Thank you to everyone who has hung in there with me during this series. Here is what was supposed to be part 5 and 6 (the final part) but I just went ahead and combined them.
Summary: You lost a bet with the God of Mischief and now payment is due but after a misunderstanding thing need to be cleared up.
Word Count: 1337
Warnings: Fingering and dirty talk.
Y/N woke with the strangest feeling. She couldn't tell if her memory was a dream from last night or an actual dream. It had seemed so real and so strange all at the same time. Had Loki really said that He had wanted her to be his? No, it had to have been a dream. There was no way. But if it was a dream, was it trying to tell her that her subconscious wanted to be Loki's.
Loki woke with a sinking feeling in his gut. It had taken so much of him to say that last night. He didn't ask for permission for things. He just took what he wanted, and he wanted Y/N. But he knew if he wanted her to truly be his that he needed her to agree.
Y/N had continued to toss and turn in bed after waking. She didn't want to get up. She was comfy, and she could tell she was going to be very sore today. Eventually, she dragged herself out of bed and to the shower. The hot water felt spectacular on her skin and helped the tension ease out of her muscles. When she was all pruney, she turned off the shower and wrapped herself and her hair in a towel. She padded into her room to get clothes for the day when she spotted it, a note taped to her door reading:
I wished to explain further last night, but you were so tired. So I will make it simple. I want you to be mine. If you don't want that, I will understand. The bet is off, but your secret is safe with me.
Y/N wasn't sure how she felt. Part of her was scared of what being Loki's meant, and the other part was excited. She plopped back down on the bed and fell back into it. She wished she still had her sister. She turned her head to stare at the yearbook sitting on the shelf. Then, in hopes of feeling closer to her sister, Y/N started asking herself questions like her sister would've.
Do you like him?
Hmmm, I guess ultimately yes, I do.
Then why are you not willing to do it?
Because he's obnoxious. As if Lily was actually there, she could see her sister's face turn skeptical. Okay, he's intense, and I don't know what he means by "mine."
Yes, you do. You aren't stupid. What else?
Because what if we end up hating each other and we cant work together.
You would learn to deal. What is it really that you are afraid of? Y/N immediately knew the answer but didn't want to admit it. Even to herself.
What if I can't be an avenger anymore. I want to make you proud, and I can't do that if I am not here. Tears started leaking down Y/N cheek.
Loki wasn't sure what to expect from the day. He hoped that Y/N would see the note and come find him, but she could also see it and decide to throw it away and pretend it never happened. He wasn't expecting to see her sitting at the table eating breakfast with the yearbook in front of her, showing everyone. Instead, they were all gathered around her, listening to her talk.
"So, in other words, this is my sister Lily, and I am here to make her proud of me. I know she isn't here to see it, but I know from where ever she is, she is watching. Just as she finished speaking, everyone noticed Loki.
"Brother!! You must come to see this Y/N was a cheerleader when she was younger." Loki let himself be pulled over to the table. Y/N still hadn't looked up at him. He needed her to acknowledge him, so he asked, "Were you a good cheerleader Y/N?" Y/N laughed and closed the book, standing getting ready to put it away. Loki figured she wouldn't answer, but she turned and caught his eyes, saying, "Yes, sir, I was." Then, she left the room, trying to hide the grin she was developing from seeing the shock on his face. Hopefully, he would understand everything she was saying in that simple answer.
She was starting to get anxious that he hadn't understood the sentence when there was a knock at her door. She turned to see Loki standing leaning against the door frame.
"Mind if I come in?", He said with an expectant look on his face.
Y/N felt the nerves rush through her body. She shook her head no and said, "No sir," still trying to meet his eyes. Loki walked into her room and closed the door. Loki had a few things he needed to make sure of before anything else was said or done. He walked up to Y/N and pulled her chin up so her eyes would meet his.
"Do you want to be mine, pet?
"Yes, sir," Y/N said with less power than she was hoping for. Loki smiled and continued, "Will you be calling anyone else, sir?"
That was all he needed to hear. Loki pulled Y/N into his and crashed his lips to hers. She softened immediately and wrapped her arms around him. Y/N moaned, and Loki deepened the kiss. When Y/N pulled back for air, Loki moved his mouth to work down her neck. Y/N knew she was already wet from saying yes sir to him a few moments ago, but the prospect of what could follow a kiss like that had her head reeling and her panties soaked. Loki let his hands glide down to her ass, giving it a good squeeze then a harsh slap. Y/N gasped, then moaned at the sensation or pleasure-pain running through her.
"Oh, pet, I have been dying to taste you ever since you walked in this building." Y/N was still processing what Loki had said when there was a snap of his fingers, and both of them were naked. Loki fell to his knees and immediately started lapping at Y/N's center. "Oh ...fuck..." Y/N moaned out, pushing her fingers into Loki's hair. One perfect swipe of Loki's tongue across Y/N's swollen clit had almost cumming right then and there. Loki chuckled, "Do you like that? Are you gonna come for me already?" Y/N could barely think straight, but she managed to nod her head enthusiastically. "Oh, no, pet, I want to hear those beautiful words of yours," Loki teased, now barely touching her at all. "Fuck... yes, sir. Yes, please, I want to come, sir." Loki plunged his fingers back into her and sucked on her clit. Y/N could feel her orgasm coming quickly, and she was ready for it. Loki pulled his mouth away but kept his fingers moving inside her as he pushed her over the edge, "That's it, princess. Cum for me. Cum on my fingers." Y/N nearly blacked out. The mixture of his hand's mouth and words were too much. Loki slowly fingered her through her orgasm.
When she was done, he pulled his fingers out, scooped her up in his arms, and deposited her into the bed. He disappeared to the bathroom and returned a few minutes later with a washcloth. Loki cleaned her up, stripped off his clothes, and climbed in next to her, pulling her in close. After a few minutes, Y/N spoke, "Did you call me princess? I thought your thing was pet?" Loki smiled to himself, took a breath, then answered, "I did because a pet is something you own, and although you are mine, I do not own you." Y/N laid her head back down and drifted off to sleep.
Thank you for reading Yes sir, a short fanfiction series. More series can be found here: MASTERLIST. If you would like to be tagged in future Loki or Marvel works, please comment below which one. If you would like to request work or have an idea feel free to submit them.
Xu Shangqi does not exist, born to ghosts themselves--the great conqueror of the world, name unknown, and a protector from a village not of this realm. He was born under the late summer moon with no one but his parents and the stars as witnesses. No one knew the name, except for his own flesh and blood. There was no birth certificate, no identification card, no passport, no country that held claim to his person.
His United States passport says that his name is Shaun Ying.
or, an exploration of identity, names, diaspora, and home... while also being a superhero
a little Sam/Bucky, post-series
Whumptober Prompt #21: That's Where the Blood's Suppose To Be | bleeding through the bandages
Sam slipped through the door without a sound and closed it softly behind him. Held the keys snug in his fist so they didn’t jangle. The – Bucky’s – their? Jesus, he still wasn’t quite sure – apartment was dark and silent. The moon shining in through the thin curtains was barely enough to see by, but Sam tiptoed easily across the room. The space was still far too sparse for his liking. Though he had managed to coax Bucky into agreeing to go furniture shopping this week…
He briefly debated stopping in the kitchen to brush his teeth – the bathroom was too close to the bedroom – but his body ached and he was exhausted and the thought of just falling into a soft bed was far too tempting. He crept down the hall, grateful that the creaky bedroom door had been left open for him.
