yourself silently thanking whoever has chosen to interrupt.

The door opens, and another servant pushes a small gold cart into the room, two shelves stacked high with breakfast delights. The spread is much more elaborate than your typical morning meal, and your mouth waters.

“Now, I believe you said I would find this cathartic?”

You glance back over at your husband, only to watch him deftly pluck your letter up from the table. Before you can get a word in edgewise, however, you watch as your stationery sets aflame in the palm of his hand.

It’s an impossible sort of fire, for it doesn't seem to burn his skin. 

Magic.

You’ve always loved his magic, even now, loathe as you’d ever be to admit that you find Loki’s mastery of it in any way appealing. He wields his seidr like one might a paintbrush, creating masterful works of art from intricate spells and enchantments.

As the flames burn away your spiteful letter, your eyes follow the curling wisps of smoke as it drifts up, up, up towards the intricately-painted ceiling. Instead of the colourful collection of wildflowers you expect to see upon it, however, you find a field of white daffodils in their place.

A symbol of forgiveness.

In that moment, as you stare at the illusion he’s cast, you realise that your husband will forever be an enigma to you. Perhaps he’s changed in the great many years you've known him, or maybe you've never really known him at all.

Then Loki lazily waves his hand, and the illusion dissipates—as do the singed remains of your letter.

He’s manipulating you. He must be. It’s the only conclusion you can come to, but when you meet his eyes once more – when you see the mischief shining within them, and the softness hidden just beneath – you desperately wish that he wasn’t.

Part Eight

And because I’m a clown, here’s my ko-fi / patreon if you’ve got a buck or two to spare so I can buy a new laptop! Otherwise reblogs and keysmashing in my ask box are more than welcome 🤡🤡🤡 Thanks so much for reading!!!

#loki x reader #loki #loki imagine #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki odinson

[smolvenger]

The Boat in the Water: A Beauty and the Beast Story (An MCU and The Essex Serpent Crossover, Loki x Stella Ransome, Multi-Part), Chapter Three

Summary: Having lost her health and her husband's fidelity and love, Stella has nothing more to lose than her life. Then...she is swept away to another realm, to an enchanted castle. A castle whose master is a god...a god with a striking resemblance to her husband.

Warnings: Angst that turns into hurt/comfort. Discussions of cheating (I portray the Will/Cora affair as bad and Stella having some negative feelings about it, so if you don't agree or have a problem with that interpretation, this your warning right now that this probably isn't the fic for you), some blood and portrayals of illness, references to both canons, some silly, goofy lil moments.

Word Count: >7K. (have drinkies and snacks)

One// Two//Three//Four coming soon!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @anukulee @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson

She kept crying so much, she did not hear his knock.

‘That’s what I get,’ Loki thought. He took a step away, lowering his hand, curling it into a fist by his side. ‘Mother was always the expert at these- no, I should remember, she’s not my mother at all! Damn her! Damn Will, Damn Stella, and damn me most!’

He took a moment and paced about. His cape flowed behind him like opened wings that would go nowhere. His mind kept racing. He was called Silvertongue, but when it came to consolation, why could he think of nothing to say?

She was still sobbing. It paused for a moment. She was murmuring. He pressed his ear to the door.

“God, I confess, I have just sinned against you in thought, word, and deed. By what I have done and what I have left undone. I am truly sorry and I humbly repent. For the sake of your son, Jesus Christ…”

He remembered that prayer. He overheard when he disguised himself as an ordinary village person, that was the prayer done every Sunday in that church to confess sins. Did she think she should repent for….for feeling sad about her husband’s infidelity? What kind of world made her to be what she is?

Asgard never taught its children to feel remorse over such things. He recalled Lady Sif. If Sif’s husband betrayed her for another, she would get out her sword and decapitate him without a word, without hesitation, and definitely without any regret.

But, Stella wasn’t Sif. And she was suffering. Norns, he had to…had to…think of something! Perhaps a charming little trick! Conjure little fireworks or more flowers for her! Yes, if all else failed, he could try that! Wasn’t that what mortal ladies like? He didn’t have much experience with them.

Before his courage could sink down, he went to the door and knocked louder.

“Can I come in?” he asked, projecting his voice.

“You…you may…” was her quiet reply.

When he opened the door, he saw her kneeling. Clutching the wedding gown from the chest in her arms like a child clutching a blanket Her blonde hair was a little rumpled, a few strands loose from her braid. The paths of tears were obvious down her cheeks, her face was a little red and puffy from crying.

He remained standing at the threshold.

“I…I don’t know how to say this, but…but…but I am sorry…I shouldn’t have said those things aloud. I shouldn’t have judged you. Or him.”

She nodded her head.

“You only like to be proven right-that was why…” she mused.

She was right. For being such a pitiful, pretty little pet unaware of her own torment and with no thoughts other than her husband and family...she was right. Perhaps her head wasn’t as empty as he first thought.

“Little Star, I still shouldn’t have said a word, I…I didn’t consider how much it would hurt-”

“I forgive you, Loki,” she interrupted, looking into his eyes.

I forgive you. Three words he had not often heard in sequence in his life. Much less directed at him.

Gently, he knelt down to meet her.

“This was what you wore when you married him,” he began.

She nodded sniffling.

“It’s…it’s rather pretty,” he admitted.

“Yes. I remember how. My mother gave her last warning about the marriage bed that morning, it was summer and stuck to my skin when I went outside to go to the church, my heart was racing and then he….he told me when I went to the altar that I was beautiful. And that night…the first night we…we performed the act…when it was done… he told me it was the happiest day of his life” she began.

She looked down at the heap of the wedding dress and veil. Then back at him, though it sat in a white heap on her lap. Her fists tightened as she clutched it over her, more like a soft shield than a blanket.

