#loki angst with happy ending

[delaber]

Firestarter pt. 2 (Loki x Reader)

Summary: After two months of amazing hate-fucking, Loki accidentally lets his newfound feelings show - and suddenly, the anger’s back in her eyes. Only this time, she has the upper hand.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, pining

Words: 5K

Find part 1 here

"Yessss that's it," he hisses and smacks her ass.

It's two months later and they're still at it - not every night, but almost.

He'd otherwise feared it a one time thing with the way she'd so quickly recovered the first night after he'd pulled three astonishing orgasms out of her, but had been positively thrilled to find her yelling at him on his doorstep the very next evening. He honestly cannot even remember what he did to upset her that much, but he knows it must've made her really angry because he vividly remembers three minutes later with his hands full of ass and his tongue buried inside of her.

She's calmed down since then; he doesn't have to provoke her to get her wet anymore but they still fuck like it's the end of the world.

It's the rawest, dirtiest, most destructive sex he's ever had and it's magnificent, carnal, rough! He slaps her ass as hard as he can, eats her beautiful cunt, forces his fingers inside of her until she screams his name, lets her tie him up while she tastes all of him.

It's been two secretive months of bite marks and purple tints on his skin. Of long, red scratches down his back and raven-black hair being pulled out in the most delicious of ways.

She - is - incredible! He wants to cum - fuck, she deserves the praise!

He lets her know.

"Fuck me, Loki," she hisses his name the way that he loves and it sends tingles all the way down to his balls, makes his head float up to the heavens.

"As you please," he flips them around, lies her down on her back, towers over her and admires her pliant body with his hand caressing down over her soft stomach. He still cannot believe he's this lucky!

He pushes himself back inside of her with force, watches her sweet little face contract with pleasure as her mouth falls open in an inaudible sigh.

"Darling girl," he hisses and feels her tighten around him as he diligently slides into her silk. "You feel amazing!" He leans forwards, pinches her beautiful nipple, sucks on her jawline, ruts hit hips against her to the vulgar sound of her hypnotising wetness swallowing him whole.

"Oh," she moans and he almost shivers when her eyelids close halfway with every meticulously-placed thrust of his hips while he moves with control, careful not to let go and cut the moment short - he never has her afterwards...

"Loki," she hums ever so sweetly in his ear, scrapes her nails down over his already raw-clawed shoulder blades, wraps her legs around his back, contracts around him while he's concentrating on the entirety that is her.

He saved her, he thinks to himself and gasps when his seidr begins to glow at the memory. He's thought of it a million times already and still, the mere sight of the scar on her shoulder makes his chest expand - expand - expand!

He connects his forehead with hers, finds her wide eyes and slows his hips down to a tender pace.

He was worthy enough to save her!

Their connection feels like something resembling faith. Like branches weaved at the foot of Yggdrasil, and he sensually rolls his hips and kisses her deeply, fucks her like a lover.

It's suddenly slow and caring. Soft and all-consuming. She seems to love it, and without warning, she's raking her soft finger pads through his long hair, licking his throat like a kitten while he expertly slowly guides himself in and out of her tight wetness. She whispers his name affectionately and everything glows brighter than before.

"Darling," his tongue slides into her mouth again, caresses her lazily, doubles as a non-verbal whisper telling her that he feels the same. He feels the same - and she immediately picks up on the fluorescent seidr that's filling up his chest cavity; she gasps, flutters around him, and she comes - loudly!

"Oh God!" she closes her eyes and tips over the edge while her perfect inner walls contract violently and squeeze him tight.

He's never heard such beautiful, long moans before as her fingers grab onto his curls and she gently pulls him with her, fills him up with sparks while he fucks her slowly.

He can feel every nerve ending in his body being pulled taut as a flash bow as his seidr vibrates and he finally spills inside her embracing heat to the music of her breaths against his ear.

"My sweet girl," he growls as he involuntarily falls down from his high and pulls her close while she whimpers like a wounded animal. "My goddess!" he kisses her throat, rakes his teeth across her humid skin, trails his hand down between them, ready to spoil her over and over again with his fingers, his tongue, his cock! She deserves it all and he's desperate to have her in his room a little longer. He wants her to stay forever.

He can feel the intense bond between them tightening and he slowly starts moving his hips again while his fingers find her clit.

A pang of warmth strikes his belly when he looks at her pretty face, and he cannot help the desperately sincere "you are so beautiful," that escapes his lips as he leans down to kiss her. "I want you to spend the night."

The change on her face comes in a matter of milliseconds. Suddenly, the all-consuming bliss is replaced. First, by confusion and not even moments later by the scorching anger he knows so well. "What the fuck, Loki??" she pushes at his clammy chest, "what are you doing?"

At first, he's not sure if they've resumed their regular game of cat and mouse so he keeps toying with her delicate clit the way that he knows she loves. "What am I doing?" he licks her throat and teases her asshole with his middle finger, "I'm making you come - what does it look like I'm doing?"

"No!" she pushes him again and he finally lets her escape from between his legs when he realises that she's not joking. "What the fuck was that?!"

Confused, he watches her stand from the bed. "...I'm not following you?"

"You're slow-fucking me now?" she hisses as she quickly pulls on her top, hides away her body as if he did something detestable. "Forehead to forehead like you're in love with me or something?"

It stings. "Excuse me?!"

She huffs as she forcefully yanks on her jeans. "I thought we agreed on what this was!"

"We do," he positions himself on the edge of the bed with his hands grabbing onto the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white with humiliation. "I don't understand what the issue here is."

"Did you enchant me?"

"Enchant you?" He barks, offended. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No - I..." She huffs and looks as if she's about to pull out her own hair in frustration. "You did something different!” She says accusingly.

"I slowed down."

"Well I didn't like it!"

"You didn't like it?" He repeats, baffled. It's his most stunning performance yet; mostly due to the way she so beautifully reacted to him, and now she's trying to make him believe that she didn't like it?! "Excuse me but I'm going to have to disagree with that. I made you come harder than ever before; don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

She sends him an annoyed side eye. "I was caught up in the moment."

"So was I!"

"That's not the point!"

"Indulge me then!"

They stare at each other, more confused than anything else and the silence between them is eating away at him.

"Tell me what I did," he pleads with a desperation that's unlike him while he instinctively reaches out for her hand although he knows it's a bad idea, "- so I won't repeat it next time."

He's right; it is a bad idea, because she immediately pushes his hand away with new-found flames in her eyes. "There won't be a next time," she says determinedly and with that, she gathers her shoes and storms out the door. Slams it shut.

***

She avoids him. Turns on her heel every time he enters a room, looks straight through him when they pass each other in the hallway, acts like they've barely even spoken a word - and he hates it! Hates the desperation, the emptiness of her face when he's the only one in the compound that knows her like this.

It reminds him of his lonely childhood when he would walk the golden halls of the palace alone, desperate for an ounce of the attention Thor was naturally given.

He gets the sudden urge to cause rampage like he did back then. Break treasured possessions, spread lies. But he's painfully aware that he's only at the tower as long as the Avengers want him there, so he behaves himself and tries to shove down the lonely howls from inside his chest.

***

Four days and seven excruciating encounters have to pass before she finally, graciously stands still long enough to let him speak to her.

It's a rainy afternoon and he's reading in the big winged chair by the fireplace when she unexpectedly comes into view.

She's walking back from the gym with her gaze fixed on the blonde man next to her, and as per usual, Loki's every muscle tightens by the sound of her voice alone, but this time it's for a whole different reason too because Steve Rogers is shirtless in all his virtuous glory and she's giggling at everything he's saying as they walk straight past Loki and disappear into the kitchen without sparing him a glance.

The silence that follows is deafening.

He knows that Rogers is the most vanilla man on Midgard - and definitely way too boring to satisfy her in bed - but the two of them have always been a little too chummy for his taste, so when Loki faintly hears Rogers call her sweetheart from the other side of the wall, there's no doubt he has to do something, so he pushes open the double doors to the kitchen, praying to the allfathers that he looks like a threat to the mighty Captain.

It's evident that Loki, ever so rudely, has just disturbed Rogers in the middle of a sentence but the guy is still so annoyingly polite that he nods respectfully in greeting.

Meanwhile, she only briefly looks up from her sandwich-in-the-making to shoot Loki an unimpressed glance before her eyes fall back down to her plate with a theatrical scoff. It makes Steve Rogers look curiously between the two of them with his eyebrows knitted closely together.

Loki gets the feeling that she's putting on an uncomfortable show only to get him to leave, but he's determined to talk to her so he stands his ground and starts flickering through the compound's tea selection achingly slowly just to piss her off.

"- what I mean is -" Steve Rogers continues as if Loki hasn't just barged in with daggers in his eyes. "I can teach you that leg takedown if you'd like? I'm sure Buck wouldn't mind sparring with Sam again some time later this week."

Loki pauses at Earl Grey and lets his gaze slip over to her.

"Yeah?" she hums with a cute little smile, "that sounds like fun. What about Tuesday?"

Her words have Steve Rogers nodding with excitement as he grabs his uninspiring ham-and-cheese sandwich from off the kitchen counter and walks towards the dining table in the next room. Even his tastebuds are bland. "It's a deal, sweetheart," he says.

Sweetheart. Loki's going to vomit.

He contains himself long enough to ensure the man's out of earshot until he angrily hisses out a "What are you doing?". He bites his tongue to stop himself from asking about whether she's interested in fucking the Captain or not. He has to tread carefully now that he finally has her on her own.

She sighs before looking up at him and he has to bite back a gulp when their eyes finally meet for longer than a tenth of a second. "...What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to talk to you. I want to know what horrible thing I did to have you ignoring me like this!"

"I already told you," she crosses her arms over her chest. "You've gone soft."

"...Soft?" He repeats in disbelief while staring at her. Had this been any other situation, he might've even laughed. He's never been referred to as soft before. "Excuse me but did you hit your head?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Loki..." she places her palms on the stone table top that serves as a physical barrier between them and looks him straight in the eye. It's dominatingly beautiful and it gives him the chills. "You've gone from hate-fucking me like a demon in heat to calling me your girl and telling me I'm beautiful."

"As if I would want to bed someone who looks like a trout!" He bites back, suddenly annoyed with her. She's right, of course, but it's not like he's about to let her know.

She responds to his clap-back with yet another sigh. "I thought we agreed it was a casual affair. No strings. And, granted, I hold some of the blame too; I probably should've stopped you when I started noticing your attitude towards me changing - I wasn't sure of anything, of course, but the slow-fucking?" She shoots him an unimpressed glance. "That one takes the cake!"

His mouth goes dry. "I don't understand what you're implying," he lies and it makes her scoff.

"Why can't you just admit that maybe the sex meant more to you than it did to me?"

He's taken aback by her bluntness. But it's her definitive use of the past tense that truly throws him off. He doesn't even have it in him to pretend otherwise, and with his silence, he's involuntarily admitting that the sex did indeed mean something to him. Exactly what, he's not sure of but something. He tries not to let it show.

"Loki," she cocks her head to the side with a lick of her lips and it makes it harder to pretend. "I'm not the girl for you. If you want to play house, I suggest you go find somebody else."

***

He dreams of black cats. Of Hel. Of feeling like the smallest man on earth while the Bifrost splinters before him and takes away the bridge to everything he loves.

It's been six days without a knock on his door. He shouldn't care that it's been this long - he doesn't, he constantly tells himself but keeps replaying their last conversation while the teeth of Fenrir sink into his lungs. He saved her - is that why she let him fuck her? Because she felt obligated to? Because of debt? It makes his heart burn.

"Loki."

He looks up at his brother and blinks a few times. Truth be told, he'd completely forgotten he was even there. "...What?"

"You're not listening."

"Yes, yes I was," he racks his brain for the last details he'd registered from Thor's gripping tale, but suspects he's been zoned out for at least five minutes.

Thor knits his eyebrows together, tilts his head disgustingly compassionately. "You're quiet," he states flatly and looks almost concerned. It makes the hairs on the back of Loki's neck prickle. He misses when Thor was less intuitive - before the Avengers, when all he cared about were tits and battle and wielding that stupid hammer.

"I don't remember asking your opinion."

"Just stating the obvious," Thor shrugs and thankfully goes back to the lamb chop on his plate, "one thing being that you're usually plotting something when you're this quiet - though something tells me your head is somewhere completely different as of late."

"Well if you want to keep yours connected to the rest your body, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

His brother leans in close and looks as if he's about to say something vulgar. "It's her again, isn't it?" he whispers as if he doesn't dare speak her name.

"Thor," Loki warns with a sharp side-eye.

"You can tell me."

"I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because you're being nosey."

"Can't I take an interest in my brother's well-being?"

"No. Now shut it!"

"I think she likes you."

It hurts more than he's willing to admit. "Thor!"

"But I do!"

"Shut up!"

He doesn't listen; "are you in love with her?"

A burning sea of vulnerability washes over him right in front of his brother's eyes while he desperately treads water. "She should be so lucky!" Loki hisses as a reflex and immediately feels his stomach churn when his brother grins and lifts his eyebrows in amusement.

"You are!"

Loki points his knife towards Thor, angrier than he's been in a while. "I'm only going to say this once! Stick your nose in my business and I will end you!”

***

They're on a mission in Vienna when Loki's knocked unconscious.

He doesn't remember much apart from an object hitting him on his upper back, a scream of his name - and suddenly, he's back on the rumbling quinjet with a splitting head ache.

He awakes with a groan and coughs up something black and slimy that he immediately spits out on the floor. Charming.

He's dizzy and he's seeing double but he wishes it was his sense of smell that was wonky because he can almost taste his brother's armpits in the air and it's revolting.

"Thor," his voice is hoarse and he coughs again while trying to remember how he ended up here. "What the hell happened?"

With difficulty, he tries lifting his head but is immediately pushed backwards by a hand already resting on his shoulder.

"You hit your head," his brother mumbles from beside him, "I had to carry you back here."

"Well that's embarrassing," Loki mumbles and tries moving his head again but hisses when his neck tenses painfully.

"Lie still," a small voice beckons. It's lighter than his brother's; more delicate, feminine, and the well-known flip of his insides shows its ugly face. Small fingers gently rub his shoulder and first then does he realise that it's not his brother's hand that's resting on his body.

"You're here?" He asks, confused while trying to focus on a spot in the ceiling. "And here I thought we were busy ignoring each other."

"I can keep doing so if you want me to," she says defiantly but sits completely still.

"Be my guest!"

"...Erm," Thor clears his throat in second-hand embarrassement, stands up from his position on the floor and points over his shoulder, "I have to - uh - be over... there."

Smooth.

The fingers that are resting on Loki's body feel more intimate now that they're alone, and he wonders if she can feel it too because she slowly retracts her hand although he wishes she wouldn't. A painful reminder of how she feels.

"Why are you here?" he bites.

"Thor was completely out of it," she says hesitantly, "He thought you were dead. He needed me."

"Thor needed you?” He scoffs, “Well, Thor's not here now so I guess you can leave."

She sighs loudly, "Do you really want me to leave?"

"Yes," he lies. He can still feel the warm spot that her fingers have left behind on his shoulder. It's getting colder now. "You made things quite clear the other day. It was a casual accquaintance, nothing else. There's really no need for you to pity me like this."

"You're hurt."

"I'm hurt? Yes I'm fucking hurt! It feels as if a bloody wall fell on me!"

"That's not what I meant..."

He moves his head through the pain, focuses on her the best he can. "Are you seriously fishing for a compliment right now?"

"W-what?"

"Do you want me to admit to whatever it is you're implying? It won't happen because contrary to your belief, I'm not in love with you." Another lie. "I saved you, you let me fuck you. We're even."

"That's not..." she starts but doesn't end her sentence. Her chest is heaving in heavy pants but she's not saying anything and the tension is thick again. She looks defiant but there's something she's not telling him.

"Was there something else?"

"No, I-"

"Then tell me what happened to my head or be on your way."

"I don't know what happened," she mumbles and gets up from the floor without sparing him a glance. "I wasn't there."

***

"It's a concussion," the new Doctor states the obvious and Loki has to contain himself from rolling his eyes.

"Great, can I go now?" He feels vulnerable enough without the diagnosis, and he's already half-way out the door - away from the prying eyes of the rest of the team.

"Hold up, mr Odinson," the Doctor says and the name feels like another dagger in his back. Loki wants to strangle him. "In your condition, it's important to take precautions."

"Don't tell me we have to start pampering him now!" Stark huffs and Loki's about to snarl something nasty back at him when Thor interrupts:

"Like what, Doctor?"

The Doctor turns back to Loki. "To prevent your condition from worsening, it's important that you take it easy for a couple of days. No TV, no straining exercise. You need rest."

"Right..."

"That being said, you have to make sure you're woken up every two hours. Have someone ask you a simple question like your full name, your birthday, the name of your home town."

"My home town?" He sighs. He doesn't want to think of Asgard right now. He feels lonely enough as it is.

"Something like that," the Doctor brushes it off with a shrug. "Do you have someone who can help you?"

"I assure you, that won't be necessary," Loki tries impatiently. He wants to get out of there. "After all, I am a God."

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes from behind him before she speaks up. "It's fine, Doc," she sighs, "I'll do it."

***

They're lying side by side on his mattress. It's three in the morning and it's the first time she's even in his room for anything other than sex. It's not not pleasant to be lying side by side in the dark, it's just different and neither of them know what to say. He doesn't like that she volunteered. He would've preferred dying in his sleep over the roaring silence.

He sneaks a quick peak at her beauty and accidentally lets out a sigh he thought only Thor was capable of and it seems to bring her to life.

She blinks and rolls over to her side, looks at him with distance in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy..." he admits though he's not exactly sure if it's due to the concussion or being this close to her again.

"You should sleep," she says so achingly caring that it itches in his fingers to reach out and touch her. "- I'll make sure to wake you up every couple of hours and see if everything's okay."

He nods. "Sounds like you're in for a long night."

She gently shrugs and rolls onto her back again, stares back up at the ceiling. Her chest is rising and falling steadily and he doesn't understand how she can be so calm about the situation when it feels as if everything inside of him is burning with longing.

"Why did you volunteer?" the words tumble from his mouth without having been thought all the way through. "Why not just let Thor do it? He's my brother after all. He would've."

She chews her bottom lip, stares upwards as if stargazing. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She sounds sincere and he cannot help the furrow of his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Why?" She asks slowly, hesitantly. "Well... you've seemed out of it lately.”

"And you think it's your fault," it comes out more like a sour statement rather than a curious question so he's surprised to see pain behind her eyes when she finally turns her attention back on him.

"I know it is."

"Don't flatter yourself. I already told you it was merely sex for me. It didn't mean anything," he lies and regrets he even asked her in the first place. He wants to sleep. To get everything overwith and not stay in this moment of torture with her lying in his bed, rejecting him. Again.

"Come on," she sighs, "can't we just be honest for once?"

"You say that as if you've been dishonest...?"

"I guess I have," she hesitates and for once, he actually holds his tongue while she considers her next words. "I - uh - I get defensive when people get to close," she shuffles and looks away in embarrassement. "I guess it was easier to just push you away than admit to either of us what was going on. I tried telling you on the quinjet,” she slowly turns her gaze back on him with her eyes darting across his face. His heart picks up its pace.

"What are you saying?"

"Loki," she sighs and closes her eyes again. Speaks so painfully slowly that he almost cannot take it. "- you got close... When you slowed down and loved me that night, I - I felt it all. What I've been trying to deny."

"Felt what?" He tries as slowly as his racing pulse will allow him to speak. He doesn't want to scare her away again by assuming anything.

"I like you," she finally admits. "A lot."

Surprisingly, he's not even relieved. With the rollercoaster he's been through since he first met her, he's not sure he dares believe it, and a few seconds of silence follow between them while he carefully contemplates and chooses his next words.

On her request, he finally decides on telling her the truth. "I guess it wouldn't be too surprising if I admitted to the same thing."

She moves her head a little closer to him and places her hand between them. The smallest hint of a smile is playing on her lips. "Not really..."

A stab of a reminding thought pinches him beneath his ribs and he has to ask her. "You're not just saying this because you think you owe it to me, are you?" he nods to the scar on her shoulder "because I saved your life."