Sam’s heart clenched. Bucky was lying curled up under one sheet, the rest of the covers thrown back over the bed. His face was just visible in the darkness of the room, and for once his expression was smooth and lax. Like he was really, truly resting. Sam smiled softly to himself and set down his shield, ever so carefully, beside the dresser. He stripped off quickly and eased himself onto the bed behind Bucky.
Bucky shifted as the mattress dipped. He made a questioning little noise in the back of this throat. Sam shushed him and tucked their bodies together, sliding an arm around his chest, hand right over Bucky’s heartbeat.
“Go back to sleep,” Sam breathed, barely a whisper, and kissed the skin behind Bucky’s ear. Bucky’s breathing evened out again. His warm hand settled over Sam’s.
The feeling of Bucky safe and sound next to him soothed some of the ache out of Sam’s bruises and scrapes. He smiled to himself again, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow, and closed his eyes.
Sam was in the middle of flipping the bacon when a thud sounded from the bedroom behind him, followed by heavy footsteps. He barely had time to put down the spatula before he was being spun around by his shoulders to face an extremely agitated Bucky Barnes.
“Hey!” Sam squawked, hands flying instinctively to Bucky’s forearms.
Bucky’s hair was mussed and his lids still heavy with sleep, but his eyes were alert and swept furiously over Sam’s bare torso, taking in the bandages around his ribs and elbow. “You’re bleeding,” he said gruffly. “There was blood on the bed.”
Startled, Sam glanced down at himself and realized there was a small spot of red soaking through the bandage at his elbow. His shoulders relaxed and his grip loosened on Bucky’s arms. “I’m fine, Buck, it’s just a scratch.” Bucky gave him a look, and Sam repeated, “It is, just bled like a bitch is all.”
Bucky’s hand slid down from Sam’s shoulder and tugged on his hand. “C’mon, it needs rewrapped.”
Sam huffed, gesturing at the food still cooking on the stovetop. “This just gonna burn then? You want bacon or not?”
Bucky hesitated, looking grumpy. “Fine. You finish up, I’ll grab the first aid.”
Sam smirked at his back and turned back to the stove.
Bucky didn’t even try to pretend not to wolf down his breakfast. Sam barely got down two bites of scrambled eggs before Bucky had scooted his chair closer and begun to unwrap his arm.
“See, it’s not so bad,” Sam said, switching his fork to his left hand to let Bucky work. Bucky grunted. He squirted some antibiotic gel onto the cut and spread it around with a fingertip. “You know the EMTs already took care of that.”
“Little more can’t hurt.”
Sam set his fork down and watched Bucky’s face carefully. There was a worry line etched deep between his eyes, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Sam’s gaze drifted down to Bucky’s fingers moving over his arm.
“You wish I had the serum, don’t you?”
Bucky froze, head snapping up to look at Sam. “No,” he said firmly, after a second. His eyes dropped to the bandage he had half-wrapped around Sam’s elbow. His fingers played with the end of it. He appeared to be turning something over in his mind – his mouth opened once, then closed again. “Not like – ” he said finally and broke off.
Not like what they did to me, Sam heard though Bucky didn’t finish.
“I just…sometimes, I remember you’re not as – protected – as Steve was. Like I am…” Bucky continued wrapping the bandage, slowly. He didn’t look at Sam.
I’m not helpless, Sam wanted to say. The comparison couldn’t help but sting a little, but he knew that wasn’t exactly fair. It wasn’t untrue, and it wasn’t the point anyway. “You worry.”
Bucky chewed on his lower lip, sticking off the end of the bandage with a gentle stroke. “Yeah,” he admitted, very quietly. He returned all the supplies to the first aid box neatly, one at a time.
“Hey,” Sam murmured. He tapped his knuckles against Bucky’s jaw so he would look at him. “I’ll be okay.”
Bucky’s mouth set in that hard line again. “You can’t promise that.”
“No,” Sam told him. “No one can, I guess.” He ran his fingers absently down the cool vibranium of Bucky’s arm. “Suppose it’s a damn good thing I’ve got such a big, strong, scary partner to watch my back, then.”
Bucky’s face cracked reluctantly into that crooked grin Sam liked so much. “Shut up, man.”
Sam chuckled, but his hand slid to the back of Bucky’s head, massaging gently. Some of the tension bled out of Bucky’s neck.
“We’ll be okay, Buck,” he said, a quiet warmth filling up his veins. “We'll be okay.”
Part of the @flufftober2021 challenge, featuring Wanda, Vision, and the Minimoffs. You can also read this on Ao3 HERE
Rating: G/All Audiences
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x The Vision
Characters: The (White) Vision, Wanda Maximoff
Other: This and the other one-shots I’m doing for this collection are set in my wider Paprika series. Thi story takes place during my other fic ‘Working Theory’. It is also a follow up to my one shot Rain
Summary: When their scheduled date is cut short by a rain storm, Vision recalls the first time he and Wanda encountered rain together.
Vision is pleased when Wanda walks up the pavement to take a seat at the table across from him. Despite the foreboding grey clouds overhead she was still making the effort to meet him here in town. He’d even called in the morning after checking the forecast, just wanting to let Wanda know that he did not expect her to visit him if the weather was poor. She had laughed and told him it would take far more than some rain to stop her from seeing him. His heart had swelled at that – if he had not suspected he was falling for her again he is certain that would have done it. He’d left his flat early enough to order her a drink, and has been waiting at their usual table for the past few minutes, human disguise in place as he sips his own drink for appearances.
They’ve taken things slowly over the past month since he arrived and he has ensured that each meeting – or ‘date’, he supposes – has been held on neutral ground so Wanda will feel at ease. At least that is what he tells himself, though deep down he knows it’s also for a lingering fear that something installed on him by SWORD is still lying dormant, waiting to be triggered. If he really were a sleeper agent for Hayward he would rather it happen in a place where there may be others to stop him from harming Wanda. As such he has not visited her home, though she shared the location with him a few days ago. Another olive branch extended, and he suspects her way of hinting that she trusts him even if he does not yet trust himself.
“Sorry I’m late, I got...uh, distracted.” Wanda offers an apologetic smile as she bends down to give him a light kiss on the cheek before taking her usual seat across from him. Vision has already procured her usual drink – she claims it’s not as good as the tea he used to make her but she takes a grateful sip.
“Distracted?” Vision isn’t trying to pry, he is merely curious. He has no idea how Wanda passes the time in her remote lakeside cabin, and realizes he has not really thought about it. Most evenings after she leaves the small town of Novi Hrozenhov he retires to the room he has been renting for the past month and a half and reflects on the day, or his past memories. Sometimes he has work to do – requests from Pepper to check some numbers or research for Captain Rambeau, an easy way for him to repay in some way the people who have been helping him on this self-journey. Some nights he just turns on the small TV that came with the flat and just watches whatever looks interesting, like he and Wanda used to do together. It’s different, this new life, but despite the inescapable reminders that he is not human he feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to understand what life should be. For the first time since his creation he has truely experienced the mundane, no longer an Avenger, and he is surprised how much he likes it.
