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lokidokiliteratureclub · 4 years

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Healer

Kylo Ren x Reader (One-Shot for now)

Plot: Your planet has been destroyed, and as you are attempting to flee you are taken in by the New Order for your supposed healing abilities. With all the other nurses compromised, you are called upon to treat a very special, insufferable patient.

I am pretty sure this classifies as angst. It's less a romance and more an interaction.

Note: Sorry for those who are waiting for me to update the other story. I just needed to put something out to prove to myself that I'm not dead. Updates to Frostbitten coming! I'm doing my best :')

You should have never told these people you had any value. You should have pretended not to understand them. Look where honesty has brought you.

You are at the feet of the first order, a prisoner. A spare. A disposable remnant of the planet they destroyed in your wake. You are the only thing that remains of your people, and you are being dragged around in a lousy pair of handcuffs.

Figures approach as you and your guards turn through a hallway. You don't look up to see them, instead electing to listen to their voices.

"Is this the nurse?" A man in white asks the men in white behind you as you shift your hands around in their cuffs. "Assistance is needed urgently. Lord Ren is unaccompanied and mortally wounded."

That sounds bad, but you don't care enough to react. No one with the title 'Lord' has ever done anything good for you.

"Are there no others that can treat him? We have yet to test for experience. There is no way we can guarantee-"

"The nurses aboard our ships are either wounded or in shock. We need somebody now. These are our orders."

"What if this, this child kills him?"

Oh, please.

"I'm hardly a child," you speak up, looking up from the ground. There are no eyes for you to stare into, so you stare into the pits of the Trooper's mask. "And I know enough about you all to decide that murder is unwise. I'm sure a fate worse than murder would await me as a punishment for betrayal. I will treat whoever you wish."

At first, it seems they're going to take you seriously. Then, a short laugh.

"Do not be fooled into thinking you have a choice."

You are taken to a small quarters. The room is dark- not ideal for your work, but manageable. There is a man in black lying across a rectangular table in the center, and it is clear from the shade of his skin that he has lost plenty a lot of blood. With the urgency that you were rushed in with, it is clear that this patient is a patient of great value. You should be quick.

"All the tools you need should be here," a Trooper states. The handcuffs click quietly off your wrists. "Should you fail to save him-"

"I won't," you cut in. "But please, allow me the luxury of privacy. I cannot focus when I am being intruded upon."

The Troopers look at eachother, and then at the man on the table, and then, regretfully, step out of the room. Now you can begin working.

You strip the layers of bloodied clothing off of his skin, laying them at his sides and adjusting his body to reveal the worst of the wounds. Then, you glance quickly at the door to be sure you're alone, and close your eyes.

The energy begins to flow.

It flows out of you like a second language, striking home as soon as your fingertips touch his skin. The energy races to where he needs it most. His body begins to heal.

But then something odd occurs.

He pushes back.

Within his subconscious, the man on the table fights against your energy. His will rises to meet your own. It's as if to say 'I don't need you' even though he clearly does. You try to ignore it, but the longer you push the stronger the retaliation. You flatten your palms against his skin and focus more energy toward him. There is a slightly higher success rate, and then all his resistance falls back. You ease away from him, now physically drained from fighting, and you open your eyes. The worst of his wounds have sealed off. The only problems you have left are the wound on his face and the noticable blood loss. You decide to tackle the small problem first, and look toward his face.

He's looking right back at you.

An instinctive screech rises within you, but you push it down. You stare longer, silent. He's waiting for you to react. You don't. You take a deep, shaking breath inward, and straighten your spine, awaiting his words.

"Who are you?" He finally asks, faintly. His strength is still faltering, and you can hear it in his voice. He's lightheaded. He's weak. "What did you do to me?"

"I'm a healer," you state. "I healed you. It's kind of what I do."

"You used the force," he speaks, and he says it like a curse. "I felt it. I wanted to fight it- but you weren't trying to harm, were you?" He furrows his eyebrows. "Why can you do that? Who are-"

"I'm a healer," you repeat. You sense it makes him a bit angry. "I healed you."

"And what technique did you use to do so?"

"Unless you're a healer as well, not one that I'd expect you to understand. May I finish my work?"

The anger rises again, like a glowing ember. "I'll ask again. Are you capable of using the force?"

Still unfazed, you shrug. "The force is a part of the Jedi religion. The Jedi are dead. I heal people. I am not a Jedi."

The ember ignites. The man's hand jolts outward, and suddenly your airways are void of air. Your hands shoot to your neck, and you let out an unpleasant choke. "Yes or no," he repeats. His eyes are strong, demanding, but his grip is weak. He is still weak. "I'm not asking for much."

Your eyes trace his hand in the air. It has been far too long since you've seen another person exhibit your same power. Is this why the prisoner was held to such importance?

You stare him in the eye, face going red with lack of air supply. "You're not strong enough to hold this yet. I'd let go."

The grip tightens. There's pain on his face. He's still weak. "Yes. Or. No."

You shake your head, pushing a bit of what remains of your own energy outward into his. He falters, and then his hand drops, limp. "You're still healing. Give yourself time to rest." You reach a hand toward the wound on his face. "Let me finish."

He grabs your wrist. Not with any magical force this time, but with his hand. "You're not part of the Order."

You shrug. "I certainly don't support them. They blew up my home world, kidnapped me, and they are now forcing me to treat this asshole who thinks I owe him something." You shift your eyes back to him, and say with certain certainty: "I don't."

There's a pause, and you worry you pushed the wrong button, but he drops your wrist and closes his eyes, relaxing into the table.

Good. A moment of peace.

"Fascinating. You don't know why I am," he says, and he seems to believe it. "You'll regret saying all of that once you do."

You roll your eyes, placing your fingertips on either side of the man's head, near his temples. The energy begins to flow again. "No one can hurt me anymore. I either live or I don't. All I have left is to work. I left behind everything I had, so now I don't have-" you cut off, and as you stop speaking the energy stops leaving your fingers.

The man sees this weakness before you can recover.

"Anything left to lose?" He guesses. Suddenly, he has the high ground. All because of a falter. "You left? You abandoned?" He laughs. The entire table shakes slightly. "I don't see why they took you. We must be low on nurses."

You flinch. "I'm a healer."

"You're an asset." He raises both eyebrows, looking disgustingly smug. "There weren't many intelligent inhabitants on that planet. I'm sure you were very close to them."

Your hands tense. You feel your own ember begin to form, anger spinning a web. "That doesn't matter."

"Not anymore, I suppose." He opens his eyes, and you don't flinch when he looks into yours. "So, why are you here? Too much of a coward to die with them?"

The ember threatens to ignite. It begs to. You realize this, and take a step back, and close your eyes. And then you place your fingers back over the wound and continue healing.

"It takes one to know one," you say. "And that puts us in the same boat, doesn't it? From the looks of your wounds, you suffered quite a loss in battle. Why didn't you remain among the other men?"

"You don't know anything about me," he states in grim retaliation. "I'm not just some solider."

You laugh. "Clearly not. If you were a soldier you'd be wearing white armor and not a glorified bathrobe." Your hands rise from his skin, and the work is complete. "I'm done. I wouldn't move for a couple of days, as you lost quite a lot of blood." You turn, now eager to escape this tiny prison.

"Y/N," is all he says. You freeze on the way to the exit. "You're very difficult, Y/N."

You turn back around, limbs stiff. "How do you-?"

"I know the force. I can use it in ways beyond your imagination." He exhales deeply, frowning. "Your father taught you the ways of the force, didn't he? Who was your father?"

