The Missing Link

The Missing Link

loki x black!daughter!reader

“So…all of you are Lokis? Even that one?” He asks, pointing at the girl, who scowls at him and smacks his hand down. 

“Yes…no…not really. We’re related..sort of, but obviously, I’m not him. He’s my-” She stops herself mid-sentence. “Wait, if you’re not a Loki, then why are you here, let alone with them? What was your nexus eve-”

  “Stop yelling! You’re gonna alert him!” Kid Loki shouts, pointing at the dark cloud in the sky. 

 They continue to walk until they reach a circular door in the floor, presumably a bunker. Classic Loki opens it.

 “Well?” Loki asks, still waiting on the girl’s answer. 

“I killed him.” She finally answers, as she descends into the vault. 

Something in his mind told it that it couldn’t be true. That girl looked familiar, too familiar, and he’s not one to forget faces.

“Wait, that can’t be true..” He mutters.

“Why can’t it be true?” She asks, mimicking his accent, as they all walk down to an area with a semicircle of chairs, with a small pool in the middle, probably for the alligator.

 She was starting to get annoyed. “Why not?”

“Because…er..well, what’s your name?” He asks. 

“Y/N.” She ever so quietly responds. 

“Y/N…”He repeats to himself, as if trying to memorize it. 

 “Then…that can’t be true because..I’m your father.” 

Y/N uncrosses her legs. “Woohoo. You finally figured it out. The last time you saw me was when I was more or less 5 years old, and Thor took you to see me. Honestly he was more of a father than you were, and honestly more than you ever will be.”

   (time skip bc i can barely remember this episode lol)

“Sylvie…and Mobius? You guys came here?” Loki asks. 

“Well some of us, not by choice, but for the most part, yeah.” Sylvie stays silent, then walks off.

 “And who might you be?” Mobius asks Freya, as if she were some random little kid that approached him. “Y/N.” She bluntly responds.

             (another time skip, woohoo!)

A/N: And now for the good part.

 “Why did you tell me that your nexus event was killing me?” Loki asked, as they sat in the grass.

“Quite the questionnaire, aren’t you?” You jokes, subtly breaking her ever so permanent poker face with a slight smirk. 

“You might as well have been dead anyway.” 

Loki frowns. 

“Well? What was it?” 

She fully smirks. “I don’t remember.” 

Loki’s hopeful face returns to a frown, then he creates himself a blanket, wrapped around him.  Y/N chuckles. 

“Of course you would do that.”

 Loki sighs. “Do you really not remember?” 

“I wouldn’t be a descendant of the God of Mischief if I didn’t tell a lie now and then. Of course I remember.” 

A gust of wind blows, and causes Freya to shiver, and her teeth to chatter. 

Loki alters the blanket so it’s wrapped around the both of them. 

 “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“You seemed cold.” 

“Is this some kind of stupid scheme to get me to tell you?”

“What? No!” 

 Y/N tilts her head so it’s leaning on Loki’s shoulder.

“Tell me about my mother.” 

 “Oh…wow. Okay,” Loki says, taken aback by the sudden question. 

“Well, she was a smart, strong, beautiful, and independent woman. She really never needed me. She had powers, just like mine–and yours– but she liked to use these fans with blades on them…and she liked to cut me with them.” That earned a chuckle from Freya.

 “She also loved the color purple. It was her absolute favorite, and she would wear it pretty much everyday. She also adored grilled cheeses ever since we first went to Midgard. She really could’ve had anyone she wanted.  I have idea why she chose me. Considering that, if it weren’t for me, she might have still been alive.”

 Loki subtly wipes his eyes with his shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I thought I was saving her, but obviously I proved myself otherwise.” 

“Saving her?”

“Well you see, there was…let’s just say, a battle, and..she was hurt. I was out of my mind to think that this would work, but I turned her to stone. I thought that..because I did that, it would heal when I turned her back. I saw it work before..and I knew how to turn her back, but it was too late.”

 “I wish I could have spoken to her…even if it was only for three minutes. I…” She looks behind her. “I think she wants to talk to you.” She tell him, pointing to Sylvie. 

 “I think she can wait.” Y/N creates a watch and checks it. It’s only just going backwards. Really fast. 

“This watch is not useful, but I’m sure she’s been waiting long enough. I’m always gonna be here. There’s no leaving.” 

 Loki stands up, making the blanket disappear. 

“Except you can leave, because you’re coming with us.”

to the anon who said the thing about my face reveals this ones for you baby

Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.

