Square 7 filled for @puretombingo: “Dance with me.”
Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader
Warnings: fluff, banter, idiots in love
Trope: Enemies to lovers
Words: 980+
Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023
“I got it, Tony. This party will be the most spectacular and awesome party mankind had ever the pleasure to witness,” you roll your eyes at Tony’s antics. He wants you to help him check the guest list and won't stop talking about the event. “How about you invite some male stripper for the ladies too. I bet they’ll give us a good show.”
“We want this evening to be spectacular, not vulgar,” Tony scrunches up his nose. “We will have music, the best food, the finest wine and alcohol.”
“Fine, have it your way. Now, how can I help you, Tony?” You look around the room. There is not much left to do. The party planner did a great job. “Tony?”
“You’ve got a special task this time,” he wraps one arm around your shoulders, walking around the room. “Loki is now part of our team.”
You purse your lips. Loki is still the guy attacking New York City. “The answer is no.”
“You don’t even know what I want from you.”
“If it includes being around Loki Laufeyson, the guy influencing me with his tricks to get me to strip in front of my friends, I’m out,” you grunt. Loki managed to use his mind games to make you do unspeakable things. Like eating pineapple on pizza.
“He offered redemption and promised to never use his powers to influence you again,” Tony tries to persuade you to help him with his problem, but you’re not convinced. “A lot of important people, and the press will be around. We need to show them that Loki changed.”
“How? Shall he sing a chanson?” You snort. “I don’t think he will ever not be an asshole and a Trickster. We don’t need him to cause trouble with one of his dramatic entrances again. Do you remember the last time he made an appearance in public?”
“Y/N, please do this for me. Loki refuses to attend the party. We need him to smile, and act like a gentleman.”
“You want me to convince Loki to attend the party? That’s the important task?” You huff. “You can’t be serious.”
“Please, Y/N. For me. You’re the only person besides his brother Loki talks to.”
“Yeah, to harass me. He’s always sassy and gets on my nerves,” you snap at Tony. “If you want me to do this dirty job, you will buy me the most expensive dress, shoes, and accessories for the party.”
“Deal,” Tony drops his arm from your shoulders to shake your hand.
“If there’s a catch, I’ll cut your balls off in your sleep,” you point a finger at Tony. “No tricks, Stark, or you’ll regret doing business with me.”
“Move your ass out of your room and follow me. We are going to buy a suit for you, and you’ll behave like a good boy today,” you yell outside Loki’s apartment. “Get out, or I swear I’ll not be nice any longer.”
“Darling, you look dashing,” Loki pokes his head out of the door, smirking. “I’m afraid I got no time for you. Check in later. How about you come back in a few weeks?”
“I said, get out of the room, raven-haired rat,” you purse your lips, close to breaking the door down to get Loki out of his room. “I don’t have all day. It’s only three more days until the party. We need you to make an appearance. Just say yes and let me buy the suit for you. You can come to the party, and dance. Maybe have a drink or two.”
“No.”
“Loki, this is not a request, it’s an order. Move your ass out of the room,” you grasp for his hair, harshly tugging at it. “Come on. Don’t make such a fuss.”
“I don’t want to dance,” Loki wrinkles his nose.
“Because you can’t dance?” You grin. “Did Loki Laufeyson finally admit his defeat? Is there something he cannot accomplish?”
He opens the door to step outside, a dagger in his hand. “I’m warning you. Never underestimate Loki Laufeyson, God of mischief. I’m the Master of Dance, I just don’t like dancing.”
“Well then, let’s buy a suit and you can stand in a corner and watch other people having fun…”
“I hope you know I had to cancel my date for you,” you grunt as Loki walks next to you. He insisted on not going alone. Which means you are his plus one for the time being.
While you try to find a way to get rid of Loki and keep your promise to Tony at the same time, the Avengers watch you and the raven-haired trickster with interest.
“She made it,” Tony can’t believe Loki is following you inside the ballroom. “It was worth the money.”
