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lokigayforhela · 3 years

Note

Hi how are you? I wanted to know what it would be like Hela telling the reader that she wants to have a baby with her?

W/C: 1401

TW: mention of pregnancy

A/N: Dearest reader, you know exactly where my heart is, and I thank you for giving me a prompt that let’s me think about Hela and reader having a baby together. Also, I NEVER write modern Hela x reader, so this was extra fun! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

A/N 2: ...what are our thoughts on making this a series with different pregnancy milestones?

You and Hela had been together for only a few years, but to you it felt like it had been forever.

You connected in a way that you knew not even everyone in love was lucky enough to connect with their partner, and every day that you got to spend with Hela, you cherished, and not a night went by that you didn’t thank the stars and moon above for bringing her into your life and letting you be the one that got to love her and hold her for the rest of all eternity.

You’d never had a wedding. Not like the fancy one you’d always imagined as a child, with a dress that rivaled a princess’, or a giant cake, or a bunch of your family and friends around. Instead, it had been a simple affair at the courthouse, with Hela’s brothers, and your family, and that had been enough for the both of you.

You’d been told that waking up next to the person that you loved would lose its charm over time, like a favorite song that just didn’t make your soul feel the way that it used to, but you didn’t think you could ever grow tired of waking up to find Hela watching you softly and playing with your hair, or curled around you like a cat craving the warmth of the sun, and this morning was certainly no different.

As you blinked your eyes open, waking yourself up a little more fully, you found Hela already watching you, brushing her fingers through your hair as she smiled softly upon realizing that you were awake.

“There she is… The anniversary girl…”

You gave a sleepy little giggle, and snuggled up as Hela pulled you closer. “It’s your anniversary, too, you know…”

“Is it? I had no idea,” Hela mused, earning a laugh from you as she pressed a kiss to your forehead and traced her fingers up and down your spine beneath your thin sleep shirt.

For a long while, you just stayed like that in silence, with your head tucked in the crook of her neck, and Hela pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder and temple and head, and anywhere else she could reach comfortably, until finally, she broke the silence, keeping her arms wrapped around you. As she spoke. “What do you want to do today to celebrate?”

You hummed softly, and withdrew yourself enough so that you could lay on your back, lips twisting to the side as you thought. “Mm… I don’t know. I thought maybe we could go out for dinner later. I made reservations at that nice Italian place you love so much.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” Hela leaned over to kiss your cheek, turning over on her side so that she could watch you as she threw an arm over your waist, just so she could keep touching you in some small way. “Lunch in bed, then? I’ll do all the work?”

You laughed softly. “Is it that late already?”

“Mmmmno. But I figured there’s no way we’re getting out of bed for at least another hour or two.” Hela had that mischievous little grin on her face that she only got when she was feeling in a particular mood, and you couldn’t help but to laugh in response.

“So bold, dear wife.”

“Well, one of us has to be,” she teased.

“Hey!”

But before you could argue any further, Hela started poking your sides gently, effectively cutting off any retort you might have made as you squirmed and laughed, writhing desperately in an attempt to try and escape the tickles.

It didn’t take long for Hela to give up on her crusade, instead opting to cup your face and kiss you sweetly, and you hummed softly as you returned the kiss just as gently, sighing softly in pure, happy bliss.

Time seemed to melt away, the longer you laid there, kissing and cuddling and laughing softly every time one of you had to separate long enough to breathe, and after a while, Hela drew back, expression a little more serious as she brushed the backs of her fingers down your cheek gently.

“…I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, no. A divorce? On our anniversary?” You said it only to be funny, and Hela did laugh a bit, but she shook her head.

“Gods, no, not a divorce. I don’t think I could live if I didn’t get to have you by my side every single day.”

You smiled softly, and reached to hold her hand in yours, threading your fingers together and kissing her knuckles before looking back up at her. “…what, then?”

Hela was quiet for a moment, and you could tell she was gathering her thoughts and figuring out how to say what she wanted to say, and you let her take her time, watching her softly.

“…we’ve been together for some time now, and… we’re steady, and we have stable work, and money in a savings account.”

You nodded along, but couldn’t help but feel a little confused as to why Hela was bringing something like that up, but you remained silent, letting Hela continue her train of thought.

After a long moment of just looking at you, like she was looking for some sort of sign that she needed to continue, she smiled softly, squeezing your hand gently.

“…I want to have a baby with you.”

“….what?” You weren’t opposed to the idea, not by any means, and you couldn’t help the small little smile that crept up as you watched Hela gently, falling in love with how nervous and excited she managed to look all at once.

“I’ve seen the way you are, with Thor’s kids, and… and you’ve talked about what it might be like to have them before, and I know you want them, even if you’ve never said so in as many words. And I just…” She huffed out a shy little laugh, gaze going distant as she pictured the future. “I can’t stop thinking of getting to hold a tiny little girl that looks exactly like you, or… or a little boy that has your hair and your eyes, and your smile… I never thought of myself as the motherly type, but… I can’t express how much I want to do this with you.”

The longer Hela rambled, the more your heart absolutely melted, and by the time you finished speaking, you couldn’t tell if your eyes were watering because you were smiling so hard or because seeing Hela be so open and honest with you still made you so emotional, and all you could do was nod, laughing a bit.

“…okay.”

Hela smiled, as well, though she still looked a little worried that you were agreeing only to shut her up. “…okay?”

“Yeah, I mean… You’re right. I’ve wanted kids since I was a kid… I know my mom’s told you that story about how I told her an angel had visited me when I was four and told me I would have a daughter in the future. Though, I can't imagine she expected it would be like this.” You brought your hands up so that you could press a kiss to her knuckles again, smiling softly up at her. “Hela… nothing would make me happier than to have a baby with you. Maybe two, if we decide the first one isn’t enough. And I know the idea of childbirth isn’t thrilling to you, so I wouldn’t even be mad if I’m the one that has all of them.”

Hela only smiled, reaching a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear before kissing you gently. “…we’ll have time to figure all of that out later, I promise. I just… I want to do this with you. I need to.”

The way she spoke so earnestly had your stomach turning flip-flops in the best way, and you just had to kiss her again, keeping your fingers laced through hers as you cuddled up.

“…I love you, so much. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I can’t wait to do this with you. Together.”

Hela smiled, and squeezed your hand, nuzzling her nose against yours as you both closed your eyes.

“Together.”

You hummed softly, content to stay close to Hela as you held each other. “…best anniversary gift ever.”

Hela only kissed you sweetly in response.

#Hela x reader #Hela Odinsdottir x reader #Hela #Hela Odinsdottir #Marvel #oneshot #anonymous #ask #answered #fluff #domestic fluff #thank you for the prompt!

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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years

Text

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag your favourite authors!

It’s been a while since I’ve looked at some of my old fics, so thanks for the tag, @lafourmii20

1. ‘I’ve never understood what I’m meant to be doing at these things.’ Tony slapped a smile on his face when another couple walked past, acting as though he hadn’t whispered in a panic. (Eye Tinted Green) IronStrange

2. Shoving aside the document, Loki slumped over his desk with a groan. This was what being the Prince of Asgard meant now, the new era of his people. (Sempiternal) FrostIronStrange

3. Stars sparked along his retinas as he shoved the heel of his hands into his eyes, a point of pain he focused on to stay awake. Sighing, he shifted onto his side, thumping his pillow into an acceptable shape, only to roll onto his back moments later. (Enervated) FrostIronStrange

4. ‘And then I walked right over and told him where to stick his job.’ (Second Time’s a Charm) IronStrange

5. 'Hurry up already, Strange! You'd think with wizard powers he'd be faster with the popcorn, but no,' Tony told the room, throwing the remote down on the cushion beside him. (Ensorcelled) IronStrange

6. ‘Pass us the box would ya?’ Hank demanded, not taking his eyes off his monitor as he blindly patted the desk in front of him, knocking over empty coffee cups. (Carving Yourself a Space) HankCon

7. Loki crashed to one knee, hand going up in surrender as he struggled to catch his breath. ‘I yield,’ he grunted, hoping he’d be granted mercy. (More Than Just a Season. It’s a Feeling) FrostIronStrange

8. Creeping down the stairs, blankey in hand, Tony peered through the stair railings, listening. He couldn’t hear anything. Growing braver, he scuttled across the hardwood floor, wincing when his footsteps echoed down the hallway. (Sent To Me) IronStrange

9. Tony Stark had seen many things in his life. Humans with superpowers, humans with mutant abilities, humans who could manipulate energy (he’d go to hell before he’d admit what Stephen was doing was magic). Yet he still jumped every time Thor slammed into the lawn at the compound, complete with a boom of thunder and crackle of lightning. (Ternion) FrostIronStrange

10. ‘Can you finish here?’ Stephen asked Christine, glancing up in annoyance at the intern that wouldn’t take the hint he wasn’t to be disturbed. He handed the scalpel over to her, breath escaping his clenched teeth in rage. (Obstacles and Opportunities) IronStrange

11. Tony ran the edge of his glass over the railing, rolling it back and forth as he listened to the sounds of the festival below him. (Bast’s Enchantment) IronStrange

12. ‘Stephen, that isn’t how someone usually reacts to the news that one of their friends is in a committed relationship,’ Christine sighed down the phone. (Counterfeit Boyfriend) IronStrange

13. 'Yoo-hoo, any wizards or magical entities about?' Tony called, spinning on his heel at the bottom of the staircase. He took a few moments to look around the Sanctum, breathing in the serenity, imagining the stillness of the place seeping into his bones. (Stringless) IronStrange

14. Noctis scraped his boot across the floor of the campsite, the warmth of the fire at his back, the snoring of his companions a melody he’d never grow tired of hearing. (When The Time Comes, Don’t Say No) GladNoct

15. ‘Afternoon, Gladio, I trust Sir Gerolt made it out of his latest escapades alive?' Ignis smiled at him from behind the counter, pushing his glasses up his nose. (By its Cover) GladNoct

16. Ignis slammed the report down, not paying attention to how it wobbled the haphazard Jenga pile he'd created. (Fool Me Once) GladNoct Ignoct Chocobros

17. He flexed his wrist against the restraints, the metal scraping against metal, biting into his flesh. His back ached after hours of being in this position, his muscles locked and screaming in pain. (Splinters) GladNoct IgNoct Chocobros

18. Gladio halted mid-swing as he recognised the scent, the pause allowing his sparring partner to take advantage and knock him off his feet. He laughed it off, telling the other Crownsguard to take five as he went to investigate. (Pyrexia) GladNoct IgNoct Chocobros

19. It was soothing, the ceaseless ebb and tide of water, a constant white noise to accompany Ignis's late-night musings. His bare feet shifted on the metal of the balcony beneath him, the cold seeping into his soles, a welcome relief to the balmy night. (A Respite Before Morn) GladNoct IgNoct Chocobros

20. Sacrifice in the name of duty. Words that were imprinted on Ignis's soul, a mantra to live his life by. His life was not his alone, he was sworn to the Crown, devoted to the Crown Prince. (Magic Spell) Ignoct

Whew, that took a little while!!!

And hey! If you made it down this far, here’s the current first line of the brand new IronStrange story I’m working on called Tether.

What was he supposed to do?

He’d been in this situation so many times. Villains trying to kill him for revenge, for his technology, megalomaniacs trying to enslave Earth. Things had become livelier when feuding Asgardian Gods used his home as their battle ground, opening Tony’s eyes to the reality of the horrors beyond what he could see.

Tagging @impertinentpigeon @wspaceblog @descaladumidera

#first time meme #tag game #fanficiton #ao3 writer #ironstrange #frostironstrange #gladnoct #ignoct #hankcon

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xfandomwritingsx · 4 years

Text

The Sweet of Night – Loki Laufeyson – Part 7

-gif source unknown-

Description: After growing up besides Loki and having a complicated friendship with him, you visit him in his cell at night.

Warnings/Labels: Filler

Approx. Word Count: 2,000

A/N: I apologize. This is mostly just filler and Loki doesn’t even make a physical appearance. Sorry guys!

Story Masterpost

The days after the feast are bustling with work. You throw yourself in new recruit training and the public garden expansion plans. You do absolutely anything and everything to try not to think about your last encounter with Loki, but every time you come back to your chambers, you fail to think of anything but.

You sit on your bed, erotic novel in your hand, still toying with the idea of sending it to him. You think of all the notes you could put inside, all the flirtatious ways you could tease him. There’s a small shadow of doubt, of fear of embarrassment that guides the book back onto your shelf every time however.

It’s where the book would end up this morning, you know. You flip through the pages once more, eyes catches glimpses of its dirty words. What would Loki think of those words? Would he enjoy them? Would he find them juvenile?

A harsh knock on your door startles you out of your musings. Your heart skips a beat and the instant adrenaline rush of the fear of getting caught with such a thing makes your hands jitter.

“Just a moment,” you call. The next knock is more insistent. You shove the book beneath your pillow and fluff the feathers of it once in hopes to make it look natural. “I’m coming!” you tell your intruder. You take a deep breath in an attempt to ebb the adrenaline, but it only works in the smallest way. When you open your door, your unexpected guest smiles at you. “Mother!”

“Hello my dear daughter,” she greets, ignoring your stunned face. She leans in to kiss you on the cheek before nudging her way inside despite being uninvited.

“What are you doing here?” You blink rapidly, your bafflement still intact as you close the door and watch as she scans your room. “You’re not usually in this area.”

“There was a gentleman who needed a poultice in this wing and I thought I’d deliver it and then come by to see my darling daughter.” She scrutinizes your décor, but has an unusually chipper smile on her face. As she walks delicately over to your bookshelf, you quickly go to stand at the head of your bed, as if trying to block her from discovering your hidden book.

After skimming over your novel selection, she turns and walks to your desk. Her fingers dance over the wood surface before her hand dips down to the silver knob of the drawer. The drawer you’ve stored all of your notes from Loki. That panicked adrenaline comes back.

“Mother!” you snap. “Did you come by for any reason other than to go through my things?” You’re effective in getting her to remove her hand from the drawer and avert her attention elsewhere. What in the stars would she have to say if she found the dozens of notes from Loki? You’d rather not find out right this moment. Honestly, you’d much rather she found your book instead.

“You know…” she muses. “I rather wish you would have told me yourself instead of hearing the rumors, my dear daughter.” Your brow furrows together in confusion.

“What rumors?” you question carefully. If there are in fact rumors about your encounters, you want to play this very strategically. Your mother only smiles slyly for a moment and then positions herself next to your desk chair.

“Oh please,” she scoffs. “Do you really think you’d be able to hide a relationship with the prince?” It takes every ounce of your professional skill to keep your expression even and collected.

“Mother, I’m not…” you stutter, pausing to swallow thickly. Why is she not furious? She’s still smiling gleefully. It’s then that you notice she’s deliberately placed her hand on top of the royal cloak over the back of your desk chair. “Oh, you mean Thor?” you exclaim, failing to hold back your rush of relief. She barks out a laugh.

“Well I certainly wasn’t referring to the other prince,” she scoffs as though it’s absurd. It is absurd really, but somehow it’s also happening unbeknownst to her. “I had to hear it from Lady Angella that you and Thor have been spending time together.” You laugh, not even minding that she’s scolding you.

“Thor and I are not an item,” you assure her, starting to relax a little. “We spent two minutes together at the feast the other day. We are friends. We do speak to each other.” She doesn’t look dissuaded however.

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “Friends don’t typically keep each other’s garments.” She wiggles her fingers over his cloak again and you find it hard not to get frustrated with her now. “And there are whispers that the prince may be taking a bride in the near future.” She looks quite pleased with herself. “Your name has been mentioned by many.”

“Would that be because you put my name in everyone’s ear?” You cross your arms over your chest and resist the disrespectful eye roll.

“I didn’t even have to this time,” she says cockily enough for you to believe her and that’s quite unnerving. Were there actual talks of Thor and yourself marrying? Now that would be absurd! And yet… your mother hasn’t been the only one to say such a thing.

“This is ridiculous,” you tell her, shaking your head. “Thor and I are not involved. If he’s choosing a bride, it’s not myself.” Your words are pointed and confident, irritated even. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” You step up and put your hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her towards your door. “I have to get ready for the day.”

“You’re being rather coy about it all,” she comments as she reluctantly follows your guidance.

“Not one thing I’ve said here has been coy,” you argue, grabbing knob of the door and twisting it hurriedly. “Now out you go. Go worry about your patients and not about my possible future marital status.” You shoo her out of your room, but she turns back to face you the moment she crosses the threshold.

“You can’t fool your old mother,” she warns and wags a finger at you. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” There’s a little skip of fear somewhere inside your gut, but your irritation with her dominates your emotions.

“If you say so.” You can’t resist the eye roll this time and at the end of it, you catch Katerina walking down the hall towards you. “I see I have a delivery coming.” You point her out to your mother and make another motion to gently coax her away from your door. She bites her lip, unhappy about the decision, but does step back.

“I’m going, I’m going!” She turns to leave, but gives one final look over your shoulder. “Your hair looks lovely, by the way.” You close your eyes and let out a frustrated breath.

“Thank you, Mother.”

She leaves quietly after that and you wait at the doorframe for Katerina to approach with your breakfast tray. She gives you a polite smile.

“I don’t think I’ve seen your mother over this way before,” she comments in a pleasant tone.