“You speak too ill of him. The first time he met Cora, do you know what he was doing? A farmer had his poor sheep stuck in a pit of mud. Will ran over and helped him. He didn’t stay in his study reading all day, clean and snug- no! He went out and helped pull each animal from the pit, ruining his clothes, and dragging heavy, thrashing sheep from the pit. He and the farmer got them to safety onto the higher field. He was drenched in mud when he came home, but the animals were safe…how could a bad man do that?”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up, and then back down.

“You should have seen how James sits on his lap, how John goes to his office with questions about hell, how he handles Jo and her little rebellions- you should have seen it all! I took Jo to be hypnotized once because I was curious. He fled in, insisted it stopped, and woke her up. The fear in his eyes…I feel so horrible about it now. Why? Because of how much he loved them!”

“Does he love you?” Loki asked.

“Yes, he does!” she repeated.

“But her loves her too…” he stated.

She froze, her face pale again.

“Yes…he does…”

She shook her head.

“He shouldn’t be alone. And the children should have a mother in their lives. You should see how happy he is with her. Loki, I can’t hate her! I like her. She writes me letters, she says how happy she is that she has me as her friend.”

Well, With friends like these, as the old mortal saying goes, Loki thought dryly, but he kept his mouth shut before he made the situation worse. Her eyes went down to the white wedding gown.

“I asked him to dance with her. I asked him to sit with her, see her, visit her, and write to her. So he could have someone…” she said. “It is the duty of a Christian to tear off your shirt for someone else. Of a wife to nurture and support her husband. I’ve done my duty…”

Her face then scrunched and went red and a hand went up over her face.

“And for once, it has made me unhappy!”

She began to cry. Loki did not conjure her flowers as he planned. He slowly reached his hand forward and placed it over hers. It’s what his mother, for Frigga in his heart, was still his mother, did. She barely flinched, but let him. He waited as her sobs heaved out.

“I…I did everything for him. The vicarage was always spotless. There were always visitors. I can’t recall one wrong step, or one failing I had. Men flirted with me after I was wed, and I had to dismiss them. I bore five children from him-”

“Five?” Loki repeated

“They weren’t always easy pregnancies. And the childbirths were painful, long, terrifying. And Two of them…we…” her tears broke down. “...Julianna died in my arms, And he was there for it all. They’re buried next to the church, and I think of them every day. Does he think of them too, I wonder? No…I know where and with whom his thoughts lay now… I made sure all was well in church. That his ministry was supported. I counseled and helped him through it all. I did everything for him…I even let him take a misteress…”

She paused. Her words failed at that moment. Then she spoke again, a small, broken smile on her face. The smile of one who accepted their defeat before the sword before them brought their end.

“I love him, Loki, and I’ve loved him for years. I feel like I loved him since the day I met him- who couldn’t? And I think, I wonder -I never said this aloud but, seeing him with her, and he….he’s no longer mine and….and the baser part of me wonders, whispering…when did I fail him? Then I tell myself it was because I was dying at least then…and that…it was all my fault. I pushed him onto her. Encouraged him. Told him to dance with her…”

She found a small lace pattern on the material of the wedding gown. Her fingers, compared to Loki's, seemed like doll hands. Tiny and delicate. One finger traced the pattern.

“Once I was the most important woman in Will’s life. He told me I was second to God and that the children were third. Cora arrived. And that changed. Now…I am the least important woman in all of England…it used to be that never bothered me…but now…the more I think on it, dwell on it no matter how I try not to…”

She shook her head as her hand curled up into a fist.

“I have no one to blame but myself,” she finished.

Loki bit back the urge to say it wasn’t her fault that she got ill. That her husband wanted to chase another skirt to satiate his lust since now his wife wasn’t an option. He swallowed lightly as if swallowing the thought down. She would reprimand him if he did. Claim it wasn’t obsession. It was love. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was right too. Perhaps the truth was that it was both.

“Do not blame yourself. There is no one to blame but him and her. He shouldn’t have done that in the first place, no one was forcing him to. He should have resisted her and stayed with you until the end. That’s what a decent husband and lover would have done,” Loki advised carefully.

There was that sliver of rage inside him. He could have gone to that town and done all sorts of things to Will and Cora. Horrendous, violent things. Right. Now.

But he dared not move, dared not leave Stella alone with her tears and racing thoughts.

The one thing he did conjure was a handkerchief in his free hand. He offered it to her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wiped off her face with the handkerchief and then put it down with the dress.

“It is not my place to let people in love be unhappy, it’s not my place to be jealous, to think badly of them, or if I let these thoughts consume me, Loki… I could do something…something horrible, I could hurt someone I care about…and it frightens me,” she admitted.

She grasped the handkerchief with both hands, squeezing it lightly.

“I…I don’t want to be a bad person,” she confessed.

“You aren’t a bad person,” Loki assured her.

She lifted her face, her blue eyes shining up. A little of her light regained.

“Then what am I?” she asked.

He thought for a moment, and then the answer dawned on him.

“Alive.”

She then settled. How pretty her eyes were, soft as snow. He gave her a weak, but present smile.

“Do not fret about being a bad person. You have more goodness in your little finger than I have in my whole body,” Loki assured her.

She tilted her head a bit.

“It always hurts…to be the second favorite…not chosen, not special, not equal to someone, even someone you care for…” he admitted. The painful thoughts and memories coming back up. Thor’s birthright of a crown. His birthright of a grave. “But…you are still good, after all of that. There’s a strength in being so even gods have failed at it. Even me…”

He saw her lips curl up to a small smile at his phrase.

“Thank you,” was her soft reply.

She paused, her eyes widening.

Then her body heaved and she put the handkerchief to her mouth. A series of coughs wracked her body. And when she lowered the handkerchief, to his horror, there was a pool of blood.

Stella stiffened a little blood on her lips, her breaths shallow.

“Loki…Loki please help!” she pleaded. “Please…the healers! I’m…I’m so scared…I’m going to die, I don’t want to die anymore, please!”

