Just Another Hopeless Fangirl

18+ Mainly a lurker/commenter of fanfics...occasional writer of my own. **WILL ACCEPT LOKI-RELATED ONESHOT REQUESTS--Open**

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

**FANFICTION MASTERLIST**

NIGHTS AT THE CIRCUS (Complete) 18+ Avengers!Loki x Reader You encounter Loki after being 'recruited' by the Avengers for your pyrokinesis. The closer you find yourself getting, the further Loki goes to help you uncover the secrets of your past in order to pursue your future. The Chair, Again A Frost Giant's Lullaby

BEAUTY & THE SNAKE PRINCE (Complete) 18+ Prince!Loki x Concubine!Reader After being forced to audition to be the Prince of Asgard's newest concubine, you use your hopeless situation to try and win freedom for your people, but you don't expect to fall for the moody, tortured Prince Loki.

DON'T FEAR THE REAPER (Complete) 18+ Soft!Dom!Loki x Magic!Reader Cursed with the power to kill with a single touch, S.H.I.E.L.D. deems you a high-level threat until Loki intercedes on your behalf, betting that under his guidance, you can bring your gifts under control within a year.

Time & the Trickster (Loki/Doctor Who Crossover) (Complete) eventual Loki x Reader; hinted Ten x Rose One final effort to prevent his sacrifice at the TVA sends Loki careening through the Timelines until he finds what may be the strangest one of all. His only hope comes in the form of the first person he meets, who suggests a mysterious mad Doctor might be his only chance to return home. 

Déchiré: An Avengers’ Lust Story (On Hiatus) 18+ Loki x Reader; Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader; Steve x Bucky You are a HYDRA agent sent to infiltrate the notorious Avengers, to tear them apart in the worst way possible in order to make them vulnerable to attack. In the midst of the wild heat you generate, three suitors take your bait.

A Song for the Fallen (Complete!) 18+ Bucky x Reader; Steve Rogers x Reader After your new husband is Snapped out of existence and leaves you pregnant with his child, Steve Rogers takes it upon himself as a final duty to his best friend to support you for the duration...until he falls in love with you himself. Five years later, just as you're finally ready to marry the Captain, Bucky returns, expecting his beloved wife to fall into his arms. The Cradle Will Rock

Loki's Island Fever (Complete!)18+ ONLY Avenger!Loki x Reader (enemies-to-lovers) You find yourself marooned on an uncharted island with the last person you want: the bratty, cocky Loki. But when a tropical fever sends his thoughts in a different direction, will your new island home become the sexy paradise you always wanted?

Visions of Asgard (Complete!) 18+ ONLY Asgardian!Loki x Princess!Reader (forced marriage) As a palace Seer, your vision leads to Prince Thor's assassination, but instead of being killed, Odin decides to wed you to his new heir, Prince Loki, who resents you. MASTERLIST PART 2

A Whisper in the Woods (Coming Soon) 18+ ONLY Alpha!Bucky x Omega!F!Reader Fleeing an abusive would-be mate, you spent the past three years hiding out in the forests of Soviet-occupied Europe, until your solitude is broached by an intimidating Alpha in need of his own hideout. (A/B/O)

FANFIC MUSIC DRABBLE FESTIVAL MASTERLIST (Complete) LOKI X READER KINK DRABBLE MINISERIES MASTERLIST RAINY DAY STORIES- SOFT!LOKI SENSORY MEDITATIONS

One Shots: All Audiences The Princess of Mischief Dream Weaver Pure Chaos The Skin We're In When the World Fell The Date On the 3rd Day of Christmas The God and the Wallflower Astraphobia Nurse Loki Light My Candle Coffee, Black The Real Thing I Hate You, Captain Marvel! The 1st Annual NYC Avengers Convention Shine! Blazing with the Boys An Oasis The Avengers Embark on a Brief Escape from Sanity Thief of Hearts (Will Ransome x Reader) The Princess and the Stable Boy Idunn and the Golden Apple Loki, Triumphant (Loki x Sigyn) A Strange Little World

Our Mrs. Loki (Part 1 of 2) Old Mrs. Loki (Part 2 of 2)

The Birds They Put in Cages (Part 1 of 2) No Net Ensnares Me (Part 2 of 2)

One Shots: 18+ Only The Mating Dance Don't Touch Me Just Another Baby Story The Little Green Handkerchief Know Your Place Dangerous Curves Deliriously Happy Snow Bound A Taste of the Bubbly Blame it On the Rain The Wedding Altar Mother, May, I? (Bucky x Pregnant!Reader) Return of the King All Mine The Casting Couch Temptress in the Shower Next to Godliness

A Damsel's Debt A Prince's Debt --New! A Very Good Pet A Very Naughty Pet

MY AO3

Behold! A new-and-improved masterlist!

Enjoy!

@lokisgoodgirl @anukulee @coldnique @chantsdemarins @el-zef @fictive-sl0th @glitterylokislut @holymultiplefandomsbatman @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress @kellatron55 @kikster606 @loopsisloops @lowkeyorloki @lokischambermaid @lokimostly @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @peachyjinx @psychospore @silverfire475 @sarahscribbles @trickster-maiden @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

OMG you guys, my soul is in flight.

The colors, the atmosphere, the music...and the fact that it's only a few months away instead of another year like I was worried for...I am plotzing!

and DANG KORRA WHAT DID YOU DO, GURL?!

[biteofcherry]

Honestly? I'm not excited about Avengers Doomsday at all 🙄

I mean, I'm gonna be a hoe for Steve as always, but I'm just not interested in that movie much.

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

TBH its going to be the Disney's Wish of the MCU. That is, all cameos and inside jokes to tickle the audience, but with little originality or substance.

Dont expect Steve to be in it very long. I'd be shocked if he was on screen for more than 10 minutes.

[super-hero-confessions]

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

yyyyeah it did not quench me neither

[virgo-disaster]

Y'ALL

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Waking up to hearing Lindsay Graham died is better than coffee

[smolvenger]

A Better Helpmeet (Tom Hiddleston x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: Tom goes away to film and premiere The Essex Serpent. But when you find out what it's about, it causes your doubts and insecurities to overwhelm you...

Word Count: 5807 (you will need breaks for food, water, and to use the bathroom.)

Warnings: Not liking the Essex Serpent (or Queen Charlotte) and taking that out in writing. Portrayal of suicidal feelings. There is a suicide attempt in the fic but I will never show the actual scene. It will just cut to the person getting help. Mentions of sexual assault and the fear of cheating. Pregnancy. Cyber bullying.

A/N: So this is a request I got from @steaa90-blog to do a fanficiton about Reader being pregnant when Tom is involved in The Essex Serpent until she finds out what it's about and confronts him. She wanted it to be 5K pages. I got up to 3K...but then I realized where this fic needed to go. This will get darker and I will open up about what happened to me last year. In short, last year I became manic and had a suicide attempt, but obviously survived and got help. I am doing better now, but writing this was a way to reflect on what happened and use my pain for art in some way, and to heal from what happened. I may not have had a Tom, but I had my family and a couple friends. My DM's are open if you ever want to talk. But if you have suicidal feelings, please drop everything and contact emergency services. These feelings go away and they end, I promise you. But anways, please share a comment if you liked it!

When the little plus sign arrived on the test, you knew your life had changed forever. Still, you had to be sure, so you got another test. And then another. And another.

Plus sign. Plus sign. Plus sign.

It was one thing to suspect. To have that inkling. That suspicion. Tom and you satisfied each craving, each want. And you wanted to have a family. But it was different to have the dreaming and seeking. It was another thing to have the evidence right in front of you. Something wonderful was happening. It had happened, and it was about to happen. It was more wonderful than you could ever imagine. It was flourishing in you. Although right now, the child inside you was so small. The size of a pea. But it would grow. A child who was already so loved and so wanted.

Still, you had to have things ready for your husband. When he arrived home, you were immediately at the front door as he stepped in. You threw your hands around his shoulders. Tom, dear Tom. He was everything. Your lover. Your best friend. And now the father of your child.

“Tom…” you began.

He paused, his jacket still over his shoulders.

“What is it, my dear?” he asked.

You pulled out the three pregnancy tests from your pocket.

“We’re having a baby!” you cried.

He picked you up and spun you around, landing a kiss right on your lips. You kissed him again.

“I’ve never loved you more. You’re going to be a wonderful mother- I love our little one already,” he said, placing a warm hand on your belly.

You already had an announcement set up for Instagram. You put out a blanket with a whiteboard and set flowers around it.

“Welcome Baby Hiddleston-Coming Soon.”

The responses brought love and care. There were a few “OMG! Congrats!” 