"No?" she furrows her eyebrows, searches his face.

"I don't want you to feel indebted to me. Despite what I told you back then, there were no ulterior motives to my actions. You don't owe me anything. I just did it to save you. I just wanted you to be okay.”

"Loki, I don't feel indebted," she lightly shakes her head. She looks sincere. "- do you really not remember what happened in Vienna?"

He slowly shakes his head. "Not really. An object hitting me in the back and someone yelling my name. Otherwise nothing."

"I did the yelling," she gulps, "and that object? That was a hand grenade."

"A hand grenade?"

She nods. Her eyes never leave his face. "You, me and Thor had just entered the grand hall of the embassy when it happened. You'd strayed off to the side to admire some painting."

It sounds like him.

"- I was behind you and saw it happen. It landed before your feet and without thinking, I just... lurched. Grabbed you and hurled the two of us forwards. You hit a stone column head-first."

He pulls back his head in surprise when he realises. “…you saved my life?”

It makes his blood pressure drop.

"Don't say it like that," she whispers with her breath fanning over his knuckles. "I merely gave you a concussion. The grenade turned out to be a squib after all."

"You didn't know that," he moves a little closer to her. She saved him and she's still here, still lying in his bed. It's not out of debt, he realises. Not at all. She's there because she wants to. "Darling... I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," she mumbles and opens her palm as if to welcome him. "Just kiss me, okay? I've missed you."

Everything inside of him goes soft. He feels squishy and warm and comfortable, and he could look at her forever.

He extends his fingers, engulfs her small hand inside his and dismisses the tension of his neck until their lips finally meet.

It's the gentlest they've ever kissed; lips barely touching, but it's the most heartfelt, the most sincere.

"I'm sorry for how I acted," she mumbles quietly against his mouth. "I really, really like you. I wasn't sure how to deal with that."

"It's okay," he whispers back, "we've all done things we're not proud of."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," he smiles softly and reclaims her lips with the hope that he can show her exactly how crazy he is about everything that is her. His angry Avenger, his fiery goddess.

She saved him.

He feels the emotions pour out of both of them as their kiss deepens and he swears he can feel the allfathers blessing him as he jumps head-first into the burning sun; he can run with the wolves, fly with the ravens. And if Hugin and Munin are watching him from the great beyond, they'll tell all of Asgard that he, Loki Laufeyson, was worthy enough to be saved by a Valkyrie.

[flowersforthosewhoneeds]

I wish it was me.

You weren’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the way Loki always had something witty to say, or the rare moments he softened around you, letting his guard down just enough for you to believe you mattered. Maybe it was always there this quiet, aching thing buried deep in your chest.

But it didn’t matter now.

Because he wasn’t yours. He never was.

You stood in the corner of the room, watching as he smiled at her. It was the kind of smile you used to think was just for you—the small, secret one that made your heart stutter. But now, it was hers.

She was beautiful, of course. Graceful, elegant, a perfect match for a god. You? You were just… you. A mortal foolish enough to love something untouchable.

The laughter in the room faded into a distant hum as you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm to keep yourself from breaking. You had spent too many nights dreaming of a love that was never real, only to wake up and remind yourself that gods didn’t fall for mortals.

A part of you wanted to leave. To run. To disappear before anyone saw the way your heart was fracturing into pieces. But then—he looked at you.

For just a second, his gaze met yours, and something flickered in his expression. Something almost like regret. Almost. But then, it was gone, and he was looking back at her like she was the only thing in the universe.

And just like that, you knew.

You had lost him before you even had him.

And maybe, just maybe, you were never meant to have him at all..

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry.

Not here. Not now.

But the moment you stepped outside, away from the laughter, away from them, the first tear slipped down your cheek. The night air was cold, biting against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache settling in your chest.

You pressed a hand over your heart as if that could somehow keep it from shattering completely.

You should have known better. You should have walked away the moment you realized what your feelings meant. Because now, you were just another fool another mortal who had dared to love a god, only to be reminded of how small and insignificant you really were.

A voice broke through your thoughts.

“You left.”

You stiffened. You knew that voice better than your own.

Loki.

Slowly, you turned, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He stood in the doorway, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“I needed air,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped forward, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine pretend. that he was coming to you. That maybe, he had noticed. That maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that wanted you too.

But then, he hesitated.

And that was all the answer you needed.

“I should go,” you said quickly, turning away before he could see the fresh tears welling in your eyes.

But before you could move, he spoke again.

“Are you..” He paused, as if unsure of his own words. “Are you alright?”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. It was almost funny. The God of Mischief, the prince of lies, looking at you like he actually cared. Like he actually wanted to hear the truth.

You turned back to him, meeting his eyes one last time.

“I will be.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving him standing there just like he had unknowingly left you, over and over again.

<3 i hope you like it.. more upcomin soon!

[reveryfics]

Middle Of The Night

Pairings: Loki x Male reader

Summary: it's been five years since Loki disappeared, only to return in the middle of the night. You don't believe this is reality, so he proves it to you.

A/n: This was requested over on wattpad. Requests open

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The rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm raging within him. Five years. Five agonizing years since Loki had vanished without a trace. No goodbye, no note, not even a whisper of an explanation. Just gone. Poof. Like a puff of smoke in the wind, leaving behind a gaping hole in his life.

Every night was a cruel reminder of his absence. The empty space beside him in the bed, the cold sheets mocking the warmth of Loki's body pressed against his own. The silence that had replaced the murmur of Loki's voice, the playful banter, the shared dreams whispered in the darkness.

He'd tried to move on, to rebuild his life, to find a rhythm that didn't constantly revolve around the gaping wound of Loki's disappearance. He'd succeeded, to a degree. Work, friends, even a tentative foray back into dating – all distractions, all desperate attempts to outrun the phantom pain that lingered.

But some nights, like tonight, the memories would come crashing down, a tidal wave of grief threatening to drown him. The scent of rain, the rumble of thunder, the flickering of lightning – all triggers, all cruel reminders of the night Loki had vanished.

He tossed and turned, the sheets damp with sweat and tears. Sleep was a distant memory, replaced by a suffocating blanket of despair. Thor, his dearest friend, had tried to help, his gruff words of comfort a balm to his aching soul. But even Thor's presence couldn't always chase away the shadows that clung to him.

Tonight, the shadows had won. He wept silently, the sobs racking his body, the pain a constant, suffocating presence. Just when he thought he couldn't bear it any longer, a voice, soft as a whisper, broke through the darkness.

"Oh, how I hate it when you cry," it murmured.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. It couldn't be…

The bedside lamp flickered on, casting long, dancing shadows across the room. And there he was. Loki. His Loki.

He looked different, his hair shorter, his face etched with lines he hadn't noticed before, a hint of sadness in his eyes. But it was him.

"Loki?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Loki smiled, a ghost of his old mischievous grin. "Hello, my love."

He wanted to believe it, to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart. But a flicker of doubt, cold and insidious, crept into his mind.

"It's… it's just a dream," he stammered, his voice trembling. "Or a hallucination. I've been… I've been so lonely."

Loki stepped closer, his gaze intense. "I assure you, my love," he said, his voice low and husky, "I am very real."

And then, he was there, hovering over him, his body warm against his own.

"Allow me to prove it," Loki murmured, his lips brushing against his ear.

Panic clawed at him. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be real. But the yearning, the desperate, aching need to believe, overwhelmed him.

He closed his eyes, surrendering to the illusion, the desperate hope that this wasn't just a cruel twist of fate, a final, agonizing blow.

And then, the kiss.

It felt real. Too real.

Loki's lips, tasted of rain and something faintly metallic, a scent that always seemed to cling to him. His hands, strong and sure, gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space between them.

A low groan escaped his lips, a sound born of both pain and pleasure. He reached up, his fingers tangling in Loki's hair, pulling him down for a deeper kiss, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his presence.

Loki tasted of him, of the years they'd spent together, of shared laughter and whispered secrets, of nights like this, filled with a passion that burned hotter than any star.

His hands moved, exploring the contours of Loki's body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the curve of his hips. He felt Loki shiver beneath his touch, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"You," Loki breathed against his lips, his voice a husky whisper, "you have no idea how much I've missed this."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Loki's face, desperate for confirmation. The intensity in Loki's gaze, the raw hunger that burned in his eyes, answered his unspoken question.

He kissed him again, this time with a fierce possessiveness, a desperate need to claim him, to mark him as his own. Loki responded with an equal fervor, his hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of him with a touch that both thrilled and terrified him.

He pushed him back against the pillows, his body hovering over Loki's, the sheets a tangle around their limbs. He felt Loki's breath quicken, his body trembling beneath him.

"Loki," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "I've missed you so much."

"More than you know," Loki replied, his voice a low growl.

He lowered himself, his body fitting perfectly against Loki's, the years of intimacy, the unspoken language of their bodies, guiding him. He felt Loki arch into him, a sound of pure pleasure escaping his lips.

The world seemed to fade away, replaced by the intense, primal sensation of their bodies merging, of their souls connecting. He lost himself in the sensation, the raw, animalistic pleasure of it all.

He moved within him, slow and deliberate at first, then with a growing urgency, mirroring the storm raging outside. Loki's hands tightened on his back, digging into his flesh, urging him on.

He cried out, a sound of pure ecstasy, as he reached his peak, the world exploding in a shower of sensation. Loki followed him closely, his body convulsing beneath him, a low moan echoing in the room.

They lay together, breathless, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in unison. For a long moment, they simply held each other, the silence broken only by the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the window.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Loki tightened his arms around him, burying his face in his neck. "I never meant to leave you," he murmured. "Circumstances… they were… complicated."

He traced lazy circles on Loki's back, his fingers lingering on the scars that marred his skin, a testament to the battles they had fought together.

"I don't care about the reasons," he said, his voice husky. "I just want you here, with me."

Loki looked up at him, his eyes filled with a love so intense it took his breath away. "And I will be," he promised. "Always."

He pulled Loki closer, burying his face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, the sound of his breath against his skin. This was real. He knew it now, with a certainty that defied logic.

The rain continued to fall, but the storm within him had finally subsided, replaced by a sense of peace, of contentment, he hadn't felt in years. He had Loki back, and that was all that mattered.

As he drifted off to sleep, Loki's arms wrapped tightly around him, he knew that this was just the beginning. They had years to make up for, years to rediscover the love they had almost lost. And he, for one, intended to savor every single moment.

[angelremnants]

Of Stormbound Hearts l L. Laufeyson

summary : In the midst of a storm of emotions and unspoken longing, two souls collide in a moment that blurs the line between desire and fear. The tension between them disguised under quarrels has been building for months, and when it finally unravels, neither can escape the pull of what they’ve both denied for so long. But as their connection deepens, so do the questions. Will they be able to handle the storm they've created, or will it consume them?

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), intense emotional tension, physical intimacy, angst to eventual fluff, vulnerability, character conflict, suggestive content. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 4.9k

(ao3 version)

The dimly lit room trembled under the weight of your clashing words. Tension hummed like a taut wire, each breath you drew amplifying the storm raging outside the windows. Thunder cracked sharply, rattling the walls like an impatient herald of unresolved truths. Yet neither of you blamed Thor for the horrid weather—after all, he had fled the chaos of your ongoing quarrel, retreating to find solace a few doors away.

The argument had collapsed into a suffocating silence, and the air between you was sparking with the aftershock of words that could not be taken back. Loki’s composure was shattered, a pale reflection of his usual elegance. His chest rose and fell unevenly, dark locks falling across his face in wild disarray, evidence of his frustrated hands. His arms hung stiff at his sides, fingers twitching with restrained fury—the kind of control that seemed like a punishment, as though it physically pained him to keep from destroying something, anything.

You fared no better. You tugged tightly at your hands behind your back, a futile effort to quell your trembling. Although your voice had been quieter than his during your shouting match, the magnitude of your confrontation rippled through you like an unstoppable tide, leaving you breathless.

You wanted to say something cutting, to twist the knife just enough to force him to react. But his silence unnerved you. The tension in his body and the way his chest rose and fell unevenly—it wasn’t anger. Not entirely.

“What now, Loki?” Your voice sliced through the quiet, intransigent and bitter. “Another lecture about how I’ve derailed your grand, masterful plans?”

He stood motionless, his silhouette framed by the storm’s flickering light. His shoulders were tense, rigid beneath the weight of everything he didn’t say. You shot daggers at his back, daring him to respond. The distance between you felt impossibly vast yet suffocatingly small.

“Are you going to speak?” you pressed on, your words razor-sharp. “Or is this the part where you brood in silence, as if the world owes you something? How very godlike of you.” Your tone dripped with mockery.

His muscles tensed at the provocation, every inch of him vibrating with restrained energy. You felt the atmosphere crackling with the kind of dangerous power you recognized all too well. Your instincts screamed at you to retreat, to stop provoking the storm brewing before you, but a deeper, reckless part of you pushed forward, daring to test the limits—perhaps as a way to prove to yourself that you could withstand it.

Instead of unleashing his fury, he closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath, as though the very act of restraint was excruciating.

“You think this is a game?” His voice was low, trembling with barely restrained anger. “Do you think I stand here, unraveling because it amuses me? Don’t mock me, [Y/N]. I am holding on by a thread.”

The vulnerability laced through his fury struck you like a lightning bolt, but you wouldn’t let him see it. Folding your arms, you threw his anger back at him with a defiant glare.

“Control. That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Your fragile ego.” You scoffed bitterly, crossing your arms to mask the nervous tremor in your fingers. “Honestly, Loki, if you’re so desperate for control, maybe you should stop being so insufferable—”

His head fell forward slightly, his sharp laughter echoing bitterly around the room. The sound was devoid of joy, just a hollow crack in the façade he fought to maintain.

“Stop.” He abruptly turned to you, his eyes unyielding and blazing with darkness. The storm within him mirrored the one outside, each word trembling with unrestrained venom. His lips curled into a joyless smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. The shadows carved harsh lines into his face, and his gaze burned with a fury that made your pulse quicken.

“You ruin everything,” he snarled, taking a step toward you. The intensity in his gaze forced you to take an involuntary step back. “Every plan. Every strategy. Every ounce of control I’ve fought to keep. You invade my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment.” He laughed bitterly, his voice trembling with fury and despair. “You don’t get it, do you? How maddening, how utterly unbearable you’ve made this for me. You’ve undone me. Me! The God of Lies, of Mischief, reduced to this—this pathetic shadow.”

Your defiance faltered. There was no venom in his words, only a bone-deep frustration and something else, unknown to your senses.

"Please don't do this," you warned, your voice now softer, hoping to appease him—unfortunately, he wasn't paying enough attention to note this subtle cry for calm.

"Do you know what it’s like? To crave someone so deeply that it consumes you?" Loki continued, his voice cracking slightly. He stepped closer, the heat radiating from him now palpable. "To loathe them for it? To want to destroy them because it would be easier than feeling this—this madness?"

Your anger wavered in the face of his raw emotion. You noticed his hands twitching at his sides, his fingers curling into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His brow furrowed, veins straining visibly beneath his skin, as if his emotions were about to burst forth. The tremble in his voice betrayed the turmoil he fought to contain.

"You terrify me." His voice softened as he whispered your name in an almost pained tone, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his façade. The vulnerability he had buried so deeply now spilled over. "You've taken the one thing I've always had—control. And you've destroyed it without even trying. I hate you for it. I despise your existence."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and the armor you had so carefully built around yourself began to fracture. It felt like a physical blow, a sharp breath escaping you as if you had been struck in the solar plexus.

"Then leave," you whispered, your voice thin and brittle. The word felt like ash on your tongue. "If I’m such a burden, leave."

“Do you think I haven't tried?” His voice was a mix of anguish and fury. “I have fought gods, defied realms, burned my own bridges to the ground in the name of my freedom—and yet, I can’t walk away. I am shackled, chained to this unbearable ache that you've submitted to me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as his words sank in, each one unraveling the control you thought you had. You had believed yourself to be the one in charge, teasing him, testing his limits. But now, faced with the depth of his emotions, you realized how little you truly understood him.

“Loki…” Your voice trembled, softer now, filled with uncertainty.

“No. Let me finish. Let me finish,” he insisted, his voice shaking with a mix of rage and vulnerability that gleamed in his eyes. “You will hear this—I deserve the least of it. You infuriate me,” he growled, suppressing emotion as he took a strained breath, pressing a trembling hand to his chest as if in pain. “Because you’ve invaded every part of me. You’ve stripped me bare, torn me apart.”

He took a step closer, the heat of his body almost overpowering your train of thought. Your back pressed against the wall, and as you opened your mouth to reply, no words came out. The tension in the room was suffocating, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him.

“I hate it,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I hate how much I need you, how much I—” He broke off, his words choking in his throat. “I can’t even hate you properly. I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything. This burning torment consumes me every time I look at you, every time I hear your voice and know I can never—” He exhaled suddenly, as though the admission physically pained him. Lowering his head, he gripped his hip with his other hand as if to steady himself. “You make me feel like I’m falling apart from the inside out. You haunt my thoughts. It hurts, and it bewilders me beyond recovery to hear you call for me, to hear you say my name.”

The storm outside roared, and the lightning illuminated his face as he towered over you, his forehead nearly brushing against yours. The tremor in his hands pressed against the wall on either side of you, trapping you without making contact.

“I am weak, and you are the one thing I cannot resist. It pains me, irritates me, and yet—and yet, I crave it. I crave you.”

You stared at him, rendered speechless, as his voice dropped to a near whisper.

“I’ve known nothing but pain and suffering my whole life, but never have I suffered like this. Every moment I’m near you is agony,” he confessed, his breath warm against your cheek. “But every moment I’m away is worse.”

He pursed his lips, his throat constricting as if swallowing the pain. Then, slowly, almost as though it was the last shred of his pride slipping away, he sank to his knees before you.

His shoulders slumped forward in silent surrender, as if his pride and strength had been stripped away in that single motion. Your heart raced as you saw him like this—so proud, so untouchable—now laid bare and vulnerable.

"I am begging you," Loki murmured, his voice trembling. "On my knees, if that’s what it takes. Tell me to leave." He shut his eyes tightly, as if even the thought of it would scar him. "If you feel nothing, say the word, and I will disappear from your life, no matter how much it kills me. But if there is even the smallest chance that you..."

He stopped, his voice breaking completely as he looked up at you, his stormy green eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"If you feel even a fraction of what I feel for you... please. End this. Free me from this torment—or let me stay as I am. It would be an honor if you could accept me as such." He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I am already painfully yours. But I beg you, please, tell me what to do."

For a long moment, the only sound was the storm echoing the chaos between you. You stood over him, and for the first time, you saw him—not as a god, not as an agent of chaos, not even as your acolyte, but as a vulnerable being, utterly at your mercy. His words, heavy with unrestrained emotion, shamefully made your heart race and stirred something deep inside you.

"I..." you started, your voice barely a whisper, but Loki shook his head. His hands curled into fists against the earth as he slowly lifted his gaze, stormy green eyes locking onto yours. "No," he breathed in anguish. "If you’re going to reject me, say it directly—don’t give me hope first."

Your heart felt heavy, a tight knot forming in your throat as Loki's words cut through the air like a cold breeze. Each syllable lingered, wrapping around you like a shroud and igniting a tumult of emotions within you. You hesitated for a moment before brushing your fingers over his trembling shoulders. You couldn’t stand to see him like this. He had always been a god of power and control—and now, he was breaking in front of you.

"Loki," you whispered, your voice low but steady, "please, don’t kneel. Get up. It pains me to see you like this."

But like a child being reprimanded, Loki categorically refused to obey to your demand and shook his head, his hands clenched into fists against the earth.

"Look at me, Mischief," you said softly, your tone coaxing, as though your voice alone could undo the weight crushing him. Your hands hovered for a moment before finally resting on his trembling shoulders. "You don’t belong on your knees. Not before anyone, and certainly not before me."

His jaw tightened, and he averted his eyes, an abashed expression crossing his face like a shadow. How wrong you were, not to know that it was one of the finest luxuries in all of the realms for him to be found in such a compromising position for you. Only for you.