Your eyes start to sting, and you blink to keep tears from forming. "My father is dead. That's all you need to know on the matter."

"And whose fault might that be?"

That breaks you.

Your hand shoots out in front of you, and when it does the man goes flying off the table and into the wall, before landing on the floor with a dull thud. He laughs. "Good! You are powerful. In need of guidance-" He braces himself on the wall, standing up, clearly unstable. "I know a teacher who can help you use that power-"

You clench your outstretched hand. The man shoots across the room toward you, freezing in the air just a couple feet away. Despite the fact that you're in control, he looks very satisfied with himself. "The force is not a power. The force is a balance. As evil rises, an equal force of good rises with it." You open your fist, leading him back over the table and dropping him on top of it. "My father was not a teacher. He was a force that threatened the safety of others, and I rose up against him. That is all you need to know on the matter. Get some rest- whoever you are."

You're just about at the door when, as you expected, he speaks again. "My name is Kylo Ren," he says simply. From the silence that follows it is clear he expects a reaction. You look over your shoulder.

"No, it's not."

You leave before you hear his response.

#kylo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #star wars #kylo ren x reader angst

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 4 years

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Hello! I just read your frostbitten fanfic and I am in love! I just love how you keep the whole "situation" a mystery to keep us curious. It also makes the story very interesting and exciting. I cannot wait to read the next part! ❤️ I was also wondering if I could be in the taglist as well? Thank you very much in advance if you do add me in.

Thank you so much!! I haven't been as active as I've been meaning to be, but once I hit my stride again I will be sure you are on the taglist. Thanks for reading!

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

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💗♥️💘❤️♥️💓💛💓💛💓💞♥️♥️💞❤️💛💓💓💘♥️💘❤️💘♥️💘♥️💛💓💓💘♥️💘💓💘♥️

Frostbitten: Chapter Five

Y/N L/N is a child of a Jotun and an Asgardian. She spends her life hidden in the dungeons of Asgard, with no one to talk to other than one of the princes- a man who seems completely incapable of leaving her alone and entirely unable to give up on helping her. Y/N and Loki Odinson have always been inseparable, it seems- even when there is a cell wall, or a village, or an entire kingdom between them.

Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.

okay, quick note:

there have been at least 3 VASTLY DIFFERENT drafts for this chapter, where I’ve incorporated different aspects of the story in different measures. I felt this was the best way to continue the story, but a lot of the previous writings for this part still have important details may or may not answer long-standing questions. For that reason, my ask box is open! If there was anything in the previous parts that made you think weird flex but ok or but why tho or what the shit is happening, do not hesitate to ask, because it’s probably intentional. If it’s not, even better. I always need to edit :).

Also, marching season!! No sleep. Big mess. Sorry for lack of update. I promise I’m not abandoning this!

Tag list: Open

—–

Loki curls up beside your cell, knees to his chest, back to the wall. You cannot see him from your spot on your bed, so you don’t acknowledge him. You sit, flipping quietly through a book he had given you and sipping lightly at the death-soup Asgard gave you for food. And he’s there, eyes unblinking, trying to remember how to speak.

In his hands is a small dagger, dabbled with dry blood and dirt and dulled from use, and he flips it twice over, staring at the gentle curves of the blade. He has made mistakes today, and he needs to tell someone, but he can’t tell his family and he’s not ready to tell you. Pretending everything is alright on the other hand, is equally unacceptable. Loki is sick of lying. He’s sick of… well, sick of having to lie.

He presses the flat of the blade to his palm and closes his eyes, and the weapon disappears in a flash of green. You peek up from the pages and set the book on your bed, now aware of his presence.

“Are you hiding from me, now?” you jest, smiling softly and standing. “You look tired.”

Your voice draws him in from the first syllable, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

Your smile fades as quickly as it came, and you heave a deep sigh. “You’re doing it again,” you comment, looking away from him. “Loki, please talk to me. I’ll listen. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s no one for me to tell your secrets to. They’re safe with me.”

He looks at you, and through his eyes you see that your words have inspired anger. He hides it well, speaking even and low. “You’re worth more to me than my secrets.“

“Alright, then. Tell me why you did it. Whatever you did, or whatever you said.”

“I don’t know. That’s the worst part.”

You stay silent, awaiting an explanation. He looks toward you, clearly doing his best not to give anything away. “I have a very helpful resolve to only play practical jokes,” he says, “and if they get out of hand I fix my mistakes. I didn’t do that this time, and I made things worse instead. I got angry.”

“At what?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m always angry, always plotting- it’s in my nature to be the epitome of wrongdoing. When I’m good, there’s no reputation for me to lean on like there is my brother. We demand on good versus evil for security, because gods forbid two good people have a disagreement.”

“Why do people expect you to be bad? Why not Thor?”

“Thor is the heir to the throne, so obviously he’s perfect. I’m his opposite, so I’m the awful one.”

You fiddle your hands together, entertwining your own fingers. “So you’re angry because you have to fill this role?”

“No,” he pauses, and shame crosses his face. He looks away from you, closes his eyes, and exhales, his entire body going slack against the wall. “No, that’s not it. I’m angry because I’m so good at playing it. I’m uncontrollably good at playing it.”

“Oh.” You shift, turning your head to stare at the wall. “I can’t imagine why. You’re the kindest person I know.”

“And how many people do you know?”

Sif, and Fandral, and Thor, and Odin, and the other guards. All of them different, all of them horrible in their own special way.

“Enough,” you mutter.

Loki must read your mind, because he seems to regret his words after he hears you speak “That’s fair,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to push back his hair. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be emptying my heart out to you. You’re not my therapist.”

You scoff, recoiling, and cross your arms. “When I was six, a woman grabbed me by the wrist, angry with my lack of compliance in training. She had gloves on, and managed to keep me under control. I didn’t want her to keep touching me, so I used my other hand to grab her wrist. When she tried to run, her arm frostbitten, I shot an icicle at her shoulder and knocked her to the ground. Then I left her there, locking her in the room and running about until eventually being captured,” you say, bluntly. Loki blinks, surprised.

“I didn’t know all that,” he says, mildly fearful.

“I know,” you reply, smiling slightly. “A secret for a secret. You dump your feelings on me, I’ll return the favor. Deal?”

Loki sighs, eyes wandering for a moment while he ponders. Then his face softens, lips curving upward, and he looks back at you. He has forgotten the reason for his hesitance in speaking to you. “Are you sure you can keep up?”

“With the amount of times I’ve kept my thoughts from you?” You chuckle. “Absolutely.”

“What do you have to keep from me?” he asks, mildly amused.

“What do you have to keep from me?”

—–

Loki did not mean to kiss you last night. No strings were meant to attach. The encounter was meant to be short, and friendly, and consisting of comforting hand touches and maybe, maybe a kiss on the cheek- something very forgettable. Instead of being casual, however, you had refrained from contact, afraid of touching him, of hurting him, and this made the confrontation more… well, more something. Loki got a little too close, a little too eager. Now he has to come to terms with the reason why he wanted so suddenly to kiss you, and why he wants to kiss you again. It’s all he can think about, which is unfortunate considering the fact that he needs to figure out why he’s still trapped with his brother on Jotunheim.

He grunts noisily, trying desperately to shove you into his pile of secrets, and steers his thoughts back on course to his main suspect. If he’s right, the culprit is Arvid Erikson, since when everyone was through the Bifrost, Arvid was left behind in close proximity to Heimdall and the key. In those moments, he could have killed the gatekeeper and stolen the sword- the only way the Bifrost should remain closed. Arguably, the Allfather could summon dark magic to get everyone home, and regretfully, Loki has yet to figure out why that hasn’t happened.