 And “WOW! Tom Hiddleston is a DILF,” which made you laugh. And you did agree. Fatherhood was going to make him even more attractive to you. There was something about a hot dad. A man who cared and took care of his family. 

As well as “this is going to be a beautiful baby. The mom is hot, the dad is hot, combined? Come on!” and “Tom is too fine not to reproduce.”

But then…there were other comments.

 They were little. At first like the faint buzzing of a bee flying past you. You saw “really, with her?” As well as “she must be puking out her guts now- LOL!” and “Just wait until she gains all that baby weight, he won’t want her then.”

They were at first a few. But they were a vocal few. You tried to ignore them.

But still, they bothered you. They made you uncomfortable. And your phone kept buzzing. There was new information on there. It was as if your phone was alerting you to every last little thing that was going on. Blasting a comment at your face. And taking a gamble as to what this person would say.

The dam did not confine itself to Instagram. X had featured memes of you with your face on animals that had thousands of likes. Threads had people listing every wrong thing you were doing in public. Tumblr posts were sharing very unflattering images of you. You were self-conscious when you went out. And when you were out, how much paparazzi followed you? How many photos did they take? You made sure you wore nice clothes and put on makeup before you stepped out of the house, from then on. It seemed there was a little of it when you were first with Tom. But now it seemed it was more persistent. 

“They’re…they’re jealous, don’t take it personally,” you reminded yourself. It carried you through. 

The first trimester had its trials. You were waking up in the morning. Your stomach souring. You ran over, lifted the lid to the toilet, and threw up. You liked to start the day by drinking water. Usually, you drank one whole bottle before you had your coffee (only now, you had to switch to decaf). It was only a few sips, and soon it felt like you had to go pee or you would die. So you would burst into the bathroom and pee out until every last drop squeezed out of you. 

It was then that Tom left to film a certain project. A miniseries from Apple TV. You had no idea what it was. Tom gave you some background on it. It was a television adaptation of a novel, The Essex Serpent. The book had won awards. A producer picked it up to adapt it to the screen. Tom signed a contract with Apple TV. So he had to do as they commanded. You looked up a summary on the IMDB page for the yet-to-be-made series: a widowed woman finds refuge looking for a serpent.

Funny. The main character is a woman. That's odd, with such a big name like Tom, you would assume it would be about him. He had long earned his share of leading man roles. How could he not? 

You talked with Tom over the phone one night. Right over your dinner of chicken and baked potatoes.

“Who do you play?” you asked.

“I play William Ransome, he’s the vicar of this small town,” he explained.

You smiled. “Oh…so you’re going to be a hot priest?”

“A what?” 

“The term came from this show, Fleabag. Name says it all. There’s a character who’s named Hot Priest. He falls for the main girl. It gets really sexy, and then really sad. Everyone wanted him and loved him,” you explained.

A small laugh came out of Tom. His eyes sparkled.

“Ah, thank you,” said Tom.

It was fun, having the house to yourself. All the streaming platforms for marathons of your favorite shows and movies. Going to the toilet with the door open. You even enjoyed getting a whole tub of ice cream with no husband to share it with.

But then there was silence.

Nothing. Only the cars crossing the road outside. The rain pattering on the window. And the pregnancy. You were putting on weight. Cue all the comments on Instagram predicting you would look like a cow. And with the way your breasts were starting to heave with milk, you already felt like one. 

But there was a point where it was pure boredom. No show seemed good enough to watch. No book seemed interesting enough to read. And you were off from work. There with your growing belly and your swelling feet and heavy breasts.

Your calls to Tom became longer. He didn’t talk much about hte shoot. Only about it being cold and missing hot, warm tea and dinners. It was both a comfort and a torture to see the pictures people have taken on set. Tom in priest attire in the middle of fields or with sexy open white shirts. Your hormones were raging. You wanted to grab him and ride him into the sunset. Get on your knees and suck him dry. Thank the lord for vibrators. It would then only leave you feeling empty once the device was turned off. It wasn’t like having him actually there. You missed him.

But soon he was back. You embraced and kissed him. Having things to watch now would be more interesting with his commentary. His presence, his footsteps, his scent. 

Though time passed. Editing was now complete. Soon, the show was about to premiere. There would be a red carpet, heels, gowns, and champagne. Followed by a screening where everyone sat and tasted the first three episodes.  

“I don’t know if you should go,” Tom said.

He was scrolling on his phone when the announcement came. A call for all involved to be there for the premiere. You looked down at your growing belly. You were now starting to waddle around the house like a penguin.

“I agree,” you said. “Go ahead, I don’t have to be there.” 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was always good to have a life outside of your marriage, outside of your home, so you met with your friend Jackie. It was a typical meeting of hers- a trip to see the different shopping locations followed by a meal. She plopped her bags down beneath the table. She got tons of new clothes versus your one modest bag. At once, she was ordering a drink, an appetizer, and rib-eye. She looked at you and beamed, her face full of makeup and looking as upright as ever in her stylish dress. 

“Where has Tom been?” she asked.

“He got back from filming, and now he’s gone for the premiere,” you answered.

The server arrived with your mozzarella sticks. Jackie took one and dipped it in marinara sauce.

“What’s premiering?”

“It’s a period drama.”

“Period drama? Y/N, I hardly watch those. Love Island’s been taking up my time.”

“The Essex Serpent. It’s based on a book. He’s playing a hot priest, and the internet is going to explode when he does. If it hasn’t already.”

Jackie blinked. The mozzarella stick in her hand froze in mid-air. She set it down. It’s hot, fried, cheesy goodness all forgotten.

“The Essex Serpent?” she asked.

“Yeah!”

Your drinks arrived. The server placed Jackie’s margherita to her left. She then put your virgin drink to your right.

“Do you know what it’s about?” Jackie asked.

“Yeah. It’s the 19th century. This woman’s abusive husband dies. She’s going to look for this giant serpent in a small town,” you took a sip of your drink. It was fruity and sweet.

“But…do you know what the priest has to do with it?” Jackied asked. 

She put her mozzarella stick on her plate. She leaned forward and folded her hands.

“Tom’s the love interest.”

“Y/N, he’s married,” Jackie said.

“He marries the main woman?”

“No…he’s already married. With kids. I read the book, Y/N. It’s about an affair.”

You paused. Something in you froze. She might as well have slapped you.

“I’m sorry…what? Could you say that again? I want to make sure I’m not crazy, Jackie.”

“It’s an adultery story,” she said.

A heaviness that had nothing to do with the baby settled in your stomach. Jackie continued.

“He cheats on his wife as she’s dying from tuberculosis.”

Now you knew you weren’t hungry. You picked at your food when it arrived, and had to take the rest back in a box. But your mind was whirling.

It disrupted your sleep. You tossed and turned. You got out your phone, intending to call Tom, but you couldn’t. You knew he was busy.

Who was she? This fictional woman. This fictional wife?

Part of you hoped the wife was mean. Or abusive. That made it an easier pill to swallow. Adultery was easier to understand when one partner was a demon from hell. When you were a kid, you found this soap opera in your aunt’s DVD collection and watched some of it. It took place in the older days. There was this beautiful heroine who fell in love, but her father forced her to marry a much older man. The older husband sexually assaulted her on their wedding night. He beat her, killed her maid, and even locked her up in her room. The heroine ended up having an affair in the midst of this. 

You remembered when you went to your mother as a pre-teen, and asked: “Mama, is adultery okay if one of the partners is abusive?” You couldn’t recall her answer.

When you stalked online, some people agreed with you. But it set off all sorts of responses from other people.

.

“Fiction isn’t supposed to be moral; stop being the Hays Code.”

“Fiction shouldn’t have to appeal to morality, bad stuff doesn’t have to be punished, are you a puritan?”

“But remember, your trigger warnings are your responsibility.”

But you couldn’t help but ask yourself, “Do your friends' mouths come with trigger warnings?”

Yes, Y/N, why didn’t you check the trigger warnings? Why weren’t you careful? Why did you act like that? Why did you dress like that? Why did you go to that place? Why did you have that drink? Why did you talk to that man? It’s all your fault. You should have been more careful. It. Was. All. Your. Fault. 

You didn’t plan to read the book at all. You ended up wandering into a bookstore. Noting which section marked P for Perry, as in Sarah Perry, the author. You would lower your eyes and walk away. Or flip it off. That made you feel better. A little. 

But then came one comment. It completely changed your perspective. 

This one woman online. How odd, you never met her and she never met you, but yet you respected her opinion- was talking about book reviews. She began to note that there were people who left reviews who never actually read the book. That it was wrong. Rude. Unfair.

