Loki stood before you, brows knit, lips pursed in that skeptical way they did whenever you'd bring up something "midgardian" that he'd never heard of. You'd told him you wanted to do a trend that you had seen with him, refusing to answer questions, insisting it would ruin the point, which only added to his doubts.
And yet, because he loved you, here he stood, watching you prop your phone up to face towards the two of you, pressing the little red record button and padding back over.
"Are you now going to enlighten me on this 'trend' you speak of?"
You simply shook your head, giggling a little as you took his hands in yours, prompting him to raise them up over his head.
"Not yet!"
"My love, this is ridiculous, what purpose could standing in such a way possibly- mmph!"
He was silenced as you pressed your lips to his, your hands gently cupping his face, thumbs swiping across cheekbones. His arms remained in the air for a second. two. before slowly lowering, palms sliding down your sides before wrapping fully around your waist. He kissed you back softly, sweetly, like he all but forgot your phone still recording.
You pulled back, all bright eyes and softly smiling.
"You melted, that's the trend."
"Melted?" he inquired, head tilted.
"Into the kiss, you melted!"
For a brief moment he seemed confused, then lightly offended, but a quick kiss on the cheek from you softened his features all together.
"It was cute."
When you tried to slip out of his arms to cut the video, he caught your wrist, gently tugging you back. His arms wrapped around you once more, lips capturing yours again with a soft murmur.
you: *opens your eyes to see a green snake with a black belly with gold on it's head and other parts of it's body as it cosied up to you* hello you, where did you come from?
snake: *licks your nose affectionately*
thor: *bursts into the room* (name) have you seen- *sees the snake, notices the distinct colour pattern and smiles*
you: seen who?
thor: nevermind, i was looking for loki but i msut be mistaken to think he'd come here. *winks at the snake*
snake: *smacks itself with it's tail against it's head*
you: oookaaayyy...good luck finding him i guess.
thor: i shall! *leaves*
you: *you look down at the snake on your lap* you're not exactly sutble you know.
loki: blame that big oaf for the lack of being subtle my darling, i would've gotten away with it too.
Loki's getting used to you falling asleep at a conference table, lucky he's always there to carry you to bed.
Warnings: None! I don't think... sigh. Reader has hair. Don't come for my warnings :( I learnt it from the other creators...
Word count: 2.7k
It was late–3 A.M. on the dot, and Loki was still alone.
Although that was becoming increasingly normal for him as the weeks went on.
First it was the missions–you being put in charge of several S.H.I.E.L.D. task forces because the other Avengers were away on their own business. Stark trying to pick up the pieces of a crumbling relationship that Loki felt minimal sympathy for, the Captain on some business with an old lover whom he left in the past, even the witch and the robot decided to take a couple weeks off to visit Europe.
Which left you, his darling mortal, to eagerly take this opportunity to put your name down on a majority of the upcoming assignments. Even Fury was hesitant about signing off on it, but no, of course you waved him off and questioned his faith in you. Typical. Baiting the man who writes off on all your paychecks just for some rush of adrenaline.
Then again, Loki was in no position to talk since he was benched for the foreseeable future. Entirely unfair. He was framed. But it certainly added to your workload.
He tried to be supportive, he really did, but after about the sixth consecutive mission he helped pack a bag for, he was out of his mind. It seems his sanity correlates with your presence, or at least that’s what the diagrams he made showed. He spent three whole days using the poster boards that Hill created to demonstrate the correlations between Avengers and crime rates, drawing over the graphs to show the effects that missing you had on him. It was oddly sweet until you learned that Maria still had three more meetings with high-up S.H.I.E.L.D. officials that she needed them for.
The night you came back from your final mission, he was overjoyed. Ecstatic. Pacing your bedroom with a book in hand that he couldn’t calm himself down enough to read. Except the first thing you did when you got on land was crash. Slept sixteen hours in total. That’s fine, he should have predicted that. No matter, he had you all to himself.
Except he also overlooked the mission reports. Probably because he’s never filled one out despite Fury’s behest. Instead of having you in your bed every night, you were slumped over the desk, trying to recall which mission you shot out 46 agents and which one 46 agents shot out you.
This was the third time this week that you fell asleep in the conference room… It was Wednesday. And dare he admit, it’s not even out of selfishness–the desire to take up all your attention, but genuine concern at his favourite mortal overworking yourself.
He stops behind your chair, blue eyes taking stock of the way you’re slumped over the table, head resting in your folded arms. He takes a moment to just look, to gently push a strand of hair out of your face–you look younger. Almost innocent in a way he’s not. But it’s the clear signs of exhaustion that feels like a blow to his gut–the emphasis it has on your humanity and the contrast it has to his long lifespan.
He tries to push that thought to the back of his head, like he usually does, slender fingers lingering against your skin and tracing the contours of your cheek. He’s sure that the security camera in the far corner can pick up on his affection from here. His palm flattens against your back, drawing large circles as he bends to murmur in your ear. “Come on, my love, let’s get you to bed.”
When you only shift instead of waking, a muscle twitches at the corner of the God’s mouth. He should’ve expected you to be out like a light. With a huff of half-amusement and half-exasperation, he leans over, sliding his arms under you, and in one smooth motion he lifts you into his arms, supporting you easily against his chest.
“Stubborn. Even in sleep.” He mutters against your forehead, pressing a kiss to your hairline.
“I can hear you,” you mumble into his neck, arms coming to wrap around it.
He pauses in his turn towards the door, gaze flicking down to your face—eyes still closed. “Ah, you're not completely unconscious then.” He readjusts his hold on you slightly—making sure you’re secure in his arms as he makes his way out of the conference room. “So you can hear me, but you cannot be bothered to wake up, can you?”
