#shae annelore

[viv-annelore]

[adventure-with-loki]

[You're minding your own business admiring the ass of the man in line in front of you when he turns and asks you to think those thoughts a little more quietly.]

Written by: @youlightmeupfinn

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: When the man in front of you suddenly reads your embarrassing thoughts about his ass, you suddenly are on edge.

Word Count: 745

Warning: none

Tags:

@annoyingsweetsstranger

@eclecticlokibytomhiddleston

@spidyyparker

@deanaddicted2

@ethanshide

@lokistoriesblog

@l0st-in-realityy-blog

@shae-annelore

@realandloud

@marvelgirl0515

@tiredmamamac

@cherii-bomb

@stuckybarton

@peachsteven

@vampire7595

@moonshooter

@knopewyattworld

@holdmytesseract

@wander-lustbabe

Thoughts

“I’m literally in the line at the coffee shop as we speak,” You said quickly into your phone with a huff. You glanced ahead to see four more customers in front of you, quickly checking the time on your watch. “I may be ten minutes late. Don’t kill me.” You told your boss and closest friend, Layla.

“Only if you bring me a Chai latte, then all will be forgiven.” She said briskly with a light laugh, causing you to roll your eyes.

“I got it.” You answered with a smug smile, the two of you continuing your conversation about the upcoming business deal you were about to close on with your partners. You were assured that it was an agonizing Monday morning when it first started with you waking up late. But of course, you could never begin your days without an iced coffee from your favorite shop, Sunny’s, in the bustling downtown of New York City.

Your eyes watched as the line progressed slowly, making you tap your foot impatiently. You had your arm crossed over your chest when your eyes scanned the tall stranger in front of you. He donned an entirely black suit, his raven locks pushed back across his shoulders. He stood well over six feet tall and the scent he gave off was mouthwatering. It was the perfect mixture of clean, pristine, and hot.

As you sized him up, your eyes maneuvered to his ass. Layla’s words are a string of muffles floating through your ear as you squint, eyes locked on his rounded, perfect, juicy… The pants only added to the plumpness it offered. Part of you desperately wanted to reach out and squeeze it, hoping maybe you could play it off as a subtle brush.

But you knew that was stupid.

Your mind was reeling.

I bet my teeth marks would look wonderful on it…

I would love to lick something off of that…

You noticed as the man shifted, his hands pushing into his pockets as he walked a step further, the line progressing. Before you had even realized it, Layla hung up the phone. Your eyes were glued to his ass, and you couldn’t help but take a step further.

Can he do a striptease and throw it back in a circle?

Let me grab it. Please.

The thoughts were building more and his hips shifted as if he could hear you although you were completely silent. The only noises heard were the bustling voices of the café as everyone either ran inside to pick up their orders or were chatting away at their desired seats.

Oh, the way that ass could bounce on me…

Suddenly, the man turned around to face you. His eyes were sharp and the bluest you had ever seen. Captivating. He crossed his arms over his chest with a sly smirk, moving his head forward to release his words in a hushed whisper.

“Darling, could you think your thoughts a little more quietly? I’m trying to decide on the menu and all I can hear you think is about what you want to do to my ass.”

You inhaled sharply, your eyes growing wider than the saucers they were serving the pastries on. His voice was like pure velvet floating through your ears and it made you feel weak in your knees. Gulping, he flashed you a pearly-white smile and graciously spun back around to face the menu. But you noticed him shift his hips around, as if he wanted to give you a show.

Your mind was racing, but you kept your eyes trained on his back as he finally approached the barista. He ordered his coffee before he turned to face you. “And whatever the lady is having,” He pinpointed you. With a shaky breath, you ordered yours and then Layla’s Chai on a separate ticket, but the stranger insisted on getting both for you.

Once the order was completed and your drinks were handed to you, he turned to stare at you.

“I’m Loki, by the way.” He extended his hand.

You gazed down at it, your thoughts bouncing.

Could he read those, too?