You paused. Could you say you hated the Essex Serpent if you never experienced it? How could you be mentally critiquing it…and all while knowing nothing about it? 

There was only one way to settle that. One way to justify your hatred of the book. To gain the right to say or feel anything bad about it.

You went to the library and got a copy. 

You sat down to read. But found yourself invested in it. Reading on breaks. Reading before dinner and delaying dinner further to read more. Yes, the writing was pretty. Sarah Perry is more of a poet than a storyteller.

But this wife…her name was Stella. Stella for star. And her husband did call her a star of the sea. (“Liar!” you thought, wanting to throw the book across the room).

She handed people flowers. Befriended everyone. Saw beauty and meaning in such ordinary things. Her mother said sex was only endured for the sake of children, but she had a wonderful sex life with her husband. In fact, she was always pregnant early in their marriage. She had borne five children and buried two. You were already dealing with bearing one child, but having five! That was quite a lot! And you couldn’t imagine losing the one you had. When you read that part, you put a protective hand over your belly as if to shield your baby from any harm. 

Yes, Stella got sick. Yes, she wanted her husband to be happy. Yes, that involved saying she was too tired to dance. That her husband should dance with Cora, the main female character. Instead.

But…Neither Cora nor Will seemed to know that Stella approved of the affair. They didn’t know her thoughts and feelings. Didn’t consider it.

And they didn’t seem to care.

Nowhere in the text did they ever stop and think about how this would affect Stella. 

Will was too happy masturbating (while “howling like a dog”) over the marshes to Cora. Cora was busy picking out postcards to send to Will. 

And as Stella got sick, she would write in her journal. Though, of course, she didn’t allow Will to see her journal. So how on earth could he ever know she actually approved of the affair! She could not want it for all he knew!

Stella called Cora Will’s “better helpmeet.”

That meant his better wife.

Despite everything Stella did. Having sex with her husband. Giving him children. Being a dutiful vicar’s wife. Leaving him alone on Saturdays to work. Being religious and feminine. Having no ambitions outside of marriage and motherhood.  Being loyal to him. Loving only him.

She wasn’t enough.

She never was. And she never would be.

You tried not to think about it. To distract yourself. To find things that preoccupy your mind. You turned on Netflix to binge-watch the Queen Charlotte spinoff. Only to find out with horror that, betrayal of marital vows did in fact exist in that world. The kind that was celebrated. Violet’s father had an affair with Lady Danbury. And by then Lady Danbury was a widow. 

It was like The Essex Serpent. And his kid knew and approved… because of love? And it implied the wife deserved it because she was mean and…racist. (She! A wealthy white woman in 18th-century England was racist! That never happened!)

The wife’s actions and behaviors didn’t matter. A wife betrayed is a wife betrayed.

You wanted to throw your remote across the room. You wanted to punch the television. You ended up sobbing, downing two soda cans, and not sleeping.

How often had this happened? Why did people have that fantasy? You knew the answer. It was the fantasy of being desired, of being chosen, of being wanted that badly that someone with enough want would cross that line for you. Isn’t that what all women wanted, after all? To be wanted.

It then struck you…why did Tom say yes to this role? Why did he seem so eager to do it?

Why didn’t he tell you about the affair?

Had he read the book before? What did he think? What did he feel? Did he not consider Stella? Stella, the lesser helpmeet? 

To think when you married him, you thought him better, nobler, higher? Was Tom really just a man? 

All that love, all that work…and there was nothing. Nothing at all. Was he…betraying you? Wouldn’t he…would he? He probably already did. The role of Will Ransome stirred excitement in Tom. 

One morning, you woke up, and you couldn’t get yourself out of bed. You felt spent. Empty. Nothing.

You couldn’t text Tom. He was too busy with the premiere. And maybe a woman who was a better wife than you.

And how alone you were. They would all say you were crazy. Getting this upset over a fictional narrative? You should have checked the trigger warnings.

I’m stupid, you thought, stupid, and I hate myself.

You wanted to yell, to scream. You typed out a text to Tom that was in all caps, but you deleted it.

You lay in your bed, staring at your ceiling, and sobbed.

You then got up. But your body felt heavy. You could barely eat breakfast. You had several tabs open on your phone of various stores online. You put items in your cart as “treat yourself” shopping days, and you purchased a lot. Money was flying from your bank account. You maxed out your credit card. But no matter how much you bought, there was that rush, that thrill…and then it went away. It didn’t stop the bad feeling. Only numbed it for a short while.

You weren’t good enough for him. And he didn’t keep to his vows.

You felt nothing but pain. There was truly nothing but pain around you. And you wanted the pain to stop. Anything to make it stop.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next thing you knew, you were in a hospital. The white, fluorescent light blaring in your face. The tall, white walls bleaching out the world around you. It smelled acidic, like hand sanitizer. You wore a blue hospital gown over your shirt and pants. Red socks with little white dots all over them were on your feet. You looked around, and there were nurses and doctors all around you. 

The shame felt hard. You didn’t know if it was shame or relief. You felt embarrassed. You felt weak. You couldn’t lift your arms or move your legs. You didn’t know what to think. But you were also scared. Open and vulnerable. Dragged to your lowest point. At your ugliest, rawest self…and what would you find? You felt groggy. You felt frightened. You shook. You were something cracked and open. Raw and bleeding.

There was a doctor who was on the phone, talking to someone. You couldn’t tell who.

“Yes…suicide attempt…she survived, she’s with us. Called us in time. We have to watch her.”

You turned your head to her. As you spoke, your voice felt hoarse.

“Is…is the baby okay?” 

The medical worker turned her dark head over to you. She put a hand over the phone.

“Yes. The baby is still there. You both are gonna be okay.”

They wheeled you over from the emergency room to a hospital room. It was yellow with a wide window showing a street. It was already night, and there were no stars in the sky from the fluorescent glow of the hospital’s lights. Attached wires around your body to measure your pulse and vital organs. Though you had to peel them off to use the bathroom on shaky legs. They assigned one person to watch over you, sitting in a chair next to you as they stared at their phone all day. Noticing a small black remote, you pushed the red button to turn on the television. 

You were changing the channel to a movie when Tom burst in. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair unbrushed. Scruff was all over his chin. He ran over to you and took your hand.

“Darling, darling- how are you? Oh God, thank God-I canceled everything- I had to go over- they told me everything- tell me, how are you now?” he went over and cupped your face.

“I’m…I’m alright…”

He kissed the top of your forehead and pulled you in for a hug. It was the longest, tightest hug you had ever received from him. He smelled of sweat. It had struck you-he was your emergency contact. And he dropped everything he had to go to you.

“What happened? Please tell me!” he said.

“Tom, I…I…I thought you didn’t love me. And…I was all alone. I thought the pain would never end. I thought all I did for you. All that happened…was for nothing…and I felt…felt nothing…nothing but sadness…and I wanted it to go away.”

“You are enough for me, my angel. What brought you to think there was no way out? Well, I’m here. And I’m staying. I’m staying until the sadness goes away. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together,” he promised.

He stayed in that room all day. The TV screen played a movie from your childhood that you both watched together. Tom was there to hold your hand. He spoke to the nurses and made sure you got your meals delivered. He was there for checkups. He even sat on the bed and let you curl up next to him.

Once enough time had passed, the hospital declared you to be stable. They brought you to a crisis center to recover. They took your phone and placed it in a bag, putting it in a closet where you couldn’t access it. The days felt like a boarding school. You changed into a large grey sweatshirt that covered your belly and long pants with green socks. It was so cold in the building. You requested having an extra blanket that always had to stay in your room. They made sure you had the right medications that would not harm your baby. And you spent your days coloring, doing word searches. Walking the halls for exercise, staring out the window. Watching television and waiting for your next meal. God, it was boring. People in movies and media always made psych wards way scarier than they actually were. The other people in there didn’t threaten you. They usually slept all day. Taking all the comfortable couches, so all you had left were hard chairs to watch the current movie with.

You looked forward to the hour when they allowed you to call Tom. Guests and visitors weren’t permitted. But you could call. So you scrawled up his number on a piece of paper you always had with you. Then lay the scrap next to your bed as you slept. Dreaming of seeing him, touching him, being with him in every way a wife could. You would call and talk to him. He would discuss doing various chores around the house. Cleaning his office or a new recipe he tried, and he wanted to hear about all that you were doing. 

He even commented, “You’re already improving, my love. Keep at it. You’re starting to sound like yourself again.”

Then one morning, you walked into the main room before breakfast. A sitcom came on. On the show, a husband and wife were debating an issue. But then the wife proved her point with several quips. In the style of the sitcom, some words on the screen pointed to her and said: “Just got him.” Then the words pointed to the defeated husband and said: “hates being got.”