“Pretending gets me carried. Waking up gets me a lecture.”
You don’t even have to look to feel the large smirk gracing your boyfriend’s lips. “Clever, love. Very clever.” His grip tightens once more, trapping you against him as he tries to fit you both through the doorway. Your knee bangs against it anyways and you tug on one of his curls in retaliation. “You’re becoming more cunning and manipulative, I’m impres– ow!”
“Manipulative?” You repeat, temporarily dropping the I’m-asleep-carry-me-please act in favour of pressing a sloppy kiss against Loki’s pale cheek.
He chuckles, the sound deep and velvet in a way that’s been affecting you long before titles were given to each other. It might not be something you hear often from the God, but it certainly is your favourite. “You feign sleep to avoid a lecture, preying against my affections for you. If that isn't a form of manipulation, I don't know what is. You're learning from the best it seems.”
You hum once more into his neck, tucking in closer as he walks you down the long corridor towards the elevator. Loki can’t help his breath catching, even for a split second, his heart skipping a beat from the feeling of having you in his arms once again. He’s missed you. Dearly.
He’s used to feeling alone. Being alone. After all, he’s spent millennia in the shadows of his brother, weighed down by what he now knows is his true heritage–the reason why Odin never gave him the attention and praise he sought–even when he acted out. And when Loki did find out, he spent the following years, albeit a lot shorter than the first, pushing the people he loved away for the sake of pettiness over the lack of shared blood.
And yet somehow…
Somehow that led him here. To you. Where even on the longest of physical separations–missions and mortal workloads–he never feels truly alone. Because if there is one thing he can count on, it’s that you are always on his side, even when he pushes back. Even when he did push back, on his most intolerable days before he captured your heart.
He spent the three hours prior to his trip to the conference room looking at the text you sent to his little, black rectangle: Missing you with a picture of your screwed up face in faux-anger.
It was adorable and saved instantly to his… cloud?
“You're overworking yourself. You've been on non-stop missions for days now. And now you’re doing all that… boring stuff,” he says, coming to a stop at the elevator. He must’ve used his powers, you think, because there’s no awkward bending, no request for help to push the button. Just a sudden ding as it makes its way down to your floor.
“You mean the required mission reports?” One of your hands tangles in the inky curls that is tragically Loki’s hair–’so unfair you have prettier hair than me. You don’t even do haircare!’ you’ve told him more than once. It’s softer in the nights, a little more tangled that has your hand catching in the ends.
“Yes, the blasted required mission reports.” He rolls his eyes, all exaggeration. “They're tedious, time-consuming, and utterly beneath you. You shouldn't be doing such things to begin with, much less at this hour while your eyes are drooping." He glances down at the body still in his arms, your weight starting to get to his arms (though he’d never admit it). He’s somewhat glad you still have your eyes shut because he’s all too aware that he’s failing at hiding his concern.
“It’s that attitude that has Fury so pissed with you, by the way.”
“Fury is always… pissed with me,” he replies, the word dripping with disdain. “And those reports are a colossal waste of your skills and intellect.” He pushes down the other thought, the one along the lines of: 'and they exhaust you, and you look tired, and I hate seeing you tired'. He has a reputation to uphold after all–even if it’s shrinking with every day he spends with you.
“You did kinda try… Y’know… World domination.”
“That was years ago… And it was strictly New York if you must know,” he huffs, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Do you still hold that over my head every time I speak against your precious Director?”
The elevator opens up once more–this time with your boyfriend stepping out on the floor with everyone’s accommodations. He turns a corner, footsteps quiet against the vinyl floor.
“Just saying,” you half-shrug in his arms. “That was one hell of a headache for him.” You press another kiss, this time at the junction of his jaw.
He scoffs, though it comes out a little softer in time with your affection. “A headache? That's an understatement. The man has had a permanent migraine since my arrival on Earth. Though I do take satisfaction in that.”
Another kiss to his cheek–more forceful than you intended with the drowsiness that has you halfway between conscious and asleep. “Just a week or two then I’m caught up,” you yawn.
He can’t help the way his heart stutters in his chest, or the slight hitch of his breath that he knows you felt–not with the way you’re still trying to burrow in closer, the way you hand out affection like it’s advice. “A week or two?” He repeats, a hint of resignation. “And then what? You'll be sent out on some other mission, no doubt with more reports to fill out.”
“Rest of the team will be back then. Won’t have as many.”
“Correction. You won’t have any,” he declares. This time he’s more careful going through the doorway of your bedroom–magic to open the door and stepping in sideways. You even hear his back scrape against the frame, no longer surprised that he’d take the hit for you. He instantly crosses over to your bed, setting you down with actual surprised gentleness, adjusting the pillows for extra support–usually he just tosses you in the general direction and hopes for the best. “Your turn for a vacation.” His tone is authoritative, leaving no room for argument. It almost makes you want to argue. Or at least you would if his hands didn’t fall to the hem of your shirt.
“Where?” You ask, raising your arms to help him.
“Somewhere… secluded. Far from Director Fury's jurisdiction.” He pulls your shirt off with ease, folding it neatly to place on your desk chair–a neatness that could only come from a prince, and not like most men you’ve dated. He may have tried to take over the wor– sorry, New York. But at least he folds clothes!
“Somewhere without paperwork, boring meetings, and mind-numbing reports. Better yet somewhere there isn’t cell service.” Long, slender fingers tug at your sweatpants–the ones you especially wore today for comfort–tugging them down your legs and leaving you in your underwear.
You unclasp your bra, leaving it on the edge of the bed for Loki to add to the pile of clothes he’s made, before lifting your arms again to signal for one of his sleep shirts. Clearly you’ve both built a routine.
