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goblingirlsarah · 1 month ago

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In the Bleak Midwinter [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: On a mandatory Christmas Avengers Getaway, resident Scrooge Loki discovers there is warmth to be found. (w/c 3.4k) Warnings: None, really. Fluff. Bit of angst. Brief reference to erotic fantasy. Loki in his Christmas feels. A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays & Season's Greetings my loves❤️ I hope all your days are merry & bright. 🎄

Loki’s hands dug deeper in his pockets with every methodical crunch of his boots into the snow.

The outline of the church was visible; the kind reproduced on a hundred greetings cards which had landed in Loki’s fanmail these past weeks. The cards, at least, he could ignore. Tony Stark’s ‘Olde Christmastime getaway’, it seemed, he could not.

The small church had a thick, proud steeple; old uneven walls arranged on either side in a way he was sure his brother would imminently compare to a cock and balls.

"Brother," Thor chittered madly beside him. "Doesn’t the dwelling yonder resemble—?"

Loki yanked a hand from his pocket and brushed it along a low wall running adjacent to the path. He lobbed a clutch of snow into Thor’s ruddy face and kept walking. He was in no mood for japes.

His eyes stung from the sharp, needling cold. The night was clear, and only his breath fogged the view of this place the gaggle of Avengers who insisted on ‘involving’ him hadn’t stopped wittering on about for months. Soon, they would realise he only spoiled the occasion. A perennially cracked door sending a draught through their warm surroundings.

A carol concert, he mused bitterly, shaking his head for the third time since leaving the toasted seclusion of his armchair at the lodge. Of all things he did not wish to partake in this weekend, the carol concert occupied prime position on Loki’s list of grievances.

I will go, he’d decided as Thor had forcibly manoeuvred Loki’s coat onto his body. But I shall not make merry. Loki of Asgard would not be caught dead engaging publicly in festive frivolities of any kind. Of that, he was resolved.

A soft, amber glow pulsed at the criss-crossed windows of the church. With a swell of hope, he wondered if the building was, in fact, unsalvageably ablaze. Perhaps, there would be no carol concert after all.

A vision of the cup of spiced wine he’d been rudely separated from flashed through his mind. Perhaps, it would still be steaming on his imminent return. Thor yanked his arm roughly towards the wooden doors with one thick mitten emblazoned with crudely stitched glazed hams.

"Un-hand me. This is Armani, you cretin."

"We’re already late, and I don’t want to miss a second. Besides, there are candles. You love candles."

Loki sighed. It didn’t surprise him that Thor had fallen for this seasonal, mortal farce. The fact that they were once worshipped and celebrated thus in their own realm had escaped Thor in a way it had not escaped Loki. It was to be expected, but still, as his cheeks pinched against the cold, it grated.

Behind wood and stone, an organ groaned to life and a low chorus of unsure voices rose.

“Once in Royal David’s City, Stood a lowly cattle shed…”

Thor yanked harder and Loki felt his feet unroot from the crushed ice. The voices were stronger now, coming together as one, melodious snake slithering against his iced eardrums.

Thor paused with one mitten on an iron knob, the other fastened to Loki’s Armani. Snot dangled from his nose. “Try and be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” His brother’s eyes narrowed and he relented. “Courteous, at least.”

Thor’s lips pinched. “You know what I mean…Festive.” Loki would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t sure they were frozen. He released a snort of fogged air from his nose instead. “Open the door lest we both expire in this winterous wasteland,” he said, and Thor’s face brightened.

“That’s more like it.”

The church was warmer than he’d expected. He stood at the threshold and brushed a dusting of snow from his cuffs as Thor lumbered down the aisle and made a cartoonish, indelicate attempt to sidle his bulk into a row; a boisterous whispering of apologies clashing with the turn of the organ.

“When, like stars, His children crowned All in white, shall wait around…”

Loki flinched as the voices tapered and the organist released a crescendo of bone-shuddering notes. And then, he stumbled.

“Norns,” he growled, a little too loudly in the incense-heavy silence.

He regained his balance and looked down at the small child looking up at him with wide, shining eyes. They were holding out a booklet with curled, yellowed edges. Shoddy workmanship, Loki thought as he took it with a curt nod and turned it over.

St Barnabas Church Carol Concert, it read, accompanied by a garish cartoon holly faded to a light beige. The years below it, beginning at 2002, had been scored out until whomever was in charge gave up in 2014. He sniffed, observing the child with suspicion. "I don't have any coin, if that is what you seek.”

The child’s hand was touching his hand; her small fingers like matchsticks curled around his own. She wore a sheepskin jacket that was a size too big. Not tailored, clearly, and the collar hid her mouth—yet he could tell she was smiling. He glanced to the side, noticing for the first time that every member of the audience was staring.

Natasha hung out of a row halfway down, a black fur hat low on her brow, and beckoned to the little girl. “He’s with us,” she hissed. The organ burst to life with some other musical hokum in defiance of the interruption.

Loki looked back to the little mortal. She said nothing, just led him at a glacial, imperious pace down the aisle and stopped at the correct row. Her auburn curls shimmered in the low light, bouncing.

“Oh, guess there’s no room at the inn…” Natasha winked. “Go behind.”

Loki met his brother’s smug grin one row back. He knew that smile: the plotting smile.

The small pocket of warmth that had been growing in his belly extinguished. And then, he noticed who stood beside him at the end of the row. Loki swallowed.

Thor had all but climbed over you in order to ensure it would be he, Loki of Asgard, standing beside you like a stiff, tuneless, merryless fool. His eyes slid back to his brother, sucking in his cheeks, wondering if punching out a sibling’s teeth was considered ‘festive’.

“There’s room, don’t worry…” you whispered, shuffling your gloves further along the scratched, wooden pew. The smile playing on your lips made Loki want to carve out his own heart in longing.

He edged gingerly into place, staring at the booklet in his hands. And then, your fingers were touching his, moving the pages, your woody perfume thick in his nostrils. He closed his eyes, willing the stir in his groin to cease. His brother would perish for this.

“Your hands are cold,” you whispered, giving his knuckle a brief rub with one, elegant finger. Like my heart. Loki swallowed again, observing the attendees and trying to ignore the unmistakeable correlation of your hot breath skating his neck to the twitch beneath his trousers.

The church was packed. Families, lovers, white-haired humans swaying and their creaking voices tumbling with the rest; the booklets resting unopened. They knew every word.

He fixated on the stone altar, the golden casket behind it glittering in the light. It reminded him of the Tesseract, and with that memory came a familiar twinge of guilt like the slip of a knife between his ribs.

“Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie... "

He moved his lips out of time, faintly recognising the music. As much as he’d tried to avoid it this year and last, the songs playing from your room in the Tower come December 1 were hard to ignore. And perhaps, if he were honest, he hadn’t tried very hard.

You always sang along to them when your mind wandered. It was the only part of Christmas he’d come to favour. And the candles: those too.

“Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by…”

Your finger traced along the lines of the book you shared as if he were a child. He should be insulted; and yet there was something about the tender movement, and your shoulder pressed to his that made him want to nest in this moment and never leave. Your voice was different here. It had a meeker cadence, as though you were stifling the volume and its capabilities to as not to embarrass the quality of those around you.

I’ve heard how she really sounds, he thought smugly as he cast a quick glance at his brother. Perhaps I’m the only one who has.

Thor held the booklet at arm’s length, a millimetre from the back of Stark's head, the baritone of his singing rivalling the organ. His neck swivelled slowly towards Loki. He winked.

“Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light…” Loki inhaled sharply, before fitting the words into the repetitive notes with a whisper. “The hopes and fears of all the years,” he sang quietly, voice hoarse. “Are met in thee tonight.”

You squeezed his bicep, the heel of your palm resting on his forearm. Loki stiffened, missing the start of the following verse. He turned fractionally, meeting your eyes glittering in the light of a hundred candles flickering. Gods, you were so beautiful.

He tore away.

Stop it, he chided, letting his eyes focus and refocus on a thick, white candle dripping rivulets near the altar.

He couldn’t afford the weakness that sentiment brought. One had to be wary of sentiment at this Christmastime of theirs. It was too easy to be tricked by the lure of cinnamon and the twinkle of lights like stars; drunk on new beginnings and the gluttony of temporary happiness. Loki knew what came of such things for him. He didn’t intend to make the same mistakes. Not here.

The carols began, and ended. And with each one, Loki felt the itch of sweat grow beneath his armpits, seeping into the fine cotton shirt. Five carols ago, the god had to ban himself from touching his hair like a senseless virgin. It was intolerable; to have you so close, to smell the linger of spiced gingerbread latte on your breath as your tongue shaped across each lyric, and do nothing. And what would you do? Kiss her? Force yourself upon her like an animal? He stilled the fidget of the hand hanging at his side.

You were kind, that was all. Pleasantries. Courtesies. You wanted him no more than he wanted to be at this godsforsaken carol concert.

The hand balancing the booklet began to tremble as intrusive thoughts formed in his mind of you and he curled under a blanket, barely watching those Muppet creatures he’d seen in passing, your soft whimpers as he sank inside you and rocked your curves gently against him. If the spiced wine grew cold then, he would not mind so much, perhaps.

His grip tightened on the booklet. “O’ Come, all ye faithful…” “I can’t do this,” he whispered, his brow scrunched. Your grip on his arm loosened. “Joyful and triumphant…” “Are you okay?” The journey of his gaze to your face seemed to take an age. Half of your skin was bathed in a soft, orange glow; the other shadowed as the chorus of voices grew louder; happier. A line had formed across your forehead. Concern? Maybe. Fear? Most likely.

Most of your hair was tucked under a hat, and yet he knew every strand beneath it. He’d envisioned the texture beneath his fingers more times than he had admitted to anyone. Even his Judas of a ham-fisted, scheming brother.

“I have to go." The flap of his overcoat hit the pew in a swirl and his boots were clicked on the bare stone floor towards the doorway. Eyes followed him, but he paid them no heed. They were better off without him. Within the small vestibule at the exit, a stout old man arranged a tray of mince pies. He turned just as Loki thundered past. “Oi,” the man hissed in a broad, Yorkshire accent. “Don’t forget yer pie.”

A foil-bedded pastry was thrust up towards Loki’s face as he fumbled with the door.

Loki paused, looked at it, and then the man. He had ragged, grey hair and a face carved with a thousand frowns. A worthy adversary.

Loki briefly considered making the pastry explode in a shrapnel of raisons, sighed, and thought better of it. As though they were not his own, his fingers plucked the small comestible from the old man’s hand.

“Wife made ‘em,” he said proudly, searching Loki’s face before his lips stretched in a smile over crooked, tombstone teeth. “Merry Christmas.” Loki mumbled something, twisted the knocker and fell out into the cold, crisp air. The god’s pulse pounded in his throat as he crunched down the path towards the crumbling gateposts; wind playing at the sides of his coat with delicate hands. At the boundary, he stopped. Loki steadied on a gatepost, head drooping. Hair fell around his face, fluttering against his flushed skin. “Are you going to eat that?”

He jumped, twisting around. There you stood, resplendent in moonlight from above and the glow of fresh fallen snow below. Your jaw worked; half a mince pie clutched in the hand not buried in your pocket. “They’re really good actually,” you said, pastry scattering from your lips before covering your mouth with a shy eye roll.

Loki’s lips tweaked. “Clearly. I wasn’t going to but now…I’m not so sure. It seems a valuable boon after all.”

At that, you nodded, crunching closer as you popped the remainder of the mince pie into your mouth. He spun around, gazing up to the sky, rolling his lips. She loves Christmas. Do not destroy it for her.

And then, you were at his shoulder. “So, about that mince pie…” There was a slyness in your voice that made him want to pin you against the gatepost and kiss you until you felt faint; until you couldn’t remember your own name, only his. He cupped a hand protectively over the pie, looking at you beneath his lashes.

“And what if I won’t part with it?” You shrugged. “Then perhaps I’ll rethink my gift.” His heart sank, ill-gotten confidence fading. Loki had made it very clear last Christmas that he would not partake in the Avengers gifting foolishness. Had you forgotten? His stomach joined his heart somewhere around his boots.

“I…was not expecting a gift,” he said, curling a wedge of hair behind his ear. As he did so, the pie lost balance and fell with a pathetic plop to the snow. The two of you stared at it. “Norns,” Loki said, bereft. You burst out laughing as he began rooting in the hole. “I thought gods were supposed to be nimble, suave—all that stuff.” “Have you met my brother?” “I thought you were different.” The strange slyness was back in your voice. “I thought you were a bit more…” Loki looked up, breath evaporating from his lungs as moonlight bounced off the fake jewels woven into your hat. She deserves every jewel in the nine realms. And then, you shrugged.

In a move he was sure he would later haunt him as he failed to fall asleep, Loki held the small, snow-laden mince pie aloft. An offering of contrition. Your lips flickered, and to his surprise, you took it. “My sincere apologies,” he mumbled. “It’s just a mince pie, Lokes.” “Not for that…” He sighed. “Were you speaking true about a gift? Because I…” You flapped a hand. “Everyone knows you don’t do gifts, you don’t like Christmas, yadda-yadda. But that’s not the point of gifts. I just…it belonged to you. For when you’re ready. Just…promise you won’t make it explode.”

Before Loki could think of a response, you’d produced a small box wrapped in brown paper from the depths of your jacket. His gaze lingered on it for longer than it should have before he said, “Ah.” Your eyebrows rose. “Are you going to open it?” “Should I?” He turned it over in his hands and your eyebrow rose. “It’s not a trick.” At that, his lips drew to the side. If it was a trick, he wasn’t sure if he was in the right frame of mind to deduce it. Loki’s heart pounded between his ribs, a sharp tang nestling in the back of his throat as he stared at the tightly curled ribbon hanging from the box. He wondered if you’d wrapped it here, or in the Tower, with him next door, lying in bed to the sound of your sporadic singing over Nat King Cole.