“Yes, well… I rather wish it stayed that way.” The corner of Katerina’s lips tip upwards in the smallest fashion. “Come in,” you beckon her, holding the door open for her to step inside. She goes to the desk and sets the tray down.

“Do you have anything you need delivered today?” she asks.

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. The irritation at your mother’s prying has sparked a little streak of rebellion inside of you. Marry Thor? Preposterous! Oh how knowing that you speak to Loki would drive her mad. To know the relationship isn’t as purely platonic as you like to claim? It may send her to her grave!

“Actually, yes,” you say, determination suddenly washing through you. You walk briskly to your bed and retrieve the novel from beneath your pillow. Jotting a quick note on the inside cover, you find your hand shaking ever so slightly. “Please deliver this.” You close the book and hand it to Katerina as confidently as you can. She glances at the cover and the title, but keeps her professional composure and seemingly doesn’t judge you for it before slipping it inside her robes.

“Delivery will be made this afternoon,” she confirms.

It’s only after she’s left that you start to worry about it being a mistake.

---

Your embarrassment keeps you away for a few days. You want to go see him as you honestly miss speaking with him, but the idea of facing him after giving him scandalous reading material on little more than a whim is nearly terrifying. So you busy yourself with other things, such as giving Thor his cape back.

It’s long overdue, but seeing as how you weren’t coveting it close to you at all times as some people liked to think, you never had it on hand when you saw him. So this evening, you scoop it up and drape it over your arm with a few folds and set off to find him for just this purpose.

He happens to be just outside the tavern, right where you had expected. Though the entire idea of more rumors being sparked of you two, it’s likely a good thing for the exchange to happen publicly. At least that way, everyone can see how casual and strictly friendly your interaction is as well as that you’re not keeping his clothes.

“Thank you for lending this to me,” you tell him as you unravel it from your arm. He takes it with a smile.

“It was no problem at all,” he assures. “Have you heard the rumors?” he asks with a small laugh. You duck your head and let out your own chuckle.

“I have,” you confirm. “Quite absurd, isn’t it?” He shrugs and sticks his chin out.

“Oh not too absurd in the realm of Asgard gossip,” he muses back to you. “We wouldn’t be the first pair of childhood friends to end up betrothed.” When he puts it that way, you suppose he’s not wrong. From the outside world, it does seem feasible.

“Are you getting as much pressure as they say about wedding a woman?” you ask softly.

“Oh I’m sure it’s exaggerated. It is not something I am worrying about for the moment.” He gives a wave of his hand to brush the idea away. “Will you be joining us this evening?” He gives a nod to the tavern door, but you shake your head.

“I have some plans I want to look over tonight still.” He gives you a polite smile at your gentle refusal.

“Well, then I shall bid you a good night.” He reaches forward and takes your hand in his, bowing his head as he brings it up, his fingers sliding under your palm until he’s just barely cradling the ends of your fingers. He presses his lips to the tops of your knuckles and gives you a playful wink. “Good evening, my Lady.”

“Are you trying to fan the flames of the rumors?” you tease, slipping your hand out of his.

“Of course not! You’d have to join us for drinks if I wanted to properly do that.” You both laugh before you pat him on the shoulder and tell him goodnight as well.

When you arrive back at your room, it takes you a few minutes to notice the sealed envelope sitting on your desk with your name in a fancy script that you recognize all too well as Loki’s. Your heart beats a little faster and you feel a breath get caught in your throat as you break the seal.

Inside, there’s a single page with a single sentence.

I surely hope you don’t expect to get this delicious book back.

---

I promise things get steamy in the next part. Just wait. If you’re excited, let me know by liking, commenting, and reblogging.

If you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

Keep up with my progress on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/

TAG LIST

If you want to be added to any tag lists, shoot me an ask!

SOTN TAG LIST

@heda-mikaelson / @jessiejunebug / @misssilencewritewell / @missnighttigress

MCU TAG LIST

@inukako

#Loki Laufeyson #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #avengers imagine

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

Making the Most of This - Carol Danvers

Carol is back on Earth for an in-person conference. After hours of meetings, updates, and tactical planning, you and Carol decide to make the most of her time on the planet. What that means to you and what that means to Carol happens to be one in the same.

You slumped back against the hair the minute the holographic visage of Rocket’s raccoon form flickered out of sight. An instinctive sigh fell from your lips as you settled in the laid back seat with your eyes closed. For a moment, you forgot where you were and everything that had happened. That moment was peaceful, almost serene. At least it was until you heard someone clear their throat.

“Comfortable?” You peeled one eye open and saw Natasha, strong arms crossed against her chest, staring at you. Under her piercing eyes, you sat up and feigned a sense of alertness.

“Sorry, just-“ A small, muffled laugh cut you off from the other side of the conference table. You glanced up and felt your face go warm.

“Someone’s tired,” Carol mused with a smile. Lingerings of her laughter were spread along her features: her bright brown eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Y-Yeah, a bit, I guess.” Your whole body tensed under Carol’s soft gaze and you wanted to disappear. Silently, you wished for the power of invisibility to be bestowed upon you that very moment. Maybe Thor knew someone that could do that.

“Tired or not, don’t forget about those reports.” Natasha dipped her head towards a slight stack of folders balanced on the conference table. You sighed at the sight and nodded.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” Natasha gave you a closed-lip smile before she turned to Carol. “You’re heading out?”

Carol nodded, her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. “Tomorrow.”

“So I’ll see you in the morning?” Carol nodded again and Natasha sighed. “Alright then. Y/N, those reports.”

“You got it,” you gave Natasha a thumbs up that the assassin did not see as she strode out of the conference room. You let your hands fell to the table’s surface with a ‘thwack’ and the impact stung your knuckles.

“You alright?” Carol’s voice pulled you out of the thoughts threatening to drown you. When you looked up and across to her, the superpowered woman’s brow was knitted with concern. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, like you said, just tired.” Carol pressed her lips in a thin line and you couldn’t help but smile. With Carol, it was easy to tell when she was thinking. And when she thought, she had such an innocent, almost excited expression on her face. It was a face full of possibility; something you hadn’t seen since Thanos, since the snap.

“Do you maybe...want to get out of here?” Your smiled faltered at her question. You hadn’t been prepared for that possibility. “To blow off some steam?”

“I-I,” you stammered. Panicked you glanced around the room until your gaze landed on the pile of folders stack on the table. “The, I have the reports.”

“Oh, yeah,” Carol’s disappointment was written plainly across her features. Instantly, you regretted even speaking.

“But, I mean, it’s your last night on Earth for…” you gestured to the air with a shrug.

“For a while,” Carol answered for you. “A few planets have reached out to me so, I have to go soon and...I don’t know when I’ll be back.” You nodded and tried not to show your sadness. You liked Carol, like, liked Carol. Not seeing her or having her around all the time would make the Avengers Compound all the more lonely.

“So, I think Nat would understand if I showed you around…”

“Around here?” Carol asked, pointing to the conference table.

“No! No,” you waved your hands and shook your head. “Around the city, maybe?”

Carol beamed. “Yes. I would like that.”

“And Nat would totally understand,” you said confidently. As if speaking the image of Natasha’s smiling, nodding, and understanding face into existence.

“Totally,” Carol agreed. She stood up quickly with a smile so bright you swore she was a living and breathing star. “You wanna go?”

“Yes!”

“So, you like the city?”

“Yeah, it’s cute.”

“Cute?” You raised a brow and Carol shrugged with a small grin.

“What, you want the truth?” You squinted your eyes at her before nodding. “Well then, this place smells. Like really smells.”

You let out a laugh. “Thank you, for your honesty.”

“You’re very welcome,” Carol bowed slightly as you stopped before a crosswalk.

The night air carried with it a chill and you had to pull your jacket closer over your chest. Somehow, Carol seemed unfazed by the cold in her tight black t-shirt. The jacket she had been wearing was thrown lazily over her shoulder. You watched as she glanced around at the bright and colorful street signs. She seemed unimpressed.

You sighed at the sight and Carol raised a brow at you. “What?”

“You’re bored,” you said flatly.

“Am not,” Carol countered. You gave her an incredulous look. “I’m just...thinking.”

“About what then?” You leaned against the stop sign’s pole and watched Carol. She didn’t seem disingenuous. On the contrary, she seemed collected.

“I want to do something.” Carol smiled as she spoke, her brown eyes alight with excitement. If you forgot everything that had happened, forgot what originally brought Carol into your life, you could almost feel completely happy.

“Like what?” Carol threw her hands up unknowingly, but her smile remained. She glanced around the street signs and storefronts again, taking in every possibility.

“I have no idea,” she laughed finally. Her brown eyes locked with your gaze and you felt your grin widen. “I just…”

You watched Carol’s eyes drift over your head to across the street. Her mouth fell open with shock and you had to turn to see what had caught her attention.

When you did, you saw a pair of glowing, green scissors that, every few seconds, made a chopping motion. However, it wasn’t the elaborate neon sign that had so enraptured Carol. No, it was the ‘OPEN’ sign beneath it that gave off a welcoming red light. You glanced back at Carol only to find she was reaching for your hand.

“C’mon,” she cheered as she pulled you across the street. The wind whipped around you but you weren’t cold. Not when Carol was so close to you. When she was around, it was hard to be anything but warm.

“And we are all done! What do you think?” You looked up from the magazine you had busied yourself with to where Carol sat in a salon chair. The zine had been a poor attempt to distract yourself so that you didn’t ogle at Carol while she got her hair down. It had worked, for the most part, but when you looked up, the booklet fell instantly from your grasp.

“I think it looks great!” Carol beamed at her reflection in the mirror before her as the stylist spun her chair around. “What do you think, Y/N?”

It was hard to think anything. Only the sound of your heart pounding in your ears filled your mind. Carol’s hair had been cut short, into a sharp pixie cut. Strands of blonde hair fell into her face as she stood up and you felt your whole body ache with longing. “Y/N?”

“I-I, it looks amazing. You look amazing.” You weren’t surprised when you felt your face grow red hot, but what did surprise you was how Carol’s cheeks became a soft pink. Part of you wanted to stay like that. Just staring, one marveling at the other, and wondering where they had come from and why they had chosen to spend their time like this.

But you looked away. You tore your gaze from Carol’s and waited by the door of the salon while the stylist rung up Carol’s payment. It proved difficult to keep your eyes off of her. When she laughed at something the stylist said, you watched her and tried to ignore the pointless jealousy that kept up your spine. Carol was leaving tomorrow, there was no point in getting angry now.

“Thanks again,” Carol shouted as you held the door open for her. The stylist waved as you walked back out into the night. “So, where to next?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, letting your eyes fall from Carol’s. “It’s your last night. You should decide.” You heard Carol let out a thoughtful hum and you looked back up at her. Her lips were pressed together, her normally thinking habit, but they were turned down into a frown. Did she feel it too?

That pressure of her absence that was weighing them both down. Did Carol feel the resounding echo of loneliness that would fill the void she would leave in your heart? She must have, right? She had super everything: supervision, super hearing, and super emotions. However, it must have been just you projecting because Carol turned around with her new hair cut and smiled at you.

“Frozen yogurt!”

“I still don’t understand how yogurt can be vegan,” you mused as you scooped another spoonful of the cold treat into your mouth.

“Vegan?” Carol didn’t look at you when she asked. The sound of her spoon scraping against the bottom of her carton made you smile. At least she liked one thing about Earth; even if it wasn’t you or the way you wanted her to like you.

“Without animal products,” you explained. Carol made a face of realization before she sat back on the park bench you had claimed.

“That was good,” she sighed. You laughed at her posture: she was leaned so far back she resembled an old man stuck in a lazy boy recliner after a much too large meal. You watched as she sat up suddenly, bright brown eyes scanning over the park until she found a trashcan.

“Are you…”

“Just watch.” Without waiting for another second, Carol chucked the empty frozen yogurt cup in the air. You watched, mouth open wide in shock, as the cup landed perfectly in the trash bin that was, at least, five yards away.

“Whoa,” you laughed. “Way to use your powers for good.”

“Hey, littering is evil,” Carol said, with a jokingly serious tone. “It’s one of the many superpower perks.” You laughed softly and shook your head. Ever since you had surrounded yourself with superpowered people, your life had only grown more dangerous.

“Not enough perks to outweigh the struggle.” You said it with a smile, a bittersweet one, but a smile all the same. So, when Carol didn’t smile too, you backtracked. “I mean-”

“No, you’re right. It’s hard most of the time.” You nodded and gave her a sorry frown. Silence fell between you, an unwelcomed visitor to your park-bench-haven until Carol spoke up once more. “How have you been...after everything and…”

“After Thanos?” You asked, setting your yogurt cup to the side. Carol nodded, her joking demeanor now lightyears away. “Alright, I guess. What about you?”

“If I’m honest,” Carol shrugged, “not good. The only thing keeping me up is the fact that there are whole planets that still need help recovering.”

“But you haven’t recovered yourself,” you pointed out, “that’s not good.” Carol shrugged again and you felt something twinge in your heart.

“I don’t think anyone has really recovered.” You nodded in agreement and let your gaze fall to the pavement below your feet.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You felt something knock against your shoulder, something warm and you looked up. Carol’s hand rested on your upper back in a touch that you wished you could bottle and save forever.

“The Avengers Compound is just...empty. Everyone is grim, except for Steve. But he hasn’t come around lately. It’s like no one can even try to be happy.”

“Y/N,” Carol began with a gentle voice, “you know that it’s hard.”

“I do but...I just know if I let myself think about it, I’ll drown too. I’ll become cold like Nat or distant like Steve and everything will suck. I want to make the most of this life. We got lucky. Others didn’t.”

Carol nods but stays quiet. Her expression revealed nothing to you and you wanted to cry. You knew that the moment she left, you would fall back into a routine devoid of any hope or joy. The endless stack of reports would only grow and Natasha would stay bitter. It felt like you were alone; with Carol, you felt like anything was possible.

“You’re right,” Carol says suddenly. You hold her gaze and furrow your brow.

“What?”

“You’re right,” Carol repeated. Before you could respond, Carol’s lips knocked against yours. It was a rushed kiss, another possibility that you hadn’t taken into account. However rushed it was, you melted into it. It wasn’t the first time you had felt Carol’s softness, but it was the first time you had felt it so passionately. So it pained you when she pulled away.

“Wh-What was that?” You asked and Carol smiled. She rested her forehead against your and you felt her breath tickle the skin of your neck.

“Me, making the most of this life.”

“Oh….” You breathed, still reeling from the kiss. Carol pulled away from you at your hesitation. Her brown eyes were wide and you could feel her panic.

“Sorry, I should have-“ You smiled as she rambled before you leaned back in to stop her. Your lips met hers and you felt Carol hum in contentment. Her hand lifted to your face and you felt your own hands wander to her waist. Then they traveled up to her hair; the short strands were soft from their recent treatment and you gave them a small tug.

The rest of the world faded to black. Reality and its sorrows could wait a few more moments. You had Carol and you wanted to savor that for as long as you could. You would make the most of this, even if it killed you.

