Summary: A mission in an alternate timeline brings Loki face to face with a relic from his past. Against better judgment, he finds himself seeking out one far more dear.
Word Count: 1,435
Pairing: Loki x Sigyn
A/N: So after months of writer's block and worsening mental health struggles, I suddenly got really inspired yesterday to write something based on "I Look In People's Windows." It's a really quick little thing, and I'm not sure if it will appeal to anyone but myself, but it feels incredibly good to have written something. Also, while this is technically series flavored, it really has nothing to do with it-- I just really liked the concept of Loki being in an alternate timeline, and the details of how and why he ended up there weren't very important to me.
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Read it on Ao3!
He found himself looking in windows.
A shameful act, he knew, but he tried to push through the abashment by telling himself that if the mortals cared about their privacy, they wouldn’t be living out their lives so readily in front of unobstructed glass. No, the houses on this street were all alight with life, the curtains drawn all the way back. It seemed as though it was meant to be.
He glanced through another and locked eyes with an elderly woman huddled in her chair beneath a cocoon of blankets, fixing him with a scowl as deep as the lines on her face. Loki whipped his gaze back to the pavement, cheeks burning as he hurried along.
He was wasting time. They had come to this timeline with a purpose, and that purpose was certainly not leering through windows with the hope of catching sight of a ghost. He was late to the rendezvous point as it was – it was only a matter of time before they sent someone looking for him. Loki knew this. And yet he kept going.
This wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t met Fandral at that bar. It had startled him out of his laser focus – he understood the concept of variants, of course, but he hadn’t expected to find relics of his past here on Midgard, so far away from where they existed in his mind. But there he was: cozying up on the counter, his arms around a woman’s shoulders, that same Fandral smirk tickling his lips beneath his mustache as he whispered something against her skin that made her giggle. It was all so familiar.
Loki’s mind had gone blank. He forgot all sense of protocol, nearly calling out Fandral’s name out of some stunned instinct, but thankfully his partner had held him back with a sharp whisper.
“Different timeline, remember?”
And it was. This Fandral was not the one Loki knew from childhood – this was a mortal man, who spent his days tucked away in some florescent cubicled labyrinth and his nights skulking through the city in a fruitless search for stimulation, before dragging his weary bones back to his overpriced studio apartment to start the whole thing anew in the morning. Seeing him here meant nothing.
Except, if Fandral’s variant was in this city, could that mean …?
He didn’t let himself finish the thought. It was silly, he told himself, even as he continued flittering down the sidewalk like a moth in search of light. Absolutely ridiculous. One Asgardian-turned Midgardian variant didn’t guarantee that there would be another. And even if it did, even in the off chance that he did find her, what would he do once he had? She wouldn’t know him – it wouldn’t even be her, just some person with her face and name, none of her memories, none of her soul. What could he do but stare at her like some sort of lunatic?
But you’d see her, whispered a small voice in the back of his mind, you’d get to see her again.
Loki swallowed. The last time he saw her – it had been before the Bifrost. How many lifetimes had he lived since then? So much of his memory from that time had turned gray and hazy, but she still glowed when he pictured her, swathed in the gentlest blue, her chestnut curls soft beneath his chin as she pressed her cheek to his collarbone. She smelled of the forest, fresh and free and forever unfettered, but she bound herself to him with her embrace. He took her hand in his and cherished the way her ring pressed against his palm, warm with the heat of her body.
Was it a memory, or perhaps only a dream? He huffed – a dream would hurt less. She had died after his fall. Some sort of illness – they all told him it was unrelated, but Loki knew in his heart that he had killed her. He had sworn to live out the rest of his life at her side, but instead he abandoned her to the wolves of his demons, left her to face the fallout alone.
No wonder the void hadn’t the mercy to kill him.
There was another house coming up, another window – a busy one, if the cars jammed into the driveway were anything to go by. Sure enough, he found a party behind the glass, and a fancy one at that, the air abuzz with wine glasses clinking and the elegant swish of long evening dresses. He could feel the warm hum of their laughter, trickling out even into this starless night. Loki gazed at each face that passed before him, praying for some hint of familiarity, but they were all strangers to him.
And that’s what she would be to him, he realized. Nothing but a stranger. Perhaps she had been so changed by this timeline that he wouldn’t know her face even if he were to come across it.
Loki sighed. The signpost designating the end of the street grew nearer and nearer. He had wasted nearly an hour now on this little side mission, and all he had to show for it was a newly potent ache in his chest. He needed to get to the rendezvous point. Enough shadow-chasing.
It was the house on the corner. He told himself it was the last one, he’d give himself this one last attempt and then he’d move on. He didn’t expect to see her.
But then he saw her.
Loki froze – truly froze. He couldn’t have run even if all the realms were chasing after him.
It was her.
Hunched over a sink, scrubbing at a skillet with a yellow sponge, dark curls tied up behind a blue bandanna, glaring down at her work with the same steadfast ferocity he remembered so vividly from sparring pits of his youth — it was her!
He breathed her name, whispered it like a prayer as he took the smallest step forward. The tip of his boot grazed her front lawn, but he barely noticed. She … she was beautiful. His eyes burned, then misted over, a garbled cry falling from his lips. She was there. She was moving, she was breathing, she was right there just behind the glass—
And then she looked up, and their eyes met.
His breath caught in his throat. He should have hurried away, should have left before she had the chance to catch a glimpse of him, but he felt rooted to the pavement, held captive by the power of her stare. Oh those eyes — how many nights had he dreamed of swimming in the amber pools of her eyes once more? He remembered her laying against him at night, the way he’d cup her head to kiss over each eyelid as she pulled him in closer and let out the sweetest sigh ever heard. For one beautiful moment, he looked into her eyes, and it was like coming home.
But then the moment passed. There was no recognition in her gaze, no warm smile or sweet relief. No, her brow only furrowed in confusion, head cocked as she studied this stranger gawking at her through her window, and the spell was broken. She might as well have doused him in ice water.
Because wish as he might, it wasn’t really her.
Loki stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. What was he doing here? What must this woman think of him? How could he explain that he was leering at her through the glass because she looked like someone he once loved? What was it to her? His wife was dead. What did it matter that he had found her doppelgänger?
He whipped back towards the street. The rendezvous point. That’s where his focus should be, not on some dark Midgardian street chasing after nonexistent ghosts. Imbecile. He forced himself forward, forced his eyes on the pavement before him and not at the light he was leaving behind, biting through his cheek until he tasted blood.
…
She stood at the window a bit longer, frowning at the man’s silhouette as he disappeared around the corner of the street. Really, she should have been more unnerved – someone watching her from the window, that sounded like something out of a stalker story, didn’t it? – but there was something about him, the stunned disbelief in his eyes, the way he went running off like a frightened rabbit …
“Sigyn?” Her boyfriend stuck his head through the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “There was some guy staring at me.”
Summary: A young Viking thrall sent out after dark to collect firewood finds herself hopelessly lost in the freezing cold woods. Desperate to warm herself, she turns to magic, but luckily for her, her inexperience ends up catching the attention of a benevolent god ...
Word Count: 4,874
Pairing: None
A/N: So I wanted to write something for Christmas this year, but I couldn't come up with a Christmas-y prompt that interested me enough to work on, so instead I decided to do a retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Match Girl," which is something I've wanted to do for a couple of years now and is Christmas adjacent. Big thank you again to @lokislittlesigyn for doing all that pesky research for me and acting as beta reader <3 For reference, I pictured Drifa as around ten years old.
Also I wanted to shout out @maiden-of-asgard's A Thief In The Night, which I think I may have been subconsciously inspired by. Hers is a much different story than this (it stars a much older protagonist and is nsfw) but the opening concept is pretty similar and I realized about halfway through writing mine that that was probably where I got the idea lol. Also all of her work is absolutely fantastic in general, so I wanted to mention it <3
Thank you so much for reading, and happy holidays!!
If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)
Read it on Ao3!
Drifa is freezing.
It’s her own fault, because she—stupid, idiot girl!—forgot to fetch firewood before supper as she had been bidden, and now darkness had fallen and her mistress had discovered her mistake. The woman had beaten her bloody and dragged her by the hair into the cold, instructing her master’s guards not to allow her back in until she had collected enough to last the night. Drifa had cried and begged, but it was useless.
She stumbles through the snow, groping blindly in the dark for the feel of tree-bark against her fingertips. There’s a panic building in her throat, icy and sharp. She should have reached the woodpile by now. In the daylight, Drifa has never had the slightest issue navigating the woods around her home, but now, with the moon cloaked in a thick shroud of storm-clouds, she can barely make out the shape of her own hand. She turns to go back, but the flickering light of the longhouse has long disappeared into the black of the night. So dark is it that she can’t even find her old footprints in the snow to follow back home.
She’s lost. She swallows, trying to peer through the labyrinth of shadows for a sign of something, anything familiar. There’s nothing but blackness. Drifa thinks of the tales the old serving-women like to tell, about the bloodthirsty beasts with curling horns and daggers for claws that roam the woods after nightfall, hunting for some luckless little girl to drag back to their lair and slake their hunger on. You must never walk the woods after dark. She wants to cry. I didn’t want to walk them! I didn’t want to! I just want to go home!
A branch snaps in front of her and she shrieks, frozen in place for what seems like an eternity as she waits for something to emerge from the darkness. What does she do if it does? Could she run in the snow? Scream for help? Would anyone hear her? Would anyone care?
But the seconds tick by, with no other sound except the blood pumping in her ears. After a moment, Drifa takes a shaky breath (the cold feels like shards of glass in her throat) and continues trekking on.
Deep in the woods now, she shivers, so violently it makes her bones ache. Originally, she had taken a cloak with her – although really, it was more of a ratty cotton sheet than a cloak, something she tended to use as covering when she slept – but it had gotten caught up in the branches of a tree not long after she started out, and in trying to tug it free she had lost it in the snow. Now, she’s in only her smock, soaked through from falling against the ice.
Without anything to cover it, the metal collar around her neck has grown ice-cold, burning her skin everywhere it touches. She wishes she could take it off, but the collar designates her state as a thrall, and removing it would earn her an even worse beating than the last. Her forehead stings too, more piercingly than it ought to. She thinks she must have cut it when her mistress threw her out, although now, she can’t really remember. Everything seems hazy.
Warm. She must get warm. The need drowns out all other thoughts. If only she could make a fire. If there was wood, she might – one of her many roles is tending to the fire, and she’s usually very good at it. Usually. Drifa bites away the tears, the skin of her lips so cold it feels like glass against her teeth. She could do it, if she only had some wood, but she can’t find any – the ground is covered with snow, and the trees towering over her hold their branches above her head, far too high to reach. It’s as if they’re mocking her.
She cries out when her fingers brush against something brittle. It’s a rock, a large one, jutting out of the snow like a miniature wall. Drifa leans against it, her breath coming in fast little puffs of mist. She knows she shouldn’t stop – out in the cold, winter is liable to put you into a sleep from which you’ll never wake – but everything hurts, and her eyelids are so heavy. It’s only a moment before her legs give out entirely and she collapses on the ground against the rock. Her lower half has gone completely numb, and she wonders if she’s turning to ice.
Fire. I need fire.
Maybe … maybe she could magick one? Her master has talked about seidr before, how witchy women can spark up a flame with only a flick of their wrist and a click of their tongue. Drifa often listens to his conversations with his men while she kneels before the fire. He doesn’t seem to like seidr much – “cowardly and villainous,” he called it, something no woman deserving of respect would ever touch. He wouldn’t be happy if he knew one of his slave girls was considering it, but Drifa is so cold she can’t bring herself to care.
A flick of the wrist and a click of the tongue. Her mouth is so dry that the sound only barely comes out. The forest remains as cold and dark as ever. Maybe it needs a spell? Drifa doesn’t know any spells. She can’t feel her hands anymore. Her eyes are burning. She tries it again, whispering words that sound right. Fire, burn, alight, warm, please, please, please please please please—
“Oh dear, that’s not the right incantation at all.”
Drifa snaps up her gaze and shrieks – or she would have, had the sound not frozen in her throat. A shadow stands across from her, the slender form of a man looming amongst the trees, crimson eyes glittering through the darkness. Her heart jumps to her throat. It’s the monster from the stories. She tries to move, tries to push herself away, but her legs are leaden and heavy and won’t work properly, and so she can only sit paralyzed in terror as he approaches her, the snow crunching beneath his step.
He’s going to eat me … he’s going to bite my head off and carry me back to his lair and feast on my bones … she lets out a soft cry, squeezing her eyes closed as hot tears finally break free, running down her cheeks and freezing against her skin. Oh, why didn’t I remember the firewood earlier?
When the creature speaks again, Drifa can’t make out the words over the sound of her own whimpers. What she does make out is the familiar crackling that follows, a warm, pleasant sound that washes over her … no, it’s a warmth in more than just sound. She looks up, fear giving way to confusion.
The forest is awash with light. It almost hurts her eyes, so accustomed to the dark has she become. As for where it’s coming from – I must be dreaming. A man stands over her, a roaring fire burning in his outstretched hand. She blinks, but the sight does not change. His hand is on fire. It doesn’t seem to be harming him though – the man appears as relaxed as can be, his burning flesh untouched and unaffected, as if the fire wasn’t even there at all.
He’s a normal looking man too, aside from the flames dancing in his palm – no horns or talons or any of the particular beastlike qualities she had been bracing for. No, just a normal man, with his dark hair slicked back and a cloak of black feathers draped over his shoulders. Even his eyes are a green-tinted blue, not the red she could have sworn she saw in the darkness. They sparkle as he smiles down at her.
“Seidr can be quite the tricky little beast,” he says. “You ought to be more careful in your attempts with it. You never know what you might summon.” Drifa gapes as he kneels before her, holding the fire as though he expects her to take it from him. Instinct keeps her hands frozen in her lap, even as the heat beckons her with its soothing warmth. He can’t mean that, can he? Fire … fire hurts. She’s singed her fingers trying to start one enough times to know. You can’t just pick it up in your hand … and yet that’s exactly what he’s doing.
The man seems to sense her turmoil. Chuckling softly, he holds it closer to her, and Drifa nearly starts crying again from how good the heat feels. “Go on, little one. It’s quite safe.”
Biting her lip, she reaches out towards the flame, ready to flinch back the moment it hurts. But the pain never comes. Instead, it’s a warm, tingling sort of spark that travels up her arm, chasing away the cold as it settles in her chest. Drifa gasps as the feeling returns to her fingers, any sense of caution melting away as she reaches for the fire with her other hand. So warm …
She’s almost forgotten that the man is still there when he clasps her arm. She flinches – it doesn’t hurt, but his hand is large enough to wrap entirely around her wrist and then some, and her fear comes flooding back.
But he doesn’t yank her arm out of its socket. Instead, his voice is as soft as his touch.
“You’ll want to cup it,” he says, guiding her hands together to hold the flames as one would a cupful of water. “Like so. That way you’ll have the most control over the spell.”