“Yes, I can.” He responded when you thought of the question.

Fear crept up in the pits of your stomach and your heart was racing. You stared down at his hand, your insides churning.

Do you:

A. Shake his hand and give him your name?

B. Run out of the café?

[talklokitome]

Exposed and Entangled: Chapter 14

Read the full chapter on AO3!

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

Rating: Explicit  (18+ readers only)

Chapter Summary:  Loki and Callista go to Paris.

Excerpt:

“Did you know it’s our one month anniversary today?” He said quietly as they made their way to the elevator, followed by the porter. “Seems like an appropriate celebration, no?”

“Oh...” Callista blinked at Loki a little dazed and more than a little bit aroused. “I didn’t realize, actually.” Then she leaned up and whispered in Loki’s ear, “Promise me you’ll speak in French when we’re in bed later.” She let the tip of her tongue ghost along the lobe of his ear before pulling back and looking him up and down like she was considering ripping his clothes off right there in the elevator, porter be damned.

“I’ll speak whatever language you want, Callista...” Loki purred back, turning to begin molesting her...until the porter cleared his throat. Loki chuckled and pulled away.

“Later, I promise,” he said quietly as the elevator door dinged open and the porter led them to their room.

@emeraldrosequartz @shae-annelore @wine-and-whines @lokissorceress @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @loki-lover23567 @dangertoozmanykids101

[lov3nerdstuff]

Being Human {Headcanons}

*Loki x reader*

Here you go, folks! This is for everyone who thought that there could have been more to 'Being Human' than the four parts I wrote 💚💚💚 so here you have my personal headcanons for how the story goes on!

If you haven’t read the story yet, you can find the first part here or all parts on my Masterlist!

Headcanons:

A couple days later Stark makes Dr. Strange come by the compound bc he doesn't trust Loki or reader to tell him the truth about the stones and reader's ability to control them. She's totally gotten the hang of it though, now that the final pieces clicked together, and thus she challenges Strange to a friendly battle of sassy comments and innocent magic in the mirror dimension. After she obviously wins, and gets a proud smirk from Loki, she has Strange teach her how to go into the mirror dimension herself (because as we all know, the stones are a different kind of power than the dimensional power he uses and thus, stuff works differently). Loki ends up pretending to be annoyed while having Strange teach them both how to use dimensional energy, but afterwards when everyone's gone their ways again, Loki and reader go into the mirror dimension again to experiment a little with what reader can and can't do (since it doesn't affect reality if she messes up there).

Tony and the others try to separate reader and the stones exactly once, with the only result being that every piece of glass in the lab shattered into tiny shards. Upon Tony's angry frown, reader only says 'oops' and goes her way to find Loki for a lunch date. Tony does not try again to get the stones back. Neither does he try to separate reader and Loki, for everyone knows that it wouldn't be of any use. They're insufferable… Inseparable, I mean.

Loki and reader cause ALL THE MISCHIEF in the compound. Literally, no one is safe from them. At no time. Everyone hates it, expect for Natasha who secretly loves the excitement of it. They never do any serious damage, but they made a game out of making people jump as often as possible. And possibly snap, much to the amusement of everyone else.

Eventually they come back to wondering why the stones chose reader. She goes on to consulting the stones, and they reveal to her the real reason why it HAD to be her: remember how Loki knew that he would slip into darkness if he had loved and lost reader? Well, he was right. He would have ended up with reader anyway, even with her being mortal. But her death a few years later would have caused him to snap. He'd have become like Thanos, only far far worse. After countless failed attempts to end his own existence, he would have destroyed reality itself. And this time, the one way out of a gazillion possibilities to prevent that from becoming reality was for the stones to save reader, for Loki. To make her his superior. Because in this one future that came to happen by the stones choosing reader, he slipped into the light. And together, Loki and reader save reality countless times indeed.

Reader and the stones stay as one, making her the most powerful creature in the universe. She and Loki live an almost eternal life full of amazing stories and adventures together. But the day Loki dies (for real, this time… because gods do die too, eventually) she gives the stones back to the universe where they came from and goes on to Valhalla together with Loki, hand in hand into their own peaceful eternity.