Erikson has always been strange, of course, but never showed any ill intent, so Loki is asking himself the very repetitive question: why? Why do this?

Of course, this question is relatively meaningless if he’s trapped in his cell. He’ll die, of starvation or dehydration or boredom or all of the above if he doesn’t make his escape, which he will. If not to survive and bring the guilty to justice, he’ll escape to see you. To touch your hands, or embrace you, or maybe, maybe kiss you again. On purpose and with purpose. To figure out whether you share these strange emotions, and if you do, to indulge in them.

This should be happening soon, because Loki is no longer in his cell, but right outside, brushing the dirt off his clothes. How? you might ask, and to that I offer no response. He’s Loki. He’s… special.

“Thor,” Loki grunts, cautiously peering around the corner and starting toward where he thinks the other cells are. “Thor, are you still in there? We’re getting out.”

Quiet, then a crack.

“Loki?” a voice calls in answer, but it’s not Thor’s. It’s Sif’s voice, high and dry and hoarse, coming from a cell just a couple feet away. Loki struts up to the bars and peers through them, using the sparse blue daylight coming in through the cell window to try and make out her shape. There is blood dried down her chin, and down her arms are purple bruises, marks of swollen blue. Also in the cell is Thor, his hair dried with sweat to the sides of his face, skin covered in dirt. “Thor, your brother is here.”

“Then let him be. We can’t leave either way,” speaks Thor, casting a glance toward Loki through the bars. “Brother, she’s wounded, I’m wounded, and they’re coming for you. The two of us can’t afford to risk another escape when there are so many of them and so few of us.”

“That sounds logical,” Loki muses, scoffing gently. “Who are you and what have you done to my brother? Get her up. This may be our last chance to get out of here, Thor.”

“Loki,” Sif says, maybe a bit too loud. She opens her mouth to speak again, but when she breathes in she is caught in a fit of violent coughs, clutching her stomach like she might throw up. When the coughing ceases, she meets his eyes. “We need to wait for the Allfather. He’ll come and get us.”

“Have you considered that maybe this wasn’t an accident?” Loki furrows his eyebrows, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “I think it was Erikson. The Professor. I’m sure you can figure as to why.“

"Arvid is harmless.”

“Arvid is a genius, Thor. I wouldn’t doubt him.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“He didn’t try to kill Y/N. You know how horribly he spoke of Jotuns when he taught our history- not to mention he obviously would have known if I was sneaking through the-”

“Speaking of whom,” Thor cuts in, suddenly alert. “You’ve been conspiring with a prisoner or war this entire time?”

“Y/N is not a war prisoner, and that’s beside the point. The point is that Erikson is from Vanaheim, and I believe he may have the gift of foresight. It’s quite common amongst his people.”

“So,” Sif frowns, blinking slowly, wiping her chin. “You think that Arvid has stranded us on Jotunheim for a reason? To fulfill some sort of prophecy?”

“Or to stop one,” Thor breathes, barely audible. “If we we’re stranded here, then we’re long dead, brother.”

“Says whom?”

“Says the corpses rotting in the cells beside us.” With a deep grunt, Thor rises to his feet, walking steadily up to the bars and staring toward his brother. “But I don’t believe we’re stranded. Best to wait. Odin won’t be overpowered for long. But if you do run, then run fast, and run silent.”

“Are you alright?” Loki asks, frowning. “Thor, I can turn the lot of us invisible. I can do magic.”

“We’re not going.”

“You’re being frustratingly reasonable.”

“Loki!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you be. Just- the both of you had better not go soft. Then, we will die.” He steps away from the cell, turning his back, but pauses. “And is that all? Anything else you’d like to ask before I disappear?“

Thor contemplates in silence for a moment, and then says: “Do you love the Jotun?”

There is a heavy, far-too-long silence, and Loki’s faint wittiness fades. Without turning back to his brother, he mutters a suddenly harsh “What’s it to you?”

Thor leans the remainder of his weight on the door. “I saw the two of you speaking when we first arrived. You were like old friends. Speaking and smiling.”

“And what does that imply?”

“It’s unlike you to be so friendly with others. But all of your absences- times when you’d be inexplicably missing- you’d return lighter, gentler. I want to know what makes a monster in a cell so appealing, so softening to you.”

He spins slowly around, striding quickly back up to the door. “This monster, Thor, is the only thing currently leaving your body attached to your head. I’d choose your words more wisely.”

“Fine, then. Why is Y/N so much more interesting than any regular Asgardian?”

He stares- a stare that is less a look than a threat, and then says. “Y/N is different because in all my time on Asgard, as a prince, as a son, or as an ally, no one else has paid me more mind than you. Y/N values the pages over the cover- the mind over the body. Do you understand that?”

“But the prisoners have seen so few people that they’re probably desperate, don’t you think?” Thor stares pitifully at Loki, breathing deep. “I don’t want you to end up in love with someone who has had no choice but to love you back.”

“How naive can you be, Thor?!” He’s suddenly loud, and Loki takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again, fists clenching. “I was just as alone as Y/N was. The only ones other than our mother willing to speak to me would speak in brute, snobbish comments, and nothing more. If anything, I came to Y/N out of desperation. You were all so enthralled with your own lives that you hardly noticed me leave.”

Thor shakes his head, dismissing the very idea. “We would have let you- you isolated yourself, brother. Separated yourself from the rest.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?” Loki spits back. “I clung to you like a shadow, Thor. It was the only way you’d let me, and with Y/N I finally have someone to cling back. We both have wills. We both make choices. If you’d like to speak about forced love, take a look at the throne. Look beyond your own glory, just for a moment.”

“Loki, I-”

In a shimmer of green magic, Loki disappears from sight, his footsteps light thumps across the soft, dirt dungeon floor. He walks past the guards, flinging open doors in his wake as he storms out of the crumbling palace. He steps over glass and ice and stone, walking as far and as fast away as possible. When he stops, he pulls himself behind a rather large stone, slumping and leaning his back on the solid surface. His blood is still humming with anger, and with it he calls to the sky.

“Heimdall,” he groans, looking hopefully upward. “I know you can see me. I know you’re not one to stay dead, and I seek your guidance, seer. If you cannot bring us back, let me see.”

Silence. Loki sighs, then throws his elbow back into the rock, splitting it where he hit. “Heimdall! Bring us back!”

Then, the youngest prince is hit by yellow. He stumbles back, caught in the sudden sensation, vision blurred. When his sight clears, he’s no longer on Jotunheim, but in the darkening, deep woods of Asgard. Heimdall is leaned against a tree, looking extraordinarily annoyed. “Hello, Loki,” he grunts, unamused. “You are aware that you’re supposed to open your mind when calling, right? I had to fight my way into your head. I do not wish to repeat that experience.”

“Where are you?” Loki asks, ignoring the comments. “Why are you in the woods?”

“I’m dead,” he answers simply. “Can’t you tell?” Heimdall signals to the red blotches on his chest, the bandages around his upper half. “What better place to dispose of a corpse?”

“This is no joke, seer! My brother, Sif, and I have been trapped on Jotunheim, and if the Bifrost is not reopened…” Loki steps toward him, misplaced confidence in his swagger. “You’ve no time to be dead.”

“You’ve no time to be empathetic. Be logical. Put your emotions behind you, as you seem to be so gifted at doing, and find things you will need to survive. I will try to retrieve the Bifrost Sword. I know where it is, but I need time to heal.”

“Did Arvid Erikson do this to you?”

