☣️Warnings☣️: This is a tickle text image. If tickling makes you feel uncomfortable DON'T READ!
(Y/n): Your name
You are Loki's best friend and you are with him in the library of Odin's palace reading.
At some point you start to get bored and decide to annoy your best friend. You start ruffling his hair.
Loki: What in the nine realms are you doing, darling? *He asks in an annoyed tone*
(Y/n): Nothing my dear *You say with a spiteful smile*
Loki: Stop now that you can *He says in a threatening tone*
(Y/n): When was the last time you washed your hair? They look like straw *You say to provoke him*
Loki: *Closes the book and looks at you with a mischievous and threatening smile* Run, darling
You run away but make the mistake of hiding in Loki's closet.
Soon after Loki enters his room and starts looking for you.
Loki: You can't hide forever, darling
(Y/n): *Let out a giggle*
Loki: *Opens his closet and finds you* Here you are, you little rascal *Grabs you and lays you on the bed*
(Y/n): What are you going to do?
Loki: I'll punish you for the little brat that you are *Use his magic to freeze you and starts tickling your armpits*
(Y/n): NOOOOO PLEASE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Loki: Beg as much as you want, but you should know that I'm ruthless. *Tickles your hips* Plus you can't lie to me, your best friend and the God of Mischief. We both know how much you love being tickled.
The last sentence makes you blush. He's right, you find tickling really funny.
You get distracted from your thoughts by Loki starting tickling your stomach.
(Y/n): NOOOOO AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Loki: *Tickles you more slowly* Breathe darling
(Y/n): *Breathe deeply*
Loki: You want me to stop?
(Y/n): No, continue. I started to annoy you because I wanted it. *You confess blushing*
Loki: *Slowly tickles your neck with his nails*
(Y/n): *Chuckle*
Loki: *Tickles you faster*
(Y/n): *Laugh out loud*
Loki: *Frees you*
You close your eyes and rest on Loki's bed as you feel his arms squeezing you tightly.
When Playing with Fire, You’re Bound to Get Burned (Loki X Reader)
Summary: You and Loki have begun to grow close over the last week or so, Thor and Steven are still gone and it’s been you and him in the tight quarters of the main library, reading together on the couches with palpable tension and desire between the two of you that both of you are oblivious to. But what will happen when the two of you decide to play a little game?
Author’s Note: I’ve fallen in love with this series, I just can’t help myself from updating, even when it’s this late at night. Inspiration strikes at the most inopportune times, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, I hope you guys love it cause I LOVE writing this :) stay tuned for the next few parts and as always: ENJOY! (I’M SORRY IT’S SO SHORT!) (AND IT’S SO LATE SO I’M TIRED)
Warning: Naughty Loki ;), flirting FLIRTING FLIRTING, so many sexual references, I’m not even sorry, a little angst cause I savor drama, and major fluffity fluff
You’ve laid down across Loki’s lap, your head resting on his long legs, the Great Gatsby tucked between your fingers, clutching it to your chest when you get to your favorite part of the novel. Loki watches you with a softness in his alluring green and blue eyes, you can never make up your mind of which color they are, so you’ve decided to say both, never knowing which one fits him best.
“What are you thinking about, love?” he leans back against the couch cushion, lifting his eyes from his book to chance a glance at you and your beautiful smile.
“Mm,” you hum happily, looking at him from where you lay with a big, bright grin. “I love this quote from the book.”
“You sound so passionate when you talk about literature, darling, your face is lighting up,” he notices with a warm expression. “Do you write?”
“When I was younger I would,” you reminisce, sighing contently, smiling at the far off memories playing through your mind. “I had this little spot... in my backyard, under my favorite tree, a willow tree, and I would sit there...” you pause to laugh lightly. “And just bring out my journal, scribbling outlandish fairy tales about mythical creatures and true love. I barely even knew what love was at that age... too bad all of it was destroyed in the fire, I bet reading it would have been hilarious,” you laugh, but it comes out sadder than you intended.
His embrace on you tightens when he sees your frown, “Don’t discount yourself, love,” he says, an amused tone in his words despite his reassurance. “Who knows, young (y/n) could have been the next Hemingway...”
“Oh, God no, comparing me to him is an insult to his craft, I’m nowhere near as talented,” you shake your head with a smile. “Besides, I haven’t written in so long.”
He shakes his head, wondering how someone as astonishing as you could think so little of yourself, “Writing, my dear, is like riding a bike, once you learn, you never forget how to do it, and with practice, you get better and better,” he explains, setting his book down next to him on the small table beside you two.
“Read the quote to me, kitten,” he whispers, shifting you so that he’s laying down and your laying with the back of your head against his hard, surprisingly muscular chest. His hands found your hair, playing with it lazily, desperately needing to touch you in anyway he can, even if it’s not the way he truly wants.
You raise your eyebrows, “Are you sure?” you ask him, turning to look him in the eye, not finding any doubts or hesitance in them. Or he’s just very good at hiding it. “I don’t want to bore you.”
“(Y/N)...” he whispers, rolling his eyes with a graciously soft smile, catching you off guard. “The next time you say something about yourself that is other than only good things, I will knock you off this couch.”
“You wouldn’t,” you scoff.
“Don’t you know who you’re talking to, love? I am the god of tricks, I can do far worse if so is requested or deserved,” he says with a slight raise of his brow, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Requested?” you can’t help but grin at the insinuation. “Perhaps I should begin reading before I take you up on that offer.”
Loki shifts beneath you, clenching his jaw, holding himself tightly as unholy thoughts fill his mind again, all of which you star in. He couldn’t possibly imagine you ever sharing his affections for you, he only thinks your harmless flirting is just apart of your friendly banter, not that you care for him as well. In his mind, he’s still the monster people think of him as, not how you really see him. After getting to know him, you now see him as kind, warm, gentle, if not mischievous and an expert at manipulation and smirking, always winking slyly from across the room at you.
