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mochie85 · 9 months

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I'll Follow You

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You came back to the compound, a year later after you left to make your own career, and you are worried about meeting Loki with how things ended when you left. Pairing: Romantic!Loki x OC Female Reader (Foxglove is her Superhero alias.) Word Count: Over 5.3k Warnings: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Oral (female receiving). Shadowplay. Hallucinations.

Loki flipped through the magazine at a hurried pace, not looking at the photos or any of the articles. His hands needed something tactile to do. Or else, he feared, he might choke someone with them.

He paused when he saw an advertisement for a watch you were modeling for. There you were—a close-up of your beautiful face. Your eyes were bright and round. Your lips were dewy and sensual. Norns, he missed those lips. Especially when they were wrapped around his…

Ugh. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?! Loki snarled under his breath as he threw the magazine halfway across the room. It landed on the floor right by Sam’s feet. “You dropped this!” Sam said picking it up from the floor. He held it up in the air, not even looking, his attention fully absorbed on the TV screen.

Everyone had gathered to watch the talk show you were appearing on tonight. They couldn’t wait to see you come out and gossip about your life or inconsequential things. The entire team supported you in your decision to leave and start your acting career—everyone, except him.

Loki wanted to leave the room. He should’ve left and not agreed to come and watch the show with the others. He was about to stand up when-

“Shh. Shh. Guys quiet down. Here she is!” Wanda said shushing the entire room. Loki watched the enormous television, enraptured. The camera panned over to the audience, their loud applause and cheers were deafening. Signs and pictures were held up from a time when you were an Avenger. He couldn’t help but sink further into his chair and get caught up with your grace once again.

“So, Foxglove- can I still call you Foxglove?” The host asked as you sat down.

“Of course, you can,” you beamed at the man behind the desk.

“I- I don’t know the protocol for these things. Do you get to keep the name even though you’re not an Avenger anymore?”

Your practiced laugh showed through your gritted teeth. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. Foxglove is the name I gave myself. I had it with me when I started with the Avengers and took it with me when I left. It wasn’t a title or anything.”

“And did they just let you leave? I would think it was like being in the mafia. ‘You know too many of our secrets. We can’t let you out alive!’ sorta thing,” the host said, thinking he was being clever.

“My friends and colleagues have all been supportive. And I remain in close contact with most of them.”

‘Most of them.’ That statement swirled the emotions Loki was feeling inside. He was not one of those who supported you and was very vocal about it. The fact that you still keep in contact with almost everyone here left him envious.

“And that’s actually part of the reason why I’m here tonight,” you continued. “My dear friend Tony, whom many of you know as Ironman- again, not a title…” you chuckled. “…Is throwing his annual charity gala this spring. This year he decided to make it a month-long occasion with different charities and events happening once a week culminating in the yearly gala at the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful! That’s all he does when he’s not out saving the world, is party, huh?” the host said looking straight into the camera.

“Asshole!” Tony sassed under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the team.

“And what exactly is your part in this month-long event?” The host asked you.

“Well, I plan to raise money for The Nature Conservancy here in New York. I ask everyone to come and help us plant new trees or donate. Every dollar will be matched, and we can help restore some of the forests, in other parts of the country.”

“The Nature Conservancy is a special organization for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s where I first worked. It’s where I first started noticing my powers.”

“Your powers are amazing! You can talk to plants!”

“Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” you said with restraint. “Chlorokinesis allows me to excel a plant’s growth to a thousand times what they normally can. I can also enhance their natural defenses and abilities. And like my namesake, Foxglove, I can give you hallucinations when touched.”

“Can we get a demonstration?” the host asked to the cheers of his audience. You reached out to touch him “No, no, no!” he said nervously. “I don’t need any more hallucinations right now!” you both chuckled. “Thank you. But maybe you can make a flower grow?” he suggested, and the audience cheered you on.

“Sure, of course,” you smiled, happily. You rotated your wrists and flicked them around, gesturing for a plant to grow from the host’s wooden desk. The branches wrapped around itself forming a steady trunk. Soon the branches grew out further and further. Blooming wisterias in varying colors began to sprout, amazing the audience.

You used to be unstoppable. You used to tear down enemies left and right, numbing them with your visions before you cut them down and made them regret opposing you. Now you do party tricks for the camera so you can get a laugh from people who don’t care about you. Who didn’t even love you! Loki was furious.

Once again, Loki made to get up. He was almost through the exit of the room when he heard the next question that made him stop.

“So, Foxglove, will you be attending these events alone?” The audience ‘ooh’d’ at the question when the host decided to get a little more personal. “I heard you were cozying up to a certain superhero. Do you like those types? Do you have a type? What does Foxglove look for in a partner?”

You laughed embarrassedly. “These rumors! I swear they pair me up with someone new each week.”

“Oh, but you were seen leaving a nightclub with your costar, Superman himself, Henry Cavil.” The photo was put up on the screen. A picture of the two of you laughing in front of a busy club as Henry gingerly put his arm around your shoulders. The entire room of Avengers whooped and hollered cheering you on.

“We were celebrating. We had just wrapped our movie and it was my first time in London. So, Henry just wanted to show me around. Very friendly. All platonic.” You smiled, blushing. Loki noted that blush. I’ll break him like a twig!

“Ok. Ok. What about your former colleague, Loki of Asgard?” The host asked as a picture of the two of you replaced the one on the screen.

It was a photo taken when the two of you had gotten back from a mission. You had failed and cried about it on the flight back. Loki was wiping the tears from your face, trying to cheer you up. You didn’t know the PR department was there taking shots as all of you disembarked off the jet.

The camera cut back to you and you blushed harder. Once again, Loki noted that blush. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed. Does she miss me too?

“Loki and I have remained good friends. I look forward to seeing him again,” you told the host.

Lies. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you since you left. The last words you said to him were “I hate you! I never want to see you again!” Loki couldn’t detect any falsehood when you screamed those words at him. That hurt the most.

Everyone turned to where Loki was standing. Some, like Thor, were smiling. Mostly everyone else was shocked.

“What?!” Loki snapped back at them, making everyone turn back to the television.

“Oh! Did you hear that? She wants to see him again.” The host embarrassed you. Your powers grew erratic as a new sprout of branches grew from the tree.

The whole audience was eating it up, clapping. You tried to hide behind your hand, but the different cameras provided different angles of your mortification.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Foxglove, everybody!” The host said pointing towards you clapping. You laughed and waved at the audience as Wisteria petals fell from the ceiling.

Weeks later, you sat in the back of a Maybach that Tony hired to chauffer you to the gala. This year it would be held at the compound which garnered more donations because everyone wanted to see inside the heavily guarded facility. Your intricate beaded dress fit you snuggly and covered you from shoulders to toe. It ensured that no one would accidentally come in contact with your skin. Especially with how crowded Tony’s parties got. The only wrinkle was from all the times you’ve grabbed it in anxiousness and wrung the fabric.

Why did I let Tony talk me into this?! I should’ve faked sick or something! What if Loki’s there? Of course, he’s there. Where else would he be? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if he has a date?! Maybe I should’ve invited Henry? No, no. He’d get the wrong idea. Just drop in, say your hellos, then leave. I don’t have to stay. I’m a grown adult. I can do what I want! FUCK! What if Loki comes and talks to me?

Once past the gates, the car crawled through a winding road with lanterns adorning the pathway. The car stopped at the front steps of the Avenger’s compound and you could hear the heavy bass of the music pounding through the car windows as bright lights and lasers littered the night sky.

You made your way through security to the massive, yet highly decorated, quinjet hangar and a sweeping staircase that descended to an impressive room below. You smiled, reminiscing about all the parties and events you attended as an Avenger- sweet memories that erased the worry you had when you were in the car. Picking up your gown, you gracefully descended the staircase. Keeping your eyes trained on the steps below, you tried not to look around, to look for him.

“Fox! I can’t believe you’re here!” Wanda shrieked as she ran up to you. She squeezed your sleeved arm and pressed her cheek on your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Wanda!” you said kissing the top of her hair.

“Come on. Everyone’s here- well, almost everyone,” she corrected herself. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Everyone wants to catch up.” She led you along to the bar where you were greeted by your former teammates. You were grateful that Loki wasn’t among them. He always loved these parties. You actively refused invites the past year just to avoid him. Awkward hugs and pleasantries were shared. Drinks were offered along with your first few dances promised to Sam and Wanda.

After hours of conversations with the team, and some drinks with Tony, you fell back into a sense of belonging and family. You didn’t realize how much you missed your friends here. How much you missed being an Avenger. It got so lonely most nights not having anyone to talk to. At least here, you would have had Nat or Bucky to train with in the middle of the night.

Or Loki to keep you company.

You groaned internally. You couldn’t help but be on edge all night, thinking about him and wondering if Loki was ever going to show up.

Before leaving for the night, you excused yourself to get some fresh air. There was a greenhouse in the back glades of the compound that you frequented most nights just to be alone. You used to make the hedges grow all around, giving you a private garden away from the rest of the world.

Inside, it was as if you had never left. The plants stood tall as if to greet you. Bright flowers bloomed in different colors as if in competition to win your adoration. And in the back corner, hidden behind large monstera plants, was a cove of plush blankets and chairs that you hid from anyone ever finding. Everyone except, “Loki?”

Loki sat in the rattan chair; his legs crossed reading a magazine with your picture on the cover. He looked as breathtaking as the first time you saw him, like trouble and a promise all wrapped up in his pressed monochromatic black suit. His mischievous smile appeared, tempting you closer.

“Hello, Foxglove,” he greeted you. His voice sending shivers down your spine. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? You kept repeating in your head.

“I…didn’t know this spot was taken. I won’t bother you. Goodnight,” you hastily said as you turned to leave.

“Wait!” he cried standing up. You could feel him grab hold of your wrist. You looked down to see his shadow holding on to you like a dear friend, shadow to skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. It’s been so hard to be intimate with anyone because of your body’s defense mechanism. And here was Loki, the only man who figured out a loophole to your little enigma.

“I just wanted to say…” Loki paused, staring only into your eyes. “Y-you look beautiful tonight.” You pulled your hand away from his shadow and stayed quiet. “I saw you. We… the team… saw you on the talk show. You’ve done amazing things this past year. One movie, a television show, countless endorsements.”

“Still don’t think I can make it?” you challenged.

“Fox, it was never about that!” he argued. His sudden outburst propelled him like a predator. He stalked his way closer to you, making you back into the glass wall of the greenhouse. You caught whiffs of his cologne mixed with the tropical scent of the flowers all around you. He stopped when he realized he had alarmed you. “I should not have advanced on you so quickly. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. Just habit, I guess.” You were always conscious of people touching you and getting too close. You never wanted to be the cause of their hallucinations. Loki felt relieved that he hadn’t scared you off. His shadow stood ahead of him, rubbing your arm with the back of his fingertips, trying to mollify your anxiousness.

Loki watched and waited as you settled. Jealousy festered in his body at the sight of his shadow being able to comfort you and he couldn’t. “You look… breathtaking, by the way.” He tried to soothe.

“You already said that,” you said curtly, blushing. Loki loved your blush. He loved getting under your skin and teasing you.

“Is your new lover here with you tonight? Got sick of the real superheroes, had to get yourself a pretend one?” he tried deflecting. Loki smirked looking through the glass and out to the party to see if he could spot Cavill.

“As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me once I stepped foot out of your room,” you said quoting him from the last time you spoke. “So, it’s none of your business whether or not Henry and I are together.”

“But you are…together?” he asked. His stare was unwavering, demanding an answer to his desperate question.

“I don’t need this right now!” You were angry and speechless. He doesn’t have the right to question your life’s choices especially when he wanted no part of them in the first place.

You moved to get away from his shadow’s hold and out of the greenhouse. Loki followed you close. “Fox, please. Stop.”

“Why are you even here, Loki?” you called back, briskly walking towards the exit. “You knew this was- This was my spot. MY SPOT!” you yelled, turning abruptly towards him.

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you in private! Without the cameras or the paparazzi. Without some life-or-death mission hanging over our heads. I needed to see your face again, without all these people trying to steal your attention away from me.” He stopped and watched you reach for the door to go outside. “I’m sorry, Vixen.”

Vixen.

Feelings you thought you had buried deep down inside of you started to resurface. All because of that name he used. The one he would whisper as he called for you in his arms late at night. The name he used when he made you laugh so hard the only way to stop you was to kiss you.

The one name he knew would stop you in your tracks… because it was the one name he used when he was about to touch you himself.

“I am sorry if I ever made you feel…”

“Unworthy? Incapable? Useless?!” you turned as you accused him.

“Unwanted,” he finished.

Real tears fell down your face now. Loki cupped your cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. You could feel the heat in his touch. The energy. You’ve felt it with his shadow, but there was always something electrifying and passionate when Loki touched you himself.

It was a luxury to feel this connection with someone. To feel the warmth from his fingers. The callouses in his palms. You imagined feeling his soft lips on you once again until you stopped yourself. It was a dangerous path to have such expectations right now. You opened your teary eyes to find Loki watching you.

His eyes darted around to your surroundings before he closed them and tried to focus back on you. “You are very much wanted, Vixen. I just couldn’t admit to myself how much I wanted you back then.”

He opened his eyes to yours. The swirl of emotion in them was breathtaking. It was then that you saw his true face for the first time. His emotions. His thoughts. He was stripped of his armor and his pretenses. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in that time and space. As if he were holding his life, right there cupped in between his hands.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he continued his confession. “I am a jealous god. You know this. I didn’t want to share you with anybody. I wanted to keep you to myself. To keep you from the world. I was afraid that you would tire of me like you did with being an Avenger. Cast me out after seeing what the world out there could offer you.”

Loki placed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. He bared it all for you tonight. He admitted something you knew was difficult for him to confess.

But could it erase what he made you feel for wanting to follow your dreams? Horrible and selfish. Untalented. Unwanted.

“I love you.” Your eyes grew wide at his expression. “I loved you then. I’ve loved you since. I am still deeply in love with you. Even now, when you’re about to run away from me, my heart won’t let me forget you. I was afraid that I would have no place in the world that you were creating for yourself. So, for that, I am sorry.” You closed your eyes and lingered in his touch a while longer.

“I wanted to apologize. I never got a chance to see you again after our fight, and I regret that I never made amends to you. You had every right to follow your path. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I should’ve supported you.” His thumb caressed your cheeks back and forth. You always did have the softest skin, unblemished by anyone else’s touch, he thought. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything at all. And if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. Never again. But I just needed you to know how I felt.”

Do you love him? You asked yourself as you looked into his variegated eyes. Did you spend every night thinking about him? Did you ignore the compound, and your friends, this past year just to avoid seeing him again? Afraid that he would have someone new in his life? Did you miss his voice when he says your name? His kisses? His touch?

“Yes,” you answered yourself. Loki’s brows knitted in confusion. “Loki, I understand now. Thank you… what I said to you back then, I was angry, but...” you tried to start.

Loki smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “We were both angry and said things we didn’t mean. Me more than you. Please don’t apologize. Least of all to me.” He exhaled as his eyes darted around again. You nodded your head, accepting his grace- forgiving you without having to apologize.

You looked up at his eyes, filled with wonder, “What do you see? When you touch me?” you asked gently. All this time you never thought to ask him.

“I see what I always see. Since the very first time I touched you. Do you remember?” You shook your head no. “They showed a picture of it on the talk show.” Realization sunk in. “I was wiping your tears just like now.”

Loki looked around again and smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I see home. I see the woods that used to grow behind the castle walls. Thor and I used to sneak out when we were children and climb the trees. The same woods we used as hunting grounds when we got older. Would you like to see it?”

No one had ever asked you that before. No one had ever had the power to do that before! You nodded and faint green smoke rose from his fingers. Your vision got blurry as the greenhouse was replaced by a dense forest. The trees were tall and luscious. Strands of warm light filtered through the canopy above shining down on the emerald grass below.

“Come with me.” Loki held your hand as he walked further into the woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunched at your feet as a soft breeze blew through the lace of your dress giving you goosebumps. “There’s a glade up ahead where we can just lay on the grass. I used to spend my free time there, letting the hours idle away.” The thought made you smile.

Sure enough, a clearing began to form up ahead. Long, soft grass weaved itself as it grew amongst large wildflowers. The filtered light from the canopy above made the blooms shine like jewels on a bed of velvet.

“I have yet to see anywhere comparable to this place on Midgard,” Loki said circling the glade, a look of homesickness in his eyes. “That metropolis has nothing compared to the splendor of these woods.”

“It’s beautiful.” You said walking towards him. A path of small wildflowers blooming with every step you made.

“Thank you. It is beautiful. But still an illusion. We are still very much in the greenhouse by the compound. You’re just seeing what I’m seeing at the moment.” You reached out towards a tree and felt cold glass instead of bark.

“You see this every time you’ve touched me? Every time we’ve…”

“Hmm,” Loki nodded solemnly. “Sometimes it's these woods. Other times it's my bedchambers in the palace. Yet, every time I’m with you, I see this- my childhood home. I haven’t been back since you left.” Loki bent down and picked up a wildflower that had grown in your stride. “I try to conjure it myself, but it never feels the same. The colors aren’t as vibrant. Not as much warmth.” He placed the flower on your ear, pushing your stray hair back. His hands ventured further down, tracing the beads of your sleeves.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.

“You’ve missed me? Or you’ve missed my powers and that they can bring you home?” you asked slightly jilted.

Loki looked deeply into your eyes as he turned you into his embrace. Your hands fell onto his arms and the look he gave you stole your breath away. “You are my home,” he confessed with a passion and honesty you’ve never heard from him before.

He wasted no time. He gave you no warning as he conceded to his urges and kissed you fervidly. The soft lips you were fantasizing about earlier painted a poor picture of his actual kiss. Soft yet demanding. Giving, yet always ravenous. It was as if no time had passed between you two. You were back in his arms kissing him and it felt like he described it. Home.

“All I ever wanted was to have you here in my arms,” he breathed in between kisses. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him back to you for another kiss. His arms wrapped selfishly around you, holding you tighter to him.

The heat was too much. It’s been so long since you’ve been held so intimately. But with Loki’s lips devoted to your neck, you would burn gladly. You would die happily on this pyre- as the last thing you would hear would be Loki moaning in your ears.

You were lost in his haze, caught up in the moment with the feel of his body against yours. He pushed you against the tree and you felt the cold glass of the greenhouse against your back.

Loki towered over you, “Tell me you want this,” he whispered onto your noxious skin. “Tell me you’ve missed this and want this with me.” He looked into your eyes, imploring something deep and vulnerable inside you.

“I do, Loki. I want this with you” You moaned holding tight against his grip. You felt his hands gather your dress skirt. Slowly his hands wandered, savoring the feel of your soft skin. His hallucinations were getting more and more vivid. Believable. Or perhaps it was just his kiss, sending you into slight delirium yourself.

Loki hurriedly took off his suit jacket and flung it across the room. He knelt in front of you, in between your parted legs as he raised your left knee above his shoulders- kissing his way up to your inner thighs. “Loki is this real?” you asked looking around you.

“Gods, I hope so,” he prayed, leaving a mark on your thigh. He kissed his way up to your core and licked you through the fabric of your panties. You heard the sheer cotton tear as his fingers brushed up against your eager clit.

Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling when he licked a wide stripe in between your folds. Your knees buckled at the sensation and soon you were reaching around yourself for something to hold. Something to keep you up as Loki lost himself in your wet arousal.

The cold glass of the greenhouse was replaced by the feeling of something warm and sturdy behind you. You looked up to see that Loki’s shadow had positioned himself to where his chest was flushed against your back- his dark hands roaming your body. His arms reached forward to hold your dress up above your waist, aiding Loki in his endeavors.

You felt a kiss on your neck, a quick peck as if he was asking for permission or giving you a warning. You yelped as his shadow quickly lifted you by your hips and Loki pushed both your knees up for his shadow to hold.

“Loki!”

“Yes, my love?” he asked as he continued to latch his mouth and draw on your aching cunt. Loki’s shadow spread your legs. You were splayed open and exposed. Leaving Loki to devote his tongue to you. You reached up and ran your hands through his shadow's hair, pulling as he sweetly kissed your neck.

You couldn’t help the moans and loud whimpers escaping your lips. You bucked your hips onto Loki’s face as your head reared back onto his shadow’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Fox. Let me hear you,” he commanded as he continued his consumption of you. “Let me taste you again. Give me what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been craving.” He said the last words to your tormented clit. You shuddered violently as moans and whimpers of his name fell from your lips. “That’s it. There you go, Vixen,” he cooed as he drank your arousal and lapped around your thighs.

His shadow laid you down gently and you felt the plush pillows and cold blankets from the greenhouse corner underneath you. A warring sensation against the heat of Loki’s body pressed on top of you. A bit of reality mixed in with the illusion Loki was scarcely hanging on to.

His hands fondled your every curve and every soft line. You cupped his face and led him to your kiss. His soft lips quivered when you reached in between your bodies and stroked his clothed erection. So hard and so tight. He breathed a sigh of relief when you unzipped his pants and stroked him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. Your name followed next as he bucked his hips into your hand. “Vixen…tell me you’re mine,” he panted. He kissed you hard, not letting you reply, afraid of your answer. You lined him up next to your expecting cunt and pulled him inside you.

You bit your lip and moaned as the look of pure pleasure radiated through your face. “Tell me…” he tried again as he pushed his hips into you repeatedly.

“I love you, Loki,” you moaned. His eyebrows slanted skeptically, stilling his movements and letting your words sink into his thoughts. “I’ve always been yours.” You admitted.

His kiss was magic. It was passion and life. Remorse and reconciliation all at once. He began his movements again at a steady pace, savoring your tight walls around him. You could feel the ridges on his shaft with every euphoric pull and thrust. His head bowed at the sheer power of your declaration. “Say it again…” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you moaned.

“…say it…” he bit his lips. “…ag-again…please…” His eyes were closed as he focused on the agonizingly drawn-out movements of his hips to yours.

“I love you, Loki,” you cried as he slammed against you. You squeezed around him finally pushing him off that edge. Loosening the tight hold he had on his pleasure and pouring it all into you. The wave of bliss hit you hard and you came onto his throbbing cock at the same time.

Spent and panting next to you, Loki held you close. His kisses were endless. Your cheeks and jaw would be bruised tomorrow from the affection he was showering you with. His hands were always touching you. Your neck, your face. Your thigh that was wrapped around his legs. You lost all track of time being with the god of mischief and soon the bright sunlight that trickled down to the forest floor was replaced by the harsh glare of the greenhouse overhead lamp.

Loki had little strength left to keep the illusion up any longer. He seemed weary but content. You kissed him fleetingly as you sat up back to reality. “Stay,” he said softly. “The one thing I didn’t say last time…I’m saying it now. Don’t go. Stay.” His hands held yours tightly.

So many feelings were attached to that one word. The weight of it crushing your heart. “I’m not asking you to give up your life. I’m not asking you to stay just for the night either. I’m asking for you to just be,” he smiled at you. “Be who you want to be and I will support you like I should have.”

You crawled back to him, settling your head on your propped-up elbows, while your other hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And if I decide to go?”

“Then I’ll do the one thing I should’ve done last time but didn’t.” he smiled as you looked at him expectantly. “I’ll follow you.”

A/N: This was a request sent in and I'm sorry to say it took this long for me to finish it. I hope you like it my lovely @gruftiela. I tried to stick to the vibe of the song. But I also added lyrics from one of my other favorite Depeche Mode songs. See if you can spot it 😝.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

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softonshanks · 1 month

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Masterlist

One Piece

Shanks:

Underwater love: Shanks x Y/N (female reader) After a night of wild partying on their ship, the Red-haired pirate are drunk. Shanks falls out of the ship into dark water, but Y/N is ready to do everything she can to save her Captain.

Laugh is the best medicine: Shanks x Y/N (female reader) Reader is the only girl on Shanks crew. She has a particular painfull period and everyone freaks out, uncertain of what to do. Shanks decides to stick to the best medicine there is: lauging.

A soothing surprise: Shanks x Y/N (female reader) Shanks has a back pain that is going on for weeks. Reader decides to take care of him with a little game and a soothing bath.

An Unbearlievable gift: Shanks x Y/N (female reader) When Shanks and the crew return to the ship after exploring a new island, Shanks surprises Y/N with a thoughtful gift. Though she tries to act tough, Y/N can't hide her excitement and joy for the present: a pirate teddybear. She starts to show it off to everyone, while Shanks can't help but fall in love with her and with her happiness. Real man: Shanks x Y/N (female reader) Everybody always had the time of their life on the Red Force at night, but Y/N tonight seems sad, even if she usually dances all night. The crew is concerned about her behavior and Shanks tries to investigate: he finds out that she is heartbroken because her boyfriend left her. He tries to console her: one day the right man, a real man, will come and love her as she deserves. But what if he's that man?

