#thor x son reader

[luxthestrange]

RoR Memes #17

Thor the most beautiful bride...

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Thor’s child and longing for a Midgardian

Thor Odinson x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anon 🧀: “hi!!! Can I reqs a thor odinson x daughter reader where reader is secretly crushing on a Midgardian girl. and you know how loki can basically read minds he figures it out eventually and everyday her and uncle loki sneak to Midgard to see this girl behind thors back, but funny thing is she's never had a crush before and this one being on a Midgardian girl she's like super confused. and one day thor catches them and she has to explain how she feels abt this girl to him and he's like "....welp i love a Midgardian woman too!" And she's like super relieved and thor goes and meets her(crush) and he's super sweet to her Then thor and uncle loki help her confess to this girl and one day y/n goes to her and just tells her how she feels and by this point they are like best friends so she's super nervous but the girl likes her too and she goes back home and screams to uncle loki abt how amazing she is and what had happened while loki is just laughing at her inexperience with partners.”

you were quite the rebel, you thought

asgardian royalty with a terrible secret: you’d fallen for a midgardian

and just how were you supposed to make that work, it was laughable

heimdall always made sure to cover for you when you made your “trips”

“be sure to be back by supper, y/n. you know how your father gets” -heimdall

“yes, yes, ‘we must feast, my child!’” -you mocked

“you’d be surprised at how much you and him have in common, young one” -heimdall

“he is my father, after all. i’d hope to be like him, although i fear i’m already quite more brave and strong than he could ever hope to be” -you snarked

“be gone, thorson/dottir, before you make me chuckle” -heimdall

lol ur lil human partner made u chuckle for sure theyre so fragile

oh, and they didn’t exactly know what you were…as in a nordic “god” from the realm of asgard visiting midgard against your better judgement

“your accent is so cute, what is it exactly?” -s/o

“uh, brit—austr—slav—it’s um, well i just grew up around, you know, that area with a bunch of different accents. bit of mutt.” -you

“oh, so like, you’re from new england?” -s/o

“there’s a new england? what was wrong with the old one?” -you

yeah you were not so good at hiding that you clearly weren’t from around there

but you were learning. slowly

meanwhile on asgard

“y/n, you have a strange look upon your face” -loki “might i acquaint it to…love?”

your eyes went wide and loki gave a mischievous smile that would normal shake you a bit, but this love kept you fearless

“oh, dont you give me that look, uncle. are you mad?” -you “ah, what am i saying? ‘course you are”

“oh do i have a look? no, this is just my normal face” -loki, sarcastically

“see, that i’d believe. except you’re truly a menace when someone is happy” -loki

“not to you, oh never!” -loki “so tell me more?”

you rolled your eyes and left it to the imagination, as you weren’t quite ready to let any details go yet

and even thor was starting to get suspicious

“my child, you speak of this love yet i have not seen them! and why do i hear this from loki, am i not your father?” -thor

“yes, you are, but it’s not a big deal. let’s not get lost in the details. just young fascination, might be gone by tomorrow” -you, desperately trying to throw off the trail

he gasps

“you are lying to your own father!” -thor

“am not” -you

“our lineage does not simply become fascinated one day and bored the next, who is this person you do not wish for me to know of?” -thor

you both stare at each other

your lips curl up a bit

his do, as well

“are they of another realm?” -thor

“how did you know?!” -you

“because mine is too!” -thor

“you lie to me?!” -you

“i just forgot to mention it” -thor

“convenient!” -you

“midgardian?” -thor

“…you’re good” -you

“like father, like child” -thor

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Surprise Visit Pt 2 (Thor X Son!Reader)

Characters: Thor Odinson X Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: None

Pt 1

Request: Hi, I'm just finish Poco's udon world, and right of the batch I thought what if Poco is Thor's son, Poco has some of his feature too and I remember your fic Surprise Visit. Can you please do a Part 2 of it?🥺 reader is like Thor but he quite shy and always bring with books that his mother read before bed they bonding by activities together Thor bring him to Asgard to meet his grandparents Loki read them books, tell them stories, show and teach them magic (Harry Potter) with Freyaa and all fluff❤

The first few days after finally meeting your dad had been awkward to say the least. You were spending almost every waking moment either with him, or your uncle. You had expected that Loki would be a lot more awkward with you- or straight up wouldn’t like you from the get go, but it ended up being kind of the opposite. Thor had been a bit too eager from the get go to play the fatherly role, and you found it unnerving, and when Thor realised that (with help from Clint and Steve pointing it out for him) he backed up and started to just try and get to know you, your interests, your dislikes, and take things a little slower. Loki, on the other hand, was nowhere near as pushy, gave you space, and didn’t force conversation on to you. Eventually though, you ended up finding something to bond with Loki over; Books. 

You had been interested in the books he read, even if you couldn’t read the language, and worked up the courage to ask him about it, and after an explanation, he asked what kind of books you liked, and it was a start of an actual long and meaningful conversation. Loki took that, and hinted that Thor should look into those books. The next day, Thor showed up to your room with a pile of books in his arms and a grin on his face. 

Things since then had got a lot better between you and your dad. Instead of forcing it, or acting the part for the sake of it, Thor had naturally fallen into the father role that made it a comfortable change for you. Thor had little interest in books, but you had the ritual with him now of him buying a book for you, you read it, and after every chapter, you give him a rundown of what happened in detail, and you’d discuss it. You’d opened up a bit with him over the weeks, about what your life was like growing up with mum, holidays, key memories for you, and the rituals you two had- including reading books before bed together, which was where your love for books came from. Thor soon got you some of the books you mentioned, so you could do it with him. You got into a nice rhythm of living with and being around your dad and uncle, to the point where you were expecting it when an advancement was suggested. 

“How do you feel about going to Asgard with Loki and I, tomorrow?” Thor asked, as you were tidying up after another late night discussion about a book you had been reading- this one actually a recommendation from your Uncle Loki. You stopped what you were doing, and looked over at Thor, who waited patiently. 

“Uh… sure. Okay.” You agreed hesitantly, and immediately his face lit up. You had long guessed this conversation would happen, so you had time to prepare for it, though you knew that was actually impossible. What could prepare you for going to the land of gods- where you know you didn’t belong, even if Thor was your father? “Do… Do they know about me?” You asked cautiously. 

“Of course!” He immediately answered. “As soon as I returned to Agard after we met, I told mother and father about you, and my friends! I wanted to tell the entire kingdom, but mother- your grandmother, insisted we wait till you met them all first before telling the rest of Asgard. Freya, your grandmother, is the most eager to meet you.” He gushed to you. You’d heard a lot about your grandparents through both Thor and Loki. Admittedly, Thor was the only one who talked about Odin, and while Loki didn’t talk much about them, when he did, it was always about Freya, about how she was also a bit of a bookworm, and how she taught him magic.

You got up early the next morning, mostly due to struggling to sleep from the anticipation, and you didn’t have to wait for either your dad or uncle to be ready either, though you couldn’t tell if it was due to excitement or nerves, or maybe they were both feeling those things- your dad the excitement, and Loki the nerves. It didn’t help that your dad was a raving optimist, and your uncle was a pessimist, so you couldn’t tell who was feeling the right way, so you just adopted a bit of each of their emotions. Cautiously excited.

You honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when you actually got there, or even the process of getting there in the first place, but as soon as you left the Bifrost, you were in awe. Sure, they had told you all about Asguard- the rainbow path that led to it, the great kingdom, the beauty of it all, but none of that was in comparison to what you were actually seeing. You remained in stunned silence the entire walk up the bridge, actually entering into Asguard, past the several hundred people who came to welcome them back and ask about you, up until your father actually called for you, after seeing you distracted by something else further away. You turned, seeing several people stood with your father and uncle, looking at you smiling. “Y/N, these are my friends, Fandrall, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif.” Your father introduced you.

“So this is the little prince?” Sif questioned with a smile. 

“Little? Thor, you said he was a boy! Give it a few years and he’ll be ready to be king!” Volstagg laughed, though the mention of such a role made you look at Loki quickly, and then your dad. 

“He is a boy! The very idea of being king is still a long way away- you make it sound like he’ll outlive me.” Thor defended. 

“Speaking of Kings.” Loki spoke up, placing  hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“Right! Haven’t had the chance to introduce him to the rest of his family. We’ll pick this up later, promise.” Thor told them motioning you over, and guiding you deeper into the kingdom, down several expansive corridors, before you turned a corner, and spotted a group of women talking in the hallway ahead, and your father and uncle stopped. “Loki, stay here with Y/N.” Thor requested, before going towards the group, and you looked up at Loki confused, who patted you on the shoulder. You watched as your father approached the group, made some small talk, before all the women except one left down another hallway, and Thor stepped to the side, motioning the woman towards you and Loki, and you realised who she must be. Freya. Your grandmother. 

As soon as she saw you properly, she smiled warmly, hands clasped and pressed against her chest with excitement, and any fear you had- fear of not being liked, or not meeting their standards, of being a disappointment, being looked down on for being half human- it all faded. You could feel the love and acceptance radiating off the woman as she reached out her hands, and took your own. “Y/N, words cannot describe the absolute joy I feel to finally be in your presence finally after all of Thor’s descriptions.” Freya told you, gently squeezing your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile too. 

“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you too from dad and uncle Loki.” You told her, and her smile grew, before she pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around you. 

“Thor- Loki, go tell your father that you’re here with Y/N- I’ll give Y/N a tour of the palace- we’ll be in the library when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.” Freya decided, already walking away with you, and you didn’t fight it, leaving with her. 