You might just say you are slowly falling for him.
He laughs nervously, “Just read, darling.”
“Alright, fine,” you roll your eyes, opening the book back up to the spot you’re looking for, skimming your finger over the printed words. You smile once you find it, “’There I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn’t care,’” you whisper, your sweet, velvet like voice nearly lulling Loki to sleep.
Loki wraps his arms around you, shaking his head, “How tragic.”
“Tragic?” you ask. “It’s beautiful, not tragic. Shakespeare is tragic. When I read this, all I hear is new beginnings and accepting love from not only others but alsop herself.”
“What I hear is someone falling in love with someone who’s party obsessed, arrogant, foolish, and only ends up being murdered in the end, it’s tragic. She’s fallen for the wrong person, down the wrong path, and it only ends in heartbreak and disaster.”
You spin yourself around, laying face up on him now, resting your chin against his chest, “You’re only seeing half the picture here, not what the author wants you to see, now that you have to look for. Gatsby only throws these parties in an attempt to get Daisy’s attention and have her attend them, he’s parading all the wrong things, but that’s only because he’s human and he’s used to the people in his lives only be attracted to his wealth, not him. She’s the first that defies that,” you lay out for him, hand gestures and all. “I think it’s beautiful.”
Loki smiles, tongue in cheek, an action that cause heat to pool into the pit of your stomach and a blush in your cheeks, “I’ve always prided myself in being insightful and intelligent, but it seems I’ve been beaten for the title.”
“You’ve met your match, Loki Lafeuyson,” you return his kind smile, tucking your hands beneath your chin, fluttering your lashes teasingly.
“Indeed I have,” he agrees, realizing now just how far he’s fallen.
“So what do we do now?” you ask him, his fingers tracing light circles into your thin, t-shirt clad back.
He runs his hand closer to where the clasp of your bra lays, idly fiddling with the lace of your brassiere, meeting your eyes for only a moment. A smirk filled with enough sin to lead anyone astray graces his delightfully pink lips, your breath catching at the sight of it.
He takes notice of this and his smirk only widens, a hand sliding down to grip your waist, eliciting a small whimper from you, “Mm, kitten, the noises you make when I touch you are absolutely sinful...”
“Loki...” you warn him, afraid of what you’ll start if he continues, lips curling when his hand slips beneath your shirt, his cool hands contrasting against your red hot skin.
“Darling...” he purrs and just his voice alone is enough to almost send you over the edge, to the point of no return. He meets your eyes for a moment, as if asking for permission for this little game the two of you are about to play, you nod before thinking better of it, heat creeping up the back of your neck at his impish smile.
He reaches your back and expertly, yet agonizingly slow, unclasps the hook and slips your bra out from underneath your shirt, tossing it onto the floor.
“That was impressive,” you say and it’s your turn to smile with your tongue in your cheek, feeling suddenly exposed in front of him even with a shirt on. But the two of you constantly undress each other with your eyes.
“Oh, love, you haven’t seen nothing yet,” he whispers in the quiet room, flipping the two of you over so he’s on top of you, one hand holding himself above you, positioned in between your legs.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Loki,” you whisper coolly, chest heaving with each inhale and exhale of breath.
“The only way I know how,” he winks, scanning your body with darkened eyes, licking his bottom lip, watching you squirm beneath him. “What are you doing to me, kitten?”
“I’m only returning the favor,” you smile, rolling your hips against his, satisfied when you see the way he grits his teeth and closes his eyes from just your touch.
“Naughty, naughty girl,” he purrs, shaking his head with a low chuckle.
“I’ve learned from the best,” you respond smugly.
“You certainly have,” he muses, flashing another criminal smile.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Loki,” you tell him, one hand reaching up to cup the side of his face.
He leans into your touch, kissing the inside of your palm sweetly, “I’m not the one that did, darling.”
“You’re saying I did?” you laugh. “By slapping you?”
“I’m not ashamed to admit I was hooked from the beginning, my pet,” he smiles, dipping down to place tender kisses against the soft skin of your neck, making you gasp at the sensation of his cold lips on your body. “I’m enchanted by you, in all ways possible.”
“It seems the spell I cast on you has worked, it was my plan all along,” you tease him with a small laugh, inhaling sharply once more when he begins to nip and suck and bite on the hollow of your collarbone. That would surely leave a mark in the coming days. You know that’s what he wants, to mark you as his, his territory. The thought excited you. Being his. You can’t believe how good he is at this, so easily making you beg for more and grovel at his feet.
“I really hope your joking, darling,” he teases back. “But I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you weren’t.”
You breathe out a laugh. “I guess you’ll never know then,” you raise an eyebrow when he breaks away to look at you. His striking eyes wash over you, paired with another gorgeous smirk. Those eyes fall on your lips, and he darts his tongue out to wet his own.
“Are you going to kiss me, Loki?” you ask softly, taking his face in your hands again, drawing small circles with your thumb on his cheek.
“I want to, believe me. Desperately,” he says, breath catching when you meet his eyes, he fumbles for the right words. “But... are you sure?” he breaks his gaze away from your slightly parted lips, willing himself to look elsewhere. “Because-”
“Loki...” you coo softly, playing with the tips of his marvelous, raven hair, looking him in the eye, both of you breathing harshly, so close your noses bump into each other and lips brush, heart beating loud in your own chest. Not even kissing, yet electricity shoots through both of you, your eyes fluttering closed from the pleasure. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Because I-”
“Oh, my...” a smug, familiar voice says in the doorway, catching both of your attentions, heads snapping in their direction.
Tony. Fucking. Stark. And the rest of the Avengers. All in your home and all at once. Watching and ruining a moment between you and Loki.