Luffy

Starlight and Sailor's Delight: Luffy x female reader Luffy and the reader spend a nice night during a festival and Luffy has to face his feelings for Y/N, realising that becoming king of the pirates isn't the only thing he cares about.

Zoro

Beyond the sword: Zoro x female reader Poor clumsy and ashamed Zoro confronts the reader about his feelings during a lazy sunset on the Sunny.

HCxZoro: request - how would Zoro change in a relationship?

Ace

I'm writing

Law

I'm writing

Sanji:

Sweet confession: Sanji x female reader

Sanji and the reader share a friends with benefits relationship, but sometimes she sneaks up on him and hugs him from behind, as she’s taller then him. Sanji tries to confess his love to her, wanting to take things to the next level.

HCxSanji: request - how would Sanji change in a relationship

Sabo

Sabo in a relationship (HC): Sabo x female reader Request: I could possibly request some romantic headcanons of Sabo and what kind of lover he would be with his partner!

Marco

A Quiet Night: Marco x female reader Request: The OC wakes up to an empty bed and Marco seems nowhere to be found. Later, she sneaks up in his office finding him focused on his work. She decides to stay with him through the night.

Attack on Titan

Captain Levi

I'm writing

Red Dead Redemption 2

Arthur Morgan:

I'm writing

Marvel

Loki

I'm writing

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

I'm writing

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komotionlessqueenmm · 2 years

Text

Lokabrenna

(1-?)

Short story # 16

✨Fandom(s) - Vikings & The Last Kingdom

💍Pairing - Osferth X Reader

🕯Summary - After many years, you and your brothers are reunited with your father, King Ragnar. Along side him are two men you've never met. And when met face to face with your father, you unleash your rage of being abandoned.

⚠️Warning(s) - Talk of mutilation, near death experience, abandonment, and that's about it I think.

📝Note(s) - Okay so I randomly started brewing this story in my head. I've watched all but like the last season of Vikings, and this story will have little to do with the storyline up until the point Ragnar comes back. Now I've never watched The Last Kingdom, I want to start watching it soon, but as I am writing this piece I haven't watched any. So this crossover will be interesting to say the least. Oh and I apologize but I am writing this with the idea that the reader is about 6'7", and in time I'll explain why in later notes. But for the most part this won't be mentioned, but it will pop up every so often. Reader is also described to have emerald green eyes, dark hair the first two things being things from her mother, and scars she obtained as a girl. Other than that the readers image is up to you. So the read is kinda like an OC but with your name, and the majority of your image. Oh and in this story the Norse Gods are real, and several will be involved in this story. But some things to do with the Gods isn't actually a part of Norse mythology, I'm just bending some of it to work best with the story. (Thank you for taking the time to read the notes if you have.)

🗝Key information - Lokabrenna meaning Loki's Torch in this story. (Eventually it will make perfect sense.)

🌬Year posted - 2022

📖Reading time roughly - Ten minutes.

🙈Rating - SFW/NSFW

◈ Part 1.) | Part 2.) |

🎧Playlist to listen to while reading.↓↓↓

Sparing with Björn was something (Y/n) indulged with most days, as he was the only one of her brothers willing to spar with her, and the only one that would push her to better her skills. Though her twin, Ivar would likely spar with her and push her to be the best, his legs prevented him from being able to do as much as Björn could. The others watched their eldest brother fought with their little sister, who wasn't quite so little, as she stood roughly four inches above Björn. Ubbe chuckled when (Y/n) slammed her shield into Björns, making the blond stumble back several inches. "You can do better than that." (Y/n) taunted her brother, blocking his sword and countering swiftly, her blade resting beside his neck. "Honestly I'm beginning to think you are getting old brother." She teased, making the others snicker on the sidelines. Björn scoffed with a grin, breaking away from her and beginning the fight again.

"King Ragnar has returned." A voice called out, the words making (Y/n)'s stance falter, giving Björn the opportunity to trip her, making her land face first into the dirt. "Shit." Björn muttered under his breath, realizing his mistake, he tossed his shield and sword aside. The others approaching as she rolled onto her back, looking to the blue sky with glossy emerald eyes. "I didn't mean to-" She cut Björn off. "It isn't that." She closed her eyes for a moment, only opening them again when Ivar brushed her hair away from her eyes. "He doesn't know she is alive." Ivar reminded their brothers in a soft tone, making the eldest sigh with realization. Björn offered his hand to (Y/n), pulling her to her feet when she accepted his offer. "Well then, he will be surprised hm." The blond patted her shoulder affectionately, smiling when she chuckled at that. "Come on then, let's go see the old man." She dusted herself off then followed behind her brother's, keeping pace with Ivar as she always would.

The growing crowd parted for the arrival of the Princes and Princess, allowing Ragnar to see his children for the first time in many years. The shock apparent when his eyes laid on (Y/n), who stood tall beside her brother's, trying to suppress her emotions. "(Y/n)." Ragnar breathed out her name, tears welling in his eyes at the sight of his only surviving daughter. Ragnar approached her with slow steps, as if he was afraid she would vanish if he approached to quickly. "Little (Y/n)." He smiled taking in the sight of her. "Not so little any more." He remarked with a grin, his eyes casting to her left where Ivar sat, his pointer finger curled around (Y/n)'s, something they had done since birth for comfort. "Hello Ivar." Ragnar smiled down at his youngest son, and for a moment Ivar mirrored his smile, until (Y/n) suddenly shoved Ragnar away. The crowd grew deathly silent, watching the scene unfold before them.

"You left me." She hissed lowly, looming over her father. "I didn't-." Ragnar tried, but she stalked forward, putting her face into his. "You left me for dead." (Y/n) growled quietly, fire practically glowing within her emerald orbs. "I thought you had died." He argued. "I called out to you, I screamed so you would hear me. And yet you left me to burn in that dragons fire." Her gaze cast to the two strange men accompanying the King. "Let me guess, this is the boy you took in after you abandoned me?" She accused, Ragnar's eyes shimmering with shame. "You left all of us, but you would raise this stranger as if he were your own." She scoffed. "You think we did not know? That we didn't keep an eye on you? That we wouldn't hear about the young warrior claiming to be another son of King Ragnar?" She straightened her back, looming over her father once more. "You are no King, and you are no father, you are just an old man wallowing in self pity." She hissed before turning her back on him.

"I am your father, and I am your King!" Ragnar yelled, his anger only fueling (Y/n)'s rage. She quickly spun on her heel, and Björn tried catching her arm as she moved to swing. He failed in holding her back, instead he only pulled two of her rings off before her fist collided with Ragnar's jaw, the warn man fell to one knee, blood oozing from his lip. "You stopped being my father when you left me for dead, and you are a worthless King that even the Gods do not recognize." Her voice boomed over the crowd, and as quickly as she had said that, she stormed off. Shoving her way through the crowd, unaware of her brother's following her. Björn crouched down to pick up (Y/n)'s rings, which had fallen to the ground. While Uhtred and Osferth helped Ragnar to his feet, despite the old King's demands to be left alone. "You are not the man I once knew." Björn commented as he rose to his feet, looking his father in the eyes. "Like (Y/n)... I cannot forgive you for what you did to her." He added before walking away, intent on joining his siblings again.

(Y/n) began her trek into the woods, her sword secured to her hip, and her large grey cloak fastened around her shoulders. "Princess wait a moment." Uhtred called out as he and Osferth jogged after her into the woods. "Why should I even speak to you?" She glowered at the man, who looked almost sheepish before her. "I'm sorry." He offered, which only confused her. "Why are you sorry?" She questioned. "Because of your father." He explained. "I am not angry at my father for raising you... I am angry that he so easily abandoned me and my brothers. And yet instead of coming home, with or without you, he stayed out there and pretended as if he wasn't a King, as if he didn't have his own children to care for." She turned away and began walking again, only for the men to follow her. "You said he left you for dead? I had assumed he left you here with your brothers." He spoke up again, his words causing her to stop again. "My father took me with him when he ran away from Kattegat, I was to young to understand what was happening." She pulled her hood down, properly observing the two.

"I was with him for two years, we lived in a cabin far from here. One evening while he was out hunting a dragon descended upon the cabin. It set the cabin on fire while I was trapped inside, I cried out for my father to save me, but he never came. The dragon had left as quickly as it came, and I was left alone to burn alive." The smaller of the two grimaced at her words. "I found myself trapped in the best place however, as the smoke could not reach me. When part of the wall finally crumbled to the ground, I crawled as best I could out of the cabin. I was weak, and burnt badly. The sky was dark by this point, and my father nowhere in sight." She licked her lips before continuing. "I did the only thing I could think to do, I wept for the Gods. Praying that one of them would hear me, and offer me aid. The wolf God Fenrir heard me, and sent his sons Hati and Sköll to aid me. They found me and used what little magic they could to mend my wounds, which did very little, but it kept me alive long enough for them to bring me home."

She pulled to cord of her cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground. "They ran for seven days and eight nights with me atop Hati until they reached Kattegat. They broke into my families long house, with me on the brink of death, and the moment my mother laid eyes on me she knew what had happened. For she dreamt about it the very same night it happened. She sent for healers from far and wide, and with their help I was nurtured back to health. I bare the scars of my father's negligence, and can never forgive him for it." She turned her back to the men, and quickly swept her shirt up to show them, the mass amount of burnt skin stretched across the expanse of her back. "Gods." Uhtred muttered under his breath, the both of them stunned by the sheer amount of tattered skin, each wondering how she could survive such a thing. The sound of a branch snapping caught their attention, and just as her brothers walked into view (Y/n) dropped her shirt, now facing her brother's.

"You are going to see him aren't you? To pay tribute?" Ubbe asked as she picked up her cloak. "I am." She nodded her head in agreement. "We're coming with you." Björn stated. "Why?" She wondered. "We wish to give thanks to the ones who saved you." Ivar cut in, moving around Ubbe to sit at her feet. "Hvitserk, Sigurd, why are you coming? Neither of you have ever seemed to care much about me." She tilted her head, her words making Hvitserk scoff. "You are still our sister." Sigurd argued. "We care more deeply than you think." Hvitserk added. "Okay... You can all come with me." She smiled at her brother's, her gaze casting to Uhtred and Osferth when Uhtred cleared his throat. "Who are you going to see?" He questioned. "Fenrir wolf." Her words stunned them both for a moment. "We shall come as well." Uhtred insisted. "And why is that?" (Y/n) questioned. "I feel that we must." He vaguely explained, making (Y/n) arch a brow at him.

"If that is what you wish, then so be it." She turned her attention then to Ivar. "I shall carry you Ivar, this is a long journey, and I do not wish for you to suffer." She knelt before him. "So you shall suffer instead?" Ivar argued stubbornly. "I will happily suffer for you dear brother." She assured him, before playfully bumping her forehead against his. Only turning her back to him when he grinned at her, and effortlessly she hoisted her twin onto her back, and rose to her feet. "We will not be back until tomorrow evening." She warned them, half expecting Uhtred and Osferth to turn back. A faint grin ghosting her lips when they continued to follow her lead deeper into the woods. "I didn't expect Fenrir to be so close to Kattegat." Uhtred remarked. "He isn't. But one of the passageways to him is." (Y/n) explained, the entire encounter leaving Osferth confused in his silence, though he continued to follow his friend regardless of his doubts.

← Previously | Continue →

◈ Part 1.) | Part 2.) |

⚜ Leave a comment and let me know what you think, and if you'd like to be tagged in future parts of this story. - Jaded Monkey🐒

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oblivionsdream · 3 months

Note

Hey @oblivionsdream !

I have 2 questions - bear with me…

As you know, I love your work, but have only just recently started actively engaging with it.

I actually first came across you and your Jester x knight OC’s at least a year or two ago, when a fellow DinLuke shipper tagged it with #dinluke, so it showed up on my feed. If you aren’t into Star Wars and are unfamiliar with it - that’s the romantic pairing between Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) and Luke Skywalker.

For a while, I actually thought that it was a medieval DinLuke au because there are quite a few fanarts exploring that ship in different universes (including ours) and different timelines, etc.

One of the things that lent credence to this idea was the fact that the king looks so much like the Jedi, Quinlan Vos.

The characters do also closely match the personalities that a lot of the fandom have collectively given Din and Luke on tumblr - like Luke actually being a feral mischievous gremlin underneath his serene Jedi facade, and Din actually being the more composed (and often lovingly exasperated) of the two.

It was a surprise when I looked more into it and realised that they are original characters, completely unrelated to DinLuke and Star Wars as a whole.

So I guess I’m just curious what was the inspiration behind the Jingly Menace and his steadfast, taciturn knight? Was it a song or a meme or just watching a medieval show and during a scene with a jester, you had a sudden burst of creative juices like “Eureka! Pretty jester x hot knight!”

Sorry if you’ve already answered this and I’ve just missed it while scrolling through your page.

My other question (this I know has been queried to JM himself but he nervously evaded the question) when JM is shown crying in one of the first pictures you posted of him, what was the actual reason that you had in mind behind it? Was it just simply because his attempts to get the hot mysterious knights attention had thus far been unsuccessful (from his perspective anyway) and he succumbed to a private moment of vulnerability?

Every time I look at it, I’m dying to know!

Anyway, love you! Hope the JM comic is still on the horizon at some point - coz I would buy and read the crap out of it!

Hey there!

I honestly had no idea what DinLuke is though I've seen the tags. My knowledge of Star Wars comes from whatever I have absorbed against my will being online and when my best friend made me watch the prequels a few years ago 😂

So Jester solely came to be because I've loved jesters for many years at this point. I just find them fun but there's never enough content for them out there so I just wanted to make my own oc. I also just love trickster characters- anything fae like or I always adored Loki in Norse mythology so he's very based into those kind of mischievous vibes and humor.

Augustine was purely accidental. I saw some Tumblr post about a knight or maybe it was about a jester and a knight (I no longer remember) so I thought it would be funny to doodle Jester with a random knight being a menace asking him about his big sword. Augustine was never supposed to be a character. But then I just kept coming up with other ideas for Jester and this random knight whose face he never saw and whelp here we are.

Soooo the crying. It was definitely a private moment no one else was supposed to witness. Part of something I find interesting with playing with Jester's character is the idea that sometimes the seemingly happiest and funniest people are also the saddest but they just cover it up with a smile. His backstory before coming to the castle is still something that affects him but also he feels lonely at court. He constantly craves the validation of attention he didnt really get as a kid and is constantly surrounded by people but also he feels very lonely in court. He is in a strange place of being neither noble but also not quite a commoner/servant. Nobility will look down on him and not take him serious because he's just a silly guy but the servants are wary to get too close because of his close relationship with the king and the fact that he technically has a higher status as Court Jester. He is one of Monty's closest confidantes but his own secrets keep him from being fully honest with his king. It's a strange place of feeling alone in the middle of a crowded court where everyone sees his silly jester persona and make up but no one sees beneath it.

I still hope to make a comic! Just trying to find the time to get all my ideas in order. Thanks for liking my silly guys!

#foolknight #jesters a bit angsty #something something about jester hiding behind the mask of his persona while augustine wears an actual mask #thanks for the ask!

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rt8815 · 2 months

Text

Come Home

Dipping my toes back into writing with my very first Loki x OC fic, though she (Dr. Aspen Junge) only makes a brief appearance at the end of this piece.

It's post-Avengers canon divergent. I'll be jumping around non-chronologically, but perhaps not as much as my Criminal Minds OC fic.

A special thanks to @illegalcerebral for brainstorming names for my OC with me and for being an awesome sounding board ♥️

WC: 1,153

...

New York, 2030

Loki mumbled to himself, brow furrowed in concentration. He sat at his desk, sorting through forms and intelligence reports that Stark had sent earlier in the day. Being an Avenger involved a surprising amount of paperwork.

“Daddy?” a tiny voice called out from the study door. There stood Loki’s four year old daughter, her face slightly paled with tiredness.

Setting the papers aside, he opened his arms to her. “Why are you out of bed, lille venn?” he asked when she climbed into his lap.

“Fenny can't sleep,” she explained, handing him the wolf plushie that she had been clutching against her ribs.

“Mmm, and what's troubling him, Astrid?”

“We’re worried about Uncle Thor. Is he okay?”

“Why do you ask, love?”

She pointed at the window, which was getting steadily pelted with rain and sleet.

“His storm sounds sad, Daddy,” she explained, leaning her head against his shoulder. “It’s not loud like usual.”

Loki agreed that it looked rather miserable outside, all drizzly and gray.

“You miss him,” he stated simply, earning a solemn nod in response.

Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head back, revealing her melancholic face.

“It’s kind of you to be concerned about your Uncle Thor, but this,” he inclined his head toward the rain, “isn’t him. Asgard is too far away for him to influence the weather here.”

“Oh,” came her soft reply.

He brushed a few inky black, wavy locks off her face. “As for missing him...I know it’s hard to wait, but Thor will return soon.”

“How soon?”

“Two sleeps, darling.”

Astrid gazed blankly at the rain, digesting the information. “So...day after tomorrow.”

“Correct.”

She buried herself in her father’s chest with a huff. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Loki chuckled, nuzzling her hair.

“All right, back to bed with you,” he ordered as he stood from his chair and carried her down the hall. “We have a busy day ahead of us, and if you aren’t well rested, you’ll be as ornery as a bilgesnipe.”

Kneeling, he gently placed Astrid on her bed, but she sat back up before he could tuck her in. Loki raised his brows at her questioningly.

“Daddy, can we sing “Come Home” for Uncle Thor? Please?” she begged.

Loki hesitated. The song he had written many years ago in a bout of homesickness was meant to be sung by the weary traveler, not those awaiting his return. Moreover, it held very complicated feelings for him. His daughter, however, knew none of that.

Astrid’s hazel eyes rounded and her lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, pulling at Loki’s heartstrings.

Norns, that child had him wrapped around her fingers. He sighed in resignation.

“Very well, but not too loudly. We mustn’t wake your Mother.”

“Okay,” she whispered, waving her hands about, leaving behind a trail of teal sparks. “And you can use your ‘llusions too?”

Loki carefully enveloped Astrid’s hands in his own. “With your help,” he said, smiling when her face lit up.

“Focus,” he instructed. “Think of the object you wish to project. See it in your mind's eye. Do you have it?”

Astrid stared with comical intensity at their joined hands, a little dent forming on her forehead. “Got it,” she announced after a few moments.

“Good, keep concentrating,” he instructed as he opened his hands, prompting her to do the same.

Resting in Astrid's palms was a narrow insect nearly an inch long, with black wings accented by yellow along the edges, and a yellow-red-black target pattern on its head. As Loki watched, the creature unfurled its wings and took off, hovering a few inches in the air.

There the black and yellow underbelly was exposed, the latter of which began glowing at regular intervals.

“It's a lightning bug!” Astrid announced proudly.

“I see! Very well done,” Loki congratulated her.

“Thanks! Your turn, Daddy.”

“I don't know how I could possibly follow that performance, but I shall try.”

Closing his eyes, Loki slowly raised his arms, palms upward. Rich green light emanated from them, spreading throughout the room, replacing the furniture and bookcases with a verdant forest, teeming with wildlife.

A (quietly) roaring waterfall appeared where a lamp stood moments before, the stream it emptied into bubbling alongside Astrid's bed. Above them towered a majestic apple tree, its branches populated with vibrantly colored birds.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Ready.”

Music softly swelled around them as they began the chorus, altering the tune to that of a lullaby:

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

After a pause, Loki took the lead for the verse, his warm baritone voice settling over the room like a cozy blanket.

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

Og synger…

Loki gestured to Astrid, inviting her to finish the line.

She looked skyward, her fledgling soprano filling the air as she sweetly sang, “når kommer du hjem?”

They repeated the chorus once more, softly clapping to the beat of the fading music.

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

With a flick of Loki’s wrists, the illusion dissolved and Astrid’s room returned to normal.

“Right, you. Sleepy time,” he said firmly, pressing his index finger to her forehead, prompting her to fall back theatrically onto the pillows.

“Did Uncle Thor hear us, Daddy?”

Loki hummed as he tucked the covers around her.

“What do you think, Astrid?”

The little girl tilted her head, giving it careful consideration.

She nodded decidedly, hugging Fenny closely.

“I know he did.”

Loki smiled, lines crinkling around his eyes.

“That's what I believe too,” he agreed, kissing the top of Astrid's head.

Sleep finally began to win, Astrid’s eyelids drooping heavily.

“God natt, Pappa,” she yawned.

Loki’s chest squeezed hearing her speak in Frigga’s dialect.

He waved his hand once more, casting an illusion of stars and swirling galaxies on the bedroom ceiling.

“God natt, min skatt,” he replied as he closed the door softly.

He walked past the study on his way to the primary suite (the paperwork would keep), pausing outside the bedroom door.

“Heimdall?” he murmured. “Tell Thor a little girl is desperately missing her uncle.”

Creeping quietly, Loki made his way to the bed to slide under the covers and wrap his arm around Aspen.

“Ya big softie,” she mumbled, pointing to the silent video feed on the baby monitor.

Loki chuckled in response. There was no point in denying it.

He pulled her closer and burrowed his face in her hair.

“Only for the two of you.”

...

I headcanon that Asgardian sounds more Icelandic, and Vanir, which I assume Frigga would have spoken as a first language, would more closely resemble Norwegian, since that's the language they used in the Loki series.

Lille venn translates to "little friend," or in the context of a parent speaking to a child, it means "little darling."

God natt means "good night."

Min skatt means "my treasure."

#loki fanfic #loki x oc #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki x kids #Dad!Loki #I'm too old to be up this late #night night world #i hope that fucking mosquito in my room dies a painful death #completely irrelevant to the story but it's the reason i haven't gone to sleep yet #loki fluff

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gullableh · 4 months

Text

•★ SICK🌌🪐

JULIAN. LOKI X MALE! READER.

★•° Warnings : boy x boy, cringe, very fluffy,

Swear words, fruity af. Crack treated, like seriously crack treated

Reader is a simp.

Highschool AU

(I'm not good in french even though I got a 9-

I will use Google Translate mostly. So if youre reading this and you're french, im sorry if i made a mistake or two, you can correct me if I'm wrong ^^)

★•° summery :reader and Julian supposedly had a date. But sadly reader got sick and couldn't come. So Julian decided to pay his lovely boyfriend a quick visit, just a quick one...

★•° a fluff story so no dirty thoughts.

• usage of pet names

• relationship goals

• probably ooc since I'm not the best in writing oc

Music you could listen to while reading:

------------------°•©

Écoute chérie;

Vendredi sur Mer

The moon will sing;

Angus & Julia stone

Back to the old house;

The Smiths

Lamp;

Yume Utsutsu

(Enjoy ^v^)

----------------------

Readers pov:

*Sigh*

This. Was. The. Worst. Oh you wanna know what happened? Oh well you probably already had read the summery, you still want me to tell? Okay sit down and listen carefully. Also next time read the summery some people aren't as generous as me to explain why my day is ruined. And the people who have read the summery. Good job here have a cupcake *gives the cupcake to you* ^v^

Anyways where was i? Oh yeah, listen carefully...

It was any normal day, I woke up went to school met up with my lovely boyfriend🥰

And I remembered after school we have a date, great right? Well I'm not finished.

After school I went ahead to go home and get prepared for my date with my boyfriend.

I got home, had an outfit ready, and I was about to go when suddenly.

*Chough* *Chough*

I have no idea if mothers have mother senses (it would be cool if they did) but as if she had a spidersense of her own she grabbed my arm, shut the door and made me sit on the couch.

Then she went on a full on ten minute long lecture about how I was sick and that I should stay home. Wait stay home? But I was about to go on a date. Mother couldn't possibly do this to me, oh but she could.

Well anyways, now I'm here in my room, in my bed all depressed because I couldn't hang out with my boyfriend )': I had already told him, well, texted him that I wasn't able to attend our date since I was SiCk. Oh please, as if I would die.

I was moping in my bed all pouty, from disappointment because I couldn't see my boyfriend, but also from pain. (stupid migraine) It was I think around somewhere in the night, after dinner. when I heard something. I stopped moping and listened carefully where that sound came from

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

It was as if someone was knocking against glass, again I stayed quiet and listened attentively

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

Wait it sounded like it came from my window. I got up from my bed, fear slowly creeping up, I went to my bedroom window, and shoved the curtens to the side slowly, and then i saw....

