Smitten

WE ARE SO BACK

Supermarket Scare

This idea is originally from @rosenclaws and I HAD to write it. (They actually did turn it into a fic which is here) I took the idea, changed a few things (Logan is boy dad in this one I fear), and idk I guess this is what came out of it lmfao

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Tropes: MILF reader <3

Warnings: None that I know of

Other tags: Logan who is GREAT with kids, but doesn’t know it, extra dramatic backstory that may not be legally accurate bc I said so

Background: You’re raising your adopted son, Arlo, on your own. Wade, Al, and Logan live down the hall from you.

Description: While shopping at the grocery store, you don’t realize that Arlo has let go of the shopping cart. When you look down to talk to him, you realize that he’s gone. Thank god for Wade’s new roommate.

    “Can we get some of those little donuts?” Arlo asked, his small hand gripping the shopping cart as you walked down the bread aisle. He knew the rule, if he wanted to walk instead of riding in the cart, he had to hold onto the cart.

    “Sure,” you hummed, “What kind? The chocolate ones or the white powdered ones?” You asked.

    “The white ones,” he decided. “They’re yummy.”

    “White ones it is,” you nodded, stopping the cart in front of the bread you needed. Turning away, you reached up and grabbed a loaf of bread. “You wanna pick out some cereal while we’re here too?” You asked, turning back to the cart, only to find that Arlo was gone. 

    Looking down the aisle, he was nowhere to be seen.

================

    Logan stood on one side of the aisle, observing the different kinds of granola bars. Why were there so many goddamn flavors anyway? His focus was drawn away from the boxes on the shelves when he felt a tug on his pants.

    Looking down, he saw a young boy with tears falling down his cheeks.

    “Uh,” Logan froze, not sure how to interact with a child. “Hi.”

    “I can’t find my mama,” the boy cried, his tears coming down harder.

    “What does she look like?” He asked, kneeling down so he was closer to the kid’s height.

    The boy only cried in response, clearly scared and missing his mom.

    “Alright,” he replied, looking around as he stood up and tried to decide what to do. “Let’s go to the front of the store. Then they can find your mom, okay?”

    The boy nodded, letting go of Logan’s pants to hold out both arms at the man. Grabby hands. How could anyone say no to that?

    Logan sighed, debating it in his head before leaning down and scooping the boy into his arms. As he walked to the front of the store, the boy’s tears slowed until they eventually came to a stop. The boy laid his head down on Logan’s shoulder while one of his hands held an iron grip on the front of Logan’s flannel.

    “Excuse me,” Logan spoke, walking up to the customer service desk.

    “How can I help you?” The woman at the desk asked.

    “He can’t find his mom,” Logan explained, nodding towards the boy in his arms.

    “Let me make an announcement,” the worker gave the boy a sympathetic smile. She picked up a phone from the counter, putting it up to her ear and hitting a few buttons on the keypad. “Attention shoppers, we have a lost little boy at the customer service desk. If he is your child, please come pick him up.” After the announcement was made, she hung the phone up.

    “Alright, kid,” Logan said. “Now you just gotta wait for your mom to come get you.”

    “I’m Cherie,” the worker spoke softly to the boy. “You wanna stay here with me while we wait on your mom?” She offered, holding out her hands.

    Logan moved to pull the child away from him and hand him to Cherie, but Arlo began to cry again. His grip on Logan’s flannel tightened.

    “C’mon kid, you gotta let go,” Logan encouraged.

    The boy cried harder, bawling as he tried to desperately stay in Logan’s arms.

    “It’s alright, angel,” Cherie hushed. Based on her tone, Logan could tell that this woman had certainly dealt with kids before. She was definitely a better person to watch the boy temporarily, but kids want what they want.

    “Okay, okay,” Logan relented, holding the boy close to his chest again. “I’ll stay, just stop crying. You don’t have to cry.” He looked to the worker, “I’ll stay with him ‘til his mom gets here.”

    Despite being secure in Logan’s arms again, the tears didn’t stop.

    “Shhh,” Logan attempted, gently swaying with the boy in his arms. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he’d seen mothers do it with their babies before.

    The tears just kept coming.

    Logan looked around, spotting a small display of stuffed animals. He reached out with one hand, grabbing the first one he could and holding it up in front of the boy.

    “Look at this,” he redirected the boy’s attention, shaking the toy slightly.

    Sniffling a few times, the boy in his arms slowly stopped crying. He used his free hand to grab the animal, pulling it to his chest.

    “Fox,” he said simply, looking at the orange and white stuffie in his arm. “I like foxes. Thanks.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

    “Yeah, it’s a fox. You’re welcome,” Logan nodded, just happy that he had made the kid stop crying. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few dollars. “For the fox,” he commented to the worker, who just smiled and nodded.

    Logan moved to sit down on a bench in the customer service area. As expected, the boy refused to move from his lap. So, there they sat. Logan, a mutant, and on his lap, a lost kid holding a stuffed fox. Quite the pair.

================

    “Oh thank god!” You exclaimed as you walked into the customer service area. “Arlo!”

    “Mama!” Arlo exclaimed from where he sat on a man’s lap.

    “Told you she’d be here,” the man said as he helped Arlo down from his lap. He looked familiar, but you were more concerned about Arlo.

    The moment his feet hit the ground, Arlo was running towards you with his arms reaching out.

    As he reached you, you dropped to one knee so you could wrap your arms around him. Your arms held him tightly to your chest.

    “Honey, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried,” you breathed out, closing your now teary eyes as you held him.

    “I’m sorry,” he said softly, beginning to cry as you held him.

    “Hey, it’s alright, sweetheart,” you assured, pulling away enough so you could see each other’s faces. “You’re not in trouble. Just promise me you won’t run off like that ever again.”

    “I promise,” he nodded, leaning back in to cling to you.

    You slowly stood, picking Arlo up as you did so.

    “Thank you so much,” you spoke to the man that had been with Arlo, who was now standing. Now that you got a good look at him, you knew why you recognized him. “Wait, you’re Wade’s roommate, aren’t you?” You asked.

    Logan gives you a strange look, so you continue talking.

    “We live down the hall,” you explained. “Arlo loves talking Wade’s ear off whenever we run into each other.”

