A young woman, Y/N, was Force sensitive. She was trained by her parents who broke the code and eloped together, ultimately having her. Nobody knew of her existence.
Being trained in the ways of the Force during the reign of the Empire was a dangerous game, but Y/N was prepared to play it.
Having a job in the ranks of the Empire, Y/N is incredibly close to being exposed to the entire Imperial System. Especially as she was a mechanic working on an Imperial Star Destroyer.
When a new job is opened that gets her closer to being revealed, will she decide to do everything in her power to not get the job? Or will she make her way up the Imperial System?
19 Years Later... [Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader x reader miniseries]
19 years have passed since Y/n’s husband Anakin’s death, and she has become the leading General of the newly founded Rebellion alongside her past Jedi friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, now known as Ben Kenobi. When her children Luke and Leia Skywalker gets kidnapped by Darth Vader, the man who killed her husband; her and Obi-Wan Kenobi must come rescue her. But when she finds out who’s behind Darth Vader’s mask, the truth is something she never thought she had to prepare herself for.
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i’m so freaking excited for this fanfic, holy shit. i’ve had this idea since April 2020 and i decided to say fuck it since you guys seemed interested. i hope you enjoy it!!! get ready for an angst and sex train, cause it’s coming in hot 🥵 😏
Index:
prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 [Coming soon]
Warnings: None
WC: 1.3k
——————
People say love is a forever thing. But for Y/n and Anakin Skywalker, their time together was cut short the day Darth Vader murdered Anakin almost 20 years ago on Mustafar.
Y/n remembered the day so vividly - it was the scariest, saddest, and all the same happiest day of her life. It was the day her twin children, Luke and Leia Skywalker, were born; and it was also the day the love of her life was killed.
Y/n didn’t remember much of that, between the two events. According to Obi-Wan Kenobi, he had said that Anakin was behind the attacks at the Jedi Temple, and the man behind the murder of countless Jedi. Y/n couldn’t bring herself that the man she was married to could do such a horrible, despicable act.
She didn’t believe it until she saw first hand his anger - the way his voice changed, how cold his gaze had become. He tried to sugarcoat his villainous words to her, speaking gently, “Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me.”
But when he had noticed Obi-Wan was on the ship alongside Y/n, Anakin lost all sense of reality and tried killing her.
The last memory she had of seeing her future husband was tainted with fear - the sight of him angrily raising his fingers to choke his lover.
When she awoke, she felt her body give in and start to writhe from excruciating labor pains. The pain she felt throughout her back and belly, however, were nothing in comparison to the never-ending ache in her heart that started when Obi-Wan muttered the words, “Anakin is dead.”
Barely able to cling to life, Y/n was able to deliver two healthy children, whom she had named Luke and Leia. Obi held her hand gently, smiling testy eyed, “Anakin would be so happy to see his little family. I promise I’m here to support and protect the three of you.”
Tears from pain and sorrow streamed down her cheeks as she cradled Leia close to her breast, sobbing as her body shook.
He should be here. I should be squeezing his hand, not Obi’s. He should be holding his son, not Obi. I shouldn’t be a widow.
When she found out the truth about how Anakin died, she was even more torn apart. Anakin didn’t even get a chance to explain his actions at the Temple - he was murdered by a man named Darth Vader before he could repent. She lost her husband to a murderous sith lord.
Obi-Wan took it upon himself to take care of Y/n, Luke, and Leia and got them a home on Tattooine. He knew that Y/n was never good on her own - even though she was a Jedi, she hated being alone. So he stayed with them, helping her raise Luke and Leia with just the two of them.
Knowing they were a target from Darth Vader, Obi-Wan knew that they’d had to change their names. He changed his to Ben Kenobi, a nickname an old lover gave him; and Y/n changed her name to Cecelia Jonas, a drastic difference from Y/n Skywalker. When it was just them, they would refer to each other as their old names for old time’s sake.
Raising twins without their biological father was very, very hard. There were many nights Luke or Leia would ask about their beloved late father, causing her to get teary-eyed remembering.
Nights when Luke would play around with the droids, speaking with C3-PO and laughing reminded Obi and Y/n of Anakin.