Drifa pulls her gaze away from the flames to look back up at him, and he smiles at her again. He appears to be wearing leather beneath his cloak, but his leathers look different than any she’s ever seen. Intricate pieces of black and green interlock over his chest, with just the slightest glimpse of glittering gold. Gold on his leathers. This man must be wealthy – far wealthier than her master, at the very least.
If he’s really a man at all.
She inhales a trembling breath. “Are … are you a monster?”
The man throws his head back and lets out a merry laugh. “Oh my,” he chuckles. “I suppose that depends on who you ask.”
Her eyes widen – what does that mean?—and he must notice, because he chuckles again and shakes his head. “No, I’m no monster. Not in the way you fear. My name is Loki.” He reaches towards her and she tenses, but he only tips her chin up with a single tender finger, eyes intent on her neck. It takes a moment to realize he’s looking at her collar. “And who might you be, little thrall?”
Her voice catches in her throat. Should she tell him? Her instinct is to obey – if he is as wealthy as he seems, her master would be furious if she showed him any disrespect. Although Drifa somehow doubts her master would have much respect for a man who practices seidr. Goodness, she hadn’t known that men could practice seidr at all … that’s not natural, is it?
But Loki is smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “It’s alright, lovely. I promise I don’t bite.”
The thought makes her glance at his teeth. They seem quite normal sized, at least. She looks back to the fire, then closes her eyes, her voice coming out in a shaky exhale. “Drifa …”
He hums, pleased. “It’s good to meet you, Drifa.” His finger drifts from her chin to her cheek, slowly stroking up the side of her face. She shudders, but it’s a pleasant feeling – there’s a warmth to his touch that feels nice against her cold-numbed skin. “You’re a small little thing, to be out so far on your own.”
She hiccups. “I had to get firewood …”
“Firewood?” He’s frowning – Drifa can hear it in his voice. The pinpricks of panic that the heat had melted away spring back in full force. Did she say something wrong? Is he angry? She opens her eyes. His gaze is dark – oh goodness, he is angry – but before she can determine what she’s done that’s earned his ire, he presses his fingertips to the bruised cut on her temple, and Drifa gasps as the stinging turns to tingling, then melts away entirely. She looks up at him in shock.
But Loki says nothing. He pulls away, eyeing her collar once more.
“Has your master sent you out on such a mission so late at night,” he asks at last. “With neither hatchet nor torch?”
Drifa stiffens. “I was supposed to get it earlier …” Her voice is hoarse. Even with the fire in her hands, she feels quite cold. “I forgot …” Goodness, how long has she been gone? Her mistress had told her to hurry – that feels like hours ago. Her vision blurs. Norns, she’s going to be in for the beating of a lifetime—
“Oh lovely girl.” There’s something soft about Loki’s voice as he shifts to sit on the ground beside her, something calming. Gentle. Drifa’s not used to gentleness. It makes her cry harder.
She hardly notices when he shucks off his cloak, only when he’s wrapping it around her shoulders like a blanket. “It’s all right, darling,” he soothes. “No need for tears. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
Drifa inhales shakily. The cloak is warmer than any blanket she’s ever known, the feathers soft against her cheeks. She wishes she could burrow into it and never come out. “But I’m lost …”
“Well, that cannot be, as it seems I have found you.” Loki gives an easy grin. “One can hardly be lost and found at the same time, now, can they?”
She turns back towards him (how he’s not shivering without his cloak, she has no idea). She supposes he’s right – she’d certainly feels better here with him, with his cloak and his fire and his magic, than she had alone. At least it’s not as dark anymore …
A rustling in the bushes to her right slices through her thoughts, and Drifa shrieks, slamming her hands into the ground in a frantic attempt to push herself away. The fire hisses when it hits the snow, dousing the clearing in blackness once more. It’s coming. It’s finally coming. The monster finally found us—
She cries out again when a hand grasps her left shoulder, but it’s only Loki, calm as can be as he hushes her softly. He mutters the words from earlier and another fire ignites in his free hand. The bush is still moving – something’s trying to crawl out. Drifa whimpers, but Loki rubs her shoulder soothingly.
“It’s all right, dear,” he whispers with an eager smile, holding the light higher so that she can see better. “Look!”
Drifa can’t believe her eyes.
It’s a goose, feathers as white as the snow across which she’s waddling as she wriggles free from the shrubbery. She pauses, tilting her head as she considers them, then with a little honk! that makes Drifa jump, the bush rustles again and six grey, fluffy goslings come scampering out behind her.
Drifa gapes. How is this possible? It’s far too cold for any goose to be here, let alone babies. This can’t be real. And yet here they are, waddling past her like nothing’s wrong. The goslings scurry to follow their mother, letting out squeaky little chirps as they run past her. One stops at Drifa’s boot and pecks the leather with its beak. She giggles – it’s such a tiny thing, she can barely feel its beak on her foot – and it chirps again, stumbling back into the snow. Across the clearing, the mother goose lets out another honk, and the gosling dashes off to join its siblings as they slip away into the dark.
Next to her, Loki is smiling. “See? No cause for alarm.” There’s a playful sparkle in his eyes, as well as the dancing reflection of the flames, and she finds herself wondering if the unnatural winter geese were magic in the same way as his fire. But before she has the chance to ask, her stomach lets out a mighty growl.
Loki’s gaze flickers down to her torso. “When have you last eaten, little one?”
Drifa bites her lip and looks down, crossing her arms over her stomach. When had she last eaten? It was long before she set out for firewood – the mistress had pulled her away before she had a chance to eat her table scraps. Someone else has probably eaten them by now …
Her stomach rumbles again. She’s very hungry, she realizes. She was so cold for so long she must not have noticed it. It feels wrong to complain though … Drifa’s not sure what to say. “I …”
Loki lets out a huff. “On second thought, I believe I can glean the answer myself.” There’s the sound of something being stabbed into the snow – Drifa looks up to see that the fire is now a torch, firmly planting in the ground in front of them. Loki does a strange flick of his wrist, and before she can blink he’s holding out an apple to her.
She hesitates, gaze shifting from the apple to his face. Is he angry? He definitely sounded displeased, and he’s not smiling anymore. Did the sound of her hunger irritate him? Besides, fresh apples are a rarity in the winter – certainly not to be wasted on the likes of her. Is it a trick?
But he only holds it out closer. “It’s all right. You can take it.”
It feels wrong, but with his encouragement the demands of her stomach are louder than her sense of decorum, and so Drifa takes the apple in trembling hands. Her first bite is a small one, just enough to pierce the skin and taste the sweet juice on her tongue, and it’s nearly enough to send her into tears yet again. Oh, it’s heavenly – luscious and ripe and perfect, the most delicious fruit she’s ever brought to her lips. She chomps down hard for another bite and the juice dribbles down her chin but she can’t bring herself to care. The flesh is somehow crisp and soft at the same time, and she tilts her head back as it melts in her mouth, euphoric.
Loki smiles. “That’s a good girl.”
The apple does not last long—Drifa practically inhales it, slurping the juice off her fingers like an animal. Maybe under different circumstances she’d be embarrassed, but right now it feels right. Beside her, Loki hums in amusement. She glances back up at him. Now that she’s seeing him without his cloak on, his clothes look even stranger. There is gold on his leathers, a swooping curve across his chest, as well as matching shoulder plates and bracers. It doesn’t look like regular armor though – certainly nothing like the bulky breastplates she’s seen her master’s men wearing.
“Why are you dressed so funny?”
She freezes almost as soon as the words leave her lips – such an insolent question, what was she thinking?! But Loki’s smirk only widens, eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Not such a timid little mouse now, are we?” He shakes his head, grinning as he sits back against the rock. “I’m dressed in the fashion of my people, lovely. My clothes would be considered very normal where I’m from.” His gaze drops down to her collar. “Yours, on the other hand, would be seen as quite unusual.”
“Oh …” Drifa pauses. She’s never seen anyone dress like him before. Although she supposes she hasn’t seen many outsiders beyond visitors from settlements near to her master’s longhouse. “Is that far away?”
Loki nods. “Very far, I’m afraid. But it’s a far kinder land than this. Much more forgiving.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “Warmer, too.”
“Warmer?” she frowns. “But it’s winter.”
“It is,” he agrees. “But we have our seidr to weather the cold.” He nods his head towards the fire, still flickering brightly on its torch. After a moment, he grins softly. “Besides, you’ll find my home is … a bit more eternal than anything you’ll find here.”
Drifa is quiet for a moment. She imagines what that must be like, a sturdy house free of ice and snow, glowing with the constant warmth of magical fires. Maybe there were more cloaks like this one too, blankets that never let in the cold no matter how the temperature dropped. She allows herself a soft grin against the apple core.
No need for firewood.
It’s a nice thought. A scary one too, though – goodness, what would her master say if he knew she was fantasizing about living in a world of magicians? That she was sitting here with one now, enjoying his seidr fire and seidr apple? What was it he had said? Cowardly and villainous.
Drifa purses her lips. “My master doesn’t like seidr.”
“Your master is an imbecile.” Her eyes widen. He didn’t – he couldn’t!! She whips back to look at him, but Loki stares ahead, his features blank, as if he’s only made a statement about the weather.
“Besides,” he adds after a moment, turning to give her a wink. “I rather doubt you hold his opinion on the matter in very high regard. You were trying to work it yourself, when I came upon you.”
His voice is teasing, but Drifa feels as though she’s plunged into a frozen lake. “You … you won’t tell him, will you?” She inhales, throat tightening. “I wasn’t trying – I was just so cold, and—”
But Loki only laughs again and wraps an arm around her back, giving her shoulder a gentle pat. “Sweet thing. Your secret is safe with me.”
It’s a strange feeling, having his arm around her like that. Being held. It feels so safe, like a shield, protecting her from the darkness. She likes that. It’s nice to be protected. Warm too – that must be magic, how he manages to still feel so warm despite being out in the dead of winter in such thin clothing. Without thinking about what she’s doing, Drifa leans against his side, resting her head on his chest. Loki stiffens, but she hardly notices. His leather tunic is soft against her cheek. Warm and soft and safe. He relaxes again after a moment, his hand coming back to rub her upper arm in easy, gentle strokes. That feels nice too.
She’s nearly drifted off to sleep against his chest when he speaks again. “Do you have any family, Drifa? Brothers, sisters?”
Drifa shakes her head. As far as she knows, she’s alone in the world. “Do you?”
“I have a brother. A very loud one at that.” He chuckles. “You’d probably be frightened of him, skittish little mouse that you are. He’s well-meaning though.”
For some reason, the thought of Loki, with his soft voice and even softer step, having a loud brother makes Drifa giggle. “Can he do seidr too?”
“I’m afraid not – at least, not in the way that I do. He prefers a more conventional way of life.”
“Oh …” She wonders what conventional is, when you live in a magic land where everyone has seidr and it never gets cold.
The forest falls silent for a little while. She’s not sure for how long. Laying against his chest, she can hear his heartbeat, a faint, rhythmic lub-dup, and wrapped in the warmth of his cloak, it’s nearly enough to lull her to sleep. When Loki clears his throat, she can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours since he last spoke.
“Now, darling,” he says. There are snowflakes in his hair, she realizes – when did it start snowing again? “As lovely as this little picnic has been, I fear the temperature is dropping even further, and you can’t stay out here forever.”
All at once, the panic returns. “What do you mean? Are you leaving?” He can’t leave, he can’t leave her here, if he leaves he’ll take the magic and the fire and the cloak and everything and she’ll go back to being cold and lost—
“Oh sweet girl, no need to fret,” he soothes, stroking her side. “I have no intention of leaving you here. I can take you back to your longhouse – it’s not too far.”
“Oh …” She … she should feel relief at that. Hadn’t she hoped he might rescue her from her peril? She should be overjoyed that he’s kind and willing enough to see her back home. Home. The word feels empty.
Loki is studying her, his eyes glittering in the faint light of the fire. “Unless you don’t wish to return?”
“I …” Drifa hesitates – why is she hesitating? Would she rather slowly freeze to death out here? No, of course not … But what will be waiting for her when she returns, hours late and without the very thing she was sent for? A shiver runs down her spine. She knows what will be waiting for her. But … what other choice does she have?
“I have nowhere else to go …” she whispers finally, looking down at her hands to hide the tears once again pooling in her eyes.
Loki lets out a low hum. “Well, there is an alternative.” He tips her chin up so that she’s looking at him. His features are serious. “You could come with me, back to my home.”
She inhales, so sharply it hurts. “Really?”
He nods. “You’d be safe and cared for and want for nothing. No more of this—” his hand drifts from her chin to her collar, slipping his fingers between the metal and her skin. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “—mistreatment. This I can swear to you.” He pulls his hand away, looking at her somberly. “But if you come with me, you’ll not be able to return here again.”
She bites her lip. Is it bad that she wants it? He said he lives far away, but she has no idea where … she doesn’t even know if he’s even a man. Shouldn’t she return to what she knows? But she thinks of her mistress’ shrill voice and violent hands, the meager rations she receives, the hard floor upon which she sleeps … Drifa doesn’t like what she knows.
Her voice is hoarse, but strong. “I want to go with you.”
“Are you certain?” There’s a weight behind Loki’s gaze as he regards her. “This is not a decision to be taken lightly, little one.”
She nods. “I’m certain.”
Loki’s smile is as wide as it is warm. “Very well. Hold on to me, love.” He reaches forward, wrapping one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees before he scoops her up as though she weighed nothing more than a feather. Drifa gasps as he stands – he’s so tall, she’s never been this far off the ground before. She burrows into the feather cloak and clings to his shoulders, digging her fingernails into the leather as she hides against his chest. He chuckles.
“Just one thing more before we go..”
With deft fingers, he unlatches her collar, pulling it free from her neck with only one hand. Drifa’s eyes widen – she’s not allowed to do that! Except … she supposes she is, now. He drops the collar on the ground with a muffled thunk as it sinks into the snow. Drifa lets out a shuddering breath and reaches for her throat. Her skin feels raw and exposed, but free. She feels herself grin. When she looks up, Loki is grinning right back at her.
“You’ll want to hold tight,” he says. “Our method of travel is … rather unconventional, at least to you mortals.”
“Wha – Mortals?” Her head spins with sudden recognition. “You – you mean—”
Loki smirks. “I mean that we’re going to Asgard, darling.”
…
There were precious few awake at that hour to see the flash of color that lit up the sky, for it lasted only a moment. It wasn’t until morning, in the embers of the untended-to fire, that it was discovered that the girl sent out for firewood never returned. A meager search was attempted – the master was not one to take the loss of his property lightly. They found her cloak first, a torn, ratty little thing frozen stiff in the snow not too far from the longhouse, then her collar about an hour’s walk away from that. With the snowfall in the night, any tracks had been lost, but it seemed safe to assume that the child had been dragged off and devoured by some beast of the forest. The mistress was irritated. Why the little fool wandered into the woods, instead of sticking to the woodpile as she had been told, was beyond her.