    “Probably because they’re on the same learning level,” Logan joked. He held out a hand for you to shake as he introduced himself. “Logan.”

    You supported Arlo on your hip as you took his hand in yours. As you shook his hand, you gave him your name in return.

    “And, of course, you’ve met Arlo,” you added, letting go of his (very warm, very large) hand and squeezing the boy in your arms for emphasis.

    “Arlo,” Logan smiled slightly at the boy. He hadn’t expected the little munchkin to grow on him so quickly, yet here he was.

    “I knew you,” Arlo stated.

    “You knew it was Logan?” You asked.

    “I knew he was Wade’s friend,” he smiled proudly. “The big guy with kitty ears,” he clarified, pointing to Logan’s hair and giggling.

    “Kitty ears?” Logan asked, raising a brow. “I’ve never gotten that before.”

    “I like them,” Arlo hummed happily. “They look like fox ears too,” he observed, holding up the stuffed fox with both hands.

    Logan let out a breathy chuckle, tucking his hands in his pockets. 

    “Thank you again,” you told Logan. “I really owe you big time,” you smiled. “It’s just me and Arlo, I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened.”

    “No need,” Logan shook his head. Now that he’d learned it was just you and Arlo, he decided to try and flirt with you. “He’s a nice kid. And he’s got a very nice mom,” Logan gave you a small grin, which came across as more of a smirk.

    You aren’t sure how to react. It wasn’t like you had guys lining up to date you. Most of them didn’t want to flirt with a single mom. You weren’t even sure if he was flirting. What could you say? You were a little out of practice.

    “At least let me make you dinner,”  you offered. You tried not to sound too hopeful, but you were almost positive that you’d failed.

    “Pretty please,” Arlo chimed in, sticking out his bottom lip and giving Logan his most convincing puppy dog eyes.

    “Well when you put it like that,” Logan smiled, reaching a hand out to ruffle Arlo’s hair, which earned him a giggle. “I’d love to.”

    “If tomorrow night works for you, we don’t have anything going on,” you suggested.

    “Sure,” Logan nodded. “I’m free.”

    After deciding on a time, you caught a glance of your watch and realized you had to get Arlo to home to make dinner tonight.

    “We should get home, gotta finish shopping and get this little gremlin fed,” you chuckled. “Arlo, tell Logan goodbye.”

    “Bye!” Arlo gave Logan a big grin. “We can play when you come over tomorrow.”

    “Sounds fun,” Logan nodded, smiling at Arlo.

    “We’ll see you tomorrow,” you smiled. “And feel free to stop by anytime,” you added as you started to walk away.

================

    “Mama! There’s someone at the door! I bet it’s Logan,” Arlo exclaimed, running into the kitchen, where you were working on finishing dinner.

    “Okay, okay,” you chuckled, making sure nothing would burn as you wiped your hands off on a towel and headed to the door with Arlo. You checked the peephole, confirming that it was Logan, before opening the door.

    You and Logan didn’t have a chance to speak before Arlo was jumping up and down.

    “Logan!” He grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. He held both hands out for Logan.

    “Hey, bub,” Logan greeted, picking Arlo up into his arms with a small ‘woosh’ sound. He then turned his attention to you, smiling softly.

    “I’m just finishing up dinner,” you hummed, stepping aside and letting Logan in. You shut the door behind him as he toed off his shoes neatly next to the door.

    “Take your time,” Logan replied, not wanting you to feel pressured.

    “That means we can go play in the living room,” Arlo giggled. “Me and Fink were just playing in there.”

    “Fink?” Logan raised a brow. What the hell was a Fink?

    “Yeah,” he nodded. “The fox you got me. His name is Fink.”

    “Oh,” Logan chuckled softly. “We can go play with Fink before dinner as long as it’s alright with your mom.”

    “Please mama,” Arlo looked at you, giving you his brightest smile. “Can me and Logan go play while you cook?”

    “You can,” you laughed softly at Arlo’s excitement. “Play nice, okay?”

    “I will!” He promised, wriggling around until Logan put him down. He grabbed the man’s hand, tugging on it. “C’mon, c’mon, I wanna show you my toys.”

    You and Logan shared an amused look before Logan let Arlo drag him off to your living room.

================

    “Hey, you two, dinner’s rea-,” you stopped mid sentence as you walked into the living room. You hadn’t expected the scene in front of you.

    Logan sat on the floor with Arlo, who’s hair was now pulled up into two tufts on top of his head.

    “Look mama!” Arlo spoke proudly. “I asked Logan to make us match! Do we look cool?”

    “You look very cool, sweetheart,” you chuckled softly. “You’re both very handsome. But even cool guys have to eat dinner.”

    “Yeah, to be big and strong,” Arlo nodded, hopping up from the floor and rushing off to the table.

    Logan stood up from the floor, groaning softly.

    “Didn’t know you were a hairdresser,” you joked as he began following you to the table as well.

    “Well when he gives me those big puppy eyes, I can’t say no,” Logan defended.

    “You’ve got me there,” you chuckled softly. “You can go sit at the table, I’ll bring in dinner.”

================

    Dinner with Logan felt good. Domestic. Arlo yapped about his current favorite show while you and Logan chuckled. As much as you loved Arlo, you did want to talk to Logan without having every other sentence be about Nubs the pooba boy from a Star Wars show Arlo was obsessed with.

    “Alright, bud, it’s time to head to bed,” you hummed to Arlo. After dinner, the three of you had stayed at the table talking, and now it was time for him to get some sleep.

    “Do I have to?” Arlo frowned. “I wanna stay up and play with Logan some more.”

    “Listen to your mom,” Logan replied before you could. “If you go to bed now, we can play another time. Deal?”

    “Deal,” Arlo nodded, accepting Logan’s offer. He climbed out of his chair and walked off in the direction of his room.

    “If you wanna wait in the living room, I’ll be back out after I get him down,” you told Logan as you stood.

    Logan gave you a nod before you walked off after Arlo to help him get ready for bed.

    “I like Logan,” Arlo stated as you stepped into his room. “He’s fun.”

    You chuckled softly, getting into Arlo’s dresser to pull out a couple pairs of his favorite pajamas. One was yellow and covered in dinosaurs, while the other was light blue with green stripes.