YAYAYA I MADE MY OWN DREAMS COME TRUE LMAO

Pretend

Pretend || Peeta Mellark x Black!Fem!Reader(but truly any gender can read) || Takes place after the 74th hunger games but before 75th

for @xxshift4teamcapxx

 Weeks after you and Peeta had made it out of the games, it seemed like the cameras were trained to stay on you two. To the both of you, cameras equaled “pretending” to be in love with each other. You two would often plan things, things that would grab the attention of the capitol. It would be small things such as Peeta helping you with moving furniture to your new home in the Victor’s Village, going on walks with one another, with just maybe a peck on the cheek, that sort of thing. 

 It was only just now when you had realized that Peeta might not have been as much of a faker as you are with your relationship. You two were in your living room, along with Haymitch, who was stumbling in and out of the kitchen. 

 “Do you think he’ll ever stop?” Peeta jokingly asked, as Haymitch rummaged through your cabinets in search of more liquor. For some reason, you didn’t seem to mind it as much as you usually would have. 

Your legs were laid across Peeta’s lap, as the two of you watched “Capitol News”. 

“I don’t think so.” You bluntly replied, which made Peeta turn his attention from the screen to you. 

 “What’s the matter?” He asked, reaching over to tuck a stray curl back into the silk wrapped around your head. You responded with a silent shake of your head and shrug of your shoulders. 

“They’re probably watching us right now.” You muttered, resting your elbow on the arm of the couch. 

 “Why does it matter?” He asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why does it matter if they’re out there watching us or not?”

“Because then we’ll have to pretend for the cameras.” You whispered. 

He tilted his head, almost like a questioning puppy. “Pretend?” He didn’t sound hurt, or even angry, just lost. 

 You shook your head. “Nevermind, forget it.” 

“Well I can’t now!” 

“Forget what?” Haymitch slurred before walking into the wall. You stood up and put a guiding hand on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s time for you to go.” You told him, before leading him to the front door. 

 “Well, now that we’re alone, maybe you could tell me now?” He suggested hopefully as you sat back down, a bit closer to him this time. 

You huffed. “You know, since we survived together, everyone’s gonna expect us to be together, do everything together, be..you know, together!” You tried to put it in the best words you could. 

“So we aren’t together?” He asked, sitting up from his original relaxed position. 

 You shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“You may not, but I do. Whatever I said in there, in the arena? I meant it. Maybe not the bad stuff or whatever but the things I said to you? I meant. Ever since we were put in the same class at school, wherever I would see you around the Hob, I just knew that I liked you, loved you even, and that you would be the one.” 

 You had zero idea about what to do with that information. All this time…he felt this way? Why didn’t he say anything? Well, he did, but you just figured it was all a part of some plan. 

“Well, I-”

“Wait, stop.” He interrupted, before leaning over once more to tuck every curly back into your scarf, before leaning in to kiss you. It wasn’t like the ones you two shared just for show, or even in the arena, but one where you actually wanted another one. 

 He began to try to stutter out an apology, but you stopped him. 

“Peeta, stop. I know you think that I don’t feel the same way, but I do. I really, really, do. It’s just a big misunderstanding. I just thought you didn’t feel the same way, just like you did.” 

His cheeks turned red as he went back to his original spot, his once slicked back hair now ruffled and back to its original form. 

 “Well I guess it won’t be so hard to pretend now, will it?”

congratulations, mr. president

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x linnea lowtower. content: coriolanus is announced as president of Panem with his wife by his side. warning: none. an: idk this is short and simple. just randomly thought of it. I was gonna add smut but decided against it. tags: @fastlikealambo

Coriolanus knew that the stars were aligned for his future. And, he knew that they one day, would align as a stepping stone to the seat of the presidency. The odds were ever in his favor. Though, life threw him arils of sour pomegranate and his support system was minuscule once his father passed, life had proven that good things come to those who wait. He had waited long enough. It was finally his time.

Election season was brutal, but unlike his peers, Coriolanus could easily admit that he enjoyed it. He was full of charm, class, and intelligence that made everyone fall for him. He became the President of Panem at the tender age of 24. The world was in the palm of his hand.

It was the day of his swearing in. The sun rose early and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his hotel suite. He spent the evening alone, per his request, to collect himself before his swearing in. His blue eyes darted to the clock on the wall. He had an hour to prepare himself before he’d be whisked away to the center of the Capitol. He stepped to the bathroom to begin getting ready.

Hot showers were something he still was not used to. For thirteen years, he lived just above the poverty line, and cold showers became a norm. It was better than no water at all, he reasoned. Coriolanus ran his fingers through his short, damp hair as he fumbled around for his toothbrush and toothpaste.