None of them had any idea of the magic and glory with which she had been swept away to the Realm Eternal, or that she now lived amongst the gods as one of them.
Summary: Tony Stark arranges for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it -- he's had enough thrills to last a lifetime, he has no desire to seek out more -- but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.
Word Count: 3,482
Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader
A/N: Drags self out of the grave and awkwardly waves
So it's been a minute since I posted lol. Those of you who follow may be aware that I recently graduated from college with the Final Semester From Hell that involved my computer hard drive dying on me in class and causing me to lose not only forty pages of my honors thesis two weeks before it was due, but also almost every WIP I had been working on in the past four years because I am an idiot who chronically forgets to back things up :D I did make it through college, but between stress, burnout, depression, and the death of any motivation to work on anything because of having to restart from the beginning for all of my projects, I went a while without writing anything. But I'm slowly getting back into it -- I have several projects in the works and I'm hoping to get back to posting more regularly. This fic was a short piece that I had started prior to the computer death that I had a lot of physical notes on so they weren't lost when my hard drive decided to yeet itself into the sun. I'm not entirely happy with it, but honestly it feels so good to finally finish something that I don't care.
Anyways, sorry for the obnoxious A/N. Thank you so much for reading!
Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack, a bit of motion sickness?
If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :) (I also realize that this taglist is Old so if I need to update it please let me know)
Read it on Ao3!
Standing in the shadow of the great tower, heart thudding in his throat, Loki is suddenly aware that he’s made an enormous mistake.
Next to him, Stark whistles. “This is what you usually start with?”
You grin up at the spire, a massive construction of electric green cutting through the cloudless sky. Two elevators, one on either side, are creeping slowly up the length of the tower. They linger at the top for just a moment before plunging back down to Earth, their occupants screaming. Loki feels ill just watching, but you’re practically vibrating in place. “It’s good to get the blood pumping.”
He can’t bring himself to look at you.
It’s your fault that he’s here. Loki hadn’t planned to come today at all. A day spent outside in the sweltering summer sun, following Stark’s gaggle of misfits onto various machines designed to fling mortals from side to side to simulate the feeling of a near death experience? Loki couldn’t imagine anything more torturous. Thor’s begging and cajoling received nothing in response. No, he hadn’t the slightest intention of coming today, not until last night, when he came across you restocking the main refrigerator.
“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you had asked as you arranged rows of Red Bull on the top shelf. “I can’t wait to take you guys around Rapid Rails—I’ve been begging Mr. Stark to do a teambuilding day there ever since he hired me.”
Your eagerness caught him off guard— as Stark’s personal assistant, you had been present at all of his godforsaken teambuilding events, but Loki had never known you to be particularly excited about any of them. “I … I wasn’t aware you had such an attachment to it.”
“Oh yeah—I grew up just down the street from there!” You beamed at him, breaking down the cardboard box you had used to carry the cans. “We used to have season passes – they were way cheaper when I was a kid – and we’d just go there to hang out all the time. Gosh it was so fun. And now I get to go for work!” You let out a merry laugh. “I guess some things never change, right?”
Loki huffed a soft chuckle. He had never seen you like this before, practically bubbling over in excitement. It was … rather endearing. “I suppose not.”
“You are coming, right? Thor said you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”
Were the circumstances different, Loki might have scoffed. Hadn’t made up your mind yet—Norns, his brother lived in denial. Instead though, he hesitated. “I … I’m afraid I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Really?” The way your face fell actually hurt his chest. “Why not?”
“I—” He glanced away, pressing his lips together. “I’m not sure I’m one for your roller coasters,” he said, finally. “You’d likely have a better time without me there.” It was an attempt at lightheartedness, but you only seemed more disappointed.
“Oh, that’s not true at all! I was really looking forward to—” you stopped suddenly, and when Loki looked up again, you were biting your lip with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would be really fun if you came with us. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”
“I suppose I could come, if you so desire.” He hoped he sounded nonchalantly cool, and that you couldn’t see the way his heart fluttered at the idea that you might want him there. “I wouldn’t wish to let you down.”
“Oh, I mean—” You looked away, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting your frame. “I don’t want to force you, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do it just for me.”
“No, I …” He inhaled, then smiled. “I think I would like to join you.”
And so here he is, at the base of this great metal monstrosity, intently studying the sign outside of the line entrance to avoid Thor’s knowing smirk. His brother has never worn self-satisfaction well.
DEATH DROP: THE TALLEST AND FASTEST DROP TOWER ON THE EAST COAST
The description is illustrated with a photograph of two people strapped to their seats, mouths wide in mid-scream as their hair flies every which way. Loki lets out a shaky exhale as he reads. The tower, it claims, is 400 feet tall. It reaches top speeds of 85 miles per hour. The ride itself lasts about 90 seconds in total. The measuring stand besides the entrance indicates that participants must be at least 48 inches tall.
400 feet. That doesn’t sound too terrible, he tells himself. The concept of a foot as a unit of measurement is still something he struggles to wrap his head around, but he knows that Stark Tower stands at over a thousand. So that’s not too bad. 400 feet would be a drop in the bucket, really, compared to …
No. He pushes the thought down, back into the dark recesses of his memory. None of that. Not today.
Stark smirks at him. “You’re looking green, Tommy Wiseau.”
Loki swallows, straining to maintain his stiff mask of composure. It’s bad enough to have Stark reveling in his discomfort, but now you’re looking over at him too, brow furrowed in concern, and he wishes he could melt away on the spot. “I’m quite fine.”
“Of course he is!” Thor booms, slapping his shoulder with a hearty thwack that does nothing for Loki’s stomach. “We’ve fallen from much higher heights, haven’t we, brother?”
Weightless. Breathless. Engulfed by inky nothingness, the air so thin he can’t even scream —
Loki’s smile hurts. “Yes, very true.”
“You don’t have to go, Loki,” you interject. “It’s totally okay— I have friends who love roller coasters and refuse to touch this ride. It’s a lot.”
He knows you mean it as reassurance, but he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, as if he were a frightened child, too fragile to be brought along. Are you regretting having convinced him to change his mind? Do you feel that he’s only holding you back? Somehow, the idea that you no longer want him here is almost as sickening as the thought of the fall.
Loki huffs a breath. No. He will prove himself worthy of your coaster. “I assure you, I am fine.” His voice is more strained than he’d prefer it to be. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
…
The attendant seems rather starstruck as he ushers the group onto the ride—he stumbles and stammers through the explanation of the seating arrangements and the harness. Loki’s not really listening as he follows you to the left side of the cart, trying not to ignore the buzzing that seems to be settling behind his ears.
You smile up at him. “Would you rather sit on the side or in the middle?”
He frowns. “Does it make a difference?”
“Well, personally I don’t think so, but I know some people who get scared of heights think it’s easier to sit in the middle.”
“I’m not scared of heights.” The words come out far too quickly to sound believable, and he curses inwardly at himself. “I can sit on the side.”
“Are you sure?” You eye him uncertainly. “It’s okay if you—"
“I’m quite capable of managing such a seat.” He sits before you have the chance to question him again.
The seat is rather tight—Loki wonders if that’s intentional, or if it’s simply built with a smaller frame in mind. In the cart off to the right, he can hear Thor fumbling about with the attendant, and he chuckles despite himself. If he’s finding it to be a bit of a squeeze, he can’t imagine the troubles his bulky brother must be having.
It’s a momentary reprieve from his darker thoughts, and Loki is actually smiling when you warn him to sit back against the seat.
“The harness is going to be coming down soon.”
“What?”
You motion to the contraption above the cart, two plastic green masses shaped like upside down u’s that hover above your heads like the top of a clam shell. “It sits over you and keeps you from flying out of the cart.” You let out a small laugh. “It’s like the harnesses on the Quinjets, but way less cool. They also have little handles that you can hold on to if you want.”
Loki is eyeing the harnesses uncertainly. “What do you mean they’ll be coming down soon?”
“You used to have to pull it down yourself, but they have it all programmed now.” A great mechanical creak cracks through the air, and you press yourself against the back of the seat. “Oh, here it comes now!”
He frowns, mimicking your movement to sit as far back as he can. The green restraint descends slowly over his head, with a metallic groan that does not give him much faith in the construction of this monstrosity. He expects it to stop once it was hovering over his torso, but it continues until it’s pressed snuggly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. The attendant is saying something over the intercom, but Loki barely registers it over the feeling of the restraint. It’s … it’s not a painful sensation, but the firmness with which it holds … he’s been restrained before. Little flames of memory spark in the corners of his mind, flames he can’t seem to douse no matter how hard he tries.
Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.
He gives an apprehensive tug on the metal handles that now rest on either shoulder, a tug which quickly turns into a hard yank. The harness does not move. His mouth has gone dry.
“Loki?” you’re frowning at him, your head only barely visible through your own harness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
You’re not bothered by the restraint. Of course you aren’t—how many times did you say you’ve ridden this ride? It’s fine. It’s fine. Goodness, what must you think of him, seeing him panic over the safety harness that you’ve worn hundreds of times before for fun? He nods his head, shaking away the feelings and memories and emotions and all the other thoughts that he wishes he could just wash down the drain …
“Are you sure—?”
“Perfectly,” he spits, but it comes out more snappishly than he intended, and you recoil with a look on your face that makes him despise himself.
I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.
“And enjoy your ride!” the attendant finishes with a flourish, and the thick metal cranking is all the warning you get before the cart begins to lift off from the ground. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat, pounding so fast he can’t make out the separate beats.
“This part is the scariest bit,” you yell at him over the grinding of machinery. “The anticipation kills me!”
Loki inhales. The elevator continues to rise, inching up slowly along the spire, the ground beneath their feet melting into miniature. This is alright, he tells himself. If this is the worst part of the experience, then he’ll be just fine. There’s nothing particularly frightening about it—he spoke the truth when he told you that he had never been bothered by heights. It’s all perfectly fine.
Perfectly. Fine.
Norns, they’re still going up. He risks a glance at the track above him—surely they must be close now? The movement makes him queasy, and he quickly turns back to face straight ahead. His knuckles are white from clutching the handles. The harness is digging into his chest and it takes all of his self-control not to rip it off. The elevator stutters—is this it? His breath catches, but no, they’re still going up. They seem to be slowing down though, don’t they? Or is that only his imagination?
I’m going to be ill.
They’ve stopped. That’s not in his head. Everything seems frozen in place. Why did he agree to do this? Loki presses his eyes closed. Any moment now. Any moment …
Still nothing.
His chest aches. He may have forgotten to breathe. Why have they stopped? Is something wrong? Loki turns to you—you look ecstatic, eyes crinkled with elation, mouth wide in an open grin.
“When is it going to—”
You drop.
The world goes silent. He feels it, that awful sensation in his stomach as the line goes slack and colors rush before his eyes in a blur until it all fades to darkness, airlessness, weightlessness, his lungs burning and drowning on the empty void of space—he’s falling, he’s falling again, he’s falling again oh please Norns not again—
There’s ground beneath his feet. He’s not sure where it came from. His knuckles ache. You’re talking – to him? He’s not sure, he only barely can make out your voice …
“Loki? The harness is coming up. Can you let go?”
He’s still clinging to the handles. Can he let go? He’s not sure. His body feels like lead. He pries his fingers from the metal tube and the pressure against his chest vanishes with a woosh over his head.
“There you go.” Your voice is soft, encouraging, closer than he remembered. He looks up to find you kneeling on the ground before him. You flash a nervous smile. “You alright?”
He’s not sure what to say. His instinct is to apologize, insist that yes, of course, he’s quite alright, he didn’t mean to give any impression to the contrary, everything is fine, but the words catch in his throat.
stars melting together smothering his last breath
Loki lets out a shuddering breath, settles for a nod.
“What’s the hold-up?” Stark calls out. “Barton and Romanov are waiting with the kids on the other side of the park.”
“We’re just taking a break for a minute!” Your reply is hurried. “You guys can go on, we’ll meet you there.”
“Is something wrong?” Thor sounds concerned, and—oh great—now both him and Stark are walking over to their cart. “Loki? What happened?”
“I—” But words, so often his steadfast ally, seem to be failing him right now. What happened? He has no answer; at least, none that his brother would accept. For nothing had happened, not really, and yet that was enough to send him spiraling through the fabric of reality.
He hates this. He hates feeling so weak.
Stark is chuckling. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut him up, I would have rented this place out sooner—”
Enough.
Loki forces himself to stand – far too quickly, his stomach churns at the movement, but he swallows the bile in his throat. He needs to get away. It doesn’t matter how, but he needs to not be with them. Besides him, you scramble to your feet too.
“I’m well.” His voice doesn’t sound right—it feels foreign, and thick like syrup, nothing like his own. “You may go on without me.”
“Are you certain?” Thor is frowning. “We can wait—”
Please don’t.
“I’m certain. I just need to sit for a moment.”
“There’s a bench nearby!” You’ve taken on the same cheery inflection typical of your working voice, and it adds a sense of normalcy to a distinctly abnormal situation. He’s grateful for it. “I can show you where!”
Both Stark and his brother seem reluctant to leave, but you insist that it’s fine. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”
He feels slightly steadier as he follows you to the bench—it’s just a wooden thing on the side of the concrete path, across from what appears to be a diner of some sort. You mumble something about going to get water. It’s a relief when you turn away, so you don’t see how he collapses against the seat.
There’s ground beneath his feet. Loki closes his eyes, focuses on that. There’s ground beneath my feet. The asphalt is firm, hot with the summer sun, anchoring him to reality. He lets out a breath. It feels safe.
Unless, of course, it crumbles beneath your step and flings you back into the abyss –
“Hey.” He jerks up at the sound of your voice, and the suddenness causes you to jump as well. You shift apologetically, standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Loki swallows. How did he not hear you come up? “You didn’t.” Although it must be obvious that you did. At least you’re kind enough to allow him the lie.
You offer him a plastic cup. It’s a flimsy thing, but quite cold, relieving against his feverish skin. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, pretending he doesn’t notice how you’re studying him with a quiet sort of concern.
“Are you feeling better?” you ask after a moment.
Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, relishing the way it stings. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just – I mean – ” you glance down, tugging at your shirt sleeve. “I get panic attacks too.”
“I don’t—” But he stops himself, stops the urge to argue. Gives a gentle nod instead. “I’m well, thank you. I just … I need a moment to catch my breath.”
“I’m sorry …” You look away guiltily. “Death Drop is kind of a lot – we shouldn’t have done that first.”
“It’s not that. I –” He wants to explain to you. He wants you to know that he’s not usually like this—he never used to be like this, he’s strong and steady and perfectly capable of anything you could ask of him, but his voice is failing once again. Loki huffs a sigh. “You ought to go on with the others. I don’t wish to ruin your day.”
“Oh, you haven’t ruined anything. I’ve been on every ride in this park about a million times. It’s fine!” Your voice is bubbly and light as you sit down next to him on the bench. There’s something oddly comforting about the sound. “Besides, it’s bad etiquette to leave a friend by themselves at an amusement park. Buddy system and all that.”