“Yeah, I...got caught up in a book I’ve been reading.”
“Oh? What are you reading?” It’s small talk but reading is something Vision can connect to. He finds that these conversations are the easiest for them right now. It gives them some common ground and offers a distraction from the issues neither of them are quite ready to discuss.
“Oh, nothing you would be interested in. It’s about...uh, witchcraft. After what I learned in Westview I’ve been trying to learn more about...about who I might be.” Something about Wanda’s tone tells Vision that she is not interested in telling him more. It’s unlike her to keep secrets from him, or it was unlike her, but they are different now. Still strangers, in a sense, despite the history between them. He has to trust that if it is important then Wanda will tell him when she is ready.
A peal of thunder rumbles in the distance, from direction of the nearby lake and mountains. “It seems the weather forecast was correct. I hope our plans for the day are not cut short. I...I was looking forward to seeing you today.” Vision glances up at the sky and Wanda looks up with him, smiling.
“Since when have you been bothered by the rain, Vizh?”
She has a point. Vision has always loved the rain, ever since the first night he experienced it so long ago. It was one of his oldest and fondest memories even now. It had also been his first evening spent with Wanda back in the old Avengers Tower in New York City. He often returns to that moment, replaying his memory of watching her dancing in the first storm he witnessed, hair and skin and clothing drenched and the first smile he ever saw cross her lips. He had been brand new, still uncertain who or what he was, trying to understand his new existence in a human-like body. Ironic that he sits here now nearly a decade later wondering the same questions.
“You have a point. Still, I would hate for you to be uncomfortable – as nice as a walk in the rain may be, wet clothing later in the evening may be less pleasant.” He reminds her with an amused smile. It’s a non-issue for him but while spring is coming to Eastern Europe there is a distinct chill in the air. If he gets wet he can simply phase his form and the water will fall through him, and his synthetic body is not impacted by the cold. Wanda does not have such advantages.
“We’ll manage, Vizh.” Something about the glance she gives him over the lid of her cup tells Vision she already has something in mind. It’s nice, feeling like she wants to spend time with him and is not doing so out of an obligation to help him. As much as he appreciates the other people in his life, spending time with them has not felt the same as spending time with Wanda. It pleases him that the data corresponds with his past as well – that she is the person he enjoys being around the most. He still fears at times that perhaps the feelings are being projected from preconceived notions of how they should be together but the more time he spends in Wanda’s presence the more confident he is becoming that these emotions are real.
As if summoned by Wanda’s magic a fat drop of water lands on the table, then another and another and another and they both laugh at the timing. There is a flash of lighting towards the lake, and a few seconds later the air rumbles around them. The drops quickly become a deluge, the edges of the storm finally reaching the town.
“I’m not going to say I told you so, but…” Vision teases, watching as Wanda gets up from her seat and moves to another table under an awning. He moves to join her, the jacket he had donned already damp and his generated hair sticking to his forehead. He runs a hand through it to push it back to no avail, his glasses already fogging over. It’s not like he needs them to see – they are just another accessory to help sell his human disguise, helping mask the faint glow of his irises that never seems to go away these days.
Wanda takes the initiative to remove them for him, gently folding them and tucking them in his pocket for safekeeping. It’s a strangely intimate gesture, one he has seen her do in his recollections but has not experienced since their reunion. His heartbeat picks up pace as her hand lingers there, gently pressed against his chest.
“I don’t think anyone is going to notice, we’re the only ones dumb enough to stay out in the rain today it looks like.” Wanda laughs, gesturing to the empty street. There are a handful of people who moved back inside the cafe, and Vision can make out pedestrians taking shelter in the shop across the way, glancing anxiously up at the sky as they try to judge how wet they are willing to get.
“Walk with me?” Wanda asks, her hand reaching for his and he accepts it.
She leads him away from the safety of the awning into the downpour with a bright smile that Vision can’t help but return. It pulls up that memory again, watching Wanda dancing on the rooftop garden, twirling and soaked through. He thinks it was the first time he saw her smile – it’s the oldest memory he has of her smiling at any rate. The rain here feels different than he remembers – colder where it mingles with the mountain air – but it’s still pleasant against his skin. Not as pleasant as the feeling of Wanda’s hand in his though.
He lets her lead him down the street, towards the small park where they often walk. For the most part they are still alone. Locals keep their distance, umbrellas up, and tourists scurry to find cover. Vision simply enjoys the moment.
“We used to do this all the time.” Wanda says as they walk. “It was unavoidable in Scotland. I always loved it though. I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed this.”
“Well, the British Isles are known for their unusually high rate of precipitation.” Vision smiles at the way she rolls her eyes, giving him a look he isn’t quite sure how to read. “You are correct, we have not experienced rain together in some time. Not since...I came back. I have experienced rain since then of course...just not with you.”
Wanda is grinning as he gets flustered, caught up in his thoughts, and he gives her a bashful look. All of the words in every language available to him and yet it seems when he is around Wanda Maximoff he can never find the right ones.
“Did you know it rained that first night I was back? The night after...after Westivew, that is.” Vision had tried to wait for Wanda outside of the town, hoping to speak with her once she took the Hex down. They had missed their chance that night, two ships passing in the night. He had gone back to the house that should have been their home and stood there and it had started to rain, an environmental reaction to the cosmic radiation her magic had left behind.
“Did it? Honestly, I don’t really remember much about that night.”
Vision nods, his eyes meeting hers as they walk side by side. “It did. It reminded me of that night in the tower too, and what you said to me. About how the rain makes everything feel new. It felt...fitting.”
“Yes, I suppose it was.” Wanda agrees, thoughtful. She stops walking and turns to face him, her hand never leaving his as she studies his face. He finds himself studying her as well, appreciating how the green in her eyes stands out against her running make up and the way the water seems to trace her freckles. “And now? Does this rain feel like something new?”
Vision thinks for a moment, not sure how to answer. “Yes…but at the same time, no. It makes me wonder if perhaps you and I will forever be like this – in a loop, circling around one another only to be pulled apart and come back together again.”
“We’re all like that Vision.” Wanda reaches up to touch his face and Vision leans into her palm, feeling the water running between her fingers and down his face. “I think we are forever being redone, reborn...redeemed. That’s just part of being human.”
Vision takes in her words and processes them. He thinks he understands. To be human is to be ever changing, something he was unsure he could do but time and time again he has been proven wrong. He can’t think of anything to reply with and instead just stands there with her, soaked through from the rain and appreciating the moment.
It’s Wanda who finally breaks the silence with a shiver. “As much as I love the rain, Vizh, I think maybe you were right. Maybe we could go back to your place and watch a movie?”
Vision has not invited Wanda into his flat yet. He’s been uncertain if that would be too forward of him, but if she is asking he has no problem with it. Her offer sounds pleasant – almost a recreation of that first night in New York eight years ago. Rain, TV, Wanda...Vision nods in agreement. “That would be nice. I...don’t have a lot of clothing but I am certain I can find something dry for you to wear. And we can order something in for you to eat...I...have no food at home.”
