#loki romance imagine

[stevenssacrab]

Do You Hate Me?

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Loki mistakes your nervousness around him for hatred, will Loki find out the reason behind apprehension, or how you really feel about him?

Rating: 17+ slight angst

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: Apologies for going MIA, I got sick AGAIN but it was even worse the 2nd time around, feeling much better, hope y'all enjoy some Loki fluff

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

"I'm just putting in my earrings; I'll be right there!" you answer back, getting one last look in; your hair is pinned back with two strands framing the side of your face perfectly, the back flowing down a bit past your shoulder blades, with rhinestones weaved into the strands for that ethereal look, you're wearing an elegant a-line silhouette sage green dress with pink and green flowers embroidered through the expanse of the dress, it hangs off the shoulders with corset detailing in the torso, the sweetheart neckline showing off your collar bones beautifully, the puffy sleeves hiding your delicate arms, tea length, displaying your beige block heels perfectly, every detail of your outfit is elevating an overall polished chic aura you could feel radiating off you from miles away.

"You look perfect. Don't worry, let's move," Wanda calls out, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the elevator, "Isn't it kind of expected to be late to your own party?" you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

"Yes, but over an hour late is just rude. Didn't I raise you better?" Wanda responded calmly, fixing her hair in the elevator's mirrored wall, "Yeah, I know, I know," you replied, running your hands over the dress, smoothing out any wrinkles; you've been to tons of parties; that's not what's making you anxious, Thor promised you he'd bring Loki, or at least attempt to, just the thought of the tall, mysterious man makes your palms sweat, working as a biochemist under Bruce's watch was amazing, working with the brightest minds, on the edge of multiple scientific discoveries but for you what made it all worth it was the people you got to meet, you've met some of the world's bravest people, some avengers some not, after getting to know them, they're just like everyone else, they have their ups and downs, close friends, family, but one avenger captured your attention as soon as he walked into the room, it was hard to miss the standard Loki holds himself to, always remaining composed under stress, but he's charm, that's what's really got you in his grasps, he'd win over anyone with ease.

"We're here," Wanda said excitedly, patting your shoulder assuringly, "He'll be here, don't worry," you press your lips together into a thin line and step off the elevator; you suddenly feel a strong arm wrap around your shoulders.

"Hello, Lady Y/N," Thor slurs out, giving you a tight hug; you laugh; he's a couple of drinks in; you look around the room, but Thor cuts you off. "He's not here yet," he says sullenly, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze; "Come, Lady Natasha has been looking for you," he grabs your hand and pulls.

"You're here!" Natasha excitedly squeals, wrapping her arms tightly around you, "So, where is the lucky fellow?" she teases, gently nudging you with her elbow; she was the first person you told about your feelings for Loki, but she already knew before you even said anything, according to her you can't hide your emotions well, seems like everyone knows how you feel about Loki except for himself, you still don't know if it's for the better or not.

"He's not here yet," you say sadly, but quickly smile; it is your birthday after all; you're not going to let one person determine if you have a good time or not; with your mood having shifted, you motion the bartender over, "three vodka shots please," you asked politely, you've decided, Loki or not, it's going to be a good night.

You walk out of the bathroom, water bottle in hand, open it, and gulp it down, "Not drinking on your big day?" you hear that delectable English accent, and you already know who it is before you've even turned around.

"No, just taking a break," you laugh nervously, shifting your weight. Loki steps closer slowly; you watch him carefully with doe eyes; he grabs your wrist, gasping at the contact, he pulls you into a warm hug; you sigh contentedly and bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent, a delicious musk, Loki pulls away after what feels like only a second. Loki glides his hand down your arm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps; he captures your hand and lightly kisses it. "Happy Birthday, Lady Y/N," he says smoothly; you giggle giddily, your cheeks heating up quickly.

"Thank you," you say shyly, gently pressing your cool hands to your warm cheeks, "have you been here long?" you ask, tucking the pieces of hair behind your ear, "No, I just got here,” he says coolly, still holding your hand, he gently runs his thumb across your knuckles, you’re trying your best to remain composed, but every fiber of your being is firing off right now.

“Are you alright, dear?” He brings his hand to your hot cheeks. “Y/N, you’re burning up; let’s step outside for a minute,” not waiting for your response, he whisked you away, not that you’d be able to respond; you were still processing how perfectly his hand fit in yours, to your relief you feel the cool air hit your warm face, you breathe a sigh of relief, you didn’t realize how much you needed this, Loki leads you away from the music and chattering, to a calm and quiet place, with a view of the city.

“This is much better,” he uttered; he turned to you, taking in your dress, how perfectly it fits you, the sage green complimenting your complexion magnificently, “you look beautiful,” he spoke just barely above a whisper, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it, your heart skips a beat, this unfathomably gorgeous soul called you beautiful.

“Th-thank you,” you respond, eyes looking at the floor; you know if you meet his eyes, you may explode, “you know this has to be the longest conversation we’ve had; you always seem in a hurry to get away from me,” he admits, laughing nervously, playing with his fingers “did I do something wrong?” He asks, his hurt eyes searching yours for answers; you hadn’t even thought about how your behavior has been affecting him; you’ve been so worried he’d find out your feelings that you’ve cut every conversation short, kept your answer one-worded, all to protect yourself, to protect the scared little girl who’s afraid of rejection. Most of all, to protect your heart from the inevitable disappointment, your heart breaks a little; you had no intention to hurt Loki, to make him think you don’t like him, or worse, hate him.

“No, you didn’t do anything I-“You stop yourself before you can say it; you don’t know if you can go past this point.

“Then what is it? I keep racking my brain, wondering if I’ve done something to upset you or make you hate me, but nothing, please, just tell me why,” he said sorrowfully, inching closer to you.

“Loki, I don’t hate you, I just-“ you uttered, “I just don’t know how to act around you; you are so kind and compassionate, and I just didn’t want you to find out how I feel about you,” you babbled out, “ and I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t live with myself if you thought I hated you, and I understand if you don’t wanna talk to me anymore, I just needed to tell you because I-“ Loki cuts you off with a tender kiss, his hands caressing either side of your face, you melt into his touch, your lips moving in perfect rhythm with each other, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your hands in his hair, playing with the long silk strands, you don’t want this moment to end, he sighs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his body, you pull away to breathe, Loki rests his head against yours, and you both stay there, listening to each others breathing, playing with each other's fingers.

“I could never hate you, Loki,” you confess; Loki chuckles lightly, interlocking your hands together, “you know I always wondered why you always seemed so nervous around me,” he smirks playfully, “shut up, I wasn’t that nervous,” you laughed, playfully smacking his arm, “no? I seem to recall you tripping over yourself in your hurry to get away from me," Loki snickered; you doubled forward in a fit of laughter.

"Okay, maybe I was a little bit nervous," you smiled broadly, "Maybe just a little," Loki teased, pulling you in front of him and hugging you from behind; you sighed and leaned against him, both of you swaying in the cool breeze, relishing in the feeling of bliss that buzzes throughout yours and Loki's body, it's been a pretty good birthday party.

[nervouseden]

Loki & Kisses.

Pairing: Loki x G/N reader.

Warnings: Kisses, touching, dirty talk, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader, reader not described, reassurance, Loki (Yes Loki is a warning, he's hot, and sweet, and perfect.), fluffy, leaning on smut, established relationship, use of pet names (Darling, Love, Sweetness, ect.), biting, (light) choking, suggestive ending, silly little head canons, praise, Loki is sweet, kinda a drabble,

These are some of my head canons for Loki revolving around kisses/kissing. The second section is where things start getting more... spicy...?

Although he'd never admit it, Loki loves to kiss you. Everywhere. All the time.