“Reindeer games, and our sweet, sweet (y/n),” Tony says, looking to Natasha who’s smirking like an idiot. Steve’s eyes widen he sees the discarded bra on the floor, which makes you blush every shade of scarlet. Tony shakes his head like a disappointed father would when scolding his child. “I never thought I’d see the day...”
They’re all looking at the two of you, neither of you moving, too frozen from shock at the sight of them all. Bucky looks between the two of you and shakes his head, “I think this is the part when one of you starts explaining what the hell is going on.”
Summary: Loki and Ingrid (OC) were childhood friends, glued to each other’s side for years, causing mischief together of course, until she became an adult and Asgard was in danger. And in order to keep her safe, he sends her to Midgard. It’s been five years since then... What will she do when he shows up at her door? After all this time?
Word Count: 4,311 words (I’m not even sorry ;))
Author’s Note: I just really freaking love Loki, so I decided to do a little two part story for my fellow Loki lovers. @drakesfiance @mischiefunmanagedus
Pairing: Loki X OC (Ingrid)
Warnings: Extreme fluff, a bit of angst, and so much love <3
Part 2 coming soon
Loki remembered the day perfectly, the memory of it has been the only thing that’s kept him sane all these years away from her.
It was a fateful, spring day in Asgard, flowers were just beginning to bloom and kids squealed happily and played, then there was Loki. All alone in the corner of the courtyard, watching wistfully as everyone played, wishing he were as liked as his brother, Thor. They were only six at the time, but already Thor Odinson was the most popular boy at the school, he had everyone wrapped around his finger from such a young age.
Loki, however, was cast aside by the other students, he was deemed different and not like his brother, so the kids stayed away from him, they were afraid of him. He didn’t let them show it hurt him, because even at that age, he had to learn to hide his emotions and be strong, despite the perils he faced and would face later in life.
That was until Ingrid arrived at the school, brunette, braided pigtails, blue eyes, bright smile. Loki knew immediately that she was the prettiest creature he had ever seen.
She had seen him sitting all alone and skipped merrily over to him, still smiling and not the least bit afraid, in fact, she was intrigued by the little boy, his raven hair and equally, mischievous blue eyes that she shared as well.
She smiled, and he looked up, awestruck that someone like her would come up to someone like him.
“I’m Ingrid,” she said, voice sweet and showing no sign of ill will, but he could tell from the look in her eyes she was, like him, a troublemaker. “What’s your name?”
“Loki.”
She moves to sit down next to him, so open and kind to him, he’d never experienced it before her. She grinned, “Let’s be friends.”
“Really?” he had to ask.
“Yes, really,” she said with a giggle and he couldn’t help but smile back. “I have an idea, and I need your help.”
“What is it?”
She pulled out something from her skirt pocket, revealing Odin’s eye patch, “I snatched it from him when he set it down, I was over there with my mother.”
Loki grinned, “Why did you do that?”
She shrugged, putting it back in her pocket, like it was the most normal thing in the world to steal the King of Asgard’s eye patch, one of his most prized possessions.
“Because it was fun,” she said simply then smiled. “Let’s go hide it somewhere.”
In that moment, they both knew, that this would the start of a wonderful and beautiful friendship.
From that day forward the two of them started trouble wherever they went, so much so, teachers wouldn’t let them be together in class for fear of them creating chaos. Which always ensued because they’d find their way back to each other, they always did.
They were both sixteen when they both were learning to fight with the King’s guard, both getting the special treatment because Loki was Odin’s song after all.
Ingrid was a quick learner and before long she was an excellent fighter, on top of the magic that ran through her own veins, she could control the air around her and manipulate it to her liking, which came in handy for the many shenanigans the two of them would go on.
She lunged for him, arm wrapped around his neck before flipping him over her shoulder with all her strength and might. She was a warrior, Loki knew this, and it helped how skinny he was, not have hitting puberty just yet, even if he is a god.
She was on top of him by then. She grinned wickedly, brown hair cascading down her shoulders. She had grown a lot, become more beautiful everyday, Loki thought, he didn’t think it was possible for someone to be this cunning yet so kind.
“You’ll have to do better than that, love,” he says, flipping them over so he was above her now.
She laughed, breathing heavily, “Touche.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, distracting him long enough to flip them back over.
“You tricky minx,” he breathed out, grinning impishly.
She laughed, “You love it.”
He smiled and got up on his feet, holding out his hand to her, she takes it but not before pulling him down, back to the ground. They were chest to chest now, and she erupted with laughter.
“Tsk, tsk, Loki, you should know better than that, my friend,” she continued to grin. “And here I thought you were the god of mischief.”
He smirked, raven hair falling over his eyes. She reached up and pushed a strand of hair behind his ear.
“I like your hair a little longer,” she muses, and looked him in the eyes. “You should grow it out, you’d look very handsome,” she teased him and he blushed at the compliment.
“As you wish, Ingrid,” he smiled, pulling her up with him, chest to chest again, just as Thor walked into the room, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.
“How cute, you two,” Thor pointed pointed between them. “I could feel the tension in here all the way from the grand hall.” Ingrid smiled at the comment, noticing the blush on Loki’s cheeks.
“Shut up, brother,” Loki all but growled. “Ingrid and I were only training, unlike you, going out at all hours of the night instead of doing something productive with your time.”
“One of us should have a social life, wouldn’t you think, dear brother?” Thor smiled smugly, looking at Ingrid for a moment.
Thor was always kind, yes, but for a long time he was what Midgardian’s call a “player”, but who could blame him, he was irresistible and charming, but he hadn’t found his way just yet. In time, he would, Ingrid knew. She cared for Thor like her own brother because he was Loki’s family, and most of the time, she would enjoy his company, but never as much as she did Loki’s.
“I hope to see you again, Ingrid,” he had winked at her. “And hopefully, alone.”
