#the image of odin whispering this through a crack in the door was way too good to pass up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beccarooni · 3 years

Text

The End - Chapter 2

(Tag list: @ageofgeek, @elreyciervo, @woahthisguy, @generationblip - ask to be added!)

Loki hadn’t been permitted to show his face at Frigga’s funeral, but he’d had a good enough second-hand description to imagine it as if he had. Golden towers, draped with black cloth. His mothers boat, adorned with flowers, her sword placed in her hands and a golden veil over her face. A flaming arrow shot by their finest archers - and even that too was gold. Frigga would sail to the ends of their horizon; dissolving into flame and sparks, her spirit scattered amongst the stars, marking her journey to Valhalla. Where the brave shall live forever.

He knew the feelings well enough; even if the visual had not been his. He knew that aching feeling inside - like a creature, tiny and desperate, trapped beneath his ribcage and clawing to escape. Loss was something he was well acquainted with by now; and the splendour that Asgard attached to it seemed almost intrinsic to the process. Asgard’s warriors died the deaths of heroes; it was only right that their passages would be heralded by something as glorious as they had in life.

Cramped in the Quinjet bathroom, with barely enough room to get on his knees, Loki muttered out the parting prayer - quiet enough so that Banner couldn’t hear from the other side of the door. A piece of his armour caught against the sink, and all of a sudden he was struck by how wrong this felt.

Sadness, he expected. Fury, and rage; those were emotions he knew came with death. But this sense of wrongness, of shame - it was new. It was new, and uncomfortable, and he wanted it to stop.

There was no body to bury. Nothing to cast to the stars, no boat to lay his brother to rest in, no hammer to place gently against his chest. This was the best he could do, and it burned his face with shame. Loki didn’t know the fate of the others. They may have survived, but they also may have died. And that would make Thor the last one. Possibly the last true Asgardian, and this was how his parting from this world would be marked. No fanfare, no lanterns, no stars.

An airplane bathroom, smaller than a closet, and a few words whispered from cracked and bleeding lips. The harsh smell of cleaning agents, and the harsher glare of the flickering light above him. A body, his brother, left in the cold grip of space - maybe forever. The best he could hope for was that a passing garbage collector would take pity on the condemned, and at least allow them the decency of a disposal.

This was what Loki of Asgard had to offer the God of Thunder, and it sickened him to think of it.

Loki swallowed, pressed his forehead against the plastic walls, and muttered the last of the prayers.

“Thor, I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave shall live forever. Nor shall we mourn but rejoice, for those that have died the glorious death.”

Glorious death.

He sniffed, slumping from his knees further to the floor, and shutting his eyes against the world.

There was nothing glorious about this.

His throat hurt, and he allowed himself a few tears as the neon light flickered above him. The prayer was the only tribute he had to give. Well, that and revenge, of course.

Revenge was a talent Loki had yet to perfect. His schemes had a nasty habit of going awry at the last second - but, he supposed, the one person who was always there to thwart said schemes wasn’t here anymore. Now, there was a stretch of open road between him and his dagger piercing Thanos’s heart. Wherever that monster landed, whatever cursed ground marked the final battle, he knew he would be there. His soul wouldn’t let him rest if he wasn’t.

That would be the final gesture he could make for his brother, then. Thanos would die at his hand, he would pay for all he had taken from them. The gentle ending that they were robbed of; where they sailed to earth through the stars, as their ancestors once had. Where they landed, safe and sound, and rebuilt their departed homeworld. If the Mad Titan was so fond of balance, then he could experience it for himself. The scales would tip even with his death; and then, perhaps Loki could rest. Leave for somewhere new, and condemn this blood soaked tapestry to the dirt.

The tale of the house of Odin; beginning in blood, and ending as it began. Crimson, it seemed, was destined to stain the pages of their storybook. And Loki had seen more than enough of it for one lifetime.

“Hey, Loki?”

Banner knocked on the door, gentle enough that Loki almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the engines.

“Are you alright in there? It’s just, uh, it’s been a while. I don’t know if you’re sick, or...yeah.”

Loki cleared his throat, moving to his feet. A quick glance in the mirror, an adjustment of illusions, and he was himself again. There was a certain image he wanted to uphold with the Avengers; even if Banner had certainly seen worse of him (tied to a chair in Valkyrie’s apartment and having a bottle lobbed at his head, for one). They still thought of him as a threat - and there was comfort in that perception. An evil being, a god mad with power - they wouldn’t feel sorrow. Evil wouldn’t cry for its kin. Evil was unstoppable, unstable; an ever shifting force. He didn’t want to disabuse any of them of that notion quite just yet.

“I’m fine. Just washing my hands.” He opened the door, coming face to face with the worrisome scientist standing in front of him.

“I would think that with all the riches in his possession, Stark would grace you with more than one bathroom.” Loki moved past Banner, stalking back to his seat with as much dignity as one could muster when exiting from an airplane bathroom.

“Yeah. It does make missions kinda awkward, sometimes.” Banner rubbed the back of his head, hovering by the door for a moment before shuffling back to the bench where he was sat.

“Six super-people and only one bathroom. It can get intense.”

“I can only imagine.” Loki grimaced as he sat down, folding his hands in his lap.

There was a silence, then. But one with a touch of anticipation. Banner kept looking at him, and after a few minutes it began to grate on his nerves. It was the face of a scientist, after all. The one brimming with questions but holding back purely on social decorum. Banner tapped his feet, bounced his leg, cast him a sideways look. Loki stared ahead impassively, keeping his eyes trained on the window in front of him. He could guess what question it was that Banner wanted answering; and, frankly, it wasn’t something Loki wanted to discuss right now.

Banner wanted to know why Loki had chosen to help them. Why his loyalties had so quickly changed. And of course it was a complex answer; one wrought with chaos and really it would require a play with at least twelve acts to get through, and -

“Why’d you say that earlier?”

The scientist spoke softly, and Loki turned to him, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

“About Thor being dead.”

Loki groaned, leaning until the back of his head touched the cold metal wall behind him.

“Why do you care?”

He wanted to muster some venom into his voice; to spit out the words with vitriol and hatred. But he was so tired, and it came out with more numbness than he intended.

Banner looked at him a little more intensely then, and he could’ve sworn a hint of green crept into the scientist’s eyes.

“Why do I care?” He shook his head, frowning deeply. “You keep telling me about how your brother - one of my closest friends - is dead, and then wonder why that might possibly piss me off?”

Loki scoffed, and Banner folded his arms, shifting his gaze into a dark corner of the quinjet.

“I care because you’re not even giving him a chance. It’s like you have no faith in him - when he’s had nothing but faith in you. You’ve died a lot, and he’s always expected you to come back sooner or later.”

“This is different.”

“How? How is it different? If you’ve come back enough times, then he can too. I know you don’t think he’s smart enough for that but he is. He’s smart, and strong, and kind, and I just-” Banner cut himself off as his face illuminated with green, and his voice shot a few octaves deeper than normal.

Loki scooted back, watching the scientist's face with a degree of caution. He didn’t expect the beast to appear - when one of the sorcerers had hurried Banner back into the building, looking thoroughly un-green, he assumed something had happened. Which was understandable, he supposed. Travelling through the bifrost was bad enough for the inexperienced - let alone the unfortunate circumstances surrounding their travel.

He and Hulk had an uneasy truce on the Statesman. They stayed out of eachothers way, mostly. Hulk was wary of him; and vice versa - even if Thor had tried his best to ease tensions between them with group meetings and ‘dinner nights’. But that wasn’t enough to make him jump for joy at the prospect of seeing Hulk again; especially on a cramped jet, and without his usual strength to defend himself.

Although, it might be nice to see the beast again. It would be a familiar face at the very least; and while he wasn’t concerned about the giant’s safety, he couldn’t deny that his strength had brought a certain comfort with it. When you had the hulk by your side, you felt unstoppable. And it would be rather nice to have that confidence for the battle ahead.

When the scientist seemed to catch himself, Loki was almost disappointed. Banner breathed heavily, the green veins on his face dying down and retreating below the surface.

“He can’t be dead, Loki. He just...He can’t be.”

Loki paused, leaning forward a little. Studying the man in front of him; the twitches, the clasped hands wringing together, the never ending tapping of the foot. The strained expression; the eyes that held hope, but something else underneath that. Something desperate.

Banner didn’t just want Thor back. He needed him.

And all at once, those accidental touches on the Statesman made sense. Every guiding hand on the small of Banner’s back, every meal that the two had shared together, each word of comfort and gentle smile; it wasn’t just comradery.

Loki’s eyes widened, and he laughed; a hollow, bitter sound.

“You liked him.”

“What?” Banner looked away from him then, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “Of course I like him. I’ve known the guy for 6 years.”

“No, this is much more than a - Oh, what did he call it - a friend from work. You fancied him.”

He caught the sight of Bruce’s fists clenching at his sides, and for some reason that sparked something inside of him. A memory from long ago; of being trapped in that glass prison, with a sudden desire to set the beast loose.

“Well, maybe your paramour being dead will be enough to draw the beast back from the shadows. Does it make you angry, Bruce? Does the thought of someone you love dying for nothing fill you with rage?”

“Stop.” Bruce dropped to a whisper, screwing his eyes shut as if that could drown out the sound.

Some part of him told him to take pity on the man. A word of wisdom from his mother; that grief shared was grief halved. And maybe this wasn’t very nice of him, and maybe it wasn’t at all in line with honouring his brother’s memory, but at this moment he couldn’t find it within him to care. He wanted glory again - wanted the feeling of control that he’d had back on the helicarrier.

“I wonder if you ever confessed it to one another - or did he die without ever knowing it? You know, I always assumed that when his heart stopped he thought of Asgard, but maybe he thought of you. Maybe the last thing he ever felt was heartbreak, because he never knew if you loved him back-”

“Stop it!” Bruce’s voice deepened as he leapt to his feet, the veins along his neck deepening to a dark green; but it went further than that. Green blotches spread across his arms, and there was a momentary wildness in his eyes that Loki recognised.

The beast was here. Loki bared his teeth in a fierce grin, hands waiting for his daggers and his body itching for a fight.

But none came.

Banner’s fists stayed clenched, he shook with anger, but that was apparently all the good doctor could muster. The remnants in his eyes died out, like the last few sparks of a campfire, and he remained firmly Bruce Banner-sized. Loki sank back into his chair after the moment of apprehension, sighing.

“I was hoping that would work.” He shook his head dejectedly, a scowl creeping into his face and voice. “I get the sense that we might need him, eventually.”

“Jesus, Loki. So, what - your plan was to get me mad enough for a hulkout? And you thought now was the perfect moment? Here?” Banner gestured around their surroundings - to the low ceiling of the quin jet, the fragile equipment piloting their journey.

Loki’s head thunked against the wall as he melted back into the seat, shrugging listlessly. “I suppose I didn’t think that one through very well.”

“No, you didn’t.” Banner paced about the ship, wringing his hands together before he turned back to Loki, a hint of that previous anger emanating into his tone.

“Look, I know you miss him. And just because I don’t think he’s dead doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him - I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying about him,” He paused, looking up to the ceiling - his face contorting as if he was having to force these words out.

“But don’t you dare take this out on me. Mourn, if you want. Get angry, get sad - but don’t you take this out on me just because I still have hope.”

“Hope.” Loki chuckled mirthlessly. “Hope is a fool's gamble, Banner.”

“Maybe.” Bruce swallowed, his features smoothing out as his eyes turned to the viewing window beside them. “But it’s a gamble I’m willing to take.”

#my fic #fanfic #thor fanfic #loki fanfic #infinity war au #infinity war fix it fic #thor odinson #loki odinson #brodinsons #thorbruce #thorbruce fic #multi chapter #mcu fic #long post #2k #bruce banner #angst

34 notes · View notes

wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Of All the Places

Chapter 12

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki is in SHIELD’s custody, but refuses to speak. That is, until Thor manages to get through to him. Chapter Warnings: kinda angsty and some bad language A/N: Updates every Friday. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @marvelousdaydreams @parkastoria @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @sourpatchspinster @gaitwae

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | �� Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The wall across from him was a dull, depressing shade of gray. It had light cracks running through it, undoubtedly from previous super-powered villains who had resisted against their captors. This deep in the belly of the beast, Loki doubted they had much success with anything besides maybe giving out a few bruises. He, however, would not give the agents the satisfaction of seeing him lash out, no matter how badly he wanted to act like a madman, tearing everything apart until they let him go. Until he could see you. But, no, he swore he’d stay away from you for your own good.

Loki looked at the one-way mirror out of his peripheral vision. Another thing he refused to do was look directly at them, to look like he cared at all. His whole plan on getting out of here hinged on the fact that he seemed completely uninterested. It had worked the first time, after all. Though, that would probably mean they were more likely to be wary of him now. It didn’t really matter, anyway. His plan was half-baked at best, and he didn’t have much hope for getting out. Or much of a reason for trying, either. Not when he couldn’t go to you. A pain shot through his whole body, starting in his heart and spreading out. It was the all-consuming thought of you that made him show a crack in his armor, even though it was for the briefest of seconds. He tried to go back to the completely calm facade he’d been doing such a good job of keeping up, but he was sure he looked quite a bit more deranged now. It was much more of a strain on him to look fine when he was remembering that you were out there, possibly still crying into Denzel’s shoulder.

The door to his left swung open, and Loki examined his nails as best he could being cuffed to the table. He hoped the action looked as nonchalant as it did in his mind. Fury and Natasha walked up to the chair opposite him, but neither sat down for a second, obviously trying to give a subtle reminder of the power they exerted over him. Finally, Fury took the seat, but Natasha remained standing off to the side. It was probably a reminder of how she got him to crack last time. As if he would let that happen again.

“So,” Fury began, “you mind telling me what was going on in that crazy head of yours, attacking civilians without a cause.”

He was met with silence.

“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. Now, don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Still, stony-faced silence.

“You can take all the time you need. The sooner you answer, the sooner we can ship you back to that alien planet you dared to come from. It makes no difference to me whether you’re rotting here or there. I’m in no rush.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Loki taunted. The man’s intimidation tactics were more annoying than anything else, and Loki couldn’t resist the chance to be snide. “After all, it only took you two months to find me. And even then it was only because of a civilian, is that not right?”

“Fine, have it your way,” Fury shrugged, leaving the room with Natasha, seemingly carefree, though Loki knew he was grating on his nerves.

Really, all Loki wanted to do was break down, scream. Cry. But he knew he was being watched, so he didn’t say or do anything else. He should have left when he had the chance. Had he not stayed on your farm, he wouldn’t be in custody right now. Not to mention you and your family wouldn’t have had to be interrogated. Because, he was sure, there had been countless questions asked of you in the past twenty-four hours. Most of you would be safe, he knew, but what about John? He had kept Loki’s secret. If he was smart, he would claim it was under duress. Alas, Loki knew his friend cared too much to say anything that might condemn him. He could only hope John didn’t incriminate himself instead.

And Matt! Oh, that poor boy would be so confused, so upset. Right from the beginning Loki knew he would be no good for the child, but did he listen to sense? No, he gave into his own selfish desires. If only he hadn’t spent so much time with him, this might be easier. Maybe Matt was still young enough that after all this was said and done, he wouldn’t even remember it. Of course, that means he wouldn’t remember how Loki saved him either. The thought made him sadder than he ever would have imagined it could.

What of Papa and Ana, Loki wondered. They knew nothing of his true identity, so they must be safe. Ever the pacifist, he was sure your father would keep everyone as calm as possible during the whole ordeal. But Ana might not be doing too well. Plus, she was pregnant, and Loki felt guilty he’d inflicted so much stress on her during such a time. It dawned on him just then that, in his mind, he’d always just assumed he’d be around to meet the new baby. Needless to say, that was not the case. How he already missed your whole family already. Except for Mama. Screw it, even her! As annoying as she was and whatever she may have done in the end, Loki enjoyed the banter with her, deep down.

Then there was you. You’d cared for him since the moment he first arrived. From the very second you saw him passed out in the field to the time you found out the truth, you watched over him. All the bruises and cuts and scratches on him, you had healed with your touch. And that wasn’t just the physical ones, but the ones on his heart, too. Words could not describe all that you had done for him. His blood boiled at the thought that SHIELD agents were prying into the details of your relationship at that very moment.

He remembered he’d said he’d sing for you one day. He’d never get to do that now. He supposed it could just be added to a growing list of broken promises.

The last image he had of you as the van pulled away was still burning in the back of his mind. The way Denzel had been holding you, comforting you, it broke Loki. After everything you went through together, that should have been him. That could have been him. Instead, Mama had to go and ruin everything. He couldn’t really hold that against her, though. After all, he had been branded as a criminal. When you got down to the nitty-gritty of it, he actually was a criminal. But was he a villain? There was a difference there, he realized, but he didn’t know exactly where in the spectrum he fell. You’d called him a hero once. He shuddered to think what you’d call him now.

He’d vowed to leave you alone, but his resolve was already weakening. What if, by some miracle, he was able to get out of here? Could he go see you for even a second? If for nothing else, then to apologize for all the wrong he did you. He shook his head ever so slightly. That was not a thought he should be entertaining. How could he be so stupid! Here he was thinking about making the same mistake again. Would he ever learn? He needed to keep you out of this. You never should have even been involved in the first place. A monster; that’s all he ever was, and all he’d ever be. A single imperceptible tear rolled down his cheek.

Again, the door opened, but this time Thor walked in. He was seething in anger, but if Loki looked deep enough—and for whatever reason, he did—there was also a deep remorse in his eyes. A sadness Loki could only assume was due to all that had happened. It made him feel a little bit better to know he wasn’t the only one who wished things could have been different.

“Brother, I know not why you have taken this path,” Thor said. “But the sooner you confess, the sooner I can go back to fixing the mess you made in the rest of the Nine Realms.”

“What?” Loki scoffed. “So eager to leave your precious Midgard.”

He tried to spit it out with only venom in his voice, but it just sounded sad at the end. It was, after all, his precious Midgard now too.

“What happened, brother?” Thor asked, a bit more softly than he had before. “Why did you attack?”

Loki looked at the table, unable to face Thor. “You would not believe me even if I told you.”

“What have I ever done that you think I do not trust you, care for you, brother?”

“Stop calling me that,” Loki snapped, his eyes shooting up to Loki’s face. He would have stood if his restrains allowed it. “I am sure father dearest has already told you my true heritage.”

Ah, there was the venom in his voice. His demeanor quickly changed, though, when he noticed Thor was looking at him with a puzzled expression. Loki had assumed that Odin would have gone singing through the streets, telling everyone that Loki was a Frost Giant once he declared him a villain. Could it be that he hadn’t even told his prized son?

“Did he...” Loki gulped. “Did he not tell you?”

“Father did not mention anything. Loki, what are you talking about?”

“I am Jötnar, Thor,” Loki whispered. “The very thing you were taught to abhor.”