Having a son who looked just like a young version of Anakin was no help to her healing heart. Yet, no matter what she swore to never remarry — her heart belonged to Anakin Skywalker, and Anakin Skywalker alone.
By now, it was 19 years since Anakin had died. The Galactic Empire was rising, and the Rebels rose in contradiction, hoping to defend the Galaxy.
Meanwhile, Darth Vader stormed around his Death Star ship in an angry stance, slicing anyone who dared to comment on his more-so than normal angry aura.
He crossed his arms, looking outside the Death Star, “What do you mean you lost the plans?” His breathing labored and heavy as usual. The mask wasn’t even needed for him — the cocky bastard just wanted to come off as more intimidating.
“Someone... someone had sold the plans. And now General Jonas-“
Vader grunted and raised his fist, beginning to force choke the man mercilessly, “Find me who sold the plans and bring them to me. I want their death slow and painful. And find me General Jonas, I want to have a chat with them.”
The man’s eye’s rolled back as his vision blackened, then he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.
Vader strutted off, his signature Skywalker strut all the more prominent and powerful enveloped in his robotic suit of armor.
Ever since his fall, Vader had one thing on his mind. Completing out his Master’s will so he would finally teach him how to bring people back from the dead.
Vader reached his quarters and shut the door, locking it using the force with a simple flick of his wrist. He begrudgingly walked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and hunched over the sink, his breathing getting more rapid until the noise irritated him to let out a yell in anger.
He took off his black mask in frustration and slammed it down on the countertop, his hands gripping it’s sides so tightly he felt his flesh hand feel numb. He looked up in the mirror, his ear-length brown hair dampened down with sweat as he looked at himself in the mirror.
“Who the hell even are you,” he grumbled to himself, running his gloved fingers through his hair. He sighed heavily and shook his head, the memory of her gasping for air replaying in his mind as his anger grew, “It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault you and our child are dead!” he yelled to no in but himself, tears beginning to prick his yellow eyes.
With shaky hands, he dipped into his pocket and took out the necklace he crafted for her all those years ago, smiling sadly down at it as he rubbed it with his thumb.
“This is all for you, my love bird. All of it, so I can bring you home to me.” His voice trailed as he kissed the necklace, putting it back in his pocket gently as he let out a heavy sigh, wiping his tears quickly.
Vader thrived on pain now. Once he found out his wife was killed by his own hand, he lost all sense of himself. Anakin died when he knelt and took Darth Vader’s name, but Anakin truly died the moment Palpatine uttered those words.
“It seems, in your anger, you killed her.”
“Shit husband I was,” he growled, putting his glove back up on his flesh hand after he glared at his wedding band.
It gave him a mixed feeling - he missed his wife dearly, but yet it was also a deadly reminder how much of a horrible man he was.
The separated couple went to bed in tears that night, wishing and praying that somehow, someway they could be reunited.
But the both of them knew the only way that would happen is if they died, which was out of the question.
So they laid there awake in agony, their heart crying out to be reunited with their lover once more.
a/n: so i've had this scene racing through my head all day and had to sit down and write it. if i do anything with it? it's definitely up to you guys. kinda left it on a note where if you wanted a continuation, it can easily be done. let me know what you think!
**if you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know!**
summary: You are the wife of the biggest, or so you thought to be the biggest, mob boss of London, Hayes Sinclair. A man who isn't scared of anyone. However, when a meeting goes wrong with the ultimate leader, Thomas Hiddleston, whom Hayes is petrified of, Tom suddenly finds himself intrigued by the quiet demeanor of Hayes' wife. Hayes wants you dead on his terms upon giving him what he wants, but Tom wants you alive with promises of a better life. You? You want to end it all.
warnings: angst, talks of abuse, domestic abuse, bruises, blood, talks of suicide
pairings: Mob!Tom Hiddleston x Reader
based on:
Tonight Is The Night I Die by Palaye Royale
Nervous Breakdown by Palaye Royale
White Line Fever by Asking Alexandria
Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab
Purple.
Blue.
Yellow.
Fresh.
Old.
The screams.
The wincing.
The coverups.
The blood.
The tears.
The soul-crushing plead to just drive the knife right through.
The desperate attempts of escape.
The loneliness.
