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the-lady-amphitrite · 1 year ago

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— DREAMS OF FOREVER | chapter 1

beneath that weeping willow

pairing: Avenger!Loki / f!Avenger!Reader word count: 2,980 summary: The “Can this be ours forever?” chapter in this chapter: fluff and softness, some stargazing, a smidge of anxiety/nervousness author notes: this was not a planned thing in any shape or form until like a week ago. i was hit with inspiration like lightning, and this story just kinda domino'd into my head. anyway this whole fic is also for @sarahscribbles's birthday celebration! since i only started this like a week ago, i haven't finished all of it, but i managed to incorporate all five fluff prompts into future chapters (still not sure how my brain managed that one). enjoy!

( read on ao3 | series masterlist )

In the waning early autumn heat, the breeze beneath the weeping willow is almost chilly in the encroaching night. You've been out here for probably much longer than you need to, but you need everything to be perfect before Loki arrives.

You take a breath, and then turn on the fairy lights that Tony helped you hang and weave into the weeping willow’s branches earlier. The lights bathe the area in a soft, enchanting gold, illuminating the space just as you imagined and hoped they would. You’ve laid out a rusty red blanket you’d rummaged out from Wanda’s closet beneath the canopy. On the blanket, you’ve spread out a simple but lovely picnic for tonight.

When you exhale, the tension that’s lived in your shoulders the entire week finally flees. Tonight’s date is the most important one you’ll ever have. If it wasn’t so important, you’d worry less about how everything looks.

But tonight is the night you plan to propose to your boyfriend.

It surprised you earlier to hear it’s something that many of the other Avengers have expected for a while. When Tony asked why he was helping you set this up instead of Loki, you’d barely choked out the request for his silence before you’d seen understanding dawn on his face. You’d breathed a sigh of relief when Tony quickly swore to you he wouldn’t tell Loki, one that only took off the edge of your nerves.

Then (in typical Tony fashion) he’d followed up his promise with a smirk as he said, “You know, we took bets after your anniversary last year about who would ask who, and how much longer it was gonna be before it happened.”

Tossing a new string of lights up to his armour so it could weave the lights around another branch, you’d been quiet for several moments. Your nerves rattled and fizzled around as the words tumbled around your mind. The fact your friends had a bet about when you and Loki would get engaged shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise to you as it was — you and Loki had been part of betting on Wanda and Vision’s future engagement a couple of years ago yourselves. It felt different this time though, knowing your friends all felt confident enough to take bets on your proposal.

Finally, you’d asked, “’When’? Not ‘if’?”

“If any of us had any questions on ‘if’ still, we lost them after your anniversary trip. I mean, the guy took you to meet that aunt of his while you were on Vanaheimr after all. Pretty serious stuff, introducing the two of you.”

You couldn’t really argue about that. Loki’s Aunt Fulla had been a gracious host for the hours you’d stopped by her home. It’d given you a glimpse at the Loki she had known as he grew up. The one who’d adored his mother, and learned to wield magic from her until it was as easy as breathing for him to use. Softer and shyer than the Loki you’ve known. It was a privilege to be allowed such a glimpse into the boy he’d been compared to the god he’s become. Thinking about that day still brings a smile to your face.

“Did anyone win?” you ask Tony, curious about who’d guessed correctly when they’d made their bets.

“Uh, a few people placed bets on you proposing first, yeah.”

When he didn’t elaborate, you started pestering him for names. It was futile though, which you should have known before you even started trying. When Tony wants to keep things to himself, he’s remarkably good at it.

You shake your head, dispelling the memory with a fond smile. Turning off the fairy lights, you let the darkness of the rapidly approaching twilight hour wash through your little haven once more. You blink, blinded by the sudden loss of illumination, but you move beneath the weeping willow with a familiarity born of hours that stretch into days spent beneath this tree.

All you can do now is wait for Loki to arrive. He’ll arrive soon; you'd asked Tony to send Loki out to you once he got back to the Compound, and you know Loki won’t leave you waiting for long. Knowing him, he’s itching to learn why you and Tony were gone for the last few hours.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

You hear his voice well before you hear his approach.

“Dove? Are you out here?” Loki’s voice calls out. You can already hear the smile he’s wearing, and the warmth that’s drenching every word he says to you. It's a familiar call, one he's made to you more times than you can count on your hands.

“I’m here,” you answer. You don’t turn on the fairy lights just yet, waiting for him to close the distance before you do.

You hold still as you wait for him to get closer, feeling the thundering of your heart and the shaking in your hands. After everything that the two of you have gone through to get to this moment, you have the brief thought that you shouldn’t be this nervous. The roots that nourish this love are strong now. When you can just begin to make him out in the moonless dark, you tap the button to turn on the fairy lights once more, letting the soft glow of lights reveal you as you stand just outside the branches.