    “Which pajamas do you wanna wear tonight?” You asked, holding up both pairs for him to pick from.

    “Dinosaurs!” He grinned.

    “Dinosaurs it is,” you nodded, putting the other pajamas back in the drawer for another night.

    Once Arlo was changed into his pajamas, you helped him brush his teeth. The two of you went back into his room so that he could lay down.

    “Wait!” Arlo gasped before he could climb into bed. “I have to go get Fink and tell Logan goodnight.”

    Of course he had to tell Logan goodnight. What had you been thinking?

================

    “Logan!” Arlo giggled as he ran into the living room. Logan was sitting on the couch as he waited for you to come back.

    “I thought you were going to bed,” Logan chuckled at Arlo’s energy.

    “Had to come get Fink,” Arlo answered, grabbing the stuffed fox from where he’d left it on a chair before dinner. “And I wanted to tell you goodnight,” he smiled, climbing on the couch next to Logan and wrapping his arms around the man to the best of his abilities.

    Logan was surprised, to say the least. It wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence for kids to come up and hug him. After a split second of shock, he wrapped both arms around Arlo and gave him a soft squeeze.

    “G’night,” he hummed before letting go of Arlo.

    “Goodnight,” Arlo grinned, planting a kiss on Logan’s cheek before hopping up and running back to his room where you were waiting on him.

    “You ready to go to sleep now?” You asked as he hopped up on the bed.

    “Yep!” He nodded, crawling under his blankets.

    As he got settled, you leaned over and flicked on his night light. Then, tucked him into bed, smiling as he wiggled around to get comfortable.

    “Do you think we can get ice cream with Logan and Wade one day?” Arlo asked hopefully.

    “We’ll see, sweetie,” you chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

    “Goodnight, mama,” he smiled softly at you, “I love you.”

    “Night, bud. I love you,” you replied, standing from the bed and heading for the door. “Sleep tight,” you added, flicking the lightswitch and leaving his room, pulling the door closed as you did.

    Now that he was in bed, you made your way back to the living room.

    “He’s in bed,” you spoke as you entered the room. “He’ll be out in a few minutes. That kid can fall asleep anywhere,” you chuckled softly, plopping down on the couch next to Logan. You left a little bit of space between the two of you, not wanting to make things weird.

    “It must be nice,” Logan joked, an amused breath leaving his nose.

    “One time I found him asleep halfway through using the bathroom. He had his head leaned over against the toilet paper roll,” you laughed at the memory.

    “Jesus,” Logan laughed along with you. “He must keep you on your toes.”

    “You have no idea,” you chuckled, pulling one leg up onto the couch so you could face Logan as you talked. “He’s got enough energy for about a dozen kids. But when he’s out, he sleeps like the dead.”

    “He definitely has the energy,” Logan agreed. “But he seems like a good kid.”

    “He is,” you smiled proudly. “He’s a great kid. One of the sweetest kids I know. Maybe I just think that because I’m biased,” you joked.

    “I don’t think so,” Logan smiled. “He’s sweet. When he and I were playing earlier while you cooked, he was always offering to share whatever toy he had. Not a lot of kids are offering to share things.”

    “I try my best with him. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be a mom, but then Arlo came along, and I dunno, it was just, it was right,” you spoke fondly.

    “It can’t be easy being a single mother,” Logan started, “You’re doin’ great. He’s lucky to have you.”

    “Thank you,” you said softly. Nobody had ever told you anything like that before. You weren’t really sure how to react. “I hadn’t really expected to be a single mom, but I don’t have any regrets. I adopted him when he was just a baby, but that’s a story for another time.”

    “I didn’t realize,” Logan replied. “He’s even luckier to have you than I thought, then.”

    You smiled at Logan, feeling so grateful that the mishap at the supermarket had happened. You enjoyed having him around.

=================

    “Tonight was nice,” you told Logan as you walked him to the door. It was getting late, and you had to be up the next morning.

    Logan put his shoes on while you opened the door.

    “I had a good time,” Logan smiled slightly at you as he stood.

    You both stepped into the hallway, and you pulled the door most of the way around behind you.

    “Thank you again, for yesterday,” you hummed, leaning against the wall next to your door.

    “No, thank you,” he replied, “For dinner. It’s not often I get a home cooked meal.”

    “Well, feel free to come by for more anytime,” you smiled up at him, “Even if it’s just chicken nuggets and mac n cheese, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

    Logan chuckled softly, nodding at your invitation.

    “I’d say that you two are welcome to drop by Wade and I’s place, but that is not fit for children,” he joked.

    You laughed, unable to help yourself. Joking with Logan felt so natural.

    “Well,” Logan spoke again. “I should get out of your hair, but I’ll see ya around, yeah?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

    “Yeah, I’ll see you around,” you nodded in response.

     Logan hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning in and placing a barely there kiss on your cheek.

    “I’d really like to see you again sometime. As a date,” he admitted. “I understand that dating is more difficult when you have a kid because you have to consider Arlo when you make decisions, but I’d like to see where this goes.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked someone else, and all he could do was pray he wasn’t making a fool of himself.

    “I would love that, Logan,” you grinned. He was the first man to ever consider Arlo when it came to dating you. He seemed like the type of man to know that you had to put Arlo first. “Arlo is having a sleepover at my sister’s with his cousins this weekend. Maybe we could get dinner then? Just the two of us this time.”

    “That sounds great,” Logan nodded, trying and failing to fight off a smile. He felt like a goddamn blushing school boy. “I’ll come by at seven so we can go to dinner.”

    “Perfect,” you smiled. You leaned up, placing a quick peck on his lips. “I can’t wait.”

    Logan was shocked that you’d kissed him, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a voice from inside your apartment.

    “Mama?” Arlo called out for you from his room. He must’ve had a nightmare or want a glass of water.

    “Duty calls,” you joked. “Goodnight Logan,” you hummed, stepping back into your apartment.

    “Night,” he replied, giving you a small nod as you shut the apartment door to go check on Arlo.

    After the door was shut, Logan realized he was smiling like an absolute idiot. He hadn’t been this excited for a date since…. He couldn’t actually remember.

    Turning on his heel, he headed down the hallway back to Wade’s. He couldn’t stop smiling.