Third person pov:

There he was, Julian Loki Infront of your window, the best soccer player in your school, also one of the kindest people in your school. And most importantly, your lovely boyfriend that you where thinking about the entire day.

A smile made its way to youre lips, but confusion was visible on [readers] face. What was he doing here, it's somewhere between eleven o' clock and twelve o' clock, shouldn't he be home alseep? Worry was also evident on the boys expressions. [Reader] quickly opened the window and let him in.

"Julian what are you doing here?"

"Mon chéri, sorry I wanted to come here earlier but my mother wouldn't let me out of the house."

He said with a sweet and gentle smile towards you. You see why I'm so smitten over this guy?

Julian is always so sweet and gentle, he's like that towards everyone, but towards you he is even more gentle.

"Speaking of, why are you up so late?

You said you where sick, you should be resting Mon amour."

He said, he spoke with such a gentle tone, it was angelic, he was an angel that's why. He ushered you to bed like a mother would to their child. And you being such a simp for you're boyfriend, obliged and laid down on you're bed. Oh yeah did I tell you that he had a bag with him, well he laid the bag on the ground and started to rummage trough the supplies in the bag. He grabbed what seemed like medicine and food, that could help [reader] with his sickness.

"I also might have paid a quick visit at the infirmary."

He said with a smile that could blind you because of how bright it was. He grabbed a container with some liquid stuff, probably soup.

"Have you already eaten? It would be great if you did, but that would mean I bought this for nothing"

He said with yet again, another blinding smile.

Because of the stupid migraine and the fact that the sickness made you not hungry, you nodded you're head a no. You where indeed hungry but because of the sickness, you felt like throwing up everytime you're nostrils smelled the slightest bit of food.

"I'm not hungry, thank you Julian but there was indeed no need"

That was a big ass lie, and the both of you knew that all to well, he looked at you with a worried expression, yeah there was no way that he didn't know I was lying

"Mon chéri please tell me the truth"

Yup, now I feel guilty about lying yippie :'D

I took a deep breath and told him the truth, that shows how much of a sucker I am for this man. He again looked at me with a worried expression on his face.

"très chère chérie, if you want to get better you should eat healthy things, i don't like seeing you sick and in pain."

He gave me a sweet smile, but behind that smile was clear that he was still very worried.

I smiled at him back with as much gentleness.

"Im sorry Julian, I didn't exactly mean to lie, it just kinda slipped-"

"It's all right Mon amour, just please don't lie to me like that again."

He cut me off before I could even properly apologize, I smiled at seeing his gentle smile reapearing on his lips again. He grabbed the container with the liquid stuff in it, he opened the container and low and behold chicken soup. He grabbed the plastic spoon that was in the container with the soup.

"Open you're mouth mon chéri I'll feed you."

He said with a smile as if he didn't say the most flustering thing, I felt my face heat up specifically my cheekbones. The spoon with the chicken soup was right Infront of you're mouth, slowly you opened you're mouth a bit, until it was wide enough for the spoon to fit, for some reason this felt so embarrassing even if there weren't any people around, it was just so embarrassing being fed by someone. A while later and the soup was finished, you felt a bit better now that you weren't hungry anymore, but the migraine was still haunting you. Luckily you're savior in need is here to help you from you're misery.

Julian again rummaged trough his bag that he had brought along with him, he let out a small 'aha' as if to say that he had found something. He brought the thing out of the bag and let me have a closer look, it was painkillers, he really though of everything.

"I've brought some painkillers."

He wouldn't stop smiling, as I said such a sweet angel. He gave you the painkiller and abit of water to drink with, in one swift motion you chugged the painkillers with the water down in one sip. The painkillers where helping a bit but not as much as to make it completely go away.

"My head still hurts"

"Would you like me to massage you're scalp Mon amour?"

Definitely did not expect him to suggest that, but who would say no to that offer? So you nodded youre head with a smile and gestured for him to sit next to you on the bed, I patted the empty place beside me, he made his way towards me and then sat next to me on the bed. He laid my head down on his chest, so that he could carefully massage my scalp while I was in a comfortable position. My head was laying on the side where his heart was, his heart beats where so soothing I could just fall asleep. Not long after did his hands began to gently massage my head, all of this was so very calming I could already feel myself geting tired and sleepy slowly and slowly.

"Is this alright mon chéri? If you're uncomfortable just tell me alright?"

I was already half asleep so I just let out a small 'hmm' so that he would know that I was still listening to him. He laughed at my tired state, he looked so adorable while laughing.

"Goodnight mon vie"

He said before giving youre lips a small peck. Not caring if he would get sick later, all he cared for now was that you where comfortable and safe. The rest didn't matter all that matter to him was you.

Fin:D

★°•BONUS+

THE NEXT DAY

you woke up from a very nice dream, you felt much much better after last night, guess Julian took very good care of you. you expected to wake up in you're own bed wich you did, but you specifically woke up in someone's arms, Julian's arms. he was still sleeping, so the ever so kind boyfriend you are, you let him have his rest and sleep. And seems like he had it enough because not even a minute after you woke up, was he starting to wake up. His eyelids slowly lifted up, revealing his golden brown eyes. They look so beautiful in the morning. He looked at you before a smile was forming on his lips, how cute this moment was.

"Morning mon soleil"

Two boys waking up from eachothers arms, oh how adorabl-

*Chough* *chough* *chough*

That was not me I swear. Oh it was julian, seem like he got invected when he kissed you goodnight last night....

Well then, atleast now you could repay him back with taking care of him this time.

Fin (fr this time)

-----------------------

This was so crack treated and cringe, I apologize if you felt second hand embarrassment-

#blue lock #x reader #blue lock nel #male reader #x male reader #julian loki #pxg #sickness #taking care of each other #cuties

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morally-grey-variant · 5 months

Text

love is a dagger [loki x oc] [part three]

loki x oc

part three

[master post]

Setting: Agent Grey Forrest can’t quite reconcile her alliance with Loki. After six months of regular hand-to-hand combat and close-weapons training, they’re not quite friends but can’t exactly stay away from each other. Everything changes the day Loki accidentally stabs Grey during a training exercise.

Summary(3): Loki bares his teeth. Grey bears the weight of his guilt. Wolves are not born cruel; they lash out when danger is thrust upon them. All monsters deserve love – even if all they have known is fear. (wc 3.1k)

Warnings: Later episodes feature dark & explicit themes -- Minors DNI. Freshly stitched-up wounds, pain, implied self-harm themes (no descriptions or direct references), general angst, swearing, inferences of past trauma, non-explicit nudity (if I've missed something please let me know!)

Showering is a kind of bliss and torture in and of itself. The stitches pull as I lift my hands above my head to release my ponytail. Scrubbing shampoo into my long, dark hair means I'm forced to curl into myself and tuck my elbows into my sides. This won’t heal quickly, and I'm going to have to learn to work around it. Might as well start now.

Soap slides down my torso and over the puckered seam; I tip my head back in a silent scream, the sharp sting paralyzing my entire body.

Some tough agent I am.

But the scalding hot water on my scalp, scrubbing dried blood off my face and hands and everywhere, is enough to make it worth it. When I finally step out of the bathroom, a trail of lilac-scented steam in my wake, Loki is still there. Waiting for me.

I wish I'd picked cuter pajamas. Comfort eclipsed cuteness, though, and my old gray t-shirt and loose flannel pajama pants are as much as I could manage after the painful effort of shimmying into a loose green bralette. My hair clings to the back of my tee, leaving a big wet patch.

Leaning back in my desk chair, Loki stares deeply into the middle distance. He's somewhere far away, deep in thought as he clenches the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white.

“That's my only chair,” I say. “If you break it, I don't think they'll give me another.”

He eases his grip. His gaze loosens, and those green eyes drift to me, considering each piece of my pajamas. “Did you re-dress your … wound?”

I shake my head. “And I don't suppose you'd know how to wrap hair in a towel.” I sigh, sinking onto the edge of my mattress. Leaning forward, I dab my white bath towel against my dark, wavy locks in dismay.

Towel bunched up in my lap, I close my eyes and let my head fall into my lap with a small groan. The pain is absolutely killing me now. I shouldn't have gotten the stitches wet in the shower, soap drips notwithstanding, but there's no way I could've gotten into bed without washing up first. Wiping myself down with a wet washcloth wouldn't have worked, either – too much reaching and straining.

I focus on taking deep, calming breaths, the counselor’s words echoing in my head. Square breathing, just like music class in grade school – breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold.

Deep breaths stretch out my ribcage. Another involuntary groan slips out. Fuck.

“Grey.”

Loki sounds closer, and I’d like to think I’d forgotten his presence in my self-indulgent suffering, but there’s no way I could ignore the way his presence fills up my tiny bedroom. I hum a noncommittal response. I want to lift my head to look at him, but my head might as well weigh a hundred pounds.

There's a tug against the towel, and Loki pulls it out of my lap. Gingerly, he drapes it over the back of my neck, letting it fall forward over my hair. He gathers it up in front, and with a subtle twist, wraps the towel around my hair and tucks it back behind my head.

“Woah,” I laugh softly, finally letting my head lift. “How–”

One side of Loki's mouth turns up in a thin-lipped grin of acquiescence. “Thor,” he explains simply, his smirk deepening as some memory floats to the surface. “If you tell anyone, he'll have my head for it.”

I can't help but laugh. Loki is warm and familiar when he wants to be, like a reluctant housecat. I'm overcome with an urge to wrap my arms around him and drink in all that dark warmth.

The laugh rubs my shirt against the wound, and I flinch.

Loki's face drops. It cracks me open from the inside.

“I'm fine, Loki,” I say, forcing myself not to curl an arm around my torso. “Really. It'll probably scar, but it's not that bad. I'm fine.”

He shoves the chair back with a flick of his wrists, suddenly towering over me. “It’s not fine.” Loki's eyes darken, his brow creasing. The chair rattles backwards on an unsteady wheel and bangs against the side of the desk. A chill sweeps over me. “Stop saying you're fine, Grey. I think you've forgotten that I stabbed you today. You're not fucking fine.”

“Don't break my fucking chair if you're having a tantrum,” I frown, though I don't bother standing. I won’t fight with him. “You didn't stab me, idiot. It was a training exercise. I didn't get out of the way fast enough. If you'd stabbed me, I'd be in a drawer underneath the hospital by now.”

His eyes flash knowingly before he whips around, practically stomping away from me. He can't go far in the tiny room, and his march to the window would almost be comical if it didn't fucking kill me to see him this upset. I wouldn't treat the god with kid gloves, though. He could handle my anger.

One arm braces above his head as he leans against the full-length window, staring out at the darkening landscape below. The half-moon reflects onto his pale, brooding face. His hood bunches up around his shoulders, pushing his dark curls forward from where he's tucked them behind his ears. He's trying to calm down, too.

“You're exactly right, you know.”

Something in his tone sends a shard of ice through my chest. He doesn't break his stare, watching the world spread below us, though I know he's not really seeing anything.

“I'm ending your training.” He continues coldly, his voice flat and businesslike. As if he's ordering coffee. “This has gone far enough.”

“Loki–” I protest, pinching the skin on the back of my arm. “That's not fair. I have a say in this, too. I'm not going off to war. We're sparring in a padded room. No one else will train with me–”

He whips around, face contorted in horrifyingly inhuman fury. His hands ball up into fists at his sides. “Do you know the last agent I fucking stabbed, Grey?” He seethes through clenched teeth. A muscle in his jaw flexes, twitching up through his temple. “I killed Phil Coulson. Stabbed him in the fucking back.”

His eyes glaze over, the whites now run through with pinkish-red. He spits his admission through his teeth like a snake spitting venom. The things that haunt him in the middle of the night, that he wishes he could bury deep and let them rot in his heart forever. But they forever lurk just beneath the surface. When he looks at me, he sees Coulson.

“I know, Loki. I’m not afraid of you.”

SHIELD agents learn about Loki the moment they ask to work directly with the Avengers. We learn about all the Avengers, sure – Cap's brave sacrifice, Tony's arrogant but self-sacrificing genius, Thor's god-like might – but they’re obsessed with Loki. The training videos have something of a “keep your enemies closer” vibe that would make you think he's some bloodthirsty supervillain. Loki murdered Agent Coulson in cold blood. Loki tried to conquer Earth to spite his brother. Loki lies and cheats and stabs people in the back.

Well, he only stabbed me in the front.

“I'm not afraid of you.” My voice is even and calm. “Sit down, Loki.”

He doesn't move a muscle. If I didn't know better, I'd think he wanted to slap me.

“Coulson's alive,” I continue, shrugging with all the nonchalance I can muster. “And you can't end our training. You don't just get to decide things for me.”

“Coulson is alive by chance,” Loki counters quickly. He's lost some of his fire, though. His muscles relax slightly, even if he's still obviously on edge. “And I do get to decide for you when you're putting yourself in danger.”

Now it's my turn to get angry. His words stoke the little ember that ceaselessly burns in my chest. I get to decide for you.

“Why do you care if I put myself in danger?” I shout, ignoring the way my ragged heart chafes in my chest.

“Because I care about you, you fumbling imbecile!” Loki shouts back, palms spread wide, face contorted in wretched agony. “I had to sit here and listen to your agony while you did something as simple as shower, knowing I am the cause of that pain. For weeks – likely for months – I will be forced to watch you suffer from afar because of my mistake.” The words pour out of him, uncontrolled and unfiltered. “Day after day, I'm subjected to loathsome glares and rightfully placed suspicion. I know quite well who I am, Grey. The God of Mischief; the Prince of Lies. An arbiter of human misery.

“I found the only soul whose face doesn't contort with hatred when they see me, and I sank a dagger into her chest.”

Loki's chest falls. His entire body slumps forward under the weight of his admission. He tugs his hands through his curls again, twisting away from me. “I must go,” he finishes, his words clipped. He hastens past me.

I snag the loose fabric of his sweatshirt as he tries to walk past me towards the door. “Don't you dare.”

He freezes mid-step. He obeys, though his head is still turned away from mine. My hand curls into the fabric with a tight fist; the weight of such a grip that might bring him to his knees.

“Don't you dare, Loki,” I repeat, still looking up at him though he won't meet my gaze. “Running away won't fix this.”

His chest shudders with a ragged breath.

“You want to drown in self-pity just because you made a mistake? Learn the difference between accidents and purposeful attacks, you fumbling imbecile.” I can't help but grin a little as I echo his frustrated insult. “If you leave now, not only am I going to have to deal with this on my own, but it's going to fucking hurt when I re-wrap this stupid thing. I earned this, so I get to deal with it on my own terms.”

I earned this. I deserve this.

He finally looks down at me. Red-rimmed green eyes leak small tracks of tears down his cheeks. That shatters the cracked thing inside my chest. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help take care of me,” I continue, clinging to his shirt and forcing my voice not to crack.

I chose to ally myself with the villain. The man – the god – no one else will even go near.

“Stark will be furious if you forgive me.” Loki smirks down at me through his tears.

I earned this, because this is exactly what I deserve. Loki doesn’t get to decide who suffers and who grieves. He isn’t the only kicked dog here.

“Good. Maybe some disobedience will humble him.”

Loki rolls his eyes as he finally shifts, taking a step back and lowering himself to sit beside me on the edge of the mattress. “Humility is not a concept he recognizes, I'm afraid.”

The fallout from this will cause an avalanche. I wince as a mountain of potential consequences piles up in my mind. Faces flash through my mind as I picture just a few people who will need more than a little convincing that this accident was, indeed, an accident. Natasha. Nick Fury. Tony Stark. Thor. Natasha. Agent Coulson. Cap. Natasha. But for now, there are no consequences. As long as I can keep him safe in here with me, tucked away like a secret deep in my heart, we’re a universe of two.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Loki’s voice is gentler now. He's not crying – I doubt more than a few tears actually fell to begin with – but his demeanor softens considerably, even though he still seems on edge. Loki is more than a mere secret. He’s an earth-shattering whisper passed beneath hastened breaths. Deceptively silent. Taking up far less room than he deserves.

I care about you.

The words echo again. What exactly does that mean, though? A lingering hand on my thigh during training; his head cupping my face while the doctor stitched me up.

Loki isn't a villain.

“I’m imagining everyone I'm going to have to explain this to when I can't report for duty tomorrow,” I concede, shrugging. The small movement draws out another involuntary hiss of pain.

I deserve this.

“You didn't bandage it after your shower?”

I shake my head. “Too much… stretching. Getting dressed was hard enough.” I deserve this.

Loki pushes himself off the mattress, reaching to grab the bandages sent home from the medical wing. “Let me help you.”

My face goes bright red. Fuck. In my proud insistence that Loki stay to atone for his mistake, I forgot that helping me might mean… this again. I tug up the bottom hem of my t-shirt, exposing the wound to the air. Loki furrows his brow, glancing between my face and the stitched-up gash. “You should've let me do this right away.”

Oh, god. It's redder than ever, the skin puckered and inflamed around the black stitches. The shower and friction against my shirt have irritated it like crazy. I can feel my pulse in the bright red, raw edges.

I deserve this.

Loki gingerly lays gauze over the redness. The tips of his fingers brush against the skin just beneath it. My whole body shivers. He glances up, his face only inches from mine, before returning his diligent attention to his work. “Your hand is freezing,” I say quietly, hiding my embarrassment poorly. His hands are cold, but when his fingers brushed my bare skin...

“Sorry,” he mutters. A dark curl falls over his face as he holds one end of the long bandage roll over the gauze. The hem of my shirt slips from my fingertips, falling over the wound. “Hold still, darling.”

I barely fight the shiver that word sends through me. “Sorry,” I echo, barely breathing.

“Grey, are you… will you be… decent?” He stumbles around “are your tits out” as I nod hurriedly, though I instinctively pull my arms around my chest again. “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to remove your shirt again.” I swear to God that he's smirking just slightly as he says it, avoiding eye contact with me the whole time.

“Of course,” I answer, painting my pinched voice with as much sarcasm as I can muster. Because this is a joke, right? It has to be a joke. “I managed to get a bra on after the shower… just in case, I guess.”

Loki frowns again. “That explains much of your miserable whimpering.”

Oh. I didn't realize I'd been that loud.

“Just hold still,” he continues, brushing a hand against my waist. “Hold your arms up like earlier – yes, that's it,” he murmurs, tugging my shirt up and over my head. I'm sure every inch of my body has to be flushed pink by now. Not because I want him taking my clothes off. Absolutely not. No way.

The little monster in the back of my head grins wickedly. Because you absolutely fucking do.

I tip my head back, unable to keep watching. That only makes it worse. Now I can feel him with alarming clarity, every nerve in my body focused on his tender touches. I'm blindingly aware of my thin, forest-green bralette – some soft cotton thing that I picked because of the color name, and not because I've come to love the color green – as it clings to my skin, delicately cupping my small breasts.

“I'm sorry if I'm hurting you,” Loki continues in a low, clenched voice. “I'll be done in a moment.”

“It doesn't hurt,” I breathe, trying to stay as still as possible. The bandage – and his arm – loop around me, wrapping completely around my torso until he can grip the other side.

He encircles me with his arms. I can’t breathe.

Two long fingers press into my side, holding the cloth in place; I tip my head back, overwhelmed by the intimacy. His hands brush against my skin with every circle his hands make around my torso.

Surely he can hear my heart thundering against the inside of my ribs. It threatens to rip through my stitches and burst out through that fresh opening. Loki’s fumbled slice weakened the dam; if I’m not careful, I’ll pour out through the torn seams. A lifetime of painstaking restraint wells up behind a crumbling levee.

“All right.”

I tilt my head down. He's checking his handiwork, eyes downcast. Dark curls tumble forward as his head leans down, falling loose from their usual careful slicked-back style. I imagine myself brushing those curls back from his forehead, lifting his face to look at me, demanding he tell me exactly what he’s thinking. But nothing about my allyship with Loki has ever been so straightforward.

His impossibly broad left hand lightly rests against my right side, his long fingers stretched wide across my torso.

He lifts his eyes. The slight red remnants of his earlier outburst are fading, and the soulful eyes piercing my heart are so dark and ancient that I’m frozen in place. Some hint of a thought lingers on his slightly parted lips.

His dark eyebrows arch upward slightly; curiously.

My jaw softens, my comment or quip long forgotten. He notices, and his gaze drops to my jaw. No; to my lips. Oh.

Loki tips his head forward, brushing his lips against mine. He’s soft and hesitant, achingly restrained. Cautious.

I catch his lower lip between my own, pushing into him. He hums contentedly. The sound rumbles deep in his chest. Oh.

He slides his hand down to brace against my back, pulling me forward ever so slightly. Cupping my jaw, his long fingers sliding into my hair and beneath my ear and I’m lighting up at every touch. I relax into him, his cool fingers perfect against my flushed skin. I wrap my arms around his neck and wind my fingers into his curls. They're exactly as soft as I imagined they would be.

I've wanted this for longer than I would admit to myself. I've wanted Loki for months, wondered how his hands would feel and his lips would taste and his hair would twist between my fingers. Every aching hour spent sparring with steel and fists and sharp words and barbed grins, my wolf among the woods, the predator sharpening his prey.

My broken boy who burns the world just to spite the ashes.

If Loki is a monster, then let us be monsters together.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki god of mischief #tom hiddleston #loki smut #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #love is a dagger / fic #love is a dagger #loki fluff #loki laufesyon x reader #loki x oc #loki x reader #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki series #loki of asgard #mcu loki

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windrsr · 2 years

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Hi!! Is it ok if I order a fluffy to angst?? like, s/o is so fragile that one touch could almost kill him, so the darling tries to spend the last few seconds of his life just trying to make others happy. but the thing is the darling is slowly dying, and just wants the yanderes to be happy-

sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language (if possible use male reader)

Tw: Character death, Stockholm Syndrome, and reader gets sedated on Micheal's part.

(Male Yandere OCs x Male!Reader)

•Henry (Doll Maker) - He fulfills your wish by smiling and telling you, "oh, doll. You're everything I ever wished for." He kisses your forehead and is more gentle with you than usual for your last moments. When you finally lose the breath and slip away from the world, he wants to remember you by making you into the perfect doll.

•Micheal (Scientist) - "You were...an interesting experiment, pet. But unfortunately, your time is up..." That's probably the nicest thing hes ever said to you. He appreciates how you've been an excellent test subject, and how you were with him to the very end. But once he sees how your body is so weak and how you can barley stand someone's touch, he decides to put you to rest by permanently sedating you.

•Miru (Living Doll) - "D-does that mean that you have to go...? I don't want you to go, y/n!" He cries, but the last thing he wants is for you to remember him feeling bad. Instead, he wants you to remember him with a smile on his face for your final moments, which is what you wanted. The two of you do activities together, cuddle, and spend time together before finally slip away from this world.

•Ryan (Test Subject) - He can't protect you from this, and yet he still can't help but blame himself. He kisses your hand and says you always made him happy since day one. He tells you to not push yourself too hard to make him happy because you already do make him happy.

•Loki (Creature) - He can't smile because he doesn't have a mouth, but for your sake, he admits that he's happy with you, even when he doesn't show it. He doesn't feel anything about you dying, though. He knows he will be able to collect your soul and keep it forever after your passing, so you won't ever be apart.

•Aaron (Best Friend) - He would rather die with you than live without you. But he knows that's not what you wanted, so he puts that aside for your sake. You two go to places that you always wanted to go to, and take pictures so he can remember you when you pass away.

•Samuel (Fatherly) - He's beyond sad that you have to go, but he puts his emotions aside for your sake. He doesn't want you to remember him being in grief during your last moments. He puts on a soft smile, and promises that he will be with you for your last momets, how grateful he is to have someone like you. He coos sweet nothings when you would wince in pain, telling you that it will all be over soon, and you will be able to (permanently) rest soon.

•Tyler (Bounty Hunter) - He perfers to just kill you off to end your suffering, and he can't stand to see you like this. All he wants is to put you out of your misery. But he says to you that you always made him happy, and that you don't need to do anything else. He holds you close to his chest for your last moments.