Loki likes to sneak up on you, walking behind you and wrapping his arms around you, placing soft pecks on your shoulder blades and neck.

He'll mutter sweet words to you as his soft lips shower you in affection

"You're so perfect, Darling."

"Taste so sweet."

"You're my favorite."

"Miss you all the time, Love."

It doesn't matter if you're shorter, taller, or the same height as Loki, he'll find a way to rest his chin on your head or shoulders...He can shapeshift, after all.

Loki loves forehead and chin kisses, giving and receiving.

He likes to pepper your face in kisses, especially when you lay on the couch together, which puts him at the perfect angle to attack you with soft lips.

If you're wearing something (or nothing) that shows your shoulders, Loki pounces.

He'll wrap one arm around your waist, the other hand rubbing your shoulder as he kisses it.

The shoulder kisses usually evolve into love bites.

Loki will gently press his teeth into your shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a small mark, one he'll skim with his lips throughout the day, and possibly the night.

Hand kisses are another favorite.

Loki will take your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle, murmuring about how much he loves you as he does so.

"My angel."

"I love, sweetness."

"You're everything to me."

He'll turn your hand over, so your palm is facing up, and will press his lips to the big vein under your wrist.

Loki will move from your wrist, to your palm, peppering chaste kisses to every inch of it.

Then he'll kiss the tips of your fingers.

He secretly loves it when you kiss his hands.

Loki likes to pull you onto his lap, he doesn't care if you're bigger or smaller than him, he does it anyway.

If you're ever insecure or worried when you're on his lap, Loki will do everything in his power to rid you of those thoughts.

"Hush, Darling, you're perfect."

"I like having you on me, you're like my own life sized Teddie bear."

"But you fit into my lap so perfectly."

"I'm a god, Love, you're like having a kitten on my legs, relax."

"But you're so warm, don't go."

When you're on his lap is his favorite time to kiss you.

Loki will wrap his hand around your chin, gently pulling your face towards his, pressing his forehead against yours before joining your lips.

No matter what, it doesn't matter what he's eaten, or had to eat, or anything, Loki always tastes like a mix of mint and the way pine trees smell. It's strange, but nice.

Loki's kisses start out gently and soft, never wanting to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured.

He holds your face in his hand, the other resting on your knee, rubbing small, affectionate designs on your skin.

Loki will always follow your lead.

If you keep the kiss slow and soft, affectionate and innocent, he'll work with that, pouring his love into your lips through gentle kisses.

He'll just have to ignore his boner want for more.

He's gotten good at that.

But, if you decide to press forward, putting more heat into the kiss, Loki will happily oblige.

Loki moves his hand a little higher up your leg, gently squeezing your mid/lower thigh.

He'll swipe his skilled tongue across your lips, a warning before he dips his tongue into your mouth, pressing against yours.

Loki will gently push you down onto your back, a growl leaving him as he climbs over your body, his lips crashing with yours non-stop.

"Fuckin' perfect."

"Look so good under me,"

"You taste so good, Darling."

Loki never fails to praise you.

Even if it's not a turn on for you, it definitely is for him.

He'll grip your cheek with one hand, gently holding you in place as he assaults your mouth with kisses and nips (although he doesn't hold you so tight you can't move away, he never would, he doesn't want to hurt you. Ever.)

Speaking of that, Loki's lustful love bites don't stop at your shoulders.

Loki gently bites on your bottom lip, pulling back slightly, sucking on your lip before going back to kissing you.

The hand that isn't holding your face, runs up your body, his slender fingers wrapping around your neck, barely squeezing the sides every now and again. Never enough to hurt you.

Loki will keep you on your toes, randomly squeezing your neck or biting your lip.

He knows that unfortunately, even though he never wants to stop kissing your perfect lips, you do need to breathe. Bummer.

His lips will hesitantly leave yours, but will never leave you.

Loki will travel his kisses to your jaw, biting and sucking at your skin, going for all your sensitive spots.

"Wanna make you scream for me, Love."

Loki loves his dirty talk. So do you.

"Gonna worship you."

Loki isn't lying when he says that– He takes his sweet time.

Loki will move from your jaw to your neck, resting his tongue flat against the hollow of your throat, then licking a strip up to your chin.

"Taste so sweet."

He'll suck, bite, kiss, and lick your neck, never leaving one spot untouched, unappreciated.

"Gods, Darling, you are incredible."

Somehow, you're usually not entirely sure when, your shirt came off.

Now, Loki is sucking on one of his many love bites on your shoulder from earlier.

"Divinity in itself,"

Loki's praises never cease as he starts to kiss your sternum, his hand still occasionally squeezing your neck, often in time with small bites.

"I love you so much, sweet thing."

Loki will kiss and nip his way down your stomach from your abdomen, looking you in the eyes as he makes his way towards his prize, pulling your pants down your body.

"Valhalla..."

Thank you for reading my silly little head canons!

The dividers are not mine, made by Firefly-graphics.

[mobius-m-mobius]

Lokius + being romantic foils

- @mcuchallenge - the Final: LOKI vs. Moon Knight

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Twisted Love Part 7

Loki x reader

Pairing: Loki x Wife reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, language, anxiety, panic attacks, if I forgot anything please let me know!

Summary: Loki finds out what you have been up to.

“I’m wet”

“…..”

What the hels did you just say…!?Out of all the things?!?

“Yes I can see that… and the reason you are standing here looking like a banchsnep is because?”

“W-Well um.. I was out taking a little walk and came across this poor creature clinging to a branch in the river…”

Lokis eyed widened and his head tipped towards you “River? Forgive me I don’t believe I quite heard you right”.

You shifted your feet, “U-um yes he was struggling in the river..” you said barely above a whisper.

“You- what were you thinking?!” Oh great, he was angry now. Dammit you didn’t think this far ahead, but it’s not like you could ignore a dying animal.

“I-I…it was going to die Loki…” you felt the corners of your eyes begin to burn. The adreline having worn off and now you were in trouble. Your body was shivering and you felt terribly exhausted.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous thundergapes river is!? Why didn’t you have your guard go rescue it? Speaking of I’ll need to have a word with your guard because clearly Asgards finest need a lesson on common sense”.

Your eyes shifted to the ground, avoiding his gaze.

You could feel the tension rise even more when it dawned on him why you looked even more ashamed. “You went alone?? Do you have a death wish?! Do you know how many dangerous creatures are out there-“ he was about to scold you even more until his eyes caught sight of a single glittering tear drop from your eye to the ground.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He was mad yes, more than mad actually. But he did not want you to cry.

He took a few moments to calm himself.

With a deep sigh he stepped forward, slowly this time and spoke in a softer tone. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. “Next time please be more careful, and from now on if you wish to go out no one is forbidding you but you shouldn’t go alone.” He said the last part with finality.

“I understand… forgive me”

He hated how saddened your tone was.

“As long as you understand there’s no need to apologize. I’ll leave so you can bathe.” You nodded shuffling from one foot to the other. He knew you must be freezing so he didn’t delay exiting the tent.

“Thank you Loki…” he paused opening the flap. He nodded simply over his shoulder and disappeared.

He felt better when you didn’t stutter.

A short while later you found yourself immersed in a steaming heaven. It was nice to draw your own bath for once. You always felt so bad when Adessa did it although she insisted on it.

After thoroughly cleaning yourself you slid on an emerald silk robe and called the wolf over to you.

He came bounding happily and you had to scramble back to avoid getting wet when he suddenly jumped in the tub.

“No wonder you were in the river you little fish, so brave hm?” You smiled scrubbing at his now bubbly fur.

“You know you’ll need a name? How about Baldur? Since you’re my brave little wolf.”

