distressedpanda

[distressedpanda]

Yaaaaaaasssssssssss!!!!

Tom Hiddleston on the set of Disney+ series ‘Loki’ in Atlanta, February 28, 2020

[distressedpanda]

This made me so emotional!

For my dear brother.

For my dear sister.

Please, live.

-

Bring them back home.

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 12

Warnings: Language, mentions of a panic attack (mild and short), pain and injury, fluff, angst (probably the most angst ever! *evil writer chuckles*)

A/N: First, yes that is A way to treat a burn. Especially one that would have so much debris in it (my brother went through it, I was there, it was awful). Second, I do not believe that Iloa could take on the Hulk and win, especially not right after the explosion. I took some artistic liberties with the character of the Hulk (sorry, not sorry). Last this could be a very triggering chapter for some, I know it was slightly hard for me to write. Having been through almost an identical situation as Iloa, it drug up some things. Read at your own discretion.

Also this is just super super angsty! It’s slightly ridiculous and I couldn’t love it any more! Just be patient, we will get there soon I promise. (; 

As always let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​ @thenatallie​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Much to her eventual dismay Thor did follow her onto the elevator, peppering her with questions about what she would have to do. She explained as best she could finally ending the conversation with, “You will just have to see, I can’t explain it.” No longer wishing to explain the intimacy of the situation she was willing putting herself in. 

Reaching the recovery room door, she paused hand on the door knob unable to coax her hand into turning it so she could enter the room. 

Thor rested a comforting hand on her shoulder blade, “Talk to me,” he stated softly.

She turned her fearful gaze to his crystalline blue eyes, seeking comfort there. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, the air filtering into her lungs becoming heavy. Releasing the door, she leaned back against the wall next to it.

His hand having slid from her shoulder to her arm, Thor gave it a gentle squeeze, “Tell me how you feel right now.”

“Apprehensive,” she admitted, holding his gaze. Watching his eyes soften in understanding, she found her doubts falling from her lips, “What if I am wrong about being able to help him? What if he is still in pain despite my efforts or even because of them? It’s all my fault this happened in the first place,” she was barely taking breaths between sentences, words. She could feel her head becoming light from the lack of oxygen.

Thor suddenly gripped both of her arms, shaking her slightly. “None of this was your fault,” he argued vehemently.

“Yes it damn well is,” she shouted back. “If I hadn’t lost control, the tower would never have been compromised. There would have been no need for construction. The Russians wouldn’t have had such easy access. They wouldn’t have blown up the fucking tower. Loki would be fine, Natasha would have been fine. Banner wouldn’t have lost control. No one would have gotten hurt. It is all my fault, Thor!”

She was hyperventilating and Thor’s worried eyes dancing back and forth between her own panicked gaze wasn’t helping anything. Her chest heaved with every clawing draw of breath, her lungs burning, vision fogging, ears ringing. 

Thor pinned her in a tight embrace that had Iloa gasping in pain. “STOP!” He demanded, his deep voice ringing clearly in her ears. The first clear sound she had heard in days. And she did. Her breathing immediately evened out, her mind clearing slowly.

Thor leant away from her, loosening his grip but keeping her pinned against his chest, her arms trapped at her sides. “Don’t ever say such things again,” he warned. She blinked and frowned as his words came to her muffled again, her brain already attempting to come up with a counter argument, but he kept speaking, “If they hadn’t used the construction incident to infiltrate the tower, you are very aware that they would have found another way in. This is part of the job, not everything has to have blame assigned to it. And if you have too, it makes more sense to blame the Russians not yourself. This happened. Everyone is alive. Get over it.” He finally released her taking a step back.

Her head spun slightly as she processed his words and her sudden freedom. She couldn’t bring herself to place blame anywhere but on herself. It was what she did best, unfortunately. Internalize everything, making it her problem and no one else's.  But as her brain sluggishly replayed everything he said, she captured the one sentence that would help. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t that she should blame the offending party. Get over it, rang in her ears repeatedly, becoming a sort of mantra that finally got through to her. 

Thor watched her carefully for a moment letting his speech sink in. He saw her eyes clear from their earlier storm, then asked, “Are you ready now?”

She focused on Thor before nodding slowly. He reached out and opened the door, motioning with his outstretched arm that she should go ahead of him. She rounded the door frame, looking up at the hospital bed. Instantly all her fear and anxiety vanished. Loki caught her gaze with blazing emerald eyes and lifted his hand from where it rested on the sheets. He winced slightly but gave no other indication of pain, as he beckoned her to him.

She raced the short distance across the room to his side. She didn’t care that there were two other sets of eyes watching as she climbed up onto the bed, carefully tucking herself into Loki’s side, his arm draping effortlessly across her shoulders. Matching relieved sighs escaped them as she settled against him and he squeezed her shoulder soothingly. This was her warmth, her comfort. This was her place, her heart, her home. This is where she would always belong. 

“Are you alright?” Loki whispered against the top of her head.

She nodded, “I am now,” she admitted. “You heard?”

He hummed his affirmation against her scalp and she shivered from the tingles that lit their way pleasantly down her spine. “I was afraid you were blaming yourself,” he admitted barely loud enough for her to hear.

She tilted her head up so she could see the lines of his face. His sharp brow and the hard lines of his cheekbones and jawline. His eyes were so open and exposed to her, only her. His paler than usual skin tone and the already fading scrapes on his forehead and cheek, the only indication that anything was amiss. He was breathtakingly beautiful, even with his current affliction, “I thought you were never scared?” she quirked an eyebrow teasingly at him.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” he scoffed. “Perhaps concerned was the word I was looking for instead,” he countered, grinning down at her.

She giggled, but was unable to respond, “Whoa,” Banner abruptly broke in. But when she looked toward him, he wasn’t looking at the pair on the bed. She finally noticed the additional medical instrument that had been brought into the room. There was now a patient monitor alongside the IV stand. It was connected to Loki in various places to monitor his pulse, oxygen levels, and blood pressure. Banner was concentrating intently on the screen, his brow wrinkling as he studied the readings. 

“What’s wrong?” Iloa asked, almost losing herself to panic again.

Banner held up a hand, quickly looking over at her, “Nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s just that before you got here, his readings were less than favorable.”

Iloa wrinkled her own brow, looking to Loki who looked just as confused as she was, then back to Banner, “Are you going to explain any further?”

“Hmm?” Banner was looking back at the monitor. When he finally glanced up at the others in the room, he continued, “Right sorry.” He at least had the decency to look abashed as he finally explained, “Earlier his readouts were all over the place, high blood pressure and low heart rate, then followed shortly by low blood pressure and a much faster heart rate. His oxygen level was dangerously low as well.” He lifted his hands placatingly as Iloa stared wide eyed at him, her mouth dropping open in a gasp, “It’s alright, it’s alright. All of this is perfectly normal and expected from someone that has suffered an injury this severe and isn’t on pain medicine. Dangerous perhaps, but unfortunately normal.” 

Iloa sunk closer into Loki’s side, her hand splaying protectively across his chest. Loki tightened his hold around her shoulders as well. Banner smiled at the show of affection, “As soon as Iloa came in contact with your person Loki, everything evened out. It’s like you haven’t been injured at all. It’s amazing!” Banner was beaming by the end of his explanation. “I must apologize to you, Iloa. I can’t say that I actually believed it was you causing the difference, until I saw it happen on this screen.” 

Iloa ducked her head, feeling uncomfortable with the apology and praise. Loki spoke up on her behalf, “I could have confirmed it for you, without the need of this confounded contraption you have been torturing me with.”

“I would hardly call three sticky pads on your chest and a pulse ox on your finger torture,” Banner countered, amused at Loki’s air of irritation.

“These,” Loki stated, gesturing at the pads, “Itch. The cords attached to them are constricting. And this,” he added lifting his finger with the pulse oximeter, “Is heavy. As I said, torture.”

Thor laughed, after having stayed silent throughout the previous conversation, “Dear brother, I do believe you are whining,” he chidded with glee.

Loki snarled, “I would never.”

“Oh but you are,” Thor argued with another boisterous roll of laughter. 

Iloa decided to cut in before the two of them could get out of hand, “Boys, you can argue your points at a later time. I do believe we have a more pressing matter to attend to, right Doc?”

“Yes, right,” Banner said, catching on to Iloa’s train of thought. “I don’t want you to move using your own muscles anymore than is absolutely necessary. But I will need you on your side at least.” He paused running a hand over his face before looking pointedly at Iloa, “I am not sure how you want to do this.”

She shook her head, feeling heat creep up in her cheeks, “I don’t know anymore than you. Just has to be skin-to-skin.” She looked up at Loki for confirmation.

Keeping his eyes on her, instead of looking up at Banner, Loki added, “The more contact the better.”

“Right, well, I am not going to ask anyone to strip in my recovery room,” Iloa flushed from head to toe, her stomach fluttering at the prospect of being naked with Loki. Though she had to admit, she didn’t want an audience in attendance if that happened. While Loki just gave a devilish grin, licking his lips like he wanted a taste. Iloa was beginning to remember why she had thought she should keep her mouth shut about helping. 

They had just survived an extremely traumatic event after finally tearing down the walls between them. There was so much built up sexual tension now, it was like a gunpowder keg. One correctly placed match and it was going to explode, consequences be damned.

This whole situation could very well end up being that match.

Gritting her teeth, she inwardly beat the flutters into submission. Knowing her confidence wouldn’t last long when she started to give orders, she hurriedly started speaking, “Banner and Thor, you two can roll Loki onto his side. Loki, I am going to stay in front of you with my hands and arms against your chest. You need to relax enough to let them move you without any help from you. We will take it slow,” she looked up at the other two before settling her gaze on Loki once more. “If you need them to stop, if you need them to go slower, or if anything else happens, and I mean anything, you have to tell me.”

Loki looked positively livid, but he nodded his head. She knew that he would not want to admit any weakness in front of others. But he could get seriously injured if they didn’t do this safely. “Promise me, Loki,” she whispered. He nodded his head again.

Her hands shot up to his face, tilting his head to her as their foreheads pressed gently together, “Promise me,” she begged, unable to hide the desperation in her off-key voice. 

Loki couldn’t stop himself from melting into her touch as his eyes darted worriedly between hers. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t make this promise. But as she held his gaze determinedly, he let himself give in, “I promise,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, humming, “Thank you.”

When she glanced back to the others, she noticed Banner tucking the sheet over Loki’s waist more securely against his hip. And there was that blasted heat in her cheeks once again. Then he lifted the sheet underneath Loki from the mattress and instructed Thor to do the same. He caught her gaze, “This way we run less risk of overstimulating the nerves on his back, before I do the treatment,” he explained.

She tried to hide her flinch at that from Loki. She had nearly strangled Banner to death the first time he had done it. Stark had forcibly removed her from the doctor, kicking, screaming, and sobbing. She was not looking forward to it any more, with Loki awake.

Carefully she shifted her body back from Loki, keeping her hands on his face cradling his neck with her forearms. He released his hold on her as she moved back, her elbows nestling against his chest, she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“Of course,” his quivering, unsteady, breathy answer, gave him away.

“Liar,” she countered gently.

“Always,” he mimicked her earlier response. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax his muscles one by one. To his disappointment it wasn’t working. Finally deciding it was now or never, he closed his eyes, grit his teeth and gave a nod.

She looked up at Banner. He and Thor started slowly lifting the sheet to gently roll him to his side. “Relax, Loki,” she cooed softly. “I’m right here, don’t tense.”

To his surprise, he didn’t. He couldn’t lie, the sheet pressing against his skin hurt. But it wasn’t unbearable. Slowly the pair behind him rolled him to his side, where he nestled into Iloa’s awaiting warmth. He sighed heavily, their bodies laying pressed together from chest to toe. “That wasn’t so bad,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around Iloa securing her to his chest. The cords from the monitor tugging uncomfortably against his upper arm. Banner quickly taped them together hanging them over a hook over the monitor to keep them from coming in contact with Loki’s back.

Loki let his head settle against Iloa’s, pressing his cheek to hers, breathing in deeply to capture her scent in his lungs. Joyously, he felt nothing but the girl in his arms.

“That wasn’t the bad part,” she whispered against his ear. Banner had already begun to remove the bandages. Iloa tried desperately to keep Loki’s attention on her and it seemed to be working for now.

Involuntarily Loki tensed at her words, a single bolt of pain shot down his spine like lightning. But this was nothing compared to the waves that wracked through his body before. The bolt had made him aware that the doctor had started his work. The slight pull on his skin from tape being removed and gauze being lifted away had him breathing in sharply through his teeth a few times. Still it was manageable and didn’t explain the worry he could hear laced through Iloa’s broken tone. Finally lifting his head to find her blue eyes again. “What do you mean?”

Iloa traced his cheekbones with her thumbs soothingly, “The treatment,” she answered, her deft fingers abruptly moving into his hair and holding his head still.

Like the harbinger of death, her words brought forth the first wave of nauseating pain. He roared in agony, “You fucking mortal bastard,” he bit out over his shoulder, fighting against Iloa and now Thor’s hold as well. At some point he had rounded the bed and now had firm hands on the top of Loki’s shoulder, pinning him to the bed.

“Loki, look at me,” Iloa begged, “Please, Loki.” Finally getting his gaze back on hers, she flinched seeing his murderous gaze now aimed at her. “This is part of it. He has to scrape the dead skin and debris from the wound or it won’t heal properly. Trust me if there was any other way, I wouldn’t let him do this to you.” She tried to explain as tears bled from her eyes. Another cry escaped his throat, the sound of his misery tearing at her heart. His hands fisting tightly onto the back of her shirt, causing the pulse ox to dig agonizingly into her skin. Ignoring her own pain, she stroked his hair with one hand, massaging his scalp with the other. “Focus on my hands, Loki,” she tried to appeal to their connection, have him focus somewhere, anywhere else. 

The next cry pulled the air harshly from Loki’s lungs and he slumped forward inadvertently pushing Iloa into the mattress beneath him. As he lay half on half off of the girl, he did focus on her hands. She never stopped moving them, shushing him quietly, calmly.

Trying to remember to continue breathing, he closed his eyes pressing his forehead harshly against her collarbone. He tried to focus on her warmth wrapping around his body, quelling the soul deep ache now coursing through his veins. Trying to capture the electric current that ran between them, but as soon as he grasped it, it was ripped from him by another wave of excruciating torment.

After his most recent roar, he crumbled tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “It’s not enough,” he breathed into her clavicle. Her hands stilled in his hair, then one of them disappeared momentarily before returning to soothe once more. The pain stopped for the moment. He took deep steadying breaths trying to regain a mite of his composure. 

“What do you need?” her voice quivered with her own commiserating misery. Terrified that she was no longer helping.