Shuddering from the chill in front of the mirror, you carefully pulled the dress over your exposed body. His gun was just in another room. The thought crossed your mind multiple times. But he had the place guarded. Your every move, watched by his gangly henchmen. If you made any attempt to end it yourself, he’d force you to stay awake. He needed you alive until he deemed death as your final resting place.
He wanted to play judge and executioner.
“Get your ass out of there before you make me late.” He yelled from outside of the bathroom door. Your tear ducts had officially run dry, the only cries you released were throat-cutting sobs that resulted in dry heaves. You gazed down at your stomach, noticing the bruises he had spread across your abdomen. You closed your eyes and swallowed the lump, pulling the jacket over your sore shoulders, quickly shying yourself from the mirror’s exposure.
He used to never be like this. He was once a friendly gentleman who captivated the hearts of numerous women alike. But then he shifted. The line of work he was involved in, found him developing demons you never knew existed. Once his father was ultimately murdered in cold blood in front of him, the baton of the mafia life was placed into his grasp.
And he turned.
He promised you, he would never become his father. Oh, he became worse.
Walking out of the bathroom, his jaded eyes dissolved on you, the scent of alcohol already filling your nostrils. He scoffed at you. “Admiring my work, princess?” He laughed darkly, running a hand through his black hair.
Hayes Maxwell Sinclair. A total heartthrob on the outside, but satan in disguise. He was a woman’s complete daydream, but your worst nightmare. The two of you had been together for just over six years now, beginning when he ultimately tried to ‘save’ you, when you never needed it. He picked you out to be the quiet damsel in distress. He wanted to be your hero, but again. You never wanted to be saved. You were more than okay with living in your small run-down apartment with your small tabby cat who you named Masey, living your ordinary, normal life as a server in your local café in North Carolina.
But no, when Hayes crossed your paths, you were utterly thrilled by him. The two of you hit it off when he appeared in your café one bright and early morning. The flirtatious winks, the cheesy pick-up lines, everything about him made you want more. And as soon as he asked for your number which you sweetly slid across to him on a napkin one morning, the blossoming relationship took off.
Yet you had no earthly idea of the life he led or would lead if something ever happened to his father. A man who he never let you meet, but apparently was one of the scariest mob bosses London had ever seen. If he acted anything like your husband today, you would’ve feared him also. Hayes found himself hiding away in the shadows in the small town where you lived, masking his British accent with a fake, true-sounding American one, giving you no way of identifying his true whereabouts.
Hayes looked over at you with a sigh. “Baby,” He called and walked over, resting his hands on your shoulders, causing you to flinch. “Tonight is a big night for us. Put a smile on that beautiful face.” He chuckled darkly, reaching over to the top of the dresser where his gun lay. Placing it into the inside holster of his jacket, you closed your eyes tightly.
He was meeting with potential partners. This meeting had been planned months in advance. From your knowledge and past experiences, your husband was the most feared leader in London. You had never once seen him grow scared. Fear was nonexistent in his body. The only time he may have cracked slightly was when the news came forward that he was the next leader of the Sinclair family.
You weren’t too sure who was going to be there tonight. All you recalled was Hayes threatening you if you made any attempt to embarrass him. You were well aware of his powerful tendencies. It wouldn’t be the first time he had put his hands on you.
He walked ahead of you. He had stopped being loving a few years ago. One day his flip ultimately switched and he treated you like the scum on the bottom of his shoes. He stepped all over you, daily. You had begged for him to just kill you some nights the torment was so bad. There were many days you went into work with black eyes, having to lie to your endearing coworkers, saying you fell down the steps. If you dared mention the abuse that was inflicted onto you came from none other than Hayes Sinclair, you would be laughed at. Everyone believed him.
The two of you made your way out of the lavish home he owned. The car door was immediately opened, the driver dipping his head.
“Mr. Sinclair,” He smiled. “Y/N.”
You weren't allowed to be referred to as Hayes’ wife. Only when he deemed it appropriate. Although you wore a wedding band on your left hand, circled around your ring finger, the man sitting across from you was not your husband. He was the puppeteer who was keen on bringing you closer to the brink of death, only to reel you backward, not letting you have the satisfaction. Hayes knew his reputation would be tarnished if someone knew he killed his wife.
