#mansplaining loki | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bloodiedrogue · 2 years ago

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LET'S WASTE TIME CHASING CARS

PAIRINGS: Loki Laufeyson & Female Reader

SUMMARY: After Loki finds you crying in the parking lot he makes it his sole mission to figure out why.

WORD COUNT: 6,617

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Another re-written repost because I've got the big sad and can't be bothered to be creative anymore apparently. :')

MASTERLIST

“Are you alright?”

Suddenly exhaling, your breath feels heavy throughout the base of your chest. An odd amount of tightness fills your insides, causing you to struggle to look through the partially open window of your car, finding yourself lost at the sudden presence of a voice.

It’s unfamiliar to you, dripping in elegance with dashes of concern laced throughout. As soon as you hear it, your throat partially closes, and the ability to swallow becomes lost as you cautiously turn to face it, feeling the gaze of an equally unfamiliar man staring back at you.

He’s taller than most men; 6’3”, maybe 6' 4”, his hair dropping down to his shoulders in thick waves. Like his voice, he’s overtly appropriate, the blacked-out tux he wears tight against his frame much like his overall posture, while his face protrudes in perfect angles.

Clearing your throat, you sniff and wipe the edges of your eyes with your hands, the knuckles of your thumbs dragging across the already-smudged mascara that coats your skin. It’s an action that immediately fills you with embarrassment because who the fuck just casually cries in a church parking lot in the middle of the day? Nobody sane, surely.

And yet, drenched in tears and sweat, the hot summer air clinging to the never-ending fabric that covers your frame, you realize you’re the kind of crazy person who does that. Who does all sorts of stupid things.

“Miss are you—“

“I’m fine!”

Cutting him off aggressively, you stare him down and watch as he sort of stiffly leans forward, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he narrows his eyes. “Pardon me, but you don’t look very fine,” he says, and despite the urge to just roll up your window and call the interaction there, you merely stare back at him, feeling your jaw clench with the sort of aggression you usually reserve for cat-callers or mansplainers. Not overly good-looking gentlemen who border on the edge of polite and creepy.

“That’s because I’m not,” you admit, an awkward laugh impulsively tumbling out of you.

“Obviously not.” Without much thought, you shoot him a glare. “I mean, if you were, you'd be inside with the rest of the bridal party instead of crying outside.”

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch as he straightens his back again, the smile from his previous bout of laughter still present across his face as he silently circles around the front of the car, glancing at you with every step.

At which point you feel your heart begin to race, partly out of fear, partly out of excitement as you stare back, your eyes darting to the hand that moves from the confines of his pocket to the handle of your door.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled on account of the passenger window being tightly shut.

You open your mouth to respond; your voice catching in your throat as you debate the implications of letting some strange, way-too-perfect man into your less-than-perfect car because obviously there are some. Both negative and positive –the potentials of what could happen are endless and immediately your mind begins to conjure up each fabricated storyline without much warning.

For example, he could kill you right then and there —could take a gun out of his jacket pocket and put it to your head without an ounce of remorse. He could do that and shoot you or better yet, kidnap you —pull a Ted Bundy and take you back to his place where he’d do unspeakable things to your mind and body all for the sake of his own personal d—

Before you can come up with a better daydream he’s opening the door, a low groan sounding through the air as he crouches down into the bucket seat of your old Daytona, his body almost too tall to even fit.

Nervously, you lick your lips and lean your body away from him, moving your hand slowly toward the handle of your door as he slams his own.

“Sorry, felt a bit strange trying to have a conversation with a wall of metal between us,” he says, smoothing out the front of his jacket as he turns to face you. “Now uh, what seems to be the problem?”

You’re not sure what to say then —how to stop and articulate your thoughts and feelings into words that won’t immediately scare this poor man away.

“I uh—“

“I’m assuming it has to do with the wedding,” he responds, motioning towards the church that sits across the pavement, its godly appearance burning holes into your chest that feels like hellfire itself.

“Maybe.”

“In love with the groom perhaps?” he muses, a sly smirk crawling across his lips at the same time he crosses his arms.

Rolling your eyes, you mirror his movements by tucking one arm under the other, tightening the grip around yourself as you give him an unimpressed stare. “I’m not that much of a cliche.”

“No?”

“No.”

“But there is someone in there you’re avoiding, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care?”

Like you, he stops to contemplate, his mouth falling slightly open as his brows gravitate towards the centre of his face, indicating his sudden confusion.

At which point it becomes painfully obvious to you that he isn’t entirely sure why he cares —why he’s suddenly inserted himself into the problems of a stranger by aggressively jumping into the passenger side of her car. Clearly, it’s not something he does often, which as he closes his mouth, letting out a light huff, makes you wonder why now? Why, of all people, has he decided to take notice of you?