You continued scrubbing off the layers of dirt and grime and as you did your eyes began to widen.

He wasn’t a brown or gray wolf like you had assumed…

No, once you got past several layers of hardened mud you saw the pure white fur of a very special breed of wolf. And when you lifted its tail, your suspicions were confirmed…The very same breed this whole hunt was for…

Oh hels

**********************************************

They wouldn’t hurt a cub would they? No surely not…

You contemplated worriedly as Baldur slept soundly in your lap. Silver tail tucked under him comfortably.

Maybe you’d have to sneak him back out to keep him safe but if he was all alone how would he survive?

Perhaps Loki could help, or Adessa when she gets back.

You thought back to when Loki was scolding you. You didn’t like making him upset. Actually you didn’t like making anyone upset however it felt worse with Loki somehow.

You were grateful he didn’t seem too upset after he noticed you crying, although you were a bit embarrassed to be seen like that.

You wondered how the hunt today went. It saddened you greatly that they were going to kill such a beautiful creature.

“May I enter?” You straightened up hearing Lokis slightly muffled voice outside the tent.

“Yes”. Loki entered swiftly, still clad in his armor and you felt guilty that he had to delay changing and cleaning himself because of you.

“Shall I draw you a bath?” Your old habits of serving slipped it seemed and you noticed the surprise on his face.

“There’s no need, I’ll call for a servant” you nodded, feeling a bit dumb you had asked.

He stepped forward eyeing the sleeping creature.

“How is the little runt?”

“He’s alright I think, after a bath and some food he seemed full of energy…Well before he wore himself out chasing a fly around the room and now he’s just fallen asleep.” You stroked his head lovingly.

“What do you intend to do with it?” He tilted his head.

“Well he was all alone, I don’t think he’ll survive if I send him back…”

“Do you wish to keep it?”

Your eyes shot to his in hope, “C-can I??”

“If you wish, I have no qualms. As long as the mutt stays away from my leather boots.”

You smiled at that.

“Thank you, I promise he won’t cause any trouble.” You move to stand off the bed to set Baldur on a pile of furs but cry out and stumble suddenly when you feel a sharp pain in your ankle.

Loki is quick to steady you with two arms firmly holding you.

“Easy, easy, here”.

You half set half toss Baldur on the bed and allow Loki to help you sit.

You panic slightly when you see him kneel on the ground.

“I-I must’ve twisted it or something, I’ll be fine“ you try to shuffle away but it’s not like you had much room to go.

You hold in an eep when he cups the back of your ankle and brings it up.

“L-Loki, really it’s fine!” You felt heat rush to your face.

“Some would say a bleeding foot is cause for concern..” he turns your ankle slowly looking at is from all sides.

“B-bleeding?”

He nods before releasing a sigh. “You probably cut it on the rivers rocks.” You felt a pang of guilt but that was quickly overtaken by curiosity when you noticed Loki’s fingers emit a golden light.

The stinging started to subside and within seconds the pain was gone completely. Loki conjured a roll of bandaged and for the millionth time that day you were taken by surprise when he wrapped your foot with gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Loki you don’t have to bother- I can do it”

His eyes snapped up to yours and you gulped.

“My seider won’t heal the wound however you shouldn’t feel pain from it any longer” you nodded.

He guided your foot back down before rising from the floor.

“Thank you…” you don’t know why….you definitely weren’t afraid but… your heart couldn’t seem to stop beating when your eyes met his.

“How was the hunt?” You asked as you soothed Baldur back to sleep.

“Unsuccessful unfortunately, I was hoping we would be able to get it over with sooner but perhaps we’ll have better luck tomorrow.”

You hummed in response.

You watched as Loki rang the magical little bell that summoned a servant and watched him conjure a larger privacy screen.

How lucky magic users are..

**********************************************

Later that night Loki had gone out again somewhere while you sat contemplating what to do with Baldur.

The creature in question was currently entertaining himself chasing a little ball on the floor.

“Baldur shall we go to the grass for a bit?” The last thing you needed was him pooping on the furs. You promised Loki he wouldn’t be trouble after all.

You grabbed the biggest cloak you could find and snuggled him to your chest.

Quietly you lifted the flap of the tent, satisfied that no one was paying attention you swiftly made your way to a secluded spot behind one of the large carriages.

“Alright boy, go on” you set Baldur down and he tilted his head at you.

“Cmon use the grass… no not roll over…Baldur no come here look-*sigh*” this might take awhile….

Finally after Baldur got his fill of chasing a butterfly and rolling in the grass did he finally do his business.

“Good boy” you ruffled the fur on his head. “Shall we go now? It’s quite late, I don’t want anyone to worry.” You moved to pick him up when he suddenly darted away from you.

“No Baldur it’s not time to play- come here- no- agh- please stop-“ Baldur was having the time of his life with his front lowered to the ground and bum shaking thinking this was all a game.

“Baldur wait don’t go that far-“

*snap*

“B-Baldur!”

Suddenly the pup was squirming in the air being held by the scruff. The figure who held him stepped out of the darkness of the treeline and you felt a cold panic overtake you.

“Well well well, what do we have here?”

“L-Let him go Mathis...”

***************************************************

Part 8

What’s this? Two posts in one week!? Who am I??😂

Thank you so much to all my lovely readers. Your comments bring me soooooo much joy and motivation to write more. 💕

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[gttoomh]

No More Distractions Part 2

Alright, here we go. I made a part 2. Honestly, this didn't end up going where I thought it would, but I'm not mad about it.

Let me know if you guys would be interested in part 3. I'm not sure where I'd go from here, so drop some ideas too. Lol.

Part 1

Agent Hill doesn’t take long to find me on the street. I have no doubt there’s some sort of tracking device on me. Shield provided everything I’m wearing, so it only seems natural. She gives me a disapproving look before cuffing my hands in front of me and leading me back to the jet. I smile the whole way there, not bothered that my actions could label me a traitor. I take my seat in the jet, leaning my head back against the wall, and close my eyes as I replay the last few hours in my head. It’s not until I hear the cocky tone of Tony Starks voice that I open them again. Scanning the group, I almost snort as my eyes land on a detained Loki, and a wide grin spreads across my face.

“Well, well, well. You know, if you wanted to see me again, all you had to do was ask. There was no reason to go and get yourself arrested.”

He scoffs at me, sending a sharp glare, but there’s amusement in his tone as he sits beside me.

“Silence yourself, pet.”

I snicker, crossing my legs, and purse my lips in a small smile.

“Yes sir.”

The rest of the so-called Avengers load onto the bus, Natasha taking the driver's seat as the others linger nearby, keeping an eye on the two of us. The first thirty minutes of the flight go by quickly. Stark and Rogers continue to send glances our way, muttering amongst themselves. I’m sure they’re gossiping, but I’m more focused on the god sitting next to me than them. He seems lost in thought, and I reach out with my mind, poking at his to see if he’ll let me in. He sends a glance my way, a small, almost unnoticeable quirk on his lips, before he pushes me out. I pout softly, huffing as I scrunch my nose. My tantrum is short-lived. In the next moment, a bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, making me jump. I quickly turn to Loki, sharing a look with him before I bubble out a laugh.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m moving to the other side of the jet. Good luck with that.”

He scowls at me, trying to grab onto my clothes to keep me from leaving, but misses me as I dart my way across the aisle. Stark and Rogers turn their attention to us, and the captain stares at my patron closely.

“What’s the matter? Scared of a little lightning.”

I almost cackle loudly, grinning at the god as he shifts uncomfortably; the two of us already know what’s coming.

“I’m not overly fond of what follows.”

