#you don’t have to like the decisions he’s making but it makes sense for him
Note
could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐
mad at you | l.mk
“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”
💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we
❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.
❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader
❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex
❯ words: 4.3k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.
an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.
The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.
But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.
You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.
So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.
He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.
He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.
The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.
“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”
You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.
“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”
You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”
"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."
Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.
“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”
“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”
“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”
“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”
You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.
“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.
“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”
“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.
Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.
“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”
You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.
“Oh, so you want to break up?”
He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”
The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.
Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.
Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.
“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”
“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.
Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.
He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.
After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.
It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.
Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.
Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.
As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.
You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.
The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.
However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.
“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.
You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”
Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.
His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.
"I thought you left..."
Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.
“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.
You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.
He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”
His kindness only amplifies your guilt.
"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."
Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."
"No—"
He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."
Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.
"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."
"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"
Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"
His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.
"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."
You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”
You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.
Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.
His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.
Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.
You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.
He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.
“‘s okay,” you whimper.
Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.
He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.
He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.
And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.
“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”
You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.
“Mark…”
“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”
You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.
And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.
As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.
You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”
He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.
Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.
The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.
You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.
You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.
Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.
Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.
And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.
You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.
So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...
“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”
You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.
“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”
And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.
And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.
The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.
You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.
You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.
"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.
"I’m sorry," you say softly.
You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."
#🏷frompaige#mark lee smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut#mark lee x reader#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct x reader#kpop smut#nct hard hours#nct oneshot
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Beauty (Twisted Wonderland, Rook Hunt)
tiptoes into blog again but steps on a comically placed whoopee cushion and alerts the entirety of my eagerly awaiting readers
hey hi hi sorry this is 2 let you all know that i am ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i had 2 disappear 2 focus entirely on my studies bc i was due 2 graduate with honors soon and i needed 2 have ALL my work completed lol! anyways, im glad 2 say that soon i will be the proud owner of an early bachelor’s degree in pre-med. this honors thesis better look STUNNING on my fucking resume.
a/n: anyways YES im working on ur asks now that i have more free time yaaaaaaaaay!!! in the meantime enjoy this lol i wrote it entirely on a whim bc i saw the new rook card on twt and was like “hm. okay fine ass.” anyways let it be known i know VERY LITTLE about book 7 and Rook in general (ive seen spoilers but i don’t actively seek them out, plus i don't have the game anymore bc free palestine, fuck disney), so this might be ooc or an unusually placed scenario. please let me know how i can improve!
summary: rook’s back to his old self. he’s not sure of himself, but you have some choice words.
cw: suggestive!!!!!!!! minors DNI!!!!!!!!!, book 7 spoilers i think, gn!reader (specifics of reader’s physical attributes are not mentioned, but Rook uses the masculine French word for "dear"), NOT PROOFREAD!!!!.
MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL THIS IS SUGGESTIVE!! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!!!
“Well, I admit… the version of me you see standing before you, cher, was not me at my prime…”
You stare curiously at the man before you. Unmistakably, this was Rook. Same French accent, albeit with a harsher twang, same upturned green eyes, same haunting, knowing smile. It was Rook, without a doubt. But, he was different. He looked different. His uniform wasn’t Pomefiore- it was Savanaclaw. His hair was longer and wilder, choppy bangs and uneven waves falling in his face and along his back. His skin was darker, a light tan present on his usually pristine, pale skin. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose and crest of his cheeks, and a smattering of them was found on his shoulders and neck. He didn’t stand quite as tall; rather, he stood with a slight slouch. Bending forward just slightly, piercing green eyes peering at you from beneath the shadow of a wide-brim brown hat. Strangely, like this, he appeared considerably more predatory.
Suddenly, him previously being in Savanaclaw made sense.
However, this spurred a question in you. Not about his decision to change dorms, but about his words.
“What do you mean, not at your ‘prime’?”
You furrow your brows in confusion as you stare back at him, searching for answers. This Rook- with far more obvious muscle definition and hardened expressions- seemed quite at his fully-functioning peak. You step towards him, your eyes raking over his form, lingering at his rough, calloused hands on his hips, at his broad, freckle-covered chest, and at his perfect cupid’s bow, where a stray freckle laid. “Mon trickster,” he speaks, the sharp twang of his accent making you shiver. His lips rise into a knowing grin. Your eyes snap back up to his eyes, glued to you in irony. “It’s rude to stare.”
Your cheeks heat up only for a moment, but you wave him off. “Rook…” You start, giving him one more once over before glancing away again, not wanting to get too caught up in observing his proportions. “I don’t think this isn’t your prime. If anything…” You turn to him again, looking him in the eyes. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before hurriedly spitting out the words before you could regret them. “...I think you’re beautiful.”
You would expect Rook, of all people, to be unfazed by these words. However, he seems a bit taken aback, his eyes widening and his posture straightening, before he leans back forward again, his predatory smirk stretching wider across his face. “Merci, mon chéri, however, I do believe-”
“I mean it.” You quickly interrupt him, stopping him from beginning a self-depricating tirade of how unaccustomed he used to be to the concept of beauty. “I think you’re beautiful like this.” You face him head-on, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. This shouldn’t feel like confessing, but strangely, it does.
Now it’s Rook’s turn to blush. His smile fades, his eyes going from knowing to gentle curiosity. The warm redness of the blush spreads across his tan cheeks, accentuating the darkness of his freckles. Something about that is endearing to you, and for a moment, you are emboldened.
You step closer to him, to which he instinctively steps back, maintaining space while his senses are momentarily thrown off by his reaction to your praise. However, he doesn’t get to do that for long. He stumbles back into a stool, gripping onto its edge as he falls onto it, surprised. He would have known that was there, if not for your closeness and persistence. You move even closer, placing a knee between his thighs on the stool, boosting your height and leaning in to grab his face. He freezes, momentarily shocked by your bold actions, but he soon relaxes, his shoulders falling and his breathing returning to normal. He looks down, his eyes becoming hooded before he looks up at you again, his emerald gaze more alluring than before. He bites his lip before speaking, probably to distract you. Admittedly, it almost works. “Mon trickster…” He speaks again, and you wonder how anyone got used to hearing him speak, when such a harsh twang in a smooth accent contradicted so perfectly. He breathes shakily, a blush returning to his face. You deduced he was definitely trying to lure you in. “You’re being… awfully bold today. May I ask what’s brought this on-”
“Your imperfections are what makes your beauty!” You don’t shout, but you do raise your voice, ensuring his words are drowned out. Being this close to him makes you somewhat nervous, but you stand your ground, pressing your palms a little more into the flesh of his cheeks. He blinks at you confusedly, waiting for you to speak. You open your mouth to speak, but close it just as quickly, letting out a few false starts before sighing. You look away, taking a deep breath, before steeling yourself and facing him once more. Slowly, you let your eyes take in his face, until your gaze reaches his freckles, prominent against his tan skin. You find yourself stroking his freckles with your thumbs, gently tracing the nonsensical patterns in which they appear. You finally find your confidence again, and speak without thinking. “Your freckles and tan don’t tell me that you had bad or sensitive skin- they tell me that you loved the sun.” Your voice is so gentle it surprises yourself, not whispered, but low, and filled with a strange intimacy.
His eyes widen at your words, his lips parted. He breathes shakily, but something about it is genuine this time. His eyes remain fixated on yours, his thick eyebrows downturned in a strange mix of melancholy and yearning. You stroke his face more, and he relaxes, closing his eyes and letting you hold him. You begin to breathe shakily yourself, your body flushing with heat and your fingers beginning to tremble just slightly. You move your right hand from his cheek to his hair, not once lifting your palm. Your fingers gently move through his hair, holding the back of his head, and he leans into your touch, exhaling as your pinky brushes the back of his neck. You lean in as well, following him as he follows your touch. He opens one eye to peer at you curiously, gauging your next action. When you gently pull at his waves, his eye snaps shut again, and he disguises a moan as a throaty exhale. You speak again, led purely by the spur of the moment. “Your uneven bangs and wild hair don’t tell me that you didn’t care for it- it tells me that you took the time to let it grow, and chose not to restrict what was yours.” You say this close to his neck, your lips gently brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers, gripping the stool harder.
You begin to pull back, keeping your palms to his skin. You move your right hand back to his cheek, where your left hand still rests on his other one. You pause for a moment before drifting both hands downwards, your palms and fingers tickling his jaw and neck. He leans his head back to allow you access, sighing quietly at the feeling. You gently trail your palms and fingers down his neck before finally resting at the base. You then gently drag your hands to his shoulders and squeeze them, looking up at him. His blush still remains, and his lips are still parted, his breathing still shaky. He gazes at you expectantly, as though eagerly awaiting your next bit of praise. You lean towards his face and press your forehead to his, looking down at his shoulders. “Your slouch does not tell me that you had bad posture- it tells me that you were shyer, and didn’t take pride in your appearance.” You begin to trail your palms down his shoulders, your fingers feather-light on his skin in their wake. He shivers at the gentle stimulation, closing his eyes again. His breathing gets heavier and shakier, and you begin to feel heat pool within you once more. You pull your head back, straightening up as your stare at him. Leaning your face close to his, you continue to trail your palms down his arms, your fingers lightly pressing into his muscles, mapping out the structure of his body. Eventually you lift your palms, using only your fingers to trail down his forearm, tracing the insides of his wrists. He hardly flinches, likely expecting this, but still shivers at the sensation. “It also tells me…” You continue, your lips mere inches from his, but not daring to move any closer, staring at his cupid’s bow and blonde lashes. Your fingers reach his hands, and you gently pry them from their grip on the stool, moving them to his lap, palms up. You trace your fingers along his rough, calloused palms and fingers, making shapes and patterns. “...That you took more pride in the things you did with your hands.” You press your palms into his and his eyes flutter open, not surprised to find you mere inches from his face. He exhales, his blush deepening. He blinks at you, knowing you still weren’t finished yet.
“Your imperfections lead me to your beauty. That’s why…” You trail off, lifting one hand from his palm and caressing his cheek once more. “...You’re beautiful.”
You begin to pull back, closing your eyes and quickly moving away, beginning to move your knee from between his thighs on the stool. However, he quickly grabs you, his fingers gripping the back of your uniform as he pulls you in. Your knee follows your movements, pushing into his inner thigh on the stool. He sharply inhales, looking down, before looking back up at you with hooded eyes. His eyes still look expectant, as though he still wants more.
“Mon trickster…” He says lowly, pulling you in further. Your knee presses harder against his inner thigh and your upper body closer towards his. He breathes shakily, moving one hand from the back of your uniform to the front, bunching some of it in his grasp. He tilts his head towards you, and you can feel his breath on your lips as your eyes lock with his. Heat flushes through your body again.
“Are there any other… imperfect beauties… that I possess, that you’d like to point out to me?”
rejoice! entertainment be upon ye!
a/n: okay but seriously, i hope u all enjoyed! i wrote this in like,, a few hours? for reference it is like. 5:45 am where i am as i type this LOLLLL! i was up lateee bc i no longer have schoolwork which meansss every spare second i have that im not working working, ill be doing these. anyways! please please pleeeeaaaasssseee leave a like, comment, and a reblog if u liked it! i love 2 know that u loved my work! ik its been a while but i promise 2 try 2 be more active… i swear!! oh, and leave an ask if u have any ideas about other things i should write!
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland smut#minors dni#rook twst#rook x reader#twst rook#rook hunt#rook twisted wonderland#rook hunt x reader#rook hunt twisted wonderland#rook hunt twst#rook hunt x yuu#rook hunt smut#twst#rook hunt x mc
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The Man 7
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you utter with each step, the pinch of Floyd’s-- Lloyd’s hand digging into your neck.
“Shut up,” he growls as he as good as drags you.
You walk on your toes, scurrying to keep up. You cling to his wrist to keep your balance as the witnesses turn their heads away. What the heck? What is going on? No one’s going to help you?
“Get in,” he opens a car door and push you so you nearly ding your head on the side.
You catch yourself on the metal and carefully duck down, only for him to shove on your head and slam the door. You compress yourself in the seat as he stomps around the hood. Jeez, that sort of anger isn’t good for you.
He drops into the driver’s side and hits the steering wheel, his anger brimming through flared nostrils. You watch him nervously, waiting for him to explode. It’s like you can see the fuse burning, getting shorter and shorter as he tries to calm himself.
“I’m done talking,” he snarls and sits back heavily. He pulls at his belt buckle as he lifts himself above the seat. “You’re going to use that mouth for something good. I don’t wanna hear another word.”
He pushes his fly open as the buckle tinks and you cringe as he shoves down the elastic of his sleek leopard print briefs. Wow, very 70s of him. He rolls the fabric down his thighs as his dick springs free and you put your hand over your lips, hiding a smile as you snort.
He lowers himself and snarls over at you, “are you laughing?”
“N-no. Well, yes, but I just think... they kinda look funny, don’t they?” You poke your finger up to mimic his hard length. “Boing.”
“What is wrong with you?” He sneers. “How many have you even seen?”
“You know, I’ve been on the internet. I’m a child of the digital age so... probably too many.”
“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” he grabs the back of your head and jerks you towards him, “look, sweet lips, do yourself a favour and stop resisting.”
“Um, favour?” You reach out to grab the steering wheel, fighting to stay away from his lap, “I... I got dry mouth. I can’t--”
“Just open up,” he grunts, shoving on you. He’s strong.
Your arm bends and you collapse onto him, headbutting his dick as you do. You shake your head as you raise it and he suppresses a whimper. He fists your hair and pulls you up, jarring your head back violently.
“Fuck off,” he grits out, “open your damn mouth. And no teeth.”
“Look, I really am not in that kinda mood--”
“I’m about to break your teeth, cupcake. Are you gonna keep arguing?”
You blink at him and weigh a life time of smoothies and broth. His eyes narrow and you gulp. You squeeze your lips tight and try to dip your chin down. He slackens his grip just enough for you to make eye contact with his tip.
Whew, okay, right, you’ve seen some things on The Hub. It can’t be that hard. Figuratively. Literally, it does look pretty hard.
You shudder and suck in a breath. Well, here goes nothing. This isn’t really how you saw your first-time but nothing’s really gone to plan, has it?
You lick your lips and open your mouth as you bring your hand around to grip him. Thick, you think. Looks and feels like it. But the skin, so smooth. You didn’t expect that. You face down the great dragon, throbbing up at you, you will vanquish your foe.
You lower yourself down and hover your lips above his swollen head. You stick your tongue off and flick it around his tip. He twitches and lets out a hiss. You try not to laugh. So sensitive. You press your lips around him and continue to swirl your tongue. You’re not super sure of what you’re doing but it feels right, even though the circumstance is very wrong.
You stretch your lips around him until your jaw aches. He’s gotta be big. Thinking about it, maybe thinking too much, he’s a lot like the men you see in your incognito searches. You’re no prude, you just haven’t found the right person. He’s definitely not the one but well... let’s not think about that.
You ease onto him, feeling him quiver as his breaths puff out slow and long. You take him deeper and deeper, pausing as he grazes the back of your throat. You inhale through your nostrils and try to rear back. He keeps a hold on you, urging you down.
Your throat strains around him as he forces his dick deeper. You nearly gag, your foot kicking the interior. You’re bent over the console, half-twisted, your shoulder bearing too much pressure for comfort. Your eyes water as you find yourself suffocated with his intrusion.
He holds you there until your quaking. He lets up and you pull off of him, coughing and hacking. He chuckles and releases your hair, petting your head.
“Go on.”
You close your eyes and tremble as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, the other still circled around him. You pump then put your lips around his tip. You flick your tongue around and around, taking him in gradually. You reach your limit then back up, dragging your hand in tandem with your mouth.
A saltiness spreads over your tongue and you press it along his base. He growls and his hand spreads across your crown. He leans back into the seat, extending his legs as far as they’ll go in the cramped space. You hear the leather of the steering wheel creak as he grips it tight as you pick up the pace. Hopefully if you go fast, it will be over soon.
“Slow-- sweet lips, hold up,” he rasps, “slow--” He yanks you off of him and hisses, slamming an open hand on the horn as he spasm and curses, “fuck! I said slow--” He lets go of you and contorts as he cradles his sack and squeezes his dick tight, a gush bursting from the tip, stringing down his knuckles and onto his pants. Those look expensive. “What the fuck? You went too fast.”
“I... I didn’t mean to. I just... I did my best,” you stick out your tongue and wipe it on your sleeve, “I never did that before so... my bad.”
He gapes at you then his eyes drift through the windshield. He shoots a passerby the finger as his little honk drew the attention of curious eyes. He growls and opens his hand, examining the sliminess across it.
“You made this mess,” he snarls, “better clean it up.”
Your brow creases and you shake your head, “you got kleenex?”
“With your goddamn mouth,” he barks and sits back. “Hurry up.”
You keep from looking out the window as humiliation seeps in. The realisation that a very private moment is on display makes you nauseous. You bend over his lap again, once more taking him in your hand.