“I don’t really know,” he eventually says, his once soft, welcoming features hardening into something that doesn’t scare you but definitely makes you less comfortable. “Guess I just got sort of… caught up in the moment.”

“The moment?” you scoff, unsure what that means. “You mean the one right before this where I was just crying?”

Silently he shrugs, his shoulders bouncing at the same time he nods, causing your expression to contort into something resembling both confusion and annoyance as you watch his eyes begin to wander out towards the parking lot.

He looks tired, almost as if he’s bored and just looking for something to fill up his time. As he stares his eyes are devoid of brightness —of interest in the things that surround him, leaving you to wonder if maybe that’s why he decided to join you. Maybe in his own suffering, he decided he needed something to distract him —to give himself meaning in an otherwise idle existence.

It sounds crazy but you can see it in his eyes; the way they sort of stare through everything rather than focus on it. It’s the same look you get whenever you’re stuck in a place you don’t want to be with people you care very little about, prompting your previous response to melt into understanding.

“Are you here for the wedding too?”

Changing the subject, you watch as his gaze moves back to you, his eyes still dull but no longer completely empty.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Unable to hide your amusement at his answer, you find yourself grinning. “Friend of the bride or groom?”

“Neither.”

“Okay then why are you here?“

“The groom actually incarcerated me a few years back on account of trying to take over your world.”

Raising your brow, you watch as his lips sort of quiver out into a smile, one that’s all teeth and wide open, his tongue partially sticking out as he laughs.

For some reason it fills you with an odd sense of pride watching it happen; almost as if seeing this stranger laugh is something to be cherished. Because, if you’re honest, he doesn’t seem like the laughing type nor the kind of person who outwardly feels moments of contentment. No, he seems much more withdrawn than that. More so the type to hide away any positive feelings he may have in favour of portraying something entirely different.

Something almost ignorant.

“So, I take it you’re Thor’s brother Loki then?”

Hearing the low growl of his laughter begin to die out, you find yourself sneakily backtracking to his previous statement, wondering how on earth he managed to regain the trust of not only Tony Stark, but really the whole bridal party after such an unforgivable stunt.

“The one and only,” he says, and immediately you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes as you watch his arms obnoxiously raise outward with pride.

“I’m surprised you made it,” you retort, pausing to wet your lips as you watch the way his arms casually fall back to his sides. “Normally you never show up to these things.”

“Yes, well, apparently after it was discovered that Barton had a hidden family it became mandatory for all team members to attend major personal events.”

“Ah, yes, the elusive Barton family. I’ve heard good things.”

“I’ve never met them. I’m not allowed to on account of the fact that—“

“You tried to take over the world,” you finish, your tone filled with boredom as you lazily lean forward, pressing the side of your face against the edge of the steering wheel.

“Not a fan of my work, I’m guessing.”

Awkwardly, you snort and move your arm to partially hide the tentative curving of your lips, suddenly feeling unsure about how to navigate the oncoming trail of conversation. “It’s not that I’m not a fan,” you say, your lips moving on their own, pausing to let your brain catch up as you bite back the smile that still presents itself across the lower half of your face. “I just think what you did was pretty stupid.”

“Stupid?” Puzzled, Loki looks at you, his pupils blown out as he shuffles to his side, pressing his shoulder against the backing of the seat to get a better look at you.

Staring back, you take a moment to properly survey him again, your eyes trailing down the length of his face, picking apart the angled features, lapping them up like a visual honey too sweet for you to swallow.

More than anything you want to look as long as possible —want to lock eyes and really get a feel for what makes him tick even though you know you shouldn’t because people like him (interesting people who do things because they want to) and people like you (boring ones who just do what they’re told) don’t really mix well.

“Very stupid, actually. Momentously stupid. Almost stupider than me agreeing to come to a wedding with my ex boyfriend who also happens to be my coworker.”

You’re not sure why you tell him; why your mouth just falls open and the words sort of spill out like they’re nothing but they do and at that point, his interest has already peaked, his brows rising upwards at the same time a small scoff of disapproval falls from his lips.

“Ex boyfriend and coworker? Are you mad?”

“Maybe,” you cringe, trying your best to ignore the unfortunate recognition; your face scrunching up to reveal clenched teeth and wide eyes.

Chuckling, he leans towards you in his seat, casually resting his elbow against the headrest. “That’s quite the trek, from coworkers to friends to lovers to—“

“Oh, we were never friends,” you correct, feeling another wave of embarrassment rush through your system once you realize that you could’ve just left it that. He doesn’t need to know the timeline of your dating history.

“So lovers was the start of your romantic journey?” he muses.

“I guess so, yeah.”

“But that ended once you started working together?”

Pressing your lips together tightly, you wonder how weird it would be if you just left. If you just unlocked your car door and got out and left without another word. It’d probably be easier than explaining whatever it is you can feel him shamelessly fishing for. He doesn’t know anything about you and you only really know what you’ve read in the media or in files you’ve stumbled upon through work about him, so really your Loki knowledge isn’t all that sufficient either.