The ride to the meeting hall was silent. Hayes stayed on the phone a majority of the time, his bodyguards staring at you the entire time. Their job was not only to protect Hayes but to make sure you didn’t try to escape. You failed far too many times. What was the point?
When the car doors were opened, Hayes stepped out, but before he did he gripped your wrists, fingernails digging into the flesh which caused you to wince. “Don’t you screw this shit up.” His accent was thick, spit flying into your eye. “I will beat your ass so hard, you’ll be unrecognizable.”
He released you and with a sly smirk, he patted the stray hairs down on your head. “Face up, bitch.” He sighed, stepping out of the car. Tears pricked at your eyes but you kept your demeanor settled. You both walked inside, Hayes placing his hand on the small of your back. It was the only time he gently touched you. Every other time, he was either slapping, punching, or kicking you to the ground.
Everyone inside the hall turned in the direction. Gasps flooded the area and you could easily register the looks of fear that spread along the various mob’s faces. Their leaders caught one simple glimpse of Hayes Sinclair, and they began to falter. There were women around you, mostly hooked to the arms of their husbands or boyfriends. They looked genuinely happy and part of you wondered if truly, they were experiencing the same hell you were behind closed doors.
“Hayes Sinclair!” A Scottish accent rang through as a man with red hair approached the two of you. “Now who is this beauty?” He looked down at you. Hayes smiled.
“My darling wife, Y/N.” He smiled one of his signature grins. You put your face on, smiling in his direction. Hayes had a rule. You were to never speak unless spoken to.
The three of you made your way into the building, everyone turning to speak to Hayes. You listened closely. These were usually the times you’d find out what exactly the meetings were about.
“Is he here yet?” Hayes questioned. “No one has bothered to even mention his name.” He laughed.
The Scottish man looked at him. “Only thing I’ve heard, is you don’t fuck with him.” He sighed. “Keep your game on, Sinclair.”
Hayes smirked. “Do you remember who I am, Edward?” He winked.
You made your way over to the table where the drinks were being served. Hayes grabbed himself a beer before he handed you water. “Can't have you becoming a drunken slut and embarrassing me.” He whispered, making you grit your teeth. In the center of the room, there was a table nestled with two chairs. Hayes and this mystery-man would be sitting there, you clarified in your head. You wondered who he was.
Again, you had never seen Hayes become fearful of anyone since he joined this line of business. His poker face was immaculate. But little did you know, that was about to shift drastically.
You caught the eye of a stranger who sauntered across the room, two large men who were bulkier than him in tow. He donned a black suit with a white button-up underneath. His hair was blonde and curled ever so slightly, his eyes an iridescent blue. He kept glancing over at you, the glass held in his hand casually finding his lips. You pulled your eyes away from him, the nerves unsettling. But you couldn’t help but find his eyes once more. He was clean-cut, pristine, awfully out of place. The rest of the men in this building who were mob bosses held such hardened exteriors. They had tattoos dancing across their necks, harsh accents, and filthy mouths. This man looked the complete opposite. More so he looked like he belonged in Hollywood rather than this event.
His blue orbs flicked over to the empty table. Turning around on his heel, he was speaking, but of course, you couldn’t hear him. He spun back around and within moments, he was gone. You shook your head and twisted the cap off of the bottle of water, soaking your palette.
“Who the hell were you staring at?” Hayes demanded.
You shook your head. “No one.”
“Liar!” He hissed into your ear. You shut your eyes, shaking your head.
“It was no one, Hayes.” You told him again. You heard him curse under his breath.
“Stupid bitch…”
Clenching your hands together, the anxiety was building. As the night pressed on, the announcement was made for Hayes to take a seat at the table. You were shoved off into a separate corner of the room, away from your husband. Truth be told, it gave you a subtle moment alone, not feeling the daggers he extended your way through his heavy glares.
You gazed on. With the table situated, you were able to fully see the side profiles of the two gentlemen. Hayes was stone-faced, his eyes locked on the path ahead of him. You watched closely as a man suddenly came forward.
And for the first time, you saw Hayes flinch.
You zeroed your eyes in on the man approaching him.
It was the same man who was eyeing you earlier.