It made you laugh. Yes, laugh. It came out small, but then it poured out of you like singing, like a water fountain, like the stretch of a rainbow. Laughter. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed.

From then on, you made sure to make the most of your time. You talked with the social worker. You took your meds. You used the back pages of the word searches and coloring pages to journal with crayons. You made sure to watch every tv show and movie and take note of it to tell Tom all about it. Meals regained their taste. Everything was…interesting. You even made lists of everything you were going to do once you were out.

You were going to go to the park and walk for thirty minutes every day. You were going to reread all your favorite books. You were going to go eat ice cream. You were going to watch all these movies.

Soon enough, they put you in the room and announced that you would be heading home in two days.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That morning, the crisis center gave you your phone back and a bag. On it was a 90-day supply of your medications. There were cards reminding you of your first therapy and doctor's appointment. You gave them the address, and they put you in a car and drove you over. It was parked before your place. You got out, still in the grey sweatshirt and pants. Feeling like the final girl crawling out of the horror movie. Now that the horror was over…now what would happen? 

Once you arrived at your home, Tom immediately ran to the door. He embraced you and kissed you.

“My dear, we need to celebrate. What would you like to do? Anything you want to eat?”

“You know what I’m craving? Buttered popcorn. The kind from the movies,” you said.

After you changed out of your grey shirt and sweatpants, you and Tom saw a matinee at the local theatre. Damn the press, he was going to be out with his wife. You both saw something you’ve been curious about. Something you could handle. You munched on popcorn and let the butter get beneath your fingernails. As you walked out, you had to squint because the light of the day was shining right in your face. Your belly was so full you felt as if popcorn could spill out of it. Tom held your hand and walked you over to the car. He drove home, as you both discussed the movie. Tom went on about the acting. You pointed out what you liked and what you didn’t like.

But the time had come to finally bring up the subject. Now that you have privacy. It was easier while driving. Tom was looking at the road and getting close to parking the car at home.

“Tom, I know that the Essex Serpent is a cheating story. And your character cheats on his wife.”

He frowned. He turned a corner to the right.

“You know I’m not my characters.”

“Why did you agree to do it?” you asked.

“Let me park first.”

He pulled the car up to the spot where he always parked. He then put it in park and turned it off. He looked over at you.

“I don’t think cheating is an okay thing. And the book is beautiful. And I want to play complex characters. I want challenges. I love Loki, I always will, but I want to try to challenge myself.”

You folded your hands in your lap. You looked down over your swelling belly. Tears began to well up, and your face felt hot.

“But Tom…has there…has there been anyone…with you being so enthusiastic about this role, I…I…”

A tear rolled down your cheek despite yourself.

“Because you wanted to cheat on me!”

The sobbing began. Uncontrollable. A dam built up now broken. He held you and rocked you back and forth.

“Oh, my poor dear, oh sweet angel, darling Y/N…shhh, shhhh…” he said.

He then held your face, looking into your eyes. Wiping your tears with his thumb.

“No. There was no one. Not during filming. Not during the premiere. And there will be no one. There hasn’t been anyone since we met. I saw you, spoke to you…and when I realized I loved you, there was no one else for me. I wanted you for my wife, or I wouldn’t have one at all. I made you a promise-until death do us part. And I intend on keeping it.”

You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. He held you for a while. Outside, you heard birds chirping. The cool air from outside seeped in through the windows. But you had your husband to keep you warm.

“I-I read it, and I hated it. You may have gotten something out of it, but I…I respect you as an actor, but that story and Will make me so angry! You should have told me what it was about?” you asked.

“I…I didn’t want to spoil it for you!”

“I’d prefer to know what happens when you take something! I can handle spoilers.”

“Darling, I…I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

He released the hug. You sniffed back a few tears. A smile broke on you despite yourself. There was something inside of you bursting. But instead of feeling hopelessness, there was something else. Something growing- something pure.

“Tom…I know you’re not your characters. I don’t want your characters. I want you…But it’s been tough, the things- the things people online have said about me!”

“What do they say?” he asked.

You told him. His face turned red, and there was a flare in his blue eyes.

He took your hands in his own. They were large, soft, and warm, completely covering your own.

“And I promise, from now on, I will do everything in my power to protect you and the baby…I will be right here. And…if you ever want to speak. About anything. Anything at all…I promise you, I will not judge you. I am here, and I am listening.”

You both hugged each other. You felt a tear slide down from your eyes. He then gave you a little kiss on your forehead, and you smiled.

That night, he made a special chicken dinner. He put his hand on your thigh and smiled at you. He would whisper things to your ear. And you felt desire bloom in you like a flower. You both went to bed. And enjoyed each other’s bodies until it was very late, and you were crying his name aloud from pleasure.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the next week, he was attentive. He made sure to cook all your meals, he let you rest, and you watched movies and television together. Even doing each other's tasks on the computer in each other’s presence. You never left each other alone. 

On a Thursday, Tom got out the ring light. He adjusted the brightness and then got his phone out. He pressed a button, and soon the live video camera was on.

“Hello, this is Tom, and I have a message for you fans…”

You stood by, away from the camera. Tom didn’t believe in social media. He thought it was too much of a distraction. But yet here he was- going live on Instagram. His message was that important.

“I have heard some of you disrespecting and insulting my wife. Mocking her, being cruel to her- and this I cannot tolerate. I must ask that this stop now.”

You knew it might not be a perfect response. There will still be some comments that got to you, but you were going to practice as Tom did. Spending less time on social media. Setting your accounts to private. Spending more time in the real world, enjoying real things. Things like ice cream, books, movies, and warm drinks. You still had nightmares sometimes about what happened. Surviving a suicide attempt meant that now everything was a threat. You went to your ultimate low. And it struck you that you could go there again. 

Yet again, it only meant you saw your life as precious again. You were taking your medications at the same time every day. And you were getting therapy. With someone who wouldn’t cry, “Why didn’t you check the trigger warnings!” when you explained what happened. You continued to watch Tom.

“From now on, we’re going to take regular sabbaths from social media. But comments that dare to harm my wife, I will block and report.”

Tom then finished his message and signed off. Wishing love and a good day to all watching who would still support and love you both. It was wonderful- Tom couldn't help but be Tom. Even if he was angry, the rare times he was, it was full of love.

He turned off the ringlight and set his phone down. He then smiled at you.

“Have you heard of the Ariadne Project?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t,” you said as you walked closer to him. Putting a hand on your belly to steady yourself.

“It’s a charity. For women whose husbands or families have abandoned them. Give them food, water, things they need.”

“Oh, they sound lovely.”

“My dear, I took the rest of my check from the Essex Serpent…and I’ve donated it to this charity,” he said.

Your jaw dropped. You walked up to him, grabbing his hand.

“Tom, are you sure?” you asked.

“Of course I’m sure…”

You leaned your head against him in a hug. 

“Let’s never discuss that show again, Tom.”

“Alright. Only if you prompt it,” he said.

“Tom, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He put a hand on your belly. And you felt a kick. Letting out a gasp, you grabbed Tom’s hand and put it on your belly. A smile burst on him as he felt the baby kicking.

“Why, hello!” he said.

He leaned down, talking to the child inside as he placed both hands on your stomach.

“Your mother is the bravest person I’ve ever met. I can’t wait for you to meet her, little one.”

Tag list: @eleniblue @loz-3 @zonenozen @muddyorbsblr @five-miles-over @holdmytesseract @lelliefant @jeconomos @twotablelamps @saggitternolunaspace @amanamente @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85

[muddyorbsblr]

BESTIE 😭

This Tomathy is such a cinnamon roll, I can't cope

From the way that the Facetime calls got longer as their time away from each other progressed, like you can tell from where we're standing that this is a man that not only loves his wife, but yearns for his wife when they're apart. And it's honestly so heartbreaking to see that the combination of dark thoughts and snarky strangers on the internet create a silent monster so powerful that it sunk its hooks into Reader's mental health and steadily deteriorated it.