He immediately grabbed her and placed one of her arms around her shoulder and another beneath her legs. She felt her small gasp as he did so. How light she felt, how small. How was it that people described her in town when he overheard? Oh yes, that phrase Mrs. Ambrose used- “Oh, Mrs. Ransome! Doesn’t she look lovely every day? Oh, she is no bigger than a fairy and twice as pretty!” She did feel as light as a fairy in his arms. He got her to the bed and put the covers over her.

He lifted his hand and turned it, and her ballgown was transformed into a nightgown.

“I’m going to fetch them- stay here!”

He created a duplicate of himself to stand by the bed. It offered its hand and Stella accepted, squeezing tightly.

“So you won’t be alone! I will be right back. Here-”

He got a potion conjured in his hand. A little vial with violet-colored liquid. He offered it to her.

“This should help with the coughing, lessen it at least until they get here.”

She accepted it and then pressed it to her lips.

With his gifts of transportation and some swift horses, the healers arrived promptly. They gave her more medicine and their magic. Checked everything about her as they moved their hands over her body and repeated spells. Soon her coughs weren’t as common or present. She was more relaxed.

Loki would usually leave at this point, but he stayed. Stayed right in the room, dismissing his copy. Stayed by and watched anxiously, his brow wrinkling every time they finished an incantation.

Soon enough, they made her a little cup of tea to help calm her and ease the pain in her body. She cuddled up in the blankets, her eyes drooping down sleepily.

One healer, a woman with her brown hair in a bun approached him.

“She is stable. She will be fine, though there will be coughs and bouts of weakness. She just needs more time before we can declare her completely healed,” she reported.

Then they left. Her face looked pale and weary.

“Loki…where is the music? I miss it…from the ballroom…” she asked.

“That was from my magic,” he explained.

“Could you have it play for me, please? Or, do you know a…a song…I need to take my mind off of everything…”

Loki thought for a moment.

“I know a song…it’s rather fast, but there’s the slower bit…”

She stilled. Then he sat by the bed and held her hand and sang:

“I stormsvarte fjell Jeg vandrer alene Over isbreer tar jeg meg frem…”

He paused, a cheeky smile towards Stella. He looked right in her eyes, singing the next line right to her.

“I eplehagen står møyen den vene”

He gave her a wink, kissing her hand. Her eyes widened though from the scattered look, she didn’t understand what that line was actually saying, but her eyes did become a little bigger and her lips parted slightly, though no words came out.

“Og synger, ‘Nar kommer du hjem?’”

She did smile at that.

He made sure to slow the song down as much as he could, despite the temptation to speed it up. He finished the last line, and she nodded her head.

“The beginning was beautiful, thank you…I have one more request, please don’t think me selfish.”

“That depends on the request,” Loki teased, arching an eyebrow.

Her voice was soft and sleepy.

“Could I…have…a patch of ground in the garden? And a few seeds of flowers? They’re far easier than vegetables.”

“Why, yes, yes you may.”

She had a small smile and he felt his stomach turn a little at it.

I think I’m ready to go to sleep now. I’m grateful for you today, you were very kind to me. Goodnight, Loki.” she wished.

“Goodnight, Little Star.”

She kept the smile on her as her eyes drifted shut and she relaxed. They remained closed for a minute. Her small exhale and slowly rising and falling chest assured him that she wasn’t lost forever.

Then he left, closing the door quietly.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Least Important Woman in the World found her patch of earth with a wooden sign on the ground and little stakes with azure ribbon around it the next day. There was a bag of flower seeds, a water cat, and a few tools. Then she got to work.

Stella stood in the muck, with an apron, a little straw hat over her braided hair, and gloves. She pulled up the dirt and shoveled.

A forbidden image came up in her mind. There, in the dirt, she imagined it was images of her husband and Cora. Happy and together. Like her years with him never mattered.

She indulged herself.

She picked up the shovel and slammed it in hard. She exhaled through her nose fast, simultaneous guilt and catharsis simmering inside her. The image of their dance was like a painting on the ground. She kept slamming it in like a blade. Releasing bits of her anger as steadily as a tea kettle whistling out steam when the water was too hot. No one was hurt, she didn’t want to hurt anyone. Yet her anguish demanded release. But she grunted as she dug out the dirt and slammed the shovel into different parts of the ground over and over again.

Loki watched with a slice of toasted bread with butter and a warm drink from inside the palace. He observed out the window, the clearest one so no color would distort what was happening. Clean and safe from his window like a prince observing his subject. Not that she noticed.

Part of him was struck as she was stabbing into the ground. There’s always something a little chilling when the sweetest person one knows turns angry. It’s sacred, terrifying. Even though he was a god who could bend shadows to his will, Loki felt his breathing become slightly more shallow.

When the ground was ready, she realized she was crying. She took one dirt-stained sleeve and wiped off her eyes. Then she wiped off her forehead as well, for she was sweating from the excursion already.

The holes were all prepared. She placed the bag of seeds in the pocket of her apron. She placed them in each hole delicately. Not minding that her skirts, hands, and a little of her face were dirty.

Loki couldn’t help but smirk, it was the dirtiest and thorniest he had seen this English Rose. He wondered what he would do if he was in her position. If his husband betrayed him for another, especially as he turned deadly sick, he would have loved to burn the entire village to the ashes.

She didn’t burn things down. She only gardened.

She patted the dirt over each little hole. Then she took out a watering can and put it over.

Wiping her hands from the effort, She would go about, checking on the various flowers. Watering them. She even got little scissors and snipped off surplus leaves. Wanting to do more than just amble about and admire plants.

She did see which flowers were blue and saw little blue pebbles in the ground in the garden- tiny rocks. She picked them up and placed them in her pocket. Then hurried back and put them in the box on her desk.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next day, it was Stella was sitting in the room by the window. She was using the desk to write to her family. It was a pleasant room that caught the sunshine and made it appear golden and she could think of no better place to do so. She sat down, absorbed by detailing everything in letters to her children and husband about what was happening, as well as reading their responses that were delivered when the chests returned.

She was so hypnotized by it, that she didn’t notice Loki outside in the garden.