Sighing, you resigned yourself to match his position and lowered yourself to your knees in response. Your fingers rose to his face, cupping his cheeks with a tenderness he wasn’t sure he deserved. Though he didn’t return your gaze—probably out of shame, judging by the flush staining his alabaster cheeks—you could see the turmoil in his eyes, mirroring your own.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. Even in the overwhelming intensity of the moment, a mischievous glint sparkled in your eyes, and a small, teasing smile curled at the corners of your lips. You brushed your fingers lightly against his temple as you lightly leaned in before flicking his forehead. “You really do have a way with words, don’t you? Twisting my thoughts around like one of your tricks.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, flickering with a mix of disbelief and indignation. His mouth opened, a protest forming on his tongue, but it faltered. He exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. A small tremor betrayed him in his silence, noticeable enough to reveal the cracks in the armor he so desperately tried to maintain.

You sighed softly, your breath brushing against his cheek as you tilted your head just enough to meet his gaze again. “You’re impossible, Loki,” you murmured quietly now, in an almost tender tone. “Completely and utterly impossible.”

With that, Loki’s walls crumbled. His head fell gently onto your shoulder as his body surrendered to the weight of his emotions. He was emotionally spent, utterly drained, and you held him close, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hands slid through his hair, fingers gently brushing through the tangled mess as a soft gesture of comfort. You glided your hands down his back, letting the tips of your nails graze his spine before tracing back up, repeating the process; each touch sent shivers of pleasure through him.

“You’re cruel,” Loki barely audibly huffed with dry humor, yet it still tinged with something like relief.

You let out a soft laugh, your lips brushing the crown of his head. “If anything, I think you’re the cruel one for making me care this much,” you replied, trembling. “You push, you pull… you twist me into knots, Loki. And still…” You paused. “Still, here I am.”

His breath hitched at your words, his body taut beneath your touch. You slowly pulled back, cupping his face once more. Your thumbs grazed his cheekbones as your eyes roamed over his features—the furrow in his brow, the way his lips trembled slightly, the flush on his pale skin.

“Honestly, I should be the one angry with you, Mischief,” you said with frustration. “I never did anything wrong, yet you let it all spill onto me—your anger, your pain. You teased me, belittled me, and made me feel like I didn’t matter. And yet, here you are, breaking down in my arms and asking me to understand.”

Your words cut through him and he swallowed hard, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. With a sigh, your expression softened, your lips twitching into a small, understanding smile. “But you’re a beautiful soul, Loki—complicated, yes, but beautiful all the same. And I can’t help but be pulled in.”

A shudder ran through him at your words, his vulnerability deepening. For a moment, he looked as though he might shatter entirely.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair. You leaned into him, intoxicated by his warmth, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “I want you to look at me, sweetheart.”

Loki’s sharp intake of breath betrayed his surprise, his stormy eyes snapping up to meet yours. His reluctance was palpable, a flicker of resistance flashing through his gaze, but this time he obeyed nonetheless.

Your teasing nature returned, a discreet and sly smile tugging at your lips as you pulled back slightly. Your thumb grazed his jaw, your touch soft and deliberate as your gaze roamed over his face. You admired every detail, letting your fingers trace his lips, cheekbones, and the curve of his jaw.

Loki's breath caught in his throat, your words cutting through the veil of confusion and tension that had clouded his mind. He buzzed with delight under the weight of your gaze and the soft but insistent touch of your fingers; it was almost too much to bear. Battling to stay still, he fought against the urge to jump on you and ravage you senseless for speaking those words and treating him like he was the finest ornament.

You replaced your hands in their original positions and brushed your eyes over his face, taking it all in. Loki’s features were a portrait you wished you could engrave in your mind forever. His brow furrowed slightly, expressing the intensity of his uncertainties. His lips, which you teasingly traced with your thumb, parted in a shallow, desperate breath, trembling ever so slightly as if on the verge of confessing something left unsaid, although everything had already been spoken. The sharp, high points of his cheekbones, usually so regal, now appeared softer, flushed a deep crimson from a mix of vulnerability and desire. A single drop of sweat traced down the side of his face, catching the light and adding to the tension in his gaze—and oh, those eyes.

His eyes, darkened with longing, swirled with flickers of green shimmering with desperation. The depths of his irises seemed to pull you in, reflecting not only his internal struggle but also his raw need to be seen and understood, and more importantly, for you to accept him wholly. Beneath the intensity, you could sense the vulnerability in his eyes, attracting you like would a siren song.

Your fingers glided down the length of Loki’s neck, lightly grazing his skin as you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. The faint teasing smile on your lips never faded, even as you sensed the tension building in his body, each gentle touch adding to the pressure. You reveled in the way he reacted to your every move. It was a delicate game, a playful form of payback for the emotional torment he had caused you during your journey, and perhaps a way to steady yourself against your growing desire to close the distance between you entirely.

Your thumb traced his jaw, your fingers lingering near his lips, as if daring him to break the silence. The heat between you thickened, charged with unspoken need. You almost forgot his boundaries, lost in the thrill of the game and definitely too enthralled by the gorgeous being in front of you.

However, you failed to notice the shift in his posture. The practiced stillness that once defined him wavered, giving way to a sense of danger. His breath hitched, and his mind snapped back to the person he truly was. The weight of his identity surged through him like a tidal wave, breaking the fragile restraint he had been maintaining. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, and his eyes burned with a warning you failed to heed.

In that moment, you overlooked the reality that you were not dealing with an obedient being, but a depraved and hedonistic god who always took what he wanted. A god whose desires were as boundless as his patience was fragile.

In a flash, Loki shot out his hands, seizing your wrists and yanking them away from his face. His grip was firm and unyielding, forcing you to pause as you felt the rising tension in his body with barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface.

“Enough,” he growled, a whisper of danger hanging heavily in the air. You blinked, momentarily stunned by the shift in his demeanor. You found yourself captivated by the intensity of his gaze, unaware that his restraint had snapped and his longing had surged to the surface all at once. Primal hunger radiated from him as his hands tightened around your wrists, pulling you closer with an urgency born of days filled with loneliness and yearning. The heat between you burned brighter, almost unbearable, as the space between your faces dwindled.

“You should know better than to toy with a god,” he warned, his voice thick with desperation, sending shivers down your spine. You leaned in slowly, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. Your warm breath teased him, a subtle dare to close the distance. But at the last moment, you hesitated. Something inside you faltered—not out of fear, but from an instinct to stretch and savour the moment. You drew back ever so slightly, your lashes fluttering as you caught your breath.

The instance of hesitation was his breaking point. A low, feral sound escaped his throat as his hands moved swiftly, cradling your face with a reverence that trembled with need.

He surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both relentless and heartbreakingly tender. It was fierce and all-consuming, as if every ounce of his pent-up longing was poured into that single moment. You thought you heard him sigh in relief as he pulled you closer, as if the weight of your shared emotions connected you in a way that words never could.

His trembling hands released your wrists, one sliding to the nape of your neck, the other tracing down your silhouette before settling at your waist, pulling you firmly onto his lap. Your bodies aligned, his center flush against yours.

You tried to speak, but the words were trapped in your throat, lost in the overwhelming intensity of his kiss. His lips were insistent, each press a force that left no room for thought, only the sensation of him, of this. Each kiss felt like a claim, a demand you couldn’t resist. Your breath caught in your chest, and before you realized it, your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as his kiss deepened.

Your mind raced faster than your heartbeat, torn between the fire of his touch and the fear gnawing at your insides. How did we get here? you wondered, your fingers pausing against his skin as confusion tugged at your thoughts. Is this what I’ve been waiting for? The line between longing and fear blurred in your chest. You felt yourself being pulled deeper into his orbit, yet a quiet voice in the back of your mind warned you not to lose yourself in this moment.

“Loki...” you whispered, your voice heavy with the vulnerability you could no longer conceal. But before you could finish your sentence, his lips claimed yours once more, and you found yourself powerless to resist. He couldn’t stop; his mouth moved over yours with a desperate passion, and you surrendered to him, lacking the strength to pull away.

"Don't pull away," he mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Not now, please."

The world outside your embrace faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours and the heat of his body seeping into yours. You could feel his heart racing in his chest, pounding as fast as your own. Every kiss was a question, and every touch confirmed that neither of you could walk away from this—no matter how much you might want to, and no matter how much fear lingered in the back of your minds.

You knew that you should stop, that you should hold back, but the pull of him was stronger than anything you had ever known. The quiet voice in your mind warned you not to lose yourself, but it was drowned out by the heat building between you, a magnetic force neither of you could deny.

You could feel his pulse racing in his fingertips as they traced the line of your spine, grounding you in the whirlwind of emotions. Everything around you seemed to be speeding up, charged with an urgent, desperate energy that neither of you could control. For a fleeting moment, you understood: this wasn’t just about passion; it was something deeper, something you couldn’t articulate. It was months of tension and longing finally unraveling between you.

When you gently separated, your bodies reluctant to lose the closeness, Loki still had the clarity, even amidst the storm of his desires, to give you space. His forehead brushed against yours, and your breaths mingled as you both tried to steady the rapid beating of your hearts. Loki’s hands lingered on your skin, holding the moment without pulling you back immediately. There was a vulnerability in that, a tenderness within his hunger.

Your heart pounded against your chest, the rhythm echoing in your ears as you gazed into his eyes. There was a quiet intensity there, a storm brewing in the depths, and you knew, with terrifying clarity, that neither of you could walk away from this. Not now. Not ever.

He whispered, his voice raw and desperate, "Stay." The word was barely a breath against your lips. It wasn’t a request; it was an unspoken promise, a silent vow.

Your cheeks flushed deeply as you felt the weight of his gaze and the heat between you. Timidly, you nodded, your lips parting in a barely audible "Yes"—a whisper of surrender. The vulnerability of your gesture only spurred him on.

Without a word, Loki's lips found yours again, his kiss more urgent than before, as if claiming what was now his. His touch was demanding and desperate, overflowing with everything he had kept buried. It wasn’t a tender kiss; it was a claim, a release for all he had confined within.

He took everything you offered, his lips moving hungrily against yours, ragged with desire. His hands roamed your body with a reverence that spoke of months of longing. One hand slid back to the nape of your neck, while the other traced the curve of your waist, stationing to their rightful places, savoring how your bodies were leaving no space between you.

You felt a stronger pull towards him than ever before. As you surrendered to his embrace, you realized there was no turning back. You let your instincts guide you and continued to kiss him, your focus narrowing to the sensations of his lips, his touch, and his breath.

His hands trembled as he gripped you tighter, sliding over your curves, anchoring himself to the reality of your touch. He explored with deliberate slowness, tracing the length of your spine and backside, teasing as you had done to him earlier. He relished in this dance of long-awaited affection and need, in the feeling of your fluttering eyelashes against his cheeks, the thundering beats of your pulsing heart under his palm, the shared heat as your bodies almost united as one.

You tugged at his hair, attempting to slow him—but oh, he couldn't, not anymore, not ever. He groaned, unrelenting, lost in the feeling of you. He was too far gone, too hooked up on the feeling and the taste of your sweet lips. He shuddered pleasurably when he chased your mouth even as you gasped for air, even when he too needed to breathe.

It felt as though he could travel to Hel and back with the fire in his veins, ignited by the scent and taste of you. You only spurred him further when you bit his lip and gratified his back by raking your nails down. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he shifted his grip and lifted his hips in reflex, pressing against you with relentless hunger.

When you finally broke apart, both gasping for oxygen, Loki's forehead rested against your temple. His breathing was uneven, and his hands still trembled from the raging storm inside him as they lingered on your skin. Although his grip loosened, the raw intensity remained, demonstrated by the furrow of his eyebrows in pleasure.

"Careful," he rasped moments after with his voice hoarse, having taken his time to clear his mind a bit from the foggy sensation in the febrile hope he could somewhat behave himself not to go rampant. He backed away to admire his handiwork, his eyes roaming over you to appreciate the flush in your cheeks, the pink of your swollen lips, and the dazed look in your eyes. "You've already tested my patience. Keep this up, and I won't hold back."

Your heart thundered, your body vibrating with exhilaration and need. A small sly smile tugged at your lips as you leaned forward, biting his lip once more in defiance. Loki’s control slipped further. With a swift motion, he pulled you down against the concrete of the ground, his lips finding yours again in a renewed storm of desire.

The storm hadn't passed. It had only just begun.

ending note : I honestly almost turned it into a smut— almost. It was tempting, but I haven't reached that level yet.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

dividers ©️ @strangergraphics-archive + @enchanthings .

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[mountkennedie]

Remember You

Loki x fem!reader

warnings: A N G S T but fluff at the end and like 1 swear word

Summary: You have known Loki since before, during, and after Thanos' torture

Word Count: 1.9k

A.N. Okay I hadn't seen Loki s2 yet for most of this so this is mainly from my own sick little brain. I think this is the saddest thing I have ever written. Enjoy! :)

Life was so simple when you both were just teenagers. Running around Asgard, playing jokes on unsuspecting kin. Practicing magic with Loki's mother, he was always so gifted. You tried as hard as you could but still couldn't fully grasp certain techniques. It didn't matter to him. He helped you gain strength in what you could do.

Those are the memories you held onto on nights like these. When the knowledge of his death would refresh itself in your mind. You still will not completely understand why he fell from the Bifrost. You wanted to hold Odin accountable, but you were merely a best friend of a prince, nothing more to your name. So you stayed up at night, making and remaking the same tricks he had shown you many years ago.

Soon, another dawn came, and you finished out another sleepless night. The circles under your eyes were only growing darker, but you did not pay it much mind.

"Lady Y/n," Thor called. You turned and faced the prince. "I have news you may like to hear."

~

"And you are sure? ...he lives?"

"Indeed," Thor placed a strong hand on your shoulder. He had a faint smile on his face for just a moment, but then it faded. "I wish my news could be completely good. However, though my brother lives, he is currently rampaging Midgard. I am being sent to bring him back home."

Your joy had overcame every sense. It took a moment to process the rest of what Thor had told you. But once it did, your face fell just the same, "He's what?"

"He has currently killed eighty-one people over the course of two days, Lady Y/n."

You did not want to believe it. You couldn't. Of course, Loki has gone too far before, but this was not of his nature. "That does not sound like him." You took a pause and looked at Thor with a very stern expression, "Bring him back to me."

"I will do what I can." With that, he left, and you sank to the floor. A part of you wanted to rejoice due to him still being a part of this world, but you knew it would be joy misplaced. He was currently terrorizing a planet. What can one say to that?

~

You visited Heimdall as often as you could. To checking on Loki as much as possible. The feeling of denial you originally bestowed upon him was confirmed one afternoon.

"The prince does not look the same to me as he always has. A veil is shielded over him."

Since that was observed, you held onto it like a strand of life. It provided you rest you terribly needed and slight solace until he was returned. The restlessness did indeed return, however. When the realization that someone had to have overcame the prince's strong will to make him do their bidding. The thought reclaimed the worry over your soul, and your small moment of 'peace' was over.

~

He is being returned today. You were not supposed to be anywhere near the Bifrost, as any civilian. But you were still as close as possible, which meant you were inside the castle walls. You had to conceal yourself behind a column as they entered. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. However, just like before, that joy was abandoned upon seeing Loki in chains.

You came out of your place of concealment when they had walked past you. You quickly flew to the throne room, where Loki was to be charged.

When you reached the doors, you were held back. "No civilians are allowed beyond this point," you were told by the guard.

"Allow her in," the voice of his mother. You turned and made eye contact with her, then curtsied. She came up to you and held onto your arm. She gave a quick squeeze and a weak smile. You both entered together and stood beside Odin.

"Why has she accompanied you?" He spoke in a sour tone. He did not care to even look in your direction.

"She has a right to be here," The Allmother responded. Odin dropped the matter, and a guard had entered the room.

"He is outside the doors, your majesty."

"Send him in." The guard nodded and turned. He left for a moment, and you noticed the queen inhaled deeply and fixed her posture.

The doors opened, and you held your breath. The sounds of the shackles echoed around the room. You felt your eyes grow heavy in tears, but you knew not to let even one drop. Odin showed no emotion on his throne, as if the man before him was not his own son.

"I really don't see what all the fuss is about." That's him. Your Loki, not that being on Midgard that hurt all those innocent people. His words flowed as they always had, but just like always, Odin was unaffected.

He made a remark to his mother. But once his eyes fell upon you, in that one moment, his confidence was struck. They remained on you for a moment more before continuing his charade with the king.

When the sentence was carried out, he looked for once, defeated. He looked to his mother, then to you one last time. Then, it was promptly removed from the throne room and into the dungeons.

~

A month has passed now. You finally learned the different times and schedules of the guards and were able to make a plan to get around them. With the lack of the Allmother's word, you were restricted entry just as before. But today, you were ready to strike once again.

Every other Tuesday at 3:45 pm, the guards will take a break. The break itself was unauthorized. However, you appreciated the obstruction to the rule since it gave you time. Once out of ear shot of the guards, you opened to heavy doors leading to the prisons beneath the kingdom.

The smell hit you first. A wave of different creatures, all perspiring in unity with one another. Your cloak, worn to conceal your identity, could only do so much in masking the odor. You had no clue which cell he would be in, but you believe the worst was behind you. With quick strides, the hunt began.

Should I ask for directions? you thought. Of course not! You are in the dungeons of Asgard not the village market! In your defense, the place was a maze. Crafted to confuse an inmate incase of its escape.

You continued on a few paces before turning a corner. Something caught your eye. Something was sticking out amongst all the other inmates. You followed that alluring feeling up to the cell you'd been looking for.

His back was faced to you, but you noticed upon you walking towards him. He looked up. "Has my mother sent a new morsel to keep me entertained?" He faced you with mock amusement. "Who are you supposed to be?"

You reached up and removed the hood from your head. His face changed from amused to confounded. He grew close to the wall, separating you two. "Is this some sort of trick? Who was put up to this?"

You took a moment to gather your words. "What do you mean? Do you not believe I have come?" Your voice was frail. You were not expecting this reaction from him at all.

"I believe the one that currently sits on the throne will stop at nothing to pin to the bottom of misery itself." He leaned down to get closer to your eye level, though the barrier still blocked you both. "And what have you got to prove you are not another game for me to lose?" His voice was cold. A part of you wanted to ask what Odin did to make him lose trust in everything before him. However, that was not what he wanted to hear right now.

You sucked in a breath and then held out your hand. You conjured a purple snake with green spots. The image you would always match with his green snake with purple spots. This was what he taught you about how to make one warm summer night.

When the memory was triggered, Loki nearly threw himself on the shield. Instead, he fell to his knees and got to the edge of the cell. "(Y/n)... oh (Y/n)... how did you even get in here?"'

"I snuck in. It took much more planning than you would have thought," Though he was still in captivity, you couldn't help but smile as you saw him. And most importantly, he saw you.

He shook his head, "I've missed you. But you shouldn't be here. I don't want," he looked around the room, "them to know of you too much."

"I know, but -" You heard a scuffle. "Shit, how long has it been? I think the new guards have been appointed. I have to go." You sped off, and from behind, you heard Loki hit the glass, then groan in pain. But you swore to yourself to return for him again.

~

So much had happened in the span of a month. Frigga was dead. Loki broke out of jail, and you, with your help, Thor, Jane, and him, made it to the other realm. After your part of the plan was complete, you were to return to Asgard and help defend it from any dark elves that could attack.

But now the three of them were supposed to return. You looked out, waiting to see Loki accompanying Thor. But we were met with only the older brother. When he crossed into the palace, you approached him.

He beat you to ask your question with an answer. "I regret to inform you that once more, my brother will not be returning home."

You didn't know if you thought it or screamed it, but the overwhelming feeling of dread was all you could express. How could this happen again? You had just gotten him back.

~

Odin was not acting like Odin. You could be losing yourself in grief and seeing your former- friend- everywhere. It was strange. You knew Odin was acting out of character, but to say he was acting like Loki was bold. Even for you.

So, it led you to confront the king after one of the plays had finished. "Allfather. I would like to request an audience." What you did not expect was for the king to accept.