Like the dutiful boyfriend he is, he slips the oversized shirt over your head, watching with a hint of fondness as it swallows you–if you notice a trace of hunger in there too then that’s not on him. He waits until you’ve slid under the covers, until he’s finished up with your clothes pile and he’s taken a moment to prepare himself–to ask for something.
“Asgard,” is all he says.
You pause in your attempts to burrow under the covers like a hedgehog during hibernation. “What about it?”
He stands over you for a moment, taking in the sight of his girlfriend cozy under the duvet, eyes blinking heavily from tiredness–where she belongs. The bed. Not the tiredness. His hand reaches out, almost of its own volition, to brush a knuckle against your cheek. He plops down on the edge of the bed. “We’ll go to Asgard. Maybe you can meet…”
“If I meet your mother, that’s not a vacation. That’s a very stressful environment.”
Loki snorts, poking your nose. “I’ll have you know, Mother is a delight.”
“Still your mother–still the QUEEN of a wholeass realm. The person who loves you most in the world. Second most. No, most. I can’t compete with her. Couldn’t be more intimidating if she tried.”
He laughs, a low rumble against the silence of the night. “You’re right. She will interrogate you thoroughly.” But Frigga was good, in all the ways Loki wasn’t. Kind in the ways he’s often dismissed as weakness. He doesn’t say it, or even show it, but she’s the strongest woman he knows–or now, one of the strongest women he knows. The thought of her meeting the mortal he’s claimed for himself… well, it’s a good thought to close his eyes to.
“Plus you don’t have plumbing.” You add, hand pulling his away from your face to intertwine them together. “Peeing in a pot is beneath me.”
His jaw drops at your blunt declaration–a laugh of disbelief and surprise mixing together to make your favourite sound. “Pissing in a pot is beneath you,” he repeats. “What about that time in Bolivia when you had to—“
You sit up. Fast. Pointing a finger at Loki. “We agreed to never bring that up!”
His grin widens, clearly the memory of his girlfriend in a MORTIFYING situation like Bolivia–is funny as shit to him despite the shame it inflicts upon you. He HAD promised not to bring it up again. Swore under duress… But he was never one for keeping promises, and you should really know that by now. “Oh, but it was so memorable. You’re so adamant about not lowering yourself to 'such primitive means' yet there you were—”
You hit his shoulder. “Now I’m wide awake you asshole! Gonna give me nightmares.”
“Hey!” Loki rubs at the target of your attack–already planning different ways he can make it as dramatic as possible. But the sight of you looking up at him with wide eyes, trying to stifle a yawn despite your previous proclamation… Well… he wasn’t a monster. Not anymore. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Close your eyes, my love, you’ll need the energy to shout at me tomorrow when I tell you I’ve already made arrangements with Heimdall.”
You huff, eyes narrowed. He’s already– Tomorrow. You’ll deal with him tomorrow. So instead you turn on your side, burying yourself deep in the covers. If you see the look of unabashed affection on Loki’s face, you don’t say anything.
The urge to climb in himself, to hold you, now that he’s finally got a fraction of your time is overwhelming. He inhales, steeling himself and capturing the mental image of you tucked in and eyes fluttering shut, before he then lifts himself off the bed.
“Sleep well,” he murmurs, the words coming out tender with such ease.
“Where are you going?”
He halts in his tracks, pausing to look at you over his shoulder. With a sigh, he turns back, making his way to the door with his hands plastered on his hips. “I'm going to do something incredibly dull and entirely beneath me.”
And because he doesn’t have the heart, or perhaps because he has too much pride, he doesn’t tell you that he’s about to spend that next few hours in that conference room, filling out those mission reports using your memories. Perhaps it’s because he isn’t doing it for the recognition–but because it would make your life easier. It seems… he has learnt to love.
Newest Loki fic in the series
Taglist for Loki's Guide to Falling in Love with a Mortal:
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Minors DNI, explicit sexual content, lotus position sex, overstimulation (f & m), creampie, sweat, slick, body fluids, deep kissing, filthy talk, possessiveness, mutual desperation, slightly unhinged levels of need NO BETA!!!!! Hell no second read over LOL
Word Count: 736 words
A/N: Want to start putting on more drabbles for everyone, but Loki is at the top of that list. Is that something people might want?
You didn’t know who started moving again. Maybe you never stopped.
Loki’s cock was still inside you, still hard, buried to the hilt, and you were still in his lap legs tangled around his waist, arms clinging to his shoulders, your body shaking as you ground down helplessly onto him.
It was instinct now. Muscle memory. Addiction.
Neither of you could stop.
Not when it felt like this.
He was soaked with sweat, the long strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, to your cheek, to your neck where he kept pressing open-mouthed kisses between gasps. His back was damp beneath your nails, his skin slick and burning. You were just as wrecked, hair plastered to your fingers as your hand stayed in his hair, thighs trembling with aftershocks, your body flushed and twitching from too many orgasms.
Still, he moved.
Not fast, but deep. Slow, dragging thrusts that made you sob quietly into his skin, your hips bucking despite how sensitive you were. The wet squelch of your cunt echoed in the space between you, filthy and relentless, his come dripping out of you and smearing between your thighs and his lap, making each movement even messier.
“Gods,” Loki rasped, forehead pressed to yours, his voice unsteady, nearly delirious. “You’re still so tight. You’re clenching me, sweet girl-do you feel that?”
You did. You felt everything.
Every slow, grinding roll of his cock inside you. Every twitch. Every drag along your swollen walls, the stretch of him still making your whole body tremble. You were oversensitive, overstimulated, overwhelmed, and still it wasn’t enough.
He kissed you again, sloppy, open-mouthed, tongues tangling, moaning into each other like the only thing keeping you alive was the taste of the other. You tasted like sweat and salt and Loki’s spend, and you could feel your own slick smeared across your inner thighs, coating both of your skin.