He just shook his head slightly. He didn’t know. All he knew was their contact was no longer enough, he needed more. So that was his answer, “More.”

She nodded, trying to think of how she could provide. His hands flexed against her back, pulse ox bitingly reminding her of their placement and she suddenly had her answer. “Loki,” she breathed, pushing down all nerves that threatened to stop her next words. “Slide your hands underneath the back of my shirt,” she barely spoke loud enough for him to hear.

He gave one nod, then followed her directions. Slowly he tucked his hands under the hem of her t-shirt. The pulse ox popped off his finger, but no one made any move to replace it. His hands met her bare skin and he sighed in much needed relief. Pushing his hands up from the small of her back, she arched her body carefully into him trying to ease his assent and he moaned but not from pleasure. Her shirt rode up over her stomach to press against his skin there too. He finally stopped his hands when they met her shoulder blades, his forearms and biceps pressed securely against her bare skin. He squeezed her against him urgently before allowing them to settle back against the bed again.

“Okay,” he breathed, in dire need of the torment ending as quickly as possible.

Eventually it did, when his tears had finally spilled over and he was certain he had left bruises on the soft skin still beneath his splayed fingers. His throat raw from his cries, he had somehow sunk to Iloa’s stomach, pressing his burning cheek against her cool sink. He didn’t move when that damnable doctor said he was finally finished, allowing Iloa to field the conversation for him.

“Good news is, I shouldn’t have to scrape the skin again. All debris and risk for infection appears to be gone now,” Banner explained as he covered Loki’s back with a cool liquid that soothed his ache further. 

“And the bad news?” Iloa asked cautiously, still running one hand soothingly through Loki’s hair.

“Well it isn’t really bad, I just need to leave his back uncovered for a little while. It needs to air out and soak in the silver sulfadiazine. Not that the ointment itself will help much, but it will cool the overheated skin and the silver will help prevent infection. It just means he can’t move for a couple hours.”

Iloa glared up at Banner, “I don’t think he is going anywhere any time soon,” she snapped. She didn’t care if she was unnecessarily biting his head off. She had hated watching Loki suffer, it was so much worse than any time before.

“Iloa,” Thor interjected. But his conference was unwanted and she snapped her glare to him quickly in warning.

“No, she’s right,” Banner agreed rubbing the back of his neck. He reached to adjust the sheet more securely around Loki’s hips, making sure it wouldn’t come in contact with the exposed wound. Somehow it had managed to keep Loki’s more private assets, well private. “We will leave you two alone now. I will be back in a couple hours to place fresh bandages.” With that he quickly turned and exited the room.

Thor held Iloa’s gaze until it calmed, “You should apologize to him,” he said, nodding toward the closing door.

“I have every time,” she sighed. She wasn’t even angry anymore, she was just tired.

Thor nodded, turning to leave as well. He stopped at the door, glancing back over his shoulder, “You take good care of him now.”

“I always do,” she offered a small weary smile, which he returned before exiting the room as well.

Looking down at Loki’s wrecked and broken form, she had to fight a fresh wave of tears from falling from her eyes. She licked her dry lips, wishing she had asked Thor to get them some fresh water before he had left. 

After a few quiet moments of listening to Loki’s ragged breaths, she asked, “Are you alright?”

Loki shook his head slightly against her stomach. “Distract me,” he said against her skin and she shivered.

Iloa stilled her hand in his raven locks, racking her brain for any way to complete his request. So she asked, “How?”

Loki groaned an after shook rippling through his muscles, “Tell me a story,” he begged through clenched teeth.

She blanked on a subject, thinking hard. She had pretty much covered her entire life with him already. There were finer details sure, but what would he be interested in right now. What could possibly be a sufficient distraction.

She could feel that she had been silent too long. Loki’s body trembling slightly in her lap. “What kind of story?” she asked.

He sighed heavily, his weight lifting and settling more firmly against her lap. “Tell me about your love life,” he blurted, going with the first thought that ran clearly through his mind.

A barked laugh escaped Iloa’s lips and she reached quickly to cover her lips. She cleared her throat before lowering her hand back to the bed, “That would be a very short story,” she admitted.

“Impossible,” he argued.

She frowned, her brow wrinkling in confusion, “How so?”

He shifted slightly, trying to see her. Catching on to what he was attempting, Iloa shifted to the side so he could see her face without having to move. Trying to hide her wince as the skin Loki had gripped so tightly stretched with her movement, muscles throbbing slightly. She didn’t want him to worry about having injured her. Propping her head up on her hand, elbow pressed into the mattress, she waited for him to answer.

“Iloa,” Loki started, licking his lips as his eyes scanned every inch of her face, “You are far too radiant for there to have been no interest in you.”

She flushed at his compliment, then giggled softly, “I didn’t say there was no interest. I had suitors when my parents were still alive. But I wasn’t interested.” 

Suddenly feeling even more possessive of her, Loki bit out, “That means they are all dead now, correct?”

She giggled again, nodding at him genially, “You have nothing to worry about, they are all long since past.” Her brow wrinkled for a moment, before she asked, “Are you jealous, Loki?”

He scoffed and bit into his cheek trying to keep from groaning aloud. Catching his breath, he answered, “Don’t be absurd.”

“You would never,” she mocked.

“Of course not,” he agreed a little too quickly.

Lifting her hand from her face, she gently poked the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Lair,” she said, returning her hand to hold her head up.

Loki tracked her hand with his eyes, all the way back to where it now cradled her cheek. His hand should be there instead. He flexed his arms around her waist gently, confirming to himself that she was indeed still within his grasp. She winced slightly, again, and he feared for the condition of her own back. Trying to stick with the diverting conversation, “You have never been in love before?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he really wanted the answer, but the distraction was working. So he resigned himself to receiving her answer.

Iloa thought about it for a moment. She lifted her gaze, focusing on distant memories from her past. Then whispered, “No, I have had sex before, but it was more like an itch that needed scratching.” She noticed his eyes grow dark and blurted, “But I have never been in love before now.” Feeling heat gather in her cheeks, when she focused on the last sentence that had escaped her lips. She ducked her head, her hair falling to curtain her face. 

Loki couldn’t resist. Lifting the arm that wasn’t trapped between her and the bed hurt like hell, but he reached forward and tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingering on her cheek as blue eyes met green, “Don’t hide from me, please,” he begged, “Not now. Not anymore. Your confession warms my heart, Iloa.”

Sliding forward until his palm lay flat against her cheek, Iloa closed her eyes with a hum of affection. The fluttering sensations she had fought into submission, came back with a vengeance. She could feel every place Loki’s body was in contact with her own. The press of his cheek against her bare stomach. The arm that was still wrapped around her waist, fingers pressed gently against the small of her back. His chest as it rose and fell against the tops of her thighs. And that hand pressed against her cheek, long elegant fingers lacing into her hair. All of that contact flooded her senses causing liquid fire to run through her veins. Could he feel it too?

Slowly she opened her eyes, meeting irises blown so wide she could only see the barest green ring surrounding them. The match, she thought. She knew at that moment that if Loki had been able too he would have struck that match and happily set them both on fire. 

She shivered in his grasp and Loki groaned in response. But this time they both knew the sound had nothing to do with his pain, at least not pain caused by the injury. 

The door to the recovery room swung open, snapping Iloa’s gaze from his. He groaned, this time, in frustration, letting his arm fall back to lay beside her. The sooner he healed from this ailment the better. He needed her more than he had ever needed anyone in his entire existence. He couldn’t help thinking that all this built up sexual tension was certainly out to kill him. He felt like he was burning from the inside out.

Banner made quick work of applying fresh bandages. Iloa apologized to the doctor several times before he finally waved her off telling her there was nothing to apologize for. “At least you didn’t try to kill me this time.”

Loki’s ears perked up at that, “You tried to kill him?”

Her cheeks turned the most delicious shade of pink and Loki had to bite back a moan at the sight, “I almost strangled him to death. Would have succeeded too if Tony hadn’t pulled me off of him. Luckily, I had the element of surprise and he was slightly weaker so soon after the explosion at the tower. So I avoided bringing out the good doctors alter-ego.”

Loki huffed at that, “Yes, lucky.” Having been on the receiving end of that alter-ego himself, he knew it was nothing short of luck that Iloa hadn’t had to face him.

With Iloa and Banner’s assistance, he was allowed to return to lying on his back once more. Once settled, Iloa tucked securely at his side once more, Banner excused himself for the night.

Loki squeezed her shoulder, feeling her tense beneath his hand. Looking down at her, he asked, “How bad is it?”

She shook her head, worried gaze lifting to his, “It’s not bad, I swear. Just a little sore.”

Loki didn’t believe her, “Let me see.”

Iloa’s cheeks heated, “Loki,” she drawled his name through a low whisper, “Are you asking me to take my shirt off?”

His jaw dropped at her tenacity, but he quickly recovered. Fixing his devilish stare on her eyes, “I can’t lie,” trailing his eyes slowly down to linger at her lips, “I would love to pick back up where we were interrupted earlier,” his voice low and husky, gaze dropping ever lower over her elegant neck before stopping at the tops of her breasts. He snapped his eyes back up to hers, “But I am more concerned about the damage I have done to you, at this moment,” his tone becoming deadly serious.

Iloa sighed, sitting up and away from his side. Loki let her move, dropping his arm from her shoulders, watching as she turned away from him. Slowly she gripped the hem of her shirt lifting it slowly up her back while keeping her breasts covered. 

Loki groaned at the bruises that steadily appeared as her shirt ascended. “I am so sorry,” he breathed, lifting his hand slowly. Carefully grazing his fingers across the various marks he had left on her beautiful flawless skin. Of course it wasn’t flawless anymore, she was with him now. He ruined everything he touched.

Hearing the way his breathing suddenly became erratic short gasps for air, Iloa dropped her shirt. She spun around on her knees to face him again, taking his outstretched hand between both of hers. “Don’t be,” she assured. 

“How can I not?” Doubt clouded angry emerald depths as he turned his face to look across the room.

Taking one steady breath, she answered with exactly how she felt, “Because I like it.” His head snapped comically back to her, wonder and disbelief painting his features. “I do. I sort of feel like you have marked me as yours with them.” She giggled, tucking her head down to look up at him through her lashes, “Does that make me sadistic?” she inquired quietly, hoping her answer would have the desired effect.

It seemed to do the trick. Loki suddenly gripped both of her wrists and jerked her to him. She had no way to keep herself from landing on his chest, tensing her back to help keep her body from hitting him too hard. Her forearms landed across his chest, her waist planted firmly against his. His nose brushed against hers with each breath he took, “You continually surprise me,” his voice filled with fascination. His hands trailed steadily up her arms across her neck to stop tangled lazily in her curls. His emerald gaze blazing as he took in every inch of her face like he was memorizing it.

The intensity of his gaze, set her stomach fluttering, heat pooling in her core. Her insides squirmed with need, she breathed against his lips, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Loki chuckled, grinning at her daring attitude. He was enjoying this steady back and forth between them. Lingering on the edge of arousal, he shifted closer to her lips, “It doesn’t, does it,” he responded then brushed his lips softly across her own. Absorbing the fresh flood of warmth that coursed through him when she whined softly, he added, “I don’t think you are sadistic, my dear.” Finally he pressed his lips firmly against her own. Fingers flexing and gripping her hair, he smashed her face against his, desperately attempting to devour her mouth.

Matching moans erupted from gasping throats. Tongues dueling for dominance, hands gripping hair in desperation and desire. Their bodies quickly became overheated, until Iloa lifted herself to straddle Loki’s lap. He was eager for her contact, keeping his mouth against her just as eager lips, welcoming her movement. But when she sat down, it was too much pressure even with her small build. His back rippled in spasming protest. He jerked his head back to the bed gritting his teeth, even though her weight quickly vanished.

Her hands rubbed circles against his chest quickly, eyes wide with panic, “I am so sorry, Loki!” Her words grated against his ears, made worse by the attack and her unnatural lilt.

“Fuck,” he growled through clenched teeth and her hands left him. This was going to kill him. Not the injury, of course, but the fact that it kept him from getting what he wanted, needed, desired most right now. It felt like the world was still trying to tear them apart, even though they had jumped so many emotional hurdles already. Now they had to face physical ones as well.

The spasms dying off, he was finally able to find her face again. She had sat back away from him on her knees, her hands clasped tightly together, her head dropped chin to chest. That damned current of hair hiding her face from his eyes once more. 

“It’s alright, Iloa. I am alright.” He needed her contact again, even if it couldn’t be anything more than comforting for now. The tension between them had dissolved the instant they had separated. Now he was simply exhausted.

She shook her head, refusing to look up at him, “No you aren’t,” her voice so small and broken in so many ways, he couldn’t possibly name them all. 

He placed his knuckles against her knee. He needed her touch, she needed his comfort, “I am alright,” he stated with finality. “We just have to be more careful.” He groaned as he added, “We just have to wait for anything more serious.”

She nodded at him, lifting her head slightly and finally drawing storm filled blue eyes to his. He hated seeing them like that. They should never be anything but the blazing blue sapphires that normally held his gaze. “Come here,” he said lifting his arm slowly from his side.

Iloa hesitated, “What if I hurt you again?” She stated, voice still so small with a nervous edge wrapped around the question.

“You won’t,” he consoled her, “Come here, I am not asking.”

Slowly she rose from her knees, placing her hands carefully on the bed as she crawled up to his side. There was nothing seductive or suggestive in her movements, instead she just looked tired and emotionally worn out, the same way he felt.

Tucking her under his arm, he gently stroked her hair. Letting the feel of her wrap his body in its healing warmth. He moaned low in his throat, “Much better. Now sleep, my love,” he whispered against her hair. She nodded, sighing heavily.

When he was certain she had finally drifted off, he closed his own eyes allowing his bone deep exhaustion to pull him under into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 11

Warnings: No real warnings, mentions of blood maybe?

A/N: I am just going to preface this with the fact that I am not a scientist, lol. I did do quiet a bit of research and just followed it the best I could. (Trust me if anyone has any knowledge what so ever on the subject, you will know what I am talking about.) Also this chapter is fairly short compared to my previous chapters. Soooooooo. . . . . . . . . you get two chapters today!

I know I did this last time I posted but please don’t get used to it.

As always if you wish to be tagged just let me know.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​ @thenatallie​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 

Iloa had to admit as she made her way down the hall to the lab, she did feel much better. Still grinning after daringly challenging Loki with her kiss, she entered the airlock leading into the Biochem Lab.

Banner sat hunched over a microscope, at a table near the back of the lab. Running her fingers through her now wind swept hair from the sterilizing blast in the airlock, she waited until he lifted his head from the scope. He leant to write something in a notebook and she cleared her throat softly, hoping she wouldn’t startle him too much.