Gasps were heard around the room, making you furrow your brows. Hayes had men training their eyes on you, watching your every move.
“Hayes Sinclair,” The stranger announced, his voice booming. His accent was thick, obviously showing proof that he hailed from the United Kingdom also. You watched Hayes’ green orbs glaze over at the sight of the man in front of him who pulled his chair out, taking a seat.
“Thomas Hiddleston,” Hayes announced. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He whispered.
The man, who you now discovered to be Thomas, laughed, snapping his fingers.
Immediately, a drink was placed in front of him and Hayes. “Your ass is bold to show up on my front.” He chuckled.
Hayes watched him closely, taking a nervous sip of his drink. Thomas’ eyes scanned the perimeter, his eyes settling on you.
“Who’s this gorgeous woman?” He asked. “I thought you were single, Sinclair?” Thomas questioned. “Darling, would you please step forward?”
Gulping, your stomach turned flops as you placed one foot in the other, but Hayes’ bodyguards reached out and grabbed you, withholding you.
That infuriated Thomas.
You never saw him even pull it out. Within a split second, a loud gunshot was heard, the crumbles falling from the ceiling. “Release the lady or the next bullet goes through your head.”
Hayes glared at him. “You can’t threaten my men, Tho,-” - Just as your husband was pushing the words out, Thomas pushed his chair back and slammed the stock of the gun against his face, your eyes widening.
“You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Hayes. Remember, you’re on my territory.”
You noticed as the bodyguards on Thomas’ side soon walked over and gripped Hayes, sitting him upright. The handsome stranger flashed a darling smile before he motioned to you.
“Love, what’s your name?” He asked as you finally started to make your way over to the edge of the table where the two men sat. He eyed you closely, his lips pulled into a friendly grin. But you knew that could be an absolute lie.
“Y/N,” You answered him. Thomas looked down at your ring finger to see the sparkling diamond.
“Sinclair?” He asked you to which you nodded. Hayes was glaring at you, threatening to murder you with his eyes. But with the pull Thomas had on him? You were untouchable in this moment.
“Hayes, you never told us she was your wife.” Thomas pursed his lips.
Your eyes looked over at Hayes who stared at you, but Thomas shook his head.
“Don’t look at him. Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He commanded you and immediately you trained your eyes on Thomas’ dazzling blues. His face was steady, his hands folded together. He turned his head back in the direction of Hayes who swallowed audibly.
“Wasn’t a topic of good conversation.” He said through a clenched jaw. “Thomas, leave her the hell out of this. This is between you and me.”
Thomas laughed. “I can’t help myself, Hayes. She’s a beauty.”
You noticed your jacket had fallen off of your shoulders, where big purple bruises scattered across the skin. You noticed when the chill of the room brushed against you, making you quickly pull the fabric over you, shielding yourself away from the gazing eyes of Thomas.
Hayes cursed under his breath. Thomas caught the glimpse of your arm and he instantly recoiled. It was then he turned to face your arrogant husband. Sighing, you watched as he picked up the knife beside his white plate and suddenly jabbed it into Hayes’ left hand. He let out a blood-curdling scream that made your eyes widen in shock.
Thomas, standing up from his seat, laughed. “Y’know, Sinclair, I don’t think we have anything else to talk about. Consider this meeting over.” He inched himself closer. Hayes was reaching for the knife that stabbed through his hand.
Your eyes were wide, gasps were heard across the crowd of people.
Thomas instantly pulled the knife out of Hayes’ hand and wiped it off with a napkin, the blade reflecting his insanely attractive smile.
“And consider your days numbered.” He quipped. You noticed all around you as the men staggered backward. The two bodyguards Thomas had rejoined his side.
It was then Thomas’ eyes settled on you. You felt your breath catch in your throat.
Thomas extended his hand, eyeing yours carefully.
Hayes watched Thomas’ engagement with you, his mind in flames. “Don’t you fucking touch her! She’s useless! She’s a whore!” He screamed.
Thomas never once looked back at him.
“She looks lovely to me.”
You gazed down at his hand, your eyes brimming with tears. You wanted out of this life. And if you placed your hand in this fearsome man’s, you would only be opening the door to a more horrendous lifestyle, you could feel it.