Loki’s heart roared with jealousy, even if he knew she didn’t feel that way about Thor, he always felt his own insecurities get the best of him.
But she only scoffed, she never fell for his charms, her heart belonged elsewhere, even if she did not know it at the time. “I’m afraid the feeling isn’t mutual, Thor Odinson.”
Loki barked with laughter, it always did crack him up when she would resist Thor, unlike every girl in Asgard. Instead, you preferred his cool and mischievous yet soft, kindhearted brother. She loved the smile that made its way onto Loki’s face, her own heart swelling at the sight.
“You heard her, brother, you can leave,” Loki shooed him off with his hand and Ingrid shook her head, Thor going with an exasperated huff, but smiling when he knows they both couldn’t see.
He knew of Loki’s affection long before Ingrid did, and loved to tease the two of them, knowing that his brother would indeed get jealous, perhaps he’ll end up pushing the two of them into each other’s arms soon enough, he thought before walking off.
But he would be wrong.
Even if the two of them felt something within them, both of them wanting the other to act on the feelings first because they were both too stubborn to make the first move. So he watched her be courted by other men, after she developed curves, longer hair, and a sinful smile. She watched other girls, ones that avoided him like the black plague all throughout grade school, after he hit puberty, growing into his looks, pale, ivory skin, wicked, blue eyes, strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and became muscular after training with you, and still lean. But that smirk, the one she loved, was only for her, no one else.
He had once tried to go after her and tell her how he really felt, it had been Ingrid’s 20th birthday, and he had gotten her a locket to profess his love to her, so sincerely and beautifully.
But before he could, he saw her with another man, in his arms and happy without him, that he felt those insecurities creep back up again. He threw the locket into the sea that night, vowing to keep his feelings hidden, knowing he would never be good enough for her and that she would never feel the same.
She did, though. She desperately did, and she only let men court her to make him jealous, she always was the trickster. But after never getting the reaction she wanted, she dated other men because she wanted to get over her feelings, that they could never be more than friends.
The last time they saw each other bitter and left both heartbroken, when she was in an aircraft just as Asgard was burning to the ground, their home disintegrating before both of their eyes.
“No, no,” tears had been sliding down her cheeks, gripping onto his armor sleeves, looking at his eyes that were glassy with tears as well. “No, I’m staying with you. Let me fight.”
“I cannot risk it,” he gulped, leaning his forehead against hers, one singular tear rolling down his face, clenching his eye shut. “I cannot risk you, my princess. Go to Midgard. Start a life of your own and be happy.”
“Dammit, Loki,” she slammed her fists into his chest, continuing to sob. “Let me stay, I’m not leaving you!” she looks into his eyes, both wanting to do the one thing that they’d been begging to do since the moment they laid eyes on each other.
But he turned from her. “Yes,” he paused to signal to the pilot after everyone was completely boarded on the ship. “You are.”
“No, Loki,” she whispered, pleading to him. “Don’t let me go, please.”
“I love you,” he said to her, looking her in the eye and she frowned, anger and sadness clawing at her heart. She didn’t want to leave, she wanted to fight with him and save her home.
Yes, they’ve said they loved each other, but as friends and only platonic, but the look in his eyes when he meets her gaze tells a different story.
She met his gaze, “I love you too,” she said breathlessly, eyes searching his face.
He nodded, “Then you’ll forgive me,” he said in a pained voice, struggling to let you go, but if he let you stay, it would be selfish of him, to risk your life just to be with you. Besides, you’d be much happier without him.
“Loki!” she yelled after him as the ship closed and he watched her fly away from him, breathing deeply to contain the sobs of his own, knowing this was for the best if it meant you would be safe.
It was now present day and Ingrid is working at Avengers headquarters, now standing in the kitchen with Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, arguing over who is more muscular when everyone around them knows the answer. But no one would ever tell them that.
“Steve’s on steroids, it doesn’t count!” Bucky gesticulates wildly and Natasha only grins and shakes her head, looking to Wanda who shares a smile as well. Ingrid can’t contain her laugh, and soon all three girls are doubled over in fits of giggles together.
Steve laughs along with them, “I’m not on steroids!” he says. “I was put into a machine and given superhero abilities, there’s a difference.”
“Can’t you too just call it a tie? It doesn’t really matter,” Ingrid smiles, looking at the two boys like a scolding mother would her misbehaving sons, her sweet, English accent calming both of them.
“Whatever you say, doll,” Bucky winks with a click of his tongue, being the charmer that he is. “But we all now who’s more muscular,” he flexes his arm to show off his muscles.
“It’s obviously Steve,” Natasha gestures to his arms and Steve beams.
“But I’m the one with the robot arm!” Bucky whines.
“No offense, cyborg,” Tony says, walking into the room. “But he is and Capsicle can thank the Starks for that,” Tony points finger guns at Captain.
“Your father was a smart man, yes, but I would say that him procreating and having you was a horrible idea,” Natasha pats Tony hard on the back, walking out of the room.
“At least I’m not the one that’s a ballerina spy,” Tony grumbles under his breath. “How are you supposed to fight with a tutu anyway?” he asks himself out loud, walking out into the hallway.
“Okay,” Ingrid laughs, shaking her head and getting her things. “That’s my cue to get home, Frigga should be there from the bus in an hour or so and I need to be there to meet her.”
“That kid of yours sure is cute,” Steve smiles.
She returns it, “Good genes, I guess.”
“If she’s anything like her momma...” Bucky grins.
“You’re a big flirt, you know that?” she tells him with a soft chuckle.
---
“Momma!” Frigga runs up to Ingrid and envelopes her mother in a tight hug, wrapping her small arms around her neck as Ingrid lifts her off the ground, spinning her four year old in her arms.