He spun on the stool to face her immediately. Smiling broadly, he spoke in a concerned voice, “You are awake already.”

It wasn’t a question but Iloa nodded slowly in response, “Yeah Doc, I was kind of awake before you left. Or at least I was waking, or something like that,” she stumbled over the end of her sentence, hoping she made some sort of sense.

Banner’s smile grew impossibly wider as he chuckled, “I understand,” he raised a reassuring hand, then turned it palm up, asking, “Is he ready?”

She sighed heavily, feeling suddenly bone tired again, “Honestly, no. But I have to find Thor and figured now would be better than later. That way you can do what you need to with privacy,” she felt the heat return to her cheeks, remembering Loki’s comment about maintaining his dignity.

Banner shook his head at her, chuckling lightly again, “Sounds good. Let me finish up here.” 

Grabbing a small glass dropper with a translucent yellow liquid inside, he lent back over the microscope. He squeezed one drop on the slide, to join the crimson liquid already there. Gazing into the lens, he clicked his tongue making more notes in the notebook.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Iloa stepped closer, “What are you working on?” she asked, watching the liquid mix, temporarily becoming a clear red before returning to its earlier crimson.

Banner sighed watching the reaction through the lens, “I am trying to find a pain medicine that will be effective for one of your kind,” He lifted his gaze to hers, adding, “Unfortunately, I am not having any luck. This isn’t really my area of expertise.” He admitted with a shrug, before continuing, “Your chemical make-up attacks any drugs introduced and kills it immediately. I have been lucky with the ointment I use for Loki’s treatment. The silver stops the spread of infection, but it still isn’t absorbing enough to stop pain as well.”

Iloa scrunched her nose up at this, “Is that my blood?” She couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten it.

“No, it’s Loki’s,” Banner clarified.

“Oh,” her face relaxed before she added, “But Banner, Loki isn’t one of my kind.”

Banner clicked his tongue, “True, but your blood seems to work in the same ways. I have tested Thor’s blood as well, with the exact same results, unfortunately.” He slid the chair back, gesturing toward the microscope, “Would you like to have a look?”

Iloa eagerly stepped forward in front of the scope. She licked her lips nervously, “You are going to explain what I am looking at, right Doc?”

Banner chuckled nodding, “Of course,” he reached forward, fixing a fresh slide. With the fresh drop of blood placed carefully in the center, he switched slides explaining, “This is an unaltered drop of Loki’s blood. Go ahead and take a look.”

Banner leaned back and Iloa lent forward, pressing her eyes against the lenses. She watched with rapt fascination as Loki’s blood cells danced on the slide before her eyes. She was certain there was another name for the movement, but to her it was simply a beautifully elegant, graceful dance made visible to her eager eyes. She couldn’t help but think how much this inside specimen matched the outside him as well.

“Wow,” she breathed. She couldn’t say that she would ever be one to go into the field of medicine, but she couldn’t deny the appeal.

With her face still pressed against the lens, Banner reached around her for another dropper. This one contained a clear liquid, “Watch this,” he instructed, squeezing a drop onto the slide.

She watched the cells dance as the new substance was added to their space. Immediately their movements became panicked and erratic, attacking the liquid until it disappeared leaving them to continue their before steady pace.

“What was that?” she asked tucking her hair behind her ear and pulling her gaze to the man at her side. 

“That was morphine. Which should have made the cells calm or even still. Instead,” he waved his hand at the scope as his explanation. “I have tried codeine, fentanyl which is what I was using when you came in, hydromorphone, meperidine, and even choose something as mild as acetaminophen. All with the exact same results.

“I am honestly at a loss. I can’t seem to find a way to ease Loki’s pain, nothing works. With him awake now, it is imperative that I find a solution. Changing those bandages and applying a fresh treatment will be excruciating otherwise,” he threw his hands up in exasperation, “But I have nothing.” 

He sounded so defeated that Iloa didn’t even think about stopping the words suddenly slipping from her lips, “That’s not true.” Banner quirked an eyebrow at her. She sighed heavily, knowing she should have just kept her mouth shut. Fighting a losing battle to keep her trap shut this time. She wasn’t ready to see Loki any more vulnerable than she already had. But knowing that he would indeed be in agonizing pain without her holding him through the experience, made her heart clinch and twist violently in her chest. If she could provide him comfort, she knew she would. She had been so scared that he would never wake up. That even if her ears finally healed, it would end up being too late for him. She knew what she had to do. Blushing fiercely, she finally whispered, “You have me.”

“But Iloa. . .”

“No,” she cut him off quickly. “It’s the only thing I can do for him right now. With my ears injured, I can’t heal him. But I can keep him from feeling pain.” Banner stayed silent, obviously awaiting further explanation. 

“When I fell asleep with Loki earlier,” she began, casting her eyes down to her feet, hair falling around her face. Her hands wringing together frantically in her embarrassment. “He said he no longer felt any pain. I don’t know why that is, but I know I can use it.” Her cheeks heated to an uncomfortable temperature. She had one more detail she needed to add, “It just. . . umm. . . has to be. . .” she swallowed thickly forcing the last words past her lips quickly, “Skin-to-skin contact.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, but she still caught his hand fly up to his mouth. He covered his lips with the back of his hand, an obvious attempt at hiding his amusement. After a moment of silence that was quickly slipping into uncomfortable territory, he cleared his throat. “Al. . .” he made a noise like a hiccup and cleared his throat once more before trying again, “Alright, you go find Thor and come back down to the recovery room. I will get everything ready and I could honestly use Thor’s help, if you are okay with that?”

Iloa nodded, finally looking up at the man that was still very obviously trying to hide his mirth. Spinning on her heels, she made for the airlock quickly. Her mind, just as tired as her body now. 

She found Thor in the living room on the first floor of the building. Talking animatedly with Steve about something she didn’t care to pay attention too. As soon as he caught sight of her, his story immediately died on his lips. He jumped up from the couch he had been lounging on, his before boisterous features turning stony and worried, “Iloa?”

Her name a simple inquiry that held so many different questions without needing any further words. She smiled cautiously, “He is awake,” she stated, answering every unvoiced question. 

Thor bonded to her, wrapping her tightly in a back breaking embrace, “Is everything alright. Why are you crying?” he whispered into her hair.

She was unaware of the tears that streamed steadily down her cheeks, “He is fine, well as fine as can be expected.” Her lips quivering, voice shaking, she shook her head against his shoulder, “I don’t know why I am crying.” She sobbed quietly, burying her face in his chest. Now that she had been made aware, the tears poured freely. Unrelenting sobs ripping from her chest, she clung onto Thor’s back, fisting her hands tightly in his shirt. 

“Relief,” Steve’s voice filtered into her ears. She chuckled wearily, turning her face to see him now standing beside her and Thor. He reached out placing his hand gently on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

She nodded at him, the sobs calming to small hiccups, “I think you are right,” she whispered. He smiled and she returned the kind expression. Letting the hiccups fade, she let her two friends comfort her for a moment longer, before leaning back from Thor, “I am ok, really.” 

Reluctantly, Thor dropped his arms grasping her hands in his instead. “Actually, Banner and I need your help changing Loki’s bandages.”

Thor nodded eagerly, “Of course, I would be happy to help.” 

She freed her hands, rubbing her eyes and cheeks trying to clear the evidence of her tears. “Let’s go then,” she turned making her way back to the elevator.

“Do you need anymore help,” Steve called.

Iloa stopped abruptly, Thor almost barreling into her. Her cheeks heated and she tried to push down her chagrin when she answered, “I think we should be fine with just Thor,” her voice quavering with her unease.

Thor reached for her arm trying to turn her around, “More hands could always be helpful. If your voice is any indication you still aren’t fully recovered.” 

She flinched at the mention of her altered voice. He was still trying to turn her to face him, but she stubbornly fought his hold. She knew her face was as red as a tomato, “I just think the fewer people the better right now, Thor,” her voice a low warning.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would the doctor need my help if fewer hands are better?”

“It’s not Banner making this request,” she snapped, finally spinning to face him. She let her irritation light to anger, as she spit out, “I have to do something with Loki that feels extremely intimate to me and the less people to bare witness, the greater chance of me keeping my sanity and decorum intact.”

Thor’s brows met with his hairline and glancing over at Steve still across the room, she saw the mirrored effect there. Burying her face in her hands, she groaned loudly in humiliation. Thor chuckled, “Oh I have to know what is happening now.”

Spinning around again, she yanked her hands back to her sides, forming fists as she stomped away from him. “I will explain in the elevator.” She continued her spite filled exit, feeling much like a petulant child and not caring in the slightest. She didn’t even bother to wait and see if he was following her.

[distressedpanda]

Loki-Smut-Library Master-List

*DISCLAIMER* None of these fics belong to me! I would just like to appreciate the amazing work these writers do by sharing it. :) 

Enjoy ;)

Keep reading

[distressedpanda]

The Pet (Loki x Reader)

Warnings: Nsfw, Smut, Dominate Loki, Submissive Reader, Violence, Language, Loki being Loki

Oneshot

A/N: I have never written a xReader fic before and this was an unknown welcome challenge. I wish to thank @thenatallie for asking this of me. In writing this, I became more inspired with my own story.

Tags: @thenatallie

Gets read more for content.

Loki had to run and hated himself for the very idea of retreat. But if he wanted to get out of this alive, escaping and regrouping were his only option. Cutting through the narrow passageways, he kept to the shadows. Making his way up to the jet runway, he hoped to find the platform unoccupied.

Loki was not so lucky.

Or was he?

The form of the woman before him set off primal desires deep in his belly. Bent over the open panel on the jet she was working on, she hadn’t noticed his approach. He could use her once he was off the blasted Helicarrier, willing or not. 

He grinned devilishly, as he moved to trap the woman with his hips against the outside of the X-Jet. She flinched and yelped at the contact, as his upper thighs met her ass and he growled low in his throat in response. 

Jerking up quickly, the girl wrenched her head around to see him. Her y/h/c hair swung around, as y/e/c eyes met emerald greens. “Loki,” she breathed.

He sneered down at the mortal girl, “Good, you know who I am,” placing his hands against the plane on either side of her head, he pressed harder against her backside pinning her firmly against the metal at her hips. Barely subduing his arousal, his voice dropped low, turning husky, “That should make this easier.” 

“Wh. . . What ar. . . are you going to do?” she sputtered out holding his gaze with her own.

To Loki’s pleasure she didn’t sound frightened so much as startled. Perhaps she would be more willing than he thought. “It’s not so much what I am going to do,” he punctuated the sentence by driving his hips forward against her ass. He was rewarded by the strangled gasp that escaped her throat, “It’s more, what you are going to do.”

She swallowed audibly and Loki couldn’t stop the vision of her swallowing around his length as he drove himself between those slightly parted lips. “You are going to fly me out of here. And once we have escaped. . .” He let the sentence die off, not bothering to finish. 

His voice was gentle, alluring, but his eyes were cold. His pale face showing no wrinkles of smiles, his hair as black as raven's feathers slicked back away from his face. He was as cold and hard as the gold that accented his leathers and she knew she couldn't give in to such cruelty.

“I. . .,” she started, suddenly coming back to herself.  She squared her shoulders and pushed back against him forcefully. It did little to move him, but she was able to turn fully to face him. “I can’t do that,” she countered, firmly crossing her arms over her chest. “I have to report you,” she bit out defiantly.

One hand shot out to lace long harsh fingers around her throat, the other thread fingers through her y/h/c hair yanking her head back violently. She gasped and struggled for air whining in pain, feeling the pressure on her windpipe almost completely cutting it off. She tried to pull on his hand, but it was as unyielding as iron. Digging her nails into his arm, they bit ineffectually into the leather.

He grinned cruelly at her pitiful attempt, “You will get me off this vessel,” he spit into her face, “Or you will not survive this day! And I have much better use of you alive." His words were heavy with suggestion and threat. She could feel his eyes roaming across her body. She hated how fast her heart started beating. 

She had no desire to die today. The alarms started blaring in her mind, the need to survive overpowering her senses. Her oxygen deprived brain begged for her compliance, as she clawed desperately at his arms.

He didn’t release his choking grasp or painful pulling grip until she answered. A strangled, “Ok,” escaped her lips, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. 

Loki let go of her throat, allowing her to gasp long draws of breath back into her oxygen deprived body.  Keeping the punishing grip on her hair he turned her away from himself and the jet. “Lead on, mortal,” he growled against her ear. 

She shivered in his grasp, his proximity setting uncomfortable tingles up her spine. She felt utterly defeated, helpless in his grasp. Wisely she led them to another X-Jet, not the one she had been repairing. Climbing aboard and leading them to the cockpit, she was shoved into the pilots seat, “I assume since you were working on one, that you know how to fly these blasted machines?”

Glaring at him, she nodded as best she could with his grip still in her hair. Angry tears were flowing freely from her eyes now. Loki lent in drawing his lips along the shell of her ear, “One move to radio for backup, will be the end of you, my dear,” he said, before roughly pushing her head away and releasing her hair. He strapped himself into the co-pilot's chair watching her closely.

Suddenly she felt afraid. She did not want to die. Weeping silently the girl started up the engines and had them heading safely away from S.H.I.E.L.D. in no time. All she had to do to live was obey. She could do that, she hoped.

“Where are we going?” she whispered softly, after putting some much needed distance between them and his captors.

“That is none of your concern,” Loki bit out at her, “For now simply keep us off S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar and any other radars for that matter.” 

She nodded, leaning forward to program safe coordinates into the jets computer. Loki watched the way her spine curved as she worked, the way her shirt lifted slightly to reveal a tease of y/s/c skin just above the swell of her backside.

Loki growled low in his throat, he needed release and she would do. She could even be considered pretty for mortal standards. Her y/e/c eyes, snapped to his at his predatory sounds. She looked startled once again, her eyes dancing with something close to but not quite arousal, curiosity, intrigue maybe. He growled again, unhooking himself from his harness. Standing he stalked the two steps to her, leaning over her menacingly, “Set the auto-pilot, you have other things to do, mortal.” 

It was not a request and she nodded in understanding. She lent forward to turn on the auto-pilot, unable to take her eyes off his. 

Switch flipped, Loki ripped the harness from over her heaving chest and dragged her from the chair by the back of the neck. He stepped right into her personal space, meticulously running one long finger over her lips. His other hand moving to her cheek. Loki tilted his head in consideration, long hair falling away from his head at the movement. His fingers moved from her cheek to the side of her neck, making her glaringly aware of her own rapid pulse, his thumb absentmindedly stroked along her jawline. Her thoughts raced frantically through her mind, but his damn touch was too distracting to grasp one. His hands dropped from her face to her shoulders and he spun her to pull her back to his chest, she squealed then groaned as his teeth attacked the sensitive skin of her throat. 