A friend. He can only stare at you.
You falter. “Unless … unless you’d rather I left?”
“No—” Loki surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Several minutes pass in silence, the frantic beating of his heart slowly tapering off into something softer as he drinks in your presence. He’s grateful for it, grateful for how you let him soak in the quiet. Thor would never have allowed him such a moment’s peace.
He’s considering asking if you’re sure you don’t want to go on any other coasters (he feels guilty for keeping you here—perhaps he can accompany you through the queue and wait on the ground?) when you suddenly sit up stock-straight. “Oh!”
Loki frowns. “Is something wrong?”
You turn to him with a wide grin. “I just remembered they have Dole Whip here!”
“They—what kind of whip?” What sort of ride would a whip be, he wonders? A human sized slingshot, perhaps? His stomach lurches at the thought.
Luckily though, he’s proved wrong. “Dole Whip!” you giggle. “It’s like ice cream, but fruit flavored. Like there’s pineapple and strawberry and whatnot—it’s like soft serve.” You look at him with a kind of hopeful excitement. “Do you want to try some?”
Loki hums. He has yet to try soft serve ice cream, but he knows his brother practically swears by the stuff. “Is it good?”
“Supposedly. I’ve actually never tried it— we never wanted to spend money on park food when we would come as kids. It’s stupid expensive.” You smirk. “But today’s all on Mr. Stark’s dime, so…”
He chuckles. “And you would take advantage of your employer in such a fashion? I didn’t realize I had such a Machiavellian on my hands.”
“Hey, I’m just taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me!” You stand with a grin, holding your hands up in a mock surrender pose. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”
“Oh, I’d never,” he teases as he stands, and he’s relieved to find that his legs have regained their steadiness. “I’d be honored to experience this Dole Whip with you on Stark’s expense.”
“Fantastic,” you beam. “It’s not too far from here. And it’s right next to a bunch of these little shops—they have this ridiculous giant sea monster toy that costs like $300, I can show you—”
You continue on as the both of you walk down the path, telling him all about the park’s various hidden gems and the inside jokes you and your friends have concocted around them, and Loki finds himself laughing more than not—he can’t help it, your giggles are just too infectious.
Huh. Perhaps joining you today wasn’t a mistake after all.
loki always boasted of asgard. he bragged about his apartments, the palace, and the citizens and the food, but most of all, he always boasted of the night sky view from asgard. loki claimed that the stars were so golden and so big and close you could see them smile at you from your balcony, but you didn't want to believe that anything could beat the view from your backyard.
neither of you ever relinquished your opinions.
you lived far out in the country, not too far from civilization, but far enough that there wasn’t any light pollution at night time.
it was your most favourite thing in the world to spend your nights on the roof of your house before your brother, clint barton, had barged onto your property one day and dropped off this ignorant, blaspheming, scheming idiot who claimed he was a god.
“he’s got these... weird bracelet thingies that are supposed to stop the sparkly hanky panky he’s been trying on everyone—”
“it’s called seiðr, you impudent little–OW!” loki interrupted.
“and this remote that makes a shock go through them.” clint had continued. loki was left rubbing his wrists and glaring. “anyway, be careful, y/n. he’s dangerous.”
“then what the hell clint? why are you leaving him here with me?” you had exclaimed.
“well, he was going to stay in the basement prison of shield, but they can’t keep anyone there for long, and we can’t give him over to stark, they’d both kill themselves within two weeks, and i can’t keep him with laura and the kids.”
“i do prefer laura and my favourite niece and nephews alive.” you muttered.
“please, y/n, we can’t let him out of our sight and i don’t know what else to do.” clint begged.
“alright, alright.” you had finally agreed. “i can do it.”
clint looked really tired. it was hard to say no to your older brother.
“stop giving me puppy eyes. a kiss on the cheek and a thank you is sufficient enough.”
clint had obliged, thanking you profusely and hugging you, promising to run your errands and come visit with enforcements every week.
he had gone much too soon, leaving loki standing with an imposing stance and the glare still plastered on his face, and despite your extensive training and the knowledge that you could beat him in hand-to-weapon combat, you were still intimidated.
“do you think of my home as some kind of prison, loki?” you asked. it had been five months since clint had first dropped him off. it hardly seemed like two weeks.
it was now early september. there were a lot of wasps starting to zoom around. the mosquitos had all died off in july due to the bats you had attracted with the bat house.
loki was now wearing one of your old ex-boyfriend’s shirts from your closet and clint had agreed to get a pair of jeans and sweatpants for him. his ridiculous costume he had first arrived in had been deemed unfit for garden work and everyday house-attire, and it was now sitting in a box in the attic.
“yes.” he said without a pause. “this is prison.” he was perched on the couch in the living room. you had a full view of him from the kitchen as you were chopping carrots.
“is it a nice prison, at least?”
loki paused. there was silence for a minute before he responded.
“not as nice as asgard's prisons.”
you rolled your eyes. “‘not as nice as asgard,’” you said mockingly.
“hey!” loki stood up and made eye contact with you from across the house. “there is nothing–nothing i say–that can ever compare with asgard.”
you were a bit shocked, not by his outburst, those kind of things happened almost on a schedule, but the way that he had started his sentence with an exclamation. it was like he was trying to discipline a child. he sounded exactly like you did when you scolded him about something.
you smirked a little. you were slowly starting to affect him.
you kept this revelation to yourself, however.
you turned your back on the mischief maker, making him seethe. no way in hel would he ever be treated like this on asgard, that was for certain.
his indignant rage quickly melted away, though. he couldn’t seem to keep his anger around for very long anymore. that was another positive effect you had had on him.
there were so many good things you had brought upon him. anger management. earthly exercise and work out of doors. peaceful and uneventful nights.
“can you come help me with the dishes, your highness?” you called to him sarcastically.
loki sighed heavily.
if only loki wasn’t so proud, he would have said that your house wasn’t a prison. it hadn’t felt like a prison for a long time. it was a home, and he had grown comfortable with the steady routine and mundane excitement of new tv shows, board games, and new plants. even getting groceries was romanticized and was a much-anticipated event every tuesday.
loki picked out a towel to start drying the dishes you were washing. the carrots had been put on to steam. there were sausage patties in the oven for supper.
loki breathed. he shook his head softly at himself behind your back.
“my good sir,” you said. “i must say that i am perfectly sick of hearing how much asgard one-ups earth.”
“midgard is nothing in comparison to my beloved homeland.” loki hissed in your ear. you felt shivers running up your spine. you hadn't realised he’d been so close behind you. loki picked up a plate.
“i have no doubt.” you managed dryly. “you’ll have to take me there one day, hold me hostage, put me to work sewing your great capes or whatever, then i can have a turn to brag about how much i prefer my own world.”
loki hmphed. “well, maybe i will!” he said.
you smiled and shook your head.
“i guess that asgard sounds like a really wonderful place, lokes, but how can you look at the night sky on earth and say that you can’t add it to your list of wonders?”
loki stopped.
“well–because–i-i've never even seen the midgard night sky, miss barton. until i have, the sights of asgard remain the only things worth mentioning.”
you dropped something in the sink, causing you to splash water all down your front and send soap suds high in the air. you gasped loudly.
loki handed over the towel without being asked. you patted down your shirt before wiping the water off the counter.
“why didn’t you say something sooner?” you cried, facing him.
“about what?” loki turned up his nose.
“not seeing the night sky! the stars! the moon!”
loki shrugged. you put an offended hand over your heart.
“are you so close-minded that you won’t even try to experience something foreign to yourself?”
“don’t you dare call me close-minded, miss barton.” loki took a menacing step towards you.
his stong forearms were bare, the bracelets hanging on his wrists like tattoos. the remote control for them was tucked into your shirt on a cord.
the thought shot through your mind once and reminded you not to get too familiar with loki laufeyson of asgard. he wasn’t someone to be made into your friend. he was a prisoner. a terrorist.
“don’t try to intimidate me, loki.” you said. you closed your eyes and laid your other hand on your forehead dramatically, trying to ease your sudden panic and existential crisis. “we’ve gotta do something about your situation.”
“oh, please.” loki rolled his eyes. he turned his back on you to get a fresh towel.
you grinned at his back. “i guess it was a little bit of my fault. i always just assumed that you’ve seen the night sky.”
loki shook his head.
“i’ll take you up to the roof tonight. i think there’s a shooting star shower due around this time.”
loki looked up, confused. “shooting... stars?”
“you can’t possibly be serious.” you said.
the timer for the sausage patties saved you from spiraling into a wailing despair. loki was hopeless.
the sun set till 7pm, but the light didn’t vanish until 45 minutes after that.
however, you didn’t take loki up to the roof till nearly midnight. there was a meteor shower, but it wasn’t supposed to happen until about one in the morning.
when the time came, you handed loki several blankets and gave him one of your oversized hoodies. when he raised his arms, his tummy would peek out. it would have to suffice.
you carried the flashlight. loki followed you around meekly with the armload of blankets as you shut off every light in the house and finally led him to the living room, where you used a long hook to pull down the ladder for the attic.
“once i’m up, you can toss me the blankets. oh, and watch your step.” you warned.
when you had climbed the ladder and the blankets and loki had followed, you pulled the ladder up behind you and shut the trapdoor. you didn’t want to fall through it again.
for a moment, loki panicked. he’d never been up here. this was a different kind of dark. he was frozen.
“i’ve lost the flashlight.” you muttered. “where are you?” your fumbling hands led your search in the dark, but you still managed to faceplant right into loki’s chest. “whoops! there you are.”
loki quietly wrapped his arms around your shoulders. it was instinct. you squeaked in alarm.
“hey! what’s up?” you cried.
loki let go of you, almost pushing you away. “sorry.” he muttered. you tried to calm your heart.
“well, take my hand.” you said. “i think the flashlight is under the blankets, but i don’t want to run into you again like that.”
loki’s hand ran down your arm till it found your hand. he gripped it tight. you bent down and found the pile of blankets.
you pushed them aside and found the flashlight.
you pointed it to the floor and flicked it on.
the warm light illuminated the attic, lighting up loki’s pale face, and your blushing one.
you quickly turned away from him and went to look for the trapdoor that led through the attic ceiling to a little hidden balcony on the roof. loki picked up the blankets and hid his face behind them. he suddenly felt shy.
“come on, pretty little liar, you can move now.” you said, already halfway up the ladder. cool air rushed down around you.
loki scoffed at the nickname.
you stood on the roof of the house, back straight and face relaxed. you felt light for the first time in several months.
oh, how you had missed being up here.
loki climbed out of the attic and stood next to you.
the blankets were by your feet.
he looked up.
“this isn’t impressive, y/n.” he said, scornfully. there wasn’t much to see.
“of course it isn’t.” you said softly, breaking out of your reverie. “the flashlight is still on. and we haven’t even made ourselves blanket nests.”
loki held back a rude remark. nests? he didn’t know you were part bird.
you sat down and reached for a blanket. you sat on one end and wrapped the rest of it around you, then took another blanket and threw that over your shoulders as well. you motioned to loki to copy what you were doing. he obliged, and you tucked in the edges of his blankets once he had gotten settled.
“there! all nice and snug. still feeling okay?”
“i am, thank you.”
“very good.” you now picked up the flashlight, still lit. you looked pointedly at loki. “close your eyes, and don’t open them till i tell you to.”
loki grunted, but complied.
you turned off the flashlight and leaned back. the tilt of the roof met your back comfortably. you waited til your own eyes adjusted to see the night sky.
“okay,” you breathed. “open your eyes and look up.”
loki opened his eyes and leaned back beside you, staring hard into the sky.
he gasped. you grinned.
“there’s so many stars.” he breathed. “y/n, look!”
“i’m looking, i'm looking.”
“they’re... so tiny and white... and they’re blinking at me.” loki said. “this is... nothing like asgard at night.”
you smiled to yourself.
“did you know that some of those stars aren’t even stars? some are satellites. some are planets.”
“machines? floating up there?”
“yeah! that red dot that’s moving? that’s a satellite.”
you threw your arm over loki’s arm casually and pointed up at a larger star.
“that’s mars.”
loki inhaled again. “i feel like i’m floating up.”
“yeah. that happens sometimes.” you said.
a pin of light flew across the sky.
loki reached over to tap your hand. “was that a satellite?”
“no.” you paused. “that was a shooting star.”
you could almost hear the question mark that escaped on loki’s next breath.
“sometimes stars fall to earth, or they fly to other parts of the galaxy.” the childish lie flowed smoothly from your tongue. you would tell loki the truth later. “it’s tradition to make wishes on the shooting stars.”
“why?”
you shrugged. “beats me. it’s just something we do here.”
loki blinked.
“there are no such traditions on asgard.” he said. “we don’t have satellites, or planets near us, or falling stars. do stars fall very often?”
“not often.” you whispered. “but tonight’s different. there’s going to be a shower of shooting stars. there will be so many they’re gonna fill the night sky.”
another star shot across the sky.
you shifted nearer to loki on the roof. he moved his head to look at you.
“it happens a couple times every year,” you were saying. “i’ve only seen it twice, though.”
loki barely heard it.
“i guess there are some things that midgard has that asgard doesn’t.” he said.
“hmm? and are they better? do they outrank asgard’s version?”
he watched the crinkles in your eyes as you smiled in satisfaction.
he had never realized how reflective your eyes were. he saw every sparkling star mirrored in them perfectly.
asgard didn’t have monopoly. it didn’t have grocery tuesdays or y/n’s home.
it didn’t have y/n.
he hummed, suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of warmth and content. “yes, y/n. yes, they do.”
Summary: You’re alone and miserable, up far too late losing your mind over an essay that isn’t even due tomorrow when Loki pops in with flowers.
Word Count: 1,858
Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader
A/N: So this is a reader fic, but also the reader is literally just me. I usually don’t like writing super obviously personal self-indulgent fluff, but I’ve had an incredibly shitty week and just ended up writing this in my notebook yesterday. This isn’t really edited, and it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense (like … don’t question how Loki ended up dating a random college student), but it was therapeutic to write and I figured I might as well post it. Also, the line Loki reads aloud is from Sonnet 29, a poem that has absolutely nothing to do thematically with this story, but it’s my favorite sonnet and I wanted Loki to read it to me so don’t judge.
eeeeep i have one little prompt thingy,, you can make it more than theee sentences bc i feel like this one is short but not short enough for three sentences
loki hurt his right hand so he can’t shave and asks reader to do it, bc of the closeness of it all all loki wants is to kiss reader but he has to wait till they’re done,, and when they’re finally done and his face is all smooth again he just jumps on reader with kisses, a heavy make out session following :p
((All righty I'm not certain if Loki's right-handed, so we're going to leave it a bit ambiguous truth be told, i don't trust the mcu to be consistent with such a detail given... *gestures vaguely to canon*
I shall also leave the heaviness of the given makeout session up to your, dear reader’s, imagination /lh
also marvel has never really answered the question of “can Loki grow facial hair?” In the mcu, but he’s sported some scruff in the comics so let’s assume, at least in this fic, he can. remember, canon is what we make of it. ;3
Final note: this really is more of a mini-fic than a drabble, but. No big warnings. Just fluff. There is a razor as there's shaving involved, but I made a point to leave it in the "background" so to speak, and there is no injury, not even accidental... as someone who's sensitive about that, i really tried to focus on the task at hand and not the tool ... if you catch my meaning.