“Hello, my little flower,” she coos in her wheat colored hair, looking into her daughter’s blue eyes that she got from her. “How was your day at school?”
“Really good,” she says, getting out of her mother’s arm as they walk hand in hand inside. “But Arthur and I did get in trouble again.”
Her heart clenches at the mention of her getting into trouble with a friend, but not because she’s disappointed in her daughter, but because it reminds her of her own childhood best friend that she gotten into trouble with as well. She misses him terribly, everyday, more and more she thinks about him, until he’s just a small, aching place in her chest.
“Frigga...” Ingrid scolds her daughter, kneeling down to her level. “You can’t get in trouble so much, it just sounds like this Loki is a bad influence on you.”
Her daughter furrows her brow adorably. “Who is Loki?”
Ingrid realizes she said the wrong name and shakes her head, not going to cry over him today. It’s been five years, get it together, she thinks to herself.
“Sorry, Frigga,” she apologizes with a small smile. “I mean Arthur. Why are two getting into trouble together?”
“Because he’s my best friend,” she grins. “And I love him,” she says sweetly.
God, she sounds so much like me right now.
There’s a knock on the door and it causes both Ingrid and Frigga to whip their head in its direction, the two of them share another look and Frigga raises her eyebrow. Another knock sounds from the door.
“Do I need to get the baseball bat?” Frigga punches her fist into her palm.
“No, dear,” Ingrid kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “I’ll go get it, you go get the television ready for us to watch your favorite movie.”
She nods eagerly and skips happily into the other room, Ingrid smiles fondly as she walks up to the door, pulling it open.
The smile soon fades from her face when she stands face to face with a familiar, raven haired prince. He smiles and it’s so soft and unlike him, it catches her off guard. All this time he finally decides to see her, and now he’s here, he’s really here. Five years of waiting for him to find her and hold her again, to cause trouble like they did when they were children and get back to who they were. She’s upset, frustrated, devastated, heartbroken, elated that he’s back, but... angry.
Ingrid shakes her head in disbelief, wiping at her teary eyes, a few stray ones falling, before looking him dead in the eye again.
Then he smirks eyes raking over her, she’s so beautiful, if not more so than the last time he saw her. Her long, warm, brown locks fall down her shoulders in lazy curls, and he can tell her body is gorgeous, compliments wonderfully with a silk blouse and tight, pencil skirt, hugging her waist. She’s frowning at him, and it hurts him so to see her so angry at him, but he knows it is justified, she must be furious. But not only was she the most stunning woman he has ever seen, more than an goddess or maiden he’s ever laid eyes on, she’s also a warrior, a genius, a fighter. And that’s why he’s been in love with her since that day in courtyard, knowing he’d do anything, anything for this one girl, just to make her happy.
He’s sporting that wonderful green and gold suit she loved so much, and she can’t help but notice how her heart does a little flip at the sight of his infamous, little smirk, “Oh, how I’ve missed you, darling.”
Then she slaps him across the face.
He doesn’t even flinch, but clenches his eyes shut, frowning, “I suppose I deserve that.”
“You suppose?” she repeats. “You send me to Earth, don’t talk or reach out to me for five fucking years and forget about me. I thought we were friends, and you let me go like I meant nothing to you!”
Loki’s eyes blaze and he has to look away from her, avoiding the hurt evident in her cobalt blue eyes. “Believe me, love, I never forgot about you. I only thought that you wouldn’t want to see me after-”
“After what happened?” she finishes for him. “Well you wouldn’t know that I’ve missed you everyday for the last five years, wondering if you were ever going to come back to me, thinking that I wasn’t good enough for you to find me because you never asked. Did I really mean that little to you? Little enough for you to-”
His arms are wrapped around her in an instant, pulling her flush to his chest, head resting on her shoulder. She struggles against him for a moment, but he holds her tighter, just before she lets a sob escape and wraps her own arms tightly around him, crying into his chest, inhaling his familiar aroma of lemongrass and cedar-wood.
“You mean everything to me, Ingrid,” he whispers into her hair, hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I never came because of my own self doubt and insecurities, and for that I am truly sorry.”
She looks back up at him and grins, causing his heart to flutter, a feeling he’s only ever gotten around her. He’s missed this, her being in his arms, inhaling her scent, still loving her after all this time. His desire for her has only grown with the passing years, and standing in front of her now, he can hardly contain himself.
“Then why now?” she asks.
“Thank my dear brother, Thor, for that,” he whispers in her ear, a breath of laughter escaping him making her giggle. “He’s visiting Jane and made me come along.”
“How long will you be here?”
“As long as I need to be,” he whispers into her hair, kissing the top of her head.
“Don’t give me any ideas,” she holds his face in her hand and he leans into her touch. “I just might keep you here with me forever.”
“I can think of far worse punishments,” his eyes glaze over her.
“Are you flirting with me, Loki Lafeuyson?” she asks, laughing softly at how much she enjoys it.
“Oh, darling, if I am, you’ll know it,” he whispers, meeting her eyes with an wolfish smile, worried he just might take her here and now.
She matches his mischief filled smirk, “Well-”
“Mommy!” Frigga yells from inside and Ingrid unlatches herself from Loki’s grip, looking to her daughter before scooping her up in her arms.
Frigga looks at Loki, perplexed and curious to who this strange man is, “Who is this mommy? Is this Loki? The man you talked about earlier?”
“It most certainly is, my flower,” she looks at Loki who appears to be very nervous, looking at the daughter with bewildered eyes.
“She’s...”
“Yes,” Ingrid gulps nervously, looking to Loki.
“Well, she...” he looks at her with soft eyes. “Shares your beauty, the same blue eyes as well.”
Ingrid blushes, setting her daughter down, “Well, her father gave her the blonde hair, not me.”