Thor and Loki did as ordered, finding their father, letting them know they’d also brought you, and after a bit of back and forth questioning where exactly you were, and Loki explaining their mother had already stolen you away herself, and Odin simply sighed, and got up to follow his sons to head to the Library. 

By the time they met back up with you and Freya, you and her were already getting along like a house on fire- she’d asked about your mother, her health, your childhood, her own expieriences that related when raising Thor and Loki, and when she heard about your little tradition with Thor with books, she picked out a book for you to take home to read, and to keep. You felt comfortable enough with her to ask about Loki and Odin’s relationship, the comment Thor’s friends made about being King one day and how you weren’t big on the idea, and also how according to how your dad and Loki talked about Odin, you were much more worried about meeting him than her. Freya had answers your questions, reassured you of your worries, and promised Odin would be on his best behaviour, and she helped your first meeting with Odin a lot from the get go. 

As soon as Freya saw her husband, she stood first, smiling. “Odin, thank you for joining us. I was just about to ask Y/N if they’d like a private family dinner. What do you think?” Freya asked him, wrapping an arm around you again, and you smiled nervously at your grandfather, who was a lot more intimidating than you had anticipated. Odin didn’t talk at first, stepping a little closer, and you panicked internally, not knowing what to do, if you were supposed to do something- but Freya had kept her arm around you, gently rubbing your arm in reassurance. 

“That can certainly be arranged. It’ll let us get to know our grandson. Thor, will you come with me to make the arrangements?” He asked, of his oldest, who nodded. “See you at dinner, Y/N.” He told you, before making his leave, Thor smiling at you, before following after him. 

“In the meantime.” Freya spoke up once the two were quite a distance away. “Y/N, want to learn some magic?” She asked. 

“Mother, I don’t know about that…” Loki fussed. 

“Just beginning spells, nothing serious… we’ll save that for later. Maybe you could mentor Y/N as well when back on Midgard.” She suggested, and you realised that maybe, just maybe… Loki got some of his mischief from his mother. 

“Am I able to do magic? Since I’m half human?” You questioned. 

“I believe so, it’s worth a try. You coming Loki?” Freya questioned her son, who simply sighed, and followed after, deciding to be apart of his mother’s antics, knowing that Thor might lose his mind when he finds out about this. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my Gif

TAGS: @insanityismysanity12345 @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[fluffyprettykitty]

Spring Drabble Sleepover!!!

running from may 14th to may 19th

*time indicates when requests will be accepted, asks will be rolling through according to inspiration and time allowed!

Hello and welcome to me not having written anything since January???? Let's rectify this by celebrating a little as summer might have officially started but true summer doesn't start till late June here!

Onto the main thing now!

•❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀••❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀••❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀•

What will you do is mix and match a character or several with one or several of the following categories provided. As usual, you know!

⋆ Polyamorous ships are always encouraged. No platonic or daughter! reader though.

⋆ Darker themes are welcomed at my discretion. Check my requests page for what I'm comfortable with.

⋆ Please only use a character from the ones already provided.

⋆ I will either turn them into blurbs or drabbles depending on my inspiration but you can suggest to me what it should be.

⋆ I will do female reader for smut prompts and gender-neutral for fluff prompts. All will be written vague and over 21.

⋆ You have to be strictly 18+ to participate.

•❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀• •❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀• •❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀•

characters:

Sons of Anarchy: Chibs Telford, Juice Ortiz, Jax Teller

Star Wars: Cassian Andor, Poe Dameron

Marvel: Sam Wilson, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Billy Russo, Thor Odinson, Brock Rumlow, Layla El Faouly, Elektra Natchios, Bruce Banner, Marc Spector, Brunnhilde, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Joaquin Torres, Bucky Barnes

Triple Frontier: Benny Miller, Will Miller, Santiago Garcia

aus: bakery, book store, celebrity, detective, ghost, restaurant, porn star, tutor, maid, mechanic, mermaid, neighbour, stripper, werewolf, vampire.

kinks: breath play, cockwarming, phone sex, gloves, choking, strip tease, uniform/suit, titty fucking, dirty talk, sex toys, accidental stimulation, shower, sensory deprivation, somnophilia, lingerie, object insertion, lap dance, lactation, spanking, exhibitionism, handcuffs, clothes on, moresomes.

date ideas: day trip, road trip, library, museum, restaurant, camping, beach, drinks/bar, concert, walking, sightseeing, boat ride, dancing, spa, errands, shopping spree, cinema, coffee.

domestic situations: trying new recipes, painting nails, reading, cuddling, clothes shopping, packing for a trip, laundry, repairing things, changing bedsheets, ordering takeout, falling asleep, complaining about family, movie nights, doing dishes.

☆ Just combine as many as you want however you see fit! And of course, when it comes to domestic situations and date ideas you can think of other things or be more specific on one situation! ☆

•❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀• •❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀• •❀.•❤•.¸✿¸.•❤•.❀•

no pressure tagging: @that-sarcastic-writer @sunflowersteves @jen-with-a-pen @eulalielatibule @moonlight-prose @e-dubbc11 @soulores @targaryenvampireslayer

[supercap2319]

Thor: *Turns on the Quinjet's computer and places his hand on the handprint scanner as Y/N watches him*

Quinjet Computer: “Welcome. Voice activation required.”

Thor: “Thor.”

Quinjet Computer: “Access denied.”

Thor: “Thor, God of Thunder.”

Quinjet Computer: “Access denied.”

Thor: “Son of Odin.”

Quinjet Computer: “Access denied.”

Thor: “Strongest Avenger.”

Quinjet Computer: “Access denied.”

Thor: “Strongest Avenger!”

Quinjet Computer: “Access denied.”

Y/N: “Here, let me try.” *Places his hand on the Quinjet's handprint scanner*

Quinjet Computer: “Voice activation required.”

Y/N: “Y/N Maximoff.”

Quinjet Computer: “Welcome, Strongest and handsomest Avenger.”

Thor: “WHAT?!”

[whyareyouhere66]

(Loki anon here I’m sorry I’m still in my fixation and I love ur writing 😭)

Loki x son reader were Loki wasn’t in reader’s life very often and reader slowly grows to hate him for it. But reader ends up going through the same path Loki did by terrorizing Earth/trying to rule it to show he can be better and stronger than his father. I can’t decide how it would end- like reader gets imprisoned after Loki tries to stop him or like, they talk and make up?? Idk😭

(Loving that the only plots I can come up with are full of daddy issues LMAO)

You’re so real for that bro-

never be sorry you’re amazing

I hate being late on requests, I don’t know if you’re still in the Loki fixation I’m really late but I hope you enjoy either way <3 

DNA - !Father! Loki x Male Reader

CW: Loki was kinda a shit dad, mentions of guns in beginning, timeline may not be 100% canon, lazy proof read, long

X

Chaos tumbles in the streets, shouts echoing  from the crowds. 

Ruckus in a small town, built into a crevice in the mountain, it’s far too easy to cause havoc on its streets.

People are rushing to see what has happened at the small museum just down the street to the various neighborhoods, though get pulled away when they see the people running the opposite way. Half aren’t even sure what they’re running from.

The front doors to the museums walls burst open suddenly, a tall figure strutting out of the frame. 

Y/n Odinson, in all his grace.

A few gasps come from the witnesses, eyes widening upon seeing the man. The before untouched museum now holds shattered windows, it looks broken. 

A few spikes of glass crunch under Y/n’s boots, a trail of shards gathered around the door. It takes another moment for people to see the pendant swinging from his clenched fist.

“Stop, now!” The first officer to arrive at the scene, holding a gun in front of him. Just a minute too late, he’s running to catch up. 

A second one appears behind him a moment later, but doesn’t chase, instead crouches behind the hood of his car and points his own gun towards Y/n’s clenched fist.

“We’ll shoot!” He shouts, hearing the sirens of backup following behind. Y/n doesn’t flinch. 

“That doesn’t sound too smart,” The man speaks nonchalantly, further frustrating the cops behind him, “but if you must, I suggest now.” There’s a sly grin on his face when he looks at them over his shoulder. 

So, they do.

A bang pierces the air, and suddenly a bullet is flying. Y/n knows it’s headed his way, but it’s too late anyways. For he was gone the second the trigger was pulled- puffed away with nothing but an imprint of dirt and blue fog left behind. 

People look around, confused.

He’s escaped, and he holds another piece with him. 

***

Y/n Odinson

10:37 pm 

In the dark room, I notice there’s few sources of light for me to work with. 

The window, the clock, and the lamp just to the right of me. 

Even as it becomes later and later into the night, I’m still sitting here, hunched over this damn desk with two of the same  things placed in front of me- one being the necklace stolen mere hours prior. 

Its jewels reflect in the light of the lamp, red and green jewels lining a silver chain. It shines the brightest compared to the dusty old book beside it.

I continue to stare at it, before a frustrated groan rumbles out of my already sore throat. 

“This isn’t going anywhere…” I mumble bitterly. 

I grab the book, pages squished between the leather cover. I run my thumb down the engraved cover, it’s patterns bumping under my finger. There’s a pad of dust on my thumb when I lift it again, a trail left behind on the leather. 

I’m so close- I feel it. Yet in the back of my mind it feels like I’m so, so far. 

The lights coming in from my window distract me for a moment, and I look at all the buildings I’ve looked at everyday. It’s all the same, like I’m exactly where I was yesterday, no more progress than the day before. 

Slowly, my gaze turns back to the desk.

After my father fumbled the Tesseract that first time, I felt even more determined to surpass him.

 To take on the world better than he could have ever imagined, make him feel as stupid as he looked.

I had thought that maybe going a more logical route would be more successful than his try, try, and try again strategy. 

And sometimes I think it’s working.