“Good girl,” he purrs as your lips touch his skin, “gotta say, those hands are a lot quicker than that head.”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#the gray man#the man#drabbles#series#au#mob au
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sokka, katara, and the paradox of “the gifted child”
something i’ve noticed is a tendency to (mis)characterize sokka as someone who is dismissed due to being a nonbender, when that’s only partially true. sokka is certainly dismissed by some for not being a bender (namely, by benders), but i think there’s a key difference between being dismissed and not being valued in one specific way. katara was valued by her tribe for being a waterbender for the very crucial reason that she was the last one left. had she been a dime a dozen in her tribe, which would have been the case were it not for the systemic extermination of her people, she would not be valued as highly for possessing this skill. that said, while sokka clearly does hold some resentment over his lack of bending ability, calling himself “the guy in the group who’s regular,” i think it’s folly to assume that this means that sokka was dismissed and discarded as “average” while katara was put on a pedestal for being special. because while katara obviously was considered special, sokka is also clearly considered special by his family, merely in different ways. and if anything, sokka embodies the archetypal struggle of the so-called "gifted child” far more than katara does.
while sokka clearly believes himself to be disposable and intrinsically worthless, i don’t think that he was actively neglected by his family. even if katara was clearly marked by her bending as embodying the last hope of their tribe, that doesn’t mean that she was seen as more gifted than he was or was designated as her family’s obvious favorite. for example, the way hakoda talks about sokka (saying he trusted him with leading and protecting the tribe when he was thirteen, calling him a genius, and other such insanely high praises to heap on a child) shows that he clearly views his son as particularly exceptional and has never been shy about showing that. sokka is distinctly insecure around his father for assumptions he makes regarding hakoda's faith in his abilities and his insecurities when it comes to his perceived failure in not measuring up as a man, but from the second we meet hakoda, it's evident that these insecurities are entirely internal and completely unfounded, at least in terms of his father's perception of him. hakoda is nothing but incredibly proud of sokka, constantly emphasizing just how capable and brilliant he believes him to be. whether or not sokka is capable of internalizing it is another story, but it's clear that hakoda is not stingy in his praise and affection, not even a little bit.
moreover, while katara is clearly kanna’s favorite on an emotional level, she nonetheless affords sokka far more respect. she admonishes katara and tells her to do her chores, and notably, she also impresses the importance of “listening to her brother,” and backs up sokka’s decision to banish aang from the village. you can claim that sexism plays a factor in how sokka views his own supposed position of authority, but kanna is a woman who traveled the entire globe as a teenager because she wanted to escape patriarchal impositions dictating her life. she’s simply far too smart to treat sokka as any sort of authority within their village if she did not fully entrust him with that responsibility. she treats sokka almost like a peer, as if she is legitimately co-running the village with a fifteen year old boy.
katara is only a couple years younger than sokka at most, but her dynamic with kanna is very different. on one hand, kanna clearly sees more of herself in katara, can identify with her sense of adventure and rebellious spirit, but on the other hand, it means that she views katara as a child to be taken care of, who needs to be reminded to do her chores and bailed out when she gets herself into trouble. sokka doesn't want to be viewed as a child, and so he does everything in his power to position himself as kanna's equal rather than her grandson. he takes his duties and responsibilities very seriously, and is obedient to a fault whenever he is submitting to any authority he actually respects, especially his father and grandmother. to be honest, a lot of what katara considers coddling is probably just sokka never being bossed around by their grandmother because she never actually has to tell him to do his chores. because despite katara's claim that he simply faffs about "playing soldier," sokka's problem is actually that he takes himself too seriously for her liking. and with the exception of kanna saying "be nice to your sister," which is the kind of teasing a parent says to their child, she clearly respects sokka's position in the village. when katara tries to run away with aang, kanna takes sokka's side and forbids her from acting impulsively, but when sokka is the one who packs supplies and plans to save aang, kanna gives them both her blessing.
katara is the only person who takes umbrage with the notion of sokka running the village and telling her what to do all day. and those frustrations have likely accumulated up from a lifetime of being told to “do as her brother says” and “why can’t she be smarter and more responsible and levelheaded blah blah blah.” she clearly thinks that she’s punching up when she yells at or mocks him, which may seem crazy to anyone who understands that sokka’s entire identity and existence revolves around being katara’s protector, but katara doesn’t actually know this. in her mind sokka is merely the perfect child who has always represented this impossible standard of “genius.” and what's more, he's absolutely insufferable about it.
and to be clear, this isn’t to say that katara herself isn’t highly intelligent, capable, competent, and skilled. she’s not only an incredibly talented waterbender, but also clever, quick, witty, creative, resourceful, practical, mature, and thoughtful in other ways. at one point, toph calls her a genius (“a stinky, sweaty genius”). and she is, indeed, an extremely powerful and innovative waterbender, both due to her hard work, but also because she is genuinely brilliant. that said, she’s smart in the realistic way that a kid is smart; she works hard to be good at what she cares about (and she has an existentially devastating reason to care about being a good waterbender, mind you), and she’s also good at thinking on the fly when she needs to. however, unlike sokka, or even toph, her intellect may be impressive, but it isn’t astonishing. sokka’s mind functions completely anomalously. i wouldn't say he's unrealistically intelligent, because i do know some people in real life who are similarly adept at processing all kinds of different information with the ability to deftly apply it near-immediately, but it is certainly abnormal, both for real world standards and within his universe.
i normally bristle at this term and its applications (for multiple reasons), but since it is explicitly stated multiple times across the show, it is important to acknowledge that sokka is referred to as a genius multiple times, including by his father. katara is referred to as being a genius by toph for using her own sweat to waterbend (which, as hama points out an episode later, isn't even that clever because you can literally bend water from the air around you); conversely, sokka is referred to as a genius for helping to invent hot air balloons and for figuring out multiple escape routes from the world's most secure prison in less than a day. we don't know the exact timeframe under which katara trained with pakku and earned the title of master, but she clearly worked incredibly hard to earn that title, not only as a master, but as the greatest waterbender in the entire world. i assume it was any time between a few weeks and a little over a month in which zhao would organize a fleet to arrive at the north pole, which is, of course, extremely impressive in itself and a testament to her passion and determination. however, on the other hand, piandao claims that sokka has basically mastered the sword and is ready to make his own within less than a day. it's important to remember that katara is also brilliant in her own way, and possesses great skills that sokka lacks: not only bending, but also midwifery, and an ability to locate her own emotions and allow herself to be vulnerable with others, two skills which should never be looked down upon for their association with womanhood and femininity, and are also particularly impressive considering just how young katara is. she is brilliant in her own right, and in any other family, katara would easily have been "the smart one." and yet, sokka is simply in a league of his own.
so, yeah, he can stand to get thrown around and yelled at; everyone her entire childhood just kept on impressing how special and perfect and brilliant he is, he can handle it. she has no idea that he is depressed, depersonalizes, loathes himself, and thinks he’ll never be good enough, because he never actually communicates any of that to her. the closest he ever comes is admitting that he’s jealous due to not having bending abilities, and even that shocks katara, even though it’s such a small and obvious admission in the scheme of things. she has no idea what’s going on with him psychologically, how he views himself in relation to others, and specifically in relation to her, so she kind of just assumes he’s entitled because surely he must know how special he is and thus feels owed accolades by the world at every turn. he deserves to be humbled, and she is in fact righteous for humbling him.
when she makes fun of him for being stupid or miserable or paranoid or cynical, she thinks she’s owning him the way a righteous underdog fights against an oppressor. it's similar to how zuko wants to "put azula in her place." in katara and zuko's minds, they are both the valiant underdog siblings who had to fight and struggle against the siblings for whom everything came so easily. and in katara’s mind especially, she is always punching up, and she always has a moral justification in lashing out at anyone she pleases. so she couldn’t fathom that the reason sokka puts up with her antagonism without complaint isn’t because he’s so above her that he can simply ignore her taunts and gibes without a care (if that were the case, he wouldn't bother to taunt and gibe in return), but rather that he feels so detached from his own personhood that he would never think to actually explain his feelings to the person whom he has defined himself through since childhood. and if he did ever, somehow, communicate that to her, she’d have to reevaluate their whole entire lives and dynamic. but he never will communicate that to her, so she’ll never actually have to do that.
moreover, even though katara often does tease sokka and cast doubt upon his competence and abilities in low-stakes situations constantly, whenever they are actually facing a real problem that requires an immediate solution, katara seems to forget that sokka is supposedly an unhelpful, lazy, immature idiot because she immediately turns to him to fix all their issues. and then once that issue is resolved, katara goes back to finding his existence bothersome. sokka, on the other hand, falls into this role of problem solver instinctually, with the one exception that when they actually name him as the idea guy, he jokingly complains that it’s a lot of pressure to be one who is always expected to come up with solutions. and while he is joking during that conversation in “the drill,” he’s being honest to an extent, because his perfectionism and fear of failure is truly dire.
when katara is faced with failure, whether as the consequences for her own actions or otherwise, she simply gets back up and tries again. she can’t be knocked down, she can’t be deterred from achieving her goals. she has a very healthy approach to making mistakes, and while she doesn’t always learn from them in the longterm, she does always try her best to fix them and amend the situation as immediately as possible. katara is someone who is incredibly resilient and is constantly demonstrating the sheer magnitude of her inner strength, especially in particularly difficult moments. she has the ability to fail as many times as it takes without letting that failure affect her own self-esteem or desire to keep striving for what she believes in.
sokka, on the other hand, is very physically resilient (he gets beat up a lot), but his emotional resilience is actually quite pathetic. he has no tools for coping with failure. from even the slightest mistake, like not actually being able to open the doors at the fire temple with his makeshift explosives, to a catastrophic one, like his failed invasion, sokka immediately retreats inward. in “the boiling rock,” sokka demonstrates how his first ever real failure that rests squarely on his own shoulders is so devastating to him that he becomes totally irrational and suicidal in an attempt to “rectify” the situation. he does not know how to cope with failure, because he expects himself to be perfect at all times. and it’s not because sokka is overly proud, but rather that his guilt complex is so profound that he blames himself for every single thing that goes awry at all times, even when it isn’t actually his fault whatsoever. so that guilt and shame is magnified a thousand fold when sokka is actually culpable for those losses.
one of many ways in which it is evident that sokka is the older sibling is that he clearly lives with the mentality that if katara messes up or gets herself in danger due to her own impulsive inclinations, it’s always actually sokka’s fault for not being a better, more attentive brother. when she sets off the booby trap in the banned ship, sokka banishes aang from the village so as to protect katara from herself. when katara experiences the consequences of heedlessly blowing up a factory, sokka gets mad at her for her recklessness, but also immediately finds a way to help her fix this situation, because that’s his job, and in fact, his primary purpose on this earth. this is a dynamic sokka has probably internalized even before he was assigned the role of her sworn protector, because that’s just how being the eldest is.
sokka’s tendency to take responsibility for everyone else’s mistakes and his desire to shoulder everyone else’s pain at all times, coupled with his implicit belief that he, uniquely, cannot afford to mess up ever (if other people make mistakes it’s fine and he can help them fix it, but if he makes mistakes he no longer has a purpose on this planet, goodbye cruel world), definitely indicates that he was held to an incredibly high standard all his life. he expects himself to be able to handle a lot of responsibility with perfect ease because he always has. he isn’t used to making mistakes of any kind. if he puts his mind into learning a new skill, he always masters it within a couple of days, whatever that skill happens to be. unlike katara, sokka is used to things coming easily to him, and what he isn’t used to is failure.
katara and sokka are both exceptional, of course, but in very different ways, and for very different reasons. katara grew up with a lot of external pressure to excel as a waterbender, because she needs to embody her cultural legacy and prove that her mother’s sacrifice was not in vain. it’s an unfathomable burden to place on a child, and the rate at which she improves her waterbending once she is actually given the resources to hone her skills is a testament to her perseverance and untiring dedication. katara becomes the greatest waterbender in the world not because she is a natural prodigy (which is something she bristles at when aang does display prodigious skill), but because she is incredibly determined and no one can outmatch the strength of her heart and unshakable commitment when she is pursuing a goal. as pakku even says, raw talent isn’t everything, and katara’s abilities prove that despite not being “naturally gifted,” hard work and determination is far more important when it comes to excelling in any given domain.
however, if katara’s motivation to be excellent is externally imposed by the tragic circumstances of her life, sokka’s motivations are, at the very least, internally maintained. as aforementioned, i have no doubt that he received a lot of external validation and praise from the adults in his life as a child with a dazzling, brilliant mind. as has been established, sokka is constantly displaying an ability to synthesize new information at a staggering rate, which likely means that before katara had even discovered her ability to waterbend, sokka was probably being fawned over for the impressive rate at which he was picking up new skills as a baby. since pretty much everything (cerebral, at least) comes easily to sokka, i can only imagine that hakoda, who never hesitates to express to his children how proud he is of them, would constantly affirm sokka’s intellect. and by boasting that sokka takes after himself (hakoda also refers to himself as a genius, completely sincerely), he unwittingly plants the first seeds in fostering sokka’s belief that he must be exactly like his father in every way, and that any deviation from hakoda’s image would prove him unworthy. but he will never be the spitting image of hakoda the way that katara is "the spitting image of kanna" because sokka is already the spitting image of kya, if not – perish the thought – his own person entirely.
unlike katara, who spent her whole childhood trying to waterbend by herself with little success (beyond, of course, isolated instances demonstrating her sheer raw power when her bending was being influenced by her incredibly strong and passionate emotions), sokka always felt like he could handle the amount of responsibility he was given, because everything came easily to him. until the day that his life changed forever, and suddenly the stakes were no longer abstract, but tangible and personally devastating. sokka had never learned that it was okay to fail as a child because he never had a reason to, and then suddenly, he could not afford to fail under any circumstances. failure of any kind went from being a (purely hypothetical) blow to the ego, to being something that could directly endanger the lives of his loved ones. and so sokka decides that the only way to not be culpable for his potential failures is to be a martyr.
of course, there are instances in which sokka is proven to be inept, such as on kyoshi island or with piandao, wherein his humility and open-mindedness are put on display and sokka puts aside his own standards of perfection to learn from a master, but i don't think these instances qualify as failures. for one thing, sokka happens to master the forms he is being taught in less than a day, at an unprecedented rate, and thus these initially humiliating blindspots in his knowledge become victories as sokka absorbs new knowledge. sokka is always eager to learn, and willing to acknowledge his lack of expertise in area, humbling himself to learn from others any chance he gets. no, what i mean by "failure" as it relates to sokka's self-perception and ego is not a lack of knowledge, but an inability to protect another. to sokka, his existence is defined by his ability to provide and protect, and thus, a failure is, specifically, when someone gets hurt under his watch. that is what it means to not be able to afford to fail. he is not overly proud (if anything he is overly insecure), but he also understands that the stakes of failure – real failure – are tangible.
so when it comes to failure that carries grave consequences, he would rather be dead than fallible (or, responsible for not adequately protecting his loved ones), one million times over. and so every time someone makes a sacrifice for him, he feels as if he has failed on a fundamental level, because simply being exceptional is not enough, he must also bear the entire world’s suffering alone – as (in his mind) hakoda instructed him to when he left him behind to protect and provide for the village. otherwise he has failed in his promise to be needed, which is his raison d’être. sokka’s complex is very obviously not informed solely by his upbringing as a “gifted kid,” and in fact largely informed by the dehumanizing logic of war as it necessitates sacrifice, but his inability to accept his own fallibility as a product of his self-dehumanization is, at the very least, compounded by his debilitating perfectionism.
thus, katara and sokka's dynamic within their family isn’t “gifted kid and neglected kid,” but rather “two gifted kids who are gifted in different ways, one of those ways being valued more on a cultural level due to its scarcity as a byproduct of genocide.” while katara was put on a pedestal her entire life due to her ability to waterbend, it doesn’t mean that sokka wasn’t put on a pedestal in other ways. if anything, the reason hakoda entrusted a child with the burdens he did was specifically because he put his son on a pedestal. sokka assumes that hakoda didn't think he was capable enough to join his army, but that couldn't be further from the truth. hakoda trusted his thirteen year old son so much that he genuinely thought it best to leave him alone with this duty to defend his village and protect katara at all costs. he didn't leave a single man behind, not even the other teenage boys, because that's how much faith he had in a child to take his responsibilities seriously and perform them competently. and if that decision gave sokka one million different complexes and fucked him up for life, it wasn’t because he wasn’t valued for his abilities, it’s because he was overvalued and given too much responsibility at too young an age.
both he and katara struggled to live up to the expectations placed on them, forced to fulfill the roles of their parents instead of being allowed to exist as children. but crucially, katara sees the injustice in that, and clings to her childhood even as she strives for greatness, and sokka simply doesn't. he's long accepted that injustice, and in fact feels guilty that he cannot better live up to the impossible portrait of an idolized father, an idealized masculinity, an illusory model of the infallible, unshakeable warrior. despite all his achievements and natural giftedness, he nonetheless feels totally inadequate, deeply flawed, and ontologically worthless. perhaps, in a world beyond the pressures of war and its dehumanizing logic, sokka would have internalized the praise he was constantly receiving his whole life for his gifts. but since he was only ever a prodigy in ways that didn’t matter (within that colonized paradigm), he doesn’t actually care about how clever and brilliant and creative and talented and unique and special he is, because that would first require him to see himself as fully human, and he can’t even do that.
#analysis#sokka#katara#katara&sokka#hakoda#kanna#kya#hakoda&sokka#kanna&sokka#kya&sokka#kanna&katara#whew...! 20+ paragraphs about sokka and katara’s childhood. it’s more likely than u think (highly likely at all times)#see but this is why sokka is so clearly a mirror to azula to me#like not just in terms of crippling perfectionism and devastating fear of failure and being a child prodigy who is put on a pedestal#but simultaneously dehumanized etc etc#but also the fact that like. zuko treats her the same way katara treats sokka#he clearly thinks his immediate hostility and aggression towards her is like. him nobly fighting the battle against his tormentor#when that is literally his little sister and she is struggling so much and desperate for support from LITERALLY ANYONE#katara and zuko are like ‘let’s put azula in her place’ and high five#and that’s just so fucking apt because they truly do believe that it’s their duty to put their perfect prodigy siblings ‘in their place’#but those are truly two of the most miserable people on the planet#so to any outside observers it’s just like………. why are you being mean to them they’re literally suicidal and shaking like a leaf#but also everyone already knows that azula is the prodigious gifted sibling bc zuko says it like one million times#so there’s rly no need to argue that#whereas katara loves calling sokka an idiot so i do believe that some clarification is in order#but like. yeah there’s no way sokka was dismissed or neglected as a child#he’s dismissed and neglected by the world at large#but within his tribe he’s like a mini celebrity . he’s their young sheldon (sorry)#anyway im running out of room to write tags but um. perfectionism is a disease get well soon xoxo bye
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The Bad Batch discovering you stayed loyal to Empire HCs
2.7k words !
The jungle is coloured in hues of silver, the overhead canopy filtering in just enough moonlight to see. Despite hearing the Marauder flying above, he can’t see the ship yet and thus, the chase is still on.
Branches crack under his heavy boots. Vines sway as he sprints past them. He can feel his lungs burn but he ignores it, urging his body onwards.
He knows you're closing in. Well, he doesn’t know you are… whenever he manages to glance behind as he runs, all the clone sees is the new assassin sent by the Empire gaining on him.