#{all of them}#yandere oc #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere male #male yandere x reader #yandere #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x male reader #yandere x male reader

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beefromanoff · 4 months

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 20

summary: the mission, the safe house, the extracurriculars that follow.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: HAHAHAHA GUYS I fully did not intend for the story to go there today, but here we are. enjoy ;) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge @cjand10 @capswife

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

I padded out of the bathroom in my trusty pajamas, the soft cotton ones that I had packed specifically for "casual, inconspicuous, asexual lounging," as Natasha had put it. I ignored the barely-there lace set she’d somehow snuck into my suitcase when I wasn’t looking. Bucky was tossing a thin blanket onto the couch, trying to make it look suitable to sleep on. It looked about as comfortable as a slab of concrete, one of those pieces of furniture that’s clearly for fashion rather than function. Especially considering his size, there was no world in which he’d get a good nights’ sleep on that thing.

"Do you have something against comfort, Barnes?" I quipped as I leaned against the doorframe, watching him attempt to make the blanket fit across the length of the couch.

He glanced up, eyes flicking down over my pajamas, making me keenly aware of my lack of bra. "Just figured I’d be a gentleman, that’s all."

I crossed my arms, my eyebrow arching in amusement. "Come on, there’s a perfectly good bed here. And it's big enough for, like, three of me. Or two of you."

Bucky stood up, hesitating for a fraction of a second. "You sure? I’ve slept in worse ––"

"I’m sure. Besides," I continued, walking over to the king-sized bed and patting the mattress, "if one of us has a nightmare, the other can play the hero. You know, wake the other up before it gets too bad?"

"That’s... actually not a bad idea," Bucky conceded, though he still looked as if he were mentally measuring the distance between the couch and the bed.

The silence stretched for a moment before he finally picked up his pillow and made his way to the other side of the bed. "If you start stealing the blankets, though, I’m building a fort."

"I solemnly swear to keep my blanket thievery to a minimum," I said, my tone mockingly serious as I climbed into bed next to him.

We both settled under the covers, maintaining a respectful, almost comical distance between us. I lay on my side, facing away from Bucky, my eyes staring at the wall as if it might suddenly become interesting. All I could think about was the weight of his body on the mattress, pulling me towards him. The warmth of him. The way I could just roll over, touch him…

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and our synchronized breathing. Every once in a while, I could hear Bucky shifting, as if he were also wrestling with the awkwardness of the situation. We’d agreed on a cool 66 degrees for the room, both of us embracing the likelihood that we’d wake up from a nightmare, panicked and sweaty. A cool room was a small comfort, an easy thing to agree on. At this moment, it served to keep us both from getting too warm in our full pajamas. My full length set had felt nice after a shower, but now, under the covers, it felt cumbersome. Like I was wearing too much clothing. I wondered if Bucky felt the same in his sweatpants and t-shirt. My normal sleep attire was a tank top and underwear, far less than I was currently wearing. What did he sleep in? A faded shirt and boxers? Boxers alone? I propped myself up on my elbows, reaching for the glass of water on my nightstand, clearing the thought from my head as my cheeks flushed.

"Hey, Char?" His voice was soft in the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"If this were an actual date, I'd have said some smooth line about how you like your eggs in the morning.”

I chuckled, the sound muffled by my pillow. "Lucky for you, we’re just two spies in a bed. No lines necessary."

The tension seemed to ease a bit, and slowly, the space between us felt less like a wall we couldn’t cross. As sleep eventually claimed us, it was in a quiet understanding that for the first time in weeks, we weren't going to be alone with our nightmares.

And miraculously, neither of us had one.

When morning light spilled into the room, gently pulling me from the depths of an unprecedented peaceful sleep, I realized something had shifted—not just in the bed (which they had, by the way. I’d never seen such a violent sleeper, covers kicked off of his legs and one pillow on the ground), but perhaps in the silent agreement that we were in this mess together. I rolled over to face Bucky, whose eyes were already open, a trace of a smile on his lips.

"Morning," he said, the word simple, but not without warmth.

"Morning," I replied, feeling a surprising flicker of something like anticipation for the day ahead.

“Coffee?” his voice was gruff, tired. Sexy?

“Coffee.”

“I’ll call room service.”

“Suddenly I’m remembering why I married you.”

______

Under the blazing sun, Charlotte lounged in the cabana, her gaze fixed on the two men seated at a table by the poolside bar. The earpiece nestled in her ear crackled to life as Bucky's voice filled her senses. Today was the day that the sale was supposed to take place. Sure enough, their buyer and seller were exactly where they’d predicted. Bucky, not exactly able to lounge at the pool without exposing his metal arm and therefore, his identity, was watching from the roof of a nearby villa. High enough that no one would be able to see him, but close enough that he had a perfect view of Charlotte.

Charlotte in that thin, stringy black bikini. Charlotte, laying back against the chair, propped up in a way that had the muscles in her stomach taut. Charlotte, the one who’s heartbeat he’d fallen asleep listening to last night. He shook his head, pressing a hand to his earpiece.

"Alright, Char, what's the plan?" His tone was serious, willing himself to switch to mission mode.

Charlotte smirked, adjusting her sunglasses as she replied, "Just sit tight, Tin Man. I've got this under control."

Bucky huffed a laugh, the sound tinged with a hint of exasperation. "Just don't get…distracted," he narrowed his eyes as a particularly confident set of men in Speedos walked in front of her.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte scanned the scene before her, noting the men's movements. "Something tells me I’m not their type," she flipped a page on the magazine she was pretending to read, eyes still locked on their targets.

As one of the men pulled out a thumb drive, Bucky's voice grew more urgent. "They've got the goods. What's the play, Char?"

Charlotte's eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she formulated a plan. "Let me work my magic," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You got the camera ready?”

“Yes…” His skepticism was evident, but he tugged the small drone from his backpack. Flipping it on, he felt it rise from his hand with a near-silent whir, soaring down to a vantage point above the pool. It was one of Stark’s newer inventions, equipped with the same stealth mode features as the Quinjets. Even in direct sunlight like today, it was completely invisible to the naked eye, making it perfect to transmit the video footage in real time.

Bucky watched the scene below unfold. Both men leaned in over the table, clearly deep in conversation. One of them slid a small device, the zip drive, across the table. The other picked it up, examining it, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a thick envelope. Rounding the edge of the pool, Charlotte padded barefoot across the patio. She’d tied a sheer scarf around her hips, doing little to hide the skimpy swimsuit beneath. A sorry excuse for a cover-up, but one he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. She approached the men with calculated confidence, her smile coy. Holding eye contact with the buyer for just a fraction longer than normal politeness, she strode right by them and up to the bar. Leaning her elbows on the surface, she stuck her hips out ever so slightly. Both men clocked it, heads turned towards her backside.

She could feel their gazes like a physical touch, exactly as she'd intended. Keeping her expression casual, she signaled the bartender. “Mojito, please,” she requested, her voice a melodic purr that carried just enough to ensure the men behind her could hear.

The bartender nodded, setting to work. As he did, Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at the pool’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The buyer and seller were still staring, their conversation momentarily forgotten. Charlotte allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

“Put it on my tab.” A deep, mildly accented voice called from behind her. Bullseye.

When the bartender handed her the drink, Charlotte turned, making sure to force a blush into her cheeks “Oh, hi,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “You didn’t have to do that..”

The buyer—tall, with slicked-back hair and an expensive suit—smiled. “No problem at all,” he replied, eyes raking over her form, taking note of the absence of a ring on her left hand. The faux one she’d been given for the trip was sitting back on her nightstand. “Why don’t you join us? A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Charlotte’s smile widened. “Well, if you insist.” She slid into the empty seat, crossing her legs slowly. “What brings you gentlemen here?”

In her ear, Bucky’s voice crackled. “Careful Char,” he warned. She ignored him.

The men exchanged a glance. “Business,” the seller replied curtly. He was shorter, stockier, with a sharp look in his eyes that spoke of years spent dealing with shady transactions, things he didn’t speak freely about.

“Oh?” Charlotte arched an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. “What kind of business?”

The buyer leaned in, lowering his voice. “The kind that pays well. Really fucking well.”

Charlotte laughed softly, leaning onto her elbows in a way that pushed her chest forward. Neither of the men made an effort to pretend they weren’t looking. “Sounds like my lucky day.”

Bucky watched from his vantage point, his jaw clenched. Charlotte was playing her part perfectly, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him. He adjusted the drone’s angle from his phone ever so slightly, ensuring he had a clear view of the table. As much as he wanted to see the show she was putting on, the point of the footage was to capture their faces, so he positioned the drone behind her.

Charlotte ran a finger along the rim of her glass, her gaze fixed on the zip drive that remained loosely held in the buyer’s left hand. “That looks vintage,” she remarked, nodding towards the watch on the same wrist. “Are you a collector?”

The buyer’s smile widened. “You could say that.” He set the zip drive down on the table, reaching over to tug up the sleeve on his left arm, holding it up for her to see. “1975 Rolex, custom made. Worth a fortune.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened slightly, feigning interest. “Really? I’ve always been fascinated by watches. Mind if I take a closer look?”

The seller hadn’t taken his eyes off her chest since she’d leaned on the table, and the buyer, clearly taken with her, unfastened and handed it over. “Be careful with it, darling. It’s not something you come across every day.”

“Of course,” she marveled. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” A mischievous look in her eye that showed a bit more than innocence. Her fingers brushed against the buyer’s as she took the watch, the touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She continued to ooh and ahh turning the watch over in her hands, asking questions she couldn’t give less of a shit about just to keep the men distracted.

Bucky’s grip on his phone tightened. The look in both men's eyes…he knew exactly what they wanted. Even if Charlotte was a professional, even if she could hand their asses to them with one arm tied behind her back, even if she was only his wife for the sake of the mission…it made his blood run hot. He willed her to work faster, to get out of there before one of them got handsy and made him do something he’d regret.

After twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, the buyer was fastening the watch back on his hand, the seller scrawling a phone number onto a cocktail napkin. Charlotte was cradling her chin in her hands, making doe eyes as she thanked them profusely for her drink. When the napkin was handed to her, she held it to her chest as she stood, blowing them a kiss before turning and striding away. She winked as she turned, her smile teasing. “Don’t miss me too much.”

The men didn’t take their eyes off of her.

Bucky swore, swiftly making his way back to the room.

As soon as she was out of sight, she quickened her pace, switching from the exaggerated swing of her hips to a brisk walk.

“Buck,” She breathed, pressing a finger to her ear.

“I’m here,” His answer was instantaneous. “Are you okay?”

“Meet me at the room,” She tried to keep the grin out of her voice. “Hurry!”

When she slid the keycard into the lock and pressed the door open, Bucky was already there, pacing. He stopped when he saw her, relief flooding his features. “Did you get it?”

“What, is it my first mission or something?” She slid her fingers into the triangle of fabric covering her left breast, tugging out a small black zip drive. Tossing it to him, Charlotte held up a thick envelope with a grin. “And a little something extra,” she said, tossing it onto the table with a thud. “But we’re not in the clear yet. They’ll notice soon enough.”

“Char,” He shook his head as if he wasn’t sure whether to scold or commend her for the envelope of cash she’d somehow snuck out without a single piece of fabric on her body large enough to cover it. Letting out a small chuckle, he tossed the drive back to her. “Then let’s get out of here.”

They gathered their things quickly, filling their small suitcases and –– in Charlotte’s case, changing into something a little less revealing. With a crochet sundress slipped over her bikini, she tucked the zip drive into her purse and held the door open. Bucky, one suitcase in each hand, strode right through.

“Nice work,” Bucky said, his voice low as they walked. “You handled that perfectly.”

Charlotte smirked. “What can I say? I’m good at what I do.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you are. Now let’s get this back to Stark.”

“Wait,” She paused. “Give me ten minutes. Can you have the Quinjet on the roof of that villa by the pool?”

“Char,” His tone was warning.

“Ten minutes,” She was already walking away.

Bucky looked up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Where the hell are you going? We got what we came for.”

Charlotte held up a key card as she walked backwards. “This little beauty gives us access to Mr. Seller’s room. Who knows what other goodies we might find?”

“Charlotte, we can’t risk it. We need to get out of here now,” Bucky insisted, his voice tight with concern.

“Relax, Buck. I’ve got this. Just get the Quinjet ready and meet me on the roof in ten,” she waved him off, rounding the corner.

“Charlotte!” Bucky called after her, but she was gone, leaving him to swear under his breath. He had no choice but to follow her lead and hope she knew what the hell she was doing.

Charlotte moved through the resort with practiced ease, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She was thankful she put a dress on over the swimsuit, but admittedly could have opted for better shoes than the sandals she’d slid into. She slipped past other guests, too caught up in their own vacation to notice her at all. Sliding the key card into the lock, she felt a surge of triumph as the door clicked open.

Inside, she quickly scanned the room, her eyes landing on a sleek laptop and a burner phone on the desk. She grabbed both, stuffing them into her bag. As she turned to leave, she heard the unmistakable sound of security personnel approaching, an angry male voice giving them a description. Brunette, around 5’7, nice tits, upper twenties. Well, they got almost all of it right. Her pulse quickened, and she ducked out of the room, making a swift exit.

The resort was now teeming with security, their radios crackling with alerts about a thief on the property. Charlotte moved swiftly, weaving through staff hallways and down the staircases, her senses on high alert. Her head was down, eyes concealed behind sunglasses as she tried her best to be stealthy in the world’s least conducive footwear.

“Hey, you!” A voice called out from behind her. She didn’t stop to see who it was. “Excuse me, ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.”

Charlotte paused just long enough to turn around and give the approaching guard a bewildered look. She spoke in rapid French, her tone laced with confusion and a hint of panic. “Je suis désolée, je ne parle pas anglais! Je cherche ma chambre, où est la réception?”

The guard hesitated, thrown off by the sudden language barrier. He glanced around for backup, clearly unsure how to proceed. “Uh, ma’am, we just need to—”

“Merci, merci!” Charlotte interrupted, nodding vigorously before turning and continuing her hurried pace down the hallway. The guard, still unsure, didn’t pursue immediately, giving her the precious seconds she needed.

As she rounded another corner, she slipped into a staff-only hallway, ducking through a door that led to a service corridor. The walls were lined with cleaning supplies and utility carts, providing some cover as she moved. She could hear footsteps echoing behind her, growing closer.

Charlotte spotted a side exit leading to the outdoor pool area and darted through it, emerging into the bright sunlight. The sudden change in environment disoriented her pursuers momentarily, but she knew she had to keep moving.

“Ma’am, stop right there!” Another guard shouted, now joined by a second one. They were closing in.

Without missing a beat, Charlotte kicked off her sandals and broke into a full sprint, her bare feet slapping against the hot pavement. She zigzagged through the resort, dodging guests and weaving between loungers and pool chairs.

Her heart pounded as she approached the pool, diving over a low hedge and slipping through a narrow gap between two cabanas. She could hear the guards shouting, their frustration evident as they tried to keep up.

“Bucky, I need that Quinjet now!” she hissed into her comms, her voice low but urgent.

“On it,” Bucky replied, the hum of the Quinjet’s engines audible in the background.

Charlotte spotted the rooftop access door ahead, but so did the guards closing in on her. She raced up the final flight of stairs, her muscles burning with the effort.

Bursting through the rooftop door, she saw the Quinjet hovering just above, the hatch open and waiting for her. With a final burst of speed, she launched herself towards it, hands grasping the edge as she hauled herself inside.

Bucky reached out, pulling her up the rest of the way. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger.

Charlotte grinned, breathless but exhilarated. “I was thinking we could use a little more intel. And look what I found,” she said, pulling the laptop and phone from her bag.

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You could have been caught. Or worse.”

“But I wasn’t,” Charlotte winked, her tone light. “You worry too much, Buck.”

“That’s because you don’t worry enough,” he shot back, his voice edged with concern. “One of these days, your luck is going to run out.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, breathless and grinning. “But not today.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get out of here.”

As the Quinjet rose higher into the sky, Charlotte settled into her seat, her pulse finally starting to slow. She glanced over at Bucky, who was still fuming, his jaw set in a tight line.

“Hey,” she said softly, nudging his arm. “We did good today. And now we have even more to bring back to Stark.”

Bucky looked at her earnest smile, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah. We did.”

Charlotte leaned back, closing her eyes as the adrenaline began to fade. She knew Bucky was right—her risk-taking tendencies could be dangerous. But she also knew that without them, she sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten this far. It was a fine line to walk, but she was willing to walk it for the sake of the mission—and, if she was honest, for the thrill of it all.

The Quinjet sped across the sky to their rendezvous point, the cities below them all blurring together. It was just another day in their complicated, unconventional lives, but for Charlotte, it was a day well spent. And as she felt Bucky’s gaze linger on her, she knew that despite his frustration, he couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that her antics always seemed to ignite.

As they settled in for the rest of the flight, Bucky shot Charlotte a sideways glance, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You're something else, Char," he remarked, a wry smile betraying his stern tone.

Charlotte grinned back at him, her pulse still racing with the thrill of the chase. "Just trying to keep the spark alive.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“In our marriage,” She winked. “Duh.”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "If this is your idea of a marriage, I'm not sure I can handle the honeymoon."

Charlotte leaned closer, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, come on, you know you love it. Admit it, Barnes, you were on the edge of your seat watching me back there."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, on the edge of my seat ready to jump in and save your reckless ass."

"Please," she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I had everything under control. You worry too much."

Bucky's smile faded slightly, his expression turning serious. "And you don't worry enough. You can't just keep pulling stunts like that, Char. One day, you might not be so lucky."

Charlotte's playful demeanor softened for a moment. "I know, Bucky. But a very wise tutor of mine once told me to know the plan, but never be afraid to pivot during battle. And besides," she added, her grin returning, "isn't that why you love working with me? Keeps you on your toes."

He shook his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping his lips. "A wise tutor, huh?"

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll do my best.” He shot her a sidelong look. “No more stunts like these, okay? I’m too old for this shit.”

She saluted him with a mock-serious expression. "Aye aye, Captain. No more near-death experiences...for today."

Bucky rolled his eyes again but couldn't suppress his grin. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are, stuck with me," she teased, leaning back in her seat.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Char. I don't want to have to explain to Nat why we lost her favorite agent."

Charlotte placed a hand over her heart in a mock pledge. "I solemnly swear to be as careful as my reckless nature allows."

Bucky shook his head, but his eyes were warm. "That's a start."

______

An hour into the flight back to the compound, they’d received an incoming call from Agent Hill. Apparently the notorious Midwestern spring storms were looming in their path, making the normally simple flight a little more treacherous.

Bucky rubbed his jaw as he leaned against the console of the Quinjet, exchanging an exasperated glance with Charlotte. "Maria, what do you mean we can't fly? We're in the sturdiest fucking aircraft there is."

Maria Hill's voice crackled over the comms, her tone firm but sympathetic. "I know, Barnes, but we've got some bad storms rolling directly through your path. It's not safe to be up there right now. You need to find somewhere to land and wait it out until the weather clears."

Charlotte crossed her arms, frustration evident in her voice. "Agent Hill, we have intel we need to get to you. We’re so close to being home, just another two hours ––"

"I understand, Charlotte," Maria interrupted, her tone firm. "But your safety comes first. You won't be any good to us if you end up caught in a storm or worse. We received the drone footage from Sergeant Barnes, any other intel can wait until you get back tomorrow"

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's right, Char. We can't risk it."

Charlotte shot him a defiant look. "Where the hell are we supposed to go? Where even are we?"

Natasha's voice cut in over the comms, her tone calm but authoritative. "You’re over Oklahoma. I’d recommend detouring south to avoid the storm cell, hiding out in our North Texas safe house. I’ll send over the coordinates."

Bucky exchanged a resigned glance with Charlotte before nodding. "Fine. It better not be one of the shitty old ones."

"It’s one of Stark’s old vacation homes," Maria replied. "I think you’ll find it…comfortable. Just be safe, both of you. We'll regroup once the weather clears."

With a heavy sigh, Bucky switched off the comms, the tension in the cockpit palpable. They were so close to being back home, but now they were grounded by forces beyond their control. As Bucky scanned the horizon, the storm clouds loomed ominously in the distance, making Charlotte’s stomach flop. She’d grown up in a cold, frigid climate. Summer storms and tornadoes still made her uneasy, especially combining an unfamiliar environment.

But she wasn’t the captain, and they’d been given a direct order. Sighing, Charlotte leaned back in her seat, knowing there was no amount of insubordination that would get her out of this one.

As the Quinjet touched down in the field next to the large safe house, Bucky and Charlotte stared out the windshield, both sighing deeply. The rain was coming down in sheets, making visibility near zero. They could barely see the house thirty yards in front of them. With a sense of resignation, they grabbed the bags, hurried out of the Quinjet and dashed towards the safety of the house. The rain soaked them through in a matter of seconds as they sprinted across the yard.

They stumbled up the porch steps, clumsy and slipping, as they reached for the door handle, their soaked clothes clinging to their skin. Bucky punched in the security code, and with a click, the door swung open.

They practically tumbled inside, Bucky dropping both of their bags on the ground with a wet thunk. Water pooled at their feet as they stood in the entrance hall, dripping onto the undoubtedly expensive hardwood floor.

Charlotte let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through her sodden hair. "Well, this is…not how I saw today going."

Bucky scowled, raising an eyebrow at her. "Funny, I’ve thought that several times today."

“Don’t be a dick.” She rolled her eyes.

As the rain continued to pour outside, Charlotte stood dripping on the rug, her soaked dress clinging to her curves, her hair plastered to her skin. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she tugged it over her head, revealing that damn black bikini underneath. Pulling it over her head, she paused, the soaked material knotted in her long, dark hair, already curling from the rain. She hesitated, glancing back at Bucky, her expression a mix of frustration and amusement as she attempted to tug the ends of her hair free.

"Good thing I’m wearing a swimsuit," she muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Bucky watched her, momentarily stunned into silence by the sight before him. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her, the way the rain droplets ran down her body, the way her muscles moved beneath her skin as she tangled with her hair. His heart raced in his chest, his blood burning in his veins.

"Let me help you with that," Bucky finally said, his voice low and husky as he stepped forward. Moving closer to Charlotte, he reached out to gently untangle the dress from her hair, his fingers brushing against her shoulder with a feather-light touch.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as Bucky's touch sent a shiver down her spine. She met his gaze, her eyes locking with his in a silent exchange. He easily freed the dress, letting it drop to the floor. There was a palpable tension in the air, thick with things they’d repressed, fought against, lied to themselves about. Now, everything that had previously stood in their way was nowhere to be found. There was no mission, no teammates sharing a wall, no Sam to come interrupt them.

In a way, it felt like they’d lost their safety net. Nothing stood between them and certain death.

Nothing stood between them at all.

"Thanks," Charlotte murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped back, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with electricity.

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. He felt his grip on himself loosening, slipping away. His fists clenched at his sides. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard, trying to remember any reason he shouldn’t do what his body was telling –– begging him to do.

He felt her touch first.

Her hands on his leather jacket. They gripped the lapels, pulling it back, down his arms. It dropped to the floor.

Her hands found the hem of his t-shirt, slid beneath it. His skin burned under her touch, where she brushed his stomach as she lifted the shirt. Raising his arms, their eyes locked as she reached up to pull it over his head. His hair was soaked, a few loose strands plastered to his face. Giving in to her temptation, she ran her hands down his body. Her fingers trailed over his collarbone, over the ridge where his arm met his shoulder, over his chest and the muscles that rippled across his abdomen. She let her eyes roam over him unapologetically, drinking up every muscle, every scar, every glint of his arm in the low light. When she looked back up to meet his gaze, she almost didn’t recognize the man staring down at her.

There was a wild look in his eye that made Charlotte forget who she was, who he was. It burned into her, making her feel naked in ways far beyond just clothing.

Without breaking eye contact, he kicked off his boots. His hands went to his belt, unfastening it, unbuttoning his jeans, lowering the zipper. He paused, seeming to come back to himself for a moment. They stood there, still soaking wet, in the entryway. Rain pounded against the roof, wind howling outside. Charlotte was in a black bikini, Bucky in unbuttoned jeans. Both of them showing more skin to the other than they’d ever dared.

A moment passed between them. Shallow breathing. Hungry eyes. Thunderous heartbeats.

Slowly, tortuously, Charlotte reached up and brushed her wet hair to one side. Her eyes remained locked on Bucky as she tugged on one string of her bikini top. The knot on the back of her neck instantly unraveled, the top falling down to her stomach, revealing her bare chest to him. His breath caught in his throat, his pants feeling tighter. She reached her hands down to the second knot, tugging on it before letting the whole swimsuit top join the rest of their discarded clothing on the floor.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, unable to formulate another thought.

Charlotte took a step towards him, closing the gap between them. She looked up at him, cocking her head ever so slightly. “Is that an offer?”