I hum in amusement, shaking my head and wrapping my arms around the seat harness.

“You boys may want to hold on.”

The jet shakes violently as something lands on top of it. Stark puts on his mask, moving to the hatch, and opening it. The wind whips through the jet, and It only takes a second before a blonde man falls onto the opened door. The next moments are a blur. Before I know it, Loki is being ripped from his seat and practically thrown from the jet. Stark steps up to the door, Rogers not far behind him.

“Stark, we need a plan of attack!”

The man hesitates for a moment, glancing back at the captain.

“I have a plan. Attack.”

I blink as he flies off, disbelief on my face.

“Well, he really is a great team player, isn’t he.”

Rogers sighs heavily, glancing in my direction before pulling on a parachute. Natasha looks back at him from her seat, getting ready to turn the jet around to land.

“I’d sit this one out, cap. These guys come from legend. They’re basically gods.”

Steve grabs his shield, turning to walk towards the open hatch.

“There’s only one god, ma’am. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.”

He doesn’t hesitate, jumping from the jet in the next second. I frown, annoyed at how he practically discounted my religion and many others.

“That’s rude. I hope his chute messes up, and he hits a few trees on the way down.”

I hear Natasha chuckle from the front, and my ego gets a little boost from making her laugh.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes around thirty minutes for the three men to come crawling back with Loki in tow. They all look a little worse for wear, but I chuckle at Loki’s appearance. His clothes and hair are disheveled, with sticks and leaves sticking to him.

“Welcome back, dear. Did you enjoy your camping trip? I hope you had a nice boy's night out.”

He glares at me, huffing as he sits beside me again.

“Enough of your taunting, pet.”

I hum in amusement but say nothing else, instead using the rest of the trip to pick the bits and pieces from his hair and clothes. Thor gives me a confused look, not expecting his brother to let anyone so close to him, especially a mortal.

“Brother, who is this?”

Loki rolls his eyes, pursing his lips as he pushes my hands away.

“An annoying pest who doesn’t know the meaning of personal space.”

I fake gasp, holding my hand to my heart.

“I’m wounded! And here I was, thinking I’m your favorite devotee. How silly of me.”

The god of mischief hums in agreement, but I feel a reassuring presence in my mind. He’s purposefully being cold to me, not wanting to give the heroes any ammunition to use against him. Thor seems content with the answer and turns his attention elsewhere.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

My head falls back to lean over the chair I’m sitting in, boredom filling my mind. The moment we stepped off the ship, Loki and I were separated. He was escorted to some fancy prison cell while I was to attend the debriefing with the rest of the heroes. Fury was growing increasingly frustrated with me, wanting to know precisely everything that was said after my comm was destroyed. I groan loudly as he presses me for the millionth time.

“I already told you everything that happened!”

Fury clenches his fists, grinding his teeth as he takes a breath.

“We know there's more to it. We have the security footage. Hill, pull it up on the monitor.”

The agent does as she’s told, the moment playing for everyone to see. I see Loki’s scowling face… then a soft look… followed by amusement. I watch as he breaks my comm… and when the two of us move to the dance floor. At this moment, the silence in the room is broken; Thor almost runs up to me with a firm look. He grabs my shoulders, staring at me intently.

“How do you know this dance? Tell me! Did Loki teach it to you?”

I purse my lips, swallowing hard. Of course, he would be the one to recognize it. He’s the only one in the room that would.

“He did. He taught it to me a few years ago now.”

The confession only seems to spur him on, tightening his hold on me.

“Are you aware of the significance of it? Do you understand what it means?”

I wince and can only nod my head in response. Rogers moves quickly, pulling the god away from me.

“what‘s going on? Why is the dance important?”

Thor turns his attention to me, his look urging me to answer the question, and I sigh.

“It’s an Asgardian dance. It tells the story of two people forbidden from being together. That’s why there's never any touching. It signifies the distance between them.”

Thor narrows his eyes, clenching his fists.

“On Asgard, It’s almost only performed between two lovers as a sign of their devotion to one another. Loki would never have taught you the dance if he saw you as a devotee.”

I purse my lip, shifting uncomfortably under the heavy gaze of everyone in the room.

“That is… correct.”

Thor steps closer, looming over me with a dark expression, intent on finding the truth.

“Tell me. What exactly are you to my brother?”

I stare back at him, not flinching despite his attempts at intimidation.

“Alright, fine... I’m his wife.”

TAG LIST

@707sblog

@ladyliloslife

@scoulson

[starshooter-1004]

Namor - The Ocean Calls

Masterlist

I awoke on a soft hammock with a blanket draped around me. My mind felt foggy as I began to take in my surroundings. I was in a cave of some sorts the walls a grey color with a light green hue. The cave was vast with one ht in the middle surrounded by water and bridges connecting other parts of the cave. I sat up and realized I was not alone, two women stood guard at the end of a pool in the middle of the cave. I contemplated asking for information from them, but realized even if I did they would not understand me nor I them. 

Soon two more women came out of an additional opening on the left of the cave one with cloths in her hands and the other food. I turned to sit facing them as they approached; the one with the cloth approached first. She spoke something I didn’t understand and extended her arms forward with the cloth. I could tell she meant no harm; she noticed I was not eager to take them from her she instead placed them in-front of me on the ground. The other did the same with the small bowl of fruit; she then motioned to the right behind me a small hut for some privacy on changing. 

I hesitantly approached the women and took the clothes and bowl of fruit and went to the hut. The ht had beautiful wall decor of blues, yellows and golds; paintings of beings I have never seen before. I examined the fruit seeing if it was infected or laced with anything. It smelled just like it did at home and there was no weird texture to any of them. After eating what was provided I looked to the clothes I left next to me on a bench. I picked it up having it drape open and examined the fabric. A beautiful shade of blue with gold embellishments and lace on the sleeve edges. 

I took my appearance in the floor length mirror I looked ill. My skin was pale and hair disheveled, my lips appeared a light shade of blue from the water I traveled through. I quickly changed my clothing and the cloth was soft on my skin. I braided my hair over my shoulder in an attempt to tame my curls. It was cold here not cold to the point that a fire was needed, but there was no warmth of the sun down here.

I came out of the hut crossing the bridge that led me to my resting spot and saw slippers in front of my hammock bed from earlier. I slipped them on and saw the woman who offered the cloth waiting for me on the left toward the center hut she entered from earlier. She nodded her head and turned to go back into the entrance. It appears the two women who stood guard had rotated out for it was two men now at the pool of water.I walked to the entrance and was greeted by the woman she said nothing as she extended her arm to a table and two chairs.

“Our K’uk’ulkan will arrive shortly, for now wait here,” she said as she swiftly left. I was alone again and decided to take in the intricate paintings and drawings on the wall. My fingers traced over some of the figures until I found myself looking at one that resembled the man on the beach. I then heard a splash of water as heavy footsteps round the corner. I turned to be greeted by the man himself in the painting. He had a white and black cloth draped over him and his hair was wet. He had beautiful metal jewels around his neck and shoulders, followed by gold bands on his wrist. The jade on his ears and nose was the first pieces I took in followed by the others.

“I see you have taken interest in the stories I’ve drawn before you,” he said. He rounded the table and approached me, I then took two steps back. He didn’t seem to care of my caution and instead gazed at the art as well. 

“This is the story of the first son of the Talokan people,” he turned to me.

“I hope one day to share some stories on these walls with you,” he smiled gently and then turned to a chair and sat. He motioned to me to sit in the other, I looked at him saying nothing stood behind the empty chair. He looked at me with a grin amused.

“I’m sure you have many questions, but I first want to ask how you are feeling, if you’re comfortable with me asking,” he placed his clasped hands leaning toward the table. I stood up straighter and took a deep breathe now clasping my hands in-front of me. 