He follows the instructions that are hurriedly given through his comm. “Just another few metres and there’s a clearing, we’ll get you there!” his brother’s voice assures him. It doesn’t seem like a difficult task but as he stumbles out onto the clearing and realises it’s a cliff edge, things become interesting.
You know better than to run straight out after him and instead opt to stay close to the tree line. As the Marauder hovers closer to him, a sigh escapes your lips.
Maybe you won’t be able to capture him this time but as he looks back at you, you decide to take off your helmet and show him exactly who this new assassin is...
HUNTER
Hunter thought the Empire couldn’t hurt him anymore. But here you are. He presumed he lost you a long time ago but now you’re standing in front of him, a slight scowl darkening your face as you stand your ground.
For a moment, Hunter forgets that he’s just a few feet away from escaping this close encounter. All of his thoughts are consumed by you. How are you still alive? And why are you working for the Empire?!
He says your name in a mere whisper, the engines of the ship behind him easily drowning out his words. But you don’t need to hear his words to know how Hunter feels.
There is a look of misery and regret in Hunter’s eyes, a sad acceptance of things that could have gone a different way.
You know this is your chance. He’s completely vulnerable, shock distracting him from his hypervigilant senses. If you wanted to take the shot, this was your chance… but you don’t. Instead you simply stare, a feeling you thought you long buried rising within you.
If this happened when the Batch first strayed from the Empire, before they truly knew the cruel dictatorship they were up against, Hunter would have offered you his hand and tried his best to convince you to come with them.
But now? This far into the tyranny of the Empire? It’s a painful realisation but Hunter knows you’ve already chosen a side. He’s already been through the turmoil of this with Crosshair, he can’t go through that again just for you to reject his help.
Hunter knows that leaving the Empire has to be a decision you make. Not him.
And so Hunter makes his escape, grabbing onto the rope Wrecker has thrown down for him. He knows this won’t be the last time you two meet, and he knows you’re letting him go on purpose.
Hunter knows you too well and he knows that you could have fought harder if you wanted to.
Slowly watching as you turn back and retreat into the darkness of the jungle, Hunter sighs, hoping that maybe the you he knows and lov-… *ahem*, the you he knows is still in there somewhere, deep deep down.
WRECKER
Wrecker smiles when he spots you but that quickly turns to shock and sadness. Looking back at the others on the ship, Wrecker gives them a confused look that reads ‘are you seeing what I’m seeing?!’. Wrecker is every emotion.
After all this time apart, you’re right in front of him and yet you’re not. Wrecker’s smile slowly dims, his initial joy slowly fading as he comes to the realisation that it was you chasing him through the jungle so ferociously.
Wrecker’s face grows sullen. How has it come to this? He doesn’t understand but he knows this isn’t you. It can’t be! You must’ve gone through the same treatment as Crosshair or maybe they have something they’re using against you.
He refuses to believe you’re doing this because you want to and so against his better judgement, Wrecker ignores the shouts of his brothers to retreat and heads straight for you.
With renewed determination, Wrecker manages to dodge a few of your attacks. He tries to disarm you without actually hurting you.
He can’t just leave you here, not when you’re like this and in the Empire’s grasp. Wrecker would never forgive himself if he leaves without you.
Despite having trained with you in the past, this is a completely different experience. This isn’t sparring. This is a fight. You slash your blade through the air each time he nears you, Wrecker moving as swiftly as he can. You’re like a wild animal being cornered, your eyes darting around as you try to maintain the upper hand.
The Marauder lowers to the ground as Hunter and Crosshair jump out, ready to help their brother (and to also make sure Wrecker doesn’t get himself killed).
With their help, Wrecker manages to disarm you... and he may have accidentally knocked you unconscious too. He swears he didn’t mean to put you in a headlock that tight! But honestly, it’s probably a happy accident that’ll make this a lot easier.
Even though the others are dubious about having you on the ship, Wrecker is adamant that they have to help you and make you see what the Empire truly is. You would have done the same for any of them and so it’s only right that they help you now.
With AZI scanning you for any serious injuries (or microchips), Wrecker sits beside you and patiently waits for you to awake, his head hanging low as he tries to come to terms with this new revelation.
ECHO
Seeing you again is like defeating impossible odds and it makes Echo come to a sudden realisation. The moment is an unexpected one, yet somehow deeply familiar.
Echo wonders if this is how Rex felt when he realised Echo was still alive and on Skako Minor.
He wants to reach out to you, to offer you his hand... but he doesn’t. Instead, Echo hesitates. The powerful urge to act on his impulse lingers for a moment before rational thinking catches up to his heart and he stops himself.
He can’t help it as his concern grows for you. The unfortunate thing is, Echo knows that you might not even want his help. Maybe it’s too late and Echo wouldn’t be able to sway you from your stance in all of this.
Echo is still plagued by how he was forced to help the Separatist forces during the war and so much of the concern he feels for you stems from his dreary past.
Slowly taking a few steps in your direction, Echo approaches you with caution. He’s careful to maintain a constant vigilance over your hands and movements, being aware of how quickly this could go wrong. He tries to ask why you’re with the Empire, if you’re aware of what they’re doing to the clones.
Echo knows that you care about the clones, or that at least you did at some point. Even if your beliefs have changed, he’s confident you would never stand for what the Empire is doing to his brothers. If he can just get you to hear him out, then he’s certain you can both get to some sort of an understanding.
The last thing Echo wants to do is argue, especially with how high tensions are. Echo knows you. Of course he does. You two have been through so much. And so he knows that all he needs to do is fill you in on the mistreatment of the clones and you’ll turn your back on the Empire… right?
Despite the fact that you were just chasing him, Echo doesn't want this to be a “you vs him” sort of thing. If you listen to him and open your eyes to what the Empire truly is, then Echo can assure you that with some time, you can be brought into the fold of the rebellion. This isn’t the end and he assures you that any trust that may have faltered can be restored.
Of course Echo wants you to join them immediately, hence why he initially went to offer you his hand. But for that to actually happen, he needs to see some sort of cooperation from you, whether that be a plea for help, you lowering your weapons to the ground or simply engaging in conversation when he informs you about the clones.
If you choose to go with them, Echo would call for some back up from the ship, reassuring you as Hunter and Wrecker join him. It’s only a precaution in case some kind of sleeper agent training activates. It’s going to take a while for them to trust you again so be prepared for a lot of “precautions”.
But if you choose to stay with the Empire? Well, at least Echo knows he tried.
TECH
Tech should have seen this coming. The Empire’s latest play of deploying assassins to hunt them down has resulted in an essential need for stealth.
Not only is that one of your strong suits but your great track record and prior relationship with the Batch makes you the perfect candidate to locate and eliminate them. In hindsight, Tech feels as though you were the obvious choice.
Tech contemplates holding his ground against you but with the Marauder so close, he realises that retreating is the most logical option. He is mindful of his movements, slowly taking steps backwards as to not startle you or trigger you into action.
After hearing about how the Empire’s harsh ways of conditioning people, Tech is aware that whatever they may have subjected you to may have drastically changed you. The likelihood that you might not be the you Tech once knew is unfortunately high.
Tech's mindset is one of caution and pragmatism, balancing the risks and benefits of each option. So while he would ideally want you to lay down your weapons and come with them peacefully, he needs to think about his brother’s and Omega’s safety; something that could be jeopardised further if you joined them.
Not only would you joining them cause potential problems for them, but Tech is conscious of how that would endanger you too.
What if you’re chipped with a tracker? Would the Empire be able to track you down easily, and thus them too? He refuses to make such an impulsive decision and ask you to come with them.
In an ideal world, this would never happen. You would never be with the Empire. But here you are, and this is something Tech isn’t going to dismiss simply because he thought you were a close ally back in the day.
Once Tech is sure he’s close enough to the ship, he swiftly boards the platform. You watch the ship slowly rise higher and higher, the look on your face one that Tech is unable to read.
Before he loses sight of you, Tech gives you a simple nod. It’s not a nod of respect - how can it be when you’re doing the Empire’s dirty work?! - but it is one of recognition. Recognition of what was once between you both as well as the familiarity of an old pawn of the Republic seeing a new pawn of the Empire.
He needs to think, to analyse this new development. Tech remains calm as the Marauder soars away from you and through hyperspace. The others all speak over each other at this new development but Tech is quiet.
Right now, his main concern is to come up with potential ways of meeting you again in hopefully less hostile circumstances and to find out what exactly is going on.
CROSSHAIR
Crosshair wishes this was a surprise to him. But honestly? You and him were always close, having a deeper understanding of each other than most. And so if the Empire was able to keep him for so long then he unfortunately sees how they’ve been able to keep their grasp on you too.
He takes a moment to analyse your stillness. You’re simply standing there, watching; as if you’re waiting for him to make the first move.
Despite the scowl on your face, Crosshair acknowledges that you haven’t moved for your blaster yet. Perhaps you’re conflicted?
You took off your helmet for a reason. You wanted him to know that it’s you. For Crosshair, that’s enough to deduce that maybe you’re doubting the Empire and the mission they’ve given you.
If there’s anyone who can sympathise with your predicament, it’s Crosshair. And while he doesn’t know all the facts or why you’re here, he knows first hand how the Empire has basically drilled it into people’s heads that they’re the good guys and so he can’t blame you for carrying those beliefs.
Crosshair has heard this plea before. He’s heard it countless times but that was when his brothers were the ones trying to convince him to abandon the Empire. But now he’s on the opposite side and trying to persuade you to leave the Empire.
He opens his hands, almost as if surrendering but in reality he just wants to show you he’s not reaching for a weapon either. All he wants to do is talk and to make sure you’re aware that just because you’re on opposite sides doesn’t mean you’re necessarily enemies.
Unfortunately this is the part that Crosshair is bad at. Talking. Reasoning. Not being sarcastic or saying a snide comment. He isn’t as compassionate as Hunter, nor can he find the right words like Echo usually can in situations like this.
“I thought you were too smart to fall for the Empire’s lies,” Crosshair can practically hear Omega sigh in the Marauder at his choice of words but it’s how he’s always talked to you. Neither of you have ever minced your words before. Clearing his throat, he tries again, keeping his words genuine and making sure you know he wants to help.
Even if you’re receptive to his truce, Crosshair is hesitant to bring you with them. Not because you may be conditioned to bend to the Empire’s every whim but because he fears what they may do to you if they realise you've went AWOL. Crosshair knows exactly what it’s like to get on the bad side of the Empire and it’s something he would never wish on you.
Whatever your decision is, Crosshair respects it. He won’t pester you to change your mind.
Crosshair still believes in you and whatever it is you decide to do, he’ll trust. Whether you’re on opposite sides of the galaxy, a war, or a game of Dejarik, Crosshair will always have trust in you.
#the bad batch#tbb#the bad batch x reader#the bad batch x you#bad batch x reader#bad batch x you#the bad batch echo#echo the bad batch#echo x reader#the bad batch hunter x you#the bad batch hunter#sergeant hunter#sergeant hunter x reader#the bad batch tech#tech x reader#tech x you#tech the bad batch#the bad batch fanfiction#the bad batch headcanons#the bad batch wrecker#wrecker x reader#wrecker the bad batch#crosshair x reader#the bad batch crosshair#tbb crosshair#tbb fanfiction#tbb x reader#tbb reader insert#hunter tbb
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Mistakes and regrets
☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader
☆ Synopsis: Loki is a prisoner that sees his way out through pretending to date you, but when he finds true love he doesn't know how to deal with the guilt of making a very similar damage to the one that had been done to him when he was used for what originally were selfish reasons.
☆ Word Count: 10.5k, I think that's my longest fic yet, and written in the shortest time lapse, not sure what that says about my mental stability rn.
☆ Notes: As I proofread I noticed this could be interpreted as generational trauma, sort of... given I made Loki sort of mirror what Odin did to him. But I wasn't trying to be deep, I just felt like shit during the week and used this to cope. The fic might be cringy as a result, I am honestly not sure.
☆ Warnings: Depression and guilt are the focus points of this storyline. Loki starts is kinda toxic his behavior here isn't meant to be romanticized or intended to be extrapolated to real life, I just wanted to explore a narrative surrounding poor decisions and the dealing of its consequences. The reader is kinda a Mary Sue of sweetness but I just wanted to hammer in Loki feeling bad and guilty. I don't know if this is a trigger but I touch the vault scene of Loki and Odin and Odin being forgiven is also handled, Idk if that's trigger warning worthy but I know most of the fandom hates him.
“You’re not making it any for me brother.” Thor spoke through the glass.
“I want my freedom, brother.” Loki sighed, sitting down on the uncomfortable bench. “Don’t think of me as ungrateful, but as much as I appreciate not being executed, I can’t exactly call this a life.”
“Director Fury insisted, I’ve tried explaining to him that New York was a complicated situation. But he wants to be sure you are not a threat to Earth– uh, Midgard.”
“You've surely adapted well to living here” Loki rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”
“Cooperate with me, I brother” Thor begged. “I want to help you, but I need you to help me first.”
“I’m not sure what I am expected to do from here” Loki huffed annoyed.
Thor sighed and gave his little brother a sympathetic look. Loki was frustrated, and he couldn’t blame him. He would be too if he got brainwashed, had all his anger, sense of betrayal and resentment exploited to torture an innocent planet, and still be the one to pay for said crimes… Sure he wouldn’t be all jokes and laughs.
“I’ve been negotiating a way to test your stability and get your freedom” Thor smiled hoping to cheer up his brother. And he made Loki look up. “It’d be a bit uncomfortable at first. But I know you can prove yourself. You’d have to wear cuffs or a while, but you’d be free to walk around with me and the others on trips to the city.”
“Hooray…” Loki rolled his eyes.
“Please brother, I’m trying, I just need you to be patient.” Thor spoke sadly as he made his way out. “I hate this as much as you do.”
“Do you?” Loki said. “As far as I know, you’re not the one in a crystal cell.”
“Alright, almost as much as you do.” Thor joked softly and Loki did chuckle weakly.
He agreed that Thor had been furious. But it all happened so fast.
Thor had managed to land a fatal blow on Thanos’ chest and soon Steve, Natasha, and Bruce had arrived to back him up and retrieve the Infinity gauntlet. They opened a portal to bring back Tony, Doctor Strange, and the Spider Ling… And surprisingly a weird group of space travelers.
When Thor realized they could travel to anywhere in the universe they opened a portal to rescue the Asgardian ship. There were a lot of severe wounds but surprisingly Thanos had failed, he underestimated the strength of Asgard, and most people could be saved.
“Thor!” Valkyrie screamed and rushed to hug the king.
“Valkyrie! You are alright! Thank goodness!” Thor smiled in relief and hugged his friend.
“Thor you have to come quick!” Valkyrie urged him. “It’s Loki!”
Thor’s heart sank, his heart couldn’t stand burying the only family member he had left. Thor had lost his parents… he had seen his whole planet die. But not his baby brother. Not Loki. Not again.
“Please… not now… Let’s treat the wounded ones first…” Thor spoke with a knot on his throat. “I want to focus on saving lives first.”
“Thor, you don’t get it! He’s alive!” Valkyrie scolded him. “But he’s in a critical state! We need to take him to a safe place to treat him.”
A tear streamed down the new king’s face, and he felt as if he had finally put down a enormous boulder he had been holding onto. He didn’t lose Loki.
“Take me to him!” Thor urged them.
Valkyrie took Thor to a damaged room in the ship that had been used as an improvised infirmary. In the corner laid a figure Thor knew too well being treated by healers.
“Brother!” Thor said. “Oh Gods… You’re alive…”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily thunder brain… ugh…!” Loki joked weakly as he groaned in pain. The healers begged him not to move as they tried stabilizing his condition. His neck had been nearly obliterated.
It was a miracle Loki hadn’t died and that the healers had managed to find him on time.
“We couldn’t abandon him” one of the healers spoke politely to her king. “After all, it was because of you and prince Loki that Lady Valkyrie managed to evacuate the survivors. We apologize for not finding you, my king.”
“It’s no problem at all” Thor laughed in an uncharacteristically quiet manner. He was breathless. “Thank you for saving my brother’s life.”
The lady healer let out a sheepish giggle and bowed. Loki rolled his eyes, earning a lecture from the healers that were still treating him. King or not, Thor still had that charm that seemed to make most people swoon.
The reunion was interrupted by a group of soldiers that broke in with a logo on their uniforms that made Thor’s blood boil when they pointed their weapons at Loki. SHEILD.
They picked up the stretcher where Loki was laying in and took him away to lock him up.
Apparently, the news travel fast, but SHIELD travels faster, and hearing Loki was alive was enough to mobilize and capture the injured God and lock him in a crystal prison cell in a SHIELD base. If Loki had a coin for every time that happened… he’d have two.
He couldn’t say Thor didn’t do anything about it. He could hear the thunders and enraged screams from his brother, demanding for an explanation and Loki’s immediate liberation.
“I demand my brother is released immediately!” Thor yelled.
“You should consider yourself grateful we’re allowing your witches to go and heal that world-level threat! He would be better off dead!”
“Don’t you dare speak of my brother like that! Me and all of my people would’ve died if it wasn’t for him!”
Loki wasn’t sure if he was amused or if he felt bad.
It did stroke his ego being called “Asgard’s hero” in the middle of the yelling. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Nick Fury was just as loud as Thor when angry. He couldn’t complain much. It made it much easier to hear what was going on, which was good, he was too weakened to use his magic to spy on them.
The healers tending to his neck sure seemed awkward overhearing the fight. It must have been uncomfortable to be doing your job in a high security cell. So, he tried entertaining the healers as he could. Although all he got was a lecture when his magic drained his energy, and they needed him awake to monitor him.
Soon he got better, he but wasn’t allowed to be out of his cell. It was a bit nostalgic, in some dark and twisted way. It even made him want to fix his old horned helmet, even if Thor would call him a cow for wearing it.
And when things couldn’t get worse… he met you.
“It’s lunch time” a voice said in a weirdly friendly tone before you head popped by the entrance as you balanced a tray of food on your head in an attempt to amuse Loki. He wondered if there were buffoons in Midgard, but you always tried to draw a laugh from him… Tried.
“Tough crowd, eh?”