And then, there’s moments like this, when I’m hunched over a desk with a mind as blank as a void, that I think it really isn’t. 

I run my hands down the side of my face, the heels of my hands pressing into my skin. 

The god of mischief was just as good of a father as you’d expect. 

I remember the nights still, when he shouldve been home, stuck in that run down apartment with his face plastered across the tv, a big mischievous smile because he thought what he did was significant.

It makes me flinch how much I’ve grown to be like him.  

There’s a small crack between the holder and the 3rd gem of the necklace, a gap that would be hard to notice from any other angle. I reach out my thumb, and run it gently along the crack a few times as if to smooth it out. 

Another sigh, and I stand up from my chair. I’ll figure it out. I have to, I’ll do it and I’ll become better than he ever was, as low as that standard may be. 

I just have to do it right.

***

“He did it again.” 

“Who?”

“Who do you think?”

Bruce looks between Tony and the computer curiously, standing up from his work. 

“Don’t tell me.” 

Across the room, Mr. Stark sighs. 

“That son of a bitch.” He mutters, fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose. The headline, big and bold on his screen, “Precious necklace stolen from small town museum- the work of Y/n.” 

“He’s up to something.” Bruce says, moving so he can read the headline over Tony’s shoulder, who just groans.

“He’s not just planning something- he knows something.”

Bruce glances back at the brunette man, “Should we do something to stop him?”

The answer is obvious. 

“We have to.” Tony sighs as his face leaves his hands. “We need him anyways.”

At this, Bruce looks at the man curiously. “We do? Why?”

Tony stares straight into the pixels of his screen.

“Because I know what he’s planning.”

***

It’s a slower day in downtown DC.

I can’t decide what I’m doing here, nor what I want to be doing. All I know is that I’m getting closer and closer to the capital with no plans of turning around.

There’s a corner coming up, and I turn, not expecting to see the woman around the corner when I do.

Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, looks at me expectantly as we make eye contact. 

“Well hello.” She says smoothly, giving me only a second to process before lunging for me. I feel a tingling in my palm, sparks of blue seeping through my fingers. 

“Oh, what a nice surprise.” I mock her, and she’s about to reach me. But just before she can make contact, I’m out of there again. 

I leave her on the sidewalk with nothing but the same blue fog as always, appearing back in an alleyway a few blocks down. Thinking I’m alone, the sparks fade from my fist. But another voice makes itself known before I can even turn around.

“-well that was easy.”

I spin around only to see Captain America at the other end of the alleyway. My eyes narrow- they’re kidding.

“Well doesn’t this work out well.”

Another glance behind me and I can see that Natasha has caught up to me much quicker than I had expected. I raise an eyebrow. 

“So you brought a friend? That’s nice.” I remark, before throwing a swift punch her way. She jumps back, just before I can hit. 

Arms wrap around my neck before I can process anything else- the strong grip from Captain catching me off guard. I try to pry him off of me, leaning my head down and without a second thought I bite him as hard as I can.

With a yelp, he pulls back. 

Blue fog surrounds me before I’m suddenly behind him, swinging my fist so it collided with the back of his head. He stumbles, holding the spot where I hit.

“He bit me!” He yells.

“You strangled me.”

With a groan, and the roll of her eyes, Natasha pounces on me again.

There’s struggling as she pushes my body backwards, but I continue to fight back until she suddenly backs away from me.

Confused, I step towards her. But her foot comes at me quicker than I can comprehend.

Next thing I know, my head collides with the strong metal of a shield. Fuck.

“Good work.” I hear faintly, as I’m stumbling to the floor. 

Words morph from Natasha’s mouth, but everything goes black before I can hear anything else.

***

“What are we gonna do with him?” 

Natasha stands across from the glass jail, circular in the center of the room. A bit dehumanizing, really, like some sort of exhibit. My unconscious body is still slumped on the floor, next to the one chair inside the cell. 

“Better yet- where did you get him?”

Thor asks, standing next to Bruce, Steve and Clint. His strong arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s looking around waiting for an answer.

“We think he’ll be useful in the plan against Thanos.” Tony answers, far too nonchalant for the situation, “he might be looking for the same stones we are.” He spins around in his chair, back now facing the computer he was just looking at to look at his teammates. A sound close to a scoff comes from Thor.

“You know that’s my nephew, right?” He points to my body, “unconscious in your little glass cage?” 

Tony rolls his eyes, rolls his head to the side. “I am well aware, Thor.”

“Wait, hold on-“ Bruce speaks up, processing far slower than Tony would like, “so we just kidnapped him? That was the plan?”

Natasha clicks her tongue. “Pretty much…”

“And are-“

Small plastic wheels scrape the floor as Tony abruptly stands up. So impatient, he claps his hands together to grab everyone’s attention.

“Glad we’ve established the obvious, how about we let me talk now.”

Thor immediately brushes him off- much to Tony’s annoyance. The muscular man steps forward and raises an eyebrow at the shorter man, who looks up at him with disinterest through the thick frames of his glasses. 

“What does Y/n have to do with any of this?” He asks with crossed arms. Tony sighs. 

“He recently stole this from some small town in the west,” Tony hands the blonde man a picture of the necklace, “looks important, part of a plan. We think he’ll be a good weapon against Thanos, and it’s a good excuse to see what’s up with the necklace.”

Thor examines the picture, eyes flickering to the glass occasionally. It still feels a bit absurd, though. 

“You really think he’s up to something big, huh.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.” Everyone’s gazes turn to Clint, “he is Loki’s kid, isn’t he?”

Thor doesn’t respond, he doesn’t have to because Tony is talking once more.

“Oh he’s Loki’s kid, alright.” He says.

“So, how do we plan to get him in on this, exactly?” Steve finally steps in.

It goes quiet, for a second, though the awkward glances are quite loud. 

“…I mean…we could get Loki in on this too.” Bruce answers after too long of a pause. Immediately, Thor shakes his head with a mighty laugh. 

“Oh no, no we aren’t doing that.” 

“That would work.” 

The blonde man snaps his head over to Tony. 

“Uh, no. Believe me, it wouldn’t.”

But he is once again ignored, instead walking away from the room and leaving the rest of the curious Avengers behind. But Thor follows. 

“Stark!” He shouts, following him out and down the hallway despite the sigh that he is met with.

“What, Thor.”

“You will not bring Loki here.” He says firmly, even if the words don’t make it through the stubbornness of Tony’s brain.

“And why’s that?”

“It’s a horrible idea-“

“You got a better one?”

Becoming exasperated, Thor throws his hands up before the drop to his sides. “I’ll do it, I’ll convince him.”

Tony scoffs. “Right, cause you’re so good at that.” He goes to walk away again, but still, Thor persists.

“It won’t work if Loki tries-“

“How do you know? Hmm?” Tony gives Thor a look, something so knowing that it frustrates Thor to no end, “when was the last time you talked to Y/n? Or Loki, for that matter?”

He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this. Tony’s too stubborn, too head strong to negotiate right now. So, Thor only shakes his head. 

“Fine, do it your way, you’ll see.”

“That we will.”

***

By the time I’ve woken up, it’s far later in the afternoon. 

I try to sit up, head throbbing from the start of a migraine, when I realize I have no clue where I am. 

The edges of my vision blur together while I stumble up, so dizzying I nearly have to sit down again. Below me, my knees feel weak, like they could give out at any moment. But I stand anyways, stand and wait for the feeling in my muscles and bones to come back to me.

“Well, look who’s awake.” 

I whirl around, just close enough to knocking myself out again, and watch the figure outside of this…glass wall, stand up.

“Stark,” I mumble, rubbing the sore spot on my head, “should’ve known it’d be Stark.”

“Good morning to you too, Y/n.” 

I turn to see Natasha once more, how familiar. She’s leaning against one of the desks, and next to her are Bruce, Steve and Thor. I raise an eyebrow.

“Thor.”

He just nods awkwardly. “Hi Y/n.”

I look around, spinning, and chuckle. “Really brought in the whole gang, huh?” 

On the other side of the glass, Tony takes off his glasses to wipe at the lenses carefully. He looks uninterested as usual. 

Someone tries to talk to me again, but I’m already feeling the sparks of blue on my skin once more. 

“Uh, hey-“

“He’ll be fine.”

My head bangs against glass, and I’m sent back stumbling.

“What the fuck-“ My hand flies to my forehead, where I can already feel a bruise forming.

“The glass is a strong barrier,” Steve winks, “can’t get out.”

His cocky gaze makes me uncomfortable, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy. Nothing here ever is. 

I scoff, clicking my tongue. “Do you treat all your hostages like circus monkeys or am I just special?” 

“I’ll let you decide on that one.” Tony replies, settling his glasses back onto his face. “Now let’s get down to business.”

The room, now that I get a decent look at it, is pretty artificial. A large computer, followed by a smaller computer, scattered paperwork, a few glasses stained with the remnants of alcohol. Just about what I’d expect.

My uncle is sitting back, next to Banner, his big arms crossed against his chest. He doesn’t look as calm or boastful as usual, instead glancing at the large doors. I furrow my eyebrows, following his gaze, but no one is there.

“We know you’re planning something.”

My eyes flicker to Steve, meeting his expectant gaze. I raise an eyebrow at him mockingly.

“Oh? Well that’s wonderful, though I thought I was quite obvious.”

Steve rolls his eyes, not amused. “Yeah, well, we are too,” he takes a step closer to me, “and we want you to be a part of it.”

I pause.

Visibly processing, it takes me a minute.

“…what?”

“I saw your little necklace heist the other day, since you’re so good at stealing think you could steal some stones for us?” Tony cuts in, raising an eyebrow at me. 

“You want me to steal stuff for you.”

