#THE ACTUAL FRUIT FLY TRAP YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DROWN IN WAS TWO FEET AWAY WHATS WRONG WITH YOU

[modestlyabsurd]

Endgame (Loki x Reader)

"How do your Avengers fare in the future?" The bitter poison laced through his words is testing you, testing your strength, testing your love, testing your will.

"They're good fighters." You chew the inside of your cheek, the metallic taste of blood coating your tongue. "They've developed a sense of teamwork."

"It won't last."

That coldness. Callousness. You nod slowly and purse your lips. "You'd be surprised."

Looking through the glass at this product of Thanos' brainwashing is painful. Nowhere is the Loki you loved, the Loki you let in to see the ugliest parts of your soul. The Loki that loved you.

This person is weak. Afraid. Dangerous. A hurt dog hollering, a cornered dog snarling. The first source is at the hands of his father's lies, then began a horrendous spiral. Plucked from an abyss of nothingness, his attempted genocide and suicide having failed, captured when he's most vulnerable.

Fed promises and hope. Filled with a hunger for vengeance. Given tools, power, and supposed knowledge. Given answers to his pain; that the universe will only work against him, lest he rules it himself.

Against the advice of his handlers, he would begin with Midgard, the simplest of the realms. The realm that rules themselves. The realm known for the ignorance of its people. Great opportunity lies within Midgard. Humans were a moldable people; not entirely set in their ways. Ever-changing. Indecisive. In need of guidance and direction. Yes, he would begin with Midgard.

At least, that's what he planned.

Loki underestimated the advancement of Earth's technology and resources. The push-back that would come from the humans. He expected more willing submission, and instead has now been captured, yet again.

Once more, he is being filled with new knowledge. Of betrayal, of lies, of ulterior motives, much the Black Order had enlightened him of. Only this information comes not from the mutant, disfigured mouth of The Other; rather, it comes from the sweet-tongued, youthful, naive mouth of a young woman.

She begs him to relent. To rethink his plans. She says she is from the future, that she knows him and his brother. The Avengers. She claims she has seen the fruits of his labor and that they are poisonous. Futile.

Of course, he listens - as if he has a choice - but he gives her words no credence. He has been shown the power. He yielded it within the scepter! He did, before the Avengers imprisoned him and took it away.

What fools.

Just a bit longer, he will play along. He will look into her eyes as she vomits this schpiel of nonsense for him. A few more moments won't hurt.

"Y'know, your brother explained it to me this way. How you are. He said, 'Loki is a free spirit trapped within the confines of his own limitations. He's like a bird that's been raised in a cage, and then suddenly the cage collapses. Most birds might fly away and never return. But Loki continues flying in a circle within the same boundary of the cage, as if it were still there.'" you pause, staring at your hands, licking your chapped lips. A sad smile spreads across your cheeks at the thought of Thor. "Now I see what he meant."

"Is that so? He thinks he's cracked the code, is that it?" A dark, humorless chuckle quietly fills the room. "And you believe him. I need no further convincing that you are nothing more than a hopeless, delusional child. A waste of time."

He was really digging deep. And it hurt.

The taste of blood coated your entire mouth now; you'd chewed your lips into blisters, your cheeks were butchered on the inside.

Next plan of action.

You pull out your walkie-talkie and push the communications button, a three toned chirp echoing off the walls.

"What's the code to enter the cell?"

A moment passes.

Steve's voice comes through.

"Eight eight four two, five eight five six."

"Copy."

You stand from the metal bench, rolling out tension from your neck and shoulders. The touch pad is alongside the cell, left of where you are. You pad across the metal grate floor, each step excruciatingly audible. You notice out of peripheral vision Loki's cold blue eyes monitoring your every move.

You tap in the code. The glass door opens horizontally. Loki, mockingly, beckons you inside by opening his arms to the cell.

Ever since you stood up, your heart rate has been off the charts. Your blood has gone cold. Your hands have moistened, you wipe them on the thighs of your jeans as you enter the cell.

Once you're inside, the door shuts behind you, jarring your feet as it latched tight.

There is so much distance between you. Not a trace of fondness. No sign of emotion. Other than disdain. Annoyance, maybe. Like he wished you would spontaneously combust.

"I've gathered that you don't believe me," you peek from under your eyelashes.

He ponders you. No, he doesn't believe it, but that's not what he wants to say. He's highly intrigued, now that you've shown the courage - be it as stupid as it is - to enter the cage with the animal. The monster.

Your persistence is amusing.

"I must admit, your story is quite elaborate. Believable, even." He rises from the little bench provided in the cell, holding his wrists behind his back. All you hear is the blood pounding in your chest, and his boots. Your eyes are fixed onto him.

He saunters toward you and it is when he has decreased the space between you that your world freezes.

"Sadly, no. I do not. And my patience is wearing thin," he snarls. You see the twitch of his jaw clenching.

"Your patience is running thin, and my time is running out," you whisper. A small, nervous smile wants to emerge, so you let it. "I want to show you something, if you're willing to see."

