Marvel Preferences and Imagines (Taking Requests)

Daisies and Dagger 5

"Yo te miro y se me corta la respiración" You sang, moving your body to the rhythm of Enrique Iglesia smooth voice. Sure, this certainly wasn't the best way to deal with your disbelief, betrayal, and pain, but it sure was an amazing distraction. And that's what you needed at the moment. Not someone telling you how to deal with your problems.

You had stayed in your room -which pretty much Loki's but he never said anything- for about two days, only coming out for meals (which you barely ate) and to get new clothes from Tony. Loki hadn't even made the effort to try to watch you or look out for you.

Finally, after a couple days of morning your self-pity, you came out of your room. You weren't over it by any means, but you were done with the sadness and loneliness that you had. You weren't sure if your heart had frozen partly over with what happened, but you felt stronger. Powerful. It was like you were wearing that outfit again, but this time it didn't feel temporary.

"Bailando," You shouted at the top of your lungs. Dancing. That was the way to deal with your pain in your culture. Everything spiraled around music. Even the saddest of songs were ones you could dance to. That's how people lived your life. That's how you were going to live your life.

You couldn't help but smile once the song changed. Marc Anthony's voice drifted around the room as you opened the refrigerator. You had grown up on this music. Your mother would play this song as you ran around with your friends. In a simpler world.

"At first, I thought that a bird was squeaking in the kitchen, but then I just realized that you had decided to sing," Loki's voice whispered into your ear. You jumped, throwing the ground beef at his body. He was laughing pretty hard, something that you had never really seen before. He groaned, still smiling, as the package hit him squarely in the chest.

You rolled your eyes, picking up the meat, and set it down on the island. You turned back to the fridge. You rummaged through the drawers, not finding what you were looking for. You let out a frustrated sigh when you realized that he didn't have what you were looking for.

He had begun to switch the food in his fridge and pantry to accommodate you. Which meant you actually had cans of black beans and packets of rice. You had plantains and ground meat. Yucas and sugar cane were also scattered around in the kitchen. You didn't want to say anything, but he actually caught onto the fact that you preferred your country's food over anyone else. However, that was not to say that you hated different cultures foods. You loved curry, pasta, and other cultural delights, but you knew how to make your food by heart.

"You were just happy," Loki pointed out, leaning back on the island, "What's wrong?"

You turned to him, displaying your best please-take-me-shopping puppy eyes. He raised an eyebrow at your actions but didn't respond.

"So umm you don't have disco dough, and I really wanted to make empanadas. So maybe you couldtakemeshoppingplease," You rushed. Loki took a second to decipher your words, a clouded look overtaking his face. After about thirty seconds of you staring at Loki and Loki staring into the distance, he nodded.

You squealed in delight, throwing your hands around him and hugging him slightly. You could feel him tense up, and you realized what you had done. You were about to move away and apologize when you felt his hands encircle your body and draw you closer to him.

You didn't notice that you were crying until Loki pulled away slightly to brush the tears that stained his shirt from your cheeks. You looked down, ashamed. Your feeling had come crashing down on you and him, raining over the both of you like droplets of water.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, reaching for a paper towel. He handed it to you, and you cleared the rivers coming from your eyes. You shook your head. It wasn't his fault. It had been your father's choice. The father that you had never met. The one that your mother said had left the two of you.

"Not your fault," You hiccuped, still trying to calm yourself. The mob boss frowned.

"That doesn't make it any better. I should have done something," He continued.

"How old were you? Five? Six? Loki, there's nothing you could have done," You argued. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling slightly on some strands. He didn't respond, but you could tell he was still thinking of it.

"We'll deal with it later," You said. He stopped to glance down at you. He found that you weren't mad at him. You honestly didn't think he was at fault. Your father was. There was nothing that the two of you could possibly do now but find out who your father had sold you to. From there, the two of you would do something.

***

Loki lead you outside to where he had several cars lined up. Jaguars, Mustangs, Dodge Challenger, you name it Loki had it. What caught your attention, though, wasn't a car. A Cobra Black speedster was sitting next to a grey toolbox. Your eyes ran up and down the bike. It was fierce. That was awesome and you really wanted to ride it, but there was no way that you were going to able to pick up groceries with that. Maybe next time.

"So?" Loki asked, looking around. You finally settled on blue Subaru Hybrid. It was large enough to get a decent amount of groceries with, all the while remaining totally normal (unlike a jaguar). You pointed to the car. Loki nodded, grabbed a pair of keys off a rack, and -once the door was unlocked- opened the door for you.

As he pulled out of his driveway, you noticed that you were no longer in the city or it's surrounding area. When you had first walked to the warehouse a couple days ago, it seemed to be located in White Plains or Orange County. Now, it seemed as if you were closer to Albany. You rolled down the windows, letting the wind whip your hair in all directions. The cool summer air was slowly turning into fall, meaning that the next time you would take a trip outside, you would begin to see the fall foliage.

***

As you pulled into the store's parking lot, you could sense that something was wrong. About five minutes ago, Loki had rolled up the windows and locked them. Now, he had parked the car, but locked the doors, telling you that he needed to make a quick call.

You surveyed the parking lot. It was basically empty, save for a few scattered cars. This normally wouldn't seem unsettling, but as the sounds of engines revving behind you seemed to appear out of nowhere, you felt a pit in your stomach begin to open.

Suddenly you were surrounded by dozens of motorcycle head beams, shining direct into your face and causing you to put a hand up to block the glare. A shadow loomed over the car ominously as a person walked out. He tapped the side of the car as he walked to your window. He peered directly at you, meeting your eyes with no hesitation.

You felt shivers run up your arm, as he winked at you and slowly walked to the front of the car, so the both of you could see him clearing. You felt Loki's hand slide into your own and grip it slightly to stop the quivers.

"Laufeyson," The man yelled, his voice deep and hoarse, "You know the deal. Give me my wife,"