Your fingers covered his and tugged the ribbon gently. Loki’s breath hitched, eyes meeting. “Open it,” you ordered, and a hot shiver ran down Loki’s spine.

He pulled the ribbon free, then paused. “You should know…I don’t hate Christmas.” He searched your face. “It’s everything I love, you see. Or at least, I used to. Family, closeness, warmth, the feeling of hope for Spring, sprouting under the joy of light and feasting, the music…”

A lump grew in his throat, and he bit the inside of his lip to stifle it. “I find it easier to forswear, you see. It’s better for everyone that way. It seems that what I love has a habit of turning to ash.”

He didn’t realise he’d been fixated on the box under a gentle touch landed on his arm. When he looked up, you were waiting with glossy eyes, lips parted. “You don’t need to be apart from it, Loki. You deserve it…the same as any of us do.” “But—”

Your finger pressed to his lips, silencing it. “Open the box,” you said again, and the finger slid away. He did as he was bid. Inside was a Christmas bauble, polished to such a sheen he could see the sharp outline of his jaw reflected.

The base was a deep forest green, and on it, gold threads traced runes like frost clinging to spiderweb. “For when you’re ready,” you repeated, softer, as liquid heat flooded his chest. “You belong with us, Loki. I…we, love you.”

“It’s beautiful…I…” He licked his lips, making them tingle in the chill. A grin spread across your face.

“You really like it?” “I love it,” he said, not breaking eye contact. Boldness swelled inside him, lighting up the dusty corners of his frigid heart. You looked away, pulling your jacket tighter. Inside the church, the final flourish of 'O’ Come all Ye Faithful' blared. He reached out, brushing his knuckles down your puffy bicep.

“You mean it? If you don’t, I can return it…” “I really do.” “Good, because it’s custom, and I can’t return it.” Loki laughed at the same time you did, noting the sparkle of your eyes. He drew you into his arms, memorising the way your bodies slotted together despite the layers, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I fear I must buy you a gift after all…” he said quietly. You pulled back, looking up at him with absolute sincerity. “What I want doesn’t come from a shop, Loki,” you said, breathless. Your eyes dropped to his lips as you cupped his face, the warmth of your skin sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. “I just want you to be happy, and I want…I want…”

Your words grew faint as flecks of snow began to fall. And with that, his resolve exploded.

The first kiss was tentative, skin brushing over skin as he waited for you to pull away. But your arms were thrown around his shoulders, clawing at the back of his Armani coat, pulling his mouth to yours with the ferocity of a winter sea.

Hot breath seared his throat, desire and adoration so thick it held weight bursting from the secret places he had boarded up and forgotten. All he wanted was you, and this, and Yule—wherever it was, and however it was celebrated. As long as he had you.

Eager lips slid together as one kiss broke and launched into the next. Something sharp and iron was poking into his back from the gatepost, but he didn’t care. It could rip a hole in the coat for all he cared.

As your delicate moans heightened, and your fingers knotted tighter into his hair, the applause started.

The two of you broke, twisting as one towards the band of a dozen Avengers making their way down the path. Natasha had her arms spread; eyes wide. Thor was frozen in place, mittens pressed to his cheeks with a soundless scream of glee. Scott was passing money to Sam, and then Tony, too. “It’s a Christmas…miracle,” Thor screeched.

"Sweet baby Jesus..." Stark muttered, fingers jammed in his ears as Loki drew you tighter to his chest, not caring if you felt the leap of his heart through thick wool. Your hand slipped through a gap, drinking the warmth of him, and when your eyes met; Loki couldn’t breathe. “When we return to New York, I shall need a Christmas tree to hang my gift,” he whispered, placing a kiss above your ear. You giggled into his snow dusted collar. “You can always start next year- no pressure.”

Loki cast a glance over the smiling figures bundled in bobble hats and thick scarves, to the amber-lit windows, to the snow stretching over hills and faintly glowing homes scattered across them.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured. And then, to the sound of cheers louder than the organ, he kissed you again.

Tags in comments 🎄✨

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goblingirlsarah · 1 month ago

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Such awesome work😍

With Loki, it’s all about the ✨details✨

all costumes made by me!

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goblingirlsarah · 2 months ago

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Oh, gods! I can't get the thought of Loki singing "I just can't wait to be King" and strutting around like a sassy lion cub out of my head, now!🤣🤣🤣

The lights in the living room are dampened; a lot of candles burning instead.

*'Circle Of Life' starts to play*

Loki: *steps into the room; only wearing a loincloth*

Loki: *gently lifts Narfi - who is also wearing just a loincloth and nappy - out of his crib*

Loki: *lays Narfi on the edge of the sofa and marks his forehead with the help of his seidr - like in the movie*

Loki: *holding baby Narfi with his palms wrapped safely around his small upper body up high in the air above his head - in time with the music*

*Suddenly, the music stops*

Y/N, entering the living room with a flashlight: Loki? *looks him up and down, then gazes confused from him to Narfi and back* What... are you doing?

Loki: What does it look like, my love? I am entertaining our daughter. *gestures to Ella, who sits criss-crossed on the sofa; trying to suppress her giggles*

Y/N: *blinks* With our newborn son?

Loki: *shrugs shoulders* I do not have another choice, darling. Stark is too slow to remedy the failure of his brilliant electricity system - and we wish to watch 'The Lion King'. So, I had to come up with a solution myself.

Y/N: *still blinking and now also frowning* Yes, I know that, but... Babe... Have you forgotten that you're a god and possess a gift called 'magic'?

Loki: *shakes head* No, I do not have forgotten about that, but this is the more entertaining and funnier way, right, princess?

Ella: Absolutely, daddy. *smiles*

Loki: *smirks* See, love? *turns to Ella* Princess, hit the music.

Ella: *presses a button on the little remote control in her hand*

*'Circle of Life' continues to play*

Loki: *resumes his role as Rafiki*

Y/N: *just standing there and shaking her head, but smiling brightly*

a/n: Here it is! The first Loki blurb/incorrect quote! And of course, it's for the Baby Fever AU, hehe. I hope you enjoy and love this as much as I do! 🥰

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @gruftiela @anukulee @theaudacitytowrite @alexakeyloveloki @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @chennqingg @muddyorbsblr @glitchquake @mandywholock1980 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @mochie85 @dryyoursaltyoceantears @chantsdemarins @loz-3 @eleniblue @goblingirlsarah @crimson25 @icytrickster17 @lokidbadguy @hunny-beann @stupidthoughtsinwriting @midgetdemon17 @kimanne723 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokidokieokie @lovingchoices14 @valencia-rou @kikster606 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @huntedmusicgardenn @linaax @sheris532 @km-ffluv @jiyascepter @salvinaa @blackholeofcreativity @soulpiercing @lou12346789 @loonalockley @liliac-dreamer @brokenpoetliz @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 (Continuing in the comments)

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goblingirlsarah · 2 months ago

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Stray (A Lokitty Tale): Winter Blues

Hi, my darlings, since we all could use a little (or a lot) of cozy emotional comfort during these difficult times, I wanted to offer you just a bit of Jotun Loki/Lokitty fluff. This does take place in the Stray universe, in the middle of the story, but you don't need to have read that series to read this.