“I’m okay, I feel a bit off most likely due to the manner I was brought here. But the people here have assisted me in getting me clothed and fed; though a shower does not sound bad,” I said. He smiled again and chuckled.

“I appreciate your honesty and your gratitude toward my people. The two women who assisted you was Namora, my cousin, and Idris. I have entrusted them to assist you with any of your needs though Namora reports to my military council as well,” He said and leaned back in the chair. He took a grape from the small bowl of fruit in the middle of the table and rolled it between his fingers.

“Can I go home?” I asked. He looked up at me still rolling the grape in his hand.

“Why?” He asked.

“What do you mean why? I have family and friends there that are worried about me. I’m here in this cold isolating cave surrounded by people that I’ve never seen or heard before. As well as a man with wings and pointed ears looking me up and down as if I am some prize,” I exclaimed. I began to pace to the left toward another wall and decided to distract myself from my situation. I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe trying to imagine a different reality then what I was in currently.

“I understand your frustration, my ancestors know of the pain to have to leave there home and loved ones behind,” said K’uk’ulkan. I then heard the chair slide and his footsteps approach me from behind. I could feel his presence and warmth on my back as he stood there. 

“I do not mean to make you angry, but you must allow me to explain,” he then touched a piece of my hair that fell loose of the braid. I opened my eyes and turned toward him; the pieces of hair falling from his hand. He looked at me with a gentleness to his stare. 

“Ok, you have five minutes to explain after that I demand to be taken back,” I said. He chuckled and nodded his head and offered his hand to me. This time I let my body move on it’s own without a second thought and put my hand in his. He brought me over to the other side of the cavern.

“This is the story of the origin of the Talokan people. The people you see before you are the people I rule over and protect; but we weren’t always this way,” he brought me over to the painting continuing. 

“My people were apart of a small village on the coast of the Atlantic. We were great farmers and craftsman, my people worked for everything they had to provide,” he smiled and seemed proud with remembrance. 

“Then the Spanish Conquistadors began to invade spreading disease and consuming lands and power. My ancestors had to think of a way to be able to protect themselves. Our shaman was guided by our god on a plant that could grant them protection. My mother was pregnant with me at the time and when the shaman told them of this drink she was hesitant. She did not want to cause harm not only to herself but me as well,” He let go of my hand and walked over to a painting of figures who seemed to live in the water.

“The shaman managed to convince my mother to drink it. That day the people of my ancestral village left behind their old life and were reborn. As they awoke they discovered that they did not need to survive off the surfaces air and land; but instead in the water,” he turned to me. He walked over to the table and pulled out a shell and walked to me. Inside laid a beautiful bracelet with jade and beads.

“This was my mothers,” he took it out of the shell and grabbed my left hand and placed it on my wrist.

“With this the shaman was able to promise my mother that with me I would be king of the Talokan people. I was born in the water by my mother and upon my birth I was labeled the feathered serpent god. The drink granted me powers my ancestors did not possess. I was able to fly, live above and under water, ears pointing to the sky and I aged slower,” he ran his fingers over my knuckles and looked at the bracelet. 

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Old enough to know and understand the surface world is not kind to its people,” he said. The tone in his voice became dark and his mind seemed to be taken back to a place. 

“When my mother died she asked to be buried at her old ancestral home and upon my arrival I was greeted with a terrible sight,” he walked me over to a wall that showed a young boy watching a world burn. 

“I saw their my mothers people enslaved, beaten and worked. There I witnessed the cruelty of surface men and their quest for power and greed. So I burnt it down I burnt it all down and killed those who enslaved.” I stood there and crossed my arms, trying to grasp the magnitude of his words. This man is not only older than he looks; but has blood of many lives on his hands as well. 

“A Christian priest was there and called me ‘nino sin amor’ a child without love. I then took on my second name Namor,” he turned toward me.

“What is your real name?” I asked.

“My people call me K’Ku’ulkan, but my enemies call me Namor,” he looked at me waiting for my response. I stood there processing the story he had just told me, the origin of him and his people. The tragic story of his mother and his ancestors. 

“Do you hate the surface world?” I asked.

“I do, they have no love for others and are ready to take from others in which they can capitalize more power from. I managed for centuries to keep my people safe, secret and protected and I will not have that be ruined now,” Namor walked to the entrance looking out. 

“I was born to be there king, I was born with gifts for a reason and I will not fail my people,” I stepped toward Namor still shielding my self with my arms crossed in front of me.

“You still haven’t explained the reason of wanting me,” I said. He turned toward me and stepped close, he then played with my braid.

“You are here because I see something in you that others do not. You are smart, beautiful, brave and resilient. You stand before a god like it’s another man; you make demands to me as if I am the one to be told what to do. Yet, I am still intrigued by you and your mind,” he looked into my eyes then. I felt a wave of adrenaline go through me; it took everything in me to not run away in that moment. I knew though that the moment I even tried he would catch me, again and again and again. There was no out running my fate this time, this time I had to face it head on. 

“What can I do to not have you be so intrigued by me anymore?” I asked.

“Am I really that bad to you? To try to bargain your way out of this?” He seemed suddenly annoyed.

“I apologize for my tone, but this isn’t exactly how you go about confessing to a woman,” I said. He looked at me and raised an eye brow.

“You know normally the guy takes the woman out to coffee, or lunch or whatever. They establish what they have in common, compare life goals and what they want for their future. Kidnapping a woman on a first name basis to a under ground cave isn’t really screaming ‘I’m a good guy,’” he looked puzzled. Almost as if the rejection of a woman very rarely has ever happened to him. He seemed as though he didn’t know how to react or what to say next. So he said nothing instead he turned toward the exit and walked toward the pool. He draped his poncho across the arms of Idris and turned toward me.

He extended his hand and beckoned me forward. I again left my body to do the decision making for me before rationale took over. Though a part of me was scared, their something about his presence that put me at ease. I put my hand in his once again this time remembering the feeling of his rough calloused hand. Also how it gently held mine never holding too tightly, but also understand what these hands have done to. 

“I want to show you something, but if I do you need to understand that the secrets I have shown you can never be told to anyone outside these walls,” he moved in close. I nodded and then felt a device be placed on my back and suddenly enveloping my body. A clear cast that moved like jelly around me covered my body; it glowed a light green.

“This will keep your body temperature, oxygen and pressure regulated for 10 hours where we will be going. If at anytime this mechanism seems to falter you must notify me immediately for you to be brought back to this surface. Am I understood?” He said.

“Where are we going?” I asked. He then grabbed my left hand again and stared at the bracelet of his mother.

“To the city of Talokan, my home,” 

[touchdepriived]

"Why? Loki why did you came back?"

"Because I dont want to never see you again. I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning when I open my eyes, I want to feel you before I fall asleep. I can't help it y/n you made me go mad."

I dont have time to do anything, to say anything before his lips collapses on mine, leaving me breathless. His hands are gripping my hips to get me closer to him. Once our bodies are glued to each other he let go of one hand to put it in my hair, deepening the kiss. I squirm under him, his voice eating my moans. I put my hands on his chest, backing away a little bit to be able to breath.

"But, what about Asgard? Loki are you sure it's the right choice? I-" he doesn't let me finish before he spoke.

"I'm not my brother y/n, I'm no hero, I'll choose you over the world."

[fairyrosepetals]

💌Super-powered Valentine (2)💌

Part 1, Part 2

🦾Bucky Barnes🦾

When it comes to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes, when you established your relationship all depends on when you met him.

If your first meeting was during the Second World War, get ready for the amount of FLIRTING this man will do.