Loki couldn’t not be baffled by the way you talked to him. Although he couldn’t decide if that was because you surely knew his reputation as Midgard’s terrorist or because you always talked in a friendly and goofy tone in a maximum-security prison in a super-secret spy agency. You also seemed to be awfully young to be here, but you couldn’t be much older than the girl Barton took as his protégée.
“What’s on the menu today?” Loki asked in a more formal tone.
“Why the hurry?” you asked, “don’t tell me you got somewhere else to be.”
“You think you are a lot funnier than you really are” Loki rolled his eyes. “And it’s not very nice to make fun of someone’s disgrace.”
“I hear you think I’m at least a little bit funny” you smiled as you kept balancing the tray of food on your head.
“Please don’t drop my food, I’d like to have at least something to eat” he rolled his eyes.
You tripped on your feet, and he saw the tray falling down, you caught it last second with your shins, and gave him a little sheepish grin.
“Alright, alright, I’m impressed” Loki groaned. “Can I eat now please? Or is having you torment me part of some attempt to break me?”
“Why are you so moody?” you asked. “More than usual, I mean.”
“I’m starving, and you humans eat way too little” Loki finally admitted. “But that is still better than nothing… Please.”
You stopped playing around and you looked at him as you got the tray into his cell.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were eating so little.” You admitted.
“I barely have energy to cast small illusions, which would serve to entertain myself.” Loki complained as he sat to eat and you sat by the table and looked at him, you didn’t seem afraid, curious at most. You watched him eat and took his dirty plates by the end.
You weirded him out.
You always did something along the same lines; you came to bring him food, teased him a little and then left when you were gone. Although this time you had asked more questions about him. And you seemed more pensive while he ate.
And later that day he got a surprise. Usually, he just saw you to deal with you while he ate. But today you returned with a brown paper bag on your hands and a backpack, you never carried personal objects with you.
“What now?” he groaned.
You said nothing but opened the door to pass him food and slid the bag inside. Loki opened his end and grabbed the bag, it was warm, and it had a strong smell inside, he reached and pulled out a weird soft cushion with a white cover.
“Bur…ger? What this?” he asked as he read the yellow letters.
“It’s food” you smiled. “Cafeteria is closed until dinner, so I thought bringing you something else might boost your mood.”
“This looks like junk” he snarled, making you laugh.
“It’s something like that.”
Loki looked inside the bag and looked at you.
“There’s no fork.”
“You eat it with your hands” you smiled and pretended to grab a burger and bite it. “Like a sandwich.”
“What’s a sandwich?” Loki asked, making you laugh again.
Loki tried to take a bit, imitating your gesture, but you stopped with a squeaky laugh.
“Unwrap it first!” you laughed. “The white thing paper is not edible.”
Usually Loki would’ve argued more. But he had been really hungry, so he agreed.
“The taste is agreeable enough.”
“Try the fries!” you said eagerly.
“These yellow sticks?” he asked pulling out one fry from the bag, and you giggle once again, he was learning you were quite easy to amuse.
“Yes, the yellow sticks, they’re potatoes with salt and soaked in hot oil to cook them” you smiled.
“That sounds unhealthy” he said, but he surely didn’t pass up the extra meal, and while he’d never admit it, but it was tasty.
“It is on the long run” you agreed. “But you don’t eat these every day. It’s more like… something you eat when you particularly crave it. Like a treat.”
“What’s on your bag?” Loki asked, a lot more agreeable now with a full stomach.
“Ah, you said you didn’t have much to do” you said and passed him bag. “It’s a portable DVD player and old movies.”
“I understood the word portable from that whole sentence” Loki said in an obvious tone.
He wasn’t new to technology, but unlike Earth, Asgard only used technology for practical purposes like travel and fighting. Never for entertainment.
“You can watch recorded over produced plays on the screen” you said adapting to what Loki might be familiar with. “Fury said you can’t have access to internet, so I thought since I don’t use this anymore it’d keep you entertained while Thor negotiates your freedom. And if you need something else, I could surely get it for you.”
Loki was trying to process it all while he followed your instructions to set up the devices you brought him. Now he’d finally give some use to the electricity plugins on his cell.
“Why are you so nice to me?” Loki asked.
“I don’t know” you shrugged. “You seem like you could use some kindness.”
“I’m a charity case?” Loki asked, not sure if he was thankful or offended.
“You wish. If I was charitable, I would’ve brought a fancy brand of fast food, and you’re a good junkyard to bring my old stuff” you snarled, making Loki laugh, for real this time.
Your cheeks flushed and were soon surrounded in a clod of silver mist. And when it disappeared you had vanished already.
Now that… Loki didn’t see coming. He had heard of your kind when he took control of some of SHIELD agents, humans with supernatural abilities. You were a mutant, and for the looks of it, one with teleportation powers. Now it made sense why someone seemingly so ordinary was in a place like this, flirting with a prisoner.
Interesting.
The next few days you kept bringing him food as usual, but two things had changed. One, the portions were bigger now, Loki now got to eat to a point where he was satisfied. Two, you joked around a lot less, in fact, you simply brought the food and stayed nearby in silence, and Loki had caught you staring at him with rosy cheeks.
So, you did fancy him… Truly interesting. And quite flattering too, he at least had to agree you were quite appealing to stare at.
“I watched one of your… Dee Bee Dees…” Loki started the conversation while he ate. “The one with the funny doctor…”
“That… doesn’t narrow it down much” you finally spoke. “Sarcastic asshole with a wounded leg?”
“He is sarcastic, but he treats patients with joy and laughter and goes against the rules. Like the pair of legs at the entrance” Loki specified. “It was a sweet story… I did feel bad for him when he lost his… you know.”
“Ah, yeah…” you said sadly.
For a few more days, the routine kept like that, you seemed a lot shyer than before and now Loki was the one pursuing your attention and with an arsenal of movies you had watched he always had a way to start conversation.
When he was sure he had properly understood your interest in him, he made his move.
While Loki wasn’t as flashy as Thor, he never had much trouble swooning anyone of his interest, with years of etiquette lessons and nourishing his mind with the most exquisite novels and books Asgard had to offer he knew how to charm anyone he desired.
And soon enough he was courting you. He recited for you the collection of the most exquisite verses he had memorized and casted his illusions of roses and butterflies for you to enjoy a romantic set up.
Soon Fury had two people demanding for his liberation. And since Loki had been in his best behavior Fury didn’t have an excuse to keep Loki locked up and while he had a tracker on his ankle and Asgardian magic bracelets capable of suppressing his magic.
You were there when they let Loki out and he made sure to hug you first. The more in love he seemed, the sooner he’d be truly free. You melted against his embrace and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug.
Loki felt a light tug on his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone out of his parents and Thor been so eager and happy to hug him.
“I had been dreaming of this…” you spoke softly. “And your hugs are even cozier than I imagined.”
That felt like a dagger to his heart. Why were you so sweet?
“Alright, Bambi, if you try something your little sweetheart will let us know right away, got it?” Tony warned him.
You wrapped your arms around Loki’s bicep pressing yourself against him.
“He’s gonna be perfect” you defended him. “And if I’m wrong you can lock me up as well for helping a criminal out.”
Second dagger. What kind of idiot were you trusting him so blindly? Could you really not see he just wanted his freedom?
Loki finally had a proper room, or something like that. He would be staying in the Avengers Compound when the Helicarrier landed… until then there was a room where he, Thor, and basically everyone stayed.
Your bed the one right above Loki’s. Loki sighed. Just a few more days. Loki laid down and saw you looking down at him, peeking from your bed with big sparkling eyes.
“Yes?” Loki said in his best sweet loving tone.
“S-Sorry…” you mumbled as your cheeks got red. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”
“Aww, young love…” Kate cooed.
“SHUT UP! I’M OLDER THAN YOU!” you screeched and threw a pillow right at her face, making Loki smiled softly.
“You’re both babies…” Yelena grinned.
“Shut up, you hag!” you and Kate argued.
“You’re all babies…” Bucky corrected.
“DON’T STICK YOUR NOSE, YOU FOSSIL!” the three of you argued.
“I’m… not gonna join this argument being 1,500 years old” Thor laughed and soon eased the mood in all laughter again.
Meanwhile Loki wouldn’t stop thinking what you said to him. “I’m happy you’re here.” Third stab… How could you be so happy and attached to him so easily and quickly?
The next few days he had resigned to adapt to train with you. He had been a warrior all his life, but being a soldier was too boring for him. It was a lot of training, gym workouts, more training, and meetings. He saw you nodding off during the latter. Where did you pull the energy to play and joke around with him when you went to bring food to him while he had been locked up?
You yawned and rested against his shoulder as you dozed off during lunch once. You were so warm and trusted him more than he deserved. You seemed awfully comfortable around him.
Every spare moment you had was dedicated to him, you were awfully cuddly and touchy. Loki wasn’t used to this in the slightest. At first playing along seemed impossible. But your kisses were so gentle and tender, more often than not he found his eyes fluttering close and his hands wrapping around your waist in a loving way. Even sharing a room with a lot of people seemed more fun if he got to study your reactions.
“Take that!” you screamed as you and Kate smacked each other with pillows, but when a stray pillow hit Natasha in the back of the head, it was war.
Everyone was throwing and hitting each other with pillows until someone pushed you to Loki’s arms who had stayed out of the war as just a bystander. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him, but now you were.
Your face was beet red, and you were blabbering apologies if you had hurt him, (which, you hadn’t). But Loki simply smiled and grabbed your sides and started squeezing them, causing you to squeal and burst out laughing.
Oh, of course you were ticklish, he should’ve known. Hel, you irradiated this aura that just screamed “tickle me!” And as the God of Mischief, he was drawn to ticklish little things such as yourself, to make sure he could exploit every ticklish little inch of your giggly body. It had always been a pretty harmless way to ease his need to cause mayhem.
Soon the entire room was in fits of laughter since Loki had unintentionally inspired a tickle war.
“H-Hohohohoney! Pleahahahahase!” you begged Loki, “thahahahahat tickles!”
“So? I hope it doesn’t bother you, my dear” Loki purred in your ear as his fingers traveled up and down your ribs, causing you to screech. “I think I’d like to play with my pretty little toy some more…”
“Nohohohoho! Please! Hehehehehe! S-Stop it!” you giggled until you had proofed to reappear at the top bunk bed, right by the time someone else had surrendered and called truce.
Thor. His stomach was sore from laughing and he needed a break. But the big Asgardian was confident enough to not be affected by being the one to surrender in such harmless play fight.
“I’m nostalgic” Thor laughed. “Reminds me of the sleep overs with Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun and Sif.”
“I wouldn’t know, I was never invited.” Loki said.
“WHAT?!” you gasped and threw a pillow at Thor’s head in Loki’s defense. “JERK! TO YOUR OWN BROTHER!”
“What do you mean?” Thor asked. “You rejected us every time.”
“What are you talking about? You never invited me, brother” Loki explained. “By the time I had found out, you were all locked in your chambers.”
“Sif and the guys always said you said no” Thor said. “That’s why I always made smaller sleepovers with just you and me. I thought you hated big groups.”
Loki never thought Thor had been clueless, if anything he thought it had been him who rejected him, it never occurred to him it was the rest that orchestrated Loki’s exclusion. It made sense in retrospect, they were more Thor’s friends, not Loki’s.
“I enjoy time to myself,” Loki agreed. “But I’ve never been against big events. I always thought it was you who didn’t want me near your friends…”
“Of course not, brother…”
“Don’t feel bad, Loki” Yelena said in a tone that eased the mood. “Nat used to have sleepover with friends and ban me from her room the whole night. But we’re sisters, adopted or not.”
“I said I was sorry, and I was 11 you resentful crybaby!” Natasha argued with a laugh.
You noticed that had hit a sensitive spot-on Loki and went to sit behind Loki to give him a hug from behind. And it was unexpectedly comforting, he sighed as you kissed his cheek. Growing more and more used to your doting affection, you were also rather good to read his mood by now.
It just made him feel more guilty, so he tried changing the subject.
“You poof around when tickled, hm?” Loki chuckled. “Noted.”
“Not just when I’m tickled, when I get worked up by almost anything…” you explained. “I can’t always control it.”
“I see… so, I get you all worked up…” Loki flirted, making you jolt and squeak with a red face. “Heh… I’m flattered.”
“What about you?” you asked when you calmed down, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Does something like that happen to you?”
“Mmm… my magic is also very tied to my feelings is mostly surges of magic when I’m pissed off.” Loki shrugged. “In a way, the source of my magic abilities come from my control of how I feel. Which is why Thor could never learn sorcery… he couldn’t ever keep calm and focus enough.”
It felt a bit of a cheap answer, his guilt told him you were always vulnerable with him. There was another thing…
Alright, now that no one was paying attention to you two.
“When I was little, I used to have a lot of nightmares, and my mother stayed with me and taught me this spell… it allows you to invite someone else to your dreams, to put it simply. She taught me that spell to help me with the bad dreams… And sometimes I still cast it involuntarily while I sleep. It’s… what’s the word? Automatic, at this point.”
“You haven’t used it since we met” you pointed out.
“There’s these preventing that” Loki wiggled the magic cuffs on his wrists, and you shrank sheepishly. “Maybe one day I’ll have you sleep visiting… who knows…”
You smiled too eagerly at the idea… it was painful to see the adoration in your eyes.
The next night you were chatting happily, you laid on the floor with your feet hanging on Loki’s bed. Surprisingly he didn’t mind too much, he found himself much more engaged on the conversation. He simply rested his hand on your shin, caressing it with his thumb.
But at some point during the chat his hand brushed by your ankle, something that should’ve caught his attention way sooner. A location tracker like his. He brushed his fingers along the band, and you jolted, quickly making a bad excuse before rushing out. A terrible liar dating the god of lies. How ironic.
“I didn’t know… I thought I was the only one with one of these…” Loki pointed to his tracker.
“All mutants and non-SHIELD affiliated have one” Tony explained with a yawn. “Basically, if you have superpowers, you have two options, be an agent or an avenger.”
“Or locked up” Loki concluded, and the way no one answered, confirming his suspicion.
“You’re gonna be joining us, right, brother?” Thor smiled.
“Do I have a choice?”
Loki chuckled, he had been thinking about this prior to this information, the fear of actually losing his brother when Thor was ready to leave him forever in Sakaar had been too great.
But what about you? You didn’t strike him the superhero style, a were a fragile and sensitive little thing, and he couldn’t picture you in the battlefield, but being a soldier was clearly taking a huge toll on you. You seemed perpetually exhausted living like this.
“Has my darling decided yet?” Loki asked, he didn’t plan on the pet names, but it felt weirdly natural as it rolled off his tongue. It felt right.
“Not before meeting you, we had tried, but I’d say with you two together… things have changed for the better.” Steve assured him. “It’s a relief though, you two would be great assets in the future, and the life at the compound is bit freer and more independent.”
For some reason, Loki smiled at the sound of that.
“It’s gonna be for the best” Bruce smiled. “Fury can be quite severe, and the soldier life isn’t for everyone…”
Loki couldn’t see you long term here, you’d be overworking yourself for a lifestyle too demanding and that you didn’t even like. It would be for the best to be an Avenger… at least that’d give you some more freedom.
By then, the mood had died down and everyone went to bed, turning off the lights way before you arrived. A few more minutes passed… and nothing. Loki considered going to find you when you opened the door, guiding your way with your phone’s flashlight. You had a messy damp ponytail, and baggy pajamas. You arrived and sat by Loki’s bed and immediately collapsed right beside him, invading his bed. He was ready to climb and use yours when you he felt a tug on his shirt.
“Let me stay with you…” you mumbled with your eyes closed, it seemed you still had some consciousness.
Loki nodded and laid down beside you, wrapping his arm over you, and tucking you under the bedsheets. He had to keep appearances. Yeah… Of course.
He studied you for a while. Your hair was soft, and it smelled like wild berries, shampoo he had started using as well because it smelled so nice. Your skin was soft and smooth, it was addictive to trace his fingers along your body. He traced circles along your side.
“Nooo… thahahat tickles…” you giggled and shifted in your half-asleep state, making something stir within Loki. “You can tickle me all you want in the morning, okay baby…?”
“Ohoho! Is that so?” Loki chuckled. “That’s dangerous thing to offer to the God of Mischief don’t you think?”
“’s okay… I trust you…” you yawned snuggling against his chest.
“Y-You do…?”
“You’d never do anything to hurt me…” you assured him, even with your brain fighting with all it’s might to not succumb to exhaustion.
Once his eyes adapted to the darkness, he stared at your face. Your features were gentle, with a pureness that only a heart that hadn’t been corrupted with cruelness and malice would have. It made him feel weak.
“I love you” you mumbled, kissing his lips before finally falling asleep with the most peaceful smile he had ever seen on anyone that was this close to him.
“I… I love you too…” he whispered and kissed the top of your head.
Now Loki genuinely wanted to stab himself through the chest, he deserved nothing less.
The next morning was the last time he’d be in the Helicarrier for a long time if he could help it. Both of you got the trackers removed and he was officially free. The magic cuffs were taken off of Loki and he immediately summoned a huge illusion that had a radius of a few kilometers as he stretched and showed off.
A huge double rainbow, oh how he had missed using his magic like this. He noticed your eyes sparkling in admiration.
Thor helped him unpack and you two were assigned neighbor bedrooms so the lovey dovey couple could stay close. You seemed ecstatic, you set your room and invited him to see it.
It was very much what he expected from you. Cozy and cute, just being inside made him want to lay down on your bed and sleep. And of course you had a pile of stuffed animals. He laid back on your bed, sinking in the mattress and fluffy covers.
Adorable.
“Honey bunny, I’m gonna go to the city alone today… don’t follow me” you warned him and proofed away before reappearing for a second. “And don’t snoop around my stuff! Love ya!”
And you disappeared in a gust of silvery white mist. Loki napped on your bed for a while, but… he couldn’t resist, he was curious by nature. He walked by your desk and saw the mirror of had a bunch of photos of him stuck to the board, he wasn’t smiling in any of them, and most had been taken him by surprise. Loki would’ve thought it weird, but the two of you were dating. And you only did what was normal for someone in a relationship. He smiled softly at how purely infatuated you were.