Thor finally sat down. He seemed to still be confused by something, though the trickster god could not quite figure out what. Perhaps he was just deciding the best way to slay the beast, to strike him down.

“But you are still my brother.”

Loki’s voice caught in his throat, and he choked on his words. He was nearly as shocked as Thor seemed, if not more. Though, it was for entirely different reasons. He sputtered, trying to find the right thing to say. So much for his cool demeanor.

“Just tell me what is wrong,” Thor said, “my brother.”

“I will tell you. On one condition.”

“That depends,” Thor hesitated, “on what that condition is.”

“That family I was staying with, you must make sure they are all safe. All of them.”

“You have my word. Now, please, tell me why you attacked Midgard. We will discuss your previous actions another time.”

“Very well,” Loki conceded with a small nod. Here goes nothing. “It was the mad Titan, Thanos. After I fell—well, let go on the Bifröst, I was adrift in a void for a while. It was not my intention, but it is what happened. After, well, to be quite honest, I do not know quite how long, Thanos pulled me out. He... He twisted my mind, bent me to his will. He used me as his puppet and made me attack. It was his bidding that I lower Midgard’s defenses, take note of what kind of fight the planet could put up. And one more thing. He wanted the Tesseract. I cannot at this moment, however, give it to you.”

Thor paused for a moment, the gears in his head turning. “And why is that?” he questioned.

“Because of these,” Loki said, lifting his magic-restraining chains. “If you take them off, I will be able to provide you with it.”

For once, he was telling the truth. He had no plans to keep the artifact for himself. Not right now, anyway, with so much else on the line. Once he had handed it over, though, he would have teleported away. It would have been nice to make amends with Thor, yes, but it was not something he would stake his freedom on.

“Point Break,” Tony said, popping in. “Can we talk to you out here for a second?”

Thor excused himself and left Loki by his lonesome again. Well, he wasn’t really alone with so many agents watching from the other side of the glass. His heart was beating wildly. If it had been up to Thor, if he had acted quick enough, Loki would already be on his way off this planet. There was no way anyone else would ever allow it now.

“Ok, Rock of Ages,” Tony said, waltzing back in with Thor and Fury close behind. “You know what I think? Your story sounds like a load of bullshit. But, Point Break here says he believes you.”

“Which is the most idiotic thing I’ve heard,” Fury added.

“And he’s got some evidence to back it up,” Tony finished.

Loki looked at his brother with wide eyes, much like he had when they were kids and he was about to get in trouble. A part of him couldn’t believe Thor would have stood up for him, even after their little heart to heart. He dared let a spark of hope ignite in his heart. If Thor was sticking up for him, and SHIELD was accepting his story as the truth that it was, then was he free to go? After all, if they agreed that it was not him, what reason did they have to keep him in custody?

“May I ask, then,” Loki started, “am I free of the charges? May I go?”

“I am afraid, brother,” Thor solemnly replied. “That I cannot allow that.”

81 notes · View notes

jumbojamba47 · 4 years

Text

Guest Room

A/N: This is my very first fanfic and I really don't know what possessed me to write it. I was listening to this song https://open.spotify.com/track/4RzHA75rhs3mXnoI4aJSMt?si=sSeaV0zAQgGuteRzEOiZJw and the idea just wouldn’t leave me alone and well... desperate times, desperate measures. Taking things into my own hands and all that jazz. I highly recommend giving the song a listen while reading. I hurt my own feelings writing this. I wrote this from a female perspective but it can be read as gender neutral. (image not mine)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Slight Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Stucky

Warnings:18+, Angst, NSFW-ish, Alcohol Consumption, Swearing, Unedited

Word Count: 3680

A sharp gasp fills the air as heated skin meets cold tile. Slender fingers curl and uncurl; tugging at your scalp from above. Your name reverently whispered through kiss-swollen lips as if in prayer. Muffled grunts and moans escape from clenched teeth as though afraid that any louder sound might halt your ministrations. Rivulets of water, long-since gone cold, rush down your bodies, pooling where you knelt in worship of the red-headed angel in front of you. Despite the ache in your limbs and your own needs screaming for attention, you remained steadfast in your determination to push Natasha over the edge as many times as you were able. You knew, these private moments of intimacy were the closest you could ever get to keeping the elusive beauty in your arms tethered to you.

It all started with a mission in Bogotá. The two of you had completed the objective but had to wait for extraction overnight in a safehouse with one master room and a smaller guestroom.

“You can go ahead and have the bigger room (y/n/n). Odin knows you did most of the heavy lifting this time around,” she said with a chuckle as she stepped into the guest room.

“There’s a big enough bed, you could always join me Romanoff,” you joked with a wink.

Later that night you were unwinding in bed when you heard a knock on your door.

“Coming!” You yelled, pulling the door open.

“Need someth-” your eyes widened as you felt soft lips meld against your own.

She pulled away.

“What are you doing?” You asked, bewildered.

“Taking you up on your offer,” she pushes you towards the bed with a cheeky grin.

That was 6 months ago. Since then, you felt a subtle shift in your relationship with Natasha. Whilst around the others her interactions with you drifted towards a platonic aloofness that, while not cold, alluded to nothing of the times you found yourself unceremoniously shoved into a supply closet or pressed into a locked conference room door; always faced with an eager red-head ready to pick up where you last left off. Each time, your hidden trysts end just as quickly as they begin with Natasha immediately straightening her appearance and slipping out the door as soon as she made sure the coast was clear. Each time, you felt your heart crack a little more as you felt the phantom weight of her lithe body in your arms as you stood alone watching her quick movements.

Now you find yourself kneeling on the floor of the assassin’s shower after she dragged you in following a heavy morning training session. Your hands grip the back of toned thighs as the burning in Natasha’s core reaches its crescendo.

Through the open door leading into her bedroom, you hear F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice ring out, “Mr. Stark is requesting your presence to go over tonight’s details in 30 minutes, Ms. Romanoff.”

Breathless, chest heaving, she responds, “I’ll be there.”

Rising from the floor, your arms circle around her to reach for the removable showerhead while steadily supporting the still shuddering woman. You gently maneuver the water to rinse away the last of the soap and lingering fluids from both your bodies. It was only in these quiet moments after a rendezvous in a more private setting that Natasha allowed you to indulge in your more tender proclivities without protest as she settles down from her high. You shut the water off before swiftly stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body. You grab a secondary towel and take more care in drying off Natasha’s body, pressing into her skin ensuring you gently knead her sore muscles with firm hands as you go. Once satisfied, you wrap her body snugly, bring your arms around her back and beneath her legs and carry her into her room, lightly setting her on the edge of her bed before moving to her closet. Turning your head slightly to ask what she’d like to wear, you think you see a flicker of something soft in her eyes, but, just as quickly, it’s gone only to be replaced by a teasing smirk as her eyes trail up and down your towel-clad form.

“Keep treating me like this and I might just have to make you mine,” she husks out.

“I wish you would…,” you mumble under your breath. But the assassin catches it and lets out a sigh. She stands and smoothly pads closer to you laying a hand on your shoulder.

“You know I can’t.”

“I really don’t.”

She steps away from you. Her hand drops to her side as she moves to rummage in her closet. You move to grab your own day clothes from your discarded gym bag. Dropping the towel to pull on a matching set of black lace undergarments, she turns to you. And fuck, it’s not fair of her to stand there underdressed as she is when you want to have a serious conversation with her.

“This?” her finger points between you and her, “is just casual sex. We’re scratching an itch and it can’t be more than that.”

“But why not?” you ask as your pull on your shirt.

“Why are you so afraid to give us a try?”

She slams her drawer shut. “I’m not afraid of anything!” she growls.

“You? Me? We’re nothing. There is nothing to try. You’re a good fuck (y/l/n) but that’s all this can be. If you’re not satisfied with that then tough shit, I’m sorry.”

Jaw clenched; you look her in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” you grit out.

You grip your bag tightly and exit the room without looking back. Carelessly, you toss your bag into your room down the hall without breaking your stride. Pausing at the end of the hallway, “Shit,” you exhale under your breath, running a hand down your face.

You make your way into the common room only to find Steve and Bucky staring at the large flat screen in confusion, a cartoon depiction of a sea sponge competing with a starfish, seemingly attempting to win the affections of his grandmother? Or was that an anthropomorphic cookie? With a heavy sigh you plop yourself down on the couch between them, kicking your legs up onto Steve’s lap and laying your head in Bucky’s. Cool metal fingertips softly run along your temples in a soothing massage as both men turn to you in mildly concerned curiosity.

Upon release from Shuri’s custody, Bucky found himself immediately accosted by you and your self-appointment as the one in charge of his rehabilitation into polite society. Refusing to leave his side outside of mandatory missions, Steve, by default, wound up lumped into your “educational excursions” and “lessons in everything a modern person of refined taste-no-fuck-you-Tony-your-opinion-doesn’t-count-you-raised-yourself-on-a-steady-diet-of-debauchery-and-sin would enjoy”. The prolonged exposure to your generally sunny disposition led to both men silently agreeing to adopt you under their wing; and so, your Brooklyn Boys became fiercely protective over you, often drawing comparisons of co-parenting mother hens hovering over their tiny chick from your amused teammates.

“Why the sigh, malen’kiy d’yavol?” grunts Bucky.

You stare blankly at the ceiling as Steve gently rubs circles around your ankle with his thumb. Turning your head to bury your face into the ex-soldier’s warm stomach, a muffled “Am I unlovable?” leaves your mouth in a broken whisper.

Your quiet words are picked up by their enhanced hearing and they share quick perturbed glances. Bucky moves his arm under you, pulling you into his lap, drawing you close, ensuring your head is tucked securely into his neck just below his chin. Steve moves with him so he can maintain a comforting hold on your legs over his.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you doll. If anyone is worthy of love it’s you,” Steve tells you with confidence.

“I’m gonna kill Romanoff,” you hear Bucky grumble under his breath to Steve, thinking you couldn’t hear him.

Your fingers clench around the pocket of Bucky’s sweater. Your boys knew. Of course they did. You couldn’t hide your affection for the Black Widow from them if you tried. While the others might be able to write off your attention to the stunning Venus as simple admiration for a fellow teammate, they knew just how deeply your true feelings ran.

“Then why doesn’t she want me?” Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

Steve exhales slowly and looks back to the screen in front of him.

“No one really knows what’s going on in that head of hers, but your happiness is our priority right now. You deserve the world and if she can’t see that then that’s her loss,” he nudges his boyfriend.

Arms tightening around you, Bucky nods his head in agreement.

“The old man is right. How about the three of us go take your mind off things?” Slowly standing, he pulls you up to your feet.

“You can help me find Steve an outfit for tonight. I’m sure with a little convincing, we can get the Star-spangled Man with a Plan to wear a patriotic tie the whole night.” He winks at you as you let out a small snort.

“Go ahead. Laugh it up. One of these days you’re going to need to know something about war bonds and we’ll see who’s laughing then,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes.

xxxx

Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you adjusted the sleeveless button-up with detached cuffs, leaving enough buttons undone to reveal a plunging neckline, before tucking it into your high-waisted form-fitting black pants. In a bid to pull yourself out of your funk, you decided to go all out for tonight’s festivities. You slip on a pair of black shoes, give your outfit one final check, nodding to yourself, and make your way out the door.

Tonight, Tony saw fit to throw a good luck party for your first long-term recon mission with you leading your own team before you left the next morning. As you made your way to the large gathering you steeled yourself for the impending emotions that would inevitably hit you as soon as you saw the face that had been plaguing your dreams nearly every night since that fateful mission.

“Eyes up, (y/l/n). You’re made of stronger stuff than this. If she doesn’t want you then don’t waste your time. You’re worth more than this,” you say to yourself as you stride towards the double doors.

You straighten your shoulders, draw yourself up to your full height, and confidently step into the gathering.

“There she is! The hero of the hour! Give it up for our very own (y/hero/n).” Tony struts towards you; your favorite drink already outstretched in his hand.

He claps you in the back and slings an arm over your shoulders leading you towards the crowd as you hear cheers from the party goers in attendance.

“Soak it up buttercup. All this is for you. Feels good doesn’t it?”

Your eyes drift to the side where you see Natasha in a black cocktail dress flirting with another attendee, her eyes glance at you before turning her attention back to her companion. You swallow the sharp sting of pain threatening to rise and mentally give yourself a shake.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time Tony, let’s party!” you exclaim with more enthusiasm than you can bring yourself to feel.

He gives you his biggest grin, “Now that’s what I like to hear!”

He steers you through the crowd, you both pause to greet various members of the party as you recognize your friends and coworkers before leading you to Steve and Bucky who are seated on a pair of loungers across from Wanda and Rhodey.

“Hey Mama Bear, Papa Bear, here’s little Baby Bear. Make sure you keep an eye on them. I saw more than a few vultures in the crowd who looked ready to steal them away at a moment’s notice.” He sauntered away with a wink.

“Looking good dollface,” Steve grins at you.

Bucky and Rhodey are quick to agree. Across the way you see Wanda raking her eyes up and down your body with hooded lids. Making eye contact, you wink, she blushes at being caught before sending you a shy smile.

As the night goes on and drinks are consumed, you continue to laugh with your friends. You’ve moved to the opposite couch next to Wanda as Rhodey takes up the space in the middle of your group to reenact the night Tony, black out drunk, stumbled into the RA’s room instead of their shared dorm back in college.

Unable to hold yourselves up from laughing so hard, you and Wanda lean into each other for support.

Suddenly the main light dim and colorful strobe lights fill the room. You feel a heavy bass begin the thump through your chest and a drunken Wanda yells, “I LOVE THIS SONG!” She leans into your side and whispers “come dance with me,” into your ear.

Grinning widely, you nod your head and let yourself be pulled up and led to the dance floor amid cheers and wolf whistles from your friends. Immediately spinning around, Wanda presses her backside against your front, slowly dragging her hands up and into your hair. You lean forward, your hands finding a comfortable grip on her hips, pulling her closer, guiding her movements.

Across the room, Natasha watches you grind together, her jaw clenches. She throws back another shot. Behind the bar, Clint shifts his eyes from her angry form to you.

“You know, if you really like them that much you might want to head over there and stake your claim.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tasha. I’d like to think I know you better than most.”

She gives him a quirk of an eyebrow and her best side-eye.

“Okay so I may have been crawling through the vents when I saw you all but crawling up their body like it’s a ladder in Conference Room A,” he huffs out with a roll of his eyes.

She stiffens.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I think it does. Now, I don’t know why you’re trying to pretend like I don’t catch you staring at them whenever you think no one else is looking. But are you going to go over there and get what’s yours or are you just going to sit here and watch them fall into the arms of someone else?”

“They’re not my anything,” she mumbles into her glass, “They’re a big kid. They can decide to screw whoever They want.”

Clint shakes his head but says nothing more. They both watch as Wanda turns in your arms, wrapping her own around your neck, slotting her leg between yours, drawing even closer. Growing bold, she begins to press kisses along your neck leading up to your ear. You tilt your head back giving her further access as you continue to move to the rhythm.

“You know, she’s assigned to go on that mission with (y/n). With an undetermined timeline, who knows how long she’ll have to make (y/n) her-”

With a loud clink, Natasha throws back her last shot and slams it down on the countertop. Without giving Clint a chance to finish his sentence, Natasha finds herself pushing through the crowd towards you and Wanda. She’s a woman on a mission as she wraps her hand around your arm pulling you from Wanda’s grasp and without looking back, she drags you towards her room. She ignores your protests as she kicks her door open before pushing you against the wall and pressing her lips to yours in a heated kiss.

Stunned, your lips move against hers before your alcohol addled brain catches up to what’s happening. Your hands find her shoulders as you gently push her away and make space between the two of you. Confusion clouds your features as she hungrily stares at you while hastily slipping down the straps of her dress.

“Nat? What the fuck?”

“Shut up,” she growls, before attacking your lips again.

“No,” comes out of your mouth in a muffled groan. You push her away harder this time.

“What the hell are you doing?” You stare at her incredulously.

“I’m trying to have a little fun before you take off. What? Are you waiting for a formal invitation?”

You scoff in disbelief. “No. No no no. I’m not doing this with you Natasha.”

“Doing what?” She stares at you with furrowed brows.

“This! This fucked up charade of you claiming you don’t have any feelings for me!”

“I don’t! We’re just friends who like to have a little fun sometimes, (y/n/n).”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I’m stupid or are you just blind?! Friends don’t look at each other the way I look at you! Friends don’t get jealous when they see their “friend” with someone else then proceed to drag them away to stake their claim!” You’re beyond angry. Sick of feeling like a yoyo constantly tugged up and down and thrown away in boredom.

“Well what do you want me to say?”

“TELL ME I MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU! TELL ME THAT EVERY MINUTE I SPEND PRAYING TO ANYONE WHO’LL HEAR ME FOR EVEN AN IOTA OF YOUR AFFECTION ISN’T A WASTE OF BREATH!” Tears are streaming down your face. You bite back a sob as you draw your arms around yourself in a protective hold.

“Tell me you feel the same way I do,” you whisper as your voice cracks.

Tears in her own eyes, “I can’t,” Natasha exhales without making eye contact.

Slowly, you nod.

“Okay.”

Your eyes trace over her face one last time.

You turn and as she hears your footsteps head towards the door, her head snaps up.

“Where are you going?” She rushes out with hesitation coating her voice.

“I’m leaving.”

She reaches out a hand, but you step away.

Undeterred, “No, stay we can still talk things out as friends.” She implores.

Coldly, you make eye contact.

“You made it perfectly clear this morning, Natasha. We’re nothing.”

She chokes on a whimper.

With a stiff nod you exit her room and with a slam of her door, you’re gone.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha drops to her knees.

xxxx

You head down the hall angrily wiping the tears away from your eyes. You refuse to spare any more of your heart for someone who clearly couldn’t care less whether or not it breaks.

Trying to hold on to Natasha feels like attempting to cup smoke in your bare hands. A fruitless endeavor. You were never one to bet on a losing game.

You swing your door open only to be met with Steve and Bucky grinning and ready to help you pack for your mission and rib on you about your impending time with Wanda.

Their smiles immediately drop when they take in your tear-stained face. Both men rush to your side and draw you into their arms, holding you between them. Your boys could feel their hearts shatter as they listened to your broken stops. If the sound of your cries could hurt them this much, they couldn’t fathom how you yourself were feeling.

“We’re here, Kroshka, what do you need?”

You whimpered and buried yourself further into their hold.

“That’s enough,” you sniffled.

After a moment, you pulled away drawing yourself together.

“I’m done with her,” you state.

They both nod.

“When you’re back, we’ll make sure you never have to be alone with her again,” Steve asserts with a nod of finality.

You send them both a grateful look as they begin to help you gather everything you’ll need to last at least 2 months.

xxxx

It’s early morning when Clint finds Natasha in the gym Sweat drips down from her hairline as she takes out every emotion she refuses to acknowledge on the innocent training dummy.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in the hangar sending off your new boo with a kiss?”