For a quick, tl;dr summary: human lady in 70's Seattle takes in Loki (disguised as a kitty) after his D.B. Cooper stunt, adorable shenanigans ensue.

Here's the series link

Lokitty/Jotun Loki x human shop girl reader

cw: Talk of depression and loneliness (remedied, of course, by our favorite handsome icy boy). The biggest hazard is the tooth-rotting fluff. Enjoy.

“Come on!” you grumble to your elderly space heater, giving it an encouraging pat on the side. Luckily, the coils eventually rouse themselves into a faint orange glow. You breathe a sigh of relief and sit cross-legged on the floor of your apartment, staring daggers at the broken radiator which the landlord never really plans to fix.

The newly-adopted black cat pads towards you and immediately curls into your lap with a graceful slinky twist. You slide your hand gently over his silky fur, feeling the knots of your anger and frustration gradually loosen.

“Sorry, buddy,” you say to the cat, who fixes you with his stunning aquamarine eyes. “It's not usually snowing like this yet, or quite this cold. I guess the whole city is stuck inside.”

Loki gazes up at your face. Bathed in the warm amber glow, the contours of your cheeks, lips, and lashes look like a work of art to him.

She's so lovely. I hope some day I can tell her so...really tell her so.

But beneath your loveliness, he can see the circles under your eyes, the way you rub your temples and slump your shoulders, the way the growing darkness (literal and metaphorical) are weighing on you. You gather him up in your arms and sling an afghan around your shoulders, shuffling towards the window. He watches as a bittersweet grin spreads over your features.

“At least it's kind of pretty, isn't it? And at least I have you, little friend.”

He purrs contentedly as you scratch lightly between his ears on your journey to the couch. Loki watches with concern as your silence gradually turns into the telltale gasps and sniffles of tears. He flinches slightly as the salty drops hit his fur.

“Oh. Sorry, kitten,” you say, sniffing and swiping a hand across your cheek. “I just...god, I'm so tired and...and so alone. It feels like all the cards are stacked against me sometimes. My paycheck barely keeps us here...shitty as the place is. I'm just so frustrated, and tired, and angry, and afraid....and sad...and...”

You shiver. “And cold.”

His paw pats gently but insistently on your hand. You feel crazy even thinking, not for the first time, that it's as if he understands you. Those bright, clear, eyes seem so wise and perceptive. You'd swear he's trying to comfort you.

Sweet human. If only you knew how much I care for you. I'm the god of outcasts. Appropriate, I suppose, as I'm always being cast out...but not by you, my sweet human because you are special...unique. I wish I could hold you. I wish you could understand me.

And then, he considers a way. It's a way he's used cautiously only once before, uncertain of how it might affect his precious human, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He smiles to himself and nuzzles his velvety head against your arm.

Patience, human. Your savior is here, you just don't know it yet.

----

It's an absolutely adorable habit, your little naps in the evening. Or, at least, Loki thinks so. Sometimes, he'll even join you under the tattered old throw blanket to sleep against the undulating warmth of your body.

He joins you today, but not to sleep and not just to use you as a heating pad. The little cat pulls the blanket carefully up and over your shoulders by his teeth, ensuring that you're warm and comfortable (all the while cursing his lack of opposable thumbs). Then he settles himself in between the curve of your neck and shoulder, holding one delicate paw against your temple. A green glow shudders through the little creature and flutters around your head like glitter swirled in water.

----

Your vision is foggy at first as your eyes blink open. Initially, everything is a mass of pearlescent white and a pale aquamarine (a shade you could swear you know from somewhere). As your eyes open wider, and the fog clears, you begin to orient yourself to the sharpening view.

You're standing in the center of a clearing, in a dense snow-covered forest. It's a far cry from the filthy gray slush of downtown Seattle. This snow is a shocking white, glowing, even in twilight. The vast crystalline carpet unfurls beneath you as the sky above dances with northern lights. All you can think, for a long suspended moment, is that this place is ancient. You breathe in and it hits you; the complex aroma of pines and evergreens which have been there long before you were born, and somehow you know, deep in your bones, that this is a magical place.

To your surprise, you don't feel at all cold. Your body is swaddled in rich furs and draped in lush velvet, keeping you warm as you observe it all. Everything is quiet, draped in the muffling blanket of snowfall, and you feel your breathing quiet in kind.

The crunch of footsteps catches your attention as a figure moves gracefully, deliberately, towards you. It glides, back lit, from the inviting amber glow of a wooden lodge where candles sparkle and flicker in every window.

You guess that this mystery person must be over eight feet tall, broad-shouldered and sure-footed, striding through the ice and snow easily as a cape of regal black fur dances around him. As he nears, you see a pair of majestic onyx horns rising from a crown on his noble head.

Closer still, you see his skin; a striking cobalt blue moving against the snow, and his eyes; two crimson rubies cutting through dusk like stars.

Finally, he stands before you, and though you know you should be afraid, you feel only curious and struck by his otherworldly beauty. He acknowledges you with a bow and the sharp lines of his cheeks raise to show a wide, striking, smile. His teeth are as white as the snow itself.

Loki extends his huge hand to cradle yours and you feel your heartbeat kick up with the thrill of it. As it is so often with dreams, it doesn't occur to you to ask where you are, or how you got here, or who he is, or even if he means you harm. You simply trust this beautiful creature of a man before you.

“Come with me,” his deep voice invites, and you accept, taking his offered arm as if you were a princess at a ball.

---

He opens the enormous doors and steps aside for you to enter. The entire cottage (or really, more of a Viking longhouse, if such a thing were made cozy) was perfumed by a roiling fireplace, giving off a toasty, woody incense, like honeydust.

The stranger removes his hooded cloak and impressive crown. He smiles that same charming smile and runs a hand through his long hair, as black and shiny as raven feathers. It occurs to you that this regal being seems nervous, downright boyishly giddy, around you.

“Please. Make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing magnanimously to the plush velvet couches with their layers of warm furs and quilts. You nod and gladly obey, lulled and comforted by the heat as if sinking into a warm bath.

The giant returns with two warm mugs (one the size of a pot, and one of normal size) of something delicious and spicy-smelling, then settles beside you in the heat of the crackling fire.

“Thank you,” you say, reaching for the cup and enjoying it's warmth against your palm. Finally, your rational brain kicks in and you ask, “Where...what is this place? I'm...dreaming?”

He laughs, a deep rich baritone chuckle, and you think it might be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.

“In a sense.” The corners of his crimson eyes crinkle as he smiles and says, “Your body is asleep, yes. But I'm real...this place is real.”

“And...not to seem rude, but you are...?”

He finishes a sip quickly and politely dabs at his lips before speaking, “Oh yes, I suppose this form must be rather...exceptional...to you.”