“That he did. He’s a very dramatic fighter, in case you were wondering. He talks a lot.”

“What did he say?”

Heimdall pauses, looking over the prince, and then sighs, turning his back and beginning to walk through the undergrowth. “I’d expect you’d know by now.“

"Prophecy? Foretold evils?”

“That’s the one.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “And that’s all?”

“Well, of course not. He’s also trying to kill you.” He stops at a smaller, shorter tree and kicks it square in the base, effectively knocking it over. Small, round fruits topple from its branches, rolling across the ground. Heimdall kneels, gathering several of these fruits into his arms. “If I recall correctly, you’re to attempt to overthrow the throne. Mind enlightening me as to why?”

The prince hesitates. “Overthrow the throne? That’s, I’d not want that. I’d make a much better king than my brother, but I wouldn’t…” he trails off. Heimdall looks up from the fruits, raising his eyebrows, and Loki turns his gaze to his palms, scratched and bare. He takes a deep breath, gritting his teeth. “And this is to bring about some horrible fate?”

“Why?” he asks, ignoring Loki’s question. “You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Loki glares slightly, rubbing his palms together. “Thor doesn’t deserve the throne in his state. He’s reckless, and arrogant, and dangerous.”

“That’s not all you have to say.”

“That’s all I care to say.”

“Does what you don’t care to say have anything to do with your parentage?”

Loki shrugs and doesn’t let on that he’s at all confused. “Doesn’t everything?”

Heimdall stares, holding his gaze. Then he looks away, satisfied. “Not in the way you think. Survive, Loki. I’ll come and get the four of you-”

“Four of us?” Loki cuts in. “So, you’ll-”

“They’ll kill your beloved once they find out Y/N isn’t Laufey’s missing child. I’m under the impression that you don’t want that to happen. Am I mistaken?”

“I don’t want Y/N imprisoned again. Father will forbid we speak to one another.”

“Your father is in Odinsleep. He has more important matters to worry about. Now go, you’re giving me a headache.“

Frostbitten Tags:

@natalia-rushman @what-inspirational-name @jessiejunebug @fandomdestroyer @a-new-schematic @iris-suoh @pandacookieowo @givememyskittlesback @awesomefandomsunited @itsanallygator@arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fire-treasure-iii @strangerliaa @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @woohoney @itsanallygator @rosesarestriped @justyuuhi @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @loser-alert @egos-obese-anorexic-minds @themusingsofmany @lokiboomer

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

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Can I be added to the taglist for Frostbitten?

wack diggity

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

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Hi, could I be added to your tag list for frostbitten? That is if it still is a work in progress... I can't seem to find more than five parts 😅

of course :))) it's still a wip

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

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If we're luckiest, she'll be Verity Willis.

'Loki': Sophia Di Martino to Co-Star With Tom Hiddleston in Marvel Series.

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

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Frostbitten: Chapter Five

Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.

okay, quick note:

Also, marching season!! No sleep. Big mess. Sorry for lack of update. I promise I'm not abandoning this!

Tag list: Open

-----

Loki curls up beside your cell, knees to his chest, back to the wall. You cannot see him from your spot on your bed, so you don't acknowledge him. You sit, flipping quietly through a book he had given you and sipping lightly at the death-soup Asgard gave you for food. And he’s there, eyes unblinking, trying to remember how to speak.

He presses the flat of the blade to his palm and closes his eyes, and the weapon disappears in a flash of green. You peek up from the pages and set the book on your bed, now aware of his presence.

“Are you hiding from me, now?” you jest, smiling softly and standing. “You look tired.”

Your voice draws him in from the first syllable, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

He looks at you, and through his eyes you see that your words have inspired anger. He hides it well, speaking even and low. “You’re worth more to me than my secrets."

“Alright, then. Tell me why you did it. Whatever you did, or whatever you said.”

“I don’t know. That’s the worst part.”

You stay silent, awaiting an explanation. He looks toward you, clearly doing his best not to give anything away. “I have a very helpful resolve to only play practical jokes," he says, "and if they get out of hand I fix my mistakes. I didn’t do that this time, and I made things worse instead. I got angry.”

“At what?”

“Why do people expect you to be bad? Why not Thor?”

"Thor is the heir to the throne, so obviously he's perfect. I'm his opposite, so I'm the awful one."

You fiddle your hands together, entertwining your own fingers. "So you're angry because you have to fill this role?"

"No," he pauses, and shame crosses his face. He looks away from you, closes his eyes, and exhales, his entire body going slack against the wall. "No, that's not it. I'm angry because I'm so good at playing it. I'm uncontrollably good at playing it."

"Oh." You shift, turning your head to stare at the wall. "I can't imagine why. You're the kindest person I know."

"And how many people do you know?"

Sif, and Fandral, and Thor, and Odin, and the other guards. All of them different, all of them horrible in their own special way.

"Enough," you mutter.

Loki must read your mind, because he seems to regret his words after he hears you speak "That's fair," he murmurs, lifting a hand to push back his hair. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't be emptying my heart out to you. You're not my therapist."

You scoff, recoiling, and cross your arms. "When I was six, a woman grabbed me by the wrist, angry with my lack of compliance in training. She had gloves on, and managed to keep me under control. I didn't want her to keep touching me, so I used my other hand to grab her wrist. When she tried to run, her arm frostbitten, I shot an icicle at her shoulder and knocked her to the ground. Then I left her there, locking her in the room and running about until eventually being captured," you say, bluntly. Loki blinks, surprised.

"I didn't know all that," he says, mildly fearful.

"I know," you reply, smiling slightly. "A secret for a secret. You dump your feelings on me, I'll return the favor. Deal?"

"With the amount of times I've kept my thoughts from you?" You chuckle. "Absolutely."

"What do you have to keep from me?" he asks, mildly amused.

"What do you have to keep from me?"

-----

Loki did not mean to kiss you last night. No strings were meant to attach. The encounter was meant to be short, and friendly, and consisting of comforting hand touches and maybe, maybe a kiss on the cheek- something very forgettable. Instead of being casual, however, you had refrained from contact, afraid of touching him, of hurting him, and this made the confrontation more... well, more something. Loki got a little too close, a little too eager. Now he has to come to terms with the reason why he wanted so suddenly to kiss you, and why he wants to kiss you again. It's all he can think about, which is unfortunate considering the fact that he needs to figure out why he's still trapped with his brother on Jotunheim.

He grunts noisily, trying desperately to shove you into his pile of secrets, and steers his thoughts back on course to his main suspect. If he's right, the culprit is Arvid Erikson, since when everyone was through the Bifrost, Arvid was left behind in close proximity to Heimdall and the key. In those moments, he could have killed the gatekeeper and stolen the sword- the only way the Bifrost should remain closed. Arguably, the Allfather could summon dark magic to get everyone home, and regretfully, Loki has yet to figure out why that hasn't happened.

Erikson has always been strange, of course, but never showed any ill intent, so Loki is asking himself the very repetitive question: why? Why do this?

Of course, this question is relatively meaningless if he's trapped in his cell. He'll die, of starvation or dehydration or boredom or all of the above if he doesn't make his escape, which he will. If not to survive and bring the guilty to justice, he'll escape to see you. To touch your hands, or embrace you, or maybe, maybe kiss you again. On purpose and with purpose. To figure out whether you share these strange emotions, and if you do, to indulge in them.

This should be happening soon, because Loki is no longer in his cell, but right outside, brushing the dirt off his clothes. How? you might ask, and to that I offer no response. He's Loki. He's... special.