Might interest you guys because you were on the story tag list: @wotcherboo @lareinedususpense @toomanyfamdom @waitforthehurricanrose @pinkzsugar @brokenthelovely @fire-in-her-veinz @jessiejunebug @darkprincessloki92 @tomhiddleston-loki @daddys-littlewhitegirl @anxiousdreamersworld @foodthatsgoodforyoursoul @shae-annelore @ilovetardis @sadwaywardkid @ania-swissweet

Also gonna add the general tag list because why not: @its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @thidls12333 @tomstoobeautiful @dreary-skies-stuff @averyhill4445 @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @sadly-falling-through-wonderland @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @mygodisloki @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @halszka-potter @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @inthemarvelvoid @from-hel-i-with-love @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @foodthatsgoodforyoursoul @crystal-28

[mareebird]

Thank you to @diggerkaren​ @drachenkinder​ @wolfsmom1 @shae-annelore​ and @wrathkitty​ for reblogging my chapter update.  You made a lady with a nasty cold very happy.  :)

[viv-annelore]

[villainousshakespeare]

Stalking a King Chapter 15

A HUGE THANK YOU to @shae-annelore for the gorgeous title image. I absolutely love it!!!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

Henry V/OFC

Multi-Chapter

Historical AU, Historical Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Angst, Sexual Tension, Bathing, Smut, Oral Sex (F&M receiving), Loss of Virginity, Wedding Night

Lisabet is a high-born Lady of Orleans, France. When King Henry V conquers her city, taking her brother hostage along with other nobles, she vows to be revenged upon the foreign invader and rescue her brother. Dressed in boys clothing she hopes to escape notice in Henry’s camp, but the English King has a much more perceptive eye than she anticipated.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza  @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads

If Henry had but one wish in his soul at that moment, it would be that the man lounging in a chair by the window indolently eating cheese and meet with his knife would die a violent, bloody death by his hand.

He had met the Constable of France a handful of times, and never failed to find Compte Dreux a pompous, humorless man in dire need of being taken down a peg or two in his own estimation. Now that he had been the man's prisoner for some hours (oh, the shame of such a fact would never be washed clean!) that estimation had declined even further, until only the man's demise would satiate the deep antipathy in which Henry held him.

Even more than he hated Dreux, however, Henry currently loathed himself even more. However had he come to this? Taken like a raw recruit by a band of common soldiers who did not even know who he was! No, the Frenchmen had thought they had stumbled upon some wealthy lordling only, good for a ransom of some coin, but not much else. They soon learned better when he quickly dispatched three of them from their horses. One, he was quite certain, would never again obtain consciousness. In the end, alas, the score of them had proven simply too many for one single man. They had ringed him round, threatening to shoot his horse with an arrow if he moved.

It was then that his true tormentor had ridden up. The look of surprise morphing into smug satisfaction and unholy glee as the Constable realized who, exactly, him men had waylaid on the road. With a bow from his saddle worthy of any court mummer, Dreux had relieved the men of their prize, much to their consternation, with airy promises he would no doubt forget to reimburse them for their lost ransom.

Henry had been quickly disarmed and brought with a wealth of mock courtesy to Ruen and the tallest turret room of its imposing castle. Alain Dashard, completely overwhelmed by the scope of the drama unfolding behind his battlements, had quickly set about fortifying his keep as though the Devil himself were about to lay siege. Henry had been left to the dubious care of Dreux.

"I wager it doth cause you no small pain," the oily Constable now opined from where he lounged in his chair, "that you must wonder somewhere in your soul, if we did have a warning in advance that you were headed this day towards Ruen."

Henry knew where the man was going with this line of insinuation, and yet he could not stop the twist of the knife in his heart at the other's words.

"We sought not to disguise our progress, Sir," he answered in clipped tones. "T'would not take much to learn that we were near."