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

To Keep You Safe

Title: A guy like you should wear a warning

Chapter: 6/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E (later on)

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Language, making out

~~~

Thanks to my speedy healing powers I was able to leave the infirmary the day after Loki’s late-night visit. I was still prescribed extreme amounts of rest and a moderate amount of painkillers, so I used the time when the others were busy working or training to unpack the boxes from my apartment and truly decorate my suite. Now that I wasn’t working myself into the ground each day, I had hours and hours to kill. If I was going to be staying here a while, so it might as well feel like home.

I had more in control of my powers so I allowed myself the luxury of putting out my small potted succulents and aloe plant onto the windowsill, having retrieved them from Pepper’s office after she had nabbed them for safe-keeping ages ago. I wanted to replace the duvet with mine from home, but moving up from a meager full-sized bed to a king meant that wasn’t going to work. It was easy to order another through F.R.I.D.A.Y., and a simple plush forest green duvet cover arrived promptly. Steve helpfully reassembled one of my bookshelves for me and put it up next to the couch in the sitting area. I finished that off by filling it to the brim with my extensive book collection.

The last bits of personal memorabilia were my drawing supplies. I hadn’t touched them in years, truthfully not since I began distracting myself after New York with work, but I had little else to do in my free time. I wasn’t allowed to train yet, and my job as Tony’s assistant had already been filled by someone else. Plus, I can only watch reruns of The Office so many times. So, my sketchbooks were scattered across my coffee table, with the one currently in use on my bedside table when I wasn’t lugging it around as I puttered about. A pouch of charcoal was always alongside it, along with a black-stained once-white towel to wipe off my hands.

So, in the interim of getting injured and being allowed to train, I drew. I now had a designated spot on the couch parked in front of the TV that was left open for me to curl up beneath a black blanket, to avoid stains, and draw as I socialized. My sketches started as complete and total trash from my lack of practice, but after a few attempts, my friends went from looking like misshapen cartoon characters to actual people on the page. If you squinted and tilted your head a little. And allowed for artistic license. But it was a work in progress like everything else in my life.

One surprising figure who kept appearing in my sketchbook turned out to be Loki. Whenever I was out of my room, he seemed to be as well. Keeping to the shadows and himself, but still present. His penetrating gaze drilled holes into the sides and back of my head as I went about my day. When I’d look up to catch his eye he stared back unabashedly with that same look of puzzlement that he had worn during our last conversation. Because even though he had been my new shadow, he never approached me, and I couldn’t even begin to think of what to say to him. 'Hey, so, you totally saved my life and now we don’t seem to hate each other and I don’t know what that’s about or what to do about it. So, what’s up? Stalk much?' That didn’t feel right. So I just left it be. If he wanted more answers so that he could wipe the curious look off of his face, it was very clear that he knew where to find me. Even if I couldn’t see him, like when I went on walks with Thor or Sam to keep my strength up while I healed, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt his eyes upon me.

And each night, when I would wake screaming and sobbing in bed from visions of the Hydra men I had slaughtered, he was there. After the first night when I sent my trusty ole rock flying at, and then through, his expressionless face and learned that it was just a projection, it became routine. I’d wake up shrieking, drenched in cold sweat, and there would be an illusion of the Trickster God sitting on my couch watching over me. Never talking, never approaching me, just keeping guard over me with a steady gaze. Even though he wasn’t physically there, I knew that he was just on the other side of the wall, having woken from my cries and sending his doppelganger to me. Some tiny part of me took comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone, and it was that part that I clung to as I fell back to sleep each time. That part only grew with each occurrence of his reliable appearances for my night terrors.

Should I have been more creeped out by it? Probably. This could go into stalker pasty vampire territory real fast. But I was so desperate for any sort of comfort that I began to search for him immediately after I was wrenched from my haunting dreams, a sigh of relief huffing out of my mouth when I saw him sitting at his post. It wasn’t good for me in the slightest to become so reliant on his steady presence, but it helped too much for me to put an end to it. What was it hurting? Besides our sleep schedules, of course. But mine was damned either way.

So, with little else to do, I drew him. If he could be a creep, so could I. I kept him in the corner of my eye whenever I would sit and sketch. And through my workings, I continued the exploration of the distant but oh-so-present god that I had begun in the infirmary. My fingers became familiar with the sharp lines of his cheekbones. The harsh angle of his jawbone. The slant and curve of his lips from the ever-present smirk. My eyes knew the breadth of his shoulders and the lean yet defined muscle filling out his standard button-down shirt. His long, spindly fingers were familiar to me not only from touch but now sight as well. And it was easy to fill my pages with his exceptionally well-proportioned figure while carrying on with everyone else. They got uncomfortable as the subjects of my sketches, but Loki was unwilling to talk to me to voice his opinion. As the only one to do so, he became my easiest muse.

~~~

After two weeks of rest, recuperation, and doodling, I was finally allowed to return to my training sessions with Nat and Wanda. And even in those, Loki lingered at the fringes. At first the others took notice, just as I had long ago, and waited for him to take action or say something or do anything to give a reason for his continued presence. It was one thing to always be about in the living room or grounds but harder to explain when he was always fifteen steps behind me. But when nothing happened and no explanations were given they tuned him out as I had learned to. If he wanted to be the ghost of my life, that was his prerogative. I needed to get my ass back in shape.

This was made all the more apparent as Nat slammed my body onto the training mat for the fifteenth time during our latest training session. My back was becoming far too familiar with the dark mats that cushioned my repeated falls.

“Knock the wind out of ya?” she asked, smirking down at me and offering her hand to help me up.

With a gasp and nod, I took her hand and allowed her to yank me gracelessly to my feet. I braced my hands on my knees, taking deep breaths and blinking the stars from my eyes.

“Tony talked to us and we all agree. We’re not leaving you as unprepared as you were before. So, catch your breath, because we’re not done yet,” she declared, holding out my reusable water bottle for me.

I drank heavily from it and even poured some on the top of my head, relishing the ice-cold water on my sweaty body.

“Then bring it on,” I tossed my water bottle to the edge of the mat. “I haven’t had my ass kicked in enough different ways yet.”

And Nat seemed to take that as a challenge. In the next hour she pinned me, tossed me to the floor, and put me in various holds until I tapped out probably 20 more times. At least.

“Good job, Jen. You lasted longer than I expected,” she praised me, tossing a towel on my prone form on the floor.

After she slammed me onto my back for the final time getting up didn’t seem like it needed to happen right away. The floor and I were good buddies by now and I just wanted to spend some more quality time with it. I groaned wordlessly, swiping the towel from my bare midriff and throwing it over my face. My entire body hurt, but my shoulder was the worst of all. An itchy, burning sensation pulsed with my heartbeat beneath the gnarled mess of scar tissue just to the right of the strap of my sports bra. I scratched at it absentmindedly before standing up, throwing the towel around my neck.

“I mean it. You’ve been out of commission for almost three weeks. It’s hard to get back into it, especially with the God of Ghostliness checking you out the entire time,” she teased.

“Oh no, that was definitely not what he’s doing. He feels guilty and he’s just keeping tabs.” There wasn’t a universe where Loki, Prince of Asgard, would be eyeing me for that reason. “Plus, he probably gets a sick thrill from watching me eat dirt over and over again.”

“I know I do,” Nat joked, linking her arm through mine as we walked out of the gym toward the building housing our rooms. “But really. You’re wearing a sports bra and tight leggings, all hot and bothered from getting your ass kicked, and grunting and huffing and puffing. It’s definitely some guys’ thing.”

I rolled my eyes, not dignifying her speculations with a response besides that. I was an unknown to Loki, that was all. He was such an intelligent person that he probably didn’t like not understanding something, and he just hadn’t figured me out yet. Once he was satisfied with whatever mystery of my character that he was trying to solve he would go back to slinking around the Compound on his own.

That didn’t explain his almost-nightly visits to my room after my nightmares, but I had long ago concluded that I wasn’t going to understand his motivation for that, either. Probably something along the lines of wanting me to shut the hell up so that he could get some sleep. That sounded more like his style.

Nat pulled me out of my thoughts with her suddenly enthusiastic tone. “Hey, before I forget, Sam and I were thinking of heading to the city tonight. Maybe hitting up a club and getting some,” she paused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, “frustration out. You should come. After all, you did say you like dancing.”

“I was kidding! Tony asked me how I was feeling while I was in a hospital bed with a hole in my shoulder and brains falling out of my skull and I’m a sarcastic smartass when I'm tired! That doesn’t count!” I exclaimed, laughing as she pulled me toward the stairs. My jelly legs quickly redirected us to the elevator.

“Doesn’t matter. You haven’t left this place in over a month. You need to get out. You’re coming. After dinner you’re coming to my room, I’m throwing you into the slinkiest dress I can find, and we’re hitting the town.”

By that point we had reached the main living room, and she pushed me toward my door for a much-needed shower.

“It’s happening!”

~~~

True to her word, after we’d all eaten dinner I was dragged into Nat’s room. There wasn’t even time to protest as the assassin plopped me down onto her bed, aiming a stern finger at me before going about her diabolical plans to dress me up like a doll.

She went through her clothes like a madwoman, picking out dresses and holding them up to me, then frowning and tossing them aside onto a rapidly-growing pile of provocative frocks. I didn’t blame her for the struggle considering the differences we had. She was a bit bustier and curvier in all the right places than my taller, boxier frame. With my bigger hips, smaller ass, and longer legs, half of the dresses were tossed aside simply because we weren’t looking to get me arrested for indecent exposure.

Finally, after several minutes of searching and a mountain of rejected dresses, she shoved one into my hands. “This is it, I know it,” she exclaimed, shoving me toward the bathroom to change.

I stumbled inside and closed the door behind me, holding in a groan. Whatever she picked I knew it had to be far more risque than anything I’d ever choose for myself. But she got one thing right from the start: the color was my favorite: a deep emerald green. I didn’t see any sequins or sparkles, so that was a bonus. Mimicking a disco ball had never been high on my list of wardrobe choices.

But as soon as I put it on, after first running to my room and back to grab a strapless bra, I knew it wasn’t happening.

The high halter neckline of the dress revealed my fair, only slightly muscular shoulders, and as such, the twisted mess of raised pink scar tissue I wasn’t too keen on revealing. Following the dress down, more of my pale skin was revealed by cutouts on either side of my waist just above my hip bones. I only ever showed my midriff when I was working out, and that was because Tony seemed averse to air conditioning in the gym. This was a lot of skin. Plus, it was a dress and I just really didn’t want to wear one.

“Nat, this isn’t going to work,” I whined through the door, staring at my body critically in the mirror.

“Lemme see, Pebbles!”

Sighing heavily, I opened up the bathroom door and padded out into the bedroom. I even did a little twirl to prove just how much the dress did not work for me.

“I think that Tony is right about the Poison Ivy thing, especially in that dress. Damn, girl!”

“It’s too much, Nat!” I covered the fair skin revealed at my waist to the best of my ability, crossing my arms over myself.

“No, you look stunning! He’s not going to know what hit him,” she gushed, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to a vanity in the sitting area of her room. She pushed me down in front of it and began fussing with my hair.

“But it isn’t too much?” I asked quietly.

“Trust me, you’ll knock him dead,” she promised, twisting my hair into a bun on the back of my head.

Him?

One hour later, I looked myself over in the mirror while Natasha quickly got dressed, surveying her handiwork.

After existing in the dress for a while, I begrudgingly admitted to myself that it wasn’t the absolute worst. I still felt a little uncomfortable with how tight it was, but I was given some relief and breathing room with the slight flare of the skirt out from my hips. My dark brown hair had somehow been thrown up into a simple bun with just one long gold hair clip, a feat of epic proportions considering just how much hair I had. A delicate gold arm cuff resembling a snake wrapped around my bicep on my right arm, hopefully distracting from the scarring above it that wouldn’t disappear behind the dress no matter how much I tugged at it. My ever-present thumbprint necklace was completely hidden by the high neckline and collar of the dress. And to complete the outfit, much to Nat’s dismay, I snagged a pair of chunky black ankle boots from my closet. If I was going to be dragged out for a night on the town, I was not going to do it in the scary-high black stilettos she had offered to me. Breaking my ankles would probably put a damper on the evening.

At least my makeup was within my comfort zone. With subtle winged eyeliner, heavy mascara, and berry red lips I still looked like I tried without resembling a clown. As Nat said, 'You, but better.' I think it was a compliment.

“Oh! One last thing,” Natasha cried, popping up from finishing her makeup at the vanity and dashing out of the room. She reappeared moments later with Tony by her side.

“Damn, Poison Ivy. You look fantastic. I didn’t even recognize you.” Tony sauntered over to me, wrapping me in a brief one-armed hug before pulling back and holding out a polished wooden box from behind his back. “I know you may be feeling antsy about tonight, so I sent out for this.”

I blushed at Tony’s compliment and took the box over to the vanity. “Y’all really want that nickname to stick, huh?” I asked, rolling my eyes as I opened the surprise gift.

“It’s an obsidian dagger. It’s made out of volcanic glass, so you should be able to control it with your powers if you get in a tight spot. And that’s a thigh holster. It should work over or under your clothes. The leather is reinforced on the inside, so you can't cut through it. But be careful. That thing is sharp as hell.”

I stared at the beautiful, semi-translucent black dagger and holster nestled in the red velvet inside the box. With a flick of my wrist, the dagger slipped from the sheath and flew into my waiting hand. The blade itself was about the length of my hand, and the handle just long enough for me to comfortably grasp it.

“It’s perfect, Tony, thank you,” I beamed, pulling everything from the box and carefully sliding the knife back into its sheath.

Natasha snapped out of admiring the weapon from afar once it was put away and pushed Tony toward the door. “Now shoo! She needs to strap that thing on and you need to go home to Pepper.”

“You kids have fun! The car is waiting out front! Do something I would do!”

I rolled my eyes with a smile at Tony’s shouted parting words before looking back down at his gift. It was beautiful. And he was right. The heavy dread that had settled in my stomach lightened slightly with the promised protection of the deadly weapon. The slim holster easily slipped up my leg and under my dress, which was just long enough to cover it. When I stood up and looked in the mirror, the extra swing of fabric around my legs concealed it. I had been concerned, since, once holstered, the set-up ran from slightly below my hip bone to the middle of my thigh on the outside of my leg.

“Let’s go, Trouble,” Natasha called, leaving the bathroom and shoving her feet into a similar pair of stilettos to what she had tried to force me into earlier. She was stunning in the classic strapless little black dress that clung to her every curve. I don’t know how she thought I was going to get any attention from whoever the mysterious ‘him’ was that she kept referring to when I would be standing next to her drop-dead gorgeous ass.

We both grabbed our bags on the way out of her room, mine a tasteful black leather square clutch on a long, thin gold chain and hers a bright red clutch with black straps to match her heels.

As we left her room, we saw the third member of our party. Sam was waiting for us dressed to kill in a brown leather jacket, white t-shirt, and dark jeans. He was the embodiment of looking cool without trying too hard.

But to my surprise, another man was waiting for us in the living room. I stopped dead in my tracks when I took in Loki leaning casually against the arm of the couch. The slim black pants, dark gray button-down shirt, and fitted black blazer looked like they were made for him and him alone to wear.

Oh. Him.

The arrogant smirk he normally wore fell from his face as his piercing green eyes blazed a path down my body, lingering on the golden snake bicep cuff and cutouts. The offhand comments Nat had made and her very particular styling choices suddenly made much more sense as I watched Loki eye me appreciatively. I was going to kill her and her meddling ass, assassin or not.

She pushed me toward Loki before walking over to Sam and casually slipping her arm around his waist so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. I stumbled slightly and turned to glare at her, wishing that that dumb green box had given me face-melting laser powers right about now. When I turned back around, Loki was standing just inches away and was offering me his arm with a mischievous smile.

“You look absolutely divine,” he murmured, taking my left hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

“Thank you.” I blushed for the second time that night and lowered my gaze to the floor in front of us.

We followed Sam and Nat silently down the stairs, Loki’s arm tightening to trap my hand securely against his body as we descended together. While my dazzling friends in front of us chatted away excitedly about tonight’s plans, I couldn’t get over my shock to think of anything to say to the prince escorting me to the back row of the waiting black SUV. He took one of my hands in his, the other resting politely on the middle of my back as he helped me inside. After I was settled on the rich leather interior, he went to the other side and gracefully slipped in next to me.

Sam and Nat piled into the row in front of us, letting the driver know that we were ready to go. I fumbled with the seatbelt, my hands shaking and missing the buckle once, twice.

Along with the shock of Loki’s presence on our outing, I was suddenly very aware that this was the first time I was going to go out in public since getting my powers. I thought I had a good grip on them, but what if I didn’t? Would wherever we were going have anything around that I could accidentally use against someone if I got hurt? What if I lost it and used my new dagger on someone? Loki's steady hands covered mine and helped me on the third try, bringing me back to the car and making my breath hitch in my throat.

I pulled away and angled my face to look outside. My heart was threatening to jump out of my chest. Not because of how pleasant his cool fingers had felt on my warm skin, but because I was anxious about being around so many people again. Yep. That’s it. I kept my eyes trained outside the heavily tinted windows for some time, listening to Sam and Nat without actually hearing what they were saying. Anything to focus on besides Loki’s leg that pressed into my own each time we were jostled by the car.

After a few tense minutes, I cleared my throat and blurted out the one thought that wouldn’t stop nagging at me. “Why’d you come?”

Loki’s eyes met mine and held them prisoner in his own with their intensity. “To keep you safe.”

And that was that.

~~~

We pulled up to a stop outside of a busy club, a long line curled around the side of the building as people waited in the chilly September air to be allowed inside. After accepting Loki’s hand to help me out of the car, I stifled a groan at the thought of waiting in such a line with just the short dress I had on to shield me from the cold. Neither Nat nor myself had thought about the weather when she was playing makeover.

But I had not realized the power of who I was with as I trailed behind my friends. Loki, Sam, and Nat strolled confidently up to the bouncer, Nat flashing him a jaw-dropping smile and Sam slipping him an even more jaw-dropping collection of bills. With a satisfied smirk and leering eyes ogling Nat’s ample cleavage, the giant of a man waved us inside.

The thumping bass assaulted my ears after we stepped through the door behind the bouncer. The smell of sweat and mixing colognes and perfumes made me crinkle my nose. Multicolored lights flashed across the club, just light enough to illuminate the undulating dancers in the middle of the room without being so bright that they felt self-conscious. Along the edge against the brick walls were various couches scattered here and there, left in shadow to afford those resting from their revelry a bit of a break from the pandemonium.

Nat didn’t seem to notice any of it as she let go of Sam and grabbed my arm instead. She yanked me from Loki’s grip and led me to the nearest of two dark wooden bars. I looked back at Sam and Loki briefly before I was swallowed up by the crowd. The former was already moving in on a very attractive woman, and Loki remained standing tall and proud where I had left him, alabaster skin changing colors with the flashing colored lights around him. His piercing eyes tracked me until I was out of sight. I turned my attention back to my friend, following in her incredibly steady footsteps for her mile-high stilettos. We both leaned against the bar and she flagged down the bartender.

“Vodka cranberry please, make it a double!” I shouted, hoping that the bartender could make out what I was saying over the almost deafening music. I couldn’t even hear what Nat ordered and she was right beside me. She placed a large bill in his hand after our two drinks were in front of us and shouted something else that I couldn’t pick up.

I grabbed mine and took a drink, grateful to discover that he had heard my order correctly. I didn’t have time to savor the drink, as Nat caught my attention by holding up a shot of clear liquid in front of me suggestively.