Thor frowns when his brother grabs your hand to guide you away from the Avengers and toward the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” You wonder as Loki guides you to the middle of the dance floor. “Loki? What are you up to?”
“I remember vividly that you suggested a dance,” he says. “So…dance with me?” He bows and offers his hand to you. “Please give me this dance.”
“I-“ you take his offered hand, hoping he doesn’t want to trick you once again. “If this is a joke, I’ll kill you.” You growl, but your cheeks heat up as he smiles at you.
He grins. “I’m counting on it, my love.” You end up in his arms, swaying to the song he requested before coming here with you. “I hope you know; I’m courting you…”
Loki twirls you around, grinning as you squeak and hold tight onto him as he gets even faster. Your feet move on their own, and you cling to him when the room starts spinning.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want the others to watch us.” You rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes. “I manipulated reality a little bit for this dance. You only belong to me tonight…and forever.”
Summary: Sif and Loki have a quiet talk after trying out something new in bed.
Wordcount: 742
Created for: @marvelrarepairbingo — Psychic / @lokibingo — Barebacking / @multifandom-lover’s Multi-fandom Mini Event, card #1020 — Sex Magic / Summer of Cum — Come Inflation
Excerpt:
“Do you like it when I do that?” Loki asks, and her hand travels down Sif’s body to her lower stomach.
This makes her flinch, in a good way, moving her foot under the sheets at the bottom of the bed.
Loki had spoken to her the last time they were together this way about her interest in adding some of her magic regarding shapeshifting to their relationship. They weren’t able to test it back then, but with their reunion becoming more passionate, the couple decided it was time to test the waters by checking what it was like with Loki changing from her regular female shape to another more masculine one, only if just to her physical appearance it was applied.
Title: The Cold Lord of Beltane, Chapter Two
Author: RuckyStarnes
Card: B029
Rating: Teen
Event: @lokibingo
Square: C3 - Free
Characters: Loki Laufeyson, Niamh
Words: 2,046
Warnings:
Summary: Niamh readies herself for her marriage, and sneaks a peek of him before the ceramony.
Type: Fic
The Winter Lord Masterlist
Chapter Two
Niamh was awakened by her handmaiden, Arwen, opening the heavy curtain of her bed, sending bright light across Niamh’s face, making her wince and groan. She hated mornings, but this morning was particularly dreaded. It was the spring equinox and today was Beltane. She was the one chosen amongst the three other girls to be the céile maighdean, an honor that every girl wished to be chosen for, something that Niamh was happy to be part of, but that was until she overheard the elders talking last night after they had treated her like royalty: bountiful meal, lavish clothing and fabrics, milk and honey bath, the brushing of her long, twisted flaxen hair until it was smooth and tame.
“Niamh,” Arwen said gently, her hand landing on her shoulder. Niamh could hear the apprehension in the young girl’s voice as she was the one that had alerted Niamh to the secret meeting of the elders and knew what was lying in store for the Princess. “It is time for your anointing.” Niamh could feel the girl’s fingers tremble before she pulled back the layers of furs and linen that covered her. Her body felt heavy as she sat up, the shift she wore falling down from her waist, where it had gathered during the night, as she stood. It was like the goddesses were in control of her, making her walk to the basin that was in the corner of the room. Arwen helped her undress and provided balance for her to step into the steaming water. “Elder Sorcha and the other will be in shortly.” And without another word the young flaxen girl left Niamh to her own thoughts, which wandered to last night when the young girl stole her away from the lavish bedding to take her through the dank woods to the fire lit circle amongst the stones.
Niamh was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of Elder Sorcha’s voice as she entered the dwelling.
“Niamh, mo pháiste, mo pháiste,” the old woman smiled gently, a stark contrast to what Niamh had seen last night.
“Elder Sorcha,” Niamh said nimbly, refusing to meet the clouded eyes of the elder.