Loki makes an “oh” face, and nods, licking his lips. The thought of Ingrid being with another man, her bearing his child, makes his heart burn with jealousy. He wishes to be that man for her, but that would be him being selfish again.
Maybe you both deserved to be a little a selfish.
Before Loki can ask about the father, Frigga tugs him down to meet her face, he smiles and gets down to her level, on one knee in front of her. And just like Ingrid was all those years ago, she is not afraid of him, and that makes him smile. He’s never known love like this before. Frigga’s hands hold his face and she studies his features, looking at the man that’s making her mother smile this way. She’s four, yes, but even she knows what love is, at least when she sees it.
“Hello, little one,” he grins and Frigga returns it, causing Ingrid’s heart to swell at the sight.
It’s like she’s falling in love with him all over again, friend or not, he holds a place in her heart.
“Can I tell you a secret, Mr. Loki?” she whispers conspiratorially.
He nods, tilting his head so she can whisper in his ear.
She cups her little hands over her mouth as she loudly whispers, “I think my mommy has a crush on you.”
Loki looks at Ingrid for a moment, biting his lip to hold back a grin, nodding to the daughter, “Interesting. And how do you know this, little flower?”
“Her face is different,” Frigga explains. “And she’s smiling a lot, she keeps looking at you too.”
Loki grins and Ingrid is nervous now, wondering what they’re whispering over. “Can I tell you a secret in return?” Loki asks.
Frigga nods eagerly, looking at the man with bright eyes and a bright smile.
He cups his own hand over his lips, being sure to let Ingrid hear him as he whispers to the girl, “I have a crush on her too.” Frigga giggles.
Ingrid’s face is all shades of red when he says this, eyes growing wide and lips edging into a demure smile that’s driving Loki wild by the second.
Ingrid is beside Frigga now, turning her daughter in the direction of the living room, “How about you go to the living room while I talk to Loki, hm?”
Frigga has on her own little, knowing smirk and Ingrid tickles her sides, making them both laugh. Loki watches the sight with a smile, wondering to himself why it took him so long to get back to her. Maybe if hadn’t been so stubborn, this little girl before him could have been his instead of another man’s.
It would have changed everything.
Frigga runs excitedly into the other room, leaving the two adults to look at each other, both not knowing what to say or how to say it. How do you say you’ve loved someone your whole life, and never did anything about it because you were simply too afraid of rejection and your own self preservation?
How could they possibly convey all of those feelings? What words could express emotions like those?
“Her father...” Ingrid sighs. “It was one drunken night in college, I got pregnant, and left me after finding out.”
Loki frowns, anger towards this man that would leave a woman as extraordinary and as kind as Ingrid. “I’m sorry, love.”
“Don’t be,” she smiles. “I got Frigga out of it-”
“Wait?” he stops her. “Frigga?”
Ingrid smiles bashfully, blushing again when Loki takes a step closer to her, “Yeah... After your mother, she was more of a mother to me than my own, and I wanted a piece of Asgard to stay with me. A piece of you, I guess.”
He brushes her cheek softly, making her breathing hitch, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, darling, the last few years have been agony, wanting to keep you safe. It was no easy task to leave you here, I wish I could have come with you.”
She nods, she knows why he did it, it was to keep her safe. Even if she didn’t like it, she understood. “I missed you too,” she breathes out, meeting his eyes. “God, so much.”
“Then go to dinner with me,” he says, more of a command than a request, but Ingrid didn’t mind, she could hear the evident desperation in his voice, laying his heart out on the table for her, all hers for the taking, looking at her wantonly.
“Dinner...?” Ingrid laughs softly. “You know I can’t.”
“Why not?” he frowns.
“It’s not like don’t want to, Loki, I just... I’m a mother now, I have to take care of her. I haven’t been out with someone since... since...” she pauses to think. “I can’t even remember when.”
“Then all the more reason to go out with me,” he smiles.
She raises her eyebrows. “Are you asking me on a date, Loki?”
“Do you want it to be?” he asks.
She nods, feeling daring in front of him like they were little kids again, “Yes.”
“Then be ready at six tomorrow night,” he smirks. “I have five years to make for, after all.”
I am glad you are fairing well too Loki *she noticed that he has a mischief look she raises her eyebrow. She realize that is am nervous* sorry Loki i just get nervous especially meeting someone as famous as you...but i know i am in good hands. *she smiles as she sees loki assessing me. I bite my lip as my cheeks warm* um... Rose.. my name is Rose Loki
"You needn't apologize," Loki reassured her with a knowing smile. He decided to test out a subtle flirtation, noting the way she bit her lip and the slight color that had reached her cheeks. The trickster found it endearing, though hid it well behind his composed demeanor, a flicker of amusement and curiosity in his eyes. "Rose is a beautiful name - suitable for someone just as radiant. What brings such grace and poise into my vicinity?"
Rose sees Loki was reading becoming nervous* sorry Loki i didnt know you were reading... *she sees he give her his famous smile and she smiles back bitting her lip* i am good Loki
"I'm glad to hear you're faring well," he chuckled quietly, catching onto her nervousness with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You've no reason to be skittish, you know..." Loki casually set his book aside and observed the mortal, holding her gaze with a sense of assessment in his expression. "You seem to know of me. Care to grace me with your name, pet?" he questioned, dropping to a low and smoky tone.
Loki's focus shifted away from the book he held, studying her briefly. Then, a mischievous smile curled at the edges of his lips. "Better with some interesting company, I should think," he replied lowly, a hint of intrigue lacing his words. "And yourself?"