He’d look at you with those beautiful eyes of his as he’d flash his signature smile, charm coming off him in waves that would make any gal swoon. However, you may not be so easily bought with sugary words and those puppy dog eyes of his.

If you haven’t fell victim to his charms within the first five minutes of talking to him, he knows he’s gotta work for your attention. He’d start dropping all the girls he’s been talking to just so you can have his undivided attention, which you can’t complain about.

This man isn’t afraid to tell you how attractive he finds you, always complimenting you and telling you how good you look in a certain shirt/dress, committing it to memory religiously.

A very handsy man, while praise may be one of his love languages, physical touch is another. Always having a hand around your waist while he talks to Steve, bringing you closer and closer until you’re glued to his side.

Always kissing your hands and knuckles, looking you in the eyes as he kisses your knuckles one by one before leaving a final kiss on the curve of your palm.

Also always calling you some sort of pet name. Baby, angel, doll face, sweetheart, those are the most common ones for him. To you, hearing him call you “Baby” in a low, raspy tone just sends shivers down your spine.

If you met him years later, after his recovery, it may be a bit hard due to the walls he’s put up over the years.

Bucky definitely wants to be “more out there” as Sam says, but he feels rusty and out of the game after being anti-social for so long. So when you came into his life, it was almost as if the wind was knocked out of him.

The moment you are in a relationship with him, you have Bucky wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything for you if it meant showing how much he appreciates your patience and kindness as he heals, as he never had someone like you stick by his side until Sam came along.

Terrified of holding you, it takes a lot of convincing before he can just finally melt into your embrace, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

As Valentine’s rolls around, he’s a bit nervous. Similar to Steve, today’s dating culture makes his mind run crazy. Fortunate enough for him, he has a great friend like Sam to help him out.

He’d encourage him to get out of his comfort zone, make the best of his new found relationship and life by celebrating with the love of his life. I think much like Steve he would take you to a dance hall, but it would just take him a lot of courage to build up and be more bold through his fears.

He’d make sure to pick you up first, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand as he walked you to his car, opening the door first for you to enter before he got in himself.

He’d ask you to dance, fumbling and stepping on your toes from how rusty he is, becoming embarrassed before beginning to get into the groove of things. Next thing you know, it’s as if a professional dancer was hiding within him this whole time.

With your bodies close together, you two would have the biggest smiles on your faces. Laughing the night away as he spun and lifted you into the air, finishing the dance by dipping you as you both shared a kiss as he stared at you with the most love anyone as shown you.

Bucky just wants to feel loved rather than be feared, and you make him feel as if he is worthy of your love rather than feeling as if he needed to be punished. He will always cherish your patience and kindness towards him, and will be sure to show you his appreciation as long as you are willing to stay with him.

🦅Sam Wilson🦅

From the very start, Sam Wilson is very flirty with you, but in the most respectful and endearing way as possible.

That charming smile as he leans in more into your conversation, drinking in every one of your words just makes your knees buckle as he listens intently to what you have to say.

Absolutely loves to make you laugh, whether it be to bring up the most goofiest of topics to bicker and debate about or just singing and getting his groove on with his favorite songs on a mission, Sam is the definition of a sun chasing away a cloudy and dreary day.

If he finds that you hang out with Bucky more than him lately, he gets a tiny bit jealous, just in a way that makes him tease you about you liking the super soldier more than him.

“When did I suddenly take Bucky’s place as the third wheel in this relationship?”

Definitely the kind of boyfriend that spoils you with food. His love language is just finding ways to take care of you, and creating comfort foods that you love after a hard day’s work just to see you smile with a full belly just melts his heart.

I feel like when music comes on in your home, whether you are cooking or cleaning, if it’s a song he absolutely loves he HAS to drop anything he is doing and just dance with you. Clapping and stepping to the beat with a big smile on his face as you join him, singing along quite loudly and comedically as you have full belly laughs while leaning into him as you sway to the music. Sam loves just being able to hold you, and when it comes to music he knows he has an excuse just to be close.

Sam is just as affectionate as some of the other guys, leaving you forehead kisses as well as cheek kisses when he greets you or says his goodbyes, or just pulling you in and kissing you in a way that pours all his love into that single kiss just to let you know how much you mean to him.

Sam is very big on nicknames, calling you sweet things such as sugar, baby, sweetheart, honey, and babycakes, while also complimenting you and making sure you know just how much he adores you. Also LOVES showing you off. Can you really blame him though?

Talks highly about you to his sister whenever he visits. He can never shut up about you, making his nephews tease him about his “crush” and his sister knowing you better than anyone despite you both not being introduced yet. However, she is just excited to meet the person who is able to make her brother’s day a little more brighter.

When Valentine’s Day rolls around, this man goes all out for you. Flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, anything you’ve been eyeing for the last couple of months, he’s gonna make sure you get it.

“What my baby wants, my baby gets.”

Making sure to get dressed in his best suit before taking you out to a nice dinner that he knows the both of you would enjoy. He’s a simple man, he doesn’t need very grand gestures to show you how much he appreciates you.

He likes to make sure you feel pampered that day, and if you do the same for him? Heart melted.

There would be moments where Bucky wished he could glue his mouth shut, because the moment you gift Sam something on valentine or do some act of love for him, he will not shut up about you.

Overall, Sam loves that he can have a good time with you. Not only that, if you match his energy, he’d sure to love you even more as he is able to goof off with his best friend and the love of his life.

🐍Loki Laufeyson🐍

At heart, Loki is a very naturally romantic person. Knowing all the right words to slither his way into your heart and call you his.

His words are almost like poetry, pulling you in and keeping you in a trance as he describes your beauty as god-like, putting even the most beautiful of flowers to shame.

We all know that Loki has a way with words, making you feel as if you are some ethereal being that is simply too divine to be amongst “normal” humans. However, anyone can suede others with just fancy words.

What makes it genuine to you, however, is the way he looks at you as he says it. When he tells you these sweet words, he has this almost tender-like look on his features.

His eyes softening, his gaze becoming full of adoration and love as he stares at you, gently grazing his hand along side your cheek as he admires you.

“Before I met you, I felt that I couldn’t love anyone. That nobody would be able to fill the void in my heart. But all that changed when I met you. You broke my barriers, you opened me up, you touched my soul, you made me whole, you made me come alive. Now I realize that I am hopelessly in love with you.”

When it comes to physical affection, he prefers not to be so public with it. He believes that the side that shows you his love and admiration towards you is reserved for your eyes only.

He’d hold your face in his Icy hands, fingers brushing over the apples of your cheeks as he kissed you. His kisses somehow gentle but strong enough to feel all his emotions through that one kiss.

Cheek kisses, neck kisses, trailing kisses that start at your hand before traveling up your arm, he wants to make sure that you feel all of him loving you as much as you love him.

Loki’s pet names would include simpler but still meaningful names such as “love, dove, my heart, and darling.”, relying more on his acts and words of affection than just the nicknames.

When Valentine’s Day comes around, he is also a little confused much like his older brother. However, he seems to catch on a lot quicker than Thor and adapts to Valentine’s Day on Earth.

Gifts would be more extravagant in tastes, gifting you jewelry, clothing from Asgard, items that would make you feel like literal royalty. However, some of us prefer more simpler gifts, which could result in whatever hobby you are currently interested in or acts of service such as a massage or just a relaxing bath together.

As for dates, I think Loki would prefer having alone time with you rather than going to a restaurant or staying home. Instead, I think he would prefer taking you to Asgard, taking you to a beautiful yet secluded part of the forests in order for you to enjoy a picnic together.

A forest of over grown plants, flowers, and trees so tall you couldn’t even see the top of them, tying it all in with the crystal clear stream that runs through the forest as you enjoy each other’s company.

