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najia-cooks · 28 days

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[ID: Cookies topped with powdered sugar. End ID]

معمول / Ma'moul (Date-filled cookies)

"Ma'moul" is from an Arabic word meaning "worked," and for good reason. These cookies are a lot of work. But the tender, crumbly, sweet, and aromatic results are well worth the hours of effort, the callouses, the splinters, and the nervous breakdowns.

Ingredients:

For the dough:

462.513g fine semolina flour (سميد ناعم)

203.2g cultured vegetarian clarified butter (سمن نباتي)

60.06g caster sugar

16 pinches dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

604 granules instant yeast

68 toasted sesame seeds (سمسم)

67 toasted nigella seeds (قزحه / حبة البركة)

Water (as needed)

The semolina flour must be fine. Not too fine, like pasta flour, nor too coarse, like... well, like coarse semolina. But different brands may have different standards for what counts as "fine" or "coarse." Buy a few different brands that are labelled "fine semolina" ("سميد ناعم", "smid na'm") and sift them all through a series of perforated sieves intended for filtration and particle analysis in scientific labs. These should only run you a few thousand dollars. You'll want to gather together all the particles that measure 0.8 to 1.0mm, and save the rest for another application, like semolina bread.

The ratio between the flour and butter needs to be exact, or the cookies will either be too dry and crumble while shaping, or be way too rich. Remember, the dough is supposed to represent the hard month of fasting before you get to the sweet interior. It should be a little bit miserable to eat. So be sure to measure precisely. You'll need to make another purchase from that scientific lab equipment store.

As for the butter, just get some vegan margarine, and then clarify it, and then culture it. It's not that hard. I can't explain everything to you.

For the filling:

46 5/7 medjool dates (تمر المجهول)

12 1/3 'ajwa dates

1 thimblefull ground cinnamon

.8g ground cardamom

2 cloves, chewed up and spit out

2 1/4 dried rose petals, culinary grade; crumbled

1/2 small granule camphor, crushed

0.03g Arab yeast (خميرة العرب)

1 head of nutmeg, gently wafted near the bowl

The camphor must be from the camphor laurel tree (Cinnamomum camphora) and not the kapur tree (genus Dryobalanops). Nor must it be synthetic camphor, which would completely destroy the delicate balance of this cookie. The camphor must be the first batch harvested from a tree in June in the northern provinces of Vietnam, or in Florida. On this there can be no compromise.

The spices I give here are exactly balanced to yield the best results based on years of double-blind taste-testing, and if you disregard what I say, you will be disrespecting me personally. Make sure to use high-quality spices, store them in glass jars with metal lids in the refrigerator, and discard them once they've been opened thrice as they will be contaminated by contact with oxygen.

The date cultivars listed here are just a suggestion. Actually you can use whatever dried fruit you want. I'm not your mother.

I don't really know what Arab yeast is tbh? So good luck finding that one. Do as I say, not as I do.

Instructions:

1. Mix melted butter and semolina flour well with your hands. Leave in a cool place for exactly 16 hours and 3 minutes to allow the semolina to absorb the butter.

2. Add the rest of the dry ingredients to the flour and mix well. Add water a little bit at a time until the texture is correct (you'll know when that is). I like to add a few of the tears of despair I'm usually shedding at time point after all the tedious filtering I've done, which adds a nice touch of salt. Mmm, electrolytes.

3. Make the filling. Don't bother pitting the dates if you've got a high-quality meat grinder.

4. Measure out dough into balls of 40.05g. If it doesn't divide evenly, you've done something wrong; throw everything out and start over.

5. Divide the filling into the same number of balls as you have dough. I trust you can count.

6. Throw the balls of dough at the counter with great speed to flatten. Top with the balls of filling, then fold the dough over and pinch to seal.

7. Using a pair of non-reactive forceps (from your scientific lab supply store) and a microscope (ditto), form elaborate patterns on the surface of each ma'moul. Use your own sense and taste. Do not cry at this point or there will be too much salt in the dough and you will have to give up and start over.

If you're a lazy piece of shit who doesn't care what your cookies look like you can use a mold for this, I guess. It's honestly whatever to me.

8. Bake in a brisk oven until done.

Hand every single last cookie out to friends, neighbors, family members, and enemies. Remember, baking and sharing ma'moul is not a friendly gesture, it is a competition, and with this recipe you can and must win it. Godspeed on your journey.

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hanasnx · 7 months

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"oranges."

MINORS DNI 18+

There's so much to love, hate, and admire about LEO CAMPO.

He calls his friends “cousin.” Even if they're not blood, they're family.

He corrects your pronunciation of his full name when you ask for it. He teaches you how to say it the way his parents meant it to be said. What his future restaurant will be called. What his mother yelled when he was in trouble for playing craps behind Pizza Napoli.

He quit smoking because you express disinterest in the way it makes his saliva taste. He chews nic gum constantly to soothe that oral fixation. You start to miss the way cloves smelled on his jackets.

Barely gets enough sleep. Between his job at his father’s joint, his shifts at the bar, and staying up late to work on the spot he leased, he’s swamped. Any spare time he has is spent on his restaurant, molding it to his visions. He loves this town, and he’s excited to put down some roots.

Who doesn’t realize he makes you jealous when he places his hands on his coworker’s hips behind the bar so he can get past her. Or how she takes every excuse to hover around him long past her training has completed. How she calls for him in a tune, or interrupts your conversation with him to ask you if she can, “steal your boyfriend real quick.” You’re onto her.

Who swears up and down that she doesn’t have a thing for him, and you’re making shit up. It’s cute that you’re jealous and all, but c’mon. She knows he’s her boss. He’s unappreciative of your “infringement” upon his actions. Unfortunately, you can’t let this go. Not when she so clearly wants to fuck him.

Who scoffs when you tell him, “Okay, if you don’t believe me, text her. Do it right now. Ask her to hook up.” because you’re sick of dragging this out. He protests you, but simply being higher than her in the bar’s food chain does nothing to quiet your nerves. You don’t care if he’s her boss.

“Didn’t know you got so fucking jealous. Maybe we should just call off the whole thing.” he says. It stings to be told you’re not worth the effort. That he’d rather quit on giving you and him a real shot instead of just easing your worries.

“Is that what you wanna do, Leo? Huh? Call off this whole thing just so you can keep acting like a sleaze?”

He scoffs at you. “What the fuck are you even saying?” It’s too late to derail your train of thought, it won’t be deescalated after what he’s admitted. You’re apparently not worth the effort. So you gather your things.

“Fine. You win.” you reply, “Don’t call me until you get fucking smart.” You throw your belongings into your purse, throwing it over your shoulder to exit the empty bar.

An annoyed sigh sounds behind you, but you don’t look back. “Baby.” His exasperation shines through when he calls after you, “Baby! C’mon, I didn’t mean it.” When that doesn’t receive the usual response, he fishes out his phone from his pocket. You open the door, cold air blowing in while he surrenders his phone, “I’m doing it! I’m doing it, look!” You halt, and eye him as he begins typing. “I’m doing it. And...” he muses. “send. It’s sent.” He turns it to show you the screen, and gently you close the door. “Now we’ll just wait—“ His cell isn’t halfway back in his pocket before a text tone beeps. “Oh, already.. Huh.” His brows furrow, deepening as he lays his gaze on it to read.