And then for The Essex Serpent itself to serve as this sort of "untouchable antagonist" because no matter how much you shout at it or throw the book around, it doesn't do anything to it, but it's definitely doing something to Reader. Like bestie the beef I suddenly had with a stack of papers 😤

It broke me to have to read how Reader went down a spiral with a quickness once she read the book and everything compounded and she had to face it all alone 😭 I was so relieved when the doctor told them "You're both gonna be okay" 🥺

And then Tomathy got to her and everything he did as soon as he got to her just solidified how down bad this man is for his wife. Like dropping everything and essentially burning his schedule down? You can practically hear him going "Cancel everything, my wife needs me" followed by a sprint to LAX like he couldn't get to Reader fast enough. And then ensuring that he would always be there for her when she calls from the center, and you can tell even from those calls that his main focus is getting the house ready for when she comes back home to him 🥹

Something that kind of stuck in my mind is the fact that Reader shopped so much before her attempt and yet she came back to a clean house, which just tells me that Tom was the one to receive those packages and then put them away, and I can already imagine him arranging them to look like a "welcome home" present for when she was discharged from the care center, and that got me all over again 🥹💖

Then he went and really knocked it out of the park when he went "I donated my check from the show" and not just that, but donating it to a project that takes care of women that have been abandoned? He is the ultimate cinnamon roll husband

Some of the things that got a chuckle out of me was the idea of him clocking "This is going to be a serious conversation hold up let me park first", and also the idea of having a ring light in the house for his live. Like I can imagine him calling his team and going "I need one of those ring lights people use on Instagram" and his team going "that's new…" 😂

And also their theater date was adorable and the bit about the popcorn being stuck under the nails was so real, like idk how it even happens, it's like movie theater butter has a superpower or something 🥴

You told me this was an angst read with a comfort ending, and bestie you definitely delivered. I hope this Reader just lives the happiest life with her husband and gets all the mango rides, she definitely deserves it 💖

[smolvenger]

Hiiii there bestie!

Yes, tom is the ultimate cinnamon roll protective husband!

And you bet once all those packages arrived that he was rearranging them and getting the house ready for Reader to return home!

Yeah, The Essex Serpent is a book worth punching in the face

Heehhehehe I didn't think too much about what they would be doing with a ring light in their home, but they have one!

I am glad you enjoyed it!

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Weird Al will always be the GOAT

[jobrker]

small canonical details in sweeney todd:

i've been obsessed with this musical for far too long. i will likely be making a second post. enjoy.

lucy could have married up. whether this is due to her family being better off than benjamin or just because she was beautiful, the line in poor thing, "had her chance for the moon on a string" implies that she could have married better than she had. someone who could "afford" to buy her the moon.

lovett's first name is nellie. this comes from a line of dialogue before not while i'm around where she says, "sit here by your aunt nellie like a good boy and look at your lovely muffler."

lovett has an aunt named nettie. nettie lived near the sea and lovett would visit her as a child, explaining her desire to move there. we do not know if aunt nettie is still alive or not.

mr. lovett's first name was albert. he developed gout and possibly passed away due to complications with it.

toby is implied to be an alcoholic. he grew up in a workhouse and he claims that is what they gave to the children.

catholicism was extremely controversial in england during the victorian era. it was just becoming legal in the 1840s. so the fact that pirelli mentions shaving the pope probably isn't very impressive to the crowd of londoners. pirelli, being irish, was probably catholic himself which explains why he brags about it.

during the competition scene between todd and pirelli in the 1970 bond play, todd uses anthony during the tooth-pulling segment and yanks out one of his molars. anthony immediately forgives him, being the good boy he is.

pirelli sees a tailor. this may imply that he makes enough swindling people into buying his elixir that he can afford such an expense whereas a lot of people of his background likely couldn't.

saint dustan's church is what's actually at the address of 186 fleet street. in a string of pearls, the tunnels underneath are used. this explains the bells we hear throughout the show, before not while i'm around and johanna (quartet) and this is the church anthony plans on bringing johanna to in order to marry her.

johanna was a year old when benjamin was sent away.

turpin works at the old bailey. this courthouse has since been destroyed (due to a fire). the "old bailey" was actually a nickname for it because of it the street it was on. it was actually called the central criminal court. it was renamed in 1834. todd was in australia by that point so he likely doesn't know the new name.

lucy sewed, as most victorian women/housewives did.

anthony is from plymouth, a (then) fishing town in south-eastern england.

lovett is uneasy at the idea of discussing what goes on in asylums when todd and anthony begin forming a plan to get johanna back. potentially, this has to do with lucy and knowing her fate.

lovett mentions visiting aunt nettie and the seaside during the august bank holiday. however, this bank holiday wasn't established until 1871. sweeney todd takes place in 1846.

despite knowing that lucy had been prostituting herself, todd still calls her virtuous in his last moments.

todd has some knowledge of engineering and construction since he was able to turn his barber chair from just a chair to one that connects to a chute and can send customers to the bakehouse. he would have to make that chute himself. he possibly learned this from his time in australia.

lovett adopts a few birds between act one and two. they are in a cage outside of the pie shop for customers to enjoy. she also has a garden out there.

act one takes place in august.

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

You forgot that the Beadle has a wife and baby daughter, and he adores the daughter enough to request for time off for her birthday. I know this because I played the silent Beadle's wife in my theater's version.

[sister-lucifer]

i would trust weird al with my drink at a party. granted he may put one of those capsules that expands into a sponge animal in it,

[rhyme-plus-zombie]

sorry i had a vision and i just had to draw it

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Hot take: even if you are Taylor Swift, there are no ethical billionaires.

There are people who will lose their entire day's income over this because they can't get to their businesses or carts.

You can like her music but people need to stop pretending she's down with the pleibs or "the voice of our generation."

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

***MASTERLIST***

A peasant in Vanaheim is forced to audition to be the concubine of the infamously detestable Loki of Asgard in tribute for Odin’s protection. Taking advantage of a lost cause, you decide to take the lessons of your aunt, a temple priestess to the goddess of love, to Asgard in order to seduce the prince in an attempt to win freedom for your people.

Instantly finding yourself struggling to stay afloat among the brutal nobles, cutthroat concubines, jealous princesses, and brutal games you never dreamed could exist in your worst nightmares, it becomes difficult to keep your head down in the court, or in the bed, of the infamous Snake Prince.

Pairing: Prince Loki x Concubine!Reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY (Minors DNI)

Content Warning: Threat and mentions of assault, eventual smut, indentured servitude and sex slavery, mean people being mean, violence, executions, more warnings likely to come

1- An Audition 2- The Snake Prince of Asgard 3- An Unusual Night 4- The Game 5- Death and a Diary 6- A Garden of Forking Paths 7- Others 8- Those Down Below 9- The Lesson 10- Days of Love, Days of Pain 11- The Viper Retreats 12- Queen of the Universe 13- Princess Ase 14- A Royal Bargain 15- Lokabrenna 16- Into the Shadows 17- Return the Stars 18- Heart Song

@vickie5446 @thedistractedagglomeration @jonquilclegane @lonadane @lokisgoodgirl @just-someone11 @mcufan72 @hypergamer7744 @usagishira @silverfire475 @coleranchdorito @huntress-artemiss @elegantcheesecakecrown @lokixryss @25bohemianmoons @crimson25 @waywardsummoner46 @ladyjames78 @chantsdemarins @sorceresski @ladymischief11 @goblingirlsarah @fictive-sl0th @goldencherriess @marvel-fan24 @trickster-maiden @glitterylokislut @psychospore @silverfire475 @wolfsmom1 @coldnique

[bowlby4]

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

If you look at the photos and video from G7, its more evident than ever his days are numbered. So far gone he's practically an NPC. Have faith.

[alexa-santi-author]

The cheap Barefoot Bubbly rosé champagne I got at 50 percent off awaits. Because he doesn’t deserve the good stuff.

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Ah yes, piss-pagne. I drank Barefoot like water in college. I dont drink anymore but I have a nug of the stinkiest THC waiting.

[bowlby4]

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

If you look at the photos and video from G7, its more evident than ever his days are numbered. So far gone he's practically an NPC. Have faith.

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

"Don't Touch Me" (Loki x F!Reader)

Summary: Cursed with the power of necrogenesis, you are held captive by the Avengers, who think you are too much of a threat to be allowed to roam free. When they decide to give you a chance to prove yourself, they entrust your care to Loki, who whisks you away to a safe house in New Asgard.

Pairing: Soft!Loki x Captive!Reader Content Warning: angst, comfort, smut (18+ ONLY), reader is a prisoner, Soft!Dom!Loki, narratophilia, magic bondage (soft), praise kink Word Count: 5.1k **Please reblog this if you like it! Thank you!**

Hours? Days? Weeks?

For all you knew, it had been a year since your capture. 

Three years prior, you’d woken one not-so-fine morning to discover that everything died at the slightest touch of your finger. Whether it was a plant, animal, or person, nothing alive was safe from you. You didn't know how or why it was you, but the fact was: it was you. You went from normal insurance claims adjuster to reaper overnight. It was no small thing to get used to. 