“No food?” Wanda’s tone is teasing. “What kind of host are you? Do you at least have Netflix?”
“Wanda, I am the most sophisticated sentient artificial intelligence on the planet. I am connected to the internet at all times and sift through millions of terabytes of data every minute. I am certain I can find anything you would like to watch regardless of if I have ‘Netflix’.” He scoffs in mock irritation and is pleased by the laugh it earns him.
“I’m going to take that as a challenge, you know.” Vision merely rolls his eyes as he takes the lead, following the road back towards where they started, still hand in hand.
Hi tumblr people, I need a hand and the only people I trust are you. My sister, my twin, has two dreams in life: the first is to be taken to Medicine (and for this reason, neither you nor I can do anything, unfortunately) and the second is to visit London. Economically we cannot afford a trip to London and, unfortunately, I still can't work - or rather, I could, but nobody takes me, I tried - so I ask you, if you can, to reblog this post or, if you can, to donate something. I know there are millions of major causes out there but my sister is the only one who has always accepted me, for everything. My sexual orientation, my anxiety, therapy… she has always been by my side and I want to fre this for her. Thank you all.
THIS IS A TICKLE FIC!
Summary: You found some photos of you when you were younger and talk about memories with Agatha.
Warnings: none, only fluff and tickles! SWF.
Masterlist - tickle prompts - about
— What are you doing, y/n? — Agatha said, sitting on the couch with you.
— Look what I found! — You exclaim. — Photos from elementary school. — You say between laughs. — Oh my god, I'm getting old, auntie.
— If you think you're old, what am I!? — She clears her throat. — You're only 22, don't be dramatic! But time indeed goes by so fast. It seems like it was yesterday when you were going to kindergarten. — The woman giggles. — Wow, I don't remember seeing those photos. When was this?
— Christmas party at school, I think I was around 6 or 7. Do you remember when you used to pick me up from school because my parents were working?
— Sure I do, hon. I also remember when you were 1 and I changed your diapers. — Agatha chuckles, resting her chin on your shoulder, looking at the other pictures.
— OH MY GOD! — You gasped, hiding some photos.
— HEY! Let me see them! What are you doing!? — She said, trying to take the photos.
— NO, NO! Oh my god, those are when I was around 12, horrible photos, auntie Aggie. Oh lord. — You said, embarrassed, dodging her hands.
— We all were teenagers once, y/n, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Don't be silly, hon, you were and still are beautiful. — She says, kissing your temple. — Just let me see them!
You shook your head, still not letting her see the photos.
— That's my cringe phase era! — You exclaimed laughing.
— Your what-!? You're so dramatic, y/n! — Your comment made her laugh.
— A little bit, I actually just want to tease you. I feel nostalgic after seeing those photos, I used to tease you a lot when I was little and we had fun times, I miss those times. You were and will always be my favorite auntie. — You grin.
— Are you telling me you don't have a fun time with me anymore!? — Now it's Agatha who dramatizes.
— Auntie! — You chuckled. — I never said that!
— You said it. — The woman started tickling your sides gently.
— N-NAHAHAHHA! — You squeezed your arms to your sides, laughing so hard.
— Yes, you did! — She says with a baby voice between laughs, teasingly, without stopping tickling you.
You shook your head as squirmed, laughing nonstop. You were now a giggly mess so Agatha took the photos you were hiding and stopped tickling you.
— I GOT THEM! — The woman said between laughs, sticking out her tongue.
— NO! GIVE THEM TO ME! — You exclaimed still giggling, leaning on her.
— NEVER! — She put the pictures on the table and tickled you again. — This is what you missed, right? I missed tickling you so badly, too.
— A-AHAHAHAUNTIE-! — A fit of laughter prevented you from finishing your comment, you couldn't help but squirm and try to grab Agatha's hands, but ended up on the floor.
— Where are you going? — She stopped tickling you as laughed at your reaction, then she sits on the floor to make sure you don't escape.
— I-I thought you forgot I was ticklish. — You say, giggling, catching your breath.
— I never forgot, dear. And I see you're still very ticklish.
— I'll take my revenge... — You joked.
— Uh oh... If I were you... I wouldn't say that... — Agatha says as her fingers approach your tummy.
— N-nohoho! — You cover your tummy with your hands even before she touches you.
Agatha crossed her arms and looked at you with a smirk.
— NO! Auntie! I know what that face means!
You started to laugh again, the woman just stood still for a while until she immediately tickled your inner thigh, which caught you off guard because you were thinking she was going to tickle your sides.
— ¡N-NAHAAHAH! NOHOT T-THEHEHERE! — You squeaked and laughed harder, accidentally kicking your aunt in an attempt to protect your thighs.
— HEY! Don't kick me! — She exclaimed laughing as her hands targeted your hips now, giving them occasional squeezes to measure your reaction.
— I-IM SOHOHOHORRY!!! — You managed to say, cackling and squirming more at the squeezes as soft squeaks came out from your mouth.
Agatha stopped, laughing at your reaction.
— Hip squeezes never fail. — She said teasingly between laughs.
— You always end up doing that! — You exclaim, still giggling. — Are you okay? I'm sorry for kicking you.
— Don't worry, hon. I'm okay. — The woman grins. — Of course I always do that, you have no idea how fun it can be to tickle you to make you laugh and squirm. — She says wiggling her fingers, which made you flinch even if she didn't touch you yet. — Did you just flinch? — Agatha chuckled.
— Because I know you're not done tickling me yet... — You say, holding back your laughter.
— Honestly, I wasn't going to tickle you more but now you're asking me to... I won't say "no"... — She leaned on you and gently skittered her fingers over your sides and underarms.
— N-NOHOHO! L-LIAHAHAHAHAR!!!!!!!! — You squeaked and your arms shot down to your sides. You immediately burst into a laughing fit again as you feel the ticklish sensations go through your body.
— LIAR!? Did you just call me a liar!? — Agatha laughed without stopping tickling you.
You dared to nod as your body jerked from side to side, trying to get away from her while cackling. Agatha blows a raspberry on your tummy and stops tickling you.
— I'm done, you're free. — The woman says between laughs.
You let some residual giggles and pushes her playfully.
— You're so naughty, auntie!
— ME!? What about you!? — She ruffles your hair. — You love it, dear.
— That's why you're my favorite aunt. — You admit. — Oh god, I need to go to the bathroom, you almost make me pee my pants with laughter. — You chuckle.
You go to the bathroom and then you come back stealthily to the living room to scare your aunt and you place your hands on her sides.
— AUNTIE! — You exclaim, tickling her sides.
— Y/N!!! — Agatha flinched and laughed out, her arms immediately shot down to her sides. — STOP IT! — She squirmed and grabbed your hands, letting out giggles.
— I told you I was going to take my revenge! — You stopped. — I thought you weren't ticklish. — You chuckle.
— I am ticklish, but luckily you didn't attack my worst spot. — She playfully smacks your hand.
You raise an eyebrow.