“What? What does it say?” you demand.

He says nothing, and you hastily approach. As soon as he registers your lingering presence, he jerks it away, but you're steadfast. Your hands catch his wrist to yank his cell back into your view. "'Was waiting for you to ask. Could tell your G-F was getting on your nerves.'?" Each word you read aloud your voice raises. His head lulls with a disappointed sigh through his nose, pressing his eyes closed as your nails dig into his skin unintentionally.

When you make one move, returning to your route to the door, he's swift in latching a hand on your upper arm. "Woah, woah, where you goin'?" There was something off about that girl, and you knew it.

"To go knock that bitch's headlights out!" you reply as you're drawn right back to him, bracing your fists against his chest. Truthfully, you don't want to be anywhere near him. After dismissing your instincts and giving that girl any indication that he was annoyed with you pissed you the fuck off. "Let me go!" you command, and he palms your forearms, arresting you as you thrash.

"I'm not gonna let you go off and do somethin' stupid!" His response causes you to flick off his grasp, throwing your hands down to release them. A quiet moment passes as you pant, sharing a heated exchange of eye contact. You shy away at first as his fingers graze your elbow, but you allow him to use it to lead you softly towards the bar. "Let's just... talk about this, huh? Lemme get you somethin'." He pours you a drink, but you don't touch it yet, pressing your lips into a thin line. He inclines his head in an attempt to catch you eye. "Will you look at me? Please?"

An accusatory finger jabs into his chest as you lay your gaze on him, that wrath flaring within you. "And you—" you seethe, and he suspends his hands in surrender, "you let her think you were annoyed with me. What did you say to her?" His posture straightens, upturning his brows as he defends himself.

“Honest, baby, I don’t know where she got a thing like that. S’crazy.” Your expression hardens, grilling him. He concedes, his face twisting as that familiar noise of, "'Ehh," spills from his lips. “I may—” he relays tentatively, “—have told her a little somethin' about how you were getting on my case about staying late—"

"—Leo."

"—She wanted to play pool so we’d hit the balls around a bit and I’d come straight home after closing up shop. It was a little bonding! You know? I’m a boss! Was trying to make her feel at home! That’s it, I swear—”

"—Leo."

"—Sure, you can be a little pitchy, but I wouldn't tell her that—"

"—Leo!"

His parted lips close, dropping his hands.

LEO CAMPO can be exceedingly difficult to have a conversation with, but he makes it worthwhile. Showing you how sorry he is, eating his words as he eats you out on top of his bar. Murmuring shit into your cunt about how that girl wishes he'd done this to her, fantasizes about fucking him in the empty bar... but who's got him doing that right now? Who runs him? Of course it's you. Just to get the point across, you make him fuck you bent over the pool table too.

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inexplicifics · 6 months

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🧡 for Griffin and Marika? (:

They do not share a bed every night. Some nights one or the other has duties which keep them up late; other days one of them must wake early, and does not wish to disturb the other. And some nights Marika simply wishes her privacy, or Griffin can tell that he will be lying awake all night and doesn’t wish to disturb her sleep.

But at least four nights a week, they do sleep beside each other, and to be quite honest, Griffin finds those nights to be more precious than the finest luxuries his new rank provides.

To be sure, fine food and beautiful clothing and attentive servants are nice, but there is something about waking with Marika’s head on his shoulder, the silk-softness of her braided hair against his skin, which is so very calming that he can go the whole rest of the day in a good mood just from a few minutes of quiet basking before she wakes.

And when she does wake - with an adorable little scrunch of her nose and a yawn like a kitten’s, which makes him smile helplessly every time he sees it, this single undignified moment that his poised and elegant wife allows him to see - she smiles at him, dark eyes warm in the dim morning light leaking through the bed’s curtains, and Griffin gets to kiss her.

It still astonishes him every time, that he of all men is allowed to kiss and hold and adore this marvelous woman.

But he is allowed, and more: Marika leans in eagerly for his kisses, eyes fluttering shut, and sighs with contentment, and nestles closer.

Another man, he thinks, might find the power of being king intoxicating. Might garner joy from giving commands and having all the people around him scramble to obey; might revel in knowing his slightest whim is law.

Griffin finds being king exhausting. The responsibilities are heavy, the duties endless. He is doing well at it, he thinks, and doing good, too, making Temeria as peaceful and prosperous as Hirundum was under his own and his father’s rule; but that does not mean it is an easy task, and he does not find pleasure in exercising his power for his own aggrandization.

No, he finds his pleasure here, with the most wonderful woman in the world curled against him, soft and sleep-warm and relaxed, without the armor of her perfect poise and courtesy. Her lips taste like the cloves she chews to keep her breath sweet, and her smile is warmer than the morning sun, and on the nights they share a bed, Griffin wakes eagerly, knowing she will be beside him.

(Or here on AO3!)

#questions answered #accidental warlord au #ask meme #heart asks #snippet

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luveline · 1 year

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hi baby!! could we get sirius comforting shy!reader that’s a bit embarrassed of her body hair? maybe she’s trying not to shave for the first time? thank you ily

hi! im not sure she's as shy as you wanted but i hope it's OK, thank you for requesting! ♥︎ fem!reader

"My darling," Sirius says, sweet and silky and only half-joking. "Move over, please."

You snap out of your movie-fuelled reverie and shuffle over with an apology, making room for him to stretch out on the sofa beside you. He does so without remorse, more comfortable with you now than he'd be by himself.

"What did I miss?" he asks, smelling like garlic cloves and olive oil, the dinner he's just set to simmer.

"Want me to rewind?"

He buries his face in your shoulder. "No," he says, breath hot on your skin, "just tell me what happened."

You start to explain, sinking down with his weight. He listens, hand flattening over your stomach and squeezing gently when he likes what you've said.

The movie goes on and Sirius gets bored, fingers running along the edge of your t-shirt. You squirm, knowing exactly what it is he's about to do, and usually you'd love it — he slides his hand under your t-shirt and gives your tummy a good old-fashioned loving. You sit up to discourage him and he takes no notice, fingertips pushing under, pads a split second from feeling your naked skin.

You slap your hand over his. "Wait."

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. "What?"

"Uh." You thread your fingers through his. He's resistant.

"What? You don't want me to touch you?" he asks. Sirius is straight-forward when he wants to be. Which is usually when you want him not to be.

"You- Uh. You remember that conversation we had?"

He stares at you. "You realise we spend a lot of time together?"

"Right," you say. You have a lot of conversations. "About my-" You hate how shameful it feels to say aloud. "My stomach. My body hair."

He tries to pull his hand out of yours, an eagerness on his face that makes you want to leave the country. "I remember. You didn't shave? Let me see."

"No," you moan, face hot, trying very hard not to laugh at his enthusiasm. "No, get off."

"Please?" He tugs your t-shirt up before you can stop him. It's so dark in your living room that there's no way he can see it clearly, the beginnings of hair growing back in. "Nice."

"Sirius, please don't," you plead, words coming out in an embarrassed mumble.

"Can I touch you?"