Yet despite that, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this is just something he does —exploits information out of people to get the upper hand. Given his public track record, it wouldn’t be a far-off assumption. He did, in fact, try to take over the world amongst other things so the act to collect the details of people and their behaviours is probably somewhat ingrained into his system.

Most likely, he’s the kind of guy that, no matter the situation, he needs to be on top of things —needs to know exactly what he’s getting into so that he can know how to get out. But what exactly does that have to do with this conversation? And why is he still here, sitting inside your shitty car asking you about relationships and acting all chummy as if he knows you?

Sighing in slight defeat, you move your hands to your eyes, palming the sockets for a good few seconds as you debate whether or not you should continue talking, because really what could be the harm? Sure, Loki’s the king at causing problems but you’re not the greatest at avoiding them either, so really what’s the issue here?

“I got the job after we hooked up at a bar,” you eventually admit, realizing just how terrible it sounds. “Neither of us knew each other beforehand and he was cute so we had sex and then somewhere along the line I mentioned that I needed a job so he got me one.”

“You had sex to get a job,” he states, his tone mixed with amusement and confusion, causing you to groan and roll your eyes because yeah that’s kind of what you did but at the same time not at all.

“I mean, I didn’t have sex with him with the intention of snagging one,” you say, watching as Loki sort of nods his head, his expression skeptical. “I had sex with him because he was hot and I was bored and then somewhere along the line I thought we connected so I told him I didn’t have a job and then because he’s fucking weird he offered to get me one where he worked, which in retrospect, now that I’m thinking about it was obviously a very stupid idea and—“

“Is that why you were crying?”

Cutting you off, Loki stops all movement, his eyes taking place within your own, watching as they blink away the tears that begin to reform.

You don’t want to admit that that was why you were crying —why the second you saw your ex across the room, motioning for you to come dance, you basically had a full-blown panic attack and made a run for it.

“Because if so, let me be the first to tell you that crying over a man is hardly worth it.”

You’re not sure why but the sudden image of him sprawled out in the passenger seat, his gaze hard yet sincere as he gives you a pep talk about boys even though he knows very little about the situation is hilarious to you. So hilarious, that you can’t help but laugh.

“And you’re saying this because you have experience?” you question, taking a moment to wipe your eyes and deeply breathe, feeling the storm begin to settle again as Loki shuffles next to you in his seat.

“Of course I do, I’m a thousand years-old.”

“Yeah, but just because you’re old doesn’t mean you’re experienced. They’re two different things.”

Leaning slightly forward, he pauses and flashes you a smirk, his stare boring into you in a way that makes your body move away from his, closer to the door that you once again debate escaping through.

“Believe me darling, I’m as experienced as I am mischievous.”

And suddenly, just like that, his presence is too much. Inside the claustrophobic confines of your car, where you can feel his breath fanning your face and his eyes exploring your features, taking in each section as the moments slowly pass, you feel almost trapped within his gaze —trapped within the thoughts of what could happen next, because really, anything could. He could merely mutter something sarcastic or make some joke about how being old correlates to having lots of sex (which you’re sure in his case is probably correct). He’s attractive in a conventional way and witty in a mysterious one and yeah, technically a prince so why wouldn’t he get laid?

Suddenly, his intentions feel like a hidden treasure, locked away behind the gaze that keeps glancing between your lips and eyes, lingering at the former —making you wonder if maybe he’s got something else on his mind.

Because he’s at a wedding after all. Most likely alone because the thought of him attaching himself to anyone involved in Tony Stark’s inner circle seems less than likely. He’s probably just lonely and bored, looking for distractive solace in the hands of another. You figure that’s probably why he first stopped for you in the first place—why he inserted himself into the passenger seat of not only your car but now your problems, leaving you with two choices: accept him and bring him along for the ride or kick him out before things get too weird.

Being the terrible decision-maker that you are, you immediately pick the first one, tearing your gaze from his reach to grab your seatbelt, feeling your chest pound.

Next to you, Loki leans back again and gives you a confused stare, watching as your attention quickly changes from him to the inner workings of your vehicle, your one hand moving to click your seatbelt into place while your other reaches for the ignition.

“No longer care to keep up appearances?” he asks humorously and you shake your head, turning your attention to the rearview mirror as you begin to back up.

“I never wanted to come in the first place,” you grumble, cautiously turning the wheel in your hands as you attempt to perfectly position your car. “All I wanted to do was spend my weekend lying in bed in my underwear drinking wine and watching reruns of Criminal Minds.”

“The night’s still young,” Loki quips, laughing after he notices you subtly roll your eyes.

“Nice try, but we’re definitely not doing that. Not together. I barely know you.”

“Well that seems a bit unfair given your apparent track record, don’t you think?”