Whatever leash he’d had on his restraint snapped.

Bucky reached out, his hand cupping Charlotte's cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from hers. His heart hammered in his chest, every nerve in his body on edge with anticipation.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as she felt Bucky's touch, his warmth seeping into her skin and setting her ablaze. She met his gaze, her eyes dark with longing, silently urging him to take the next step.

And then, in a heartbeat, it happened. Bucky closed the final distance between them, his lips crashing into hers. It was hard and ravenous and impatient and greedy. His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, tangling in her wet hair. His other hand found her waist, gripping her hard with cold metal fingers. Her arms wrapped around his torso, trailing down his back. She dug her nails in ever-so-slightly, eliciting a low moan from him, devoured by their kiss.

The kiss was a mess of wet skin and lust, it was sloppy and desperate. For a fleeting instant, nothing else mattered but the electrifying connection between them, the raw intensity of their desire igniting like a wildfire. It was a kiss of longing and longing, a silent confession of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

A big fuck you to every single time they’d repressed their feelings, every single time they’d fought the urge to cross this line in the sand.

Charlotte’s hands slipped into his waistband, tugging his soaked jeans down over his hips. Bucky stepped out of them, leading Charlotte backwards without breaking the kiss. They stepped backwards through the dark entryway, dripping water across the floor. Charlotte’s hands gripped either side of his face as she followed his lead, one of his hands on her lower back, the other outstretched behind her. With a thud, his hand collided with a wall, immediately backing her against it. Their bare chests collided, skin sticky from the rain and warm with desire.

In one movement, both of Charlotte’s hands were pinned above her head in a vibranium grip. Bucky angled his head, reaching up to cup her jaw as he slid his tongue along her lower lip. A whimper, a whine escaped her lips, only serving to ignite him further. Sliding a knee between her thighs, Charlotte nearly gasped at the sensation. She writhed against his thigh, chasing this strange and euphoric feeling as he rubbed against her. His hand dropped from her jaw, trailing down her neck, across her breasts, down her stomach. It reached around behind her and slid into her bikini bottoms, squeezing her ass so tightly she sucked in a breath. She’d never felt this good, felt this needy, this desperate.

She’d never done this before.

Her heart thudded in her chest as Bucky released her hands, bringing both of his down underneath her, lifting her up until her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped around him. She locked her ankles behind his back, pulling his hips even closer to hers. He was rock hard, pressing against the spot threatening to ignite her whole body. Wiggling her hips, she ground herself into him.

“Oh, God ––” He closed his eyes, throwing his head back as her hips pressed against him.

When he brought his head back down, he pressed his forehead to Charlotte’s, both of their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Hearts pounded, chests heaved. For a moment they stayed, pinned against the wall, holding each other.

“Char,” He groaned.

“Mmm,” The noise she made was somewhere between a reply and a moan as she ran her hands through his hair.

“Do you want this?”

She paused, hands freezing on his neck.

Hell yes, fuck yes, she absolutely wanted this. This sensation, this feeling, everything that was just happening. She wanted it to never, ever end. She wanted to feel him, she wanted to give herself to him, let this aggressive and demanding version of James Buchanan Barnes take as much of her as he needed.

“Buck…” She breathed, closing her eyes.

“Hey,” He slowly lowered her to the ground, ensuring she was steady on her feet before reaching up to cup her cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do this, we don’t ––”

“No,” She met his gaze, eyes determined. “I want this. I want…this.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she gripped the back of his head, bringing his lips to hers in a slow, wet, deep kiss. They slowly separated, Charlotte dropping back down to her normal height. “I want it all…so badly. I just,” She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “I don’t know how.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“You don’t know how…” He spoke the words slowly, as if he was trying to figure out what they mean.

“I mean, I never have.” Her eyes met his, willing, begging him to understand. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh,” Bucky's gaze softened as he realized what Charlotte was trying to tell him. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. "Oh." he repeated, his voice filled with understanding.

"Charlotte, that's nothing to be ashamed of." He paused, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort. "It's okay. We don't have to rush into anything. We can take our time." His hands slid down the backs of her arms, gently, softly.

Charlotte's eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, and she tangled her fingers in his own as they reached down her arms. "What if I don’t want to take my time," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

“Char…”

"Bucky.” She squeezed his hands. “I want this. I want to do this. I want to learn. With you. I trust you."

Bucky's heart swelled, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll teach you," he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. "We'll go slow. I'll show you everything, and if you ever want to stop, you just tell me, okay?"

She nodded, her insides throbbing at his gentleness. Bucky lifted her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. "We'll start with the basics," he said, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll go at your pace."

“Can we skip the basics and go back to where we just were?” She pleaded, bringing his hands up to her breasts. A groan escaped his lips as he squeezed, ever-so-gently. His thumbs grazed her nipples before trailing back down to her hips.

“If you want me to teach you…you have to let me start from the beginning.” A devilish grin.

He leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in a slow, tender kiss. This time, there was no rush, no urgency. It was a kiss filled with promise and patience, a kiss that told her he was in no hurry and that he valued her comfort above all else.

Charlotte melted into the kiss, her hands slowly finding their way to his shoulders. She felt the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart against her chest. It was a feeling of safety, of being cherished.

Bucky's hands moved gently, exploring the curves of her body with a reverence that made her feel beautiful and desired and fuck, so impatient. He took his time, tantalizing her. As his hands caressed her back, her sides, and finally the soft skin of her belly, Charlotte felt like she was going to boil over.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless but smiling. "How was that?" Bucky asked softly, his forehead resting against hers.

"Perfect," Charlotte whispered, her voice strained. "But can we get to the next part, please."

He smirked, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her jaw. "What’s the rush, Char?"

She groaned, leaning her head back. “You’re killing me, Buck,”

“Am I?” He cocked his head in a way she’d never seen, mouth slightly agape. His hand trailed down her stomach, slid between her legs, making her bite her lip so hard it nearly split. Metal fingers slid the band of black fabric to the side, making a long, leisurely swipe through her. A truly pathetic whimper escaped her lips as he pulled his hand back up, examining his fingers in the dim lighting. His gaze darkened as he looked her dead in the eye, bringing his fingers to his lips and slowly sucking the first two.

“Bucky,” Charlotte whined. “Please.”

Bucky's grin widened, and he took her hand. “For the next part,” He led her towards a long hallway. “I think we’ll need a bed.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff #winter soldier #avengers #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #winter soldier fluff

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jmscornerlibrary · 3 months

Text

Set Me Free - a Loki x OC fanfiction - Chapter One

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Hello :) I'm Jmw. So, I'm re-writing an old fanfiction of mine, and will be posting the chapters accordingly. There will be angst, fluff, and no smut, though it may get very slightly spicy at times (no gross details, or explicit content, I promise). However, since this deals with some heavy topics like madness and torture, I am going to rate this an 18 so people with a fragile heart can avoid being traumatised.

This is a Loki/OC, childhood-friends (sort of) to enemies to lovers. Thor will be her, so will Tony Stark. This is before Avengers and after Thor: Dark World, but it does have the Avengers. The chronology may vary from the line of events slightly.

I'll try and update as quickly as I can, anyway... here's the first chapter.

Ah, and this is just a story - there is only one God and he wants the best for you :)

Enjoy!

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Chapter One - In which Loki is mistaken for one who cares.

Vengeance crumbles the soul. It sways foundations, cracks backbones. It topples tenderness in the heart and reduces honesty to a brittle sculpture which eventually shatters as it's blown through by the ice of disappointment; it adorns feelings with masks woven of intricate plans of deceit and manipulation.

And so Loki Laufeyson’s heart became hard like black ice, which ensnared all the raw and red and beating within it, and turned him into a being of darkness, with black crystals cutting through the blood in his veins, shrouding his chest in armour of indifference, flooding his intestines with acid and clenching his jaw, tight.

Could one see this turmoil and hidden fury in his eyes? Yes and no. His eyes became devoid of warmth and seemed like two pristine spheres - beautiful spheres, blue like jotun skin - set there merely as a tool for deceit and treachery, instead of being a window to his soul, and the turmoil he hid well enough for nobody to notice.

Loki often scoffed at that little fanciful statement. Who in their right mind saw the soul through the eyes, like through windows? When he observed other people’s eyes he saw nothing but twitching matter, something which required an irritating amount of protection on the battlefield, two frustratingly weak little points which simultaneously provided something as valuable and immense as vision. What fool wrote that statement, he wondered, then decided whatever state of intoxication that moron was in when he decided to pick up a quill and play being a poet must have been an incredibly deep one.

Or so Loki rambled on, monologuing internally to drown out the real reason why he scoffed so at a statement so true: if eyes were the window to his soul, then he feared what it was that other people - people who possessed this uncanny ability of seeing soul through the eyes, something which he had trouble with since forever - may see when they looked at his own.

It was a wonder he wasn’t spat at more often, if so many people could see the soul through the eyes. Or perhaps it was why he was spat at so often, be it with words, brutal weapons or projectiles of saliva.

But now, Loki Laufeyson did not care, for his heart was no better than deadened flesh. His heart was encased in black crystals, thoughts of revenge burned in his mind and branded his heart with something hot and seething.

Asgard was never his! Not for one accursed moment!

Loki looked up at the dimming sky and wished with every piece of his heart that he could set it on fire and watch it burn. It looked far too peaceful for him to be content with. The stars even had the audacity to wink at him - actually wink at him! As though he was just little Loki throwing a tantrum in the middle of Central Park, not the king of Asgard who was slowly descending into madness of his own accord!

Loki stared back at the millions of serene lights, looking at him from above. Or were they looking at him? Perhaps he was only thinking that their teeth-sucking was directed at him. In fact, it must have been only him - the great, omniscient stars couldn't care less about the current king of Asgard or about his miserable business.

Like Odin. Loki laughed. Odin couldn’t care less either. He must have had as much fun as those damned stars, watching Loki grow up and fight with Thor about who would be king. Oh, he must have had quite the giggle as they sparred, as they sent scholar after scholar tearing their hair and nanny after nanny running off in tears at their unfathomable characters, knowing full well which perfect son would be the final victor.

Loki clenched his fists until he heard his knuckles cracking and snapping. It had been one thousand years. It had been more than one thousand years. He had believed, for more than one thousand years, that he had been viewed as an equal, as a competitor. But no. All along, he had been a pawn. A tool. A little political reservation!

He gave a few notes of black, harsh-sounding laughter which almost made the grass wither. He had lived in his brother's shadow for so long, holding onto an illusion that somewhere, beneath all these brewing thoughts and schemes he would, one day, make his shot at being worthy and reach the crown with the tips of his fingers.

But this crown had been plucked out of his reach. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Loki had simply reached out to take it. But Loki hadn’t simply reached out to take it - he had crawled, he had pulled himself forward through fields of broken glass and metal, he had torn at the solid ground and grit and dust with his teeth in the darkness of his brother’s huge silhouette, just so that he could move along with a pace which wasn’t pitiful to the ones whom he valued. And when he been just about to grasp it, grasp this chance, shoot this shot… Odin had plucked the crown from him and placed it on Thor’s head. And Thor hadn’t been battered. Thor hadn’t had a single bruise, a single scratch upon him, from his journey to the crown. Thor hadn’t crawled forward on his knees through thorns and sharp, jagged rocks. Thor had been ridden towards the crown in a carriage, reclining with his feet on the opposite seat with everything he needed at his elbow, leaving Loki to be run over and stamped over by the horses which pulled it.

But now, Loki had a plan. One so intricate and subtle, nobody would notice his justified intentions. He would destroy the very place he came from, the very place which posed threat and show Odin that it was he, Loki Laufeyson, the lesser son, who accomplished something even the great Thor Odinson couldn’t do. If Odin wanted him to play at being worthy, so be it. He’d do it his own way. Jotunheim was going to be wiped off the face of the planet, and his father would perhaps finally grace him with-

Loki realised where his train of thought was going, then the shadows in his face darkened as he snarled.

“He’s not my father,” he spat at a nearby tree, sending it cowering and twitching as it ought to when he glared at it, internally shame-faced at some hidden longing of being acknowledged by the Allfather. Loki didn’t need to be acknowledged. He was the god of chaos and he could do everything the god of thunder could, more, for he wasn’t an oaf who had to threaten the scholars so that Odin would receive word that he did, indeed, pass all of his tests which involved more subtlety and intelligence than swinging Mjolnir around his thick head did.

Loki didn’t quite delve into the reason as to why he escaped to Midgard for the day, well, evening. He hated mortals. They were stupid and weak. And yet Asgard was too much, today - this morning Loki had awoken with something horrible and burning stumbling up and down his spine and leaking into his thoughts. He needed to get away, get away from this personal Hel he was walking into… and he supposed there was an element of curiosity too, as to what his brother would now be doing in a place which wasn’t even worthy to uphold one of his boots.

The distant hum of machinery never ceased, even if there was nothing but trees for quite some distance around him, and it only made his thoughts blacker as he gritted his teeth. Perhaps he ought to have chosen a different location to revel in his bitterness than this suffocating park. Even the trees and foliage growing around sparsely looked as though they were artificial.

Then, someone spoke.

“Hello?”

Loki disregarded this voice and presence, a small thought of his weighing more than whatever life coursed through this impertinent mortal’s veins.

He looked up at the darkening sky and returned his thoughts to this poisoned cup life served him, which he was forced to drink from and watch as his veins became black, as his mouth started to froth and ice began to spread through his insides, hurting him, cutting him, spiking him.

Ice. Ha, ha! Of course, Loki forgot! Ice wouldn’t hurt him. No, because Loki was never Odinson in the first place; he was Laufeyson! He was a blue-skinned bastard! He was a jotun-!

“Excuse me.”

Loki made a sound similar to a growl and whipped around. If this mortal knew who he was, it would be grovelling on its papery little knees for forgiveness for interrupting his inner monologue. But Loki would not be forgiving. Oh, no. Quite frankly, he had enough of everything which spoke and had eyes, and if he was going to officially become an outcast, he was going to put his whole blackened soul into it. He’d had enough of being trodden on by others.

It was dark, but light enough for shapes to be distinguishable in the evening, and Loki had sharp eyes. When he focused them on this pathetic little shape, his murderous intentions lessened a little, because he had set them upon a child. A small child. Small enough not to be able to survive with a mother’s hand to hold, and yet it was here, with no other presence around, looking up at him as though he was a potential mother.

It sniffed. Hah, it was crying; its lip was trembling! Disgusting.

“Sorry… Have you seen a man here anywhere?” it said, its voice torn but still strangely polite for a creature so small. Loki hated its sound as soon as it spoke, for it had that unclear quality which came from very recently learning how to speak which grated on his already-tender nerves.

“No,” he replied curtly, then flicked his head to the side for it to move on. But it didn’t seem to take the hint, merely stared up at him with the two, huge eyes in its head shining. Loki couldn’t quite tell, but he thought they were grey. A strange colour. Perhaps young mortal offspring had different eyes to Asgardian children.

When a few moments had passed and still it stood there, Loki began to grow irritated. Perhaps he ought to shoo it away like some meandering cattle. Did it not get the hint? Was it stupid?

He turned back to stare at it and it shifted, bowing its head and clenching its hands at its small chest.

“I’m lost,” it said, sniffing, tears spilling down its small face.

Loki chuckled emptily at its words. He was lost too, though he had a place to call home - a place which he now officially ruled over, actually - and he felt it, cold and empty in this soul which people could see through the eyes and he kept somewhere in his chest. In his chest… It must be the reason why it felt so cold recently.

“Sad, isn’t it,” he said to it, folding his hands behind his back. “Quite a tragedy.”

He observed the creature with distaste. It was undoubtedly female. In the last slivers of light, Loki could make out black hair curling to its chin and rather clear features, as though they belonged to an artist’s paintbrush.

He sighed. “Why don’t you do us both a favour and go and find your mother, hm?”

The mortal child wiped its face and gave a resigned sigh.

“My mother is dead.”

Loki blinked. “Oh.”

He shifted from foot to foot, felt a spike of sympathy, then grew immediately irritated for giving a fraction of a damn, and they grew even more irritated because his moment of dark contemplation of his existence was utterly ruined and now he was going to have to work himself up again to produce it.

“What makes you think I’m going to help you?” he snapped, then really did shoo it away like a stray cat. “Be on your way! Shoo! Off you go! Get going!”

But it stood its ground and did nothing but stare at him. Loki’s fingers twitched. Was it dim-witted? Was it moronic? Pathetic, stupid creature! Did it not see he was incensed?

“Away!” He raised his voice. “I have nothing for you!”

He snarled, baring his teeth. Scare it off, that should do it.

But it didn’t look scared, though it did obediently take a few steps back warily, as though he was a mad man, which only made his fingers tighten and his temper flame, but then there was a rustle to their left; it jumped, its grey eyes widening, then stumbled forward again, out of the shadows of the bushes.

It looked so small in this dark, cold setting of dusk, slight, insignificant compared to the looming trees. It looked as lost as it said it was. But it could not help itself, no matter how hard it tried. He still had a way out. Theoretically, anyway.

Loki gritted his teeth and clenched his fist and muttered some black curses under his breath which he would have never repeated anywhere near his mother for he would have gotten walloped like a swine being butchered.

“Right, fine,” he said airily. “Stay here and bother me, if it makes you feel better.” He waved his hand at it, then turned his back on it. He chuckled, then lowered his voice. “If only you knew who I was. You’d be running for the hills as fast as your little legs could carry you.”

He had been speaking mainly to himself, but its silly voice sounded again and, he had to give it the credit, it made the corners of his lips turn up.

“I know who you are.”

Loki gave a scoffing laugh, then tittered. “Oh, yes. Of course you do.”

“I do,” it insisted.

“I’m sure you do,” he turned towards it, but not completely, for it did not deserve his full attention, and immediately grew irritated at himself for giving it so much attention when he had came to Midgard for a lack of it. “After all, you’re all big and grown up. Grown up enough to navigate this extensive stretch of land.” He encompassed the dismal park with a gesture. “In fact, why don’t you go and explore it?”

He looked at its eyes, then suppressed a shiver. They shouldn’t have belonged to a creature so small and insignificant. They were solemn and knowing, like his mother’s often were whenever he had an outburst; like they had seen just as much as his had.

“Go on,” he mouthed to it, making a pointer with his hand, turning his eyes towards any other features but its observational tools. “Off you go.”

It fixed his eyes onto his and said, “You are Loki Laufeyson, the king of Asgard.”

Loki halted in his tracks, feeling something cold in his veins, his airy smile melting off his face and being replaced by cold astonishment.

“What?” he whispered, his voice sharp as a knife. “What did you just call me?”

Its small brows met, but it fulfilled his request. “I said you are Loki Laufey-”

He reached it in a flash and clamped his hand upon the lower part of its face. He felt his chest heaving up and down with searing rage and he could have sworn that his hand was now tinged with an accursed hue of blue in the dim light.

“Silence,” he hissed, as it struggled under his grasp. “Or I’ll make sure you’ll never speak again.”

It clutched his hand and pushed it down, its eyes wide. “Cold!” it whimpered, clutching at its face. “You’re cold, you’re so cold!”

Loki retracted his hand, something unravelling in his chest as he watched it rub its face and its lips trembling.

“I-” He made a motion with his hand, as though he could brush away his outburst with the material of his pants, then scowled and straightened, severing his guilt and caging himself. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

There was no disguise upon it. It wasn’t an illusion. If it was, he would have distorted it with his touch, or his hand would have passed right through it. What was this? This was a mortal child who knew his name! It knew his heritage! Nobody knew of his true heritage but Odin and Frigga!

He took a few steps back, his hands instinctively reaching for his daggers; he whipped them out and brandished them, the metal gleaming cruelly in the fading light.

“Listen, witch, or whatever you are…” He brought the dagger up to its snub nose and watched it furrow its brows and frown at him. “... either you tell me who you are and what your plan is, or I’m going to be the living evidence of exactly why you shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

It was silent.

“Speak!” he yelled, losing his temper. “Who sent you? Are you a spy?”

The mortal child blinked up at him. It seemed not to understand that it could be skinned like a hare if he only wished for it, looking at the gleaming blades with interest instead; looking up at him as though he was the young one frolicking, here!

Loki felt a pang of embarrassment, then lowered the tip of his blade. He was threatening a being which had probably just learned how to walk of its own accord. It didn’t understand him.

He sheathed his daggers and straightened, his blood still roaring in his ears and his chest heaving, and he stared down at it, waiting for it to make the next move.

Its gaze travelled to his hands, to his eyes, then it blinked and began to pull its pink, fluffy sleeves down to grab their ends.

“My name is Henrietta Knott.” It managed to engulf its hands in sleeve, flapped them, then sighed and swallowed. “I turn six in half a year. My parents died in a fire when I was… two.”

Loki clenched his fists. It was one thing loathing the man who raised him and not having a father at all. Or a mother. Perhaps he would have died if Odin hadn’t taken him in.

“I live with my uncle,” it continued. “We went for a walk, and then he disappeared.”

Loki frowned. “He disappeared.”

It nodded and when it spoke next its voice was trembling again. “I turned around and he wasn’t there anymore.”

With that, fresh tears began to spill down its cheeks and it stood there, crying, not even bothering to wipe its face. It looked truly pitiable, this shivering form in a pink fluffy coat and yellow, waterproof boots which were far too big for it.

Loki wasn’t proud to admit it, not even to himself, but at that moment he had never felt more helpless, as irritation, spite, anger and pity sloshed against one another in his chest. His fingers twitched behind his back as he held them there and he tried to come up with something to contribute to the situation with.

“I won’t help you,” he finally said, more to clarify this to himself than to inform the sobbing thing of his lack of heart.

“You will,” it insisted, sniffing. “You will help me.”

“You heard me, child.”

“You will.” It stopped crying now, swallowing and wiping its face. “Even if you are a bad man. You wouldn’t really hurt a child. Not knowingly.”

Loki opened his mouth, then gave a snort of disbelief. The audacity of this creature! What was that even supposed to mean? What in the Allfather’s name was all this?

“I beg your pardon?”

It gave a shaky sigh, then regained control over itself. “Your heart is horrible. You have killed people through ignorance. Through boredom.”

Loki listened with his mind blank to the words tumbling from this five-year-old’s tongue and wondered how it knew what ignorance meant.

“Look at your hands,” it said pointedly. “They’re awful, aren’t they?”

Loki looked at them obediently, stunned out of his senses, something which never happened. He was the one who frazzled people’s senses; and here was this practically a new-born in comparison to him, telling him of his sins while he blundered!

He felt his nostrils flaring and lowered his hands with some force, his face stretching into something perhaps an opponent would find threatening, but this child only looked at him curiously with a strange solemn glimmer in its eyes as it watched him.

“Look at your hands,” it repeated, then pointed at them and flapped its own.

Loki tore his scouring gaze from it and looked down at his hands once more. He turned them over, running his vision over their creases, their details, their length. Nothing.

After a few moments, he shook his head slowly and cast a questioning look back at the child.

“I admit that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said flatly. “What am I meant to be seeing?”

“They drip with black,” the child pronounced. “Black which doesn’t belong to you.”

“Explain yourself.”

“It’s blood.” It nodded when his expression became blank. “Of the people you’ve hurt. Killed.”

He gave a harsh laugh to mask the strange quiver of his heart, fear seeping through his bones.

“Blood is red,” he said cuttingly. “You’ve missed that part of your homework, little creature. Now, you ought to go home and do it before some equally evil man comes to find you and hurts you.”

It shivered, then took a few steps forward; closer to him.

“If you killed by accident, the blood would be red.”

Loki felt a strange urge to push it away with his foot as the child took hold of his coat, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Hadn’t he threatened it a moment ago? And yet it was clinging to him like he was safe, for all the apparent black dripping from his hands. If it hadn’t said what she had a few moments ago, Loki would have been certain it had a few cogs missing beneath the soft and black of its hair.

“Some drops are red. Some you did not intend to die. But most are black, and so you are bad.” It looked up at him, as though for confirmation. “People who kill to achieve a… a selfish goal are evil. Aren’t they?”

Loki of Asgard made another motion with his hands, as though wiping them clean, then snorted at himself and folded them behind his back again.

He said nothing, but it was still staring at him. Plus, who was he to destroy the moral compass of a being who didn’t see him as king, he thought half-heartedly.

“Yes,” he replied softly, feeling oddly hollow and helpless. “They are evil.”

It observed him for a little while longer, then shrugged its small shoulders. “You will wash it off in years to come.”