— You'll never find it. — She grabs your hand, giggling.
— You're getting nervous, auntie. — You tease her, laughing. — You always say that hip squeezes never fail. — You use your free hand to squeeze her hip.
— SHUHUHUHUSH!! — That made her let out a squeaky laugh and squirm badly. — Y/N! — She pushes you playfully.
— HA! Do you see it? — Her reaction made you laugh heartily, then you stop and hug her. — Thanks for the lesson. — You whisper in her ear, teasingly.
— You're such a bastard. — She jokes, hugging you tight as kisses your cheek.
#i am assuming you are new here #as long as everyone knows canon loki is supposed to be bi im literally not seeing an issue #meanwhile I consider MCU Yelena asexual but the largest possible hint at that on-screen was... not saying yes to considering a kid #which isn't necessarily related but i'm taking it for comic yelena's sake #just like if MCU Wanda's kids get straight im throwing the reverse uno card at them at my own convenience #like bro everyone is just trying to vibe and have fun with the concept of ace loki #even if canon loki is bi #bi-ace loki is just one of many solutions but by your logic we can't even add any labels that aren't bisexual #:/ #the Loki show #bro they literally confirmed loki was bisexual off-screen i promise there are people who write fics who are blissfully unaware of the show #leave me and my memes alone
Series description: Bucky and Y/n are fourth-year undergrads with the same major. They’ve always had a crush on each other but were too reserved to do anything about it. One horrendous night pushes them together and they’re forced to navigate the fallout, for better or worse.
Series warnings: 18+!!! This series is not for minors. The main plot line is based around sexual assault/rape themes and the fallout that comes from that type of trauma. Please if you are not 18+ do not engage. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
A/n: I’ve decided I'll likely fail the Whumptober completion. I felt the prompts were forcing the story into an unrealistic direction and I want to do this justice. It might take longer than expected, but I will finish this series.
Please take care when reading this. As a survivor (multiple times over) I know how reading stories like this can be triggering without even realizing it. If anyone wants/needs to talk don’t hesitate to send me a message. Love you all. Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting and reblogging so far.
Chapter 4 warnings: blood, violent fighting, swearing and derogatory slurs, reference to non-con, trauma, anxiety
Chapter 4 word count: 3k
Chapter 4 prompts:
No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT… taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”
No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose
No. 19 - JUST A SCRATCH bitten | bleeding | stabbing
Bucky could feel the crick forming in his neck and stiffness in his back before he even opened his eyes. He stopped the groan from leaving his lips when he remembered where he was. Not wanting to wake Y/n, he slowly freed his hand from hers, freezing when she stirred. She rolled over and Bucky only continued moving once he was certain her breath had evened out once more. With the stealth of a trained assassin, he gathered all his things and left the three roommates sleeping.
The campus was unsurprisingly dead for just past 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday. The cold morning air whipped his cheeks as Bucky left the dorm building. He should have walked straight to his dorm and caught up on sleep. It was the final week of classes before Thanksgiving break which meant mid-term assignments. And he needed all the rest he could get after what a late night Friday turned into and the shoddy floor sleep he’d just had. But he couldn’t. Not when his insides were buzzing with so much rage he thought he might combust in the middle of the East Boulevard.
Quentin fucking Beck.
Brock fucking Rumlow.
Quentin motherfucking Beck.
Bucky’s teeth were clenched so hard his jaw started to throb. He had forced himself to remain calm the night before. As soon as he’d heard her say their names, he swore to himself he wouldn’t make it worse. Y/n was already suffering enough, she didn’t need him getting all macho and protective when she’d only just remembered the horrendous details.
But now that he was alone, the fury erupted in chest and seared through his veins.
Bucky wasn’t a violent man. When they were teenagers, Steve was the one getting into fights. Bucky would come to his friend’s rescue often, only resorting to violence when absolutely necessary. But the Terror in Y/n’s eyes when he woke her from her nightmare was enough to make him plan out every excruciating and gory detail of Beck’s murder.
Quentin was in graphic lit with Y/n and Bucky this semester and Bucky already loathed every word that came out of the obnoxious douchebag’s mouth. Not to mention the way Bucky always caught him staring at Y/n. It ignited a jealous flame in him—not that his crush meant that Y/n belonged to him or anything. It’s just he could see the way he undressed her with his disgusting leering. So it was no surprise when Y/n named him. Could you really blame him for wanting to knock the guy out?
Gross staring habit aside, Bucky had heard and read the stories about Beck and Rumlow. But everyone in the Faculty of Arts knew Beck’s father was one of the college’s biggest donors so he was next to untouchable. That didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t have a little “chat” with him the next time he saw him.
Which turned out would be as soon as Bucky entered the 24-hour coffee shop between his and Y/n’s residences. The only students in there were either die hard studiers or those making a pitstop on their walk of shame from Saturday night debauchery. Quentin and his ever present sidekick were the last in line.
Bucky’s chest started heaving and he had to dig his nails into his palm as his right hand made a fist to ground himself, the prosthetic quietly whirring as he clenched his left.
“God, I can’t believe how much we drank last night. I need ALL the coffee right now,” Brock groaned.
“No shit. Where’d you end up anyways? With that brunette? Or the slutty blond?”
“I can’t even remember, man. I just grabbed my hoodie and left this morning. What about you?”
“Same, man. I just remember it being good.”
The two laughed at Quentin’s insinuation.
“And thank fuck I didn’t get barfed on this time.”
“I still can’t believe that bitch threw up on y—”
“Hey, what'd I say, man? Don’t call her a bitch. I should have remembered she couldn’t handle her shit. She was always such a lightweight in high school,” Quentin hissed at his buddy in a low tone.
“Jeez, cool it. I forgot you actually like that one.”
“Shut the fuck up, man. Just order our damn coffees so we can get back to the dorm. I’m going to go take a piss.”
Bucky watched as Quentin disappeared into the cafe’s washroom. He was counting his breaths and trying to focus on the burning sensation of his nails in his palm. Before he could decide what to do, his legs were already turning him around and sending him through the doors he’d just entered minutes before. The coffee shop was the last business on the strip of the East Boulevard that led to Bucky’s dorm, the same as Beck’s and Rumlow’s. His feet continued to rush him to a section of dense trees just before their building, only stopping when he got to the wooden bench he knew was there.
Hidden from view by the shade of the changing foliage, Bucky sat, waiting. It didn’t take long before his ears registered Quentin’s voice. Bucky held his breath as the two men approached him. He watched them pass, oblivious to his presence on the bench.
“Hey Beck! Fuck you.”
Bucky’s heart was nearly pounding out of his chest as he watched the two dark haired men stop and look at each other before turning to see him sitting on the bench, knee bouncing.
“I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?”
“James Barnes. We’re in graphic lit,” he returned as he stood up.
“Riiiight. You’re the pathetic war amp that’s always sitting with Y/n. She was always taking pity on the retards.”
Bucky’s left hand was around Quentin’s neck so fast he even surprised himself.
“If I ever hear her name come out of your putrid rapist mouth ever again I swear to fucking god I will end you.”