As you finish pulling out of the parking space and turn to move toward the exit, you give Loki an unimpressed look, knowing that he’s right. You’re a giver of temptation and if he wasn’t right and you weren’t as stubborn, you both know you would’ve taken him up on his offer right then and there.

“I’m just saying. You’re obviously attractive enough to get what you want,” he quickly adds, raising his hands in defence, watching as you scrunch up your face and turn back towards the pavement, trying your best to ignore the way his lips part into yet another smirk. “And clearly based on the way you reacted to my staring I assume I fall under that category, so who am I to deny the chemistry that we’ve so easily acquired in these mere moments?”

“Chemistry,” you snort, shaking your head as you glance both ways before pulling out of the parking lot and turning left. “Loki, I don’t even know you.”

“There’s not a lot to know.”

“You don’t even know me then.”

“Please, I know plenty about you,” he retorts, turning to face the church as it begins to disappear behind you. “I know that you work under Pepper because if you worked under Tony I would’ve already heard about you.”

“That’s not—“

“I know that you’re impulsive.”

“Okay but—“

“I also know that, like me, that last thing you want to be is bored,” he says, looking back to raise his brow at you as you make another left turn, trying your best to ignore the irritation that rises throughout your system. “Which is precisely why you’ve chosen to basically kidnap me in some last ditch effort to fuel your own distractive entertainment.”

Dropping your jaw, you look at him with narrowed eyes, noticing the ever-present smirk that fails to leave his face grow even larger. “I'm not kidnapping you.”

“Luring me into your car, failing to give me the option to leave before driving off like some maniac,” he responds, counting each point on his hand. “That seems to me like your classic case of kidnapping.”

Scoffing, you turn your attention back towards the road, shaking your head as you attempt to shove away the discomfort you feel in knowing that, once again, he’s right because you do hate the feeling of boredom. You hate how it slowly, painstakingly inserts itself into your life any chance it can get; pulling you in, wrapping its roots around your feet, trapping you in a way that’s minuscule and easy to escape from, yet hardly worth the effort.

So often you find yourself stuck within these episodes; ones where everything you do feels meaningless and never enough, forcing you to confront the notion that maybe this is all you’ll ever be. A boring person who works a boring job, whose only way of escapism is to make stupid mistakes.

Because that’s exactly what this is. This whole day has just been one mistake after another; an impulsive path of reckless behaviours that Loki can spot a mile away, because not only are you the things he’s previously mentioned, but apparently you’re also easier to read than fucking children’s book.

“I feel like kidnapping is a strong word,” you eventually retort, your mind moving back to the conversation, even though at this point a part of you just wants to pull over and kick him out of the car so you can go about the rest of your day in peace.

“So is the truth, oftentimes,” Loki says and immediately you groan.

“Tell me, are you always this annoying?”

Laughing, he raises his arms and shrugs, leading you to believe that the lack of verbal confirmation means that most likely, yes he probably is, and no, you probably can’t do anything about it.

Regardless though, you try anyway.

“If you could be less annoying, you know, on account of the fact that I’ve had a really hard day, I’d appreciate it,” you say, offering him an innocent grin.

“Only if you properly tell me why your day’s been so hard,” he says back, shooting you a grin of his own.

Unsurprisingly though it isn’t filled with innocence. No, it’s filled with chaos and perversity, the ends of his teeth poking out from between his lips.

Fighting back the urge to groan again, you heavily blink and release a breath, hearing the laughter that he immediately emits in response to your obvious annoyance.

“Fine, but I want ice cream first.”

By the time you’re at the front of the line, ready to order and devour your ice cream the way you’ve been dreaming about since you decided on the whole idea, you’re reminded of Loki’s presence again, causing you to sigh.

During the entirety of the drive, he wouldn’t stop talking —asking you questions about your life and your ex and how the events of said relationship had led you to this exact moment. (The one where you supposedly kidnapped him and convinced him to get dessert instead of staying at the church for dinner).

Every time he asked you, you forced yourself to turn him down, repeating your previous statement about how you wouldn’t talk until there was a bowl of ice cream in your hand, prompting him to scowl or roll his eyes or, near the end of the drive, both.

It drove you absolutely crazy, dealing with the onslaught of overly pressured chatter followed by the discomforting moments of silence that you’d receive after scolding him for not listening. Honestly, it was almost like dealing with the nosiest child, hellbent on learning every viable piece of information he could even though none of it really mattered because you and your ex were done —finished and over with, which meant there was nothing to talk about. Nothing to say or explain or to uproot and burden him with.

Regardless of that though as you finish ordering, Loki leans in close, the side of his body brushing against yours as he whispers a quick, “so, now are you going to talk about it?” at the same time you pull out your cash to give to the girl at the register.

“Is the ice cream in my hand?” you ask, giving him a stern look.