“I can’t stop,” he whispered against your lips, broken and reverent. “Gods, I should, I should stop but ugh I can’t. Not when your cunt keeps pulling me back in like this. Not when it feels like I’m going to live inside you.”
His hands were everywhere. One gripped your ass, kneading it to tilt your hips into a sharper grind. The other slid between your bodies, fingers finding your soaked clit-swollen, aching-and rubbed slow, tight circles that made your thighs jerk around his waist.
You cried out, voice cracked and desperate, and he growled into your mouth.
“Come again,” he ordered, voice low and harsh. “I know you can. I know you’re right there, trembling for it. Don’t fucking hold back-I want it, I want to feel it.”
Your eyes rolled back as your body locked, muscles seizing around him, and your orgasm hit like heat lightning, sharp, bright, violent. You sobbed, legs tightening around him, nails dragging down his back as your pussy fluttered and spasmed around his cock, milking him again, again….
“Fuck, fuck, yes,” Loki gasped, eyes wide, pupils blown. “You feel so good when you cum I can’t-gods-”
He snapped his hips up once, then again, and then he was spilling into you with a stuttering groan, voice pitched low and needy as he held you close and poured every last drop inside your pulsing cunt. His cock twitched, throbbing deep, and you both shivered with the raw intensity of it.
And yet, again he didn’t pull out.
Neither of you even thought about it.
You were still clinging to him, your face buried in his neck, lips brushing sweat-slick skin, your whole body still spasming with aftershocks. His hands cradled your waist, your back, holding you together, thumbs stroking your skin like he needed the connection to stay sane.
“Such a messy girl,” he whispered, voice distant, dazed. “Still leaking around me. Look at us…”
You couldn’t.
All you could do was pant into his neck and hold him tighter as his hips started rocking again. Shallow. Gentle. Just enough to keep it going. Just enough to make your clit twitch and your thighs jerk.
“Loki-” you whimpered, half-plea, half-warning.
“I know,” he murmured. “I know it’s too much. I don’t care. I want to feel you until there’s nothing left of us but sweat and cum and this.”
Another kiss. Another slow thrust. Another wave building.
AN: 🩵💗💛 - imagine loki's looks are like 'the dark world' era!! eeeeeek i loved writing this so so much!! enjoy!!
“I still don’t understand how you convinced Odin to release you.” You called over your shoulder. “Your attack on Earth was but a month ago.”
“I assume my mother had something to do with it. Odin himself seemed rather set on allowing me to rot.”
“I’m sure he loves you…” You muttered under your breath so his ravens would not catch you. “In his own demented way.”
Loki laughed, really laughed for the first time since his return. “He has allowed me to be released under the condition that I could not leave the castle grounds.”
“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the woods around you. “And just what would you call this?”
“The Royal Wood, which is an extension of the grounds,” Loki smirked. “I would never break my vow to my father.”
You scoffed, your hands resting on your hips. “Do not lie to me, Loki Odinson. If you recall, we have a vow of our own.”
“How could I forget?” You were children when you made him swear to never trick you. He had held strong, for the most part. “You are possibly the only person I would never lie to. Well…” He leaned against a tree, leaning his head back to take in the summer sun. “You and my mother.”
“If you say so.” You hated when he did this, when he made you feel special. It was horrible, the worst trick of all, mainly because he had no idea what he was doing to you. “I have to bring your mother these ingredients.”
“Allow me to accompany you.”
Your cheeks felt hot, and you shook your head, flustered yet again by his chivalrous behavior. “That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.” He took the basket out of your arms, beckoning you to follow after him. “My mother would have my head if she saw a lady carrying such a load, let alone her favorite lady.”
“Loki.” You scolded, reaching out to take the basket back. “I am not a lady.”
“This again.” He sighed. “You are quite stubborn.”
“You’re one to talk.” You laughed, cowering under the judgmental looks of the nobility you passed.
“Must you deny me this one kind act?”
“It is not proper-”
“You must be the only servant who complains when someone helps you.”
“I take pride in my work, Loki.”
“An admirable quality.” The guards in front of his mother’s suite bowed their heads, opening the doors. “Still, you are stubborn.”
“Loki-” You scowled, curtsying before the queen. “Your Majesty, the ingredients you requested.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
Frigga was the very picture of elegance. Not only was she elegant, but she was also kind to everyone regardless of rank. You had no issue carrying out trivial tasks for the queen, because the queen never treated you as lesser than; she treated you as she would treat her own sons. “Did you have any trouble?”
“Not at all, my lady.”
“Mother.” Loki approached the golden-haired woman, kissing her cheek. “Tell your lady she must not bow when she greets you.”
“Loki!” You gasped, turning to Frigga like you had been the one to say it. “My lady, I would never-”
“Must you tease the girl so?” Frigga chastised her son.
“I am so sorry, my lady.”
“Do not apologize, my son is a prankster, as we all know.” She smiled warmly, tucking a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. “Among many other admirable qualities.”
Loki grew shy under his mother’s affection, brushing off her compliments. “We must be going.”
“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow.
“You wished to visit the library, yes?”
“I never-” You tilted your head. “Have you developed mind-reading powers as well?”
He shrugged, kissing his mother’s cheek once more before extending his hand. “Shall we?”
You smacked his hand away, walking out of the queen’s room with Loki trailing behind you. “If you can read minds now, please refrain from reading mine.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm. “I mean it, Loki.”
“I cannot read minds. Remember that we have been friends for quite some time now. I know you perhaps better than I know myself.”
“Well, no wonder. You are such a mystery.” You teased. “The rakish, brooding prince. I am surprised some lady has not taken you into her clutches.”
“You think me rakish?” He raised an eyebrow, holding the library door open.