He gestures for you to show him, and you cast your gaze down to his chest as you pull something out of your back pocket.

A photo.

Instead of handing it to him, you take a chance and move beside him to view it together.

It's you and Loki. You're taking the picture, laughing, as he kisses you passionately.

"Thor found this picture mixed in with his stuff before," your voice cracks as you remember. "Before it happened. I didn't even know it existed. When he gave it to me I stared at it for hours. I memorized every part of it. Every color. Every shadow. Heh, I'm not even sure where we were or what we were doing, but, I remember thinking that this image was the culmination of how I felt about you. How you made me feel."

The photo shakes in the grip of your fingertips.

Loki was pulled into the water by the photo. He swam through it; your bright, toothy smile, pink cheeks and scrunched nose carries him afloat to his own reflection. The high angle shows his arms secured around your middle, holding you tenderly. Protecting you. His nose and lips are pressed firmly to your temple and although his eyes are closed, the image permeates his feelings in that moment. Whatever they are, he seems so sure of himself.

Loki begins drowning in your narration.

Confliction; a strong pull in all directions. Did this happen? Could it be true? Could you, a mortal human, have enraptured his tarnished heart in such a way? Could he, you?

No, of course not. Loving a human? He would never. This ... Somehow, this is certainly a manipulation from the mastermind Avengers. A ploy. Manifested out of fear.

He shakes his head, willing away the pathetic questioning you planted in his mind. How dare ... he cannot seem to look away from the photo.

"You alright?" you ask softly, naturally.

His head hasn't stopped shaking. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his fingers twitching, aching to fidget with something. His brow has hardened.

"This ... You ... You witch!" he backs away, leaving a gust of cold near where he stood.

"Loki, calm down - "

"Do not give me orders," he hisses. "Who do you think you are, anyway? The holder of my heart? My one true love? This is nothing more than a childish game. Pathetic!"

"Why are you reacting this way? Why are you so angry? You act like I punched you in the face; all I did was show you a picture."

"You undermine my intelligence, you imbecile."

"I think you're hiding how you really feel."

"Oh, do tell," he mocks, cocking his head sideways and squinting coldly at you.

"Look at yourself! I'm childish? You're acting like a bully and it's because you're afraid of the possibility I'm right."

He glares daggers into your soul.

You begin walking toward him, waving the photo as you go. "Tell me you didn't feel something when you saw this. Tell me. I watched you. Tell me you felt nothing! Lie to me, just like you would anyone else!"

You've closed the space to only a few feet, at best. He looks down his long nose at you, but you don't choke. You hold him there. You stand your ground for the greater good. Ready, at this point, for him to do with you what he will.

But he does nothing.

Actually, he does do something - he drops his head and looks away from you. He inhales sharply. He brings his hands together. He scratches at his left palm, a nervous habit you've tried to help him break. The source of all the cat-scratch scars that adorn it. Scars you used to kiss whenever he got upset.

You take a chance, and carefully inch closer.

"You're gonna die, Loki."

He meets your troubled gaze, his eyes no longer stone cold, but still untrusting.

"You're gonna die. He's gonna kill you himself. He's using you. He's using your pain to manipulate you into doing something you don't even realize. Something you'll regret very soon. You won't rule the world. You'll cease to exist. Along with everything else."

You're mere inches away now. It still as though you're approaching a wild animal; they may seem docile, but you're unable to read their thoughts. You've already felt a bit of the bite, though. It's now or never.

"Look at me." you whisper.

Slowly, he lifts his eyes up to yours. You swear, they've changed from even moments ago from cobalt blue. They're now a clear gray. The color they fade to when he's truly afraid. A color you've only seen once...

"I came across time to save you, Loki. I love you."

It wasn't until a few seconds of silence passed, that you realized you had never said that before. You were always too scared to admit it to yourself or anyone. It made sense as to why you felt that way now. You've just laid your feelings out in front of someone who is so mentally broken, so damaged, he is going to die due to mistakes made stemming from his afflictions. You know it.

You saw it.

Suddenly your chest becomes hollow. No lungs to breathe air. No blood for your heart to pump, so it just pumps and pumps and pumps, constricting your ribcage, suffocating you.

"I - I shouldn't have said that," you stutter, turning away and blindly looking for an escape from this feeling.

You're at the glass door, your fingers shakily hovering over the key pad as you try to remember that damned code but it will not come to you!

Another hand covers your trembling one. You jump and turn around, not even registering what was happening.

"I can't - I can't remember the code - it was eight eight something - "

Loki covers your mouth with his.

...

He's kissing you.

Your lungs fill with sweet air. Your heart fills with warmth. Your knees give way and you wrap your arms so tightly around his neck because if you didn't you would've fallen and goodness gracious, he's kissing you.

It was the best you've ever had. All lips, tongue, teeth, hands, everything.

Finally, you're home.

He breaks away all too soon; you whine, and find yourself moving closer to feel him again. His breath fans your nose. Your head is spinning, you barely hear his words.

"I believe you."