Loki felt a pang of… something, in his chest. Something hopeful. “Really.”

“Really.” It nodded. “People pay with bad deeds with pain. That’s what Uncle said once, to Mister Anderson.”

It sighed, then looked back up at him from the daisies they were standing on, pity in its eyes. “I’m sorry you will get hurt.”

Loki would have perhaps felt his temper spike violently again, transforming from his restlessness at this statement, but it was quelled by the action of the child taking hold of his fingers.

“Don’t look so angry,” Henrietta Knott whispered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Loki looked down at their hands. Hers was small and pink and very soft, as she held his pale forefinger and thumb, hard and toughened with scars in comparison. Something tugged at his heart; he sighed, then moved his hand so that it held hers. It felt good. Good and strange, because Henrietta looked astonishingly content with him doing so.

Loki’s hands were renowned for doing great and terrible things - wielding daggers, casting spells, being tools which expertly aided him with his ploys and weaving his lies - but using them to guide and reassure was certainly not one of them.

“I don’t want to get hurt either,” he admitted, again, more to himself than to the small thing pressed to his right leg.

“I know,” she replied, then looked up at him. “Can you take me home?”

Loki, the being with no conscience and a black soul raised an eyebrow at this proposal. “Do you really want me to hold your hand all the way?” he mocked. “Don’t you fear the black blood dripping on your pretty little coat and fingers?”

She laughed at him, as though he had said something particularly funny. She had a rich, gurgling laugh that even his bitterness and black ice had some trouble withstanding.

“Oh, you are silly.”

Loki frowned. Silly didn’t belong to his repertoire of things he would like to be called, especially not by beings who could barely talk. “I beg your pardon?”

“My fingers won’t be dirty.” She smiled. “I haven’t hurt anybody.”

“Not yet,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just wait until you’re older.”

Henrietta looked up at him and stopped laughing, looking too solemn for her age as her grey eyes widened. “Will I hurt people when I’m older?”

Loki had absolutely no idea. For a moment, he thought about toying with her as she had unwittingly done with his feelings since he’d met her, but he was holding her hand, it was delicate and soft like a chick and he’d be damned if anything happened to it while he was around.

“Oh, don’t worry. Everybody does,” he said as a throwaway comment as they started to walk. “In fact, I daresay you will break hearts like dinner plates when a table is turned over, with those eyes of yours.”

“Oh.”

She seemed crestfallen. Loki observed her with raised eyebrows as she sighed then as she said, “Then I will never grow up.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “No?”

“No,” she replied. “You know, in this book there was a boy who never grew up. He could fly. He flew to listen to this really nice girl read stories to her brothers about him, then flew back to his magical home in a land that was quite far away.”

“Indeed?”

“M-hm,” she hummed, stepping alongside him through the trees. “I won’t grow up either. A lot of grown-ups aren’t nice. So I will stay like this, hopefully. And won’t grow up.”

Loki bowed his head, wishing for a moment that he didn’t grow up either.

“Don’t,” he said softly, then fell silent as she did.

It was autumn, October. Leaves had fallen off the trees, jumping to their death and lay piled around them, skittering across the rich grass and carpeting the dirt paths. Though it was night, it was still pleasant enough for the creature beside him not to shiver. Loki didn’t shiver; he was an accursed jotun.

They hadn’t walked very far when Henrietta stopped.

“Oh, look!”

“What is it?” he snapped, for he had just begun to sink into dark thought and she’d disturbed his wallowing for the third time in the space of fifteen minutes.

“Floating leaves.” She bent over to look at whatever it was she was fascinated with. “There’s a puddle under there.”

“So-?”

Before he could pull her on, she slid her hand out of his and jumped straight into this puddle, splashing, squealing with laughter. Loki watched flabbergasted, trying to understand how jumping in a pooling of downpour and getting her clothes wet was a form of amusement, before the muddy water landed a few inches short of his shoes. He took an instant step back.

“What are you doing?!” He pulled her away from the water. “You crazy being. Ah, you-!”

She had kicked the puddle and stained the bottom of his pants with mud. He gave a disdainful scowl, dried them with a flash of green light, then glared down at her.

“Right! That’s it. I’m leaving you to the wolves. You can go and find your uncle and if you get consumed as a form of light supper, it serves you right.”

He finished scowling, then raised his hands in question, because she was staring at him in awe.

“What was that?!” she cried, stamping in delight. “Do that again!”

His brows furrowed. “Do what?”

She clapped her hands and made a sound like a mute frog being trod on, miming an explosion with her hands. “This!”

He frowned, then realised.

“Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “This?”

Zing. The green light danced up and down his form, lighting up the darkness with brilliance, and lifted his hair a little. Henrietta Knott jumped up and down, clapping, stamping, looking completely delighted, her little teeth glinting.

“Again! Again! Again!”

“Have you never seen magic before?” he asked incredulously, his heart thumping strangely, almost afraid of the amazement he saw in her eyes. “It’s not a rare sight.”

She gasped. “Was that magic?”

“What else would it be?” he said, then outstretched a hand and flashes of light sparked on its surface. “It is magic. My magic.”

“It's…!” She searched for words, pressing her little hands to her face in exaltation. “It’s magnificent!”

And then Loki laughed, straight from the bottom of his heart, something swelling his lungs so that he actually felt as though he was breathing, his mouth stretched so wide it made his face ache. She thought he was magnificent! She thought he was great! Loki wasn’t a madman! He was being complimented! Within moments, he had cast away all of his kingly dignity. He crouched down, disappeared with emerald flashes, reappeared in different places with a bang whilst Henrietta Knott turned round and round with feverish pleasure, squealing, gasping, clapping accordingly.

“Got you,” he hissed as he appeared behind her, apparently an evil wizard. “Found you! Now, I will cart you off to prison, to my jail. You will never be able to get out-!”

He made the mistake of crouching down when appearing. Henrietta gave a delighted yell of excitement and threw herself into his arms. They toppled over onto a pile of leaves, destroying it. Loki landed on his back, slightly winded.

“No,” he gasped when he got his breath back, remembering what function he currently fulfilled. “None of that. Get off me.”

But she didn’t. She climbed right on top of him and sat down on his chest, patting his face.

“You won’t lock me into prison now,” she chuckled. “I’m a dragon. I’ve got you instead.”

He looked up at this improbable dragon sitting on his chest and lowered his hands. He didn’t remember the last time he could speak this level of nonsense without having to watch eyes being rolled.

“No, you’re not.” He sighed, folding his hands on top of his stomach, then looked at her with almost fond resignation. “You’re a silly little girl, sitting on top of the god of mischief because he allowed you to do so.”

He pulled a face, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

“As soon as I am up, I will lock you into a-” he disappeared in a green flash and reappeared behind her, scooping her up, “-dungeon. And no prince, king, nor warrior will ever be able to… to… to rescue…”

He froze, because Henrietta Knott threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, still giggling. She didn’t move from that position, nuzzling into the soft of his robes beneath his armour, wriggling to get comfortable against him.

Loki had to swallow several times as he stood there dumbfounded, thoroughly convinced he was sick, because why in all nine realms did he have tears in his eyes? He was a trickster, he wielded daggers, he sowed chaos for his own amusement, he cut off heads and stabbed and slashed and killed. His heart was hard and dead, and yet it hurt, hurt as the small thing plastered to his chest and neck embraced him as though he was a hero.

“No, little girl,” he murmured, when he recollected himself. “Little girls do not hug evil men with… dripping hands and…”

He searched for words. “And horrible souls behind the eye.”

She looked at him, beamed, then kissed him on the cheek.

“I like you, Loki of Asgard.”

Loki abandoned reason. “Oh, hush,” he muttered, his voice cracking, then hugged her back carefully, smoothing her hair as she rested her little head on his shoulder.

He resumed the walk, placing each foot slowly and deftly so that he wouldn’t stumble, so that her yawns would quieten. Within moments, her breathing had regulated and she was completely still.

Loki was glad; sleeping prevented her from seeing the two trails his tears left behind upon his face. If she felt his chest moving up and down from quiet sobs, sobs which had been caged in his chest for years without him knowing, he didn’t know.

“You like me. You like me, do you?” he breathed, when he had walked a few minutes, feeling his soul through that small weight on his chest and shoulder. “A very unwise decision. A very foolish one, sweetheart.”

She stirred in her sleep, mumbling. Loki could have sworn it was a protest, and he smiled, sniffing and swallowing back the lump in his throat.

“If you say so, Henrietta Knott” he whispered, patting her back gently. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Five steps later, he paused and listened, frowning. A voice had echoed through the park. It was a male voice, a cry. Loki knew what a desperate cry sounded like, and that was what he had heard.

It came again. “Hattie! Oh, Odin… Henrietta!”

Loki didn’t want to shout, for that meant Hattie would wake up, but the cries came again, desperation came again, and so he stopped and replied.

“Here!” he called, feeling the pet stiffen on his shoulder as he startled her awake. “I have her!”

The voice stopped, then sounded again, though with less dismay and lined with hope. “Where?! Where?!”

Loki thought, then snapped his fingers. “The green light!”

The man to whom the voice belonged rushed into the clearing when the green stream of light cleared. He was tall, well built, his arms and chest the ones of a warrior, grey hair hung to his chin and a wild beard was braided down his loosely-clad chest.

“Oh, thank Odin!” he cried, then approached him with haste. “Thank you, Sir, thank you!”

He pulled up short the same moment Henrietta turned and slid out of Loki’s arms, close enough for his features to be observed. His nose was hooked and an intricate, crimson tattoo snaked from his cheek to the left of his forehead.

“My lord,” he managed to utter, before Hattie plastered herself to him with joyful cries of, “Uncle, Uncle!”

“Uncle indeed,” Loki said coldly, sadly realising his arms felt strangely empty. “What uncle forsakes their five-year-old niece at a time like this? In a place like this? Do you realise what could have happened to her, lest she had not come across me?”

He felt his hands clenching, though by all rights he shouldn’t have cared at all. “I hear this happens again, and I’ll personally ensure you’re skewered!”

The man dropped to one knee and bowed his head, though he did not seem afraid.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said, then looked up and picked up Henrietta. “Thank Odin she was with you. I thank you for your efforts in delivering her to me. I fear to think what would have happened if you hadn’t found her.”

Loki scoured the man with his gaze, then he nodded in recognition. “It’s you,” he said. “Dauneren Haldanson.”

He gave a single chuckle, watching Henrietta as she slid from his arms and yawned sleepily.

“The banished. The foul. The traitor.”

The man bowed his head again, though he didn’t take his eyes off Hattie as she began to explore the vicinity. “The one who led the jotuns into Asgard, two-hundred years ago.” He smiled sadly. “My word remains the same. I had nothing to do with the incident. The assassination was pulled off as though I had a hand in it, but… well. I didn’t have a hand in it, not that time.”

His eyes flicked to him. “You know as the god of lies, my lord, that I am speaking the truth.”

“You wouldn’t be speaking so freely if you were not,” he replied, glad his tears had dried off and he wasn’t red in the face any longer, then smiled. “But, as they say… who lives by the sword, dies by the sword. Or at least faces torture by sharp objects.”

Haldanson grimaced. “It is so. You make a lot of enemies as an assassin, as unlikely as it may seem.”

“Hah,” Loki laughed, then trained his gaze on Hattie, who had run off to jump in another puddle of water. Haldanson followed his gaze and chuckled.

“I do apologise for any strange things she may have told you, my lord. She is gifted with talents many would kill to possess, but… you know, being only five, she has little idea about tact.”

They watched her, these two treacherous men both fully capable of murder, as Hattie squealed in the puddles, ran up to a tree in which curious squirrels observed her, the creatures probably wondering whether they had found a lost brethren in the dead of night.

“You can imagine what a fright she has given some people, my liege, recounting their darkest sins before their very eyes.” Haldanson scratched his beard and chuckled. “You know, she asks me about mine at least five times daily.”

Loki gave him half a smile. “Must be an interesting life.”

“Oh, very much so. Quite an ordeal. You can’t reason with her, she simply knows better than you.”

Loki felt an odd sort of pride at that statement, even though he had only known this little girl for about half an hour. Haldanson called Hattie over when she attempted to climb the tree to tame the squirrel - she pouted but came, seeing her attempt was futile, then took Haldanson’s hand. Loki wondered whether she could see any black on his hands, as Haldanson was no angel.

“I can,” she replied, making him start. “But Uncle’s hands are less black than yours. He’s already paid. Almost paid. His don’t drip anymore, but yours do.”

Haldanson frowned and looked slightly uncomfortable, but Loki raised his eyebrows and grinned, impressed.

“She can read thoughts?”

“Only if she wants to.” Haldanson scratched his beard again. “I reckon she’ll stop wanting when she grows a little older and begins to understand some of the things she sees. She needs to learn control. The hardest one there is… Don’t you, Hattie?”

Hattie nodded sweetly, twirling around in her yellow boots and pink, fluffy coat, looking at Loki with round, grey eyes.

“Will you walk me to school tomorrow, Loki of Asgard?”

Haldanson spluttered at her outrightness, astonished.

“Now, Hattie,” he managed after a few seconds, “the prince of Asgard is very busy and has much more important things to do than walking little girls to school.”

Hattie pursed her lips. “Loki is the king of Asgard, Uncle.”

Haldanson looked perplexed, glanced at Loki, who looked back coolly, then when he gave no countering statement, his eyes widened and he bowed a little frantically with a hand on his breast.

“Well, I had no idea,” he managed. “Last time I was in Asgard you were a prince, my Lord-”

“But can he walk me to school?” Henrietta tugged on her uncle’s sleeve impatiently. “I don’t like Doris, she smells of cat and doesn’t like me, and you’re always very busy, uncle, and-”

“It’s alright,” Loki said, looking down at her with a smile - so many smiles in such a short space of time which weren’t a mask, an admirable record. “I will consider.”

“Oh, fantastic!” Hattie laughed and clapped her hands and beamed at him, making his chest swell and want to scoop her up and press her to his chest again. “I would love to look at your sparks again!”

Loki laughed and shook his head. “And I thought she was a simple mortal creature.”

“She is from Asgard, like you, my king,” Haldanson bowed his head, still looking slightly nervous. “And far too sure of herself for her own safety. Well. We’ll be off home. It’s getting late. It was an honour to meet you, my lord.”

Loki inclined his head as Haldanson bowed, then raised a finger as he urged Hattie to do the same.

“No,” he said, motioning for her to stand. “She doesn’t need to bow to me.”

Hattie laughed as Haldanson nodded weakly, then she sprang forward and clasped him.

“Goodbye, Loki of Asgard. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I will come,” he promised, bending down. “If not tomorrow, then after that.”

He wouldn’t need to be told twice. Not even once. Not when she was staring up at him as though she was really glad to see him, as though he had the power to turn her day into something bright and warm with his cold, jotun hands which could only destroy and consume.

“Good,” she said, then reached up to hold his cheeks. “Good, good, good.”

He gently took her hands away before he had any strange spells again, swallowing. “Off you go, now.”

“Okay.” She patted his cheek, then flew back to her uncle and grabbed his hand. Haldanson nodded in reply to Loki’s look, bowed again for good measure, then picked Hattie up and turned.

Loki watched them disappear into the dark, raising a hand in farewell when Henrietta waved at him.

He stood there long in the dark, looking up at the sky.

Your hands are black. It’s blood. Of the people you’ve hurt.

Loki lifted his hands up to his face, squinting, but of course, he couldn’t see anything amiss. There were quite a few white scars running over his flesh from battle and feuds, but other than that they were as pale and slender as ever.

“Don’t be a fool,” he muttered, letting them drop. “It’s just a childish fancy.”

This childish fancy, however, left an impact upon him that only the next few years could tear from his soul, because it was only when Loki was back in Asgard, in his own empty, royal chambers did he realise that he was clutching the material of his clothes just above his heart, where Henrietta had slept, with a strange obstinacy and longing.

He sank down onto his bed with a sigh, trying to remember what it had felt like to hold someone who trusted him and… liked him. Not because they had to, but because they chose to.

But he was in too deep. He had set things in motion with Thor’s banishment to Midgard which he couldn’t undo, and had to give up hoping for warmth and succumb back to the cold he couldn’t survive without.

And he knew not that in a span of time insignificant to someone of his lifespan, he would become a traitor, that he would fall of Bifrost bridge upon realising that there was no place for him in Asgard, running from shame and Odin’s - his once-father’s - indifferent face, who watched him fall without blinking. That he would become unrecognisably twisted, that he would suffer agony beyond his imagination, that he would lose the trust of the one being who he treasured beyond all.