He looked up at her and placed his hands on his hips. He frowned as she smiled at one letter, a blush over her cheeks. She kissed it.

No doubt it was a letter from her philandering husband, Loki fumed silently. His face turned a bit red. Jealousy made a pit in his chest.

He looked at the free space in the outside courtyard- just right at Stella’s field of vision. A blank area of grass with no plants, not even a weed.

Grinning mischievously, he got an idea.

He conjured a mud puddle. Then he conjured a small flock of sheep to go about baaing. Right where she would see.

Her eyes were down on her letters. She had picked up a pen and was writing.

He tried to wave his hands to the sheep. Guiding them to stand in the mud puddle, though they were all at the edges of the puddle where it was shallow. They baaed quietly and looked around. Only their hooves were in the mud, but they were going about happily and very much not stuck. Though he didn’t like getting his fine leathers dirty, he got into the puddle. He smiled and placed his hands on his hips and looked up.

Her eyes were down.

He scrunched his nose and frowned. He let out a deep sigh as he got up and splashed some mud on his clothes and around his face. Then he waved at the sheep to go into the middle where there was more mud.

“Come on, my wooled friends, come on!” he urged.

One sheep finally managed to get into the deep middle.

Smiling again, he walked over to it. He picked it up easily and carried it over a mere one foot away from the mud to chew on un-muddy grass.

Loki checked the window.

She wasn’t looking. And still writing.

He got up another and lifted it up, high over his head. He made sure to be grunty and sweaty, just as she would have liked.

Her eyes were on her work.

Another wandered over.

“I didn’t want to do this, but it looks like I will have to,” Loki muttered internally.

He used magic to transform his clothes so that he was shirtless with fine pants. He knew he was beautiful and wanted her to see it.

And this time, the sheep were getting the memo and going over to the middle. They were not stuck, but going about the deeper mud contentedly. He picked up one, he lifted it high over his head so she could get a good look at his chest.

He checked

Norns, she was still writing!

He set it down on the grass. He then returned to the mud. He got one sheep and began lifting it up and down repeatedly as a weight, making sure to grunt in a way she would find a little titillating until there was a good sweat to make him glisten and her blush.

After a fifth rep, he held the sheep high over his head and put on his most winning smile. He checked the window.

She still didn’t look.

Right as he was on the verge of giving up, he lowered the sheep and it let out a rather loud, supported, unignorable “baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Stella looked up.

Loki made sure everything was in place- the mud on him, his naked top, and he made sure to smile and pose with the sheep high over his head.

She gasped and left her desk in a hurry.

Was she offended? Perhaps so- perhaps the shirtlessness was a little too scandalous for her tastes. What was he doing being so crass? Doing something that Thor himself would do- did he really stoop that low? With a huff, he magicked back his shirt.

In a few minutes, the door to the garden was opening and out came a yellow head.

He felt as if he was set on fire. He hurried and picked up one sheep. He began to lift it up and down as it baaed.

“One hundred and one,” he began to grunt, loud enough for her to hear. “One hundred and two, one hundred and-”

“Come here, little darlings!” Stella cooed at the sheep, cutting him off.

When he turned his head, he realized she had a basket full of corn and peas and a wet towel in her other hand.

“Oh, poor dears! Please don’t eat in the garden! Here you are- you may have a little lunch!” she lured sweetly

The sheep gathered around her. Easily walking out of the mud without difficulty towards her. Taking the vegetables she gathered. She got out the wet towel, wiped off their hooves, and petted them.

“Are they alright?” she asked.

He did notice there was pink in her cheeks, hopefully at him. He made sure to have another of his famous smirks.

“Yes- they…they, uh, are,” he answered.

“The dirt on their wool will need soap and hot water, but that’s normal for them to get dirty when they go about,” she asked.

Loki looked down at the towel.

“I have the magic to clean them myself in a snap of my fingers if it pleases you.”

“Loki, could I clean a bit in the palace?” she asked.

“Clean? Why would you ever want to clean?” he asked.

One sheep walked to be by her side. She kept a hand on its head.

“I lived in a vicarage, given to us by Aldwinter to be our home. But since it was the vicarage, there were visitors so often. I knew if they judged the house, they would judge not only me but their vicar. So I made sure it was always as tidy as I could make it.”

She grinned.

“Sometimes I do not mind it at all! And I am alone in this palace with nothing to do until you decide to show up. May I clean a little? Lighten the magic some?” she asked.

Cleaning. All of his life, that was the job of the servants of the palace, never one of the princes. Loki tilted his head at her, he opened his mouth and for a second he couldn’t form words. But then he nodded his head with a shrug.

“Why…well, you are the one staying here, so I don’t see why not.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Stella did not mind cleaning a big palace or gardening. As her coughs lessened, as she got better, she found she no longer became tired so easily. She did miss her children terribly- she could imagine James running over to the kitchen and making himself sick on chocolates. She could see John with the dog running through the halls and opening every door, and hear his feet hurrying over the floors in echoes. She could see Jo going to the library and devouring book after book until she fell asleep with a novel on her face on the couch. How they would have loved this place!

Perhaps…when she was better…she could find a way to still keep in touch with Loki. She would take them on a trip. A free day of traveling, even though it was not to London but another world.

Nevertheless, she didn’t mind dusting every surface and sweeping off the floors. It was better to act rather than dwell all day.

As she was contentedly scrubbing away the floors of the main entryway one day, there was a knock at the door.

She jumped and released a gasp. If it was Loki, he would just conjure himself inside. Who could it be? A burglar? Surely, an enchanted castle could protect itself, could it not??

But then there was a voice, a booming, masculine, baritone voice that made her jump again.

“BROTHER!”

A burglar would not announce themselves like that.

She cautiously walked closer.

“Brother! Are you living here? Do not play your games, Loki, I wish to speak to you!” he stated from outside.

“On my way!” she replied. She picked up her skirt and walked over to open the door.