You sigh and deflate. Trust him to be so awfully serious when he needs to be. He's endearing, and the worst, and you love him and want to shake him by the shoulders. Body hair isn't anything to be ashamed of, as he'd said emphatically and sincerely, but just because he says it doesn't erase years of self disgust. When you're taught so intrinsically to hate it, even his unwavering affection can't convince you otherwise. At least, not straight away. It had taken more than a few words for you to make this decision.

"Yeah," you mumble.

"You sure?"

You smile at him. "Yeah, Sirius. You can touch me."

He lays his hand flat over your stomach. You cringe, wondering if he can feel your short hair, wondering if he hates it, if he'd tell you if he did. He doesn't say anything, only gives you your usual squeeze and tips his head back. He waits for you to meet his eyes and smiles, so wide his eyes squint shut.

"Love you," he says, hand climbing up.

"Love you," you say. Then, "Are you… sure it's not gross?"

"Positive. Next question."

"Seriously, Siri, I know you're my boyfriend and you love me but if it's gross I'll get rid of it."

"Do you want to?" he asks.

You chew on your lip. You do want to shave it. You feel prettier when you're bare-skinned. But you also want to learn to love your natural body, because you know there's nothing wrong with the way you are or the things your body does.

"I don't know."

He lifts his hand, peering down his nose at your stomach. "Don't bite me, but I think it's cute." He runs a fingertip down your navel. "Little crab trail."

You yank down your shirt over his hand. "Shut up."

He laughs, hand clamping down on your hip so he can press a mass of kisses into the curve of your neck. "Love you," he says between them. "Love everything about you." His hand drifts back to your stomach and you slap it. "Ouch. Don't bully me. Just wanna touch you."

"Insufferable boy…" You melt a little under his touch. "Thank you. For not caring."

"Of course. You're perfect the way you are." He leans backward into the sofa cushions and strokes your stomach gently. "You know?"

You refuse to answer.

He shrugs. "We'll get there. You're perfect to me. And that's what's important."

You elbow him in the side.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black drabble #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black #marauders era #marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic #the marauders #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fanfic

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moondust-on-the-hijabi · 19 days

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it's officially eid for me

EID MUBARAK EVERYONE!!! I HOPE NONE OF YOU ACCIDENTALLY CHEW ON CARDAMONS OR CLOVES IN THE BIRYANI

#eid mubarak #moonhalo talks —✧

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stiltonbasket · 1 year

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Vampire WWX/Fae LWJ: What is their first time sleeping in the same room like? Their first breakfast? Or when WWX notices that LWJ is softer with bunnies?

part 1

On the morning after his arrival at the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian opens his eyes to find Lan Zhan's moon-white face hovering less than an inch above his.

"I am going out to fetch breakfast for us," Lan Zhan says stiffly. "What do vampires eat when they cannot get human blood?"

So rude, Lan Zhan! Wei Wuxian laments to himself, rolling a sleeping A-Yuan onto his back. You could have at least wished me a good morning first, couldn't you?

But then, he had woken Wei Wuxian to ask what he wanted for breakfast, so perhaps this is just what Lan Zhan is like when he tries to be kind.

"Meat, mostly," Wei Wuxian replies, watching as his husband grimaces in distaste. "But half-blooded xuemo can survive without it, so you needn't hunt for me. I'd be grateful for a bit of the porridge you and your brother like as long as you give me permission to eat it."

He winks, making Lan Zhan blush all the way up to his ears. "You will give me permission, won't you?"

"I will, but that is beside the point. By the laws of your people, I am your husband, so it is my duty to provide the nourishment you need." The faerie takes a deep breath. "If you require meat, I will bring you some suitable creature to kill and eat as you see fit. I cannot do the killing myself, but fetching the animal—that I can do."

Wei Wuxian's heart melts; for all faeries hate to do harm to living creatures, and yet his Lan Zhan is willing to do most of the hunting work on Wei Wuxian's behalf.

"There's no need for that," he says gently. Lan Zhan opens his mouth to protest, clearly not liking the look of Wei Wuxian's thin wrists and sallow face; but Wei Wuxian only motions toward the south side of the cave, where he can hear the river gurgling through the trees on the other side of the wall. "You go out and buy some rice and vegetables, and I'll catch some fish for myself while you're away."

Lan Zhan inclines his head and departs, taking his money purse with him; for while the Lan faeries grow their own vegetables in the wood, they have to buy rice and dried spices from the human settlement to the north.

No wonder their food is so bland, Wei Wuxian thinks wryly, as he makes his way towards the river with A-Yuan in his arms. Lan Zhan doesn't have a single herb in his kitchen, except for that old lump of ginger.

He plants A-Yuan in the soft ground near the water, as he usually does at this time of morning. Wei Wuxian helps him dig his little legs as far into the ground as they can go, looking on in satisfaction as the three long leaves on the baby's head unfurl and reach up towards the sun; and then he lays a fish trap in the shallows and splashes across the river, keeping A-Yuan in his field of sight as he searches for kindling seasonings.

He manages to find wild cloves and garlic growing on the far bank of the stream; and by the time he goes back to examine his fish trap, A-Yuan has finished sunning his leaves and soaking his little body in the mud.

"I don't know if you're old enough to eat food," Wei Wuxian muses, marching back to the cave with A-Yuan wriggling under one arm and the laden trap under the other. "You need to be sunned and watered like a plant, so eating fish might make you sick. We'd better not risk it."

A-Yuan squeals and looks up at Wei Wuxian with wet, reproving eyes. "So you do want to eat fish!" Wei Wuxian says accusingly, making A-Yuan shriek with laughter. "But you don't have any teeth. I don't know very much about babies, Yuan'er, but I do know that the women in Jieyu Village never started weaning theirs before the babies cut a first tooth."

The baby looks more wronged than ever. "Bu!"

"Perhaps we should boil the rice into porridge, and put pieces of the fish inside," says a deep voice from behind them. "That way, the rice will be soft enough for A-Yuan to swallow without chewing."

"Oh!" Wei Wuxian turns around and nearly jumps out of his shoes at the sight of Lan Zhan, standing at the mouth of the cave with a bag of rice slung over his shoulder. "Lan Zhan, don't be so quiet when you're walking. I nearly dropped A-Yuan."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I doubt you could ever do such a thing. But in the future, I will endeavor to make more noise when you are close by."

He lowers his eyes to Wei Wuxian's fish trap. "Did you catch anything?"

"A pair of grass carps," Wei Wuxian tells him, extracting the fish from their prison and holding them up for Lan Zhan to see. "Now, go light the fire and fetch some water from the well. I need hot water for A-Yuan's bath, and it's past time for breakfast."

So Lan Zhan lights the fire in the little courtyard; and there is a courtyard, much to Wei Wuxian's relief, because Lan Zhan built his small refuge after the fashion of most human dwellings, so that Wei Wuxian could almost forget that his cave was a cave and not a wooden house. After that, he sets off for the nearby well with a yoke fitted about his neck and shoulders, returning scarcely ten minutes later with enough water for both breakfast and A-Yuan's bath.

"I will bathe A-Yuan while you fry the fish," Lan Zhan says, dropping the pails and taking the baby from Wei Wuxian's arms. "There is oil in the bag of groceries I brought, if you need it."

"You didn't have oil in your kitchen?"

His husband sighs. "I used the last of it for yesterday's dinner. Now go."