Though, what happened following that was something he wouldn’t have expected from any pages fate had written for him and if you asked him, he would have looked you in the eyes and solemnly replied that he was undeserving of a moment of it.

~~~*~*~*~~~

That's the first chapter! As always, feedback is appreciated!

#loki laufeyson #loki x oc #loki #loki odinson #loki series #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #tony stark #thor #thor odinson #i wrote a fanfic #wattpad #thor ragnarok #thor dark world

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randomimaginesideas · 2 months

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My King (Loki X Oc) Chapter 1

Summary:

When Astrid doesn't fit in anywhere, and she get sentences to life on Earth she makes the best of it. When one day, a certain prince steps into her life and offers a way out of the dull Midgardian life.

Alternatively

What happens when Loki gets a right hand woman during his time on Earth?

Previous parts: Prologue

Disclaimer; This story can also be found on AO3 or Wattpad, if you prefer reading there.

A/N: How do we all feel about the new pic for the fic? I have discovered Canva, so I've been thinking of making these for the continues fics that I post on here. I'm really happy with the results. Anyway, thanks for the love the prologue has gotten from all of you.

Taglist: @lotrefcp

TW: Mind controlling, murder

It had been three years since Astrid had been banished from Asgard. She had landed in some country called France. Even though she had tried to tell the elderly couple she was fine, they had called a screaming truck. Later Astrid would learn the screaming truck was called an ambulance, and you also had a screaming truck called the police. The police had been called after the elderly couple had explained the strange circumstances they had found Astrid with.

The police had taken Astrid to another dungeon. Great, trade one dungeon for the other. Except this time she wasn’t treated with a beheading. Or at least she thought they hadn’t. It had seemed more like they didn’t know what to do with her. Despite the language barrier the police had shown her some footage from her falling out of the sky, presumably from the elderly couple's farm. Astrid had tried to explain her situation again, and that she was fine, she just needed a place to live so she could live her life here. It was at that moment that Astrid wished she had been a higher born Asgardian, and had the ability to All-speak.

Astrid had remained in the dungeon for two days after that, until one day a man showed up. He seemed different from the men who called themselves the police. She was brought again to the interrogation room, but this time the man put a device on the table. “So, if everything works correctly you should be able to understand me.” The man said, looking at Astrid’s face to see if there was some form of understatement.

“I do.” Astrid confirmed, looking at the device but happy that it was here. “My name is Agent Coulson. Now, let’s start at the beginning. Who are you and why are you here?” Agent Coulson sounded like he was ready to get to business if necessary but Astrid didn’t feel like getting into any trouble. She was supposed to live here the rest of her life, better to work along and get out of here in peace.

“My name is Astrid Arnedottir. I’ve been banished from Asgard to live here for the rest of my remaining days, however long that will be.” Agent Coulson waited for the device to translate what she was saying, and looked her up and down. “People don’t get banished without reason, what is yours? You killed someone?” It was clear that Agent Coulson was here to assess the possible threat she could be. Astrid had to play this right if she wanted to get out of here.

“I’ve been framed,-”

“That is only what someone guilty would say.” Interrupted Agent Coulson who got an irritated look from Astrid in return. “I’ve been framed,” She started again, calmly. “The crown has always wanted a reason to kill me. They claimed I killed a man while I did not do it. The only witnesses were conveniently guards loyal to the very king who wanted to get rid of me. I’m a healer, I help people. I laid low so that the All-father had no reason to condemn me.” Astrid let out a cold laugh. “It seems he will just find a way if he has too.”

Agent Coulson hummed as he studied Astrid. “I’m telling the truth.” Agent Coulson said nothing for a while. “Asgard, the All-father, those sound like the Norse myths to me. You speak Norwegian too. Normally I would have just said you are playing a prank on us, but the camera footage proves otherwise.”

“I will tell you everything I know, all I ask in return is that you get me a house and let me live in peace.” Astrid said, trying to bargain with her new captor. “First let me see what you have to say, and then we’ll negotiate.” Astrid nodded, knowing that was the best she would get. “Deal.”

And that was it. Astrid had spent three more days in the dungeon in France. They hadn’t really believed here until Astrid had shown some light magic. It had taken some days to collect the small amount of Aesir in the air, and afterwards she had felt dizzy. It was clear that her magic would be almost useless to her on Midgard.

Agent Coulson got permission to move Astrid to New York, a city in a country called the United States of America. She got a simple two bedroom apartment, and a language tutor. The first year had cameras in her apartment because they didn’t trust her. When Astrid had gotten to understand the English language she opened up a flower and herbal shop, also with camera’s installed courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D, the organization Agent Coulson was from.

In year two the camera’s were removed slowly throughout the year, and she learned more and more about the history of Midgard, going to history classes near the university, or other subjects that interested her. When the last camera was removed Agent Coulson came for a personal visit, claiming that they would keep an eye on her but that so far she had looked to be safe. It was up to Astrid to prove that they were correct in removing the camera’s.

In year three Agent Coulson, and a man she didn’t recognize, stood in front of her apartment door when she returned from work. The man introduced himself as Nick Fury, and they had a job for her.

Some time ago they’d come into possession of something called the tesseract. It wasn’t something known to the citizens of Midgard, but they had been studying it for quite some time now. Nick Fury and Agent Coulson assumed that perhaps, being from Asgard, Astrid might know more of it. They only started talking about it now, feeling that they could trust her more. But one mistake and all restrictions would be back in place.

Well, it never hurts to take a look…

***

“Astrid, do you have any idea what it can be?” Dr. Erik Selvig asked her, as he walked up to her station. Astrid looked through her papers, which mostly just consisted of little drawings of flowers, or from Asgard.

Apparently the tesseract was the infamous Cube from Odin’s vault. Astrid didn’t know much about it, only stories but the description and power from the tesseract matched the one from the Cube. It was because of that knowledge that Astrid was still even working on the project. And SHIELD hadn’t told her to leave yet, so she wasn’t going to mention it. Besides, it paid much better than the flower shop.

The Cube held massive power, used to build ancient civilizations, but eventually it was said that it had been stolen or Odin had hidden it away. The stories were never clear on that. But she did know that perhaps the Cube was her chance to sneak back to Asgard, or any of the other nine realms where there was more Aesir magic in the air.

But as of a few hours ago the Cube, or as the midgardians called it, the tesseract had been acting up. Little spikes of energy which they couldn’t contain with their machines. It seemed that Dr. Selvig thought that Astrid might have a possible solution.

“I’m just a florist, Dr. Selvig. I have absolutely no clue.” Astrid admitted honestly as she looked at the energy readings on her screen. Some things were familiar to her, like the energy that flowed through the body. But it wasn’t anywhere near her expertise. But she did try and wasn’t that enough?

Dr. Selvig opened his mouth to reply when the door opened, and in walked Nick Fury. “Talk to me doctor.” He ordered, making his way towards the tesseract. “The tesseract is misbehaving.” Astrid filled in from behind her station. “Remind me Astrid, since when are you a doctor?” Astrid made a zip it motion by her mouth, making it clear she was in fact going to zip it.

Dr. Selvig handed Fury a tablet with the latest information on it. “Astrid is unfortunately correct. Not only is the tesseract suddenly active, she is misbehaving. Her energy is building up.” Dr. Selvig explained as calmly as he could, but it was clear to everybody in the room that he was starting to get worried.

“I assume you pulled the plug.” Fury commented as he handed Dr. Selvig the tablet back. Astrid rolled her eyes. She may be Asgardian, and slowly started to understand Midgardian technology, she knew that just ‘pulling the plug’ wasn’t an option. “She is an energy source. We turn the power off and she turns it back on.” Yes, they had tried. Apparently the go to plan for machines not working was just pulling the plug, waiting for 30 seconds and then putting the plug back on, but they couldn’t even reach the 10 seconds before all machines had turned back on.

“Her energy keeps building up, no matter what we try. If she reaches peak level,” Dr. Selvig said, trying to get Fury’s attention back on him, as the director had been looking at the tesseract who had just given a burst of energy. The whole room felt electric. “We’re prepared for this doctor.” Fury immediately says, turning to look at the other man. “Save all the energy into space.”

Astrid was looking through her notes, trying to make sense of any of it, when she saw movement in the corner of her eye. Agent Barton was coming down from his little nest near the ceiling. She liked Agent Barton. He was dedicated to his work, but he had always been friendly to her. She had given him some flower advice on which flowers to give to a girl he had been seeing, he said.

Agent Barton made his way to Fury and Dr. Selvig, joining in on the conversation all the while Astrid kept observing from afar. The other scientist would be fine without her help, right? “Nobody tried to get through on this end.” Client stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “On this end?” Clearly the other two men wanted more explanation than that.

“Aside from just an energy source, this cube is also a doorway to outer space right?” Clint pointed out. Clearly he’d remembered his conversation with Astrid, who had talked about the stories from Asgard, and the other file she had. It was a story from a man called Captain America and his run in with the tesseract. “The doors can open from both sides.”

Just when Fury was about to respond the ground started to shake, all alarms from the machine’s started to go off. The air started to feel more electric than it already had. The room was cast in a blue glow as the tesseract started to grow brighter, and brighter. Astrid went to shield her eyes from the light when she saw that the tesseract started to explode, so she quickly hid behind her desk. The blue energy that came from the tesseract came together on the ceiling before shooting back downwards, blinding everybody once again.

Astrid had expected the place of impact to be in ruin, for the machine to be broken and the tesseract to be gone. Instead, the tesseract was still in its place, and in front of it was a man. The man was sitting on one knee, looking at the ground and catching his breaths. The agents in the room immediately pulled their guns and aimed. The agents carefully crept closer, mindful of any sudden movements the mysterious man would make.

Astrid’s eyes were fully locked onto the man, who was slowly looking up. This way she could see he had emerald green eyes, which stood out in contrast to his raven black hair. He wore armor made of green leather, which Astrid recognized as Asgardian armor. Astrid didn’t recognize the scepter the man was holding in his hand. It didn’t look like any weapon or ceremonial scepter they had on Asgard. The scepter was golden, a blue crystal on the top of it, resembling the light from the tesseract.

“Sir, please put down the spear.” Fury said, surprising Astrid with the fact he was so polite. But perhaps it was better to be polite first before we start making demands of the strange man coming from the portal. The man in turn looked at the spear in his hands, having slowly risen from his knees, and smiled. Now that she was seeing the man fully, she realized she knew the man from somewhere, but it was too dark to fully see him. She needed to have a closer look.

Then everything happened fast. Loki had released his first shot with the scepter in the direction of Agent Barton and Fury. Astrid hid behind her desk as bullets and magic flew over her head. In under a minute the man had killed almost every agent in the room. Only Astrid, Agent Barton, Fury, Dr. Selvig and an agent she knew was Agent Smith remained.

The man was making his way towards Agent Barton who reached for his gun but the raven haired man blocked it. “You have a heart.” The man said before placing the tip of his scepter on Clint’s chest. From the blue crystal energy flowed into Barton’s body. From where she was standing Astrid couldn’t see Barton’s eyes turning blue, but she did see the way his body relaxed, and he placed his gun back into his holster. But that wasn’t what shocked her.

Astrid let out a small gasp when the realization hit her. Now that the man was standing closer, and after she had heard his voice she knew for certain. The raven haired man was none other than Prince Loki. His hair was longer than the last time she had seen him that fateful day in the throne room. His skin was paler too, and his eyes had lost their shine. But it was him.

Her little gasp had been enough to get Prince Loki’s attention to her. Astrid hesitated on what to do. She hated the royal family for what they had done to her, but her quarrel had always been more with the All-Father than with the princes. And she had been innocent, even if the All-father didn’t believe it. Astrid didn’t know why but for some reason Prince Loki deemed it necessary to attack the Midgardians. Astrid held no loyalty to them either, she only did what she needed to survive. And perhaps, Prince Loki could be the way for her to return home. And so with the prince’s eyes still on her, she slowly lowered herself onto her knees, bowing before him

Apparently it had been enough for Prince Loki, who looked past her at Fury, who seemed to be knocked out. He walked to Agent Smith who was about to attack the prince as well, but with the expertise of an Asgardian warrior Prince Loki blocked the attack, and repeated what he had done to Agent Barton.

While Prince Loki had been busy with Agent Smith, Fury had made his way towards the tesseract, and placed it inside a suitcase. It was clear that Fury had tried to walk away but Prince Loki had noticed him. “Please don’t. I still need that.” Fury halted, as he looked at the intruder. “This doesn’t have to get any messier.”

From where Astrid was kneeling she couldn’t see Loki smile, his back turned to her. But she could still see the slightly worried look on Fury’s face. The director’s eyes looked over Prince Loki’s shoulder to look at her, if only for a second. Had he hoped Astrid would aid him? SHIELD knew of Astrid's history with the Asgaridians, but it was still her home. More than Midgard would ever be.

“Of course it does. I’ve come from too far for anything else.” The prince answered in return. “I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burned with glorious purpose.” While the Prince was speaking Dr. Selvig was slowly rising from behind the desk he had been hiding behind. “Loki, brother of Thor.” Astrid remembered Dr. Selvig told her he had met the Asgardian crown prince around a year earlier. Astrid had brushed it off, not wanting to be bothered with the crown family. Thor was just the All-father’s minion, everybody on Asgard knew it. A brute unfit to rule, preferring to spend his time on the battlefield or between the bedsheets. Since it had been of no use to her back then, Astrid hadn’t cared about it. Now she regretted not listening more.

Even the prince himself looked annoyed at the mention of his older brother. “We have no quarrel with your people.” Director Fury tried to reason, his gaze landing on Astrid. It was clear that she was supposed to be an example. See how generous we are, we even have one of you working for us. Prince Loki followed the director’s gaze briefly, before chuckling. “An ant has no quarrel with a boot.”

“Are you planning to step on us?” Director was beginning to look more defensive, and agitated. Fury was beginning to see that they’re was no negotiating with the man in front of him. “I come with glad news, of a world made free.” Loki said, spreading his arms as he slowly walked towards Dr. Selvig. “Freed from what?” Loki laughed, an evil tone to it. “Freedom.”

“Freedom is life's greatest lie. Once you accept that in your heart,” Loki suddenly turned, his scepter pressed against Dr. Selvig chest just as it had with both Agents. “you will know peace.” Dr. Selvig’s body relaxed, his eyes now a hazy blue. The prince turned back around, his eyes taking in Astrid. She could feel him asses her if she was a threat. If she needed to be controlled as well. With his emerald eyes on her, Astrid looked back at the floor, trying to make herself seem compliant.

“You say peace, I think you mean quite the opposite.” Director Fury pointed out, when Agent Barton step closer to the prince. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop 100 feet of rock on us.” Agent Barton pointed out, his blue eyes going towards the ceiling where the remaining energy from the tesseract was gathering, growing restless. “He means to bury us.” It was the first thing Astrid had said since the prince appeared. Her thoughts out of her mouth before she had noticed it. “Like the pharaohs of Egypt. ” Director Fury said, looking pleased. As if the prospect of dying didn’t worry him. That he’d rather go down with them all than let the prince loose on Midgard.

Dr. Selvig added his own input about how they had only around two minutes left before the situation became critical. The prince nodded, turning his attention towards Agent Barton. “Well then,” Those two words were enough for Agent Barton who immediately shot Director Fury in the chest. Astrid suspected it wasn’t enough to kill the director, as she could still see him move slightly, but it was enough to get him to release the suitcase.

While Agent Barton was moving towards the suitcase, the prince turned towards Astrid. She looked up at him, but her eyes were fixed on his chest so she wasn’t looking directly at him. “You, come with me.” An order. One that Astrid wasn’t going to refuse. She rose up, and started walking.

_______

Little facts about this chapter;

- Phil basically uses the SHIELD's version of G translate. Astrid speaks a mix of the scandinavian languages. - I had already written the whole translation conversation when I remembered All-speak, and I didn't want to re-write it since it makes Astrid struggeles all the more real, so that why I gave the ability to All-speak only to the royal family.

#imagine #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #fanfic #marvel #the avengers #canon divergent au

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write-and-wander · 2 months

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TGLI | Two: To Fill Days with Blessed Eternity

Loki (MCU/Norse Lore) x Female Reader (OC) Description: The rescue, and the aftermath. Forgiveness comes quickly from the heart of the timid; but it does not change the course of the stubborn. Warnings: N/A | Word count: 3.8k

Read on Ao3 | Prologue | One | Two | ... | (/13)

You’ve lost count of the number of days that have passed since you arrived in Jotunheim.

Once you had seen the snow-capped mountaintops of the frozen realm, you realized the talons that held you were that of a transformed jotun; and likely one that decided it was time you shared your gift with them. When you landed in an unfamiliar home, Thjazi made himself known by returning to his true frost giant form, confirming your theory:

You were here to serve the jotnar now.

Where were the promised valkyrie protectors, meant to keep greedy others at bay? Where were the gods who had claimed to love you, and had sung your praises upon the deliverance of their eternity? Where was the god of mischief who had robbed you of your heart and home, leaving you at the hands of a cold giant?

You don’t know. You tried to count the days in which you had been left without answers, but time has continued to revel in its cruelty as it crawls by at a pace you cannot keep up with, blurring the world around you into a cold, muddled, snowy gray.

You tried pleading with Thjazi, in the beginning, to let you go. No matter what you would say, it seemed all for naught. He knew who you were; he knew the gods would age and die should you be shut out from them forever. He would not budge. To him, to the jotnar, and seemingly to all the nine realms, you and your gift are made nothing more than a commodity to be hoarded; And hoard you, he did.

Your once-pristine white robes have tattered and dulled and grayed from their continuous wear, despite usually being covered in furs to maintain warmth amidst the frigid climate. Your hair has grown rather long, usually maintained now by braids. Though you’re limited by the situation, you’ve still managed a small wintery garden near the house Thjazi kept you in. You’re thankful for the bit of color it provides in the gray wasteland.

As you sit on your thin mattress, staring out through the window of the second floor of Thjazi’s home, your frail body still aches from the night before- from Thjazi dragging you to yet another feast, wherein you were put on display like prized livestock. You stood all night at the front of the hall, your ankles and wrists sore from the chilled metal that attached you to the ground, keeping you in place. Boars were often caged beside you, slaughtered just before the feast began in the name of providing the freshest meat. You wondered if the animals understood their place in this cruel event, too. You almost hoped they do, despite the part of you that wishes they maintain blissful ignorance for as long as they can to reduce their suffering. If they knew they were here to be used at the jotnar’s whims, then maybe you wouldn’t be so alone. You usually tried to offer them comfort within their cold cages- through small food offerings, or soft words, or a calming hand brushing down their back. It was the least you could do for your fellow livestock.

In line with the new routine, the animal was slaughtered by cheering drunkards in the center of the hall. Numb, you silently blessed their meal, placing a trembling hand on the raw, bloody meat. Then, you spent the rest of the evening waiting to return to a home that was not yours, where you collapsed into a dreamless slumber.

Each morning that you woke was its own sort of prison. Your dreams were blinks of black, bearing you no sense of escape as even the goddess Nott’s gift of dreams would not reach you in this frigid place. Loneliness saturated your existence. The house you were held in was lonely, even if Thjazi was there. The grand banquets in great halls were lonely, even when filled with jubilant crowds. Your small garden was lonely, even with the few plants you maintained. You were constantly utterly alone. You’d cry over it more often if tears meant anything anymore.

Thjazi was generous enough to give you some leftover food from the bacchanalian feast before he went out to sea for the day. The bread and cooled meat sit on a cloth in your lap. You wonder how long he will be gone; if he will return tonight, or grant you a couple days of peace through his absence. Only time will tell.

For now, you sit, leaning against the frame of the window, staring out into the white abyss and wondering what will become of your Asgardian garden and your gods. You tie the cloth in your lap closed and set it beside you, hoping you’ll be in the mood to eat later. A fine golden chain delicately drapes around your neck, the green stone resting between your fingers as you mindlessly fidget with the prize that acted as the final nail in your coffin.

You replay the memory in your head again in a torturous ritual you’ve made for yourself, searching for answers you can never seem to find. The arm of Loki beneath your hand. The sound of running water over the small cave. The moonflower. The books. The promise of return. The gold shimmer. The empty forest. The unanswered cries. The cold wind. The sharp talons. There is nothing. No answers, no closer to home, and no god of mischief.

You force your thoughts to focus on your garden instead, and wonder if you might see it again. You mentally begin your walk through your home, knowing every plant in it by heart. The thought of walking in that soft grass grants you a touch of much-needed comfort.

You watch the clouds slowly drift by in their various shades of gray, thinking of those you’ve been forced to leave behind, when there’s a heavy knock at the door.

You freeze. Thjazi only left a couple of hours ago… and he explicitly instructed me not to answer the door. Grabbing your pouch of food, you quickly stand and move across the room on the pads of your feet, minimizing any noise your footsteps could make.

While you climb down the large steps to the main floor, the stranger knocks at the door again- and this time, it’s faster. Heavier. Growing upset.

With a quick glance around the room, you decide to dive under Thjazi’s massive bed, using the disheveled quilt that drapes halfway off the side as cover for your dwarfed body.

“I know you’re in there,” the voice booms from the other side of the door.

You lay your cheek against the near-frozen wood floor and stare out from under the edge of the blanket-shield with wide eyes, focusing on your breath, that it might steady in spite of your racing heart.

With a great crack, the door is forced open, slamming against the parallel wall.

Your hand flies to your mouth, stifling a yelp and muffling your ragged breath. Your heart pounds in your chest.

Heavy footsteps slowly come closer, pausing for a moment while the broken door is forced closed, and continuing again until the intruder reaches the center of the room.

Blue skin peeks out above giant boots. A jotunn. The boots begin to pace, turning as they scan the room.

“Idunn?” A whisper breaks the silence- one that seems familiar to you, somehow. “Please tell me that oaf had the confidence to leave you here,” he says low, his tone strained by panic. The boots turn towards the bed before pausing.

Your heart stops. You hold your breath.

In a flash of scintillating bright green magic, the giant’s boots are suddenly replaced by much smaller ones- that of someone about your size. What kind of trick-

“I’ve come to take you home, Idunn,” he says, his whisper rising to soft speech.

There’s a moment of hesitation within you until it finally clicks: you know that voice. You’re certain of it. Is that… Loki?

With a sharp exhale, you lift the quilt.

Your eyes trail up fine emerald and gold robes until they meet the heartbroken jade eyes of the God of Mischief.

You crawl out from under the bed. Straightening yourself, you drop your eyes to the floor and keep them low, struggling to maintain his stare. You know you look worn- but you're not sure you want to know just how worn.

A raging sea of thoughts passes through your mind. Is this a trick? Are you one of them? How can I be certain you will take me home? Why are you the one who came? Has my absence at last been noticed? As always, only one manages to make its way from racing mind to quiet mouth. “How long?”

He pauses, his troubled expression stripping him of his usual nonchalant mask. He was prepared for your anger- most everyone has grown angry with him. However, he was not prepared for your resigned grief. “Idunn-”

“How long,” you interrupt emphatically, finally looking up, into his eyes, “have I been gone?”

His stare darts between your eyes as his mind grasps for words.

You take a step closer to him. “Loki-”

“Three years.”

You are immediately locked in an emotional stun.

Three years.

Three years since you've seen the gods you had come to love. Three years since you were stripped of your own volition. Three years since you've tended to your garden. Three years since you've been home.

And based on the way he looks at you now- as if you are something fragile, something that could break if he moved too fast or spoke too harshly- these three long years have come at a great cost, taking a heavy toll on the Goddess of Eternal Youth.

Tear ducts that had long remained dormant spring to life with full vigor, creating twin cascades of tears that run down your cheeks, flushed from the cold.

The dense fog of a silent “why?” settles in the room.

“I can explain,” Loki blurts.

You remain silent, watching him.

“But we must leave. Now.”

Though despondent, you nod, stepping closer.

He nods, taking a deep breath, reminding himself: It’s okay to touch you; you won’t break beneath his fingertips. With a flourish, the god ghosts a hand over your shoulder and transforms you into something small- you're not entirely sure what, to be honest. In a second green swirl of magic, he turns into a large black bird, similar to the one that had stolen you away from your home all that time ago. Gently, he picks you up off the ground with his talons, carrying you close to his feathered body to keep you warm. He pokes his head out of the now-broken door- the one you long stared at as you dreamt of walking through it for good- and after determining the surroundings were vacant, takes off. The heavy beating of his great wings lifts you into the frigid air, over the giant wooden houses and tall snow capped mountains, and into the grey clouds you had grown so acquainted with from your frosted window.

You watch Jotunheim fade from view as a bittersweet grief settles in the pit of your stomach. You're glad to be going home, yes; but three years is a long time to be gone, and a long time to endure so much. There were still countless questions weighing on your numbed consciousness.

You hope Loki has one hel of an explanation.

Landing on Asgard is surprisingly reminiscent of your first arrival; at least, on the outside. There is still no crowd awaiting your return home, nor is there any sort of welcome decorum. Instead, there is an angry All Father standing beside Frigga and a row of Valkyries, blurred by your thick tears that haven’t stopped since you finally left Jotunheim.

When Loki lands, he transforms back into his usual form, carefully cradling you in his palm. When you are transformed back, you're laying across his outstretched arms and quickly set down on your feet.

“Welcome home, Idunn,” Frigga greets warmly with a mothers’ embrace. As you sob into her shoulder, she steals a glance at Odin and gently pries you off of her. “Come, we'll clean you up.” She places a soft hand on your arm and ushers you away.

As you walk away, tears still trickling down your cheeks, you hear the distressed tone of Loki's voice quickly smothered by the booming rage of your All Father.

Frigga is quick to lovingly tend to you when you arrive at her palace.

After a warm rosewater bath, you are given new white clothes to replace your tattered robes. A meal is prepared for you right away- the first warm meal you’ve had in a long while- and a goblet of water is kept full before you. You cry until you can’t anymore, drink deep and eat your fill, and cry again.

Frigga, ever your closest ally, sits beside you, drying your tears with soft cloths.

You don’t say much of anything. What is there to say? She knows the jotun, and what they’re like. She knows what happened- likely more than you do. You’re finally home, and you’re safe. Your gift is yours again. You are yours again. That’s all that matters, now.

When you finish eating, Frigga instructs you to rest. She promises to bring food and check in throughout the day, but she will wait to break the news to the rest of the gods until you feel ready. You’re well overdue for a trip through the realms, and the gods will be restless until they are rejuvenated again- so it’s for the best that they don’t hear of your return until you begin your travels.

Frigga walks you to your home under the silver glow of Mani.

Arriving at your garden, you see that it has been carefully maintained for you- not as well as you would maintain it, but well enough to keep everything healthy. It’s a meaningful gesture. A few extra Valkyries stand guard faithfully at the garden gates. A couple follow you inside your tower, where Frigga gives you another long embrace before bidding you goodnight.

You are left to rest that night. The Valkyries remain closer than usual to grant you the company you’ve so deeply craved these three long years. Exhausted, and in your own bed at last, you drift into a deep sleep.

It isn’t until you rise at last, late into the following afternoon, that Loki makes his appearance at the door of your tower.

“May I?” he asks, anxiously pressing his left thumb into his right palm. The expression he wears is soft, free of all pretense. There’s a light crease between his brows as he awaits an answer. Vulnerability is something the God of Mischief has comfortably slipped away from; yet, here he is, willing himself to expose his emotions to you.

You nod, stepping to the side and closing the door behind him as he enters.

He takes a moment to look around, his eyes briefly pausing on various details in the room.

Green plants hang from pots chained to the ceiling, cushioned chairs sit around an ornately carved wooden table, and sunlight fills the room, highlighting the golden calligraphy hand-painted on the wall-space that remains between giant windows from which white curtains are pulled back. The smell of chamomile and rosemary dances on the back of the cool breeze drifting in through the open window. There’s a touch of life delicately interlaced with every aspect of your home; as if you can’t help but bring gentle vibrancy to everything you encounter. It suits you.

So much so that Loki feels completely engulfed by you. Normally, that would almost feel comforting- but in this circumstance, he feels nearly smothered.

You remain standing by the door, watching him. Your arm crosses over your front as a hand grasps its opposite bicep, a self-soothing gesture to quell the fire of anxiety that has sparked in your chest.

He stands for a while, mouth slightly agape as he tries to decide what to say first. When he at last speaks, his voice is soft and uneven: “How are you?”

You shrug, softly shaking your head. “I am… alright. As much as I can be, I suppose.”

“Did they hurt you?” His eyes drop, and you realize he’s staring at the reddened raw skin on your exposed wrists.

“No,” you blurt, shaking your head, “well… Not directly.”