“Thor,” Loki grunts, cautiously peering around the corner and starting toward where he thinks the other cells are. “Thor, are you still in there? We’re getting out.”

Quiet, then a crack.

“That sounds logical,” Loki muses, scoffing gently. “Who are you and what have you done to my brother? Get her up. This may be our last chance to get out of here, Thor.”

“Have you considered that maybe this wasn’t an accident?” Loki furrows his eyebrows, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “I think it was Erikson. The Professor. I'm sure you can figure as to why."

"Arvid is harmless."

"Arvid is a genius, Thor. I wouldn't doubt him."

"Do you have any proof?"

"He didn't try to kill Y/N. You know how horribly he spoke of Jotuns when he taught our history- not to mention he obviously would have known if I was sneaking through the-"

“Speaking of whom,” Thor cuts in, suddenly alert. “You’ve been conspiring with a prisoner or war this entire time?”

“Y/N is not a war prisoner, and that’s beside the point. The point is that Erikson is from Vanaheim, and I believe he may have the gift of foresight. It’s quite common amongst his people.”

“So,” Sif frowns, blinking slowly, wiping her chin. “You think that Arvid has stranded us on Jotunheim for a reason? To fulfill some sort of prophecy?”

“Or to stop one,” Thor breathes, barely audible. “If we we’re stranded here, then we’re long dead, brother.”

“Says whom?”

“Are you alright?” Loki asks, frowning. “Thor, I can turn the lot of us invisible. I can do magic.”

“We’re not going.”

“You’re being frustratingly reasonable.”

“Loki!”

Thor contemplates in silence for a moment, and then says: “Do you love the Jotun?”

There is a heavy, far-too-long silence, and Loki’s faint wittiness fades. Without turning back to his brother, he mutters a suddenly harsh “What’s it to you?”

Thor leans the remainder of his weight on the door. “I saw the two of you speaking when we first arrived. You were like old friends. Speaking and smiling.”

“And what does that imply?”

He spins slowly around, striding quickly back up to the door. “This monster, Thor, is the only thing currently leaving your body attached to your head. I’d choose your words more wisely.”

“Fine, then. Why is Y/N so much more interesting than any regular Asgardian?”

“But the prisoners have seen so few people that they’re probably desperate, don't you think?” Thor stares pitifully at Loki, breathing deep. “I don’t want you to end up in love with someone who has had no choice but to love you back.”

Thor shakes his head, dismissing the very idea. “We would have let you- you isolated yourself, brother. Separated yourself from the rest.”

“Is that what you've been telling yourself?” Loki spits back. “I clung to you like a shadow, Thor. It was the only way you’d let me, and with Y/N I finally have someone to cling back. We both have wills. We both make choices. If you’d like to speak about forced love, take a look at the throne. Look beyond your own glory, just for a moment.”

“Loki, I-”

“Heimdall,” he groans, looking hopefully upward. “I know you can see me. I know you’re not one to stay dead, and I seek your guidance, seer. If you cannot bring us back, let me see.”

Silence. Loki sighs, then throws his elbow back into the rock, splitting it where he hit. “Heimdall! Bring us back!”

“Where are you?” Loki asks, ignoring the comments. “Why are you in the woods?”

“I’m dead,” he answers simply. “Can’t you tell?” Heimdall signals to the red blotches on his chest, the bandages around his upper half. “What better place to dispose of a corpse?”

“This is no joke, seer! My brother, Sif, and I have been trapped on Jotunheim, and if the Bifrost is not reopened..." Loki steps toward him, misplaced confidence in his swagger. “You’ve no time to be dead.”

“Did Arvid Erikson do this to you?”

“That he did. He’s a very dramatic fighter, in case you were wondering. He talks a lot.”

“What did he say?”

Heimdall pauses, looking over the prince, and then sighs, turning his back and beginning to walk through the undergrowth. “I'd expect you'd know by now."

"Prophecy? Foretold evils?"

"That's the one."

Loki rolls his eyes. “And that’s all?”

The prince hesitates. “Overthrow the throne? That’s, I’d not want that. I’d make a much better king than my brother, but I wouldn’t...” he trails off. Heimdall looks up from the fruits, raising his eyebrows, and Loki turns his gaze to his palms, scratched and bare. He takes a deep breath, gritting his teeth. “And this is to bring about some horrible fate?”

“Why?” he asks, ignoring Loki’s question. “You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Loki glares slightly, rubbing his palms together. “Thor doesn’t deserve the throne in his state. He’s reckless, and arrogant, and dangerous.”

“That’s not all you have to say.”

“That’s all I care to say.”

“Does what you don’t care to say have anything to do with your parentage?”

Loki shrugs and doesn’t let on that he’s at all confused. “Doesn’t everything?”

Heimdall stares, holding his gaze. Then he looks away, satisfied. “Not in the way you think. Survive, Loki. I’ll come and get the four of you-”

“Four of us?” Loki cuts in. “So, you’ll-”

“They’ll kill your beloved once they find out Y/N isn’t Laufey’s missing child. I’m under the impression that you don’t want that to happen. Am I mistaken?”

“I don’t want Y/N imprisoned again. Father will forbid we speak to one another.”

“Your father is in Odinsleep. He has more important matters to worry about. Now go, you’re giving me a headache."

Frostbitten Tags:

#loki laufeyson #infinity war #thor odinson #avengers #loki x reader fluff #loki #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki series

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

Text

why not

not sure how many of you will see this without the taglist, but im down

Drabble Challenge: 1-150

Rules: Followers send a number to your ask and you write a drabble using that sentence/prompt in your piece. Try to keep up! Expect a TON of requests!

“The skirt is supposed to be this short.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“Who gave you that black eye?”

“You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

“I just like proving you wrong.”

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

“Forget it. You fucking suck.”

“Quit it or I’ll bite.”

“If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god! You’re on the couch for a month!!”

“If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.”

“Take. It. Off.”

“Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’ll kick his ass if you want me to.”

“Stop it! It tickles!”

“It’s okay to cry…”

“And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.”

“D..did you just make that noise?”

“He’s a bad kisser.”

“You can scream if you want.”

“I didn’t know we were keeping track.”

“We’re playing checkers. If you don’t like it, leave.”

“One of them’s missing.”

“Save some for me.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You’re still mad?”

“Come over here and make me.”

“You better watch yourself.”

“Eat your lunch and you wouldn’t be hungry.”

“Why did we have to have kids?”

“Call on Line 1”

“He creeped me out. I’m not gonna lie.”

“I’m done! You can fix it!”

“Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?”

“Where did he go?”

“You leave whenever you feel like it.”

“I forgot I was a single parent.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

“You’re going out dressed like that?”

“For the hundredth time, I’m not your babysitter.”

“Frost the damn cupcakes.”

“Well that’s the second biggest news I’ve heard all day.”

“You look pretty hot in plaid.”

“I thought you were dead!”

“I thought it was a one-night-stand…and now we’re married…”

“We’ve become the clingy couple that you used to complain about.”

“Quit touching me. Your feet are cold.”

“You know you want it, sweetheart.”

“I’m your husband. It’s my job.”

“You just wanted them because the light up.”

“That wasn’t very subtle.”

“He thinks he’s a mind reader.”

“It’s just you and me tonight. I was thinking we could have a little fun.”

“I don’t do hugs.”

“Don’t talk anymore.”

“I’m just a guy with a wife, two kids, and a Harley.”

“How do I even put up with you?”

“I said get rid of it.”

“They didn’t just find out. They already knew!”

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are.”

“Can you just man up and change his diaper?”

“Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats.”