“You look like you have not rested well my child. Tonight you would’ve needed your strength during the consummation, but maybe your husband will have some empathy for your condition. Most girls are too excited to sleep and nearly break on the bed.”
Niamh snapped her head up, her dark hair falling into the water slightly. “I’m sorry, break?” she managed out in a squeak. She could only imagine being broken in half or bruised, passing out from the pain. Arwen’s sister, Bronagh, was married and had visited shortly after Niamh was crowned the céile maighdean to give her tips on how to make the first time not hurt as much.
“It’s just a wording, my child,” Elder Sorcha smiled and made her way towards Niamh as five more elders joined her from the doorway. The only one Niamh recognized was Arwen and Bronagh’s aunt, Eilís. She knew these five women were there to help her into her white garments and to braid her hair before adorning her with the ceremonious flower crown that she would wear. “As the other elders dress you, I want to go over a few things about when you finally meet your lord,” the old woman went on as the other women washed Niamh and worked her hair, tsking at the wet ends of her hair.
“What kind of things, Sorcha?” she asked feebly, afraid of what things that would need to be discussed. Bronagh already explained how bedding went, what men liked their brides to do and a brief explanation of how; Niamh was embarrassed when Bronagh had her demonstrate on a cairéad with instructions of how to please a man with her mouth.
“Your lord will expect you to know what to do,” she replied in a nonchalant way. Niamh noticed that she used ‘lord’ not husband, as if their union will not bear fruit nor would ever blossom into anything but a servitude. Is this why so many of the Lords take on more than one wife? She nodded along with what Sorcha said, tuning her out as much as she could, not wanting nor caring what she had to say. She was hoping that if she displeased the lord, he would send her away, back to the village or possibly to another, setting her up comfortably to start her life again.
The mid-day sun shone hot and bright when Niamh finally was presentable for the ceremony. Arwen was by her side, Niamh’s eyes shifting to her friend as her heart thumped into her chest and her palms grew sticky; she fought every fiber of her being to not turn around and run, mostly because she was afraid of having whatever ailment Damhnait (who was still absent) received from Sorcha put on her.
“Things will be okay.” Arwen’s words were supposed to bring solace to Niamh, but there was the fear in her friend’s eyes that unnerved her, twisting her stomach into something that would resemble the knot of Ciorclán Coillte’s insignia. They were sitting in the céile maighdean tent that was erected while she was readying the ceremony. Arwen would occasionally look out through the crack between the material flaps, trying to spot Niamh’s lord.
“Oh,” the pale haired girl gasped, “I think I see him. He looks different from the other lords we’ve seen. He’s slender and not as tall. Handsome even.”
“Does it matter if he’s handsome? I can’t stop thinking about how the first wives always come back, distraught, on the verge of hysteria. You remember Aoife? She had a white streak in her dark locks, her eyes wide with fear.”
“But, milady, she was only in her sixteenth year. Young ones are different from us, yes? I suppose we possess more understanding?” Arwen was terrible at trying to make a bad situation better, but Niamh couldn’t fault her for it. There was no way out of the arrangement, one that was made twenty years ago. “Come. Take a look at your lord. He is very sharp and classy, unlike the thick brutes that normally are taking wives.” She grabbed Niamh’s hand and pulled her to the slit, pulling the white material back a little before pointing discreetly to the man who was bending down to listen to Sorcha talk in a hushed tone.
Niamh’s eyes widened because Arwen was right. Loki Laufeyson was unlike the other warrior-like lords that came to her village for a bride or two. Where the others were burly, white-haired, and rough, this one was slender and dark-haired with sharp features and piercing green eyes. There was a soft smile that played on his lips as the soft light from the sun through the white cloth covering made him look more like a faery than a giant.
“Girls,” a voice chided behind them and both turned around to see Eilís with her hands on her round hips, lips pursed and brows raised. “Niamh, you aren’t supposed to lay eyes on your betrothed until Sorcha’s say.”