“No! I can’t hold my alcohol!” I shouted, shaking my head dramatically at her and attempting to push the liquor back in her direction.

She leaned into me, pushing the shot back into my hand. “Yes! What have you got to lose?”

With a groan, I accepted the shot and hastily poured it down my throat, wincing at the burn of vodka that I felt all the way down to my stomach. I chased it with a sip of my drink. It was a smart move for my taste buds, but not necessarily my liver. Too late now.

Her drink now in hand, Nat grabbed my free hand with hers and pulled me out onto the dance floor. I could see Sam off to the side, getting very familiar with the woman he had approached earlier. Loki was nowhere to be found, but he had to be close. He wouldn’t come all this way just to leave. He was most likely off taking advantage of the inebriated patrons and the dark surroundings, God of Mischief that he was. This was probably his twisted version of a candy store.

I felt the shot working its way through my system, warming my body and loosening up the strangled tightness that had gripped my chest in the car earlier. I could feel the power coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t hard to tamp it down and focus on the buzz in my head instead. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all. I allowed myself to give in to the infectious anonymity of the pulsing darkness, laughing and dancing with Nat.

Several songs and one more drink later, I was working my way passed tipsy and toward drunk, and I needed a break. I gestured toward the bar, but Nat shook her head and closed her eyes while she kept on dancing. It didn’t hurt my feelings any. She deserved to let loose just as much as I did and I didn’t need babysitting just to go get another drink and take a load off for a minute. I pushed my way through the crowd of sweaty bodies to the bar and plopped down on a barstool.

I pressed a bill from my clutch into the bartender’s hand when he came around to me, asking for another vodka cranberry. He went off to make my drink, and once he was back and the beverage was lightly grasped in my hand I closed my eyes for a moment to focus on catching my breath.

A cool hand settled onto the exposed skin at my waist and an arm stretched across my back. I opened my eyes to see someone plucking the drink from my hand before retreating quickly.

“What the fuck?” I swore loudly, whipping around to see Loki looking at me over his shoulder as he sauntered away, my drink held tauntingly in his slightly raised hand. He slipped into the crowd and I was just barely able to make out the top of his head among the throng of dancers.

I hopped off of the barstool a little less gracefully than I would have liked. I was at least grateful that I was able to pick my way through the crowd without stumbling into anybody despite the alcohol in my system.

While it had been easy to find him when I had been removed from the crowd thanks to his height, once I was surrounded by people I lost him. A growl of frustration passed through my lips. The God of Mischief was a real pain in my ass.

“Lose something?” The words were passed to me over the din of the club through smooth lips pressed against the shell of my ear.

I turned around to see Loki watching me with a smirk on his lips and mischief glinting in his eyes. I tried to be quick and snag my drink from him, but he lifted it higher so that all I succeeded in doing was looking like an idiot.

He stooped down to speak lowly into my ear again. “Your drink for a dance, little one.”

“Are you serious?’ I shouted, glaring at him as he pulled away. The quirk of his brow signified that his proposal was indeed very serious.

I contemplated just going back to the bar and getting another drink. It wasn’t like I didn’t have the money, with what Tony paid I could retire today and live a modest, but comfortable, life. But it was the principle of the thing that mattered. He was throwing down the gauntlet and I was just stubborn enough and drunk enough to pick it up.

I shrugged my shoulders in light acceptance of his terms and he closed the distance between us to place a large hand on the small of my back. I draped my arms around his shoulders and made sure to press back against his hand as I rolled my body to the beat that reverberated through my boots from the floor.

His pale skin was the perfect canvas for the colored lights to saturate as he stared down at me moving against him. I couldn’t help the smirk of my own as he pulled me closer to him until our chests brushed. I blamed the alcohol and exercise for the cause of my heart beating erratically in my chest and my uneven breaths. It wasn’t the darkening of his eyes as my hips rolled against his. And it was most definitely not the solid muscles that flexed against me with each twist of his body. Nor was it the wolfish smile that pulled on his lips as his hand skated across my back to grip onto the exposed feverish flesh on my side.

He used the leverage he gained from this new position to turn me around so that my back was to his front. I felt every angle of him against me as he pulled me flush against him, from his rigid chest curling into the back of my bare shoulders to his hips grinding deliciously against the padding of my ass. The hand not holding my drink rested on my flat stomach, keeping me against him as we moved together to the pounding bass. My arms reached up above me so that my hands could resume their place around the nape of his neck, consequently opening my body up to him for his perusal.

Surprisingly, he didn’t take advantage. His hand remained stretched across my soft stomach, holding me to him, but the other moved down around me until my drink was poised in front of my lips. Emboldened by the heady mixture of alcohol and his masculine scent surrounding me, I tilted my head forward enough to down what was left of my cocktail after he had seemingly taken his own drinks from it if the low level of liquid was anything to go by. The glass disappeared from his hand, which was now free to trail across my jaw and hook on my chin, turning my head so that his nose brushed against my cheek and his breaths panted out against my sweat-dampened skin.

“You have had your drink. You are free to go.” His words were at odds with his hand, which held me captive against him by digging pleasantly into my hip.

We had fulfilled the bargain that he had given me. I danced with him, and he had given me what remained of my drink. But it sounded like too much work to go find Nat, Sam was most definitely enjoying time with some random beautiful woman, and I had to admit that Loki was an amazing dance partner. Why would I leave him to go dance alone, or worse, have some random brute grind up on me and try to cop a feel? I knew, well kinda, what to expect with him, so I just laughed in response and dragged my nails against his sensitive skin at the nape of his neck.

Over the pounding music, I felt more than heard the rumble of his chest at my actions, and the sound sent chills through me. His large hands took to roaming over my body as we danced, never staying in one spot for too long. Dragging from the outside of my thighs to my hips to brush across my stomach to reach up and trail down my upraised arms and back again, leaving fire in their wake.

I shut down the logical part of my brain that told me that I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. That this was Loki, the god who hated me and was nothing but his own needs. Future me could worry about that. Right now I was too engrossed in the exhilarating movement of his body against mine to do anything about it. Especially when he ducked his head so that his lips trailed across my bare shoulder. It was intoxicating.He was intoxicating.

“What do we have here?” he purred, voice velvet sin behind me. His hands had stalled their movements on the outside of my legs, and one hand toyed with the edges of my dagger over the fabric of my dress.

I turned around in his arms and moved my hands down to rest against his chest. “Insurance,” I smirked up at him.

He chuckled darkly and looked positively sinister as he loomed over me. “Plan on using it?” he asked, his groping fingers reaching behind me to gather a healthy amount of my backside in their clutches.

I smiled sweetly up at him as I released him to reach behind me and take his hands into mine. “Only if you don’t keep your hands to yourself,” I replied, slipping out of his grasp and walking away.

When I peeked over my shoulder for his reaction, he was where I had left him, watching me stroll away with a predatory gleam in his eye that sent a rush of heat through me. The logical side of me had disappeared some time ago, sent away by the sensual roll of his hips against mine, so I shot him a wink before slipping through the crowd toward the edges of the bar, one of the dark leather couches calling my name.

What the hell was that wink?

I found an empty couch in the shadows and perched on the armrest, taking care to keep my thighs firmly closed together and my skirt draped over the lethal weapon I was hiding. Wouldn’t do for anyone to see anything they shouldn’t. It was much easier to breathe now that he wasn’t holding me so tightly to him, and I bowed my head as I focused on cooling and calming down.

“You need to rehydrate.” The words came from above me as a pale hand holding a glass of water slipped into my field of view.

Like any intelligent woman who had had alcohol in public before, I knew better than to accept a drink that I hadn’t seen made. I lifted my eyes to Loki, expecting to see the same lascivious expression on his face as I had last seem him, but only finding a light concern furrowing his brow instead. But he wasn’t looking at me. He straightened up while I watched him and turned partially around to stare off into the crowd. When he turned back to face me, an urgency had taken over his features.

The seriousness of his expression cut through my buzz and I stood up as quickly as I could manage from my awkward position on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

He seemed to grapple with something for a moment as he searched my face, indecision in his darting eyes and twitching fingers. When it appeared that he had made a decision, judging by the forced exhale through his nose and his hands reaching out to steady themselves on my waist, he stepped closer and stooped down so that our foreheads were almost touching. “Do you trust me, little one?”

My hands immediately went up to exhibit a light pressure on his chest, keeping him from getting any closer as I studied him. There wasn’t a smirk, mischievous grin, or pleased smile on his face to indicate that he was trying to trick me. The hunger that I had detected in his eyes earlier had been wiped clean and replaced with anxious sincerity. It was startling to see him change so abruptly.

Did I trust him? I mean, he hadn’t threatened to stab me in several weeks, so that was an improvement. And I sure as hell had been dancing with him just a few minutes ago like I did. I had picked to dance with him instead of going at it alone because I knew that he wasn’t going to be a creep about it. But trust implied something deeper. Built on a bond and respect and a mutual understanding. I wasn’t sure if I had that with him. He wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important, though. And it must be, to cause the visible tension in his body.

“Um, I guess so. Sure.” That was the best answer that I could give him. He was going to have to take it or leave it.

“Then trust me in this and do not hit me.”

“Don't hit-”

My words were swallowed by his lips swooping down onto my own. I froze under the suddenness of it. When I didn’t respond to his ministrations he dragged his lips from my mouth to my ear.

“I’m in contact with Sam and Natasha. They believe that Hydra has tracked us here and is searching for us. Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. We can disappear as another amorous couple seeking our pleasure in the shadows,” he explained quickly.

Nat had told me about that tactic. It was a common one, easy to execute if you had the wiles or knew your partner in a mission. I certainly didn’t have the first, but I had a bit more of the second now than I did at the beginning of the evening. If Nat thought that it would work now, and Loki agreed, who was I to argue?

He was waiting, tensed, for me to decide the next course of action. He was allowing me the option of going along with the plan or backing out. The very notion that he wasn’t going to force me into an uncomfortable situation after I had shown hesitance was one that I wouldn't have expected from him. He was known for taking what he wanted and begging no forgiveness, not for politely doling out options in times of distress.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gathering the smooth material into my palms. I tilted my head back enough to look up at him and traced the elegant contours of his face with my gaze, taking in the unexpected kindness that warmed his bright eyes. I tilted my face up to him and closed my eyes before bridging the small gap between our lips in a searching kiss.

I wasn’t sure what I expected kissing him to be like, I hadn’t truly thought about it, but it wasn’t this. His lips were so soft and tasted of vodka and cranberries as they worked expertly against me. His hands splayed out against waist and pulled me until our bodies were pressed together from hips to chest. The contact, so easy to facilitate earlier on the dance floor, was now much more charged and it coaxed a gasp from my throat.

That small noise seemed to awaken something within him, and the gentle exploration of my mouth turned more passionate, his tongue snaking out to tease the seam of my lips and beg for entrance. I granted it willingly and melted into him. My body moved on its own accord as he stoked molten flames beneath my skin. My fingers released their grip of his expensive shirt to wind around his neck and tangle in his long black hair. I lightly scratched at his scalp, remembering his pleasure at it while dancing, drawing a low groan from him that shot straight to the heat that was pooling in my lower belly.

His long body surrounded me. He walked us back until I was trapped between his body and the wall, pinned by his leg slipping between my own. When I wrenched my mouth away to gasp for the air that his embrace had stolen from me he took it in stride and moved his scorching lips to caress the delicate skin of my neck.

Just as soon as his tongue snaked out to lave against the pulse that was hammering in my throat, he froze, his once-relaxed muscles tensing against me. His hands left my body to press against the wall on either side of me as he towered over me. As if he could make me disappear behind his lean frame.

“We have to move. Now,” he panted, taking my hand in his and pulling me quickly behind him as we fled the relative safety of the shadows.

He led us to a metal exit door and we spilled outside. The chill of the air soothed my flushed skin and helped clear the haze that had settled over my mind. Loki held my hand behind his back as he looked around the dark alleyway we found ourselves in. The faint bass from the club stopped, and two gunshots reached my ears through the thin door behind us. Screaming patrons poured out of the front of the club. Thankfully they ignored our dark figures pressed against the rough brick wall.

“It’s Hydra. They discovered Sam and Natasha. We need to leave.” He kept his death grip on my hand as he pulled me deeper into the alley and away from the entrance.

“Don’t take another step.” A voice pierced through the screams, shooting ice-cold fear through my veins.

Loki turned around and pulled me with him, keeping his body between me and whoever had spoken. I peered around his shoulders to see two men slowly approaching us, guns pointed at Loki’s head.

Hydra had found us.

#to keep you safe #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki/ofc #language tw #making out tw

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theimaginesyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Foreigner’s God {Two}

Chapter Two: Restraint

Chapter One

I’ve finally gotten back to this series so here’s part two. So yeah, with how it’s going, Loki is gonna be more of a butt in this series so don’t expect to like him. Comments and feedback are always appreciated, in fact, I am so thirsty for comments so please like, reblog, leave some wordage. Love.

Lightning spattered the afternoon sky; the clouds ominous grey despite the early hour. The rainstorm had carried on since dawn. Ilona didn’t mourn the bad weather for she rarely had the chance to go outside as it was. What she rued was how crowded the palace seemed when the nobles were imprisoned by the endless downpour. And all had the same want in these hours of gloom; tea.

Ilona was waiting for the brass kettle to tremble when Della noisily entered the kitchen, snorting at the line of used tea cups across the counter. She neared the open wood stove where the water began to boil and sneered across the kitchen as if the dozens of servants weren’t flurrying in endless labour. She stopped beside the dark-haired enchantress. Ilona’s bun was kept low to hide the tails of ink the stretched beyond the collar of her gown and her long sleeves helped conceal her blasphemous tattoos from the noble Adgardians. Della had made sure of it.

“The queen summons you,” She said. Her voice was both high and croaky at once. Her pinched nose sat between narrow set blue eyes faded by the years. Wrinkles crawled like spider legs along her lips and around her eyes. She snapped her fingers, signalling another servant to deal with the steaming kettle. “Be quick about it.”

“I’m sure Frigga won’t mind if I excuse myself on your behalf,” Ilona replied, “Why a queen hardly outranks a kitchen maid.”

Della scoffed. “Do not tarry as you have,” She warned but Ilona showed little recognition of her order.

She had not delayed her duties, she had merely been trying to ignore the ongoing subterfuge. Small things like the re-emergence of a pile of dust she had just dusted or a window opening anon whenever she closed it. She had determined that apathy was her only defense but that only brought upon censure from the kitchen maid.

“Vraji bitch,” Della remanded loud enough to be heard as Ilona head for the door. She cared little for the insult; she had grown use to them. She had been called worse.

Ilona’s trek to the queen’s chambers was undisturbed. Her path undisturbed. She walked as she always did; head held high though it added little to her stature. Short as she was, she was easy to miss among the naturally tall Adgardians. She preferred to go unnoticed. She paused just beyond the queen’s doors to glance out the window. The storm had calmed, droplets splashing against the glass pane as the sky was paint in streaks of ash. It was rare that the sun didn’t shine on this land.

She carried on, knowing that her visit was best kept prompt. They always were. Frigga attended to her business without fanfare, turning to more interesting ventures instead.

Ilona stood before the large door inlaid with golden scenes of lovers. She knocked, waiting for a response from within. Another servant, this one wearing the white sash which marked her as solely loyal to the queen herself, answered the door. Each royal had their personal attendants marked by coloured sashes according to master. Common servants like Ilona wore only plain beige gowns and brown aprons.

“The queen is in her parlour,” The maid indicated as she led Ilona through the receiving hall. The ceiling above was painted with scenes of each season, the forestry turning from lush greens, to rusty oranges, and finally to barren browns draped in ivory. Animals frolicked while others hid in the shadows. It was of the few pieces in Asgard that she admired.

To the left, the parlour doors stood open. Inside, a marble floor of azure and a plain white ceiling capped in a silver dome. The curtains were a deep cerulean, often matching the sky without. Sofas, chaises, and armchair were arranged for her visitors and a table was lined with upholstered chairs for those nights when meals were more formal. Frigga only had one guest this day and the dark head need not turn to face Ilona to be recognized.

Loki sat lazily across a chaise, leaning against the arm as he read from a book. Frigga was sat in the armchair to the right of the prince, sewing and humming peacefully. Her blue eyes flicked to the door as she sensed the servant’s arrival and she set aside her crafting. Her son did not react to her sudden changed and she waved her newest visitor closer.

“Ilona,” She greeted her by name. The servant kept her face placid. This queen who had ensnared her would treat her as a friend. Without this wretched cuff, Ilona would easily out magick the Asgardian. “Please, sit. Loki, do straighten up and give her some room.” She ordered her son, who obeyed but did not remove his eyes from the pages of his book.

Frigga motioned for the servant to sit beside her son and patted the ottoman on which she had formerly rested her feet. Ilona set her foot atop it without a word, the cuff seeming to glow as it was revealed from beneath her skirts. Despite his apparent disinterest, the servant could sense Loki’s intrigue. He was minding her every move though he refused to acknowledge her.

“Ahhh,” Frigga bent over her leg and examined the cuff. She touched it with her finger and pulled back sharply. If she were mortal, it would have burned her flesh. “I was wise to summon you this day.” She commented as she turned to open the small drawer in the side table on the other side of her chair.