    Walking into the apartment, he groaned as he saw Wade laying on the couch as if he had been waiting for Logan to get back.

    “Stop looking at me like that,” he huffed, shutting the door behind him.

    “Like what, peanut?” Wade shrugged. “I just wanna know how things went with the hot milf down the hall.”

    “Fuck off,” Logan rolled his eyes, dropping his keys on the entry table and walking off to go to bed.

    “I’ll take that as ‘It went great, Wade, you officially have a nephew now’. Is that about right?” He called after Logan.

    Logan ignored Wade, shaking his head. He had to admit, though, things had gone great with the hot milf down the hall. And it would only get better.

relinquish the crown: as long as i've known you pt1

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 16; immediately after 'under one condition pt2'

Summary: Loki makes his affections for you known, and you tell your friends of the turn of events with regards to your impending betrothal

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning/s: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Odin; very possibly inaccurate depiction of royal pre-wedding traditions [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: a good chunk of this is 'traditions old and new' (Prologue, Part 2) in Loki's POV; honestly at this point everyone's stressed out

There was no amount of preparation that could have readied Loki for the look upon your face as your perception of him was forcibly shattered and fundamentally changed with three simple words. He couldn't have possibly braced himself enough for the sight of you looking him up and down with growing abhorrence, all while shaking your head and mumbling No to yourself over and over.

"Yes," he said, now only a mere few steps before you. He figured now was as good a time as any to come clean on how long he'd harbored affection for you. "I've loved you for as long as I've known you."

Your bottom lip trembled, your brows scrunching together; another migraine had sunk its hooks into your head. "You've known who I was since the day we met," you said in a weak exhale.

"Yes, I remember, darling." His heart hurt seeing how your body physically rejected the endearment now, the sharp shake of your head as if you were throwing the word away. Or perhaps the last few moments so you could once more cling to denial. "You bested me," he kept on, taking another step toward you. Despite the dull ache he felt, he couldn't keep himself from smiling as he recalled the day in question. "And when I gazed upon your face, I knew. I was meant to be yours. And you mine."

You looked visibly pained recoiling away from him when he cupped your face. He could only imagine how overwhelming it must have felt having your every memory with him simultaneously torn down and repainted with the knowledge that all this time, every embrace, every kiss…had an underlying layer of lust. Of a more lecherous type of love.

"All those times…" you said in a frenzied murmur, your bottom lip quivering as your throat visibly tensed. As if your body were physically refusing to form the words. Your forehead tensed as well, and it was all the god could do not to reach over and offer you some semblance of comfort.

He was the last person you would take it from. And he had to come to terms with the achingly real possibility that it would be that way for the rest of your lives.

"All those times you said you loved me…you did not mean it as family loved family," you continued, your accusatory tone and guarded eyes piercing through him. "You--"

"I meant it as a man loves a woman," he said simply, surrendering to the new reality that now his affections were out for all to see, all to know. The rumors that the palace staff and the citizens of Asgard and beyond alike whispered amongst themselves would be confirmed at the announcement of your betrothal once you accepted the offer.

If you accepted his offer.

You could still reject it and tell him and your father to suffer the fate of the battle, and he wouldn't even dare hold it against you.

It should not have pained him as much as it did to see your features contort into one of rage, your skin reddening from the indignation bubbling to the surface. And yet it did, worsening when you chose to look past him after what he'd just confessed and chose to address Odin instead.

"The people will look at this union and see it for what it is. Sinful." You bared your teeth as you concluded, "Shameful."

"This was tradition for generations upon generations," the elder god attempted to reason with you. "Ages before even I was born, Y/N."

There was such barely restrained wrath in your face, in how you held your posture, that it gave all the gods in the room with you pause. Loki knew you were capable of violence; he'd certainly seen it enough times despite having known you for the shortest amount of time among everyone else in the room. Though never did he consider until right at this moment that you were capable of directing that violence towards any of them.

"There have been new generations since you rose to power!" you fumed. Your nostrils flared as the words spilled from your lips. There was a vein in the center of your head that pulsed furiously, and anyone who knew you well enough could see that you were suffering from what was undoubtedly one of the most vicious migraines to accost you.

If you had a weapon on you, you would have probably struck at the nearest unfortunate soul. In which case it would have been the very man that was the cause of your current troubles. And he would have more than understood if you were suddenly to decide that he deserved to be at the receiving end of your dagger.

That however, did not mean that the knowledge hurt any less, as memories crossed Loki's mind of the first days you knew each other. Particularly that first morning when you'd placed yourself in the line of fire to thwart an assassination attempt. What have I done to wrong the Norns so much that my relationship with the woman I am fated to has devolved so awfully? he thought to himself.

"They were not exposed to this depravity," you continued on. "They will see this union as something so base, so morally corrupt. They will look at the offspring of this union and think them bastards."

Was it wrong that there was the tiniest bit of hope blooming in the god's heart that your mind went to your future and your children with him? Most definitely. And yet he couldn't help himself -- the vision of a little girl with your long dark hair, scrunching her nose the way you once did, freely shifting between her Aesir and Jotun forms as she wished as she frolicked in his mother's gardens -- taking root in his mind, and making his heart ache as it sunk in how desperately he wanted that.

"And give them enough time and I assure you that they will look at me and think me a whore," you concluded, your chest heaving as you visibly fought against your current migraine. You made a motion as if to step toward him, your instinct to seek comfort from him making you even more irate as you fought against the urge. "What happens if I refuse?"

You refuse me, and you would be stuck with that shameful prince of Alfheim. He would take you away and you would never see Asgard again, he wanted to tell you. Instead, he chose to let you come to whichever conclusion you would find for yourself.

"What do you think happens, my love?" The endearment slipped out so easily, so naturally, it almost felt wrong for him to even attempt to take it back.

Tears welled in your eyes, and the god could almost hear the words that you willed to stifle in the back of your mouth. Demanding that he not call you such an abhorrent term. Screaming how dare he even think of calling you such in present company.

And yet instead of those words that would surely press even more daggers into his heart, you chose to answer your own question. "If I refuse then the terms of your relinquishment are unmet. If I refuse…the duel commences." The fat tears at the corners of your eyes finally rolled down your face, and once more Loki had to fight the urge to wipe them away. To pull you into his arms and tell you it was alright to just let your devastation out. To take it out on him, even, if you needed.