"Tis true, we could have stumbled onto thee," Dreux allowed with a false smile. "Or else, it surely hath occurred to thee, someone who values sovereignty of France might seek to send us word that we prepare. I hear, for as you know rumors do fly more swift than any bird doth take to wing, that you were married just some days ago. How doth thy wife, the lovely Lisabet? So beauteous and headstrong I recall, she could but come from these our shores of France."

"My wife was very well when we did part," Henry ground out with false cheer, not wanting to give the man the pleasure of seeing his arrow hit its mark.

"It may not have been mentioned to thee," Dreux went on, clearly enjoying his game, "but time was I did think to wed the chit. Her father panted hotly for the match, and Lisabet herself, I blush to say, was far from shy in her pursuit of me."

Henry could hear the taunt in the man's words. The deliberate insinuation that Lisabet had desired Dreux was unmistakable. It made the King's blood boil and his eye swim in red to imagine his Lisabet infatuated with the man before him. Still, he couldn't count the idea out. Phillipe had told him that the match was much advanced by her parents. Dreux was handsome, with severe features and dark, curling hair. He was a proven warrior and hero of France. Why would she not wish for a match with such a man?

"If all you say is truth, dear Constable," Henry said with a deceptively mild voice, "I wonder she was free for me to wed."

"I fear I chose not to advance my suit," the sigh accompanying these words was filled was regret. "Though beautiful she without question is, I found her manners lacking for my taste. I could not in the end take for my wife a bride who came unchaste into my bed. I must applaud thee for thy tolerance that thou were able to look past her fault."

It was a mortal insult, and the other man knew it. Henry clenched both his hands into fists, eyes flicking to the six guards standing near the door in the Compte's colors. They were all heavily armed and armored, as was his nemesis, while Henry lacked so much as a dagger at his belt. There was no way he could overpower them all. As much as he longed to strike the smug look off of Dreux's face, he knew he would never make it across the room to do so.

"I will not always be within these walls," Henry seethed, "and when I find myself once more set free, I will remember every word you say that I may make you eat them all at once. The Queen is of a virtue without peer, and you would do well to remember that."

"You seem quite certain that you will walk free. A bit presumptuous as all things stand now."

"You would not dare to kill a Crowned King!" Henry gasped, staring at the man. "The Holy Oil was placed upon my brow, and God himself did call me to the throne!"

"That same oil once did dampen Richard's head, and yet your father snatched from him his crown."

"My Lord, a visitor hath just arrived," the call from the other side of the door halted what would have been Henry's mad lunge towards his captor.

The Constable glanced quickly at Henry and then stood to open the door a sliver, his men all putting hands to sword hilts as he did so. In so much as he could be amused by anything at this moment, Henry found distant satisfaction that they seemed to fear him so much. Oh, how he would enjoy proving their fears worthwhile!

"What visitor? Hath he no name or rank?"

"He is a Holy Friar, good My Lord, and says he has news from the English camp."

"Well, well, what have the fates brought to our door? How looks this Friar, doth he speak the truth, or is he merely counterfeit his faith? A knight may wear a Friars Holy Cowl and yet still keep his skill at arms intact."

"I know not whether he bears truth or no," the servant hedged, no doubt aware of the Compte's quick vengeance, "but I would swear that he is not a knight. The man is older, slight, and stoops a bit. A lifetime worth of worry in his eyes."

"And comes this Friar here all by himself?"

"Why, so much bravery from the noble Dreux," Henry taunted.

"A boy alone doth bear him company."

"Well, there you have it Dreux! Bar all the gates!" Henry mocked. "A Friar and a beardless boy approach. Tis time the French did cower down in fear!"

"I cower before no one nor nothing. Go! Bring these messengers into our site."

Henry paced back and forth like a caged lion, an apt metaphor if ever there was one. He was glad that he had managed to taunt the Constable until he had the friar brought up. Whatever news the cleric brought from his camp his foe would never share it with him otherwise.