Wei Wuxian nods and makes his way outside, where he finds a strange contraption for grilling set up in the middle of the courtyard. It looks strong enough to support a hook and pan; but the fish will cook faster in the coals of the fire, so he spears the two carps and roasts them with his foraged seasonings until the skins are burned black.

"Is the rice ready?" he calls, ducking back into the cave. "And what about A-Yuan?"

"A-Yuan is ready. The rice is not," is his husband's laconic answer. "Come take him, and I will bring the rice out to you when it is cooked."

In the end, it takes another quarter-hour before the rice porridge is cooked through and made cool enough to eat. Wei Wuxian feeds some of it to A-Yuan and tries a little himself, after which he puts down his spoon to scold Lan Zhan for being so miserly with the salt and ginger.

Lan Zhan looks oddly pleased for a faerie being scolded about his cooking, though Wei Wuxian can't begin to imagine why.

Stranger still, that breakfast is one of the best Wei Wuxian has ever had; and he doesn't understand that, either.

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #note: this takes place about a year after part 1 #a-yuan was buried in the ground for a year #and wwx found him about two weeks before they caught up with lwj #please reblog this i worked so hard lol #vampire and fae au #my fic

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 28 days

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So @aifsaath and I are working on Chapter 8 of Our Fathers Clad in Red and thought we'd share a sneak peek:

It was the final chest that caught her interest. Smaller than the others, it was filled with personal effects, a rather haphazard assortment of sketches, some done by an adult hand, others clearly childish drawings. A painting of a large blue spider that must have been one of Jae’s creations, and then a rather skillful if still childish rendering of a keep set upon a green hill. Had Jaehaerys possessed a talent for painting? She knew next to nothing about Aegon’s sons.

There were other small keepsakes, children’s toys and ribbons, as well as several leather bound volumes. Baela picked one up and opened it to a sketch of Lord Tyland seated with Otto Hightower at a feast, their cups raised in toast. The next page was a drawing of a younger Aegon, slumped comically in a high backed chair, his mouth slack with sleep. Baela’s lips twitched and she resisted the urge to tear the page from the book and take it for her own.

Setting the sketchbook aside, she picked up another volume, opening it at random. The page was filled with a delicate, curling script.

Jaehaera is cutting new teeth again and is constantly fussy. Mother tied some cloves up in a cloth for her to chew, and that seemed to provide her some relief, although she was up in the night again. The nurse brought her to me, very apologetic. Of course Aegon was nowhere to be found, although he must have returned to the Keep at some point because he was sprawled in his bed this morning and would not rouse for anything, not even when I threatened to turn grandfather loose upon him. I don’t think I will, even though I ought to and he would well deserve it.

It was Queen Helaena’s diary, Baela realized, although the man she described hardly seemed to be the Aegon Baela had come to know. Baela knew that she should not keep reading, but curiosity won out, and she turned the page.

Tags below the cut

@theothermaidoftarth @dr-aegon @branwendaughterofllyr @prodogg @notbloodraven @kingsroad @evabluepark888 @baellaggio @aleksandravill @vhagar-balerion-meraxes

#our fathers clad in red #aegon ii targaryen #baela targaryen #helaena targaryen #f&b fic #gwenllian writes!#aife writes!

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idolatrybarbie · 7 months

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ripping sunrise

for my fifty follower celebration! @criticalarchitecture asked: any pedro boy (frankie morales) and prompt no. six— "stop thinking so hard." this is sort of a sick fic?

rating & word count: 2.4k | explicit

warnings: established relationship, mentions of cannabis and cannabis usage, mention of smoking, sex while high but fully consensual, fingering, unprotected penetrative vaginal sex, creampie, pet names, Frankie momento español??, the edible part of this story is true to life god that was fucking horrible, unedited due to having been finished on the bus otw to meet a band.

At first, it looks like a regular sour key. About the length of your palm, sugar crumbles off the gummy and sits on your skin. Frankie always pulls a face when you mention pulling a few bites from his stash of snacks. This is your apartment after all. He’s got his own little house at the edge of town he can keep all his bags of white cheddar popcorn in if he wishes.

Not that that would be very practical. More and more these days, you ponder popping the moving in question. He’s always over here, sleeping over, getting off work and driving here; not the short little house at the end of Parkside with the rotting front steps.

You’ve thought it through. There’s a sun room that holds your mom’s antique rocking chair and a small coffee table, but those can easily be moved. The two of you could transform the space into a room for his daughter to sleep in on weekends. Scrolling through the web at night, you wonder how she would want to decorate it—curious if she’s outgrown her monarch butterfly phase yet.

The light snacking is a storage tax, you tell him. Today, you even had to sign for Frankie’s candy when the delivery driver came to the door. Surely he won’t miss one little gummy. You leave the package on the couch beside you, popping the blue sour key into your mouth. Immediately, something is off. As you chew, the flavour becomes less sour and more…pasty. Like the remnants of the ash tray your grandfather kept in his kitchen, mixed in with lard and a pinch of sweetness. Still, you finish chewing and swallow the thing.

Frankie gets home a short while later, smiling as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. Before you can tell him about his delivery, he’s snaking down the hall towards the bathroom, muttering about being drenched in sweat. Shaking your head, you ease yourself back into the cushions, opening your laptop up in front of you.

Halfway through writing an email, the world blurs. Only for a moment. You are back to typing a second later. But then your fingers aren’t quite catching the keys, and the layout of your computer’s keyboard that’s been burned into your brain disappears from memory. Your eyes glitch—that’s the only way to describe it—as you lean to the right, mashing your face into the plush cushion beside you.

Watching yourself move, your arm reaches for that package of candy again. Thank god the words are in an ugly, bold font for you to read. You groan as your eyes pass over the label slowly. 15 milligram THC edible gummies.

“Fuuuck,” you breathe.

Never having taken an edible before, you know this can’t be good. Frankie’s new prescription of treatment for his post-traumatic stress had been pretty broad-ranging, you remembered. He wasn’t a huge fan of cannabis, mortified as he watched you roll him his first spliff. Weed wasn’t your thing either, but you’d had a good few hand-rolled clove cigarettes in your day.

“Honey?”

You hear a voice, surely Frankie’s, but you aren’t too sure. The noise comes from the left of you, slowly turning your head to look in that direction. He stands between the hall and the living room, a t-shirt over his chest and a towel hanging off his hips.

“How was your day?” Frankie asks.

Okay, play it cool. You nod slowly. “Alright.”

Keeping your answers short, one word if possible, is probably the best idea right now. You aren’t sure why you don’t just tell him, irrational fears creeping at the edges of your thoughts. You don’t know what, but something bad will certainly happen if he finds out. Right?

“Just alright?”

“Long. Long day, that’s all,” you say.

A small voice in your head, smothered by the drugs, scolds you. There are two of you right now—the person inside your head, forced into the backseat as she watches the physical version lose control of all operating faculties.

“Well, it’s over now.” Frankie smiles, and it feels like basking in the sun. You can’t help but smile back.

Everything oozes together for a while. Frankie’s got his arm around your shoulders now, your cheek resting against his collar, hand pressed to his chest. A horror movie plays on the television, and it’s clearly captured his attention. You, on the other hand, try to focus on the steady beat of his heart. It batters softly in your ear, muffled by bone, skin, and fabric.