“We were just seeing who was all in the tent, Aunt Eilís,” Arwen replied stone faced. Niamh was always impressed how easy it was for her best friend to lie to anyone, especially an elder. Eilís just sighed and motioned for the two to follow her, pulling back the curtain to the main entrance. She nodded to Arwen to precede, but dropped the cloth when Niamh was ready to follow.
“Eilís?”
“This lord is different from the rest, but if he should hurt you in any way, send word to me,” Eilís whispered to her, eyes flitting around to see if anyone was nearby. “Your mother might have had sight of this happening, but any after occurrences was not given.”
“But none of the girls who come back are wanted again,” Niamh whispered, her eyes looking down at the brown earth. “I don’t want to disappoint the village.”
Eilís cupped her cheek, her thumb moving gently over her cheek. “You won’t disappoint us,” she reassured her. She placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and patted her cheek before turning to go. Arwen reappeared at her side, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.
“I’ll pray to the goddesses that you are looked after, and if you want, I made this for you if he is ever unkind to you.” Her friend pulled out a little dark sachet and placed it in Niamh’s hand.
“A hex bag?” Niamh asked, narrowing her eyes at the bag.
“Only if he’s not kind. You are like a sister to me, Niamh. I don’t want anything horrible to happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine, Arwen,” Niamh said, “you saw him. He doesn’t look like the other men that have visited us.”
“That isn’t a lie,” Arwen sighed and her eyes caught something over Niamh’s shoulder. “Looks like Sorcha’s ready for you.”
Waves of anxiety ran through Niamh’s body as she turned to see the elder smiling gently at them, her hands folded in front of her body. Her stomach rolled, feeling like there was something living in there, threatening to come out. She nodded hesitantly and walked slowly towards her, surprised her limbs were able to keep her upright.
“Your lord is ready for you, m'iníon,” Sorcha smiled, extending one wrinkled hand to her to take. Niamh took it as she took a calming breath. The older woman squeezed her hand and led her to the opening of the tent.
Everyone is there. The elders were sitting at the back of the tent as the families and others sat on the sides. The orange glow of the fire licked along every surface, casting shadows on everyone’s faces. Niamh’s eyes searched the faces she had known her whole life, eyes resting on Arwen and her aunt. Her friend gave her a gentle smile, fingers coming up to give a tiny wave before she nodded slightly to her left. Niamh followed her friend’s gesture, eyes resting on the dark-haired, lithe man with dark leather and cloth draping his body. His features seemed sharper now than they were when she and Arwen peeked through the crack earlier. He was sitting in the chair used for all the men that came to claim their wives during Beltane, the large rowen chair seemed to be even larger as this man, her betrothed, was smaller than the others. The other men seemed inhumanly tall and wider than any yew trees that she had ever seen. Where he had raven-like hair and a smooth face, the others had white hair and beards, so white that it made their rough skin look almost blue. This lord seemed to be the exact opposite of what the North King sent to her clan.
Niamh felt Sorcha pull her; she didn’t realize she was rooted at the entrance, staring at the man that she was supposed to vow her life to. She followed the elder towards the front, everyone bowing their heads as she passed. With each step she took, her stomach twisted further into knots. For the first time since finding out she was the céile maighdean, she wished her mother was there leading her, holding her hand, handing her off to a strange man with words of encouragement, not with a look like a deal was made.
“Your lordship,” Sorcha stated loudly, bowing to the raven haired man, “may I present you your betrothed, Niamh.”
His bright eyes curiously raked over her as Sorcha stepped away from her, dropping her hand. Niamh never felt so exposed as she watched him take her in slowly, and her stomach churned seeing the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. What did that look mean?
“Thank you,” the lord replied, never taking his eyes off her.
Niamh tore her eyes away from him to look at Sorcha. She knew this was where she was to go and take the seat next to him, but fear had her rooted and looking to the elder to change her mind. Sorcha’s eyes enlarged slightly as she gave the tiniest nod towards the dark lord and let go of Niamh’s hand.