He had hoped, at first, that the churchman would prove a ruse that was meant to facilitate his escape, but the man was taking so long on the stairs, surely he must be what he seemed rather than a soldier in disguise. Would Lisabet send someone to rescue him? Most likely she was still unaware of his capture. Dreux had sent a sneering letter when he first was taken, but it was addressed to his soldier of arms, not to Lisabet. Besides, when he had set out, Lisabet had disappeared. She was just as likely to be here at Ruen Castle than amongst his men.

If he did ever get out of Ruen, whether via escape or ransom, would Lisabet even want him? Had she been riding to his enemies that morning as he had believed? Now that he had had time to think, he wondered. Lisabet was not the type to run away. Had he misjudged her?

A knock sounded again on the heavy door, and a pair of dirt-stained travelers entered. Henry stopped still where he paced, desperately trying to keep his expression neutral. The man in friars' robes was indeed older, stooped and out of breath from his climb. Henry noted him and silently cursed his name, as well known as his own. It was the youth on whom the friar leaned thought that captured all of Henry's attention. Slight and yet holding himself with an arrogance that belied his size, the boy looked disdainfully around the room.

"Good Friar, welcome sir, unto Ruen," Dreux nodded to the older of their visitors. "I hear you have word of the English camp."

"What we would speak is for your ears alone," it was the boy who replied, of course. "Send you these men away and we will talk."

"I spoke unto your master, not to you," the crack in Dreux's voice would have undone many a soldier.

"My master is undone by all the stairs," was the unaffected reply of the servant. "Have manners here in France come to this state, that we no better are than Englishmen? You offer him no wine, no place to sit?"

"I do not take well to your tone, my boy," Dreux snarled as Henry willed the youth to tread carefully. "I am no village mayor you address, but of the high Nobility of France."

"All reason more to show some due respect to God's own servants on this mortal plane."

Henry held his breath as the Constable fingered his dagger, weighing the words. This was not a man to push too far, but a deadly, vain, and quick to anger Lord used to having his way even with royalty. Would he retaliate against the insulant page, and if he did, how quickly could Henry be able to insert his own body between the enraged Compte and his slender detractor?

"You have some moxie in you, my brash youth," the Compte at last broke the tension with a laugh that allowed a fraction of the tension to release from Henry's coiled frame.

"Why yes, for I am French, Lord Constable."

"Enough, Phillipe, I can speak for myself," the friar said at last, raising his head as his breathing returned to normal. "Forgive, my Lord, my servant, young Phillipe. A headstrong lad, as you can clearly see, but he doth speak some reason nonetheless. I would be glad of drink and place to sit. And then, if you will give me willing ear, I'll tell you of the English and their camp."

"Oh, very well. Guy, go and fetch some wine. And Piere bring us also some more food. Now sit you hear, good friar and begin. I am impatient to hear all your news."

Henry watched as two of the guards bowed their way out of the room, going quickly to do their master's bidding. That left four, plus the Constable. With a great, heaving sigh, the friar sank onto the window seat where Dreux had previously been sitting. His page, after helping him to descend, wandered to the other side of the large window, hands behind his back as he peered out at the countryside as though disinterested now that his master was seen to.

"The camp, I fear, is in great disarray," the cleric began. "I know not how it came to be that way, but it is said the King has gone away, and there is none fit to assume command."

"He has no Captain there to speak for him?" the eagerness was clear in the Constable's voice.

"It seems there is dispute among the ranks," the friar continued. "The Queen did seek to seize command of all, but old Sir Roger dose dispute her claim."

"The Queen? What, you mean little Lisabet?" Dreux laughed with derision, coming closer to peer at the man. "Why even one unnatural as she would not seek so to turn things on their head!"

"And yet that is the news that I have heard. Half of the men, led by the Lady's brother, have pledged themselves to her, and were inclined to march here to Ruen and siege the town."

"A beardless boy no older than your page, and some presumptuous witch do challenge me?"