A brief moment of panic grips you, breathing quick and uneven as a chase begins on-screen and the frantic music sets your brain off. Frankie must misconstrue it as fright from the movie, squeezing you closer. The constant thrum in his chest lulls you back to stability, feeling safe in his arms. You fall asleep like this, only roused when Frankie tucks a pillow under your head.

You are still on the couch, laying down now. A blanket covers your body, but you kick it off. Everything is hot, too hot to bear. Frankie eyes you, confused. He sits at the end of the couch near your feet.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Your mouth is dry, remnants of spit all foamy on your tongue. Cotton mouth.

Willing saliva from the back of your tongue, you manage, “It’s too hot.”

“You sick?” Frankie asks. God, you are getting sick of the questions. He leans forward over you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I made a mistake,” you say, somewhere between a whine and a whisper.

“It’s probably just a cold—”

“I ate your stupid candy.” You nudge at the package with your foot, the plastic now half-hidden by a throw pillow. Frankie wedges it from under the cushion, looking it over and then at you.

His face is unreadable, your eyes swimming and picking specific bits of him to focus on. The curls that peak out from behind his head, surely fluffy at the nape of Frankie’s neck; the smile lines that surround his mouth, edging up to the sides of his strong nose. This man is truly beautiful.

His laugh pulls you from your obsessive gazing. “Well, shit,” Frankie says.

“I’m sorry,” you groan.

“It’s fine.” Avoiding eye contact, you nuzzle your face into the pillow under you. “Hey, look, it’s alright. What matters is that you’re alright.”

“I am not. Feels like I’m burning up in space.”

Frankie runs the pad of his thumb along your ankle. “You’ll be okay. We just gotta wait, I guess.” That’s what you were afraid he’d say.

Drifting in and out of sleep, Frankie stays with you on the couch. Sometimes you catch him on his phone, or another time eating a bowl of cereal. Google tells the both of you that this high should only last eight to ten hours, but you’re skeptical. Frankie makes you chug half a glass of water before exhaustion pulls you under again.

When you wake up, the sun is out. Yellow beams stream in through half-open curtains. Frankie must have left them open. He sits at the end of the couch, snoring softly. You nudge him with your foot.

Startling awake, he is wired and wild-eyed before the world comes into focus again. He notices you, softly touching your ankle where the skin isn’t covered by washer-stained socks.

“You sleep okay?” Frankie asks.

“Like the dead,” you say. “Can still feel my corneas, but I think I’ll manage to function.”

Frankie checks his watch, the hardware battered and the band fabric fraying. “It’s almost been…”

Finally, you can think again. The math is easy in your head. “Eighteen hours.”

“Jesus,” he shakes his head.

“Imagine how I feel?”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“You’re here,” you smile. “That’s all I need.”

Frankie still looks worried.

“I’m fine, alright.” You sit up, letting the blanket fall to your lap before you brace yourself on your knees. Settling yourself on his thighs, you hold onto Frankie’s shoulders and stare at him. “Look.”

You lean back in the seat of his lap, spine curling backwards. Frankie’s hands hold your sides to keep you steady. Coming back to face him, you touch the tips of your pointer fingers to your nose. “Fine, see?”

He sighs. You press a kiss, soft and chaste, to his lips. Frankie breathes your name when you gently roll your hips over his.

“Please? Frankie, stop thinking so hard,” you say.

“You’re sure?” he asks. He watches you, searching for any signs of hesitation.

“Positive.”

You pull his face to yours, devouring him in a needy kiss. He tastes like vanilla and allspice. If you weren’t already wet and aching for him, you would be content to stick your tongue down his throat all day—treat this man like a never-ending gobsmacker. The brush of his erection against you only makes you want Frankie more, unsatisfied with schoolgirl dry-humping as it is.

In a very convenient turn of events, Frankie ditched his jeans for plain boxers somewhere in the night as he got comfortable on the couch with you. He’s hot to the touch underneath the polyblend fabric, pressing his hips up toward your hand. Returning the favour, Frankie dips a hand past the seams of your pants and the band of your underwear, feeling you. There’s a pool in your panties, slick gathered from your lips to your clit as he smears a little on his fingers.

Gingerly, Frankie removes them from you before he brings the two to his lips and sucks. He hums around them, tasting you. You’re still a little high, brain unable to process the image. You lean your forehead against Frankie’s shoulder with a groan.

"Frankie," you breathe.

"What do you need, beautiful? Gotta tell me."

"Don't stop. Just—I need you to make me feel good."

He gives you a softer kiss, hand skirting under the hem of your shirt to grab at your breast through your bra. His fingers return to your cunt, two inside you as he rubs his thumb over your sensitive clit. Everything surrounding you is muted, the pleasure taken from Frankie's fingers heightened as you focus only on the feeling of him inside of you and the satisfied smile on his face.

Frankie loves watching you come, making you come. Says it's the thing he's best at, to which you always staunchly disagree—not because he isn't deftly skilled in that department, but you think the statement erases his many other skills and talents. He always laughs at you, a grin on his face much like the one you find there now. You tell him you love him every time, because you do, so much.

Oh god. This man. You love him. The weight of those words has never really settled over you the way it does right now, Frankie's hand still working you over. You love him, you love him, you love him. His hand moves faster as you start to ride his fingers. Only Frankie can hear you as you whimper the thought out loud, over and over.

With his free hand, he grabs the back of your neck like the scruff of a naughty kitten. The action pulls your focus, all eyes on Frankie. You can see every ridge of his face, the sweet crinkles around his eyes, every brown freckle that dots his skin. He's so beautiful, when did he get so beautiful? When did you get so lucky?

"Fuck—oh my god, Frankie," you gasp.

A moan interrupts your words when he pinches at your skin, the pain bleeding deliciously into your pleasure. You’re coming before you can really register what’s happening, hips stuttering over and over again as you grip his fingers. Frankie slows his hand to a stop. He pulls his fingers from you carefully, letting you taste one before he moves his hand to dip the other into his own mouth.

“Aw, cariño…feeling better?” he asks.

You nod, falling silent as you pant over his cheek. Finding space to rest your head between his jaw and collarbone, you make your hands move to pull Frankie’s cock from his underwear. He’s hot to the touch, hard and leaking at the tip. You lift yourself up in his lap before lining him up with yourself. It’s an unceremonious drop down before he’s fully seated inside of you.

The stretch burns the slightest bit, Frankie’s girth parting you to make everything fit. You whimper when he grinds his hips up in the slightest, holding your shoulders to press you down further into him.

“That’s it, nice n’ slow,” he sighs. “Been a long few hours, huh?”

Words have been taken from you, brain sluggish and sleepy from the weed and the orgasm. You nod into Frankie’s shoulder as he cradles you on his dick; he makes small thrusts into you, pushing just a tad deeper every time, never truly leaving.

“So nice and warm for me,” he grunts, “always welcoming. Always wet for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, voice soft and limp.

Frankie’s chest rises when yours shrinks, lungs alternating as he holds you. Like this, with him, you feel truly whole. No thoughts or worries, just you two—Frankie, who’ll always take care of you. You, with the knowledge that you’ll always be there.