She opened the door to find a tall, large, muscular man with long beautiful blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blond beard. Stella was slightly taller than some women, but he hovered above her like a blonde bear. He looked down at her and smiled brightly.

“Oh…hello…” she greeted shyly.

“Why! Are you the Midgard lady they say lives here?” he asked.

“I…I am,” she replied. “I am Mrs. Stella Ransome, I’m pleased to meet you.” She curtsied small.

He shook her hand. She accepted it and found his grip matched her suspicion about his strength.

“Oh, I am Thor! God of Thunder and Prince of Asgard!”

Stella’s hand flew up to lightly touch her throat. Thor! Thor himself here! She was a devout Christian all of her life and now she had met not only one but two pagan gods! What on earth was she going to tell her Sunday School when she returned?

Thor kept talking excitedly, his handsome smile shining on his face.

“Why, how happy I am Loki had finally settled on a lady! He had several princesses in the past show interest, but they never liked him or he never liked them, and-”

“Oh no! I’m not his…his….his companion of that sort. This is a palace he made and I am only the guest here.” she answered.

Yet, what more did this god of thunder have to say? What was he like? What sort of powers? What was it like to be a god? She had no fear now, only curiosity.

“Prince Thor, would you like to stay for some tea?”

“Why, tea sounds wonderful Lady Stella!” he replied.

Calling her that made her smile. If this prince was a burglar, he was the nicest burglar she had ever met.

Giving him tea and a tray of biscuits, she told him about how she ended up here. Then she asked him to clarify more about Loki and him. Thor informed her that they were princes of Asgard, sons of King Odin and Queen Frigga and that he was the eldest brother and in line for the throne. Thor answered questions about Asgard. She brought out a sketchbook she found in the library and Thor drew the realms of the map. Stella was awed at it. Her world had been small in the marshes- to think there were so many other realms with so many other lives and people and their stories! How big everything was and she was just one tiny speck on a circle that moved between Midgard and Asgard.

Thor was munching on perhaps his tenth biscuit by now. Not that it stopped his talking.

“We hear that the Frost Giants wish to try to take over again- those are the ones in Jotunheim! They won’t touch a hair on my brother's head anymore. One day, I will find King Laufey to defeat him in battle!” he boasted, pumping his fist.

“It is natural to be protective of one’s family,” she commented.

Thor wiped the crumbs off his beard. “Maybe that’s why Loki’s been hiding since the battle- he’s scared of them!”

“Hiding?” she prodded.

Thor nodded, sucking down his tea.

“He has been away for some time. Father won’t tell me why, and Mother seems strong. But sometimes I think I hear her crying from a distance. You must find Loki when he shows up next- tell him that she misses him! That he has to come home!”

She clasped her hands on her lap and gave him a smile.

“I will be glad to do so. I have been able to persuade him into a few things recently, so I think he might listen to me,” she said.

“How good of you, Lady Stella!” Thor declared.

Before she could say, he slammed down his teacup, making her jump and gasp aloud in surprise, demanding another cup of tea.

The magic palace fixed the teacup back to normal, and Stella, her heart slowing down after that surprise, poured him another.

That evening, she waited for him at dinner. She was adorned with her hair up in a bun and another ballgown. It was navy blue and had little stars adorned across it, making her look like the night sky. She began to eat a little after her stomach rumbled.

She knew it was past sunset, but there was no response. Nothing. No sign of the trickster god.

“Loki?” she asked.

Her voice echoing was the only reply.

Enough time had passed. He required her to fulfil the bargain and here she was just as she had been every night for some time now. What was going on?

She got up from her chair. She passed the lush banquet and went down one hall. It had another marble floor, but there were windows with the red, velvet curtains drawn. There was a hall of doors.

She heard a sound like a grunt from the door in the far corner on her right. Green lights flashed from it.

She walked carefully closer to it. There was another flash of light, only it was light blue. And another frustrated huff.

She had heard similar huffs of frustration from a certain office for over a decade. There was no doubt now Loki was behind.

She was now at the door and realized it had creaked open.

Her eyes went to the opening. She gently said his name.

“Loki, wher-”

She saw him and her voice turned into a gasp, cupping her mouth

Loki was definitely there. The room was a smaller library with neater bookshelves and a fireplace. He stood in the center over a high table with a book full of runes on it.

But he looked different.

His skin was a bright blue and his eyes red.

Loki turned, his red eyes wide as he noticed her. Stella froze where she was, for she could not run. Was this some new enchantment he could do? Was he practicing and was that why he was late?

Yet his face turned into a frown, his teeth gritted. His red eyes glared at her. She should have run, she should have screamed. Yet she could not move.

He turned his back on her, his voice angry as he tried to cover his own face.

“Don’t- don’t look Stella! Go away!” he ordered angrily. The tone in his voice speared her heart.

“Are you hurt?” she insisted. “I was wondering why you were missing and-”

“I said to go away!” Loki barked. “And don’t look!”

Normally she would run. But something in her intuition told her to stay. There was a hurt to his voice that stirred her. He needed someone by him.

She walked inside cautiously.

“I…I am sorry I peeked in, but…Loki…”

His back was still turned. She could see bits of his blue neck beneath his raven curls. He stood before the fire.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No! I’m not hurt at all!” he replied, something of a choked sob in his voice.

He was behaving no better then Jo when she was four years of age.

“But your skin…did someone do this to you? do you need an ointment?” she asked.

She reached out a hand to gently touch his shoulder. He flinched away and then turned around. She took in his cerulean skin and how much brighter it made his red eyes appear.

“I don’t need the healers! Norns! I just- I’m just doing a spell and-”

She peeked and saw him uncurl his hand and clench it. His skin turned to white and his eyes to blue. But she saw there were still tears in his eyes, despite the stubborn frown on his head.

“What is happening?” she asked. “You don’t get this upset taking another person's form. Please, I’d like to know.”

She insisted he sit on the chair. She had him magic over another mug of tea and some sandwiches on a tray. They sat on the floor before the fire.