" woah, thanks for that" she replied after nearly getting hit with an asgardian walking by, she felt his arm holding her close to his new body. It still felt nice but she still prefer his real form. Hearing him talk about his abilities was amazing yet alarming. She didn't want to seem too eager to ask all these questions about him or he would know her true reasons for being here in the first place. She continued walking with loki side by side. " now I'm really looking forward to trying the food and drinks, I'm also look forward to watching a play here. That would be fun"
Loki arched his brow slightly, glancing toward her with a flicker of curiosity. As if reading her mind, he chuckled to himself and replied smoothly, "I won't be like this forever - just until we reach the banquet hall. My status as a Prince and trickster - particularly the latter - precede me here." He contemplated her suggestion of catching a play and he gave a small nod in agreement, wondering what sort of theatrics they would put on tonight. "Certainly," The God responded with a hint of interest, "We can attend after dinner."
It wasn't long before they were entering the distinguished halls, long tables stretched out before them full of succulent foods, mead, wine, and the like. Gods, Goddesses, and Asgardian civilians mingled freely, although most notably, Odin, Thor, and a few others weren't present amongst the crowd. He guided her over to a more secluded area, where few sat, to give her some time to adjust and keep her mortality under the radar. As they took a seat together, Loki's form returned to its former state, his mischievous smile returning as he met her gaze. "Miss me then, darling?" he teased quietly, then turned his attention to the platters and silverware before then, gesturing vaguely, indicating she was more than welcome to help herself to the sustenance that lay before them.
If You Dance With the Devil, You Might As Well Lead (Loki X Reader)
Summary: You’re home alone, studying the Mystic Arts when a mission goes awry. Dr. Strange takes Thor, and Loki begrudgingly per his brother’s request, to check in on the safe haven for Asgard’s people and Loki is injured.
Author’s Note: I saw all of the messages and the replies to the last part and I was pleasantly surprised at all the wonderful feedback, it made me so happy! So I decided to do a next part and satisfy your Loki needs ;) stay tuned for hopefully a third part, if you guys want it (AND THIS GIF THO, I LOVE MY SOFT BOI!!!)
You recite a spell, twirling your hand in the air like you know Steven does when he creates his portals, but you come up short, only a few sparks sending from your terrible attempt at magic as good as the Doctor’s. You sigh, slumping down on one of the stairs, bored out of your mind from being in this mansion for hours.
Alone.
Steven never lets you leave this place, even if you can more than handle yourself in whether it be in a battle of brute strength or wits, perhaps that’s what intrigued Loki so much. Your ability to erase every damsel in distress stereotype and be this wonderfully independent, badass woman, the first to talk to him like that in centuries. You’re all he’s thought about during all of his time here and his trip, they’ve been gone almost a week to see Asgard’s people’s safe haven with his brother and Steven, filling his mind with images of you (not all fully clothed) and how you spoke to him. It excited him to no end, that a mortal like yourself has a silver tongue as quick as his.
From knowing each other more than a few months now, staying here, teasing you to no end, flirting profusely, and making you question everything, you hate to admit it, but he’s been on your mind as well, clouding your every thought like a venomous fog. You’ve been convinced all your life he’s a heartless, mindless, monster because that’s what people have told you and what you thought you knew. But with all that’s happened and the way, he’s been acting towards you is all throwing you for a serious loop.
Because in spite of your hatred for him, you two are very much alike. And that would be both your downfall and your saving grace.
You walk into the marble kitchen, wearing only a fluffy, gold sweater that stopped just below your belly button, and coincidentally, a matching set of green underwear (see, very much alike). You spin around on the granite floor, stepping in time to the music you’re playing all over the house, bored yet content in your solitude. You dance terribly, but you make up for it with the big smile on your face that proves the wall around your heart hasn’t yet affected your easygoing nature.
“Matching my colors, I see,” a smooth voice laced with ulterior motives and insinuations, says behind you. You whip your head around to look Loki Lafeuyson up and down, letting your annoyance be noticeable on your features.
“And what a truly wondrous sight it is, you might even wear them better than me.”
He sees the irritation on your face, smiling, “If I knew this is what I would be missing, I would have much rather stayed with you instead.”
You roll your eyes, not bothering to cover up your lace, olive green panties, his eyes glued to all your revealed skin. You loved it. “And what makes you think I would have allowed it?”
He gulps, still shamelessly looking over your body. The tenderness in his face throws you for a loop when he answers, “If you did not wish for my company, I would leave you alone.”
“Then why don’t you?” you ask, mustering up frustration but coming up short when you catch the look in his blue eyes, similar to his brother’s. And to your surprise, just as equally soft as Thor’s.
What are you thinking, (y/n)?! Letting yourself fall down that rabbit hole will get you nowhere, you scold yourself.
“Because I can see that you do not despise me as much as you wish you do,” he says smugly, stepping closer to you, but you don’t make a show of moving away from him, rooted in place with your hands on the cool marble, contrasting against your warm, (y/s/c) skin.
“You know nothing about me and my emotions, you cannot assume how I feel towards you when you clearly don’t even know me,” you exhale coolly, eyes darting all over his face, falling on his lips: pink, really soft, lips. But he’s a monster. At least you thought he was.
“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he says as if reading your thoughts, setting his hands on top of yours on the counter, his skin just as cold as the stone, making you inhale sharply. His lips edge in a smirk, “New York... what happened there wasn’t me, I can assure you of this. You don’t strike me as someone who is not open to people growing and changing, but perhaps we were both wrong.”
You’re stunned from his words, the anger inside of you simmering like droplets of water onto a fire. He’s getting to you, just by looking in your eyes, you haven’t felt... important since Steven took you in, he’s looking at you like you’re the world, as if he’s seeing it for the very first time.
As if both of you are.
“How am I supposed to believe you?” you ask him, sincere at last which relaxes him, neither one you making a move to leave.
“You will just have to trust me, darling,” he says softly, taking his time to look at your mouth as you inhale. He bites down on his lips when he sees the slight pout in yours.