She pulled out a small metal rod and waved it around the anklet, ribbons of glittering smoke circling it. Ilona sensed the movement beside her. From the corner of her eye she could see that Loki had lowered his book and was watching the scene before him. Frigga slowly rescinded the small rod and stood, careful as she neared the mantel on the far wall. There, stood a row of jars, each one filled with swirling clouds. She made to insert the metal into the glass when the smoke suddenly dispersed into the air, disappearing into the void.

“Mmm,” She grumbled with the usual disappointment, “One day I shall find a jar which can contain such fine magick.” She lamented, setting aside the rod. Ilona hid her disdain. There was not but her own body that could harbour her powers for they were not solely hers but came to her from the land, the sea, and the stars. Frigga had her illusions, her poached tricks, but she could not divine the secrets of the Vraji.

“Would you like a biscuit? Perhaps some cake?” She offered as she neared the coffee that served as the centerpiece among the cushioned seats.

“No, thank you,” Ilona stood. Loki’s eyes lingered on her. Her sharp eyes caught the green aura which had spread across the room; searching. He was trying to find her magick but it had already returned to whence it came. Back to the universe. “May I return to my work, your grace?”

“You may,” She nodded, turning back to look at the jars with hands on hips.

This goddess was just like her husband. She took all through conquest and yet acted the benevolent seer. A slice of cake was no fair price for the essence of others. Ilona bowed and turned to the door, doing her best to mimic Loki’s initial ambivalence as she left.

The porcelain cups clinked as Ilona pushed the cart along the stone floor. The teacups were kept in a closet on a higher level of the palace to keep them from wearing in the damp chill of the basements. Freshly cleaned and carefully dried, they were ready to be put away after a long day of brunches, lunches, and suppers.

A single red cup flew from the cart without cause; no jostle or bump could explain the sudden movement. Ilona halted and tried to reach the porcelain before it could fall. Instead, she nearly collided with another, stopping herself before her face met the green brocade stretched across Loki’s chest. She stood back as he raised the red cup in his hand and admired the golden rim.

“This is Thor’s favourite,” He mused, “My mother had it made for him. Only he uses it...but I assume you know that considering your position. You must know every cup in the bunch.” Ilona remained silent, watching the prince as he tried to irk her. He smirked and replaced the cup on the cart. “It must take no less than an hour to put all these away. Such tedious work. Especially for one who has tasted the simpleness of magick.”

“I never wasted my magick on such foolishness,” She replaced her hands on the cart, ready to push past him but he stepped in front of it before she could move.

“That cuff,” He raised a brow, “It can barely contain you. My mother has never known a magick she could not tame.”

“Her magick, your magick, is frivolous,” Ilona asserted, “It is easily acquired by those who seek to deceive. Mine is only understood by those it chooses. This realm may own my body, but it can never possess that which belongs to Vrajira.”

Loki tilted his head. “If you can learn to correct that tongue, my offer stands.”

“I am content in the kitchens,” She said, “Your majesty.”

She lightly inched the cart forward, waiting for him to move. He stepped aside to her surprise but stood close enough that her arm brushed against him when she passed. He stilled her with a hand on her elbow, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “For now.”

He backed away, watching her as she went until she turned the corner. She knew he was still there. She sensed him hidden in the shadows. Even as she reached the cupboard where the cups were stored, she felt him observing her. It had come to be a familiar sensation, though no less unwelcome.

#foreigner's god #part 2 #series #loki #mcu #marvel #he's an asshole #fair warning this is not soft loki

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 6 years

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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)

Tags: @orighami @lokislittlefangirl @amor67figment-love @fire-in-her-veinz

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.”

#loki laufeyson #avengers #loki fanfic #loki x reader #thor odinson #steven strange #dr strange #badass reader #flirty loki #playful loki #loki #tony stark #bucky barnes #the avengers #AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

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fanfic-collection · 6 years

Text

Beach Fun: Loki x Reader - Pt 3

For anyone out there not feeling pretty: no matter how thin or heavy, whatever skin color, too tall or too short. Here's to you.

Ok this is the last of the stuff I’ve previously written, now to convince myself to write more this week!

“Yes!” You shouted and ran to the s’mores bag, grabbing it from Tony. “Thanks so much Mr. Stark.” You grinned excitedly as you started digging through the goodies.

“No problem. And please, it’s Tony.” Tony grinned.

“I’ve not had these before.” Thor mused quietly, gazing down at the supplies in the bags as well. The other Avengers had huddled around, gathering what they needed instead of waiting to be passed out. All except Loki.

“Really?” You asked looking up in surprise. Thor silently shook his head. You glanced back at Loki. “Have you?” Loki also shook his head. “We definitely have to change that.”

Steve offered to show Thor as you wandered back over to Loki.

“Never had s’mores?” You repeated your earlier question.

“Still no.” Loki gazed at the food ruefully. “Though I have had chocolate, which I’m quite fond of.”

You grinned, “Well that’s a relief. I’d be worried about you if you hadn’t at least had chocolate. Here,” you pulled out a marshmallow and skewered it before handing the stick to Loki. Then you broke the graham cracker and placed the chocolate on it. Loki watched rapt attention, careful to memorize every detail. His excitement was contagious. “Now cook the marshmallow.” You nodded at the other Avengers who were already roasting theirs to their own standards.

Loki hummed in amusement as he lifted the skewer over the flame. “Quite reminiscent of cooking after a hunt while on one of our many excursions off realm.” Loki murmured as he stared at the sugary morsel cooking.

You peeked a look at his emerald green eyes and the dancing flames reflecting off them. Loki glanced down at you, a lopsided smile touching his lips.

Forcing yourself to look away, if only to hide your blush, you looked back at the marshmallow. “Oh! Pull it out!” You yelled.

Loki hastened to comply.

From across the fire, you heard Tony mutter, “That’s what she said.”

You ignored him and motioned for Loki to place the marshmallow between the crackers you were holding up for him. After it was finished, you delicately handed him the sandwich and watched for his reaction.

Loki hesitantly took a bite and his eyes lit up, “This is amazing!” He nearly yelled. “Brother, have you eaten yours yet?” Loki glanced over at Thor.

Thor was waiting impatiently as Steve helped with the finishing pieces. You laughed and began to make your own.

As Thor finally sank his teeth into his own s’more, his eyes lit up just as enthusiastically. “This is the food of Valhalla!”

Loki nodded eagerly, “I must have another.”

The Avengers started laughing and you quickly joined in. Eventually everyone had their fill until their fingers were sticky and covered with crumbs.

Natasha scowled. “Should’ve brought a cloth.”

“You could go wash your hands off in the water.” Clint offered.

“I’m dry now…” Natasha complained before pouting sweetly at Clint. “Would you please?”

Clint tried to ignore her but to no avail. Finally he groaned and threw his hands in the air before stomping away in playful anger. He promised to bring back plenty for everyone else.

“Here darling,” Loki said suddenly, causing you to look away from the assassins. “I made you the last one.”

“Aww, thanks. But you can have it.” You smiled.

“Perhaps we could share?” Loki held it up for you. You reached to grab it but he quickly shook his head. Carefully you leaned forward, taking a bite, but staying mindful of his cold fingers.

After you pulled away, seductively licking your lips, you grabbed it from Loki’s hands, preventing him from taking a bite.

“Your turn.” You grinned slyly and held it up. Eyeing you in amusement, Loki leaned forward to mirror your actions. Before he could bite down, you pulled away just slightly so he missed. You giggled, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

Loki’s eyes flashed and you felt your stomach somersault. Then he smirked at you and gripped your hands, holding them in place. “I told you, it’s not nice to tease, pet.” Not breaking eye contact, he bit down on the other side. His tongue darted out and slid along your finger, sending chills down your spine. When Loki pulled away and swallowed, he grinned widely, “You had some on your finger, thought I’d help you with that.”

With a cheeky look, you finished the s’more off. When you had finished chewing, you murmured, “Yes, well I might have some on my lips-“

Clint cleared his throat, “Here.” He muttered awkwardly holding out a napkin.

You glanced over at the other Avengers who were snickering and watching you and Loki with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. Thor looked mostly proud, Tony looked surprised and impressed.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, quickly wiping away the last of the marshmallow and offering it to Loki.

Loki chuckled lightly before taking it and wiping his mouth as well.

“Well I think I’m gonna call it a night.” Steve announced as he stood up.

There were sounds of agreement from the others and they slowly made their way inside. Steve stayed long enough to put out the fire then followed after everyone. You made to follow the others, then stopped when you saw Loki still sitting on the bench.

“What’s wrong Loki?” Everyone else was out of earshot now and didn’t hear your question.

Before she had left, Natasha said she would leave a pair of Pepper’s pajamas sitting on your bed for you.

“I think I’m going to stay out here and gaze at the stars.” Loki said as he stood up from the lifeless fire pit.

“Oh, mind if I join you then?”

“I’d love that.”

You and Loki walked a short ways from the fire pit and closer to the waves. You settled down in the blanket and held it open for Loki to sit beside you. Each of you had the blanket over a shoulder, bodies barely touching as you sat in silence and gazed at the boundless ocean.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked, staring out at the deep blue sea. It was so dark in the night, the moon a pale pearl reflecting off its surface. Hardly any waves disturbed the stillness and you could simply admire the vast beauty.

Loki nodded, “It truly is. Seeing where the sky connects with the water and disappears into infinity, it reminds me somewhat of Asgard.” Loki sounded forlorn as he mentioned his home. “It’s nice being away from the Midgardian cities. I suppose they have beauty in their own right, but it’s nothing compared to Asgard.”

You gazed out and tried to picture the golden city that Norse mythology had tried to envision. “Humans have tried really hard over the years to describe it.” You offered.

Loki glanced down at you, “Human books don’t do the actual thing justice. It’s indescribable.”

You reached over and lightly stroked his arm, “Sorry about that.”

Loki sighed then wrapped his arm around your shoulder and hugged you against him. “You’re quite beautiful too.”

You wanted to shrug. “Hardly, I mean, look at me. Look at my skin, and well, my weight. And I’m just not the right height. And my eyes, they’re just not the right color, you know? Or my hair. All those magazines…” You trailed off, shaking your head. Then suddenly you snapped your mouth shut, surprised and wondering where the sudden honesty and confession of your insecurities came from.

Loki scowled, “Those magazines are garbage, a waste of print. Trying to limit beauty to such simple standards, it’s foolish. Beauty is in the way you think and act. How you carry yourself, what you believe, your inner strength. None of what that rubbish says should hold any sway over anyone’s opinion. Least of all someone such as yourself.” You could feel traces of tears pricking at your eyes and Loki frowned. “Oh, no, I’ve made you cry.” He made to pull away again. “I’m such a fool, I keep doing that-“

You moved to your knees and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. At first Loki seemed surprised but was quick to respond, and quite eager.

Finally you pulled away for breath.

“I’m confused.” Loki mumbled, eyebrows scrunched together.

“No, that was perfect.” You smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

Loki had lightly gripped your waist during the kiss. Hesitantly, searching your eyes for permission, he kissed you again. It started off tentative then quickly gained momentum until he pushed you onto your back, and crawled atop you. Loki’s tongue slipped out and slid along your lip, seeking entrance. You eagerly allowed him until your tongues were moving together, searching each other’s mouth. He still tasted of the s’mores you had shared earlier.

Loki’s hands slid lightly under your shirt, stroking the smooth skin beneath. Both of you let out heady moans in tandem, kissing ever more passionately until you were dizzy and seeing stars.

Finally Loki pulled away gasping for breath as your hands still tightly gripped his hair. His eyes were dark with desire and you could feel that same desire burning deep within you.

“Perhaps it’s best we go in now.” Loki murmured softly, his voice deep and husky.

You nodded slowly, cheeks flushed. “Yea, that’s probably best.”

Loki pulled himself off of you and stood up before helping you to your feet. The two of you patiently dusted the sand off each other, giggling like children all the while. You walked hand in hand back inside.

At the top of the stairs, you kissed lightly before parting ways and heading to your respective rooms.

Just as Natasha said, lying on your bed was a pair of pajamas in your favorite color. As you lay down to sleep, all you could think of was the lasting feel of Loki’s lips on your own.

That night you slept deeply, full of passionate dreams, all with one focus: Loki.

#Loki x reader #multi chapter

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welcome-to-my-daydreams · 6 years

Text

The Gift

Summary: Reader is elated when Thor returns to Earth after a 2 year hiatus. She’s determined to finally confess her feelings at his homecoming party but is met with disappointment when he brushes her off. Or does he?

Pairings: Thor x Reader

Type: One Shot

Warnings: Slight angst, NSFW, smut, fluff, sickeningly romantic Thor

Word Count: 3,065

A/N: It’s sooo long and I’m sooo sorry about it! But not really because I actually really enjoyed writing a more sweet and fluffy Thor this time. Thor is missing an eye in this one, and I often refer to the reader looking in his “eyes” because “eye” just seemed weird. Enjoy!

Masterlist

The Gift

You have never felt so foolish in your entire life.

Sitting on the couch with your arms folded across your chest you look around the room as all your friends laugh and drink around you, clutching their Asgardian souvenirs.

It was Thor’s homecoming party. He had finally returned to earth after being gone nearly two years and had brought everyone gifts from his home.

Well, not everyone.

Throughout the night he had made his way through the party to give your teammates their gifts one by one. Along with kind words and some form of hug. It was totally his style; Thor was extremely sentimental when it came to family and his two homes – Asgard and Earth.

Which is what made it all the more hurtful when your gift never came. He hadn’t even had a conversation with you yet and it left you feeling hurt and confused. Hence you, sitting alone, grumbling on the couch in the middle of a party.

It wasn’t even about the gift. You weren’t one for material things. It was about the thought behind them.

You had thought about Thor almost every day during his two years away. You missed him dearly and even though you didn’t expect for him to return the same feelings you had for him, you had expected something. Some kind of token to the friendship you shared before he left.

The two of you had been friends. There was no question about that. You had made it your mission to teach him everything he needed to know about earthly life. You even took him to his first movie at the cinema. And in return Thor would spend hours telling you stories from Asgard and recounting all his adventures. You especially loved hearing the tales of the Valkyries, Thor’s personal favourites as well.

But because you’re only human, you found yourself falling for the god. He was so charming, sweet and handsome. Just the sound of his voice would send you into a flurry of nerves. But you never acted on it. Which was something you’d grow to regret. Especially since he disappeared for so damn long.

You had been so nervous to see him tonight that you nearly threw up all over your new, black, thin strapped cocktail dress before the party. It took you hours to get ready and you foolishly recited what you would say to him. You even thought that if everything had gone well you might even confess your feelings to him.

It all seemed to stupid now. So naïve.

Your eyes landed on Thor across the room. He was talking to Tony and they were having a great big laugh about something.

He looked so good. Almost better than you remember.

Jerk.

He was wearing a maroon dress shirt, with the first few buttons left open and a black blazer over top. His new style definitely suited him. What look wouldn’t, you thought bitterly. His short hair gave him a more modern, rugged look, but that might have been the freshly healed scars that now decorated his skin. And that eyepatch…oh god that eyepatch. Leave it to Thor to still be sex on legs with one eye. But what really got you was his laughter and those adorable lines that formed along the corner of his eyes whenever he smiles.

You turned to look down at your lap. Sucking in your sadness with a deep inhale.

Why hasn’t he spoken to you yet? That asshole. Did you really mean so little to him? Was it all in your head, the friendship you thought you shared? A lump began to form in your throat as you felt the tears pool beneath your eyes.

You grabbed your glass of wine and headed quickly to the balcony.

The cool air was a welcomed relief as you stepped outside and closed the glass door behind you. You stepped to the railing and took a deep breath – steadying your emotions. You took a deep gulp of your wine, enjoying the bitter taste as it flowed down your throat. The warming affect washed over you and you leaned forward against the railing, taking in the night sky above you.

You were being ridiculous. You know you were. But the heart wants what it wants and yours wanted someone who’d forgotten about you.

You stayed there, leaning against the railing for about 10 minutes before hearing the door open behind you. You figured it was Natasha coming out to drag your mopey ass back to the party. But the footsteps were far too heavy for someone so stealthy.

Thor sidled up close beside you, his arm nearly brushing yours.

Your breath hitched in your chest. You turned your head to look up at him, jaw clenching as your heart began to beat faster with his proximity.

“It’s a beautiful night, is it not?” He mused aloud, looking up at the sky. You turn back to the stars and reply with a simple “I suppose.” Before taking another sip of wine. You finished the glass and placed it on the railing. You had one hundred things you wanted to say to him, but you choose to be petty, because you were angry. And a little bit drunk.

“I see everyone enjoyed their gifts.” You say curtly, not looking at him. You can’t look at him. Thor shot you a cheeky look. He knew why you made the comment, but brushed past it. “Yes! It seems they did. I am glad, it was quite a challenge to find something for each of them.” He replied, far too casually. You rolled your eyes, shifting from foot to foot and growing more aggravated with the whole situation.

Thor cleared his throat and turned to face you, leaning his huge body against the railing. “In fact…that is precisely what brings me out here. To you, (y/n).” You turn to face him, confused, as you notice him bringing his left arm around. He was holding a box and he handed it to you.