You sigh and nod with a smile, relieved that he was the one to address the elephant (or rather, the frost giant) in the room. Meanwhile, Loki thinks that this shy smile must be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I'm a frost giant...a Jotun. King of Jotunheim, actually...not to brag,” he says with a flirtatious wink.

He chatters on genially, careful not to give you time to ask his name. “I've brought you here because you deserve some kindness. You've taken in a creature quite sacred to us and cared for him diligently, asking nothing in return.”

You're about to speak but you're momentarily distracted by the beverage you've just sipped. It might be the most delicious thing you've ever tasted; sweet and rich and spicy. You make the rather absurd mental note to ask the King of Jotunheim for his mulled wine recipe. That thought alone makes you chuckle.

“What is it, darling?”

“It's just...all so strange and...wait, are you trying to tell me that my stray cat is a sacred creature?”

“Well, yes. All cats are. But that one is very special, in particular. Some day, you'll find out why.”

He sets his mug down with surprising dexterity, considering his size, and continues in a more somber tone. He takes both of your hands in his and scoots closer. He smells subtly of mint and pine, and his mere towering presence sitting beside you, curled around you, makes you feel safe, protected.

“I know that you are in need of some kindness, some hope, and I'm here to tell you there is good yet to come. There are splendid things yet to come. I know you're exhausted, sad, and frighted. It pains me to see it, but I know you're strong.

“I don't feel strong,” you admit, bowing your head toward you lap.

His long finger slides gently beneath your chin, lifting your face to meet his kind ruby eyes.

“Please, meet my gaze. It's a pity to hid that lovely face from my eyes.”

God, he's charming. Are all frost giants just oozing charm like this, or is it only their king?, you wonder, as your cheeks begin to burn brighter than the fireplace.

He wraps one strong arm around you and assures you, “Needing some kindness or help doesn't mean you are no longer strong. Everyone gets lost sometimes. Everyone stumbles and needs some tenderness occasionally.”

You give him a wry smile. “Even you, Your Highness? I find it hard to imagine that the world could make you feel small."

He laughs, then he kisses your hand in a gentlemanly gesture that has chills running down your spine; chills that have nothing to do with his slightly chilly skin.

“Even me,” he whispers as he strokes your cheek. The comforting touch melts you into his arms, into the comfort him, of this place, and you dare to put you head on his shoulder. He strokes your back and pulls a blanket more closely around you, then says lightly, “you know I'm actually a runt, for a Jotun. I often feel small. It's all a matter of perspective.” He breathes deeply and you feel the smooth waves where you rest against him. The sound and feeling join the crackle of the hearth in a sweet lullaby of sensation.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I wish I could just stay here.”

“Ah, but you can't, darling. I'm sorry. But you can visit. You must live your life because there is so much good yet to come. In the meantime, know that I'm your humble guardian, always.”

He sees the sorrow in your eyes and decides to ease it with humor. “Besides, who would feed the cat?”

You laugh, your face lights up, and it utterly melts him.

He moves in very gently and cradles your face as your eyes close in anticipation. Planting a light chilly kiss against your eager lips, he whispers, “Time to wake up, my dear.”

-----

You open your eyes to your lamp lit living room and sigh at the vivid memory of your lingering dream. As you stretch, the cat hops away from you with an indignant little chirp. How dare you remove his warm seat!

As a peace offering, you kiss his velvety head and scratch between his ears before rising to your feet. You know it was only a dream, but it's left you feeling better, more hopeful.

Silly, you think, silly brain...putting me on a date with the King of Jotunheim. At least it made me feel better, anyway, imagining some kind of magical guardian angel.

As you cross the room, still yawning, you stop in your tracks. Right before your eyes, the radiator softly tings and hisses into life, sending warm balmy air into the room after weeks of cold. You step nearer, gingerly, as if it might be possessed. How can it possibly be fixed?

On the coffee table beside it, There's a piece of rather fancy looking antique parchment with a delicate cursive skating across its surface. You hold it up to your face and read the title at the top.

Jotun Mulled Wine (courtesy of His Majesty)

A recipe...for mulled wine...from...

You feel the wheels of your mind trying desperately to gain traction and explain this, but you're interrupted by the cat, begging to be held again.

You oblige him, holding tightly to him like a security blanket. When his blue-green eyes meet yours, you finally say, “Well kitten, this is all pretty weird. I guess I found this earlier and forgot, but it sure did give me some wild dreams.”

As you walk to the kitchen, feline in tow, you say, “Christ, here I go, talking to the cat again.” You pause and smirk playfully to your companion, “Say, kitten...did you know that you're a sacred animal?

Well, obviously, Loki thinks, I'm a god.

You chuckle at his sassy mews as you cut carrots and begin to heat up a skillet.

“I love you, you cocky little jerk.”

I love you, too, pathetic little human.

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @primrosesposts @fruityfucker @arunabrak @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @queenofstarsign85 @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @little-wormwood @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @coldnique @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @peachyjinx @mischiefmaker615 @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @madi0987 @buttercupcookies-blog @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @aesonmae @salempoe @n3rdybirdee @litaloni

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goblingirlsarah · 2 months ago

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Spilled Secrets

Loki x Reader Fluff

Summary: You secretly like Loki, but you’re kind of upset he doesn’t know… until he finds out.

Word Count: 3.2k

It wasn’t hard to fall for him. Humor, charm, high cheekbones… he has it all. From his silver tongue to his raven hair, you adored every aspect. Despite his misdeeds, he was undeniably hot. He held himself royally, always maintaining an air of nobility. One meeting with him had you hooked on him, unable to let go or think of anything else.

‘He lives free rent in my mind’, you told Natasha one day in the living room of the Avengers Headquarters. Apart from Pepper, she and Wanda were the only ones you could do Girl Talk with. ‘I don’t know how to tell him.’

She looked at you sympathetically, taking your hand in her own. She had known of your crush since the day you started liking him. The radio played in the background, informing of some good weather, but neither of you noticed, both too concentrated on your current dilemma. Lovesickness had never been a significant issue to you before… until he came along.

‘He stole my heart… and yet he acts oblivious,’ you ranted on. Natasha looked up, smiling softly. She stroked your hand with one finger absent-mindedly as she listened intently.

‘He’ll get there. Or maybe,’ a small smirk tugged at her lips as she looked back up at you, ‘he already knows; he might just be toying with you just to see how long you’d last.’

You nudged her with your hand, a faint red hue coming over your face. He wouldn’t… right?

‘I mean-’, she pressed on, ‘it’s a very typical thing of him to do, don’t you think?’ She scooted closer to you, putting a hand on your back soothingly. ‘Playing with others’ feelings… I honestly don’t think it would take him that long to figure out that you like him. It’s really obvious.’

‘You’re not helping,’ you replied, looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to locate him through the walls. Nevertheless, you smiled softly at her teasing. She was always there for your small talks. After a while, you lowered your gaze back to your lap, reality sinking in and you felt the joy leaving you.