You watch Loki come to a halt mid-step as he catches sight of you. Illuminated by the golden glow in your favourite long-sleeved dress, hands folded over the remote for the lights. He straightens quickly, hands tucked into the pockets of dark jeans. His dark green sweater is plain enough to make one assume it’s nothing fancy, but you know better. Loki’s taste for clothing runs towards finer, richer items because it’s what he knows and enjoy. His eyes sweep over you, taking in the sight of you in that affectionate, disbelieving way he so often does. Like you’re a constellation burning in the night sky that has captured his attention, and he’s studying it with the desire to memorise every shift in the way it glows before the universe collapses and it’s gone forever.

You let him approach at his own pace, watching how his eyes take in the sight of you. You can tell when he finally sees the picnic blanket you’d laid out with a beautiful arrangement of finger foods you both love. It’s in the way his eyes catch on something just to your left. Sandwiches, and fruits kabobs, and small charcuterie boards, and little juice boxes.

You watch the way he stops a few feet from you and swallows. He’s noticed that all the finger sandwiches on one platter are layered exactly how he prefers. How the fruit kabobs you made for him are full of cucumbers but sparse of strawberries. That the juice boxes are all fruity but lack anything with strawberries or grapes.

It’s in every curve of his face, how surprised you’ve made him feel tonight with this date that’s barely even begun. You’ve caught this god (who’s seen places, and things, and people you can barely imagine) off-guard with such small gestures of thoughtfulness for foods and drinks he truly enjoys. Like even after four years, he never expects you to pay enough attention to him to know these small preferences.

“Hi,” you say, breaking the silence.

Loki’s eyes come back to you, and he looks at you with a smile. He steps forward, closing the large gap between the two of you. Placing one hand on your hip, he says a soft, “Hello, darling,” before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You can’t help the smile that dances wide on you face at the gesture.

“I must say, this is quite the surprise,” Loki says, lips brushing the words against your skin.

“Do you like it?” you ask him, reaching out to wrap your arms around him. The hand on your hip moves, wrapping around to pull you close.

“It’s exquisite. Much as you are.” His face finds your neck, and he lets out a soft breath. Against your skin, he says, “I’ve missed you.”

“You saw me earlier,” you retort laying your head against him. You can feel the smile that dances on his lips, hear that amused little hum he loves to make.

“Yes. Plenty of time to miss the treasure of my heart,” he replies.

It elicits a soft laugh from you. One that promptly turns into a surprised squeal when he suddenly lifts you, his hands wrapped around the back of your thighs as he holds you aloft. You feel the flush that warms your cheeks as you look into Loki’s eyes. They twinkle with mischief and mirth as he carries you over to the picnic blanket, keeping you in his arms as he goes to sit.

His legs fold beneath with a careful elegance that you’re not sure anyone else could hope to replicate, setting the both of you down with barely a jostle. With a deft hand, he takes the remote for the fairy lights from you hand, tossing it into the open top of the picnic basket.

“What’s on my menu this evening?” Loki asks, settling his hands on your hips.

“Only the finest for my Crown Prince of Asgard,” you tell him. You gesture grandly with one hand to the various foods, then begin telling him all that you had gathered for tonight’s date. Your nerves start to settle some as you do, Loki’s attention focused on you and you alone in this moment.

When you’re done, he picks up one of the finger sandwiches that you’d made for yourself. He holds it up for you, and when you take a bite he smiles.

“Will there be dessert tonight, kærastan mín? Or will I need to wait until we return to the Compound?” he asks. The low, rumbling timber of his words give away their less-than-innocent meaning.

“Perhaps. You’ll just have to see, won’t you?” You grin at him, and then pluck the rest of the sandwich from between his fingers with your teeth.

The laugh he lets out at your words is cut off abruptly when your lips meet in a brief, searing kiss. For several long moments the world falls silent and still in your mind. Everything is this moment. Everything is him. And this is a moment that lasts and lasts, until soft lips part reluctantly. You could kiss him for eternity.

“I love you, kærastinn minn,” you tell him quietly. You’ve said those words so many times before, and you will happily say them a million times more if you can.

“As I love you,” he answers just as quietly, thumb sweeping slowly across your cheek. You’re content with this moment more than you can put into words.

In time you have to move from Loki’s lap, the position growing uncomfortable for you to remain in. You’re reluctant to leave your boyfriend’s hold though, and so you end up tucked against his side with your legs laid across his lap instead. Held close by the one you love so deeply as the two of you chatter and eat, your nerves about tonight ease more and more.

Tonight will be the night you ask him to be yours forever, you know that for certain. For now though, you just want to live in this blissfully comfortable moment. You’ll know when to ask him, somehow. You just know it.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

You’ve lost track of time tonight.