“Not my anything,” she grunts, punctuated with a roundhouse kick to the dummy’s jugular.

“You literally pulled a scene from a rom-com out of your ass, dragging (y/l/n) away from their own party AND your rival in love, and they’re STILL not yours?” He levels her with his most disapproving, disappointed dad stare.

“Fuck off Clint, I’m not in the mood.”

“Well a little birdy told me that Wanda is extra excited for this chance to ask (y/n) on a proper date after they’re back”

“Not my problem. If they want to open their legs to the first person that offers, let them.”

“Wow. Harsh. What happened?”

She delivered a sharp jab to the dummy’s solar plexus.

“They said we’re nothing.”

“That couldn’t have come from nowhere.”

She pauses her movements and looks away.

“I told them we’re nothing.”

“Nat…”

“They deserve better, Clint,” her voice wobbles.

“You deserve happiness too Tasha. You deserve them.” He pulls her into a tight hug.

Her eyes clench shut attempting to keep her tears at bay.

“I fucked up… didn’t I?”

“Yeah… you really did,” he looks up at the ceiling and sighs.

“Quinjet leaves in 5. If you hurry you should still be able to catch them.

She immediately takes off and he watches the door swing shut behind her.

“Go get ‘em, kid. We’re rooting for ya.”

xxxx

Almost running past the hangar doors, Natasha skids to a stop and pushes her way into the room.

She ignores the technicians yelling for her to clear the runway as she breaks into a sprint towards where she hears the sound of supplies being loaded onto a quinjet.

With an energy boost fueled by a fear she never knew she could feel, she speeds around the corner, drawing in a breath ready to scream your name.

Only to come to a stop.

She’s too late.

The jet pushes off the ground for takeoff.

She falls to her knees.

A broken whimper escapes her lips.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #nr angst

213 notes · View notes

aliypop · 3 years

Text

And So It Starts Chap 2

Wordcount: 2,088

Warning: Slight Language

A/N : So I made a part two based off of episode 2 I don’t know why I went “Oh lets flesh a character out using the show loki” but oh well!

" Astrid, my love..."

"Loki..." she asked. "Wait... Wait, if you're my real Loki, then tell me something only my Loki would know." Astrid said, her tempad in hand, ready to use it.

"How many Loki's have you..."

" Answer the question..." she snarled, ready to press the button to send him away. "Well... we used to walk through the gardens." he smiled as she laughed at him, "Anyone would know that... try something harder." her hands on her hips,

"We once had sex on my father's throne... and we blamed it on Thor." he smirked, "Mind if I say it was one of our best chaotic moments..." he winked as Astrid nearly tackled him, "It is you..." she held onto him as if she were afraid to let him go again, of course, she did have her reasons.

"Listen and listen well when I say this... I'm going to get us out of here..."

"How are you planning to do that..." he stared at her in disbelief.

"Well, I'm shocked you don't know your Astrid well enough." she smirked as she sat down on the table, "Was I not the one who told you how to escape Odin's dungeon or found the secret entrances into the kingdom," Astrid asked, looking at Loki as she fluttered her eyelashes.

"Yes, that was you, O mighty boastful one." he smiled, placing a kiss on her hand. Her cheeks red as she straightened out her suit.

"Now, just play along..." she smirked, "Mobius is going to think that I reprimanded you for pissing off Hunter B-15, so..." she looked around the room, seeing if there was anything she could pretend to torment him with as the sounds of footsteps crept closer.

"Well, what's the hold-up..." Loki whispered.

"If you knew what I had planned, you'd hate me..." she gave him a mischievous grin.

"Is this my punishment for loving the goddess of choa- OUCH!" As the door cracked open. Astrid held Loki's arm behind his back as her other hand was pulling his hair with his body against the table,

"Now, will you comply with me variant L1130?"

"No..." he spat, adjusting his head to look up at her, Norns did he wish that Astrid didn't train alongside him and Thor, "What was that variant..." she growled, "Play along..." Astrid whispered in his ear.

"I yes... I comply..."

"Well, you heard him, Mobius, get the man dressed..." she pushed him into the other agent, "You have odd methods, but you're the best." Mobius smiled, placing his hand on her back. As Loki glared at him, Astrid winked, replying with a simple "Well, what can I say. A win for the TVA is a win for us all." she nearly threw up in her mouth.

"I'll meet you two in the lobby... I'll uh pick up the variant when you're finished."

"Alright, buddy!" Mobius said, shooting finger guns at Astrid as she did them back. Midgardians and their weird greetings. She thought to herself, fixing her tie and suit jacket as she straightened out her pencil skirt from any imperfections and creases.

"What was that about..." Loki grumbled, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

"Me pinning you against the table ... Because that was a diversion ..." she kept looking straight ahead as they passed minute men and other agents a few nodding at her. "No, you and Mobius... although I found that diversion of yours rather unflattering." he scoffed,

"What do you mean Mobius and I..." she stopped him in his tracks.

"He touched your shoulder..."

"They do that... it's like getting praised for a job well done." she laughed it off, "If he does it again, I'll kill him..." he smirked, kissing her on the cheek. Astrid had almost forgotten how possessive and protective her Loki was. But she was glad to have him back nonetheless.

In the lobby, there stood Mobius and the other minutemen as they went over the various Loki's and his powers,

" Illusion projection and My favorite..." Mobius said, looking towards Astrid, who only had her head down, "You shouldn't have said that..." she grumbled.

"Another two completely different powers, actually..."

"How..." Mobius glared.

"Why would you ask him how..." Astrid let out a muffled groan.

"Illusion projects involve depicting a detailed image from outside oneself which is perceptible in the external world. Patient casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure ..."

Loki nodded as he held his hands in his pockets. Mobius only sighed as Astrid glared at Loki, "Must you always be correct..." she gritted her teeth.

"Must you be such a people pleaser ..." he asked as they walked through the portal and later through a tent of evidence where a TVA agent went missing. Astrid kept her focus on the evidence, which was a dagger much like Loki's, but next to it was a red amulet. One that she knew all too well, picking it up, she placed it in her pocket as she heard Mobius talk to Loki.

"We have a saying in Asgard where there are wolf ears, wolf teeth are near." Loki looked back at the minute, "It means to be aware of your surroundings." he winked at Astrid, "Which is absurd because my people are, by nature, gullible fools."

"Not all of us..." Astrid walked by, "

"A trait that I, the god of mischief, exploited time, and time again, simply by listening. My teeth were sharp, but my ears sharper."

"Astrid, what's his point," Mobius asked. getting annoyed,

"Well, the TVA and the gods of Asgard are the same, Coming from one myself. Drunken with power and blinded by the truth. Thus those you underestimate will devour you, trust me, I know from experience..." she said an innocent expression on her face,

"And knowing what I now know about his tactics, I can deliver you the variant, but I need assurance..." Loki stood next to Astrid, his hand around her waist.

"Yeah..."

"Assurance..."

"that he won't get disintegrated the moment this is all done." Astrid said, "That goes for me as well, by the way..." Mobius gave the pair a suspicious look as Hunter b -15 raised an eyebrow. She knew something was up. She just had to figure it out. Back at the TVA, both Astrid and Loki sat outside waiting for Mobius, who she knew would be furious. After all, it was a bit chaotic. Astrid knew that Loki had been stalling. It was always something he was good at when they were kids,

Like the time she was late to her engagement party, or she'd break down in her chambers and missed royal meetings.

BANG!

The heavy wooden door alarmed the two variants as a very pissed-off Mobius stood between the two, "Astrid, I'll speak with you later..." he glared as he focused back on Loki.

"That was your first lesson in catching a Loki. Expect the expected. You see, half the fun in being a trickster is everyone knows you're a trickster, and then many of your tricks can..."

"Shut up!" Mobius growled, "What happened to the guy on the elevator who didn't like to talk..." he looked at him as he then thought about Astrid, "Was she on this too... " he asked, losing hope.

"Did you turn Astrid against me or..."

"Astrid is her own person, well Goddess ... what she chooses to do is on her accord." he glared.

"Well, all I see is a scared little boy shivering in the cold, and you kinda feel bad for that ice runt... " he laughed " And as for Astrid, a sad little girl looking for praise and affection but only locked away in desperation..." he laughed watching as Loki balled his fist up. Mobius knew he struck a nerve. He didn't think the useless Goddess would have made him react that way.

"We don't need your sympathy Mobius..." a silhouette of curls said from behind the wall, a tear pricking her eyes. "L1130, how about we get some work done..." she mumbled, hiding her face. The walk to the library was silent. Astrid had her head down in cases of files as Loki stole glances from her. He had never seen her so defenseless, at least not in his part of the timeline. "Darling..." he probed.

"It hurts all this time..." she read her files, "They were just tactics of fear..." he held her hand, rubbing his thumb over her skin, "He called you an ice runt!"

"Shush..."

"Love, I know... but you said to play along and that we... Apocalypse," he whispered. Astrid looked confused, "Not to interrupt you, but I found the answer..." he laughed.

"Which is..."

"He's hiding in an apocalypse..." Thunder and lightning struck across the sky as both Astrid and Loki looked up towards it. The two continued to walk in apocalyptic Alabama. Using his magic, both Astrid and Loki were dried off, not a hair or cloth drenched.

"What the hell was that..."

"That was me using magic to dry us both off, so we don't announce ourselves with every squeaky footstep."

"Honestly, if that shocked you, this is all beneath us. I am a princess, by the way." Astrid smirked, walking towards the aisle.

"Uh, no, you're going with team Loki and B-15." Mobius laughed, pulling her by the arm,

"You can trust me. You've known me!"

"Not long enough, Hunter B- 15. keep a close watch on this one..." he said, walking away.

"You're the TVA Agent they sent to hunt me down..." Hunter B-15 smirked, her back turned towards the two, "While you have something that belongs to me..."

"Me, I presume ..." Loki asked.

"Or possibly me?" Astrid questioned, "Although I don't see what I'd have that would be yours..." she clutched, trying to find the amulet necklace in her pocket.

"If anyone is anyone, you're me."

"Lovely to meet you," Loki mumbled.

"Looking for this sweetheart..." she asked, pulling the necklace out,

"How did you..."

"Enchantment is a clever trick, cowardly, a bit amateur-ish but clever." he laughed as Astrid clenched her jaw.

"Almost as cowardly as working for the TVA..." she turned to look at them both.

"One small question: who are we to each other..."

"You tell me..." She winked at Astrid.

"And here I was worried they found a better version of me..." she laughed before changing her appearance a few times, "You know I see why Thor hated that..." Loki grumbled. As the two split up trying to find the variant, Astrid felt a spark from the tip of her fingertips as she heard Loki thrown around. Wondering how on earth did he let himself get that weak in fighting.

"If you had any, honor you'd fight me as yourself..."

"I have shit to do..."

"Is it still murder if I warn them first..." Astrid asked

"That's ugh... called a threat, darling...Ouch!" he got tossed again.

Astrid used her powers to fling the variant away from him and into a showcase of headphones. "That was uncalled for..." she took her hood down as Astrid looked up.

She knew there was no denying that that was indeed a Loki.

"But this isn't exactly about you..." she opened up a portal walking through it. Mobius and the minutemen arrived.

"Wait!"

"Well, looks like they betrayed you..."

"You idiots!, this is Lamentis 1," Sylvie grumbled

"Sorry, but I don't know what that means." Loki sighed, the two walking out of the tent as the sounds of distant screaming and a body nearly hitting the desert ground as she began to float gracefully, a meteoroid almost knocking her out.

"To be fair, I have been falling for 20 minutes!" Astrid growled, getting dirt off her suit, using her magic to change her outfit into something that was a bit more her. "You are insane!" Sylvie sighed, "And you haven't you got anything better to do!" pointing towards Loki,

"How rude..."

"Very rude, especially for a Loki... " Astrid said, rolling her eyes. "I advise you not to call me that..."

"Or what," Astrid smirked her back against the wall.

"One of you has a Tempad, and unless you give it to me, nobody dies."

"Or we could stay in this mining shack and slaughter each other."

"In old Asgardian fashion." Astrid winked at the variant. "Or we become a team..."

"I rather we don’t do that..." she rolled her eyes.

#Loki Laufeyson #loki x oc #loki series #loki fandom #loki fanfic #Astrid sodotirr loki oc #new stuff #new series #i hope this is alright!#i hope you like it

7 notes · View notes

anonwriter27 · 3 years

Text

Trust in Me Ch13

Here’s the latest chapter! I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas :)

Thor had every reason to be worried.

He knew his brother would not die, not while his quick wit was still around. However, Thor knew what would become of Loki should he grow weak. During Loki’s interrogation on Asgard, Odin put him through countless trials, testing his strength and stealth; as Loki grew weaker, his heritage began to show. Glimmers of blue could be found in the cracks of his constructed, composed appearance.

Thor had shared the information about Loki’s heritage with Bruce, purely for medical reasons. Tony had often queried why Loki appeared cold on Friday’s scans, but Thor always shook off the questions.

But now, as Thor watched over his brother’s sleeping form, he could see the signature Jotun etchings making themselves visible on Loki’s skin.

Once the team arrived back at the tower Loki was rushed straight to the medical wing. Bruce had summarised that while Loki had lost a lot of blood, it was not enough to kill a God. Loki would just be weakened for a few days, maybe a week.

The team left Loki to rest, Natasha and Steve were suspicious of Loki’s altering appearance but the concerned look on Thor’s face kept them quiet.

Thor was left alone to sit with his brother.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me brother. But you’ve always said that my voice is so loud, it would disturb those resting in Valhalla.” Thor chuckled.

Thor watched as his brother slowly turned a darker shade of azure. “I know how you get when confronted with your past. But you have made such progress brother, do not let this put you back in your shell.”

Thor had watched his brother flourish in recent weeks. Loki had become comfortable enough to take part in group discussions. He had willingly made friends, taken part in group activities, he was even smitten with a beautiful young woman. But when confronted with the truth of his birth, Loki became scared. Like a wild animal backed into a corner, Loki felt the judgemental gaze of those around him; surrounding and suffocating him, and when backed into a corner Loki always fought his way out.

Whether it be with knives or words dripping in venom, Loki could strike the most damning of blows. That was what Thor feared, he worried his brother would lash out at the wrong person.

Thor held Loki’s hand, knowing the trickster would never allow him to do so when conscious, praying that the worst would not come.

Y/N was worried sick when Nat told her what had happened. She rushed past the team, ignoring the knowing glance from some, and the confused looks of few. Before she could knock on the door, it swung open to reveal Thor.

“I heard panicked footsteps, I assumed it was you.” Thor explained upon seeing her startled.

Y/N reached up on the tip of her toes to try and look past Thor’s large frame, “How is he? Can I see him?” She asked.

Thor closed the door behind him, keeping himself and Y/N in the corridor outside Loki’s room.

Y/N looked up confused, “Thor?”

“Would you sit with me a moment?” Thor said, gesturing to the small seating area a little way down the hall.

Y/N nodded, growing more and more panicked by the second. Nat had told her Loki would be okay, but what if that had changed? What if there was something that Bruce had missed in his examination? Why did Thor look so worried?

Thor took a deep breath and began, “What do you know of Loki’s heritage?”

Y/N thought back, “Umm, I know he’s adopted… I remember the name Laufey from the reports during the incident in New York. I assume he’s a relative…?”

Thor nodded, “Laufey is Loki’s birth-father. He was also king of the Jotunheim before Loki killed him.”

Y/N nodded slowly, “He killed his father?” she asked quietly.

“It’s quite complicated. You see, Loki and I had always been raised to think of the Jotuns as the enemy. We were told stories of their monstrous deeds when we were children.”

“I see…but what does that…” Y/N began.

“The Jotun’s have distinctive features, characteristics that Odin demonised. Loki has disguised his Jotun appearance for many years now; but when he’s hurt or weak it begins to show.” Thor explained.

Y/N didn’t question Thor any further and decided she needed to see Loki to understand what was going on. She made her way to his room and slowly opened the door.

What greeted Y/N was surprising but not shocking. She walked over to his bedside and took a good look at him.

He looked beautiful. Loki was always handsome, even when he first woke up dishevelled and disorientated. But this was another type of beauty; his skin was a beautiful shade of blue, like a thin layer of ice over a clear lake. His skin was marked with intricate patterns, they seemed tribal yet elegant. It would appear that in any from Loki looked regal, a born prince.

She reached out to hold his hand, slightly startled by how cold he was. She looked to Thor for explanation.

“Jotun’s run much colder than we do.” He offered.

Y/N thought back to the countless times Loki had felt cold under her touch, why had she never questioned it?

“This form of his,” she started, “how does Loki feel about this?”

Thor sighed, “I’m afraid Loki has never accepted his heritage. He will be embarrassed having been seen in this form. So I beg you, if you are frightened then…”

“Frightened?” She interrupted, “Why would he frighten me?”

The innocence of her question and the confusion in her eyes put Thor at ease. Thor could relax knowing she wouldn’t run away from his brother. Thor had wrongly judged the Tatum girl, he could see that now.

They sat by Loki’s bedside for the rest of the night, waiting for the prince to wake up. It was only when Loki’s skin returned to its usual appearance, signalling his growing strength, that Y/N allowed herself to sleep.

Loki woke up early the next morning, he felt groggy, but the sight of the tower’s walls relaxed him. He was certain he would never admit that out loud.

He looked to his left and saw his brother, back against the wall, head tilted back and snoring. Loki could not help but smirk, knowing his brother would lose a fair few admirer if they saw him in this state.

Loki then glanced to his right and smiled instantly. There sat his little companion, wrapped in her blanket, and curled up into an uncomfortable looking ball. Her book on Norse mythology lay half open on the armrest.

As if sensing his presence, she began to stir. Upon seeing his smiling face, she leapt up from her seat and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Thank goodness you’re awake.” She fussed over him, stroking the hair away from his eyes.

He chuckled, “I was perfectly fine. The only thing wounded was my pride.”

Y/N curved her brow knowingly, “And your shoulder.”

Loki conceded, “Yes, my shoulder. But I came back.”

She giggled softly, “Yes you did. You kept your promise.” She leant in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips.

Loki lifted his right arm to hold her in place before she could move away. “I’m not made of glass darling, kiss me properly.”

“Your brother is sleeping right over there.” She whispered, her attempts at wriggling away becoming futile.

“Brother you’re awake!” Thor boomed.

Loki rolled his eyes, “Speak of the devil.”

The three of you sat together for some time, Thor boasting about Loki’s heroics on the battlefield. Loki never particularly enjoyed basking in the afterglow of battle quite like his brother, but the proud look in Y/N’s eyes made him feel good. Dare he say it, he felt like a hero.

“You looked so frail brother; I feared your wounds were far worse. But like always you survived!”