Thanks for the prompt, anon! :3c))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I hate to ask…”
You looked up from your work. Raised your brow.
Before you stood Loki. Not exactly an odd happening - no, you saw him often (though not nearly as much as you would like, given your fondness had only grown since your relationship started) - so seeing him wasn’t odd. It was actually quite familiar, as familiar as your favorite pillow on the couch, or the half-wilted plant on the windowsill, or the crooked floorboard in the entryway of your apartment. It wasn’t even odd for him to wear the expression he was currently: lips slightly pursed, brows raised in an almost puppy-dog look. He had definitely used that look on his mother.
Maybe his father.
Maybe others too.
Loki knew how to… Persuade people. What was far less familiar, however, was the fact he seemed… nervous? Loki was an intensely emotional being, but he rarely showed nervousness - not in ways others would pick up, anyway.
You had learned his mannerisms, how he’d shift his weight, how he’d pick at his fingernails— wait. Your eyes widened, gaze settling on his hand - it was wrapped in a bandage. Definitely not familiar.
“Loki, what happened to your hand?”
He sighed, lowered his head a bit and looked very plainly at you. “It’s injured.”
“I guessed that! How did you- I thought you were indestructible? I’ve seen you thrown from moving vehicles without a scratch!” Pushing your laptop aside, you stood and reached for his hand. He flinched.
“How it happened is unimportant.”
”Come on, at least let me see it.”
”No.”
”You won’t even let me look?”
”No,” Loki huffed through his lips, “It.. It’s simply a bit injured, thus I cannot perform seidr very well - this is my dominant hand, you see.” He held it up. “Rather unlucky.”
”I’d say..” You sighed, frowning slightly. “Well, what did you need?”
”Ah… Your.. Assistance.”
”You need my help?”
”Assistance.”
”You need help.”
”All right, I need help. I cannot.. Shave properly without this hand, and frankly, I need to.” Sure enough, scruff darkened his face, more than a 5 o’clock shadow but less than a proper beard. Still, it was the first you’d seen him like this.
”… Oh.” You pursed your lips. “So.. you want me to help you shave?”
”If you would be so kind.” Loki shifted his weight again, looking away - you caught a glimpse of embarrassment in his eyes.
“Hey, it’s not a problem.. Let’s go.”
You went to the bathroom. Soon you had him sitting in front of the mirror, tools laid out on the counter. You tied his hair back from his face. “You know, I never thought you’d ask for help with something like this..” Loki looked at you. You continued, “I know, it’s hard for you. But I’m proud of you. Really.” He muttered something that sounded vaguely like a thank you. You smirked, grabbing a wash cloth and gently cleaning his face - with closed eyes, he looked serene, if not for the slight scowl cemented in his features. Ah well.
You then set to applying the shaving cream before grabbing the razor, and paused. You’d shaved your own body before, of course - but someone else’s?
“… I’ll be gentle, okay?” You said, and it came out far less reassuring than you’d hoped.
Loki glanced at you, then trained his eyes at the mirror yet again. “Mmh.”
Slowly, you slid the blade along his face, taking care to not nick the skin. Loki kept his eyes closed at first, but gradually opened them, watching your handiwork. You guessed he may have trust issues when it came to others putting sharp things around his face (then again, you might struggle with that too), or perhaps he was just curious.
You leaned in, shaving around his lips.
Leaned back to rinse the razor, then returned- he was closer. You paused. Looked into his eyes. He was staring at you, head slightly tilted, looking far better than anyone should mid-shave.
How did he even manage that?
“D.. Do you need something?” You raised your brows.
He averted his eyes. “Nothing.”
Odd. You furrowed your brow, then set to shaving gingerly around his mouth, trying not to get distracted by how pretty those lips were, or how warm your face felt, even as you wiped away some shaving cream with your thumb. Afterward you rinsed off his face, then reached for a moisturizer.
“Do you want me to..?” You looked at him.
“Ah… I can manage,” Loki smiled, using his non-dominant hand to spread it on.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
“But-”
“Darling, it’s fine.” He rinsed his hand, then looked at you. “Why don’t we.. Hmm. Come here.”
“What-” Your breath caught in your throat as you were lifted, carried out of the bathroom and to the couch, finding yourself on your back, the god of mischief above you. He was soon leaning over you, freshly-shaven face nuzzling your own. He smelled wonderfully fresh and just a twinge sweet.
“Ohh, I should’ve known…” You giggled, wrinkling your nose as Loki’s breath tickled your neck, gentle little kisses peppered across your skin.
“Known what?” A nip.
You gasped, laughing again. “That you would’ve done- done this!”
“Done what? You were the one tempting me, inching ever closer - what do you mean by it, mortal? To seduce me?”
“I was helping you shave!” You let out a guffaw, gently shoving his chest. “You asked me to.”
A smile spread across his lips, and a soft look filled his gaze. “And I thank you for it. You’re a marvelous helper.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, I know so. Would you like me to prove it?”
“How-” You were silenced with a kiss. “Mm.. Again, should’ve known.”
“Well, perhaps you’ll remember for the next time you help me?”
“Help? Again? When this is how you treat me?”
“Come now, you love it.” Loki grinned.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe I do.. Or maybe I just love you.”
He snorted, quipping “Such a romantic…” but a gentle smirk betrayed him. “Perhaps I love you too.”
Loki lifts mjolnir once to save your life then can never lift it again but he has no problem with it now because when he most needed it it helped him and that's all that matters
"You will die, you useless quim," The monster growls at you, pinning you to the ground. His sharp, knife-like claws are digging into your skin, drawing blood. He leans forward, mouth opening to reveal his even sharper fangs. You close your eyes right, trying not to show your obvious fear.
"Back away, monster," Loki yells from across the battlefield. You can almost see the anger radiating off him. You know he remembers a time he said such things himself. But now, your chest swells with pride as he defends you so valiantly. A completely changed man. "Leave my wife alone!"
"And why should I listen to a waste of space like you," The monster growls back, still not letting you go. You scream as his grip tightens on you, now starting to bleed faster. Loki glares at the monster, scrambling to come up with a plan. You stare at Loki and then at the others. Thor and the rest of the team are even further away fighting their own monsters. You see a glint of metal out of the corner of your eye but have no time to pay attention to it as Loki starts charging the monster.
“Loki!” You scream, trying not to panic as you see your husband seemingly running to his death. Loki suddenly reaches down to the ground as he's running. You gasp in shock when you see what he picked up.
"I said get away from her!" He roars, Mjolnir firmly in his grasp. Loki hits the monster in its head. The monster falls back away from you and Loki immediately spins Mjolnir and leaps towards the monster. When he lands on the monster's chest he slams Mjolnir down hard on the monster, killing him.
"Loki," You gasp, the pain becoming too much for you. Loki runs over to you, dropping Mjolnir once more.
"It's alright, darling, I'm here," He says, cradling you in his arms. He cast a quick healing spell on you, kissing your forehead softly.
"Loki, you-"
"Shh, don't strain yourself." You nod slowly and close your eyes. "I love you," He whispers.
When you wake up you're in the hospital, which is not a surprise. "Hi," You say, finding Loki at your bedside, holding your hand, and the others all in your room, watching you like hawks.
"Hello," Loki smiles, squeezing your hand slightly.
"Well now that you're alright," Thor exclaims.
"Thor!" Loki groans, facepalming. You chuckle, relaxing Loki slightly.
"You must try again, brother!" Thor insists, holding out the hammer. Loki hesitates and looks back at you.
"Whatever happens, I still love you," You assure him. He reaches out and touches the handle but as soon as Thor let's go, it falls to the floor with a great thud. Loki huffs and sits back up in the chair.
"Oh," Thor says. "I, um, I-"
"It's alright, Thor," Loki says, to everyone's surprise. "I'm," He smiles. "I'm okay with it now. When I needed it the most, it helped me. That's all that really matters," he says. "If I need it again, I'm sure it will work out. But for now, I'm okay."
Thor's eyes fill with tears and he pulls Loki out of the chair and into a bone-crushing hug. "Thor!" You yell. "Maybe a little softer?" Thor let's Loki go and coughs awkwardly.
"Sorry, brother," He says.
"It's alright," He replies. Smirking slightly, he adds, "Now give us a kiss." Thor roars with laughter, the others somewhat confused.
"Inside joke," You explain on their behalf. The others nod, say their goodbyes and leave. Eventually Thor leaves too, but not before hugging Loki one more time.
"How are you feeling?" Loki asks you.
"I'm fine, Loki." He smiles and kisses your forehead.
"I should let you rest now," He says. "You'll come home in the morning." You nod in agreement and he heads for the door.
"Oh Loki?" You say, stopping him and smiling. "You're always worthy to me."
That was the way you greeted Loki as you walked into your office- a few folders under your arm and a box of medical gloves in the other. Your white coat flew behind you with every step like a cape, making you feel like in a movie. In all those years working as a vet it had never gotten bored.
“It’s nice to see you, too.” The trickster replied with a playful smile.
“What seems to be the problem, buddy?” You leaned over the table and gently patted your little friend’s head who purred in approval. “Why did your dad bring you here this time?”
“I think he’s allergic to Thor.” Loki said.
“Ha, that’s a good one!” You giggled, but stopped when you noticed their dead serious expression. “That’s a joke, right? Tell me you’re joking.”
“Why would I?” The god put his hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans- something they didn’t wear often. “I noticed that Bubbles acts differently every time my brother visits.”
You weren't sure if it was a prank or if Loki really thought his cat could be allergic to his brother. The first time you met the god they barged into your office right before closing because the cat he just adopted was sleeping too much and refused to leave until you explained to him how the cat's body worked in great detail. You found it sweet how much Loki cared about that little creature and how eager they were to learn more. And what better way to learn than to take your information from the professionals? The second time they visited was to give Bubbles his vaccines and make a file for him. One time Loki ran into your office while you were in the middle of examining Clair- a beautiful ball python who has been your patient since the day she hatched- just to tell you that Bubbles made a chirping noise while watching birds and if it was normal for a cat to do this.
“Different? How?” You straighten your back, giving all your attention to the trickster.
“He’s really affectionate with Thor and he always hated people”
“Let me get this clear-” you had to hold your laugh for Loki’s sake. You were a professional after all and Loki- although a friend- was still your client. “You think Bubbles is sick because he likes Thor?”
“Obviously.”
“Alright.” You sighed and put on a new pair of gloves. You pretended to examine your little friend, feeling Loki’s eyes on you. Thankfully Bubbles was a very brave patient and you never had much problems with him. He even let you touch his belly. That’s why instead of looking for the cause of the cat’s ‘unusual behaviour’ you just tickled him here and there- which he really liked.
“If you wanted to ask me out you could have just said so. Or you could always just call me.” You have my number.” You broke the silence while still giving all of your attention to Bubbles, who happily flipped on his back, demanding belly scratches.
“I’m not- that’s not-” The god of mischief stuttered, suddenly taking an interest in that one picture of your dog on the wall. You have figured out his little plan and that was just embarrassing to him.
“I wouldn’t say no.” You smiled, looking directly at Loki who was still refusing to meet your eyes.
“Pardon?” The god asked, surprised.
“If you asked me out I wouldn’t say no.” You left Loki speechless. Their heart was beating like crazy and his mind was completely empty. “You know how much I love it when you and Bubbles pay me a visit every 2 hours, but I have other patients waiting for me so….”
“Oh yes, that’s-” The god took his cat into his arms and awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, thinking about their next move. “So if I asked whether you had time for dinner tonight you wouldn’t say no?” The god of mischief asked, still unsure of your answer.
“Only if you pay.”
“I guess it’s a date then.” Loki opened the door to finally exit your office. Their heart was still beating fast and almost stopped when you said-
You were strong. Strong enough to take part in the avengers various missions. You were always put into tough situations as well as getting out of them. It was okay, you liked the thrill of barely making it out while helping for the greater good.
So on your most recent mission, when you had been cornered and were about to begin with your well-thought-out escape plan, you can imagine how surprised you were when Loki suddenly appeared and then disappeared with you in his arms.
Once in a safe setting you shoved away from the god, “what are you doing? I had that!”
“You had nothing! That was too dangerous!”
Your jaw dropped at his tone but before you could retort another voice interrupted your squabble.
“Hello? Earth to the lovely couple, tryna complete a mission here,” said Tony from the front of the jet.
Although the mission was a success you couldn’t help but storm off into another room the moment you arrived back at the tower. It was only a couple minutes before there was a knock on the door.
“Y/n, please can we talk?”
You stood far from the closed door with your back held to it, refusing to answer. Another minute passed by with you standing in silence.
After about two more minutes you hear a familiar sound behind you. “Loki,” you say, already knowing his tendencies.
You stay with your back turned away from him. Trying to get you to look at him he says, “I got this for you. It’s in your favorite color…”
You purse your lips, resisting the urge to see what the god got you. But you cave, slightly turning your head to get a quick view.
In his hand, was a single green rose.
“Loki, that’s your favorite color.”
“And I’m your favorite person—“
“You were my favorite person,” you remind him of your current issue.
His hands fall to his side, clearly still hung up, “I don’t understand why you’re upset. I saved you.”
Words seeming to finally break through to you, you whip around, “Loki I had that back there. I knew what I was doing. What were you even doing there, you weren’t even supposed to be on that mission!”
“What does it matter? I saved you and it’s done.”
“No, it’s not done! I can handle myself—I’ve trained for this, practiced for this. I’m strong enough for this!”
“Well maybe I’m not strong enough,” he says voice faltering slightly. You couldn’t turn away from him, not when he was laying his emotions out on the floor for you.
“I’m not strong enough to lose you…one of the few people who actually care about me, and when I heard about that mission…I guess I…”
His eyes lingered on the floor, unable to finish his sentence and you quickly went to his side, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles out. Holding a hand against his cheek he leaned into your touch and you suddenly felt silly for your own outburst.
“I’m sorry Loki, I didn’t see it like that.”
A moment of silence passed again. “Loki, I know you care for me, but when you interrupt a mission like that, it makes me feel like you don’t have faith in me…”
He remains quiet and you try to meet his eyes, “…that you don’t think I’m strong enough.”
His hand lifts up wrapping around yours that stilled on his cheek, as he finally made eye contact. “I know you can handle it. But I don’t want you to have to.”
That was it, you couldn’t stay mad at him, before you knew what you were doing you wrapped your arms around his waist and he rested his head on yours.
“I know, but this is what we do, it’s important work.”
He reciprocated the warm embrace, while you continued. “Thank you for coming to help me, but I can take care of myself.”