“Well, and other stuff.” Bruce shrugs. He flinches away from my deadpan.

With the click of my tongue, rubbing my face, I turn back. “And why would I do that?”

Tony shrugs this time, “you might be interested to know we also are recruiting someone else.” 

I raise my eyebrow. “And who would that be?”

He doesn’t say the name, just gives me a look and by the glint his eyes I can’t tell if that’s better or worse. A voice suddenly sounds out from the doorway. 

“I’m going- good god I’m going, no need to shove-“ 

…

No.

I snap my head to the door. 

They’re joking.

The tall, unfortunately familiar figure of my father walks in. He looks almost the exact same.

Big gold thorns stick out from his helmet, a green robe on. When he turns to see me, I see his expression falter. For a second, he even looks nervous.

My eyes dart to Thor’s, who looks at me apologetically and shrugs. Then I look at Tony, eyes going cold. 

“If you wanted to persuade me to do something, Stark, he’s the last person you should’ve brought.”

I can see Thor out of the corner of my eye, how he’s looking between me and my dad, waiting for something to happen. But I refuse to look at Loki himself, even as he awkwardly sighs.

“Y/n.” He says, but I don’t respond.

“…what’s happening here.” Tony too, is looking between the two of us curiously.

“Should we leave?“ Bruce gets cut off by Thor. 

“I told you, Stark-“

There’s so much noise, so many voices, i squeeze my eyes shut to block them out. Why would they bring him here? Whose damn idea was this?

My fingers prod the skin over my temples, trying to clear my head, to think. Which, feels much harder since that blow to Captain’s shield over there. I wish I could make them feel like white noise against my ears.

Something someone says, who I assume is Banner or Natasha, catches my attention though. 

“I say we leave them alone for a bit, how about that.”

“Yeah I don’t want to have to watch this anymore.”

I’m realizing now their presence is better than the sole company of my father. 

“Wait-“ I turn around, them filing out of the doorway, “Thor.”

He doesn’t look at me, instead leans over and whispers something to Loki that I can’t hear. “Thor!” 

And, he’s gone.

An uncomfortable silence suddenly takes over the room, and I feel pressured to turn away. He clears his throat behind me, and then to my dismay, he talks.

“Y/n.”

I say nothing, and he sort of scoffs.

“Ah, the silent treatment, right.”

A quick breath escapes in disbelief, my anger is rising too quickly. I turn to him halfway, “would you rather I talk? Cause I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say much more.”

I can’t tell if he rolls his eyes or not. 

“Can we at least talk?” He asks next, and I start to feel the dents in my palm as my fingers clench tighter.

“Fine, do it.”

He didn’t seem to have expected that answer, because he takes a moment to continue. 

“Well, I…” he pauses, “well what do you want me to say?”

My lips fall in disbelief, and I look at him with a pinched expression.

“Are you serious?”

The internal battle of his brain becomes visible as his gaze darts away from mine, struggling for words. 

“Look, I know I wasn’t really there,”

“No really? I think I saw you more on tv than I ever did at home.” I say hoarsely.

“I, I was busy-“ he breathes out pathetically, each croak of his voice irking me. 

Locked in this, what is this, a cell? A cage? Put on display in front of the man I shame the thought of. I run my hands down my face, barely able to look at him. 

“Yeah, real busy running the world right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Well wasn’t that your end goal? Rule the world?” His shoulders recoil from my words, “become the most powerful god there is, right?” I look at him with exhausted, yet knowing eyes. I can tell by his silence, his face, he knows I’m right. I scoff and turn away, there’s no point in this anymore.

Moments of silence pass, I can still feel his presence behind me, looming like a shadow. By the time he speaks again, his voice has changed- more cautious, more delicate.

“I never thought I was cut out to be a father.”

And god that hurt, more than I’d care to admit. So I stay quiet.

“Thor was always the favorite,” he continues with a shaky laugh, “and he wasn’t even my real brother. So…”

The breathes he takes are louder, slower. 

“I’ve never really known how to, y’know, do that.”

I feel myself turning closer and closer to him, feeling the words he wants to say sting my tongue. 

“…have a family?”

“…yeah.”

His eyes have softened, pupils small like a speck against his iris. His throat strains against his skin, swallowing the lump in his throat to will himself to keep going now that he’s started.

“I should’ve been there.”

I know.

“But I wasn’t…and I should’ve been.” One pale hand pulls the helmet out of his messy hair, dropping to his side. The gold lightly smacks his thigh, yet his eyes never stray.

“My father wasn’t, and I wasn’t, and now…”

I finish the sentence for him.

“And now I’m just like you.”

My voice breaks as I say it, and part of my heart does too. 

“Which, no one deserves.” He laughs, but when I turn and watch his face I see the redness in his eyes, and the shakiness behind his smile as well as how it falters when he sees my own red eyes.

“I’ll fix it.” He almost whispers, voice brittle, “or I’ll try to, at least.”

And it’s not until now that I realize, that I know, I want to. 

My voice is too numb to speak, so I just nod tearfully. He swallows again. 

His eyes flicker to a panel just outside of the glass, and he reaches for it. I don’t have time to question before the glass doors are opening in front of me. 

He doesn’t say anything as I step out, and instead he hugs me.

I also realize I haven’t been hugged in a very long time. 

“I’ll do everything I can, Y/n.” Is what he says to me, voice hoarse against my ear and I hug him back with the strength I have.

“You better.” I mutter back, I can’t forgive him now, but with the warmth of his hold, I pray we’re both right.

[katherineuchiha]

Hello , Welcome to my blog !! Updated

My name is Katherine, and I have decided to create a blog for various fandoms . The fandoms may expand with time ( please be mindful that English is not my first language )

The request will be open for a certain amount of time and then will be closed am done with the request ( the space is limited on 20 - 25 request at a time )

Rules

Requesting fanfiction can be an enjoyable way to engage with fan communities. Here are some rules and guidelines for making requests:

1. Be respectful: Always be polite and considerate when making requests. Remember that fanfiction authors are doing this for free and out of love

2. Specify your fandom: Clearly state which fandom or universe you're interested in.

3. Define your characters or pairings: Describe the characters or relationships you'd like to see in the fanfiction.

4. Provide a theme or plot idea: If you have a particular theme, scenario, or plot idea in mind, share it with the author. This can help them craft a story that aligns with your vision.

Things WILL NOT WRITE FOR

Rape

Yandere

Dubious consent

Stepcest

Cheating

Incest

Very heavy violence

Very heavy smut

Things I WILL WRITE FOR

Smut

Pregnant reader

Poly

Fluff

Angst

Anything as long it is not very hard core

Fandoms I WILL WRITE FOR

Demon Slayer

Giyuu Tomioka

Kyojuro Rengoku

Tengen Uzui

Obanai Iguro

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Genya Shinazugawa

Tanjiro Kamado

Yoriichi Tsugikuni

Kokushibo ( Michikatsu Tsugikuni )

Kagaya Ubuyashiki

Mitsuri Kanroji

Shinobu Kocho

Muichiro Tokito

Zenitsu Agatsuma

Mortal Kombat

Characters

Liu Kang

Syzoth

Kuai Liang

Bi - Han

Kenshi Takahashi

Jonny Cage

Raiden

Kung Lao

Mileena

Kitana

Takeda Takahashi

Marvel

Tony Stark

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Stephen Strange

Pietro Maximoff

Thor Odinson

Loki Layfeyson

Bruce Banner

Peter Parker

Shang - Chi

Attack on Titan

Eren jeager

Levi Ackerman

Jean Kristen

Reiner Brown

Zeke Jeager

Armin Arlelt

Erwin Smith

Conny Springer

Naruto

Naruto Uzumaki

Sasuke Uchiha

Itachi Uchiha

Shisui Uchiha

Kakashi Hatake

Obito Uchiha

Neji Hyuga

Sabakuno Garaa

Footbolers

Son Hueng - Min

Kylian Mbappe

Yassine Bounou

Sergio Ramos

Cho Gue - Sung

* Don’t feel shame , this a save environment for everyone , creativity is always encouraged

See you !!!

[visionsofmagic]

Hey there :) if it’s okay to ask what is destiny [sons of odin x reader] going to be about and which sons will be romantically involved:)

it's okay! & here's the link of plot of the work: <3

I said it in the notes section but to make a clear statement; in the fic, I want the reader has specific feelings as romantically, friendly and soulmate for all three sons. heimdall as lover, thor as kindred spritis/soulmates refers to two souls that understand each other deeply, and baldur as a soulmate we all know. however, the reader will have romantic parts with each of them since the fic is determined to show love, affection and feelings that odin's sons has for the reader. ^^

I hope answer helps! ^^

[rebelwrites]

Let’s do something I haven’t done for a while, let’s open the requests up!

I’m going to open it for 5 requests and they will be based off the below prompts. Each prompt will only be written once for one character, once a prompt has been taken I will update the below list

Prompts:

“I know we want this to be a secret, but people are getting suspicious. I can only turn down champagne so many times… ”. - CL

"You brought me breakfast?" "Well you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I'd make sure you ate something." - PG

"You owe me." "I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to be your boy/girl-friend to get your parents off your back.” - CS

They're drunk and you're carrying them to their room, when they unexpectedly say how much they love you, causing you to drop them on the floor - CL

“god you’re bleeding! how the hell did you do that?” “i was trying to cut the tomatoes!” - JT

People I will write for:

Charles Leclerc

Pierre Gasly

Jax Teller

Thor

Clay Spenser

[simplyholl]

Happily Never After Pt. 1

Summary: A marriage proposal from Prince Loki is every princess's dream come true, except for yours.

Pairing: Asgard Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Loss of Virginity.

W/C: 3.4K

A/N: This will be two parts!