You shut yourself away, learned to make friends online and in other countries whom you would never meet in person, tell the pizza guy to leave it outside (money’s in the mail slot), and to put the idea that you;d ever meet a man out of your head forever. You had yet to kill a human, thankfully, but every day you felt the anxiety build within your chest as you knew that record couldn’t possibly remain ‘zero’ forever. 

You were a monster. The best thing for a monster to do was to hide in its cave.

Yet, you’d managed three years of hiding, wearing leather gloves from the second you awoke to the second you went to bed (aside from in the shower, of course), and staying as far away from cities as you could. Perhaps, given how introverted you were naturally, you could live a quiet life in peaceful solitude. You were considering buying a cabin in the Appalachians, near a waterfall or a creek one day. It would be lonely, but at least you would be free and unafraid of accidentally killing someone who insisted on shaking your bare hand. The little town in Connecticut where you were keeping a low profile was close enough to NYC that you could see the light pollution on the southern horizon at night, and it would do for the time being. 

Unfortunately, your time ended. A surveillance camera had caught an accident of yours in a local park, where one of your gloves had blown off and flown down a path, and in chase, you’d tripped and tried to grab onto a tree branch to stop your fall. 

The entire tree came down behind you, barely missing your body, dead as if it had been dried up for centuries in the blink of an eye. 

That tape had made it to the eyes of Nick Fury himself over the course of only a few hours. The Team moved in on you on a typical Monday morning, just as you pulled on your gloves, ready to leave the apartment for work. What else could you have done but pulled off your gloves in an attempt to defend yourself? Despite being unable to take out any of your assailants, of which there were four, you’d taken out half of the park’s greenery, and a few unfortunate pigeons that couldn’t get out of your way as you stumbled and desperately scrambled away from the archer, the one with scraggly hair, the red witch, and the birdman. 

Before you knew it, you were subdued and wrapped up tightly so that none of your skin below your chin was exposed, and you were taken to a solid glass holding cell somewhere underneath a compound in the Hudson valley: the headquarters for the New Avengers Initiative. 

You were fed through a trick door in the side of the 12 x 12 cell (not that you were particularly hungry at any point). You were never taken out or touched, only handed sanitary items through the door and told to shower through a water spout that hung from the ceiling after most of the lab team studying you went home. Dr. Banner gave you 30 minutes without cameras trained on you every day. 

Not that it mattered much. You still sat there day in and day out, refusing to speak or answer any of the thousands of questions about your powers that you didn’t want to answer. You refused to eat, and you did little more than sleep or sit on the ground, staring off into the middle-distance. 

You began to get weaker, and that was when you first saw your champion. 

It was none other than Loki of Asgard, the god who’d torn New York City apart, then played an integral part in stopping the end of the world at the hand (quite literally) of a god much bigger than he. While the rumor was that he still wasn’t considered fully trustworthy, his role in saving humanity was apparently enough to give him a spot on the Avengers squad. 

On the morning he’d come down to the cell to get a look at you, he appeared tired, a bit annoyed to be there. “And what do you want me to do about her?”

“She’s a villain, she’s got your…um…background,” said Dr. Banner. “Perhaps she’ll talk to you. She will likely die in a few weeks if this continues. Something has to give.” 

“So you called me forth from my respite to show me your latest trophy? Do you think I would approve of you taking captive someone who won’t even speak her name?” he asked, sounding less impressed and more disappointed. “What makes you think she has ill intentions?”

Loki rounded a corner with Dr. Banner, and he was finally in your view. 

Your first impression was that he wasn’t quite as intimidating as you’d expected him to be. He was tall, but you’d anticipated a figure at least half a foot taller than what strode up to your cage, dressed in a black leather tunic, trimmed in gold, and form-fitting black trousers of the same color, tucked into green knee-length boots. His hair was tied in a tail at the nape of his neck, and several strands in the front were loose, framing his angular face. His eyes were intense and focused singularly on you as soon as he got you in his sights. 

“Did she try to kill you?” he asked, making a beeline for you, standing up along the glass, watching you with interest as if you were a zoo animal. 

“She did put up a fight. She may not have super serum strength or anything, but you try apprehending someone who can stop your heart with a flick,” Banner explained. 

“And I trust you explained to her what was happening, and gave her the chance to come quietly?” Loki inquired, smiling gently at you, making you turn your head away bashfully. 

“Well, no,” said Banner sheepishly. “We were under the impression it wasn’t going to be on the table. According to our intel, absolutely anything she touches dies before it hits the ground, you understand.”

“It sounds as if you wouldn’t have known either way,” scoffed Loki, getting down onto his knee, bringing his eye level closer to the floor, closer to you. “And you all think I’m the bad one. At least I eventually called my sins what they were and changed my ways.”

Banner shrugged. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Maybe if you can get her to talk, we can consider getting her out of there.”

Loki nodded. “I will do my best, and I won’t treat her like a war criminal for defending herself in the process.”

The doctor left the god alone, dimming the harsh fluorescent lights, making the environment slightly more comfortable. 

He smiled at you, and even though you knew he was in earnest, something about the sharpness of his grin, the unnatural whiteness of his teeth, gave him an air of sinister jest. You were still afraid to look him in the eye as he shifted around the cage next to where you leaned against the glass. 

You heard three light taps by your right ear, making you flinch. 

“Hello, there,” whispered a soft, deep voice. “Please don’t be frightened of me. I’m not frightened of you.” 

You finally used your voice for the first time in ages, compelled to respond to your dashing jailer without even really thinking on it. “That’s because of the glass.”

“I’m sorry? These walls are thick, would you mind terribly speaking up?”

“The glass,” you repeated. “If we were on the same side, you’d be afraid of me.”

“Forgive me, Miss,” Loki replied, “But I’ve been told enough about you to pass judgment on that, and I say, you aren’t a danger.”

“But how can you tell?” you asked meekly, feeling a tear at the corner of your eye, quickly blinking it back. It was remarkable at how fraught your situation felt: it was enough to extract intense emotions out of every single word you said. 

“Darling,” your ally leaned in, as if to whisper a gentle secret in your ear, “I trust my instinct. You look about as helpless as a gosling. I can see how the skin on your neck trembles.”

“I don't know why or how this happened. Please don’t expect answers,” you pleaded. “Please, tell them to let me go.”

Loki sighed and looked down. “My word isn’t, as of yet, in the best position here, though I am working on it, I assure you.”

“Please,” you said, the desperation in your voice losing intensity, giving way to an exhausted weakness. “Please, help me. I just want to live alone where I can’t hurt anyone. I won’t ever go looking for trouble, I swear--” 

“--ssh, I know, pet, I know,” Loki said quietly. “Cease worrying. Loki will take care of you.” 

Loki will take care of you.

The sentence, particularly its’ delivery, made goosebumps rise along your arms, although you felt them appear for a reason you didn’t quite find familiar at first. 

He stayed with you for nearly twelve hours, taking his meals with you, talking gently about inconsequential matters to distract you from your circumstances. 

When he was finally forced away so that you could have your evening shower, he turned back one last time before leaving. “I will always be back for you,” he vowed. “Y/N, you’ll be free by morning.” 

For the first time since your arrest, you slept soundly, your angular, Asgardian savior filling your dreams with feelings of safety and love. 

Loki had promised your freedom by morning. He was true to his word. 

“Look, I don't exactly feel confident in letting you two go off into the wild blue yonder to cause havoc,” said the imposing Nick Fury, who, quite frankly, frightened the ever living hell out of you. “I was ultimately convinced,” he looked bitterly at Loki, who shrugged innocently, “but there are terms. If I get wind of either of you sneezing without permission, you both come right back here and get thrown into the motherfucking dungeon.”

“We don’t have a dungeon,” Loki mumbled, a smart-ass grin rolling across his face to try and break the tension. You smiled for the first time in a long, long while. 

“Watch it, Laufeyson,” said Fury. “You’re the one sailing this boat. Don't sink it.”

Neither of you wanted to arouse his ire any further, so you decided to quietly slip away and out of the city, taking a quinjet being flown by Banner out to a place you’d never realized existed. 

“New Asgard,” your handsome escort explained as you began your descent. “The survivors among my people settled here after the fall of our homeworld and the slaughter we faced when we tried to escape. There aren’t many. It is…regrettably…a bit spartan.” 

“Better than that terrible cell,” you answered softly, barely audible. Loki, with the natural hearing of a god, still made out what you’d said, and he gently took your hand and gave it a squeeze, making your heart flutter when you looked into his promising blue eyes. 

Indeed, the place was no bigger than a fishing village. In fact, that was essentially what it was. Even Loki scrunched his nose at the sight as you disembarked and let Banner fly off with the plane. Loki had never let go of your hand, and each of you had a small bag slung over your opposite shoulders. 