But all he could do was stand and watch.

"It does," Thor spoke, confirming your fear that these were your only options. A marriage that you viewed as immoral, or death. His…and in a way because of that spiteful child of an elven prince, yours. "Daughter, I am terribly--"

"You've given me an impossible choice," you cut him off, looking each of them in the eye. "All of you." You crossed your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself back from completely lashing out and letting temper run amok. "Either I lose a part of my family…or I lose my life. My future. Signed away to avoid the bloodshed of new tradition."

If only it were that selfish, he wanted to tell you. I wish it were that simple, little Princess.

"Please don't view it so bleakly, darling."

"Well how else do you suggest I see it?" you seethed at the dark haired prince, your eyes widening in disgust as another realization planted itself in your mind. "Is this why you insisted that I never call you Uncle?"

Well, there's no longer any reason to hide it from her, Loki thought to himself. "In part," he answered you, your nostrils flaring at his admission. "Try to see it less pessimistically, I implore you."

He took a step closer to you, his hands raised with open palms, trying to show you he meant you no  harm. He was the last person in all the realms that would ever wish to inflict upon you any pain.

When you didn't flinch away from him, he continued. "You wouldn't lose your life. You wouldn't have nothing. You would have a husband who adores you. Who loves you with his entire heart." He tried to hold your gaze, praying to the Norns that you would hear the meaning behind his words when he asked, "Wouldn't you agree that you could do a lot worse than being wed to a man who loves you as I do?"

Is this not a better alternative than being shackled to that heathen from Alfheim?

A hint of understanding finally dawned in your features, clearly envisioning the long-term consequences of your refusal. The duel and the subsequent death, all in the name of determining an heir for the Allfather. The wedding and your inevitable departure from your home. The devastation and the misery.

Now it was up to you if those consequences were worth the refusal.

The next few moments seemed to drag on for hours. Days, even. As they all awaited your answer with baited breath.

And then finally you spoke, your words barely audible. "I accept your terms." Your words trembled as you fought back a sob, and you looked up at Loki with a cold, deceptive calm. "I accept your surrender. Only because I love my father. And I do not wish to see him live out his days haunted by the memory of losing you by his own hand."

Where there should have been an aching sorrow in his heart upon hearing your reasoning, there was only relief. She's accepted. She will be safe.

He couldn't help himself from taking your hands in his, hoping to steady their shaking. "I know it will take time but you will be able to find a way to love me, too."

Perhaps it was simply the hopeless optimism in his heart, holding on to the shred of possibility that the vision his mother had shown him months before of a blissfully married life to you, that pushed him to utter those words. Perhaps he still had faith in the knowledge that you two were fated for one another, and somehow your heart would find your way to him.

Even with your next words, he desperately clung to that faith by a thread. The very thread that tied your souls together.

"That's the tragedy of this all, I already loved you," you told him, wrenching your hands out of his hold with a sneer. "Just not in the depraved way that you do. But any affection I may have held towards you dies today." You averted your gaze from his and looked around the god to face your father. "You get to keep your brother. At the cost of your daughter."

With those words, you stormed out of the war room, your heavy footfalls echoing across the palace halls even long after you'd gone.

Hot tears continued to stream down your face and blur your vision as you navigated the palace halls, aimlessly taking turn after turn, trying to put as much distance between you and the war room as physically possible. As if you could escape the crushing weight of your new reality.

You had agreed to a marriage. You were betrothed.

To Loki.

There was a sharp pain at the back of your head, pounding away harder and harder with each step you took that brought you farther away from that wretched room. Worsening when you would pause even for a moment to process what you had just done.

It filled you with a cold dread knowing that you had verbally written off your family with that one meeting, and a burning rage immediately after knowing that they had essentially forced your hand. Surely not a single one of them thought you would take on this betrothal with open arms and a warm and welcoming disposition?

"Y/N?"

You turned your head to find your friends at the other end of the hall. It seemed your aimless wandering led you to the robe laundering facilities, to the remaining familiar faces that didn't make your heart hurt when you looked upon them. Halley and Narda hastened their steps, making their way to you with concern coloring their features once they saw the tear streaks and your red-rimmed eyes.

"My friend, what's wrong?" Narda asked, each of them taking one of your hands as you walked down the hall together.

"My dear friends, I am to be married," you said simply. There was nary a shred of excitement in your tone. You may as well have told them that you were to be executed within the hour.

They stopped abruptly in their tracks, their eyes wide and fearful as they shook their heads at one another. "Princess, you agreed to Prince Damien's--?"

"Norns no," you blurted out, answering Halley's question. "I'll gauge my own eyes out with my training daggers before I allow that heathen of a prince to marry me."

"Then who…?"

You motioned toward one of the stone benches, the three of you seating yourselves with you between the two ladies before answering Narda. "There was this abolished incestuous tradition within my family line, one that Odin rid us of when he'd chosen to go down the path that would lead to his marriage to my grandmother Frigga. In its place…a duel would commence in the event of more than one legitimate heir to Asgard's throne. It seemed that my hand in marriage was requested as a term of Loki's succumbence."

"You are to marry the god of mischief?" Halley squeaked, a pit forming in your stomach when you saw an eagerness in their faces. "Ohh, Y/N this is wonderful news, the prince adores you--"

"Hang on." You withdrew your hands from their grasp, your brows knitting together as another migraine came about. "You two knew about his lechery?"

"Well I wouldn't say we knew," Narda explained. "More like we'd surmised. Much as the prince is the god of lies, there was one truth that he couldn't hide away from any one of us to save his life. His love for you. We tried to rationalize that perhaps the tenderness we would see in his eyes was a familial sort of love--"

"But it was clear to just about anyone that he looked at you the way Narda looks at Fandral…and vice versa," Halley concluded. "He looks at you like a man in love, my friend."

Your face fell at their words. Were you simply so oblivious to what apparently anyone with eyes and a functioning mind could see? Had you truly subconsciously overlooked every gesture and every endearment that Loki sent your way in the name of blissful ignorance?