"I warned you once already watch your tongue," Henry snapped, advancing a few steps on Dreux. "I will not hear my wife disparaged so."

"You give no orders here, your Majesty," Dreux snarled. "Tis obvious you can't control the chit. Had it so fallen out I wed the brat, she would be even now behind high walls, the first of many sons within her womb, and learning where her proper place should be."

"How lucky then, for all that she chose me."

"Chose? What woman chooses her own mate? Her grasping parents saw there was a crown within her grasp and being filled with greed, cared not that they betrayed their home for it."

"You say that you have met my Lady Wife," Henry laughed, "but I cannot conceive that this is so. Noone who talks to her a single time could ere believe another sets her path. No, Lisabet alone controls her fate, and it is merely my life's greatest joy that she consented to become my Queen. Think not that your pathetic fantasy of her your simple and obedient wife would ever have the smallest chance to be. A flame that blazes out as bright as she could not so be contained by anyone. She is so far above you, Constable, and yes, above me too, I do confess, that you could climb to heaven and yet still she would look down upon you from on high."

"What, do you now turn troubadour and wine as love sots and unmanned men may do?"

"If I had such a trick for word or song, I might indeed do as you would suggest. For there is not a woman ever born who doth deserve it more than Lisabet. She is my love, my life, my dearest self. For her sake I would seek to move the sun. It is a pity you will never know the sweet embrace of such a one as she."

"You paint a moving picture, I must say," Dreux scoffed. "Perhaps when you are buried in the ground, I'll sample that embrace you moan about."

"I fear, my Lord, that this will have to do."

As Henry watched, heart in his mouth, the friar's page smoothly slid the dagger Dreux had been using for his meal across the table and pressed the point to his throat.

"Hold, drop your swords, unless you want him dead," tip of the dagger drew a bead of blood from Compte Dreux's neck. At a nod from the Compte the guards' swords clattered to the ground. "I thank you, husband, for your pretty words."

"I meant them, every one, my Lisabet."

"Yes, yes, that all is very well and good," Lawrence grumbled, drawing Dreux's sword and tossing it to Henry. "But can it wait 'till we are out of here? I have gone through enough and more today."

"Forgive me, Father, this and all my sins," Henry grinned at his secretary. "Both those I've done and those I'll soon commit."

As his eyes met Lisabet's in a hot glance that turned her face an appealing shade of pink, Henry was barely aware of his long-suffering secretary's weary groan.

[adventure-with-loki]

[this wasn't your first meeting, but it still felt like a fresh wound]

Written by: @youlightmeupfinn

Pairing: Loki x Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you find yourself stumbling onto the doorstep of the man who you are in love with, but he doesn’t know that.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning: mentions of blood, bullet holes

Tags:

@annoyingsweetsstranger

@eclecticlokibytomhiddleston

@spidyyparker

@deanaddicted2

@ethanshide

@lokistoriesblog

@l0st-in-reality

@shae-annelore

@realandloud

@marvelgirl0515

@tiredmamamac

@cherii-bomb

@stuckybarton

@peachsteven

@vampire7595

@moonshooter

@knopewyattworld

@holdmytesseract

@wander-lustbabe

The rain continued to pour hard throughout the city. You held onto your stomach, noticing the blood continuing to pool from the opened wound. Your comms unit had been ultimately destroyed, giving you no way to contact Steve or Tony. Neither of the two men had any idea that you were in trouble, or bleeding out for that matter. You told yourself you should’ve grabbed your phone on the way out of the tower, but told yourself you wouldn’t need it.

You had two options. Either you could stumble your way into the emergency room, which was probably the best option although it was farther, or saunter your way to him. He was closer and that was the route you ultimately took, noting the edge of the street insight that gave you the confirmation you were close. Your vision had already begun to blur and everything around you was foggy. You weren’t sure if anyone had started to look for you, either.