“Welcome to New Asgard,” he said, a bit of disappointment lacing his tone. “We are going to be staying here until Fury sees fit to declare us tame enough to come home.” 

You walked up a path to the small town square, every house basic in construction small in scale, and underwhelming in neighborly feeling. Most of the Asgardians were dressed in heavy knitted sweaters and boots and kept their heads down and eyes on their work. 

“Weren’t you their prince?” you asked quietly. “Why aren’t they bowing?”

Loki sighed. “Our system of government has changed somewhat since relocating,” he said. “Also, the present King isn’t exactly fond of me.” 

You decided to take things one moment at a time (there were too many conflicting emotions swimming in your head to warrant fixating on one anyway), and to let his cryptic comments go. You were going to be here for a long time, so perhaps it was best to let it go. Loki would open up to you in time. 

You were nearly knocked over by two children running in chase around you as you meandered. Loki grunted, but remained soft for your sake. “We will need to inform these people, however, to mind themselves around you,” he said, holding back his annoyance. 

“Even if it happened by accident, I couldn’t live with myself,” you mentioned. 

Loki stopped you and scooped a hand under your chin, looking you in the eye with warm assurance that also had an air of dominance to it, almost like an attractive young school teacher, stern but also kind in his insistence for your obedience.

“Yes, you can, and that is why we are here together,” he said. “Please remember that we are here to help each other, and I am here to protect you.” 

“It’s them that need protection from me,” you moaned, disheartened. “If it weren’t for the gloves…” you trailed off. 

Loki shook his head and let you go. He tapped your glove. “These will be coming off. Today.” 

“No!” you said quickly. “Please, Loki, don’t expose me to everyone like that.”

Your escort shook his head. “Let’s get inside and discuss this. I do believe rain is coming.” 

He was correct. Just as the pair of you found your small hovel towards the far end of the shoreline, a chilly splattering of precipitation began to fall about you. Taking out a brass key, he brought you inside, taking your rucksack and tossing it by the bedroom door carelessly. 

The cabin was one three rooms: a living room, a bedroom, and a kitchen barely big enough for two people to turn around in. The bathroom also hardly had enough room for a human-sized creature to stand comfortably, as it was about the side of a phone booth plus perhaps a few square feet. There were furnishings, but the sofas, chairs, and tables all look like they’d been scavenged from an old lady’s garage sale at best. 

The bedroom only had one large bed, taking up most of the minimal space by itself. 

You stood, stupefied, in the middle of the room as Loki observed. You kept your gloved hands close to your chest as you anxiously looked around. 

“You may as well get comfortable while I make us some tea,” Loki suggested. “This miniscule cottage is our indefinite home.” 

You sat quietly, refusing to move your hands as Loki set up a small tea set he found in the cabinets, taking the steaming kettle to your cup, and in a moment, the smell of peppermint filled your nostrils, putting you slightly more at ease. 

He sat beside you, not touching anything on his side of the table, instead bringing the attention back to you once again. He was like an explorer discovering new territory; he needed to know everything about you. 

“Pet, I will wait until you are comfortable removing them, but I would like to see them come off today,” he said, again with that attractive stern-but-kind tone that was beginning to make more than your heart flutter. “I would like to feel your skin on mine.”

“You wish to die, then. I can’t control it,” you said quietly, looking away.

“That’s merely because you were never given the opportunity to see if you could,” said Loki, absentmindedly holding out a hand, making you shrink back reflexively. 

“Please, don't touch me!”

Loki quickly withdrew, giving you your space and shrinking toward the opposite end of the couch. You couldn’t help but notice he looked a little hurt. “I…I’m very sorry,” you apologized, hoping you didn’t scare off your guardian. “You’re wonderful, and I can’t be the one to take your life, even by accident,” you blurted out. 

Loki bit his lip, looking at you again. “Wonderful?” 

You nodded. “I believe you when you say you’re not afraid of me. But…I am, okay? I’m a monster.”

He sighed, thinking for a moment on what to say next. “I know monsters. I’ve met them, slain them…you are no monster.” His gentle words filled you with warmth. “And furthermore,” he continued, “I would allow you to touch me, barehanded, right here and now.” 

“No.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, lithe but steady. “The thing about magic, Y/N, is that no matter what form it comes in, what you see is never the complete picture. Any and all magic can be trained, whether to contain or expand.” 

You twiddled your thumbs nervously. “I don’t even know where this came from, so how can I know what the key is to controlling it?”

“Willpower,” Loki said, matter-of-factly. “It’s simply how any magic works.” 

Loki had stealthily shifted so that your outer thighs were touching, and you were more than a little aware of it. Then, you looked up at your helper just as he brushed a strand of hair away from your brow, tucking it behind your ear, making you sigh a little. 

“Ms Y/N, am I startling you?” he asked. “I don’t want you feeling ill at ease with me.” 

You didn’t reply. 

“If I had to be sent out to a wooden box in the middle of a Norwegian mud pile, I must say I could not have found a more exquisite creature to share in my exile,” he whispered. “I only hope my saying so isn’t too forward.” 

“It isn’t,” you answered bashfully. “Loki…I haven’t thanked you yet for what you’ve done for me. And…I think I know how I want to.”

It was as if Loki could read your thoughts, for it was here that he leaned in for your first kiss. You were timid at first, but seeing as it was your escort who initiated contact, you had nothing to worry about, so long as he remained the one to make the first move.

As you pulled apart, you went to remove your cardigan, but you felt Loki’s hand press against yours from through the leather glove you still wore. 

“It is your own soft flesh I want feeling my muscles, your fingers I want exploring every part of me,” said Loki. “I have given you every dignity I could throughout this process, but if you cannot give me this one, we cannot--”

You whimpered, and Loki instantly regretted his words. “Y/N, I apologize!” 

Shaking your head, you looked at him again, letting your lips perk up at the corners. “You’re right. And, although this has never happened to me before, I don’t want to…to miss out, you know? I just…what if I touch you in the wrong way by accident? If I jump or get nervous?”

Loki smiled. “If you’d really like to, I have an idea. Let me guide you along the way.”

“How?”

“I’ll simply communicate with you. Use my words to describe every gentle move I make. Would that suit you enough to give this a try? I must confess, with each passing moment, I just want to hold you more and more, and listen to your sweet cries--”

“--I…but…”

“There is one more thing we can try,” Loki suggested, brushing your eyebrow with his thumb before laying a sweet, shallow kiss on it. “I can bind you with magic. Softly bind you, so that if you needed to move away, you could, but the weight would be enough to keep you from inadvertently brushing against me with every twitch of pleasure I give to you.”

You felt a hot blush run up your face as the desire laced in between his words filled you with need. 

“Wait…”

You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, tugging at the very tip of the ring finger of the glove on your right hand. 

Loki ran a thumb across your hot cheek. “You must be brave. I believe in you.” His goddamned touch nearly made you break your concentration, but you were still able to slowly, gently, cautiously, pull off the glove, setting it on the table with a trembling hand. 

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll die,” you said, your voice quaking. 

Loki was smiling with enough confidence for you both. “There won’t be a need, pet.” 

You raised your hand, keeping your eyes focused on Loki, who sat up straight, the kind, empathetic look in his eyes never wavering. If he was in fact nervous, he was a brilliant actor, because you were getting no impression that he felt any sort of peril in the moment.

Finally, you found enough courage to lift your bare hand and bring it in the general direction of your guide. For his part, Loki still did not flinch, even when you felt as if you were about to foolishly commit a murder. 

“Loki, I’m sorry if this doesn’t work,” you said meekly, trusting your arm forward before you could change your mind, and closing your eyes. 

You felt his cool skin make contact with the pads of your fingers after landing on his left cheek. You didn’t immediately open your eyes, instead waiting for the sound of a body hitting the floor, the sound of a final breath being forced out of the lungs, or the sensation of Loki’s skin going unnaturally cold.

The only thing you felt after several moments was a second set of fingers gently settling over your hand. You opened your eyes, and the tender sight of Loki holding your palm against his skin, his eyes closed as he genuinely savored your touch, was all you saw, and you suddenly felt fifty pounds lighter. 

“Oh, Loki…” you sighed in relief. “You’re still here.”

“You don’t want me to die, and thus, I haven’t. Just as I said, yes?”

You smiled and slowly took your hand back so that you could remove your other glove, and with another quick breath, you placed each hand on each of Loki’s, curling your fingers in between his. “Still alive!” you said with a small smile as you finally began feeling at ease for the first time in three long, chaotic years.

“More alive than ever, little princess,” Loki said, leaning over and rewarding you with a longer, deeper kiss. It went electricity down your core, radiating down your legs. You were finally allowed to feel your yearnings, and now, tonight, you could finally act on them. You certainly couldn’t think of a more beautiful, gentle, sexy partner to give yourself to than Loki. 