She should do something, but she was frozen under his attention, breathing heavily. She fought for control of her senses, her body. But she was losing her mind to his forceful assault. 

Nipping and sucking along the column of her neck, Loki walked them toward the bay of the ship. She stumbled several times, causing him to wrap his arms tightly around her middle. Squeezing his arms like a vice as she started struggling to free herself in vain. 

She couldn’t deny him much longer. Loki had set a fire ablaze in her veins with his words and teeth and it was only growing the longer he was in contact with her body. She could feel the heat growing in her core. She made an angry sound struggling again, but it did nothing. To her dismay, she realized her panties were already soaked. But she had to put up a fight, didn't she?

"No," she gasped, while simultaneously grinding against him. A contradiction, she realized. 

Loki chuckled darkly as she squirmed and ground against him, in response to his assault, “You mortals are all such wanton creatures. Just accept your fate, my dear. Your have already lost,” he breathed in deeply, relishing the way the air had already begun to smell of her sex. “I can already smell your arousal,” he whispered darkly against her ear.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she shivered in his grasp, but stayed tense. She had to fight. Loki sucked greedily against her pulse point and she swallowed back the groan of pleasure. Wait, what had she been thinking. She felt like butter, melting into a pool of lust. Enjoying how he held her immobile. How he was talking down to her. So haughtily and superior. In a last ditch effort to regain control, she struggled once more dislodging his lips from her neck.

“Stop fighting,” Loki warned, his hands moving to explore the front of her body. Fingers met flesh at her waistline and she whimpered. His touch was cold. She could feel her own skin warm up as if to counteract his coldness. Shoving his hands under her shirt, he groped and squeezed the soft flesh of her stomach venturing ever higher. “It will be pleasurable for you if you stop denying your own need. Submit to me!”

Loki didn’t really care if she received pleasure, he would get his own either way. His hands moved up until they reached her soft mounds squeezing and kneading her flesh beneath the thin fabric of her bra. 

Her mind went blank and she was suddenly filled with a sense of clarity. Submission could be pleasurable if she just gave him control. She moaned low in her throat unable to deny her own need anymore and Loki hummed contentedly in response, “Much better,” he purred, nipping at the shell of her ear and drawing a gasp from her slightly parted lips.

“You want me to take you, to make you mine. You want to be at my mercy, whore.” he growled against her throat. She felt shocks of fresh arousal in her gut. She suddenly felt more helpless than she did when he first forced her on the ship. She couldn’t find a response, practically trembling in his grasp and she knew why. Because she was scared and because she was burning hot with desire. 

Spinning her in his arms, she lost her balance. Loki latched onto her once more pressing her firmly against his chest, he ground his growing arousal against her stomach. “Where do you think you are going?”

She blinked up at him, eyes darkening in lust. Y/e/c rings surrounded by blown pupils. She had lost the battle against her mind, need and desire arresting her senses. “Nowhere,” she breathed.

Loki growled in approval, “Correct,” he praised.

"Loki," she whimpered, when he pulled away slightly.  

He tilted his head in contemplation, staring at her from so close that he might see straight into her soul. She was trembling all over, knees so weak she was grateful he was holding her so tightly. Loki chuckled watching her melt in his grasp, the coldness in his eyes almost palpable. He lent in and pushed his fingers into her hair, his own falling to curtain the sides of his face.  

Her breath caught in her throat as he roughly grabbed the back of her head, angling it towards him. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she felt neither calm nor confident. She no longer fought when Loki pulled her head up looking coldly down at her and placed his lips over hers. Her fingers clutched the leather of his coat, whether to pull him closer or push him away, she had no idea. All she knew was he was cold and cruel and that she was hot and weak against him. 

His grip on her hair tightened. Spearing his tongue past her lips into the wet warmth, he swallowed the moan that crawled up from her throat. There was no passion in the action, teeth and tongues fighting each other in need. His primal desire to fill and dominate, unquenchable. He separated from her momentarily to arrest the shirt from her body, then crashed them back together, no longer finding resistance. Fucking into her mouth with his tongue, drawing more lust filled moans from the girl now pliant in his arms. His hands dug fingers harshly into the flesh across her back. She rocked her hips forward and he responded with his own thrust. She still had too many clothes on. 

Loki ripped the bra from her chest, slinging it across the empty bay. His mouth immediately latched onto one of her exposed nipples, drawing the distended bud harshly between his teeth. She cried out and he reached to knead the other breast relentlessly as his other hand moved to rid her body of it’s lower garments. Her hands landed in his hair tangling in the raven locks.

She was a sweaty, drooling mess when Loki finally had her naked and exposed before him. Freeing her from his relentless mouth and hands, he rose to his full height to stare down at her, her hands falling uselessly to her sides. She swallowed thickly as she looked up at him and he wanted to feel that swallow, “On your knees, mortal,” he coldly commanded.

She practically fell to her knees to comply. Submit, her brain supplied. The only clear thought she could grasp through her desire addled mind. Loki grinned sinfully and she fought to breath, chest heaving harshly at the sight. He gestured to the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers, “You have work to do, pet,” he commanded, fisting his hands against his hips looking nothing less than the dominating God he was. 

She reached forward to free his length pulling his pants down his hips. Gasping at his size as it bobbed proudly before her face. She glanced up, seeking his eyes. 

He stared down pointedly, “Get started,” he threatened. He knew he was bigger than any mortal male would be and intimidatingly so.

She nodded in response, licking her lips in apprehension. She reached out wrapping her hand around his base, the other coming to rest against his thigh for support. She couldn’t connect her fingers around him and trembled in anticipation. Rubbing her thighs together trying to gain some much needed stimulation, she lent forward hesitantly teasing his slit with her tongue collecting the small drop of his essence already collected there. She hummed at the taste, salty and bitter, but masculine and forbidden, intoxicating. She wrapped her lips around his swollen head, moaning. 

Loki let his head fall back on his shoulders, his breathing became labored instantly. The sensation of her warm wet mouth was good, but not enough. Looking back down to her, he fisted a hand in her hair, pulling her roughly against him, “You can do better, whore,” he warned.

She moaned around his length, eyes stinging with tears, jaw already aching at the stretch. She started to bob around his length, drawing as much of him as she could into her mouth. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked and tongued the veins along his shaft. Loki growled in approval, but it still wasn’t enough. He thrust into her mouth as she slid forward, pushing relentlessly into her throat.

Loki’s head hit her gag reflex and she swallowed instinctively. There it was, he moaned low in his throat, thrusting with abandon to get that response again. She whined around his length as he drew almost all the way out and slammed back in, causing the swallow around his head. He took control slamming himself into her throat, his free hand joining the other in her hair. Feeling her drop her hand from his length, she let him use her. The fingers on her other hand digging into his thigh to keep herself upright. 

Loki looked down past his length disappearing partly between her wet lips. She couldn’t take all of him, not there. But he would have the rest of her as well.

Her free hand drifted between her thighs, seeking her folds to ease the tension growing there. He growled slamming himself into her throat and holding, cutting off her air supply momentarily. She stilled drawing her lust blown eyes back to his in panic, “Don’t,” he commanded. Drawing back to allow her to breath again. “Do. Not. Touch.” He punctuated each word with a slam of his head into her throat.

She choked and moaned obediently, moving to clasp her hands behind her back to still her roaming fingers. She allowed him to fuck relentlessly into her mouth, awaiting his release. Her thighs still rubbed together in need, praying that he would see fit to provide her with her own release as well. Her jaw ached and her eyes stung as tears collected and fell. She wrung her hands together tightly, fighting against the need to touch herself.

Loki knew he would need to prep the mortals body if he wanted to use her more than once. If she took him well, he just might keep her. Finally halting his assault on her throat, he withdrew suddenly. She whined hoarsely at the loss, licking drool from her swollen lips. She watched him step away, unsure what he would do next. With a wave of his hand, he stood naked before her. She moaned at the sight of his well toned lean body, she wanted.

He grinned, “Like what you see?” he asked. But didn’t seem to want an answer, as he bent to latch his lips to hers again. She whimpered into his mouth, when he forced her to lie back beneath him. The metal cold and hard against her bare skin, much like the man above her. Her hands latched onto his shoulders, digging her fingers into the hardened muscles. Legs splaying to accommodate his hips between her legs. She wanted to explore his body but he had other plans. 

Loki’s hands roamed down her body, his lips following. He didn’t kiss or cherish her flesh, he used and abused it. Biting and suckling at her throat harshly eliciting cries of pain and his hair tickled against her skin drawing gasps of pleasure from the girl. His hands kneaded her breasts roughly before his teeth found their way there too. She cursed, digging her nails into his skin as he sucked angry marks against her swells before nipping at her erect nipples. She was so close to cumming from over stimulation and he hadn’t even touched her where she ached the most. She rolled her hips up, begging for any pressure to relieve the ache in her core. 

Loki lifted up away from her, she cried out at the loss of his cold skin, her hands falling uselessly to the floor. Without him on top of her she felt much too hot to be in her own skin. His hands and mouth left her breasts, sliding quickly down her sides to dig his fingers into her hips with a bruising grip to still them. He was driving her mad. “Please,” she begged hoarsely sounding wrecked already, attempting to grind up once more and failing, squirming to attain some sort of friction. Without his constant brutal attention, she could feel her arousal already starting to dull and fade. He growled, pressing his fingers into her hips painfully. 

“You will find release, whore” Loki promised darkly, “When I want you to.”

She whined, at the promise and the denial in his words. But he quickly halted the sound, his teeth finding her breast once more, nipping harshly at her swell. She whimpered, but nodded her obedience when he looked up at her in question.

“You might make a good pet, after all,” he rumbled returning his lips and teeth to her skin, sucking and biting bruises into the flesh at her hip. She keened and whimpered with her approval, but he didn’t need it. Instead she needed his, to become his pet, she had to pass one more test.

Leaning back until he could see the evidence of her arousal, he chuckled darkly. Dexterous fingers slid from her hip and he teased her skin, letting his hand caress her inner thighs. She just barely stifled the wanton sounds that threatened to escape her throat, fingers digging against the unforgiving metal at her sides. "Look how wet you are." She could hear her lust mirrored in his voice, a fresh wave of heat coursed through her veins. "Look how much your body craves me." She whimpered, her legs trembling slightly. She felt so powerless, so completely at his mercy. 

Loki’s fingers rubbed lazily over the smooth bare skin of her slit, without delving in. He pressed harder against the hip still beneath his hand as her back arched off the metal floor and she groaned. Her head rocked violently from side to side, hair becoming an unruly halo around her head, “Loki, please,” she keened. 

Loki chuckled at her display, “Since you asked so nicely,” he responded, sliding his middle finger in to part her folds. 

A sound somewhere between a plea for release and a surrender to his desires escaped her throat. She fought to raise her hips again, needing, wanting more. 

He growled impatiently, his fingers moved back to caress over the top of her folds. She stilled obediently and he dipped back in. His fingers pressed hard against the sensitive nub at the top of her folds. He rubbed ever so slightly and she whimpered in desperation, the slight sparks not enough to light her on fire. She moved her hips subtly from side to side to get more friction, until two of his fingers finally sank into her. She gasped, nerve endings flaring to life. Fingers clenching against the floor at her sides. Her walls fluttered and clenched around his digits tightly, long gone untouched by anyone even herself.

His fingertips rubbed against her walls slowly at first, scissoring her tight entrance. Opening her up to accept his size. "How tight you are, pet," he remarked, his own dark desire filled his words. "How wet and ready for me.” Then his fingers curled and began to thrust harshly against her sweet spot.  

Lewd sounds fell from her lips as finally, pleasure filled her aching core. She rocked her hips against his fingers as much as he would allow, giving herself over to the pleasure he had finally seen fit to provide her. 

Loki chuckled sounding triumphant, his skillful fingers making the girl gasp and moan beneath him. Suddenly his fingers withdrew, leaving her feeling empty. She moaned in anticipation as she watched him shift and taking his length in hand prodded against her entrance. 

Loki waved a hand and her hands were suddenly bound together and pulled above her head attached to some unseen point. Her breath caught in her throat, the unfamiliar feeling of being bound and stretched out before this stranger both terrifying and erotic. He prodded against her entrance again and she braced herself for the intrusion. His hands bit into her hips as she felt the head of his length push inside. Her walls stretched apart to the point of discomfort, his length spearing deeper and deeper inside her until she felt completely full.

She whimpered at the sensation of being stretched almost to the point of pain, her body trembling beneath him. But despite the pain and discomfort, she felt like an itch was finally being scratched. 

Loki kept his hips pressed firmly against her and reached down to tease the nub at the top of her folds. With a cry, her head snapped back making hard contact with the unforgiving metal floor. Arms pulling against the binding, legs spasming, her walls clenched painfully hard around him.

 "How well you take me," Loki praised with a grunt. Slowly he drew his hips back to thrust lazily into her. All thought bled from her mind, legs giving out and falling helplessly to the floor. A small cry escaped her throat with each thrust, growing dizzy with pleasure and pain. 

Loki’s fingers still danced across her nub, sending spasms through her body that caused her walls to clench down around him. Soon his thrusts grew, becoming savage and brutal, her ass slamming achingly into the floor as he mercilessly slammed into her, animalistic noises escaping his throat in response to her own cries.

The hand not assaulting her nub, reached up to rub and pinch one of her distended nipples, causing a moan to escape her throat. The assault on her nub halted as that hand slid up to wrap around her throat, squeezing slightly.

Her body flooded with a mix of fear and arousal and she began lifting her hips to meet his driving hips, in desperate need of her own release. Her mind becoming scrambled by the impact of pleasure coursing through her core. 

Loki growled in response and squeezed a little harder, bucking wildly against her thrusts. She felt weak with need when his torturous fingers left her nipple and found her nub once more, rubbing hard. She screamed his name and his hand left her throat to tangle in her hair pulling harshly.

Loki lent forward, his thrusts becoming frantic and delirious. He nipped at her ear, “You want to cum don’t you, whore?” he grunted, driving faster into her as she angled her hips up to take him deeper. 

“Please,” she raggedly, breathlessly begged. Pleasure flooded through her entire body hearing her own high pitched moans and whimpers between Loki’s animalistic grunts and groans.

"Then cum, pet," he commanded, his fingers rubbing furiously against her nub. She could hear the strain in his voice and she knew he was close too. She saw stars, searing white light blinding her senses as she let loose at his command, howling her completion. She came hard against him, shaking, her walls clenching down tightly around him and fluttering against his driving length. 