Loki has never felt so strongly about anyone before you came into his life, knocking the wind out of him as he suddenly realized his feelings for someone that is not from his own home. Regardless, he will love and cherish you forever, dedicating himself to keeping you in his life forever as he continues to make you feel like the most special person in the world.

——————

Hello everyone!

Thank you so much for the attention you’ve given me on the previous Valentine’s Day post! I really appreciated it and didn’t think so many of you would like it.

This one did come out a little short as I wrote four characters last time, unfortunately I accidentally deleted this and had to start from scratch 😭

Anyways, feel free to comment who you want next if you all want a part three. Valentine’s Day is almost upon us! ❤️

[corawithfanfiction]

La Belle Et Le Belle - Tom Hiddleston

🥇Summer Stories 2021 WINNER 🥇

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a prince who lived in a glittering castle.

Although the prince had everything he wanted, he was spoiled, selfish and cruel.

But then, one winter night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered the Prince a single rose in exchange for shelter in the freezing cold. Not liking her appearance, the Prince turned his nose up at the gift and refused to let the old woman into the castle. But the old woman warned him not to be deceived by appearances. Because beauty is not in appearance but inward, she said. When the prince refused again, the old woman's ugliness disappeared in an instant. And a very beautiful girl appeared. The prince tried to apologize, but in vain. Because she realized that he had no love in his heart. And as punishment, she turned him into a horrible, ugly monster.

She cast a powerful spell on the castle and its inhabitants. The monster, ashamed of his horrible and ugly appearance, got away from everyone and shut himself inside the castle. His only connection to the outside world was a magic mirror.

The rose she gave him was actually a magic rose and would stay fresh until he was twenty-one years old. Until the last petal fell off, if he fell in love with a girl and she fell in love with him, the spell would be broken. Otherwise, he would remain an ugly monster for the rest of his life.

As the years passed, the Prince gradually lost all hope.

Because who would want to love an ugly monster?

[supbeeches]

his stories

(loki x f!reader)

author - wes perry @supbeeches

a/n - hi hi hi everyone! sorry for the lng wait. its hard to find motivation out here lol. but i am so so so excited to share this fic with you! i worked quite hard on it (: there will still be some occasional  touch ups every now and then. but, other than that, its done! thank you so so much to the person  who recommended this topic!  unfortunately i think their acc got deactivated so i can’t tag them but they were in my thoughts!  ok, ill shut up now! enjoy! 

summary - loki and his love look back at his past with the stories of asgard. 

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍

A hibernal winter enveloped the land of Midgard. All around, little souls walk around the towns of the wonderous New York City. Couples are seen holding their freezing lovers hands within their own. Bells attached to the doors of little cafes ring as little souls rush inside in hopes for a warm cup of coffee. House lights shine in all different colors around the city, as pairs found their comfort on such an evening in the warm shelter of their homes. More specifically, Loki and y/n. 

“What’s this one?”, the mortal asked.

“Ah, that one. Well, I occasionally enjoy a little ‘fiction’ every now and then. I am quite fond of knowing the tales of the place I once called home,” the prince stated. “This one, embraces the entities of Asgard, and the tales that have brought Asgard wonders of their past to life.” 

The two were enveloped in one another; legs tangled, arms draped off the dark velvety couch they practically lived on every evening. The night frigid, leaving the two yearning for each other's warmth. The worries of their minds, swayed by the words on the pages of the book that was in the grasp of the pharaoh. 

“Do you miss home?”

Ah... home.

“I find my peace with you, darling”, he replied immediately in a reassuring whisper.  

It’s almost as if he has answered that exact question hundreds of times.

The smooth-talker moved his hand toward the side of his lover's face. A swift and papercut thumb glides across her ear toward her jaw. Despite the almost tranquilizing gesture, the girl pops up in curiosity, shifting to face her swain.  

“Tell me a story”, the angel pried at her demon. 

He smiled, gleaming at her eagerness to learn of his origin. He sighed and looked over her head with a curious look on his face. Silence crowded the room for a moment. He appeared to be searching for something. 

He moved her hand off to the side and untangled their legs, placing the half finished book on the vanity next to them. 

“Going somewhere?”

He chuckled to himself, getting up and shifting towards the back of the room, behind her. 

“Loki?”, she tried again. 

“Just a moment, dove”, he assures as he wanders even further behind the couch. 

She watches as he moves around their living room library, spreading his fingers across every book he crosses by. Finally, he stops. He stands for a moment. 

“Found it,” he whispers to himself.

He turns back around in a swift movement, gliding back to the couch where his lover had been sitting tight in curiosity. 

“This… this is something I have been wanting to share with you for a while, flower,” be walks over to her with a bright smile on his face. 

He makes his way to his spot next to his love. Their eyes meet; one with wonder and the other with a cunning imbue. Loki sits, groaning as he does so. 

What an old man. 

He looks over to his lover. Lifting his hand, he cups her chin in a riveting manner. 

“I trust you, as well as I wish to share my childhood with you, if you’ll allow me to.”

She nods in her keenness. He nods back in compersion and brings the book to her, letting her hold it. She swifts her hand across the cover, taking in the moment.

A treasure within the hold of another. 

The book was compact compared to what he had usually indulged himself in. It had a smooth fuzziness to it, most likely due to it's ancient-ness, with a hard rim on each edge. The front side was displayed with the words-

“Glory of Valhalla…”, the angel said in her fever of excitement. 

The god took her hands in his own, as she held his youth in her hands. 

“The stories my mother, Frigga, would read to my brother and I before we slept every night. Romance, adventure, magic, honor. Anything, you name it.”

“Which one is your favorite?”

That caused the prince to pause. His brows furrowed as his thumb habitually skated across her hand. He hums in recollection. 

He daintily removes the book from her hands. His eyes skimmed the book as he reminded himself of his favorite childhood tale. He knew the perfect one to share with her. The only tale that filled his mind with hope for the future as he aged. The tale of a man, slack and tedious, and his goddess, mesmeric yet reticent, and their treacly longing for one another. The trickster still vividly remembers the day he heard his mother read the lovestruck man's words.

“My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”

How his brother and him tittered and cheered at the man's cheesily loving words. 

Better than I could ever word it, he thought to himself, starting to feel his lover's moving thumb against his thigh. 

Cheesy? yes. True? Undeniably so. 

Opening the book, his thumb sped through the pages, until it stopped. The woman beside him pressed herself upwards towards him, in an attempt to get a sneak peek at what he was to present to her. He tilted the book towards her, as if he was proving he wasn’t trying to hide something. She takes the book from his giving hands, and dives in. 

His fingers find their way into her mane, twirling within a little piece. His eyes monitor hers as every now and then they move from the right, down, and to the left. Loki could not help himself as he rested his head against hers, along with a tap of his lips against her temple.

Beautiful angel. My beautiful Angel. 

The library is filled with nothing but two souls, two hearts, two sets of breaths, and occasional rustles of flipping pages. What more could be needed? 

Time flows with the sound embers crackling within the chimney, creating a sweet ambience.

The goddess within Loki's arms turns, receiving a lifted eyebrow and hum of question from her god. She has a pensive look on her face. Her eyes then lift up to meet him. 

“Have you ever heard of The Great Gatsby?”

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍

a/n - thank you for reading! please share, like, repost! thank you! 

[thisghosts-obsessions-again]

You know, this sort of sounds like a vow... 😬

[frozen-hearts-club]

The lighthouse

[underoosweb]

I miss writing, requests are open for anyone on my masterlist

kiss prompts

dialogue

"can i kiss you?"

"are you sure about this?"