Loki chuckled along with them, though his mind chose to focus on his brother’s chosen word, frail.

“But look at you, back to your usual mischievous self. We can add this to the list of stories we have Loki…”

“Back?” Loki interrupted, “Back to my usual self? What does that mean?”

Thor looked like a deer caught in headlights, “Well I just meant…”

“What exactly was I before I returned to my usual mischievous self?” Loki demanded.

Y/N was uncomfortable with the quick change in atmosphere, but she did not wish to lie to Loki. It’s better he knows now what they saw, rather than find out further down the line.

“When you were sleeping, you were in your Jotun form.” Y/N admitted.

Y/N had yet to see Loki angry. She had seen him annoyed or perturbed, but never angry. She feared that was about to change now.

Loki’s face suddenly went blank, devoid of all emotion; Thor sighed knowing what was to come. His brother concealed his emotions when enraged; then, like the crack of a whip, the pain and aggression would come out in one fell swoop.

“Leave Thor.” Loki spoke with little emotion.

“Brother please…” Thor began to plead.

“Get out!”

Y/N flinched at Loki’s shout and looked to Thor for guidance on how to handle the situation. But Thor knew better than to question his brother in this state. Instead, Y/N watched Thor’s retreating form, leaving her with her angry God.

After a minute, maybe two, Loki spoke. “You too.”

She almost misheard him; he spoke so quietly. “Loki can we not discuss this?”

“Discuss what?” Loki snapped, “Discuss my monstrous from? Discuss how disgusted you are?”

Y/N shook her head quickly and reached for his hand, “You could never disgust me Loki. Thor explained the misconception of the Jotuns…”

Loki rolled his eyes and chuckled darkly, “There are no misconceptions, Thor is foolishly attempting to put you at ease. We are monsters, Y/N, and you’re a fool to think otherwise.”

His words were beginning to cut her, but she stayed strong, she wouldn’t let him think this way of himself.

“Loki, I do not believe you’re a monster…” she began, but Loki cut her off.

“What do you get out of this? Are you hoping to improve your own image?” He sneered, his voice rising as he spoke. “The innocent young maiden who managed to tame a beast, is that what you want them all to think!?”

“Loki please.” She pleaded, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“You’re like the rest of them, craving approval from you’re betters. Get out my sight.” He demanded, ripping his hand out of her grip.

Y/N felt heartbroken, but she would not anger him even more. She grabbed her book and blanket and quietly left the room. She stood in the hallway, for some time, not entirely sure what to do now. Despite his cruel words, she did not want to leave him. That was when Y/N spotted the chairs she and Thor had previously sat on, just a small distance from the room Loki was resting in.

So, in a matter of minutes, Y/N grabbed a cushion and some snacks from her apartment. She pushed the two chairs together to form a make-shift bed and she printed out various articles on the Jotunheim.

Loki had barely moved since Y/N left. Once the door closed behind her, Loki allowed the tears he had been holding back to fall. She had finally seen the monster.

He knew she would eventually learn of his heritage, but Loki had wanted more time. A few more months, or maybe a year, where she could see him as good. Now it was too late. If his form hadn’t frightened her off, then the cruel words he spoke to her would have scared her away.

How he regretted those words.

Loki had spewed out some truly despicable words throughout his life, his aim was always to cut a wound too deep to heal. But he took no enjoyment in speaking to Y/N the way he did, he just felt guilt. How could she ever trust him again?

Loki had lain in his hospital bed for four days now, ignoring the food that Bruce had brought in for him. His guilt had dulled his appetite. He looked a sorry state when Clint came to see him.

“I uh, hope I’m not disturbing.” The archer said awkwardly, hesitantly walking into the room.

Loki raised his brow in surprise, “You’re the last person I expected to visit.”

Clint looked down, almost ashamedly, “I should have been the first person to visit.”

Loki’s expression of confusion didn’t alter, “You saved my life out there.” Clint clarified.

Loki shook his head and sat up in his bed, “I ruined your life. This was a meagre attempt to make up for it.”

Clint was surprised by the trickster’s honesty, “You’ve been trying. I’ve noticed you helping out around the tower, making friends. I haven’t exactly made your stay here easy.”

Clint was aware of Loki’s efforts, but his experience with the God had taught him not to give second chances. After the recent mission though, Clint reflected on the many second chances he had given. He had willingly accepted Bucky into the tower, he had all but recruited Wanda himself. Hell, his greatest friendship was born from him giving a young Russian spy a second chance.

“Your feelings about me are justified.” Loki offered.

Clint would not accept that, “Perhaps we should start from scratch.”

They both nodded in acceptance, happy to continue on a clean slate.

“So, you turn blue… is that like some Avatar shit? You haven’t got a tail, have you?” Clint asked.

Loki’s dark mood returned, “I am unfamiliar with this ‘Avatar,’ but it is not something I wish to discuss.

Clint nodded in understanding, “Is that why she’s sat out there?”

Loki looked up at the archer, confused but hopeful, “She?”

“Y/N. She’s set up camp outside the room, she’s been there for three days now” Clint clarified.

Loki didn’t know what to say. Had she really waited for him?

Clint sensed that Loki needed some privacy, “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t leave her out there too long, okay? She looks sadder by the day.”

Clint left Loki to his thoughts. The God couldn’t understand why you would stay; he had been cruel and irrational, he didn’t deserve your concern.

Curiosity got the better of Loki, he jumped out of bed and walked quietly to the door. The window in the corridor presented him with the night sky. Under the faint lights of the hallway, Loki found her. She was sleeping in a position that can’t have been comfortable, her hair was slightly dishevelled, and her blanket had the remnants of empty food wrappers. Had she not eaten properly in three days?

On the floor next to her lay what appeared to be paperwork; Loki knelt to pick up the discarded papers. They were articles on the Jotunheim, many of them discussing ancient traditions, others analysing the anatomy and appearance.

Loki could have cried at her concern, she truly wasn’t scared of him; in fact, she wanted to know more about him.

Loki had been a damned fool. He rested his head on her lap and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

With the weight of his head on her lap, Y/N stirred awake.

“Loki! What are you doing out of bed?” She asked, combing her fingers through his hair.

When he looked up, he saw nothing but concern in those delicate features.

“Please forgive me. Those words… I didn’t mean them, please.” Loki rambled, choking back a sob.

She silenced him with a gentle kiss to his forehead, “It’s okay.”

Loki shook his head, he had received too much forgiveness in one day, he didn’t feel he deserved any of it. “It’s not okay. You cannot allow me to treat you that way.”

Y/N moved in her seat and took hold of his hand. “I am not okay with what you said… I won’t deny it hurt. What I mean to say is, I understand where it came from.”

He took hold of her; his arms wrapped around her tightly, as if this one precious thing in his life could disappear into a puff of smoke.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” Y/N insisted.

Loki moved, keeping one arm around her. “Will you stay?” He asked, his eyes looked afraid, worried she may come to her senses and reject him.

She smiled up at him, “Always.”

They lay in the hospital bed together. Their pasts would always come back to haunt them every now and then; but the knowledge that they had each other, made those moments more bearable.

#loki x reader #loki fandom #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #thor #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bucky barnes #pepper potts #peter parker #tony stark #bruce banner #sam wilson #wanda #vision #avengers #steve rogers

9 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 23: The Workers of Sacred Metal

Chapters: 23/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde(Marvel), Thor(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Here Have More Hedacannons, Loki Can Be Thoughtful, Thoughtfulness is A Form Of Scheming After All, Reader is Always Curious, Nidavellir Has The Potential to b Really Cool. Summary: Reader returns in triumph, Loki goes into Teacher Mode.

Loki kept his expression polite and even as Andsvarr presented him with the gift of a cinnamon roll, but internally he was dancing. A treat for him! From you! Yes, it seemed like several others were also receiving them, but he had got one, and that was the most important part.

He took it back to his desk, shoved the papers aside, and dug in.

Paradise.

Loki had never tasted a cinnamon roll before. Humankind had created such an incredible variety of pastries; it would probably take many years to sample them all. This was a good start. This was the best start!

He let himself melt away into silly little daydreams. Your flour-dusted apron, your shining eyes, your deft hands, kneading the dough. Wiping your face, smearing your cheek with flour.

Himself reaching out to wipe it away. You leaning into the touch instead of shying away. You don't hate him. You make him cinnamon rolls.

Loki was brought back from his lovely reverie, by an insistent knocking. With an irritated sigh, he rose, and found Andsvarr at the door, with a wide-eyed young child.

“Your Highness, she says that-”

The child began babbling, and all Loki could really make out was that you had been struck by Stormbreaker out on the Valkyries field, and now you could not get up.

He dashed down the hall at a dead sprint, not caring who might see. Stormbreaker weighed around ninety pounds. It was solid uru and living wood, nearly always charged with electricity. There was no angle on the thing that wasn't deadly.

Would he actually feel it, if you died? Would the rune flare, or fade, would he feel pain, or a sudden emptiness? Or would he be unaware, until someone like that child back there informed him?

He did feel a tugging on the mark, as he approached, gravel crunching and flying under his boots. Brunnhilde and his brother were kneeling in the field, while the trainee Valkyries huddled at a distance.

What nightmare awaited him? A crushed or mangled corpse? Was he to lose you now, after everything? After surviving an assassination attempt, did you now fall to an accident? Was there to be no reconciliation, the half-eaten cinnamon roll your parting gift to him?

The knot tightened in his chest with every speedy step. Thor and Brunnhilde moved away at his approach, leaving him to kneel next to you. You were shivering violently, and he nearly collapsed onto the ground next to you in sheer relief. Shivering meant life!

He gathered you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. The Valkyries were watching, but he didn't care. All of Asgard could see, and he would not care. As your shivering subsided, he felt the satisfaction of a purpose fulfilled, a service that only he could provide. You sighed softly, delivered from the discomfort of magic fatigue.

“Thor...”Loki growled. Thor made a nervous noise and glanced at Brunnhilde, who answered with a look that said he was on his own.

“You hit her with Stormbreaker?” Loki accused. “What in the soaring, glacial hel were you thinking? You can't swing that thing at mortals!”

“I didn't!” Thor defended. “I absolutely didn't! I would never!”

“The child said you did!”

“Valda may have been mistaken.” Brunnhilde cut in. “I should have sent someone older. He's right, he did not swing at her. Use your head now, you can tell he's not lying!”

Loki harrumphed and turned away from them both. Yes, he could tell. But this had left him agitated, defensive, like a ruffled rooster.

You cracked your eyes open to gaze tiredly up at him. “I did it.” You whispered. “I did the magic all on my own. I'm...seidkona...” You yawned wide.

“You did? Is that what happened?”

“Yes.” Thor said, smiling fondly. “Stole it from my grasp and brought it right to herself. It was too heavy for her to hold, though, and it knocked her down.”

Loki stood, lifting you easily in his arms. “You shouldn't be out here in the dirt. I will take you somewhere better. I've...Well, I've redecorated your room. Would you, perhaps, like to go there? I can also take you to Bjarkhild, or back to the Valkyrie's barracks, or wherever you would like, of course.”

“Redecorated?”

“Yes. Would you like to see? I've wanted to get your opinion on it. It's not quite finished, but we've got all the basics laid out.”

“I'd like to see.” You agreed. “I don't think I'll be walking around much more today.”

He didn't bother trying to hold back his smile. “Then let me see to your needs today. In exchange for the gift you gave earlier.”

“You got the cinnamon roll?”

“Is that what it's called? Such a simple name for such blessed ambrosia.”

“Oh, you don't have to...It's just a simple recipe my Nana taught me...”

Loki could practically feel the heat radiating off your face. Was that all it took to make you show him that adorable flustered expression? Just flowery compliments? If he'd known that, he would have taken a different approach.

He headed off the training field. Aides and secretaries approached, but seemed to unanimously decide to present their business at a later time, leaving him free to carry you back to your room. You hardly recognized it. There was color. Blue, and green, and gold, and silver, predominantly, with the bed in a warm terra cotta. That bed looked so soft and inviting now, with it's fluffy pillows and heavy comforter.

Loki sat you down on it, and you wiggled your way slowly under the blankets.

“Will you tell me about this Nana, of yours, who taught you the mystical art of the cinnamon roll?”

“Wow, you really liked it, huh? Well, Nana wasn't really my Nana, she was my aunt. Mom died when I was still a baby, and Beth was my aunt. She always wore yellow, so when I was a little kid I tried to call her Banana Beth, but it just came out Nana Beth. She taught me how to bake. She wanted kids, but she thought it was better that she didn't have any...Um. I should tell you, there's a medical condition that runs in my mom's side of the family. I might die early.”

Loki took your hand. “Not while I breathe.”

“Ah, um.” Your gaze fell. “It's not that simple. It's brain stuff, there's not much that can be done about it.”

He placed his other hand over the top of yours, forming a little shell of sincerity and reassurance. “I promise you that we can. We have the knowledge, we have the technique. Put that fear to rest. You will not die of any tumor. I will not allow it.”

“You can just...decide that.”

“Yes.”He assured you. “I can.”

“Well...that's...um. Ok.”

The face you wore now was less embarrassed, but no less adorable.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Like I bench-pressed an elephant. My arms feel so heavy; my whole body does. I know I'm gonna have a bruise. What is that thing made of anyway?”

“Stormbreaker? It's made from uru.” Upon your stumped expression, he held up the illusion of a lump of metallic stone. “It's a very rare metal, very hard to find and even harder to work with. There is none naturally occurring on Earth, and unlike nornbein, it cannot even be artificially created here. It comes from stars that have destroyed themselves by becoming supernovas. Hence it's rarity. Not many stars do that, and some of those that do, then go on to become black holes, which consume all the uru. Thus, we must find stars that have exploded powerfully enough to create uru, but not so powerfully as to swallow it all. And of those, some form nebulae, and new planetary systems, all of which are difficult to navigate, especially when one is looking for lumps of metal that can be of any size, and separated by millions of miles. Mjolnir was made of uru as well, and my father's spear, then gilded in nornbein.”

“The hammer? Whatever happened to that?”

“Eh, I'll show you later if you'd like. There is a hall we have set aside for Asgardian history, and there are several things resting there that I might show you.”

“I think I'd like to. It would be good to know more history. I mean, I guess that's going to be expected of me now. How do you work with uru, if it's so hard? Special forges?”

Loki smiled. “Oh yes. The most special of forges, unlike any others. Behold, Nidavellir.”

The image formed in his palms, cradled like a pearl.

You leaned forward to get a better look at the illusion. There was a strange light, and an even stranger ring-shaped structure surrounding it.

“Is...is that a star?” You asked, pointing at the little light pulsing slightly in the center. Loki nodded. “How?” You exclaimed. “That space station or whatever would have to be gigantic! Like, beyond reason!”

“Oh, no no. This is a neutron star. It's what you get when a collapsing star is too big to make a white dwarf, but still too small to create a black hole.” Loki explained. “This one is about the size of one of your larger cities. This ring is rather like the outlying suburbs that surround your cities. So yes, the structure is impressively large, but not quite to the degree you are imagining. This was the last of the eight realms to be added to the count, discovered by my father shortly into his reign. Being so small, neutron stars are not so easy to locate, though it does seem that even human technology has been able roughly estimate where some are.

But when Odin found this one, when he realized what he was looking at, he refused to attempt to conquer them through any violent means. Though there were protests, he could not bring himself to destroy even one member of a race capable of such craftsmanship. This star created the largest amount of uru in all of Yggdrasil, and the entire ring is made of it. The Dvergar that live within it have plenty more stored away as well. They are the only people we know of that can smith the metal.”

“Why?” You asked. “What's so different about the way do it?”

“For one thing, they have a resource that no one else does. They use the star to power everything. The radiation of a neutron star is enough to melt uru for forging. They are also the only people who can withstand that radiation themselves. Someone like myself could not stay for long on Nidavellir. Perhaps only to make an order, or to pick it up. And as for you...well, unfortunately this is another realm I can never take you to see. You'd burn in minutes.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. No thanks. So how did they become one of your realms, if they were never conquered?” You asked. Loki couldn't help but notice the disapproval you placed on the last word. He understood that you found the concept distasteful, but didn't quite understand why. The entire history of your species was one of conquest. Not a single tribe or clan in all of human history was innocent of it.

But there must always be those who try, mustn't there? There must always be those who think and act differently. There must always be a new way. That was the kind of thing that resonated with him.

“Through trade and treaty. We could offer them things they could not get on their own, such as other kinds of metal, not native to the system, and also safe escort to other worlds.” At the inquisitive tilting of your head, he continued. “The Dvergar never managed more than very local space travel, just enough to sweep their system for all the materials it held. Mostly, they had uru, iron, and nickel. That was pretty much it. We brought in metals that, to them, were bizarre and exotic. They loved it! We also provided transport to other worlds, and kept them safe until they went home. You might well imagine that there were plenty of people out there who wanted their own, private, uru-smith, or who wanted to destroy the workers of the metal, so that it couldn't be used against them. And so, a Dvergar abroad is in danger all the time, and they are very limited in number.

So, often for only the price of the materials, they provided us with the finest metal crafts Yggdrasil has ever known. They created Stormbreaker and Mjolnir, my mother's sword and my fath-my spear. Several of my knives, and the enchanted berserker's staves. The Valkyries weapons as well, though only one of those is still extant. And that's just the weapons! We gave them silver, gold, and platinum, and they created the most exquisite artworks. We gave them copper and bronze, and they created the finest wire, the most delicate mechanisms.

Of course,” He said regretfully. “That treaty with them is now null. We can no longer provide them safe escort, or metals in any quantity, so I feel our usefulness to them is at an end. Even when we get the bifrost running, I know of nothing we can offer them that they would want.”

“It couldn't hurt to talk to them though.” You said. “Let them know how your circumstances have changed, and why. You lost your whole world after all, surely there can be some arrangements made. Especially if there's no bad history there.”

“Now that's what I like to see in a seidkona.” Loki praised gently. “Optimism, and a willing-to-try attitude. This is what we need in this time, in this place.”

“Oh, uh, um, thanks.” You mumbled, looking shyly aside.

Oh yes, that was fun.

“How did they make it?” You asked. “The ring I mean.”

“From what they tell, they originally lived on the belt of asteroids that it has replaced. They built bridges linking the larger asteroids together, with their little, local ships, and gathered up the smaller ones as they went. And they just kept building, and gathering, and expanding, until they had an entirely enclosed ring around the star, built up out of the very asteroids that once orbited freely. Technically it is the asteroid belt, only now in the form of one of the most stable structures in the galaxy.”

“I'd like to meet one, someday.” You said idly.