Loki gave a strained growl, driving deep inside her with a harsh shudder. She could feel his length pulse inside her still fluttering core, pumping his hot seed deep inside her. He continued to thrust slowly into her, riding out the last bits of his pleasure, completely emptying himself inside her. He slammed violently into her once more with a growl, before pulling out of her. 

Panting heavily, she was completely spent, feeling his seed leak down her folds. She knew that despite the pain, she would never find pleasure like that ever again. Her gut clenched painfully at the thought, her eyes tracking him as he slumped down to lay on his side next to her.

Breathing heavily, he waved a hand above her head, finally releasing her hands from their bounds. She pulled them to her chest slowly, watching his chest rise and fall. The sweat from exertion beading and falling in iridescent pearls across his skin. His hair was barely ruffled his face showed no signs of his earlier pleasure. He was beautiful laying there next to her and she knew that she looked just as wrecked as she felt. It really wasn’t fair. Now he would just cast her aside like the broken toy she was.  

He reached a hand out to lay possessively against her stomach. It only made the knot in her stomach tighten. “What is your name?” he asked, his head nestled against his arm. His eyes staring through her instead of at her.

“Does it matter,” she bit out. He was just going to throw her away now, why did he want to know?

“Would you prefer I continue to call you, pet?” His voice low, dark and threatening, but somehow still alluring.

“Y/n,” she finally answered, deciding that a fight with him would definitely not be worth it.

Loki grinned, a sinister up tilt of his lips, “Y/n,” he purred her name in response, moving the hand on her stomach to drag her against his chest. He chuckled coldly at her gasp, “I think I will keep you,” he drawled lazily.

Fresh arousal coursed through her at his approval and claim, she placed a tentative hand against his chest, “I think I could be alright with that.”

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 10

Warnings: Language, mostly fluff but mentions of arousal. Angsty, angst, so much angst. Did I mention angst?

A/N: That’s right, you aren’t seeing things! Two posts in one day! (Pats self on back because no one else is going too!)

As always, let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​ @thenatallie​ Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 

Too soon for Loki, his peace was disrupted. Iloa had slumbered soundly against his side for several hours, her warmth calming and quelling his affliction further. He felt much better than he had upon first awakening. Her warmth and their electric connection healing his very soul. The aches from small movements disappearing as he soothed the sleeping beauty in his arms. 

But their undisturbed tranquility ended when Banner abruptly swung the door near the foot of the bed open. His eyes cast down, studying a clipboard in his hands as he made his way into the room. 

Loki’s instincts were to growl in warning at the other man, but he held back not wishing to awaken the sleeping girl at his side. A low rumble did start the closer the other got to the bed, causing Loki to further notice the lack of pain. Banner finally looked up, assessing the sight before him with clinical analysis. Then he smiled.

“You’re awake,” Banner said, keeping his voice low. 

Loki was stunned, he had assumed the doctor would demand the removal of the girl from his person. Schooling his features, “Obviously,” he deadpanned. Sure he had become alarmingly open with Iloa, but that didn’t mean he was going to change who he was around anyone else.

Banner had gone about gathering items from the cabinets and depositing them carefully on the metal rolling table. “I am happy to see that she is finally sleeping.”

The sincerity behind that statement brought back Loki’s earlier thoughts, “How long have I been out?” he asked again.

Banner tilted his watch up to look at, “Almost seven days now.”

Loki couldn’t stop the huff that escaped him, “Well I suppose that is over 24 hours,” he blanched, glancing back down at Iloa.

“Ha, is that what she told you?” When Loki nodded in conformation, still looking down at the girl, the doctor continued. “I guess she didn’t want you to know how bad it was. Honestly, I didn’t know if you would wake up again.” Banner rolled the table over to the side of the bed. 

“No need to worry, doctor,” Loki scoffed, finally looking back to the man. “I will not make the mistake of leaving her again,” unintentionally the words came out low and threatening. He didn’t think the doctor would remove the girl, but he couldn’t stop the incessant need to let anyone know that she would not be made to leave his side.

Banner lifted his hands in front of him, grinning, “Easy with the tone there, don’t want to anger the green monster. I am not making her leave or vice versa,” he chuckled. “I am just happy to see that she is finally sleeping. She has barely even rested all week.”

Loki inwardly blanched at the mention of the doctors alter ego, but kept his tone neutral. “How long was she out?”

“Only a few hours,” Banner admitted, reaching a tentative hand out to the other. “She refused to leave your side. Been in that chair since she woke up.” He held a blue cuff in his hand in an attempt to wrap it around Loki’s left arm. He cleared his throat before adding, “May I?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, “You have been treating me without my consent for an entire week and now you are asking permission?” He snarled at the other, annoyed by the stupidity of his question.

Banner actually flinched at Loki’s tone, taking a steadying breath. “Well, you weren’t awake then.”

Loki scoffed, “Oh just get on with it,” he growled, returning his focus and attention back to Iloa. He knew he was tempting fate, but it really was a stupid question.

Wrapping the cuff around Loki’s bicep, Banner set about checking his vitals. Loki focused on the way Iloa’s eyes suddenly raced behind her closed lids, her breathing becoming small gasps. Fearing she was having a nightmare, he tightened his arm around her. Calm yourself, my dear. He thought, knowing she couldn't hear him. But he would not voice such things in front of anyone but her. Hopefully his thoughts would be enough, for now. I will not leave you. Never again. Running his fingers soothingly through her curls and shushing the panicked thing at his side. With supreme satisfaction, he felt her breathing calm and her eyes slowed to lazy sweeps behind her closed lids. 

“You really care for her don’t you?” the doctor's voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up to see the doctor’s eyes filled with wonder.

Loki sneered at the man, “I do not see how that is any of your concern,” he bit out. Emotions, mortal emotions were a threat to his very livelihood. If he admitted to even one emotion, one fault, how many others would he feel the need to divulge? How many faults did he truly have? How many needed to be apologized for? He inwardly groaned at that thought. Save for Iloa, he had only honestly apologized to Frigga before. 

Banner shook his head, “You’re right, none of my business.” 

The doctor started to rub some type of cream across the gashes on his arm, “What happened?” he asked, remembering that he hadn’t gotten an answer from Iloa.

“The Russians,” Banner stated bluntly, returning the jar to the tray at his side. Loki quirked an eyebrow at the man, expecting more of an explanation. Banner sighed, “They were trying to retrieve the nuclear material, using the guise of being a part of the construction crew to gain access to the tower. Stark hadn’t stored the material at the Tower, though I suppose they were unaware of that fact. They set charges on their way out, luckily empty handed, and blew the Tower.” 

Upon his clarification, Loki turned his gaze back to Iloa again. She would, had, thought this was all her fault. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but it was a fact that he could feel in his heart. Perhaps her fear to tell him of her injuries, her low volume attempt to mask the wrong cords of her voice, perhaps even the guilt in her unnatural lilt. Maybe it was the fact that he now knew she hadn’t slept in seven days. But he knew she would blame herself for everything. He thanked the Gods that he had somehow managed to survive.

“Not that I care,” he stated carefully, narrowing his eyes to further clarify that fact, “But is anyone else injured?”

Banner smiled, causing Loki to sneer in displeasure before the doctor answered, “Injured, yes. But everyone is fine. Oddly enough, everyone else was on the lower floors. You were the only person injured this severely. Stark, Thor and I were in the labs. Steve wasn’t in the tower, neither were Clint or Sam. Natasha,” he said her name with reverence and a little guilt, Loki quirked his eyebrow at the change in his tone. Banner cleared his throat, casting his eyes down momentarily, “She was in the elevator. It went into free fall, but the emergency brakes activated at about floor 65. She suffered a concussion, but no other injuries.” Looking back up then, that unbearably professional smile plastered on his lips again, “But other than that, you and Iloa were the only ones actually inside the blast radius. We were all lucky.”

Loki nodded, taking in the new information. He had to agree they had been extremely lucky. 

When Banner finished as much as he could without waking Iloa, including removing the IV from his arm, “So your vitals look much better, amazing in fact. And the rest of you seems to be ahead of schedule, as far as healing. I still need to change the bandage on your back,” he held up a hand as a low rumble emitted from Loki’s chest, “But that can wait until Iloa wakes up on her own. Have her come get me from the lab and I will take care of it then.”

Loki nodded, watching the doctor put his supplies away and then exit the room. 

“You should have let him change it,” Iloa’s sleep riddled drawl cutting into the silence, nearly made Loki jump off the bed. 

He slapped his free hand over his heart and Iloa couldn’t hold in the small giggle that escaped her throat, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki glared down at her, but it had a playful edge that made Iloa sigh happily, “I was not scared. Startled perhaps, but definitely never scared,” he drawled, watching her grin grow into a genuine smile, that had his heart aching for a different reason altogether. Her tone was still off and she was still keeping her voice low, but he had to admit it was sounding better. Perhaps all she needed was the recovering power of deep sleep.

She nodded, “Yeah, sure,” she chided gently. She wiggled slightly, needing to stretch her tired muscles but still very aware that she could hurt him if she moved too much. 

As if reading her mind, Loki hesitantly removed his hand from her hair. He dropped his arm to the bed behind her, effectively releasing her from his hold. She smiled again, sitting up slowly and dangling her legs over the side of the bed. Loki watched in rapt silence, as she lifted her arms over her head, clasping one wrist and arching her back deliciously. The resounding pop though small, rang through the quiet room. 

Loki unconsciously licked his lips, a steady ache curling low in his stomach, his eyes dancing across the arch and curve of her petite frame. Suddenly, he needed to hide a very noticeable bulge beneath the sheets at his waist. He coughed, tearing his eyes away. This was neither the time nor place for such things to be capturing his thoughts. He took slow steadying breaths, drawing his knees up slightly to hide the embarrassing growth between his legs. A sharp pain lit his skin on fire at the motion, effectively deflating the hardness between his thighs. He bit back a groan, hissing sharply through his teeth.

Iloa spun around to look at him, placing a hand on his bare chest. “Loki, what happened?” her panicked voice rang harshly through the room. Her eyes frantically darted across his form before settling on his green gaze again.

So much for the healing powers of sleep, he thought. 

He chuckled darkly, breathing in her ocean scent letting her fingers envelope him in warmth and soothing electric energy before he answered, “I moved.” At her inquiring eyebrow lift, he explained, “I lifted my knees, you were no longer in contact with me and I felt pain again.” With her hand planted firmly on his chest, he tested the movement again. Slightly lifting his knees from the bed, he felt a dull ache that was perfectly manageable. He quirked his brow at her as though that should answer everything.

Iloa breathed shakily, whispering in awe, “It really does help,” tentatively she moved her hand away from his chest only to place it on his slightly lifted knee, her eyes tracking the movement of her hand. She pushed his knee gently back to the bed. He hissed again and her hand shot back to his chest again. “I am so sorry,” she blurted.

Loki nodded, “It would appear that it has to be skin-to-skin contact,” he clarified. Her blue gaze locked on his again. Lifting the arm still behind her, he rested his open palm against her cheek, “You haven’t slept nearly long enough. You need more rest, join me again?” he pleaded, feeling more open and vulnerable than ever before.

She smiled and shook her head gently, “You need to be treated fully, before I would be comfortable with that.” She nuzzled his hand briefly before pulling away, his arm falling heavily back to the bed, she stood up next to the bed. “Besides, I have to talk to Thor.” Loki’s features turned into one giant question mark and Iloa chuckled at him. Placing a reassuring hand over his, “He asked me to let him know when you woke up. I will return and it will give you some privacy when Banner changes your bandages.”

Loki captured her hand quickly, “But it will hurt more if you aren’t here,” he breathed, hating how small and exposed his voice sounded. He almost wanted to take it back, until he was rewarded with her warm endearing smile.

“If you want to keep your dignity, you don’t want me in the room,” she tried to convince him. “You are naked under that sheet, Loki,” she added with a small chuckle.

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a deep, husky whisper, “Who said anything about maintaining my dignity?”

Iloa gasped audibly, she could feel heat bloom across her cheeks. Desire pooled low in her belly and she fought to keep her mind in safe territory. “Loki,” she warned, breathlessly. 

Loki grinned evilly at the flush gracing Iloa’s beautiful features. He simply couldn’t resist tempting that flush, injuries be damned. “Don’t lie,” he teased, tugging her hand and drawing her back to his side. He trailed his hand slowly up her arm to flex his fingers across her shoulder blade. He drew her closer and she hesitantly lowered herself, placing her hands firmly on the bed. He lowered his head, brushing his lips teasingly across the shell of her ear, relishing the shiver that ran through her body. It took every ounce of willpower Iloa had to keep from melting into a puddle at Loki’s side. “You have wondered about what is under this sheet, haven’t you?” Loki breathed directly into her ear.

She shot up and away from his hold, “Loki,” she snapped, her cheeks growing from the pale pink to an alarming shade of red, “If you weren’t already injured, I would put you in here myself, you ass,” she growled and spun on her heels heading for the door.

He chuckled, groaning slightly already missing the loss of her contact, “But you love me for it,” he countered boldly.

She paused hand on the door handle, sinful thoughts dancing through her mind. Finding a daring thread of her own, she turned back to him. Her own eyes darkening, she took sure, confident steps back to him. Grinning at the audible inhale that crossed his lips at her approach. She lent forward quickly, before her brain could kick in with the logical excuse that she shouldn’t do this and captured his lips in a quick heated kiss. A low moan escaped his throat, before she pulled back to look him dead in the eyes, “I do,” she whispered, then turned leaving a very surprised Loki alone in the room, before he could even respond.

“Damn,” was the only word he could think to express the obvious turn over of control. But he found himself grinning as he thought, It isn’t so bad to lose control. . . sometimes.

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 9

Warnings: Trigger warning for description of pain and injury. I don’t get to in depth in this chapter. Fluffy, fluff! A/N:I don’t really have much to say about this chapter it is kind of a filler chapter to move the characters forward. But it is still important to the story. As always if you wish to be tagged let me know. And I hope you are enjoying my story! Tags: @whosaidididthat​ @thenatallie​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Loki jerked awake, with a loud gasp and then groaned at the movement, snapping his eyes closed against the assaulting bright light surrounding him. Falling back to the surface he had been lying on, in a slightly upright position. Immediately his senses were captured by the electricity flooding into his body, wrapping his aching body in a blanket of warmth and soothing the suffering, through the contact on his bare arm. 

“Loki?”

He turned his head slowly to the soft sound. He knew it was Iloa, could feel her presence there on his arm before he could see her. The scent of sea salt from a warm ocean spray flooded his nose. But something was off about her voice, like an untuned piano or someone playing the wrong notes to an all too familiar song. He slowly lifted his lids again. Blinking rapidly trying to focus, “Iloa,” he growled out, his mouth dry and sloppy from disuse. He could tell he was in a bed and the offending light reminded him of a sick room. Was he in a hospital?