The pair of you went into the palace, and there you confronted him. "This may come off as strange but -"

"I can't." You looked at him with a confused expression. "I can't keep lying. To you." The appearance of Odin melted away to reveal your former lov- friend. You didn't respond at first. Just stared, astonished.

"Please say something," he pleaded. Instead, you slapped him clean across the face. "I see how I deserve that." You brought him into your arms and held onto him close. The tears in my eyes overflowing down my face.

"Why didn't you tell me? At least me?" Your words were strung out slurred slightly. You just kept repeating your question, and he held you for a while until your breathing calmed down.

"I wanted to tell you. I wanted to explain everything to you. I wanted it all to be clear as day, especially for you. But I couldn't just yet. I needed to -"

You pulled back. "Wait," you interrupted, "If you're playing Odin. Then where's the real one?"

"Midgard."

"Loki..." you facepalmed.

"But he is being taken care of. They have these homes that take care of those who are later in life. He's fine," his voice was rushed.

You sighed and rested your head on his chest. "Don't die on me again. Or at least tell me when you plan to? I don't know. But whatever you do just," you look him in the eyes, "don't leave me again."

"I won't." If only that were true.

A.N. Hope this broke you the way it broke me lol

[amethystarachnid]

FORBIDDEN

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and maybe a tiny bit of fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.8k (damn)

ᯓ★ TW(s): so much angst that it needs a tw, arranged marriages, Loki vs Tv remote (remote won), Loki vs Spaghetti (Spaghetti won)

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the movies

ᯓ★ Request: Hi! I love the idea for this challenge, so I'd love to request a Forbidden relationship with Loki if that's okay. If you prefer not to write about him, I'm happy to see it with Tony instead! 🤍 ( @nicoline1998enilocin) [we love Loki in this blog <3 ]

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air is thick with tension as you stand in the shadows of the grand hall, your heart racing in your chest. From where you are, you can see him—Loki, the God of Mischief, prince of Asgard, and the one person you’re not supposed to love. He sits at the long, golden table, laughing lightly at something his brother Thor says, though his eyes betray the storm of emotions swirling within him. Your chest tightens at the sight, the distance between you feeling more like a chasm than a few short steps.

You shouldn’t be here. You know that. Servants are not meant to linger, to watch, to hope. You belong in the shadows, the corners, where no one sees you. Especially not him. Especially not a prince.

But he sees you. He always does.

A fleeting glance. That’s all he allows himself. The briefest flicker of emerald eyes in your direction, so quick that no one else could ever notice. But you feel it as if his gaze had touched your skin. The heat, the longing, the unspoken words that scream louder than anything ever could.

Loving him is a curse—a dangerous, beautiful curse.

It’s forbidden. He’s the prince, and you… you are nothing more than a servant in the royal palace, an invisible figure in his world of gods and thrones. And yet, despite the danger, despite the constant threat that hangs over both your heads, you can’t stop. You can’t stay away from him, and he can’t seem to let you go.

You remember the last time you were alone together. The secrecy, the stolen moments, the way he kissed you as if he’d been starving for you his whole life. It was desperate. It always is. Each time, you know it could be the last, and it’s killing you.

Tonight, in this crowded room filled with the finest nobles and warriors of Asgard, you stand on the opposite side of the world from him. But you can still feel his presence, a pull stronger than anything else. He looks so calm, so composed, the picture of a perfect prince. But you know better. You know the battle that rages inside him, just as it does inside you.

The door behind you creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat as a guard walks past, his eyes barely glancing your way. A close call. Too close. You lower your head, reminding yourself of the rules, the risks. If anyone found out…

But then you hear it—your name, spoken in that smooth, dark voice that always manages to send shivers down your spine. You don’t even need to turn to know it’s him.

“Meet me,” Loki murmurs, his words barely audible over the clinking of glasses and murmurs of the court. “Tonight. You know where.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. But he doesn’t need you to. You know he’ll be waiting, just as you will be. And when the night falls, and the palace sleeps, you will find each other again. You always do.

But with every meeting, every kiss, every whispered promise in the dead of night, you feel the noose tightening around both your necks. One day, someone will find out. And when they do, your world will come crashing down.

The weight of that knowledge crushes you every second, but none so heavily as when you catch his eye again from across the room. There's so much distance between you—physical, social, cosmic. A prince and a servant. The most forbidden of loves.

But gods help you, you love him anyway. And that may be the most dangerous thing of all.

The night is silent, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the palace gardens and the distant murmur of the wind through the tall, stone walls. You move quietly, your heart pounding in your chest with every step you take toward the secret passage. The same passage you’ve slipped through countless times before.

Your hands shake as you push open the heavy door that leads to the darkened corridor. This is madness. Every fiber of your being screams at you to turn back, to run and never look back. But the pull toward him is stronger, more insistent. It’s like a fire in your veins, a need so deep it terrifies you.

When you finally reach the small alcove where he waits, you stop just before stepping into the moonlight. You know he’s there, hidden in the shadows, but you hesitate. For a brief moment, the weight of what you’re doing—what you’ve been doing—crashes down on you.

You’re risking everything. He is too.

Then you hear the faint sound of his breath, a sharp intake as if he senses your presence, and you step forward. The pale light from the moon bathes the stone floor in silver, and you see him, standing there, tall and cloaked in darkness, his sharp features softened by the night.

"Loki," you whisper, your voice trembling, though you wish it weren’t.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, closing the distance between you with a grace that never fails to steal your breath. His hands reach for you, cold and firm, and when they touch your skin, it feels like an anchor pulling you out of the storm. You melt into his embrace, the tension in your body dissolving as you feel the warmth of him against you.

“You came,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with a relief that mirrors your own. His arms tighten around you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“I always do,” you whisper back, resting your forehead against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath his clothes.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The world outside is distant, and here, in this stolen moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in existence. But it never lasts, and the reality of what you are doing creeps back in like a cold gust of wind.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you murmur, your words barely audible, though you feel him stiffen at your confession.

“I know,” he replies, his voice strained, his breath brushing the top of your head. His fingers run through your hair, gentle but desperate. “But how can I stop? How can I stay away from you when every moment without you feels like I’m being torn apart?”

Your eyes sting as his words sink in, but you force yourself to pull back, just enough to look up at him. His expression is tormented, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely allows anyone to see. But you know. You know him better than anyone else ever could.

“Loki, if they find out—”

“They won’t.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a blade. “I won’t let them. Not Thor, not my father, not anyone.”

There’s a fire in his eyes, a fierce determination, but you shake your head, your heart aching. “You can’t protect me from this. From us. You’re a prince, and I… I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his hand moving to cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don’t say that. You are everything to me.”

Tears burn your eyes as you search his face, desperate to find some solution, some way for this to work, but it feels like the walls are closing in on you both. There’s no way out. You’ve always known that. But you’ve let yourselves fall too far, too deeply.

“I don’t care what I am or what you are,” Loki continues, his voice rough with emotion. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. Do you understand?”

His words wrap around your heart like a vise, both a comfort and a curse. You want to believe him, to pretend that love could be enough to keep you safe. But it’s not. It never has been.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you choke out, your voice breaking, the fear and the love warring inside you.

“You won’t,” he promises, his lips brushing your forehead, soft and reverent. “I’ll tear down the heavens themselves before I let that happen.”

His arms pull you back into him, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. In his embrace, you feel both safe and utterly doomed. You’re trapped between two worlds—the love you feel for him, and the reality of what you are to each other.

For now, in the quiet of the night, you let yourself forget. Forget the palace walls, the crown that weighs heavy on his head, the consequences that lurk around every corner.

In this moment, all that matters is him. The way he holds you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, the way his lips press against yours, slow and full of a need that never seems to fade.

But in the back of your mind, you know this will end. It has to. And when it does, it will shatter you both.

The moment you pull away from Loki’s kiss, reality crashes back with a force that steals your breath. His arms still hold you, but the cold bite of the night air seeps in, reminding you of the walls you’re trapped between. You bury your face in his chest, hoping to hide from the truth, but it’s already too late.

A sudden, echoing sound breaks through the quiet—footsteps, distant but approaching. Too close.

Loki stiffens instantly, his body tense and alert. His hand grips your arm as he pulls you further into the shadows, his expression sharp and calculating. Your heart leaps into your throat as panic grips you. Someone’s coming. Someone knows.

“Stay here,” he whispers urgently, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low but firm. “Don’t move.”

“Loki—”

Before you can protest, he slips into the darkness, silent as a shadow. You press yourself against the cold stone wall, your mind racing, every second dragging on as fear gnaws at you. If you’re found here, like this, with him, it will be the end of everything. There’s no escaping the consequences this time.

The footsteps grow louder, and you can’t breathe, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Then, from the shadows, you hear voices—deep and commanding.

Odin.

You nearly sink to the floor in horror, every muscle in your body seizing as the realization crashes over you. Loki’s father, the Allfather himself, is here. And if he’s here…

“Loki,” Odin’s voice booms, sharp and filled with authority, cutting through the night like ice. “Step forward.”

There’s a pause, a silence so thick it’s suffocating. You can barely make out Loki’s form as he steps forward into the light of the courtyard, facing his father. The tension between them is palpable, thick like smoke.

“I wondered where you had slipped away to,” Odin continues, his voice cold, though laced with something dangerous. “Is there a reason you’re skulking about in the shadows like a common thief, my son?”

Loki stands tall, but you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands are clenched at his sides. You know he’s holding back, trying to mask the fury and fear beneath the surface. “I needed air, Father,” he replies smoothly, though the edge in his voice betrays him. “I find the court’s company rather… tedious.”

Odin’s gaze sharpens, as if he sees right through the lie. “Air, indeed.” His voice lowers, his next words heavy with unspoken meaning. “You’ve been distracted lately. More than usual.”

Your blood runs cold. He knows. He has to know.

“I expect your full attention on the matter at hand,” Odin continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your betrothal must be finalized soon.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Betrothal.

You feel the world tilt beneath your feet, nausea churning in your stomach. Betrothal? What is he talking about?

Loki doesn’t react at first, but you can see the slight twitch in his brow, the flicker of anger that darkens his features.

“There will be no betrothal,” Loki says through clenched teeth, his voice dangerously low.

Odin’s eyes narrow, and for the first time, you hear the warning in his tone. “You have no choice, Loki. As a prince of Asgard, you are bound to your duty. We have an alliance to secure. You will marry Lady Sigyn, and the arrangements will proceed as planned.”

Lady Sigyn. The name rings in your ears like a death knell.

Loki’s jaw tightens, fury flashing across his face. “I won’t be a pawn in your games, Father.”

“You will do what is required of you,” Odin thunders, his voice leaving no room for defiance. “This is not a debate.”

Your legs threaten to give out beneath you, but you force yourself to stay hidden, clutching at the stone wall to keep yourself upright. He’s going to marry someone else. It feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest, the agony too much to bear.

“I don’t care about your alliances or your politics,” Loki spits, his control slipping as the rage breaks through. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand more than you think,” Odin snaps, stepping forward, towering over Loki. “You’re blinded by foolishness, by her.”

Her. The word hangs in the air, sharp and cruel.

You.

The blood drains from your face, your heart seizing in panic. Odin knows. He’s known all along.

“This servant girl has no place in your life,” Odin declares, his voice filled with disdain. “She is beneath you, beneath the throne. I will not allow you to throw away your future for something so meaningless.”

Loki’s entire body tenses, fury radiating off him in waves. “She is not meaningless,” he growls, his voice venomous, his control slipping further. “You don’t know anything about what she means to me.”

“And you will forget her,” Odin commands, his tone final and merciless. “If you refuse to do your duty, then she will be sent away, far from Asgard, where you will never see her again.”

A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down, your vision blurring with unshed tears. He would banish you. Rip you away from Loki, from everything. The love you’ve kept secret, the love that burns so brightly it hurts—destroyed.

“No,” Loki’s voice is a low, dangerous growl, but there’s an edge of desperation to it. “You can’t take her from me.”

Odin’s eyes blaze with cold fire. “I can. And I will.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t move, don’t breathe, waiting for the moment to shatter. But Loki—Loki steps closer to his father, his eyes burning with defiance.

“If you take her from me,” Loki says quietly, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage, “you’ll lose me too.”

The words hang in the air like a threat, the tension between them palpable, and for a moment, the night itself seems to hold its breath.

But Odin’s face hardens. “You would forsake your family, your throne, for her?”

Loki doesn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched, his breath shallow. Finally, he speaks, his voice low but firm. “I already have.”

Odin stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face, before his expression turns cold, harder than ever. “Then you are no son of mine.”

The words cut deeper than any sword, and you feel the sharp sting of tears spill over as the weight of them sinks in. Loki stands there, frozen for a moment, his face betraying the pain he feels, even if he tries to hide it. Then, without another word, Odin turns and strides away, his footsteps echoing through the night, leaving you and Loki alone in the suffocating silence.

Loki stands there for a long moment, staring at where his father had been, his chest rising and falling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. Then, slowly, he turns to you, his face pale, his eyes dark with anguish.

“I’ve lost him,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of his choice is only now sinking in.

You step toward him, your heart breaking for him, for both of you, but the words won’t come. All you can do is reach for him, pulling him into your arms, holding him as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield him from the world crashing down around you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

Loki’s arms wrap around you, and for a moment, it feels like the two of you are the only ones left in the universe, clinging to each other amidst the wreckage. But you know—deep down—you can’t escape the truth forever.

You’ve both lost too much.

And the worst is yet to come.

The decision gnaws at you for days, eating away at your soul like a poison you can’t expel. Each moment you spend with Loki after that night feels like borrowed time, a dream on the verge of ending. You know what you have to do, but the thought of it turns your stomach, fills you with a dread so deep it feels as if it’s suffocating you.

But you also know why you have to do it.

Loki would never leave you. He would burn the Nine Realms down before he let anyone take you from him. But that’s precisely why you must be the one to leave.

Loki needs his father’s approval more than he’ll ever admit, more than he even realizes. Beneath the layers of defiance, anger, and rebellion, there is still a part of him—perhaps the most fragile part—that craves Odin’s acceptance, his love. You’ve seen the way Loki’s face tightens every time Odin’s words cut too deep, the way his heart breaks a little more with every dismissal. He hides it well from the world, but not from you. Never from you.

And now, because of you, that fragile part of him has been shattered.

The memory of Odin’s voice still echoes in your mind, cold and merciless: “Then you are no son of mine.” You remember the way Loki’s breath caught, the brief flicker of pain that crossed his face before he masked it with anger. But you saw it. You felt it.

This is not what you wanted for him. Not this rift, not this war between him and his father. He’s lost too much already, and you can’t be the reason he loses more. You can’t be the reason he’s torn apart, trying to balance his love for you and his duty to his family.

You make your decision, the weight of it crashing down on you with a finality that leaves you breathless.

You’ll leave. You’ll exile yourself to Midgard—Earth—where no one will find you. Where no one will look. You’ll disappear from his life, make it seem like you were taken, lost, or gone by choice. If he believes you’ve left, if he thinks you’ve moved on, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll do what he must. He’ll marry Lady Sigyn, secure his place as prince, and perhaps… perhaps he’ll finally earn the approval he’s always longed for.

It will destroy you. You know this. But if it saves him, it will be worth it.

That night, you leave without a word.

You wait until the palace is asleep, the halls quiet, only the distant sound of guards patrolling. You know this place too well by now, know the hidden corridors, the back passageways where no one will notice you slipping away. Your heart hammers in your chest, every step feeling heavier than the last, but you push through the pain.

The small bag you carry feels like a weight tethering you to the ground. Inside are only the essentials—things you will need to survive on Earth. It feels wrong, surreal, to leave behind everything you’ve ever known, but it’s a small price to pay for Loki’s future.

As you pass through the courtyard, the moon hangs low in the sky, casting a pale, silver light over Asgard. It feels like the last time you’ll ever see it—your home, the place where you fell in love with a prince you never should have touched. Your throat tightens, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

The Bifrost glows in the distance, a beacon of escape, and your steps quicken, though every part of you screams to turn back. You’ll leave through the Bifrost, beg Heimdall to send you to Midgard. You pray he will understand, that he’ll let you go without question.

But as you near the Rainbow Bridge, something stops you in your tracks.

A figure stands in your path, his golden eyes glowing beneath his helm. Heimdall.

You knew he would be here, guarding the way to the other realms, but the intensity of his gaze as it falls upon you makes you falter. He sees everything, knows what you intend before you even speak.

“Heimdall, I—” Your voice trembles, but you force yourself to stand tall, to speak with conviction. “I need you to send me to Midgard. Please.”

Heimdall says nothing at first, his gaze piercing through you, as if reading every secret, every hidden intention behind your eyes. The weight of his silence is crushing.

“Do you truly believe leaving will solve anything?” he asks, his voice low, but full of knowing. “Do you think disappearing will bring him peace?”

Tears sting your eyes, but you shake your head, biting down the sob that claws its way up your throat. “He can’t lose everything because of me. He needs to stay here. He needs to—”

“To marry another woman and live in misery?” Heimdall’s gaze softens, just barely. “Loki would never forgive himself. Or you.”

You wipe the tears from your cheeks, trying to keep your voice steady. “He will. In time. He will forget me, and he’ll be what his father wants him to be.”

Heimdall’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a heaviness to his words when he speaks again. “Loki loves you more than you know. His path may be fraught with darkness, but losing you will plunge him deeper into it than you realize.”

You freeze at his words, the full weight of them sinking into your chest. A part of you knows he’s right. Loki’s love for you is boundless, a consuming fire that would burn anything in its path to keep you safe. But that’s why you have to leave. It’s the only way to keep him from losing more than he already has.

“He’ll survive,” you whisper, the words almost breaking you. “He’ll find a way to live without me.”

Heimdall’s gaze holds yours for a long, agonizing moment. “Perhaps. But will you survive without him?”

The question feels like a blow to your chest, and for a moment, the resolve you’ve built crumbles. You can’t imagine a world without Loki. Can’t imagine a life where you don’t feel his hands pulling you close in the dead of night, his voice whispering your name like a sacred thing.

But that’s why you have to do this.

“I have to try,” you choke out, your tears finally falling freely. “He needs his family. He needs his father. He needs to be what Asgard wants him to be.”

Heimdall watches you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with something that looks almost like sorrow. But then, slowly, he steps aside, clearing your path to the Bifrost.

“If this is your choice,” he says quietly, “I will not stop you.”

You stare at the shimmering path before you, the way to Midgard open, the escape you so desperately sought now within reach. But now that you’re standing on the brink of it, your heart feels like it’s being torn in two.

Without another word, you take a step forward, and then another. Each step feels heavier than the last, like your heart is shattering with every inch you put between yourself and Asgard—between yourself and him.

Just as you reach the edge of the Bifrost, you stop, one final thought seizing you.

Loki will wake, and he’ll look for you. He’ll search every corner of the realm, desperate to find you, to pull you back into his arms. But you won’t be there.

You press a hand to your chest, willing the pain to subside, but it only deepens. And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you step into the beam of light and let it take you.

As you’re pulled toward Midgard, the last image that flashes in your mind is Loki’s face—his eyes, his smile, the way he said your name like a promise.

And then it’s gone, along with everything you ever knew.

The moment Loki wakes, something feels wrong. The cold weight of the bed beside him, where you should be, is empty. His hand moves to the space where you usually lie, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but there’s nothing. The absence hits him like a sudden plunge into icy water, and panic claws at his chest.

“Y/N?”

His voice echoes in the room, but only silence answers.

He sits up quickly, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes scan the dimly lit chamber, searching for any sign of you—your cloak tossed on a chair, your hairpin on the table, anything. But the room is empty. Too empty. His gut twists as dread coils within him.

You’ve vanished.

He throws on his cloak and storms out of the room, a desperate, wild energy propelling him forward. His mind races, a hundred possibilities flashing through his head, each worse than the last. Where could you have gone? You wouldn’t leave him without saying anything. You wouldn’t.

He searches the palace, every hallway, every hidden alcove where you might have retreated. Each passing minute tightens the vice around his heart, and a dark, sickening fear begins to take root.