“Do you know what a Frost Giant is?” he asked.

“Yes. I hear they’re considered your enemy here,” Stella responded. She could discuss Thor and his family later.

Loki kept his eyes on the fire.

“All children in Asgard are taught to be terrified of them Stella…this is my true form. I’m a runt of a Frost Giant. Left behind as a baby to die in a tundra. Unwanted since the moment I was born. All of my life I was told of beasts who slaughter innocents. Only to realize I had to look in the mirror to see one.”

Stella’s eyes softened at him.

“Loki…that’s…that’s horrible…”

“I’m going to control it. Hide it. Push it away so no one will tell, no one will be able to see. I will be dead, I won’t be nothing, I’ll prove to father I’m worthy, I will!” he hissed. He slammed a fist onto his lap.

Stella leaned forward.

“May I see it again, please? Just once.” she asked.

He turned to her and swallowed. But he only turned his forearm and hand blue.

“May I?” she asked.

He gave her his arm and hand. She put her hand beneath his to lift it and then, with her other hand, pressed a finger on his blue palm.

“It’s cold. Cold like snow on Christmas, like a steam on a summer’s day, like a chapel in the morning…those aren’t bad things…” she consoled.

She traced up to his forearm. He felt himself shiver at her touch, his body stirring at the press of her hand on his skin. A tingling he kept down. She looked quietly and carefully.

“Could I have the box with my collection, please?” she asked.

He easily conjured it to the room. She lifted the lid and set it aside. She took out some trinkets- spoons, shells, bottles. She set them in the air like a painter, next to his hand.

Then she looked in and smiled. She got out two pebbles. Then she got out her diary and opened to the first page. She got out a pressed flower. Setting them in her hands, she moved them close to Loki’s hand.

“See! They’re the very color of your skin!” she sheered.

As Loki looked down, he saw she was right. The shade of the flower and the pebbles matched the skin of his Jotunheim form.

“Now, if only there was a box big enough, I could add you too!” she teased.

He did not reprimand her for her joke, even if he had every right to. He looked up at her.

“What about blue makes it your favorite color? Why collect blue things and not something…something red or green?” Loki asked.

She traced her finger again over the pebbles and flowers. She then smiled at the other miscellaneous things she pulled out.

“It’s the color of peace. The color of heaven. It represents the sky and the sea- the two things we think of when we discuss eternity. It’s rare in nature, for it is a sacred color. Blue dye once had to be imported, for it was costly. They say that Mary wore a blue shroud. It is the color of serenity…of kindness…”

She set the items down. Though his hand was as cold as ice, it felt good on her against the warm fire. His eyes shone up at her.

“Your skin is beautiful when it’s blue. And you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

Loki took in a deep breath and then shook his head.

“But…the Frost Giants are…are hated…hated!”

“I don’t hate you,” she replied.

He blinked, squinting his eyes further at her. She kept her sweet smile at him.

“What? You…you don’t?” he asked.

She released his hand and began gathering her things to put back into the box.

“I’m not your servant or misteress here. You saved my life and my health. Could a truly monstrous person do that?”

His eyes sparkled. She set them back in and sealed the lid. She looked back up at him, her plate of food untouched, as was his.

“Loki, if you think my husband is so hateful, so bad…. if I could love him, how could I think less of you? Not from anything you freely chose to do, but because of how you were born? I wish you didn’t discover it in this way, and despite what I have heard…I don’t agree about Frost Giants. They can be good and kind…”

“The stories…” Loki began muttering.

“Maybe the stories are wrong,” she suggested.

She handed him a cup of tea. His magic was starting to melt back to his usual pale color, except for his hand.

He noticed that the tea set was white except for the blue flowers painted all over it. Of course, it was in relation to Stella being the one staying here.

Looking down at his hand while it was still blue, he saw that the petals of the flower on his cup matched the shade of a Frost Giant's skin.

For once, at least for a minute, he did not feel ashamed.

#loki #loki fic #loki fanficiton #loki imagine #stella ransome #tom hiddleston #clemence poesy #angst with a happy ending #tom hiddleston characters #fanfiction #tom my beloved #crossover #tw: suicide attempt #the essex serpent #the essex serpent fic #crossover fanfiction #crossover fic #loki angst #loki fluff #loki marvel #loki (marvel) #loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki god of mischief #loki god of stories #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #loki of asgard #loki tom hiddleston

[m4nd0l0r]

Five Hargreeves Headcanons (That Have Consumed Every Single Space in my Mind-)

Description: “Live.. Laugh… Love the insanity the apocalypse brings me.” -Five Hargreeves, tired after a caffeine rush and/or from a drunken high. 2019. (this is canon.. HE TOLD ME HIMSELF)

Author’s Note: this is just how I’m dealing with writer’s block— i swear i’m still working on my upcoming Five fics- 😭😭 so uh have this for now i guess 🥲 no warnings btw!! its just me writing in lowercase a lot- a shit ton of crack and swearing- (five’s body is aged up- and his consciousness ranges from 30 to 50 in my works— however you decided which age you want for your experience :)))

Five Taglist (i forgot to tag im so sorry 😭): @ells-graveyard @noahspector @aelinismyqueen @sunweee @reinaeru @ne0boss @twauna00 @placidpluto @eichenhouseproperty @heartsforsuyin @ghostlywavelengths @technicallydifferenttraveler @seconds-not-decades @magical-girl-on-fire @emotionally-unstabel @peachy-wolfhard @its-loki-bitch @raven-fandomtrash @theilliterateskankula @magicstrange @ne0boss @venusrambles @whereintheworldisspencerreid @honeycombdumbass @mivzai @oscarisaacsleftballsack @zenithinthebin @peachteeaaa @rchaoz @wickedmystery @wordsandnerds @umbrellatte @666abby6666 @iameddiemunsonshair @starlightinhumanform @vennythearsonist @trashmouthsahra (if you want to be removed/added, pls tell me via pm!!)