"B-But never you mind all that, Y/N," Narda spoke again, placing her hands on your shoulders and calling your attention back to them before you lost yourself in your mind. They'd surely known you long enough to see your tells before it became too arduous a task and they would need reinforcements. The most reliable of which was now called your betrothed. "We must strive to look at the brighter side of the situation. You need not marry that loathsome prince of Alfheim anymore, and you need no longer leave the realm after your wedding!"

"And much as this is not what you had envisioned as far as your married life goes," Halley chimed in. "We could still perhaps partake in some wedding traditions…particularly one where your bridal party gets to throw you a couple of celebrations before the ceremony?"

Much as you still struggled to come to terms with the betrothal, your friends had rather valid arguments. And Halley's suggestion began to lighten your mood even by the slightest. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

The silence in the war room was deafening, none of the men inside daring to break it after your understandably emotional exit. Odin seemed to be mouthing words to himself, surely planning away his next steps now that there was no longer any need for the horrendous duel that would have resulted in the end of Loki's life.

Meanwhile Thor held his head in his hands, the only sound filling the room being his deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. Impulsive as the elder god was in his youth, it seemed he didn't wish to say or do anything as rash as you had moments earlier.

"I sincerely hope you realize the gravity of what you've done," the god of thunder spoke, his eyes filled with a mixture of anguish and restraint. "This surrender of yours may have irreparably damaged my daughters relationship with not just you, but all of us."

There was the faintest voice in the back of his mind contemplating taking it all back, the god's heart splintering as the words you'd spewed his and Thor's way replayed over and over. That would be what the coming years, centuries even, married to you would look like. Perhaps even worse as your hatred would fester over time.

If he rescinded his surrender now perhaps he could still salvage what dregs of love and respect you had for him, and he could spend what time he had before the duel finding another way for you to escape Prince Damien's clutches. A way that didn't require you to be shackled to your father's brother, in a gilded cage of forced matrimony.

But he knew well and good that this was the only way to secure your safety. To ensure that you wouldn't have to live out the rest of your days in a loveless marriage that reduced you to barely anything more than an incubator for the elven prince's heirs. Even worse if that wretched prince decided to share you with his trusted comrades and his swine of a father as soon as you were given the dishonor of being called his wife.

Meanwhile the worst that could happen whilst you were Loki's wife had most likely already happened. His love would be unreturned, and the most he could hope for was a lick of civility. He would not coerce you into loving him, and for the most part he would make his best effort to refrain from showing you his affection so as to not add to your discomfort.

All that truly mattered was that he had successfully thwarted Damien's loathsome plans to turn you into little more than a piece of meat to be picked apart by such animals.

His getting to live and escape the bloodshed of the duel for the throne was simply an added recompense.

"Considering what the alternative would have been like for her, Brother, I will happily take her scornful demeanor for the rest of my days," he answered, sincerity pouring out of every word. "She may despise me for as long as I live for taking her choice in marriage away from her, and be appalled by knowing of my affections towards her, but at least she will be here. Safe in the realm she calls home. Surrounded by those that love her most. Better this than all of Asgard losing her…and ultimately her losing any sense of self if Prince Damien has his way."

"The royal court of Alfheim will not take kindly to the news that a unification with our realm by marriage to Princess Y/N is no longer an option," Odin finally spoke aloud. "Namely their crown prince."

"That adolescent in a grown oaf's body is simply ambitious and suffers from delusions of grandeur," Thor said with a dismissive sneer. "And I do agree with you, Brother. To a point. But Father is also right. There will be an effort of resistance on their part, even likely demanding a form of reparation for their time spent gone to waste."

"Perhaps he could challenge me to a duel, then," Loki responded bitterly, a rueful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And I could do all the Realms a favor by ridding them of this pathetic disrespectful excuse of a prince with my bare hands."

"Let us hope it does not come to that, my sons." Odin stood from the table, beginning to circle the room as he spoke of his plans for the immediate future. "We have now entered a time for celebration. There is to be a royal wedding. The likes that may satisfy the proponents of our old and our new traditions alike."

A chill ran down Loki's spine at his father's words, already knowing the course that this conversation would take. Tradition decreed that when a royal was betrothed, there were to be a series of affairs they were to partake in, mainly so the citizens of their Realm could grow accustomed to the new relationship and accept the new dynamics at play.

He always thought of it as being paraded around akin to a child going around their classroom to show the other students their shiny new toy. And now at the center of that attention would be himself…and you.

"You are to engage in a public courtship," the Allfather addressed him. "Get the denizens of the streets of Asgard accustomed to the idea that they will now see you and Y/N in a different light. That you two will now belong to one another and as such, any slight to one of you will be an affront to the other. We can decide what events this courtship will consist of at a later day. For now, we focus on the announcement of your betrothal."

Cognizance seemed to dawn upon Thor's features, his accusatory gaze pinning his brother where he sat. "He has been courting her, Father. All this time. We'd all simply been unaware."

Loki fought back the urge to protest or deny the claim. He wanted more than anything to say that Thor was simply jumping to conclusions now, that he was farcically wrong, as he often was. But as the seconds passed, and he looked back on his interactions with you, he knew that denying it would be nothing but a bold faced lie.

The gifts he would bring back for you upon his return from every assignment Odin or Frigga would send him off to, the time you two would spend together despite having no formal reason to, the gestures he made towards you from the way he would hold you to his side when you passed a crowded street or how he kissed your knuckles when your time together for the day had reached its conclusion. There had always been a layer of intimacy that anyone watching would have seen from leagues away.

You two had been unwittingly engaging in a public courtship since the day you met.

"I assure you, Brother, that had never been my intention," was all he could muster.

"Then these next moons shall come quite naturally to you then, Loki," Odin told him. "And now public courtship is precisely your intention. It is one thing for Y/N to have accepted the terms of your surrender, and ultimately this marriage, but it shall be another thing entirely for the rest of Asgard to accept it. Now, your first act as her betrothed is to find her and inform her of what shall be required of both of you prior to the royal wedding taking place."

"Try not to tell her while she is in the presence of her weapons," Thor quipped. "The last thing we need is for her to be locked in the dungeons for committing avunculicide."