“I wanted to give this to you. Privately. Though I’ve not had the opportunity until this very moment”

As you took the box your anger and hurt melted into shame and guilt. The box was breathtaking. It was made of a dark, rich wood, and on it was a beautiful set of handmade carvings. You recognized the images immediately. They were from the tales of the Valkyries.

As you traced the carvings with the pads of your figures you looked up at Thor, who was smiling down at you. Knowing he had indeed surprised you.

Damn those smile lines.

“Thor it’s…It’s. I thought…It’s beautiful.” His smile only grew wider as he brought each of his hands to either side of the box. “The box is beautiful to be sure, (y/n). But…you’re meant to open it” He said softly as he lifted the lid of the box to reveal a dark velvet lining.

“Oh my god…” you said under your breath as a small tear rolled down your cheek. It was a necklace. A beautiful, delicate silver pendant with three crescent shapes intertwined with one another on a fine silver chain.

“I had it crafted by the head smith at the palace. If you remember, that is the symbol of Freya…”

“…The goddess of war.” You finished his sentence. Now it was your turn to smile from ear to ear.

Thor bent down closer to you, his height making it slightly difficult to hold a comfortable conversation whist standing. “The goddess of beauty and love.” He whispers.

Your knees tremble slightly as he utters the suggestive words. You try to speak. To say something. Anything. But you just stand there, lips parted and unable to look away from his beautiful blue eyes. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat coming off of his body. Your eyes trail down to his full lips and back up to his eyes again. Losing yourself in the moment. In him.

But the moment is cut short when he pulls away, smiling at the dazed look on your face. He brushed the tear off of your cheek with his thumb. “May I?” He asks, pointing to the box you were still holding. You nod, handing him the box. He takes the delicate chain from its case with one hand and brushes your long (y/h/c) hair off to the side with the other. Stepping closer to you again, he reaches both arms around you, gently clasping the necklace around your neck. You immediately reach for the pendant, tracing its carvings with your fingers. Thor steps back to take a look and smiles once again. “Beautiful.” He says softly as his gaze drifts from the necklace to the curve of your breasts that surround it. He bites his bottom lip.

Your body runs hot as you blush from head to toe. “Thor….” You whisper.

Thor took one final step towards you and closed the gap between you, bringing your face into one large hand and pulling you in for a soft, wet kiss. You melt into him immediately. You bring your free hand to his chest, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. You both kiss deeper into each other. As if trying to make up for all the lost time.

He parts your lips wider with his tongue and explores the insides of your mouth. You moan into the kiss as he wraps his huge arm around your body, pulling you closer to him from the small of your back. Your lips move against one another’s as his thumb strokes your cheek. You feel the wetness pool in your core. Your black lace panties soaked as the warm sensation of arousal begins to wash over you.

You break free from the kiss to catch your breath. If it wasn’t for his arm holding you up, you’d have collapsed on the floor a few moments ago. You look up him, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve missed you so much.” you whispered up at him.

Without a moment’s hesitation Thor took your hand in his brought you inside. Leading you through the party and ignoring all the guests who had tried to stop him for a spot of small talk. Before long you were stepping into his bedroom and he was locking the door.

He rushed towards you and kissed you again. Lips crashing together, the sound of uncontrolled breaths filling the room. Eager to feel his skin on yours, you pull his jacket off his broad shoulders and unbutton his shirt. Untucking it from his pants and dragging it off his arms so it falls on the floor.

Without breaking the kiss, he hooks his fingers beneath the straps of your dress and gently pulls them down and off your shoulders. He moves from your lips downwards and kisses every inch of your exposed skin. When he gets to the base of your neck he takes your skin between his teeth and give a gentle nibble before sucking deeply. A deep groan comes from your chest as he marks you.

You reach around to remove the necklace he gave you, but he stops your hands and moves them down to your sides. “No.” he says softly. “Leave it on.”

He snakes his hand around you to find the zipper of your dress. He slowly zips it down, allowing his other hand to explore the newly exposed skin on your back. A loud moan escapes your mouth as you tried to keep up with all of him.

Once he had zipped all the way to your lower back he pulled away from your neck and knelt down. Pulling the dress down with him and getting you to step out of your dress. His face was directly parallel with your panties and he let out a deep groan when we saw how wet you were already. He looked up at your dazed face and smiled before gently pulling the underwear down to join your dress on the floor beside you.

He traced the inside of your thighs with his fingers, kissing your hip bones, leaving a wet trail on your skin before taking you into completely his mouth.

You cried out as he sucked from your cunt up through your folds. He brought his hands to your ass and squeezed it tightly, pulling you closer into his mouth. You wrapped your fingers in his hair to steady yourself. Eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as the pleasure consumes you.

You shuddered as his tongue circled your clit in soft persistent rhythms. The heat from his mouth causing you core to tighten as he worshiped every bit of your nerves. He moved his tongue down between your folds, drinking in the nectar that your body endlessly produced. He squeezed your ass tightly as he thrust his tongue into your entrance. Your deep moans turning to muffled screams as you bit down on your bottom lip.

A heat built up deep within you as you felt your orgasm coming closer. You moaned his name and pulled tightly on his hair as he fucked your pussy with his tongue. Noticing your walls tighten against him he licked deeper into you, looking up as your orgasm washed over you. “Oh..my…Oh my god!” You screamed breathlessly, your body spasms as the pleasure takes over.

He licks you softly as you come down from your high. Lapping up your juices, unable to get enough of your taste. He wipes his face gently on your thigh before coming up and pulling you in for a deep kiss.

You can taste yourself on him, and it only makes you want more. You need him inside you now more than ever.

You wrap your arms around his thick neck and gently bite on his bottom lip. He groans and smiles into your kiss as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants and boxers in unison. Kicking them across the room. When he returns to your lips, he hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you up.

He walks you to the bed, but just when you expect him to lower you onto it, he turns around to sit on its edge. Wrapping your legs around his torso so that you’re sitting on this lap.

You were suddenly very aware of his massive cock as it rubbed against your sensitive core. It was hard and oozing with pre-cum already. Taking advantage of the proximity you began to grind against it. Drawing out a series of deep, grizzly moans from the god.

Unable to hold off any longer, Thor lifted you by your thighs. You took his cock into your hand and lined it up with your aching wet pussy. You buried your face into his neck as he lowered you onto him. Eliciting the obscenest gasps of pleasure from the both of you.

You bit into his neck as he lifted your thighs up and down, over and over again. Your pussy taking its time to adjust to his size, causing a slight sting mixed with the most divine pleasure imaginable.

Your mouth returned to his as his motions moved harder and faster. Thor brought his arm to your back, wrapping his large hand through your hair and around the back of your neck, pulling your entire body closer to him. The sound of deep kisses, sloppy breaths and slapping skin echoed through the room.

Feeling the urge to be even closer to his skin, you began to grind against him, his lower abdomen rubbing against your sensitive clit. Enjoying the slow burn your grinding made, Thor released your thigh, leaving a deep red mark that would surely bruise and took your breast into his hand. Squeezing it gently as he began to grind into you as well. Over and over again.

You could feel another orgasm creeping up inside you. You broke away from his lips and began to nibble at his neck again, moaning into it while you both grinded into each other. Harder. Faster.

“Oh God (y/n)…” Thor mumbled. Leaning forward so he could push deeper into you. He could feel your walls tightening around his cock, and the feeling of your teeth burying into his skin was bringing him even closer to his finish.

You screamed as your second orgasm washed over you, the electric feeling flooding every inch of your body. Your noises brought Thor to his as well. Your walls spasm against his cock as he released his warm juices inside of you.

Thor kisses the sweat coated skin on your chest as you both come down from your highs. Your face buried into his neck as you try to catch your breath. Your body is shaking now, and all you can to is hang off of his glistening body.

He gently pulls you away from him so he could look at you. “You know I love you, don’t you, (y/n)?” He asked, catching his breath. You giggle like a little girl when you finally heard him say it. You nodded your head, “I do…and I love you too, Thor.”

After a while he lifts you up, pulling himself out of you and laying you on the bed. He lays beside you and pulls the white sheet over you both. Pulling you into the crook of his shoulder and wrapping his arm around your back. Pulling you in to kiss you on the forehead.

You lay there, face resting on his hard chest and tracing the scars on his shoulder and arms. His free hand reaches across his chest and he fingers the pendant he gave you. Admiring how beautiful it looks against your soft skin.

You looked up at him and smiled. “The necklace is beautiful Thor. I…I’ll have to find you something to show you just how much I love you too.” You joked, as you continued to explore his chest with your finger.

Thor took his hand from the necklace and moved it down your body, spreading his huge hand across your belly. “Well.” He said with a mischievous grin. “Maybe one day, you can give me the greatest gift of all…hmm?” You blushed when you realised what he was suggesting.

You placed your hand on top of his and nodded, before lifting your head to kiss him softly.

If I’ve tagged you it’s because we’ve chatted about our love of Thor fics or about tag lists and I thought you might be interested! Let me know if you’d like to be removed :).

@marveloussssworld @lemonchapstick @justcallmecinammon @inumorph

#thor #thor odinson #god of thunder #the avengers #thor imagine #thor fan fiction #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #thor x reader #thor smut #thor fluff #marvel imagine #norse mythology #norse gods #reader insert #marvel smut #x reader

1K notes · View notes

sunsetpatterson · 6 years

Text

Dear, mortal

Summary: Y/N, a half-mortal, reminisces on the first day she met Thor and Loki. Italics are memories.

Pairing: Thor Odinson × Half-Asgardian!Reader, Loki Laufeyson × Half-Asgardian!Reader (platonic)

A/N: My first Thor fic! I'm most likely gonna get some stuff wrong, so please don't chew my ass off about it. You've been warned.

Masterlist

"Welcome to Asgard, my child." Odin's voice was deep, yet soothing to the eight year old girl as they walked along the rainbow bridge, away from the bifrost and towards the place he called home. "While your father fights and your mother births her second child, I encourage you to make yourself at home. You will be safe here."

Y/N looked around this foreign place with nothing but awe on her young face. Her eyes glinted, bright with an emotion she had never felt.

Asgard was by far the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The painting created by her mother did not do it justice.

The people she passed were tall and far too beautiful. There was a part of Y/N that didn't feel worthy of looking upon them. They were Gods, full blooded Asgardians - whereas she... she was only half of what they were, she would only ever be half.

Her mother was a proud Asgardian, graced with beautiful features and a strong heart. Her father was a mortal, a warrior... but still a mortal. He was not of Asgardian blood, her mother called him an Earthling - whatever that may be.

Odin's hand was firm on the young girl's shoulder as they walked through the halls of his palace, guards straightening up with the utmost respect whenever their King passed by.

Asgard was something of a fairytale to Y/N, something she could've only dreamed about in her first years on Earth. "This is where my mother was born?" It was a question she knew the answer to, but still - curiosity got the better of her. "Why did she ever leave?"

Odin gave a hearty chuckle. "She left not of her own choice, child. It was a decision made only with her best interests in mind." He squeezed her shoulder gently.

They came to an abrupt stop, patiently waiting as his guards opened the large doors, which led to a dining room almost a hundred times bigger than her bedroom on Earth.

The Asgardian King escorted the young child into the room fit for royalty. "Your mother was given the option to return, but by then she had already fallen for a mortal." Odin explained.

Y/N felt her jaw drop ever so slightly, not only because of the sight in front of her, but the story too. "My father."

Odon simply nodded in confirmation, completely aware of the fact she couldn't see the action. "Come, my child. Let me introduce you to my two sons, and then we shall get you acquainted with your room for the time being."

Before he could take another step forward, a small hand tugged him back. Y/N had stood her ground, only staring up at him until he permitted her to speak. Odin looked down at the girl, the being that reminded him of a much younger version of her mother.

"What is it?"

Y/N looked around, anxious of meeting his eyes. "When I go home..." Her voice was small, self-conscious, a contrast to Odin's confidence and booming voice. "Will I be allowed to come back? To Asgard, I mean."

The eight year old jumped as Odin gave out another hearty laugh. He knelt to her height and guided her face to look at him.

"Dear mortal, my child. You may come back as many times as you wish." Odin spoke and pointed to her heart. "Asgardian blood flows through your veins. You, Y/N, are always welcome in Asgard. Heimdell will answer wheneber you call."

Her eyes lit up, and, if it were even possible, Odin's smile grew. He knew the small child belonged in Asgard, even if it meant jumping between his home and Earth, he would always welcome her.

Odin rose to his feet and planted a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Now, let us go see where those sons of mine are, shall we?"

Y/N nodded, a newfound enthusiasm flowing through her soul as the two walked past dozens of empty chairs, before finally reaching the small family sat together at the head of the table. Odin's family, Asgardian royalty.

One by one, the three heads turned to face Odin and Y/N. Once recognition crossed their expressions, they hastily stood from their seats in respect for the head of the family.

"Father, you're home!" The two young boys exclaimed. Y/N stepped out of the way just as they piled on their father.

She was envious, no doubt. She longed to be able to tackle her father just like they did theirs. All in due time, she reminded her self.

Y/N snapped out of her daze as a gentler hand settled on her shoulder, one much softer than Odin's callous one. She looked up to see a beautiful brunette who smile warmly down at her.

"You must be Y/N." She assumed. "My name is Frigga, Queen of Asgard and mother to those rambunctious boys." When the elder woman laughed, it was like music to her ears. "I only know little of you, so I look forward to bonding with you."

"Y-your Highness." Y/N sputtered, her mess of words earning her yet another laugh.

"Frigga is fine, dear." Frigga smoothed a hand over the young girl's dark hair. "Once the boys have finished wrestling, we will get you acquainted with them and then we shall eat. I assume you're hungry."

Y/N smiled sheepishly as her stomach growled. "Starving, actually."

It was as if her voice snapped something in the two young boys. Almost in sync, they scrambled to stand up and straighten their best clothes. Hands ran frantically through short strands of hair as their father rose to his feet once more.

With their most charming smiles, the boys spun to face Y/N. For a split second, their faces dropped at the childish beauty that welcomed them - but they were quick to recover.

A blond stepped forward, cheeky smile stretching his lips as he closed his hand around one of hers. "My name is Thor, God of Thunder, first born son of Odin." He pressed a kiss to her delicate skin, not missing the way her cheeks flushed.

His brother rolled his eyes and pushed Thor out of the way. "I apologize for my brother. He is... well, there is not explanation for what he is." The giggle he drew from her more than made up for the scolding from his father. "I am Loki, God of Mischief, son of Odin."

"What? No number?" The young girl mused.

Loki all but smirked at her. "No need. I have no reason to show off, unlike someone else."

She only nodded with a glance up at Odin. He gave her a slightl nod, and so she introduced herself. "I am Y-"

"Y/N!"

A booming voice snapped her from her daydream, or was it just a dream now? Looking around, she noticed that the sun had completely disappeared from sight, leaving only the night sky in its wake.

A large body slumped next to her, but she didn't need to look in order to know who it was.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." Thor spoke, and all of a sudden she was all to aware of just how much his voice had changed over the years. "When the maids mentioned you were not in your chambers, I had a feeling you'd be out here."

Y/N gave Thor a small smile and laid back on the soft blanket one of the maids had provided for her, her hands folded beneath her head as she gazed at the stars in the sky.

Thor kept his focused trained on her for a few moments longer, allowing him to marvel at how her once childish features had grown into strong Asgardian ones - and yet, somehow, she still somewhat resembled her father.

"Tell me, what occupies your mind this late at night?"

She suppressed a snort at his wording. She set a hand on his taught bicep, pushing him back to lay beside her. Together, they looked up at the stars. "I came out here to watch the sun set... but, for some reason, my mind wondered back to the day I met you and Loki."

"Ah." Thor chuckled gently. "When everything was far less complicated."

Y/N smiled in amusement, subtly shuffling closer to the much taller man. "I suppose you could say that. I view them as the times where I looked like a chubby potato."

The God of Thunder let out a booming laugh. If he wasn't the Prince of Asgard, some civilians may have complained about the noise.

"Well, if it means anything to you, my Princess, I think you looked rather... cute."

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up at the use of his pet name for her. By now, she should have been used to it, but every time she heard it, feelings would bubble deep in the pit of her stomach.

Lady Sif would joke and say Y/N loved him, but... did she really? Thor was someone she had grown up knowing, someone she'd watched turn from a pompous ass to one of the most caring people she'd ever known.

Did Y/N, half-mortal half-Asgardian, have feelings for Thor?

The answer was yes, though she didn't know how much longer she could survive without letting her feelings be known.

"Well." Y/N croaked, clearing her throat before she continued. "You say that as if it is a fact, when it is only your opinion." She teased, tilting her head to the side so she could look at the man she'd grown up with. "But, it is a fact that I looked like a potato."

Thor rolled his eyes, the smile never leaving his face as he continued to watch the stars. "You were a cute... potato, as you put it."

Y/N scoffed, despite her cheeks flaming up beyond control. "Potatoes cannot be cute, Thor! It is impossible!"

The blond gave her a hearty laugh. She admired the look of pure joy on his face as the corners of his eyes crinkled gently. "It cannot be impossible, my Princess. I said it, therefore I must be possible!"

She sat up and looked down at the God, a playful look on her face. "Just because-"

Y/N and Thor spent the rest of the night just like that, arguing over something so mundane in order to put off the inevitable talk about their feelings. But, if there was ever anything that Y/N was grateful for, it was this...