“One observes things.” You shrugged, gliding over to the fiction section, grabbing the first book that caught your eye. “It is not a bad trait, I assure you.”
“If you say so.” He looked rather disappointed, plopping into his favorite leather chair.
“You are also kind, considerate, even. Loyal to a fault.” Your hand found his, squeezing it. “You are many things, but most of all, you are a wonderful friend.”
“Friend.” He huffed, face scrunched like the word left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Are we not friends?” You sat back, hand pulling away from his. Oh, how you wished you could stay like that forever, his forever-cold hand intertwined with yours.
“Yes, we are.” He almost sounded disappointed. You decided not to dwell on it, immersing yourself in the novel. Loki simply stared, admiring your beauty, the way your eyes scanned the page, the way you smiled to yourself, the way your eyebrows furrowed.
“You wear your heart on your sleeve.” He murmured.
Your eyes did not leave the page. “Oh?”
“It is quite-” He stopped himself. “It is quite humorous.”
“If it is so amusing, then by all means, keep staring.” You teased. You were used to this, the staring, the intense gaze Loki held. He loved to watch people, to observe those around him. At first, you had found it quite overwhelming, especially when you looked up to find him already staring at you. His eyes were beautiful, dangerous as they pulled you in. You shook your head, fighting against your imagination.
“My prince.” You looked up, fighting the urge to groan as the nuisance that was the Lady Ness approached. “I thought I would find you here.”
Loki looked entirely unenthused, but still entertained the woman. “Hello, my lady.”
The Lady Ness was the eldest daughter of one of Odin’s closest advisors. She was what Asgardians considered to be the perfect beauty, with blonde hair bordering on white, and beautiful pale blue eyes. She was tall, the very picture of royalty.
Which is what she desperately wanted to be. She had followed the two princes around since you were children, treating them as if they were idols, gods even.
They were, but still. It became tiresome.
She had her sights set on Thor for eons, but after she learned of his undying love for the Lady Jane, she gave up, switching her sights to Loki.
There was nothing the younger prince hated more than being the second choice.
There was nothing you hated more than the Lady Ness suddenly finding interest in a man you’d loved since age five. You did not attempt to acknowledge the woman, simply looking back down at your book. It was hard to focus, though, with her constant chattering.
“Will I see you at the Summer Solstice Ball, my prince?”
Loki’s gaze fell back to you before responding. “You will indeed.”
“How wonderful. I do love dancing.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Do you enjoy dancing, my prince?”
“With the right lady.” He nodded. “I do.”
“Shall I reserve a place for you on my card?” Your hold on the book tightened. “It would be an immense honor.” A scoff fell from your lips, and your eyes widened. You had meant for that to be in your head.
Loki smiled. “I’m afraid I-”
“Is something the matter?” The Lady Ness interrupted, staring at you. “Have I done something to amuse you?”
You looked up, shaking your head. “No, my lady.”
“Now you remember your manners.” The Lady Ness raised an eyebrow. You simply stared back, your face blank. “When I entered the room, you did not curtsy. Are you manners selective?”
You shut your book, standing up. “You seem rather concerned with my manners. How observant you must be.” The lady proudly nodded. “Allow me to explain, I bow to royalty.” You gestured to Loki before gesturing to her. “Not some common lady with an aptitude for mistreating servants.”
“Why I-” She gasped, stumbling over her words. You made a point to be over the top in your curtsy to the prince, before promptly walking out of the room.
You angrily picked bunches of moss from the forest floor, ripping it from the ground as if it had wronged you.
The Lady Ness annoyed you to no end, with her flirting and her flowy gowns and her touching Loki's arm. It was as if she did it on purpose, as if she amplified her flirting when you were there, like she was trying to tell you he was hers, that you could never have him.
You already knew that, no thanks to her. It was something that kept you up into the late hours of the night, the ‘what-ifs’ haunting you even in sleep.
If you were of some higher standing, you would have smacked her long ago. Unfortunately, you could only verbally attack her.
“Are you quite well?” Loki’s voice broke you from your thoughts. “You did not stop when I called after you yesterday.”
“I cannot stand her.” You complained. “She-she is without a doubt-”
He looked rather amused at your ranting, hands clasped behind his back, his ever-familiar smirk gracing his lips. “I am sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry?” You laughed bitterly. “I’m sure she will mellow with age.”
“Mellow with age?” He raised an eyebrow.
You nodded, going back to your gathering. “Odin must be rather pleased with this match.”
“Match?” It seemed as if Loki was stuck on repeat, parroting you with confusion etched in his tone.
“Between you and Lady Ness.” You grumbled, brushing the dirt off your skirt as you stood. “I’m certain he has arranged for her to be your lady wife.”
“I’m sorry?”
You walked further into the wood, Loki following after you. “She will be a great wife, I’m sure. She seems intelligent enough and could bring you company. Your children-” Your voice broke, and you felt your cheeks grow hot. “They will be menaces, but what child isn’t? I’m sure they will grow out of it, as she will grow out of her rather annoying attributes.” You pulled out your knife, cutting off a section of tree bark, your mind clouded with rage. “She will bring you happiness. I’m excited for you, truly-” You hissed, the knife falling out of your hand as you stared at the stream of blood that ran down your palm. “Ow.”
Loki raced over, taking your hand in his as he observed the wound. “You were being careless.”
“I was not.” Your eyes welled, the pain finally taking hold. “It is just a cut.”
“You are practically crying.” He frowned. “You must be careful.”
“I-” He waved his hand over your injury, the pain subsiding, the cut healing itself. You watched in fascination, the wound glowing green for a mere moment before dissapearing entirely. “How did you-”
“Growing up with Thor meant I had to be prepared for anything.” He smiled, his fingers gently tracing over the once bloody finger. “Does it hurt?”