It’s only when he reaches the gardens that he spots Heimdall, standing still, his gaze fixed far beyond the realm of Asgard.

“Where is she?” Loki demands, his voice sharp, though beneath it, there’s a tremor of fear. “Heimdall, where is she?”

The gatekeeper’s golden eyes shift toward him, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of sympathy, a look that confirms Loki’s worst suspicions.

“She’s gone,” Heimdall says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow.

Loki’s heart plummets, the ground seeming to tilt beneath him. “Gone?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Where?”

Heimdall doesn’t answer immediately, but the silence speaks volumes. Loki’s eyes narrow, anger flashing in them like a storm. “Where?”

“Midgard,” Heimdall finally says, the word falling between them like a death sentence. “She left… to spare you.”

The words don’t register at first. Loki stares at Heimdall, his mind struggling to make sense of it. You… left? To spare him? It feels impossible, unreal, like some cruel trick the Norns themselves had spun just to watch him unravel.

“She left because she believed it would save you,” Heimdall continues, his voice gentle but firm. “To make you fulfill your duty. To win back your father’s approval.”

Loki’s body goes rigid, his chest tightening painfully as the full weight of it hits him. You’d left him. You’d sacrificed yourself, your happiness, to give him something he never even wanted—a hollow peace with his father, a loveless marriage that would tie him to a woman he didn’t care for.

“No…” The word tumbles from his lips, broken, as if by saying it, he could undo the truth. “No, she wouldn’t… she couldn’t…” But even as he says it, he knows it’s exactly what you would do. You would throw yourself into the abyss if it meant saving him, even if it destroyed you in the process.

The pain is unbearable. The thought of you, alone on Midgard, thinking that leaving was the only way to save him—it rips through him like a blade. His vision blurs, the edges of his world collapsing in on itself. He turns on his heel, moving before he even knows what he’s doing.

He’ll find you. He’ll bring you back. Nothing will stop him. Not his father, not this cursed marriage, not the Nine Realms themselves.

But just as he storms toward the Bifrost, the familiar voice of his mother stops him in his tracks.

“Loki.”

Frigga’s voice is soft but firm, and when he turns to face her, her expression is filled with concern, with sadness. “I know what you’re thinking, but you cannot go after her.”

“Why not?” Loki snaps, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. “Why should I stay here and let her go? I won’t.”

Frigga steps closer, her eyes searching his face. “Because your father has commanded it. And because you must meet Lady Sigyn today. The arrangements have already been made.”

Loki’s blood runs cold. Sigyn. His betrothed. The woman he’s being forced to marry.

His fists clench at his sides, his mind screaming at him to refuse, to defy his father’s every order, but the weight of his mother’s words, of Odin’s power over him, crashes down like a hammer. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—trapped between the burning desire to chase after you and the crushing reality of his duty.

“I can’t,” he breathes, shaking his head. “I can’t marry her, Mother. Not when—”

Frigga’s hand rests gently on his arm, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I know, my son. But for now, you must.”

The meeting with Lady Sigyn is nothing short of torturous.

The grand hall where the introductions take place feels stifling, every gilded surface mocking him, every face around the table a reminder of the farce he’s being forced to play. Lady Sigyn stands before him, dressed in the finest Asgardian silks, her long blonde hair flowing like a waterfall down her back. She is every inch the perfect noblewoman, her posture elegant, her beauty undeniable.

But Loki can’t see her. Not really.

Every time his eyes fall on her, all he sees is you. Your laugh, your touch, your smile when you tease him in private moments. Every word Sigyn speaks fades into background noise, drowned out by the memories of your voice, the softness of it when you whispered his name in the dark.

“I hope this union will bring peace to our realms,” Sigyn says, her voice calm, rehearsed, a woman born to play this role. She speaks of duty and honor, of the alliance their marriage will secure.

Loki nods, his jaw tight, but his mind is a thousand miles away.

He remembers how you would laugh at the absurdity of formalities, how you would roll your eyes at the very thought of grand speeches like this. You were never afraid to speak your mind to him, never afraid to push him, to make him feel real. Sigyn’s words, though perfectly crafted, feel like ash in his mouth, a hollow echo of something he cannot connect to.

When she reaches for his hand, Loki almost recoils, the touch foreign, unwelcome. He lets her take it, but it’s wrong. Her fingers feel cold, delicate but empty. They’re not your hands, not the hands he’s craved, not the touch he would burn worlds for.

The more Sigyn speaks, the more unbearable it becomes. Her beauty, her grace, her calm demeanor—it’s everything Asgard expects of its princess. But Loki doesn’t want perfection. He doesn’t want her. He wants the fire, the passion, the laughter that only you could bring him.

He wants you.

As the meeting drags on, Loki’s mind spirals, twisting in on itself. How could he be standing here, listening to the woman he’s supposed to marry, when the only woman who truly owns his heart is gone? He doesn’t care about alliances, about politics, about securing his place in Asgard. All of it is meaningless without you.

The pain of your absence is suffocating, a wound that will never heal. You, who sacrificed everything for him, who left so that he might live the life Odin had planned for him. And now he’s here, going through the motions, trapped in a future that feels like a prison.

Sigyn’s voice fades again, and all Loki can think of is finding you, holding you in his arms, telling you that he doesn’t care about his father’s approval. That he would give up his throne, his title, everything — if only you would come back to him.

Because without you, none of it means anything at all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It’s strange, this new life you’ve carved out for yourself on Midgard.

At first, it was jarring—too quiet, too mundane, and too empty. The absence of Asgard's grand halls, the shimmering skies, the bustling sounds of a realm so unlike this one… and the absence of him. The silence was the worst part. You had grown so used to Loki’s presence—his wry comments, his wit, the way his voice could fill any room, soft yet commanding. The nights felt impossibly long without his warmth beside you.

But eventually, you adapted. You had to.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months, and you forced yourself to settle into this new reality. You found a job—something simple, something that kept your mind busy and your hands occupied, so you wouldn’t think too much about what you left behind. The people here were kind, in a way that felt foreign but comforting. They didn’t ask questions about who you were or where you came from, and for that, you were grateful.

But no matter how much time passed, there was always a hollow space inside you, a part of you that felt incomplete. You could pretend, most days, that you were fine—that you had made peace with your decision. But every now and then, when you walked home alone, when you lay in your bed at night staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest would return, sharp and unforgiving.

You still thought of him. You wondered how he was, whether he’d married Sigyn, whether he had found some semblance of happiness without you. Whether he had moved on.

Whether he missed you as much as you missed him.

It’s been a long day at work, and your legs ache as you make your way up the stairs to your small apartment. The autumn air is crisp, the streets of Midgard quiet and peaceful as you climb the last few steps, your breath coming out in small clouds. You fumble with your keys as you unlock the door, mind drifting to the usual thoughts of dinner and maybe a long bath.

You push the door open, kicking it shut behind you with a sigh of relief, and set your bag down. The apartment is dark, just as you left it this morning. You reach for the light switch, but before your fingers even touch it, you feel it.

The presence.

A chill runs down your spine. You know this feeling—the prickle of awareness, the way the air seems to shift around you. It’s the feeling of someone powerful, someone familiar, watching you. Your heart races as you turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

He’s there.

Loki stands in the corner of your apartment, bathed in shadows, but there’s no mistaking him. His tall, lean frame, his raven hair falling just past his shoulders, and those piercing green eyes that seem to see straight through you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. You can’t think.

It’s like he’s stepped out of a dream—one you’ve had so many times it hurts. But this… this is no dream.

“Loki…” His name slips from your lips, a whisper, a question, a prayer all at once.

He doesn’t move at first, just watches you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something darker, more raw than you’ve ever seen before.

“You left,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. There’s no anger in it, no accusation, but the pain beneath the words is unmistakable. “You left without telling me.”

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. There’s so much you want to say, so much you need to explain, but the words stick in your throat. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. All the reasons, all the justifications you told yourself back then seem to crumble in the face of his presence.

“I…” You force the words out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I had to.”

Loki steps forward, and in the dim light, you can see the shadows under his eyes, the way his face is drawn, as though he hasn’t slept in days—weeks, maybe. There’s a desperation in his movements, a restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Had to?” His voice is sharper now, the hurt lacing every syllable. “You had to disappear? You had to leave me without a word, without a trace, as if we meant nothing to each other?”

You flinch at the raw pain in his words, and your heart aches with the weight of it. You take a step toward him, shaking your head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to. Loki, you have to understand—I thought I was doing what was best for you. Your father, the marriage… I couldn’t stand in the way of your future. I couldn’t be the reason you lost everything.”

Loki’s eyes flash with something fierce, something bordering on rage. “My future?” He laughs, but it’s a bitter, hollow sound. “You think any of that matters to me without you? You think I would trade you for a throne I never wanted? For a father’s approval that means nothing to me?”

You stare at him, frozen, your mind reeling. “But… I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he cuts in, his voice hard, but his eyes soften as they lock onto yours. “I didn’t want any of it. Not the marriage, not Asgard’s politics, not my father’s favor. All I ever wanted was you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. The words you longed to hear, the ones you feared you never would—they hang in the air between you, heavy with truth and regret.

“Loki…” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I… I left so you could be free.”

“Free?” His eyes darken, and he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that the familiar scent of him—magic, leather, and something inherently Loki—wraps around you like a fog. “I’ve never been more imprisoned than in the moment you were gone.”

You blink back tears, your vision blurring as his words sink in. The months of separation, of silence, of convincing yourself you were doing the right thing—it all unravels in a single moment.

“I thought I was saving you,” you confess, your voice cracking. “I thought I was doing what was right.”

Loki’s hands reach out, and before you can even process it, his fingers are gently cupping your face, his touch so familiar, so warm. “You were always what was right,” he murmurs, his voice breaking with emotion. “I didn’t want their approval. I didn’t want their expectations. All I wanted was you.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, and before you know it, you’re collapsing into his arms, the months of pain and loneliness crashing down all at once. He pulls you close, his grip tight, as if afraid you’ll vanish again if he lets go. His lips press against your hair, your temple, every touch a reassurance that he’s here—that this is real.

“I searched everywhere for you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I tore through realms to find you. And now that I have, I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.”

You cling to him, your face buried in his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The weight of your decision, the months of agony, seem to melt away in his embrace, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to breathe.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Loki,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, brushing a tear from your cheek with a tenderness that undoes you. “You don’t need to be. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

And as his lips meet yours in a kiss that is both desperate and gentle, filled with all the words that were left unsaid, you know he’s right.

The decision isn’t made lightly, but once Loki has you back in his arms, there’s no going back. Not to Asgard’s grand halls, not to the suffocating weight of duty, and certainly not to the life his father had tried to carve out for him. He’s already wasted too much time, bound by the expectations of others.

So he stays. On Midgard. With you.

It’s a wild, audacious choice—and exactly the kind of thing Loki would do.

The transition, however, is a bit… rocky.

A few days after he’s settled into your apartment, you come home from work to find him sitting on the couch, staring at the TV remote like it’s some kind of strange artifact. He holds it up the moment you walk in.

“What is this infernal device?” he asks, his voice laced with frustration, as if the small piece of plastic has personally wronged him. “I’ve been trying to command this ‘box of illusions’ to show me something worth watching for hours!”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip as you take off your coat. “That’s… a TV remote, Loki. You’re supposed to press the buttons, not talk to it.”

His brow furrows, clearly unimpressed. “Ridiculous,” he mutters, tossing the remote aside with a look of disdain. “Why should I be at the mercy of these buttons when I have the power to bend reality?”

“Because,” you say, walking over to him and taking a seat on the couch, “here on Midgard, we use buttons. And reality-bending might raise some eyebrows with the neighbors.”

He huffs but doesn’t argue, though you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Midgardians and their absurd contraptions…” he mutters under his breath, but then he turns to you, his expression softening as he reaches for your hand. “At least you’re worth all of this.”

You can’t help but smile, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I’m glad you think so.”

The adjustment to Midgardian life isn’t just about TV remotes, though. Loki, for all his godlike powers and silver-tongued brilliance, is… well, a little out of his element in this new world.

For instance, grocery shopping.

The first time you take him to a supermarket, he stands in the produce aisle, staring at the variety of fruits and vegetables as if they’ve personally offended him.

“Why are there so many kinds of apples?” he demands, picking up a Granny Smith and inspecting it with suspicion. “What is the difference between this and the others?”

“They’re just different types, Loki,” you explain, grabbing a couple of apples and putting them in your basket. “You’ll get used to it.”

He narrows his eyes, still unconvinced, before tossing the apple back into the pile. “Midgard is an odd place.”

But despite his grumbling, you can tell he’s slowly warming up to it. There’s a lightness to him now that you haven’t seen in so long. A freedom. Without Asgard’s heavy expectations looming over him, Loki is… different. Lighter. Happier.

Of course, he still has his dramatic moments.

One evening, you come home to find Loki pacing the living room with a determined look on his face, wearing your floral apron—the one with little daisies on it—while holding a spatula like it’s a weapon of great importance.

“Darling,” he declares the moment you walk through the door, “I have decided to master the art of Midgardian cuisine.”

You blink at him, trying very hard not to laugh at the sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard, dressed in a flowery apron and looking deadly serious. “Is that so?”

He nods gravely. “Indeed. You deserve the finest of meals, prepared by the finest of hands.” He pauses, glancing toward the kitchen with a frown. “However, these ‘instructions’ you provided me with are… unnecessarily complicated.”

You peer into the kitchen, where you spot an open cookbook lying on the counter, pages spattered with flour and other mysterious substances. Loki has clearly attempted something—whether it’s edible or not is another question.

“Okay,” you say, stepping closer to inspect the chaos. “What exactly were you trying to make?”

“Something called… spaghetti?” He says the word like it’s in another language, which, technically, it is. “It seemed simple enough, but this… pasta refused to cooperate.”

You stifle a laugh, eyeing the pot of overcooked noodles sitting in the sink. “I think you might’ve boiled it a little too long.”

“Too long?” Loki frowns, clearly offended by the suggestion. “It was behaving most stubbornly. I merely asserted my dominance.”

“That’s… not how cooking works, Loki.”

He huffs, folding his arms. “Midgardian food is clearly inferior. I’ll never understand why you enjoy it so much.”

You chuckle, reaching up to wipe a streak of flour from his cheek. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

He leans into your touch, his frustration melting away as he pulls you into his arms. “For you, I would do far worse than battle rebellious pasta.”

“I know,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But maybe we should just order pizza.”

He sighs dramatically, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “If we must.”

Despite the quirks and the occasional mishap, there’s something incredibly sweet about watching Loki navigate this new life. He’s traded his princely titles and royal duties for quiet evenings with you, for late-night walks through the city, for the simple joy of waking up next to you without the weight of Asgard on his shoulders.

And it’s not just about what he’s given up—it’s about what he’s gained. Here, with you, he’s free to be himself, without the judgment of his father or the expectations of the court. He’s no longer Loki, the Trickster Prince. He’s just… Loki.

And as the two of you sit together on the couch, sharing a pizza (which Loki begrudgingly admits is quite good), he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice warm and low, “I never thought I could be happy like this. But you… you make everything worth it.”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “I feel the same way.”

There’s a moment of quiet, the two of you just enjoying each other’s presence. And then Loki, ever the trickster, grins down at you.

“But I am going to master that television contraption,” he says, his tone utterly serious. “It will not defeat me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Whatever you say, Loki.”

And as the night stretches on, with him beside you, you realize that this—this simple, beautiful life—is more than you ever dreamed of. It’s not the palace of Asgard or the grandeur of the realms, but it’s yours. And that’s all that matters.

Because as long as you’re with Loki, wherever you are, it will always feel like home.

[ellamuffin97]

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings : pregnancy , angst to fluff ,hurt comfort

A/n: Loki is the kind of a man who only stay or leave, there is no in between . How would he react when he came from a mission and finds out his girlfriend is pregnant ?

Word count : ~1k

In the end , it’s him and I❤️💚

You anxiously heave a sigh, leaning forward towards the mirror as your fingers dig into the corners of the sink.

The small test stick in between your fingers causing anxiety to creep up to you. You find it difficult to breathe with every passing second, almost as if you’re drowning in water.

Loki has made it clear in multiple occasions that he is against having kids, that he won’t want any little brats spawns at his care. He has repeatedly said that if he is to have kids, he’d probably use the milk trick and never come back, ever again. You’ve never thought about it before, but now that you’re at the situation, you have no clue with what you’re supposed to do.

In a shimmer of green , he came home right when you were about to burst into tears holding that little stick in you hands .

“Are you in a bad mood kærasta ?”

His voice sends a chill down on your spine as you dropped the test down the floor with a yelp, frightened eyes looking at him as you try to breathe in as much air as you possibly can.

“Oh ,uh..hi — no. i’m fine.” you say rather quickly, making sure to slowly snag the test using your foot and hiding it from him, trying to be discreet but fail miserably when he sees your foot moving the object towards you.

“What are you hiding from me?” he asks, moving closer towards you.

Your eyes fall down on the ground, causing you to pick up the item faster and move it to your hand.

“What is that?” He demanded , comeing closer to you

“N-nothing.” you reply, trying to break the test stick but fail when it falls out of your grip and goes back to the ground once more.

You’re quick to move, but Loki is quicker, using his Æsir to vanish it from the floor and making it reappear between his slender fingers as he reads the test.

“What on Earth is this?!.” he says aloud, eyes glued to the stick as he reads it all over and over again, but the more he reads it the realer it becomes.

He can’t seem to grasp the concept, not sure if he’s reading it right.

“(y/n), what the fuck is this?!” He sais , eyes never leaving yours

“L-loki please calm down.” you mutter, reaching your hand out to grab the test stick away from him, but he raises his hand above his head, making sure you don’t grab it away from him.

Your heart races as you look down, refusing to look up, afraid as to what you’ll see when you’ll look at his mysterious blue eyes.

“No, darling ! I won’t calm down until you tell me what the fuck this is.” oh Loki does well know what he has in his possession, that one test stick that he’s learned to hate as time goes by. He clearly sees the two lines that clearly yell positive at him, yet he can’t bring himself to believe it at all. He was a God , and you a mortal . How could he get you pregnant ?

“It is a pregnancy test Loki” you mutter, gaining all the confidence to say something.

You wish he’d say something, just anything to keep the conversation going, but much to your disdain, he says nothing back.

“I ….— i’m pregnant.”

“No * he laughs *. That can’t be. YOU can’t be.” it breaks you heart, the way he refuses to believe what you’re saying, his voice slowly cracking in his throat. “I was so careful….what do you mean you’re pregnant? ” he says, looking down at your hair. “Look at me. How the fuck did this happen? ”

You take a big gulp, looking further down to the ground, but Loki places his hand underneath your chin and tips it upwards. He looks at you with a confused expression, mixed with pain, one you can’t decipher.

“Did you … *he gulped , his eyes becoming a dark shade of blue . Did you cheat on me?”

“No babe I never did!” you quickly deny, placing your hands over his cheecks . He shakes his head, dropping his hands to his side and walking back. You watch as a lonely tear slowly starts to creep up underneath the corners of his eyes. This is what you didn’t want to happen, Loki would be leaving you now and you know why.

“I … have to go.”

“wait– LOKI! ”

He leaves in a whim, disappearing in a shimmer of green . You drop to your knees, wrapping your arms around your stomach. You’ve decided straight after you saw the two lines , you decided that you would keep the baby, whether Loki would stay or not.

You know this was bound to happen, you know that Loki would run as soon as he would know.

You knew he would be dead set on leaving you as soon as he knows you have a baby growing into you.

But what you don’t know is how much Loki is in love with you.

Down the empty hallway of you apartment,Loki resides. His hands over the wall as he shakes. You wouldn’t know but Loki loves you to the ends of the nine realms , even if he wouldn’t voice it out. He would rip the whole world to shreds if anyone would try to take you away from him.

But he didn’t expect to have a child of his own, moreover a child with you, that is. He s been told multiple times that Gods can’t have children with mortals . Because it’s against the rules .

He would be lying if he says a part of him isn’t happy that he has a child with you, but that’s only half of his thoughts. It Isn’t because Loki hates children, it’s because he is afraid. Loki is so afraid of turning into his father.