“If you dare leave with him, I’ll end you, you bitch!” Hayes screamed at you from one side.
“Come with me,” Thomas said to you on the other side.
And the door was in clear view.
There was one rule. The only bodyguards who were allowed to come after you were Hayes’. But part of you wondered if Thomas would send his in your direction too.
Summary: You and Loki are friends, but one night while drunk both of you open yourselves up to each other about things that nobody else knows about you... Until tonight.
Warning: flying cusswords and talks of abandonment.
This is my first piece on here so please be gentle and enjoy 🙂
m/n: mother’s name
It was 5 years to the day that Loki lost Frigga, the most important woman in his life. Loki often wanted to be left alone all the time, but especially on the anniversary of her death. You’re invited to the Stark tower because Tony knew you could help Loki; he seemed more aggressive and shouty than usual and everybody else was just getting fed up and annoyed; all their attempts for him to snap out of the funk bit the dust and just made him more pissed off and bitter.
You arrived at the tower with the fixings for bloody Mary’s (including some Asgardian mead, courtesy of Thor) and your homemade crab Rangoon's you knew Loki loved very much. You called up Tony so he could let you into the building. “you know Y/n you’re here so often maybe I should make you your own badge so you can come in any time you need without me having to buzz you in” “That would be nice, thank you” You smile to him as the door opens.
“Loki still in his room?” Tony just nods, but before you leave up the stairs to his room he gently grabs your arm and you look up at him. “please be careful y/n, I’m still finding it hard to trust him and I don’t want you to get hurt” you smile again gently “I’ll be okay, I promise” he nods, but still has a worried expression on his face.
You approach Loki’s door, you take a deep breath and knock
“Go away you mewling quim” he spits out, shamelessly turning you on a bit.
“It’s me, y/n, I come with offerings”
He opens the door, eyes bloodshot with a look of pissed off-ness and agony
“What do you want?” he spits out
“I know you want to be left alone, but I wanted to be here for you tonight”
his expression softened up a little while keeping his guard up. He opens the door more and beckons you in to close the door. He was reading what looked like an old book about vampires, you set everything down on a table in his room.
“What sort of offerings did you bring y/n”
“I brought freshly made crab Rangoon's and the stuff to make bloody Mary’s”
“mmm two of my favorite Midgard things” he hummed in approval, but still seeming pissed off
You started making the drinks while Loki was eating.
“So, how’s your week been?” You ask while sitting down next to him, you look at him, undivided attention while trying to get a read on how he’s feeling.
“Fine” he practically growled at you. You nod and things stay quiet for a while. You decide to turn on some funky music to get into a better mood, maybe even dance with him
“Y/n what are you doing”
“I wanna dance, what does it look like?” You grind on him a bit, he forces a smile, but tries to hide it and turns the music off
“y/n maybe a bit later ok?” You nod sad but understandingly
*5 drinks later*
things get quiet again and he seems to have gone back to his silent thoughts
“Listen, Lo if you ever need someone to talk to I’m always here, and..” before you could say any more he lost it.
*he bangs a fist on the table*
“HERE IT FUCKING COMES, YOU ONLY WANTED TO BUTTER ME UP SO I’D SPILL MY GUTS, MAYBE EVEN MY HEART OUT TO YOUR PATHETIC ASS... I’M PERFECTLY FINE YOU DAMN QUIM! ACTUALLY, YOU WANNA KNOW THE TRUTH? FIIIIIINE! I HAD THE SHITTIEST UPBRINGING I’VE EVER KNOWN, THE ONLY ONE WHO TRULY UNDERSTOOD ME WAS FRIGGA AND SHE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF ME! I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO GO TO HER FUNERAL, I WAS HARSH AND VILE, MY LAST WORDS TO HER HAUNT ME STILL TO THIS DAY! I SAID THINGS THAT I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO TAKE BACK, I WAS THE WORST SON SHE, OR ANYBODY COULD ASK FOR! AND ANOTHER THING, ODIN WAS RIGHT FOR KEEPING MY IDENTITY HIDDEN OF WHAT I TRULY AM, BECAUSE I AM A FUCKING MONSTER!”