See My Masterlist Here

"Married to Prince Loki?!" You shriek. It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. "Stop being dramatic, dear. You two are very close. Since Prince Thor is already promised, this is the best match we could secure. Your father and I thought you would be happy considering he is your friend, and not a stranger."

"We used to be close! That was ages ago! I loathe him, mother. This is unfair. I would rather marry a stranger." You protest, wiping your sweaty palms on your long gown as you pace the room. "Why do you hate him? We just visited them last week." She tries to reason with you.

"You said yourself he was your best friend. Do you not recall the tears you shed when your father forbid you from spending time with him unchaperoned?" She pours herself more tea, waiting for your reply. "Yes, well he was my best friend. He's a different person now. I barely know him." You look out of your window, the palace in clear view of your own estate.

Your father was king of a neighboring realm, when the ogres attacked, forcing your family to seek safety in Asgard. You were welcomed with open arms. Frigga and your mother became fast friends. Odin relied on your father's knowledge of the other realms' customs, so he became valuable to him. Frigga invited your mother for tea every day. She insisted your mother bring you along since she had two boys close to your age you could play with.

Thor was older, more focused on playing rough with the other boys. He never paid attention to you. Loki was only a year older than you. You often found him reading under a tree instead of playing. He didn't notice you at first until you insisted the older boys let you play. Volstagg accidentally knocked you to the ground.

When Loki heard you crying, he stood up for you even though Volstagg towered over all of you. He was an unusually large child. Loki brought you to his favorite hiding place. Deep in the woods behind the palace there was a treehouse. He explained that he often came there for solace. It was built for Odin thousands of years ago when he was a child.

Thor didn't like to play there because it was too far from the palace. He thought he would get in trouble. One evening, Loki lost track of time and fell asleep in the treehouse. When he was finally found, Frigga had the place cleaned up, so it wouldn't be dangerous. Ever since that day, you and Loki were inseparable. You used the treehouse as a secret lair for you two to spend time alone.

The other children didn't play with you. They only played with Loki because they were scared of Odin. You understood each other completely. You would make up stories and put on one person plays to share your creativity. You grew up together. It went from playing as children, to hiding out in the tree house after mandatory appearances at balls. You despised when your father wanted you to meet other royals. He would force you to dance with their sons. After two dances, you and Loki would slip away to your private place.

You would laugh about the cheesy things they said to impress you. You would never forget the first time your heart skipped a beat. You were laughing about the visiting prince who told you your gown was lovely. It was the most hideous shade of lime green the seamstress could find. You had requested it that way, so you could hide your beauty. You wiped tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes as you told Loki your reasoning for the unpleasing color.

"You should have known you couldn't hide beauty like yours even in that atrocious gown." His sentiment made you blush, your heart stopped beating as he held your gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds too long. You were sure he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes in anticipation, feeling his face draw closer to yours. Then you were interrupted by Thor bellowing down below. Your father was looking for you.

You wouldn't be allowed out of his sight if he caught you out there. When you got home, you wrote everything down in your diary. How Loki had made you feel beautiful for the first time in your life, how you wished Thor and your father would have waited moments longer. The next day your father called you into his study, your diary in hand. Oh, how you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"I forbid you to see him ever again." Your father's stern words instantly made you cry. Loki was everything to you. You couldn't lose him. You told him it was just a silly crush. That what you had written was just a fantasy you made up. He finally believed your lies, but now you couldn't be with him unless you were chaperoned.

Hundreds of years went by, you were as close as ever. You still found your way around the chaperones. You would sneak out at night meeting at the treehouse. You would stay up half the night together laughing as you did when you were children. He would have you back in your bed before sunrise. You always thought it was unfair that you had to be chaperoned, but Loki could do as he pleased.

Then came your first heartbreak. A visiting prince had met you at one of Frigga's balls. He immediately asked your father to court you. You were devastated. You didn't want to be courted. You were happy with your life. But your father couldn't wait to marry you off. But the more time you spent with the prince, the more you liked him. He had dark hair and blue eyes, sometimes you pretended he was Loki.

But he wasn't and there was your whole problem. No one would compare to Loki. But if you had to marry someone, at least the prince was nice. The prince would often find you with Loki going on strolls through the gardens, eating, and reading in silence. One evening, he visited your estate. He said he wanted to end this courtship. You couldn't think of anything you did wrong. He explained that he was certain your affection lied elsewhere, and he wanted to be the only man in his future bride's life. You didn't understand what he had meant, but you thanked him. You were free once again.

Then the latest scandal sheet was delivered by your maid. It mentioned how you and the prince were getting close. You rolled your eyes, thankful that was over. But when you reached the last paragraph, your whole world shattered. Prince Loki had been seen at the brothel three times this week. Not only that, but he had been caught with an unnamed maid in his mother's garden.

It wasn't uncommon for royalty to fuck around like whores, but this truly wounded you. You cried for a week after it came out. Your mother thought you were upset over the prince ending your courtship, so she explained there would be other princes. You didn't visit Loki for three months after the scandal sheet came out.

Another one hundred years passed, and you had grown used to Loki's womanizing. You were at the market, Loki carrying your basket filled with trinkets, winking at the unsuspecting maidens. He made note of the ones he wanted to bed later. You rolled your eyes, as you handed your coins to the shopkeeper, peeling the orange you just purchased.

"Really Loki, can you go one minute without finding four new lovers?" You joked. "Jealous?" He smirked. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." "The only reason you are not overcome with jealousy is because you do not know what I am capable of carnally." The bite of orange you had just taken lodged down your throat causing you to choke. Loki smiled, pleased with himself.

"Of course, I wouldn't know that, or care to find out. You shouldn't speak of such things so loudly. What if someone heard you?" You looked around, your maid, Greta had her eyes on the ground pretending she wasn't listening. Loki walked over to her, dropping a few coins into her hand, and whispering to her. You watch as she goes to the next vender looking at the silks.

Loki grabs your arm, leading you behind a tent. "Aren't you curious? Your parents keep you in the dark, only for the bumbling fool you end up marrying to spill his seed in a matter of minutes." You would be like the other princesses, not knowing what to expect on your wedding night, if it wasn't for Loki. He had told you all about the act some hundred years ago, so you would know what to expect. You were thankful for that, at least.

But now, when he was looking at you like that, and speaking of such things, you wished you didn't know. "You won't experience pleasure with them. They just want to produce an heir, and once that's taken care of, he will get a mistress. I don't want that for you. I hope that you find a love match, but that is highly unlikely considering your father allows anyone with a title to court you."

You consider Loki's words as he leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Let me show you what you are missing. I'll make it good for you. You deserve to experience mind blowing sex at least once in your life." He was the devil himself; you were sure of it. He was so tempting. You knew he was experienced, and women threw themselves all over him everywhere you went. He had to be good at it.

"I - I'm not sure. I would be ruined if anyone found out. My father would kill you.” You whisper, just in case someone was listening. "That's not a problem, I would just marry you before your reputation took a hit." He smiles as if what he said wasn't crazy. "Loki, I couldn't ask you to do that. To be honest, I am frightened. Not of you, but of the act itself. It doesn't sound like it would be pleasurable. Oh, but it must be if every eligible maiden in the kingdom lets you have your way with them."

You continue your ranting until Loki grabs your hand. "I would be gentle with you. We could start slowly. We would only do what you are comfortable with." You agreed to meet him at the treehouse that night. When you're back in your chambers you call Greta in to question her.

"Greta, have you had sex before?" She gasps, looking everywhere but at you. "My lady, that is not appropriate." You sit on your bed, gesturing for her to sit beside you. "Oh, spare me, we have known each other since we were girls. So out with it." You fold your arms across your chest waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, there was one man." She answers, her cheeks turning red. "Greta! Who was it?" She smiles, "Bart, the baker's son. We had a lovely couple of months together, but then he married the butcher's daughter. You see, men are fickle creatures. They use you until they find someone else. So be warned, my lady, keep your heart out of it. Men can have sex without emotions, and us women, well we often times end up heartbroken."

Greta's words repeated in your head all afternoon. You had known Loki for centuries, so you didn't think he would hurt you. But you were tempted to turn around, go back to your chambers and pretend like none of this ever happened. Luckily, he was in the treehouse waiting for you, so you couldn't leave now.

"It has been brought to my attention that men will do this with anyone, so I know it will mean nothing to you. And apparently, it will mean everything to me. I just don't want to regret this." You confide in Loki. "My darling girl, this will mean everything to me too. You are far too precious to me for it to mean nothing. We don't have to do anything if that is what you wish."

"I think you are right. I deserve to feel pleasure, and I trust you. I'm just nervous." Loki cups your face in his hands, bringing himself closer to you. It was so similar to that night when you were teenagers, your stomach erupts in butterflies. You never imagined the cute, gangly boy you knew so long ago would grow into the devilishly handsome man before you.

He kisses you, and it is exactly how you had always imagined. It was as if no time had passed between the moment when he almost kissed you centuries ago and now. You felt exactly the same. When he finally breaks the kiss, you look at him with wide eyes. If just his kiss could make you feel like this, you were in trouble.

Loki sat you down on the old mat you used to read on as children. It had fresh linen on it. Loki must have put it on before your arrival. He pressed kisses to your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your exposed skin. He had you sit up so he could undo your dress, nimble fingers working quickly on your corset until all your clothing was sat aside. You were bare for the first time in front of a man, but you were not ashamed. You should have attempted to cover yourself, but when Loki looked at you like you were a priceless painting, you felt no need to.