‘But what if he doesn’t? What if he genuinely doesn’t know?’ you mumbled in front of you, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. Once again, tears threatened to fall as you buried your face in them, softly mumbling to yourself. The fabric of your pants absorbed the salty droplets, leaving a dark spot there. You were audibly sniffing now. You felt her hand move up and down your back again, her words only muffled sounds. At some point she led you back to your room, leaving you to yourself for the rest of the night.

The next day you went over to the library. The Avengers had quite a big one, it filled the entire floor. Rows upon rows of shelves lined the walls and the spaces in between, the scent of paper floating in the air. You stopped at the sign that indicated where the romance-fiction stories were. If only my life was as nice as one of those, you thought, pulling a roman out of the shelf and reading the back of it intently. If only I could live in a life like that.

Sitting down at the table, you put down the book you’d taken out. Not gonna lie, you were in no interest in reading it. There was no need for you to get jealous over another made-up story. To pass time, you grabbed a scrap piece of paper and started doodling. Only the lines that the lead left only spelled one word, over and over again: Loki. You wrote his name all over the place, sideways, in cursive, in bold letters. Maybe it was because you were so concentrated that you didn’t hear the library door opening.

‘Oh, I see that I’m not the only one in need of something to do,’ a voice said, startling you. You quickly covered the scribbled paper with another blank sheet, looking over your shoulder. Thor was standing there with a load of books in his arms.

‘My dear brother decided to make me run errands,’ he explained cheerfully, certainly not getting the nervousness etched in your face. You nodded, looking down. What you would do to make Loki make you run his errands. ‘You alright?’ His voice brought you back to reality.

‘What? Oh. Yeah, I’m alright. Just… in need of something to do, like you said,’ you managed a small smile that was somewhat realistic. He just smiled and continued putting books back on shelves. Your eyes followed every single book as he put them back. Loki held these maybe even moments ago, you thought. If only I were a book he’d like to read.

Sometime later, he looked over to you again and asked: ‘Are you working on anything? Because that paper tells me you aren’t doing what you want to do.’ You picked up the two pieces of paper and replied a little too fast: ‘Oh, yeah, I just have to write something for Stark, nothing big.’ You held the papers a little more firmly in your hand. When he asked to proofread it, you declined immediately. Mumbling something about not being done, you put them back down, bending over it and pretending you were thinking about what to write. Shrugging, Thor left, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. But your relief didn’t last long; a few moments later, another person came in, and this time it was none other than the god of mischief himself. Strutting through the rows, you heard him pulling books out and putting them back in, as if none of the ones he found were worth his attention. Eventually he spoke up.

‘Why the tenseness? Is it your time of the month?’ he asked coyly. He turned the corner and looked at you. Your gaze dropped almost instantly to the ground. ‘No, I’m just…,’ you said, picking your papers up again, ‘just a little tired. Couldn’t sleep.’

His eyebrows raised as he looked away to the opposite bookshelf. ‘Is that so…?’ he mumbled, more to himself than to you, ‘hmm.’ You couldn’t tell if he knew you were lying or not but he sure seemed to deem you amusing. After a small pause he continued. ‘I would’ve thought someone like you would know that lying to me is futile.’

You froze. Of course you knew that, but how could you ever tell him the truth of your stiffness? He’s the prince of Asgard, rightful king of Jotunheim, a regal character, not some random guy you can just find on the streets. ‘Yes, of course. How could I not know that?’

He narrowed his eyes, his signature smirk widening. He walks up to you, his eyes boring into yours. His gaze fell upon the papers you held in your arms, a questioning look crossing his face.

‘Just… just a report I’m supposed to write,’ you lied for the second time, and he didn’t let that go unnoticed. He tilts his head, his eyes asking are you really going to do this? Because there won’t be a nice ending if this continues. He doesn’t say anything about it though, just nods slyly and walks away.

He pulls a further book of the shelf, inspecting it. Seemingly satisfied, he scanned it and left the library, letting the emptiness envelop you. You uncovered the paper filled with his name, unshed tears threatening to fall. Will he ever know…? Will he ever acknowledge my feelings for him?

You return to your room afterwards, attempting to bury your feelings down a deep grave. You sulked until night fell upon the busy city. Deciding to take a shower, you went to get some fresh clothes for the night. Soon enough, warm water was splattering down your body, warming your sore and mentally broken body.

When you came back out of the shower and entered your living room again, you found an unexpected guest. Loki was sitting in your armchair, reading a magazine. His eyes darted to you the moment you stepped into the chamber. You fumbled with your nightshirt pockets, unsure of what to do.

‘What, uh, brings you to my place at this hour?’ you tried, testing the waters. He doesn’t reply, instead he slowly puts the magazine down, his eyes never leaving yours. He shortens the distance between you, every step making your heart beat faster. When he finally stopped around a foot away from you, you looked down, unable to look at him properly. He was too much, too dazzling for your poor, tragic eyes.

‘I think we both know why I’m here,’ he says, tilting his head, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t breathe, your breath running short. His aura surrounded you like a cage, keeping you trapped in his gaze. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ you replied quietly to the floor. He lifted your chin and forced you to look him in the eye, his face inches from yours. ‘Do not lie, little minx. I know what your problem is. You suffer from lovesickness. There’s a man you love so dearly that you can’t stop thinking about him.’

You shoved him away the moment these words left his mouth. You couldn’t, couldn’t stand his breath on your face, couldn’t stand how close he was to you. ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ you said, using indifference to cover up your shaking voice, ‘I do suffer from that. What has that got to do with you coming over?’

He scoffed softly, ‘Oh, darling, that has everything to do about me coming over. I imagine I can relieve you of your… dilemma.’ Your heart skipped a beat, hoping he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. You just shook your head, looking away. ‘You wouldn’t understand…’ you said, hoping he’d stop clawing at your secrets. But he smiled, nodding slightly and does the utter opposite of what you hoped. ‘Oh really? Because I have a very different opinion about that.’

Please leave, you thought as he said this, praying to the gods, please stop killing me like this… another minute with you will break me. But his next words proved that your prayers were ignored.

‘I’m the lucky guy.’

I’m the lucky guy.

These words seemed to echo in your head. So he knew. He knew about your helpless case. And he knew he was at the center of it. All this time. Or maybe just since today. But who cares. He knows. And your secret’s spilled. In a terrifying way.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You closed it again, looking anywhere but at him. In the end you settled with staring at his knees, which are pretty much where your eyes land when you look down. You were freaking out, your heart hammering in your chest. You needed to be alone. Right. Freaking. Now.

‘You know what?’ you said, your voice quivering, ‘I’m going to bed.’ You turn around and began marching with determination towards your bedroom door. Loki seemed slightly stunned, catching your shoulder just in time and called after you with worry in his tone: ‘Where are you going? You shouldn’t just leave me hanging, we should – need – to talk about this-‘

‘No, we won’t,’ you said, refusing to turn around and face him. Gods, if you stayed any longer tears would fall. ‘We shouldn’t, because we’re not-‘ she broke off, the words lost in her throat. Going to work out well was what she wanted to say, but she just couldn’t – wouldn’t – bring these words over her lips. Instead, she shook her head again and marched further away. Your sanctuary was so close… so close… But his next words brought you to a halt again.