“They are not a handsome people. Also secretive and quite brusque. If they truly evolved on the asteroids, and were separate most of the time, that only makes sense. There are only about thirteen-hundred of them in all, and though they can share a fierce camaraderie when a challenge is laid before them, they more often go for decades without seeing each other. Just working away at whatever project occupies their thoughts at the time. They, unique among all the eight realms, are not a social species. However,” Loki amended, thinking that perhaps he was painting the Dvergar in too negative a light. “They are the ultimate crafters, perhaps in all the universe. They do not know cruelty, or war, only creation. They are honorable people; a Dvergar will never go back on their word, nor ever present less that perfect craftsmanship for trade. And though they are short of speech, that does not mean they are impolite, or inhospitable. Just that they do not share personal information, and they do not waste words.”

You lay back against the pillows, and Loki let the little image dissipate. You looked tired. Perhaps he should let you sleep now, and make the room your own.

“You can use a spear?” You asked suddenly.

“What? Yes, I can. I am trained in the use of a variety of weapons. Most of us are; we simply have weapons that we prefer over others. I like the swiftness and precision of small blades, Thor prefers something heavy enough to destroy armor and knock foes down, and father preferred...distance.”

“And you inherited your father's spear? Is it just because the king doesn't like to use it?”

“Sort of. My brother bequeathed it to me in something of a ceremonial act. Every king since Buri has held that spear, but it was given to me in acknowledgment that I was king before Thor. Also that he intended to break certain traditions, and also because I use it better than he does.”

“Can I see your spear?”

Loki kept his face very carefully neutral. He definitely should not say that you already had, no, he should absolutely not say that. You were tired, and not thinking about your phrasing.

“Later, yes. It is being kept in the History Hall. I'll show you the whole thing. Who knows, perhaps someday you will find mention there. The first human member of the royal court. A bridge between us and Midgard, in this dawning of a new age...”

But you were already asleep.

“Oh. Well. Being the first of anything is always difficult.” Loki whispered, drawing the blankets up around your shoulders. “I know. It's confusing, and there are no instructions, no rules. You must make your own. Tomorrow.”

He left just as you began to softly snore.

*****

You walked the road along the fields, whistling cheerily to yourself. Your garden hoe across your shoulders, a spade in your tool belt, and a song in your heart, you crossed over to an empty plot.

These were not the fields of home; there was no corn to be seen, and the white and purple flowers of Iceland dotted the verge. This was more of a community garden, and each plot bore strange plants, significant to the person who grew them.

You had no seeds, but intended to work the soil of your little plot, so that it would be ready whenever you got some.

You chopped at the soil with your hoe: how dry and hard it had become! How stony from neglect! Nothing had grown here for a long time, but soon it would. Just as soon as you had all the supplies...

You saw Loki approaching from a distance, resplendent in the heat shimmer, the eternal summer sun glinting off his fine armor, his gilded horns. In all his finery he came to you, and said nothing, just held out a handful of seeds. You did not recognize them, did not know what kind of plant would spring from them, but you decided to take a chance on them. You sprinkled them carefully over your plot, Loki standing silently at your side.

What would grow? What would it say about you? And would it be what you needed? Only time, care, and tending would tell.

You rolled over in your sleep and snuggled a pillow. You could almost smell the freshly turned earth.

#loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#lasabrjotr

10 notes · View notes

grungyblonde · 5 years

Text

Gone Away

Chapter 9

When Ubbe has to depart for the raids, he leaves his young wife and child in the care of the only person he trusts to watch over them, his brother Hvitserk. What follows is a tale of love, betrayal, and brotherhood.

Catch up here

Ubbe wasn’t sure if he was awake, not really.

The tiny cell was pitch-black except for a thin sliver of light that shone from a lone crack in the wall. And still, rather than illuminating the cheerless dungeon, it cast an eerie otherworldly haze on what little he could see. How long had he been there? Was he asleep? Was he even alive?

“Prisoner! Rise!”

It was the first time since the battle that anyone had addressed him directly. He could heard them talk of him while he slipped in and out of consciousness, dragged across the ground with little tenderness or regard for his wounds. They wondered aloud what use the “heathen” was. It seemed not even his captors knew what was to become of him.

The guard’s sharp order stirred a bit of fierceness in the prince’s weakened limbs. Ubbe ignored the ache in his half-healed wound to strand straight and spiteful, grunting when his jailor yanked him by his chains.

“Walk!”

Ubbe only moved when impatient hands pushed him forward so roughly he almost fell to his knees. He caught himself and shot a growl at the stinking man before allowing himself to be ordered ahead, walking as proudly as possible under the circumstances. Resisting the urge to ask questions, Ubbe kept quiet as he was led out of what he now realized to be a tower.

The outside air stank of sweat and hinted of something rotting. It was obvious that the Saxons’ filth extended past their rat infested prison cells. Curious eyes of peasants watched as Ubbe was led across the muddy courtyard towards another great stone building. He ignored them in favor of focusing on not losing his footing as he sank past his ankles in mud and hay and shit. If he was being led to his death then he would die like a true son of Ragnar, descendant of Odin.

***

Brenna’s breath was thick and visible in the frigid midwinter air, heavy and rapid as her frozen fingers hurriedly fixed a cover on her only horse.

“Settle down, settle down,” she murmured quietly to the mare, trying to soothe its snorting and stomping. Her mind drifted to Hvitserk and his odd affinity with horses before she could stop herself.

Brenna hadn’t seen him since their night together; he had been gone before she woke. She understood, even as she felt like sobbing in the cold and unbearably empty sheets. She had made it clear to him what they were, a distraction, a way to cope. She imagined that he believed he wasn’t really wanted there, that he was respecting her space.

But still, she would wake some mornings to find fresh salted meat at her door. A tiny fur for Raul. The beautiful dress from the market. And she would look desperately from side to side, as if she could catch Hvitserk in the shadows. But he was never there.

Brenna finished securing the blanket and gave the chestnut-colored horse a final pat before turning away. The mare had been a present from Ubbe during their first days of marriage but she had never taken to riding on her own. Now the animal just felt like another reminder of a life that was gone forever.

She wrapped her heavy cloak tightly around her shoulders as she exited the barn. The winter was becoming a fierce one and it was the first one she had spent on her own. She and Raul were completely alone and it filled her with a solemn ache but at the same time the thought of being around people was unthinkable. And so, despite her plans, she had stayed in Kattegat, locked away in her own solitude.

Lost in her thoughts, Brenna didn’t see the gnarled tree root barely protruding from the deep snow and the toe of her boot collided with it painfully, sending her tumbling forward with a yelp.

Anger boiled under Brenna’s skin as she clutched her throbbing foot. The hurt seemed all the more unjustified as her eyes stung with unspilled tears. Why did she deserve this? Hadn’t she felt enough pain by now?

“Curse you Odin!” She shouted abruptly as she slammed her palm in the snow. “Curse you for taking my husband to Valhalla!”

Her voice broke into a quiet sob as her hot tears began to flow freely. “He belonged to me. He was mine.”

“Brenna?”

Brenna jerked her head up to see Hvitserk standing just outside the tree line, his bow slung over his shoulders. His thick brows were knit together in concern as he began to walk towards her but halted when she let out a harsh laugh.

“Here to save me again, Hvitserk?” Brenna’s words fell off her tongue bitterly as she looked down to her lap. “Haven’t you gotten tired of taking care of me yet? I know I am tired of being pitied.”

She was also tired of crying. Tired of her emotions being so volatile that she scared even herself.

“I am not here because I pity you,” Hvitserk sighed before approaching Brenna again, more confident in his movements now. He crouched down to her level, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I am here because I care for you.”

Brenna didn’t respond for a moment, only looked back to her hands as a flustered blush crept across her neck. “You left that morning. Without a word,” she finally spoke in a quiet tone.

“Yes.”

“Why?” She snapped back, a fierceness in her gaze that Hvitserk was beginning to be familiar with.

“So I wouldn’t have to hear you tell me to leave.”

Hvitserk slowly stood, offering his hand to Brenna who quietly accepted it.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, not yet pulling her own hand away from his forearm.

He let out a chuckle and Brenna could hear no bitterness in it. “Don’t be. Now go inside before you catch a sickness.”

“Don’t leave,” she blurted out before she could think twice. “I know Raul would be happy to see you. He’s sleeping now but I need to wake him.”

Hvitserk gave a small, almost shy smile that made Brenna’s heart beat faster against her will. “Okay.”

The short walk to her front door was silent, punctuated only by Hvitserk gently guiding her across the threshold with his palm on her lower back. The house was warm with the lit fire and Hvitserk could make out Raul’s sleeping form through another doorway.

“How is he doing?” Hvitserk asked, breaking the quiet.

“Good,” Brenna nodded as she turned to nurse the crackling fire. “He’s asked about you.”

The middle Ragnarsson couldn’t hide his small, proud smile at her words. “Was his fur too long?”

“No, it is perfect for him. You really shouldn’t have...and the dress..”

Hvitserk cleared his throat almost awkwardly, looking sheepish. “I only intended on making sure you had enough for the winter. But I couldn’t resist...I know I probably shouldn’t have...”

Brenna placed her hand lightly on his cheek, surprising them both. “Thank you.”

They were completely still for one long moment, Hvitserk standing still and careful, as if worried he might spook a wild animal. Finally, throwing all caution to the wind, he relaxed and leaned into her touch, placing his hand over her smaller one.

“Do you regret it?”

There was no need to pretend as if she didn’t know what he was referring to. Brenna held his gaze and whispered back, “No.”

The two leaned towards each other at the same time, their lips coming together softly and peacefully, so different than their first kiss. Hvitserk lifted his hand from hers and placed both palms on either side of her face, cradling her to him. Brenna did the same, her touch as gentle and sweet as his.

After a long stretch, she pulled away, an apology in her eyes. “I’m broken, Hvitserk.”

His eyes squinted in understanding and sympathy. “But you will heal,” he comforted.

“Will I? I pledged my soul to him, Hvitserk. And every time you touch me...and I forget him for a moment...it feels like a betrayal. My very happiness feels like a betrayal to his memory.”

Hvitserk smoothed a few wild hairs from her face as his eyes left her, his gaze going distant as he tried to find his own words. “Don’t you think Ubbe would want you to be happy?” he mused to himself. “You are young. This isn’t the end of your life. You deserve to find happiness and...”

“Hvitserk...”

He kept speaking, ignoring her weak protest and looking back at her with fresh determination in his eyes. “Raul needs you to be happy. You will always mourn Ubbe, as will I. But you can still have a life. I know you were my brother’s wife. And I know what some people will say. But I would do everything to make you happy. Everything.”

A question hung between them as they still held each other, Brenna’s lips parted slightly while she stared up at him in surprise. “You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart. You-”

“I want you,” Hvitserk interjected, his tone a little more forceful. “I want you in any way you can give yourself to me. And if you can give nothing to me then I will ask nothing from you.”

Before Brenna could respond, soft hurried footsteps thudded on the floor as an awakened Raul came running towards them.

“Verk! Verk!” the small boy collied into Hvitserk’s legs. He was scooped up into his uncle’s arms with a laugh as Hvitserk balanced him against his chest. The tot clutched at him, babbling his question. “Why go?”

Hvitserk smiled at the blonde boy, still the spitting image of his own older brother. “Ah, just slaying dragons and hunting monsters,” he spoke theatrically. “But I had to come for a little bit and make sure you were taking care of your mother.”

“Don’t go ‘gain,” Raul whined as he buried his face into Hvitserk’s neck.

Hvitserk’s mouth twitched, not sure what to say as his nephew held him tightly. “I-”

“Don’t worry, love” Brenna stepped closer to stroke her son’s hair, her other hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. “Uncle is going to stay with us.”

Surprised, Hvitserk looked down to her, vulnerability in her face as she looked back up at him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close into his other side.

“Yes. I’m staying here with you.”

***

The warden had led Ubbe into a lavishly decorated room, tapestries and ornaments covered the cold stone walls. It was obvious he was in a great castle.

And yet it still stinks of shit, Ubbe thought to himself.

His shackles remained on his wrists and ankles but he had been left with a goblet of fine wine and had been instructed to sit and wait. And so he waited.

Finally, the thick double doors were thrown open by two more armored guards and in walked a smaller man wearing a crown, his graying hair falling around his shoulders.

“Ragnar?” the man breathed, his blue eyes widening in surprise as he surveyed a confused Ubbe. “But no, it can’t be.”

Ubbe rose to his feet, ignoring the guards that barreled in front of the king. “I am Ubbe, eldest son of Ragnar Lothbrok and Aslaug, Prince of Kattegat, he sneered proudly.

A smile crept across the elder man’s face as he waved at his guards to lower their swords. “Of course you are.”

@ceridwenofwales @laketaj24 @whenimaunicorn @courtrae89 @akamaiden @honestsycrets @tephi101 @equalstrashflavoredtrash @captstefanbrandt @ivarsshieldmadien @ragnarswhore @nocturneinaminor @therealcalicali @the-arctic-violet @hallowed-heathen @hizz-hizz-mothertruckerz @anarchy-is-coming @greennightspider @imagines-for-the-unpopular @writingfromasgard @tierneygonzalez @thisisabigmaze @pokeasleepingsmaug @triumphantreturnofpies @lisinfleur @naaladareia @starrmoondaisy @alicedopey @givemesmutorgivemedeath @lif3snotouttogetyou @ivarslittlebadgirl @xbergiex @cringemylife @guijh103 @therainebeforesunshine

#vikings #ubbe #hvitserk #fanfiction #gone away

58 notes · View notes

unfallen-angel · 6 years

Text

Loki’s Pain

I’m so sorry this took me this long to get up. I’m getting married on Sunday and have been dealing with all the last minute wedding dramas and details! Please don’t hate me too much. I hope you guys like it. Tag list is open. I’m also overwhelmed by the responses. When I wrote the original piece I didn’t expect it to turn into this! Thank you all.

WC: 3k

*** Loki ***

“Have I made you proud, father?” Loki hisses and pulls against the restraints on his wrists. Odin looks down at him from his throne, a deep frown on his face. Loki’s stomach churns with anger as he looks around the room at all the familiar faces staring down at him from their seats of judgement and power. “I did it all for you,” he sneers venomously.

“Enough, Loki. Stop this foolish game. You are no more than a child. You are not fit to rule anything. You will be punished for your crimes after you stand trial. Until then, you will be kept in the dungeons, like the criminal you are.” Odin’s voice rings out, full of power and authority. The room was silent. No one dared utter a sound after Odin’s decision.

Loki’s eyes dart desperately from Freya to Thor, his mind spinning as his thoughts land on you. How could he get back to you if he was imprisoned on Asgard? Thor shook his head, his eyes flashing with realization. The guards yank Loki forward as they start to walk toward the stairwell to the dungeon. “I’ll see you soon, father,” he sneers the word through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing in the dim firelight. His heart beat uncontrollably fast as the guards toss him into the cell and the door seals itself shut. He lands unceremoniously on his hands and knees. His chest clenches painfully as Loki pictures your face in his mind and realizes that it might be the last memory of you he has.

Movement to the right catches his attention. “Yes, brother?” He asks sweetly, not looking up from his clenched fists.

“I will talk to father. He will work something out to you can get back to y/n. He will understand I’m sure once we explain things to him - “

“Enough, you babbling imbecile, he will not understand. He isn’t my father and he doesn’t care about my happiness,” Loki snaps quietly. “I will await my punishment here. The girl is the least of my concerns right now.” That was a lie, and both he and Thor knew it.

“Maybe father will let her come here to Asgard…” Thor muses to himself as he paces along the glass wall of the dimly lit cell.

“Surely you must be joking. Father would never allow it. Could you see a Midgardian living happily here? No, I didn’t think so. She’ll stay on earth where she belongs and I will remain here...where I belong.” Loki tries to hide the bitterness in his voice, but does a poor job. “Leave me, brother. Go celebrate your victory with the rest of them.” He waves his hand at Thor, still not looking up from where he’s kneeling beside his cot.

“I will not let you brush young y/n aside like she is some harlet. You at least owe her an explanation,” Thor snaps, his fist pounding heavily on the glass.

Loki rolls his eyes and sighs. “Yes, brother, you shall ever be the valiant hero. Now leave,” Loki says again and rises to his feet. His back to Thor but his shoulders tense. Thor turns and strides away without another word. Loki heaves a heavy sigh and sinks back to his knees, his legs shaking and his throat so tight he fears that soon he won’t be able to breath. “y/n,” he whispers softly and closes his eyes once more, willing the image of your smile to resurface.

*** You ***

“It’s been three months. Is your apartment ever going to be ready? The entire floor smells like musty dog,” Tony complains and waves a piece of toast around for emphasis.

“It was 26 story apartment building. They can’t just rebuild those things in a few months. They had to clear everything away first. As soon as it’s done we’ll be out of your hair,” you mutter and drop your forehead to the table.

Nat, Tony, Clint, and Bucky were sitting with you at the table in the kitchen and Tony was standing in front of the toaster, making breakfast. “I don’t smell anything,” Nat says nonchalantly and pops a strawberry into her mouth.

“My dog does not stink, okay? And my dog is very well behaved. No one else is complaining, Tony!” You nearly shout and push away from the table. “I’m not hungry anyway. I’ll see you guys later. I’m going to the gym.” You clench your fists at your sides and nearly sprint to the training room, itching to punch something. It had been three months since you said goodbye to Thor and Loki. Three months since you had heard Loki’s voice. Three whole months since he had given you that mind-numbing kiss.

The hole in your stomach rears its ugly head and your knees almost give out as the pain threats to overwhelm you. Your fingertips tingle with the sudden urge to punch something as tears slide unbidden down your face. “Damn you, Loki,” you whisper softly and sit heavily on the bench against the wall. Taking a deep breath, you try to steady yourself and push the pain and anger back down, far away from your conscious thought.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” a voice from beside you says softly. You look up, startled, and meet Wanda’s kind eyes. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she says and takes your hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze.

You smile gratefully and squeeze her fingers back weakly. “I know. I know. Time passes differently there. I’m sure he’s busy with all sorts of royal duties. I just…” your voice dies and you shake your head, fighting another wave of tears. “I don’t know why I miss him so much. I only met him the one day. I feel so silly,” you let out a shaky laugh and wipe the tears from your eyes.

“When you find your soulmate it doesn’t matter if you’ve known them for five minutes or five decades. Your soul just recognizes them and that’s that,” Wanda explains with a shrug. “Don’t feel silly.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it… I think… I just need to release some frustration.” You stand, eyeing the hanging bag with a purpose. “I’m going to go punch some things now. I’ll see you around?” She nods and leaves the room without another word. Without even bothering to wrap your hands, you start on the bag. Throwing punch after punch and kick after kick, ignoring the sharp pains shooting up your forearms. With each impact you release a loud grunt and swing harder.

“What did that bag ever do to you?” Steve calls from the doorway. You swing one more round house to the bag and then turn to look at him, panting heavily. “I think you’ve killed it.” He points to a ripped seam where sand is slowly starting to leak out.