She smiled, “I am here,” she cooed, softly. Running her fingers gently across his forearm. She had been so scared that she would never see those brilliant green eyes again. Pulling her hand back to her lap, she added, “I am not going anywhere.”

Loki blinked at her, “What happened?” he asked, lifting the opposite arm to rub at his eyes. But as soon as he lifted his arm from the bed, he immediately regretted it. Sucking a sharp breath through his teeth, he scrunched his face up in pain, dropping the offending appendage instantly. 

Iloa stood quickly, lifting her hands to rest gently and soothingly against both of his arms, “Don’t try to move,” she begged, running her hands lightly across his forearms now.

Loki was again struck by how off key her voice was, made worse by the pleading in her tone. But he soon relaxed under her ministrations, settling back into the bed. “Where are we?” he asked, favoring the knowledge of location over information of what happened after he had passed out.

“In a sub-basement of the Avengers Compound, upstate,” she answered softly.

That answer struck him as oddly specific and he suddenly realized that she was keeping her volume low on purpose and he could ignore her abnormal tone no longer. “Iloa,” he whispered, trying to see her through the migraine that was literally forming in his eyes. “What is wrong?”

Iloa inhaled sharply, she couldn’t even be happy about the fact that he had stated her name so openly, twice now. No malice, no animosity, no hostility. As though it was as natural to him as breathing. She could only think, He can’t know yet. Of course she knew he would discern that something was off. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, he would be disappointed in her. Her own insecurities overwhelming any rational thought.

The truth was her ear drums had ruptured from the explosion in Stark Tower. She could still hear, but the sounds were coming to her damaged ear canals as though through water. She shook her head at him, “Nothing,” she breathed, worried that her voice was betraying her more than she was aware. She took a deep breath, lifting her hands from his arms again. Settling herself back into the brown leather chair she had vacated. “Do you need anything?”

He growled, knowing it would be painful, and it didn’t disappoint as the sound ripped through his chest, setting off electrifying spasms of excruciating pain through the muscles in his back and shoulders. This electricity was not welcome or enjoyed, but he growled his protest at her evasion anyway. 

He could see her head pop back up towards him and she gasped. He still couldn’t quite make out her features but his eyes were adjusting slowly. If only the offending light wasn’t so bright, he would certainly be able to see her better. His chest continued to rumble as he openly growled at her, she stood again replacing her hands on his forearms. “Loki, please,” she begged.

The emotion in his name even though it was still out of tune, quelled the growl. Cutting it off sharply, he huffed which hurt worse than the earlier sound, setting a fire running through his veins which almost matched his agitation. 

He grit his teeth, turning his head from her and closing his eyes. He let her warm and soothe his nerves for only a moment. Her thumbs running slow calming circles across his skin. Then, “Can you do something about the lights?” he hissed through his teeth.

She snapped her hands away from him, instantly leaving him cold and he mourned the loss of contact. He turned his head back to her and watched her form walk across the room. Slowly the lights dimmed to a much more reasonable setting for his aching eyes. He could see her properly now, in the low lighting. She looked exhausted, dark circles permeated the skin beneath her eyes. Her hair falling in messy unkempt waves around her shoulders. Concern wrinkled her forehead and turned the corners of her mouth down in melancholy. Her before smooth features appeared as hard edges now. It did not suit her. She can’t have rested after the incident. He knew she had passed out and began to wonder how long he had been out himself. 

Iloa didn’t seem to be significantly injured. He breathed a sigh of relief though it was much more about her seemingly being free of drastic harm than his own easement. She smiled, small, weary, “Better?” she asked when she returned to his side. Her voice remained low, just above a whisper, yet still ringing incorrectly in his ears.

His eyes danced across her face, there was a healing gash across her cheekbone. A speckled pattern of cuts between her eyebrow and hairline on the same side, healing as well. Casting his eyes lower, he came across bruises and scrapes along the parts of her arms that weren’t covered by her white t-shirt. He couldn’t see her legs at all, covered completely by jeans as they were. He hadn’t protected her from injury completely but she would heal just fine. This fact almost made him smile. 

Almost. 

Her voice, something had injured her despite his efforts. Something he couldn’t see. As he drew his gaze back to those deep cerulean pools, he caught the anxiety in them. She was keeping something from him. “Tell me,” he stated simply.

She turned her gaze from his quickly, bowing her head, long locks of crimson waves spilled forth to obscure her face from his view. He wanted to reach out to her, brush those spirals aside, hold her. But he did none of those things, because he couldn’t. Bound to this bed as he was, she was too far away.

He waited for her to answer, but nothing came from the girl. In the silence, his mind rolled over possible injuries that would contribute to the difference in her tone. Suddenly the thought struck him, Why hasn’t she healed herself? Why hasn’t she healed me? 

She was certainly strong enough in her seiðr to perform both tasks. Though he could plainly see that she hadn’t rested well, if at all, she should still be able to heal herself at the very least. Why then had she not? He knew that until his own injury had healed significantly on it’s own, he would not have the strength to summon his own seiðr.

“Please,” he started to ask again.

“I’m fine,” she blurted without looking up, the tone so harsh and wrong it caused his ears to ache. Like nails on a chalkboard. It was simply awful.

He knew he shouldn’t, but her dismissive words angered him, “Do not lie to me,” he growled out before dissolving into a coughing fit that wracked his aching body with fresh waves of agonizing torment. Her hands were on his chest instantly, only faintly making him realize it was bare between gasps for air and waves of pain. Chest heaving, struggling to breath past the pain, he opened himself to her warmth. She rubbed small circles across his bare skin and slowly the coughs and anguish subsided. 

“Water,” he croaked when he could breathe somewhat normally again. She nodded and moved away from him, again venturing across the room. To a door he hadn’t noticed. She reached to exit the room, suddenly an unexplained and powerful panic arrested his senses. “Don’t,” he pleaded. He had to use all of his willpower not to move, to stop himself from reaching out for her and begging her to stay. It was just as powerful as it had been on the rooftop, if not more. She had to stay with him, she couldn’t leave him. Even in his current state, he had to protect her somehow.   

She turned to him drawing sad concerned eyes to his, “Behind this door is a kitchen. Since there are currently no cups in this room, I have to go in there,” she explained slowly, simply, quietly, as though consoling a child. Oddly enough it was working, luckily her words didn’t feel condescending and her unnatural tone, absent of mockery. “I am not leaving you,” she continued, “I will be right back.”

Instantly the panic was gone. She would come back. She had said so. He tilted his head once at her. “Then you will tell me,” he stated just as softly as she was speaking. 

It wasn’t a question, but she knew it wasn’t a demand either. She turned her face from him, leaving him to stare uncertainly at her profile. All she could think about was how disappointed he would be, she couldn’t heal him after all. How he would surely hate himself for not being able to protect her fully from injury. How he might even hate her as well. With a steely resolve and a shuddering exhale, she nodded her head, then turned finally exiting the room. 

In her absence Loki took in the room. It was a large open space, everything white devoid of color. The door Iloa had exited through was on the right of the bed he was lying on. A small counter with a sink along the wall next to it. Across from the foot of the rather large hospital bed, another door. To his left, the wall was completely covered by glass fronted steel cabinets. Various medicinal supplies, covered every shelf. A metal rolling tray was pushed to one side of the cabinets. Matching white nightstands sat next to each side of the bed as well as an IV stand sitting next to the one on his left, which he belatedly realized was hooked up to his left arm. A clear liquid being pumped into his veins. Other than the brown leather sitting chair Iloa had been in, there were no other adornments to the room. Plain, simple, efficient.

His own state was harder for him to access. A plain white sheet covered his body, from the waist down leaving his chest, shoulders, and arms exposed. He had no other coverings, his clothes had been removed at some point. Angry gashes criss crossed his left bicep. He could feel bandages on his back from the top of his shoulders down to his hips, made more evident by the slight itch that plagued his sides from the tape that secured them to his skin. His left cheek and forehead itched slightly as well, but being unable to see or reach a hand up to inspect it by touch, he was left to assume that there were injuries there as well. 

The door to the kitchen opened, drawing his attention. Iloa came in, foam cup in one hand, a plastic straw in the other. She walked across the room, stabbing the straw through a plastic lid on the top of the cup. He could have chuckled when she bent the straw to his lips holding it for him. He felt like an invalid, although honestly how could he even consider himself anything else right now. He couldn’t even move without excruciating waves of pain shooting through his entire body. Tamping down the unruly embarrassment that threatened to rear its ugly head, he accepted the help she so freely offered. Slowly pulling long draws of the fresh cool liquid, he moaned at the relief that quickly spread across his mouth, tongue and sore throat. 

“Easy,” she chided gently, “You don’t want to get sick. There is nothing in your stomach.”

He pulled away from the cup at that comment, “How long have I been out?” he asked, sounding much more like himself, to his great satisfaction.

“Only a little over 24 hours.” She answered quietly, pulling the cup back to herself holding it between both her hands. Her eyes cast down she chewed on her bottom lip. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what else she was keeping from him. The statement ringing incorrectly in his ears and not simply because most would have said ‘a day’ or something less specific. This made him wonder if he was learning her tells for lying.

He nodded, “Tell me, please.” He didn’t want to push her, but with every denial the anxious need to help her, protect her, grew and he had to know what had happened to her. He couldn’t help her without first knowing the problem.

She sighed heavily, finally releasing her swollen lip before taking a step back. Her fingers fidgeted absentmindedly against the cup. Her eyes cast downward, not daring to look up at him. If she looked up at him right now, she would never be able to find the words he wanted to hear. 

She stood there continuing to worry her fingers against the cup silently. Loki feared she would not speak, as the silence grew deafening. The panic returned tenfold. He tried to calm his breathing, his hands digging into the sheet that covered his waist, trying desperately to be patient. He had never been good with patience, but the wrinkle of skin between her brow showed that she was thinking, perhaps she didn’t know how to tell him.

Finally after long excruciating minutes, that felt like hours, she broke the silence and Loki could breathe again. “I can’t hear correctly.” It was brutally simple, explaining everything and nothing all at once. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping forehead. She began to fold in on herself, hair falling to hide her from view again and Loki regretted asking even though he had been desperate to know. He scrambled for something to say, but she spared him when she spoke up again. 

“I shouldn’t have been able to save us,” she admitted, distraught. “Thor thinks it was the adrenaline. Forced me to be able to use my seiðr even though I couldn’t properly hear myself. I wasn’t thinking either, just reacting. Now that our lives aren’t in immediate danger and I am aware of the damage, I can’t seem to. . .” She struggled to find the words and inhaled shakily. Her fear of his disappointment and anger, strangled her. Trapping the air from her lungs in her throat. She couldn’t breathe, as she fought to draw air into her lungs and push it back out correctly. Her chest rising and falling frantically in her panic. She had been on the receiving end of Loki’s anger several times before. Causing the fear to grow into a living breathing thing in her mind, crushing her from the inside out. They had come too far to take any more steps back.

Loki wanted to comfort her, fearing tears would soon spill from those watery down cast eyes. “Iloa,” he called for her. As she lifted her watery blue gaze to him, a single tear ran down her cheek. He broke, something inside tearing his heart apart. Lifting his hand, he pushed his pain down. He had to touch her, hold her, comfort her. “Come to me, please.”

Iloa jumped to his side. All thoughts about the terrifying creature forming in her mind, being pushed quickly aside. “Loki, stop,” her voice rang in all the wrong ways, in her state of panic. Leaving the cup forgotten on the nightstand, she grabbed his hand, trying to lower his rising arm gently back to the bed. The muscles across his back and shoulder blades, were raw, exposed, seared. The lifting of his arms would only hurt him more. 

But instead of getting his arm back to the bed, he grasped her hand and pulled her to him. She struggled to keep herself from landing on his chest, managing to stay on her feet. He huffed at her, freeing his hand from hers and wrapping his arm around her waist. He tried to pull her again, gritting his teeth as she carefully fought his hold. He no longer had the element of surprise, so her feet remained planted on the floor, even though he had managed to get her closer to the bed. She was leaning precariously over him and he refused to relinquish his hold on her.

“Loki, stop,” she cried, her hips pressed painfully into the side of the bed. Fresh tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “You are going to hurt yourself even worse,” she begged him.

“I don’t care,” he argued harshly.

“I do,” she shot back indignantly. “I can’t heal you. . .” she shouted before immediately cutting herself off at the admission. The tears that had threatened earlier flowed freely, she stood in shook, her eyes wide.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, this time softer, gentler. “You need me. And though I am in pain, I am alive. That is because of you. So no matter how much it might hurt. I will hold you, comfort you. Because I need it as much as you do.”

She almost melted as he spoke, the tension in her body slowly draining away. He was not angry with her. Her heart leapt at the fact that he still wanted her, needed her. Even though she was still terrified of harming him further, her body betrayed the fight her mind put up against his efforts. 

Gently he tightened his arm, grunting at the pain, but refusing to voice it any further. Pulling her closer, he felt her give in and he sighed in relief. Wiping away her tears, she carefully climbed up onto the bed with him. There was plenty of room for her to lie beside him on her side without touching him too much. But as she settled herself, propping her arm beneath her head so he could return his own to his side, he pulled her body again. 

She gasped, as he pulled her flush with his side. “Loki, no,” she protested. But he ignored her, then lifted his hand to the back of her head, forcing it carefully to nestle against his chest. He breathed in an alleviating breath, warmed and soothed by her contact. Her soft hair tickled his chest pleasantly, her small hands laying flat against his side. Honestly, once she was no longer resisting, her small frame pushed firmly against his side, he didn’t feel his pain at all. Whether that was the connection running between them, or his own ability to ignore his injuries he wasn’t sure. But he suspected it was the first.

“Please, let me up,” Iloa sobbed, her body shivering beneath his grasp. She didn’t want to pull away, making him strain his muscles anymore than she had too.

“Hush,” he admonished gently, running his fingers slowly into her curls. “You are not hurting me as you fear. You are helping.”

She shook her head slightly against his chest, “How?” she whimpered. “I can’t heal you until my ears heal on their own. This much contact has to be unbearable.”

He tilted his gaze down to her, she was staring across the room. She was so still, save for the slight tremble from each sob. He was fairly certain that she was trying not to breathe too much, much less move. “Your presence,” he started, then shook his head, “No, your contact,” he corrected and she slowly tilted her head to meet his eyes with her own still watery eyes. “Calms and soothes my affliction. You must know that. You were using it before.” He hoped the explanation would have the same effect on her that she had on him. 

She wrinkled her brow, “But that was different,” she argued in confusion, her hands balling into fists against his side. “I was barely touching you. I was not laying on top of you, threatening to alter the treatment Banner applied to your back.”