“I have a secret.”

“I won’t let you get hurt.”

“You’re strong, baby. You have to be.”

“He’s four years old!!”

“I’ve had enough! I want to be alone!”

“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“Me and the boys will handle it.”

“You’re competitive and so am I, and it’s going to lead to a fight.”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“You’re a dork, just like your father.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Daddy!”

“I lost our child.”

“That’s my shirt. So is that..wait?”

“My name isn’t Leslie…who’s Leslie?”

“There’s a surprise upstairs for you.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m not your boss? Well then who is?”

“You can’t eat solids, only liquids until Thursday.”

“Come on, baby, up to bed.”

“They got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”

“Am I scaring you?”

“Run! You said you’d work out with me!”

“After everything…I’d still choose you.”

“And when did you plan on telling me about this?”

“Trust me.”

“Scoot over a little bit, please.”

“You’re so clingy, I love it.”

“You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“You’re cute when you’re all worried.”

“Stop being grumpy. It’s lame.”

“I don’t need a hero, I need a husband.”

“Don’t shut me out.”

“You got a cute butt.”

“I just got out of the shower, I can’t dance. What if my towel falls off?”

“Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”

“Do you really think I could ever replace you?”

“Sharing is caring. Now give me your fries.”

“…or we can chill in our underwear.”

“You can’t make up for it by giving me a tic-tac.”

“Keep pedaling and don’t stop, okay?”

“You, me, popcorn, two liter Dr. Pepper, and a movie. You in?”

“Have you seen my contacts?”

“Life is a highway, and I’m always drunk. So I’m not driving.”

“Quit stalling. Where’s your father?”

“You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.”

“Is he coming home?”

“I prefer blondes.”

“No more dogs. How hard it it to understand?”

“I let you win.”

“I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that. But what you’re doing isn’t fair.”

“Can I do your hair?”

“Your favorite superhero can’t be a villain.”

“I told you not to jump on the bed!”

“He’s pampering me, let him be.”

“Ready or not, here I come.”

“I’m worried about losing my job!”

“Oh, did I scare you, big boy?”

“Happy new year!”

“Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!”

“You nap, I’ll stay awake.”

“It’s turbulence. It’s normal.”

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.”

“I’ll give you a massage.”

“You fell asleep in the tub?!”

“Are you doodling?”

“We’re not playing strip poker. I don’t care what I said when I was drunk.”

“Slushies aren’t just for kids, fuck society.”

“Are you scared…Then why won’t you look at the screen?”

“Enough with the pillow talk, I’m tired.”

“You had a nightmare, tell me what it was about so I can fix it.”

“We need groceries, not just junk food. You’re worse than the kids.”

“Is this our closet? Or your closet?”

“If I win, you do dishes for a week.”

“Fist bumps are cooler than high-fives…”

“Use your words.”

“Hold my hand so he gets jealous.”

“Ew, your hand is sweaty.”

“Get out of my face before I hit you.”

“I don’t care if your 4 or 40, you don’t hit people.”

“You only care about football, beer, and raking leaves.”

“Look! Fireflies!”

“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”

“I just need ten minutes.”

*Make Your Own*

Happy Writing! Visit @prompt-bank for more prompts!

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

Text

Frostbitten (Chapter Four)

Previous Part

Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.

Happy 4th, if you live in the U.S.!! I listened to Hamilton twice today and then rewatched 1776, and then finished this, because that’s the only way I know how to celebrate. Sorry this took so long to get out! Also, enjoy this peace while it lasts, because this story isn’t gonna stay happy for long :)

Okay. Alright. This is fine.

The Asgardians will be completely okay in the dungeons. They can fend for themselves, right? There's no point in worrying about them, especially since it has only been moments since their departure, and since there’s no doubt that Odin will find a way to retrieve them very soon. You can worry about that later, you decide, trying to focus on the occurrences at hand.

The two guards at your sides walk you down a large dining hall, fitted with a table that has probably been set for years. A thick layer of dust is settled on the top of the tablecloth and spread along the grey, stone plates. It matches the rest of the castle: abandoned, unkempt, empty. The building seems to lack a soul.

The next hall that the guards lead you down is slightly less the part. It looks swept, at least. Portraits on the walls are crooked and cracked, but clouds of dirt do not rise to meet you every time you take a step, so it’s still, in a way, better. Some doors down this hallway are cracked open, and you can see beds left unmade. Plates of decaying food are left unattended on silver platters, with no hints as to why or to who left them there. At the end of the hallway, a large door to the left of you is the only one left closed. The guards pause at this door, ushering you forward. Since the door was clearly made for much taller beings, the handle is at your shoulder- nearly at your neck, but you wrap both hands around it and pull.

At first, the room is dark and silent, the only traces of light entering from the space behind you. You take a step in, and a small ball of light emits from near the back of the room, stemming from the fingers of a rather young looking Jotun, not much shorter than yourself. His hair, long and a ratty mess, reaches down across his oversized grey robes. He sets the orb of light down, as if it were solid, and ties his hair back, away from his face, before straightening up and truly addressing you.

"Who're you?" He asks quietly, his voice high, but calm. "You're awfully small."

"Loric," groans a second voice after a moment's delay, accompanied by a quiet tossing of sheets. "Stop... Magic... No one is..." the voice trails off, and you squint into the dim light, searching for the owner of the second voice. "Oh, damn. Light it up."

Loric spreads his hands, and light floods the ceiling of the long, musty room, illuminating two columns of "beds," piles of sheets lined up along the stone walls. There are six. Two are empty, four are filled. Two of the children are awake, and the others begin to stir, poking their tiny heads out of the clutters of fabric.

They look like twins, each of them being very young girls. The boy who performed the magic seems slightly older, probably in his early teens, and the one who spoke to you is much taller than you, though, assuming he'll grow to the size of the guards or the king, he's probably years younger. He studies you, flabbergasted, and waves a hand to the space behind you.

"Guards, you are dismissed," he says. The two giants leave their posts, shutting the door behind you.

The two twins, rubbing their eyes, each turn toward you.

"Hi," you say, blinking uncomfortably. Your voice is dry, and a bit weak. "I, hello, I'm Y/N. You're all very tall."

"Y/N," echoes the eldest, shifting in his pile of sheets. "You're quite short for a giant."

"I'm only half-" you start, on instinct, and then quickly cut off. These sons and daughters of Laufey do not need to know that you’re half Asgardian. "I suppose I'll be about half your size. It's a birth defect."

"How was prison?" Asks Loric, staring at you with large red eyes. "That's where you're from, isn't it? You are Laufey's lost child. We were told you’d come."

"You're here to join us?" Asks one of the twins, using a small hand to push her hair out of her face. Beneath the veil of hair is a round, makeshift eyepatch, fashioned from the sole of a shoe and bit of cloth. "There's no room. Where are you to sleep?"

"She'll sleep in one of the other beds, stupid," says the second twin, rolling her eyes. "They're plenty empty. She'll sleep next to you, even."

"That's where Elora sleeps!" The first twin shoots back. "We're not kicking her out!"

"Elora isn't here!"

"Quiet, you two," the eldest interrupts. The twins shut up very quickly, staring away from each other. "Y/N, we'll get you new bedding. You'll not want to use any of these."

You look at the crumpled piles along the walls and don't make a move to disagree. "Thank you, ah..."

"Vaire," he finishes. He is studying your face, appearing troubled. "And that's Loric, and the twins are named Kolla and Arna. The one with the eyepatch is Kolla."