Your eyes dart from Steve, who is dressed in a tight white t-shirt and jeans, to the long, blonde haired man in the metal armor beside him. “Thor?” you breath out and brush your sweaty hair from your forehead. “Are you alone?” you ask quietly, already knowing the answer deep down.

“Loki is back on Asgard,” Thor confirms quietly. His eyes fall to the bruises already blossoming on your swollen knuckles. “Do you always train this hard?” You shake your head but say nothing, trying to wrap your mind around why Thor would be here and Loki would not be. “We have much to discuss, y/n.”

“Come on, y/n, we can talk in the conference room. Thor has some news from Asgard that we all need to here. Everyone else is already there.”

“I need to feed Fenrir. I haven’t done that this morning and I’m sure he’s starving,” you mutter and blot your face with a white, cotton towel.

“Fenrir?” Thor asks cautiously and raises a blond eyebrow.

“My dog,” you explain with a smile, realizing how that must sound to him. “I minored in Norse mythology in college. You could say I love the Norse myths. Fenrir was always one of my favorites.”

“Of course but there’s no time for that,” Thor mutters, a confused look crosses his face as he follows Steve up the stairs and into the room full of Avengers. “Hello!” he greets everyone enthusiastically. “I’ve news from Asgard!” His deep voice echoes off the walls.

“Yes, Shakespeare, we got that. What is it?” Tony asks and drums his fingers against the wooden conference table. You roll your eyes and sit down beside Nat and Wanda.

“Odin is weak and will not be able to handle the throne much longer. The burden will be passed to me. We have had an attack on the palace from dark elves and my mother is dead,” Thor says solemnly, his voice cracking on the last word. “My father is distraught. We fought them off and defeated them, but we lost many good warriors.”

Your heart stops at his words and all you can imagine is Loki lying lifeless on the battlefield. Your mouth opens, but your brain cannot find the words to speak. Nat gives your arm a gentle squeeze.

“We’re sorry to hear about your mother, Thor,” Steve says and pats the Asgardian on the back. “What is it that you need from us?” He urges gently.

Thor nods and looks at you firmly. “I need y/n.”

“Me?” You yelp and lean back in your rolling chair, nearly toppling backward in the process.

“Yes. Loki… He is not himself. I fear he has lost the will to survive any longer,” Thor explains quietly, his voice full of urgency. “I fear that he will do something rash… and stupid… and possibly get himself killed in the process.”

“But why do you need y/n? Loki hasn’t even tried to contact her. As far as we’re concerned, he should stay on Asgard where he is. Maybe then we can all get some peace,” Tony mutters and folds his arms across his chest. Your cheeks heat up because you know he’s referring to your crying at night.

“My father imprisoned Loki as soon as we arrived in Asgard. He’s been in the dungeons and heavily guarded. There would have been no way for him to contact anyone,” Thor explained, as if that was a reasonable reason.

“You could have contacted us,” you say quietly, not looking up at Thor and picking at a chipped piece of wood on the edge of the table.

“He never asked,” Thor stated simply with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Your mouth went dry and you felt your chest tighten in anger again. “Of course he wouldn’t ask. Why bother? Why extend the effort. I’m only a stupid Midgardian girl,” you spat and pushed your chair roughly away from the table. “I’m not going anywhere that I’m not wanted.” And with that you turn and stomp out of the room, leaving them gaping after you.

“Stupid Asgardians. Stupid Loki. Stupid Thor. Stupid me. Stupid…. Ugh Stupid stupid stupid,” you mutter under your breath as you stomp up the stairs to your apartment. You couldn’t tell if you felt sick because of the anger or because of the heartache that was threatening to stop your heart from beating altogether. “Why am I so stupid.” Fenrir jumps from his bed as soon as you open the door and greets you with a happy wag and a head tilt. “Hey, Fen,” you whisper and drop to your knees in the living room floor, letting the dog sniff around your face and neck. He sniffed and licked, searching for a wound or the cause of your anxiety. “I’m fine,” you assure him with a gentle scratch behind his big ears.

“Y/n,” Thor says quietly, his head barely peeking through the doorway.

You jump and Fenrir growls viciously, baring his teeth and licking his lips. “Down,” you say sternly and the dog sits, expression blank, and stares directly at Thor as he enters the room. “I didn’t hear you come in. You scared him,” you whisper and keep a firm hand on Fenrir’s collar. “What do you want?”

Thor sighs and holds out his hands in surrender. “I just thought that if Loki were to see you. He might rethink whatever he is plotting. I don’t want another repeat of what’s already happened here,” Thor says quietly and runs his fingers through his long hair. He pauses and looks distracted.

You take a moment to look at him, really look at his face. He looks battle worn and weary, like he’s fought many wars and only won a few. The corners of his eyes are wrinkled from laughing, and his brow is creased as if he’s spent many nights worrying over something. “Alright. I’ll go talk to him. But then I want you to take me home. I don’t think I could bare to stay up there any longer than I need to,” you whisper breathlessly and hug Fenrir’s neck. “Nat will take care of you while I’m gone.”

You pull out your cell phone and type a quick explanation to Nat and instructions for Fenrir. “I’ll be back soon,” you promise your companion and follow Thor out of the apartment. “Lead the way, point break,” you smirk as Thor’s shoulders tense at the nickname, but he doesn’t speak as he leads you out of the tower and into the street.

“You must hold onto me, and remember, don’t let go for any reason.”

“What happens if I let go?” you ask weakly, unsure if you want to know the answer.

“You’ll be hurtled through space and ripped to pieces,” he says simple and wraps his arm around your waist. You gulp and grip his body with both hands as he lifts his hammer into the air. You hear a loud hum and then a flash of light surrounds you, nearly blinding you. You close your eyes tightly and exhale as the feeling of being squeezed through a small pipe overtakes your body, and then, you feel nothing. Not even Thor’s arm around you. “Y/n?” Thor’s voice floats to your ears. “You can open your eyes now.”

Blinking rapidly, you look around and take in the never-ending rainbow bridge just outside the door of the round, golden building you are standing in. “Wow,” you whisper and look over your shoulder at the galaxy and all the stars stretching endlessly behind you. “This is your home?”

“This is the gateway to my home. The palace is there,” he says proudly and points his hammer toward a large, golden building reaching toward the sky in the distance. “Come. There’s no time to waste here. You can have a tour later.” He wraps his arm around you again and starts to spin his hammer. “It’s faster than walking,” he explains when you start to protest.

“Fine. Let’s go,” you mutter and try not to look like a sullen child as his hammer pulls the two of you off the ground and through the air. Your eyes stung and your hair whipped around wildly as you sailed through the sky. “ Oh my god,” you mutter breathlessly when you stop at the palace doors and Thor sets you on your feet. You take an unsteady step forward.

“I’ll take you to Loki before anyone sees you. If my father sees us you will never be permitted to the dungeons,” Thor explains quietly and pulls you down and narrow set of stairs that were hidden from sight by a large statue. “Secret passages,” he mutters and raises his eyebrow mischievously.

“Oh geez,” you mutter at his cheesy sense of humor and try to calm your nerves at the thought of being this close to Loki. Your eyes take a few moments to adjust to the firelight on either side of the narrow corridor. Tracing your fingertips along the cool stone walls, you imagine what it would be like to grow up here like this. Away from earth and all the technology. It seems simpler here.

“Stay behind me. Don’t make a sound,” Thor instructs quickly before stepping out into the open space of the dungeon. You follow quickly behind him, stepping where he steps and trying not to look around at the prisoners. Your eyes dart rapidly from cell to cell and your heart races as some of the creatures take an interest in you. Thor stops suddenly and you run into his back with a quiet ‘oof’.

“Hello, brother,” Loki’s voice is like velvet, soft but with a cutting edge. “To what do I owe this unwelcome visit?” The blood in your veins freezes at the sound of his voice and your breath catches in your throat as you try not to utter the sob of anger and pain that is threatening to explode inside of you.

“I know you are plotting something, Loki, and I’ve come to talk you out of it,” Thor states firmly and folds his arms across his chest.

“Are you?” Loki chuckles. “And what makes you think I’ll listen to anything that you say?”

“Oh I don’t think you’ll listen to me,” he pauses and steps to the side suddenly so that you are in full view of the cell. “But you will listen to her.”

Your eyes rake over Loki’s body, taking in how thin he looks and how unkept and long his hair has gotten. The cell is large and bright with nothing but a table with a lamp and a book and a bed in the far corner. You watch as the color drains from Loki’s face and pain flickers in his eyes. He drops to his knees as if he couldn’t find the strength to keep standing and reaches his hand out to you. His fingertips gently brush the glass wall as a tear slides down his cheek. Your chest constricts at the sight of Loki’s pain.

Without thinking, your legs are carrying you forward. You fall to your knees in front of him and touch your fingers to where his are pressed against the glass. Your heart is beating so hard you fear that it might beat out of your chest as you stare at the man before you. “Hello, Loki,” you whisper softly. In the corner of your eye you can see Thor’s reflection in the glass. He’s smiling.

TAGLIST: @mirtaqueen @markusstraya @jessiejunebug

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #thor #avengers #attack on nyc #norse mythology #asgard #midgard

88 notes · View notes

laketaj24 · 6 years

Text

Queens of Odins Eye: Ch 45

Taglist: This is a collab fic with the lovely ladies: @grungyblonde @courtrae89 and @imgoldielikehawn

I keep jumping clutching my stomach. Someone is in this damn house. Jax shakes his head looking out for the cops. “Kia…”

“Jax, you’re helping me! Stop bitching out. I should have brought Hap.” I step on the stone and can see a little more of the house but not enough. I know I can get in this fucking window. I look at my baby bump. I was growing like a fucking inhuman monster. What kind of beast was this in me? Fucking Ivar. This baby was going to come out threatening people and calling me annoying. “give me a boost.”

“No.”

“jax! You’re strong, one boost.”

He growls setting down his phone. “You’re fucking insane.” He lifts me, and I can see a hand. Either they killed each other, or some freaky shit was going on.

I wiggle down feeling his abs and smiling at him. He blushes turning away from me. “Let me pick the lock.”

“Pick the lock, Kia!” He follows me to the front door.

“Look, no one has heard from him in a few days.” I say to Jax. “If you want me to come with you to get them damn dogs you’ll shut it and hold these cookies while I’ll pick this lock.” I give Jax the plate of chocolate chip cookies and take out my kit. He gives me a strange look. “What! He won’t open the door.”

“He doesn’t want to be bothered.” Jax whispers to me. “Sweetheart you really need to learn how to stay out of other people’s business. You’re the prez’s old lady now.”

“Hey, Jax. Shut the fuck up.” I say listening to the lock. “When the hell did they upgrade the locks?” Finally, I hear it click and the door opens and I take the cookies back. The place is a perpetual mess, pictures of them as a couple thrown on the floor. “Kim need to clean this damn place. She know damn well this is nasty.”

Jax has his hand on his gun sifting his foot through the trash. “Hey is someone in here?”

I walk to the back hoping that Kimmie would peak her head out and we would leave but she doesn’t appear. The bedroom door is open so I walk in and I see, he’s face down in the carpet with his hair sprawled everywhere and eyes half open. “Hvit!”

“Kia, do you ever fucking knock.” He groans standing up. “Why is he here?”

“dude you smell like shit.” Jax says rolling his eyes.

“Hvitserk.” I sit on the bed hesitantly noticing the condom wrappers and the women’s panties that were for sure not Kim’s that bitch was basic. “Where’s Kim?”

“Ask your ex-husband.” He laughs. “Kia, you like literally never stopped being my sister in law.” He laughs standing up.

“What about Ubbe?”

“He picked her up at the airport, probably fucked her because he can’t keep it in his pants.”

Tell me something I don’t know Hvit. “Okay, why was she at the airport?”

“Because your husband planted these fucking photos. I know it was him.” He tossed the images of Hvitserk doing what he does, the women sprawled out and the fucking devious smile that turned me on but apparently scared the shit out of Kim. “Ivar didn’t do this. He wouldn’t be that cruel. You’re out. Why break you two up?”

“Because you married a psychopath? You don’t really have a type do you?” He asks.

“Look, drunk or not, you talk shit again I’m whipping you with this pistol.” I say throwing the bar of soap at him. He catches it. “come to the fair with us tonight. Everyone loves you member or not.”

“Kia,” Jax warns. “You’re overstepping.”

“Look sexy, stand your pretty ass over there and shut up. We about to leave. Why are you all in this?” I ask holding my hands up.

“I lifted your pregnant ass to the window Kia,” Jax’s jaw clenches. “You know what, we’re done here.” He starts walking over to me and I can’t stand as fast as I used to. He scoops me up from the bed. “We’re going to get these damn dogs. Hvitserk man, have some pride. Get dressed. Kia, I’m telling Ivar you attempted to climb in a window.”

“You damn snitch.” I growl.

Ivar was mad. His eyes glaring at me like I done something wrong. Hvitserk needed cookies and a friend. He slams his hands down on the counter in attempt to get my attention.

“Ivar.” I look up from my Parenting Book. “Slam something else.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, I don’t have to tell you everything. Ivar, it was my business.”

“No.” He points at me. “Our marriage is not yours and Ubbe’s. We don’t keep secrets. We tell each other everything! What’d we say?”

“Stop yelling at me!” I yell back. “I’m tired of it.” My voice cracks. “The way you yelled at me in front of everyone else, snapped at me, that’s not us either. You let the patch go to your head with everyone but me. I’m not them! I’m Kia. I’m your wife.”

“That keeps fucking secrets!”

I hated to sound like those women who used pregnancy as an excuse, but as soon as this baby drops from me, I’m fighting him. I glare at him and he glares back. Everyone was against me. “Uri!! Come on! We have to go!”

“you’re waiting for me, we have to meet Gemma at the damn bake sale part and deliver all these cookies. I am not delivering these cookies myself.”

“You’re not my dad Ivar, I will go whenever the hell I want to.”

“Oh,” he raises an eyebrow to me. “I’m not your daddy?” Damn freak.

Uri appears down stairs in his Pajamas, holding the game controller. There was no way in Hel he was leaving. “Mom, I’m winning the game.”

“Uri go get your shoes and stuff on big boy. We have to leave.” Ivar dismisses him and walks around the counter. Instinctively I back away from him and he takes my hand in his hand. “I need you stop acting like you’re not six months pregnant okay?”

Uri’s little fists hit Ivar and he pushes him away bravely stepping in front of me. “You watch it or my daddy will hit you again.” He warns with a little glare in his eye that resembled Ubbe but that threat fucking screamed Ivar, what a mess.

Ivar cracks a smile. “I would never hurt your mom, I love her.”

“I’m watching you.” He says leaving.

“You keep messing with me and Uri will fuck you up.” I laugh and Ivar joins.

“Obviously.” He grins. “But seriously Kia. If I here about your spastic ass climbing in windows and picking locks again I will lock you in the house. You can’t keep waddling around here doing things that are a danger to you and the baby.”

“Who the fuck waddles!” I yell.

“Don’t even act as if you don’t waddle. It takes you fucking ten minutes to get off the couch.”

My mouth drops. “You take that shit back, or you will love the couch because it’ll be your fucking bed.”

“Oh, I’m not sleeping on that damn couch. But you do waddle.” He kisses my cheek. “Grab some cookies so we can go.”

The fair is small full of bikers and their women. Looked like a damn double event. Uri ran around the fair like the small demon he was picking with Jax and his two kids. While Ivar kept an eye out on me like I was about to start scaling walls or something.

Court and Rollo were kin of making me sick, kissing each other nonstop then he swung her over on his back walking towards us. “The other newlyweds.” Rollo chides smiling. “Kia, you’re large.”

“You big as hell too Rollo.”

Ivar laughs. “What’s up Court?”

“It’s done.” She beamed.

“What’s done?”

“Nothing Kia?”

“Nah! We don’t keep secrets, we’re not me and Ubbe remember?” I stare at Ivar and he grins. “You bitch.” I say trying not to smile. “I can’t stand you.” My eyes well as they always do here lately and eh shakes his head.

“don’t cry.”

“No, you think it’s funny.” I start, my sobs hiccupping and Ivar hugs me then I feel my arm being pulled.

Court shakes me. “You need to get your fucking backbone back and quit all this fucking crying!” She yells and I stand shocked. “Your over emotional ass is annoying as fuck. “why do you think we don’t take you places anymore?”

Ivar’s eyes are huge. “Damn court.”

“She’s being honest, cut that out.” Rollo adds.

I stand quietly wanting to slap Court but Rollo scares me.

“Gemma has Uri with Abel and Thomas… you wanna get on the Ferris Wheel?”

“I don’t know her.” I scoff at him.

“Come on.” He smiles.

“Fine.”

We get on the ride and I can see Uri tackling Abel. Good boy. Then I see Brii with her two new puppies. It was the girliest I had ever seen her look holding them and kissing Jax. “When are you going to let me know what we are having?” Ivar asks.

“It’s a girl.” I say. “but I think she’s half demon because she keeps punching my damn ribs.”

“Yes a little Ivanna.”

“You have lost your whole fucking mind if you think I’m naming this baby after you.”

“Ivory?” He kisses my cheek.

“Ivar, shut up.”

“Iya?” Another peck on the lips.

“Shut up.” I laugh.

“Isla?”

“I like that one.”

“Isla Lothbrok.” He pauses. “She’s gonna be a diva.”

“Of course?” I watch across the way, Ubbe wrapping his arms around Kim, then kisses her cheek. That damn bitch.

The ride ends and walk across the fair making my way to her. Ubbe stares at me with a small hint of terror. “Kim!” I call.

“Hey! I was about to call you!” She beams untangling her hand from his, “Want to go shoot darts?”

I don’t think, my hand connects with her face. There was a code you know. “Kia!” Ubbe says shocked to see me slap her. He doesn’t touch me because there were plenty times I scratched up his face. I had crazy tendencies. Apologies.

Kim’s mouth drops. “We’re just friends.”

I try to run at her and she flinches a little. Ivar lifts me from the ground. “You are fucking pregnant!” he growls as I try to break free. “Apologize!” He yells. “You don’t think she’s been through enough?”

“I’m not apologizing to her ass!!” I turn to leave and I hear Ivar apologize.

“Look at you waddling away!” He chides. “You’re going to apologize!”

“Ubbe,” I turn. “I’m gone fuck you up too.”

Taglist: @ivarsshieldmadien @equalstrashflavoredtrash @whenimaunicorn@titty-teetee @sparklemichele @naaladareia @captstefanbrandt@therealcalicali @cinnabearice @readsalot73 @soaimagines @hallowed-heathen

#vikings soa au #soa #ubbe #ivar #laketa j writes #collab fic #queensofodinseye

31 notes · View notes

your-highnessmarvel · 6 years

Text

California ~part two

Summary: She had always wanted a future of power and fulfillment. She’d always imagined she would be a woman of conviction, a woman to choose how her life would lay ahead of her. Yet sometimes, things are arranged for you, and there is nothing to be done but to go gentle into the night.