“Loki!” you called for him, so you had returned. He went to find you.
You had smiled so brightly as you jumped to his arms and showered his face in loving smooches.
“I missed you!” you smiled between kisses.
“You just left an hour or so…” he chuckled.
“It’s still too much time away from you!” you snuggled with him. “I missed this pretty face.”
“Heh…” he chuckled.
“I bought us something.” You smiled and handed him a golden bracelet with a round item on the middle. You kept the silver one. “It’s a distance touch bracelet.”
You touched your bracelet, and he felt his buzzing. Oh. He knew this couldn’t have been cheap. And you still didn’t hesitate to get it for him.
“Now you can feel me close, even if I vanish, or if we can’t be with each other.” You giggled.
His heart fluttered. How could there be someone so overly sweet? To him, of all people.
“Thank you…” he smiled.
Days passed and Loki’s sanity was evaporating in thin air. Guilt was eating him alive.
You were in truly, madly, and hopelessly in love with him. You wanted nothing but the best for him and you always showered him with love, affection and the sweetest kisses he had ever tasted. And worst of it all, he was falling in love with you. He deserved no love from you, but he had it… And it filled his heart with a warmth he didn’t deserve. Oh, you poor lovely thing, if you only knew how cruel his intentions had been to start your relationship.
He did what you wanted now, trying to make up for it. He didn’t want you to feel like you did all the job in a relationship anymore. Soon the photos were more couple y, of kisses and hugs, Loki took photos of you more as well. He invited you to read and nap with him.
He tickled you lots, and making you giggle in his arms as he held you close. He hugged you tight, trying to squeeze in all the love he had develop for the kind soul that had been nothing but sweet to him. In a wordless pray for your forgiveness.
He did everything that occurred to him would make you happy.
“No way! You’re ticklish?!” you gasped with an ear-to-ear grin.
“Terribly so, I can’t stand being ticked in between my ribs” he smiled as he rested his chin on your head, with you sitting on his lap. “My magic acts up on its own if I get overwhelmed, like you.”
“Really?” you giggled and caressed his sides. “Can I try?”
“For a kiss…” he smiled and puckered his lips for a smooch, which you complied with a huge grin. “I adore you… Fine, you got one minute to tickle my ribs.”
“Just one minute?” you whined with that lovely smile of yours.
“Thirty seconds?” he smiled.
“Eh?!” you whined. “One minute!”
“See how convincing I am?” he grinned.
“Oh, you—” you said and turned around to start poking and prodding his ribs, Loki couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Ack! Hehehehe!” he whined, you were too good at this, he was laughing his heart out. “S-Stohohohop! Hehehehe! I-It’s been a minute! Hahaha! S-Stop!”
“I’m not done with you, you pretty tease!” you giggled and kept prodding between his ribs.
“Oh yeheheah?!” he laughed and skittered his fingers along your belly.
You were squealing and giggling in the blink of an eye. But you didn’t stop tickling him.
“Hehehehe! Hic! G-Give up!” you giggled and squirmed as you prodded his sides.
“You give up! Hahahahaha!” he giggled squeezed your tummy and skittered his fingers along your armpits.
“Ack! Noohohohoho!” you whine and squeezed above his kneecaps, making him jump and ergo you fell off his lap and onto the couch.
“You’re in trouble…” he grinned and his fingers, poked, drilled, kneaded and scratch over every sensitive spot on your body, and it didn’t matter if you gave up. He didn’t stop until you were breathless.
Only then he stopped and held you in his arms.
“Remind me to not tickle you again, you’re sadistic” you smiled.
“You know it, darling…” he smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Did you have fun?”
“Mhm…” you smiled and leaned against him. “I love you.”
You were beyond ecstatic. You melted under all of his affection and more time he spent with you, the more he couldn’t deny his feelings for you.
He did it everything he could to make you happy. But nothing he did alleviated his guilt. He could only imagine the amount of heartache you would feel if you found out he had only used you to try looking better adjusted and be free, and that he had pretended to fall in love.
He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. He was going insane. He walked around the compound like a ghost during the night. He did a stop to throw up in the toilet.
“You’re awake,” you surprised him despite your gentle tone. “Is something bothering you?”
“N-No, love. I just wasn’t feeling very tired.” He assured you. “Don’t worry. Go back to sleep.”
You placed your hands on his hips and leaned closer to him the way you did whenever you were going to kiss him. But you took a little sniff—probably smelling his bad breath—you stopped and smiled at him with kindness.
“Mmm… Insomnia, hm?” you smiled and pulled him to the kitchen. “I know just the cure.”
You heated up water and prepared him a tea with honey. The warmth of the drink ran through him as the sweet drink got rid of the bad taste, and he sighed a tear streaming down his face.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, cupping his face.
“I’ve done so many awful things… And…” he spoke softly. “I don’t know how to fix them… I don’t deserve any forgiveness…”
“Oh Loki…” you hugged him. “No one blames you… you didn’t mean it… I’ve seen your pretty heart, and you deserve all the love in the world… Gosh, if I could take all the pain, you’re feeling for myself, I would.”
“Please don’t say that…” he begged. He couldn’t handle anymore guilt, but he didn’t know how to tell you the truth.
You gently guided him to your bedroom and tucked him in your bed, wrapping your arms around him in a protective way.
“Forgive me love... Please forgive me…” he begged between mutters. “I take it all back… please… Please don’t hate me… please…”
“Shh…” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s all gonna be okay… I’m always gonna be here for you.”
Between the warm tea, his exhaustion, the previous sleepless nights, your comfortable bed, and your loving touch… his body gave up on him and he fell asleep.
Everything was dark, and cold, covered in ice and a cruel wind. Loki had a good tolerance to cold, but he was freezing.
“Monster…” a voice echoed so loudly it made Loki’s ears ring. It was his own voice and it came from everywhere around him.
“Traitorous rat…”
“Murderer…”
“Beast…”
“Liar…”
“Frost giant…”
“Monster…”
“Manipulator…”
“Liar…”
“We finally had someone’s trust…”
“Of course, you just play around with others!”
Loki was completely surrounded by copies of himself, all at least twice his size, blue skin, Jotun attire, and eyes red like blood. True frost giants.
Loki simply took every blow and insult. He deserved them.
“Loki…?” a different voice called. “Is this what you meant by inviting someone to your dreams?”
No please… you couldn’t be here.
“Darling… wake up… please don’t be here…” Loki begged you. “Please…”
“I’m not leaving you here on your own…” you spoke and kneeled beside him.
Loki felt his body change, every muscle vanished leaving him as practically skin and bones. Small. Weak.
“Loki… what’s going on?! What’s happening to you?!”
Loki tried to shapeshift back to his natural look, but he had no control of his own body. At this point in life, he should be desensitized to nightmares where his magic didn’t obey him… but…
“Please… leave me here…” he spoke as he could, but he could barely hear himself.
“Don’t say that... What’s… what can I do for you?”
There was something about dreams, and especially Loki’s dreams, that always seemed to be extra dramatic. It must have been so confusing to be in one as an outsider.
Loki’s body changed again, he grew twice his usual size, and his body was blue and muscled. Exactly the body of a Jotun.
“STOP BEING SO GOOD TO ME! CAN’T YOU SEE I DON’T LOVE YOU?!”
“What?!”
What?! No! That wasn’t true…
Loki tried to take it back, but he was in autopilot. He was in the passenger seat of his own mind.
“I DON’T LOVE YOU! ARE YOU THAT GULLIBE TO THINK I’D FALL IN LOVE WITH A MORTAL?! I HAVE BEEN USING YOU!”
“No… no, you're not… You wouldn’t…”
“I JUST NEEDED A COVER, TO SEEM WELL ADJUSTED ENOUGH TO NOT BE A PRISONER! AND YOU WERE ANNOYING ENOUGH TO BARGE IN DEFENSE OF ME! I’V BEEN PLAYING WITH YOU FROM DAY ONE! DON’T YOU SEE YOU ARE JUST A TOY?! YOU’RE PATHETIC!”
The look on your face was heartbreaking. You looked crushed.
“I HAVE BEEN THINKING OF A WAY TO GET RID OF YOU! I CAN’T SLEEP AND I WANT TO THROW UP THINKING I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH YOU YET ANOTHER DAY!”
You curled up on the floor and Loki lifted you but your collar’s shirt.
“GET IT INSIDE YOUR HEAD! I COULD NEVER LOVE A MORTAL AS UNNERVING AS YOU!” Loki screamed at you before slamming you against the floor.
“NO!” Loki sat up with a gasp and his body drenched in sweat. He looked around and saw you curled up on the bed, your back facing him. “Love?! Thank goodness… I’m so— Love, w-what’s wrong…?”
You were stiff and you had a hand on the back of your head. Loki shifted and stretched a bit and saw your face. Your eyes were full of tears, yet he had never seen you with such a cold expression in your face.
“My love… and what’s wrong?” Loki placed a hand over your arm, and you slapped it.
“Why did you say that?” you asked him.
“I d-don’t know… I wasn’t… I didn’t…” Loki stuttered. “My dreams are like that…”
“No. I mean, what you said was really specific. Why…?”
“I don’t—I don’t know why I—”
“Tell me the truth, Loki.” You ordered him. “Did you, or did you not pretend to love me for your freedom?”
Loki stayed quiet. He didn’t have the courage to tell you the truth, but he didn’t have the heart to keep lying to you. With that confirmation tears started falling down your cheeks again.
“Y-Yes but I—that was before…”
“Get out…” you spoke.
“What? No, darling, listen… I…”
“I don’t want to hear you.”
“Please love… let me explain…” he tried holding you.
That made you snap. You started hitting him, being a human it was impossible for you to harm him, but not once in his life had he felt more pain.
“DON’T TOUCH ME! DON’T TALK TO ME!”
“Darling please…”
“I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU EVER AGAIN! GET OUT OF MY ROOM AND GET OUT OF MY LIFE!”
He had no strength to fight you, he was defenseless as you kicked him out of your room, slamming the door on his face.
There were a few faces popping out of their door to try seeing what had happened and that quickly retreated back to their rooms. Loki had no choice but to go inside of his own bedroom.
The next morning, he nearly tripped on his way out with a box by is door. It was full of books, quills, a coat, photos of you together. And… the silver bracelet that matched his own. It tore his heart to shreds. He didn’t feel as guilty anymore. But remorse and the memory of how brokenhearted you looked was even more sadistic. He heard you crying often from across the wall.
A few days later the others started giving him dirty looks. Knowing you and considering that this didn’t happen right away he assumed they had found out after heavy interrogation and now everyone knew he had used you. Even Thor seemed upset, not angry, but he had this… disappointment in his eyes.
“I hate dealing with moving companies” Tony sighed as they all sat for dinner. “But Fury wants to have our little Houdini enlisted by the end of the week. It’s a shame… The kiddos enjoyed being around each other.”
“Tell me about it” Clint sighed. “Kate is devastated.”
“Speaking of devastated…” Natasha said as she stood up, and Loki would’ve sworn she was shooting daggers at him with that glare. “See if I can be more convincing about eating something, otherwise Fury will have a corpse enlisting.”
You were moving out? To become a SHIELD agent? But you hated being a soldier. Had he hurt you so bad that you preferred that lifestyle and ruin your life forever… than being around him?
This all felt awfully familiar. Loki excused himself and went to his room and lock himself inside. He closed his eyes, and part of him wished that they’d never open again.
“Am I cursed?” Loki asked, choked up by the last bit of hope.
“No.” Odin responded the worst thing he could've said him. A curse would've been better.
Loki placed the casket down, weakly, it suddenly felt like a very... very heavy thing to carry. And the weight stayed there, right on his chest even after the casket had been placed back at the pedestal.
“Then what am I?” Loki asked softly, afraid of the answer.
“You're my son.” Odin answered, and Loki doubted his own magic since he couldn't detect dishonesty in his father's words.
Clearly that was a lie. So why didn’t his magic detect that? Loki felt rage spiral out of control like a boiling pot.
“What more than that?” Loki growled, still trying to keep his composure as he walked towards his father that was by the stairs at the other side of the corridor. “The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”
Odin looked him in the eye. Unable to deny it any longer. It had been to many years with that secret. As Loki walked closer, Odin just started at him in silence as Loki reached the stairs.
“No.” Odin finally said. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the Temple, and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring— abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's son.”
That felt like a dagger piercing the young prince’s heart. Out of all the things he was insecure about, it turned out he WAS an outsider. Out of all the things he could’ve been, he HAD to be a Jotun, a monster. Out of all the Jotun’s in existence, he was the son of the worst of them all. And out of all the reasons he could’ve been adopted for, was because even his own biological family didn’t want him… and his adopted family never told him any of this.
“Laufey's son...?” Loki finally managed to gasp out, he was choking up on his own tears. “Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?”
“You were an innocent child.” Odin said, sounding more exhausted by the second.
“No!” Loki begged his father, knowing that Odin was a strategic warrior. There was always a meaning behind his actions. “You took me for a purpose, what was it?”
But Odin didn’t answer. The physical toll of delaying his Odin sleep to prepare Thor to rule, preventing a war, the emotional toll of having to banish Thor and now… having his youngest child doubt his love for him because of his foolish decision of not telling him the truth earlier were overwhelming him.
The All-King saw with pain how the little child that once smiled at him with love when he picked him in his arms after the battle now saw him with fear, pain, and resentment.
“TELL ME!” Loki demanded loudly, no longer capable of remaining calm.
“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace... through you.” Odin confessed.
That was the final blow to Loki’s poor heart.
“What…?”
A tool. All he had been adopted for was as an instrument of peace between Asgard and a race that everyone saw as blood-thirsty monsters.
“But those plans no longer matter.” Odin clarified.
“So, I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up… here, until you might have use of me.” Loki inquired in pain.
“Why do you twist my words?” Odin asked softly.
“You could have told me what I was from the beginning.” Loki urged, desperate to makes sense of what easily was the worst day of his life. “Why didn't you?!”
“You are my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.” Odin said softly, in a fruitless attempt to calm his poor child’s heart.
“Wh— B-Because I-I-I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?!” Loki asked, flooded by all the scary stories about the frost giants growing up. All those times he and Thor played heroes as kids fighting those monsters.
“Don't...” Odin begged as his strength slowly abandoned him.
But Loki couldn’t listen anymore. The grief was too great, and the feeling of betrayal didn’t allow him to trust Odin anymore.
“It all makes sense now! Why you favored Thor all these years.” Loki yelled as he started walking up the stairs to yell at Odin as the All-Father slowly lost his strength and started passing out on the stairs. “Because no matter how much you claim to “love” me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the Throne of Asgard!”
Odin kept trying until his last second of consciousness to beg his son for help, forgiveness… anything. But he had been too weakened to dedicate his young boy some kind of love or reassurance as he fell prey to the Odin sleep, he had delaying for so long.
Now Loki encountered a similar dilemma. He had been stupid, dishonest, and selfish to someone who offered him nothing but unconditional love. He betrayed your trust and there was no way now that Loki could prove that despite his original intentions his love wasn’t any less real.
He laid down on his bed, with his arm draped dramatically over his eyes.
“Troubled, my son?” a voice spoke making Loki sit up.
“Father” Loki smiled softly. “I ruined it. I had the most beautiful love in my life… and I was stupid and lost it because of my own selfishness.”
“That sounds familiar” Odin chuckled. “You truly are my son, after all.”
“You had always been will always be my father…” Loki said the words he had denied for several years. “I never understand your reasons. Cruel as they were…”
“Not holding back against your old father, hm?” Odin laughed.
“Sorry…” Loki smiled softly.
“My original reasons were foolish, selfish, and even cruel as you rightfully… but I always hoped to do what would be best for the 9 Realms” he spoke. “But that didn’t mean the love I had for you wasn’t any less real. You are my son, regardless of the kind of blood that coursed through your veins.”
Loki smiled softly; it was weird. He knew Odin would have never say all that. But now, after growing up so much, he understood it wasn’t because he didn’t feel it, he had always been too proud and formal, too much of a king. And while imperfect, it was still his father.
“That’s why you never caught me lying when I called you my son or said that I loved you.” Odin spoke. “In my heart, you’ve always been my son.”
“I know, father” Loki smiled. “I’m sorry it took me so long to understand it.”
“I’m sorry I never told you before… I feared you wouldn’t take it well…”
“Me? I would never” Loki joked softly.
“We always loved you as our own” a female voice added making Loki turned around.
“Mother.” Loki spoke breathless. “I know… I know… I knew, I was just too scared I could’ve been wrong, and you didn’t…”
“You were too much of a charming kid not to love you” Frigga said compassionately. “Your little human surely thinks so too.”
Ah… that… Loki wasn’t so sure.
“I ruined it, I deserve nothing but the hatred and disgust I’ve earned from my darling.” Loki huffed out. “I manipulated, lied, and destroyed the trust of my love.”
“Dear, there’s nothing final in these matters…” Frigga smiled softly. “If that loved blossomed once, you may rescue it and nourish it again. But first… you need to apologize.”
“I don’t think I’m wanted anywhere near hearing range.” Loki explained.
“Do you think the love between your mother, and I always had a perfect relationship?” Odin smiled.
“Your father was too temperamental for that” Frigga intervened with a smile and both parents looked at each other with love. “But when you truly love someone and you make a mistake, you swallow your pride and make up for your wrongdoings.”
Loki smiled softly, he remembered it well. When Odin’s temper got the best of him because of the stress of being a king, Odin made sure to make up for Frigga know how truly sorry he was, and Frigga who already knew her husband’s temper was an expert on not letting her affect her, knowing it was never personal. She had truly been blessed with infinite patience given she dealt with three men with bad tempers and yet her kindness and loving nature knew no end. It was not rare to see Odin gifting Frigga fancy gifts and spend long hours apologizing and dedicating the day to her. It wasn’t the perfect arrangement, but no relationship was.
Loki chuckled softly.
“Thanks…” he smiled and both parents tended a hand to him with a smile. “I know what I have to do.”
Ready to say goodbye, Loki placed his hands on top of Odin and Frigga’s, and with that, the figure of his parents faded under a green light as Loki’s palms stopped glowing. Loki let out a little laugh as he wiped his tears.