Kolla smiles at the sound of her name, staring attentively at a spot on the wall. Arna waves at you in greeting, but her eyes are on her sister, gazing with a certain kind of restrained grief. Each of them has long, straight hair and pale blue skin- contrasted from the darker shades in Vaire's and Loric's skin. Now that you think about it, other than the twins, they don't look much alike at all. They look more distantly related. Like cousins.

Or, you think, like step-siblings. Same father, different mothers.

"Well," you look over the four, "I'm, are there others? The other beds, are they normally.." you trail off when you notice everyone's eyes suddenly avoiding you, deciding that you may not want to know the answers to your questions. "I, it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," says Loric, faintly.

"I pity you if you thought this would be any better than where you were on Asgard," says Vaire, absentmindedly running a thumb under his jaw, which is over pronounced, sharp from malnourishment. "Though, it may get better for you sometime soon, since you've singlehandedly managed to steal the throne."

There it is. There’s the bad side.

"I, sorry if I did, but I didn't mean to steal anything." You sigh, looking away from the people who you're pretending to be related to. "Besides, look at me. Do you think Laufey is going to let me anywhere near the throne? I look like a splinter in an armory. I'm completely unintimidating."

"Do not mistake my words for contempt," Vaire says quickly, putting his hands in the air in surrender. He seems genuine, immediately regretful. "I didn't mean that in a bad sense- I'm actually quite glad I'm not the heir. I have no interest in the throne."

"Vaire wanted to give it up to me," Loric says, lacing his fingers together. "He thinks I'll be a very powerful ruler. But Laufey forbids it. He says that I'm a wizard, not a king."

Boy. Where have I heard that before.

"That doesn't make any sense," you comment. Vaire nods solemnly.

"Nothing does.” He looks at Kolla, who is mumbling to herself and staring at the bed next to her, then looks at Loric, who hugs his legs to his chest, staring right back at him. You'll get used to it."

You grow quiet. The room goes stale, reduced to shuffles and breathing. Then Loric lets out a loud, semi-annoyed sigh, and he stands up.

"You want to see your friends," he says, to your immediate surprise. "Don't be so shocked. I can see it written on your face!"

"To be perfectly honest, I guessed too," says Vaire, clearly grateful for a change in subject. "But I didn't think they were your friends. I figured you'd want to bid farewell."

You blink. "I, one of them is a friend. The others are allies. I don't intend to let them die."

"Won't they starve?" Arna asks, head tilted curiously. "Are they nice?"

"No," you say plainly. “Most of them are actually quite awful. But they're innocent, and one of them..." you bite your lip. "One of them is quite important to me."

"Oh? Do explain." Vaire grins, narrowing his eyes. "I do love a good romance story, and we haven’t many of them in the library."

You flush, cheeks warming, and stare at the ground. "No, no. It's not, we're, no, he's just the one who kept me company while I was in prison."

"A guard?" Arna suggests.

"No, he was.." your blush deepens, creeping down your neck. You probably look just as ridiculous as you sound. "...he was a prince."

"Thor!?" Kolla is suddenly snapped from her gaze, staring with one big eye. Then she turns her gaze to the empty pile of blankets beside her, lowering her voice. "Did you hear that, Ellie? She's courting Thor!"

"No!" You say quickly, sounding quite a bit disgusted. "No, gods no. It's his brother."

"Thor has a brother?" Loric asks.

"Oh, I've heard of him. Prince Loki, I believe. God of Mischief and Lies," speaks Vaire, thinking deeply.

You nod, but halfway through the motion, you stop, frowning. "I've never heard of him by that name. But yes. Loki."

Loric begins to grin along with his brother, walking toward you and stopping just a couple steps away. "And you're in love with him?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"...Yes."

"Does he love you?"

"No."

"That sounded disappointed."

"I'm not!"

"Is he?"

"Is he what?"

"Is he disappointed in the lack of amorous air between you?"

You roll your eyes. "I'll have to ask him next time I'm in the dungeons."

Loric nods thoughtfully, then all the light from the ceiling drops to the floor and flies into his hands. "Alright. Let's go! Vaire, we'll be back soon."

Vaire seems unfazed. He waves at you, then disappears back into his blankets. "Bring back food."

"Of course."

You blink. “What?”

“We’re going to the dungeons!” Loric exclaims, grabbing your wrist, which immediately freaks you out considering that you haven’t directly been touched in a very long time. You somehow manage not to rip your hand away.

“Won’t you get in trouble? I’ve only just met you- you don’t have to-”

“Oh, Loric is excellent at not getting into trouble. Don’t you worry,” mutters Arvid, speaking through a yawn, and not a second later you're being dragged down the hallway, Loric's fingers holding tightly around your wrist as he flies past oblivious guards and open doors. He slows down for a moment in the dining hall, pulling you off into a small side room and grabbing a stale loaf of bread off of one of the shelves.

He snaps the loaf in half and hands one half to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Half for us, half for your... Allies."

You take the bread and hold it tenderly, smiling at the eagerness of the young child. Maybe it's his generosity, or his magic, or his name- but he reminds you distinctly of Loki.

"They've only been in the dungeons for about twenty seconds, but thank you," you say as he grabs your wrist once again. “Are all of you this nice? On Asgard we have a very specifically awful image of Jotuns.”

"There are plenty of good ones here, just not many in the palace," he returns. "Oh, and in case you haven't realized, I'm making us invisible. I’ll let go when we're in the dark."

"Alright."

He starts off again, heading toward the entrance hall and then pulling you down a dark staircase, so dim you have to squint to make sure you don't hit the guards standing by the walls. When you reach the cells, Loric doesn't immediately let go. Instead, he leans over to you, whispering.

"I think your friends are special prisoners. They won't be close to the front."

"Oh?" You frown. "Where will they be?"

"Near the back, probably, where it's hardest to escape," says Sif, her voice popping up very suddenly from behind you. You spin around, only to find that she's hidden behind a thick, metal door- the only access to the outside world is from a small window at the top. Even that is barred off. "Though, for some reason, they presume I'm not special enough. They'll regret that, eventually."

When he hears no guards, Loric releases your wrist, conjuring a small ball of light. You move to the door and grip the bars, trying to see through to her. "The Odinsons are further down?"

"Loki controlled you," she says, dodging the question. "Are you here to get revenge?" Sif is at the back of her cell, but when she sees you she begins to move forward, arms crossed defiantly. "He's a magician, might I remind you."

"You're being extraordinarily annoying," you comment in retaliation, backing a step away from the bars and ripping off a chunk of the bread. "And Loki wasn't controlling me. I was telling the truth. You three are innocent."

"Oh?" She cocks an eyebrow, stepping to the front. Her eyes fall to the bread, then to Loric. "And who's this?"

"Loric Laufeyson," Loric says, smiling gently. He seems unfazed by her attitude. "You've lovely eyes, miss."

You stare daggers at Sif the minute he says his name. Don't blow my cover, you scream at her, mentally. Then we'll both die.

She stares at him for a moment, confused, and then looks back to you. Realization starts to dawn on her face. Slowly, but surely, you see her resolve to hate you flicker away. There's almost guilt in her expression. Almost. "You're serious?"

You nod. "I'm serious. You're hungry?"

She looks ready to reject the offer, but swallows her pride, sighing. "I didn't exactly eat breakfast."

You hold the bread through the bars. It's surprisingly unfrozen, and she takes it.

"I don't trust you," she says, inspecting the bread. "But I don't think you're so much evil, just stupid."

"Thanks." You smile sarcastically, backing up from the bars. "I'll let you know if the Allfather drops out of the sky to retrieve you."