His arms squeezed you firmly, causing you to grin slightly, “I know, but that doesn’t mean I won’t continue to worry.”
Hi! Can I request a Loki x reader who has had a really overwhelming day and has been holding in tears for the whole day and when she gets home Loki asks why she’s being so quiet and she just breaks down in his arms?? 🥲❤️
Ok but I relate to this crazily. I did them in the style of headcaons I hope you don’t mind
Loki comforts you after a tiring day
He’s used to you coming back home tired or just grumpy
But today was different, he heard you come and you didn’t make a sound other than your keys hitting the table
"Darling?" His voice greeted you and you just nodded your head, your face was a bit gloomy
When you sat down he asked you "is something the matter, love?"
The corners of your mouth twitched and before he knew it you just broke down
His first instinct was to hold you, pressed again his chest
You cried gripping his shirt for dear life, like the only lifeline you have
"Shhh, it’s ok I’m here. I’m here" his voice was soft and gentle
Your crying made his heart ache and he felt hopeless, if only he knew who made you feel this way, he would make their life a living nightmare
When you stared to calm down he wiped your tears away and carried you to your bedroom, helped you out of your work clothes and onto something more comfortable
He washed your face and kissed your forehead, telling you again and again that everything will be alright
Brought you a glass of water and helped you drink it
"My beautiful princess, do not burden yourself with such heavy emotions, I’m here to protect you and only you"
He couldn’t sleep that night, his mind telling him if he closed his eyes that something would happen, and until you woke the next morning and saw that you were fine, he found a form of peace to sleep that morning off
prompt: Loki needs comfort, and touch. Literal fluff about gentle, shy Loki.
pairing: Loki x reader
Warnings: touch-starved!Loki but literally what's new; sex is mentioned, but only once
A/N: literally cannot stop thinking about gentle Loki
word count: 1.2k
Masterlist
You noticed that something was different about Loki the first time you ever got to meet him. And it wasn't that he was insanely attractive. It also wasn't the fact that you stomach felt two completely contradictory things at the same time: safe and nervous. No, it wasn't all that. It was how he stared into your eyes as he took your hand into his and brought your hand to his lips, softly letting his lips kiss the back of it. Tony had almost interrupted it, but even he saw how weirdly intimate it seemed between the two of you.
Your breath hitched while he still held your gaze; you really weren't good at hiding your emotions. You had never understood how somehow the whole team was able to do it. But maybe that came with being an Avenger. And you weren't. You were Tony's science assistant, no one special. Still Loki came and introduced himself to you like this.
Even after the initial introduction, you noticed how he somehow was always initiating physical contact. Never in a weird way, and never something inappropriate, but you noticed anyway.
Whenever you sat next to each other, especially on the couch in the common room, he scooted next to you. Close enough to sense your presence next to him, but not close enough to actually touch. The more comfortable he got in your presence, the more he dared do. You were always waiting for him to finally grip your hand, finally kiss you, finally make the move.
But Loki was a gentleman, whether you believed it or not. So, for weeks, the closest you got was was his hand lying next to yours on the couch, barely touching. He wanted your approval to touch you, you knew that, but he never asked outright what you were comfortable with. So he took baby steps. You got it. He was scared. And he also seemed to really crave physical touch.
So, one day, when he sat down next you on the couch, preparing to lay his hand right next to yours again, you took the opportunity and slowly clasped your hand around his. His was massive compared to yours, so naturally it almost covered yours wholly. In the side of your eye, you saw him staring at you, not believing that you would really initiate touching him. He seemed shocked, nervous, but overall simply happy. It took him a few minutes, but finally he let his thumb caress the back of your hand. You continued sitting there in silence.
Time passed on with small steps like this. A few days after this incident, you dared lying your head against his shoulder. You weren't sure whether it was yours or his heart you could hear pumping rapidly upon this touch.
The next day, Loki knocked on the door of your room before you could join him in the common room for your daily couch session. For a second, he tentatively leaned against the door frame, but then he stepped into your room. "Can I sit?", he asked, gesturing to a place next to you on your bed, to which you nodded with a small, shy smile playing on your lips. "What's up?", you inquired. His gaze fell upon your hand, and he took it into both of his, staying silent for a while.
"Are you okay?", you asked further. He seemed more silent than usual. He averted his gaze from your hand to your eyes. "Can I lie with you?", he asked. He didn't answer the question, but you didn't mind. You were a bit taken aback from his question, but you quickly pushed your confusion aside, not wanting to make him feel like this was something you didn't want.
"Sure.", you answered, scooting over to make space for him. You didn't know why you always had a feeling of what he needed, or what he felt, but you did. So you tentatively held your arms open, and he slid into them immediately. He needed to be held. Lokis whole body melted into yours, his head nuzzling into you. It felt natural to raise one of your hands and let it run gently through his hair. He sighed in response. You stayed there for a long time, neither of you speaking, just both enjoying the closeness of your bodies.
"I've always been...scared. Of this.", he admitted after a while. Your hand stopped caressing him at once, afraid you did something he did not want to do. "Of what?", you dared ask. "Of letting myself be touched by someone. Like you do right now. So....", he hesitated, you felt yourself tense in anticipation. "Lovingly.", he finished. Silence. You didn't know what to say to that, so you just continued playing with his hair.
"Why?", you asked. By now, you sat up and Loki's head was comfortably lying in your lap. He stared up to the ceiling, thinking. Or contemplating on whether he would tell you. You didn't know. He decided he could.
"I always craved touch. But when someone touches you, as intimately, as lovingly, as you do,", he paused, looking at you, catching you blushing, making him smiling. "and they give you everything you want, then they can take it from you again.", he continued, looking up to the ceiling again.
"So I never let myself get into this position of relying on someone. Of course I was touched before. But it was always just for sex. It was nothing like this. It never felt as good at this.", he continued explaining, and him talking erupted so many different feelings inside of you.
Happiness, that he felt comfortable enough to talk to you about this, and even comfortable enough to let himself fall and let you touch him. Jealousy, weirdly. When he talked about his past lovers, or acquaintances, you were jealous. Nervousness, because he was looking at you again. This time even more intimately than ever before. His eyes held so much concern and vulnerability.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't know why I do the thing I never wanted to do. But I have been drawn to you ever since I know you. It scares me.", he admitted. Your heart felt like it might beat so fast it would beat right through your ribcage and into Loki's face.
He slowly sat up, and you were afraid your lack of answer scared him away. But he sat up and looked for an answer in your eyes. It seemed as if he found it, because he started smiling after a few seconds.
"Can I kiss you, love?", he finally asked, your breath hitched again. A smile spread across your face, you couldn't hold back anymore. You wouldn't. "I thought you'd never ask.", you replied, making a his smile widen. Loki gently put both of his large hands against your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. He leaned in, and you closed your eyes, until you finally felt his lips on top of your own.
The kiss was gentle, and slow. Your lips moved against one another perfectly, and both of you breathed heavily. When, after a long while, you broke apart, you only broke apart as far as you had to. You both wanted to stay as close to each other as possible. "I feel so safe with you.", you admitted, wanting to make him feel as appreciated as he made you feel. "As do I, darling.", he whispered, before diving in for another kiss.
A/N: arose from the dead for my new hyperfixation called Loki <3 Also, I was asking myself why I always had soft spot for loki, looking at the type of guys I date, I realised I just have a thing for broken boys.
word count: 1.7k
Masterlist
You would say you always had a soft spot for the bad guys. Well, not bad guys per se, because that would look bad, since you worked with the Avengers. So, no. Not, the bad, bad guys. Just the bad guys you thought could be good.
So, yes. You found Loki immensely attractive even before he put (most of) his troubles with his brother aside and joined the avengers. But once he joined your team, you were a goner.
It hasn't been long since he moved into the tower, so you were still adjusting to the fact that you got to see him. All. The. Time. Not to get you wrong, it was great seeing him, really. But it was also annoying. Not because of him, but because you began a real crush on him. And it was annoying, because every time he walked into the room, your heart began beating irregularly and your breath hitched. And this was not the usual you. You're an avenger, for fuck's sake! Why would your body suddenly betray you like that?
The worst thing though, was that you were pretty sure that he noticed how weirdly you behaved around him. At first, he simply raised one of his black brows at you when you started rambling in his presence. As did the other avengers, by the way. No one understood what had gotten into you lately. But most of them simply went along with it after some time.
Not him, though. After weeks of your rambling and even slight blushing (like, literal blushing!!), Loki wore a slight grin as soon as he saw you. He definitely knew. And you hated it. You weren't some school girl who didn't have her own body under control. At least you didn't want to be.
Fortunately, during missions, you could ban him from your thoughts, being able o concentrate fully on the task at hand. But as soon as you stepped into the plane, or whatever vehicle brought yourself and your teammates home, the sparkle of mischief in the god's eyes were far too distracting to be ignored.
Today was no different. The mission had gone successfully, everyone was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, or shower, or both. Once you had all arrived in the tower, though, you ordered from your favourite local pizza place and ate together in the kitchen.
Of course, you sat opposite of Loki and could not prevent yourself from sneaking a few glances at him. Once in a while, you noticed he side glanced your way too, always the slightest grin adorning his lips. You tried to convince yourself that no, he wasn't looking at you. He was simply irritated from your constant staring. You couldn't let yourself adore the fantasy of him finding a liking in you. You wouldn't. It would hurt far too much if it wasn't true.
You slightly shook your head, trying to get rid of your thoughts of Loki, and finally averting your gaze away from him for the rest of the meal.
After the meal, you took a long, hot shower, threw on a fresh pair of pyjamas and were prepared for a good night's sleep. Loki thought otherwise. You were startled when you heard a knocking on your door, and even more so when Loki opened your door and leaned again your doorframe. He almost seemed, shy? He was in sweats and a loosely fitting shirt, a sight you did not happen to see very often. It looked good on him, of course. Everything did.
You were ripped away from your thoughts as Loki cleared his throatt, having obviously caught you staring. Now he seemed far from shy. Fortunately, it was already fairly dark in your room, so it was unlikely that he caught your blushing as well.
You cleared your throat as well. "Can I- uhm, can I help you with anything?". Loki's gaze fell to the floor, and he seemed shy again. You weren't sure how to interpret his behaviour. "Can I come in?", he eventually asked, not really answering your question, but you went along with it and nodded. He stepped into your room and slowly closed the door behind him.
The room was now merely illuminated by the light on your nightstand. You sat up a little straighter, thinking it would be appropriate. He took a few steps into your room, his gaze not yet leaving the floor. You raised an eyebrow at him.
He suddenly stopped pacing, turning around to your frame with such force that you flinched just the slightest. He noticed. "Sorry,", he muttered. His eyes met yours. Those vibrant eyes, staring back into yours relentlessly. "Is it okay if I-?", he asked, gesturing towards the sport opposite of you, on your bed.
Loki. On your bed. Okay. You tried containing letting out a shaky breath. It was ridiculous. "Sure!", you said, maybe a little too quick. It didn't matter. You were beyond a point of trying not to embarrass yourself in front of him. He sat down, gently. He was close to you, but not too close. You sensed he did not want to invade your space too much. You wouldn't have minded, though.
The god sat down, gaze once again fixed on the floor, giving you the opportunity to look at him again. His hair was freshly washed, making it look all the more soft. His shirt fitted tight enough to be able to see how muscular he really was. He fiddled with his hands. He seemed almost nervous. What was going on?
Loki's calm, deep voice abruptly interrupted your train of thought. "Do you like me?", he finally asked, exhaling loudly afterwards, and looking up to you again. Your eyes widened at his question, heat rushing to your cheeks. Now he would definitely notice the blushing. Your thoughts began running about a 100 miles per hour, not being able to focus on anything you could answer.
"Y-you mean...you mean as a f-friend? Sure, I like you, Loki!", you forced a fake laugh. None of this was funny for you, really. The god looked at you funny, trying to make sense of what you were saying. An eyebrow was once again raised, nonetheless not accompanied by a grin. Rather, he looked confused, which scared you.
He averted his gaze shortly afterwards, before speaking again. "No,", he began, directing his gaze towards you again. "I mean... do you like me as more than a friend?", he finally asked. You gulped. Now you were the one looking away. You looked at your hands, which were nervously playing with each other in your lap. Tears involuntarily sprung to your eyes. This was humiliating. Much more so because you could not hide how embarrassing this was for you.
Suddenly, you were angry with him. "I think you already know the answer to that question.", you stated, raising your gaze to meet his. Your expression was determined. "Now that you got what you want, now that you've humiliated me, is that all?", you asked angrily, hurt. "Wha-", he tried, but you cut him off.
"I mean it, Loki. You have your answer. Yes, I like you as more than a friend. Yes, a stupid mortal has a stupid crush on you. Did you hear what you came to hear?", you blurted out. Despite your angry tone and face, the corner of Loki's lips rose into a hesitant smile, making you even more furious. "Quit smiling!", you almost yelled, rising from your bed, making him stand as well.
He shook his head slightly, trying to hide his smile. "No, no!", he began, hands risen in a defensive manner. "I'm not here to make fun of you, darling," he continued. Your shoulders fell from their offensive position. "I promise.", he assured. You rose an eyebrow at him, urging him to explain himself.
He was hesitant at first, but then finally said what he came for to say. "I'm asking because...", he paused. "Because I like you, too,", he admitted. "As more than a friend." His voice rang through your ears, his voice somehow stopped the world from spinning for a second. He liked you back? A silence followed.
"Why should I believe you?", you inquired, heart beating rapidly, breath uneven. "You're the god of lies, after all.", you dared say. "I've changed, you know that." he countered. A pause.
"Doesn't mean you can't still be a fuckboy.", you pushed further, making him chuckle. He took a step towards you, then another, until he stood right in front of you. He reached towards one of your hands, then took it into his. Slowly, all the while remaining eye contact to see whether you approved of his actions. He raised your hand to his chest, laying it on top of his heart.
"If I was lying, would my heart beat as quickly as it does now?", he inquired, his voice had gotten quieter, to a point where it was barely above a whisper. Your breath once again hitched in your chest. You felt his heart pounding rapidly underneath your fingers. Your eyes were physically unable to leave his.
"I've never in my life felt like this.", he admitted, whispering. He hesitantly leaned his forehead against yours. Both of you closed your eyes in comfort, exhaling slowly. You stayed like that for a while, until you slowly pulled away just enough to be able to look into his eyes again.
"So,", you chuckled shyly. "what now?" His gaze dropped down to your lips for not more than a second before searching your gaze again. One of his hands gently came up to one of your cheeks, cupping it even more gently. He leaned in the slightest bit before whispering "Can I kiss you?". If you thought your heart was beating fast before, it was no comparison to how fast it was beating now.
You didn't trust your voice to speak, so you just nodded. He leaned in until his lips touched yours. It's cliché, but you swore it felt like a bomb exploded in your body. Every last cell felt like it was on fire, but it felt good. Your lips tickled and yearned for more, more. Your hand instinctively reached towards his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. His lips pulled into a grin, but never leaving yours.