‘Jumping to conclusions won’t help, Y/n,’ he said with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Due to her lack of response, he pressed further, ‘Is that why you never tried to communicate with me? Why you so desperately avoided my presence? Because you feared that no matter what you did, the worse-case scenario would always happen? Talk to me, Y/n.’ His words hung in the air, thickening it. Tears welled up in her eyes, her mind reflecting on all the break-up and mocking scenarios her imagination had come up with. She whipped around, trying to keep her tears from falling.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea what it feels like. You have-‘ she broke off again, a shuddering breath replacing the words she was about to say. You have no reason to love me. Not a single one. Tears began to fall as this thought formed in your head. The same one that brought you to tears every time. Every. Damn. Time.

He stayed silent, staring at the thin streams flowing down your face. Unable to bear the silence, you ran back to your room, slamming the door behind you. The moment it fell into place, the streams on your cheeks became rivers, and soon enough you were a sobbing mess on the floor. You were sure Loki could hear them through the door, but at that moment you didn’t care. He had no reason to love you, to care about you, or to even be here, in your living room, standing, stunned, in front of your bedroom door.

Loki felt a sudden pang of sadness when he heard your sobs. Looking down and deciding that it’s a bad time, he leaves, shutting your door quietly.

You didn’t remember how long you’d sat there, crying, on the floor. The only thing you do remember that is that at some point, you dragged yourself into bed and cried yourself to sleep. The next morning came in the blink of an eye, the bright sunlight waking you up. For a split second everything was fine. No worries, no problems, no nothing. But then it all came back to you and the feeling of eternal bliss was stripped from you faster than you wanted it to be.

As you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, you saw something that certainly wasn’t there the night before. A small folded card was propped up against your brush on your nightstand, and your heart skipped a beat when you recognised Loki’s smooth handwriting. There was only one word on the cover: your name. Picking it up like a grenade, you opened it, expecting to see something that went along the lines of ‘I’m sorry, that’ll never happen again,’ but only found one line of words inside it.

‘Come over to my room.’

You blinked.

Come over to my room.

You read through that line a good five times before the meaning got into your brain, although the cogs in your head were still trying to sort this out. Loki – like, God of mischief and destroyer of New York Loki – was inviting you to enter his private chambers? Was this a joke? Was he trying to hype you up just to break you back down?

As much as you’d like to deny it, that order was a lot more appealing than it should be. You desperately wanted to see him again, even if it meant you could be broken. So after a moment of internal debating, you concluded that you will go pay him a visit, and will see what the hell he wants. Putting on some clothes, you set off to his room.

You half expected him to swing the door open and yank you inside when you knocked, but instead some green light shimmered and formed the words: Door is unlocked. Starting to get creepy now, you thought, gathering up your courage and pushing the door open.

The moment you stepped a foot into his room, a hand grabbed your waist and spun you around. Next moment you felt soft lips pressed against yours. Your breath hitched when you figured it was Loki’s. You didn’t have time to register what was going on, everything was happening so fast. So you did the one thing you could do: melt into his touch.

Once the shock has subsided, it felt a lot better than what you expected in your fantasies. His lips were so soft, so loving as they kissed you, sweetly asking for you to open your mouth. His tongue delved into it, tangling itself with yours, licking and flicking and who knows what tricks.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled away, his blue eyes gazing into yours. You blushed, looking at the floor, suddenly realising what you two just did. Stumbling over your own words, you said: ‘That was… umm…’

He hummed in response, his hands never leaving your waistline. Your face must’ve been as red as a tomato when you spoke up again. ‘Nice of you…’

He put on a mock hurt look. Pulling you closer, he nuzzled in the crook of your neck. ‘Is that all? After this wonderous surprise I’ve prepared that bested all other ones?’

You shrugged, unable to speak. He was killing you, like before… but this time in a sweet way. You mumbled something about being ‘sorry for last night’, but he shushed you almost immediately.

‘There’s no need for that,’ he said, patting your head, ‘No need to be sorry. I know I went a little to sudden.’

He pulled back to look at you. His eyes searched your body, as if trying to print it into his head. Your arms creeped up his neck, wrapping themselves securely around it. You stared as he breathed heavily into your face, a scent of mint filling your nose.

‘Did you like, eat a mint this morning?’ you asked shyly. He chuckled, swinging you into his arms, causing you to instinctively cling onto him. You gave him an angry look, burying your face in his neck. ‘Just for you, my love.’ You were suddenly happy he couldn’t see your face. He could probably feel the heat radiating off it, though.

‘So… are we a thing now?’ he asked, walking towards the couch and sitting down, you now in his lap. ‘Or what do you Midgardians call it… a couple?’ You nodded in agreement, making yourself comfortable in his arms. He absent-mindedly stroked your hair, admiring the way it shimmers slightly in the dim light.

‘For how long did you know?’ you asked him, grabbing his free hand and playing with it like a toddler. He thought for a moment, then said: ‘Most likely since a month ago. I was originally waiting for you to make the first move, but… you seemed too nervous to. That’s why I decided to come to your room last night.’

You gaped as he said that. A freaking month. No, we’re not talking about a week or two, he’s known for a MONTH. You’ve only crushed on him for like what, two months? He smirked as he saw your expression. ‘You kept looking at me now and then. And you always freaked out when you were within three meters of me.’

You shoved him playfully, pulling his hand up so it was right over your heart. You leaned into his touch, and for the first time since hours, you were glad he made the first move.

Hope y'all enjoyed it!!!

(Guys it's my first official tumblr storyyyyyy)

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goblingirlsarah · 2 months ago

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Loki afterwards

Have Mercy

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You're a powered being with healing abilities and you try to bring Loki back from the brink of death. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 1832 Warnings: Fluff, heavy kissing, slapping, mentions of death (close call), injury, a very flirty Loki,

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you all started the ambush. Tall sequoias canopied above blocking the setting sun. The air was thick with smoke and heavy from the fighting. You heard multiple teammates calling for healing, but none was louder than Thor. His troubled voice blasted through the comms, “Medic! We need a healer quickly!” His deep command tore you away from the battle you were in and you fought your way over to him. “Priestess, please! Come quick!”

Through fire and volley, you found Thor kneeling on the ground with Loki in his arms. Lifeless. Steve was circling them, trying to shield the brothers from a barrage of attacks.

You knelt on the ground. Your knees hit soft mud as your eyes scanned Loki’s body. His sharp face was paler than usual. Blue-ish tint had started to stain his lips. And your naïve-self hoped it was just because of the cold seeping from the wet ground. “Thor, I’ll take it from here. Go help Steve. I can’t worry about my life when I have to worry about his!”

Thor nodded to you. But before he laid Loki down, he whispered in his ear, “I know you are stronger than this, brother. But I swear on Yggdrasil if you are pretending, I will not hesitate to cleave Stormbreaker into you.” Thor sniffed and placed him down to the ground.