She was grateful for meeting Thor and Loki, despite it not being the best of circumstances, she was grateful for making two friends she knew she'd have for life.

#thor odinson #thor #marvel #thor x reader #thor one shot #thor imagine

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

Dark Magic

TITLE: Dark Magic CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Two AUTHOR: lynneth1968 ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine you have been calling on Loki to share with you his magic. You light candles and pray to him every night, and you don’t think he hears you, but he does. Loki hears every request and every dream. He knows that although you say you seek magic, you desire everything he can give you. You would have him take you mentally, physically, emotionally, and psychically. You, in your denial of your true feelings, hold on to your mortal boyfriend. Loki watches from Asgard as the weakling mortal takes you to bed and tries to convince you Loki isn’t real. Loki paces his chambers trying to decide whether to take you from Midgard and prove he is real, or walk away from you. Can the God of Mischief and lies really fall for a mortal? Can you handle him?

Imagine that a force- bond like connection through his magic opens between you and Loki.

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: No warnings so far

The evening in Asgard seemed to draw long and boring as Loki listened to idle banter around him. Everything was in its rightful place as far as his “family” was concerned but he doubted he would ever agree it was so. He had barely eaten anything and the ale seemed like dust in his mouth when he tried to drink it. Quietly he removed himself from the long table and made his way toward the door of the hall. From the corner of his eye he saw Thor watching him but he did not give his brother reason to stop him. He was not in the mood for his brother’s chatter this night. Thankfully he made it out of the gathering and into the cool night.

He walked away from the great golden glow of the hall and into the darkness he felt safe in. As he walked his appearance changed to the dark blue, lined appearance of his frost giant heritage. His lungs expanded with cool air and he felt the tension within him release. He could not show this side of himself within the gilded halls of Asgard. No-one could stand in his presence and not feel repulsion. He could see it in the eyes of all who knew him and feel it in the air around him. He did not need their acceptance therefore he told himself he did not care.

The Bifrost clicked beneath his heels as he walked upon it to where the guardian Heimdall stood watch over the universe. The stars above him were glorious and he took a moment to stand and gaze upward and appreciate them. As he neared the portal the deep voice of the guardian greeted him.

“What brings a Prince of Asgard to the portal this night?” he asked and Loki smirked as he made his way to the edge of the portal. The nine realms spread out before him and he marveled at their beauty.

“I am no Prince of Asgard.” He said quietly without facing the guardian. “I merely play a part to suit those who claim to be my family. I have no real home and no real family.”

“That is true only because you make it so.” Heimdall followed Loki’s gaze toward Midgard and smiled. “You visited a woman in Midgard two days ago. I did not think you cared much for humans.”

“What I do is of no consequence to you.”

“I beg to differ as your previous visits have not gone well.” Heimdall focused his gaze upon Midgard and heard the whispering coming through the mists. “She calls to you, this woman. Why is that?”

“That is a mystery to me at present.” Loki stood very still and listened to Alina as she slipped into the dream world and wandered the mists looking for him. “She asks me for nothing. She merely seeks me out and desires my presence.”

“She holds magic within her that she does not comprehend yet.” Heimdall mused and turned his attention to Loki watching Midgard with intensity. “I feel no darkness in her heart, but she seeks the darkness she feels in you.”

“Yet she does not ask me for it.” Loki shook his head. “I, of all the Gods in the realms, seem to give her solace. That is not in my nature.”

“I believe you do not even understand your true nature my Prince.” Heimdall returned his gaze to Midgard then and still the whispers were insistent. “Perhaps it is her light that calls to you more than her whispers.”

“What need have I for light?” Loki turned away from the portals edge and the agitation was evident in his face. Heimdall watched as his skin lost the cold blue coloring and his eyes returned to their natural blue green state. “I am merely amused at her foolishness.”

“And yet your appearance changes as you speak of her.” Heimdall laughed softly. “You lie to yourself now. How interesting.”

“Do not propose to tell me what I am feeling or thinking guardian.” Loki hissed and returned to the cold blue of his anger. “Alina may call to me every night for the rest of her short life. She cannot touch the heart of a frost giant.”

“So you admit to having a heart after all.” Heimdall was now enjoying himself even as Loki’s eyes shone red with rage. “Strong is the magic of your Alina if she has stirred the heart of he who claims no love at all.”

“I have no heart and certainly no love.” Loki nearly growled and strode away from the portal and back toward Asgard. Heimdall returned his gaze to the nine realms and uttered not a sound when he saw Loki look back once more.

Within the walls of his chamber Loki paced like a caged animal. What was this fascination he held for a lowly witch of Midgard? Others had called to him many times. Many had asked for his magic, his cunning, even his presence in their bed. Seldom did he pay attention to any requests. The humans were weak and dull for the most part. They had shown him no proof of their own strength previously. They prayed to Gods they did not fully believe in most of the time.

“Why does she haunt me?” he asked the deepening night as he walked to his balcony and looked out over the shining city. He was tired and yet he knew if he lay upon his bed he would be drawn to her again. The dream state was a world not many could conjure. Heimdall was not wrong in saying that her magic was strong. She had already known he was real when she whispered for him in her dreams. He had ignored her in the beginning and then her voice became like that of a siren. His decision to appear to her had been a folly in his mind. Loki was sure she would be terrified and whimper as most humans did when faced with a very real God. He closed his eyes and saw her eyes so green and clear in the light of her candles. She had knelt before him out of respect and admiration, but not fear. He had thought of touching the top of her head as she lowered it, just to feel the silk of her dark hair. She did not look like one of Midgard to him. Her skin was too pale, too soft and her eyes too clear. He had seen the waves of power ripple around her as they spoke.

Loki turned from the balcony and strode across the floor to his bed. “No.” he whispered defiantly as he caught his own reflection in the mirror. The blue of his skin, lined with the marks of his ancestors, shone back at him with blood red eyes. “I will not feel. I cannot. She is nothing to me.” He lay back, closed his eyes, and shut the door of his mind to the world of dreams.

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hyperesthesias · 7 years

Text

Loki x Sigyn

Love Never Dies | Part II

Rating: E

Words: 2.915

Summary: Jane’s stay on Asgard is not entirely what she had hoped -- Thor gone, Odin less than welcoming, and a cantankerous Loki as her chaperone. But is there a reason for his more-than-usual grouchiness?

Notes: damn this one’s long. sorrynotsorry. anyway i hope you like it. im really loving writing this one. hopefully more will be revealed in the next chapter. even im excited.

The morning on Asgard was rather different -- Jane awoke not with the ebbing light of daybreak through the balcony doors as she might have if she had been on her own homeworld, but it seemed as though the light were insufferable and inescapable. It swallowed everything around her, dampened only by the briefly open curtains around the bed; she reckoned they were placed out of forethought rather than decoration. It took her many moments of lying on her back with her eyes forcefully closed in an attempt to will herself back to sleep before she realised it was futile, and she might as well have been wide awake. It took her even longer to appreciate the fact that though the light from Asgard’s main star was permeating, it was not utterly warm -- like that of the desert Sun in New Mexico, or any number of places she’d visited on Earth. If there was one thing she had learned -- and learnt quickly in her field -- it was that the Sun was a harsh and unforgiving master of the dying earth beneath it. Thus, she lay there for some while, struggling between half awakeness and coherentness, likening that the reasoning was because Asgard took care of its world, of its atmosphere, rather than humans who had quite literally punched a hole through theirs. Hers. Was she so ready to think of herself as separate? Was it arrogance? Or was it something else?

This thought awakened her more than any familiar feeling of astronomy or physics. For it was the branch of a thought seeded deep within her subconscious -- a seed she was neither ready nor willing to exhume.

Instead, she buried it deeper in the soil of her thoughts and pushed herself out of the bed she’d been given graciously by the Queen Frigga, Thor’s mother. She smiled at the relation -- they were so similar in appearance, and yet they seemed so opposite in personal likeness. She considered it sweet, endearing, that he was capable of such faithful love despite differences. Even grave differences.

She found a frown on her face when her thoughts turned to his dark haired brother, Loki, who resided in the suite beside hers. She had been given the suite in between the brothers. Jane had asked the Queen if the space had already existed between them, or if something had been rearranged -- for she would have felt horribly guilty had been the latter. But much to her relief, and somewhat expectancy, the gap had remained. She explained the brothers’ fighting was insufferable, nearly audible through the whole royal wing of palace if they were not separated, thus, their suites had been adjusted. Frigga had to decide who moved and who stayed, for they fought over that too, she revealed.

Jane felt a pitiful grin emerge over her as she dressed herself and readied herself for the day -- pausing in uncertainty of what to do with herself whilst Thor was away on Odin’s convenient ‘peace-keeping’ mission. Nonetheless, she would attend breakfast as she did the day prior and hope for the best.

She remembered the way to the breakfast room with ease, quickly strolling down the long hallways as she came to it, where she was dismally surprised to see Loki already seated and eating.

“Ah, look who decided to partake,” his insults began.

“Good morning,” she grumbled back, deciding not to hide the equal amount of bitterness -- bitterness if only to hide the confusion of how or what to feel or do around him. “You’re up early.”

“I’m an early riser,” he mused as he sipped something warm from a mug.

“More like an insomniac -- I heard you tossing last night,” she sighed and sat down, at the place she’d taken the day before, tossing a glance at him all the way at the other end of the table.

He only pursed his lips. “Perhaps you should be more selective in your hearing.”

“And maybe you should try some tea or warm milk,” it was half sarcasm, half actual suggestion, as she was surprised by a servant who brought her plate.

“I doubt such trivial things will be of help,” he muttered, cursing himself after he spoke that he had revealed her to be correct in her assumption.

She watched his expression draw and grow dark as he ceased his meal and placed a thumb to his lips, his eyes unmoving and pensive. “Nightmares?” she assumed -- only because she recalled her own demeanour to be similar after her own experience with Malekith and the Aether; the fear it begot stirring in her nightmarish and strange dreams that had yet to cease.

“Careful, girl -- you know not of what you speak,” he snapped, his eyes the only things about him to move as they landed on her with prejudice.

She quickly bit her tongue, trying to hide the fear of what he might do -- frightened that she had irreparably offended him in someway and she would yet face retribution.

But she did not hide it well enough, and he saw the fear on her -- he smelt it on her, untamed and wild, he could recognise it anywhere, if only by empathy. He drew a sharp breath, feeling the grit of guilt on his teeth for having being short with her -- she was young, innocent, unknowing of the burden he bore, unknowing of her hand in worsening it. And altogether he could hear Sigyn’s quiet, soothing voice brush against his ear:

‘She cannot help her limitations, be kind, my love. Be kind.’

A heavy respire brought round bother her attention and his words back to him: “I have been deemed by Odin to accompany you throughout the palace,” he began, refusing to look at her, instead at the half eaten plate beneath him. “You are not to attend anywhere I am not, you are not to speak to any one I do not deem necessary, you are not to wander from, pester, or otherwise interfere with me or those around you.”

She tried -- for Thor’s sake -- not to take too personally his tone or his words, but at least they hadn’t come with as much spite. “So you’re...my babysitter?” she concluded, unsure if that had been an insult to Loki or her by Odin.

“Think of me as more of a...cultural liaison,” he motioned, and made the mistake of looking up at her -- briefly taken aback at the way the morning’s light struck her, they way her eyes seemed to be...on fire. He saw in that moment, not Jane, the Midgardian, but Sigyn, the Queen and Guardian of Nashtar, the Forest Realm. His wife, his love, his everything.

But the image was abruptly taken from him as reality merged with the fictitious image in all but a second and he was along again. He tore his sights from her once more and placed them at the plate before him, having yet to take a bite.

“‘Cultural liaison’,” she repeated with a note of scepticism. “You realise there has to be some form of culture involved in order for that to work, right?”

He huffed at her persistence, but agreed nonetheless. “I assure you, I will not bore you senseless. I am certain there is something in these walls which will pique your interest,” he waved a hand vaguely. “That’s not to say I can think of anything at the moment, but...”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, why don’t you show me what you like to do, or where you like to go?”

He paused, recalling his usual visiting places, and eliminated both those of illegality and danger, and came to a few conclusions off hand. “Very well.”

She hadn’t been entirely sure whether she’d sealed a fate of doom or pleasure in her suggestion, but the one thought she had come to was: for being such a notorious silver-tongue he had hardly spoken a word to her the rest of the day -- or even looked at her for that matter. They’d been to the library, where she confessed an illiteracy to Asgardian, but a familiarity with Norse -- where Loki then supplied her with several children’s books, but she had whether to figure it a jab or a usefulness. They went to the music room where she witnessed instruments she had never imagined, and some rather familiar, studying frequencies, jotting notes when she could to compare to other notes when she returned. And he had yet to take her to a garden, though he had not specified what kind.

Though, with every step alongside his, she was wary of perhaps setting him off into a frenzy in which he would snap at her again -- or worse. For she held two conflicting images of the man in her head: a vicious monster, who wrought naught but destruction, and self-sacrificing protector. Yet, with every word, she felt it necessary to decipher which was speaking.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning her with a finger as he stood outside his suite.

She stood away from him, nearer her own door, where she furrowed her brow, suspicious of his motives in his invitation.

“Oh for the sake of Valhalla -- I will not hurt you, now come here,” he said more sternly, unable to hide his frustration.

She looked around, seeing the guards posted nearby -- they did nothing to make her suspect of his meaning, they did not stop him or even look at them. And she reassured herself that Darcy had lent her a TASER for the trip which she carried everywhere -- that if need be, she would use it. Thus, she obeyed, and approached him.

He opened the door to his suite, never relaying his regret that she should fear him so at all, and ushered her inside. Following behind her, he was quick to admonish preemptively: “Do not touch anything.”

She had no intention, her hands where in the folds of her clothes, one hand on the TASER, the other on her stomach. But her fear did not allay her curiosity, and she found her eyes wandering to the state of his suite:

An organised mess. She could tell it had once been organised, it once was home to order, but had been recently thrust into chaos. The outer room was home to a lounge, hardly used for leisure, nearly pristine, save for the papers and clothes that piled atop it; a chest of drawers with a few drawers lightly open here and there as though he frequently rushed through them, and a desk with a hutch, the most organised space of all: as though he used it all the time. On it sat a mechanical device of some sort, at which she squinted -- she had never seen anything like it. Parts and pieces lay in columns all along the desk, with blueprints, hand drawn, beneath it all. But before she could make out what, precisely, it was he had been building, she was scolded from farther along the room:

“It is impolite to spy on another’s belongings,” Loki droned, and stood beside a pair of open balcony doors.

She hurried along, grabbing one last glance at the desk’s contents before she hurried to him. “I’m sorry I -- just...” she looked up at him, where she caught his direct eye, under which she felt so very, very small. Thor towered over her, and yet she never felt small beneath his gaze, yet Loki seemed to loom uneasily: she felt very much akin to prey beneath the death stare of a hunter. Yet, he did not strike, he did not chastise, he did not scold, he did nothing, but turn away.

In truth, had he held her gaze any longer, he felt he would not be able to keep up his facade, thus it had been easier to walk away with his stern and unforgiving exterior intact than risk it altogether. But he spoke nothing of this, and instead introduced her to the garden, his garden:

“I planted all of these,” he stated, unable to obscure the sound of pride from his voice as he stepped among the flowers and plants and trees. “I planted this one when I was a boy,” he smiled, craning his neck to see far above them where a tree lofted above the rest of the garden.

Jane’s mouth gaped open. “It’s enormous! It must be so old -- I mean -- not that I mean...what I meant was...”

He only eyed her with his neck still lifted. “You are correct, it is two and a half millenia old -- far older than you will ever be.”

Her mouth closed and her shoulders sank. “Right.”

“Which begs the question, why Thor would bother with a woman whose life is so fleeting -- and even more than that,” he turned, his hands clasped behind him, “why you would allow him to.”

Now that he spoke to her directly, she found she much preferred when he did not. Berated and belittled, she fumbled for her words, to justify herself to him -- a potential brother in law, if all were honest. “We...We are in love,” she took a step back out of offence. “Love is much more than...how many years one has together -- it’s about...being with that person completely when you have them,” she respired when she found the truth expelled itself from her.

Her words stung him -- far more than he had anticipated. He felt a small gasp in his lungs when she spoke and it was his turn to find his footing. “Foolish girl,” was all he could muster. “You know not the pain you will cause him. You will age, and he will not, and whilst he is cursed to the land of the living, you will be withering away until there is naught left of you but the deathbed that becomes his arms and last words are stolen by breaths full of regret!” he found he nearly lost his composure as he closed his words, and he knew it was not Thor and Jane he spoke of, but of Sigyn. The woman whose name was forbidden.

At first his harsh and unending words brought a stinging to her eyes, where she had half the mind to leave him and barricade herself in her room for the rest of the time Thor was gone. But then he turned away, a sharp exhale escaping him -- one she was not meant to hear -- and a pursing of his lips and a furrowing of his brow full of pain and not foresight but experience. And she realised all at once he spoke not of her, but of someone else. Someone he had once loved.

There was a lingering silence between them as he turned his back on her, yet unseeing to the plants before him, and she stared at him, suddenly understanding the bitterness, the coldness, the anger --

“How did she die?” she finally asked.