A/N: Pretty sure Thor hated how his brain cells rubbed together and figured it out at the end back there 🫠 But anyways holy hell goddamn I can't believe we're finally here…Season 1 is coming to a close and I can finally get started on planning out Season 2…and writing a whole bunch of other projects alongside it 🤪

Lemme just say right now…the plans I have so far for Season 2? Especially towards the end of it? Chaos (insert baby yoda with the flames here)

I had to split the S1 finale into two parts because honestly it was too long and there was too much going on even for me for a single chapter. The final episode of Season 1 will go up on Friday. 😳

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv

Mine

Prompt idea by: @fightclubendingscene

Tag: @superwholockbooknerd526

Thanking for @fightclubendingscene inspired me to write this as my first BBC sherlock x reader ^^

Tag: Jealous Sherlock, feelings, female reader

-------------

The first time you worked with Sherlock at 221B Baker Street, you fell for him at first sight. His intelligence was captivating, his mind a fascinating labyrinth of insights and analyses that seemed almost otherworldly. You were struck by how quickly he could piece together clues, revealing connections that others would overlook. There was a stoicism about him, a cool detachment that often made you wonder if he was, in some ways, more machine than man.

Yet, deep down, you sensed there was more to him—a complexity of emotions that he kept hidden beneath his sharp exterior. The way he approached each case was both brilliant and bewildering, making it hard to reconcile the thought that he might lack feelings altogether. You knew he was no machine; there was something profoundly human beneath his enigmatic façade that drew you in and made your feelings race each time you witnessed his brilliance in action.

As time passes, your feelings for him deepen, evolving into something more profound and complex. You find yourself constantly grappling with the notion that Sherlock Holmes, famously devoted to his work and often emotionally detached from others, might not reciprocate those feelings.

However, some moments ignite hope within you. In those fleeting seconds when your eyes meet, an unspoken connection lingers in the air before you both inevitably look away, your cheeks flushing with a mix of confusion and longing.

Then there are the rare instances when Sherlock expresses his sentiments through actions rather than words—small gestures that, at first, seemed insignificant but now stand out in sharp relief. The way he remembers your favorite coffee or the specific foods you love speaks volumes about his attention to you. These thoughtful details, once overlooked, now fill you with a sense of warmth and possibility, suggesting that beneath his stoic exterior, there may indeed be more to him than meets the eye.

John mentioned that he had never seen Sherlock behave in such a way before. It’s interesting to note that he has known the detective far longer than you have, which makes his insight all the more significant. Encouragingly, John believes that one day, both you and Sherlock will have the courage to reveal your feelings for each other.

Although he often feels like a third wheel, acting as a somewhat reluctant wingman in his friends' romantic escapades, he remains optimistic.

Until that fateful day when Irene Adler appeared at Baker Street, you found yourself returning the apartment after a trip to the market, the scent of fresh produce mingling with the cool, crisp air of a late autumn afternoon. As you stepped through the door, her captivating presence immediately drew your attention. She looked up from her poised position near the fireplace, her expression transforming into a warm, gentle smile that held a hint of seduction.

You placed the bags of groceries on the kitchen table, the clatter of jars and the rustle of paper momentarily breaking the spell of her gaze. In the background, you could hear Sherlock Holmes pausing mid-experiment, the unmistakable sound of vials clinking together fading into silence as he became aware of your arrival.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with unspoken tension, as the two of you—one the immensely logical detective and the other a woman of enigmatic charm—interacted in a space that felt charged with possibility.

"Well, she's quite the adorable one! I had no idea you brought such a charming woman with you," Irene purred playfully. She stood up gracefully, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gently tugged you toward her, drawing you both into the warm glow of the fireplace. The flickering flames danced around you, casting a soft, golden light that made the moment feel even more intimate.

Her eyes flickered momentarily over your shoulders, where she caught sight of Sherlock Holmes. His jaw was set tightly, and his hands were clasped firmly behind his back. He moved his knuckles in small, restless circles, betraying the turmoil brewing beneath his composed exterior. It was clear that he was grappling with a mix of jealousy and confusion, particularly regarding Irene's audacity in pulling you toward her.

John burst into the room, his breath still quick from a brisk walk along Baker Street. He paused mid-step, momentarily immobilized by the scene playing out before him. His eyes darted from Sherlock to Irene and then back to Sherlock as if trying to piece together the unfolding drama.

"‘Aren’t you a pretty little thing?’ Irene chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned in closer. Her fingers brushed against your cheeks, the gentle caress sending a warm flutter through you. With a playful smile, she let her other hand rest on your chest, feeling the steady rhythm of your heart thundering beneath her touch.

At that moment, Sherlock unexpectedly tugged you closer, his firm grip pulling your back snugly against his chest. The suddenness of it caught John off guard, and he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the sight. It was a rare display of possessiveness from Sherlock, a side of him that John had never witnessed before.

His sharp gaze was locked onto Irene, filled with an intensity that seemed to burn right through her as if he was silently staking a claim on what he believed to be his. The air was charged with tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, an unfamiliar blend of protectiveness and desire that left you both exhilarated and slightly breathless.

"That's quite enough for today, Irene," Sherlock said, his voice steady and calm, though a slight tremor. Irene, ever perceptive, couldn’t help but notice the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke your name with a softness that seemed at odds with his internal struggle. "We have a case to attend to," he added, steering the conversation to business. "Is urgent."

"You don—" John starts yet Sherlock gave him a angry glare.

"Case?" Irene chuckled, she stepped closer, the playful tension in the air thickening. Suddenly, without warning, Sherlock wrapped his arms around you,it caught you off guard. You could feel the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, a stark contrast to Irene's playful challenge.

With a swift motion, she grabbed your wrist, gently yet insistently tugging you toward her, as if trying to reclaim your attention from Sherlock. It felt like a whimsical tug-of-war, both of them vying for your focus. "You don’t have a case today, Sherlock," Irene teased, a smirk on her lips, her tone light but daring. "You never said you have a case today."

"We have now," Sherlock said, his voice low and laced with tension as he clenched his jaw. He tightened his hold around you, pulling you closer to him, as he took a determined step back, forcing you to stumble slightly along with him. "Good day, Irene." he added, his tone firm and unyielding, as he slid his other arm securely beneath yours, guiding you toward the door with an unmistakable urgency.