Quentin was gasping, clawing at Bucky’s metal arm as it lifted him ever so slightly off the brick walkway. “B-Brock, fucking p-punch this asshole!” he managed to choke out.
Suddenly Bucky was seeing stars as his mouth flooded with the taste of copper and iron, a blinding pain radiating from his nose. But his anger was still controlling him as he swung his arm in defense, making contact several times, though not certain with who. It was enough to spook the two hungover friends. They hurriedly put distance between themselves and Bucky, walking backwards towards the dorm.
“You’re gonna pay for this, Barnes!” Quentin yelled.
“What, you’re gonna tell daddy you got beat up ‘cause you like to drug and rape women?!”
“Fuck you, Barnes!”
“Not even in your fucking dreams,” Bucky returned cooly.
His pulse was still raging and his teeth were chattering, and yet everything was crystal clear. He knew he should be feeling pain, but it was as if a warm calm had washed over him. The only other time he’d felt like this was when Steve pulled him out of the water after his cliff diving accident. He was in shock. He texted his group chat with Steve and Sam.
Bucky: U 2 up? Need help.
His phone rang not even thirty seconds later.
“Where are you? What happened?” Steve’s voice boomed through the speaker.
“At the bench by the trees, you know just before our dorm? Got into a fight with Quentin Beck and Brock Rumlow. I think my nose is broken.”
“Jesus Christ! We’ll be down in less than five. Stay put.”
It only took two minutes for his friends and roommates to find him. Sam had a bag of frozen peas and Steve had a wet towel.
“Holy shit, Buck, that’s a lot of fucking blood!” The blonde handed him the towel.
Bucky hissed as he wiped his face and pressed it to his already swollen nose. “Ugh,” was all he could say. The shock had worn off and the pain was setting in.
“Here man, this’ll help,” Sam assured as he handed him the bag.
A muffled “thanks” came out from behind the frozen vegetables, followed by another groan.
“What the fuck happened, Buck? Why the hell are you getting into a fight with those two dicks at 7:30 a.m. on a Sunday?”
“It was them. Fuck, I shouldn’t even be telling you, but I’m so fucking pissed. It was them. They’re the ones who…”
Bucky couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. And he didn’t have to. Sam and Steve pieced it together immediately.
“Yeah,” he sighed, closing his eyes at the slight relief the peas were bringing him. The pain was present now, and morphing into a sharp ache that spread across his cheeks and behind his eyes.
The three friends stayed silent for a moment, then Steve spoke up.
“Before I start having to figure out how to get one of my best friends out of jail for murder, can we take you to the clinic?”
Bucky chuckled at how well the blonde knew his thought processes.
“Sure, no murder for today. I promise.”
“Good. Let’s get you up then. You think you can walk the five minutes to the med building?”
Bucky nodded, and the two friends each took a side, guiding Bucky away from what looked like a violent crime scene and towards the clinic.
When Y/n awoke to an empty room, her heart sank a little. She looked at her clock: 8:17 a.m. She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. How could she be crushing on someone after everything that had happened? How could she even want to be around men after that?
But maybe it was because of what happened that she wanted Bucky even more now. To prove to her not all men were sex-crazy assaulting assholes. That not all men just saw her as an object. That maybe there might be someone that wanted her for her, not her body. That respected her and was actually interested in who she was as a person.
Bucky seemed like one of the good ones. He would laugh when she made jokes about white male fragility. When the outing of sexual aggressors that was happening on campus came up, Bucky seemed to listen so intently when Y/n had shared some of her shitty experiences with him. He’d mentioned the training he was making the swim team go through. She’d never met any man like him. So supportive, aware of his privilege, and genuinely committed to making a difference.
Maybe that’s why Y/n felt so safe with him when he found her on Friday. And why she was actually relieved when he said he was sleeping over the previous night. He didn’t make her feel embarrassed about what happened. He just listened, like he always did.
Y/n sighed again, then forced herself out of bed. She felt exhausted yet wide awake, and suddenly was overcome by an urge to get out of the house. She’d go grab a coffee or maybe something more soothing—she didn’t really need anything upping her anxiety at this point. Then she could pick up the medical letter from the clinic. That could be her outing for the day. Dr. Cho had said to take baby steps, after all.
By the time Y/n got to the clinic she was already worn out and just wanted to be back at her dorm. Nat and Wanda were still asleep when she got up and she had wanted to try going out by herself. But once she’d made it to the cafe, regret for not waiting for the redheads to accompany her began seeping in.
She felt so exposed walking around campus, as if somehow every single person she passed knew what had happened to her. It made her chest flood with shame and embarrassment and all she wanted to do was crawl up into a ball in her bed. The almond steamed milk was calming her nerves a bit, but only enough to get her to the clinic. She’d b-line back to the dorm immediately after.
“Hi, I’m here to pick up my letter from Dr. Cho? My name is Y/n L/n, I was here yesterday but the printer wasn’t working?” Y/n said meekly.
“Right, there was a sticky note saying you’d come today. Dr. Cho also wanted me to give you these,” the receptionist said as she handed Y/n what looked like a few info-sheets. She couldn’t bear to look at them at that moment so she folded them along with the note and stuck them into her bag.
“Thanks, tell her thank you.” Y/n’s expression dropped. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go, that’s my friend,” she quickly turned away from the reception desk as she saw Bucky walk out of the exam room hallway.
“Oh my god, Bucky, are you ok?”
“Y/n, what are you doing here? Are you hurt?”
“Jesus, you’re covered in blood and your face is swollen and you’re worried about me?” She put her hands on his shoulders to inspect the damage more closely. The worry in her eyes was enough to melt Bucky’s heart.
“I’m ok, I promise. It’s a hairline fracture in the bridge, but didn’t have to get it reset or anything. Doctor says it should be healed in about six weeks. And I get the next three days off, so there’s that.”
“How did it… who did this to you?” Y/n asked as she pulled her arms from his shoulders, as if she might already know the answer.
Bucky rubbed the back of his neck with his metal hand, his eyes shifting away from her as he searched for a way to avoid the truth. He didn’t want to upset her, didn’t want her to think he’d betrayed her. Unintentionally, Sam and Steve came to his rescue.
“There you are, Buck. That was fast. Oh, hey, Y/n! Good to see you... again...” Sam trailed off, realizing the awkwardness of the situation.
Y/n’s cheeks burned immediately as she was bombarded with flashes of Friday night. “I’m, um, thanks… uh—”
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Please. We’re just, we’re glad we could help.” Steve chimed in.
“And we’re so fucking sorry that happened,” Sam added.
“Guys! Jesus. Not really the right venue, hm?” Bucky cut in sharply. “Let’s all get out of here, yeah? You want me to walk you back to your dorm, Y/n?”
Y/n’s shoulder’s dropped. Saved by Bucky, again. “Are you serious right now? You’ve got a broken nose and are asking to walk me home? Does he have any self preservation?” She turned to the two friends?
Sam and Steve burst out laughing.
“Oh, I like her,” Sam chuckled. “We’ve actually gotta run to practice, we’re already 15 minutes late. I’ll tell coach you’re going to be off and will be in touch with them. Y/n, do you think you could make sure this moron makes it back to our dorm?”