Loki took his time kissing every part of you. He toyed with your nipples, and you felt yourself growing wet. When he lowered his head to take one between his lips, you finally understood why all those maidens would jump at his beck and call. He kissed his way down your stomach, nipping your upper thigh. He spread your legs apart, pleased with your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"May I?" He asks, pink tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. You aren't sure what he is asking, but he knows what he is doing, so you give your consent. His tongue envelops you, sliding from your slit to your most sensitive part. "Loki!" You shout, as he continues exploring you. His tongue flicks your clit as your hands weave through his messy locks.

You never imagined it would be like this. And you suppose if it wasn't for Loki, you would never know. He slips a long finger inside you as he continues licking you, He stretches you, placing another finger inside. You jolt at the intrusion, his fingers curling to caress your walls. You feel like you are about to explode.

"Loki, I feel so wonderful." You tell him. His lips suction around your clit, tugging while his fingers work their magic. Stars explode behind your eyes as your first orgasm rips through you. Loki waits until you finish writhing on his face before coming up for air. He wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

You think that has to be the most attractive thing you have ever seen. But you are proven wrong when Loki undresses. He has filled out since the last time you saw him shirtless, when you were swimming as teenagers. He drops his trousers, hard cock springing free. You gasp when you see the size of him. You were beyond thankful he told you about the differences between men and women so long ago. What a surprise this would be if he hadn't.

"You still have time to change your mind, love. Just say the word and I will stop." He stalks toward you, lowering himself to the mat. "Please do not stop." You say breathlessly. Loki chuckles, settling between your thighs. "This will hurt, but only for a moment. Tell me when you are ready for me to move."

Loki sinks into you, pressure and pain causing you to cry out. "I'm so sorry. I can't help it. It will feel better soon, I promise." You grit your teeth as Loki bottoms out. He stills inside you, waiting for you to give him permission to move. You take a minute, adjusting to his size, before you tell him you are alright.

Loki slowly removes himself before filling you completely again. After a few thrusts, it starts to feel good. "Faster, Loki, please." You beg, clawing at his back as he ravishes you. His hand comes down between your joined bodies, skilled fingers swirling against your clit. The feeling you had earlier comes back full force, another orgasm sending you soaring. Loki pulls out, finishing on the fresh linen on the mat. You lay there, breathing heavily, looking at Loki. He truly is beautiful. "Shall we go again?" He asks, his signature smirk returning.

Loki laid with you three more times before the sun rose. He walked you back to your estate, making sure you made it inside safely before walking back to the palace. The next day, you were excited to see Loki. You secretly hoped you would spend the day in the treehouse.

"Mary was looking for you." Fandral tells Loki, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, you can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." They laugh in unison, walking away as you round the corner. "Has someone finally caught your eye?" Fandral smiles. "Actually, I plan on asking the princess to marry me." Loki shocks Fandral who places a hand over his heart.

"Did you hear that, Greta?" You ask your maid, unwanted tears filling your eyes. "Yes, my lady." She answers. "Repeat what you heard please."

"Prince Loki said "You can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." She looks at you with pity. "That's what I heard too. Oh, Greta." You collapse into her arms, sobbing. "Let's go home, my lady. We mustn't let the prince see that he has hurt you."

From that moment on, things were very different between you and Loki. He demanded to know why you avoided him now and why you never had a kind word for him. You never answered because he knew what he had done. He just didn't know you heard him talking about you. That was five months ago. Now, Odin was ordering him to marry and they had chosen you of all people.

If this happened before you would be ecstatic. Now, it makes you sick thinking about being alone with him. You had no choice. Your father had been trying to marry you off for centuries, and you always got out of your courtships somehow. You suspected Loki had a hand in it. But now that he wanted to marry you, there was no getting out of it.

You were expected at the palace by noon tomorrow. You paced the floor so many times, your footprints were probably embedded into the floor. Then you had the perfect idea. You would run away.

The next day everyone awaited your arrival. Your mother and father sat with Frigga and Odin having tea while they waited. Thor patted Loki on the back. "Finally, brother. Everyone saw this coming. I am very happy for you." Loki brought his cup to his lips, when a timid knock on the door interrupted them. He jumps up, rushing to let you inside. Instead of you, he is greeted by Greta. "Forgive the intrusion, your highness. It's the princess she ran away." Greta hands Loki the letter you left.

She sniffles, worried about you. While he reads the note, your father and Odin start planning on sending knights to find you. Frigga comforts your mother. "What does it say?" Thor asks, peeking over Loki's shoulder.

Greta, I cannot marry that pompous ass. I would rather live amongst the pigs. Do not bother looking for me, because you will never find me. Tell mother and father I love them dearly. Thank you Greta, for everything. I wish I could have taken you with me. All my love.

"No need to create a search team, father. I will find her myself." Loki states, leaving the room.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @kats72 @crimson25 @litaloni @zombiesnips-blog @gruftiela @mochie85 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @violethaze @lokidokieokie @buttercupcookies-blog @mjsthrillernp @chantsdemarins @lulubelle814 @anukulee @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @fandxmslxt69 @artemis-13 @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @kathren1sky-blog @javagirl328 @kcd15 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @soggylampshade0 @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mischief2sarawr @ozymdias @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @aoirohi @mushycore @marygoddessofmischief @queenshu @jasmine-pudding @kcd15 @jiyascepter

[aikaterini-drag]

Movie Night

Pairing: King Loki x Fem Wife Reader

Summary: Loki and you spend time in your apartment in New York. You want to watch a move but Loki has other ideas.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, explicit sexual content, oral(fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, just shameless smut pals.

It was a well known fact that your husband wasn’t fond of Earth and its occupants. But since you were from Earth, Loki had no choice but to take you there whenever you desired.

Yes, Loki was your husband. Striking and shocking as it was, the infamous yet powerful Norse God was yours.

At first you were so afraid of him. The two of you had met during his chaotic time in New York, amidst aliens and destruction. Your meeting was wild and crazy, and Loki saw you as his enemy. You worked for Stark Industries and tried to stop Loki from destroying the world with the Avengers. Your attempt was pretty pathetic but you had to give it a shot. You couldn't just let someone trash your home without at least trying to intervene.

In the chaos of battle, you got hit by a bullet in the shoulder. Loki could have easily left you, but he didn’t. He took you to Asgard and treated your injuries with their advanced magic and healing concoctions. In a matter of days you were completely healed. All thanks to him. He’d saved you, and that’s when you started seeing parts of him that no one else could.

Loki was a never-ending puzzle, with so many tiny pieces that it seemed impossible to ever see the whole picture. But if there was one thing you had learned about him was his deep craving for affection and care. Beneath the stoic, cold exterior of this God, hid a child seeking love.

You and Loki dated for a year before he insisted on getting married. He was pretty adamant about it, especially after clearing his name and claiming his rightful spot on the throne of Asgard. As the first son, it was his duty, and Thor was more than happy to be the captain of the Asgardian soldiers and play peacemaker with Earth.

So now, you were Queen too. You had responsibilities and daily tasks that sometimes gave you headaches. You were never lonely and Loki always took care of you. But your husband was King, born and bred for the role, when you were just a human who had only ever imagined living in a tiny New York apartment, not glittering kingdoms and palaces.

When you asked Loki for a vacation back home, he agreed. He took you to New York, where you stayed in your old apartment. Loki had bought and completely renovated it. Now, it was an adorable small place with comfy and elegant furniture, a perfect escape from your royal duties.

That night, you chose to stay in and watch a movie while munching on snacks until you were full.

No duties, no attendants or royal meetings.

Just you and your husband.

You had already stocked up on all kinds of chips, chocolate and candy. Loki had just emerged from the shower, wearing a half-open green robe that showed off his muscular chest, still flushed from the heat. He looked even taller and more imposing in your small apartment, his wet raven hair dripping water.

To distract yourself from your lusty thoughts, you went to the living room and lit a candle. You snuggled into the couch, and that’s when Loki strolled in, his musky scent filling the air. He sat down beside you and handed you a glass of wine. Your glasses clinked and you took a few sips of wine and smiled at him, enjoying the rich, fruity taste.

“Good?” He asked.

You grinned. “You have excellent taste.”

“Are you happy?” Loki asked. As much as he grumbled about Midgard, he knew how much you missed your old life. He spoiled you as often as he could.

“Very. Thank you, honey. You are quite possibly the best husband in the whole universe.”

He bent to kiss your neck. “Quite possibly? My dear, I am unequivocally the best. And I can prove it to you.”

You moaned as his lips trailed your neck, dragging your neckline aside to kiss your collarbones. “Loki no.”

“Why not?” He looked up at you like a child who’d been refused his favorite toy.

“You promised we’d watch a movie tonight.”

"I desire to ravish you instead."

You half-laughed. “You ravish me daily.”

“And it appears I am never satisfied. So I crave more.”

“You know, sometimes it’s hard keeping up with your libido,” you muttered as he cupped your breasts over your T-shirt and traced your nipples. “Loki, wait—”

He grumbled and drew back. “You are one merciless woman.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’d like to watch a movie with you. It’s been my dream, being with my boyfriend—”

“Husband,” he corrected.

“Yes, being with my husband and watching a late night movie while eating snacks.”

“I shall indulge you, my wife,” he said, tucking his robe closed and trying to hide his raging erection. He flashed a smile, his white teeth gleaming, and added, “And then,I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

You blushed. Loki often said things like that, completely shameless. “You debauched God,” you muttered.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “A pleasure, darling.”

Sprawling his long legs, Loki tucked you in his arms, a soft blanket draped over you. You craddled a bowl of chips, snacks, and candy in one arm and the TV remote in the other, browsing movies on Netflix.

“This place is nice, even pretty,” Loki mused as he looked around the renovated apartment. He hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it before.