His father was so neglectful , never showed to any of him or Thor that he loved them , punishing them harshly when they were kids . But with Thor was better . Loki always felt alone , neglected and unloved . That’s the least Loki would want to be.

But then he thinks about it, realisation hit him like a stone in the face . He would become exactly like his father if he doesn’t come back to his senses and support you, love you and assure you that everything is going to be okai and admit that he is ready to face the responsibilities that he’s supposed to be facing, rather than running from them . He has to be there for the child that he’s put into you, he has to see them grow up and become someone better than him, someone who would see the better side of life while still knowing the truth, unlike him who was blinded by the expectations he was pushed on to.

So you least expected it when he opens the door and walks into the room, a small smile on his face. He just sat down next to you and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“We’re going to get through this together, alright? I love you so much darling , and I’m sorry . “

You just wiped his tears and kiss him on the lips , hiding your face between his shoulder and neck.

“I’m so scared *you admitted sobbing “

“Me too*he smiled weakly . But you have me … I have you and we … we have our little bean *he said placing a hand on your belly . We are a family and I promise to both of you everything is going to be alright .”

[smolvenger]

It's Christmas, After All (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: It seems you are spending Christmas alone...until Loki joins you.

Word Count: 4987

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ (Thigh riding, blowjobs, sex on a chair and table, doggy style, p in v sex, orgasm denial), Spoilers for Loki season 2, lots of angst in the beginning with loneliness until it becomes tooth rotting mega indulgent fluff. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, y'all!

DICK-Tionary: Smut starts at "Gladly" and ends at "Panting, you held onto each other as he helped you down."

A/N: Hi there @loz-3!! I am your Secret Santa for @fictive-sl0th's event! Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy it and don't mind how super indulgent and wild it gets! Happiest of holidays to you!!! :) I hope it makes you happy this season and all year around!!!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @loz-3

It should be a special day. 

But here you were. Doing the same things as normal. Your same coffee. Your same breakfast. Your same place. Scrolling the same apps on the same phone. The same sky. The same weather. Only with some festive decorations around the place. Once it had cheered you up to see lights amid the gloomy weather. Now it made the place seem gaudy.

Social media was all the same. Smiling, happy people with their families and significant others and friends. How was it that people had big friend groups in real life as adults and did things together constantly? It felt like no matter how hard you reached out at work….they weren’t interested. You saw one girl from college with her husband and two little kids all in matching pajamas. You wished partly to get one of those pajamas. Because no matter what tacky red plaid set you got, you at least belonged to a group that all wore the same set. That you were included. One of something.

It didn’t feel like a holiday or a special day. Especially not Christmas- the day that was supposed to be the best of the year. To think you didn’t have work. Then at least you would have something to do, to get your mind off everything. 

But no. Only quiet, lonely, long hours on a day of gathering and joy. Only there was no one to gather with. And the joy you were trying to make yourself feel…was nothing.

You were living on your own with a roommate. And she was off with her boyfriend to be all heart eyes and then eat casseroles with his family.

Your parents had booked a trip. They said they were sorry but next time they would bring you. And off they were at some tourist spot. You wished you could go- as tacky as the place was, as much as you had seen it top to bottom… it meant you could at least play cards and drink wine and cook meals with them on this holiday.

All of your friends lived far away in other places. Some were doing amazing things. Incredible jobs and opportunities. Greatness was reached for them…..but not for you. Some lived in town but grew apart- getting married. Or onto their own lives. Regularly posting pictures about their own “best friends.” Best friends who weren’t you.

You had befriended the Avengers, but off they went to either save the world or to their own families to celebrate. You knew Thor and Loki would go to Asgard for a feast with their family to commemorate Yule. Much less Loki- the handsome, charming trickster god probably had better things to you than deal with you...at least any more than friendship. A tiny one began between you two as you talked. But no…you were overthinking. What would he even see in you? You likely weren’t even his type! At least he didn’t notice your ogling when he was in the room. But…he was a god. He could have whoever he wanted….and not likely you. 

You looked down at the texts you sent over to your sister and her husband. They were the only true, close friends in town you had. 

“Hi there Sydney! I'm just asking- could I come over for Christmas? I want to just hang out!”

It was sent and Read on December 20th. No reply.

Then at the text over with your brother-in-law.

“Hey, there Sam! Can I come over and celebrate with you guys? I can bake something and bring it over! Plus I can’t wait to see your faces when you open my gifts!”

Sent December 22nd. No reply.

Once you have done everything together with your sister. Then she got married and suddenly…she had someone else. And you had no one. You then still tried to reach out to them. Going to movies, enjoying little family dinners, hanging out, and even sleeping over at each others’ houses. 

Now…nothing. You looked at another text you sent them.

“Hey, Sydney! I’m free tomorrow- want to watch that movie we both discussed for the longest time seeing?”

Sent on December 18th. Read. No response. 

It was like you no longer mattered to them anymore.

You wanted to yell at them. You wanted to march over to their place, open the door, and scream at both of them. Throw an angry tantrum like a child. How dare they ignore you. Leave you alone- they were all you had. The only live friends they had outside of a bunch of superheroes and gods who were always busy. You wanted to throw something at them. Yell that they never replied to your messages. That suddenly you were ignored and unimportant. That they were all you had and accusing them of treating you like dirt. Call them out for their shortcomings as you cursed and called them harsh words. You wanted to tear them both apart. 

But…that was Destroying what good relationships you had with your sister and your brother-in-law. At least that’s what your mother would say. 

But…you knew there was a chance they were both working on Christmas with their jobs. They worked night jobs and slept all day. They refused to go to things you planned to do with them due to “needing to sleep.” They had to make ends meet and It wasn’t fair on their end.

Yet on Christmas, it wasn’t fair on their end. 

You ruminated more on them. Sydney and Sam, spend their days sleepily cuddling, binging streaming shows, cooking, and working nights. Discussing baby names and having one when they clearly couldn’t afford the rent increase. Their impracticality and sometimes immaturity. yet you loved them. But it was like they were in a bubble. Wrapped up in their little world. At least, Happy and in love. You wanted to be in love, to be loved, wanted, included….and here you were…alone.

Unloved. Unwanted. Unincluded. 

You knew if you watched any Christmas movies, you would be surrounded by images of people smiling in groups. People were with their spouses, lovers, friends, and families all smiling and happy. Even if there was conflict like in any movie and someone was left in solitude…later they would all hurry in full of chatter and laughter and smiles.  Because belonging, being wanted, was now just a fantasy.

You sat down on the couch and cried. What was worst of all - It was your favorite holiday. The lights, decorations, hope, music, food, beauty, joy- yet you were spending it alone. 

Because you weren’t wanted anywhere by anyone. 

You were spending it and closing the year as a failure. A lonely, awful failure. 

The tears rolled down, making you gasp for breath and continue to sob. Curling up in the fetal position on the couch, crying, crying away until you were gasping for breath and snot running down your nose.

You heard some talking outside. It was colder- though a couple you knew, Mr. and Mrs. Malloy, was walking around. They lived in the big house across the road. They were dressed in their designer furs holding portable cups that you knew were homemade chocolate-peppermint espresso. Mr. Malloy with his brown hair, sharp green eyes, and a face that looked more like Handsome Squidward than an actual person. Mrs. Malloy with long, shiny red hair that was soft and full of products and curled to perfection, and her face was perfectly done with makeup products that were three times your car insurance. You could already smell the cologne and perfume from in your house. They smelled of money and loved to flaunt it to everyone. 

As they strutted, a stranger walked by. Hands in pockets. A tall man in a big red puffer winter jacket with a black beanie hat that hid the top of his head walked by. It was hard to make out his face. They accidentally bumped into him.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” barked Mrs. Malloy, gripping her cup with her designer gloves. “I almost got coffee on me!”

“I’m sorry,” voiced the stranger. He bowed his head down, genuinely ashamed.

A decent person in the Malloy’s position would have acknowledged and accepted the apology. Perhaps even laugh it off- the coffee was still untouched and their clothes intact. Assure the stranger it was alright.

The Malloy’s were not decent people. 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it! Just leave!” sneered Mr. Malloy.

The couple huffed and walked away past him. Taking sips from their drinks. Their noses up in the air. 

The stranger behind lifted an ungloved, white hand towards them. His fingers swirled in the air. Then he fled to the far corner to watch.

 Then as Mr. and Mrs. Malloy looked down their cups, sensing something was off. When they did, they let out a scream.

Out of the lid, instead of steaming espresso were a lot of tiny brown snakes that slithered out of the cup and down onto the ground. You let out a gasp where you stood watching. 

The couple tried to stomp at them, but in vain- the tiny snakes were as invincible as cockroaches. Mr. and Mrs. Malloy screamed and ran away to their three-story house in fear.

You burst into laughter so much your cheeks hurt and your face felt warm.

It then hit you- you knew only one person even capable of that.

The man returned from his corner, his face turning to see you. He gave you a wink. You gave him a smile and a wave. 

With a tilt of his head, the jacket turned to a dark brown peacoat and his hair was long, dark, and curly. An ivory face with cheekbones that could cut steel and sweet blue eyes. Hands casually in his pockets. The most beautiful man in all the realms you had ever seen.

At once, you threw on a jacket. You hurried to open the door. Loki walked to you with a smile.

“You’re here?!” you asked.

He gave a shrug

“If I have to tolerate my father’s Yule feast for one more minute, I was going to go mad,” Loki announced.

You took a step closer to him. The air was chilly, though not cold enough for snow.

“But why here? Why me? You could go anywhere….” you mused.

He let in a tight breath, raising a hand to brush through his curls.

“I may be a god of lies and deceit…but I…I didn’t want you to be alone today, my dear,” said. “And you, a great beauty of Midgard, alone on an auspicious day- it didn’t seem right.”

Chest fluttering from the complement. You…in just your sweater and jeans, a great beauty?! Yes, he could flirt and charm a statue to blush. That was his nature. Compliments rolled off him like his magic. You better not think any more of it.

Your whole self was bursting with gratitude and happiness. To have company, especially on Christmas of all days. To not be alone anymore.

Wiping off a few stray tears, you ran forth and tackled him in a hug, crying and laughing as he hugged you back. Accepting it. You were both lonely souls, not wanted, not chosen. So it was fate that a god should cross paths with a mortal with whom he shared so much of his pain. 

“Come inside and get warm,” you offered.

He smiled, looking at the grey sky. The ground was grey with gravel and green from the grass.

“Let’s make something to get warm from,” he suggested. 

With a flick of his hand, the temperature shot down. You shivered further into your coat. Then it began to snow down big, white puffs. You smiled, letting a hand out to feel them. How soft they were! Their tiny, intricate patterns where none were the same. A small laugh came out despite you. 

“It’s beautiful! Now it really feels like Christmas!” you praised. 

You didn’t realize the god of mischief looking at you, the white flakes falling on his dark hair and the rims of his long eyelashes. A softness on his features. His own heart picked up at the happy look on your face. His smile was soft.

“Alright- now let’s go inside,” you offered.

His hand reached up magic pouring through and around.

 His magic went around in little golden slivers that went around the place. You gasped as it transformed everything it touched. Your jaw dropped at the transformation.

 It was turned into a perfect Christmas home- a crackling fireplace grew from the wall with two green stockings. A turkey dinner complete with every side dish you could name was served on the table. Its delectable smell made your mouth water. A record player opened with the overture of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker ballet, the beautiful, playful, and mischievous music ringing through and sounding better than any ho-hum Christmas song the radio blasted ten billion times. Because it was from him. From Loki.  And as you looked at the tree, with even more glittering gold decorations around it, a few resembling the horns on his helmet, a beautiful star sparkled on top. You gasped when you saw the skirt- there were piles of presents in green wrapping paper with gold ribbons. They weren’t there before. 

You went to one like a little child full of both innocent greed and wide-eyed curiosity. You picked it up and shook it, feeling something in there. 

“Are the gifts…real?” you asked.

“Of course- and a good portion of them are for you!” he replied.

The music moved onto the second part of the ballet’s first act- “Un fete du noel.” Soft strings and flutes over repeating lower strings full of anticipation and joy. 

“Oh, but Loki…I..this is…so much, I-”

“If it weren’t for you, I’m sure I’d be either strangled to death or stuck in a tree of my creation! And I promise you they aren’t all pranks. Only one-quarter of them.”

“Thank you!” you gasped.

You went up and hugged him. So overjoyed, you pecked him on the cheek. He blinked in surprise. As you turned around, the god himself blushed pink. 

Giggling, you picked up a present. The pranks were ones that were empty until the ribbons became little sparkling fireworks that made you laugh. 

Then there was one that was empty when suddenly your clothes were transformed from your plain sweater and jeans to the fancy Christmas outfit of your dreams. It was a deep green dress made of velvet with a fitted waist and a long skirt, like something the ladies of White Christmas would wear. You felt….felt beautiful in it.  You smiled at him in thanks. 

They own were things you long craved for, and wanted. Beautiful things. And practical things. Things outside of your budget. Things that would help make life easier. Or a little beautiful. The very things you wanted. If you wanted it desperately there it would be laid. Lovely, lovely things. You were crying- but tears of happiness. 

Loki merely sat on the couch, smiling at you. Beneath his peacoat was his average Midgard wear. A shirt and brown khakis that were both deliciously tight. A tie that made him seem like a professional office worker. As he eventually took off the coat and rolled up his sleeves, you stifled the urge to gawk at him.

“Oh, and your presents!” you gasped to Loki.

“I’m out of my father’s palace, what more could I need?’ he asked smoothly.

You felt warm and tingly inside but ignored it.

“Oh no! You deserve something too! I…I got you two gifts! They were on sale and I couldn’t pick just one.  I hope it’s…it’s alright!” you offered. 

You ran into your room. The music still tinkling, moving onto the Dance of the Snowflakes. He used his magic to open the curtains to see the window. The beautiful snowy day. People ran out to play, children giggling. To think…though he was a Frost Giant and feared, his magic could do a little good.

 You emerged out with two boxes. One small and one big in red wrapping paper. He opened up the smaller box and found a set of fine brushes and combs. He grinned at them, testing the bristled with one of his beautiful, long fingers. 

“I didn’t know how you cared for your hair- I always thought it looked nice- I thought you could use some!” you suggested.

He gave a small laugh looking at them. 

“They’re perfect! I could always use them- Mother used to scold me for not tending to my hair! These I will treasure,” he assured you.

He then began to open the second bigger one. His eyebrows lifted as he got to the box and removed the lid. Inside was a thick, knitted black scarf. He smiled at it, testing it by wrapping it around him. It fit around him like it was made for him.

“You know me well, my dear. Thank you,” he replied. 

With grumbling stomachs, you went over to the table. He conjured black cloth napkins and had one placed delicately on your lap. It was like being at a much fancier restaurant than being at your apartment. 

You sat down and enjoyed the dinner- the meat was tender and full of flavor. The sides were all of your favorites, hot and freshly made. The desserts and sweets were full of powdered sugar that melts in your mouth. You had to suppress the sounds you made at tasting them. Loki had to remind you to slow down and taste it, enjoying it.

You showed one of your favorite Christmas movies. He asked questions and you laughed and explained everything. He looked at the commercials that played on the TV and then one featured Santa Claus. He tilted his head at it.

“Hmm, he looks like my father. Father was one of the inspirations for this Claus figure- did you know that?” he commented.

“Really! Though- Santa Claus is much nicer! I assure you!” you promised him.

The fire roared and it was quiet. He conjured two mugs of mulled wine. You sipped and smiled at the hot, spicy drink. The alcohol burning you a little, but relaxing you. You both let out a cheer for the holidays. The sun outside began to set early as it always does on a winter day. You both chatted- about Thor, your family and work, about the Avengers, the gifts, all sorts of things. He then looked around the place, finishing the wine with a last sip as he sat on the chair. 

“Loki…I cannot thank you enough. I know I said thank you a hundred times today- but…why did you do all of this….for me? Not just to get away from Odin, but…you didn’t have to give me all of these gifts and a nice meal and make my place pretty…”

He cupped his mulled wine mug with both hands.

“Because…because…my dear, because….” he began to stutter.

He paused. His blue eyes were big, but never left yours. A god full of magic…and he was nervous!

“I really don’t know how to say this,” he continued. 

Your throat went tight and your heart raced wildly. Wondering if this was a dream.

“But I feel sometimes…you and I…are tied together. No matter how hard I try to stop, you always appear there in my head. At every time of the day. You….you who have stayed by my side. Listened to me. Cared for me…And I find I want to return to you. Even if I had to crawl on my knees to get to you, I would. Because, my dear, I…I have…soft feelings for you, my dear…tender feelings…”

Unable to take it, you set down your mug and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. were on him like an animal. His hands reached over to your waist. You kissed him- tasting the hot spiced wine he had been drinking. His hand went to you.

It wasn’t long until he had backed up. He sat on a chair and at once you straddled him. 

His breath hitched- he was getting hard and you felt him right on your pants. You held his face and kissed him. He was groaning as you did. There were wet noises from the kissing.

“Dear girl, darling, sweet girl…I want to take you on each surface and ruin you in every way,” he said.

“Then start here- with this one,” you offered with the chair. “Ruin me then.”

With a flick of magic, your clothes changed. You were in deep green lingerie of a babydoll and high lace stockings and a lace thong you were certain was green too. He was only in black pants and a santa shirt that was wide open, showing his delicious wide chest with black chest hair and six-pack.

He smirked at you and said one word.

“Gladly.”

Holding onto him, you ground against him as you kept kissing his neck, his shoulders over his shirt. He moaned at the touch. You went to his neck-sucking on as you touched each bit of him. His large, delicious hands feel the lingerie on your mid body and your legs. You heard him chuckle. 

“I see my little pet is eager,” he began.

He set you on his thigh and you gasped.

“Here you go- ride this first. Get yourself ready- and I want those sounds of yours loud. So I know what pleasure I can give you.”

You began to roll your hips. He moved it up and down, eyes brimmed with lust as he watched you.

You let out one moan- his leg hitting your thin panties, already getting wet. Then as you grinded on his leg again, you let out another louder one like he commanded. You saw his erection even on the darkness of his pants as you did. His hands touched your body beneath the babydoll, squeezing your hips. Then going up, holding both of your breasts, squeezing and feeling them.

His chest was revealed- wide and strong pectorals, with a little hair. Abdominal muscles with a six-pack made of ivory. You rode his thigh for another minute, letting your thong get ruined with how soaked you became. Then you leaned forward, grinning. You began to kiss his chest. Then you used your tongue and licked it. The hot skin beneath you, a little salty from his sweat. He moaned in turn.

“Yes…I like that…that too, my dear- keep…keep going…”

You then stopped, smiling at him.

“I have to thank you first…for everything you did today,” you giggled.

At once you got on your knees, eagerly finding the zipper of his pants and undoing it. Out sprang his large cock, white pearls dripping off of the tip. So hard it was touching his stomach.

“See…see what effect you have on me, pet? What you do to me- even when you just smile at me…we need to take care of that…”

“Yes…let me….” you grinned.

You set your lips around his cock and began to suck at it. He let out a groan. His hands find the top of your head. You sucked at it like it was candy, as saltier than the rest of his skin. As you did, you swirled your tongue over the tip and he hissed out your name. He began to experimentally thrust a little inside you. Though your eyes burnt, you took as much of it as you could- for he was a god even with the size of his length. His shudders through him.

“Yes…good girl, my good, good little mortal- taking your god's cock in your pretty lips, on your knees- yes-good fucking girl,” he voiced out. 

You felt him tense up, a small release as he gasped. You then went up, wiping off his cum that dripped down from your mouth. At once you got up and had him watch as you swallowed. His own body stilled. His cock still raging hard. One of the benefits of being a god- he was always horny and ready and didn’t take long to want more after he came.

“Norns,” he voiced in awe.

Then you mounted him, still hard.

You kept at it, lapping up his skin- kissing him on that delicious chest and on his shoulders. You could feel yourself get even wetter as he did.

“My darling-I-I cannot take it-I- have to be inside of you…” he breathed out, his voice raspy. 

