#master trickster

[awedbynature]

Loki (memory drawing)

The God of Mischief Goodlooks

Finally, the finished portrait. Enjoy! 😉

[awedbynature]

Realisation (III)

Category: Oneshot

Characters: Loki x Y/N

Genre: Romance

(A Loki x Reader oneshot)

***

You do not realise what went wrong till you see his face slowly drain of colour and hear his strangled gasp. Then you feel your feet falter and sway slightly. Surprised, you look down. The shaft of an arrow buried halfway in your ribcage greets your eyes.

You try to send him an apologitic smile as your breathing starts to snag and your knees give way.

The last thing you remember is him blasting enemies off his path in his struggle to get to you before everything turns dark.

***

You come to yourself in a groggy haze. Your eyelids are too heavy. A dull pain pervades your entire body which seems to be made of nothing but lead. You didn’t know death was so uncomfortable.

Come to think of it, you technically shouldn’t feel pain once you die! At least that’s what is generally believed. But here you are, sweaty and paralysed, each breath a struggle.

So you are not dead.

Your eyes fly open at the revelation.

It is dark except a few flickering braziers. You begin to grow aware of your surroundings. You are in a soft bed, covered up to the waist in a fur blanket. That was not where you remember yourself being before blacking out.

A thousand queries assail your mind immediately. Where are you? What happened? What about the battle? Where’s the enemy? It makes your head hurt.

You try to sit up. But something pins you down on your side. Squinting in the semi dark, you realise that something, or rather someone, is lying on your arm. You could have recognised the silhouette anywhere.

‘Loki?’ you manage to gasp.

He is immediately awake and alert, bending over you.

'What is it? Where does it hurt? What do you need?’

Now that he mentions it, you realise you are extremely thirsty.

'Wa..ter..’ you croak, trying hard not to show how much it hurts even to utter those words.

He is back in a trice, holding the goblet to your chapped lips. The cool water slides down your perched throat. You scramble for more, choking in the process.

'Easy…easy.’ He supports you head with his free hand.

You drain the goblet.

'More?’

You shake your head slightly. Finally you have time to look at him properly. He looks hagard, as if he hadn’t had a proper sleep in days. His eyes are sunken, his cheeks hollow and scruffy and his hair that was always slicked back, unruly and greasy. As if he had run his fingers through it a thousand times.

'What…happened?’

His gaze seems to avoid yours.

'Loki?’ you urge softly.

He swallows and looks up. 'You were unconscious for seven days. We had almost given up hope. I thought…’ He swallows again and looks away.

'And the war?’

'Victory was ours.’

Your heart leaps at the news.

'Thank the Norns it is so!’ you can’t help exclaiming.

He whips around, his face dark and dangerous.

'Thank the Norns?’ he hisses, pinning you with a gaze so fierce, you feel like a trapped butterfly.

'You could have died.’

Strange. You had never seen him so agitated before. Not on your account.

'But I didn’t. And we won the war too!’ your attempt at lightening the mood dies before his cold glare.

You squirm uneasily. 'Please don’t look at me like that,’ you mumble as you try to sit up.

Big mistake. Your right lung seems to be on fire as does the rest of your body. You wince, clutching at the thick bandage.

He is immediately at your side, his anger turning into anxiousness.

'Where does it hurt? Tell me. Please.’

'All over,’ you murmur, falling back on the bolsters, as beads of perspiration appear on your brow.

His big, surprisingly cool hands brush away the clumps of hair from your face.

'Mmmmh…’ you sigh softly through closed eyes. 'This feels good.’

There is a pause. Then the bed dips.

As slowly and carefully as possible he climbs in. Then ever so softly, he slides one hand under your head and pulls you closer. You snuggle into the familiar scent of pinewood and leather. And a hint of spices. It had never failed to relax you. And he is strangely caring today.

A sigh escapes you.

'Better?’

You nod your head. 'Yes, thank you.’

He begins running his fingers through your mane. Slowly at first, then with slight pressure. Once, twice, thrice. Till the soft kneading lulls you into a drowsy state of awareness.

You barely suppress a yawn, your eyes drooping shut.

The kneading stops altogether.

'Are you asleep?’

You mumble something incorrigible. You can feel rather than hear his soft chuckle.