He scoffed, he couldn’t stop it. “Your head on my chest is hardly you lying on top of me. Now if we were in the throes of passionate love making, I would understand your argument.” He relished the blush that immediately bloomed across her cheeks at his words. A grin tugged at his lips, as he continued, “But seeing as we are simply lying together in peaceful comfort. I highly doubt you will alter any treatment the good doctor might have provided.”

She ducked her head looking up at him through her lashes, “You don’t have to be so crass,” she mumbled, under her breath.

He chuckled, cut off quickly by his soft groan of pain. He felt her stiffen beneath his arm, “That was not you and you are very aware of that. Relax and just lie with me, don’t overthink it.” He stroked her hair until the tension started to leave her. “You need this and I am eager to provide it for you,” he added in a whisper against the top of her head. He ended the statement by planting a soft kiss on top of her head. 

They stayed that way, in blissful silence, until Loki could feel her breathing become even and shallow. The tension in her muscles melted away. He glanced down at her, knowing she had fallen asleep. The lines across her forehead smoothed, the wrinkles around her eyes disappearing as well. She was so peaceful in sleep. He soaked it all in, the feel of her body against his own. The way her chest rose and fell, grazing her small pert breasts against his side. Her hair wrapped between his fingers as he gently massaged her scalp. He could get used to this.

[distressedpanda]

Now what are we becoming by *LindaMarieAnson

Loki

This is kind of craptastic (and with the worst BG in the history of BGs), but I feel the need to post it anyway.

[distressedpanda]

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 8

A/N: No real warnings for this chapter, mentions of an explosion, but thats about it. And tada, I am actually posting according to my previous schedule. I am still deciding to keep the ‘I will update when I can’ scenario, but I had this chapter as ready as it could be so here it is.  

As always let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​

Loki gasped as the arms that circled him brought forth the scent of the ocean. He reached desperately for the life-line that had just been thrown into the raging storm he had been trapped in. He held onto Iloa for dear life, embracing the electricity and warmth that flowed from her. He shivered, taking a full breath for the first time in days. “I’ve been so lost,” he admitted, emotion searing his throat, unshed tears burning his eyes.

She smiled into the crook of his neck, “If you are lost, I will find you.”

Loki drew in a sharp breath at her words. He believed her, and he needed her to know. But what left his lips was an admission that not even he was prepared for, “I love you, Iloa,” he said in an intimate whisper, that only she could hear. And though unexpected, he knew it was true.

Iloa hiccuped as she fought to keep herself from shedding even more tears. She had cried too much in the past few days. “Say it again,” she begged, squeezing her arms tighter around his neck.

He returned the embrace with just as much fervor, needing to feel her against him, like he needed air in his lungs. He dropped his legs so that she fit more tightly against his chest. She accommodated the action by shifting forward to sit in his lap. Then he gave her the answer he knew she needed, “Iloa.”

She sighed happily in his arms. He seemed to understand her without needing explanation. She didn't need to hear his declaration of love, she could feel that in their undeniable connection. Her name on his lips was a radiant sound that she would never tire of hearing. 

Natasha quietly cleared her throat, “I think I should go.” She stood and made her way to the door. Slipping past the pair, she felt a hand wrap lightly around her ankle. Hand on the door she glanced down.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, the ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Natasha returned his small smile. She really didn't like Loki, but with Iloa wrapped around him and tears in his eyes, she couldn't hate him. “I haven’t done anything, Loki,” she admitted, “But I will if you hurt her again.” 

The promise behind that threat made Loki shiver, “I understand,” he conceded. And watched Natasha nod once and leave, closing the door behind her.

He turned his head back to the girl in his arms, “I know you don't want to hear this, but you can not begin to fathom how terrible I feel for the way I have behaved towards you.” He shook his head as she sat up to look at him. “I am so sorry, Iloa. There is no excuse,” his voice cracked around her name. Reaching up he tentatively placed a hand on her cheek, “I. . .” he tried to continue. But he couldn't speak past the lump forming in his throat as she nuzzled her cheek more firmly into his hand and closed her eyes.

“The fault isn’t entirely yours, Loki,” she sighed, opening her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with who or what I am.”

He shook his head at her, “But you were,” he urged, furrowing his brow. “You tried. So many times. And I let my mind control me. I let my past keep you at a distance. I earned no answers, no explanation.” 

She looked deep into his emerald eyes, “You just put up walls so high that only the crazy would climb them to be with you.” Her brow furrowed in her seriousness. 

Loki nodded his agreement, his head tilting slowly up and down. “I know this, I can understand why no one would want to be with me,” his eyes shifted to the floor, looking forlorn and lost. 

Iloa would have none of that. She grasped his face in her hands, slowly drawing his eyes back to hers. She traced those sharp cheekbones with her thumbs, her eyes watching the hard lines that formed between his furrowing brow. “Loki,” she breathed, catching his stare again. Searching for something there, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. She took a deep breath, finding her resolve she answered, “Here I am.”

He inhaled a sharp shaking breath, trembling slightly, “And I pushed you away.” His voice broke and cracked with emotions unshared.

“Stop, Loki,” Iloa begged leaning closer to his face in her urgency, “This line of conversation will get us nowhere. We will only be going in circles yet again.”

He grinned slightly at her words and closeness, “You are right, of course.” They had time. They could converse on this conversation at a later time, it didn’t have to be now. The thought made his heart swell, a comforting ache in his chest. Sliding his hand around to the back of her neck he added, “There is only one more thing I need say.” Then he drew her forward, brushing his lips lightly across her own. 

Iloa let a low moan escape her throat at the contact, her hands sliding into the damp raven locks on his head. Everything about him was proud, hard, and sharp, but not his lips. They were startlingly soft and gentle against her own.

The sound encouraged Loki, passionately locking his lips with hers. The ache in his heart curling down to settle low in his stomach. Iloa smiled and Loki took advantage of the parting of her lips. His tongue darting out and running languidly across her bottom lip. Iloa gasped and his tongue dove greedily past her teeth. 

Rampantly exploring her mouth, he stole her very breath as she became liquid in his arms. She tasted of honey, so sweet. A low rumble vibrated his chest at the delicious sensation and taste. 

Melting into the kiss, she put up no resistance exploring his tongue with her own. Feeling a flame starting to turn into an inferno burning low in her belly. So wrapped up in their bliss were they, that the world outside each others mouths and hands did not exist to them.

Until they were nearly ripped apart and falling.

Being 85 stories above ground, Iloa’s first thought was that even being an Asgardian she was going to die. They were both going to die. So claiming was this thought, that her mind could not grasp any rational ideas of how to escape her own death. Suddenly breathing rapidly, she feared she would hyperventilate.

Loki’s first thought was that he couldn’t lose the girl in his arms. 

Not again. 

He tightened his hold around her desperately clinging to the girl as the world blew apart around them. At least it felt like the world was exploding. His ears rang and his vision blurred, he blinked frantically trying to clear his eyes. Smoke singed his nostrils making it hard to breathe. His body ached from the blast wave, but all he could concentrate on was protecting the girl that meant so much to him now. She had broken down so many walls in an instant and stubborn as he was, he just had to find some way to save her.

Iloa, with her face buried in Loki’s chest, suffered only from ringing ears, her arms and legs stinging in places. But she didn’t think she had been severely injured. She pulled her face away, trying to clear her mind and calm her breathing. Her eyes darting around their surroundings frantically, all she could see was smoke and the rubble from what used to be her rooms. Giant pieces of concrete, rebar, glass shards, and miscellaneous debris surrounded them. The ground below them rapidly approaching their falling forms.

The idea hit her as a large jagged piece of concrete came dangerously close to striking the pair. She opened her mouth to sing it away from them and is it moved, she was struck by how irritatingly slow her brain was working. Blaming it on shock, she concentrated on maneuvering the piece through the debris.

Quickly changing her tune, she sang the slab beneath their feet instead. When they were crouched atop it, she sang them to the nearest rooftop. She could feel her energy flagging, her concentration failing, as they neared the roof’s pitch. 

She tried to set them down carefully, as her head began to spin. But the slab hit the roof with a jolting impact despite her efforts. Loki’s stance and his arms still wrapped protectively around her were the only thing that kept them from landing face first on the pitch. Black spots formed in her vision, slowly pulling her into oblivion.

“Iloa!” Loki shouted as the girl in his arms passed out. He coughed uncontrollably, his throat burning at the force behind her name. His entire body ached from the fit. Pain radiated from his chest and back coursing out through his limbs, making him glad he was already crouching on the slab. He had no idea how badly he had been injured but looking down at Iloa’s still features he didn’t care to check.

The fit finally calming, he reached up running his fingers across Iloa’s neck, her pulse beat strong there. He breathed in, an unsteady breath of relief. Cradling her in his arms, he ran his thumb lightly back and forth across her dust covered cheek. “You did well my love,” he breathed, dropping his forehead to hers. “Rest now, you deserve it.” He would have attempted to heal her, but he had neither the concentration nor the energy and strength needed to summon his seiðr. Instead, he decided to focus on getting them off the roof first.

Lifting her body, he stood on unsteady legs gritting his teeth against his own pain and walked with her to the edge of the rooftop. Looking out over the wreckage, he estimated that only between 75 and 80 floors where left of the tower. He found himself wondering if anyone else had survived, which seemed out of character even to himself. Even stranger was the thought of how he could get back to them. Though he was almost certain, Iloa was simply exhausted from the amount of energy she had used to get them to safety, he knew she would still need medical attention. Cuts and burns marked her exposed legs and arms. And if the excruciating pain in his back that was causing his muscles to tremble was any indication, he probably needed medical attention as well.

Even though it hurt like hell to continue standing and holding Iloa, he refused to allow himself to put her down and rest. He was all she had right now and if he could be nothing else, he would be her shelter. Pushing the ache in his body to the back of his mind, his eyes scanned the tower and nearby surroundings for any indication that they weren’t the only ones from the tower that had survived.

One of his thoughts about survivors was answered fairly quickly. A flash of red and gold metal, caught his eye and he stumbled as quickly as he could toward the movement. 

“Stark,” he yelled. His voice was raspy, his throat still raw from smoke inhalation. He dissolved into a coughing fit, dropping to his knees, but still he refused to release the sleeping girl. 

Red and gold boots slowly landed in front of him, causing Loki to slowly look up to the now exposed face of Tony Stark. The man knelt in front of the pair, his worried eyes dancing frantically across the still form clasped protectively in Loki’s arms. “Teeny,” he breathed, before lifting his eyes slowly up to the other man and asking, “Is she . . .?” His voice broke around the pronoun and he couldn’t finish the question.

Loki read the emotion in the unfinished question, shaking his head so fast he felt dizzy, “No, Stark. She just passed out.” Stark released a deep relieved sigh. 

Looking down at the girl in his arms, Loki settled her legs against his own. Raising his now free hand, he brushed a few stray stands of her dirtied red locks away from her face. His hand coming to rest lightly against her cheek, he added in a reverent whisper, “She saved us.” He cleared his throat, raw with emotion as well now. “It took a lot of energy. My guess is she couldn’t stay conscious after the adrenaline ran out. But she is fine Stark. She is alive,” he clarified. 

“Thank you,” Stark said, his voice cracked and unshed tears threatened to spill from his watery eyes.

Loki furrowed his brow at the other, “She saved herself, I did nothing,” he was confused and more than just a little uncomfortable by the show of graciousness.

“Loki, I don’t know how you are still conscious. But you are and you are protecting Iloa. It’s no secret that I view her as more of a daughter than just a friend. So except my thanks and shut up.”

Loki was shocked, first that Stark had actually used his name. He couldn’t remember a time that the man had used his name instead of one of his ridiculous nicknames. And he had used Iloa’s name as well, though her nicknames were much more affectionate terms than Loki’s, it was still out of character. Apparently that was the running theme for the day.

Loki understood the seriousness behind the others words, nodding his head but having no words of his own to offer. 

Stark took over in that department, “Right. Now that that is out of the way, we need to get you both back to the tower,” he reached to take Iloa out of Loki’s grasp, just as Thor landed next to the huddled group.

Loki immediately sat back away from Stark, almost colliding with his brothers legs. His arms encircled the unconscious girl tighter, a low rumble escaping his throat that could only be described as a threatening growl. 

Stark lifted his hands in front of himself in surrender, “Whoa, I was just trying to help. You are in no condition to take her all the way back to the tower from here.” 

Loki’s brow knit together, becoming one hard line across his forehead, “Why do you keep speaking of my state? What do you mean? I am fine!” He growled at Stark again, when the other reached for Iloa again. “Don’t take her,” he meant it to be intimidating, but it came out sounding more like a pleading, begging whimper.

A large familiar hand gently settled on Loki’s shoulder, fingers dangingly carefully over the front. Loki looked up into his brothers eyes, “Loki, the man of iron is correct.” When Loki just continued to look at him with a look of bewilderment, Thor dropped his thumb onto the back of Loki’s shoulder and pressed into his skin.

Loki bit into his bottom lip nearly drawing blood to keep from crying out in pain. The action didn’t stop the excruciating groan that ripped its way up his raw throat. He had been so focused on Iloa, he had not assessed himself properly. He had known he was injured, but the extent and the pain had been dampened by his worry for her. Now that attention had been drawn directly to it, waves of nauseating pain washed over him. He lent to the side finally releasing Iloa to someone else’s hold, as he achingly wretched on the pitch. 

When the nausea finally subsided, he was so tired he almost toppled over into his own sick. Caught only by the large arms of his brothers gentle touch, Loki fought to stay conscious. Thor gathered him gently from the ground, Loki groaned loudly gritting his teeth against the contact with his back, which he now realized was bare. That was not a good sign.

Turning his head away from Thor’s chest, he spotted Iloa resting peacefully in Stark’s arms. He weakly reached a trembling arm out for her, but Thor turned them away. “She is safe brother. You have done well. Your Disir will be by your side again in no time.” And Loki’s world quickly faded to black.

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 7

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of death

A/N: I will not apologize for posting late and I am adjusting my update schedule to as often as possible. I don’t think people understand how hard it is to write these stories sometimes. And writers like myself do this for free. I have a full time job, a son with autisim, and his therapy dog to attend to on a daily basis. Add on top of that, I have fibromyalgia, athritis (that is slowly crippling my hands), insomnia, and social anxiety. My plate is full, but writing has became an amazing outlet for me. I love it!

So anyway. . . rant over I promise. Notes about this chapter now. This is unfortunately sort of a filler chapter. I didn’t mean for it to end up that way, but tada! It happened. It finally explains Iloa’s back story and basically helps me move the story along.