“I think I’m ready for you,” you whispered. “I…I really want you, Loki. You’re the first being to show me such tender kindness, especially after I became a ‘reaper.’”

Loki chuckled without breaking his seductive demeanor. “Is that what you call yourself? Well, princess,” he said, gracefully pulling you off of the sofa to your feet, “the only thing you shall be reaping are the rewards of your obedience to me.”

Smiling, thrilled at the sexy shift to Loki’s tone, you nodded. The god asked, “Y/N, we know your touch won’t destroy me, but would you still like for me to bind you?”

“Yes.” You weren’t agreeing solely out of fear for Loki’s safety, not any more. “Please, an..and please talk to me, too.”

“With pleasure, princess. You were so brave for me, you’ve earned it,” Loki said slowly, leading you to the large, simply-constructed bed and shutting the door behind him. “Now, lie down, no need to remove any clothes.” 

You obeyed without a word, which pleased your bodyguard as he stood, towering over you as you lay supine on the mattress. “Good girl,” he said melodically, the voice warming your core, smooth as butter and low as a gentle hum. He snapped his fingers, and with a quick wipe of green mist, both of your clothes fell instantly away, and he now stood before you entirely naked, and you splayed before him similarly. 

“My, your skin radiates with warm beauty! Raise your arms out and to the side, or whatever position you would feel best.”  You did so, again, without a word, taking your wrists and laying them out at an angle, making your breasts pull apart from one another and creating a gap in between them. 

He waved his hand and snapped again, and you felt your wrists go heavy, as if a sandbag was weighing them down. You could move them a little, and you got the feeling you could twist yourself free if needed (not that you wanted to), but you were still securely on the bed, pinned at the wrists and ankles, your legs spread apart, exposing your quickly-wettening pussy to the air as well as your partner. 

Loki moaned with approval. “Now, if you need me to lift these, please say so. Understood, lovely?”

You nodded. “Yes, Loki. I’ll do anything.” 

Loki looked thoroughly satisfied at your answer. “Oh, you are so obedient! A natural submissive,” he said happily. “It is fortune’s highest blessing to be sharing a bed and home with you tonight…” 

He lowered himself over the bed. “May I climb over you and look down upon my conquest?”

You nodded. “Yes, Loki.” 

He climbed between your legs, kneeling up between them, his solid, chiseled torso towering above you, intimidating you the perfect amount to thrill you. “Now, I’m going to nibble on that darling little space you have right…here…”

He lowered his head between your breasts, using tongue and teeth to stake his claim on your skin, leaving tiny marks that only nipped a little as he worked his glorious sex magic on you. Every nip, lick, and moan from him made your folds wetter, heavier, needier. 

“Y/N, I’m going to touch you now,  in this sensitive spot between your legs,” Loki narrated. “I won’t put a finger inside your passage, but I am going to enjoy drawing little figures between your lips and pinching your pleasure bud. And you are going to writhe under me, increasingly needy as pleasure builds up, throbbing for my release…”

You gasped in pleasant surprise as he almost immediately took a hand and inserted two exploratory fingers between your folds. “Norns, my girl is dripping with desire for me. My good girl wants to please her savior!” He pressed his erection against the inside of your thigh as if to display with pride how quickly he’d been turned on by how you were grinding your hips, bucking against his hand.

His silky sweet words echoed in your brain, delirious with arousal. You wanted him to sing these narrations to you over and over. His rich, deep voice was almost enough to send you over your edge. Every word, every action he took, drove you crazy with delightful ache. He fiddled with your clit like it was a tiny marble between his thumb and forefinger, and every flick or twitch of it made you moan and pull against your invisible restraints just enough to feel helplessly anchored in place.

“Y/N, you are so wet, so ready for me already,” he moaned. “I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to fill you with my cock, and you’ll feel your walls stretching around me as I enter you--” 

True to his word again, Loki took himself into his palm, positioning himself above you, his tip at your entrance, then, gently, slowly, he thrusted forward, and you felt a slight pinch as he claimed your cunt. Indeed, it felt like every cell inside you had to stretch in order to sheath Loki’s god-sized cock, but the little bit of pain you felt in the moment was quickly washed away in the violent shudders of pre-orgasm tremors that were already reaching critical mass in your core. 

Loki arched his back, immediately growling in pleasure as he began thrusting, picking up tempo, sliding up and down your slickened walls with just enough friction to urge him to the edge quicker than he anticipated. 

“Damn, but I’m coming…”

You were close, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for you much longer. “How hard are you coming?” was the smutty question you chose to coax his orgasm from him. “Tell me please! What does it feel like being inside me, Loki?” 

Loki grunted animalistically as he concentrated. “You’re milking my cum from me, girl, you’re about to be so full of my seed--”

With the help from his narration, you finally felt your orgasm thunder down your passage and shake your thighs, pushing a high-pitched whine from you as your mouth fell open and your eyes slammed shut. 

“Ah! There she is! My good girl!” 

Loki’s fall almost immediately followed, marked by four remarkably hard thrusts as he came inside you, his breath heavy and quick. He brought a hand down to your clit and gently massaged it as your orgasm poured out into the open. 

“Yes, ride it out with me, that’s my girl,” Loki purred. 

Once you both were spent, Loki took your magic bonds off of you. It was still light outside, but you both agreed you were exhausted from your romp, and that perhaps an hour’s nap before supper would be welcome. Still naked, you both went underneath the covers, Loki turning onto his stomach so that he could rest his head under your arm, using your shoulder as his pillow.

“For as long as we are here, you will have nothing to be afraid of, pet,” your lover promised. 

“Nothing?” you asked hopefully, already knowing that the strong, wonderful god in your arms was going to protect you for as long as you needed him. 

“Your death touch, you have nothing to fear, for it brings me to life,” he whispered softly in your ear. You sensed he was nodding off, and sure enough, with that, his head fell on your shoulder, his breath settling into a softer, quieter rhythm. 

Loki will take care of you…

You took a hand and began combing it through his hair, once again enjoying the old-but-new sensation of something other than leather against your fingertips.

@lokisgoodgirl @sarahscribbles @xorpsbane @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @muddyorbs @michelleleewise @joyful-enchantress @fictive-sl0th @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @chantsdemarins @glitterylokislut @kellatron55 @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @peachyjinx @trickster-maiden

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Reblogging this because it maaayyyyy be the next one of my one-shots to turn into a full-fledged story!

Stay tuned!

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

**MASTERLIST**

Title board by the fantabulous @mochie85!

After an accident reveals your secret ability to kill with a single touch, S.H.I.E.L.D. tracks you down, turning you over to Nick Fury to be locked away. Immediately considered a Level One Threat, not a single one of the Avengers will listen to your pleas, until Loki, your least likely advocate, strikes a deal: he will take you away to New Asgard for one year to mentor you in the ways of magic, both dark and light. If you can pass a test at the end of said year, you win your freedom. If not, you may be deemed too dangerous to live.

With your life in the hands of the God of Mischief, you are forced to confront the mysterious pull of your morbid gift...as well as the even more mysterious pull you begin to feel towards your mentor, a being with his own demons to confront.

Pairing: Soft!Dom!Loki x F!Reader

Content Warnings: smut, extensive mentions of death, euthanasia, and death-related philosophy, some dark content (though the characters won't be), exile, moodiness, smut, kinks of various flavors (look for specific chapter warnings), trauma and mental illness, reader is a captive, reader has a body count

Based on THIS ONE SHOT

Prologue: Last Christmas Lesson One Lesson Two Lesson Three Lesson Four Lesson Five Lesson Six Lesson Seven Lesson Eight Lesson Nine Lesson Ten Lesson Eleven Lesson Twelve Lesson Thirteen Lesson Fourteen Lesson Fifteen Lesson Sixteen Lesson Seventeen Lesson Eighteen Lesson Nineteen Lesson Twenty The Final Test Epilogue: Next Christmas

@kats72 @violethaze @cheekyscamp @javagirl328 @yelkmelk @mischief2sarawr @buttercupcookies-blog @lokidokieokie @fictive-sl0th @jaidenhawke @caothicshit @holdmytesseract @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @simplyholl @meowmeow-motherfucker @huntress-artemiss @lokisgoodgirl

PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

I'm sorry but Jacob Elordi is arguably the most overrated actor of our time. I fucking can't stand him. His name ruins every movie. He's smarmy and has no charisma.

For as much as I hate Timothy Chalamet as well, at least I'll concede he can act a bit. I for the life of me cannot understand why Elordi is cast in anything.