You shook your head, voice quiet. “It’s like it never even existed.”
“Good.” He looked up, his breath shaky when he met your gaze. “You frightened me.”
“You worry too much.” You hadn’t meant to, truly, but your eyes fell to his lips, heart racing. “I’m sorry.”
His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you close. You gasped, glaring as a smirk grew on the prince’s lips. “Whatever for, my lady?”
“I didn’t mean to-” You swallowed. “I did not mean to insult the Lady-”
“Please, do not speak her name any longer.” He groaned. “She is as tiresome as she is wealthy.”
“She is to be your lady wife, is she not?” You murmured, his hand that had once cradled your injured hand now holding your cheek. “She is quite the match.”
He laughed. “I’m sure she will make some unlucky man rather miserable.”
“Loki-”
“If I have any say-” He whispered, his eyes dropping to your lips momentarily. “I will marry for love, not because my father made some strategic alliance. She is not for me, I assure you.”
“You-” Loki now had your back against the tree, practically pinning you in position. His forehead lay against yours, your breath entwined with his. “You have some other lucky lady in mind?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“Oh?” The reality of the situation hit you like Mjolnir hit its enemies. Hard and true, you accepted that you might just kiss the man you’d loved since before you could remember. “Do I know her?”
He nodded once more, his lips so close they brushed against yours as he spoke. “I believe so-”
“Brother!” Your eyes widened, and you pushed Loki away, cheeks hot as you forced yourself to look as inconspicuous as possible. Thor’s voice rang through the wood. “Brother, where are you?”
“I-” Loki stuttered, hand reaching out to hold you once more. “Just wait one moment-”
“Ah!” Thor’s golden hair came into view, the god haphazardly destroying the forest floor. “My lady, it is wonderful to see you!”
You curtsied, your heart and mind still racing from the moment before. “My prince. I was just leaving.” You couldn’t meet Loki’s eyes, simply nodding. “Loki.”
You raced toward the castle, forgetting your basket full of ingredients.
Loki would bring them to his mother later.
“Have I interrupted something?” Thor’s voice held a certain sort of mischeif that made Loki feel uneasy. “It seems as if I caught the pair of you in a rather intimate moment.”
“I-” Loki could not find the words, something that pleased Thor greatly.
“The great trickster is speechless?” He grinned, patting his little brother on the back. “Oh, Loki, why did you not say something?”
“Like you said. You interrupted.” He was practically glowering, glaring at his brother like it was his life’s purpose. “I-I had almost-”
“Do you want my advice, brother?” Loki continued to glare at him, fighting the urge to stab the golden-haired imbecile in the gut. “You must do something. Be brave, show her you care.”
“I was doing that!” Loki yelled. “You have the worst timing in the world-”
“Calm down, brother.” Thor laughed. “When I first met the Lady Jane-” Oh gods, Loki thought as he rolled his eyes. Once Thor began to talk about Jane, he tended to never stop. “She was rather intimidating, smart, and beautiful. But after I showed her my interest, my-”
Loki walked away, fists clenched tightly as Thor continued, following after him.
You hadn’t seen Loki in days.
You had gone to Frigga’s chambers after the incident, to apologize for leaving the ingredients behind, when you saw Loki just outside her door, the basket in hand.
After that, you’d gone out of your way to avoid him.
It was childish, you knew that, but you couldn’t look at him without transforming into a blabbering mess. You purposely did your chores outside of the castle grounds so he could not follow you or surprise you.
Your room was deep in the ground, chilly from its lack of sunlight and candles. You hadn’t minded before, but now that you were in your self-prescribed isolation, you couldn’t help but wish you had a prettier view.
Just when you thought you’d forgotten, that you’d gotten over your momentary lapse in judgment, it all came rushing back. His hand cradling your cheeks, his lips brushing against yours, his fingertips digging into your hip. A chill ran down your spine, and you shook your head as if that would rid you of the scandalous thoughts.
He was simply being kind, caring for you as you had cared for him.
A handmaiden walked into your room unannounced, gently placing a large box on your simple vanity. You jumped when you saw her. “I did not see you.”
The handmaiden, one of Frigga’s, no doubt, smiled kindly. “I gathered. I was tasked with ensuring you received this package, and was told you must wear it to the Summer Solstice Ball.”
“Wear it?” You tilted your head, rising from your bed to inspect the gift. “Is it a gown?”
“It is indeed, my lady.”
So this had been Loki’s doing.
“You must not call me that.” You smiled. “I am no lady.”
The handmaiden shrugged, glancing over your shoulder curiously as you pulled apart the forest green ribbon that held together the wrappings. “It seems to me that you shall be soon.”
“What-” You choked, shaking your head vehemently. “I- that is-”
“I will take my leave.” She bowed quickly, shutting the door behind her. You cursed the god of Mischief, vowing that when you were done ignoring him, you would scold him for his antics. The wrappings fell away, your eyes welling as you stared at the gown.
After all these years, all this time, he never forgot a single thing you told him, and this gown was proof. It was exactly what you’d described to him two thousand years ago.
You’d been young then, much more naive than now. You and Loki were lounging in the gardens, watching the nobility walk by in their dreamy attire. You sighed, staring down at your robes in embarrassment. “Could you conjure me something?”
“I can try.” Loki nodded, placing his book down beside him. “What is it you wish for?”
“A nicer dress.” You were jealous of their beauty, your simple frock nothing compared to their silky pastel gowns.
“I-” He frowned. “I am sorry. My powers are not-”
You shook your head. “Forget I said anything.”
He nodded, watching you with interest. “What would it look like, your dream gown?”
It would look like this. The gown that he’d sent you, which now hung delicately in your closet, two thousand years later.