'Sleep,’ he whispers, renewing his kneading. You snuggle closer to his warmth stretched across your side.

The kneading stops again, slightly awakening you, though you hardly give any indication of being awake.

He is bending over you. You can feel his breath fan your cheeks.

'Beautiful,’ you hear him murmur. 'So beautiful and brave. And to think I almost lost you…’

His voice breaks the slightest, thrilling you to your core.

Then the bed dips and you feel his warm, moist lips brushing your brows. You catch your breath, savouring his touch. You love him. By the Norns how you love him. If only he knew!

A soft sigh escapes your lips.

He pauses, then does something unimaginable. Something you had never expected of him, cold and distant as he was. Something you had dreamt all your life but had never dared to hope for.

He presses his lips to yours. Just a whisper. Just for a fraction of a moment. And then–

'I love you.’

And you forget to breath.

[awedbynature]

A Little Game of Chess

Category: Oneshot

Characters: Loki, Y/N

Genre: Romance, Friendship

~~~~~~~~~~<|o|o|X|o|o|>~~~~~~~~~~~

‘What is this?’ he frowns as you hand down an old dusty box to him from the shelf.

'You will see,’ you wink. He flashes you one of his conspiratory grins, making your heart give a tiny jolt.

'My, my…is the famous Ms. (Y/N) finally going to show me some of her dirty secrets?’

You snort. 'You wish. Now c'mon and sit down,’ you gesture to him across the small tea table.

Tony and the rest have gone out on another covert mission and left you to babysit. As usual.

But you dont mind anymore.

Strange. Even a few months back, neither of you could stand the sight of the other. There were times when you had literally begged Tony to give you any other work just to avoid being cooped up with the cold, sneering prisoner.

But then, something began to change.

Cold open antagonism was replaced by a mild excitement and hurtful sneering barbs turned into friendly sarcastic banter. Over time, he even started greeting you with a smile that could only be called wicked.

That is when you realised he might not be a completely bad person after all. That perhaps there was still some good left in him.

And that's how you have ended up here. As almost friends. Almost. One simply doesn't become friends with him.

You don’t realise you are unconsciously gazing at the man in front of you until he speaks out.

'Didn’t your parents tell you that it’s rude to stare?’

You roll your eyes, trying to cover your mistake. 'I was not staring. I was unconsciously plotting your murder.’

He slaps a hand to his heart. 'You wound me.’

You stick your tongue at him. This is the type of banter you have.

He sets down the box in front of you. Drawing it closer, you carefully put away the cardboard cover and peek in.

It’s impossible to see through the clutter. Old, faded, coffee-stained playing cards, a broken mouth organ, an yo-yo, some poker chips, the handle of a baseball bat…the list is unending. You rummage some more. But the board is not to be found.

Disheartened, you sigh and look at him. 'I cannot seem to find it. May be we should just–’

'May I?’

'Knock yourself out,’ you mumble, handing him the box.

He promptly upends the contents onto the floor.

'What on earth!’

'And you are most welcome.’

'Thanks for the help, genius!’

You do find them after some looking around. You pull out the black and white checkered board from under a dog-eared magazine and the small box of chess pieces.

He looks on, amused, as you set the pieces on the board one by one.

Finally, you gesture him to sit.

'So,’ you say, rubbing your hands together. 'Let’s get you acquainted with the rules.’

***

He has turned out to be quite an expert, you muse. What he lacks in strategy, he makes up for in trickery.

'Do you know how many variations this game actually has? There’s Brandubh, Ard Ri, Talbut–’

You give him the look. 'I know what you are trying to do, mister. So you can stop wasting your time.’

'Do what?’ he asks, trying to act innocent.

'To stop me–,’ you flash him one of your dazzling smiles as you calmly pick up your queen. ’–from doing this.’

And you topple over the rook guarding his king with a flick.

'Checkmate.’

You laugh at his stunned face. 'See? I am not tricked so easily. Not even by the God of Trickery.’

Is it admiration you spy in his eyes?

Of course not. C'mon.This is Loki we are talking about. You berate yourself for such fanciful thinking.

That's why you are surprised when you hear the sincerity in his voice.

'Perhaps you're the only one who isn’t.’

[dulidud]

Master trickster

A new post from my main blog, http://www.letssmile.eu/2014/07/master-trickster.html