She pauses, and then looks down, shaking her head. "If all goes well, that will be soon."

You leave her behind with that, not offering a response. Loric leads you away, father back into the prison. He's smiling.

"I like her," he says. "She seems very fierce."

"Stubborn, more like. I hear she's excellent on the field, though."

"Is she your guide?"

You shake your head. "We.." you pause, realizing that you probably can't tell him about Arvid. "..Jotunheim Is small. We figured that no guide was needed."

He nods, contemplating this until you reach your next destination.

It's not an energy barrier, thank the gods, and the only thing that separates this cell from Sif's is that through the bars on the door you can see Thor has his hands in cuffs chained to the wall. He seems to have a few feet of walking space, but that's all.

"Oh, it's you," he grunts, eyes following you from the back of his cell. "You know, you're lucky the other prisoners are asleep. They'd rip you to pieces if they saw you visiting us."

You stare. "Thor, I realize you don’t like me much, but I'm trying to help."

Loric frowns. "Is this the man you love?"

"No, this is Thor. He's awful. Also, I don't love Loki either."

Thor looks alarmed. "You love my brother?"

"You know what?" You tear a piece off of the bread, throw it, and watch as it hits him square in the face. "Take the bread. I'll talk to you tomorrow, if you’re still here by then."

He says something else, but you're already walking away before you have time to hear it. Loric chuckles at your change in stature, following you toward the back of the room and pointing you to a hallway to your left. "You don't like him," he comments, smiling. "Why not?"

"With the Odinsons, you just have to like one and hate the other."

"You picked Loki?"

"I'd hope so," joins a third voice from farther down the hall, warm and familiar. Both you and Loric turn toward the cell which holds the voice, and through Loric’s light, your eyes lock with beautiful blue. "Y/N is practically the only thing my brother can't take from me."

You step up to the foot of his cell. The bars are full length in his cell- ceiling to the floor instead of solid walls. The door is the same as the others. "I chose you because you’re not arrogant and insufferable. Don’t change my mind by whining.”

“Wow, so bold now that we’ve switched positions.” He grins, and bows swiftly, keeping eye-contact the whole time. "As you wish, your majesty."

"Should I leave you two alone a moment?" Asks Loric's tiny voice, laced with mischevious intent. "It'll be dark, but I doubt you need light to speak."

"Oh, Loric, there's no need-"

The light goes out. It grows silent, and then Loki begins to laugh.

"I like him," he says, quieting his voice.

“That’s Loric Laufeyson,” you mutter, laughing gently along with him. “I like him too.”

"How have you been? It's been quite a while. Maybe a bit too long."

"Maybe?” You chuckle. “I'd slap you if I wasn't sure I'd freeze your nose off, but I'm pretty sure there was no way for you to visit, so I'll let it slide."

"I would have visited if I could, I promise. It nearly killed me to be away for so long."

You scoff, but smile through the darkness. "Drama queen. You were fine."

"No, really, I didn't realize how much of my life..." he trails off, then laughs lightly. You hear him shuffle a bit. "Everyone else is either insanely secretive and deceptive, or arrogant and shameless. Since Thor got this assignment from father, he's been an absolute nuisance."

"More than usual?"

"More than usual,” he agrees. “Thor may be a bit arrogant, but he's also very easy to love. He's like a, well, like a horse- simple, easy to operate, kindhearted, loyal-"

"But a complete idiot?"

"Not necessarily, it's just that... He's a bit slow sometimes."

You snort, feeling for the bars and leaning against them, taking some of the weight off your legs. "We'll have something in common. It's been ten years and I still can't control whether or not I take someone's hand off."

"Oh, Hogun will be alright. He was being an imbecile." There's a soft, outward sigh, and you feel his shoulder brush yours as he leans on the other side of the bars. "You weren't level-headed. You controlled it fine when..."

"When you were there," you finish with a sigh. "Everything is always horrible when you're gone. If you ever leave again I might have to come find you."

"I'd be more worried about yourself." You feel a gentle brush of skin on the hand you have resting against the bars, and quickly pull your fingers away. Loki immediately expresses concern. "What's wrong?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Loki. You can't touch me."

"Because you don't want me to, or because you're afraid it will hurt me?"

"It will hurt you."

"You won't."

"I can't control that."

His voice gets closer. "Y/N, you could cut off my legs in my sleep and I'd still adore you. If you give me frostbite, I'll heal it and forget this ever happened, but I doubt I'll ever need to."

You hesitate, the word adore lingering in the air. "I.. Loki, I would never forgive myself. You'd do the same for me."

"This isn't about me. This is about you. If there were no consequences-" he breaks off. When he speaks next, he sounds amused. "Fine. Coward."

"Loki, don't-!"

His skin meets yours with a sudden shock, so sudden that your hand jolts upward. He grips your hand gently, steadying you as you screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down and control the ice. His fingers slip delicately around yours, and your hand is lifted upward until the soft skin of his lips hits your knuckles. The contact is short, but it carries a lifetime of meaning.

"See, was that so bad?" His voice rings, and you can almost hear him smirk as your hands, shaking, wrap around his.

"You're going to kill me one day," you said, voice shaking, your heart beating at an alarming rate. "By the nine, Loki-"

"Hush, it's alright. We're alright." He takes your hands, one in each of his, and places them on the sides of his face, as if to confirm this fact. “You’re not even cold.”

You soak in the feeling of his skin, breath evening out. You take a moment to touch him, thumbs brushing under his eyes and fingers wrapping around his jaw. He mirrors you, gently taking your face in his hands and holding you, so close that you can feel his breath on your face. You can hear your heart thrumming in your ears. You can feel the light, weightless, tingling feeling spreading into your limbs. You feel the thrum of his pulse against your fingers, and... Is it? Yes, it's surely faster than usual. You wonder if he can feel your pulse as well or if his fingers have grown numb atop your skin.

When you don’t even think it’s possible to get closer to him, there is a brief, soft brush of lips. The shadow of a kiss. Intoxicating and unfinished, leaving you to revel in silent, confusing longing. After a moment of deep breathing and heavy silence, Loki plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth, chuckling softly. "Getting a bit close, are we?"

"A bit," you whisper in soft response, not sure what to call the feelings awakening inside you. "Is this what it always feels like?"

"What what feels like, dear?"

"Well, you know.. Touch." Your fingers brush for a final time over his face, pausing on his cheekbones. Under your fingers, you swear there are small ridges on his skin. Raised places, forming delicate lines down his face. "Does... Is there always...this?"

There's a silence, your hands still on each others' skin, and Loki plants a second kiss on the top of your head. "No," he whispers, so faintly you nearly don't hear. Then his hands leave your skin, and he takes a step back. "You should probably go find your brother."

"He's not my brother," you remind him. Your hands slowly, shakily leave his skin. "But yes, I suppose so. He's quite a dear. I'd not want to get him in trouble."

"I'll be waiting for you," he says. His voice is fainter, lower. "Try not to forget me while you’re living in the lap of luxury."

“Don’t count on it,” you murmur, throwing the last chunk of bread at his face and quickly exiting the premises, heart still rushing.

Frostbitten Tags:

@natalia-rushman @what-inspirational-name@jessiejunebug@fandomdestroyer @a-new-schematic @iris-suoh @pandacookieowo @givememyskittlesback@awesomefandomsunited @itsanallygator@arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fire-treasure-iii @strangerliaa @for-the-love-of-the-fandom@woohoney @itsanallygator @rosesarestriped @justyuuhi @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @loser-alert @egos-r-life @themusingsofmany

#Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor #marvel #mcu

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