His hands gathered your skirt to your waist and he ripped apart the thong of your own creation. Your wetness cold from the sudden exposure. You wrapped your legs on the couch to mount him. At once you plunged inside. You let out a cry from the size as you adjusted. You began to ride him- your breasts bouncing. 

“Ah- ah!oh-oh-Loki- fuck, yes- there-yes, I love-I love you-fuck!” you were moaning’

“Yes-yes-take your god like a good girl- all of it-all of me-”

He groaned and made a small sound. As he pounded away. You felt yourself speeding up, the high, about to reach bliss when….when he stopped. His hands are on your waist.

“I want to take you like a whore now,” he said. “Would you like that?”

“Yes…yes please,” you said. 

He picked you up, legs around. He kissed you, still tasting himself on your lips and breath. Your hands still fisted around his curls. still around and brought you to the table. The plates and silverware made a sound like a crash as they fell to the floor as he shoved them aside. 

He had you bend down over it. He let out a guttural breath with a smile at the sight of your bare ass over it for him. He gave you a strong spank and you let out a small yelp. Gripping the table on the other end for what was about to happen. 

“Who is your god?” he asked.

“L-Loki is.”

He spanked you again. You let out a cry.

“Who gave you all of this-?”

“Loki did!”

“And you will pay back by being my obedient little girl, will you?” he asked.

“Yes, yes please-”

He thrust inside you from behind. You let out a cry. His breaths were low pants. He pounded in, the table shaking. What plates and silverware and food there was shaking with it. Your hand became a tight fist as he pounded on. It was so rough, hard, and filthy, you couldn’t help but love it. 

He pulled you roughly up, your own moans with each filthy thrust of his.

“Yes-even here- you will take…take your god's cock in every way. Yes- yes, there-fuck-norns-what you-you do to me-your god,” he hissed out, his breath right behind you.

You felt it bubble up again. You let out another moan as you tilted your neck behind him, feeling it.

“Yes-yes Loki- Loki-please…please- I’m about to-to cum, please, let me-let me cum-” you pleaded. Your own folds inside shaking from the power.

“No…wait…”

He pulled out of you. You let out a small sigh. Your body shaking. Taking so much. Desperate for release.

“When you cum, I want to see it,” he breathed out.

He flipped you around and positioned you to wrap your legs around him. You embraced him. At once he entered again. Then thrust into you, slow at first. 

“Eyes on me. No one else- watch me. I want you-want you to look me in the eye when you cum. So no man. No god- no one can give you this pleasure-”

He began to pound into you again on the table, you bounced Your breath was hitching in high gasps.

“Ah- oh- hmm-yes-yes there-oh gods-Loki-”

“Eyes on me, darling-look at me-”

His hands then wandered to your clit. So powerful and large, they began to strum it. You let out another moan.

“Look- at-me,” he commanded.

You were so hazed you forgot- his voice commanding-your had your eyes focused on him. His jaw tightened, fighting his own release too.

“Eyes. On. Me- who gives you pleasure?”

“You do!” you cried out.

“Say my name, darling-”

He fiddled with your clitoris faster, you fought it, it was finally going to break at this rate.

 You let out a shout. It was building up in you. He pounded you into a fury. So many quick deep thrusts, the table going wild.

“Yes- say it darling- say it, I’m cumming- yes- cum with me- look at me- look at me- yes, I feel it- I’m going to-going to cum- I command you- say it- say my-say my name!!”

You let out a breathy cry of “Loki!” as it broke on you and you climaxed so hard his face and the room spun.

Panting, you held onto each other as he helped you down. He conjured you a glass of water to sip on. 

“Are you ok?” he asked. “It was a lot.”

“It was perfect. Presents, a meal, and an orgasms- you’re spoiling me rotten already,” you teased.

He smiled and chuckled at the phrase. You both got in blankets snuggling before the fire.

So much time had passed it didn’t occur to you that your phone dinged with an alert. You picked it up. An hour ago, your sister and her husband sent a reply saying they were sorry since they fell asleep and now saw you and that you were welcome to see them. You let out a laugh.

“Would you like to, my dear?” he asked.

“Not in this…” you gestured to the babydoll. “But I do want to keep it…I have my favorite gift to enjoy tonight?”

“The ravishing little number you have on?” he asked.

“Oh no…it’s a handsome gift, tall, dark hair, blue eyes,” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Merry Christmas, pet,” he whispered.

It was indeed.

[kitty384]

Where You Go, I Follow

Summary: A misunderstanding spirals into something louder than either of them intended. Loki says something sharp. Y/N says nothing at all. And then he leaves. But when the silence becomes too heavy for her to bear, she wanders deep into the palace gardens, needing air—needing peace. Loki returns ready to apologize, only to find their chambers empty. And suddenly, nothing matters but finding her.

Content Warnings: argument (mild), emotional distress, pregnancy-related overwhelm, momentary fear, soft fluffy ending, protective Loki

The fight started small.

A passing comment—harmless in his mind, but sharp in hers.

“You’ve been… distracted,” he said.

He meant it as concern.

She heard it as blame.

“I’m growing a person, Loki,” she’d snapped, hugging her arms around her middle. “Sorry if that makes me a little less sparkly than usual.”

He frowned, pacing the room. “You don’t have to be sharp with me.”

“And you don’t have to act like I’m fragile porcelain!”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The words hung in the air like frost.

Too heavy. Too cold.

Her breathing picked up.

She turned away.

And he, heart pounding with words he didn’t mean, hissed—

“Maybe I should give you space.”

And then he was gone.

The door closed behind him with too much force.

And silence fell.

It lasted only minutes.

Maybe ten.

The room pulsed with the echo of the door, the stillness too loud, the baby shifting gently inside her like they, too, noticed something was off.

Y/N tried to breathe.

Tried to sit still.

But the air felt thick.

The bed too soft.

The walls too high.

Her emotions—already delicate, already stretched thin from the hormones and the weight of carrying this magic-child-of-two-realms—tipped into panic.

So she stood.

Tucked a robe around her shoulders.

And walked out the back terrace door.

Into the garden.

The palace grounds stretched wide under the moonlight.

Soft lights flickered along the stone paths.

The late-blooming starlight blossoms opened just enough to glow faintly blue.

She wandered deeper—past the marble statues, past the little fountain Loki had enchanted to sing softly with Asgardian lullabies.

Eventually, she found the old wooden bench by the ivy-covered archway.

She sat.

She meant to stay only for a few minutes.

Just until her chest stopped feeling tight.

Just until the baby stopped kicking so anxiously.

But the night was cool.

The garden was calm.

And her eyes drifted closed.

Loki returned to the chambers with a knot in his throat.

He had barely made it past the corridor before the regret hit like a wave.

She was pregnant.

Tired.

Overwhelmed.

And he—idiot that he was—had stormed out like a sulking child.

He’d meant to come back after ten minutes.

Apologize.

Kneel at her feet, press his lips to her belly, beg forgiveness for the sharpness in his tone.

But when he walked in…

The room was empty.

The bed untouched.

Her robe missing from its hook.

And his heart stopped.

“Y/N?” he called, louder than intended. “Darling?”

Nothing.

No note.

No trace of her magic lingering in the air.

He moved to the window. Looked down at the paths.

Nothing.

His breath hitched.

She wouldn't leave the palace—she wouldn’t go far—not like this. Not four months along, not while she was still catching her breath in this new life they were building together.

Unless she had to.

Unless she was hurting.

Unless he’d driven her far enough she couldn’t stand to be near him.

Loki didn’t waste another second.

He was out the door in a blink.

It didn’t take long for the enchantments tied to her aura to lead him through the garden paths.

Her essence was everywhere here—soft and flickering like candlelight, woven into the very ivy she’d planted, the air she’d kissed into existence with laughter and longing.

He passed through arches, past quiet blooms, until—

There.

Under the curved stone trellis.

On the old wooden bench.

Curled on her side, robe tucked around her, hand resting gently on her bump.

Asleep.

His breath caught.

And something in his chest cracked wide open.

He approached slowly, kneeling beside the bench.

The moon cast silver over her face, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her mouth slightly parted in sleep.

One hand was draped across her stomach.

The other tucked under her head like a child.

He pressed a trembling kiss to the back of her hand.

And whispered:

“I’m sorry.”

She stirred.

Eyes fluttered.

And when they opened—sleepy, dazed, blinking against the light—she whispered, “Loki?”

“I’m here.”

“You left…”

“I shouldn’t have.” He knelt lower, both hands now wrapped around hers. “I said the wrong thing. I heard the wrong thing. You were overwhelmed and instead of helping, I made you feel alone.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I didn’t mean to make you think you weren’t helping. I just—I couldn’t take the quiet. It felt like it would swallow me.”

His chest ached.

He gently pulled her forward, helping her sit up.

Then he sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.

The baby kicked softly between them.

Loki placed his hand there instantly.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered.

“I thought I lost you.”

He kissed the crown of her head, then leaned into her shoulder and just breathed.

“Next time,” she whispered, “can we just fight with pillows and ice cream?”

He laughed—low and broken and sweet.

“Yes. No doors. No silence. Just you, me, and as much whipped cream as this realm allows.”

She smiled into his shoulder.

And let the quiet settle—for real this time.

Not cold.

Not empty.

Just peaceful.

In the only arms that ever felt like home.

Masterlist

Request

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: You wake up one day to the man who held you prisoner, throwing you to the ground at the feet of the royal guards. You’re being sold to work for the royal crown, as repayment for the debt left behind by your deceased parents. What will you do when the guards are given too much freedom to treat you as they wish. Will you get your revenge? What will happen when you’re suddenly chosen to be the king’s personal maid?

Note: I do not accept nor allow any of my work to be copied, reposted, translated, or used for anything without my explicit consent.

I am not responsible for what you consume and read on the internet. Please read all warnings at the beginning of each chapter before proceeding. Read at your own caution. Thank you!

**ONGOING SERIES**

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

..................

[lokidokieokie]

When Silence Speaks

Summary: When the compound gets attacked, Loki's mind is on one person only: you.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

Warning(s): mentions of typical cannon-like violence, angst with a fluffy ending, lemme know if I forgot anything

Loki paced the command centre of the compound, his mind filled with worry and anxiety. The team were preparing for an impending attack, and his senses were on high alert. But amidst the chaos, his attention was drawn to one person—Y/n.

Y/n, Stark's sarcastic and quick-witted assistant, had become an unexpected source of solace and understanding in his life. Their shared banter and sarcasm forged a connection that defied explanation, and though they insisted it was only friendship to others, Loki couldn't deny the unspoken bond that lingered between them.

With every playful jab and snarky remark exchanged between the pair, Loki found himself yearning for her remarks more; yearning for her more. She was a guiding light in his otherwise tumultuous existence, a constant source of laughter and comfort. But with the imminent threat hanging over them, his worries multiplied tenfold.

The alarm blared, signaling the arrival of the enemy. The Avengers sprung into action, each member taking their position. Loki's gaze darted across the room, searching for Y/n amidst the chaos, but she was nowhere to be found.

Fear gripped his heart as panic began to settle in. He knew he had to focus on the battle at hand, but the thought of Y/n in danger gnawed at his every thought. The chaos surrounding him blurred as he desperately tried to locate her, his heart pounding in his chest.

The battle was fierce, and the air crackled with energy. Loki summoned his magic, weaving spells to defend his allies and maim their enemies, but his mind remained fixated on Y/n's safety. Every strike, every movement was driven by the fear of losing her--something that he simply couldn't bear.

But the battle was relentless, and he was forced to fight enemies on multiple fronts. Each passing second without any sign of Y/n heightened his anxiety. His thoughts swirled with worst-case scenarios, a cascade of possibilities that threatened to overwhelm him.

Finally, with the evil mastermind was captured and his minions fleeing, Loki took a moment to catch his breath. His mind raced as he scanned the aftermath of the battle, searching desperately for any trace of Y/n. The compound was in disarray, and his heart clenched with a mix of dread and determination.

His voice trembled as he called out her name, the worry seeping into his tone. "Y/n! Y/n, where are you?"

Silence echoed in response, and a chilling realisation settled over him. She was nowhere to be found. Panic welled up within him, threatening to consume him entirely. He refused to believe the worst, but his fears gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He sprinted through the compound, his heart pounding in his chest. The empty corridors only deepened his despair. Each step felt heavier than the last as he desperately searched for any sign of her. The world had narrowed down to a singular focus—finding Y/n.

Suddenly, he came upon a room, the door slightly ajar. His heart leaped with hope as he pushed it open, revealing Y/n inside. Relief washed over him, replacing the fear that had gripped his heart.

She looked up, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and worry. The sight of her safe and unharmed fueled his emotions, overwhelming him in a rush of gratitude. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between them, his arms enveloping her in a desperate embrace.

"I was so worried," he murmured, his voice a mere whisper as he held her tightly. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

Y/n clung to him, her voice trembling with emotion. "I-I'm here, Loki. I'm safe. We're safe."

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of battle, the weight of unspoken words pressed heavily upon him. His gaze met hers, and a silent understanding passed between them. No words were needed. They both knew the depth of their connection, the unbreakable bond that had formed between them.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Loki's lips, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and longing. "You truly have a talent for disappearing, Y/n. I must commend you on that."

She chuckled softly, the sound a balm to his soul. "Well, I can't let you have all the spotlight, can I? Gotta keep you on your toes, Mischief."

He couldn't help but smile wider, the warmth of her presence seeping into his being. "Indeed, sunflower. You do have a knack for turning my world upside down. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Their banter was a dance, a delicate balance of words that masked the depths of their emotions. In that moment, Loki knew he would fight tooth and nail to protect her, to ensure that she remained by his side. Their bond was a secret, an unspoken truth that bound them together, stronger than any formal declaration.

A/N ahh! I'm so sorry I've been so MIA recently. Between finishing my Uni prac and my mum fracturing her arm my life has been insane!

I really hope I'll be able to post more content soon! I've missed this ball of mischief!

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee @fall-myriad @dryyoursaltyoceantears @avahiddlestonstan

please lemme know if you'd like to be added or removed to any of my taglists!

[flowersforthosewhoneeds]

Part 2 of "I wish it was me"

A God’s Indifference

You’d long since learned how to disappear quietly.

One polite excuse, one strained smile, and you slipped away from the gathering unnoticed except, of course, by yourself. Because no matter how hard you tried, the sound of Loki’s voice, smooth and measured, lingered long after you’d left. Lingered in a way that felt like punishment.

You could still picture him, reclining lazily beside her, that faint curl of his lips, eyes sharp with something unreadable. It never reached you. It never would.

Behind closed doors, you let yourself crumble.

The Tower lights dimmed to a hush outside, but inside your room, your thoughts roared like a storm. You pressed the heel of your hand to your chest, as if you could calm the ache.

"Foolish," you muttered to yourself. "You knew what you were to him."

Nothing.

Later.

The hallway was silent save for the softest footfalls. A knock precisely timed, deliberate broke the quiet.

“Open the door,” Loki’s voice came, low, clipped. Controlled.

You swallowed, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Why are you here, Loki?”

A pause. Then, his tone, sharp as a blade:

“Must I require a reason to knock on the door of one who flees without explanation?”

You hated the cold detachment. Hated that he spoke to you like you were a problem to be solved.

Still, something in you cracked open, and you unlocked the door.

He stood there, tall, composed, not a hair out of place—eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something distant.

His gaze swept over you once, dispassionately. “I find it curious,” he began, voice slow and deliberate, “that you remove yourself so easily. As if your presence here were entirely inconsequential.”

Your throat tightened. “It is.”

His jaw twitched, the only crack in his mask.

“You presume much,” he murmured, voice like velvet stretched taut. “You presume to know the thoughts of a god.”

You held his gaze, even though it burned. “You’ve made it clear, Loki. You don’t have to pretend concern.”

For a moment, there was silence. Heavy. Oppressive.

Then:

“Pretend?” He tilted his head, smile cold, eyes sharp like frost. “You overestimate your importance if you believe I concern myself with such trivialities.”

Each word cut clean, practiced. Like he’d said it a thousand times to a thousand people.

You felt your hands tremble but forced them still. “Then go back to her. She’s the one you care for.”

Something flickered in his eyes, gone too quickly.

He stepped closer, gaze boring into yours. His voice dropped lower—quieter, but no less cruel:

“You think me so simple, little mortal?” he whispered, almost a sneer. “That affection is given freely, like baubles, to anyone who catches my eye?”

Your chest tightened painfully. You didn’t speak.

He studied you for a heartbeat longer, then leaned in slightly, voice soft, cutting:

“I have no need for attachments. Least of all… ones like you.”

That broke something. You flinched, breath hitching but before you could retreat, his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

His grip was iron, but his voice was a whisper now barely controlled:

“Yet here I am.”

You met his gaze, and for a second, the mask slipped.

His eyes weren’t cold now. They were desperate.

“I have tried,” he murmured, voice roughened. “Tried to disregard you. To behave as though you are beneath notice.”

A pause. His next words like a confession dragged from between gritted teeth:

“And yet—every time you leave, it infuriates me.”

You swallowed, unable to breathe.

He leaned in further, close enough for his breath to ghost against your skin.

“It should not matter,” he whispered bitterly. “You should not matter.”

And then—without hesitation, without warning—he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was consuming, brutal, a kiss that felt like punishment as much as anything else. Like he hated himself for needing it.

And when he pulled away—eyes dark, jaw clenched—he spoke low, final:

“This does not make you special.”

He let go of your wrist, as if it burned him, turned, and walked away without another glance.

Leaving you there, shivering, hollowed out.

=============================

eheh stay tune for more ! sorry i havent been active lately but i promise i will make it up<3

@angelkat1013 @frog-fans-unite @tinytroublemaker

[reveryfics]

Deadly

Pairings: Loki x Male reader

Summary: Loki watching helplessly as you sacrifice yourself to stop Thanos

A/n: This isn't a happy ending.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The frigid air whipped at Loki's bare feet, the echoing clatter a frantic counterpoint to the pounding of his own heart. He gripped the Infinity Stone, its icy surface a stark contrast to the inferno raging within him.

He twisted, his head snapping back, the blurry faces of TVA agents blurring into a panicked mosaic. He had to escape, had to find a sanctuary, a place to unravel the terrifying secrets this stolen artifact held. He sprinted, the labyrinthine corridors of the TVA a dizzying blur.

Finally, he stumbled into an empty chamber, the heavy door groaning shut behind him with a triumphant clang. He leaned against it, gasping for air, the Infinity Stone a burning weight in his palm.

His gaze fell upon a small table, a projector perched precariously upon its surface. Curiosity, a dangerous siren song, beckoned him. With trembling hands, he slotted the stone into the designated slot, the machine whirring to life with an ominous hum.

The projector flickered, then settled, casting a haunting tableau upon the wall. A figure, desolate and alone, knelt in the dust, their shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Loki's breath hitched. It was him. His own lifeless form, a macabre effigy of his own demise. He watched, paralyzed with horror, as his lover, his soulmate, cradled his lifeless body, their face a mask of grief.

Tears welled in Loki's eyes, blurring the already horrifying scene. He saw the raw, unfiltered agony etched on his lover's face – the blood, the bruises, the ash that clung to their skin like a shroud. He saw the silent tears tracing paths through the grime, a testament to the depth of their despair.

"No," Loki whispered, the sound swallowed by the chilling silence of the chamber. "No, no, no..."

He watched as his lover, their face a picture of ravaged beauty, gently cupped his cheek, their lips tracing a desperate path across his cold skin. They whispered words of love, of longing, of a future cruelly snatched away. Then, they rose, a figure of vengeance born from the ashes of despair.

Their eyes, once bright and filled with life, now held a chilling emptiness, a void where hope and joy once resided. They turned, their gaze locking onto the figure responsible for this unimaginable torment – Thanos.

"You," they hissed, their voice a venomous serpent, "you took everything from me!"

Thanos, the titan, the conqueror, met their gaze, a flicker of unease in his eyes. He knew the depths of their grief, the monstrous power it could unleash.

"What gives you the right?" they continued, their voice rising to a chilling crescendo. "To decide the fate of millions? To extinguish hope, to shatter worlds? You are not a god, you are a pathetic tyrant, a shadow of the man you claim to be!"