Summary: Loki notices that your friendship with him is not anything like your friendship with Wanda. Where are the playful touches? The ass smacking?! Maybe you aren't friends at all...Pure fluff. BFFS being bff's.
Warnings: Playful spankings, implied smut if you squint.
Words: ~3k
On AO3 as Essence021
Midgard is weird.
Specifically, Midgardians are weird. After joining the Avengers a few short months ago, Loki has been trying to adjust to his new life on Midgard. The prince had always taken pride in knowledge of various planetary cultures and customs, being the well-read God that he is. But something about Midgard had him constantly puzzled. One greeting could be completely well received by one Midgardian, then be considered highly offensive by another. They had, quite literally, limitless information in the palm of their hands, yet they used it to share photos of cats?
Yes, Midgardians are weird.
And more specifically, YOU’RE weird.
You had been a friend of Loki and fellow Avenger from the very beginning. Well, you were his friend at least. It took some convincing and persistence on your part to get him to open up and accept your relentless tsunami of caring and friendship. But accept he did and you two became thick as thieves in the coming months, bonding over your mutual love of books and propensity for mischief. Even though he had come to know you very well, you still managed to confuse the Hel out of him.
Not only were you friends with the God of Mischief, but you were also very good friends with the resident witch, Wanda. Loki couldn’t help but notice that your friendship with her was vastly different than your friendship with him. There was a playful, silly element to your friendship with the God, but it was mostly intellectual and caring. You could talk for hours about anything and everything. When one of you was having a bad day, you both knew you could rely on the other to be the comfort and balm the other needed.
But with Wanda? It was pure chaos and all silly games. Loki would watch you and Wanda send selfies back and forth to each other, making hideous faces that were apparently hilarious as you both exploded in giggles with each new text. Then, there was the penchant for sharing clothes. One day you would have her sweater, and the next day she would have your scarf. And the touching! You constantly had your hands all over each other. During movie nights, you would play with each other’s hair and take turns giving shoulder massages. The most surprising thing for Loki were all the spankings! It seems that each time you or the witch passed by each other, you would give your friend a playful smack on the butt. If you were you feeling particularly spicy, you would do a double drum on her booty then hightail it out there before she squealed and retaliated with her magic. To make it even more confusing, even though both you and Wanda would squeal in offense after each smack, you both would eventually giggle and keep on doing it!
It confused Loki to no end. You never touched him like that and while you had your fair share of playful banter, you never played with him like you did with Wanda. You never sent him hideously hilarious selfies or smacked his butt. Noticing all these differences made Loki question the validity and depth of your friendship. If this was how Midgardian friends act, why weren’t you acting this way with him? There had to be something wrong with your friendship. Maybe there was something wrong with him.
It pained Loki greatly because not only did he cherish your friendship, but he harbored a secret crush on you. He had begun to appreciate your relentless pursuit to get him to open up to you and to be his friend. You held him close when he finally shared with you his true Frost Giant heritage and with each small, caring gesture, you thawed his icy heart with your unbridled warmth. You were incredible, the sun in his life, and he was still the monster of Asgard (even though you insisted, he never and will never be a monster). So, he kept his crush to himself and treasured your friendship. That made noticing the stark differences in your friendship with Wanda that much more painful. Why couldn’t he smack your butt? Or you smack his?
Loki pondered this while pretending to read the book in his lap. Instead, he thought about your smile and the delicious curve of your ass and how it would fit nicely in his large hands. He wondered if the skin there was just as soft as your hands. Your hands. Your hands that were now flailing in front of his face.
“Yooohoo, Mischief! Earth to Asgard, are you there?” You giggled, having caught him in his daydream. Little did you know.
“Yes, Dove, can I help you?” He kept his face turned away from you, refocusing on his book and trying desperately to hide his flustered, blushing face. But he did catch you bite your lip out of the corner of his eye. That was one thing you didn’t do around Wanda.
“I was wondering if you would join me for a movie night?”
You shuffled back and forth on your feet, looking down at the fuzzy socks that adorned them. Norns, you were adorable, Loki thought. But you also looked nervous?
“What? Is Stark having another one of his team bonding nights again?” Loki all but sneered. You were the only thing good about those movie nights, honestly. At least, according to Loki. Still, you shuffled and kept your eyes locked on your feet.
“No, actually I was thinking it could just be me and you. We could watch something in my room,” You quickly exhaled, like you were shocked to hear your own words, “but if you are busy or not comfortable, I completely understand!”
“Why would I be uncomfortable, Dove? We’re friends.”
You hummed a bit, a slight frown on your face. The shuffling of your feet had stopped, and you let out a long breath. You were acting so odd!
“Hm, yes. We are friends.” You paused for a bit, lost in thought and a hint of sadness on your face, “I will see you later today then? Eight o’ clock fine?”
Loki nodded and returned to his book, but your forlorn look was not missed by him as you walked away. Why were you sad? Maybe it was something Stark did? The man was always staying stupid things. Sadness didn’t belong on your face or in your heart, you precious thing. So, Loki thought it was time to put your friendship to the test. At the very least, he wanted to try and cheer you up. He whipped out his cell phone out of his pocket and pulled up the text thread between you and him.
Loki wasn’t a fan of the cell phone, so there wasn’t much there save for a few exchanges here and there. After a quick look around the room to make sure the coast was clear, Loki brought up the camera on the phone to ‘selfie-mode’, crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, and SNAP! He took a photo of his silly face and promptly sent it to you.
Then he waited.
But no goofy selfie was sent back to him. You had the read receipts on your phone, so he knew you saw his message and the ridiculous face he made. Maybe he didn’t make the right kind of silly face? Yet, there never seemed to be any rhyme or reason between your bizarre photos with Wanda. Some of the faces you made were borderline repulsive. That left the one conclusion: you weren’t really friends with him after all.
Loki quickly shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. No, it can’t be. You are far too sweet and far too kind to him to lie about a friendship like this. Still, he needed to know where him and his friendship stood with you. He would put your friendship to the test tonight, he decided.
Before he knew it, it was eight o’clock on the dot and he was softly knocking on your door. Even with all your months of friendship, Loki had never been in your room alone with you. He knew for a fact that Wanda was constantly in your room and you in hers. The god smiled to himself at the realization that he too would now become a part of your secret world that so few had seen.
You opened your door, smiling brightly and ushering him inside. Loki looked around your room and he couldn’t help but smile wide. It was so….you. From the art on the walls to the soft blankets on your couch, it screamed your soft and beautiful essence. Immediately, he knew he wanted to stay here as long as possible. He wanted to stay here with you.
“Have you seen Disney movies before?” Your question pulled him from his thoughts.
“Hmm, what? The children’s moving drawings?” He quickly stammered out, hoping you didn’t notice the slight rosy tint to his cheeks brought on by his romantic fantasies. If you did, you didn’t say anything.
“Yep! They are classics here on Earth and if you are staying here, I insist you watch them!” You grinned, hands on your hip.
“Well, I am not going anywhere, Dove,” Loki said, mirroring your grin, “So, I agree to watch these Disney movies with you.”
You invited him to sit with you on your small couch, your knees touching as your curled up to get cozy. Deciding to start with the classics, you flipped on Cinderella.
“Do you watch these with the Witch?” Loki suddenly asked, as the movie began to play. You were immediately confused by his question.
“Hm, yeah, all the time actually. Why?”
Loki only hummed a response, before whispering a simple ‘just wondering’ before returning his attention back to the television. So, this was another thing that you were doing with him that you also did with Wanda! Maybe, his anxiety was all in his head after all. Feeling a bit bolder, he reached around and started to play with your hair just like how Wanda played with yours. His long, deft fingers gently ran through your hair and caressed your scalp.
For a moment, you leaned into it, the feeling of his fingers massaging your head making you instantly melt. Then, it seemed liked you remembered something. You shot up from your seat with a nervous laugh.
“Oh, ahem, I forgot the popcorn!” You all but ran into the little kitchen you had as part of your room in the Tower. You could practically hear your own heartbeat, it thudded so wildly in your chest. What was up with Loki? Why was he acting like this? The feeling of his fingers on your skin still lingered in your mind and you couldn’t help but shiver. Did he like you more than a friend? Anxious thoughts swirled around in your mind as your body went on autopilot and started to make the popcorn. Then…
SMACK!
You whirled around so fast, you almost hit Loki with your body who was standing right behind you with a grin as big as New York. He just smacked your ass! You couldn’t believe it! All you could do was stare at him, catching flies in your mouth as you stood there in complete and utter shock. Loki instantly noticed your unfavorable reaction and the grin fell quickly from his face. The panic in his chest started to settle in and make a cozy home as he realized his well-intentioned, playful smack was not the right move.
“I-I…Dove, I am…I d-don’t,” He stuttered and huffed out a nervous, dry laugh. He had no idea how to explain himself without mentioning how your relationship with him was different from your relationship with Wanda. Admitting that could put your friendship in danger and he would rather have a half-assed relationship with you, than nothing at all.
“What the hell, Loki?!” You roared, your shock now turning into rage. “Who do you think you are?”!
“Clearly not your friend!” Loki yelled back, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“What are you talking about, Loki?” You crossed your arms over your body and started to tap your foot on the floor in annoyance. This is it, Loki thought, this is how he loses you for good.
“I just noticed…” The god took a long breath, trying to choose his words carefully, “I just noticed how your relationship with the witch is much different than ours. You both seem really close, and I had assumed that is how close Midgardian friends act. I realize now that we aren’t as close as we thought.”
You couldn’t help but scoff at his dramatics, but at the same time your heart hurt that he thought he was anything less than. In fact, you had been harboring a crush on the God since the very first moment you saw him. You saw the scowl on his face, but you didn’t miss the pain that lingered in his eyes. Thor, his brother, had shared a bit with the team about the trials and tortures that Loki faced, and you knew in the very depths of your soul that he deserved peace and happiness. His past crimes didn’t matter. Underneath that cold exterior was a soft heart and after you broke down his walls with your relentless tenderness, he showed it to you. It made your heart soar and you fell for him hard and fast. But he always referred to you as his friend, even just earlier today, so you assumed you were nothing more.
So, when he sent you that selfie with his eyes crossed, tongue sticking out in a goofy, but adorable expression, you didn’t know what to do. It was literally the most precious thing you had ever seen, and you stared at it greedily for an hour after he sent it. But you couldn’t let yourself respond. What if it didn’t mean anything at all?
But you started to question his intentions the moment you felt his fingers comb through your hair. Melting was instantaneous. His fingers felt like Valhalla, and you wanted to bask in his touch forever. Unfortunately, unlike the movie that was playing in your living room, happy endings just aren’t for you. So, you ran away as quickly as you could. The last straw was the slap on your ass. You knew Loki could be playful and mischievous; he was the God of Mischief after all, but this is crossing the line! And now, he was saying he was insecure about your relationship with Wanda?
“Yes, well I guess it is a bit different with her.” It was the truth, but you regretted saying it after you saw the look on Loki’s face. The poor thing looked like he was puppy that just got kicked.
“But why?” He said, in a low whisper. The insecurity was now so apparent and dripping from his voice.
What could you tell him? You could tell him the truth and lose him as a friend, or you could lie the God of Lies and then lose him as a friend. So, you might as well be honest.
“I like you, Loki.” He rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I like you too. That is what this whole thing is about! You just like her more than me!”
You had to admit, you found his jealousy endearing and you had trouble stifling a smirk. Loki noticed your slight smile and it was the nail in the coffin. Clearly, you were laughing at him, and he didn’t have to take this! It was time for him to go and nurse his broken heart. Just as he turned to leave, you called out to him.
“No, my prince, I like you more. A lot more.”
Loki stopped dead in his tracks. What did you just say? My prince? You like him? When he finally turned around, he saw you looking down at your feet much like earlier in the day. Did he misread your actions earlier?
“What did you say?” It was all he dared to whisper. You took a cautious step towards him, still keeping your eyes down. Now, was the time to be brave, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. Not yet.
“I like you more than a friend, Loki. I’ve had a crush on you for a while and I know this changes thing between us. I just hope we can still be friends.”
Loki couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You also had feelings for him? It was everything he hoped and dreamed for. The prince took a long stride of his own, meeting right in front of you. Gently, as if you were the most precious thing on all of Midgard, because frankly you were to Loki, he hooked a finger under your chin and lifted it so he was looking straight into your eyes. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw nothing but pure affection and adoration shining back at you through his eyes.
“Dove, hearing that brings me so much joy. Your heart, your soul, your mind – you amaze me every day and it is such an honor and privilege to simply be in your presence. To have you in my arms like this is truly the greatest gift I could ever ask for.”
Without even thinking, you surged forward and pressed your lips to his. Loki was shocked at first by your kiss, then quickly melted into your embrace. The god kissed you back fiercely, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest. When you finally broke apart, you were breathless. For a moment you were simply lost in each other before you grinned with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Loki eyed you suspiciously, opening his mouth to say something when…
SMACK
A giggle bubbled out you right after you smacked him right on his ass, finishing with a playful squeeze. Screw America’s ass! Asgard ’s ass was a hundred times better! Your laughter quickly died in your throat as Loki glared at you. But now, there was something unreadable in his eyes. Something new.
“You cheeky minx!” He growled, picking you up as if you weighed nothing and carried you off to your bedroom.
Summary: You bring Loki two gifts to mark his birthday. One a magical object and the other your heart.
Loki x fem!witch!reader
Genre: Fluff
“Welcome home,” Jarvis said as the elevator doors opened with a distinctive whoosh to the communal floor of the compound.
The familiar quiet hum of the place greeted you like an old friend. Unlike your little flat in Manhattan there was always movement in the compound, always some degree of active energy that acted as a comforting reassurance that you weren’t alone. While you loved the peaceful solitude your flat provided when you needed a timeout from being one of earth’s mightiest heroes, you always gravitated back to the compound and the familiar presence of those who occupied it.
Carefully setting down your bags to the side, but keeping hold of the small one dangling from your wrist, you strained your ears for any sound to indicate who, if anyone, was here with you.
“Jarvis, who’s here?” You asked Tony’s assistant, walking deeper into the communal floor and searching for any sign of life.
“I have detected four other persons within the compound, miss. Mr Odinson is in the kitchen, Mr Laufeyson is in his bedroom, and Ms Romanoff and Dr Banner are in the lab.” Jarvis replied in seconds, your heart giving an involuntary skip hearing that Loki was here.
“Thanks, Jarvis.” You replied, setting off with determination towards the kitchen.
As you got closer you could hear the sound of a woman's voice, followed by Thor’s very angry “I am beating it”, which was a tad alarming. Just who was he with and what was he beating? You slowed your footsteps as you approached, peeking around the wall to the kitchen and immediately fighting to contain your laughter.
There was Thor standing at the huge kitchen island with a mixing bowl in one hand and a whisk in the other, his attention laser focused on the small screen in front of him as he followed along with the instructions. All around him sat various jars and baking implements, and a thin coating of flour covered most of the island surface. You had seen Thor try his hand at almost anything, but baking wasn’t something you had thought the God of Thunder would be caught doing.