“You got it, captain,” she grinned warmly.
“Y/n, you really don’t have to—”
“Don’t listen to him,” Steve cut in. “He needs all the help he can get.”
“I’ve got him, don’t worry, boys.”
And she meant it. The anxiety and panic that had been building in her chest was now squashed by a sense of duty and purpose. What a powerful medicine, to be needed.
The four walked out of the clinic and into the crisp autumn morning, parting ways after saying goodbyes that were much less awkward than their hellos.
“You really don’t need to do this. It’s only five minutes from here.” Bucky protested as they started down the walkway.
“James, please. It’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for me these past few days. I want to help. Let me help.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Y/n. I need you to know that.” He stopped and looked at her with a fierceness in his eyes that made her shiver.
“I, I know. I just, please, it’s helping to have a distraction,” she admitted softly.
“I’m glad my pain and suffering could bring some benefit to you,” Bucky returned cheekily.
“Fuck, sorry!” Y/n covered her mouth in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant, I’m so sorry.”
“Y/n, sweetheart,” he backtracked, placing his hand on forearm to lower it from her mouth, “I was just joking. You’re all good.”
“I… you never answered me. Who did this to you?”
Bucky sighed. “I need you to know I didn’t say anything specific. We’ll not at first. I just, after you told me last night, I was so fucking pissed. And I know I’m making this about me and I shouldn’t be and that’s exactly why I didn’t say anything last night. And you weren’t supposed to even find out about this. But I saw the two of them this morning at the cafe and I just fucking snapped and I called him a fucking rapist and started choking him and then I threatened him to never say your name again and then I think Rumlow punch me and then I threw a few back and then—”
Suddenly Bucky’s nervous rambling was cut off by Y/n’s tight embrace, and he could feel her chest hitching slightly against his.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “thank you so much.”
Bucky exhaled in relief. “I thought you would be mad at me, that I had betrayed your trust. I’d never get involved without your consent. I know it’s not my place. I just lost control and I’m sorry but I’m not really sorry because he fucking deserves so much more than that and—”
“Bucky,” Y/n stopped him, releasing their hug to gently place a hand on his cheek, “You have no idea how much this means to me. You words, your support. Everything is so fucked up, but having you around during this has made me feel safe. So thank you.”
Bucky leaned into her touch. “Whatever you need, Y/n. I’m here. Anytime, any place.”
Y/n searched his eyes for a moment before nodding once. “Let’s get you home and under some ice. That looks painful as fuck.”
Bucky laughed softly, “Yeah, it’s not the most pleasant feeling.”
The two turned back towards the dorm, Y/n lacing her fingers with Bucky’s as they continued down the path.
A/N: I PROMISE this is fluff. Sort of. I promise this is not angst.
Loki has always loved to travel around Midgard, visiting new cities, new cultures —new people even. He's been visiting different places, trying to rid himself of the chains to the Avengers Tower and find answers that the compound's limited library couldn't give to him. But he had hope in midgardians; he had read good literature —the problem was Anthony Stark and his disinterest in refilling his common library. Loki couldn't read from his phone, like everyone did, nor could he pay enough attention to the robotic voice of the AI's narrating to him. He needs a library of sorts.
He has been walking around for a while now. The cobbled streets started getting wet, drop by drop; the sky turned as gray as ash —the sun burnt too much before, and it was nowhere to be found now.
He sees everyone around him hurry their steps, seeking shelter in nearby stores and roofs, like water wasn't a blessing itself. But Loki isn't about panicking over wetting clothes he could easily dry with a little bit of magic.
Although, walking under the rain for a little while more, he stumbles across an old building with a majestic entrance that called his name. He looked at it before going in; a sign on the door indicated a used books store.
He dried himself off before going in, and the twinkling bells of the door greeted him with a deep scent of dust and wood, the characteristic smell of old stories. An elderly woman smiled tenderly at him, and he remained in place until she told him to go in "as if it were your own home". He smiled back, and chuckled. Perhaps this library could end up being more of a home than that godsdamned compound filled with mindless barbarians.
He wasn't looking for anything in particular. He roamed around the bookshelves in search of something that called his name and invited him to another world, although the mere act of being there made him more relaxed already. He needed a place to hide from the rain, and maybe this one was the perfect one. The floors were wooded and crooked, with a carpeted reading area, a couple of individual couches that reminded him of his own, back in the Palace's Library. They were even emerald, as the ones he had shifted back home.
Home, he thought with a sigh. So far away, even in time. New Asgard is not the same. He always imagined with excitement the moment Asgard would stop being ruled by the Allfather, but then, he didn't consider Asgard would cease to exist. And that broke his cold heart —as many liked to speculate. His heart wasn't cold; if his heart were cold, he wouldn't fall in love so easily.
That's what he thought after a few days of meeting you. That's why, he is now remembering this moment. This exact moment, when you walk into the bookstore, wet head to toes and panting, stressed and apologetic to the elder.
"I'm so, so sorry. The traffic was terrible and the rain… and I got down the bus and ran all the way from the park to here!", you explained, trying to keep your voice low despite the enthusiasm in your explanation. The woman chuckled tenderly and patted your shoulder, handing you a towel.
"You ran from the park? That's like a thirty minute walk, you could've done just fine!".
"No, I couldn't possibly delay this anymore, I'm sorry I'm late, I held you back and now it's raining", you sighed out, passing the towel through your hair and face. Loki couldn't help but peep in, pretending to be searching for some books, but way more entertained by the spectacle.
"You're not late, dear… you're two hours early. My shift is not over yet", explained the woman, and you, wide-eyed, took a moment to process, and sighed in frustration.
"Hey", she corrected.
"Oh, sorry. No, I mean, it's better being early than being late. I'm sorry, I'm still a bit jet-lagged from vacations", you laughed.
"Don't you keep apologizing, sweetness! What are you gonna do now? It's pouring outside! Not that you haven't noticed".
"Oh… I… I guess I'll pass the time in here", you finally said, and noticed Loki. He looked like a kid caught doing mischief, and almost even blushed. You didn't looked pissed, in fact, you waved at him and smiled again. He waved back, a bit more enthusiastically than he would've liked. "Hi. Can I help you with anything?".
"This is my shift, dear!", complained the old lady, and then laughed and went back behind the desk. "Go make some friends, not clients".
You laughed, and blushed too, now. Loki walked towards you and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, fighting his urges to pick at the skin of his palm.
"It appears we're both caught in the rain", he started, and you nodded.
"It does", you said, and introduced yourself briefly. Loki didn't know if he wanted to say his name yet, so he didn't. "Are you new to the city?".
"I'm just visiting. I'm not acquainted with the place yet, so I wouldn't know where else I could spend the time until the rain passes", he explained as politely as he could, and you seemed interested in his way of talking.
"Well, there are a few places I love around here. This one, for starters. But there's a very nice cafe just around the block, if books bore you".
"Oh, they don't bore me at all. Although I'm afraid I've already read them all", he explained nonchalantly. You looked at him almost startled.
"The… the whole library?".
"I have… a lot of free time, per say". You laughed, and he laughed too. "You have a very nice laughter, may I add".