He was so mad his Jotun form temporarily came out for a moment, the sudden outburst shakes you to your core, the usually soft man yelled at you, you knew he would often yell at other people, but never you, until tonight. You’re shaken and your eyes want to tear up because you know that pain all too well.
You stand up to look the man before you, shaking, scared but understanding, your heart breaks after hearing Loki’s last words he had yelled out. You tried to bring your hand to his face, but he dodged the gesture.
“Loki, you are not the only one with a fucked up upbringing”
“Y/n is that supposed to make me feel better?!” he seethed
“No, it’s the goddamn truth” you said, trying to fight back tears and flashbacks as hard as possible, but to no avail. “at least you had a mother that gave a flying fuck about you! I don’t even have that!”
He takes a sharp inhale “then lets see who had a more fucked up upbringing, shall we?” still fuming mad, just more quiet than his yelling a few minutes ago. At this point the drinks starting to wear off for him.
“My birth was a mistake, my own mother didn’t want me, she didn’t even want my dad to know she was in labor so she could lie to him and say that I died or just to be able to leave me to be someone else’s problem, luckily my grandmother, my dad’s mother was notified as soon as m/n was at the hospital in labor, about to give birth to their only child. My dad couldn’t initially be there for my birth because he was about fifty or more miles away, he hauled ass to the point where he got a speeding ticket but was able to be there sometime after.
“Oh boo hoo you you were a mistake, big whoop”
“that’s not even close to the whole story Loki, sit your ass down” you roll your eyes to him.
“My dad talks m/n into keeping me, despite how she feels towards me, everything is fine for a while, until around the age of three to five years old she decided she’d had enough of me and/ or my father and she snapped. It was late at night, she turned to me and my dad and essentially said she couldn’t do “this” anymore, even I'm not too sure what she meant, but she asked me a question you should never have to ask a child. She asked me if I wanted to stay with my dad or go with her, I chose to stay with my dad and she walked out the front door right in front of us, just left like I didn’t mean a goddamn thing to her.” You could tell Loki was about to interject but you put a finger up to his lips.
“I’m almost done, I promise” you pleaded to him, sorrow coating his expressions.
“years later me, m/n and my dad started working things out, m/n actually wanted to be apart of my life, things were looking up, things were actually ok...” you looked up to pause and see Loki’s expression, for a moment there was hope on his face, but sadly it was gone as quick as it came. “until I turned 9, for some reason m/n stopped wanting to see me, wouldn’t even talk to me or my dad, everybody was puzzled, until the winter came. I had gotten a letter from m/n” you take a shaky breath as you recall what the letter said.
“y/n this will be the last time you ever hear from me. I’m letting you go, you were and continue to be the biggest mistake of my life, I should never have had you, much less taken you home the night you were born, I wish you died so I wouldn’t have had the burden of being your mother.
“that part always hurt the worst, after my grandma telling me that I did actually almost die the night I was brought into this world." "P.s. leave me the hell alone, I do not wish to be found, especially not by you." "I ripped that letter to shreds, but I still remember every word, every thought and emotion that raced in my head and in my heart, from that day forward I knew I would never be loved, because if my own mother couldn’t even love me, then how could I expect anybody to love me?”
You closed your eyes at the buildup of tears and every emotion that still haunted you from that damned letter, you start to fall when you feel strong hands catch you, you look up to see those gorgeous light blue oceanic eyes that were Loki’s. All the rage that was originally in his eyes had been replaced by sorrow.
“y/n I had no idea anybody could go through this amount of pain, much less a Midgardian for Odin’s sake! No offense but I thought you Midgardians were so weak but my gods I have no idea how you’ve survived for so long”
“No offense taken” you force a soft smile.
Loki gave you a strong hug, you were probably hugging for a while but it only felt like a minute, you were holding onto each other for as long as either of you needed the other person. a few more minutes and he finally breaks the hug. He proceeded to write, no, scribble something down on a piece of paper “what’re you doing?” You asked with curiousness.
“I’m giving you my number, any time you need to talk I’m here for you, ok?” He said as he was tearing up. “I don’t care what hour, any time you need me don’t hesitate to call”
“I will” you say while giving him a sheepish smile as you start heading out of his room.
“Stay for the night?”
You stop in your tracks
“p- pardon?”
He laughs and takes your hands so you're facing him
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