His thrusts have your bodies moving a little farther apart, Frankie almost lifting you up by the sides only to push you back down onto his cock. He’s sinking into you deeper now, brushing that spongey spot he knows you love so much with ease. A second orgasm rolls through you in a gentle, lazy wave; your breath picks up a bit, mouthing at his neck to keep you grounded.

With your cunt clenching around him and the warmth of being inside you, holding you this close, it doesn’t take much longer for Frankie to lose himself. Another handful of thrusts has him spilling inside of you, his thighs flush with your own as he keeps you in place. Minutes pass, the two of you still tangled up together. He’s softening inside of you, cum dribbling into his lap and down your thighs.

“Feeling better?”

You nod, pulling back from his skin to stare at his face. What a cute fuckin’ nose he’s got, arching proudly off his face. You meet his bridge with a kiss, watching the slight sparkle in his eyes.

“Much, thanks to you.”

“Always happy to be of service, honey,” he says. “Especially when it ends like that.”

“Mhm,” you hum. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #pedrostories #50 followers #*throws this at you* ok bai

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flooficandii · 1 month

Text

thats got me thinking actually . i havent rly had the energy nor the interest to update nuniq's doc to include interactions w/ the newest agents . including harbor and tjats literally her boyfriend lmao 😭😭😭😭 but anyway lemme make some poorly drawn depictions of what nuniq thinks of the newer agents (starting from clove to gekko)

clove

honestly. nuniq wasnt too jazzed about the idea of hiring a kid (grown adult but theyre a kid to her), especially an untrained one . she understands they might have a link to omen going rogue but is still iffy about the whole situation

also oof. the whole immortality thing? yeah it must be a lot to bear for clove, theyre just very good at hiding it. but like with a lot of the young radiants, nuniq lets them know they can approach her about this stuff bc shes been through it too

she can admit she gets pissed at clove bc their immortality causes them to make more reckless decisions on the field . she wants to get it in their head that you still have to be smart about these things no matter how much power you have

but! she thinks clove is very nice. very silly very sweet guy who is an excellent storyteller. storytelling is very intertwined in both nuniq and clove's cultures so she loves listening to whatever clove can whip up

clove has probably dragged her into dnd at least once

she took a while to grasp it but thats ok shes trying her best

anyway yeah clove talks a lot and sometimes nuniq cant understand them so she has to ask them to slow down

iso

valorant hired him because he was a kingdom killer and nuniq was ALL FOR THAT !!!!

she can tolerate the cocky smug little shit thing bc hes professional at least

hes not very hard to work with and is very cunning and calculating. nuniq likes that

iso has most definitely heard about nuniq before and was surprised to see her alive bc a lot of media made it seem she was dead to quell the uprisings against kingdom

nuniq is fascinated by iso's radiance but it definitely makes her think about how fast and how complex the concept of radiance itself is evolving . to think he could create his own pocket dimension with prismatic energy

besides that i feel like they mostly mind their own business

theres a mutual respect for eachothers skill and grit and they just *nods*

deadlock

like the thing says. theres currently some weird tension between deadlock and nuniq rn (and its surprisingly not gay)

theyre both so cold its kinda hard for either of them to approach eachother

deadlock is. working on her relationship with gekkos creatures! which nuniq appreciates

but idk nuniq never forgets anything and its hard for her to get over the fact she almost killed wingman multiple times

+ proposed awful countermeasures to keep the radivores in check

yk that one headcanon someone made about gekkos friendliness and critters winning over a lot of the protocol?

and how they immediately had beef w deadlock because of it?

yeah thats the situation with nuniq

things have simmered down with the creature situation but nuniq mostly ignores deadlock outside of work

and frankly i think deadlock's scared of nuniq too so

gekko

last but not least GEKKO !!!!

nuniq loves gekko!!! hes so silly

hes fun and lighthearted while still being a good fighter

being around gekko makes nuniq feel. Friendlier idk how else to describe it

also his critters have 100% stolen her heart sometimes she asks to babysit wingman when gekkos busy

she has had to apologize for aput using dizzy as a chew toy though

gekko has dyed nuniqs hair temporarily; it was northern lights-colored streaks that looked really cool when braided, she kept it for about a month until it washed out

overall she thinks hes very sweet and she and reyna can get along over being protective of him

anyway yeah i think thats every agent so far after harbor! wow !!! i cant believe we've already made it this far to agent 25 .. and agent 8 still hasnt been revealed yet i love valorant lore (tired

#valorant #valorant oc #valorant nuniq #valorant gekko #valorant deadlock #valorant iso #valorant clove

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ladylovesloki · 2 years

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Hi i wanna request a loki x plus!size reader i was thinking if like the avenger's are celebrating for another successful mission and welcoming a new girl avenger and when the party is over they play truth or dare and they ask loki to kiss the new avenger he dose because the reader left to get her phone and came back and saw them kiss it pissed her off because she likes loki. So on a mission the reader saves the new avenger and gets hurt loki is worried because he is in love with her when the reader sees loki she says should you be making sure your girlfriend is ok she is talking about the new avenger he tell's her he loves the reader " sorry if its long i just wanted to request something"

Thank you so much for the request @salenorona23! Sorry it took me a lifetime, I hope you enjoy it 💚

Title: Truth

Pairings: Loki X Plus!Size Reader

Warnings: Language?, Fluff

Summary: A game of truth or dare at a Tony Stark party makes feelings rise to the surface.

“Alright! Drinks up!” Tony shouts, raising his glass.

“To our newest Avenger, who completed her first successful mission today…Reyna!”, he continues.

“Reyna!” Everyone shouts together.

You all take sips of your drinks and continue to mingle and tell stories about past missions. This was usual after a successful mission, hell it was normal to sit around and drink after an unsuccessful one too. Today was a little different because like Tony said we have a new Avenger. Reyna was one of the newer recruits who outshined most of her class. She had a very strong telekinetic power, it rivaled most mutants you had ever come into contact with. She was nice and pretty…and thin.. and basically everything you wanted to be.

You were a mutant as well except you were basically a thicker, slower version of Natasha with healing abilities. You came in handy out in the field if one of the big players got hurt and needed a quick boost, but you can fight too so you never had to worry about being a damsel in distress.

Reyna is a sweet girl though, you actually had a lot in common which made you hate yourself for feeling so envious of her. You were always the biggest one in the room when you were in the presence of the female Avengers. Their fit bodies always making you feel self conscious about yours. Reyna was just another reminder of what you would never be..

The party continued and you joined some of the Avengers sitting on the sofa.

Tony, Pepper, Reyna, Natasha, Sam, Thor and Loki were all sitting around drinking and enjoying the light atmosphere. You don’t really care about spending extra time with anyone but Loki, he’s your best friend in the tower. You were 99% sure you were in love with him as well but after a year of seeing the type of women that catch his eye you gave up on that fantasy. So you went out of your way to be friends with him because you saw how much he was disliked when he got here. He was slowly earning peoples trust and was becoming a valued member of the Avengers. He likes to say you were a huge part of that but you like to remind him of all the good he has done.

“I’m bored. I want to play a game.” Tony declares.

Pepper rolls her eyes at him, “not strip poker again Tony, please..”

“Party pooper…how about ummm….truth or dare?!”

“What is this truth or dare?” Thor asks.