Too lost in the haze of love and laughter that settles over you beneath that weeping willow’s branches, you don't even really notice how quickly the time passes. On this moonless night, you've choose to enjoy your late night picnic with Loki rather than think about time. Food disappears in waves as the two of you speak, trading stories and thoughts until only crumbs are left.

You don’t recall how it happens, or who suggests it. All you remember is that at some point the fairy lights are turned off, and the picnic blanket is dragged from beneath the weeping willow so you could stargaze. Curled against Loki’s side, the god conjures a throw blanket to cover the both of you with. It encourages you to burrow against his side, sharing the warmth to help ward off the autumn nip. And in his hold, you listen to Loki tell you the stories of a few constellations once known to the Asgardians.

First, he regales you with the stories of the first Einherjar warrior, Vígi, and his many heroic deeds before his fall at the talons of a Múspellsheimr dragon. Then, he tells you about the vargablóm, a mythical flower with the power to lull even the most fiercesome of enemies to sleep. The final constellation he tells you of is that of two lovers, Egilmar and Odila. Two ancient rulers of Álfheimr who listened to the wise raven Sýn in order to win a great battle against invaders from beyond Yggdrasill.

His words weave the tale of each constellation’s story in a way that grapples your senses, eliciting gasps and questions that clearly delight him. You can hear the clash of elven blades against their enemies, and Sýn’s warnings to the elven leaders she served for so many decades. You can hear the great roar of the dragon as Vígi faces off against it to save Asgard as it tore across the realm, and you can smell the vargablóm as it lulls to sleep a merciless wolf that once stalked the fens of Asgard. It makes you feel as if you witnessed every moment he describes personally.

It’s only after his last tale that Loki falls silent once more. And it’s only then that you find the courage to speak.

“Do you ever think about it?” You ask him quietly.

“How beautiful you are?” he asks. You feel the soft press of lips against the crown of your head. “Often. Hourly, if I’m able to.”

You pinch his hip, feeling your boyfriend jump as you say, “Flirt.”

You can almost see the way Loki rolls his eyes and smiles at you. His arms tighten around you, like any space that’s appeared in the last five minutes cannot be tolerated. It makes your heart stumble and whirl, a soft heat blossoming and growing outward. Your nerves tremble, knowing how much this god not only adores you, but cherishes and worships you.

“Your flirt,” he says. You look up at him, finding exactly what you expected. Adoration and love are etched into every curve of his gentle expression. His eyes are trained on you, in a way that makes you wonder if he’s looked away from you since you curled up against his side. His hand tenderly cups your jaw, his thumb tracing softly against the curve of your cheek. “You know I am only yours, dear heart.”

Your tongue feels stuck and heavy in your mouth. You do know Loki is yours, and yours alone. He's shown you, again and again, his unwavering loyalty towards you.

Just as your heart belongs to him, Loki's heart belongs to you.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. It's achingly soft, full of every ounce of joy and love he feels in this moment. A reminder that, no matter how many dates the two of you have, he cherishes each one as if it is the best one yet. You close your eyes, soaking up this unexpectedly needed reassurance of how much he loves you.

"Beautiful," Loki murmurs. He presses another kiss against your temple — one that is swifter, but just as soft and full of affection as the last.

"Someone's feeling extra affectionate this evening." Your words carry a playful undertone, and you feel the rumble of his laugh vibrate through your torso and the arm laid against his chest in response.

"This is a date, is it not?" he asks. This time he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your cheek. "Am I not allowed to shower the one I love with extra affection on our dates?"

Your nerves sizzle and spark at his words. If you can keep your nerves from tying your tongue into knots, this will be so much more than just a date. It will be the night that you ask him to be your husband.

His nose bumps against yours. Warm, gentle breaths cascade over your lips. Without any thought behind it, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is as slow as molten rock. Unhurried, blisteringly warm, and so full of the devotion and deep love you have for one another.

Hands move slowly. Yours to his face, cradling it with tender desire. His slide around to your hips, pulling you atop him. One hand leaves your hip, pulling the blanket up to keep you covered and warm, then curls itself across the back of your neck. Callouses earned from a thousand years of wielding instruments of music and of death run gently over bare skin. The touch leaves a trail of goosebumps behind, one that send a shiver down your spine.

You draw back slightly, letting your nose brush against the side of Loki's.

"On dates, yes." Your voice comes out more breathless than you’d expected. “I did ask a question though, my love."

Loki is quiet for a few heartbeats, and then lets out a nervous chuckle. “I seem to have forgotten the question. Remind me?”

You’re not entirely certain if it’s his heartbeat or yours that you feel leaping through your hands then. It’s strong regardless, anchoring you just enough to ask the question again.

“Do you ever think about it? How we got to this moment?”

You wonder if he knows that for you, every second has been worth it to get to this night.

( next chapter )

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