Their words, fueled by grief and rage.

The air crackled with the aftermath of their brutal exchange. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of moonlight, illuminating the carnage. Thanos, towering and imposing, stood amidst the wreckage, the Infinity Gauntlet gleaming ominously.

"You think you can just snap your fingers and erase lives?" their voice rasped, each word a testament to their unwavering will. "Like they're nothing more than ants beneath your boot?"

Thanos, unfazed, regarded them with cold indifference. "Balance, child. The universe cannot sustain itself with such unchecked growth."

"Balance?" He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You call this balance? A universe built on genocide? You are a plague, Thanos. A blight upon existence."

"You are but a single voice, a whisper in the grand symphony of the cosmos," Thanos countered, his voice a low growl. "Your loss… insignificant."

"Insignificant?" He spat, his eyes blazing with fury. "You dare to call the loss of a love, a life, insignificant? You, who have never known the warmth of another's touch, the comfort of a shared breath?"

Thanos remained unfazed. He raised a hand, the Gauntlet crackling with energy, a silent promise of impending doom.

"You think this ends here?" He snarled, a chilling smile playing on their lips. "You think you can simply crush me, like the countless others you have slaughtered?"

"You are no hero," Thanos declared, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You are but a speck of dust, a fleeting moment in the eternal sands of time."

"I will make you regret those words, you purple tyrant!" they roared, their voice a thunderclap in the stillness.

And then, the fight erupted.

Fueled by grief and rage, was a whirlwind of motion, his movements a desperate dance of defiance. They were fast, ferocious, his every strike imbued with a raw, primal power. Thanos, though vastly more powerful, was surprised by his ferocity. He was forced to defend himself, his movements heavy but deliberate. He tried to overpower them, but he was relentless, his spirit indomitable.

He landed a devastating blow, sending Thanos reeling. He roared in anger, the Gauntlet glowing brighter. But before he could retaliate, he struck again, this time with a desperate, all-consuming fury.

Thanos, staggered, stumbled back. He raised a hand to counterattack, but it was too late. His body wracked with pain, lunged forward, his blade finding its mark.

Thanos, his eyes widening in disbelief, collapsed. The Infinity Gauntlet slipped from his grasp, clattering to the dusty floor.

His breath coming in ragged gasps, stumbled towards Thanos, their eyes fixed on the fallen titan. A single tear rolled down their cheek, a silent tribute to the love they had lost.

With a final, shuddering breath, he whispered, "Loki……I love you." and collapsed to the ground, his blood staining the cold, unforgiving world.

The silence that followed was deafening. The only sound was the distant echo of their own ragged breaths, a stark reminder of the finality of their victory.

The sight before him was a grotesque mockery of life. His love, his vibrant, mischievous love, lay still, the color draining from his face, his eyes staring vacantly at the unforgiving world. Loki's knees buckled, the cold, metallic floor a harsh contrast to the warmth that had just been extinguished from his world.

A guttural scream tore from his throat, raw and filled with a pain so profound it threatened to shatter his very being. He sank to the ground, clutching at the empty space beside him, his fingers digging into the fabric of his jumpsuit.

Fury, a blinding, white-hot rage, surged through him. He lashed out, his hand connecting with the projector. It shattered against the wall, fragments raining down like a cruel, metallic hail.

The frigid air whipped at Loki's bare feet, the echoing clatter a frantic counterpoint to the pounding of his own heart. He gripped the Infinity Stone, its icy surface a stark contrast to the inferno raging within him.

The Time Variance Authority, the supposed guardians of the sacred timeline, had become his prison, his torture chamber. He had watched, utterly helpless, as the threads of fate, the very fabric of reality, were cruelly manipulated, leading to this devastating outcome.

Loki's vision blurred, tears of anguish mingling with the grime on his face. He had lost everything – his freedom, his hope, and now, the most precious thing of all.

The Infinity Stone, once a symbol of power and ambition, now felt like a cold, heavy weight in his hand, a constant, agonizing reminder of his impotence, his utter failure to protect the one he loved.

[river13245]

Why couldn't it be me (pt 2)

Warnings: cheating, crying, Platonic Love, Peter being an ass. Ned being a sweet best friend and Loki being there in the end.

Marvel Masterlist / Peter Parker Masterlist

Pt 1 Pt 3 Pt 4

The past few months had been rough, you had yet to break up with Peter even when Loki and Ned were both telling you that you should. That its the best idea, even when you knew they were right you couldn't do it. Even when Peter kept cancelling plans with you, no matter how many times you rescheduled.

Speaking of rescheduling and plans being canceled, Peter had finally made a date. He had promised to make it, and you foolishly believed him. Which is why you had been sitting in the same seat in this restaurant for the past hour. In his favorite suit of yours.

You chose the suit he loved because you thought maybe if you did then he would choose you. Maybe he would see you and start being a better boyfriend. However you began to give up with him not showing up at all. The final straw was when the waitress came around for the fifth time asking if you were okay. You politely told her everything was okay before she walked off

Tears were beginning to form in your eyes as you decided to call Peter only for it to go straight to voicemail. Standing up you pay for your meal and leave a generous tip to the waitress for her patience before you leave the building.

Once you were a good distance away from all the people you let your tears fall. Fighting through tears you find your way to the curb and sit down. Pulling your phone back out you find Ned's phone number and press on his name only for it to ring twice before its answered "y/n what's wrong? didn't you have a date tonight?"

A sob escapes your thought as you try to speak which causes Ned to speak as you hear keys in the background. "crap alright . Hey just stay on the phone with me, Ill be right there okay? Breathe in and out" He made sure to keep talking the whole time as he drove to you.

When he got there he seen you sitting on the curb and instantly got out and sat beside you wrapping his arm around you. The both of you sit in silence for a little while until you speak up "I think I want to go find him. I want to talk and hopefully resolve things and get an explanation. And I'm not going to get that unless I go to him"

"alright I'm coming with you" Ned said as if its the most normal thing in the world. He was a friend you could count on. One that would do crazy shit with you just so you didn't do it alone. Giving him a small smile you both walk to his car and get in.

As he drives he turns up the radio only for the song playing to be a song you and him both enjoy. So you both are singing along to the radio and you can feel the nerves rolling off of you for just a few minutes.

----

Once you park in front of Peters home you take a few deep breaths and close your eyes. "its now or never right?" Ned nods and rests his hand on your shoulder "ill walk you up there. You don't got to do this alone" You smile and nod "Thank you Ned"

You both get out of his car and go up to Peters door, You are about to knock when you hear laughter. It doesn't sound like Peters laughter its more high pitched and giggly. At the sound of this you almost just turn your back and leave when Ned gives you a look and you sigh before bringing your hand to the door and knocking.

About a minute of two goes by and the door opens revealing your boyfriend. However his hair is messed up and he is missing a piece of clothing. Like his shirt. He freezes like a deer in headlights. "y/n. Ned. What are you doing here?"

His voice sounds so genuine like he is actually confused and forgot about the plans that HE made. You scoff as you feel your chest tighten. "what do you mean what are we doing here? You had planed a date after weeks of cancelling. Just for you to not show up" You take a breath to calm yourself "i waited an hour and twenty minutes. I probably looked like a loser"

Peters eyes go wide and he looks at Ned hoping his "best friend" would back him up. "come on dude, you know how forgetful I get. I forgot that it was today, please believe me" He looks back at you, while Ned just shakes his head. "Peter you really screwed up. Both your friendship and your relationship"

Peter looks back at you but you look through him and see Mj standing there and that's when you walk inside and see the date the two of them were having. There was a movie playing, with snacks, blankets and pillows laid out everywhere. It looked a lot like the ones you two used to have when he made time for you.

Mj looks over at you and she looks sad. "y/n I didn't know you two were still together. He told me that the both of you had ended things a while ago. I would have never done this to you knowingly. I would have just been friends with him and nothing more"

Tears form your eyes because you know she is being truthful because there was a time when you and her had been close friends. This caused it to hurt worse, especially when you knew you couldn't hate her because she truly didn't know.

Peter walks over to you and tries to grab onto your shoulders but you move away slightly causing his hands to land on your upper arms. The tears beginning to fall down your face now as you struggle to look at him. "you said you forgot about our date tonight. The one you kept cancelling. Now I see why you couldn't ever make it" You look over at MJ

"y/n I don't know what keeps happening, I just couldn't stop and i couldn't split my time" His excuse was such a bad one that it causes you to pull away from him. His hands falling from you. "why couldn't you just love me" You ask as you meet his eyes.

What you are met with is silence, the kind of silence that makes it painfully known what he is going to say. "I don't know why I cant love you anymore. Even when I know you loved me and did everything for me..I just couldn't feel anything for you. I'm so sorry"

You nod and close your eyes while taking a deep breath. "how long" came your voice in such a quiet sad tone that had Ned walking just a little closer to you.

"what?" Peter asks

"how long have you felt this way Peter Parker" Your voice had been holding strong until he says the next words. "A year"

"oh" was the only sound you make as you look at the wall and away from him. Not being able to look at him you nod "thank you for telling me. I should go."

Ned grabs onto your hand and squeezes it softly making sure your still with him. He does this because he knows how much physical touch helps you sometimes. whether it be romantic or platonic. Ned turns to look at Peter "don't expect me to be coming around anymore. You screwed up so bad. "goodbye Parker"

----

Walking inside of your home your whole body seems to just droop as if carrying your weight is too much to bare right now. Ned gets worried when you haven't talked since Peters place. You are silent as you grab yourself a snack and get one for Ned too. If there is one thing about you its that you always took care of everyone even if you weren't feeling so great yourself. But now he wanted to take time to take care of you.

Ned walks up to you and pulls you into his arms and holds you close to him. Your head rests on his shoulder as you take a deep breath. Refusing to cry so instead you talk to him "I'm so sorry he did this to us. You were his best friend." Ned almost scoffs at how you are still worried about his own feelings and now your own.

He runs his hands up and down your back comfortingly. He notices how you aren't allowing yourself to fully fall apart and feel all the emotions you need to let out but he doesn't want to push you. "I know but what he did to you is unforgivable. I never thought he would be the type to do this"

You shrug "i guess everyone is capable." Ned holds you for a little bit longer before he walks you over to the couch and lays you down onto a pillow. As you close your eyes you speak "you can stay over if you want. Take the extra bedroom." he nods and tells you a goodnight and closes the door.

From the softness of the pillow and the headache forming against your temples you fall asleep rather quickly. Ned however pulls out his phone and texts Loki. Loki would rather people text than call him so he made sure never to call him. The only reason Ned had his number was because how close the two of you were and he also knew of the gods feelings towards you.

When Ned sends the text Loki is quick to look at it and instantly teleports there. As he stands in the middle of the living room he sees you laid down with no blanket and so he conjures up a green blanket of his he knows is your favorite and sits down while covering you up.

As they did this you end up waking up. "loki?" They nod and say in a soft voice knowing you wont remember waking up in the morning. "yes darling im here. Get comfortable and sleep, ill be here when you wake" you give him a soft smile and plave your head on their lap and instantly fall asleep under the blanket

----

When morning comes Ned walks down and sees Loki running his hands through your hair while you sleep. He smiles to himself as he tells a Loki a quiet goodbye and walks out of the house leaving the two of you there.

[lokisswiftie]

Bittersweet Revenge

Loki x Reader

A/N: alright, Ik this is a lot more intense from what I’ve written before on here, but I just had this idea and had to get it down. This is mostly in unedited so I also apologise for any mistakes. This is going to get a little gruesome but I tried to hold back from getting too descriptive. Also I do know this isn’t what would happen in real life I just wanted to write this scenario. Please give me any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism that you have. Sending love to all of you!!💗 (also requests are open.)

Warnings: Mentions of past torture, Trauma, Angst, detailed Descriptions of violence, eventual fluff

Summary: many years after your past as a former Hydra agent, the same agents who tortured you are brought in by S.H.I.E.L.D. You take the only chance you have to rectify what they did to you, but how will Loki react once he finds out what you’ve done?

Enjoy!!

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It was supposed to be a celebration. The team had finally managed to bring in the hydra agents that had escaped so many times. Everyone was supposed to be happy. But not you.

The moment the group of hydra workers were escorted through the doors it was like all the air was sucked out of you. Your eyes bore into the back of their heads as they were walked away from you. You hadn’t realised you were still standing there frozen until Nat came up behind you to check on you.

“Are you alright Y/N?”

She inquired, and you reluctantly broke your gaze. You fought to maintain a casual facade, but the rage filled you and the distress of seeing them again was sinking into your veins. You exhale slowly, before meeting her eyes. If you’re going to go through with your revenge you can’t have her figuring it out.

“Everything’s fine, Nat. I’m just tired.”

She doesn’t believe you, but leaves it be. From then until the time when everyone else is leaving the office, you’re on your own. Doing paperwork, and thinking deeply. Loki wasn’t here with you, but if he knew… he would be horrified of your plans to get revenge. You were usually so level headed, even on missions. if he saw you like that… the thoughts kept plaguing you.

If it weren’t for the nightmares, the terror and everything you’d done to collect yourself after all they put you through you might’ve let it go. They destroyed everything, and now was the only chance you’d get.

So, when most people had left to go home, you snuck down to the holding cells. There was a dagger gripped tightly in your hand, but you most likely wouldn’t use it. Despite your being trained to not be messy.. to make every kill efficient and clean.. you might just take your time with this one.

As you approached the door you paused. You could turn back now. It might be for the best. You could just go back upstairs and finish the paperwork you’d been assigned. Maybe grab a coffee. Let them go.

No, you decided. After everything they’d taken from you? Everything and everyone you’d lost after they captured you? No. It was time for a wrong to be righted, even if you did have to get blood on your hands. You open the door.

“Do you remember me?”

One of the four men look up. There’s nothing in his eyes. He looks away as soon as he looked up and you curse him in your mind. You turn to the next, then the next until you meet the eyes of the final man.

“You remember me.”

He smiles, an empty heartless smile that doesn’t meet his dead eyes.

“I remember. You’re the one that escaped. Gave us a few scars on your way out.”

He laughs hollowly, and you grit your teeth. Your eyes bore into his. You grip the handle of the knife tight.

“Don’t worry. You wont be alive to see the scars I’ll leave this time.”

With that you grip the side of his skull and bring his head hard against the glass wall.

***

It’s got to be at least thirty minutes later. You’re sweating, and your casual get up is covered in blood. Their blood. You stand in the middle of the room, eyes scanning the crumpled forms around you. Part of you was satisfied. The other part.. was considering the aftermath of all this.

Thank god for soundproof walls. You were sure their excessive screaming would have drawn attention. Maybe that would have been good. Maybe you needed someone to stop you.

You wipe clean the blade of your dagger, before turning around to face the large glass window of the room. And then you freeze in place.

Standing there on the other side of the glass, face white as paper, is Loki. Your beloved. The person who saw past the facade. Who backed you up when people judged you for your past. Is now staring with an un readable expression on his face. He knew who they were. Of course he knew. You could feel him, poking and prodding at your mind.

You hadn’t realised tears were pricking your eyes until this very moment, when they all overflowed.

“Shit.”

You grab onto the handle of the door, and then you’re standing outside. Face to face with him. The slow drip of blood on the floor making everything feel real.

“Loki.. Loki I’m- I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry.”

You garble, and before you can stop it tears are overflowing. Everything seems so real now, as you stand under the buzzing lights.

“What… did you do?”

His voice is weak as he scans your frame. You shiver under his gaze, and see it soften drastically. Your breathing is uneven and erratic as you attempt to say something. Anything. To defend what you’ve done.

You expect him to run. To turn away and leave you here with your sins. But before you can say another word, his arms are around you. He pulls you against him firmly, rubbing your back and arms.

“Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t think about it. Just focus on my voice.”

And you do your best to listen. Despite the bodies. Despite the blood that pools on your clothes and now his. Despite the fear coursing through you. You listen. You let him use his fingers to gently untangle your hair. You let yourself believe it’ll all be okay.

“… did it help? With.. With the hurt they left behind?”

He finally speaks, and you inhale shakily as you think before responding.

“Yes… I think it did.”

You finally look up and meet his eyes. His beautiful green eyes that have no fear. And as if he can read your mind, he replies.

“Oh darling.. I could never fear you. No matter what, I’m here. I love you.”

You breathe deeply, and press your face back into his chest. Your mind still thrums with thoughts.

“What will happen now?”

Your voice shakes as you say it, and he pauses. You can almost hear the cogs in his head turning. When he finally replies after a minute of silence, his voice is calm and steady.

“I don’t know. But I’ll be here with you. Through anything… let’s get you home.”

He sees the shake in your legs and your weak knees, and without hesitating scoops you up into his arms. You rest your head against his shoulder as he walks, and listen to the sound of his steady heart beat. As long as he’s with you.

[mimisempai]

The daggers

Summary

A dagger can be sharp, so let's not talk about two daggers... but despite its sharpness, it can sometimes be the tangible proof of an unbreakable bond.

Mobius kept Loki's daggers. He carries them with him at all times, and locks them up in the evening after taking care of them. The only physical evidence of Loki's presence in his life.

But the daggers are also a daily reminder of the gaping hole the god's absence has dug in Mobius' heart.

For @rin-love-is-green

For the @lokiusbang Story based on @rin-love-is-green prompt and beautiful drawings you'll see through the story on Ao3 ann on her tumblr Beta'ed by Sabine

4/4 chapters - 6045 words Rating : G

The rapid tapping of keys echoed through the dimly lit open office of the T.V.A. as Mobius hunched over his desk, his eyes glued to the glowing screen. He was putting the finishing touches on the mission report he and his team had just completed. 

Another timeline repaired, and he felt a sense of satisfaction that the T.V.A., once on the verge of collapse, was coming back to life, giving meaning to the lives connected to its intricate network of timelines. Each mission accomplished was a small patch on the immense wound left by the revelation of all the lives the T.V.A. had previously cut short. All the lies.

"Hey, Mobius!" 

Casey's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the agent always bright and cheerful now. He was standing by Mobius's desk, a broad smile on his face as he continued, "It's good to see the T.V.A. up and running again. I'm glad to be more involved in missions now, while I'm still here of course, I'm not cut out for field operations, I'll leave that to you guys. But I'm happy to be a force you can count on."

Mobius gave him a small smile in return. 

"Yes, things are looking up. Who would have thought that the T.V.A. debacle would reveal the hidden talents of some of our team members, hm?"

Mobius winked at him before adding, "People we'd barely noticed before. Make no mistake, you're a force we know we can count on, Casey."

Casey smiled happily.

"Well, I have to go, good night Mobius, see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Casey."

Casey walked away under Mobius' amused gaze and disappeared down the hallway with a final wave of his hand.

Before Mobius could resume his work, O.B. appeared, a whirlwind of ideas and excitement, and as always, Mobius could only listen.

"Mobius! You've got to come see me tomorrow. I have a concept for a new device that could..."

"A new concept?"

Mobius raised an eyebrow and O.B. nodded quickly, "Oh, it's revolutionary! You'll understand when you see it, but it's about adding a principle of..."

"O.B. Mobius doesn't have time to listen to this!"

It was Casey who had returned, and Mobius watched their interaction with an interested and amused eye.

"But what if it's vital to what happens next!"

"Yes, I know, but he doesn't have time now."

"But..."

"I have time now, so why don't you come and explain it to me."

"But I..."

"Over a meal in the cafeteria."

"Casey..."

"I'm sure you skipped lunch again."

O.B., seeing that he wouldn't have the last word, sighed.

"All right..."

"Come on, let's go."

Casey and O.B. said together, "Bye Mobius!" and then left the open office. As they walked away, Mobius heard their conversation fade away.

"So O.B. tell me about this new concept?"

"Well, you know, Casey, I was just thinking..."

Mobius realized how much things had changed around here. His two friends and colleagues had grown closer and Mobius wondered just how close, a strange knot forming in his stomach. What was behind their camaraderie? Was it just friendship or something deeper, something unfolding like the mysterious timelines they so often crossed?

Like what he had with... what he could have had with...

Read the complete story here on Ao3

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