“Pretty, huh? I remember you calling it a ‘pathetic hovel’ last time,” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Well… that was a long time ago.”

“So, what do you want to watch tonight?”

He sighed. “Well, if we’re going to waste time with Midgardian entertainment, it might as well be brief.”

“Brief? I guess a movie then.”

“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I have to debauch you after that, remember?”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “You know, I think you’re secretly ashamed to enjoy a little human entertainment.”

“No. I’m simply eager to fuck you. That’s one thing I will never lie about.”

“What a rake you are.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “If I must suffer through this, let’s get over with it. Please.”

As it turned out, the movie held Loki’s interest for twenty minutes before he started being mischievous.

Honestly, you expected him to start sooner.

He took a chip and pretended to accidentally drop it in your lap. Then, acting all innocent, he “accidentally” tried to catch it, slipping his hand between your thighs. His fingers brushed against your clothed pussy, but retreated when you sent him a firm look.

Loki resumed watching the movie.

A while later, he cuddled you close and “accidentally” dropped a piece of popcorn down your shirt, between your breasts. You barely held back your grin at his ministrations. He retrieved it and you stopped his groping with a gentle slap of your hand.

“You know,” you started, “for the god of mischief, your way of distracting me is pretty lame.”

He smiled and undeterred, opened his robe. “I’m hot.”

Your eyes strayed from the TV screen because good Gods, he’d opened his robe completely, giving you a good view of his glorious cock. Thick, long and fat, it stood at attention. It throbbed, thick veins running from the head to the base. You bit your lips at the bead of moisture at the head. Loki had a magnificent chiseled body, and his cock was like rest of him, Godly. Devine. Perfect.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ignore the emptiness inside you. Damn him for using your weakness against you. His green eyes glowed in the dim light, filled with a hunger that promised to have you mewling and begging for his touch.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the movie?” Loki asked, his voice a husky whisper. His cock throbbed from between your bodies, begging for your touch.

You dragged your eyes from his cock and up to his face. “This is not fair.”

“God of mischief.”

In a swift move, he shifted, pushing you against the couch with his body between your legs. You gasped at the feel of him against you. Warm, hard and scented with masculine musk, your husband was irresistible. The movie played in the background, but went completely unnoticed.

He caught your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth. “It’s time for me to have a taste of my Queen. I want my sweet human crying out, her pretty pink pussy clenching around me.”

“Hmm… yes…” you said in between wet kisses. “More, please… Loki…”

With a satisfied hum, he worked on removing your clothes, tugging at your pajamas and almost tearing your underwear. He tossed away both of your clothes away as if they offended him until there was nothing left but your smooth skin exposed to his eyes. Grasping under your knees, he steered them wide apart, and enjoyed the view. Creamy thighs and in between was the most pretty, pink puffy cunt begging for his attention.

“Look at that,” he drawled, his finger running up and down your drenched slit. “I could scent your desire all this time, my naughty little Queen.”

You opened your mouth to speak but moaned when one thick finger pressed inside. He gathered your wetness and pumped slowly, in and out, in and out, while watching you intently. You squirmed, seeking more, but he kept you still. A second finger entered, curling and rubbing that sensitive spot. You fell back, your toes curling. Licking his lips, Loki added a third, stretching you wide for him while his thumb teased your clit.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, watching at where your cunt squeezed his fingers. “So beautiful.”

“Husband, please.” You gripped his forearms. “Want them faster.”

Loki grinned and obliged, thrusting his fingers in a come hither motion. You rocked against them, panting and whining from overload. He kept his other hand on your inner thigh, keeping you open for him. Thrusting, stroking and playing with you, you came in a matter of seconds. Stars flashed in your vision. You were delirious, floating in clouds of bliss.

Loki retreated from your pussy, licking his fingers that were all wet from your juices. Then growing low, he descended upon your mound, his teeth nibbling at the fat pussy lips before flicking his tongue around your clit. Oversensitive, you tried to stop him but couldn’t. Body taut, you threaded your hands through his wet hair, grinding your pussy against his face.

A few more shameless licks and you cried out, shaking, coming apart with long-drawn moans. Loki didn’t stop teasing you, he fucked you with his fingers, moving up to devour your nipples, sucking the buds deep into his warm mouth.

“My pretty Queen possesses the sweetest taste. Can’t have enough of you.”

He claimed your mouth and you moaned at the taste of your essence on his tongue. Your hands traveled along his strong body, caressing his broad shoulders before traveling low to cup his cock. You pumped him, traced the veins and rubbed the leaky head. Loki hummed, pleased as he licked into your mouth.

Pinning your hands above your head, he grabbed his fat cock and slapped it on your pussy lips. He was heavy and hot. You watched as he rubbed the pulsing shaft until it was coated in your juices, teasing you by thrusting the cockhead inside your little slit before drawing back. With a whine, you canted your hips, begging him in a series of whines and murmurs.

He indulged you and finally surged forward, watching as your small opening was forced open by his dick. You both moaned at the sensations and once he was seated to the hilt you needed a few moments to adjust to the invasion. He was big, bigger than a human in every way. You always needed some moments to get used to the incredible fullness and stretch.

Even so, you always fit perfectly together.

“Good?” he asked, breathless and aroused.

“Okay, you can move now.”

Nodding, he pulled back, his veined length frothing with your slick before slamming back in. Having him inside you felt glorious. He did it again, his eyes fixed on your pretty cunt; he drew back till all his cock was out, then pushed deep, until his swollen balls squeezed against your ass.

“Loki,” you whined, not caring how desperate you sounded, “want to touch you.”

He freed your hands and you immediately traced his strong body, trailing your fingers down his neck, chest, nipples and firm ass while he pounded inside you, claiming your very soul. Clutching your waist, he went faster, his mouth devouring your nipples while you clung to his shoulders for dear life and rode higher and higher.

Your orgasm hit you hard and fast and you shut your eyes tightly at how intense it was. Loki followed right after you, delving to the hilt and shooting ropes of warm cum inside you. You felt his release, every pump that flooded your pussy and overflowed, dripping down your the crack of your ass.

With a rumble of satisfaction, he set you to lay on your side, cuddling you from behind, his still hard shaft still within you. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, then suckled your nipples and cupped your breasts in his hands. You relaxed into him, your body lax and spent.

“We should watch the rest of the movie now,” he said in an absolutely serious tone.

You half-laughed. “We missed most of it.”

He kissed your head with a grin. “We can watch it again.”

“Oh, now you don’t mind?”

“I think I’m going to relish watching as many movies as you want, darling.”

To prove his point, he gave a shallow thrust—he was still hard and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“That sounds like a threat, husband,” you moaned when he draped your leg over his thigh. “Loki—”

He rubbed the place where you were joined. “I want to play with my Queen’s pussy while we watch the movie.”

You wiggled but he kept you lodged to him. “Loki this is too much.”

He silenced you with a kiss and drew tight circles over your clit. You felt warm magic permeating your pussy and knew that he was healing you. You no longer felt so oversensitive and the stretch of his cock was pleasing, welcoming.

“There,” he dragged his tongue across your neck. “I always take care of my wife.” He kissed your forehead and added, “Now put the movie from the start.”

“Lo—” you didn’t manage to let out another word and whined when he leaned down to kiss around your flushed nipples.

“Loki—”

“The movie, darling,” he said and gently thrust his cock, reminding you that he remained rock hard inside you.

Loki moved from behind you, his hands, mouth and delicious length of him inside you teasing you to another orgasm. True to his word, he ended up fucking you until the credits rolled and you had no strength to do anything else but melt sweetly into his arms and enjoy his ministrations.

[imtryingbuck]

Old As A Dinosaur

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: reader learns something about her boyfriend

Word count: 842

Warnings: fluff. short and sweet.

A/N: this idea came from the wonderful @buckys-wintersoldier❤️

Masterlist

The giggles coming from the living room greeted you the moment you stepped foot into the house, as you walked in to the room you saw your son Sebastian sitting on the couch tucked in to the side of your boyfriend Bucky.

Bucky didn’t bat an eye when you told him that you had a three year old son. When he met Seb for the first time it seemed that both your son and boyfriend forgot that you were even there. The first night Bucky stayed over Seb asked if Bucky could put him to bed, then when a nightmare involving monkeys that were trying to eat his toes woke him up he begged for Bucky to come and save him.

Six months after Bucky had met Sebastian the rest of the Avengers met him too. His squeals of pure joy had everyone laughing other than Bucky as Sam had Seb in his arms and flew the two around. Your boyfriend actually threatened Sam that he would end him if he dropped the three year old. Said three year old who tried to lift up Thor’s hammer, then was using Captain Americas shield as a sled.

You had actually been pulled aside by Seb’s teacher and was told that Seb had been lying all day by telling everyone he knew the Avengers, you just raised your eyebrow and laughed informing her that he was not lying at all.

“Hi pretty mama” Bucky greeted when he noticed you standing there.

“Hi pwetty mama” Seb repeated making the pair of you laugh.

“Hi my handsome men, what are you two doing?”

“Dinos” pointing at the tv Sebastian sighed happily at seeing his favourite movie for what felt like the thousandth time.

“How was work babe?”

“It was alright, nothing exciting today. I’m going to get dinner started”

“No need pretty girl, me and little man here did it we was just waiting on you. Go and get changed and then we can eat” Bucky says before telling Seb that it was dinner time and promising the three year old that they could carry on watching as soon as they had finished eating. Doing as he says you head upstairs changing into comfier clothes.

“Follow me pwetty mama, dinner time” laughing you take your sons waiting hand letting him lead you into the dinning room as Bucky served the food.