“No, but—“

“Then chill out, alright?”

Shaking your head at his lack of patience, the girl at the till then asks you your name and absentmindedly you give it to her, afterward glancing over at Loki whose brows suddenly raise at the sound.

You realize then that up until this point you hadn’t bothered to properly introduce yourself. A fact that you immediately find conflicting as the two of you wander over to the handoff plane where your ice cream already awaits.

As you move to grab it you hear Loki mumble your name on his tongue, repeating it a couple of times with a smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he eagerly follows behind you.

“I like it, it’s got a nice ring to it,” he says and a part of you feels almost embarrassed at the number of times he’s uttered it.

“Yeah, well, it’s the one my mom gave me.”

“It suits you.”

Ignoring him then, you grab your ice cream off the counter, offering the worker behind it a quick smile before ushering through the doorway, feeling Loki hot on your trail as you awkwardly try to push the door open with your body.

Almost immediately, Loki comes to your aid, reaching around to grab the handle before pushing it out so you can slide from its grasp, prompting you to mumble a quick thanks as you both wander back towards the car.

“Alright, now that you have your ice cream, speak up,” he says on the way, watching as you roll your eyes and move to lean against the hood, tucking one leg behind the other comfortably.

“I don’t understand why you want to know. It’s not that interesting,” you say before taking a bite of your dessert, your lips wrapping around the spoon as you practically moan at the taste.

“Interest is a matter of opinion,” he replies, taking the space next to you. “Something that’s uninteresting to you could very well be interesting to me. Take for example, the time I literally stabbed Thor in the back.”

“Why did you stab your brother in the back?”

“What do you mean why?”

“I don’t know, it just seems kind of rude.”

Giving you a confused look, he shakes his head. “Rude?”

“Yeah, rude. Stabbing’s rude.”

“It’s not rude, it's funny.”

He sounds so serious as he says it, causing you to snort and take another quick bite before swallowing hard and turning to face him. “I know that in your world it’s probably like… a super casual thing to just betray your brother and stab him in the gut, but like, we don’t do that here.”

“I didn’t stab him in the gut.”

“But you—“

“No, no, I stabbed him in the back.”

“Okay, but that’s not the point. The point is that it’s not okay to do that.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes, of course I know, I’m a trickster, not a fool.”

For some reason that makes you laugh, your whole body bouncing as you lean back against the hood of your car and take another bite. “I guess I just don’t understand your thinking then,” you then say, angling your face so that it’s in line with his.

“Most people don’t, to be honest.”

“How come?”

Shrugging his shoulders you watch as his face sort of falls, his eyes dimming down at the mention of misunderstanding, making you wonder if maybe that’s why he’s suddenly attached himself to you. At first, it didn’t make much sense —having this strange, borderline manic man you barely know suddenly insert himself into your life and all its wonderful problems.

Based on your assumptions (and what others had told you) he’s always been a bit of a loner —the kind of guy who keeps to himself regardless of interest. Everyone assumes he’s this giant asshole. This… conceited God filled with resentment for what Earth did to him after the attack on New York. They think he’s angry and vengeful —too full of himself to accept the company of Earth’s inhabitants like his brother, which is why he acts out —why he never listens to the people he so desperately needs to right his wrongs.

Based on your conversations though, you assume he acts the way he does because he’s just stubborn. Because maybe like you, he’s just awkward and mulish, unable to set aside his pride, even though all he wants is for people to like him —to see him and connect with him.

Which makes you wonder if maybe that’s why he jumped at the chance to help you. Perhaps through your mess of tears and lack of regard for your emotions, he saw a bit of himself in you. Somewhere along the line, he connected with you, and now that you realize that you can’t help but wonder if somehow you’ll end up doing the same.

Because already, despite the constant streamline of words that seem to fall from his lips, you can feel yourself growing fond of him. Sure, his presence is a bit much (bordering on unbearable when he puts his mind to pushing your buttons) but he’s nice. He’s nice and caring and funny and when you look over and see the sadness in his eyes it almost feels like your heart is breaking. Under the pressure of his stare, it’s cracking and you’re not entirely sure what to do other than to move closer to him, bumping your elbow with his as you offer him a smile to gain his attention.

“Do you want to hear something stupid?” you say then, and before you know it his eyes are brightening and his lips are parting and suddenly there’s this light inside him that you know at that moment is reserved for you and you alone, so you continue.

“I lied earlier when I said I didn’t want to go to the wedding,” you tell him, and Loki raises his brow, the interest in your statement growing across his face. “I actually went to try and get that asshole back.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought that I could,” you say with a shrug. “Which now that I think about it is kind of ridiculous.”

“A bit yeah. So many options of revenge in the world and you chose the route of lust.”

Snorting, you move to set aside your ice cream before sort of rolling onto your side, watching as Loki does the same, both of you now facing each other completely.