He briefly lifted his head, and his shoulder raised as he drew a breath. “She was murdered,” he answered, honestly for once, before he turned and looked her in the eye: “By one of your kind.”

Sense upon sense seemed to be poured over all his prior actions and his words, and she swallowed as she nodded. “That’s why you hate Midgard.”

He became quiet again, licking his lips. “Mostly.”

“I’m sorry...” she whispered, speaking from sincerity, extending her heart to him.

This surprised him and he drew back somewhat, straightening himself, before he turned from her again. “There’s nothing to be done about it.”

That, however, was a lie.

She had the mind to ask another question, but started when there came a rustling from deeper within the garden. “Is someone here?” she felt her hand go once more to her TASER.

“There should not be,” he replied, cocking his head curiously to the sound, when a gentle smile washed over him when its origin revealed itself. His shoulders relaxed, his face untensed, his entire being seemed to be at peace when there emerged from the foliage a deer-like creature from the hiding place.

“A deer?” Jane let go of the weapon as she found herself smiling as well.

“Indeed -- I rescued her,” he boasted, proud of such an innocent accomplishment. “Thor and his hunting party had her in their sights some while ago, I stopped them.”

While she appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t understand. “Why? Are you...vegan or...the Asgardian vegan-equivalent?” she felt embarrassed asking, uncertain the customs, neither the rituals.

He only gave her a puzzling look, before he returned his sights to the doe and the rustling bush behind her. “I do not know what that is, but...” he motioned a hand to the bush. “That is why.”

Out followed the doe a young fawn, surely just a week old.

“She was with fawn, thus, I rescued her. Gave her a place f safety in which to rest and nurse her young,” he continued.

There spoke the self-sacrificer, the protector.

She quietly approached, coming beside him as they watched the creatures investigate the greenery. “She’s beautiful.”

His smile widened as he gazed at the doe. “Yes, she is.”

“What’s her name?” she asked, glancing from the deer to Loki.

A breath. And a pause. But he did not break his sights. “Sigyn. Her name was Sigyn.”

#logyn #loki x sigyn #sigyn x loki #fanfic #marvel fanfic #ship: logyn #*#fic: love never dies

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strangcrdoctor · 7 years

Note

I want the K

You’ll Have To Take My Word For It: 10, Neck Kiss.

It was difficult to explain to Midgardians, and especially to those of them who did not believe in nor had any sensory conception of magic. The nearest he could liken it to, based on his own human experiences, was symbolically a cross between a heartbeat and a fingerprint. It was unique to each individual - nigh imperceptible, but personal in its ability to immediately identify one’s distinct existence.

Very few humans, save for the most powerful of their magicians, could properly perceive the importance and subtlety within auras. Most other humans relegated themselves to cheap mysticism or even cheaper science to understand them, poking at but never truly embracing that imperceptible instinct they all neglected: the “gut feeling” which everyone, from the adroit to the maladjusted, possessed but so rarely trusted.

Though he had never been a magician by Asgardian standards, associating with Strange had reminded him that he was indeed vastly more magical that even most within the higher mystical orders on Earth. And so it flummoxed him to think about how the humans managed anything at all while lacking what to him was a very basic sense.

And basic it was. For unlike Loki or those educated in the traditions of divination, his understanding of auras lacked the exacting and often unsettling nuance which true oracles possessed. It was, however, basic only insofar as that skill itself was unrefined. That was not to say that it was of no use to him, nor that he had not learned to implement it wisely, particularly because it was a fine tool to have in battle when needing to sense how near an opponent was to giving up, or if they perhaps had a feint planned, or even more dangerously if a seemingly common person had ulterior motives in mind.

In spite of this lack of nuance in auras in general, however, he had become a particular expert in Strange’s. Even when he’d first answered the man’s cleverly unavoidable call for a meeting, he’d noticed that aura. It had been muted, then. Yet even subdued, it had been more saturated than other humans’, brimming with paradox and personality in such a way as to inspire even his intrigue.

Of course, that could have been the inarguably impressively sized steins of beer talking, but the fact that his impression of Strange’s aura had persisted since then lent him some security in his judgment.

That felt like a long time ago, and yet altogether not long at all, as he lay looking at the man now. Stephen was laid on his side facing him, his head nested in the pillows. His bedroom was secluded in the upper floors of the Santum Sanctorum, tucked away in the hopes of it perhaps being more secure. It was more secure than ever, Thor mused, given there was a god in the room. Still, he knew from past experience that Strange did not sleep easily or often, knew how direly the other man felt he couldn’t afford to risk letting his nightmares take hold. Whatever feeble defenses he tried to put up around the sparing sleep he got, be they avoidance or a room whose door was known to disappear, they were to safeguard that potentially fatal weakness which he perceived in himself.

Thor took it as a matter of pride that Strange rested peacefully now, his tawny and silver locks lying tousled against the cushions from, well, some tousling they had done earlier. And while it had been enough for Thor to satisfy himself, it had also been more than enough to tire the human into a well-earned and restful sleep.

The following quietude left Thor to his own devices, and given he had no desire nor impetus to leave, he declined to in favor of other pursuits. Instead he lay, propped and pondering the curious little human, and the aura that even in sleep was so vivid. To Thor it was a deep and powerful blue, the likes of which Strange had actively tried to lace in when they had first met. Now it was bleeding into the space around him, distorting the unseen reality of the universe because the presence of Stephen Strange meant something to the cosmos.

He brushed the tips of his fingers along the line of the magician’s jaw. Stubble and scars aside, the bones and blood beneath that skin were so feeble for the energy they housed. The problem with humans was that they came in two fundamental varieties - those whose souls exceeded the limits of their bodies, and those whose souls were too small to ever embrace the glory and meaning of their own humanity. Both were tragedies to him, but this tragedy, the one which he felt under his fingertips when his touch ghosted to the man’s steady pulse, was truly and deeply personal.

The thought persisted that if Thor could just hold him down, somehow sew him into the fabric of reality, a glimmering stone set in the sky that wouldn’t ever fade, he might be able to suffer his recklessness and his ephemerality. But even for a human with a potentially longer lifespan than most, he was still human. And humans were not capable of bearing such permanence. They were all of them meteors, pieces of the universe crashing through time and existence, destined to burn up and disappear.

But for one shining moment, they were capable of lighting the sky no less brilliantly than even the most ancient of stars.

He moved his hand from the man’s neck only enough to make room for him to kiss under the crux of his jaw. And he kept on pressing kisses, more and more insistent, into the magician’s neck until he roused with a lazy sigh and a rumbling purr mixing on his lips. A rippling spark in his magic woke with him, dappling that previously tranquil aura with its usual enticing energy.

It was undoubtedly selfish to wake him, but there were times and places where Thor was willing to let his altruism fail him. Because he would steal what he could of this man. His time, his friendship, those pleasant little inhales he subconsciously took in when Thor had a grip on him in just the right place and at just the right pressure. That warm, dancing light that could make those stormy eyes shine like starlight when Thor did something especially pleasing, be it personally, sexually, or even intellectually. He cherished the warmth held in every moment.

For as cold as Midgard could be to him, Strange was burning with life and impossibility. And with his mouth and his hands and his heart, he would singe the memory of this man into himself as both homage and penance - a monument for the injustice of the knowledge that that special heat and radiance would be gone too soon.

But just as with the weight of that atonement, so too would the soft smile he had earned with his ministrations that night remain with him for a long while. Longer, perhaps, than even the heavens and eternity itself knew how to steal.

#''prescriptions #drabbles #thundxrous #here have some fluff for your upset tummy darling

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hyperesthesias · 7 years

Text

Loki x Sigyn

Love Never Dies | Part IV

Rating: G

Words: 2.020

Summary: Mistaken identity in the middle of the night can make for a very awkward morning after the fact. Loki’s anxiety runs high and patience wears thin -- but will Jane ever find out why?

Notes: i incorrectly labelled the last chapter as iv, my apologies, i’ve since fixed it. anyway! i love loki and sigyn ok. i love them so much. i also will be going with my own canon for sigyn since.................well............ there really isn’t any. hope you guys like it. ♥

“How much of what I said last night did you hear?” were the first words Loki spoke the late next morning, already seated at the breakfast table on the conjoining veranda that spanned from Thor’s balcony past his own, whilst an unsuspecting Jane appeared from around a corner.

Startled by the abruptness of the question, she froze in her place, uncertain of what to do or how to respond -- and while there was much openness about them, she felt very much cornered by the man’s green gaze, pinned there defying explanation. Eventually, she managed to break his eye contact, sweeping a lock of her earthen hair behind her ear as she started once more to her seat at the table. “I...don’t know what you mean,” she decided to say instead -- not sure how much he remembered, deciding to suffer his bitter retorts if only to gauge his memory.

“Don’t play me for a fool, Midgardian,” he spat, gnawing on the inside of his lower lip, pulling his glare from her to his hands on the table, “more of a fool than I have made of myself already,” he nearly muttered the last part under his breath.

But Jane thought it best to pretend she hadn’t any idea of what he spoke, to remain unhearing of things better left unsaid. “All I heard was...yelling,” she shrugged, this time expecting the servant to come from behind her to serve her plate of breakfast.

An aggravated sigh came from the being across from her, he knew well she withheld the truth -- and for now he couldn’t decide whether or not her persistence in preserving his dignity was more admirable or annoying. He had no appetite -- he often had no appetite come the morning after such a horrible recollection: the taste of foreign blood still thick upon his lips, the scent of death’s cling still wafting in his mind, he had no chance to hunger, his psyche still fighting to survive the night prior. The memory of her burned behind his eyes -- that all he saw was her, the one whom he loved, the Queen of his heart, the Queen of her realm. Bonded to her even in death, he remained both her spouse and her servant, yet he had no role to fulfill -- lost within a station with no place. He remained as he always seemed to be without her: misguided and misplaced.

“Someone was in my room last night. I distinctly remember the presence...of someone, a woman,” he chanced to say, his words unusually uncertain, for that was precisely his mindset: uncertainty. He had no want to believe he was truly as unhinged as those about him said, but he could not accurately admit he hadn’t any episodes of fallacy in place of reality, most of them having to do with Sigyn. All of them having to do with Sigyn, the one he loved, if he were honest with himself, which most oftentimes, he was not. And with his recent unreliability whenever he looked up at Jane, seeing his wife in her stead, he could not help but wonder whether the woman in his room had been reality, or a figment of a dream as he had initially so relished. “Was it you?” he asked, his tone dropping into obscurity, though he did not dare look at her, his hands pressed flat on the table, his patience wearing thinner than usual.

“I...,” she hesitated, fearing the outcome of her answer either way.

But her lingering was no match for the subtle string of longsuffering left within him and he snapped -- slamming a hand against the table, he asked only once more: “Was it you?”

She jumped, afraid he might make some move to harm her, but he did no such thing -- he remained entirely still after his outburst, until she answered: “Yes, it was me. I came to check on you when I heard you yelling -- I didn’t realise you were dreaming,” she swallowed. “You...mistook me for someone else,” she murmured, glancing at him warily.

His eyes raised to her, leery of her words and of the actions of which he could barely remember -- he could recall the vague, faint words of his own, beckoning her back to bed. He did not doubt himself that he would harm her -- for he could never harm Sigyn, never had he laid a harsh hand or evil word to her -- he worried over what it was she knew about him, about her.

“You thought I was Sigyn,” she whispered even quieter -- noticing all at once that she had the ability to whisper while he still heard her, for he was yet again once seat closer to her, yet there lay still some space between them.

She had expected another outburst of anger, another slam of the table, a growl or an unbecoming look to befall her, but there was naught but the sombre quietness of stillness from him. He did not move an inch. The gaze that had been on her full of apprehension, and dare she say it, fear, had receded, and it seemed he might as well have been entirely alone at the table. “Who was she?” she endangered to ask.

There was a moment of drawn out silence still, while he muddled through the thoughts mixed with memories and memories with hopes and dreams that had never been fulfilled, and through it all he heard Jane’s soft voice in the present. A confounded breath, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on what she said, where the question finally registered.

“She was my wife.”

His words seemed to resound off the full height of the ceiling, the pillars that collected through the room, and ring off the archways in but a breath.

His wife? Surely no woman in her right mind would take a man such as he to be her husband -- so erratic and unstable, with a history as such according to his brother. But her thoughts wandered to the tradition of arranged marriages and the sobering thought of whether or not Thor had been arranged to someone, and if that woman was somewhere in the palace, jilted. She shuddered to think, but rebounded her focus to Loki, the attacker of her world, the enemy of many others, and she could not help herself from conjuring question after question in her mind that they bled to her tongue.

Yet out of all of them, one question bothered her the most: “It’s forbidden to speak your wife’s name?”

It was as though something inside Loki’s mind brought him out of his stupor -- either her voice or the implication of Odin, he was suddenly present again, lucid to her question, to her meaning, and he drew a breath filled with bitterness. “Yes, on account of the Allfather,” it was like poison to his teeth.

“Was she...” she hated to even imply it, and she had half the mind to recant or change her question, when Loki finished for her:

“Like me?” he only gave her a grin.

Jane shrugged sheepishly in agreement.

“No, no she was nothing like me. She was much my opposite as she was my equal. She was...” he sighed heavily, his sights drifting off somewhere afar as he thought on just how to precisely summarise the beauty and magnificence of his wife, the Queen, “...the embodiment of everything good in the Realms. She strove for nothing less than peace and fairness.” His hands meandered to the fork on his plate, finding thinking on her goodness, his appetite had returned.

“Then...why does Odin hate her so much that he wouldn’t want her name to even be spoken?” she frowned. “You would think he’d like someone like that, that someone so good would be good for the kingdom, at least,” she swallowed, taking a bite -- feeling rather ignorant to a rich family history that Thor had only begun to untangle for her.

Loki’s grin only grew darker and yet more patronising at the same time as he chuckled mirthlessly. “Because she was not Asgardian, dear one. Just as he despises you for the same reason. He cannot very well have the Crown Prince marry a woman not o Asgardian blood -- a Midgardian no less.”

She only pursed her lips, trying not to feel insulted, though despite her efforts, it didn’t work. “I take it your wife wasn’t Midgardian?”

“Stars above, no. She came from a Realm far from here,” he set his eyes on the broad sky before them off her veranda, as if he were searching for it within the constellations.

“Like...Vanaheim, far?” Jane pressed, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether as he had the day before -- besides relishing in the opportunity to show off the fruit of her studying ventures.

His eyes slid to her as a quaint smile came over him, entirely different from the grin that’d just been smeared across his lips. “I see you’ve taken to the books you retrieved. Well done,” he commended -- a rare commodity, indeed.

She hadn’t expected such praise and found herself flustered and grasping for a response. “Well, you know -- Thor, he’d given me a few lessons, too,” she nodded.

“I’m sure,” Loki hummed, returning his wayward stare to the star riddled sky, even in morning. “But no, farther than Vanaheim, I’m afraid -- otherwise I would be there now.”

“Farther?” a hint of worry overtaking her tone, her thoughts unbridled, wandering back to Svartalfheim and the ash that crunched beneath her feet there.

He hummed again, not bothering to look back at her. “Do you remember the realm to which we travelled --”

She held up a hand. “You don’t -- You don’t have to say it, I remember.”

He raised a brow, eyeing her once more. “Indeed. You very well remember, then, how it and the Aether were trapped between worlds? If I take Thor’s account correctly, you somehow managed to wander into this space?”

“I did -- I had no idea how, a portal had just...appeared on my world,” she explained.

“Then I envy you, for you know not what you had,” he mused and with a sigh he turned again in his seat to face his barely touched plate. “What Odin will not tell you is that there are Ten Realms. There is one more besides our Nine -- it is a great and magnificent Realm, rich with its peoples and cultures, filled with far more beauty than any of the Realms put together.”

He spoke with such conviction, with such assurance and determination -- as though he were not only recalling, but beckoning her to call on he own sustain of belief of such a place to exist. “I don’t know. I don’t know how anything could be more beautiful than this,” she looked at the heavens above them, the same sky Loki had looked on just moments prior, and saw something entirely different than he. While he saw the barrenness of what once was, of what he lost, she saw the opportunities of things she could yet explore.

“It is not called the Forest Realm for nothing,” he said and sat sideways in his seat so he could see the young one, and the sky at which she marvelled.

“’The Forest Realm’?” she repeated. “The whole planet is...forest?”

He nodded once. “Filled with trees of a deep, dusted blue, meadows swathed with reddened grasses, and a sky made of pure gold,” he recalled.

Her mind bent to imagine such a place -- it sounded so strange, and yet...the way he spoke, it sounded so peaceful. He seemed so peaceful -- more so than she had ever seen him, more so than she had ever imagined he could be; in fact it was more of a stretch to believe that which she saw before her than another Realm that she had never heard of until that moment. But she was not so foolish as to let her surprise and shock show, and instead corralled herself to the subject at hand: “So she was from this...swallowed up realm? a realm caught between realms?”

“The Lost Realm, as it is called,” he agreed, wistfully, again not bothering to look on her -- entirely engrossed in the vivid memory that begged and pleaded for his attention: for he could nearly feel the sweet air that plunged into his lungs, the mist of the river that swam through the palace, and the soft whispers of the one he loved upon his neck. “...And she was, in fact, the Queen.”

#logyn #loki x sigyn #sigyn x loki #ship: logyn #*#fic: love never dies

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