Creator: Laevateinn (#B015 for BBB22)
Square filled: Chaos for @marvelpetbingo, Flutter (adopted) for the @buckybarnesbingo and I4 Loki/Sam for the @lokibingo
Rating: T
Warnings: N/A
Wordcount: 1000 (exactly!)
Tags: crack, a bored Loki is a dangerous Loki, Loki God of Mischief, Redwing
Summary: Loki randomly popping up in his quarters is nothing too alarming. Loki looking bored is quite common. Loki looking very pleased and very much like the cat who got the cream - and the canary... is not very reassuring.
//
Set in a post civil war verse, where eventually the Avengers regrouped, and the Asgardians are all back on Earth.
When Bucky gets out of bed that Wednesday morning, he puts on navy sweatpants, steps into his slippers, and grabs a hoodie. Not bothering with style at this hour, he only steps into the adjacent bathroom to wash his face and pee before taking the direction of the kitchen.
When Bucky passes the threshold, the first thing he sees is Loki, half laying on the counter and looking outside. He must have sensed Bucky already, so the super soldier only mumbles a hello then goes straight for the coffee maker.
Loki randomly popping up isn’t something strange. He does that fairly regularly actually, so Bucky doesn’t bother reading into it. It’s morning, he’s in the kitchen and is hungry. Food first, thoughts later.
When Bucky goes to the shared living room a few hours later to retrieve a book he forgot there the previous day, Loki is present. He looks pretty bored, but again, this is Loki so nothing out of the ordinary. He often looks like that, whether he is feeling bored or not.
Bucky ignores him dutifully, just in case his presence or actions could make the guy’s interest land on him, and leaves with his book. Not that he hates the guy - they have interesting conversations sometimes, they can bond over similar trauma, and they even have fun occasionally - but he just wants to read in peace.
The third time Bucky sees Loki is for lunch. A lot of people are here today, so they decided to have a group meal. Now, Loki mostly keeps to himself as he usually does. What makes Bucky look at him twice, is the fact he doesn’t look so bored anymore, but pensive. That, usually, doesn’t bode well when Loki is the main interested party. Nothing happens during lunch, though, so Bucky doesn’t dwell on it. He keeps it in mind, but doesn’t mention it as he leaves to prepare to do some training with Sam. While he’s made fun at their expense before, it never hurt anyone, so he isn’t worried.
What rings a few alarm bells is Loki waiting for him as he makes his way out to the area he and Sam are supposed to meet. Loki is polite and asks if he can accompany them, because he is ‘curious to see how they train’. It’s very unusual of him. While Loki is a good fighter, as their occasional sparring sessions prove, he isn’t fond of exercising and never observes anyone during training -unless he’s here to make fun of Thor.
Bucky accepts nonetheless, because Sam never said no to people observing them before, and the two of them walk in silence. When they reach the rendezvous point on the edge of the forest, Bucky realises why his subconscious rang the alarm: Loki doesn’t look bored at all anymore. He’s not smiling, but the expression on his face is one of faked disinterest. Whatever made him lose his look of boredom, Bucky is probably going to learn about it soon.
Bucky puts the thought away for now: whatever Loki did - or is about to do- he probably can’t intervene .This is also no use to wonder or stress about it, they will adapt to whatever happens, when it happens. For now, Sam. Sam who is always punctual and who should arrive anytime soon. Bucky can’t see him walking, so that means he probably will have started earlier to fly a little for fun.
A few minutes later, Bucky hears something distantly, then sees a point in the sky. Good, Sam is here. He turns to Loki to tell him Sam is about to arrive by the air, but catches himself at the last moment. Loki looks… Well, Loki suddenly looks very pleased with himself and a lot like the cat who got the cream - and the canary... This is not reassuring, at all.
Loki must feel him watching, because he turns his head and asks ‘Why the long face, Barnes?’