“I should’ve just stabbed him like you did with Thor.”

Laughing, he shakes his head. “As much as it pains me to encourage you not to do that, deep down know that I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“It is, isn’t it?” you muse, reaching over to grab another bite of ice cream. “You know, the night’s still young, maybe we should go back? I’m sure by now everyone would be too drunk to even notice. We could probably gut him pretty good.”

“Don’t tempt me darling, you know that I would.”

Darling. God, why did he have to call you that? Literally of all the names in the world, why was darling the one he decided to choose?

Just thinking about it makes your entire body melt, almost as if he’s used his magic to transform you into the ice cream sitting next to you, causing you to soften and mollify, your entire being suddenly malleable in his hands.

It makes you think about what you’d do to keep this going —this strange charade of strangers turned friends, subtly flirting with one another on top of a car that’s too old to be considered cool. You don’t want it to end yet. You don’t want to have to get in the car and drive him away only to be left alone again, broken and bored.

At least not yet.

“Hey, we should go for a drive,” you say and suddenly you’re sitting up and grabbing your ice cream, shovelling down the last few bites as you wander over to the garbage bin a couple of feet away.

Following suit Loki sits up too, noticing the sudden pep in your step as you practically sprint back to the car with your hands shoved into the pocket of your dress, your face scrunched up in excited bliss as you step in front of the driver’s side door.

“A drive?” he asks and all you do is nod, unlocking the door before silently sliding in, watching from the corner of your eye as he does the same.

“Yeah, we can blast some music and just go where the road takes us,” you say, hearing the click of his seatbelt go off before you reach around to grab your own, feeling your heart begin to race at the thought of doing something fun for once.

“Hopefully it doesn’t take us off a cliff,” you hear Loki mumble and without even thinking you scoff and reach over to slap his arm.

Before you can hit him though he grabs your wrist, tightening his fingers around the base ever so gently, causing both of you to look at the connection of your hands; the feeling of heat rising through your face once you realize that holy shit he’s touching you and oh my god he isn’t stopping.

Because instead of letting go he merely stares, his gaze heavy and curious, almost as if he’s studying your hand as he slowly releases his grip and begins to slide his fingers along the base of your palm, exploring the skin until eventually, he laces his fingers in yours. Afterwards, he pulls your hand towards his lap, laying the base of his forearm against his thigh while keeping hold of you like it’s the most normal thing in the world, even though it’s not and suddenly you feel like you might pass out because who even does that?

“I…. uh…”

Opening and closing your mouth, you shuffle in your seat and blink, trying your best to avoid Loki’s gaze as you eventually just swallow hard, accepting your fate by awkwardly reaching around to shove your key into the ignition to start the car.

As you do, Loki chuckles and thumbs the base of your index finger, moving the digit back and forth, feeling you shiver under his touch. “I can stop holding it if you want,” he says, even though secretly he hopes that you’ll say no because frankly he kind of likes the way it feels.

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine, it’s just—“

Feeling the struggle within your voice, Loki releases your hand, trying his best not to laugh again as you quickly place it onto the edge of the steering wheel, a look of pure embarrassment plastered across your face as you begin to back up the car.

“If you didn’t want to hold my hand you could’ve just said so,” he says not long after, crossing his arms over his chest as he flashes you the kind of smug look that makes your hands sweat and your stomach twist.

“It’s not that, it’s just, I—” Unable to produce the words you hear floating through your head, you merely stop talking, knowing that no matter how hard you try your brain won’t willingly match up with your mouth, causing your heart to start to ache in the process, because deep down you do want to hold his hand. Weirdly enough, despite the little time that you’ve known him, you want to take his hand and grip it tight and maybe even pull him into your frame for a hug or a kiss or—

“It’s fine, darling, I’m used to rejection. Nobody wants the evil Asgardian prince.” Dramatically he places the back of his hand on his forehead, throwing his head back while closing his eyes. As he does you roll your own and turn onto the road, trying your best not to snort at his dramatics, wondering if he means it.

You imagine that he partially does, given the track record of opinions people seem to have about him. Oftentimes their fondness is pretty scarce, especially considering that when he first joined the Avengers the talk around the office was anything, but nice. At the time you didn’t think much of it. Loki was nothing but a powerful God you’d never had to interact with. He didn’t feel tangible or real, even when you’d see images of him on the news or in person at Stark Industry events. To you he was merely just a person, living his life outside your own, trying his best to do the right thing, even if it meant suffering through the eyes of others.

“Well, what if I want the evil prince?”

Swallowing hard, you’re not sure if you regret your words as you drive through a set of yellowing lights, glancing over at him with raised brows, feeling your hand almost twitch at the sight of him, because you do want him. More than anything you’ve wanted before, you want to reach across your car and grab his hand and drive into the sunset without a map, all while telling him that everyone is stupid.

So you do.