A/N: Sorry this is late. I am currently handling the roughest cold I’ve ever had. I hope you enjoy this bit. Establishing more characterization and plot foreshadowing. Feedback is always appreciated! I promise there will be more smut and nasty things to come.

Parings: Loki x OC, mentions of Thor x Sif

Word count: 3643

Warnings: language (LATER IN THIS STORY, IT WILL BECOME DUBCON/NONCON. If it is not your thing, I will label those chapters accordingly and you can skip them)

TAG LIST IS OPEN

There was no point in arguing; she would be married off to Prince Loki of Asgard. No matter how many times she yelled at the top of her lungs, crying out in shame and anger, her parents shut her out like a switch. Cali felt betrayed to the point of no return. Her own parents had signed a contract marriage without her consent; without ever consulting her. It was as if she was too clueless and naïve to understand the cogs and machinery behind an arranged marriage. They were treating her like a child, like a stupid girl.

Tonight had been reserved for dinner with the royal family and yours. It was a façade for the under works of the machine again. It was a mocking picture; Cali and Loki sharing a fancy dinner that is supposed to be their first official royal appearance together. Yet underneath all those white-toothed smiles and waving, there are contracts being signed and conditions being met and discussed.

Handmaidens had brought in a dark green silky gown that reached way beyond Cali’s ankles. Meddled into the green were grey undertones, making the gown look like a tormented sea of emerald and smoke. The brunette let out a disgusted grunt when she noticed how the cleavage left way less to the imagination than it should. Her wavy locks tumbled over her shoulders, framing a pale face and a saddened smile. Her eyes bore the deception she felt, veins red with exhaustion, her lazy orbs proof of her sleepless nights.

“Almost ready, Cali?” Rona, her mother, appeared behind Cali in the reflection in the mirror. There they were, mother and daughter, standing one behind the other. The mother with the expecting and glorifying smile, wishing that her daughter would just see that everything she’d ever done was in her baby girl’s interest. Yet Cali wore an angry turn on her brows and a sad twist on her lip.

Cali rose a brow and grasped her clutch bag, turning to face her mother with a sigh. “Sure,” she huffed. “I’m ready to live a life that’s not mine.”

“I know this isn’t completely what you wanted,” Rona muttered, her eyes vicious, yet she was holding back venom in her words. “But you agreed to-“

“I only agreed to this horrible wedding arrangement because you forced me to,” Cali interrupted, pointing at her mother accusingly. Then the brunette brushed by her mother, angry footfalls echoing in the hall as she made her way down the stairs and out into the chilly air.

Her father was waiting by the door of the chariot, holding it open with a bashful smile. Cali strode down the stairs, hating the fake and unresentful smile on her father’s face. “You look…” he trailed off, looking at his daughter with a sour look on his darkened features.

“Ridiculous?” Cali suggested as she came to the final step. “Outrageous? Maybe you’re going to want to try slutty?” Cali climbed into the chariot, giving a hard and snarky look to her father.

“Don’t be like this, Cali,” he muttered, climbing in beside his daughter. Soon after, the chariot rocked with the weight of Rona climbing in as well, making her feelings acutely felt by sighing heavily with each bump.

The horse pulled through the town, carrying one jolly unhappy family.

The castle had been arranged to appear welcoming and warm, but as the trio climbed out of the chariot, Cali got a wrong feeling within her tummy. There were chandeliers seen from outside and handmaidens waiting to take her into the jaws of the castle. Glittering lights danced off the echoing colors of Cali’s dress, making the waves of crashing grey seem darker. The main hall was illuminated and cozy, everyone who was curious enough to gather around was smiling at Cali, pointing at the future princess.

“Welcome friends!” Thor boomed as he entered the hall, arms outstretched and a goofy, playful grin on his lips. “Cali, darling, always a pleasure.” He gave the brunette a sloppy curtsey that made her chuckle slightly.

“Thor,” Rona purred. “How lovely of you to greet us.” Cali could feel the bile rising in her throat at the tone her mother was using.

“Please, follow me into the dinning hall,” Thor announced, gesturing elegantly towards the end of the main hall. Ragnar and Rona were quick to take the lead, leaving Cali to walk behind with Thor on her heels.

“My lady,” the latter whispered. “My lady, please, a word?” His hand wrapped around the brunette’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

“Is there a problem?” she asked bitterly. The events of the past days and the emotions she had been feeling were making her pungent.

Thor leaned in slightly, so he could lower his tone, leaving Cali’s parents in the dark of what was being exchanged. “My brother is in a foul state tonight,” he whispered. “I would advise you be careful of the words you use around him.”

Although Cali was not one to normally search or entice conflict, the mere idea of irking Loki made the insides of her stomach squirm. “Thank you, Thor, you are kind,” she said, her tone laced with venom, “but I think I can handle myself around angry little boys.” Dramatically, the girl gathered her gown in her right hand and stomped off after her parents.

The dinning hall was illuminated by chandeliers, glittering utensils and cutlery, and the glinting jewelry of everyone gathered. The marble floor reflected the glistening lights, leading to the long table hoisted on an altar at the far end of the hall. The white clothed table was garnished with many plates and wine glasses, yet only Odin and Frigga sat at the table, admiring the little crowd of people amassed.

There came a breathy voice at Cali’s side just as she was spotting her parents greeting the royal couple. “Well you look dashing.” Cali’s skin crawled, goosebumps rising on her flesh in the wake of the husky tone. Her eyes darted to the tall man looming by her side, snuffed out in the shadows, leaning against the wall. A look of mischief and tension bore in his emerald orbs. His lips were pulled in a cunning smile, making his features look almost cruel. Dark locks were swept behind his ears, exposing his pearly white flesh and his long neck.

“Loki,” she greeted, raising her chin, remaining as cold as she could possibly be. He was wearing a dark crimson suit that, in the right light, looked almost black.

His hand extended, gentle fingers twitching. “Shall we?” She knew this is what they had to do, not what they wanted to do. They were expected to stroll through the crowd and smile sweetly, showing off the upcoming allegiance. Cali would have to show herself off both physically and intellectually, while Loki would have to show appreciation and affection; as if he was capable of both anyway.

And that is exactly what they did.

With his hand in hers, the heat of his body radiating into hers, she presented herself to the court with a genuine full-tooth smile and squared shoulders.

She could feel the tension in her partner’s hand. He was gripping her digits painfully, squeezing until her knuckles felt like they were cracking under the skin. Delicacy was not his forte, yet he was making it apparent that she should not and would not disobey or ruin the royal image.

Loki was a man cloaked in darkness. He’d let his demons permanently reside within his soul; giving them an all access pass to his decisions. His eyes held an insidious undertone, as if his entire being was caught between right and wrong, darkness and light, love and hate.

Loki carried her across the room, the heavy stares of her soon-to-be people burdensome on the pair.

He sat her between her mother and himself, squeezing her among two people she held animus feelings for. Green orbs reeked of cruel pleasure; the kind that you get after you’ve made someone suffer.

Cali’s mouth was thick with venomous words as she watched servants lay the appetizers before her. Onion soup and bite-sized snail snacks. The tips of her fingers itched to hit Loki or her mother or even the King for having so little reconnaissance for her feelings.

“You look like you just swallowed a hundred knives, my lady.” His mouth was next to her, lips grazing the shell of her ear. An unpleasant shiver sliced down her spine, an undesirable warmth spreading down her body.

“And you look like it is your name day,” she gritted between clenched teeth. When she turned her hazel gaze upon his pale face, the God was smiling devilishly, looking at her from under his long lashes. She was surprised by how unintimate his lack of preservation was. He was making no effort to hide the fact that he was relishing in her discomfort and her anger towards the arrangement. He was totally and utterly enjoying himself. “This isn’t a game, Loki,” the girl added. “This isn’t some joy ride we can get off of afterwards.”

“But I’m totally enjoying myself.”

How could that be possible? Two days before, he’d been acting like this whole arranged marriage idea was splitting him in half; as if the mere idea of wedding her would bring his dark career to a clambering end.

And now he was smiling, cheeks pink, eyes rotten with pure malice and sadistic joy.

“How can you say that?” she murmured. He ignored her, instead locking eyes with the servant who filled his wine glass. He gave her a quick wink, almost unnoticeable, expect to Cali, who’d been rained to observe such behavior.

Still with his steel gaze locked on the servant, he brought the glass to his lips and bottomed-up. The maid giggled and scurried off, leaving Cali feeling disgusting and ashamed.

She would be married to a womanizer; a man with no care about women but for the sensual pleasures they could bring him. She would be the ridiculed wife. She would be that woman who says nothing about her husband’s nightly adventures with the whole cast of the castle’s handmaidens. As sad as it was for her to admit, she would be judged by what her husband would do; by his horrific, insidious, and sexual desires.

After the appetizers came the lamb, complete with ringolo potatoes and thick stew. Cali pretended to enjoy herself, plastering smiles for everyone, Lords and Ladies, who came to wish the couple fertility and longitude. She had to bite back snarky remarks, resisting the urge to comment on the fact that, no, this marriage was not her idea and yes, any chance she got, she’d end it.

The annoying clinking of silver utensils against glass broke her from her train of thoughts as she was thinking of ways she could manipulate her mother into giving this idea of marriage up. Odin had risen from his chair, the golden eyepatch on his eye reflecting the million of candles hanging from the chandeliers. The Allfather was dressed in an all-gold suit, his breast plate the only silver aspect on his clothing.

“My Lords and Ladies,” he boomed, small smile gracing his lips as he spread his arms. “I invite you to the dance floor, where my sons and their accompanists will lead.” What froze the girl to her seat was not the cold digits of Loki on her knee, but the piercing gaze that she received from Odin as he regained his chair. It was not heart-warming or even insistent. It was torrential and audacious, piercing her, daring her to make one wrong move. He knew she was not pleased, but he was viciously reminding her that she sat beneath him, and that Loki, the prince, was the only thing that gave her importance.

He’d managed to blackmail her, to leave her trembling and following after Loki, with just one fucking eye.

Cali tried not to trip on her heels as she followed Loki, his hand now delicately grazing hers in a show of manners and glamour. Leading her into the center of the dancefloor, he made sure that they were the apex of attention. Anyone could see them. After all, this night had been arranged to show off the couple, to entice the whole high society of Asgard that these were to be the next and first royal couple.

The God of Mischief lay one hand on the small of her back, his skin searing through her dress. Her arm was parallel to his, fingers skimming his shoulders, free hand now caught in his. He was freakishly tall, yet lean and elegant in the way he moved with her to the music. The haunting hum of the violins filled the hall, the low groans of the cello not far behind. In her chest, the music reverberated, her heartbeat lost within the echoes of the notes.

This would have been a wonderful night for a girl not like her. If she’d been more like her mother, more like the rest of the girls in the hall who were fawning over Loki, she would have been utterly content. But she hated it.

“I wonder what your face will look like on our wedding night,” Loki grumbled, making her look up into the swirl of green, moving along with her on the dance floor.

“What?”

“You look like you’re being punished,” he explained, “like dancing with me is so horrifying.”

“I still hope that this whole arranged marriage is a joke,” Cali answered. She didn’t miss how the hand on her back twitched.

“Do you even know why we are being brought within the warm union of husband and wife?” His voice was treacherous. Although he wanted to seem careless and comedic, she could hear the anger and discontent in his tone.

“I assume there is a reason,” she answered, “but I’m afraid I don’t care to hear it.”

“Your father is the officer in charge of the Royal Bank,” Loki said. “But he came from one of the poorest families in Vanaheim. His immigration here is still known, which doesn’t quite make him one of us. As for your mother, oh well, she’s a gem.” Cali could feel her insides boiling by his sarcastic tone. “Rona who started off as a low born daughter of a whorehouse owner. Ran off at the age of sixteen, right into the arms of a Vanaheim immigrant. Now what would that make you?”

“If I had the sense in me right now, Loki, I would slit your throat,” Cali growled, her cheeks blooming with red, anger evident in the dark color of her eyes.

He smiled. “Right in front of the royal court?” he asked sarcastically. “That would only prove my point. You’re a little savage girl born from two big savage parents. But here’s the thing now. Vanaheim and Asgard are on terms of agreement, of peace. After uprisings and wars, we are finally discussing fealty between the two realms. And like every other treaty in history, the deal must be sealed with something permanent. With something that will breed new life.”

Although he was a man of manipulation and lies, Cali couldn’t help but hear the truth beneath his dark tone. “With marriage,” she whispered, eyes round and staring into the void.

Loki huffed. “Your father is now one of the richest Vanaheim immigrants to ever step and live in Asgard. Odin refused every other girl from Vanaheim, even some of the wealthiest and well-respected girls. Odin is smart. He knows he could never fully trust them, so he chooses the only person for whom he has the tiniest of trust in.”

“My father,” she says, snapping her eyes back to his, seeing the malice.

“He’s wealthy and he’s assimilated into the Asgardian way of life.” Loki’s hand on hers squeezed as he spun her around, the rhythm of the violins picking up. “He’s the perfect match. Vanaheim rulers accepted the deal; that you, the only daughter of Ragnar and Rona, marry into the royal family. This appeased them and sealed the treaty.”

Her brow creased, the hand on his shoulder slipping. “But why marry you?” she asked, her tone, for once, not at all angry. “If Vanaheim wanted to seal the treaty, why give me to you and not the future king?”

“Thor?” Loki shook his head. “Because Thor has Sif, and Thor get’s whatever he wants. The population of Asgard would go mad if those two did not wed.” He was being dismissive, but the brunette that was now completely enveloped in his arms could see that he was truly affected by the whole ordeal.

“So I’m just a tool,” Cali said. “I’m just a means to an end.” Loki’s hands fell away from her as he became utterly still. His eyes bore into hers, like he was searching for any sense in what she’d just said.

“Typical of you to only think of yourself.” He spun on his heel, pushing through the crowd of dancing people, swallowed by the mass.

Cali, despite herself, found her feet moving to follow the dark prince. She didn’t know why, but she was then pushing through the same people, muttering excuses, trying to find Loki. Following him to the outskirts of the dancefloor, she found him stomping out into the hall, his back tensed, hands clenched.

She wanted to hit herself as she followed him, banging the door shut behind him, the sound echoing in the darkness of the hall.

“Loki!” She called after him, making him freeze, his back to her. His head slowly turned, revealing the slender profile of his intricate face; long, straight nose, thin lips, round chin, and Adam’s apple.

“You think you’re the only one who’s displeased by this whole thing?” he asked, and she could tell by his tone that he was fighting to stay calm.

“Since the beginning of this night, you’ve been acting like this is a joke,” she said. “You haven’t treated it or me with seriousness.”

He turned to face her, green gems shining with anger and betrayal. “My own father and mother sealed my faith with a girl that I don’t even like, without ever considering me. They conspired behind my back.” He was taking dangerous steps towards her, lips tight with every word that left his mouth. “They gave me no choice. It was you or the cold desserts of Jottunheim.”

She’d heard about his past; how he was adopted from the coldest planet in the nine realms. He was the son of the king of Jottunheim, yet here, he had been nothing but the back-up.

“But that’s not the worst,” he continued, chilling her bones with his vicious tone. “After the wedding, when I am sealed forever to you, they will expect things from me.”

“They will of me as-“

“Shut up!” he shouted, making her jump, his proximity now awaking her fight or flight reflexes. “I know, oh I know how hard it will be for you to have to kiss me and pretend to love me,” he cooed in a fake tone. “But they will expect us to always appear as a team; to be enamored with each other. They will expect us to rule as Duke and Duchess. They will expect me to put children in you.”

His last words stung. Albeit everything he’d just said, the pretending and the arduous decision making as a pair, that was the thing that stung. Was she that horrible that he dreaded the idea of bedding her?

“Even if we pretend, at one point, they will notice,” he continued, his tone low and menacing. His hands came to rest on her cheeks, his cold digits searing her skin. She was mesmerized by his words, glued to the spot by the truth, the cruel truth, of his statement. “Even if we kiss in front of them, if we hold hands and laugh together, they will notice the frigidness of our affection. They will notice how distant we are. They are a people of love. You and I don’t understand. You are part Vanaheim and I am completely Jottun. Asgardian citizens are beings of love, and they will notice how ours is faked. They will notice that our touches don’t linger and how your belly remains flat.”

She didn’t want that. Yet she knew the repercussions if she didn’t sell the show of her love for the prince. Loki didn’t have to say it. Her father would be exiled back to Vanaheim, her family losing all their wealth and prestige. They’d tumble down from the ladder they’d climbed. Odin would blacklist her, sending them back to their homeland, where even there, her family would be blasphemed for breaking the treaty. She had to chose between her own comfort and sanity, or her family’s welfare and reputation.

“I don’t… I don’t-” she stammered, shaking her head between his hands, tears threatening to fall.

“I know you don’t want,” he hushed, bringing her cheek to lay flat on his chest, his hand patting her hair. Although the act was comforting, there was nothing remotely soothing about it. “But you will have to take it. You will have to obey. You will be a Duchess, filled with richness and titles and anything you’ve ever wanted.” His tone then became abhorrent and petty. “You will have to let me touch you, kiss you. You’ll have to let me fuck you.”

With a quick jab, she’d pushed him off of her, eyes red and round with anger. Her bottom lip was quivering, watching as his faux-sad eyes turned into malicious content. His words, those nasty and horrid words, burned bright in her ears. He’d played with her, like a toy, like he did with every other subject on the receiving end of his cruelty.

He’d destroy her.

Tags: @shieldgirl95 @loki-god-of-my-life @fluasch @spudsandbandit

112 notes · View notes

mystarsforanempire · 6 years

Text

Excerpt from My Stars For An Empire, Chapter Four. Loki’s meditations on his empire and his children.

“Inner peace is for monks and old ladies, Loki. Not for guys like us. All we can do is keep working.”

“Thank you,” Svensson murmurs. The word is full of emotion, thick with it. He sighs, leaning forwards and putting his chin on his hands. “Do you have any children, Tony?”

“Children? No,” Tony says, a little taken aback by the sudden change in topic. Tony’s never given much thought to the idea of having kids himself, except to occasionally freak out over a pregnancy scare, but Svensson asks the question with a sort of wistfulness on his face. “Do you?” Svensson takes in a breath that hitches in his throat, and in the last glimpse Tony gets of his face, he sees that his eyes are shining.

“No,” he says softly as he stands, turning away from Tony. “Perhaps one day. Thank you for coming – I shall— I shall see you this evening, at the fundraiser.” Tony could stand his ground. He could stay right here, tell Svensson it was shitty of him to call him out here just for a five minute conversation… But he doesn’t mind. And this shit, the tears… Maybe the guy used to have kids. What does Tony know?

“This time, we keep in touch, right?” Svensson’s laugh is soft, and slightly hoarse.