But what did it matter? At this rate and the amount of pain you were in, you were mere minutes away from rushing into the bright light everyone said to not go into. Making your way up the doorsteps, you couldn’t even knock. You fell forward, the weight of your body crashing against his front door. You heard the sounds of rustling emerge from behind the door and seconds later, he pulled it open, only to have your body fall at his feet.

Loki Laufeyson. The once sworn enemy of the Avengers, Thor’s hot adoptive brother, the secret love of your life, such a secret that Loki didn’t even know. The two of you had made yourselves acquainted after the events of New York and you somehow managed to convince Thor to take you to Asgard. He was suspicious, he always was. He was confused on why you wanted to spend so much time with his mischievous brother until it clicked in his head.

“YOU LOVE MY BROTHER?!” He screamed at you, making you rush forward and cover his mouth.

“Shut your mouth, you idiot! No one is supposed to know!” You reprimanded him by grasping his blonde locks. “And if you dare tell anyone… if your damn brother finds out, I’m cutting your hair off myself!” You hissed, pulling the sharp blade from your pocket. Thor’s blue orbs glistened in utter fear and he nodded his head.

“Not my precious hair! Please, no!” He squealed in your grip. You released him with a hard sigh.

“Then don’t say anything.”

You blinked, noticing your face had met the hard surface of the ground.

“Darling?!” Loki immediately called out and hurried to pick you up off the ground. He hoisted you into his arms, whisking you over to the couch where he laid you down, his eyes scanning your stomach where your bloody hands sat. “What happened to you?!” He exclaimed, pulling your hands away to see the blood oozing from the wound.

“You know how they say to never bring a knife to a gunfight?” You coughed with a sly, painful smirk. Loki watched you, his eyebrows knitting. “I was the idiot who brought the knife.” You raised your hand, groaning at the surge of pain flashing through your body.

“Am I gonna die?” You asked Loki with a cough who immediately shook his head. Ripping your gear off, you stared up at the ceiling, your voice hoarse from the screaming you had done prior. Loki tore off the t-shirt you wore, leaving you in your bra. He examined the wound, noting the silver bullet that protruded from the wound.

“You’re in luck, darling,” He sighed. Reaching out, he gently grasped the bullet and pulled it out, making you scream in pain. “It wasn't lodged completely inside.”

You cried out and gripped his arm. Your face was all scratched up, blood pooling from a cut above your eye. Your bottom lip was busted, your arms had bruises covering them, but your main issue was the bullethole. Thankfully it didn’t enter your body completely, but it did enough damage to send you into a panicked state.

“Can you like, I don’t know,” You groaned. “Snap your fingers and use magic to make it go away?” You looked up at him. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, darling, you’re going to heal naturally.” He sighed, disappearing before returning with the first aid kit.

“Mischief has first aid?” You gasped, Loki glaring at you.

His eyes searched yours. “Once I had a woman begin stumbling herself onto my doorstep… I invested.” He expressed with a small sigh.

This wasn’t the first time you had come to Loki hurt. He’s had to mend your wounds several times, just not as severe as a bullet to the stomach.

As you laid there, you felt as he began applying the cleaning solution for your wounds, dressing them and all. While he took care of you and patched you up, you were coming awfully close to spilling your heart out to him right then and there. Although you had an obvious feeling he knew how you felt, based on the premise you were a hardcore flirt and he gave into it, he never made an advance to you.

“Do you like me?” You suddenly questioned, Loki wrapping the bandage around your waist. Your ribs were starting to throb now.

Loki scoffed. “What kind of question is that, love?” He used his soft tone on you, his voice melting against your eardrums.

You shrugged, but winced upon doing so.

“Just asking…” You sighed. Loki noticed the cut on your eye and he began grabbing supplies to tend to it. Dabbing the saline solution over the cut, his face came close to yours. He leaned forward, positioning himself so he was propped against the couch, while he dabbed at the cut.

He looked so inviting.

In one simple sweep, you could brush your lips against his.

But what if he didn’t like you in that way?

Do you:

A. Kiss him

B. Don’t kiss him and hold your feelings back for fear of rejection?