As always comments and likes fuel my writing! If you want to be tagged just let me know!

Tags: @whosaidididthat​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

 Over the next few days, the tower was in chaos. Tony called in contractors to inspect the building. Luckily, there was no structural damage, but the training area and the floors above and below it needed some serious repairs. Steve decided to help the contractors with the repairs, but Tony knew they could no longer stay in the tower. He needed to move everyone to the compound upstate.

No one, save the three involved, understood how this had happened. There had been no direct attack on the tower. Thor, Loki and especially Iloa, weren't answering any questions.

Iloa had locked herself in her room, only answering the door for Natasha when she brought food. But she would immediately lock the door again after taking the tray.

Loki knew this because he was sitting outside her room, refusing to leave. He refused food and water, sitting next to her door so that he might catch glimpses of her when she did open it. 

The Night of

Loki immediately took the elevator to her room and began beating on the door. “Iloa, please, open the door,” he begged, banging on the door with his fists until they bled. He begged and pleaded over and over, until his throat was raw and he could barely speak.

He slid down next to the door, “I am sorry,” he breathed, not sure if she was listening at all. He wept openly, the blood on his hands already starting to dry. He saw them with new eyes, and they no longer appeared to belong to him. 

“I should have listened. I should have earned answers. You tried to tell me all of this before, didn't you?” He chuckled at himself, but there was no joy in the sound. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he sniffled, “I was afraid. I know I still am. I didn't want to lose you.” Foolish and vulnerable, his brain spat mercilessly. He didn't even bother listening this time, pressing forward with his confession, “You see, I couldn't see your seiðr. I was blinded by my fear and stubbornness, I know that now.”

Silence answered him, still he continued, “I know this is too little too late. I know that I ruined everything. Apparently, it's what I do best. Pushing people away.” He shook his head clearing his throat, the air from his lungs feeling trapped there, “But I do care for you, everything I have said before remains true. I just hope that eventually you can forgive me,” he chuckled again, nervously. “You said you would be here for me when I was ready. So now I will do the same. I am here, Iloa. And I will remain here, until you are ready.”

Present

That was four days ago and there he had stayed, making good on his promise, even if it killed him. And as he sat there with no foreseeable end in site, his heart ached in his chest from her absence. He missed the smell of the ocean on her skin, the thick scent that he now knew as seiðr that wrapped around her, the electricity and warmth that radiated into him from her every touch. 

Natasha appeared at the corner of his vision. Apparently it was lunch time, she held a tray with two sandwiches and two apples. Instead of stepping in front of the door, as was her usual, she crouched next to him and presented the tray. “Ya need to eat,” she said.

He crossed his arms over his chest, which was just about all the energy he could muster, “I'm fine, thank you,” he replied, with a snark filled smirk, that didn't reach his eyes.

Natasha sighed loudly, the God looked awful. His eyes were sunken in, cheeks hollowing from lack of nutrition. His hair was messy and unkempt curtaining his face, he hadn't changed clothes and obviously wasn't sleeping well either, if the dark circles and bags under his eyes were any indication. Dried blood had cracked and formed angry patterns across his hands and down the sides of his neck.

“Yea, yea,” she argued, lowering herself to sit against the wall next to him. She placed the tray across her lap, picking up one of the sandwiches and an apple. She held them out to him, “You look like death warmed over, Loki. Now I don't really care much whether you sit here and waste away or not. But you know she will. Right now she feels guilty, you really want to add to that by putting your livelihood and health at risk. You know as well as I do, that she will blame herself if anything happens.”

He turned away from her, looking up at the door, his messy hair falling away from his face. “But I promised her.”

She dropped the sandwich and apple in his lap, causing the God to flinch and drop his arms. But Natasha was fed up with his self defeatist attitude, “Then don't die, you idiot.” He snapped his head back to her, “And go take a shower, get a good night's sleep. She doesn't want to see you like this.”

She expected some snappy snarling comeback from him, but he just stared at her in shocked silence. Then he picked up the items in his lap, carefully stood up using the wall for support, “Alright,” he said, shuffling carefully across the entry hall to the elevator.

He stopped before pushing the button, glancing back over his shoulder, “I will come back.”

She smiled in spite of herself. She didn't like the man, but she couldn't fault him on his conviction. He would be back, but maybe now he would take care of himself as well as waiting patiently to be forgiven.

“I know,” she assured him. And he pressed the button to call the lift, using the wall to support himself as he waited. 

She waited until the doors closed behind him. Then taking the now lighter tray, she stood and knocked on the door. “It's Nat, I.”

The sound of the lock being released, echoed in the silence of the hall. The door opened slowly to reveal the girl, who didn't look much better than Loki had. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying, with dark circles underneath from lack of sleep. Her hair a ratty halo around her face. Wearing a large dark gray t-shirt that hung to her knees, and exposed her shoulders. At least she wasn't malnourished, thanks to Natasha's efforts.

Iloa passed the breakfast tray to Natasha before grabbing the new one. “Thank you,” she said, her voice so small and broken, it tore at Natasha's heart.

“It's alright, I don't mind bringing you food,” she chided casually.

Iloa shook head slightly, her wild mane bouncing around her face, “Not for the food, Nat.” Her eyes were welling with unshed tears. She hiccuped trying to keep them at bay, “For Lo. . .” her throat caught on the man's name, she couldn't force it past her lips. “For him,” she edited weakly, looking at the floor.

“Yea well, he was really bringing down the décor,” she joked, pleased by the small yet brief upturn of lips from the other. “Got a serious question for you though?” she added.

Iloa looked back up at Natasha, she already knew what the question was. She nodded, “Yea, ok, but come in first. You know he will be back soon,” her voice broke and cracked around the words, “And I don't want him to see me like this.”

Natasha slid in through the open door, closing and locking it behind her for the other’s peace of mind. Iloa was already sitting on the edge of her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping the thick white down comforter around her shoulders. She looked down right pitiful, as Natasha settled herself next to the poor girl, depositing the empty tray on the bedside table beneath the newest one.

“Eat first,” Nat said gesturing at the tray. Iloa groaned in feigned annoyance, but proceeded to pick up the sandwich without objection. 

Natasha waited patiently for her to finish.

“I already know what your question is,” Iloa admitted, keeping her eyes downcast when she had finished. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling the comforter more securely around herself. She wasn't cold, she had never really felt temperature. Her body seemed to produce its own heat when it was cold and vice versa. The blanket was a comfort item and a way to shield herself from the others eyes. “I don't really know how to answer it though, without telling you what I am. All I can really tell you about that is what Thor told me.”

Natasha nodded, “Then lets start there.”

Iloa shook her head and chuckled nervously, “Nah, I will have to start before then.” She glanced up, and watched Nat's brow furrow in confusion.

Iloa cast her eyes away again, and inhaled deeply, “I was born on Earth in 1902,” she answered, and caught the increasing furrow in the others brow. “My mother apparently died in the hospital, after,” she sighed heavily, squeezing her legs for comfort, “I never knew her and the people that raised me, my Mom and Dad adopted me three days later. Here in New York.”

She squirmed awkwardly, she had never shared her story with anyone and somehow this felt wrong. Like she was sharing this with the wrong person but when she looked up at Natasha, understanding flashed in the others eyes, “Want me to see if he is back outside yet?”

Iloa genuinely smiled for the first time in days, “Are you sure you aren't a mind reader?”

Natasha chuckled, “I am not, but I pay attention.”

Iloa nodded, “Do you mind?” she asked hesitantly.

Natasha shook her head, “Not as long as I get to hear it too.” Iloa nodded her head and the other asked, “Do you have any special requirements to him listening?”

Iloa bit her bottom lip thinking it over, but Natasha cut in, “I think I got it,” she winked. Then added, “Might want to brush out your hair at least, just a thought.”

Iloa shook her head, “There you go, reading my mind again.”

Natasha grinned, heading for the door. She opened the door and glanced behind it and of course Loki was there. Sitting atop a large pillow, a blanket folded neatly beside him, his arms and ankles crossed. He had showered, his hair still damp and curling, wearing a clean black button down and slacks. His face appeared less hollow, and Natasha hoped that meant he had actually eaten what she had provided.

She closed the door behind her and standing over the God with her hands on her hips, “She wants you to hear her story.” He quickly moved to stand, dropping his hands to the floor and drawing his knees up, but Natasha stopped him with a raised hand. “There are conditions, Loki.”

Loki paused, looking up at the woman. He tensed but nodded his head in agreement, “Alright.”

“First,” Nat said holding up a finger, “You say nothing. This is not about her forgiving you or not, she needs to tell someone this story and she wants it to be you and me. No interruptions, no sarcastic comments, not even words of encouragement,” she sighed, rubbing her other hand down her face, “It would be hard enough on her without your presence. So don't be a dick. Nod if you accept,” she tilted her head at him and he nodded. “Good, next you will sit on the floor in front of the door. You will not come closer and you will not touch her, period. Nod?” Loki again, obeyed without hesitation. 

“You are getting better at this whole listening to others thing,” Nat huffed. “Just don't make this about you, don't be an asshole, don't touch her and you get to stay until she says otherwise.”

He nodded, “Might I stand up now?”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head, “Yea, yea, you can get up now.” He stood hesitantly, as though he wasn't certain she would actually allow the action. Once he was upright, she turned back to the door and slowly opened it, allowing Loki to step into the room before her. Natasha watched the man, sure he would make a mad dash across the room at seeing Iloa in her current condition. 

Loki stood stock still, staring across the room, but he made no attempts to move. His eyes radiating a soul deep anguish, he flicked them to Natasha and cleared his throat softly. He leaned in close to Natasha's ear, “Do you think leaving the door open would be a good idea? So that I might leave quickly should the need arise?” he breathed against her ear, barely loud enough for her to hear. 

She gave Loki a small sad smile, he was no longer looking at her but back to the other. He was thinking about Iloa first. At least he was trying. She placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing lightly to direct him next to the door frame. When she had him positioned just right, she pushed down and he followed her lead sitting on the floor, with his knees pulled to his chest. He was almost the mirror image of Iloa, except he didn't hug his legs, instead placing his hands on top of his knees. Natasha, pushed the door until it came into contact with the tip of Loki's shoe. 

Iloa said nothing the whole time this exchange was happening, simply watching out of the corner of her eye. She had taken Nat's advice and brushed out her mane, but she had wrapped herself back up in the comforter. When Natasha had sat down by her again, she quickly went back over her birth before continuing. 

“My parents were very wealthy, They had invested wisely in long standing stores and the Ford Motor Company. My childhood was normal, except for my appearance. I was always taller than the other children. Faster and stronger, too. I hit five foot at ten, that's when I stopped growing, that was the year the Titanic sank. I remember it like it was yesterday. 

“In that time, I was expected to be a lady, act a certain way. I rebelled constantly,” she chuckled, “Guess I never stopped. I used to steal my father's trousers, which swallowed me, but I hated the dresses I was forced to wear.” 

A single tear rolled down her cheek and she had to take a deep breath before continuing. “My father didn't make it to my eighteenth birthday, he was in an automobile accident. Some time after his passing, I had begun to notice that I had stopped aging around my twenty-second birthday. My mother had started to notice this as well, but I lost her to cancer just before the Great Depression.”

She took another deep breath as her voice started to crack around this part of her story. “I am sort of glad she didn't have to go through that scare. The fear she already had from my differences and then the fear of losing all stability. I don't think she would have been able to manage it and her sickness. Luckily, they hadn't invested in the stock market and I had received an anonymous tip to pull all of my money just before the crash. To this day I am still not sure who that mysterious savior was.

“After the crash scare, I realized that I couldn't stay in New York anymore. My lack of aging was becoming much more apparent to those around me. So I started traveling. I changed my identity when I needed to, but I got to see this world and all of its wonders. 

“During my travels, I discovered my voice. It just happened one day when I was in Paris. I was walking home through the Latin Quarter, when a man attempted to mug me. I yelped when he grabbed me and he went down. He didn't stay down though and I was so stunned by his reaction that I was still standing there like an idiot when he got back up. He grabbed my bag and I screamed, that time when he went down he stayed there. I had killed him with my voice. Slowly, I just figured it out. It was like my magic spoke to me, guiding me and helping me train.”

Finally she answered Natasha’s unasked question. “It was me. I lose control of my ability when I get angry or frustrated. The same thing can happen when I get scared or sad. I can’t reign myself in. I try to calm down, but if I have an agitator,” she gave a pointed look to Loki, he had the decency to bow his head, “I can’t cool my thoughts. I just end up exploding. The damage could have been much worse.” She sighed heavily, her shoulders tensing as she curled in on herself even more. “I didn’t mean to do any damage. I am so sorry, I am just glad I didn’t hurt anyone.”

She looked up at Loki then, his fists were clenched, knuckles turning white. Tears fell silently down his cheeks as he listened in rapt silence. She locked eyes with him, as she finished her story. “Your brother found me, after I ended up back here two years ago. He knew what I was and tried to explain it to me. He told me I was an Asgardian, that what I thought of as magic, he knew as seiðr. Then he tried to explain to me some prophecy that his father, your father had told him. Something about a Disir being born on Midgard that was destined to partner with and protect a foreign born Asgardian prince. I don't really understand it, but anyway, that's it. You both know just about everything now.”

Iloa looked back at Natasha and though her eyes were watery, she hadn't let any tears fall. “Please don't cry. I don't want pity from either of you.”

He knew he shouldn't, he knew he would be asked to leave. But the words poured from his heart and he couldn't stop them, “It's not pity, it's love.” He dropped his head into his hands. He waited to be told to get out, his heart aching at knowing he had overstepped the boundaries that had been set for him. 

[distressedpanda]

Fanfiction isn’t written for you, it’s shared with you.

[distressedpanda]

I annoy my Gryffindor brothers, with the “Yes,” answer to everything!

Gryffindor: Okay, so what do you want for dinner: dim sum or pizza?

Ravenclaw: Yes.

Gryffindor: This is not a yes or no question.

Ravenclaw: I'm trying but I'm very indecisive!

[distressedpanda]

Ravenclaw: I have to catch a portkey at 5:30AM tomorrow, so I would have to get up at 3:30AM just to make it to the portkey. So I think I'm just not going to sleep.

Hufflepuff: I don't think that makes sense.

Ravenclaw: It doesn't, but I'm doing it anyway.

[distressedpanda]

Ravenclaw: I keep forgetting to do things right after I remember to do them.

Gryffindor: That doesn't make sense.

Ravenclaw: Shut up, you do it too.

Gryffindor:... Yeah.

[distressedpanda]

I am in the 42%.

Ravenclaw Stats

42% of Ravenclaws are almost done with their holiday shopping. However, the remaining 58% will put it off until last minute.