You nodded your head and patted Thor’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” you feigned, as you tried to get a better look at what had happened. You didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that you could feel how thin and fragile Loki’s life string was. A hair, compared to the cord that we all have. Worse, the thick rope that the Asgardian’s life used to be. You didn’t even know if you were skilled enough to weave it stronger.

There was a large gaping hole that tore Loki’s chest plate. His skin had burned and was raw from the impact. You couldn’t see any entry wounds. Nor blood. But the bruising and dent on his chest was not a good sign. A stray missile, perhaps? Maybe jumping in the way to save his brother. They vex each other constantly. But deep down they care for each other like most siblings do.

You straddled his body, holding your two hands out, placing them over his wound. A soft resonance emitted from your palm down to his skin. You kept your hands on him as the pulse of your powers worked their way through his body. You can see tiny mends of his scrapes and scratches. The raw skin around the wound had returned to their usual pallor. He’s reacting at least. There’s still some life in him- whatever little is left.

You persisted. With every pulse, you can see his wounds healing. Ribs cracking back into place. The blue on his lips retreated ever so slowly. But his lifeline was stubborn. If you could hold out just long enough, his own regenerative powers might kick in.

Grasping at straws, your mind quickly raced with ideas to help speed the process along. You remembered that sometimes, shock was a good way of knocking someone back into the land of the living. “Ugh, don’t get mad at me, okay? I’m only trying to save your life,” you vowed out loud in case he was able to hear you. You quickly pulled your palm back and slapped Loki hard across his cheek.

Small capillaries burst where your hand met his face. Aside from the new hue, Loki had remained the same. Still and quiet. His line fading from your grasp. You panicked at your failed attempt.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t know how to tell Thor that you couldn’t save his only brother. Ideas and thoughts ran past your mind all muddled and incoherent. Ways and spells. Teachings and theories you’ve learned on healing and regeneration.

You cupped Loki’s cheek, healing the bruise you had left. Your brows knit together, puzzled as to what to do next. Hopeless in feeling and thought. You didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to see Thor’s face and have to tell him an awful truth. They had just reunited this past year. It wasn’t fair. And it would be all your fault because you couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Loki. Your heart turned solemn as angry tears threatened to drop from your eyes.

By now the fighting had stopped. You didn’t realize how quiet the world had gotten around you. How still the air was from flying projectiles or weapons. The team gathered loosely. Giving you space to try and save Loki’s life, but the look on their faces betrayed the faith they were trying to offer you.

Your thumb brushed Loki’s cheek, wiping away the mud that speckled his face. He would’ve been appalled if he knew where Thor had left him on the ground. You smirked at the thought as your thumb rested on his chin and traced his lips.

His cold lips opened slightly at your touch, and you were struck with an idea. You grabbed both sides of his leather collars and brought him to sit up towards you. His slack weight was heavier than you anticipated, and it took your remaining strength to sit him upright. You closed your eyes as your lips crashed into his, honing your powers into that desperate kiss.

You had never done this before. You had never needed to do this before. But you were hoping that your breath of life could pass onto him and carry him through till his own powers could take over. You sucked hard on his upper lip, not wanting to break any contact. Your fingers entwined themselves in his hair, desperate to keep him close to you. “Please. Please. Please,” you whispered into his mouth. Tears fell from your eyes and landed on his cheek. Your arms wrapped around his neck, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to accept the truth.

Still, you continued.

You felt a low rumble from his chest. A hopeful sign that it’s working. You just needed to hold on a little bit longer! You opened your lips for a breath of your own. And when you closed your mouth around his, your power pulsated in between you.

You felt his temperature return first. The warmth in his lips, the heat in his breath. You could feel his lifeline winding itself tighter and stronger.

His mouth returned your kiss. Sluggish and tentative. But they held on to your lips, tightly. His hands embraced your hips so delicately you didn’t even know they were there. You naturally leaned into the kiss more. Your power still pulsing through you. One last intake of breath and you passed it along towards Loki.

His grip tightened around you and he pulled you closer onto his lap. His arms snaked around you, holding your head close to his, unwilling to let you go. You could hear small groans and heavy panting. But you honestly didn’t know whether it came from you or from Loki.

His tongue touched your lips, asking for entry. Catching your breath you opened your mouth once again and Loki gainfully ran his tongue inside against the roof of your mouth.

You didn’t realize that your powers had finished. With nothing left to heal, your powers subsided. But you were so lost in the kiss that you had forgotten where you were and what you were doing. Slowly, you pulled away. But Loki’s kiss followed you unwilling to release you. You bit his bottom lip as a warning, holding his face in between your hands.

“Darling, what an indecent way to ask me out,” Loki grinned from ear to ear. His voice was rough and garbled. He kept his face close to yours, running his nose against your cheek. “I accept!”

The world came crashing back around you. The time. The place. The situation. The shock froze you in place just staring into Loki’s blue-green eyes. “I always thought you harbored affections for me. But now I am certain,” he taunted.

You slapped him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to do. You felt betrayed somehow. Tricked. Even though you knew that he was genuinely in peril. The fact that he was joking about it even now, irked you.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed as he slowly turned his head to face you again. His chin jutted out, trying to contain the smirk that was coming forth. “Is that how you like it?”

You tried to push yourself off of him. You’ve had enough of his antics. You were utterly embarrassed at being caught in this situation. Especially with the team around, surely watching.

He caught your wrists as you pushed on his chest, stopping you. “Do it again,” he commanded. His grin was out in full force now. Dazzling you to the last inch of your nerve.

“Ugh, the thanks I get for saving your life!” pushing him down as you stood yourself up. “Next time I’ll just leave you limp in the mud.” You sneered, walking away with your head held high and your face heated and red. From humiliation or from desire, you didn’t know.

“Well, that’s very hard to do when you’re kissing me like that, my angel,” Loki yelled after you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you angry and flustered. All because of him. Oh, I’m in trouble.

“What do I gotta do to get a kiss like that?” Bucky asked teasingly as you stomped passed him.

“Die!” you growled back at him. The words felt mean as they left your mouth. And you regretted saying them instantly. He was only trying to lighten the situation. But you couldn’t help the shame you had inside you.

“Oh, c’mon doll. I was only teasing.” Bucky raised his arms in defeat and followed you back to the quinjet, laughing.

“Loki!” Thor scolded as he held his hand to his brother, helping him up. “I hope that you were not deceiving us just to try and gain favor with the priestess. I know you’ve been seeking her affections.”

“Brother! I am genuinely hurt! Did you not see me lying there at the last inch of my life?” Loki contended, pointing to the ground where he once laid.

Thor rolled his eyes but smirked, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He was glad to have his brother back once again. “She’s very talented that one. And I do not want to see her get hurt, Lo-. Loki are you listening to me.”

Loki was at a loss for words, watching you. “She gave me my life back, brother. I have felt her lips against mine and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel them again soon.” Loki smiled as he swatted away Thor’s hand on him. His eyes solely on you, plotting how to get you to kiss him again.

A/N: I know it's been awhile. I do plan on finishing my series' soon. Thanks for staying with me. Life has been hard and you guys get me through it.

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