"Oh, thank you", you laughed again, not exactly knowing how to take the compliment. "You know, I've been working in this library for years now, and it usually doesn't get many clients, so free time is what I have to spare. Yet I've never actually been able to read them all".
"I presume I've had way more time than you, especially in my younger years…", he tried to explain, without having to actually say who he was, yet trying to hint it, just in case you knew him and didn't say anything about it.
"Younger? You seem pretty young already!".
You have no idea who he is, he realized.
"Haven't you read the news for the past two years, darling?".
"I… I mean, yeah. I don't catch up with international news, only the ones from here. You don't even have an accent, though".
"Oh, I'm very well spoken in your language", he sort of lied. "So, anyway. My name is Loki, a pleasure to meet you".
"Yes, as in Loki".
"That's so cool, your parents were mythology geeks too?", you laughed again, and he smiled, bewildered. Oh, dear, you were clueless.
"I mean… they were pretty obsessed with Asgard, if you could put it that way. Anyway, now that you've mentioned it, I might want some coffee to pass the time. Would you mind leading the way, and perhaps passing the time together?", he smiled, trying to sound as smooth as possible. You smiled back.
warning: yelena hears voices. this os loosely inspired by the show Evil (2019) on cbs but is not a complete au.
note: for @idontgettechnology . This is on ao3 too. Horror fic #1 here / ao3. About the title/spirit: don't think of this as anything but horror. I'm not religious
Reblogs, Comments, and Feedback are always appreciated 💞🍃
“I swear I’m not crazy. You’re sure you didn’t see anything?”
“No, sorry. I still don’t.” Natasha is clearly worried but there’s hardly anything she can do if she cannot see the problem.
Starting off as an off-and-on occurrence, these incidences of Yelena’s increase and intensify. Currently, it’s been ten days straight of this one and Natasha doesn’t think Yelena’s eyes can get any wider. Every single day she comes running to Natasha claiming to have seen some kind of horrific or grotesque figure or hears voices whispered in her ear. It’s gotten so bad that at night she begs for Natasha to not leave her side, even asking to sleep beside her.
For this evening, she’s claiming that her shadow moved.
“Shadows move, ‘Lena. Are you sure you’re not just tired? You’ve hardly gotten any sleep these past few days. This could be making it worse.” Natasha talks as if to a child, as if Yelena is insane.
“Don’t!” she holds up a finger, her mouth turned into an upside-down letter U. “Don’t fucking tell me what I didn’t see. I know what I saw! Besides, we’ve both gone with much less before so I know that isn’t it.”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
Even though she isn’t religious they go to a priest—her willingness surprising Natasha—one who is said to be highly regarded and experienced with people having claims similar to Yelena’s. In addition to the surprises, he isn’t what they expect: he’s relatively young, in his mid/late 40s; is in a nice sweater to accommodate the colder weather and jeans and not in anything resembling the white collar and black attire the sisters associated with priests.
He tries to make Yelena feel as safe and as welcomed as possible, informing that comfort is an important factor. But when she says she can’t do any of those, he nods and understands.
Opening up, showing vulnerability and sharing personal information and history strengthens and forms bonds. So, he suggests opening this exorcism that way. He goes first.
He shares: his childhood, what he used to want to be. And then shares what began his interest in this path of life and career had been after experiencing something similar in his youth. Then, he attended a familial Christian church in the deep South all while growing up, and when he shared that he was seeing…things, like Yelena, he tries to bond, it was immediately ticked off as “Devil’s work” and he there was an attempt to be exorcised—as if he was the problem, was how it was performed, as if hand-flicks of water from a bottle labeled “Holy” would do the trick perfectly. Needless to say, it didn’t work until meeting the man who became his mentor, here.
Since then, he’s been helping people with similar afflictions and is quite confident he can help Yelena.
So, the three of them gather in a locked room of an American Catholic Church that has been on this land for a long time and has had many similar performances. He marks Yelena’s forehead with a cross using oil, asks her to take his hands and they begin to pray—but it isn’t in English, she identifies; it’s in Latin instead.
Yelena watches at her nervous sister standing not too far away, nearer the single door in the room, and then down at her trembling hands that look small in the priest’s own, large and a deep brown, and Yelena does her best repeating him word for word. When they finish, she’s asked to describe how she feels.
“Still scared, to be honest. And apprehensive like before. And that there’s something’s staring at me. And it feels like there’s a coldness behind me. Is the a/c vent nearby?”
He doesn’t answer.
Yelena swallows, already knowing the answer but repeats anyway, bottom lip quivering. “It’s the a/c, right?”
From across the room, Natasha’s breath hitches and she takes a step back, appearing terrified.
There’s something behind Yelena’s shoulder, she knows, and her eyes dart around the room in search for an unchained shadow, a fleeting figure, a transparent shimmer in the air, or anything at all. Right when she had been about to, the priest’s hold on her hands tightens so she can’t turn.
“Focus!” He hisses. But it isn’t rude or demanding,.
“What? What is it?” A sign of fear, Yelena’s breathing becomes short and quick.
“Do not turn around! Stay focused—on the cross; on The Lord.”
Yelena nods urgently, her shaking breathing worsening and the cold behind her grows.
Behind her is a figure that’s been following her for the last few days.
It is absolutely grotesque: it’s in the mimicked shape of a man but not a man exactly. It’s tall, taller than them all with skin that looks like it burns to the touch. Whether a man or woman precisely, it cannot be distinguished. Where there is expected to be eyes—the sockets deeply sunken and much too large for a normal human’s—are instead numerous beady dots, eyes, meant to see all the sins being committed at once. All-knowing. All-seeing. When its head moves, a second or third is thought to be seen on the opposite side, shimmering into existence. There is hardly a snout. Where there is thought to be a mouth is burned and seared, never to be used again; the same fate scars where its ears are meant to be. Large fixtures have been stabbed into the sides of its head, like horns, meant to reopen the ears that will never work again. The dried streams of blood stain its being, having never been wiped clean—and the blood isn’t red, it’s noticed, but a deep, almost black grey color. It’s front limbs end where they were hacked off at the wrists; what are there now are obviously ill-fitting and not meant to be there, a dreading replacement for hands. And behind its back are painfully-attached attempts to replace the wings that were ripped off at the start of the aeon of time, the ugly, badly fashioned wings created by mending together all the wings of creatures of the Earth.
It moves with hardly any sound. Its too-long neck cranes above Yelena, above the priest, and Natasha thinks it’s staring directly at her.
Yelena trembles. The priest clutches her hand tighter and urges her to breath along with his rhythm. He doesn’t take his eyes away from here.
The creature takes one stride closer, nearly pressing against Yelena. She yelps, drops the priest’s hands and yowls, “No! No no no no no! Stop! It doesn’t—it doesn’t like it!!”
Behind Yelena is isn’t just a horrific, nightmarish creature—it’s the Devil itself.
(note: I hope this wasn't terrible. I still haven't seen Black Widow (2021) in full yet. I will though!)
Sorry for the angst! The next and final drabble in the sequence will hopefully be happier as it's about Wanda feeling Billy and Tommy in the womb and I promise to not mention their canonical deaths haha.