His illusions had never been so benevolent towards himself, they were either torturous or for a fake sense of gloating and dissociation. But your compassion had changed him forever. He could use them for closure and to guide him with the stuff he knew but needed to hear. And… you deserved that at least.
He got up and went outside and went to a trip. It took him around an hour to get to the city and a couple more hours to get his several stops get several gifts. A lovely white bouquet of flowers, a box of your favorite chocolates, a necklace with a cute silver heart shaped locket and got it printed with a small photo, a copy of a photo he had carried from one of your first “dates” you got where you were giving him a small kiss in the cheek and cupped the other one, a symbol of your shared love.
On his way back, Loki held the original photo close to his chest and sighed. He prayed this would work as he was on his way to see you. He knocked on your door and hid his gifts behind himself, not even remembering he could’ve concealed them with his magic from how nervous he was.
His chest tightened as you opened the door, your eyes and nose were red, and your cheeks were stained with tears. Oh Norns… He had hurt you really bad.
“Love… Please… let me explain” Loki spoke softly.
“What do you need to explain, Loki?” you asked and sniffled, practically murdering him when you called him Loki instead of one of your lovely cheesy pet names. “That I was just a toy for you to play with and pretend that you loved me, so you’d be a free man? I got that quite clearly.”
You were ready to slam the door on his face, but he reached his leg to stop you. He nearly dropped one of your gifts. You looked at him confused, eying him up and down before sighing in defeat, opening the door he walked inside of your little room. He saw the little night table covered with used tissues and the bed’s decorative cushions were all over the place. It broke his heart.
“What do you want, Loki?” you asked tiredly as you sat on the bed, placing a cushion on your lap and against your chest.
“My darling, I was the biggest, most cruel and inconsiderate imbecile of all 9 Realms” he said, kneeling before you as he handed you the bouquet of flowers. You gently placed the flowers on your lap, still looking at him.
“It is true, that I was looking to just find a relationship to pretend I had adapted to living on earth” he spoke. “It was a selfish, shallow, and dishonest reason to make you mine… But I did it. It was heartless and there’s no excuse or reason for you to forgive that. But I beg of you to stay here… never speak to me again if you need, but don’t settle to a life of misery just to avoid me. I will happily accept being locked up in a dungeon for a hundred years, so you don’t see the likes of me again…”
He handed you the chocolate, and your gaze softened for a second as you saw the chocolate, he remembered which ones you liked the most. You opened your mouth to speak, but a gentle squeeze to your hands let you know Loki still wanted to speak.
He had caused all of this for not telling you the truth, and now he wanted to fully bare his soul to you now.
“You offered me boundless kindness, patience despite my flaws, understanding to my pain and sins of the past, laughter like I hadn’t enjoyed before, you fed with the most delicious and warm foods I had ever eaten, you showed me the concept of dates and you bared me completely vulnerable to your touch and heart and you bared yourself completely to me without fear of me…” Loki continued, as tears streamed down his face, drowning in regret. “And all I did was play with you and betray the trust your selfless heart gave me without asking for anything in return.”
He placed his forehead on your knees and sobbed, completely ashamed of what he had done to you. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he felt like he’d die without you. And he’ deserve it.
“I don’t care” you finally spoke, and he looked up, he saw the tears streaming down your face. “You’re the God of Mischief and Lies, there are countless stories of how you lied and manipulated to get away with anything you wanted… I should’ve expected I’d be just that.”
“No— No, darling!” Loki held your hands and pressed his lips against your knuckles. “No, my sweet, you— I was selfish. I wanted a cover up, yes, but what I found was love, I found the butterflies in my stomach you always speak of. I found the warm of your hands lingering on my skin after our dates. I found myself awake during the night sighing over those lovely eyes I’ve now so cruelly filled with tears…” Loki spoke softly.
You were shaking in your place as you did your best not to cry and interrupt him. He brushed his finger along your cheek as in appreciation of your effort.
“None of what you heard that night was true in my heart…” he assured you “I never felt so disgusted I wanted to vomit; it was guilt that was killing me from the inside… knowing I was hurting such a beautiful flower.”
He handed you the heart locket and you opened it, seeing the photo made you sob as silently as you could.
“I was selfish and a liar. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me and want nothing to do with me again. But please know that my heart beats for and because of you only.” He spoke. “I fell hopelessly and irredeemably in love with you. I swear that on my life.”
You looked at him and smiled, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed now freely and unrestrained. Time seemed to stop for Loki as he hugged you back, taking in your scent and caressing you. Tears fell down his face and he held you, afraid you’d disappear if he let go of you.
You forgave him. He didn’t think he’d ever be so lucky to find a kind soul that would forgive even his worst mistake. But he found it, you were kind enough to do so. Your wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug and Loki was able to let all the pain and guilt go… He couldn’t undo his mistakes, but he could be better, and he wanted to be his best self for you.
“Thank you… Norns, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he repeated over and over between whispers and tears as he held you tight.
You sat up straight and cupped his face and laughed softly as you still cried happy tears.
“You’re gonna have to buy me a new box of tissues, you booger” you joked softly with a sniffle, and pressed your forehead to his and grabbed a tissue to blow your nose.
“I’ll give you the entire world if you so desire, my love” he spoke with a gentle smile. “Just say the word.”
“I don’t need the world” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “I have everything I need right here.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” he chuckled softly as he grabbed a tissue to wipe his tears and blow his nose. “I’m a disaster and somehow I still found the most precious little dove all for myself.”
You held him tightly in a hug… in silence for a few minutes before you spoke again.
“Did you think I was annoying when we first met?” you asked with a stern look on your face. “I want the truth.”
“Truthfully… you were a nightmare…” Loki admitted in a soft playful tone.
“HEY!” you whined and dug your fingers into the crevices of his ribs making him burst out laughing. “I said honest, not mean!”
“Ehehehe! Lohohohohove, let me finish!” he giggled, letting you have this, it was the least he could do. “P-Please, s-stohohohop that! Not there!”
You smiled and went to tickle his belly. Oh, you had really not liked that.
“Plehehehehehease, dahahaharling! I surrender!” he laughed and did his best to not squirm.
“Fine… what is it?” you asked, as you sat sideways on his lap, already happily cuddling with him.
Thank whatever superior force that was out there… Oh, you’re a wonderful blessing.
“You’re a nightmare turned into a dream” he clarified and he didn’t even bother fighting the urge to squeeze you tightly.
“You have 3 seconds to explain how that’s a compliment o I’ll tickle you until you puncture a lung.”
“Ihihi— I mean like, when you start having a bad dream… but it turns around as the most wonderful of dreams, those that you still think about after waking up.” Loki said, and as those words he was sure he had fried his brain because he didn’t make any sense.
But that was enough for you.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grumbled.
“C’mon… don’t be mad at me for being foolish and wrong” he smiled as he squeezed you tight. “Surely you thought I was insufferable at first as well, we’re so different after all.”
You smiled and shook your head.
“I love my pretty prince” you smiled and picked a tissue yourself to clean your face. “Flaws, differences, and all.”
“Do you, now?” he grinned cheekily. “I sure am a lucky one to be called yours.”
“A Loki one” you giggled, and Loki made a scowl of disgust. “Sorry! I thought it too late when I said it and— hehehe!”
“Oh, that was awful— C’mere… you!”
“W-What?! NO! NOHOHOHOHO! LOHOHOHOKI, STOP IHIHIHIT!”
As he made you laugh and held you against him, he couldn’t doubt how fortunate he was to be so undoubtedly yours.
| MASTERPOST |
#marvel tickles#marvel fluff#loki laufeyson#ticklish!loki#lee!loki#ler!loki#ticklish!reader#lee!reader#ler!reader#loki x reader#loki tickle#loki fluff#ducky writes tickles
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On An Island Alone
It’s been 3 weeks since Chenford’s breakup and I feel like I’m on an island… alone. The day after 6x06 aired, I made the decision to walk away from The Rookie. Well, at least until after the finale. I’ll decide if I'm walking away permanently once I check online and see how the season ended. And before I go any further, to anyone who wants to say I'm not a true Rookie and (most importantly) Chenford fan: I have just as much right to stop watching the show as you do to keep watching it.
So why am I choosing to no longer watch the show?
The main reason I started watching the show in the first place is/was Chenford and I can’t sit there and watch them redo Seasons 4 and 5A and I won’t. Especially considering the fact we already know from Eric’s comments to TVLine they’re not getting back together by the end of the season finale. I do not see them getting back together until at least the midseason finale next season. Actually, if I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure they will get back together or if they even should. I know me saying that will make a lot of people mad, but after reading Melissa and Eric’s post-episode interviews, I got a sense of finality when they were talking about Tim and Lucy’s relationship as a couple and the breakup. Plus, I honestly don’t see how they can come back from what they did, which leads into the other reason why I’m not watching anymore.
Tim’s whole storyline rubs me the wrong way in so many ways. They could’ve brought in his military past in so many other ways and still had him struggle without destroying his character in the process. As it is, the storyline feels extremely forced just to cause drama for the sake of drama and, for me, irredeemably destroyed Tim’s character. They completely erased 5 ½ seasons of character growth in the matter of only 1 ½ episodes. And I'll never be able to see Tim the same way again, even if he goes to therapy. I personally would never be able to trust him again and I honestly don’t see how Lucy could either. That’s also why part of me feels like they should not get back together. Yes, I know it’s a short season and everything is condensed, but Alexi and the writers should not have done the storyline this late in the season, knowing they would not be able to do it justice with only 4 episodes left and not knowing the show’s fate by the time they finished filming the finale. Since they were planning to break them up, I feel like they should’ve done it at the end of the premiere or by 6x03. That way there would’ve been time for Tim and Lucy to work through their struggles individually then work them as a couple by the end of the season.
Why do I feel like I’m on an island alone?
After the episode aired, a lot of the fandom was angry and a good number said they were done to show. However, over the last few weeks, I’ve noticed that number dwindling and a lot fans are now justifying the breakup who weren’t before and they have absolutely every right to. I can see where they’re coming from, to a certain extent. Tim and Lucy both were hiding things from each other since they started dating and would just gloss over things that needed deep and meaningful conversations to work them out. That said, I personally will never agree with the breakup or the whole (Tim’s) storyline and will always maintain the breakup was completely unnecessary and they could’ve (and should’ve) stayed together and worked through their struggles as a couple. So yeah, I’m on an island alone… and that’s okay.
#The Rookie#The Rookie Season 6#The Rookie 6x06#Secrets and Lies#Chenford#Chenford Breakup#Breakup#Lucy Chen#Tim Bradford
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haiiii :3 can you perhaps do alex comforting you after you find out you guys are pregnant? >~<
ummm yes!!!!!! is that even a question!!!!
prompt: you find out you and alex are pregnant together
no warnings! fluff!!!!
you found yourself pacing back and forth in your restroom. you were practically biting your nails completely off as you waited. finally your phone timer vibrated. you sat on the toilet lid and took a deep breath.
the pregnancy test was laid in your hand. you slowly flipped it over and saw those two little lines. you didn’t know what to do.
of course you were ecstatic! ever since you got with alexis, you decided that you wanted a family with him. it was just… very unexpected and a lot earlier than you planned. you hadn’t even brought up family making talk with alex.
oh god, alex…
as if on cue, a light knock on the restroom door brought you back down to earth.
“baby? are you okay? you’ve been in there for quite some time…” he jingled the doorknob to let him in
you quickly looked everywhere for a hiding spot for the pregnancy test and the box it came. you shoved it under the sink and pulled yourself together.
you slowly unlock the door and put on a fake smile for your boyfriend.
“hi”
“what’s wrong? were you throwing up again or?” he asked, worry written all over his face
“no i was um pooping… i had a coffee earlier and it did not settle well in my stomach” you laughed, trying to seem normal. you needed time to prepare for the talk with alex. you had absolutely no clue of how he’d react to the news.
“i told you too much caffeine is bad for ya… well, sorry for interrupting you. i thought something was wrong. i’ll leave you to it then” he laughed lightly
and just like a god damn miracle, the box flopped out from under the sink. you should’ve cleaned that cabinet out a long time ago. it was so full that the damn pregnancy test just decided to show itself. your eyes teared up as alex walked forward and pulled out the test from inside the box.
“y/n… is this? is this real? please tell me it’s a prank..”
anger filled within you. he wanted this to be a joke?!
“i knew you would react like this! i don’t need you! i don’t need anyone! i can raise my baby alone!” tears were now streaming down your face as you spoke
alex had a sad look on his face. he stepped forward and grabbed your face in his warm hands. you sniffled and looked at him.
“baby girl… i never said i didnt want the baby. yeah, it’s a little bit early but i would never hesitate to raise a baby with you. i want to be the baby’s father.” he gently dried your face of tears
“you mean that?”
“of course i do y/n. you had me worried.. i thought you would force me to leave you or assume i wanted you to have an abortion. i want you and.. i want the baby” he smiled softly, relief evident on his face
“i guess i do assume the worst in situations like this. this is 100% your fault by the way! you can’t keep your hands off me!” you laugh, teasing your boyfriend a bit
“i guess you’re right on that one. but isn’t it your fault for being so sexy in the first place?” he smirked
“oh shut up!”
“but in all seriousness, how far along are you?” he asked, taking your hand in his
“i think three weeks? i haven’t had my period in three weeks and ive been pretty nauseous daily ever since”
“that makes sense. im really sorry for not being responsible and wearing condoms. but are you sure you want to keep it? i’m not saying i don’t want you to but i just wanna make sure you think about it, i mean a baby is a big decision” he rubbed your hand soothingly
“im really sure alex.. are you sure you still want me? i’m never going to have this body again and.. i’m scared of you losing interest in me after i have the baby” you said, feeling insecure about how much you’re going to change throughout this pregnancy
“is that what you’re worried about, mi vida? that’s got to be one of the silliest things i’ve ever heard. you being pregnant won’t stop me from loving you.. nor will it change my attraction for you, if anything, i find it really attractive..” he said, touching your smooth face gently
“you do?”
“i do. you’ll be carrying our baby. our baby.. the product of our love. you’ll have a growing being inside of you that’ll have both our features. and seeing a baby grow inside of you that’s mine and yours… that’s goddamn attractive if you ask me” he chuckled lightly
“oh alex” you let out a sob, practically jumping into his arms as he held you close to his chest
“don’t worry baby girl, we’re gonna be fine. i’ll do everything in my power to make sure you and our baby are okay and safe, okay?” he said with a kiss to your temple
“yeah… i’ll have the best man in the world helping me raise our baby..” you snuggled into him more
“you make it sound like i’ll be an amazing father. i mean i can see myself being the best father possible but i can’t say i’ll be perfect. i’ll definitely do my very best to be a good father because our baby deserves it” he explained, caressing your hair
“woah… daddy alex? that’s pretty hot, im not gonna lie. i kinda see where you’re coming from that me being pregnant is attractive to you” you pulled back a bit to look at him as you spoke. you saw him visibly freeze
“did you just… did you just call me daddy??” he blinked a few times, processing what you just said
“you’re already an amazing daddy to me, always taking care of me. i’m good practice, no?” you practically purred, loving the blush that crept out onto his cheeks
“th-that’s, th-that’s not what i meant!” he stuttered, very flustered,
“i mean yeah i take care of you and look after you to the best of my abilities… but d-daddy?” he continued
“i know what you meant alexis, i think i just have a lot of hormones in my body right now. i think… i think these baby hormones are making me feel stuff already. i mean, the thought of you being a father is really sexy… im definitely turned on, not gonna lie” you confessed, not even feeling embarrassed
“so daddy alex then, huh?” he smiled, the blush still bright on his face
“mhm…”
“i dont know what got into you but, hey im not complaining” he chuckles and wraps his arms around you
“you’re such a dream..” you sigh
“y tu eres la mujer de mis sueños, eres la cosita mas hermosa y perfecta que me ha pasado” he said lovingly to you
“god, im going to love you forever”
“i love you so much too, forever. this baby will definitely make that love even stronger”
“i agree, mi amor”
“by any chance, have you thought of any baby names? i know you said you thought about us having a family and stuff..” he asked randomly
“i have actually, have you?”
“it’s kinda weird but i have. for a boy, i think carlos or joan and for a girl maybe paz or xochil” he said thoughtfully and you gushed at the fact that he even thought of baby names
“those are actually really pretty. i was thinking for a boy, ezekiel or alexis jr and for a girl something like hyacinth or eliana” you said
“are… are you serious” alex asked, looking down at the floor
“yes, i mean its perfect. i’ve always adored your name and he could be our little junior” you shrugged as if it wasn’t the biggest compliment to alexis
“our little junior… that’s just… wow, i have no words” he smiled
“maybe if it’s a girl, she can have my name or something similar?” you said after a minute
“it’s settled then. if it’s a boy, alexis junior and if it’s a girl, she’ll have your beautiful name” he smiled, leaning in to give you a quick kiss
“then it’s decided” you agreed
“can you promise me something? well, two things” he asked
“sure baby”
“can you please promise not to stress yourself about this pregnancy? i don’t want anything bad happening to you or our baby..”
“yes alex, i promise”
“and also… please don’t stop loving me after the baby is born. i know it’s common for women to have postpartum depression and things like that or even resentment towards the father for getting them pregnant… but i promise to do everything in my power to ensure a good life for you and our baby. i’m going to do everything for us, y/n. just, please don’t stop loving me…” his gaze shifts to the ground once again
“ay mi corazóncito… i could never ever stop loving you. you’re the only person i want to raise a family with… you’re my family” you say genuinely
“oh my god… thank you amor. thank you for everything. i’ll take care of you, okay?”
“okay alex” you nodded and after a while,
“maybe… maybe we should celebrate” you say suggestively
“oh… you mean..” he said innocently
“yeah..”
“yes… we definitely should celebrate” he nodded
“well then get to it daddy, mommy needs tending to”
alex lifts you from the toilet seat cover and takes your hand in his. he leads you to your bedroom and he made love to you. he was absolutely gentle and just overall a gentleman, tending to your needs.
he was going to be an amazing father, that was for sure.
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Woops I Accidentally Character Studied Michael Shelley...