His concentration on what he was doing was absolute, his gaze never once wavering from the screen as he used his hands to knead the dough. He hadn’t even noticed you peeking around the corner, so you made the small jar of cinnamon to his right float until it was at eye level and let it hover. His attention was so focused on what he was doing that it took him a few seconds to notice the little jar hovering to his right. He jumped just a fraction, but merely pushed it gently back down to the countertop. You waited a few moments, just long enough to ensure he wasn’t thinking about it, and made it levitate again. This time whacking the little jar gently against his temple.
His reaction was immediate. “Loki, enough!” He bellowed, hands spraying pieces of dough over the kitchen floor as they emerged from the bowl to swat away the offending object.
You bit back a laugh as the jar returned to the surface, watching Thor continue to look left and right expecting to see his brother emerge from some hidden corner. You waited longer for the finale, waited until he had decided there was no further threat and his attention was again focused solely on his baking expedition, and made the jar rise up again. This time he saw it and reached to slap it back down but you were too quick. Up and up you made it rise until it was just within his reach hovering over his head, and when he looked up you let it fall right on his head.
“Loki, come out here!” Thor roared again, his hand rubbing the spot where the jar had hit him, though you doubted he had even felt it.
You couldn’t stay hidden any longer, the sheer effort of trying to hold in your laughter was too much. You were practically falling out of your hiding place.
“Oh, Thor, I’m sorry!” You managed to apologise between laughs. His expression immediately changed from mild annoyance at Loki to a beaming smile when he saw it had been you playing tricks on him again.
He gleefully called your name and pulled you into his trademark bear hug, not caring that his hands were covered in dough or that he was in real danger of shattering your ribs.
“My brother is having a bad influence on you!” He said good naturedly. “But you are much easier to forgive, my friend.” He released you from his crushing embrace. “What are you doing here? Has Stark sent you on a mission? Do you need me to come along?” His tone immediately turned serious thinking you were being sent out to danger.
“Nothing like that, it’s ok!” You assured him and held up the small bag in your hand. “I brought Loki something. For his birthday,“ you said, which made something click. “Is that why you’re baking? Aw, Thor, you big softie! You’re baking something for Loki!” You crooned.
Thor threw his head back and erupted in laughter. “You mortals and your obsession with marking birthdays! Loki and I have had thousands of them. We do not need to mark them every year.” He said, leaning his weight back against the kitchen island.
“Then what’s with all this?” You gestured to the mess behind him. “A new hobby? You’ve spent too long on Earth and have finally cracked? You’re trying to kill Tony by death by cupcake?” You posed the questions, making yourself laugh in the process.
“Death by cupcake I had not considered that,” he replied thoughtfully, sounding dangerously like he was filing it away for future reference. “No, my friend, I have a bet with Wanda! She said she was sure even a god of royal blood couldn’t match her baking skills, so here we are!” He threw his arms out wide to indicate the kitchen. “But,” he added conspiratorially, “I’ve added a few Asgardian ingredients to your Midgardian instructions, but you know nothing about that.” He winked.
“It sounds like Loki is having a bad influence on you,” You retorted, but with a smile so he knew you were teasing.
Thor shrugged. “Perhaps, but I never lose a bet.”
“Only because you resort to devious, underhand tactics.” You continued teasing him as you placed the little bag with Loki’s gift on the table.
“Those are big words for someone who has magic on her side in battle,” Thor threw back expertly.
You let out a mock offended gasp. “I only use my magic for pure, unselfish reasons, Odinson!” You quipped back, to which Thor gave a knowing tilt of his head. “Most of the time,” you added quickly. You had just attacked him with a jar of cinnamon.
Thor let out another laugh. “I jest, my lady, have no fear! We would not be the Avengers without you.” He added kindly and moved to begin cleaning up his mess.
“Well, obviously,” you replied playfully, earning you a smack to the head with a piece of dough. “Anyway, where’s the birthday boy? I came all this way especially for him.”
Thor gave you a knowing look, one that had you wondering how much he knew. “Loki is…somewhere. He likes to keep to himself, you know that. He’ll be happy to see you.”
You tried to prevent your face from lighting up too much at that single sentence, fought to keep back the smile that threatened to break across your face. “Oh? Why do you say that?” You asked casually.
Thor was quiet for a second, clearly thinking what he wanted to say and the best way to say it. “I have known Loki for over a thousand years. He might think he is hard to read but it isn’t difficult to see how he looks for you every time he enters a room. He may not have said it to you outright, but to me it is obvious; my brother cares for you greatly.”
You almost felt giddy at Thor’s words. You had overanalysed every stray touch of Loki’s fingers on your waist as he passed by you, every time you had fallen asleep in his presence only to wake to a blanket you hadn’t had before carefully draped over your shoulders, every morning you went to the kitchen to find a cup of coffee awaiting you even though he hated coffee. You had desperately wanted to believe that it meant he cared for you, yet you never fully let yourself accept the possibility, the little voice in your head always warning you to be careful, to hold back. There was always the real chance you had read too deeply into meaningless actions, and that scenario would be your unravelling.
“I care for him, too. A lot more than he realises,” you said quietly. It was easy to say the words to Thor, but nigh on impossible to say them to Loki.
“Oh, I think it’s a lot deeper than caring about him.” Thor said with another knowing smile as he continued to clean.
You made to fight back, feeling a little embarrassed that it had been so easy to read your feelings, but Thor looked at you with raised eyebrows and you knew there was no point.
“Fine,” you conceded, “maybe it is. Maybe I’m head over heels in love with him and have been for months. In case you haven’t noticed, he isn’t the toughest nut to crack. What am I supposed to do…” you trailed off at hearing the click of a door open and footsteps begin to make their way in the direction of the kitchen, the sound being all it took for your heart to betray you with an excited leap.
“I thought I heard both your dulcet tones.” Loki said sarcastically in greeting, leaning against the open archway of the kitchen.
“Ah, Loki, there you are! Our magical mortal has brought you a gift!” Thor said before you had the chance to stop him. He turned to look at you with a proud grin on his face, believing his work to be done. “And I.” He continued, grabbing an armful of snacks from the cupboard. “Will make myself scarce.” He gave you an exaggerated wink.
You could only stare at him dumbly. “Subtle as a freaking sledgehammer.” You muttered under your breath, giving a death glare to Thor as he backed out of the kitchen and gave you a thumbs up behind Loki’s back.
Your gaze flickered to Loki who was observing you with a look of quiet amusement. You were suddenly nervous, unable to find your tongue. “I was going to give it to you in a more refined way, but yeah, happy birthday, trouble,” you successfully managed to get your words out without any obvious fumbling. If only he could hear how hard your heart was jack hammering in your chest. “It’s not much, but birthdays deserve to be marked.” You gave him a smile and nodded towards the bag sitting on the table.
You turned around to switch the kettle on, wanting to give him privacy to look inside or to take it back to his room.
“You know I’ve had over one thousand birthdays. They stop being causes for celebration after a while,” he said, echoing Thor’s early words.
You let out an exasperated laugh and released the tension that had gathered in your shoulders. “What is it with you two?” You turned and asked him. “Birthdays are special, at least to me. I didn’t want you to think that no one cared,” you said before you could stop yourself, knowing that you had inadvertently revealed too much in those few simple words.
The quirk of his eyebrows was small but you caught it. He was perceptive enough to have read between the lines. You turned your back to him again to busy yourself making tea, desperately hoping he hadn’t seen the heat rise to your cheeks. You heard the familiar wobbling sound of the laminated gift bag and your heart picked up speed again. When it grew quiet and you knew he had the small velvet box in his hands, you turned back around, your mug of tea clasped tightly in your hands to stop them shaking.
“It’s a foe disc,” you explained, reading the confusion on his face. He gently lifted the chain, the small gold disc attached swirling around in the air. “You put it around your neck and if the person you’re with has bad intentions towards you or is untrustworthy it will heat up. Gives you a chance to make your excuses and get out without arousing too much suspicion.”
He admired the disc quietly, allowing you to drink in the open look of wonderment on his face. He looked so childlike admiring his birthday gift it had you wondering when was the last time he had ever been given a gift, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to take him in your arms.
Eventually, he glanced over to where you were standing, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you. This would have been particularly useful when…” He trailed off, his eyes leaving yours as he carefully returned the chain to its box. There was no need for him to say anything more; you knew all about his time with Thanos.
“You’re welcome,” you said quietly, letting him know you understood his silence. “It’s difficult to know what to get a god,” you added quickly, wanting to steer the conversation safely away from the horrors of his past.
“Well, my darling, I can safely say you have given me more than I deserve,” he said, and you froze. Had he just called you his darling? “Although, if my memory serves me correctly,” he continued, “you didn’t present Thor with a gift on his birthday. Neither did you Rogers or Stark.” He smiled mischievously at you, beginning a slow approach from the kitchen table to where you stood leaning against the kitchen counter.
You inadvertently straightened up. You knew that look in his eyes, knew that sly little smirk on his face. He knew, but he was going to weasel it out of you.
“We all agreed not to do birthday gifts for each other. We had a vote on it at the big start of the year meeting. I think you were out sick that day.” You tried to deflect, bringing your mug to your lips to mask your nervousness.
Loki chuckled, coming to a halt right in front of you. “Mmm, I don’t think so.” He said, and rested his hands on your hips.
Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed thickly. Even through the fabric of your jeans his touch felt heavenly. He felt safe and strong and you wanted to melt into his embrace.
“I’m stone broke and can only afford to do one birthday this year. Lucky you your name came out of the hat.” You tried to joke again. He was so close you could almost feel the heat of his body.
“Try again.” He replied quietly, lifting one hand from your hips to brush your hair over your shoulder, his fingertips teasingly brushing against your neck and almost making you shiver.
His eyes were focused firmly on you, swirling with playfulness and mischief, but something else shone through clearly.
Longing.
Was this man, this god, longing for you? It felt like almost overnight your own feelings for him had crossed the line from friendship to something deeper and you had gone from being quietly amused at his neverending efforts to pester Thor to properly noticing him. You had noticed the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled and how he had taken a strong liking to Midgardian tea, taking his with milk and two sugars. You’d noticed he had a sweet tooth, that he was fascinated by Celtic mythology, and that, despite his protestations to the contrary, his biggest fear was losing Thor.
Had he been noticing you?
You wet your lips, feeling as though your knees would give out if it wasn’t for how close Loki was standing to you. “Loki, I…” Your voice failed you.
“Yes, my dear?” He closed the remaining space between you, his hand on your hip smoothly sliding to hold your waist. With the other he gently pried the mug from your hands and set it on the counter, then let it cradle your head, the pad of his thumb coming to rest on your cheek.
Your heart was in your throat, adrenaline coursing through you as you silently begged him to kiss you. “I...I think I’m falling in love with you,” your voice was little more than a whisper, but the words were out, weighing down the air as you waited.
He returned both hands to your waist, pulled you tight against him, and he finally kissed you. You had imagined this in your head for months, dreaming about how it would feel to have him kiss you, but nothing could have prepared you for how it felt. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you committed to memory the softness of his lips, butterflies dancing in your stomach as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him down and begging him not to stop. It was chaste and innocent, his arms moving to completely envelope you in an embrace, words not being enough to convey his longing for closeness. You stroked his cheek, feeling him smile into your mouth as you did. His kiss surpassed any daydream.
You couldn’t fight the small whine that escaped your lips when he finally pulled back, your mouth missing the taste of him immediately. He rested his forehead against yours as your hands wrapped around his waist.
“I never dared to even dream that you felt the same way,” he said softly, making your heart leap. “I’ve wanted you ever since you got angry and made Rogers’ shield chase Stark around the living room,” he confessed. “You said…” he trailed off with a small laugh.
You smiled back at him. “I said was his big mouth overcompensating for something else,” you finished for him, smiling wider as he laughed harder. “Loki, that was months ago?”
“Yes,” he answered simply, pulling back to look into your eyes.
You shook your head gently. “So, you mean to say, I could have been kissed like that months ago?” You teased him, your heart swelling when you saw how it made his face light up. “That’s a cruel game, Laufeyson.”
He pulled you tight against him once more, a devilish smile spreading across his face. “Well, my darling girl, you better stop talking so I can do the chivalrous thing and apologise for my terrible mistake.”
You wound your arms back around his neck, your fingers tangling into his hair. “Oh? And how are you going to do that?” You teased.
He didn’t answer, only pressed his lips to yours once again.
Hi there! ☺️ can I request a drabble or something short about Loki coming back from a mission and he's injured. The reader is really worried and Loki says something along the lines of "darling, it would take more than this to hurt a god".
Thank you so much! ❣️
I’m BACK!!! I’m going to try and write one shots more often now that I’m feeling more up to it!!!
Warnings: brief, vague mentions of a wound. No blood, no graphic descriptions. No angst!
Tag list under the cut!
For days, you had worried. For days, it seemed as if the ever-looming threat of your friend’s potential dangers would keep raining down on you. Pepper, Wanda, and Vision had told you that the worries were silly -- Loki was a god, and he could take care of himself. It would do you no use to worry.
That was, until he come back hurt.
He had only been gone for two weeks, and still, he had the ugliest wound you had ever seen. He seemed nonchalant about it, but you knew better. You always knew better when it came to Loki. You knew he had gotten hurt and he had said nothing about it until he arrived.
“Loki!” you shouted. “What is wrong with you?” You dragged him into the infirmary and sat him down on an operating table. “I can’t believe you! What if I lost you?” You continued to scold him as he cradled his side.
“Really, darling, I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” he sighed, relaxing on the table. “Hand me something to eat, would you? I’ll be just fine.”
“You’re wounded!” you argued. You began getting antiseptic and some first aid necessities. You tossed him a rogue apple that looked fit for consumption. “How do you call that fine, huh?” You looked over at him.
You watched as Loki ran a hand over his injury, making it totally close up. “You forget,” he said, “that I am the God of Mischief. It would really take so much more than this to hurt me. Do you truly believe I would hurt you by letting something happen?”
“No,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that you had forgotten. Right. “No, I guess I was just...”
“Worried about your love getting in trouble?” he smiled. He rested on one hand. “I would never. I wouldn’t ever let you get hurt, either, darling.”
“That’s a relief,” you sighed, setting down the first aid things.You moved over to him. He cupped your face. “But we’re still going to talk about communication, you know. There are things on this planet that can incapacitate you.”
“Thor, for example,” he agreed with a laugh. “I should have remembered that my darling little mortal worries about whom they love. Now, the bet has been won: I’ve come back alive from the mission. Can I have that kiss now?”
You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t I say something about coming back without a scratch?”
“Please, Y/N?” he cooed, tilting his head.
“Oh, fine!” you sighed with a smile. You kissed Loki. “There. How does that feel?”
“Much better,” he laughed, going back in for another. “It might take much more to harm a god, but it takes so very little to please one.”