he likes bitter coffee candy (if the mf cant get coffee he’d raid a candy shop rather than logically coming after a cafe-)

likes slasher films for how creative the deaths look (esp if its practical effects, he’s a sucker for those) (he likes nightmare on elm street, he gives me that impression for WHAT)

^ cos of this- i basically headcanon that in his commission days- he’d kill creatively- as if it were his canvas, my guy is an artist with blood 💪

idk why but he’d be an avid “gelato is NOT ice cream you idiot” typa guy (fucker knows italian and my ass RAN W IT)

he watches julia roberts romance movies (cos i like her rom films so im projecting-) (he def likes the maturity of the ending of my best friend’s wedding)

for some reason he considers mocha as chocolate rather than coffee (like the old man he is)

actually likes caramel, never tells anyone for no reason (fucking punk ass smh)

he’d say he hates animals but he’d give a pat to a dog/cat if he’d see one (but he’ll glare at the poor thing if it scratches him-)

from ptsd from the apocalypse- he tries to never indulge w small things like getting large amounts of food- cos he has the mindset that he “might need extra in case something bad happens”

he’d hate physical touch at first- flinching like a surprised cat on steroids— but he gets used to it slowly- and one person at a time

also i dont give a shit on what anyone thinks- FIVE IS A LITTLE SPOON IN HUGS— why you may ask? fucker is a touch starved ptsd filled mf- he needs those hugs ASAP- he would hold your hand 25/8 to reduce his paranoia i just know it (i PROPHESIZEEEE)

the first beer he drunk was a bottle he found in a post apocalypse alcohol store and the liquid was full w small grime and dirt- but he wanted to try some to “check off a bucket list”

LOVES dark comedies, he just does, he CACKLES when he watches one (but he only shows amusement when he’s alone, never w his siblings)

^ he’d also slap his thigh if he finds something soooo funny (old man behaviour smh)

has a personal vendetta against ppl who WOULDN’T put pineapple on pizza (klaus converted the grandpa and at first he felt gross eating it but as he continues he thought: “ok. this isn’t that bad.” the next thing you know, you see him on the phone calling the pizza place for 2 more boxes of hawaiian pizza—)

listens to edith pliaf RELIGIOUSLY (you would gift him a vinyl of hers and his eyes would SHINE) (the only time you saw his eyes the brightest-)

with modern music— he’d prolly like radio music (until you berate him and convert him to alt & indie rock)

has an odd fixation with guns and knives (like the papa he is) (would explain EVERYTHING ABOUT A SPECIFIC WEAPON) (he’s a nerd) (he’ll never admit it) (ever)

has a switchblade on his dominant arm pocket (he could use anything as a weapon, but he likes to be “prepared”)

like on s1, he’d pretend to be a kid and all innocent & shit to get free shit from strangers (you’d hop on the bandwagon and **nicely** ask him to get you stuff too.. he complains and says no but you’d see him on the next day with the shit you requested on his hands)

^ continuation with this— fucker prolly got a coffee machine cos he went up to some lady- went on, put a sad act, and went “oh no.. i dont got a gift to give to my dad.. he always wanted a coffee machine after ours broke” and the lady would have pitied his ass and bought a cheap but durable one for him— this would lead to a situation where the rest of the umbrellas try to take away the coffee machine away from his addicted ass-

viktor: should we?? do something??? diego: we’ve took THREE of those damn machines- what else can we do??? klaus: it’s like… he pulls it out of his ass.. you think he shits out coffee beans?? or is it just liquidated coffee at this point? you: i should call the ambulance before he falls off the window from the coffee… can’t deal with a cranky five.. luther: (is tired of it all and just wants to enjoy his married life) .. yes. please do.

in conclusion? never take away five’s coffee- he will drive you mad—

whenever he’s drunk- he acts like a goddamn sloth (esp if he’s comfortable with you- mf will CLING ON YOU LIKE SOME PARASITE—) (i wouldn’t mind tho 😏- i mean what?)

though as much as he likes bitter coffee- i see him DESPISE BITTER BEER, he would spit that stuff out of with the most offended face ever (all scrunched up like crumpled paper)

for my fellow filipino readers- he unfortunately SUCKS ASSSS when speaking in tagalog… you either tease the living fuck out of him about him or smile through your ear pain going “wow! galing! (amazing!)” (no he was not amazing he sounded like a screeching tire or smth- /lh)

#tua five #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #number five #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #tua x reader #five headcanons #five hargreeves headcanons #thank you for reading my madness- #i swear im writing for my five fic- it just has a sci-fi so ya girl needs to ORGANIZE— #umbrella academy #tua s1 #tua s2 #tua 3

[holdmytesseract]

Loki x "starry eyes lighting up my darkest night"

Dedicated to @simplyholl who's birthday is at the end of Jan and this is her fave Taylor Swift lyric 😁(a belated present is fine I am sure, no rush!) ❤️❤️

a/n: First off, I'm so so sorry this took me sooo long @lokisgoodgirl ... 😕🙈 Nevertheless, I hope it's a great belated birthday present for @simplyholl ! ☺️😄 I really hope you like it. 🧡

Warnings: None, this is actually pure fluff!

Word Count: 1061

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @theaudacitytowrite @lady-rose-moon @aagn360 @fictive-sl0th @mostclevermiss @linaax @peaches1958 @simping-for-marvel @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @loki-laufeyson-1054 @multifandom-worlds @coldnique

Lyric-Drabble-Mania Masterlist

Based on this song:

Forever In Your Eyes

It felt like you were in a haze. A dream. Somewhere far from reality. Was this really happening?  You asked yourself over and over again. You were more than just present; your brain absorbing every second of those precious moments - and yet, you thought you were daydreaming.

Your nerves were on edge; a warm feeling pooling inside you, starting from your heart. Love. It was nothing but deep, true love. Was this what real happiness felt like? Must be...