He lets his eyes look over your body again, causing you to feel immensely self conscious all of a sudden, like his opinion over you mattered. It shouldn’t, but you know it does because when his eyes fall on the stretch marks by your hips, you immediately flinch. He meets your gaze once again, “Why are you so afraid in front of me, love?” He reaches out to gingerly trace the lines you’ve been trying to hide your whole life when you should be embracing them, and to your evident surprise, all that’s in Loki’s eyes is admiration and raw passion.
And... affection? Something both of you have been deprived of, starved from the touch of someone who truly cares about you.
“A woman as she should be,” he whispers, referring to your marks, flicking his stare up to meet your eyes, your breath hitching again. “Beautiful,” he smiles.
You blush intensely and your chest is on fire, lungs forgetting how to give you your breath, making you gasp which pleases him to see his affect on you.
You finally look down and notice blood seeping in through his armor, making your eyes widen, “What happened? Were you three attacked?”
He shakes his head, not once straying from your eyes, and you, despite your best efforts, do the same, drowning in those blue orbs, “Only me. They sent me back because I was wounded, I-”
“Couldn’t you have just healed yourself there?” you ask him incredulously. “You have that ability, don’t you?”
A soft smile graces his lips and it almost makes you forget everything except for him. “I suppose you’re right,” he sighs. “Normally I’m very good at lying. Especially to mortals.”
“Lying? What do you mean?” you ask.
“I could have healed myself quickly, but I stressed to the Doctor that I needed to come here immediately because it takes time to do it when it really does not,” he has on this smug smile, and it’s so cocky that you want to punch him in the face.
“Why would you do that?” you ask, breath quickening.
He rolls his eyes, “I thought you were smarter than this.”
“Don’t insult me,” you frown. “You’re being extremely vague and avoiding my question, I’m not psychic.”
“You,” he says, smiling widening at the shocked look on your face. “I wanted to come back for you.”
“I- I have no idea why...” you play it off coolly as you possibly can, tightening your grip on the edge of the marble. There goes my heart doing that thing again.
He rolls his shoulder back, wincing slightly from the movement, and your eyes are drawn to his side where his wound still stays, “How can you not know that I-”
“You need to heal yourself,” you interrupt him. This is much more important. “Now. Before-”
“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth, frowning at your flat, unconvinced expression. “Really, darling,” he winks, and it’s a lot quicker, smoother, and sexier than Thor’s. Loki? Sexy? Really? “But your concerns are very sweet, little one.”
“Do not call me ‘little one’,” you warn him, gripping his arm in your hand, dragging him to your bedroom with all of your medical supplies. Steven has come home countless times in need of first aid, the task has fallen onto you numerous times. This time, however, you aren’t sure if you want to do this for him or let him do it himself, possibly worsening the injury.
Maybe it’s the voice or the hair or the eyes or the kindness in his eyes you’ve never seen before or the way you see him look at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, but you want to help him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, quickly walking up the stairs behind you, expertly slipping his hand into yours instead of you holding him by the arm. This is far more intimate and you shiver at the contact, but don’t protest when he threads your fingers together, in fact you smile slightly.
“Fixing you myself, since you’re going to be a toddler about it,” you tell him and he laughs softly at your teasing, following you into your room, taking in the books everywhere but on the designated shelves. So many pens, a computer on your cedar desk, journals open and filled to the brim with midnight scribbles when you couldn’t sleep, needless to say is that you rarely have company and you weren’t expecting anyone.
Loki looks around your bedroom, admiring the controlled chaos of it all, smiling at your taste in literature that is similar to his.
“I take it you read a lot,” he says, looking at you.
“You could say that,” you sigh, motioning for him to sit down on the bed. He sits down beside you, taking up almost your entire bed, with you being on the shorter side and not needing much room. You reach over and look him in the eyes for permission, “May I?” you ask him.
He nods, exhaling through gritted teeth when you lift his blood stained shirt, wondering how he stood upright for so long to talk to you. You grab a sterilized cloth and soak up all the blood, wiping away the rest of it to see the extent of his cut. You feel yourself release a small sigh of relief when you see that the cut isn’t deep or life-threatening, just... lots of blood which you sometimes are overwhelmed by.
He watches you while you work, smiling softly at the way you dart your tongue to lick your bottom lip while you concentrate.
You finish bandaging him up, eyes only now taking in the v-line of his lean, muscular torso, filthy thoughts running through your mind,
Because the realization hits you.
You don’t hate him. You don’t hate him at all.
But that still doesn’t erase what he did. Even if it was Thano’s fault... Wasn’t it? You’re head is spinning, but you’re listening to your heart, yelling for to do something, anything, when he continues to stare back at you, wondering what you’re going to do next.
“Feeling better now?” you say quietly, hugging your knees to your chest when you meet his eyes.
It’s supposed to be so easy to hate him, it was supposed to be simple.
He smirks, “Much,” he whispers deeply, looking in your eyes. He’s making this so difficult.
“You should probably leave then, if you’re feeling alright now,” you say, getting off the bed and standing up to open the door for him.
He nods, standing up and dusting off clothes, struggling momentarily to pull himself up, falling. You run over and catch him, hands around his waist to steady him, he rests his own hands on your hips.
“Are you okay?” you ask, a bit breathless, absentmindedly now resting your hands against his chest.
He nods and smiles, which kind of makes you smile as well, because for the first time, the god of mischief is at a loss for words. What is (y/n) doing to me?
“You should leave now,” you say as his hand slides up your waist resting on the back of your neck, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look him in the eye, unable to breathe again. “Loki...” you whisper as a warning.
He can’t help but smirk, “Do you really want me to?”
No. You don’t answer because silence is supposed to speak volumes and it does, between the two of you right now, it’s impalpable.
“Do you trust me, love?” he whispers into your ear, his other hand sliding up to rest on your cheek, you don’t have time to process your actions before you nod your head.