Something is going to go wrong. Bucky doesn’t have the time to reply before Loki looks behind him and his face breaks into a grin. Then, Bucky knows Sam is arriving because he can hear the flutter of his wings.
Except Sam’s wings don’t make normal wing sounds. They’re metal. They’re not bird wings. What’s -
“DUCK, BUCK!”
It’s the emergency -and frankly, the fear- he hears in Sam’s voice that makes him crouch, rather than the -ridiculous- order. Two seconds later, Bucky is very glad he did, because there is a zooming noise above his head, then another.
Bucky lifts his head just in time to see a dark brown feather fall down in front of him at the same time Loki starts laughing. What the hell?
Where is Sam? Bucky tunes out Loki’s laughter for now, and whips his head around to try to find his friend. It isn’t very hard: Sam is flying so randomly that Bucky’s eyes catch sight of him in a few seconds. That doesn’t explain what the man is doing, but at least Bucky has a visual.
Suddenly, Bucky sees Sam and whatever he’s chasing -because he’s definitely flying after something- start to fly towards Loki and him. Why isn’t he using Redwing to intercept it?
Bucky takes a few steps back to get under a pine, then when he looks down to check if Loki has taken shelter from the upcoming charge, he finds the God of Mischief dabbing at his eyes. That’s highly suspicious, and Bucky is now 90% sure he is the one responsible for Sam’s current predicament.
The supersoldier looks up and tries to determine what Sam is chasing. It looks like… a bird? A big one, but a bird. Bucky squints, and yeah, sure, that’s a beak and a dark brown plumage. That explains the feather in his hands at least. A few seconds pass, then Bucky is able to identify the species: a falcon.
Title: Stephen Strange Goes on Vacation
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38826579
Square Filled: N3 - Free Space
Pairing: Loki & Stephen Strange, Pre-Loki/Stephen Strange
Warnings: Has very mild spoilers for MoM, but nothing plotty.
Summary: Stephen Strange goes on vacation and finds someone he never expected to see again.
Word Count: 1597
Written/Created for @lokibingo
@lokibingo !!!
Square filled: Mind Reading
Word count: 3359
Loki Bingo card and schedule
Summary: While Loki waits for the tesseract to be ready, he needs a servant and you volunteer quite eagerly. Your willingness is suspicious and Loki forces himself inside your mind. What he finds there will bring you so much more than what you expected.
Pairing: Loki/Reader
Rating: EXPLICIT
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“Barton.” Loki barked, startling half the people there, including you.
You watched Clint make his way between the white coats that were setting up Selvig’s lab. Loki was observing them closely. You wondered if he was suspicious of all of you working for him voluntarily. His next question confirmed your thought.
“Where did you get all these people?” Loki asked.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. has no shortage of enemies,” Clint explained. “They will be useful, for now.”
Loki couldn’t help a small smirk and looked around. You jumped slightly and lowered your head, pretending to be occupied with whatever was in front of you. But Loki didn’t even notice you, his attention was on Selvig still fiddling with the cube. Whatever contraption he needed to make it work was still in the process of being constructed and operations were going as fast as they were able to go with such archaic technology. Loki knew there was no point threatening anyone into working faster. As much as he didn’t like it, he was forced to wait.
Loki let out an angry gust of air. “I need a servant.”
Clint looked at him, but didn’t ask questions. “I’ll get you one.”
Loki turned around and walked back to his makeshift quarters. Momentarily distracted while watching Loki walk away, your brain was slow in processing what you just had heard.
Loki needed a servant.
This is it.
In the two days since they brought you in, all you could think of was Loki. Yes, he’s evil, supposedly, but he was - for lack of a more dignified word - gorgeous! His voice, his poise, the way he carried himself, his swagger. You’d be lying to yourself if you denied how wet you got by the mere sight of him.
Did you want to get under the evil god’s tight leather pants? Yes, you did.