I actually did this a while ago, but all of you are being subjected to it now as well
HERE WE GO!!
I think Michael was the person who always wanted to be an extrovert and had the social skills to be one (he may have even considered himself an extrovert, who knows)- always bubbly, happy, didn’t mind talking to people- but he lacked a certain sense of self that most extroverts have. We don’t know much about his home life, but I feel like he must have come from some sort of environment where he was always told to do this and this and this by people without them earning his trust in return, so we’re left with this person who doesn’t know the proper way to really connect with people and question them when he feels like he’s been wronged and who is, in short, easy to manipulate. He was so used to relying on people his whole life that he didn’t have to get used to the idea of actually making a whole lot of decisions for himself.
Okay okay and because I sold my soul to gerrymichael, you get the part two to this as well (featuring a bit of Gerry character study as well)
Gerry is a good contrast to this because he’s a person who is similar enough in that he’s trapped in this calling that started with Mary Keay, but is altogether still a more independent person than Michael in most ways because he’s been trying so long to break out of his mom’s sphere of influence.
I think that, were they to meet in canon, they would probably start out quite a bit at odds just because they were so different from eachother and so they might not have actually been initially inclined to be friends, but I think that Michael was probably a little bit lonely. He was purposely kept in the dark about a lot of things at the institute, and I think he may have been a bit drawn to Gerry because he was another loner in the institute staff. Eventually they would hang out and I think once they started to open up to each other, Michael would say things and Gerry would be like “Eyo??? That’s sort of not cool of your coworkers? You can stand up for yourself, you know that, right?” And they would just have a lot of conversations like that which would slowly make Michael think more and more and see exactly how isolated he’s being kept from the archive staff and it leads to a new sense of identity that lets him become more of his own person before he and Gertrude go to Sannikovya SO THAT HE CAN REALISE HOW HE'S BEING USED AND MANAGE TO STOP THE GREAT TWISTING WITH GERTRUDE WITHOUT SACRIFICING HIMSELF AND GOING THROUGH THE DOOR
#Big Feelings Time#micheal shelley#gerry keay#the magnus archives#tma#tma podcast#tma michael#tma gerry#doorkeay
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you point out that they’re drawing false equivalencies and just because they don’t like a certain decision a character has made, doesn’t mean it’s out of character for them, and said researcher blocks you instead of acknowledging it. that’s not very “researcher” of you.
#like the point of doing research is to find and collect data to establish facts and draw new conclusions based on those facts#unwillingness to accept facts while doing research is the opposite of what you’re supposed to be doing ??#like s6 has been super in line with buck’s character#you don’t have to like the decisions he’s making but it makes sense for him#and where his character is rn#i mean i make have come on a little strong#but i don’t think it was block worthy#🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️#research is also supposed to be unbiased#u not liking buck’s s6 sperm donor storyline should not be affecting your analysis#anyway it was that canonically observing 911 account#i think it’s kind of funny#like we barely even discussed anything i just said you can’t draw false equivalencies bc the nuance and context regarding the scenes#are too fundamentally different to draw a fair comparison#and that buck’s problem isn’t life experience#it’s confidence and where and how he places value of his life#he does not have the confidence or self worth to be making sound decisions on behalf of everyone else bc of that#like listen#evan buckley#i love u man#but you have absolutely no self preservation skills#that’s why bobby isn’t gonna pick up for interim captain#u get tunnel vision when people u love or victims are in danger
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Fiona and Cake spoilers seriously
(Something I noticed abt Betty and Simons relationship)
I love Betty and Simon’s relationship, I think their back story is so cute and romantic and all that lovely stuff don’t get me wrong.
But there’s this under tone of Betty constantly giving things up for Simon and we don’t really talk about it a lot???
Like, Betty let Simon have his moment with the artifact and the pubic, she also doesn’t go to her trip in favor of going on an expedition with Simon. Then when she goes to leave again she stays for Simon.
Even Fiona is like “you went with her on the bus?” And Simon just looks all confused like “what? No, why would I do that?” Like- hello???
Then after that she gave up her entire life and mind to get Simon back to the point where she literally says “I don’t know who I am without him anymore.” And that just sucks! Since the beginning Betty has been the one giving up the most, her mind, her own possible career, and it’s a story of love of course and it’s very sweet but it’s also a story of sacrifice.
Their love wasn’t a perfect solution, it was already sort of imbalanced when it started and I lowkey love how we see those cracks even before they’re together.
Again, I love their relationship and I think it’s sweet. I just think we should talk about Betty’s side more, especially when she tells a story of what most women do in relationships, sacrifice.
#fiona and cake spoilers#fiona and cake#simon petrikov#betty grof#It made itself really apparent in these newest episodes and I couldn’t stop thinking abt it#like Betty idolized Simon before they formally met so of course she was gonna drop everything to go on that expedition with him#but it was more after that too like she was going to leave to study in Australia but Simon stopped her#and Betty’s a grown woman she can make her own decisions#but even Betty’s friend was like ‘don’t make her miss the bus!’ because Betty had a real opportunity to do something else#and maybe It’s that true love trumps all or what ever but the way they frame it in the show feels weird to me#like Why have Fiona ask if Simon got on the bus with Betty if it wasn’t important???#the way Simon responds feels weird too he responds like Fiona doesn’t make sense when asking that question#BUT ITS VALID Like why wouldn’t you encourage Betty to go off and maybe start her own career??#or just go with her?? like she gave up stuff to go on your exhibition why wouldn’t you return the favor???#and obviously Simon doesn’t do this on purpose I’m not saying he did#he didn’t guilt trip or force Betty or even ask her to give up these things to be with him Betty did all that on her own#i think it’s just interesting the way the show frames their relationship#like Betty gives up a lot to be with Simon in Fiona and Cake and in adventure time too#but she idolizes Simon and after Simon becomes IK she’s chasing after the man he used to be#meanwhile everyone learns to live with who IK is now it was just Betty who was clinging to Simon the whole way through#obviously they love each other and respect each other but I think Betty idolizing Simon didn’t just stay when they were kids#or college students or what ever it keto’s going even when the world ended and Simon became Ice King#this is was so much more than I planned on writing-
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Also, it’s kinda funny that Marvel repeatedly acknowledges that CA:TWS is their best and most popular movie (bc it genuinely is, even the film bros regard it far higher than IW and EG) yet they have two of the main characters from that movie that they can expand on and make similar storylines with and they just……give them half baked arcs and messy scripts, or cut their screen time……
Like maybe, idk just a random thought, just a potential solution, but maybeeee it’d be easier to create that level of success again if you expanded on the characters that were in that movie to begin with….Like maybe you could recreate the effect of CA:TWS if you wrote a good script about the new Captain America and the former winter soldier….maybe you could give those two characters from the fan favorite movie the spotlight…..idk tho that might be a huge reach
#which ig technically they’re giving Sam the spotlight with his own movie#but rumors are not promising#they’re actually kinda scary bc only a few things sound good#and if the spotlight is half assed then it’s not the spotlight if you get me#and Bucky….well it’s been essentially confirmed that his screen time in thunderbolts is very very little#like he’s a glorified cameo#which I’m not really complaining bc that’s a win in my eyes#cause I don’t want him in that movie#but….idk maybe give the titular character of your most popular movie a good story#maybe give him his own movie or even just a short special#👀#ca:tws#also this is not me saying Bucky has to be in CA:BNW bc I’m not actually upset about that#actually it makes sense narratively and is a good decision if the plot somewhat revolves around Sam and Ross having conflict over#who should be on the new avengers team#I mean yes I would absolutely love to see them on screen together again bc they’re my fav duo BUT#I’m not gonna be mad if they’re separated as long as they’re given good individual stories#but I’m not so sure that’s gonna be the case#anyways I’ll shut up now ik I’m being annoying
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The Man 6
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.
You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?
First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.
You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.
You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?
You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.
You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.
“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”
“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.
“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”
“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”
You look at him, scrunching your face up.
“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”
“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”
“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.
You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?
“Look, about yesterday--”
“I’m talking about today,” he insists.
“Sure, uh...”
“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”
“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.
“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”
You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”
He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”
Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.
“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”
“My mom—how--”
He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”
You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.
“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.
He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”
You shake your head and pout.
“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”
His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”
“You can’t... do that.”
“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”
“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.
“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”
You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.
“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#the man#the gray man#drabble#series#au#mob au
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If you could put one (1) other Pandava sibling (or two if you pick the twins) in the game for Arjuna to hang out with, who'd it be?
see bhima is an easy pick bc he has a lot of easy-to-write personality but I kind of want yudhisthira. ONLY if they give him actual nuance though bc it’d be easy to just write him as being a jerk or whatever from modern perspectives but tbh he kind of gives more of this vibe to me
where he’s trying to bail out the goddamn titanic except the titanic is everyone trying to kill him and his family and everyone killing each other is inevitable and also nothing ever goes his way and he will be the only one alive in the end. like let him be just so fucking stressed and trying to do everything himself and when it starts going sideways he internally panics panics and is like ‘hold on guys I can fix it hang on I’ll fix it’ but it keeps getting worse and oh damn we all got exiled again :( except he’s the oldest brother so he can’t just lie down and cry he has to like, walk it off and come up w a plan so they don’t all die (earlier than they’re supposed to)
UNLESS it’s the yudhisthira who got to heaven or after the war bc I think he’d be a good candidate for a ruler so he’d be more competent and focused on the spirituality side of things but even then his dad still decides to bully him so you know
#i think if you made him like a cringe malewife who tries his best and is just really trying to do to much it would be he that far off tbh#yeah he does some dumb shit. he panicked. sorry#like younger would probably be a lancer and have just a garbage luck stat#and older would be a ruler#it wasn’t really bullying but it was a little sneaky. you know how it is#this makes 0 sense just trust me it’s like…male K*beni but less screaming and crying#bc ppl are relying on him. but he’s soooo stressed#really look at juna this event and imagine that dialed up to eleven and I think that’d be him#with a tendency for dumbass decisions#the real reason we don’t have any other pandavas is bc yudhi is driving the car and got lost on the way to the throne. F#i could make him likable. trust me trust me fjsjsjeiabeuueheiebwjw *electric collar zaps*#my asks
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if liam dunbar isn’t the most relatable character to you in teen wolf then we will never truly understand each other
#liam dunbar#teen wolf#he’s small and angry and soft and a little stupid he loves his friends he’s very fucking squeamish his face does so#many things when he’s experiencing emotion#he always looks like he’d rather be at home#and he’s also the smartest boi ever to live he’s so smart and intuitive#he’s a loser also#don’t fight me on that i’m right.#he’s best friends with the best friend anyone could ask for (sorry scott)#he somehow got hayden to love him??? despite being himself??#again he’s the smartest boi alive did you hear me the first time#he’s so bad at lying so so bad at lying#he’s Going Through It at all times#he makes very poor ill-advised decisions#like he’s so bad at choosing what to do#but he’s the smartest boi ever okay have i made that clear#he has very little sense of self-preservation#he seems to think the only way out EVER is ‘through’ like bro pls tone it down#anyway liam dunbar you will always be famous
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Webs of Fate - Miguel O'Hara (Part II)
Sequel to Web of Secrets
Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader
words: 5.2K
warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut, time jumps, not really comic accurate (canon events), semi public piv, 18+
Part I Part II Part III Part IV
You are all back at the Spider-Verse Headquarters and the atmosphere is tense. Everyone is still high on adrenaline from the mission. You’re nursing a deep gash on your arm but your spirit is far from broken.
Miguel, however, seems to be on the verge of an explosion.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT OUT THERE SPIDER SUN?” he bursts out, his voice echoing through the HQ.
You're taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“That reckless behavior! You could have been killed!” he roars. “Why didn’t you retreat when you were injured?!”
“Because there were lives at stake! I can handle myself, Miguel!” you shout back.
“You think this is a game?! You think being part of this team is just for kicks?” Miguel’s face is red, his voice strained.
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare question my dedication!” you yell, your own anger now matching his.
The team is watching, shifting uncomfortably. Gwen looks at Jess, who shakes her head. The room is thick with tension.
Alright, if you are being honest with yourself, your recent actions in the field could definitely be classified as reckless. Perhaps even bordering on idiotic - not that you’d ever confess that in front of Miguel. You didn’t know where your mind went. Wait, no, scratch that. You knew precisely where your thoughts were, every mission since you discovered your pregnancy has been like this; your spider senses dulled, focus scattered to the wind, and reflexes that would’ve made a sloth proud.
And then there was this mission – your first one in quite a while alongside Miguel. He was bound to notice.
So you were fighting an Electro variant from an alternate universe, alongside Jess, Gwen, Ben and Miguel. The electric villain was throwing bolts of energy left and right and everyone was giving their all. You noticed a civilian trapped under some debris. You made a beeline for them, not thinking about anything else.
As you lifted the debris, an energy bolt flew straight for you. Usually, your Spider-Senses would have alerted you but not today. It hit you square in the back and sent you flying.
You hit a wall but ignored the pain as you scrambled back to your feet. A sharp ache spread across your arm but you gritted your teeth and kept fighting.
Miguel yelled, “What the hell are you doing?! Fall back!”
But you didn’t, you kept pushing forward.
He landed next to you, his eyes filled with anger and something else, maybe a hint of worry. He grabbed your waist to pull you back. But as another energy bolt was coming your way, you shoved him out of the path, taking the hit for the second time. So yeah, you could say that this mission wasn't exactly the shining star in your superhero career.
“ESTÚPIDA! So damn stupid. I won’t fucking watch someone throw their life away recklessly!” Miguel was now yelling loudly in oyur face for everyone in the HQ to hear.
“Oh, please. What’s it to you? Since when do you care, Miguel?!” you shout back, finally having enough of his insufferable attitude. “All this time, you’ve treated me like I’m dispensable. Like I don't matter! Well, guess what? I can fight, I can make decisions, and I don’t need you to approve them!”
“Don’t!” Miguel's voice cracks, and for a brief second, there’s a look of hurt on his face that surprises you. But his rage quickly replaces it. “I cannot do this anymore with you, ¿me entiendes?” he yells.
The room falls silent. Everyone’s gazes dart between you and Miguel. You can feel Gwen’s worried eyes on you, and Ben Riley. looks like he wants to intervene, but this moment is too charged.
You take a deep breath, tears welling up. “I can't do this anymore either,” you whisper.
“What?” Miguel's voice is barely audible.
“I can't keep fighting for a team where I’m not respected or trusted. Where you treat me constantly like a liability, like I am worth nothing to you,” you say, your voice steadier now.
“You don’t know what you are saying,” Miguel says, his tone slightly softening.
You turn around, your eyes welling up once again and open a portal to your universe. “I do, I quit” you say, your voice breaking.
You reach into your pocket and pull out your transdimensional gizmo, the small device that every Spider-person uses to travel across the multiverse. It's an intricate piece of technology, a blend of science and magic that fits in the palm of your hand.
You toss the device on the table in front of Miguel. It skids across the surface before coming to a stop right in front of him. He looks from the gizmo to you, his expression unreadable.
"Take it. We don’t need it anymore." You say defiantly, meeting his gaze.
Everyone knows the implication of you returning the gizmo. Without it, you're effectively stranded in your universe, unable to return to the society. This isn't a decision made lightly, it's a point of no return.
As you step through the portal, you glance back one last time. You see Miguel’s face, contorted in pain, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak and he doesn't stop you.
Your heart is breaking, but you can’t stay here. Not when it’s this painful.
You turn away and head toward the portal room, with one hand lightly grazing your tummy. Gwen calls your name, but you don’t stop.
In the dim light of the room, the world seems to fade away as you lie there with Miguel on top of you. You are under him, breathless, your fingers running through his hair. His body pins you down in a tender, electrifying way, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart beating against yours.
His fangs graze the curve of your neck lightly, eliciting a shiver that runs through you. In response, he nuzzles into you, his breath warm against your skin.
"Ever think about what we're doing?" he asks in a whisper that vibrates against your neck.
"Constantly," you respond, your fingers tracing the curve of his broad shoulders, "but I don’t regret it, not a moment.”
He lifts his head, his red orbs searching yours. “Neither do I,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hand reaches up to trace the contour of your face.
"You know," you whisper, your hands continuing caressing his back, "I always wondered what it was like in your universe, in your time."
He shifts a little, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at you. His eyes, usually as unreadable, now seem to crack open; emotions swirl within them like stars.
"It was great, you know," his voice is gentle, each word enveloping you. "No, more than that – it was perfect," he corrects himself. His eyes never leave yours as he continues, "I had my Gabriella. Ah, you would have adored her." His voice softens to a mere whisper as if speaking her name too loudly might shatter the memory. "She was this incredible burst of life just like you. My own little sunshine. I didn’t know my heart could hold so much until she came into my life."
"The way she would throw her head back and laugh, it was like music. Her tiny hands – so soft and gentle. I remember how one of them always found mine, and the world felt... right." He continued, "I was never alone, never empty." He swallows hard, as if trying to keep the flood of emotions from washing over him.
You cup his cheek gently, smiling up at him. "You don't have to be alone, you know?"
He lets out a dry chuckle. “Sometimes it feels like there's no other option. It’s my fate."
“What scares you the most, Miguel?” you suddenly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitates. “To lose myself… to forget what it means to care for someone,” he finally confesses.
“You won’t,” you assure him, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Not if you don’t let yourself.”
“¿y tú?” His voice is husky. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“To be forgotten,” you whisper.
He lowers himself and presses his forehead against yours. “Imposible,” he breathes. “You’re the sun. No one forgets the sun.” He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until the world outside disappears.
Suddenly, his wrist console beeps, yanking him back to the present. "O’Hara, are you okay?" Lyla's voice echoes in the room, breaking the silence. He blinks, his gaze focusing on the holographic screen displaying the mission details in front of him. "Yeah, Lyla," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. "Just remembered something," he murmurs, and refocuses on the screen before him.
Amidst the sea of codes and numbers, Miguel finds himself struggling to focus. His thoughts still are consumed by you, and a heavy realization crashes down upon him like a tidal wave - he’s lost you forever.
He always knew that this was how it was meant to be. This was the only logical conclusion, the inevitable outcome that he had tried so hard to deny. He was aware of the potential repercussions, the cosmic imbalance that could be brought about by your intertwining fates.