You could hear the roar of the partygoers from the end of the hall, your nerves growing more and more the closer you got. You thanked the gods that this was not the kind of ball where attendees were announced, as you would surely faint from the judgmental eyes that fell on you.
The ballroom glowed bright golden, the light the candles provided reflecting off the pure gold walls. Your jaw hung loose, taking in the decorations, the people, the fashion. Your eyes fell to the bottom of the stairs, cheeks growing hot when you met Loki’s gaze.
He was standing by the Lady Ness, who looked livid that you had torn his attention from her.
You couldn’t find it in you to care, not when he was looking at you like that. His smile was bright, and he looked devilishly handsome in his forest green attire, walking up the steps.
You took a deep breath, meeting him in the middle. “My prince.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” He spoke plainly, as if it were fact. Technically, it was.
“I-”
“Do not try and deny it.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
You gladly complied with his request, cheeks growing hot, from the attention or Loki’s gaze, you couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was both. “You remembered.” You looked over, finding satisfaction in the way your words had caused Loki to turn red. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
He shrugged like what he’d done wasn’t the most romantic thing you’d ever experienced. “Only the best for-”
“My prince.” You clenched your fist when Lady Ness’s grating voice met your ears, turning toward the enemy. “I lost you for a moment.”
Loki laughed. “Yes, you did.” His hand tightened, pulling you closer to his side as if to signal he was occupied. You had felt it was rather obvious, but Lady Ness had a history of feigning ignorance to blatantly obvious rejections.
“Shall we dance?” Lady Ness’s steely blue eyes darted toward you, as if she were trying to scare you off. You were not deterred by her weak attempt at intimidation, your hand still comfortably held in Loki’s. “You did promise me.”
He tilted his head. “Did I?”
You laughed, your hand falling to your side. “It is but one dance.” The Lady Ness let out a gasp that neither of you acknowledged. “I’m quite parched anyhow.”
He nodded. “As you wish.”
The Lady Ness looked entirely displeased at his actions, especially over the phrase ‘as you wish,’ which had been directed toward you, and not her request. You made your way to the drinks, taking a flute of champagne as you found your place in the corner of the room. Leaning against the column, you glared as Lady Ness cackled, downing the flute in one go.
Loki had not planned for this to happen.
He had planned for you to receive the dress, to escort you down the steps. He had also planned to confess his undying love for you, but Lady Ness once again interrupted.
She had the most inconvenient timing.
He led her to the middle of the dance floor, putting as much distance as possible. The Lady Ness kept laughing, which he found odd, as he had not said a single thing since the dance had begun. He kept looking around the edge of the room, searching for your familiar frame.
Ah.
You looked radiant. Positively glowing. He’d always loved you in that color. If he was being honest with himself, he loved you in every color. He frowned, watching as you chewed your nails, something you had the habit of doing when you were anxious.
“My prince?” The Lady Ness called out as he walked away from her in the middle of the dance floor, stalking toward you, the crowd parting as he walked.
“Dance with me.”
You jumped, clutching your heart. “Gods, Loki, you scared me.” You guiltily looked at your fingers before meeting his gaze. “I-”
He waved his hand, all the rips you’d made in your delicate skin gone in an instant. “Dance with me.”
“Loki.” You looked over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sobbing lady he’d left in the middle of the floor. “Have you gone mad?”
“Possibly.”
“You cannot just leave her in the middle of the floor.” You leaned closer, whispering so the many eavesdropping ears around you could not hear. “Even if she is quite annoying.”
“I am the prince. I can do as I wish.”
You rolled your eyes at his comment. “You-” It seemed he took your lack of rejection as a yes, holding your hand firmly in his as he pulled you to the middle of the dance floor, the light waltz playing in the background. “You are the most indignant, prideful, scheming man I have ever known.”
He smiled, a squeak leaving your lips when he pulled you much closer than a waltz called for. “Tell me what else I am.”
“You-” You gulped, growing nervous under his ever attentive eye. “You are-”
“It seems you are at a loss for words.” He whispered in your ear, a chill running down your spine from the proximity of it all. “Is that a recent development, my lady?”
“You are arrogant.” You hissed.
He grinned. “I am.”
“You are marvelous.”
“I am.” His reaction was delayed, caught off guard by your sudden compliment.
“It seems you are at a loss for words.” You parroted his words from just a moment ago. “Is that a recent development, my prince?”
“You are a wonder.” He held your gaze so beautifully that any innocent bystander would assume you were both deeply in love. “You look divine, a goddess in your own right.”
“Loki.” You felt as if you could melt, the music slowing to a stop before you could respond. The crowd around you clapped wildly, obviously invested in the show you two had put on.
Loki bowed, his brother catching his gaze. Thor was practically jumping, mouthing the words he had said days before.
Be brave.
It was so unfortunate when his brother was right. You stood upright, following Loki’s gaze to see Thor grinning like a buffoon. “What is he-”
Loki’s hands grabbed your face, pulling your lips to his. Your eyes widened at the action, weak from his touch. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer. He grinned, a hand falling to your hips, squeezing.
You gasped, your knees weakening. “Loki-”
“Is all that you can say my name?” He whispered, his forehead once again lying against yours.
“You are a-” He leaned down, kissing your lips once more.
“I love you…” His breath was heavy, pupils blown as he stared at you. “Most ardently.”
A tear fell down your cheek, and you grinned. “Most ardently?”
He nodded, voice wavering. “I assume you love me as well?”
“I do.” You kissed the corner of his mouth softly, so softly he had barely felt it. “With my whole being."
Loki is the first person you look for when you finally step off the Quinjet. You’re aching and so exhausted that your limbs feel leaden, but both things become so utterly insignificant compared to reuniting with the love of your life.