Before he can respond either in agreement or protest, you lift your hand off the wheel and thread your fingers in his, feeling the way his grip immediately responds to yours by holding it tight and pulling it close to his torso as if it’s something he needs to protect.

“I know we barely know each other; like literally I know nothing about you so this is probably weird, but like, I feel like we click, right?”

You have no idea what you’re saying —what the words coming out of your mouth are trying to accomplish, but thankfully he seems to understand because not long after he sort of smiles, his eyes travelling from your hand to your face.

“Click, yes,” he laughs, causing your heart to sort of swell because here he is still holding your hand and smiling despite the lack of audible sense you’re making.

“I don’t know, I just… I like you, I think. You’re different. Not like in a bad way, but in an odd way where I don’t really know how to navigate where to go from here, because we kind of met in a weird way and—“

Snorting loudly, Loki cuts you off mid-sentence, shaking his head. “You know, I understand what I like you means, you don’t have to explain it to me.”

Opening your mouth to respond, you quickly close it in favour of focusing on the road, knowing that if you don’t you’ll most likely get distracted and miss your turn-off.

TAGGING: @lovelysizzlingbluebird, @just-someone11, @linaax, @eleniblue, @cheekyscamp, @ozymdias, @use-your-telescope, @liminalpebble, @freegardenbanananeck, @lokixryss, @unlucky-number-13, @violethaze @simplyholl, @coldnique, @mischief2sarawr (if you’d like to be added fill out this form)

#let's waste time chasing cars #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fan fic #loki fluff #fluff #summer writes

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mxlcncholy · 1 year ago

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As a Lokius shipper, I’m gonna put in my two cents here (I mean no aggression and i don’t want to start an argument. I just want to clear things up).

It’s a common misconception that people think Lokius shippers hate on Sylki because of how it contradicts Lokius. “If Sylki is canon Lokius will never happen, and that’s why we are against the ship!” I’ve seen multiple people on this site make this assumption, but I speak for myself and most probably most of the fandom when I say that this is NOT the case why we don’t really like Sylki.

Personally, I’ve had my fair share of really queerbaity, largely hinted but never canon ‘queer ships’ from different forms of media. And when connecting with other Lokius fans through the internet, I found that a lot of them share common interests with me on those ships as well. I think most of the Lokius fans who share other common interests/ships with me can agree that we are very used to ships not being canon and are completely fine with it. What’s the joy in having a happy, everything-is-fine-and-they-are-canonically-together ship? Isn’t that what fanfics are for?

No, the main reason why most of us Lokius shippers can’t deal with the Sylki ship is due to its really weird message/vibe that it’s emanating. Now I’ve been a crew mate on the Lokius ship ever since the dawn of its existence (the first trailers that came out in Dec 2020 and early 2021, as you will), and I’ve witnessed the entire development of the fandom during Season 1. In the first two episodes, everyone was really excited to see how Loki and Mobius’ relationship would actually turn out, but more importantly, who the mysterious hooded person the trailers showed us was (spoiler alert: it was Sylvie). So Sylvie appeared at the end of Season 1 Episode 2, and everyone went crazy with her mystifying appearance. Introduced at the end of Episode 1 as a ‘Loki variant’, who actually IS she? What is her relationship to VariantL1130!Loki (or in simpler words, our Loki)? What is her deal? How did she get here?

In Season 1 Episode 3, a connection was made between Loki and Sylvie as both of them shared more about their story. But the ‘connection’, as it seems, stems from their common background and origin. The show has established that Sylvie was also ‘a Loki variant’ which, is unnervingly vague. Does that mean she shares the same parentage as L1130 Loki? And again, what is her connection to L1130 Loki?? At the end of the episode, most of us (these statistics all come from experience and online interaction since I was deep in the fandom and gained a lot of Lokius shippers’ feedback when Season 1 was airing in 2021) deemed their dynamic to be very ‘sibling rivalry’ for one reason or the other, 1) because it was the vibe they gave off (I can back this up since I have a sibling), 2) because they have been established as the same person. So that was the direction we thought the show was heading in when Season 1 Episode 3 was airing.

But then. Season 1 Episode 4. They deemed it a romantic connection. Again a million questions surfaced. Aren’t they the same person? Didn’t they JUST give off a sibling dynamic in Episode 3? What the fuck is going on?

Of course, a lot of the ‘Lokius for-lifers’ that have been here since the beginning were confused. Other watchers began to jump onto the Sylki ship, since admittedly, they also have a kind of very… unique chemistry established in the show (and is pretty much canon). This episode was where the Lokius-Sylki ‘rivalry’ originated.