"close your eyes"

"wanna practise?"

"i really, really want to kiss you right now"

"i think i deserve a kiss"

"if you win, i'll kiss you"

"kiss me again"

"are you wearing chapstick?"

"shut up" (affectionately)

"you'll have to teach me"

"was that okay?"

"woah.."

"you're gonna get lipstick all over me"

"i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me"

"just follow my lead"

"one more kiss? please?"

"can we do that again?"

actions / scenarios

hand kisses

neck kisses

cheek kisses

stomach kisses

forehead kisses

thigh kisses

trailing kisses down your lovers body

arms wrapped around your lovers neck

light pecks

smiling while kissing

lifting your lover up

kisses meant to distract

kissing for a dare

goodmorning kisses

goodnight kisses

hello kisses

goodbye kisses

kitchen counter makeouts

kisses while cuddling

soft kisses becoming heated

heated kisses becoming soft

kisses to keep your lover quiet during sex

kisses while sitting in your lovers lap

kisses under mistletoe

leaving love bites on your lover

pulling away to look at eachother, eyes full of love

whispering in-between kisses

lifting up your lover while kissing

messy half asleep kisses

kisses that lead to more than kissing

kissing in the rain

almost kisses that are interrupted by a third party

nervous kisses

staring at your lover's lips before a kiss

hands on your lovers neck while kissing

routine kisses

drunk (mutually / accidental) kisses

kissing your lover as a reward

lazy makeouts

kisses leaving you breathless

heavy breathing with foreheads leaning together

hands in your lovers hair

hands under your lovers clothes

forbidden kisses

pulling your lover in by their collar

pulling your lover in by their tie

hands cupping your lovers cheeks

passionate kissing, pressed up against a wall

being caught kissing

confessing in the heat of the moment, leading to a kiss

luring your lover back to bed with kisses

kisses with a height difference - one leaning down while the other is on their tiptoes

[gttoomh]

No More Distractions

I've had this idea stuck in my head for the past week. A mortal girl who grew up with Loki as her patron god. He would speak to her through her mind and astral project to visit her. Then he goes radio silent after the events of THOR and a year later she's recruited by Shield to help take him down upon his return. The story starts at the gala Loki attends to get the dude's eye in Avengers.

I just wrote this to get it out of my head, so here you go Tumblr. You can have it too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was beautiful. Different than I’d imagined, but beautiful nonetheless. I’d heard his voice in my mind a million times… listened to his teasing tone… felt his mind dance through my thoughts. Standing in front of him now felt like a dream. 

I sigh softly, the buzz of the comm in my ear followed by Steve’s voice.

“All you need to do is distract him. Don’t give anything away. Make it seem like this is just a coincidence.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. As if that was the easiest thing in the world. As if he would ever fall for such a half-baked plan. I’d known this man since I was twelve. My patron god Loki. He was my confidant… my friend… my…

I shake the thought from my mind, slowly weaving my way through the crowd of dancers. I don’t know why he’s here. Shield has put me on a need-to-know basis. Twelve hours ago I was a nobody. Working my way through my boring life one day at a time. Now I’m here… with the weight of the world on my shoulders as a group of heroes thinks I can bring a god to his knees. Fools.

I take in a deep breath as I step in front of him, catching his eye almost immediately. A look of disgust crosses his face… as if I was nothing more than a spider to be crushed under his boot. I can’t help but quirk a smile.

“Step away mortal. Before I make you pray to your worthless god.”

A small laugh leaves my lips and I shake my head.

“I’d only be praying to you. You Look different than I thought you would.”

He scans me, eyes trailing from my feet back to my face, curiosity striking him. I offer a half smile in return.

“You sound the same though.”

He scoffs, the firm expression returning quickly. 

“I have no use for you. Leave before my mercy fades.”

I hum softly, clicking my tongue and shaking my head in mock disappointment.

“Have you really forgotten me already? It’s only been a year since we last spoke. I was worried, you know. I thought you’d left me for good.”

His brow furrows and it’s a moment later I feel him probing into my mind. I let him and his face softens.

“Pet…”

I roll my eyes at the name… something he’s insisted on calling me since I was a child. At first, it was meant to annoy me. Though, Over the years affection has wormed its way into his tune, though he’d never admit it.

“Sometimes I think you’ve actually forgotten my name.”

His token smirk returns to his face and he shrugs.

“Why would I need to know you by any other name? You’re my pet after all.”

I try my best to suppress the smile fighting its way to the surface but fail miserably. He seems proud of himself, though I don’t know if it’s because he made me laugh or because he’s teasing me.

“How did you find me, pet?”

I hesitate, Steve’s voice ringing in my ear as he gives me some half-ass story to spout. I ignore him, letting out a deep sigh instead.

“Shield. They want me to distract you from… whatever it is you’re doing here.”

I wince as the rest of the Avengers begin shouting into the comms, screaming at me to stand down or shut up completely.

“They’re not particularly happy I told you that.”

Loki’s eyes narrow and reaches his hand up to my left ear, hovering next to it while using his magic to pull the comm from its place and crushing it in his hand.

“Idiots. They should know better than to try and turn what’s mine against me.”

I choose to ignore the comment, though my cheeks turn a soft pink.

“I guess they didn’t take into account I would be more loyal to you.”

He brushes his hands off, what's left of the comm falling to the floor.

“I suppose not. Regardless, you should leave, pet. It isn’t safe for you here. You should have denied them completely at such an idiotic request.”

I breathe out, nodding my head and looking down at my hands.

“I know… but when they told me you were here, I couldn’t help myself. It’s been a year. You said goodbye and then radio silence. I just… needed to know you were alive.”

Loki scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You believe your god to be so weak? Ridiculous.”

My eyes return to his, a smile falling across my face and I let out the smallest laugh.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m just being dramatic I guess.”

He nods in agreement, staring me down. Despite the hard expression on his face, I can see the softness in his eyes. My head turns slowly, eyes finding the band across the room and I frown. There's something familiar about the song they’re playing.

“This sounds like…”

I glance up at him, knowing he understands what I mean. An old song. It’s not the exact same… but it’s close. An Asgadian tune he taught me just a few years back. Amusement spreads across his face as he realizes.

“Do you remember the steps?”

It’s my turn to scoff and roll my eyes. As if I could forget. The god spent months drilling the dance into my head, making sure I had every movement down perfectly. I hold up my right hand, palm facing him. It’s an invitation and I can’t help but hope he accepts. He hesitates for only a moment before raising his own to mimic mine, our palms close enough to feel the heat from one another, but never touching. The soft music continues to play as we circle each other, switching hands and spinning around as the steps request. My eyes never leave him, our bodies never touching even as the last few notes of the song play. I step towards him, both my palms inches away from his own. Our noses almost brush, my eyes finding his as the room slowly goes silent. He stares at me for a moment, both of us perfectly content to remain just as we are.

“Songs over, pet. No more distractions.”

I purse my lips closing my eyes as I try to will him not to move with my mind.

“Five more minutes?”

I hear a soft chuckle slip from him, followed by lips pressing gently against my forehead. In the next moment, the atmosphere changes. I hear a bustling street and feel a cold chill on my skin. When I open my eyes, I’m standing outside, The gala in front of me. And Loki is nowhere to be found.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Might make another part to this, but I dunno. Let me know if it's worth it too, lol.

[lokithanos]

people writing off the finale as a failure solely bc their ship wasn't canonized? ok...

[cleo-fox]

Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?”  he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

*

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation. 

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later. 

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together. 

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

*

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it. 

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

*

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh. 

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit. 

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net. 

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly. 

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar. 

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say. 

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants. 

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine. 

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you  and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

*

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee. 

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.