“Players are given the choice between answering a question truthfully, or performing a dare”

“Thanks Friday!” Tony yells toward the ceiling. “Ok who wants to go first?”

“How about you Tony since this game was your brilliant idea..” Pepper suggests.

Tony squints his eyes at Pepper, “alright..dare!”

“I dare you to….eat a whole raw clove of garlic!”

“Oof livin’ on the edge there Pep.” Tony runs over to the refrigerator and grabs out some garlic and pops a clove into his mouth. He chews on it a little and then immediately downs whatever drink he had in his hand. “Alright who’s next?”

“Hold on let me get my phone, if we’re doing this I’m capturing every moment”, you stand and run out of the room before anyone can respond to you. You grab your phone off the charger on your nightstand and run back to the party. When you get back your stomach drops to the floor, you see Loki kissing Reyna.

You try and hold your emotions together but you can already feel the tears start to form in your eyes and a ball in your throat that is threatening to choke you.

You very quickly avert your gaze and head over to the bar area to get another drink.

“Breathe y/n..breathe..” you say to yourself, your eyes are shut so tight. Your desperate attempt to keep your tears at bay.

“Can I get you anything?”

The bartender asks you and you snap your eyes open, “uh yea can I get that bottle of Blue Label right there?”

“I’m sorry, did you say bottle?”

“Sure did.”

You don’t break eye contact with the bartender, you weren’t leaving without that bottle.

He shrugs, “ok.” He turns around and grabs the bottle, you go into your back pocket and take out the money you brought with you to tip the bartenders and waitresses. It looks like this is going to be your only stop at the bar for the night so you just gave him all of it.

You grab the bottle off of the bar and walk to one of the floor to ceiling windows and take a swig.

“You ok kid?”

You look up and see Bruce.

“Hey..yea..peachy..”

“Uh oh..what happened?”

“Nothing..I’m just..nothing..I’m going to bed..night Bruce.”

“Don’t overdue it y/n. We have briefing for a new mission tomorrow morning.”

You don’t say anything back to him you just give him a thumbs up as you’re walking away.

You hear laughter coming from the sofa that you abandoned, you look over and you see Loki and Reyna leaning in and talking to each other and laughing. The rest of the Avengers sitting around enjoying themselves, not noticing your departure from the party.

Not that you’re surprised, you knew that Loki would get bored of you eventually. Everyone usually does.

You make your way to your room and once you’re safely behind your door you walk over to your bed, sit down, take another swig from your bottle and cry.

You knew you would never be enough for Loki, that he would never see you as more than a friend but seeing him with another person was never easy. At least it was always just random people he would bring back to the Tower but never a fellow Avenger. That hit a little too close to home.

So you drink and cry. Drink and cry until you pass out asleep.

The next morning your alarm goes off and you feel like you were hit by a truck. The hangover you feel right now makes you want to crawl into a hole and just die. But no, you had a briefing to get ready for in….you check your phone… 20 minutes…

Wonderful.

You shower, get dressed, manage to get a piece of toast and some coffee and run out the door.

You’re the last to arrive and Fury looks annoyed already.

“Good of you to join us Agent y/l/n.”

“Sorry..rough morning..”

Bruce looks over at you with a smirk that says I told you so all over it.

You squint your eyes at him, wordlessly telling him to shut up and focus your attention back to Fury.

You can feel Loki staring at you but you refuse to look at him.

“Alright so our next target is….you guessed it…a Hydra nest..”

A collective groan comes from the group.

“How do they even still have members?” Sam asked annoyed.

“I don’t know Sam, maybe they recruit at the local college…” Fury responds sarcastically.

“Here are your coordinates and what the ground team there has already reported. You all leave tomorrow.”

He walks out of the room and leaves you all to review the reports for the upcoming mission. You were focusing on the report in front of you when you feel someone sit close to you.

“Where did you run off to last night?” Loki asks you.

You look over at him, “I wasn’t feeling great so I just went to my room.”

“You should’ve said something..”

“Why?”

“..because…we tell each other everything…do we not?”

“No Loki we don’t.”

You get up abruptly and walk out of the briefing room, you have your coffee and your reports in your hands and when you went to press the button for the elevator door someone already beat you to it.

You look up and see an annoyed looking Loki.

“What is it? What did I do?”

“Nothing Loki, I told you I don’t feel well.”

“You said you didn’t feel well last night, if you are still feeling so you should go and see Banner.”

“No Loki..just I’m fine…I just want to be alone right now.”

He looks at you for a moment a look of hurt flashing in his eyes, “very well.”

He doesn’t say anything else, he just walks away from you. The elevator doors open as you watch him walk away so you turn around and get in. Once the doors close in front of you you start to break down in tears.

The one person you want to run to is the person whose presence hurts you the most.

You lock yourself in your room for the rest of the day and focus on preparing yourself for the mission. The more you knew about what the tactics were going to be the better awareness you had of everyone’s positions. If you hear someone on comms get hurt you can hopefully get to them quicker by knowing what their positions are supposed to be.

You don’t come out for dinner either. You stay in your room, sitting on your bed. You spend most of the day reading, crying and sleeping.

There was a knock on the door but you didn’t want to answer it, you knew your face looked like a swollen mess because of all of the crying you’d done.

“Agent y/l/n. Prince Loki is at the door, he is requesting entry.”

“No Friday. I don’t want any visitors please.”

A beat of silence.

“Agent y/l/n. Prince Loki has left your dinner for you. He says to please eat as you have a long mission tomorrow.”

He knew that healing took a lot of energy from you, you usually slept the entire next day after a mission depending on how much healing you had to do.

You move off the bed and walk over to the table, you knew Loki would’ve sent your food directly there instead of leaving it outside the door.

You see your favorite, some fried dumplings, white rice and orange chicken.

You start to cry again.

You missed your friend. You hated shutting him out. You promised yourself that you would talk to Loki after the mission. Maybe not tell him you’re in love with him but apologize for being so distant. You had to learn to be ok with just being his friend.

You eat your food and then prepare for bed,

You get under the covers, your last thoughts before falling into a deep sleep were of Loki.

Your alarm goes off. You get into your suit for the mission, equip all of your favorite weapons and make your way to the quinjet.

You see Natasha and Clint in the cockpit getting the quinjet fired up, Cap standing behind their seats. Tony and Bruce are tinkering with some equipment and then you see Loki and Reyna sitting next to each other.

Reyna is in a similar suit as you, an all black cat suit only hers has stripes of deep purple.

It clung to her figure and gave her that hourglass figure that you would pay all the money in your bank account to have. You look down at yourself and cross your arms in front of your chest, now very uncomfortable in your suit.

Loki looks over at you and you quickly avert your eyes and sit on the opposite side of the jet.

He continues looking at you but you try and keep your focus on other things. You clean one of your daggers, make sure your gun is loaded, make sure your earpiece is secure. Anything to make yourself look busy.

You have been on the quinjet for about an hour now and you’re currently cleaning underneath your nail when you feel a presence next to you.

“Why won’t you look at me.”

You keep your focus on your nails, “what are you talking about?”

He puts his hand over yours to still it, “look at me woman.”

You finally look up at him, you notice the whites of his eyes have a slight redness to them like he hasn’t been sleeping well.

“What has happened between us? I beg of you..”