Lyla had warned him multiple times, cautioned him against letting you close. But how could he have possibly resisted you? You, who shone brighter than the sun, who captured the hearts of everyone around with your aura and your kind soul. Your beauty was unparalleled, and your laughter had the power to fill a room, casting away shadows. He was a moth drawn to your flame, hopelessly captivated from the very first day he met you.
But you were never meant to be his story, not the path his life was meant to tread. You belonged to another world, another universe.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Lyla breaks the silence with her smooth, computerized voice. “No,” he interrupts her sharply, his voice a little too forceful.
But Lyla isn't easily deterred. "You know it was dangerous from the beginning, Miguel," Lyla continues. "Engaging with her like that...it could have caused irreparable damage to the multiverse."
"I know," he replies curtly.
Unyielding, Lyla continues, "This was never supposed to be a canon event. Her universe is not meant to mix with yours. It's fortunate that she left when she did. The damage could've been—"
“I KNOW!” Miguel suddenly erupts, his voice thundering through the room. He screams, his frustration boiling over, "¡Ya lo sé, Lyla! ¡Basta ya!" ("I already know, Lyla! Enough already!") With a loud grunt, he sweeps his arm across his desk, sending his keyboard, mug, and various other items crashing to the ground.
There is a deafening silence as Miguel breathes heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed and his fangs are bared. He never loses control, not like this.
Lyla, for once, remains silent.
3 months later…
Back in Nea Yorkey, Earth 586 , you are perched on the rooftop, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Time has passed since you left Nueva York and Miguel, but your feelings for him are still a tangled mess. Damn these pesky pregnancy hormones.
For once, it’s pretty calm out there. No honking horns in traffic jams or the usual buzz of people everywhere. It’s like the city hit the pause button and honestly, it’s kind of nice. The streetlights are like tiny fairy lights all over, and the tall buildings around you feel like they’re keeping you company.
The cool breeze brushes against your face, and you can't help but be lost in your thoughts. Thoughts of him. The relentless flood of emotions is almost too much to handle.
The flashback hits you hard, placing you right back in Miguel's office late one evening. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your backside planted firmly on his desk amidst strewn cables and metallic pieces and half-empty coffee mugs.
"Miguel, someone will catch us," you had warned, your breath hitching as he nipped at your skin, his hands deftly moving to undo your skintight suit. His hair was a little longer then, the ends tickling your forehead as he kissed you.
He had just chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, making your heart flutter. "They know better than to disturb me," he'd responded confidently, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your jawline.
Usually, Miguel was cautious about showing any sign of affection when others might be around, even if 'around' meant anywhere in the sprawling headquarters of the Spider Society. Yet, that night, he seemed to throw caution to the wind.
In his enclosed office, late into the evening, he let his guard down - a rarity. His lips were insistent against your skin, his touch setting you alight. You remember how the soft glow of the desk lamp had caught in his eyes, making them appear even more mesmerizing.
As he was holding your ass up steady and pounding into you, in a pace and fervor you never experienced before, you hear his communicator ring vibrating. You instinctively attempt to pull away, assuming he would answer the call, but he holds you tighter, his lips never leaving your skin.
His free hand pulls up a holographic screen,which flickered to life above the desk, revealing a slightly pixelated image of Jess. You panic for a moment, worried that she might see you in this intimate moment with Miguel, but he just shook his head slightly, reassuring you that she can't. He must have filtered the video feed on his end.
“Yes, Jess?” Miguel’s voice was steady, but his breath ghosted your neck in short spurts. He continued with his action, his thrusts a little slower but deep, nevertheless. You clamp your teeth down onto Miguel's shoulder in a desperate attempt to stifle the moans escaping your throat, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. You can barely contain yourself. Miguel's soft, amused chuckle vibrate through you as he wraps his arms around you protectively. Asshole.
“We’ve got an anomaly on Earth-4067, seems like a temporal rift,” Jess's voice came through the hologram.
“Have you tried the Q-particle stabilizer?” Miguel asks, his voice so casual it's almost disarming. His eyes meet yours, a playful glint in them.
“Yeah, but it didn’t work. The rift is actually growing,” Jess responds, the worry in her voice increasing. “What do you think we should do?”
“Alright, I want you to reconfigure the dimensional frequency to match the rift. Then patch the satellite feed through the Alchemax algorithm, reverse the temporal frequency by 4.7 hertz and use the resonance pulse to stabilize the rift,” Miguel articulates with authority as he continues to pick up his pace. You’re close to the edge, with the euphoria threatening to make you cry out. The sheer pleasure is now tinged with a faint edge of pain, and a wave of panic crashes over you. The thought of Jess possibly hearing you is nerve-wracking, and you’re now fighting to suppress your screams.
Your breathing becomes erratic as you whisper in a hoarse, needy voice, “Miguel, ‘m close."
"I know, mami. Come for me," he whispers back, his voice filled with a playful mischief that seems to defy the gravity of the situation. His hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine and the wave of pleasure crushes down on you.
“Miguel, are you sure about this? I mean, if something goes wrong…” Jess hesitates.
“I’m sure, Jess.” Thrust. “Do.” Another hard thrust. “it.” Miguel’s voice turns forceful.
“Okay, I trust you. But... are you alright? You sound kinda breathless,” Jess's suspicion returns.
“Oh, just...uh...running some diagnostics. It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Miguel replies with a smirk on his face, his fingers now gently brushing against your bare heated skin.
The rooftop is silent again, and you're still rubbing your belly, where the life you and Miguel created is growing. A bittersweet tear rolls down your cheek as you wish, not for the first time, that things could have been different.
You don’t know how long you are sitting there, taking in the city scene. But it was getting dark, when a familiar figure swings onto the rooftop. It's Gwen, carrying a small package in her hand. “Gwen? What brings you to Nea Yorkey?”
She walks up to you with a soft smile, "Do I need a reason to visit my favourite Spider-Ma? I've got something for you."
You raise an eyebrow as she hands you the package. As you unwrap it, you find a tiny Spider-Man hat, similar to the one Mayday usually wears. And to your surprise, there’s a tiny anarchy pin, attached to it.
"From the group," she says softly. She adds, pointing at the pin, "This bit here, that’s from Hobie." Of course it is.
You’re moved to tears as you hug the hat close. It's a simple gift, yet it means so much. You feel a lump in your throat, and Gwen steps forward, wrapping you in a warm, comforting hug.
"I...I miss all of you so much," you manage to whisper, your voice choked with emotion.
"We miss you too," Gwen replies, her voice equally soft.
You pull back, wiping your eyes. Gwen tries to lighten the mood, "So, any guesses on the gender? I bet it’s a boy."
You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips, "I don't care what it's going to be. I just want them to be healthy."
Gwen grins, "Just remember, if it is a boy and he turns out to be a handful, you owe me a soda."
You both sit on the edge of the rooftop in a comfortable silence, legs swinging over the city, the conversation turns more serious.
"So," you venture, "how are things back at the Spider Society?"
Gwen’s expression turns contemplative. "It's been... strange since you left," she admits.
"Strange how?" you prod.
"Well, you know how Miguel was always a little on the, uh, grumpy side?" she says, making a grimace.
"You mean being a brooding fortress of doom and gloom?" you quip, and Gwen chuckles.
"Yeah, that. Well, he's gotten worse since you left. Like, way worse," Gwen's face turns somber as she continues. "He’s even more closed off than before. His temper’s shorter, he barely communicates, and he's been pushing everyone away. Miguel’s basically got everyone on lockdown. No unauthorized visits between universes. There’s this... I don’t know... this cloud hanging over him, you know?”
Your heart tightens as you take in her words. You had no idea that your departure had such an impact on him, or anyone for that matter.
“He doesn’t talk about it, but I think he misses you,” Gwen adds, looking directly into your eyes.
You are torn. Part of you wants to be angry at Miguel for how things went down, but another part aches for him.
Gwen nudges you. "Maybe he needs his sunshine back," she says with a gentle smile.
You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of Gwen’s words sinking in. “Don’t be silly. I was never his sunshine.”
4 months later…
Beneath the pale glow of hospital lights, pain and joy mingle in the delivery room. The grip you have on the sheets gets tighter as you push to usher your baby into the world. Your hair is sticking to your forehead, your breath comes in heaving gasps, exhaustion painting dark circles under your eyes.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, a portal flickers to life outside your window, and Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie emerge.
“Make way! The party has arrived!” Peter B. exclaims loudly.
“I don’t believe in parties.” Hobie says as he struts in, clad in his Spider suit with a leather jacket over it, pins and patches proudly displayed.
Gwen knocks at your door. The midwife, busy with you in the labor, answers.
“Uh, who are you?” the midwife asks, slightly agitated.
“We’re friends of hers,” Peter gestures towards you, “is it a good time?”
You hear their voices, but you cant muster up a response all you can do is scream and push.
“Blimey, I didn’t think it’d be like somethin’ outta Alien! You alright there, love?” Hobie’s eyes go wide, as he enters the room.
You can't help but laugh through the pain, "Oh, just peachy, thanks for asking."
Gwen steps forward, immediately grabbing your hand, her voice soothing, “Hey, you’re doing great. Is there anything we can do?”
“You could get Hobie out of here,” you jest, rolling your eyes, but your smile betrays your appreciation. Another loud scream follows.
“You got this, luv!” Hobie shouts. “Just imagine the bloody contractions as guitar riffs! You’re about to release the raddest album in history!”
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear the cries of your newborn baby.
“Congratulations, it's a boy!” the nurse announces, handing the baby to to you.
You can’t help but laugh. Gwen steps closer to the bed and takes a peek at the baby. Her eyes light up. “Told you, it’s a boy. He’s absolutely beautiful,” she whispers.
Hobie chimes in. “Alright, let’s get a proper look at the little bloke!” He leans in, and his face softens. "Oh, look at 'im!" Hobie exclaims in his thick British accent, peering at him. "Little blighter's a spitting image of 'is mum, ain't he?” No. You see it then, the dark eyes with a hint of red glow echo the intensity of his father's gaze, the dark chocolate hair and the sun kissed complexion. He looked undeniably just like Miguel. You cant help yourself but fall immediately in love with your and Miguel’s little boy.
As they prepare to leave, Gwen, Peter B., and Hobie each take turns holding Gabriel and whispering well-wishes to him.
“I can’t thank you guys enough for being here,” you say, wiping away a tear.
Peter’s mask is off and he’s beaming. "We couldn't miss this for the multiverse!"
Gwen follows suit, "Yeah! Plus, Hobie wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we didn’t."
“We’re family,” Peter says firmly. “Across universes and timelines. We’re always here for each other.”
With that, the trio put on their masks and with another whoosh, they're gone.
1 year later...
One year has passed like a whirlwind. You've established a balance in your life. By day, you are a doting mother, and your world revolves around a little ball of energy named Gabriel. His laugh is the music that fuels your day, and his tiny hands holding yours make everything seem alright.
At night, though, you become someone else. Clad in a white suit adorned with golden sun patterns, you swing through the skyscrapers of Nea Yorkey as the Sun Spider. Your heart swells with pride, knowing that you’re keeping the streets and your little boy safe.
Your neighbor, Melissa, sometimes babysits Gabriel. She is a cheerful, quirky 19-year-old neighbor who dreams of becoming an Instagram influencer. You trust her (her career choice not so much) and, most importantly, Gabriel adores her.
Up until today, you believed that he hadn't inherited any powers. However, today was the first time he climbed up a wall and spun a web, without the aid of a web-slinger. It was the first time you witnessed him display such powers, and naturally, you were impressed. However, you also realized that being a mom would now involve dealing with a whole new set of challenges and responsibilities, making everyday life more exhausting than before. But you are up for the challenge;
Meanwhile, in the Spider Society’s HQ in Nueva York, Lyla’s holographic screen blinks red as she detects an anomaly in Earth 586 - your universe. She reports it to Miguel, who is still his grumpy self, seemingly even more irritable with each day passing.
“There’s a presence in Earth 586 that does not belong,” Lyla reports in her emotionless tone.
Miguel, sitting at his desk, sighs deeply. “Assemble the team. Pavitr, Lego Spider-Man, and... let’s bring in the newbie, Miles.”
Minutes later, the trio is briefed about the anomaly – a two-year-old child. They are to extract the child and bring it back.
Back in your universe, you're facing off against a notorious villain – The Shocker, who is on a rampage downtown. His high-frequency shock waves shake the very foundations of the buildings around you.
“Not tonight, Shocker,” you quip as you dodge a blast. “I’ve got a bedtime story to read!”
You're agile and sharp, but you can’t wait to get back home to Gabriel.
In your apartment, Melissa is on the couch, engrossed in her phone. She doesn't notice Pavitr slyly slipping into Gabriel's room. He can’t help but feel conflicted, seeing the innocent child asleep.
“This is the target?” Pavitr speaks in a hushed tone into his communicator. His voice is laced with doubt.
“Yes, proceed,” responds Miguel firmly.
Pavitr gently picks up Gabriel, cradling him in his arms. “Sorry, little guy,” he whispers and slips out.
Outside, they gather near the portal. Miles, who is visibly excited to be on his first mission, can sense the tension among the group.
“That was… too easy,” Pavitr murmurs, still holding the sleeping child.
Through the swirling portal, they make their way back to Nueva York.
Meanwhile, you web up The Shocker and leave him hanging for the police.
Back in the Spider Society's HQ in Nueva York, the team stands in a specialized containment room with the toddler still peacefully sleeping nestled in a makeshift bed of spider-web, completely oblivious to the attention he's attracting. One by one, members of the Spider Society trickle into the room, drawn by curiosity and concern.
Miles, who is new to the Spider Society, looks at the child with confusion. "I don't get it, what's so dangerous about a kid?" he asks.
Pavitr looks conflicted, “We have to determine where he came from and why he is considered an anomaly.”
Lego Spider-Man remains silent, trying to analyze the situation. He finally speaks up. "We should be cautious. Just because it's a child doesn't mean it's not potentially hazardous to the multiverse."
Miguel enters the room, his face cold and emotionless. He glances at the sleeping child, then at his team. “It doesn’t matter what it is. Anomalies threaten the balance of the multiverse. Every anomaly has to be returned to its home universe. That’s the rule.” he says sternly.
"But he's not an anomaly, boss," Jess adds, gazing fondly at the child. "He's a little boy."
Miguel’s gaze is unwavering, ignoring Jess. “Lyla? Whats the status?”
Lyla's holographic form flickers into the room. "This entity possesses unknown powers," she declares, her voice ringing out with clinical detachment. "And according to my scans, it doesn't belong to any known universe. Therefore, it cannot be returned. It must be... eliminated."
Miles' eyes widen. “Wait, you mean…?” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Pavitr steps forward, his fists clenched. “We can’t just... There must be another way.”
Back in your universe, you swing closer to your apartment, but your spider-sense starts are tingling with a ferocity you’ve never experienced before. Your heart races, and you quicken your pace. Bursting through the window, you find Melissa still sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
"Where is he? Where’s Gabriel?!" you shout, panic straining your voice.
Melissa's eyes go wide as she looks up from her phone. "What? He's in his room, sleeping," she says, but her voice falters when she sees the terror on your face.
You rush into Gabriel's room and find the crib empty. Your knees buckle, and a guttural scream escapes your lips. The room spins as you run back to the living room, grabbing Melissa by the shoulders.
"Did anyone come in? Did you see anything?!" you practically scream at her.
“I... I didn’t see anyone. I swear!” Melissa's voice shakes.
Your heart feels like it's tearing apart. You look around the room, desperate for any clue. You need to find your son, and something deep within you tells you that the Spider Society is where you need to go. You have to find a way to travel through the multiverse without a gizmo and the time is ticking. You have to find your son.
Back in the HQ in the midst of the tension-filled room, Gwen stands up, "Miguel, you can't be serious," she pleads, disbelief resonating in her voice. "We can't just... kill a baby.”
Miguel's eyes narrow. "Sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the greater good.”
Just then, little Gabriel wakes up. His big eyes wander curiously around the room, and he starts to make happy babbling sounds. Unfazed by his surroundings, he looks at each of the Spider-People with fascination.
As Peter B. is about to reach down to pick Gabriel up, the toddler crawls quickly over to Miguel. His little face lights up with the purest of smiles and he reaches his tiny arms towards Miguel as if trying to give him a hug.
The room seems to collectively hold its breath. Even Miguel seems taken aback.
Pavitr can't help it, “He seems to have taken a liking to you, boss.”
Gwen smiles, her eyes watering up. “See? Even this innocent soul can sense there’s still good in you.”
Tiny fingers grip at the fabric of Miguel's suit, baby Gabriel coos and giggles as he clambers up the towering figure. Planting tiny baby kisses on any part of Miguel he can reach, the toddler's joyous laughter rings in the silent room. "Vete, Vete." Miguel mutters. And despite Miguel's cold exterior, Gabriel is unphased, drawn to him as though an invisible bond exists between them.
Miguel looks frustrated and uncomfortable with the baby's affection. He awkwardly picks Gabriel up at arm’s length. But the little one is relentless, trying to cuddle into Miguel’s chest.
Annoyed, Miguel places Gabriel into a containment field made of energy beams, to keep him in place. The baby, though restrained, is still reaching out to Miguel with his tiny hands, cooing.
The room goes quiet again, and Gwen speaks, her voice soft.
“Look at him, Miguel. Please. You can’t tell me that this doesn’t affect you in any way.”
Miguel's face is tense, his jaw clenched. His eyes dart between Gwen and Gabriel. All eyes are directed towards Miguel. The room feels like it’s waiting for something to shatter.
“We do what needs to be done, no exceptions.”
Part III "Web of Shadow and Light"
a/n: Honestly, I can't begin to express how much your support and kind messages mean to me. I literally started crying when I saw how much love this story received. It means the world to me. Truly, thank you. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and if someone could give me a heads-up on whether the tag list functioned properly, that would be great. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies or logical errors regarding the multiverse or canon theory. I watched the movie but I'm not 100% sure of that's how it works.
Once again, I really do appreciate each and everyone of you. Please, don’t forget to take good care of yourselves and stay hydrated! ILYSM
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