Now I don’t know to what extent you know about this ‘history lesson’ that I’m just mansplaining to you right now, but in the Lokius fandom, it was a really common view that Sylki was just. Weird. Sylvie was introduced as a ‘Loki’ in EPISODE 1. That’s why people did not care for the relationship that Marvel offered us between Loki and Sylvie. Aren’t they the same person? This timeline stuff they’ve put out in the later episodes (4-6) were confusing and the information was densely organised but there were absolutely no clear answers as to if Loki and Sylvie were ACTUALLY the same person or not. But judging on how people interpreted the information about pruned timelines and stuff, there were two verdicts: 1. Loki and Sylvie were the same person (due to how they come from the same MAIN timeline before being apprehended by the TVA, you know, since the TVA firmly believes in pruning any other timeline that deviated from the main one, which was ) or 2. They are not the same person (supported with different pieces of evidence such as ‘multiverse theory’ or ‘Loki is just a title like Spider-Man or Batman’, some of them contradictory to each other, some of them making sense). Some Sylki shippers enjoyed the ship under the circumstance that they are not related at all (which, fair), and I’ve seen some Sylki shippers admit to the incest/sibling factor being the main reason why they enjoy the ship. A bit weird.

As someone who does not support incest (with a very clear reason why), Sylki is a ship that enters a lot of grey area. They do have chemistry, yes, but judging the circumstances, is the chemistry even… ethical? The answers are very vague and very hard to come by.

I don’t speak for the entire Lokius fandom when I say that we don’t give a hoot in hell as to which ship becomes canon. In fact, Lokius-Sylki multishippers such as yourself is proof to how Lokius shippers don’t care about another ship existing at the same time as Lokius. Most of us aren’t THAT immature to shit on other ships because of that contradiction. The reason why we dislike Sylki is due to how it might insinuate incest (or just literal self-cest, it isn’t a word and it isn’t a scientifically possible thing but from the self pollination of flowers, I think we can all hypothesise what happens when the unlikely event of someone getting with another version of themselves happens). If the show writers had CLARIFIED in WHAT way Sylvie is a Loki (and clarified that they AREN’T RELATED IN ANY WAY), Lokius shippers would’ve just stopped attacking the Sylki ship (because if it wasn’t for the potential incest, it would be a valid and healthy ship and no one would have a problem with it).

One last thing, before you accuse me of bias, I would like to say that I have friends that are also Marvel fans that do not ship Lokius or Sylki and are still icked by the Sylki ship due to its potentially incestuous relationship. I’ve seen a lot of comments online that think the same. Similarly, I’ve also seen a lot of comments online that just do not give a shit about either ship and accepts whatever canon relationship Marvel throws at them. It’s a big fanbase. No matter which side you’re on, you will always find someone who shares the same view.

TL:DR: Lokius shippers do not hate the Sylki ship because of how it contradicts Lokius, but they hate the ship because of its potential incest connotations. It’s really not anyone’s fault and I don’t blame Sylki shippers for spotting the chemistry and shipping them under the circumstances of them not being related. The way this ‘shipper war’ can be solved is in the (quite unlikely) scenario that the show writers clarified that they were not the same person, which, would be the best outcome for literally ALL of us Loki TV show enjoyers. Thank you for reading.

I really hate the fighting between Lokius and Sylki shippers.

Unpopular Opinion: I’m on both teams. I ship both of these pairings. Hell I even like Sylvie x B-15. Give me two characters and I’ll find a way to ship them - okay, maybe not all but you get what I’m saying.

My point is, why can’t people just be allowed to enjoy what they enjoy?

I understand the importance of queer characters & pairings, and Loki himself is canonically queer, but that shouldn’t mean we fight each other about what ship is more cannon, or what ship is better or whatever else there is to possibly argue about. I think we can agree marvel isn’t the best (like most shows and money making corporations) at portraying queer characters and relationships.

But just because someone ships Sylvie and Loki, doesn’t mean it’s a personal attack on the ship of Loki and Mobius.

I think both ships are beautiful in their own way.

Mobius was Loki’s first proper friend. He showed Loki it was okay to let down your defences, he was with him till the end (a few wobbles but that’s friendship), and above all he cares for Loki. He risked his skin (literally) to save him and anchor him to the timeline. His first thought was ‘okay let’s sort you out before anything else’ with his time slipping, and helped calm him down from his panicked state, wanting to ensure he was okay. He loves Loki (take that as you will).

Sylvie was the first person Loki was able to relate to personally, knowing how she felt, seeing what it did to her. He began to understand himself because of her. He realised there was more to life than power and a throne, that he was capable of caring for another selflessly. She made him feel how he most likely made Thor feel many times. Betrayed. And it was an important step that Loki needed to take, but he still chose to try and find her because he knows she needs him. She is a complex character, like Loki. He loves Sylvie (take that as you will).

Very different ships. Very different dynamics. Very different people.

Besides, it’s Loki. He probably fancies them both.

(also I’m not that active in either communities because of the drama, but I observe and quietly ship to myself. both ships.)

#lokius #loki #loki tv #marvel

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