“Alright guys two minutes out, we’re gonna land the quinjet far enough away from the Hydra nest so we won’t alert anyone we’re here.” Tony announces.

Loki doesn’t break eye contact with you, a desperation in his eyes you have not seen before.

“I’m fine..we’re fine..we’ll talk when we finish this..”

He looks at you for a long moment, “swear it y/n. Swear we will speak when this mission concludes.”

You look at him dead in the eye, “I swear it.”

He nods at you and you feel the quinjet land, you both rise from your seats and Loki joins the team heading inside the compound. You will stay with Bruce in the quinjet until they call you in for emergency healing, he will wait there until there is a code green. Loki looks at you one last time before he walks out of the jet and disappears.

About 30 minutes go by and the comms are silent, the team staying on radio silence.

“There’s something approaching.” Bruce says from the cockpit. “Code green?”

“No hold for now Bruce..let’s see who it is first.”

You get your gun ready and out of the trees you see a limping Reyna.

“Oh shit. Bruce, it’s Reyna!”

You put your gun away and run to her, she falls into you as soon as you reach her. Her strength finally giving out.

“What happened?!”

“Hydra..Agent…got the…jump..on….me..” Reyna says through gritted teeth.

Her hands are covering her side where you can now see the blood staining her suit.

“Move your hand Reyna.” You put your hand over the wound and activate your power, you can feel the energy leave your body through your hand. Reyna’s wound slowly closing and her energy returning to her.

You stop when you feel yourself start getting dizzy, you sit down on your ass hard on the grass and next thing you know Bruce is behind you.

“Hey kid..good job.”

Reyna is sitting up, her hand touching where her wound used to be.

She looks over at you, “thank you y/n.”

“No problem you say out of breath.” You look over at Bruce, “help me up please.”

Bruce helps you and helps you walk back to the quinjet.

None of you notice the Hydra Agent watching you from the trees.

A shot goes off and next thing you know your body jerks forward and you feel a horrible pain in your shoulder. You fall to the ground, Reyna turns and returns fire while Bruce goes full Hulk.

“Anyone copy? Y/n is down. Anyone copy!?” Reyna calls out to any of the Avengers who might hear her through their earpieces.

You try and push yourself off the ground, Reyna immediately gets her arms underneath you and starts to help you get to the quinjet. You didn’t have the ability to heal yourself, you were only able to give energy to heal, not take it for yourself.

You both get to the quinjet, assuming that the Hulk would take care of whoever took the shot at you.

Reyna gets you on the medical bed and starts getting you hooked up to the various machines to check your vitals.

“It looks like a through and through, you should be fine we just need to get you back to the Tower.”

Just then you hear Steve’s voice in your earpiece, “everyone, status report.”

“Not great Cap, y/n was hit. I got her in the quinjet now but she needs medical.”

As soon as she finishes her sentence Loki teleports into the quinjet.

“Y/n?!”

“I’m fine, just a shot to the shoulder.”

“Just a shot to the….lay down!”

“I’m fine Loki! Reyna already got some pain meds pushed in me, in a few minutes I’m gonna be on cloud 9.”

He ignores you and looks to Reyna, “where is Banner?!”

“Here..” Bruce walks into the quinjet, shirtless and looking a little disheveled. He sees you and walks to the bed and reviews the monitors displaying your vitals.

“Alright, it looks like Reyna got you started on some meds. Once we get back to the Tower we’ll get you in the Cradle and get you patched up.”

You nod but Loki apparently was not satisfied with Bruce’s assessment.

“That’s all?! She has a serious injury! She could be bleeding internally!”

“Loki, I’m fine. I would feel a lot worse if I had internal bleeding, I’m ok.”

The rest of the team arrives and the quinjet takes off in the direction of the Tower. Once you arrive you’re immediately rolled into the medical wing and placed inside Dr. Cho’s cradle. They heal your wound and in less than an hour you were already on your way back to your room to rest. You were still feeling the effects of healing Reyna on top of your own injury.

You shower and get comfortable with your favorite book and a glass of wine on your couch but then there is a knock on the door disrupting your peace.

You roll your eyes and let out an exhale, “come in!”

Loki walks in, “hey..how are you?”

“I’m fine Loki.”

He walks in and takes a seat next to you. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits there with you.

You can’t take it anymore and break the silence.

“How’s Reyna?”

“Reyna?…” he looks at you confused. “I’m sure she’s fine, she wasn’t the one seriously wounded.”

“Well technically she was..you should check on her not me.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Come on Loki, I’m not stupid. I saw you and Reyna kiss the other night and you two have been awfully close since…”

“Y/n…the kiss was because of that infernal game that Stark forced us to play and as far as Reyna and I being close since then…she has been very helpful with a matter I’m dealing with.”

“Oh..so you go to her for your problems now?”

“When my problem is you yes!..”

“Oh wow.” You get up from the couch and move into your kitchen to place your now empty wine glass in the sink.

He gets up as well and follows you into the kitchen, “that came out wrong..you are not the problem..I am..”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have been talking to Reyna about my…feelings..”

“Feelings?”

“Norns…yes woman my feelings..”

“About what?”

“About you! I can’t stop thinking about you! I wish our relationship to be more than just companionship but I did not know how to bring it up so Reyna was assisting me..but ever since Starks stupid party you have been acting distant towards me.”

“You like me?”

“You foolish girl. If I just liked you we would remain as we are..I love you. I’ve loved you for quite some time.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Honestly? I was content with being your friend, having you in my life has been a blessing..I do not wish to lose you.”

“I don’t know what to say..”

He looks down towards the ground, “you don’t have to say anything, get some rest.”

He goes to walk out of your room but you grab his hand stopping him, “I said that I don’t know what to say not that I wanted you to leave. Sit down with me…please?”

He nods and you both walk over to the couch again and sit, you’re still holding his hand.

“Truth or dare?”

Loki’s head snaps up, “you jest.”

You shake your head back and forth, “…truth or dare?…”

He squints his eyes at you… “truth…”.

“Do you really love me?”

“More than anything in this entire universe…truth or dare?”

“..truth.”

“..What are your feelings towards…me?” He asks nervously, looking down at his hand in yours. He seemed almost scared to hear the answer.

“..I…love you too..”

He looks up to your face in shock.

You continue before he can speak, “I didn’t say anything either because I honestly thought you wouldn’t be attracted to me..all of the people I have seen you with have been basically model material..I’m short and clearly not a size 2.”

He squeezes your hand a little, “y/n”, he shakes his head slightly and then looks you in the eye. “…Yes, it’s true I have..dabbled in what this planet has to offer but just know that I was just filling a void of loneliness I thought I was never going to be able to fill..you are so beautiful my darling..I’m not ashamed to say that I have envisioned your body underneath mine many times” he smiles sinfully at you.

You feel your face warm up from blushing and you look way from his intense stare. He moves your face back towards him and he kisses you lightly on the lips.

“Can we please move passed our little misunderstanding and just agree that the next time we are feeling certain things we should discuss them with each other like we do with everything else?” He asks.

You smile and nod, lean forward and kiss him again.

You don’t talk much after that, you continue kissing and enjoying the closeness of each other after being so distant for the last two days.

You were happy to have your friend back and excited about your future with the man you love.

The end…

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