“Yes. Yes, indeed. I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you,” Tony says, and he steps back into the elevator. The copper doors click shut behind him, and as the lift rises, he thinks of Svensson in his softly-lit, empty room, alone with a half-made machine. I dwell happily in my solitude. What a thing to say – no wonder the guy gets on with Maximoff. “JARVIS,” Tony murmurs, and he hears the soft whir of the phone in his pocket, a quiet noise just to let him know he’s being heard. “Get me an Isaz I.”

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS says, and when the elevator opens, Tony steps out and begins to walk out.

✯ ⇜ ♕ ♔ ♕ ⇝ ✯ MY STARS FOR AN EMPIRE ✯ ⇜ ♕ ♔ ♕ ⇝ ✯

Loki remains completely still, with his back to the elevator, until he hears the doors shut entirely and hears the elevator rise on its cables up and away from his laboratory. Reaching up, he brushes the pads of his fingers over his cheek, feeling the warm wetness of the tears there, the tears that drip down to wet his beard and drip down from his chin.

He hadn’t intended to cry. Of course, he hadn’t intended to ask as to Stark’s plans for children, either, and yet…

What is wrong with him? What is wrong with him?

Loki feels a crawling, desperate monster inside him, feels the desperate urge to run, to run and run from his planet until there is nothing but open space beneath his feet, so he is walking on the sky itself: dropping to his knees, he lets out a low groan that gives way to a ragged sob, his palms spread on the blessedly cool ground.

“I can’t,” he bites at the air, and with naught but the second’s thought, a second Loki appears before him. This Loki wears the old skin of Asgard, with black hair and blue eyes and pale skin. Looking at himself in this old form reminds him of Hel, and he feels tears brim anew as he turns his face away. It is pathetic enough that he should conjure a double of himself, but to grieve his daughter in the process! That is entirely mad.

“Talking to ourselves, are we? Have we regressed so far?” The Asgard-Loki asks, his silver tongue flicking over his lip, and Loki feels nothing but desperate rage, rage and— “Impotence! Irrelevance! Uselessness!” The Asgard-Loki declares, with glee. He laughs, tipping back his head and letting his laughter ring through the room: he speaks unencumbered by the accent Loki feigns with this form, his words coming cleanly and harshly against the copper walls. The copper, carved with a great many careful runes hidden in design after design, redirects his magic, making it as untraceable as that which he uses in his laboratory at home. But is it enough? Is it enough?

Loki launches a metal chair, which had been folded against the wall in the corner, against the far wall: it hits the copper with a loud clatter, then falls to the ground. The act of anger brings Loki’s desperate fury no salvation, but instead makes him feel like a scornful child. And children! Children! Why does he keep thinking of them, again and again?

With everyone he has met today, he has thought of what their children might look like. With Darcy, he imagines monstrous young toddlers, each more dangerously intelligent than the last, with manipulative laughs and dirty chins; he had an image in his mind of Pietro Maximoff holding his daughter in his arms, crooning to her the lullabies of his homeland; he thought, no less than five times in the course of his conversation with Stark, how lovely the children between him and Pepper Potts might be, if they chose to have them. How red-headed, how brilliant!

“What more do you expect?” The Asgard-Loki says, his tone flippant and superior. His chin high, his hands behind his back, he stands before Loki in armour, and Loki feels the misery of his situation in his very bones. Staring down at the stone floor, he suppresses the urge to scream. “Did you expect to be happy here? On Earth?”

“Yes,” Loki whispers. “Yes, of course I did!” His rage raises the volume in his voice, and he clenches his fists at his sides. “Churros did nothing! Speaking with Stark did nothing! I want an empire!”

“You must work for an empire,” The Asgard-Loki’s voice echoes in the room – echoes like Odin’s once had. “There is nothing for you to inherit here: you will build it yourself, and it will take years. You must be patient.”

“I don’t want to be patient,” Loki snaps, and when he stamps his foot on the ground, he must use his seiðr to keep the concrete from cracking beneath the force. “I have wanted for so, so long, and having worked for six years upon this planet, what have I to show for it? A computer? A fridge?”

“You knew when you began that this would take time,” the Asgard-Loki reminds him, suddenly on Loki’s left side. He speaks directly into the shell of Loki’s year, his breath soothingly cold. “You knew.”

“But I didn’t!” Loki argues. “I didn’t think about how little freedom it would afford me! Here I am, in this false skin, this false life, unable to use even my seiðr outside a copper-plated room, and unable to Skywalk.” The Asgard-Loki’s hand is on his chin, forcing Loki’s head up, and Loki leans into the coolness of his fingers.

“You have Skywalked since you were a child,” the Asgard-Loki whispers. “Why not leave this planet behind? Why not travel to another – to one of those many planets on which you are worshiped as god or goddess? On the planet Tamaril, you are worshiped as the emperor of the skies. Why not go there? Rule that people? Why not the Fon system? Where your name is written in the stars? Why not—”

“I’ve begun here,” Loki interrupts. “This company… Within a hundred years, I might rule the star-system. This is modern, this is how it is done in these times: the Midgardians have dispensed entirely with monarchs, but like this, my influence could stretch the stars. The people will admire me. Not merely obey me.”

“Then why complain? What is it about this wondrous world that makes you ache?” Not for the first time, Loki curses the tendency of his Asgardian form to seem so seductive. It was not a flaw he often noticed of himself with strangers, but when he is alone with himself, he notices it each time, and yet he seems to lack the strength to nip it in the bud.

“Boredom,” Loki says. “Boredom. I can do nothing! Nothing!”

“I don’t believe you,” the Asgard-Loki says, his eyes shining with mischief, and his mouth curved in a clever line.

“It matters not whether you believe me, I cannot—”

“You misunderstand me, dear reflection,” the Asgard-Loki says, and his hands cup Loki’s face, thumbs brushing slowly over his cheeks. The Asgard-Loki is taller than Loki himself, in the form he now inhabits, and it oughtn’t make him feel inferior – this is merely a conjuration, intended to whip him into shape, nothing more – but he hates how he must look up into his own face. “It isn’t truly boredom. Deep down, you know why you have never pursued an empire before now. You know why you fled Asgard, and why you wish to flee Midgard now.”

“Oh?” Loki asks, arching his eyebrows. “Then please, tell me why.” The Asgard-Loki laughs cruelly, his teeth brightly white in the lantern light.

“Do you want me to?” the Asgard-Loki asks in a stage-whisper, leaning in. His cool breath ghosts over Loki’s lips, and Loki feels his skin tingle at the sensation. Stark is available to him, and would certainly be a better candidate to work out Loki’s frustrations upon than Darcy, so close as she is to Loki’s day-to-day life, but now Stark is gone, and Loki’s double remains right here…

“Yes,” Loki murmurs. The very assent feels like a contract with some distant demon, although he knows this merely a seiðr-animated element of his own psyche, given voice and form and attitude.

“You don’t want an empire,” the Asgard-Loki murmurs back, as if speaking to a lover. Despite the sweetness in his double’s voice, Loki feels the tingling sensation turn to a crawling one, and he takes a step back. “because you are alone.” Smirking, the Asgard-Loki takes a step forward, closing the little gap Loki had made between them and continuing: “You are alone, and will always be alone, because your children are either dead, or they despise you. Fenrir would rip you to shreds; Hel would slit your throat at a moment’s notice, and Jormungandr and Sleipnir, why, they bear not thinking of.” Loki feels his breath hitch in his throat – what good does it do, he wonders, to repeat to himself that which he knows? That which he knows all too well? “And of Narfi and Valí, what could they rule? Unless they ruled from their unmarked graves, bloody and in pieces—”

“No,” Loki protests, but his reflection’s hand closes tight over his mouth, pressing so hard against the flesh that he feels the outlines of his teeth behind his lips. When he attempts to draw away, the Asgard-Loki’s fingernails dig into the flesh, and Loki is reminded of the needle that once ran through these very lips, spelling them silent with a painful golden thread. Loki is still, and silent, but his eyes are desperate. His skin is alive with heat and an itching discomfort, and he feels the disgust, the bile, rise within him as he stares at the face he once wore. The Asgard-Loki leans in, and Loki’s fingers twitch at his side: what would Thor say, to look at him now, half-disgraced by his very own double? Loki feels his eyes sting, but he is determined to cry no more. “If you build an empire, Loki, who will you pass it onto? What is the point of an empire with no line of succession?” He’s right – the Asgard-Loki is right. He feels himself flinch, as if physically struck, and the humiliation of the moment sparks his instinct. The conjuration of the dagger is nothing to him, but by the time Loki strikes, his mirror-self has disappeared, fading from view. Loki’s dagger strikes nothing but plain air.

Loki Liesmith’s own honesty astonishes him, and he drops to his knees in the middle of the room, staring forwards, the dagger still clasped loosely in his hand. And isn’t he right? Is his double not correct? Is this why the boredom has struck him so fiercely of a sudden? Ought he abandon his empire here and now, knowing it shall fall as soon as he is forced to leave it behind?

Loki thinks of those children he has left – Sleipnir, a horse with the wit of a man but no more; Hel, his daughter condemned to her rule of the underworld; Fenrir, his desperate son, savage, with gnashing teeth; and Jormungandr, that great serpent. Who of his children would take his empire from him, and rule it? Who of his children would love him?

Looking to the dagger, Loki considers its fine, silver blade, the sharpness of it, the beautiful craftsmanship of the bronzed hilt. What a fine blade it would be to die by.

The sound of the intercom shocks him, and Loki lets out a shuddering breath as he tilts his head in the intercom’s direction to listen. “Mr Svensson, it’s five o’clock. You told me to remind you when it was two hours to the party.”

“Yes,” Loki says, cursing the weakness in his own voice. “My thanks, Ms Thomson, I shall ready myself tout de suite.” Loki’s glance falls once more to the dagger, and he tilts it. The polished steel reflects Loki’s gaze, and he stares into the depths of his own eyes. Their sea-green colour has been lightened by tears, and in the dim light, their colour seems somehow ambiguous, as if Loki’s eyes might once have been darker. Banishing the dagger to the ether, Loki stands shakily upon his feet.

As he combs his hair with trembling hands, pulling the blond locks into a tight bun. The problem with running, he thinks, is that if he runs now, he cannot come back. To Skywalk from this planet would be to reveal himself, and might even prompt a chase – either from Midgardian authorities or Asgardian ones – and he should rather be peaceful on this planet than miserable on his own. Once upon a time, he might have relished the thought of fighting such guards and enforcers hand-to-hand, but he knows that now, facing such soldiers would only tire him, and he is so tired already.

Conjuring for himself a basin and mirror, he begins to wash his face, relishing the coolness of the water upon his heated skin. It offers him scant distraction, however, and he sighs, looking at his reflection. This face, with its light brown skin, its thick blond hair, its light beard, is so very different to the face he has left behind him, and yet he feels he sees the ghost of Narfi in his nose, and Fenrir’s slavering teeth in his own.

Setting his hands on the sides of the basin, Loki stares down into the sink’s drain. There shall yet be years before he has his empire – he ought not worry yet about who it shall be passed onto, not when he has yet to build it.

“You know,” Loki glances up, and he meets the gaze of the Asgard-Loki, who now looks out from the mirror. “There is nothing stopping you from having more children.” The voice is soft – it reminds Loki of his mother’s voice, although he recognizes it as his own.

“Perhaps not,” Loki murmurs. The mirror and basin vanish. The party, he hopes, will be distraction enough.

#c; superior self | loki #t; fanfic #v; shifted priorities #v; my stars for an empire #t; ooc

1 note · View note

wilderwestqueen · 7 years

Text

Poison In My Veins (Hiccstrid)

[SPOILERS FOR RACE TO THE EDGE 5x10]

sidenote: this isn’t what i think should have happened in the episode, i thought it was great to have an episode where Astrid’s character development isn’t based around Hiccup, buuuut i also saw an opportunity to be hiccstrid trash, so I took it.

Summary: The antidote for the Slitherwing poison takes much longer to take effect. Hiccup is forced, once again, to see what the world might look like without Astrid in it.

(fanfic.net) (ao3)

“I hope you can make two doses,” Astrid said, her voice already far away, eyes drooping shut as her legs swayed, and she toppled down onto the floor.

The Slitherwing poison dripped from her wrist, and Fishlegs dropped to his knees, gathering it all together before it could seep into the ground and both Astrid and Stormfly would be lost.

“Astrid,” he said, panicking leaking into his voice as he shook her shoulder. “Astrid?! Stay with us! Guys, go get her some water!”

Ruffnut and Tuffnut stumbled off into the other direction – “Wait!” Fishlegs yelled, turning to them, mouth set in a grim line. On the floor, Astrid’s breath came out in short shallow gasps, her body trying desperately to get air to her lungs. “Get Hiccup.”

Hiccup knew that something was wrong almost immediately.

The fact that the twins weren’t cracking jokes or talking nonsense when they came to get him was enough to make his stomach sink, and when Ruffnut said, “Astrid got poisoned by a Slitherwing,” he was already marching back down the hill before she’d even finished her sentence.

Down in the clearing, Fishlegs had propped Astrid’s head up against one of their satchels, her limbs lying limply at her side, and Hiccup was reminded, with a horrible pang to his heart, of the day months before, when she’d been sick with the Scourge of Odin. He still thought about that day, the image of Astrid pale and sickly and so close to the death, appeared often in his nightmares. He’d hoped never to see her like that again, yet here she was, a perfect mirror. Bile rose in his throat.

He knelt on the ground, one hand gently brushing her fringe from her face, the other entangling their fingers together. “Astrid?” he said, his voice thick.

No response.

“What happened?” he said, turning his attention to Fishlegs, who was working furiously with the Slitherwing venom.

“She ran off to get the venom, and came back like this,” Fishlegs said. “I’ve been trying to get antidote ready, but—” his voice cracked – “there’s not much of it.”

Hiccup looked from Fishlegs to Astrid, back to Fishlegs again. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be enough to cure her,” he said. “I’m going to make as much of it as I possibly can, but it’s fifty/fifty whether it works or not. All we can do is wait.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Hiccup said, his fingers gripping hard onto Astrid’s hand. His voice quivered. “You said dead by the next moon.”

Fishlegs didn’t say anything, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He turned back to his work, messing around with vials and Slitherwing venom.

Hiccup frowned, turning back to the lifeless girl in his arms, now faced with the very real possibility that he might end up losing her.

“C’mon, Astrid,” he muttered. “Don’t leave me like this.”

He put one arm around her shoulder and the other underneath her knees, pulling her close and cradling her to his chest, listening to her make very small and shallow breaths and holding on to them as a sign that she was still alive.

When those breaths stopped, panic seized his heart. “Fishlegs!” he called.

Fishlegs came running, antidote in hand. He lifted Astrid’s head and forced every last drop down her throat.

“Make sure Stormfly gets some too,” Hiccup said. Thor knows he wasn’t going to let Astrid poison herself for nothing.

“Already done,” Fishlegs said, kneeling at Astrid’s side and taking a breath. “All we can do now is wait. She’ll have to fight it off.” He saw the look on Hiccup’s face. “She’s a fighter, you know that, Hiccup. If there’s anyone who can get through this, it’s Astrid.”

“I know,” Hiccup said. “Will you give me some time alone with her?”

Fishlegs nodded, and wordlessly got to his feet, disappearing off to give his friend his privacy. Hiccup turned his full attention to Astrid, bending his head and listening to her breathing.

“Come on, Astrid,” he said, his voice low. “You’ve gotta fight this. You’re not going to let this beat you. You’ve survived so much, and you will survive this.” His voice wobbled. “I need you to survive this. I can’t do this without you. There isn’t a me if there isn’t a you.”

He pulled her closer still, nestling his nose into her hair. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

Then, as if in answer to his prayer, her chest rose, her eyelids fluttered, blue met green and-

“Hiccup?”

He let out a breath and wrapped his arms tight around her. “Oh, thank Thor.”

She listened, her ears straining at the door, as she lifted herself up onto the tip of her toes to creep out of the room, and down onto the island. When she’d made it out of the threshold and onto the grass, she grinned and pelted her way towards the dragon stables, almost making it to the door, when:

“Astrid.”

She stopped still, sighed, and turned around to where Hiccup was standing, arms folded. “Come on, Hiccup, I’m fine,” she said, “stop playing prison guard.”

“Fishlegs said the antidote is still passing through your body,” he said, taking a step forward. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

She knew it was childish, but she folded her arms and stuck her tongue out anyway. “You can’t make me.”

He knew better than to say he could, so he didn’t say anything at all.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders and wandering towards Stormfly’s pen. “I wasn’t trying to leave,” Astrid said, opening the gate and kneeling next to the dragon’s sleeping form, rubbing her snout. “I just had to know that she was okay.”

Hiccup’s features softened at that, and he followed her in, kneeling by her side. Her eyes flickered over towards him, watching the way he was looking at her. “I’m okay, Hiccup.”

She shifted down into a sitting position – she was feeling woozy, not that she’d admit it – and wrapped her arms around Stormfly. Hiccup joined her, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“You scared me,” Hiccup said, his voice small.

“You would have done the exact same thing for Toothless,” Astrid said, her head rested against Stormfly’s scales.

“You were just lying there, limp, and you stopped breathing,” he said, his voice as solemn as she’d ever heard it. “For a minute there, I thought you were gone.”

Astrid loosened her grip on Stormfly, turning back to Hiccup, her expression flooding with understanding. Hiccup took Astrid’s hand in his, threading their fingers together.

“For a moment, I was thinking about how I’d go on if you weren’t there,” he said, “and a world without you would be a pretty lonely place.”

She leaned close and kissed him softly. When their lips parted, she pressed her forehead against his. “I love you,” she said, “but I’m Viking, Hiccup. I’m not going to stop putting myself in danger when it comes to my dragon. You’d do it with Toothless too.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing a hand against his face. “I know, I know, I know. And I don’t mean to stop you from punching any terrifying, venomous dragon that you want, but... I worry.”

“That goes for me too,” Astrid said. “You think I don’t worry every time you test out some new ridiculous invention only to narrowly miss death? I’m always worried about you, Hiccup, but I have to push it out of my mind because you are our leader and I trust you to make the right choices and come out of every hare-brained situation alive. I need you to do the same for me.”

“I know. I do,” Hiccup said, looking at her. Then a smile tugged at the edge of his lips, his eyes sparkling as he tried to suppress it.

“What?”

“You punched a Slitherwing dragon,” he said, a full grin spreading across his face. “You just went up to it and punched it.”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “What about it?”

Hiccup looked at her, his eyes shining, still smiling. “I love you so much.”

Astrid grinned, leaning down and nestling her head onto Hiccup’s shoulder. “I love you too.”

They lay like that, hands intertwined, heads touching as they succumbed to sleep, content with the world and content with each other. For now, it was enough.

#hiccstrid #rtte #rtte spoilers #rtte season 5 spoilers #race to the edge #i do and don't like what i've written here #hmm

158 notes · View notes