That was exactly what just happened barely a few minutes ago. You had married the man of your dreams. The man you loved more than anything in all the nine realms. The man who manages to make you smile, even if you got no reason to smile. Your love reached deeper than the roots of Yggdrasil - and now you were bound together; connected for the rest of both your life's. The shining emerald ring on your finger was the proof.

This was what you always wanted... What you always hoped and wished for. Not many princesses had the luck to choose their future husband. Or well, happening to fall in love for the promised man. In your case, though, it was different...

You didn't have a much luck in your actual wealthy, royal life as the princess of Alfheim. Your father died, when you were just a child. Your mother had troubles getting over his death, fell into a lot of dark holes, which caused the kingdom to almost fall. Almost. Your life wasn't always filled with blessings, or offered you many choices, but for this one time, fate was kind to you. Meeting Loki was a coincidence. Falling in love with him was destiny. Marrying him was a promise.

All eyes were directed on you. You could feel everybody's gaze on you. The little hairs on the back of your neck standing up straight, as you stepped with slow, elegant steps towards Loki, who waited for you in the middle of the grand ballroom of the Alfheim palace. The handsome god had a smile on his face; hands fidgeting with the hem of the sleeves of his beautiful, elegant green, black and gold tunic. He was nervous, just like you. Having so many eyes on him wasn't a thing he was used to. His eyes travelled up and down your body, feeling his heart skip a beat at the stunning emerald green wedding dress you wore. His colours. You were wearing his colours. If this wouldn't be your wedding anyway, you'd show everybody that you belonged to him. That you were his.

It felt like time slowed down, as you finally reached him and placed your hand in his. You couldn't help but exchange a loving smile with your husband, as he pulled you gently closer. He raised your intertwined hands, pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles, before he reluctantly let go of your hand again. Seconds later, gentle music started to play, signalling you and Loki, that it was time to start your wedding dance. It was a soft tune. Romantic, happy, but still had a royal touch to it. You and Loki circled each other. His hands were firmly crossed behind his back, as he moved elegantly around you. His head always followed his movements, not letting you out of his sight. Just like you did. Loki took a step closer to you then. Your husband uncrossed his arms from behind his back and reached out for you. The moment his hand came into contact with the clothed skin of your waist, you had to fight off a gasp. The contact caused a shiver to run down your spine; sending sparks through your whole body. You knew this would happen, and yet his touch overwhelmed you. It wasn't an inappropriate touch, but it felt so intense and intimate. You quickly refocused, head snapping up to meet his gaze - which was just as intense as his touch. Your eyes locked - and you shortly feared you were going to drown in those oceanic blue orbs. They held so much love, causing your heart to skip a beat. You saw your future in Loki's eyes. Everything that was, is and was going to be. In that moment, you knew he was forever going to be your tower of strength. Your safe haven. There was nothing to be afraid of. Not with Loki by your side. Not with those starry eyes sparking up my darkest night, you thought with a smile. This love was going to last forever.

Oh how much you wanted to kiss him right now, but you couldn't. This was your wedding dance, after all...

At some point the song picked up a bit, signalling you and Loki, that the romantic part was soon over and with that your first dance as a wedded couple. You and Loki did one last spin, with a hand on each other's waist, before you both let go; hands intertwining once again, as you took in your final position. You smiled at him, just like he was smiling at you, pure love radiating from the both of you.

Dancing came just naturally to you both. Not just because you had practiced this dance quite a few times before your wedding, no, but also because you were enjoying it so much. You floated somewhere on cloud nine with Loki and that was exactly what this dance represented. You enjoyed every second of this dance, every step you and Loki took on the marble floor. He spun you gently in a circle, causing your dress to sway with the movement, before held onto your waist again, leading you elegantly over the dance floor.

All the people who attended this royal wedding stood on the side-lines, watching you and Loki with dreamy smiles.

The song didn't stop, though. It just changed, signalling everybody that the dance floor was declared open now; inviting the guests to join in on the dance - which almost everybody did. Within a few moments, you and Loki were surrounded by happily dancing couples. You looked around, amazed. It was a sight to behold. But before you could marvel longer at the breath-taking sight, you felt Loki's hands on your waist again, pulling you into the next dance. Yes, this was truly the happiest day in your life.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #tom hiddleston x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fluff #tom hiddleston characters #loki laufeyson x female reader

[rielzero]

Apparently Married

Loki: So, A consort is like.. A spouse to a monarch right? That means we're married..? Astarion: Yes. Loki: Loki: I thought marriage required a ceremony..? Isn't it- For people who want to start families? I don't want to have kids. Astarion: ..I keep forgetting you have had no proper education.. That's not the kind of marriage we have, no. You worry too much, darling. Loki: Was I unconscious during the ceremony? Astarion: My sweet- Turning you was the ceremony. Loki: [thinking back to that night] Ah- Loki: Did people watch you turn me?? That's news to me- You know I like my privacy.. Astarion: Oh, no we just eloped! No witnesses. I wouldn't want to share that perfect image of you with others. Loki: Oh.. Gods I feel stupid. I thought marriage would be like, exchanging rings, vows and going on ''honey moons'' whatever that means. At least nothing happened while I wasn't conscious. That would've made me sad- It sounds like something you'd want to experience. Astarion: [realizing he missed out on the perfect opportunity to have a lavish, luxurious wedding and plan out a honeymoon] We can still do all those things. Make it official. Loki: It's not official..??

Astarion: Darling...

Astarion: Think of it like rubbing it in everyone's face that we are together! Except this time, its a party~ Astarion: Aaaaand. We go on a honeymoon afterwards! Loki: That doesn't sound too bad... I love it when you look smug. Astarion: Exactly. Loki: What the fuck is a honeymoon though??

#this dude has lived in the sewers for the first 16 years of his life #dont judge him for not knowing some things #hes pretty smart but embarrassed about not knowing these kind of things #just going with the flow of the river #vampire tav #ascended astarion #male tav #astarion x tav #bg3 #bg3 shitposting