It doesn’t take you long to find him - leaning back against the frosted glass doors that lead to the Landing Bay, he emits an air of complete indifference to the scene around him, but, unfortunately for him, you can read him better than your favourite book. It takes less than a minute to register the tense set of his jaw and the faint dark circles marring his pale skin, along with the way his arms are wrapped protectively around his torso.
He’s barely holding it together.
All around you, the landing pad is a happy buzz of relieved conversation as the team reunites - something each one of you feared might never happen when the Quinjet suddenly went off the radar for four days - but it isn’t time to add your own voice to the stories. Not yet.
Right now, all that matters is comforting the man who looks like his world has fallen apart.
It’s a feeling you’re all too familiar with. The mission had been five long weeks deep in Malaysia - five weeks of yearning for Loki in a way you didn’t know was possible. You ached for the feel of his body wrapped around yours as you slept, ached for his soothing embrace when you came down with some strange bug on the third day, ached for his gentle kiss when the fear of failure overwhelmed you. You had counted down the days until the mission was over, craving Loki in the way a drowning man craves air.
Then the Quinjet had gone rogue on the return to New York, and your blood had turned to ice when faced with the very real possibility that you might never see Loki again.
Blinking back tears you toss your bag carelessly to the ground, caring little as to whether you see the contents again, and weave your way easily across the landing pad to where Loki is still standing. His eyes never leave you and he gives little away, but when you finally reach him it’s impossible to miss the slight quiver of his lower lip.
“Hey,” you say as casually as you can. “What was it you said before I left? Something about making sure the mission wasn’t boring without you?”
It’s a weak tease, bad enough that you even cringe a little, but it’s the best your exhausted brain can come up with. After four long days of fearing the very worst, you’re barely able to comprehend that the love of your life really is standing right in front of you - it’s not the cruel taunt of a tortured mind nor a delusional hallucination. Loki is right there gazing at you like you hung the moon, like you’re the answer to every prayer his lips have ever uttered. You can feel your heart start to thunder wildly in your chest, almost as though it recognises that it’s finally being reunited with its other half, and every last inch of you aches to gather him into your arms.
But, before you can even move, Loki is already gathering you into his. “Beloved girl,” he murmurs, burying his face into your hair while curling a large hand around the back of your head.
The scent of him wraps around you like a blanket - amber and ginger and the clean smell of his soap - and your body sags gratefully into his familiar touch. You’re home. You’re finally home. “I’m ok. I’m ok, love,” you say, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and running a soothing hand along the length of his back, just as eager to comfort him.
Loki’s answer is to hold you tighter, breaking your heart as he does. He’s lost so much already, more than most people would deem fair, and for four terrible days, he thought he had lost you too. You continue to stroke his back, both a reassurance and a comfort, giving him all the time he needs. His heart beats steadily against yours, coaxing you further into his embrace, and he responds with a firm press of his lips to your hair.
“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” His deep voice rumbles in your ear. He means it as a tease, you know that - an attempt to mask the turmoil of the past few days, but the slight tremor in his voice betrays his fear.
You pull back just enough to see his face and those beautiful green eyes that are shining with tears. “I told Tony to take a left,” you reply, giving him a tiny smile. The quirk of his lips tells you the panic is receding, but slowly. “I’m never going to leave you, Loki, not by choice. I promise,” you assure him, taking his face in your hands.
He leans into your touch, eyes briefly fluttering closed when you stroke his cheeks. “Darling girl,” he says quietly, pulling you back against his chest. “I swear to you now, should I ever lose you again, I will look for you until the stars fall out of the sky. There is no crevice of the universe I will leave unturned until I find you again.”
He presses his lips firmly to the crown of your head - all warm and soft and sweet - and you say a silent prayer of thanks to whatever powers brought you back.
— Being in a relationship with Loki would include…
— masterlist.
Loki conjuring little illusions to entertain or annoy you; he'll definitely turn your phone into a frog if you don't give him enough attention.
Him occasionally talking in asgardian mid-dreams.
Romantic gestures that come off as theatrical… until you realize he means every single one.
Teaching him how to use a microwave, and him never trusting it.
Loki being insanely protective, but learning to respect your independence (eventually).
The first time you got sick around him, he completely panicked, cause human fragility is horrifying to him.
Him trying to keep his darker tendencies hidden from you, but you seeing them anyway, and gently helping him carry the weight.
Loki casually shapeshifting into you just to mock you. “Look at me. I’m you. I drink lukewarm coffee and forget where I put my keys.”
Mid-fight bickering that ends with intense make-outs and forgetting what you were even arguing about.
Him calling you “my love” or “darling” in ten languages you don’t know, and theb refusing to translate.
Long, lazy mornings where he refuses to let you leave bed; “The world can wait. I can’t.”
Bite marks. Everywhere. But elegant ones; deliberate, perfectly placed, like he’s signing his name on your skin.
You asking if he used magic during that moment, and him giving you that grin: “Darling, I don’t need magic for that.”
That sharp glint in his eyes when someone else makes you laugh; too sharp to be human, too quiet to be innocent.
“Who was that?” he’ll ask softly, almost too casually, but his fingers tighten on your waist.
The temperature in the room subtly dropping when he’s irritated, rising again when you stroke his arm and say his name like a balm.
Loki magically closing every cupboard you leave open… and then opening them all at once just to scare you for fun.
Him being deeply offended by Midgardian alarm clocks. One morning, he hexed it into a chicken. You had to buy a new one.
Lazy sundays curled up on the couch, Loki draped across you like a spoiled cat, purring contentedly while watching crime documentaries he doesn’t understand.
And that moment late at night, curled together under a blanket, when he murmurs, “I could have everything in all the realms… but this - you - is the only thing I truly need.”