Through the foggy mirror, he caught his reflection. He looked much different than he did during his time at the Academy and at University. He no longer had shaggy, blond curls, but rather a platinum blond and a haircut with short sides and considerable length at the top, that was always strategically brushed back. It made him look older, more mature. More powerful. His shoulders were stronger and more broad, and he oozed confidence with every step he took. A complete 180 change.

Coriolanus flicked off the bathroom light and whistled his way to the main room. Near the window was a rack of clothes. The option he’d chosen hung pressed and wrinkle free against an iron hanger. His fingers danced along the thick fabric. The circular buttons, his fingertips touched. Tigris’ design.

He dropped his towel and proceeded to get dressed. He eyed himself in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt. A small smile graced his lips. Patience was a virtue and it proved to leave him victorious.

A soft knock came from the door. Coriolanus dropped his coat on the bed and went to open it. “Who is—hi.”

“Good morning, Coriolanus.” Right past him walked his wife. His eyes followed her with every step she took. He let go of the door slowly and let it close behind them. “How are you feeling?” She sat elegantly at the foot of the bed. She crossed her leg at the knee, her brown skin a stark contrast against her white dress. Coriolanus released a shaky breath.

To say his wife was stunning was far from an understatement. Their marital union began once they graduated from the Academy. Coriolanus proposed to her the day of graduation with a unique ring—a two diamond band, one silver, and one ruby red. Six years with her by his side through the ups, downs, and in-betweens.

She was a sensual being. Even in her most classy and elegant attire. She picked out her dress for the occasion and she picked it well. She wore a figure-hugging white dress with a slit going up the left thigh. Her dress was sleeveless with feathers along the chest. On her feet were a heel a shade of the deepest crimson. Her makeup was bold, eyes and lips bleeding with crimson. Her locs were curled and curtained her back. His beautiful wife. His First Lady. His Queen of Panem.

“Fine,” he said shortly. He extended his hand and took hers into his. She was careful not to rest her head on his white shirt; she’d hate for his outfit to be tainted with makeup. “Even better now. I’m almost ready. Just need my jacket.” He nodded at his crimson trench coat that rested on the edge of the bed. She broke from his embrace and swiped the coat from his hands.

“Go.” She pointed to the full length mirror on the back of the hotel door. He followed her command with ease. Though shorter than him, the crown of her head could be seen behind his stature as she stood behind him. She took the coat in her hands and gestured for him to slide his arms in the sleeves. One by one.

Her hands smoothed the non-existent wrinkles on the shoulders of the coat. Coriolanus lifted his chin, an unfamiliar sense of power coursing through his veins. On Linnea’s lips played a smile of approval. “Well, Mr. Snow, it’s about that time, yeah?” Right on cue, a knock on the door. It was time.

Coriolanus met her eyes through the mirror and nodded. “It’s that time.”

“It is with great pride that we welcome your new president of Panem,” Lucretius Lucky Flickerman said lowly. His dark eyes scanned over the crowd who itched with anticipation for their new leader to enter. “Coriolanus Snow!”

A pair of titanium doors opened. The logo of the Capitol split in two and slowly, Coriolanus and Linnea came into view. Capitol citizens roared with excitement. Coriolanus glanced at Linnea, who was already looking at him with a smile on her lips.

They were guided toward two chairs in the center of the suite. It was an overwhelming sight to see. Tens of hundreds of thousands people, proud and ecstatic for the arrival of the man who was determined to make Panem the greatest it could ever be. They were here for him, for Coriolanus Snow. The man who fought and clawed his way to the top. The man who went from something, to nothing, to everything in a short amount of time. Who could stop him? Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly.

“Please, everyone, give it up for President Coriolanus Snow, and his First Lady, Linnea Snow!” A roar of cheers erupted. Dreams had become a reality.

Linnea leaned up and brought her lips to his ear, “Congratulations, Mr. President.” The words rolled off her tongue smoother than molasses. And the look in her eye was killer. Was she trying to make him weak in the knees in front of everyone? Putty in her hands, he was. Desire glazed over her brown eyes. She would pay for it later.

Coriolanus’ arm draped around her waist and his hand ghosted over the swell of her bottom. He brought his lips to her ear. “Save the congratulations for later, sweetheart. We’ll celebrate the right way, my beautiful First Lady…”

She smiled softly. “I love you.”

Not caring about the crowd ahead of them, his lips ghosted over hers. “Mhm, I love you, too.”

totally didn’t just post two stories carried over from my ao3….