As he led you away, his eyes flicked back to Irene, a storm of anger and jealousy swirling within their depths. The silent message was clear—he was claiming you as his own. Mine. The intensity of his gaze spoke volumes, a silent declaration that you belonged to him, and he would not easily let go. His footsteps echoed down the staircase, each thud resonating like the petulant stomp of a child denied.

In a nearby corner, John rubbed his weary face with both hands, disbelief etched across his features. He hadn't expected this turn of events at all. The way Sherlock tightened his hold on you, the possessive aura emanating from him, was unmistakable—he had finally revealed the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

Charge My Card

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: You see a TikTok of a woman who pays for DoorDash instead of her boyfriend and her boyfriend gets upset about because he usually pays for it. So you try the same thing with Joaquin…

A/N: Inspired by this TikTok.

You're happy that Joaquin is filming in LA because that means he doesn't need to be far from home. He spends a majority of his day filming and then comes home to you. It's all so domestic.

You thought moving in together would come with some difficulties, but Joaquin is very on top of everything. He's tidy, does chores without being told, and basically makes sure you don't have to lift a finger.

You must have done something good in your past life to end up with someone like him.

You and Joaquin are currently sitting on the couch together, scrolling through Yelp to see what you could order.

"Oh! That Korean place we went to with Kate delivers! Should we get that?"

"Oh hell yes. I've been thinking about their fried chicken for weeks!"

You nod and put in the order of food you wanted as well as the fried chicken Joaquin requested.

Joaquin gets up to grab his wallet from his work bag. He's rifling through his things until you speak up, "Okay, so it'll be here in about thirty minutes."

That's when Joaquin pauses, "Wait," he turns around to face you, "did you pay already?"

You nod, looking up from your phone, "Yeah. It'll be here in thirty minutes."

Joaquin holds up one of his credit cards, "Which card did you use?"

"Mine," you respond with a confused look.

He shakes his head, "Cancel the order."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're supposed to use my card," he reaches for your phone and pull it away from him.

"Says who?!" you ask as you slap his hand away.

"Says me! I always pay for our takeout!" You two begin to wrestle for your phone.

You can't help but laugh, "Joaquin, it's fine! I want to pay!" you try your best to keep your phone away from him.

He grunts as his arms wrap around you as he tries to grab for your phone. You continue to laugh. Throughout your relationship, Joaquin has very much always been more of the provider. He loves the idea of taking care of you, making sure you have everything you want and need.

Although you work and even pay half the rent of your shared home, he doesn't allow you to pay for anything else.

Slightly exasperated, he holds himself above you and pouts, "Baby, please cancel the order."

"No," you respond with a smirk and peck his lips, "I wanna pay every once in a while. I don't like feeling like I'm mooching off you."

He sighs and plops onto the couch beside you, "You're not mooching off me. You pay in half the rent and in your love and affection. You're smooching, not mooching"

You snort, "You're so dumb," you lightly slap his arm.

He grins at you, "You know a lot of people would love the idea of never having to pay for anything."

You shrug, "I know, I'm stubborn like that."

"Don't I know it," he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in his arms. He pats behind you for your phone and his brows furrow, "Where'd you put your phone?"

You mischievously grin at him, "In my pants."

He chuckles and smirks, "As if that would stop me," he pulls away and begins to at your jeans, causing you to squeal in laughter.

JUST A BITE

You learned quickly that Bucky Barnes had the tastebuds of a man who’d survived decades of rationed food and army chow—because he could eat anything. And not just anything… but pain. Pure, fiery, tear-inducing, sweat-on-your-brow spice.

You, on the other hand, would combust at a medium salsa.

The first time you’d gone out to eat together, he’d asked if you wanted to try a bite of his dish. You’d said yes, stupidly trusting. And when you took a mouthful of his flaming Thai curry, it was like your soul left your body for a moment.

Tears streaming, hiccuping, you’d waved wildly at him while gulping water, and all he’d done was laugh. That rare, deep laugh that lit up his entire face and made your heart flutter despite the actual hell in your mouth.

From then on, it became a silent agreement. You’d order something gentle—creamy, sweet, or mild. He’d get something that could probably strip paint. And no matter what, halfway through the meal, you’d each push your plates halfway across the table.

“Wanna trade a bite?” he’d ask casually, like this wasn’t a weekly ritual by now.

You’d glare at him every time. “One bite. One. And a small one.”

He’d just grin, breaking off a piece of your naan or scooping a bit of your pasta with practiced ease. You’d do the same, trying to find a pocket of his dish that didn’t look lava-adjacent. You never succeeded.

Tonight was no different. You were at a cozy little Indian place you’d both grown fond of. You had your creamy butter chicken with fluffy rice, and Bucky had some devil-red vindaloo that made the air around it spicy.

You exchanged bites like clockwork.

He hummed happily when he tasted yours. “God, how is this so good?”

“Because you can taste it,” you countered, taking the tiniest possible bite of his. “Oh my god—nope, still evil. Still so evil.” You grabbed your mango lassi like it was holy water.

He snorted into his water glass. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re a spice masochist.”

“Maybe I just like flavour, doll.”

“That isn’t flavour.. it's... it's- I dunno but it hurts”

Still, you tried it. You always tried it. Because for some reason, part of you loved the way he smiled when you did. Like he was in on a private joke with you. Like he liked knowing you’d brave the fire for him, even if it made your nose run.

And maybe… you liked feeding him a bite of yours, too. Watching his eyes flutter shut just a little at the sweetness, the softness of it.

'he would not fucking say that' maybe he would if he knew he was starring in his very own porn fic for the sole purpose of delighting some freaks on archive of our own dot org. maybe he'd play it up for the cameras. ever consider that

am i cooked, chat? (04)

➳ bucky barnes x f!reader ➳ you found a new favorite no-face streamer, much to your bestfriend's (who is hopelessly inlove with you btw)  dismay. oh but the fact that the no-face streamer is also him is not relevant. am i cooked, chat? - masterlist a/n: started drafting it. had a breakdown. bon apetit.

was reading through a fic on here that felt…off? in its writing, but was otherwise an interesting story. until i got to later in the story and the person forgot to erase the AI prompt response.

i’d literally rather your writing be shitty and barely there than using AI to write. at least then i know you had the heart.

i will never consent to AI being used on my writing nor will i ever use it. good fucking grief.