He nods, a touch of relief washing over him. His shoulders relax, but his thumb still idly presses into his palm, giving way to his lingering anxiety over the conversation that looms over the two of you.

You take a few steps closer, pulling out a chair and sitting on one side of your table. You fold your hands together in your lap, staring down at them.

Loki follows suit, taking his place in the adjacent chair and turning it to face you. He learns forward, collapsing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees. He breathes out a long, heavy sigh. “It began years ago, after word of your arrival and travels had at least reached every corner of the nine realms. I discovered,” he lifts his hand, and the ivory skin shifts to an icy blue, “my true lineage.”

“You’re… jotunn?”

He nods. “Taken as a babe and brought here by Odin. As soon as I learned the truth, I went to Jotunheim to demand answers. My mother and father knew. They saw it happen, and… simply watched.”

Your brows knit together, your heart sinking for him.

“They justified their inaction with a hope: if I were to learn of my true heritage, perhaps I would align with the jotnar and help them gain the immortality Odin has long claimed he would find. They believe they could come to rule the nine realms so long as they lived long enough to build an adequate army.”

You hesitate, fearful to ask, but eventually manage: “And?”

“I denied them, of course! I wouldn’t relinquish you into their hands so easily.” He looks at you with an expression of pleading; one that begs that you believe him. That you don’t turn your back on him so quickly. That you forgive him for this horrid thing he’s done to you, even before he’s fully confessed.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“They nearly killed me on the spot, promising that Asgard’s blood would pool with mine; and then they made an offer. If I delivered your gift to them, they would refrain from attacking Asgard. It wasn’t until you granted me the first apple that I realized you and your gift are one and the same.”

“And it was too late to go back on that bargain,” you finish for him.

He nods. “I tried to grant you what little comfort I could, before you would be taken from us,” he adds half-heartedly- knowing there was nothing he could say that could make any of what he had done better. He concedes to the guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Your eyes drift downward as the realization settles as a grief in your chest. The choice laid before him was simple: you, or countless others and a war without an end in sight. Of course he gave you up- what other reasonable option was there?

Yet, your last memories were… sweet, by his design.

His eyes flicker to your chest, catching the shimmer of the paradox necklace that still faithfully rests against your skin; a bitter symbol of his betrayal, but now, too, a touching memento of his devotion. Despite the conflict in your heart, it ultimately encapsulated the god you cherish so deeply- a paradox in his own right. Your downfall and your savior; the god who both doomed his kind and sought recompense by saving them. You wouldn’t part from his gift in your captivity; you certainly wouldn’t part from it now.

He returns his gaze to yours, a hopeful peace washing over him.

You’re almost comforted by the thought of Loki’s intention, leaving that necklace behind. Now, staring into his eyes, you wonder if there’s more to be found within them. Beyond the regret, past the hope, buried beneath the hesitation. Perhaps there is more; perhaps you are merely projecting that which you refuse to come to terms with yourself. You resign yourself only to wonder.

“I would have gone willingly, if you had only asked,” you finally profess, breaking the silence. Because I would do anything for you, if you asked.

“I could not have asked such a thing of you, Idunn,” he responds softly. A few words flood his mind and weigh heavy on his tongue.

He will not utter them.

“I promise you,” he insists, taking one of your trembling hands in his, “I will make them pay for what they forced upon me. For what they’ve done to you.”

Quiet tears fall. You nod.

“I understand if-”

“I forgive you, Loki.”

His expression instantly softens from one of grief and regret to relief. His shoulders relax, but his grip on your hand tightens. The corners of his mouth pull into a brief, soft smile.

Tucking your free hand beneath his, you lift his hands- still gingerly wrapped around yours- and press your lips to his knuckles.

“Thank you,” you whisper with a soft smile.

The warmth that sets his heart aflame is enough to strip him of the bitterness garnered by the newly-discovered jotun form that sits beneath the Asgardian illusion.

You stand, guiding him by the hand to the gates of your garden. The two of you walk in silence. With a gentle squeeze of the hand, you at last let go, turning around and heading back to your tower.

He stands for a few seconds, watching you leave, and swallows his words before he, too, walks away. He cannot tell you now. He will not tell you now; not after what he has done.

Not when there is yet more he must do.

Not until revenge is wrought from the jotun who set their greedy sights on you.

After that, he will tell you at last. Once revenge and victory are proclaimed from the mountainous bodies felled by his lying hands, he will offer them as a sacrifice at the altar of your heart and confess the sins committed in his devotion to his ever-worshiped goddess.

And there will be no choice but to adorn him with a husband’s ring and a king’s crown upon the great golden throne.

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stupidthoughtsinwriting · 1 year

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Try Again | Loki x OC

Chapter 1 - (Next Chapter) -(Chapter List) - (Main Masterlist)

Summary: Enjoying a holiday in Greece until a dreadful call changes it all...

Note: Ohhh I've posted it! okay, first of all, I am open to making a tag list to those interested, just tell me in the comments and I'll put you in. Two, this is the fastest fic i've finished and to me that's astonishing because as you may notice, most of my fics take me months to complete and in finishing this in a few nights is a feat to me. And third, understand that i am going back to class on Monday and thus i might not have as much time to update this as much but i promise i will be working on it and have patience with me. I am unreliable in consistency but I can promise results, even if the time is indefinite. The second chapter is in the works so bear with me and i hope you enjoy!

The sun rests low on the horizon, slowly dipping down amongst the waves. It turns the water a gorgeous shade of gold and the sky flies past in a flurry of bright and brilliant colours. Though as slow as the bright star sinks, it still let off a bit of heat. A welcoming warmth caressing the tanning skin of those still out, enjoying the last rays of the day before heading inside to avoid the chill night.

A child plays in the sand. Building castles of great architecture and collects shells and rocks of all forms and sizes, anything piquing his interests really. A bucket sat beside him and in it rests all his collected treasures. He uses some of the colourful shells and stones to decorate his castle, giving it colour amongst the muted tones of sand.

His mother sits not far from him, basking in the last of the heated rays before the inevitable task of packing up for the day. She watches her boy, clad only in his swim trunks, unruly obsidian curls bouncing at every movement as he fiddles and plays with his toys in the sand.

A warm yet solemn smile painted her thin lips as she watched over her young one, seeing features oh so similar to her husbands. From his ivory skin and up to his emerald eyes, their son was but a copy of his father. The spitting image save for the too few features he had of her, like the scattered bloom of freckles that decorated the bridge of his small nose and cheeks.

He also seems to have gotten mannerisms eerily similar that of his father, despite the brief and few memories he had of him in their short time. The pick at his hands and furrow that would rest on his brows whenever he was confused or sad was just so like her husbands. It brought an overwhelming need to be protect him from the dangers of the world, but she knew that as he grew, she won’t be able to protect him from everything and the best she could do was to teach him how to protect himself. But as of now, she would do just about everything to keep him safe.

Just as the sun began to descend the horizon, the boy abruptly stood up and walked over to where his mother lay beneath an umbrella, clutching tight on the offering he wished to show his mother.

‘Mama!’ he called out as he reached near her.

‘Yes, my darling?’ she replies warmly.

‘Wook at what I found mama’ he urged for her to look once he reached the tail end of her towel, plopping down on her lap, causing her to grunt at the sudden weight while he thrusts his hands to her face, the offering in question presented. She moves to sit up, the young boy still in her lap as she adjusted her position and lifts her Ray-Ban’s to her head so to properly see whatever it was he so wanted her to well, see.

In his small hands, lay a green sea stone. Big enough to dwarf the small hands of a child like his own yet still small in the eyes of others. It rests softly in her son’s palms, smooth surfaced, and tinted seafoam, she understood why it would pick at her son’s interest.

‘That is beautiful love’ she praises, earning a prideful look from the little boy, his chest puffing out as his grin stretched much like a Cheshire cat. It earned a hearty chuckle from the mother, watching her son’s actions. Joyous and confident, much like how his father was before.

‘May I?’ she asked and once a nod was returned, she plucked the stone from his hands, holding it up to the sky. She hoped that what was left of the day was enough for the light to pass through the translucent glass and it did. The stone glowed bright like the waters before them.

A look of awe shaped the boy’s face, his mouth hung open as he stared at the rock, but the mother’s gaze only strayed for a bit before turning back to her son. The look on his face made every hardship worth it and yet again, it brought another wide grin to her face.

Pressing a quick kiss to his temples, she gave the rock back to him and still, he stared at it as if it contained the hidden magic of the world. Taking the moment with his attention pre-occupied, she brushed away the sands stuck to his skin, from his face to his pale torso, she brushed away as much as she could, but the rest would have to be washed away when they get back to their room.

Speaking of which, she glanced at the sun, the sky a canvas of pinks, oranges and violets as the sun sunk down low enough and it now meant that it was time for them to pack up and head back inside.

Her gaze lingered in the horizon until a tiny voice called her back.

‘Mama’ the child called for her.

‘Yes dear?’

‘Do you think papa would wike this?’ he asked, turning her attention back to him. There had been few and brief times that his father was asked about and often this was the question asked. The other times he’d ask were always of his father’s character. Stories of the man were told and a picture of him was kept among the boy’s things as a remembrance, but it had been a long while since he’s asked of him again.

She stared at the orbs identical to her son’s fathers and she couldn’t help but think of him. His charming smile, his careful touch, his loving gaze, and intoxicating smell. She longed to be back in his once safe arms, but she couldn’t, and that truth is to be accepted.

‘Yes he would luv’ she answers. The truth was, knowing her husband, he’d love anything and everything their little boy gave him. From a messily drawn card for Father’s Day and his birthdays down to a piece of cereal the boy had been eating, the man would have been grateful for anything his boy gave him.

‘Bwilliant’ he murmurs, and she just knows he will keep it safely stashed amongst the other things he thinks his father would like. It warmed her heart to have a son so kind and giving. It made her proud that he was growing up to be as so and she just hoped her husband would be as well.

‘Alright darling, we have to go pack up now. Go get your stuff and then we can go back to the room so you can have a bath and then dinner’ she explains to the young boy, tucking away the curtain of curls that hid his face behind his ears before cupping his cheek and giving his little button nose a kiss, causing him to giggle in her hold, his face scrunching up. ‘Alright?’

‘Okay mumma’ he nodded to her command and set off to get his toys and treasures from the sand. Watching him pick up his stuff, she began to pack up as well. Tidying up the drinks and towel she had brough and place them in her bag before brushing off the bit of sand that stuck to her skin before putting on the blue summer dress atop her swimsuit for when they head back to their room.

The boy trudged back to her with a heavy bucket in hand and his kiddie camera slung around his neck. The bucket nearly overfilled with all the stones and shells he collected, along with the beach toys he used to make the castle.

Dropping it with a heavy grunt, the boy huffed and puffed at the exertion, causing his mother to stifle a laugh yet still a sound managed to escape, her hand immediately flying to muffle the sound but seeing it went unnoticed, she relaxed and dropped it.

‘A bit heavy love?’ she asks.

‘A wot heavy’ he says, emphasizing the word like a true drama king. Wonder who he got that from?

‘Alright. Now, do you want to wear a shirt before we go back?’ she asks, offering him the top he wore earlier.

‘No tank you’ he declines, shaking his head.

‘Alrighty then’ she puts his shirt back in the bag before slinging it on her left shoulder and picking up the castle shaped bucket (which did weigh a lot, no wonder her son was left panting) with her left hand. Her right: out in offering for the young boy to hold as they slowly walked back to their hotel.

‘Did you have fun today?’ the mother asked as the walked along the beach.

‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ he shouted in enthusiasm, jumping up and down. The mother could only smile at the boy’s joyous behaviour, glad that she could give him fun memories to look back on.

The rest of their walk was filled with conversation about what the new thing’s he discovered about the sea life, the castle he so artistically constructed and the promise of coming back here another day and by the time they reached the lobby of the resort, the mother could see how the exhaustion of the day was taking a toll on her little boy.

‘Ahh, Miss Ackland’ Mr Birch, the evening manager greeted from behind the reception ‘good day I presume?’ he questions, noting how tuckered out her normally energetic son was started to sag against her. With a brief glance to the boy and a small chuckle, she nodded.

‘Yes, it was good day. Especially for this one’ she replies, rubbing a thumb over the hand in her grasp, hoping to at least rouse the child until he’s eaten dinner.

The man chuckles a bit, seeing how unresponsive the boy is to her attempts. ‘My, the young tyke seems real knackered.’ he comments with an accent much like her own yet the way the words flow so smoothly would have anyone wrapped in a trance,

‘Yes well, all day out in the beach seems to do that’ she responds politely.

‘Well, best not keep you from your young one and leave you to it. Have a nice evening miss.’ he bids her well off with a gentle smile that would leave any woman with a common-sense to a puddle, yet she has her immunity, and she powered through with it.

‘Actually, would you mind sending some food to our room in 15, 20 minutes? We haven’t had the chance to get some dinner and I’m hoping to feed at least a little into him before he’s off for the night.’ She requests of the manager, really wishing to at least have her boy a few bites before going dead to the world.

‘Certainly miss.’ He dutily responds, already picking up a phone to call the kitchen ‘Just the usual ma’am?’ he asks of the meal, turning to her with the phone to his ear.

‘Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you Mr. Birch’ she says with a kind grin, faintly hearing his conversation as mother and son walked away.

‘Yes, to the Amphitrite suite in fifteen minutes… Thank you’.

---

Once the pair arrived back to their room, the sun had finally set, casting a now dark canvas, littered with twinkling stars, though it went unnoticed to the weary boy who had let go of his mothers’ hand as soon as they entered and dropped with a thud on the chalk white cushions once he was near enough while his mother, Ms. Ackland, relieved herself of the heavy weight she had been trudging since the beach.

‘Leo’ she called to the boy softly, opting to not chastise the young one when he was already weary. ‘Come on darling. Quick bath and some dinner then off to bed, sleepy head’

‘But I’m not sleepy’ he whined, an indicator of his true predicament, even as he refuses.

‘Well, a quick wash and some supper then’ she bargained even though she knew he’d out like a light by halfway through dinner and when she received no response, she added ‘and we’ll also wash up the shells and rocks you collected, and you can sort through them after.’ And with that, his head shot up, his curls bobbing as he ran (well more speed walk than run) with what energy he had left to her side, awaiting for her instructions and wanting to get his bucket of treasures so he could wash them.

With the young one finally clean and sand free, dressed in his favourite dark blue pyjamas, they set off to the sitting room portion of the suite, just in time for room service to arrive with their supper. Since Leo had his attention to his rocks and shells (fully washed and draining on a colander borrowed from the hotel), his mother was the one that had gone to get the food, still wearing her blue summer dress since there wasn’t enough time for her to get cleaned herself but she planned on doing so after her little boy had gone to bed.

She thanked the room service and closed the door of the suite before fixing up the plate of food and brought it to where little Leo was pre-occupied, seemingly sorting the rocks by colour and size on the towel laid out before him while he let the shells dry out in the colander a little bit longer. She sat beside him, setting the plate a good distance away from his work area and began to feed her little man.

The rest of that time had been quiet, save for the thud of rocks on the whitewashed coffee table and the occasional murmur to open his mouth so the mother could feed him bites of the pork Souvlaki. In between bites, she’d offer her opinion, helping out a bit on his activity but not once has he said anything. Only responding in nods and a shake of his head, another symptom of his fatigue and true to her word, with the plate half cleared, she noticed the lack of hands working through the rocks and a weight leaning on her. Turning her head, she found the boy sound asleep, a rock he had been looking at still in his grasp but the lack of movement and the slow and steady breaths he let out was enough for her to know.

Pushing the plate aside, she carded a hand through his curls, making him curl up more beside her and all that did was take her back to when it was her husband that did the same thing. Head on her lap, she would comb through his raven locks and all that would do was press a face farther onto her stomach, arms wrapping around her waist so he could pull her closer.

This was most endearing when she has pregnant. Her beloved would whisper to her belly in a hushed tone. Her hand, as always, in his head of hair and when her nails would start to scratch at his scalp, a content sigh always left him before he burrowed in the warm mass of her stomach.

Thinking back, those were near the last good moments she had of just the two of them. A loving husband, doting and caring to his beloved wife as the two prepared the arrival of their little one. So cheery and full of life, once was he and now all she could help but do is miss those moments, let alone the man he was back then.

After a small while, the mother took the boy in her arms and having done this so many times before, it was an instant that the boy instinctively wraps himself in his mothers’ hold, arms circling her neck, legs locking behind her as he laid his little head to her chest, right over where her heart beat a rhythm that often lulled him to sleep. She planted a kiss at the top of his head, right on his unruly curls at she took him to the bedroom.

Laying him down in the middle of the queen-sized bed, she laid with him for a bit to make sure he would no longer stir before carefully untangling herself from his hold. She propped some of the pillows beside him, just to make sure he wouldn’t move to far to edge and fall and covered him with his blankie before deciding it was enough and she left the room, shutting the door quietly.

Taking a survey of the suite, she figured on tidying up and finishing what was left of supper before taking a shower herself, wanting to be rid of the day’s clothes and into her own pyjamas while she indulged on some wine in the balcony.

Nearly giddy at the thought, she set off in doing so and half an hour later, she emerges from the ensuite in fresh clothes, warmed somewhat by a thin green cardigan she put over.

The mother then set off to the kitchenette where a good bottle of wine chilled in the mini fridge. Now without any distractions or hesitation, she took a wine glass the concierge so kindly provided, and poured herself a hearty amount, tasting the aged, fermented juice and relishing at the thought of getting lost from her head for a few hours after a glass or two.

With the glass near empty, it was then that she remembered that she hasn’t even touched her phone nearly the whole day and seeing it sat on the counter, with a quick reach, she had it in her hand. She wasn’t surprised of the lack of notifications, so she set it down and finished the last of her glass’s contents. What did surprise her though was the call that connected a minute later, the familiar name on the ID catching her unexpectedly.

She answered the call before it dropped, wanting to hear from the man after a while of no contact.

‘Thor’ she starts, putting the phone to her ear as she poured herself another glass. ‘Long time’

‘Yeah, um. It has, hasn’t it?’ his deep voice grumbles through the phone’s speaker.

‘Five months to be exact’ she clarifies, bringing the glass to her lips and takes a sip.

‘Sorry, it’s just…’ he started to explain himself, but she cuts him off.

‘No. Don’t, don’t do that. Don’t say that. I could have called but I didn’t, and I am as much to blame’ she clarifies, regretting making the comment when she didn’t want to take apologies when she was just as much at fault as he was.

‘Right, alright. Um, where’s little Leo?’ he asks, diverting the conversation to the boy so to get out of that uncomfortable subject.

‘Ohh, he’s already in bed. Sorry. Had a long day’.

‘Wow, that early. It’s just a little before nine. Usually, he’d still be very active. Well from what I can remember that is.’ The blond man chuckles, remembering the nights he’d spend with the very energetic child.

‘Actually, it’s about ten before 11 here.’

‘Her- Wudduya mean here? Aren’t you in town?’ the man asks, clearly very confused and he sounds it and that is her fault.

‘Ohh, were in Santorini on holiday. Sorry, I haven’t informed anyone really and I would have you but-’ you haven’t called, and I couldn’t make the call myself the last bit went unsaid but the both of them knew.

‘Oh, okay. Alright.’ He pauses for a while, leaving a pregnant silence to fill until he did. ‘Well, is it good there?’

‘Very’ she responds immediately, uncomfortable by that gap. ‘it’s beautiful. The water, the architecture, the culture, the people, it’s absolutely wonderful.’ She describes, looking to the balcony where there was a perfect view of the sea. ‘Leo’s enjoying himself too. Playing in the beach all day, making sandcastles and he collects shells and rocks that take his interest and earlier he went about to sorting them, but the little man fell asleep halfway into dinner. Too worn out from the day to even finish his sorting.’ She giggles a bit, remembering how the little boy looked all curled up beside her.

‘Seems like you’re having a good time.’ The man responds, a bit despondent but she didn’t hear that.

‘We are.’ She says with a bit of pride ‘we are’ she repeats though this time she’s uncertain and dejected because a part of her is guilty. For actually having a good time and without the man she loves. And another part.. just wants him. To be here with them. To enjoy this with them but, we can’t have all we want now can we.

She faintly heard someone talking, someone angry and that was followed by the sound of the phone shuffling before she heard Thor again.

‘Sorry Em, could you hold for a minute?’ he requests, and she answers back yes but before she could ask anymore, he mutes.

She put the phone on speaker and set it down, taking a gulp of her wine and as promised, after a minute, he came and called her back.

‘I’m back. You still there?’

‘Yah’ she manages before swallowing her drink ‘still here. Everything alright?’ she asks, wondering who it was that was so angry (though she should have known).

‘Yeah. Everything’s just fine’ he replies, sounding out breath.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, absolutely. Terrific’ he says with far too much cheer, it annoyed her enough to know it was fake.

‘Thor.’ She says firmly, setting her glass down the marble counter ‘What’s going on?’ she demands sternly, using the voice she rarely would use to chastise Leo with when on bad behaviour, not wanting some half-arsed answer.

Again, a long of silence stretched on until with a heavy sigh, he began.

‘He’s in hospital again.’ He confesses and she shakes her head, knowing well who he meant. Irritated was she, evidently enough to pick up her glass and divide its contents into half.

‘He’s always in hospital’ she replies after swallowing, swirling the liquid around the glass and she watches in fascination, wanting to get her head from what he just said.

‘No. This is different.’ He presses, knowing the times he’s said this before were for minor and abrasive accounts.

‘What do you mean?’ she pesters, her voice now wobbly as a burst of possibilities swirled in her head.

‘He um- ‘he stops himself, swallowing the hard pill because knowing her, telling her this would only tear her apart. ‘He rang me earlier.’ That enough was a giveaway that something was wrong, the severity was the only missing piece. ‘He was in pain, and he could barely let out anything before he dropped the phone and groaned in agony.’ Her breathing hitched then, tears welling her eyes while her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I got to him as soon as I could, and when I found him, he was on the floor, in pain’ He hated repeating that but all he could do was relay the accounts of what happened as it was still all so fresh and hope he could filter it as much as possible. ‘I called for an ambulance and tried to get him to tell me what was happening, but he couldn’t even respond’ he chokes, remembering the sight and it flashes before his eyes, as if he was reliving the whole painful ordeal again.

Emma on the other hand, had tears quietly running her cheeks, hand still tightly clasped to her mouth for fear she would let out a sob that would not only alert Thor but Leo as well. Her mind ran rampant, creating images and images of her pained husband, lying helplessly in pain on the floor, asking for help to no one because of his solitude. Not knowing if he there was anyone coming at all.

Guilt held a tighter grip on her breaking heart as her mind convinced herself that it was her fault that he was alone. She should have been there. She shouldn’t have left. She should have taken care of him and maybe he wouldn’t be where he was if it she had just stayed and cared for him. But she didn’t and she wasn’t there when he was helplessly lying on the ground, wondering if the last thing he’d see was the dirt and bottles that undoubtedly littered the floors around him instead of his beloved wife and darling son.

She swallowed back the sob itching to escape her lips, desperate on not making a sound.

Her mind was taking a turn in the labyrinth it already was, taking her to unknown ends of painful scenarios her unyielding mind procures when she still doesn’t have the pieces to the whole story.

A creep of silence then went on for the benefit of both. Time for them to compose themselves before the once boisterous man continued.

‘The ambulance-’ he begins once more, though demurely ‘-arrived quickly. And they took him to the hospital immediately, seeing the state he was. Even the doctors didn’t know what was happening to him, but they gave him morphine for the pain.’ He somewhat assures and it relieves her a bit knowing he wasn’t in pain anymore. ‘They let him rest for a bit before they took him for tests. He’s resting now though. They’re keeping him for the night under observation but there was talk that the stay might be indefinite until they figured out what was wrong. Just in case another attack happened but you know him’ he teases lightly, not wanting to drown in the dampening mood this whole conversation, hell this whole ordeal has taken and neither did she so, she appreciates the lightening.

And she also knew what he meant. Her husband hated hospitals. Even stepping one foot inside churned his insides enough and being a patient? We’ll she knew enough to give her an idea of what happened.

It didn’t help her to think of his reaction to being told that he had to stay the night. Scared as he might have already been, the prospect of staying even longer undoubtedly terrified him and thus she concluded that he refused the longer stay.

Thinking of it, the only time he was at some sort of ease while in the hospital was when they took baby Leo for his newborn check up and even then he was anxious. The check-up had been a necessary. Just to assure the new parents that their little one was alright and properly checked on since a homebirth lacked that formality. The man himself had been the one to insist on the homebirth and Emma didn’t object to that, wanting to give the man a sort of peace as they brought their child to the world. His fears only eased once the doctor told them that everything is just as it should be about their newborn and there and only then did he relax as he rejoice on the fact that they had a health baby boy.

That clued her enough of his fear of hospitals and that information didn’t help her at all now.

‘The doctors are coming back in the morning for the results but after that, he insists on leaving’ he continuous to inform her, wary of her lack of response.

She hasn’t said anything since the start of his recount. Not a sound could be heard from her end of the line, and it unnerve him, making him check to see if the call was still on and it was. It took him a few good minutes, but he deduced why she was so silent.

He knew his sister well and the things he’s regaled to her… he just knew it was breaking her being apart.

‘Emma’ he called out, wanting to be sure he was still taking to someone. ‘you still there?’

‘yah’ she muttered, barely audible but he heard.

She had sunken to the floor, leaning against the counters as she pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she silently cried. Her phone still sat atop the island, her call with her brother-in-law still ongoing yet there she was, listening, tears running her cheeks as she listened to him describe the torment her beloved endured.

‘He needs you now’ the man murmurs, pleading for his brother’s sake that she come back. He knew his little brother wouldn’t take it if these pains continued on and he feared the day he would give up. And without the person he loves most, the person that had been his solace long before, his rock and home, he is terrified of that end coming too soon.

The woman could only swallow at the man’s words before clamping a hand on her mouth and burying her head to her knees as an unrelenting sob escapes her. She had no control of it and the others that followed but she did have control of how loud they would come to so she did her best to make as little sound as she possibly could.

Try as she did though, Thor heard her. Muffled as it was, he knew that sound better than he liked to admit and not once did his heart break not break for her every time.

‘just… please come back’ he begs her once more, intending to end the call and leave her to some privacy. He stays on for a bit longer and just as he was about to press the end button, she called out to him, saying his name in an unsteady voice, congested and clear that she had been crying.

Two days she wanted to say. Give her two days and she would do everything she could to be there as soon as possible but what left her mouth wasn’t so. ‘Take care of him for me’ she pleads her own, on the brink of another fit of sobs but she held on till the call ended.

‘Always’ he responds before ending the call and with that her resolve crumbles.

Once again, her hand flies to cover her mouth, going in to cover and muffle the onslaught of sobs she had no hope of controlling but… they never came. Whether it was for some preservation for Leo’s deep sleep or her sudden inability to, they never come. What took its place though was a rush of tears and a heavy heart.

Leaning back on the limewashed cupboards, she let her tears run and her heart sink for she thought she deserved it. The guilt eating at her from the inside. Churning her stomach to knots and crushing her heart to shreds. It manipulated her. Turning her to the villain at the heart of this mess when she had done nothing but protect herself and her son from the tragedy that was once a happy family.

Her mind was a cruel and fickle thing. Making her believe the lies it comes up with and without the one person who knew how to lead her out of the labyrinth, she was lost. Facing every new dreaded possibility at every dead end without escape or clue on how to get out because the person that always led her to the exit, became the reason she was lost and missed it.

She didn’t blame him though. Despite what the others do, not once did she blame the poor tortured soul of her husbands’ because how could she. She could have helped him and stayed by him, just as she vowed but breaking that promise lost her the right to blame, not that she would.

In sickness and in health… clearly she didn’t hold her promise on that.

She drew her knees back to her chest, letting her heart wrench while a hand rose to reach for the bottle of wine that still sat on the bench. Once she got that down, Emma took a big swig right out of the bottle, never minding the glass she used before. Her only goal. To suffer and hope she’d be numb enough to stop the tears from flowing.

And that’s how she spent the rest of the night. Sat on the kitchenette floor of her suite, back against the cupboards as she let her tears dry out while burning a bottles’ worth of wine through her liver, letting her guilt and sorrow drape over her as it would a child under a tablecloth on Halloween.

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