Halfway through the meal Sebastian was trying to whisper to Bucky who kept responding with “I told you it’s a secret”

“But pwease it’s mama”

“Do you think we can trust her?” Bucky’s eyes squinted looking at you suspiciously.

“Yes! Its mama she not tell”

“Okay, but she has to do the secret pinky swear before we tell her” Your eyes moved between the pair with your eyebrow pinched together. “Pretty mama what we’re about to tell you is top secret, you have to pinky swear that you can never tell anyone what you’re about to hear”

“Pwomise mama”

“I promise” both of them hold up their pinky fingers up waiting for you to wrap yours around theirs you waited patiently to hear this top secret news.

“Okay little man, you-you can tell her” Bucky says with a nervous tone lacing his voice.

“Mama… Buck met dinos” Sebastian tells you in the most serious voice the three year old could muster.

“Ex-what?”

“Yep. He was fwends with them and-and had pet T-Rex’s”

Looking at Bucky with your eyebrow raised he nodded solemnly keeping his face void of emotion.

“I-I didn’t know that”

“Top secret mama uncle Stevie don’t know so no telling no one!”

“Buck your secret is safe with me, don’t worry” you tell him earnestly.

“Thank you pretty girl, it honestly feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ve been able to tell my family the truth” he takes yours and Sebs hands in his and squeezes.

Honestly he deserves an Oscar for his performance.

Seb giggles and promises that he will never ever tell anyone then carries on eating his dinner as if he hadn’t just told you some life changing news about your partner. Bucky looks at you and smiles before doing the same as Seb.

Finishing your dinner, you tell Bucky that you’ll wash up - he did try and argue that he would do it but Seb begged him to watch the dinos. Walking into the living room once again, your eyebrow rosed for the umpteenth time that night as you watch Bucky with his arms pulled close to his chest, Seb coping him and both bouncing around.

“Look mama we’re dinos!” Seb giggled before roaring like a dinosaur.

“Come on pretty mama, be dinos with us” Bucky winked then roaring and chirping like Sebastian was doing.

If anyone had looked in your front windows that night they would have thought there was something wrong with all three of you.

The three of you were roaring and acting as dinosaurs. And honestly, it was the best way to end a stressful day at work.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[bones4thecats]

Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.1) ~ RoR/SnV x Child! Reader

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Thor, Shiva, & Child! Reader Name: Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.1) Original Poll Link: Here Other Parts: (PT.2)

A/N: I actually really liked this idea on the poll I made, and I hope it turned out as good as I imagined it! Enjoy!!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🌩️ Your father was the Lü Bu, the Flying General himself, and when you heard from the Valkyrie named Brunhilde that he was set to fight in the first match of Ragnarok, you gave him the best support he could’ve asked for

🌩️ You sat alongside his army, with his strategist, Chen Gong, sitting next to you, trying to keep you from jumping down and attacking the God of Thunder yourself

🌩️ When Chen Gong and the others sacrificed themselves, stating their loyalty to you father, you stood there in shock and tear-filled eyes as Thor looked at you, seeing a child without anyone left

🌩️ He felt guilty, but this was what they wanted, they wanted to join their lord, and while he initially wanted to just leave the area, he walked up to you and shocked the Gods and Humans as he kneeled down and hugged you

🌩️ After that day, you stayed by Thor’s side, he reminded you so much of your father it would make you cry

🌩️ Thor may not be the best person when it comes to comforting, but he tries his best when it comes to you, Lü Bu was the one person who could stand a fight against him, and because of this, he would try training you to be just as strong as your father and him

🌩️ He honors your father with you. Every day on his birthday, and on the days of each of his soldiers, including Chen Gong, you would walk into a field in the forest located in the Chinese section of Valhalla, you would both hand off flowers and lay them on the graves you and him had made

🌩️ The words he said to you when he comforted you that day are words that you will never forget

“ Your father was an honorable man, I hope you know that. And because of the honor he possessed, I will take you in as my own. I believe it is something that your father would’ve wanted. “

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🪩 He believed that Raiden was the one opponent he would remember the rest of his life, and when he saw the now-deceased rikishi stare at a young child with the two Valkyries, he froze

🪩 The man was a father, just like him

🪩 But while his child could handle loss of someone easily, you appeared to be around a young teen, this must’ve been one of the hardest things you ever had to witness

🪩 Shiva looked at you and back at the crumbling Raiden Tameemon, guilt filled his heart, which was something he hadn’t felt for such a long time, why did he feel guilty? He just won and brought honor to his pantheon!

🪩 Watching as you ran down and tried hugging the remaining pieces of your father just got him staring back at his wives and son, and when he saw how saddened their eyes were then they looked at you

🪩 The God of Destruction walked up to you and you jumped back when his one arm reached out to you, and that action made the Humans cry out for him to not hurt you

🪩 He kneeled down and since he was just on fire, the heat that radiated off of him made you hold your head away from him

“ Look at me, young one. “

🪩 You looked up at him and saw how his eyes shimmered with guilt, making you look at where your father once stood and back at the man who caused his demise

🪩 Shiva held is one arm back as you tried helping him stay standing when he slumped over in pain, after all, losing three arms doesn't exactly make anyone, including Gods, feel very good

🪩 Once you came to visit him with his wives and son, he saw how you carried yourself around him, not with resentment or fear, but with care and gentleness, making him smile

🪩 Whenever he rested, you laid next to him, you were like another child of his, and when he offered to take care of you in the Hindu Pantheon, it made you jump up and down and hug him and his wives as they agreed to taking you in as their own

“ Your father was one of the best fighters I have ever met in my thousands of years of life. And… seeing you look so painfully at where your father once stood, I just, I knew you had to have someone there for you. Would you do me, and my wives, the honor of joining our family? ”

[beah388love]

Too quiet…?

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Daddy!Thor x Little!Reader

Summary: someone says you’re too quiet for Thor and too different to be together

Warnings: crying,insults,mean comments,age regression!!!(please tell me if I missed any!!!)

You was picking flowers with one of the servants.

“God you’re so quiet..” she huffed as they sat on the floor picking the grass.

“Do you talk at all?” She scoffed

“I talk..” you mumbled but he didn’t hear you.

“Why’s the son of Odin even with you? He’s an extrovert, like a golden retriever” she sighed annoyingly, you could feel tears brimming your eyes.

“I’d be a better girlfriend to him than you.” She muttered but you heard.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. Stay here!” She spat at you and you nodded. As she walked away she stood on your flower pile, crushing them.

As soon as she left you cried. Your flowers all ruined.

Maybe she was right? Why was he with you?

You were the complete opposite of him?

You ran back into the palace, you rushed past the guards and servants as you covered your face.

And you ran straight to the place you always went to.

The greenhouse. Your favourite place, it was quiet,empty and had your favourite things…

Flowers.

You sat in the corner of the room, holding your legs up to your chest, resting your chin in your knees as you tried to stop your tears.

Your thoughts were racing so quickly you didn’t even hear Thor walk into the room.

“Little one?” He said softly but it still made you flinch.

“Buttercup? Why are the tears?” He asked you worriedly as he knelt down in front of you and you sobbed harder.

“Buttercup?” Thor repeated giving you a soft kiss on the temple. Hoping your favourite nickname would calm you.

Your favourite flower.

“W-why are you with me?” You asked wiping your tears and he physically jumped a little.

“Why are you asking me this?” He asked you confused and you pouted.

“S-she was sayin- we was too different t-to like eachother- and she’d be a better girlfriend for you-“ you stuttered out through cries and he pulled you into a tight hug, embracing you in his warmth, all you could smell and feel was him.

“That is entirely and completely untrue! We are so alike, we both like popcorn and the rain! And..Miss bunny!” Thor said making you smile at the mention of your stuffie,

“And we like colouring! And ice cream!” You beamed making him nod with a chuckle.

“Who is this woman anyway?” He asked you and you huffed.

“Buttercup?” He asked again and you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“M’ not sure she’s new…” you said and he nodded as he rubbed your back up and down softly.

“Did she do anything else?” Thor asked as he tried to hide his anger.

“She stepped on my flowers…” you said sadly when you remembered.

“What?” He said through gritted teeth and he was even more mad as he looked at your puffy face and wet eyelashes, he stood up with you in his arms.

“Daddy-“

“Shh..it’s okay just rest” he said stroking your hair as you rested your head back down in the crack of his neck.

“I want all servants lined up here now!” Thor shouted covering your ears but you still jumped a little.

Everyone flinched and lined up panicked

“Buttercup? Tell me if you see her?” Thor whispered to you and you nodded, hesitantly removing your face from thors neck as he walked down the line of terrified servants.

And you looked down when you saw her, catching thors attention.

“Is this her?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Is it true you said that were to different? To be together?” He asked and she looked down nodding her head reluctantly.

“Is it true you said you’d be a better girlfriend for me than Her?” He asked and she nodded her head as she sniffled.

“Y-yes s-sir”

“Well you are wrong, you could never be a better girlfriend than her, she’s the best anyone could ever have” he said giving you a kiss on the hand.

“And is it true…you stepped on her flowers?” He asked and she nodded sobbing.

“Y-yes..”

“Guards take her away!” Thor shouted and she sobbed as they dragged her away.

Thor put you back on the floor and held your hand, bending down a bit from the height difference.

“C’mon buttercup, let’s make another flower bouquet” he said making you squeal, and he couldn’t hold back a smile.

You went back to the flower garden and made a beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers.

“Look! A buttercup!” You beamed catching thors attention.

He picked it and held it under your chin, the yellow tint glowing under your chin “you like butter” he said you gasped “I do!” You agreed making him laugh.

“Your so cute little one” he smiled as he pulled you on top of him, laying on the grass together.

You forgot all about what she said, because you both were indeed made for each other.

[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully